local history – Page 2 – Kintbury and Beyond

Kintbury’s Doctors Lidderdale

John Lidderdale, b.1802 & John Lidderdale, b.1839

He had been at the pains of consulting Mr. Perry, the apothecary, on the subject. Mr. Perry was an intelligent, gentlemanlike man, whose frequent visits were one of the comforts of Mr. Woodhouse’s life.

As readers of Jane Austen’s novel Emma (1816) will know, the village medic, Mr Perry, was an important figure in the life of Mr Woodhouse who was constantly in need of reassurance as regards to his health. Austen describes Mr Perry as an apothecary; however, by the 1830s the Mr Woodhouses of Kintbury might have considered themselves as more fortunate as their general practitioner could be described as “surgeon”.

So who was Kintbury’s Dr Lidderdale?

John Lidderdale I had been born in Hungerford in 1802. He was the eldest son of Captain John Lidderdale of Hungerford and his wife, Ann, née Pearce. John senior had been a Captain in the 17^th Hussars and his family had come, originally, from Dumfriesshire in Scotland. Ann was from a local family, having been born in Standen, near Hungerford.

In the 1820s John was a student at the London Hospital Medical College, at that time still a relatively new establishment, having been founded in 1785. He became LSA ( Licensed Surgical Assistant ) in 1825 then MRCS ( Member of the Royal College of Surgeons ) in 1826. Studying medicine at that time was expensive and John’s fees, board and lodgings may have cost him between £500 and £1000 – enormous amounts for the time. It was not as if he could expect to become a high earner upon qualifying, either; whilst a medic practising in a wealthy part of London, for example, might earn up to £1000 a year, a country doctor was more likely to make between £150 and £200, comparable to better-paid teachers.

By 1839, John is listed in Robson’s Directory as surgeon and registrar of births and deaths for the Kintbury district. At the time of the 1841 census, his younger brother James is living with him, most probably in the role of an apprentice as James would later go on to study medicine.

Four years later, John married Isabella Fowle, the youngest daughter of the late Fulwar Craven Fowle who had been for many years the vicar of Kintbury. Although it is impossible to say how prosperous or otherwise the Kintbury practice was proving to be, the 1851 census indicates that John has an apprentice, one Francis Owen, and three live-in servants. By 1861, he has an assistant, one Michael Cuff, and two live- in servants. The same year he was awarded the degree of MD ( Doctor of Medicine ) by the University of St Andrews – the prestigious Scottish university which at this time awarded the degree of MD without the recipients having to attend its campus on the Fife coast.

John Lidderdale died in October 1863. His obituary in the Newbury Weekly News noted,

“ Few men had so extensive a practice as the late doctor, and none worked harder for it. His kindness of manner, his skill and attention, and his patience in tedious cases, will ever be gratefully remembered”.

Large numbers of villagers filled the church for the funeral including many tradesmen who had closed their shops for the occasion. Kintbury certainly showed its respect for the late doctor.

However, where was this popular doctor in the strict social hierarchy of early nineteenth century England? Looking again at the Jane Austen quote I used at the top of this article, the respected Mr Perry is described as gentlemanlike. That last syllable carries a lot of weight: for as much as Perry was respected, he was not, within the hierarchy of the time, a gentleman.

And neither was Dr John Lidderdale.

The Kelly’s Directory of 1848 lists 19 Kintbury people as members of the Gentry which includes Mrs Lidderdale’s unmarried sister, Elizabeth Caroline Fowle and her widowed sister, Mary Jane Dexter. But the man who has achieved the recognition of an MRCS, who is trusted to take care of the villagers’ health, is regarded as being of lower status than the great and the good many of whom were most probably not qualified in anything.

By the time of the 1871 census, Kintbury had a new doctor. Also named John Lidderdale, this young man was the son of the John Lidderdale I’s brother, William.

William Lidderdale had been born in Hungerford in 1805. It seems likely that he had an involvement with the East India Company in his younger adult years although by 1851 he was a Chief Officer with the Coast Guard Agency living in Tyneham and then Osmington Mills, Dorset where his wife Elizabeth died in 1852.

John Lidderdale II had been born in 1839 when the family were in Ilford, Essex, then educated at a boarding school in Southampton. The 1861 census shows him to be a medical student in London although there is some evidence to suggest he had been an apprentice in Kintbury before that, presumably under his uncle. In 1861 he became a Member of the Royal College of Surgeons.

