My name is Annette and I am an Employer Engagement Officer with Wiltshire Council working on a program called Building Bridges.
“Building Bridges is funded by the European Social Fund and the National Lottery, through the Big Lottery Fund.”
Several weeks ago, Wiltshire & Swindon History Centre & Building Bridges set out on a journey of discovery and learning with five would-be archivists with a love of all things past. You could say a real ‘Throwback Thursday’ as this is the day we came together to indulge in something we all love: history.
I can’t believe we have nearly come to the end of our first but I hope not last ‘Archive to Survive’ project.
After attending a learning symposium facilitated by Wiltshire Museum & Heritage Service and hearing a presentation from The Museum of London and the work they were doing with Autism in Museums I was buzzing - I couldn’t wait to do something similar.
Lucky for me I had already formed a working relationship with the fabulous Heather Perry -Conservation & Museum Manager who was nearly as excited as me, and completely on board.
We decided we wanted to target our project at those who may have found it hard to gain paid employment due to anxiety, depression, or other barriers. We wanted to promote confidence and skills learning that would support their journey, and give them a sense of wellbeing and inclusion.
So along with my Building Bridges partners in crime Lorraine, Laura and the lovely Sophie, Conservator (Archives) at the History Centre, we set about putting our plan into action.
If you are reading this it is possible you will know that in Wiltshire & Swindon we have an amazing purpose-built facility that holds the county wide archives. What you may not know is that the public can come in and research things from family histories, to who lived in your house 100 years ago. To do this every document held at the centre needs to be catalogued and this is where we came in.
We wanted to offer an opportunity for a group of people to come in and work with trained professionals to learn all about maintaining and cataloguing this amazing resource. Preserving it for future generations and so Archive to Survive was born.
We recruited five like-minded participants with a love of history and our journey of learning began back in August. Since then we have come together every Thursday and have been building on our confidence and skills, and form new friendships.
W.G. Hoskins, the great pioneer of English local history, wrote in his ground breaking book, ‘Local History in England’ (1959), “Directories … give us a good start for reconstructing the kind of community which existed over a period of about a hundred years from the 1830s to the 1930s”. Admittedly, he was writing when only two of the Victorian censuses were available to use for historic investigation; modern researchers are spoiled for choice in having easy accessibility to no less than eight census returns, spanning the period 1841-1911.
Even so, directories – published lists of people’s addresses and occupations – continue to supply much useful information for family and local history researchers. Although hardly ever listing those of humble status (don’t expect your servant or labourer forebears to be mentioned), directories provide information on a more frequent basis than the census. In the nineteenth century, and right up to the decades following the Second World War, detailed directories appeared encompassing the whole country. Some national publishers (like Slater and the better-known Kelly) covered whole counties every couple of years, while other smaller local printers might concentrate on a single city or town, sometimes also including villages in the vicinity. As they were produced by competing firms, one year might see several different directories produced for a given place, and the following two or three years, nothing at all.
Whether they are weighty tomes, or slim booklets, directories provide useful, contemporary descriptions of Victorian and Edwardian parishes, towns and cities. They may give details of population and geography, agriculture and industry, schools, charities, public institutions, details of conveyances (coaches and trains) .… but most people use directories to search for people. They will not provide up-to-the-minute information; because of the delay between collecting information and publication, directories may include information that was a year or more out of date by the time the publication date was finally reached. Despite that limitation, a directory can give a flavour of a place, conveying a sense of what a town or district was like to live in at a particular time, and identifying the main property owners, naming the shopkeepers and listing the tradesmen who gave a place its unique character.
They generally listed people whom literate or reasonably well-off people might want to find – clergymen, gentry, nobility, professionals, farmers, craftsmen and tradesmen. Directories may give exact street numbers where census returns do not. The lists often appear in sections, sometimes using a threefold division into ‘Court’, ‘Commercial’ and ‘Trade’ – where Court listed private residents alphabetically, Commercial listed trade and business people alphabetically and Trade broke the commercial list down into constituent professions and trades.
On Friday 28th September Helen Winton and I gave a talk to the Corsham Civic Society at the Pound Arts Centre. Helen outlined how many fine 17th and 18th century stone houses there are in the High Street resulting from the wealth generated by the cloth trade. John Leland, when he visited in 1541 described ‘Cosham’ as ‘a good uplandisch toun’, which suggests that it was a thriving place even then. But what remains of this earlier town, if anything? Corsham seems to have sprung fully-formed in stone with no apparent trace of timber-framing.
