I’ve been producing documents for the public from the archives for 21 years, during which time I’ve come to know the collections quite well. There are several extremely interesting collections that are very under used. One particular collection is the Parish War Books (WSRO F2/851/3/1 – F2/851/4/52) which are a very interesting piece of local history.
The Wiltshire Parish War Books have their origins with the Napoleonic Wars when there was a real threat of invasion from the French. In 1798 a plan was drawn up to make provisions in the event of this happening. Titled “Rendering The Body Of The People Instrumental In The General Defence” it laid out three plans. The first was to cut off the food supply to the French by moving all the live stock away from the enemy advancing. Another measure was “Breaking the upper millstone and the crown of the oven are deemed the most effectual and least expensive modes of derangement”. Second, was to supply the number of wagons, carts and horses with drivers and conductors that could be made available to help supply the British Army with provisions. Lastly, a plan for insuring the regular supply of bread to the army with instructions for bakers to bake loaves of three pounds or four and a half. A hard crust all the way around was needed otherwise they would not keep in hot weather.
Copyright Imperial War Museum
Fast forward 143 years and the risk of invasion was once again upon us. By mid 1940 German forces had invaded France, Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands. “Operation Sea Lion” was the code name for Nazi Germany’s invasion plan of the U.K. during the Battle of Britain. In preparation, invasion committees were set up around the country.
Wilfrid Gabriel de Glehn has often been described as “one of England’s leading Impressionists” due to his ability to capture variations in sunlight and shadow as well as a painterly style and a feel for colour that perfectly captured his subject. He has been highlighted while researching for Creative Wiltshire, a Heritage Lottery Funded project and we discovered that we hold one of his pieces within the county; a portrait of Dr. Edwin Sloper Beaven dated 1939 and held at Dewey Museum in Warminster. (Ref. WAMDM:D4414)
However, while he was known for his portraits and received regular commissions, it is perhaps his landscapes that inform us of the man; often capturing a sense of place with huge accomplishment and care. He worked in oils or watercolours and travelled widely, so his subject matter is hugely varied and genuinely reflects his love of people and places.
In 1891 he was invited to assist in the murals for Boston library by Edwin Austin Abbey and so began his long association with America, leading to his marriage in 1904 to Jane Erin Emmet, cousin of the novelist Henry James. He also began a lifelong friendship with John Singer Sargent and the three often travelled together, painting side by side as they visited wonderful locations such as Venice, Rome, Corfu, Granada, St. Tropez and areas in the south of France along with locations closer to home, such as Hampshire, Wiltshire and Cornwall. Wilfrid and Jane settled in London, in Cheyne Walk, close to Sargent’s studio, and Wilfrid began to establish himself as a portrait painter, exhibiting at the Royal Academy and other private galleries in the early part of the 20th century.
His painting was interrupted by the First World War when he and his wife worked as orderlies in a French field hospital and this contrast with his earlier pre-war life had an impact on them both. He took time to return to painting after the war but had produced watercolour sketches during his experiences depicting patients resting in the landscape, playing cards and recuperating, and these demonstrate his eye for figures and a wonderful ability to capture a sense of place and nature.
Visits to France became part of the couple’s lifestyle; both had studied in Paris and they regularly returned to the city as well as favouring the area around Chartes, the Seine valley and Provence. Wilfrid’s portraiture work funded these summer trips to Europe and in turn fuelled his interest and love of landscape painting. Both he and Jane travelled with their artist’s tools and regularly set up their easels together to enjoy their painting. A love of the English countryside grew and Cornwall became a firm favourite, as well as Hampshire and the River Avon. A theme of castles brought de Glehn to Wardour Castle in the south of the county, and a visit to Downton led to them renting the rectory at Wilton during the 1920s and 1930s, introducing them both to the Wiltshire countryside. The rectory backed onto Wilton Park which provided de Glehn with more subject matter, and he became fascinated with the Palladian bridge spanning the River Nadder. He also painted Heale, a seventeenth century house owned by a friend and many of these paintings were shown at Wilfrid de Glehn’s exhibition at Knoedlers in 1935.
By 1941 the couple were searching for a new home, having lost Cheyne Walk, London in the Blitz and it was at this point that they bought the Manor House in Stratford Tony where they settled for the remainder of his life while still returning regularly to Provence.
The care and provision for people with mental health issues is a current high-profile concern, but how have people been cared for historically in Wiltshire? The availability on Ancestry of the Lunacy Patients Admission registers from 1846-1912 (held at the National Archives MH 94) – an index giving the name of each patient, date of admission, discharge or death and name of institution - the census returns from 1841-1911 and death certificates –have led to numerous enquiries about ancestors in Wiltshire institutions. The County Asylum at Devizes ( Roundway ) opened in 1851 and we have extensive detailed patient case records; similarly for Fisherton House , later known as the Old Manor Hospital, Salisbury. Visitors can use these records to find out more about their ancestors’ treatment (although they are subject to a 100 year closure period), but what of mental health care before this time?