In 1863, the Board of Guardians of the Hungerford Union (in other words, those responsible for the work house ) unanimously voted him Medical Officer of the Kintbury District.

John Lidderdale II served Kintbury as general practitioner for over twenty years. These were changing times: by 1869, Kelly’s Directory had dropped the category, “Gentry” in favour of “Private Residents” in which category both John Lidderdale and his uncle’s widow, Mrs Lidderdale are included.

John Lidderdale retired in 1891 when he married Emma Louisa Mathews, the widow of a farmer from Boxford. To mark this occasion, Dr Lidderdale, “entertained to supper the whole of the adult population ( of Kintbury ), it taking two evenings to do so, and subsequently gave a tea to all juveniles aged between five and sixteen.”

To show their respect to the retiring doctor, 433 of the villagers had subscribed to the cost of a solid silver epergne engraved with the Lidderdale crest.

Both John Lidderdales are frequently mentioned in the pages of the Newbury Weekly News with regards to the sick or injured they have attended during their times as general practitioners in Kintbury. For as much as one can tell, neither were particularly involved in public life, however the reports of their respective funerals show that both had earned the respect and appreciation of village’s working people.

John Lidderdale II died in April 1894. According to the Newbury Weekly News he was remembered as, “ a kind neighbour, devoted friend and approachable councillor.”

Isabella Lidderdale, widow of John Lidderdale II continued to live in Kintbury until her death in 1884. Isabella had lived in Kintbury through times of great social change and also has the distinction of having been, quite probably, the very last village person to have known Jane Austen personally.

William Lidderdale, father to John Lidderdale II, died in Newbury in 1881 but was buried in Osmington, Dorset along with his wife.

Charles Lidderdale, brother of John Lidderdale I became an actuary of the Sun Life Assurance Company but died in Hungerford in 1863.

James Lidderdale, brother of John Lidderdale I, practised as a GP in Great Bedwyn, Wiltshire and died in 1882.

Emma Louisa Lidderdale, widow of John Lidderdale II, continued to live in Kintbury until her death in 1920. The village’s long association with the Lidderdale family had come to an end.

Sources:

The origin of the general practitioner I. S. L. LOUDON, DM, FRCGP, DRCOG Wellcome Research Fellow, University of Oxford, and Honorary Archivist, Royal College of General Practitioners

Journal of the Royal College of General Practitioners, January 1983

hhtps://www.bartshealth.nhs.uk/the-royal-london-our-history

hhtps://livesonline.rcseng.ac.uk

Newbury Weekly News via British Newspapers online

Ancestry.co.uk

Charles Morton: A casualty of the Boer War

As you walk through Kintbury church yard toward the gate at the top of the path leading to the canal, pause a while to read the inscription on a stone to your right.

As you walk through Kintbury church yard toward the gate at the top of the path leading to the canal, pause a while to read the inscription on a stone to your right. The name at the top of this particular stone is that of George Morton who died on November 24^th, 1885 aged 53. There is nothing particularly unusual about that – however, read on. The inscription below reads:

Also of Charles, son of the above who was killed in action at Vlakfontein, South Africa on Feb 8^th, 1901 aged 23 years.

Charles Morton had been killed during the 2^nd Boer War, a conflict fought from 1899 to 1902 between Britain and the South African Republic & the Orange Free State. At that time, it would have been very unusual for a soldier’s body to be returned to his homeland and closer reading of the grave’s inscription reveals that it does not say, “Here lies…”. So this gravestone commemorated Charles but does not mark his resting place.

I have tried to find out more about Charles Morton and his family. However, as so often happens when researching local history, my searching has raised far more questions than it has answered.

Many people wrongly believe that, in years gone by, poorer families rarely ever moved far from their places of birth. Anyone who has spent time studying family history will know this is not necessarily always the case.

Charles’ father, George, named on the gravestone, was born in Daventry, Northamptonshire in 1832 where his father, William Morton, was an innkeeper. By 1851, the Morton family had left Northamptonshire for Fulham where William – presumably embracing new opportunities – was working as a conductor on a horse-drawn omnibus.

