The Word of Teregor (1914) by Guy Ridley (1885-1947) is an early British fantasy novel of sentient trees. The trees converse in moots and are unfriendly to men. One of the trees is called Enteth.

“No one but a real lover of trees could write of them as Mr. Ridley has done.” — review in the Westminster Gazette. “A suggestive and original voice among the babel of modern literature” — review in The Daily Telegraph.

An obvious inspiration for J.R.R. Tolkien’s Ents, circa 1938, you might think. Though I doubt that would be provable now — and anyway there are more obvious and earlier possibilities. Such as an aside in Shakespeare’s Macbeth (“Who can impress the forest, bid the tree | Unfix his earthbound root?” ‘impress’ = to strongarm a man into armed service in an Army). This might perhaps be Shakespeare’s nod to Taliesin’s magnificent poem “The Battle of the Trees” (Cad Goddeu), in which many types of trees are enchanted into a marching army of trees. Tolkien and his circle had surely found time to notice Taliesin by 1938 — though I imagine that Tolkien would have been professionally wary of seeming to endorse the authenticity of the late Welsh ‘bardic’ songs.

There’s also a prime example from Tolkien’s childhood, the “Attack of the trees” from the famous The Wizard of Oz, here depicted in 1900 by Denslow…

Anyway, the full novel is at the link above.

Some interesting snippets on local words and lore, found during my listing and summarising of all the contents of the North Staffordshire Field Club’s Annual Report and Transactions, 1897:

* The local name for a polecat was a “Fitchet, the last such being known locally… “about the year 1840, when one was caught in a trap at Wootton Park Farm, near Cheadle.” The fur thus being known as ‘fitch’.

* In Shropshire the word “breaking” alludes to the strange phenomena of the meres, namely that a flood of “minute bright green particles” in Autumn turns a lake or mere bright green. The term is a local one… “It is simply a colloquial expression, best known and used in Shropshire where Meres occur more frequently than in our County, and where the phenomenon is well known to the Mere-dwellers. It is also called “middling,” no doubt from a resemblance to the breaking of milk into curd and whey on the introduction of rennet. But the term “Breaking” is said to be derived from an analogous appearance in brewing, when fermentation takes place. … At certain times in each year, generally in autumn, the Shropshire Meres become turbid with these green particles, the water becomes unfit for domestic purposes, and it defies the powers of filtration”. The cause is the natural late-summer ‘flowering’ of microscopic algae, which live for most of the year down in the muds and sediment. (Nothing to do with artificial fertiliser run-off, since there were no such chemicals in the 1890s and especially not on the mere meadows and high moorland). The article has no mention of children’s ‘Jenny Greenteeth’ lore, though the phenomena shines an interesting sidelight on the lore, especially in relation to the breakdown of very large amounts of algae and the consequent stink — suggesting the possibility of flammable vapours and glowing will-o-the-wisps.

* Among their many outings and excursions a trip was made by the Club to “Ludchurch and Swythamley” near Leek. The short report for this makes no mention of Gawain, then seemingly unknown in connection with the locations. But some late local lore is mentioned in passing, that ‘Robin Hood’ once lived in Back Forest.

Readers of my new book Strange Country: Sir Gawain in the moorlands of North Staffordshire will be interested in a newly-found postcard showing a distant view of Redhurst Gorge near Wetton Mill. Possibly 1920s?

One would have to see the original, which I can’t afford to do, but there appear to be limestone fissures opening in the crag above the cave there. If so then this would confirm the reports of cavers, which I noted in my book and on this blog. One can also more clearly see the potential sexual symbolism, re: Gawain, of the bulge containing Old Hannah’s Cave being shaped rather like a pubic mound and cleft.

Update: got a better scan, June 2019…

Philip Emery, who was a North Staffordshire -based writer the last time I looked, has just published his 2018 PhD thesis on the Loughborough University open repository. “Revivifying the Ur-text: a reconstruction of sword-&-sorcery as a literary form” asks if, given this literary genre’s relative neglect in recent decades, it is possible to identify the genre’s core characteristics and then use these “to create a work that realizes the form’s potential to exist as literature”. Firstly he explores the structural development of the Ur-genre as it emerged in the stories of R.E. Howard (influenced by H.P. Lovecraft in terms of the horror elements), then surveys de Camp’s later contributions and distortions to the genre, and generally seeks to identify the “pristine elements” at the core of the genre’s once-flourishing form.

A short humourous article surveys a few of The Mythical Beasts of Birmingham, being: the Wump-Tay; Brummies; the “Boss” Tin; The Abominable Snow Hill Man; and The Wrekin.

In the spirit of Ken Reid’s new artbook Creepy Creations, I can think of a few more suggestions, off the top of my head: the Back-a-rack ‘Em (“Back of Rackhams”); the ‘Bumbler 11’ (No 11 bus); the ‘Cad’ Berry (Cadbury); the Certain Coldfeet (Sutton Coldfield); the Suit-on Pork (Sutton Park); the Jolly Cutter; the Bull Wringer (Bull Ring); the Snot Hill (Snow Hill); the Bag-a-Bush (Beggar’s Bush); the Buzz Tin (“Bostin”); the Lickers (The Lickeys); the dreadful monster-pop band the Broomies (“Brummies”) who play strung sweeping-brooms; the dreadful monster-rock band Dark-Hover and d’ Billz Mudders (“It’s dark over Bill’s Mother’s”); the Soul-In-Hell (Solihull) and the distant Doodley Doodler (Dudley).