Dorothy Treasure Principal Buildings Historian, Wiltshire Buildings Record
This year marks the 70th anniversary of the arrival of the Empire Windrush, which docked in London on 21 June 1948 carrying 492 passengers from the West Indies who planned on settling in the UK. The arrival of the Windrush is traditionally taken to mark the beginning of a period, lasting from 1948 to 1971, of migration from the Commonwealth to the UK – the “Windrush Generation”.
To celebrate the arrival of the Windrush and its passengers, and to mark Black History Month, we have put together the exhibition ‘Wiltshire Remembers the Windrush Generation’ to showcase the stories of some of the many West Indians who came to settle here in Wiltshire.
The exhibition draws on recollections gathered as part of the SEEME project, a Heritage Lottery funded community project where local people and organisations worked with Wiltshire Council, Wiltshire Music Centre & Salisbury Playhouse to collect life story testimonies from Black, Asian & minority ethnic (BAME) elders across Wiltshire to ensure that their stories are recorded and archived for future generations.
Using these recollections it covers the story of the Windrush Generation in Wiltshire, from their reasons for leaving the Caribbean and their first impressions of the UK to their working lives and sense of identity. One of the key themes that runs through all of these areas is the relationship between the new, Black, arrivals and the existing, White, communities in Wiltshire.
For example Rollin, who came to Britain in 1956, remembered clear examples of experiencing racism at work. In particular he recalled “working with a bloke and we’re working, he's my work mate, two of us are working. And he says why don't you go back on your banana tree and all that sort of thing, and I thought why, why you have to say that, y'know? Cause it's stupid! I’d say it's so good I have a banana tree I can go back, but what did he have?”
Likewise Glenda remembered experiencing casual racism throughout her life here, even very recently. “When I first came, I remember someone asking me if we lived in trees, and if we had a tail like a monkey, and but eventually comments like that sort of tailed off. But work wise, I've had problems with work. I mean just before I retired somebody I worked with called me a "black bitch” … I experienced other prejudices, like not being encouraged to further my training … And those sort of things stay with you for such a long time, and you end up getting sort of fearful for how people are going to treat you.”
The racism that many experienced was not confined to words, either – many people we talked to remembered experiencing, witnessing or hearing of physical attacks. Even before coming to Britain in 1961, Sylvia remembered hearing “that they attack black people” in Britain. Whilst living here “I never experienced it, but people would be pushing their babies - black people would be pushing their babies in a pram and some white people would come up and spit on the baby.”
Scotch had a more direct personal experience with racial violence: “in those days there what you call Teddy boys and Angels they used to walk with bicycle chain, knuckle duster and knife and things like that, ready to fight the blacks we have to prepare ourselves to protect ourselves otherwise we wouldn't be here. My brother almost got killed where four white blokes beat him up badly.”
Not all racism was as obvious as this. Tom joined the armed forces and remembers a more subtle (relatively speaking) form of discrimination. “In those days, wherever you got posted, the first thing that would happen was you would go to the camp, hand your papers in and whoever was sitting on the other side of that desk would say ahhh, a West Indian, cricket! And I would say, I do not play cricket. And they couldn’t understand that, you know they’d continue, you guys can really play cricket, what are you, batsmen or a bowler? I do not play cricket. You really don’t play cricket? And that was it. That was me ignored for the next three months. That happened everywhere I went.”
Whilst Tom’s experience of cricket was a tool of exclusion, for others it helped to bring the community together. Bert recalled that “Where I first started off in the type of work I was doing, back in 78/79 actually, there was a police who was killed by a black man in Trowbridge. And it was underlying tension, so I formed the Cavaliers, which was made out of all black people, who played for the Cavaliers. And each year we have two cricket matches against the police, we bring the black community and the police together.”
We could see the enemy’s whole body of horse face about and run with speed… and our horse in close body firing in their rear, till they had chased them down the hill in a steep place, where never horse went down and up again.
Sir Henry Slingsby, Royalist Cavalry Commander, describing the endgame of the battle of Roundway Down.
Slingsby’s laconic words describe the best-known moment of the 1643 Battle of Roundway Down, when the broken Parliamentarian cavalry were chased from the field by the troopers of King Charles I. During this rout, both those fleeing and their pursuing enemies rode off the steep, western edge of the chalk down. The moment captured the imagination and that part of the down is known as the Bloody Ditch!