I can find no trace of William or George Morton on the 1861 or 1871 censuses but in 1881 George turns up again, far away from the increasingly urbanised streets of Middlesex where he had lived as a child. George is now married to Ellen and they are living in West Ilsley, with their three children: Frederick, who is seven, Charles, two and a baby daughter. George is working as a groom in a racing stables.

At some point in the following ten years, however, the family experienced many changes because by the census of 1891, Charles is living in Kintbury with his mother and stepfather Edward Brooks, a labourer. According to the inscription on the gravestone I mentioned earlier, Charles’ father, George Morton had died on November 24^th, 1885.

Like his father before him, Charles took up work as a groom and by the 1901 census he is living in lodgings in Crowthorne, although there is no clue as to what took the young man to work as a “groom domestic” in east Berkshire when similar work would have been available nearer home.

However, by the following year, Charles was even farther away from his mother’s home in Kintbury. As the gravestone tells us, on 8^th February 1902, Charles was killed on active service in South Africa.

The inscription on the stone says that Charles died on active service in Vlakfontein, which is in the Mpumalanga Province of South Africa – the site of guerrilla fighting during the Boer War. However, the Victorian Society says that Charles was a member of the South African Constabulary who was killed at Syferfontein, also in Mpumalanga Province. It is impossible to say which is correct; the Victorian Society and the gravestone both have February 2^nd as the date of death. To confuse matters further, the Forces War Records list two other Charles Mortons killed in South Africa in 1902.

As research has shown, neither Charles’ father nor his step-father were wealthy or in relatively high-status occupations. Many poorer and even middle-income people at the time were buried without gravestones. That George Morton – whose last known occupation was as a groom – should have a gravestone is, I believe, quite unusual for someone of his background at that time.

All this leads me to wonder this: Did someone with the means to have a gravestone erected in Kintbury want to commemorate a young man from the village killed abroad? Whilst some of the great and the good who saw active service are commemorated on the walls inside the church, it was never the custom to put up a plaque to the lower ranks who died in the military. As I have commented above, men of the status of George Morton were very unlikely to have a marked grave. However, by erecting a stone for him, the name of his son Charles could be added below, even though the plot in Kintbury was not his final resting place.

Perhaps someone with the wherewithal to afford a gravestone knew that some seventy years earlier, the Rev Fulwar Craven Fowle had erected a gravestone to working man, William Winterbourne. Perhaps that person felt inspired to do something similar. Perhaps that person was a former soldier. We shall probably never know unless these details are recorded somewhere in the parish records held by the diocese. It would be an interesting search to find out.

I have not been able to find a record of Charles Morton having a Commonwealth War Graves Commission burial in South Africa but it is, of course, pleasing to know that he is remembered in our churchyard.

Thomas Hardy’s poem, Drummer Hodge, written in 1899, was his response to news of the death of young country men, killed, like Charles Morton, in the Boer War:

They throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest
     Uncoffined—just as found:
His landmark is a kopje-crest
     That breaks the veldt around;
And foreign constellations west
     Each night above his mound.

Young Hodge the Drummer never knew—
     Fresh from his Wessex home—
The meaning of the broad Karoo,
     The Bush, the dusty loam,
And why uprose to nightly view
     Strange stars amid the gloam.

Yet portion of that unknown plain
     Will Hodge for ever be;
His homely Northern breast and brain
     Grow up a Southern tree,
And strange-eyed constellations reign
     His stars eternally.

Not what you expect of a vicar?

The story of Kintbury’s Rev James Whitley Deans Dundas

In 1840, Rev Fulwar Craven Fowle, who had been a close friend of Jane & Cassandra Austen, died aged 76. He had been the third generation of his family to be vicar at Kintbury so his death must have seemed like the end of an era to his parishioners.

One wonders how Kintbury villagers felt when the next person to be appointed to the parish was a much younger man. Twenty eight year old James Whitley Deans Dundas must already have been known to local people, being the son of Admiral James Whitley Deans Dundas, a member of the well-connected and influential family of Barton Court, Kintbury. He held an MA degree from Magdalen College, Cambridge, had been ordained in 1835 and had become vicar of Ramsbury, ten miles away in Wiltshire, in 1839.