There’s also the historically recorded Mine Knockers of the South Staffordshire coalfield.

Here are pages 185-229 from the weighty survey book General view of the Agriculture of the County of Stafford (1796) by William Pitt. In most of his Appendix Pitt surveys North Staffordshire, as it was on his tour of the county in 1794. While the ‘agricultural improvement’ elements of the book have probably long been superseded, tucked away in the book’s Appendix we have Pitt’s short survey of our terrain and its uses at the end of the 18th century.

Appendix to Agriculture of the County of Stafford (1796) by William Pitt (PDF)

Pitt has a page on the ancient rocks of the district, such as those at the Roaches and Ipstones, and his reactions to them. The religious nature of these reactions, bursting into an agricultural book, seem to have relevance for understanding the Gawain-poem, specifically what Gawain might have felt when first entering this landscape through the Ludchurch cleft in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight…

“This part of the country, north-east of Mole Cop [Mow Cop], is the worst part of the Moorlands, and of Staffordshire, the surface of a considerable proportion of this land being too uneven for cultivation. Large tracts of waste land here, though so elevated in point of situation, are mere high moors and peat mosses; and of this sort are a part of Morredge [Morridge], Axe Edge, the Cloud Heath, High Forest, Leek Frith, and Mole Cop, though ranking amongst the highest land in the county.

The summits of some of the hills in this county terminate in huge tremendous cliffs, particularly those called Leek Rocks or Roches, and Ipstones’ sharp Cliffs, which are composed of huge piles of rude arid rugged rocks in very elevated situations, piled rock on rock in a most tremendous manner, astonishing and almost terrifying the passing traveller with their majestic frown. Here single blocks, the size of church steeples, are heaped together; some overhanging the precipice, and threatening destruction to all approachers; and some of prodigious bulk have evidently rolled from the summit; and broke in pieces. These stupendous piles, the work of nature, are a sublime lecture on humility to the human mind; strongly marking the frivolity of all its even greatest exertions, compared with the slightest touches of that Almighty […] The speculative mind, in endeavouring to account for their origin or formation by any known laws, agency, or operation of nature, is lost in amazement, and led to exclaim, with the Egyptian magicians, “this is the finger of God” for the most superficial observer may perceive that it is his work.

Leek Rocks or Roches, are composed of a coarse sandy grit rock; those of Ipstones have for their basis gravel, or sand and small pebbles cemented together.”

The Appendix only has one diagram. Thomas Wedgwood, over at nearby Etruria had not yet invented photography at that point, and an agricultural book couldn’t expect fine engravings. So pictures seem called for here. The Roaches and Wetley Rocks are well photographed, but what of Ipstones? Well, there are some pictures to be had. I found some pictures of the Gog rock which is just west of Ipstones, and one of the rocks had a folly-bridge which enabled visitors to reach the top from the adjacent moorland. Pitt calls the rock type here… “(breccia arenacea) or coarse plum-pudding stone and seems like sand and small pebbles cemented together”. Who built the bridge? Unknown, but one local walk guide talks of the ‘Belmont estate’ and Belmont Hall is nearby and within walking distance.

The site appears to have had, and possibly still have, a substantial spring. In 1967 there’s a record of the adjacent Intake Farm being granted a licence to extract “700,000 gallons per year at Stakebank Wood” from a spring there. Presumably this is for agricultural use, as I can find no ‘Gog & Magog Mineral Water’ brand, etc.

Actually there are two such rocks there, the larger Gog and the smaller Magog. Here are the Gog and Magog rocks marked on the 10:000 OS sheet…

On the larger OS footpath map the two rocks are not marked, but are a short way apart on the slope which sits just slightly west of the map’s big “01” number.

Since the postcards are from perhaps the 1930s, the names must pre-date the ‘ley lines’ era hippies of the late 1960s and 1970s. Pitt (1796) does not use the names, but it would be interesting to know how far back they can be traced.

Since they are on the edge of Ipstones, such stone outcrops may well be the origin of the place-name. Probably meaning simply upland + stones rather than the more romantic notion of imps + stones.

Pitt also has some remarks on the native oatbread (Staffordshire oatcakes)…

“Oat bread is eaten very generally in the Moorlands, and none other kept in country houses; this, however, I cannot consider as any criterion of poverty, or of a backward or unimproved state, as I think it equally wholesome, palatable, and nutritive with [compared with] wheat bread, and little cheaper even here; for upon inquiry at Leek, I found the oatmeal and wheat flour nearly the same price. For several days during my stay in this country, I eat no other bread from choice, preferring it to wheat bread, and rather wonder it is not more general, and kept in London and elsewhere for such palates as prefer it. In the remote country villages it is often baked thick, with sour leaven, and a proportion of oat husks.”

His extended plant-list (at the end of the Appendix) is also annotated with local medicinal and other useful herb-lore. Who knew that English pond-weed could be made into durable writing paper?

Public drunkenness in 1899. Presumably compiled from the arrest records for being ‘drunk and disorderly’ in public.