Lord Raby’s Smelting Scheme: The Story of Gaunless Mill

The weather has taken a turn for the worse, so a modest walk it is, to gaze upon the Gaunless Mill Chimney at Copley. This lone, crumbling relic of Teesdale’s lead smelting past stands in quiet defiance of time and indifference.

The Gaunless Mill, despite being on a tributary of the Wear rather than the Tees, was deemed essential to the Teesdale lead industry. This was thanks to its association with Lord Raby, who, in his wisdom, had it process duty ore from his extensive Teesdale mines. Its location, within twelve miles of the northern and western mines, was considered convenient enough, though one might wonder how much of that convenience was for the mine owners rather than the workers hauling ore¹Short, C C. The Gaunless Smelt Mill. Men Mines & Minerals Of The North Pennines. Edited by BRYAN CHAMBERS. 1992. The Friends of Killhope..

Situated in the west Durham coalfield, the mill took advantage of changing smelting technology. Gone were the days of burning peat and wood in exposed hilltop “boles.” By the late 18th century, ore hearths and reverberatory furnaces were in vogue—ore hearths where wood and water were plentiful, while coal-hungry reverberatory furnaces were near the coalfields. The Gaunless Mill, despite being awkwardly positioned for ore transport, compensated by being close to collieries. In the grand economic balancing act, someone, somewhere, decided that dragging ore across miles of countryside was preferable to fetching coal.

The mill’s purpose evolved over time. Initially, it seems to have operated both as a duty ore smelter for Lord Raby and as a commercial enterprise. A 1787 account sheet suggests it processed ore from various mines, making it a viable business. By 1826, however, it had settled into the less enterprising role of smelting duty ore, handling substantial loads for Lord Raby alone. The opening of Blackton Mill, closer to the mines, no doubt hastened its commercial decline.

Ownership, like everything else, changed hands. The mill passed through the titles of Lord Raby, Viscount Barnard, Earl of Darlington, Marquis of Cleveland, and Duke of Cleveland—each name as grand as the mill’s fate was unremarkable. In the 19th century, the London Lead Company took over operations for a time, though by 1890, the mill had finally succumbed to the inevitable and was left to ruin.

What remains? Very little. The chimney, stubbornly standing, towering above the surrounding trees, is the most conspicuous feature. The furnace site has been cleared away, leaving only the manager’s house (the two-storey building in the photo) and a roadside building (red-tiled roofs). The flue system, which had to cross the river to reach the chimney, remains a curiosity, though of interest only to those who find such things fascinating.

The mill, like so many old sites, has gone by multiple names—Garmdless, Goundless, Gaunless, Gandless, Copley Mill—none of which saved it from obscurity. The name “Gaunless,” derived from Old Norse and meaning “useless,” is particularly fitting, though I am assured it refers only to the quality of the local fishing. The site’s proximity to coal pits and remnants of associated infrastructure hint at an attempt at industrial integration, reinforced by the discovery of a fire clay seam in the local coal pits. Not that it mattered in the end. The mill closed, fell into decay, and now serves as a reminder that grandiose ideas, no matter how elegant, eventually fade into history.

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  Short, C C. The Gaunless Smelt Mill. Men Mines & Minerals Of The North Pennines. Edited by BRYAN CHAMBERS. 1992. The Friends of Killhope.