Although I have not been able to find James Dundas on the 1841 census, the 1851 census shows that he is still vicar of St Mary’s, Kintbury. He has, living with him in the vicarage, a cook/housekeeper, a kitchen maid and a groom and, although he is married his wife seems to have been absent on the night of the census. Strangely, the 1861 census also records Dundas as being married, yet his wife is absent again and his staff consists of just one waiting maid.

However, this must have been a time of upheaval in the vicarage, for around this time the original building – the one known to Jane and Cassandra Austen – was demolished and a new, large house in the fashionable Neo Gothic style built to replaced it. Quite why James Dundas chose to do this we do not know; perhaps the old house was in a state of poor repair or perhaps he considered it lacked the style and sophistication fitting a person of his status.

The Old Vicarage in Kintbury — Out with the old: The vicarage known to Jane Austen was demolished

It is easy to imagine the new vicarage filled with a large family and ample servants to run it; but that was not the case. The 1871 census reveals that, whilst Dundas maintained a live-in staff of footman, cook, housemaid and groom, the many rooms did not echo to the sound of children or visiting grandchildren, and, although the vicar is still recorded as being married, Mrs Dundas is conspicuous by being absent.

Designed by Thomas Talbot Bury, the new vicarage replaced the old one in 1860

An online search reveals the rather surprising truth.

Sometime in the mid 1830s, James Dundas had entered into a relationship with Olivia Flora Burslem, the daughter of Captain Nathanial Godolphin Burslem of Harwood Lodge, East Woodhay, Hampshire. Olivia had been born while her father was serving in the army in Java, in the East Indies and it is this rather unusual place of birth which makes Olivia easier to trace on census returns.

Olivia’s relationship with Dundas seems to have been a turbulent one almost from the very beginning. Some of the details can be put together from parish records and various newspaper reports covering the proceedings of the Court of Queen’s Bench in July of 1840.

The couple had been married by special licence at East Woodhay, Hampshire, on February 11^th 1836. The groom was 23 and the bride 22.

However, by 1837 the couple were living separately.

In 1839, in an attempt to bring about the dissolution of his unhappy marriage, the now Rev Dundas brought a case against a Mr Hoey of Bath, whom he accused of “criminal conversation” with Mrs Dundas. It seems that a witnesses for the prosecution, a waiter and others who worked at the Castle Hotel in Marlborough, described Mr Hoey and Mrs Dundas arriving there and posing as a married couple.

They stayed for two or three days and “had but one bed”.

Although a case had been built against his wife, witnesses for the defence suggested that Dundas had not been as innocent as he had tried to make out.

The court heard how, in 1834, Dundas had become a frequent visitor at the East Woodhay home of Captain Burslem whose daughter, Olivia, was “possessed of great personal attraction.” Dundas claimed there had been a mutual attraction between the young people and that his intentions were honourable. However, during a period towards the end of 1834, Mrs Burslem had become ill and was confined to her bed for some time. During this time, “the plaintiff was base enough to take advantage of the affections of Miss Burslem and to abuse the confidence reposed in him by her family by effecting her ruin.”

On learning that Miss Burslem was pregnant, the report suggests, Dundas abandoned her. It appears that it was “with great difficulty” that Rev Dundas was persuaded to marry Olivia but after Captain Burslem had settled £10,000 on his daughter and Admiral Dundas had settled £5,000 on his son, the wedding finally took place.

The court heard evidence that, from the time of the marriage, Dundas treated his new wife with cruelty and neglect. There was also evidence to suggest that he was violent towards her. It was even suggested that he had somehow encouraged her into relationships with other men to enable the possibility of a divorce under the very restrictive divorce laws of the time..

At the conclusion of the case, the jury’s verdict was: “We think he had morally deserted her”. Dundas was not granted a divorce.

If Olivia Dundas was not living with her husband in Kintbury, where was she? Although I have not been able to find her whereabouts on the 1841 census, other sources, along with cross referencing, do reveal more about her life after her separation from Dundas.

There is evidence to suggest that Flora was in a relationship with a new partner, one Henry Dean and is styling herself as his wife. In polite Victorian society, this would have been frowned upon by those who knew the truth – although it has to be said that there were likely those willing to”turn a blind eye.” At this time, it would have been almost impossible for Flora to obtain a divorce from Dundas so for a woman who had the means and the opportunity to set themselves up in in another relationship far from the prying eyes of her original home, this was likely the only way to achieve happiness in a new family.