The term ‘lunatic’ is a pre-20th century word used to describe someone who was mentally ill or emotionally disturbed; it was a very broad term. Many so described were perhaps eccentric, very intelligent, physically or mentally handicapped in some way, senile ,or suffering from conditions that today would be treated with drugs and in the home such as epilepsy or post natal depression – few were ‘mad ‘ but their behaviour was such that they could not be cared for at home.
The earliest asylum, Bethlem or ‘Bedlam’ Hospital in London was established in the 13th cent but generally provision was not widespread until the 18th cent. Private asylums or madhouses were set up to cater for those who could afford to pay. Pauper lunatics were dealt with locally by their families or ended up in workhouses or prisons; however, if the parish agreed to pay the fees they could be treated in the private asylums. The first Act to regulate madhouses was in 1774 by which the institutions were licensed by the local magistrates; a further Act of 1828 appointed committees of visitors to inspect and report on the premises and the medical care provided. In Wiltshire 7 private asylums were licensed:- Laverstock House, Laverstock ; Fiddington House, Market Lavington ; Fisherton House, Fisherton Anger ; Kingsdown House , Box ; Belle Vue , Devizes ; Fonthill Gifford and Calne.
The records that survive consist of admission registers, minutes of the visitors, annual reports and plans. The admission registers record the name, date of admission, parish, marital status, occupation, by whom sent, whether pauper or private and date of discharge or death. No treatment records survive. They do show how Wiltshire’s institutions attracted patients from a wide area of the south-west and London- whether this was because of the ‘facilties’ offered and reputation or simply because families did not want their ‘lunatic’ relatives close to home.
An advertising prospectus survives for Laverstock House from the 1830’s which extols its virtues. ‘The situation of Laverstock House is peculiarly eligible. Surrounded by large Gardens and Pleasure Grounds in the midst of a fine and extended Country, it is at once retired and cheerful, and affords the most ample means for indulgence in those exercises which are so essential to the happiness and health of the Patients’… Male and female patients had separate apartments, subdivided by disease, habits and ‘station in life’ with superior accommodation for ‘Persons in the higher walks of Society’…’ Every possible kind of amusement was provided for them; billiards, backgammon, cards, books etc indoors; bowls, cricket, greyhounds, riding on horseback and in a carriage, out of doors; a Chapel on Sundays’
When you think of a garden the first thing that comes to mind probably isn’t paper. But in our archive we hold various documents relating to gardens from ranging from plans, accounts, drawings etc of major estate gardens such as Wilton House, to diaries and papers of garden designer such as Harold Peto to interesting individual items like this 1911 inventory of garden tools and late 18th century instructions for growing truffles.
Gardening by its nature is ephemeral and always changing. Sometimes the only trace of a garden is through archival material such as planting lists, sketches, accounts or correspondence. These documents can tell a story not only of a lost garden, but of the friendships and ideas which inspired it.
The first documented garden at Wilton (although there probably would have been earlier gardens associated with the Abbey which was dissolved in the mid-16th century) was created by Adrian Gilbert (half-brother to Sir Walter Raleigh) for Mary Herbert, Countess of Pembroke 1561-1621. No drawings or plans of the garden survives but poet John Taylor recorded detailed descriptions of the garden following a visit in his ‘A New Discovery by Sea, with a Wherry from London to Salisbury’ in 1623. He praised the garden and described the:
‘intricate setting. Grafting, planting, inoculating, railing, hedging, plashing, turning, winding and returning circular, triangular, quadrangular, orbicular, oval, and every way curiously and chargeably conceited: there hath he made walks, hedges, and arbours, of all manner of the most delicate fruit trees, planting and placing them in such admirable artlike fashions… the hedges betwixt each walk are so thickly set, that one cannot see through from one walk who walks in the other: that in conclusion, “the work sees endless, and I think that in England it is not to be followed, or will in haste be followed”’.
Since joining the team at Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre as a ‘Transforming Archives Trainee’ with The National Archives, life has certainly been full! Over the last 5 months I’ve been involved in several HLF funded projects, completed a university module on Education and Outreach, have undertaken various in-house training sessions on traditional archive skills, as well as attending training conferences in London, Bristol, Manchester, Warwickshire, Gloucester and Dorset. In a few weeks I’ll be off to Edinburgh for another ‘basecamp’ week, training with The National Archives and Scottish Council on Archives. How time has flown!
Something that has struck me deeply over the course of my traineeship so far, which I’d like to share here, is a realisation about the vast importance of learning from our history - particularly the individual lives and stories of people who have gone before us.
