If you’ve ever had a pint at the Black Swan that was, or the Polished Knob that is, then next time you’re there raise another to this publican family who did their best by the place through good times and bad.
This story begins with two Greenwoods – Robert, who was born here in Todmorden at Ashenhurst in 1767, and Fanny, who was born in Elland in 1769. Both Greenwoods but as far as we know, entirely unrelated. Barbara Rudman’s Todmorden Old Pub Trail book proved very helpful for this post as she researched the family extensively for her writeup about the Black Swan. Robert was known as “Robin o’ Greenods” apparently. Fanny and her family moved from Elland to somewhere in Erringden ward, when she and Robert met, and in 1796 the couple were married by banns at St. John the Baptist in Halifax. Robert was styling himself at the time as a cotton manufacturer and was in fact a “putter out”, commissioning home weavers for fabric – a dealer or middleman, in other words, but he would have also done some weaving himself. The practice proved to be lucrative for him prior to the introduction of power looms and he was able to provide very well for Fanny and their children. The couple had at least eight children that we know of, three of whom are buried here – Henry, John and William.
Robert eventually moved into innkeeping when he saw the money from putting-out beginning to dry up, taking on the running of first the Patmos Inn, and later of the Black Swan. The latter pub features large in Tod’s history, serving as a watering hole, overnighting place for travellers, and venue for coroner’s inquests. Miles Weatherill had his last shot of liquid courage here before murdering the vicar and his housemaid. That would be well after the Greenwoods’ time though. First it was time for Robert, and unfortunately we don’t know when he took over the running, only that he was still in charge of it in 1834 when he died. Fanny took over the running of it but since she still had four adult children at home she had plenty of assistance. They had their own trades…John was a butcher, Thomas a joiner, and Henry a farmer…but they still pitched in.
Sadly those adult children had their own struggles, and John lost his own battle in 1841 when, after a bad bout of drinking, he cut his own throat with a knife and died there in the pub. The incident was noteworthy enough at the time to make it into newspapers outside of Todmorden which is how we know about it.
Fanny carried on despite having lost her son and business partner but in 1847 both Fanny and Henry died within hours, maybe even a day, of each other. Both were buried here at Christ Church on June 3rd. It was a busy day for Thomas Greenwood the gravedigger (they weren’t his only burials that day) and a sad one for this branch of the family. Fanny at least was a good age, 77…Henry was only 37. Thomas (Fanny’s son, not the gravedigger!) took over the running of the pub from there on out.
Where was William in all this? William had been the eldest child, born in 1797, and had his independence from the family early. It’s not clear whether he always intended to go into farming or if it was an accident of marriage; in 1823 he married Sarah Schofield of Bottoms in Walsden and the two settled there seemingly for good. The pair had a single child, a son named William. In 1843 Bottoms Farm was in the process of being smartened up and the Greenwoods took up residence in the newly renovated farmhouse styled Moverley Cottage and took over the running of the farm. There’s a longer and more comprehensive history of the place here if you care to read it (and you should, in fact read the whole site, it’s a valuable resource for local history) but in short, William and Sarah saw out their respective last days here. With the help of son William, niece Fanny, and various farmhands and apprentices, they made the place their home. William was active with the church and was one of the men on the original building committee to look at the building of Walsden St. Peter’s in 1843, was a member of the Oddfellows, and in the 1850s was a member of the Todmorden Board of Guardians, tasked with administering aid to paupers; so not just a farmer, then. That’s why you shouldn’t underestimate people on the basis of their census occupations. Dig deeper and you might be surprised. Clearly Robert and Fanny had done well and given their children educations and comfortable financial positions to launch from.
Sarah died in 1858 and was buried here with William’s family. Sadly the stonemason spelled Moverley as Malverley on the stone He mourned her for seven years before remarrying, this time to a widow named Hannah Riley Hutton from Littleborough. Hannah was eleven years his junior, a Halifax lass. She had married a journeyman tailor in 1836 named Matthew Hutton, who himself originally hailed from Wold Newton, and who interestingly had been married first to Hannah’s elder sister Mary Ann! The two had moved to Littleborough where he made a good enough living to be able to be described on the census as a gentleman by 1861. They had two more of Hannah’s siblings, Sarah and Thomas, with them and Sarah helped out at home while Thomas worked as an apprentice under Matthew. The couple had no children of their own and Matthew apparently had not had any children with Mary Ann either, so when he died in 1864 Hannah was left with little emotional support since Thomas had since moved on. William Greenwood was a good match and if there was a little more hard work on a farm than she was used to, well, that didn’t really matter. She wasn’t in need of financial support as Matthew had left her a decent amount of money, so arguably there was a certain amount of affection there.
As the 1870s began William was feeling his age and began to not just sell off the hay from the harvest but also a “hay chopper” and a hay cart. He had the income now to move into his retirement. It wouldn’t be for long though. Hannah died in 1874 and presumably was buried with Matthew over in Littleborough; William died the following year. It seems as though his son William must have also predeceased him as the executors of his will had to prove the will and dispose of the estate via an auction. The contents of Moverley Cottage read like an antiques dealer’s dream.