On May 10^th 1844 a baby, Olivia Flora Dean, daughter of Henry & Olivia Flora Dean, was baptised at Christ Church, St Marylebone. The record shows that the baby had been born on February 9^th 1843. Then, in June 1844, Henry, son of Olivia Flora & Henry Dean is baptised at St Peter’s, Pimlico. In both entries, Henry Dean is described as a “Gentleman” – a precise designation which would have implied social, and most likely economic, status rather than just being a polite term for a man.

How do I know that this Olivia Flora Dean is the same person as Olivia Flora Dundas nee Burslem? This is where Olivia’s rather unusual birth place of Java is helpful.

Although I have not been able to find Olivia Flora on the 1851 census, the 1861 census has a Flora Dean, aged 43 and born in Java. She is head of the household at 2, Charles Street, Westminster and lives alone. Her “Rank, profession or occupation” is described as “Householder Independent”. Of former partner Henry I can find nothing, neither is there any trace of son Henry. However, it is very likely that the daughter baptised in 1844 is now identified as Flora O. Dean, eighteen years old and at a boarding school in Brighton.

By 1871, Olivia is still living at 2, Charles Street, but by now her daughter, styled Flora Olivia, presumably to avoid confusion with her mother, is living with her. Son Henry is living there as well, and at 27 he is described as “Retired from army.”

Both Olivia and her daughter Flora are described as “annuitant” which suggests that they are being supported financially, somehow. Perhaps the absent Henry senior – if he is still alive – is supporting his partner and their child, or perhaps Olivia is being supported by other members of the Burslem family – we will never know. There has to be the possibility that both Flora and Olivia are in receipt of support from the Dundas family if not from James himself.

By 1881 Olivia Flora and her daughter are still living at 2, Charles Street, although Olivia is now described as “Widow annuitant”. But whose widow is Olivia?

James Dundas, still living in the lonely canal side vicarage in Kintbury, died in 1872 meaning that Olivia was now legally his widow, even though she had not identified or lived as his wife for so long.

Olivia Flora died in June 1881. It is the entry in the records of Brompton cemetery which confirms for me that the Oliva Flora Dean I have been following through online records is indeed the wife of Rev James Whitley Deans Dundas: the burial register records the deceased as Olivia Flora Dundas of 2, Charles Street – the address at which Olivia Flora Dean had been living for the past twenty years.

The story of Rev James Whitley Deans Dundas and the woman born Olivia Flora Burslem raises questions it is impossible to answer. What became of the child born in Bath before its parents were married? How was James able to secure the living in Ramsbury in 1839 and Kintbury in 1840 despite his somewhat notorious recent past? Or was it that no one in authority – presumably including the Bishops of Salisbury and Oxford in whose dioceses he had ministered – really bothered about it that much?

People will gossip, of course, and Kintbury is not a million miles form East Woodhay, even in a slower age of horse transport. Surely the story of a reluctant groom and a shotgun wedding would be too delicious not to pass on, from village to village? Particularly when the groom is a man of the cloth??

But whatever stories were passed on about the young priest in the 1830s, by the time of his death from heart disease in 1872, James Whitley Deans Dundas was fondly remembered. The Reading Observer spoke of his, “unceasing acts of charity and kindness” and the Newbury Weekly News said he was, “indefatigable in promoting the welfare of his parishioners”. In his time as vicar of St Mary’s, Rev Dundas had overseen a “restoration” of the church, the building of Christchurch at Kintbury Crossways and the building of a new school in the village.

Did anyone in Kintbury know of the estranged wife living in a fashionable part of London? I very much suspect that they did and there may have been raised eye brows and the occasional tuts when stories of Dundas’s past life were passed on. However, to most Kintbury villagers, the life style of the Dundas family must have been so far removed from their own that such irregularities were dismissed with a shrug. And if the Rev James Dundas was regarded as a good man, perhaps any wrong doing in his past would be forgiven.

Rev James Dundas was buried in the Dundas family vault, beneath the chancel of St Mary’s church.

Walter Money and the Romans in Kintbury

Anyone who has spent some time researching the history of the Newbury area will, eventually, have come across the name of Walter Money.