Working on the ‘Wiltshire at War: Community Stories’ project, which focuses on the lives and culture of Wiltshire and its residents during WW1, has brought this home to me most of all. Traditionally, when remembering the World Wars, historians tend to concentrate on military or political strategy, and we subsequently have a multitude of movies, books and magazines concerned with the armed forces and the battles they fought. Whilst this is all fascinating information, the Wiltshire at War project seeks to collect and share the stories and memories of the individual people across Wiltshire, who lived through the troubled times of 1914 -1918. We feel it’s equally important to understand how the Wiltshire community adapted during this time, how life continued, and what individual sacrifices were made. What support did Wiltshire provide to the war effort? How did people across the county ‘pick up’ their lives again, once peace was declared? How did they cope with so much change? The project seeks to bring all this community history back into the community, and to share those stories through our fantastic website and ongoing exhibitions.
Recently I was publishing a story which came to us via our Wiltshire at War Twitter feed. It’s the story of a young farmer’s son called Freddie Butler, who grew up on Rookhaye farm in Bowerchalke, and tragically died in a flying accident whilst serving with the Royal Flying Corps. I was looking at a photo of Freddie as a child feeding hay to one of the horses, happy as can be. I wondered about that child – his hopes, dreams, memories... In that one moment captured through a camera lens, he, like all the people around him, had absolutely no idea what was to come. I wondered too about Freddie’s mother, shown in a separate photo – how did life continue for her, after the loss of her beloved son?
Looking at some of the family photos that have come in with other recent stories - some dating back as far as 1905 - I find myself peering at each individual face, pondering the complex network of unique memories, life experiences, struggles, choices and relationships that each, single person represented. Was it even possible for those individuals to comprehend that, in the not so distant future, these photos and associated stories may be all that’s left to prove that they even existed? Questions then arise in me that are fundamentally about the human condition: What lessons can we learn from these people and their experience - fellow human beings who lived 100 years before us, in circumstances even more challenging than our own? If I consider that in another 100 years, researchers might be sitting at a desk and pondering photos of me and my family, reflecting on the lives we perhaps lived – might I now choose to live mine differently? What legacy would you choose to leave?
Students like a word search, a little bit of light relief from the rigours of normal lessons, and teachers like them as a sneaky way to revise subject specific vocabulary. We decided on a word search with a difference to introduce secondary school students to archives and working with primary sources. It was part of a new schools’ session developed by Salisbury Cathedral in partnership with the Wiltshire & Swindon History Centre. While the History Centre is open to the public, and has extensive experience using its archives in educational settings, the Salisbury Cathedral archive has not been so accessible. This is changing thanks to the hard work of Cathedral archivist Emily Naish and her band of volunteers, and the willingness of the Dean and Chapter to open up this amazing resource. Members of the public have already enjoyed behind-the-scenes tours of the library, located above the cloisters, and now it is the turn of school children to work with documents from the archive and enjoy the benefits of this cultural education.
Archivist Emily joined forces with the Cathedral’s teaching & community officer Sally Stewart-Davis and the History Centre to develop the school session which we ran in the cathedral on 27 February.
The 13th century Papal Bull that gave permission for the building of a new cathedral on the water meadows by the River Avon, so moving the settlement of Old Sarum to New Sarum. Students from Stanchester Academy near Yeovil are shown the original cartulary, or register, which contains the 1219 Papal Bull from Pope Honorious III.
Emily chose a document in abbreviated Medieval Latin to introduce the difficulties that can arise when working with primary sources. Written in 1219, the document is an official copy of the Papal Bull from Pope Honorious III giving permission for the church authorities to build a new Salisbury Cathedral on the water meadows by the River Avon. As a starter activity we asked the students – aged 11-14 – to identify a list of words that they might find familiar, even though they were in Latin. Among the words they were looking for were Sarum, benedictionem, aquam, castellani and hominum (Salisbury, benediction, water, castle and men/people).
It was a challenge, but a challenge that was well met. The students realised that even when faced with a document in a foreign language, with abbreviations and in a difficult script, there was information they could extract.
While a Papal Bull in Medieval Latin does not immediately spring to mind as the most accessible archive for school children or adults, the youngsters from Bishop Wordsworth School in Salisbury and Stanchester Academy, near Yeovil, really engaged with the document and the activity. This was real and relevant – and they were working in the building that ultimately resulted from this Papal document.
The second document the students worked on was a 1599 letter from Elizabeth I to the dean and chapter at Salisbury Cathedral and relates to Sir Walter Raleigh’s request that he be given the estate of Sherborne Castle which had belonged to the Church. Although in English, the students still faced the challenge of deciphering the handwriting and getting to grips with Elizabethan grammar and spellings. This they did with amazing success.