The rout of the Roundheads might be the most famous part of the action, but it was part of a bigger battle that was, in turn, part of a wider campaign as both sides tried to take control of the west of England. Both sides were seeking to exploit the region’s resources, recruit its menfolk, seize the horses and tax the populace, who were, often unwilling, participants in the increasingly bitter civil war that had broken out in 1643. Meanwhile, the battle took place on chalk downland that had already seen millennia of human activity, the landscape is rich in archaeological remains as a result, with barrows and a hillfort. The edge of the downs also gives superb views across the surrounding landscape and its archaeology.
In early September, we led an archaeological walk across part of the battlefield to explore and explain both the flow of the battle and the more ancient remains in the area.
The Roundway Landscape
The Wiltshire Historic Environment Record includes data for a number of later Neolithic or Bronze Age barrows. Like many other barrows in Wiltshire these occupy prominent locations with extensive views into the wider landscape. They have also, like many similar monuments, been investigated by 19th century antiquarians. Although some of these monuments are similar to others in the county, with prehistoric burials beneath and within earthen mounds, one barrow is exceptional. When it was opened in the 19th century a number of metal fixings were found that suggested there may have been a bed burial inserted into the Bronze Age mound during the Anglo-Saxon period. Bed burials are an unusual Saxon burial practice, usually reserved for women of high status, another example in Wiltshire comes from Swallowcliffe, between Salisbury and Shaftesbury, with others known elsewhere in Wessex and around Cambridge. These bed burials appear to date to the 7th Century AD and may relate to the conversion of England to Christianity, and the woman was buried with a dress pin decorated with a cross. The burials may also relate to the wider power struggles between the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, including the expansion of Wessex. The mound and the artefacts were re-investigated by Sarah Semple and Howard Williams in 2001 when they suggested that the Roundway burial might actually have included an elaborate coffin, rather than a bed. Whatever the mode of burial, the status of the deceased remains in no doubt, while the reuse of the much older burial mound is typical of Anglo-Saxon burials associated with barrows. This practice suggests not only the use of the barrows as landmarks, but also that they retained some form of mythic or folkloric power to the people of Anglo-Saxon England.
The walk also visited Oliver’s Castle, an Iron Age hillfort that overlooks St Edith’s Marsh. This monument includes a ditch and bank creating a rampart that encloses a promontory on the edge of the downs. The ramparts respect two earlier Bronze Age burial mounds. When excavations took place in the later 19th century, there was little trace of settlement, suggesting that the hillfort was, perhaps, used as a place of safety in time of danger, or that it was used for ceremonial events. In either case, the prominent location meant that views of the surrounding landscape were excellent, whether to see enemies or to be closer to the gods. The site enjoyed a later life as a sheep fold; a dew pond, providing water for sheep and probably originating in the 18th century, still survives within the ramparts. By the later 19th century, a shepherd is known to have had his hut close to the pond.
Below the fort is a site known as Mother Antony’s Well. This has been the site of excavations in recent years that have found probable Bronze Age barrows, an Iron Age enclosure, and Roman remains that included kilns used to dry grain. In addition, the Romano-British population seem to have regarded the springs in the area as special, and one had an elaborate well head that may suggest a shrine.
Charles Wyndham Barnes was born in Westbury, Wiltshire, England in 1884. His father was Frank Barnes and at the 1911 census was 53. Charles’ mother was Helena Barnes, aged 52. The census records that Charles working as a law clerk to a barrister. He had two siblings, one named Nellie Barnes, 22, and another called Constance, aged 10.
His Father was an engine fitter at a railway station and his sister’s occupation was as a shop assistant.
Charles was a dutiful son, and sent over 160 letters home from the front to his mother between 1915 and 1918 which are held here at the Wiltshire & Swindon History Centre (Ref: 4104/1). From his letters Charles appears confident and considerate – he wrote at least once a week.
Topics he talked of were his health (he was alright), gardening, fresh fruit such as apples, and partridges. His favourite topic was the weather – snow, floods and the heat of summer. He also mentioned that he would be away from the trenches for some time in May 1917.
Information from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission shows that Charles was married to Violet Blanche – known as “Blanche” who he mentioned in his many letters home.
Blanche Eyers was 24 when she married Charles on 24 December, 1914. The 1911 census shows Blanche living at home and working as a school teacher. She was born in Yarnbrook in 1891.
In the army, Charles joined the Wiltshire Regiment and served with the second battalion. Additionally, he had the rank of a Lance Corporal and his service number was 11257.
A week into the Battle of the Somme – called the Great Offensive by the public and the “big push” by the soldiers – Charles wrote a postcard giving an upbeat assessment of the battle.