Born in Shaw-cum-Donnington, Newbury in the 1830s, both Walter and his brother James Money studied architecture in London. Both brothers returned to establish a practice in Newbury where Walter also developed a keen interest in local history and antiquity. His History of the Ancient Town and Borough of Newbury (1887) is still a very useful resource for the local historian and he is one of the people we have to thank for establishing a museum in the town.

Aside from a career as an architect and a notable antiquarian, Walter Money was prominent in civic life where his involvements included, amongst other roles, being a Church Warden at St Nicholas’ church, a promoter of the Newbury, Didcot & Southampton Railway, a member of the Town Council, a Governor of the Grammar School and manager of church schools. He was also involved with establishing Newbury District Hospital, the Clock Tower and the Falkland Memorial.

There must be few people whose interests in life have left their mark on the town as Walter Money has.

As I have said above, anyone researching local history in our area will come across the name of Walter Money. My most recent meeting with Walter occurred as I was researching what were believed to be Saxon graves originally uncovered in Kintbury during the late nineteenth century. By chance I found an article from The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, 1878

“An Ancient Burial Ground at Kintbury” was submitted by Professor Rupert Jones but is the work of Walter Money. In it, Money outlines why he believed the graves to be Roman rather than Saxon.

Many of the graves had been revealed when the chalk pits were excavated for the purposes of whiting manufacture. The banks of the pits were strewn with fragments of Roman pottery including, Money says, “urns and other vessels; the ware is black, brown and red but principally a dark bluish grey colour on fracture, and somewhat coarse in texture.”

Money says that he also found glass, two portions of hypocaust tiles and a fluted brick with plaster still adhering to the outer face. The Romans are well known for their use of hypocausts for a sophisticated heating system which the Saxons did not have and similarly the use of plaster was Roman and not Saxon. He suggests that the Saxon graves are evidence of the continued use of a Roman cemetery before the Saxons converted to Christianity.

Tiles from a Roman heating system found in Kent. Had Walter Money identified something like this in Kintbury?

Money believed that Kintbuty was in Roman occupation, and probably a minor station on the road from Aqua Solis (sic) – Bath, through Cunetio – Marlborough, then through Lawn Coppice, Cake Wood, Standgrove, Hungerford and then Kintbury. From Kintbury the road would go on to Spinae, which he believd was the site of Newbury.

Finally, Money throws doubt on the suggestion that the graves are Saxon as graves from this period are usualy accompanied by grave goods. However, no grave goods had been found.

Today, archaeological remains can be dated using such techniques as optically stimulated luminescence, radio carbon dating and the study of a person’s DNA. Skeletons such as that belonging to the “Amesbury Archer” in Salisbury Museum can not only be dated but we also know where he travelled from in Europe before settling on Salisbury Plain. But none of these scientific advancements were avilable to Money.

I do not know what has become of the artefacts that Money describes having found – furthermore it is likely that the contexts in which they were found were never recorded as they would be today. I would like to know why neither Professor Jones, nor the distinguised antiquarian Colonel Lane Fox, who visited the site later, mentioned or drew any conclusions regarding the Roman finds. Perhaps it’s just that I cannot find those details.

We know that there was a Romano-British villa in the valley to the east of Kintbury so surely it is not such a leap to believe that Kintbury itself was a small Roman settlement. Although the evidence is slight, I find myself wanting to believe Walter Money.

References & sources:

Web Site of Friends of Newtown Road Cemetery – article by Avril Thesing

http://www.fnrcnewbury.org.uk/persondetails.asp?PersonID=478

The Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland © 1878

Royal Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland

A rich man in his castle?

Motte and bailey castles are the stuff of children’s story books: picture a mound surrounded by a ditch and topped with a wooded palisade, inside of which is a wooden or stone fortress. Perhaps knights in armour are seen approaching on horseback, or an elegant lady wearing the inevitable wimple or cone-shaped head dress. Somewhere nearby, colourful flags and banners ripple in the wind.

In reality, the motte and bailey castles of history were introduced by the Normans after the invasion of 1066 and an example can be seen on the Bayeaux tapestry:

Windsor Castle is an example of a motte and bailey, although over the years of its existence, the building has had much more added to it. By contrast, in Oxford only the motte survives of the original castle construction.

Most interestingly, the OS map of our area records a motte in the village of West Woodhay. A little way from St Laurence’s church, but on the opposite side of the road, and now surrounded by trees, most passers-by will be totally unaware of its existence. However, thanks to the work of O.G.S.Crawford (see a previous post) we can still identify the site of early medieval activity in our area as the word “motte” in a Gothic font is clearly marked on the map. But does the presence of a motte also indicate that there was once a castle, or at least some sort of defensive structure, in the now quiet and peaceful village?

There have never been extensive excavations in the West Woodhay area – perhaps I should add, as of yet. However, in the 1930s enthusiasts of the Newbury Field Club did painstakingly dig the site. Their findings were recorded by one E. Jervoise and you can read what he discovered in volume 7 of the Newbury Field Club Journal in Newbury Library.

The West Woodhay motte is of modest size – the Field Club members recorded its rise to be just 8 feet and the diameter at the top just 30 feet. These dimensions, of course, would have dispelled any expectation of a substantial building so I can forget any fanciful thoughts of a West Woodhay castle. However, red and brown roof tiles and eighty iron nails were found on the crest of the mound, suggesting some sort of construction even if quite small. Broken pottery was found on the top of the mound and in the surrounding ditch, including rims and bases of what was believed to be at least 40 cooking pots or bowls of a type in use in the twelfth century. Some of the sherds found showed traces of glaze. The excavators weighed these finds and found there to be 40lbs of them.

The diggers also recovered soes believed to have belonged to oxen. Also discovered was what Jervoise describes as a “hone” by which he must mean a stone for the sharpening of blades. It had been, “ made of fine grained silicous schist, a rock occurring in Scotland and Normandy.” Most probably a valued or valuable item, then.

Jervoise was particularly pleased by the discovery of a small bronze buckle “of fine workmanship” and having, “an unusually perfect green patina”.

He concluded that it might have been the site of an early medieval hunting lodge and it was certainly somewhere that food was prepared and eaten.

Hunting lodges were not uncommon in the medieval period – a time when a popular sport amongst the nobility was hunting for deer or boar. The lodge would have been the place where visitors, on what in later times might have been referred to as a “straightforward hunting weekend ” would stay or just return after a day’s sport for food and refreshments. With its slightly elevated position on the motte, its view towards Walbury Hill to the south west and the wide open Kennet valley to the south east, the hunting lodge might well have been built to impress.

Although the West Woodhay motte was likely never the site of a defensive structure, or indeed anything at all like a castle, I think it is quite safe to assume that the owner of this land in the twelfth century would have been a wealthy man and most likely of Norman descent, speaking Norman French. But while the nobility and upper classes generally would have spoken Norman French, it has to be likely that those preparing the food and washing the cooking pots were of humbler stock. These working people are likely to have spoken the language of the West Saxons or even Middle English – possibly a mixture of both.

Today West Woodhay is in many ways a quintessential English village – typical of many smaller settlements on the southern chalk lands. It is difficult to imagine a time when the English language, as we speak it today, would not have been understood there. Perhaps it is even more mind boggling to imagine a time when the local land owners would have conversed in Norman French!

January 11th 2025: Remembering William Winterbourne

On January 11^th each year, local people, family members and supporters from further afield including historians, trade unionists and those concerned with social justice, gather at the grave of William Winterbourne in St Mary’s churchyard.

William Winterbourne, also known as William Smith, was hanged at Reading Gaol at 12 o’clock on January 11^th 1831. His crime was to have been involved in the protests that swept across southern England the previous autumn as labourers fought for improvements to their pay and conditions of work.

This year, the bright sunlight shone on the lichen covered stone such that William’s name could be read clearly. As his parents were not married at the time of his birth, he is buried under his mother’s name of Smith, in accordance with the custom of the time.

This year, we were joined by over twenty people who gathered to listen to accounts of how the Swing Riots had impacted on this part of West Berkshire, and William’s involvement in them.

All Photos (C) Chloë Wells

You may be interested in further posts about the Swing Riots in West Berkshire, those involved, and also what happened to one who was convicted and transported to Australia:

The Kintbury Martyr: 1

The Kintbury Martyr: 2

The Kintbury Martyr: 3

William Winterbourne: A Reflection by Keith Jerrome

A Revelation of Personal Endurance

Christmas for the new Edwardians: December 1901

“The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.” L.P. Hartley

Queen Victoria had come to the throne as an eighteen year old in 1837 and reigned for 63 years. Consequently, at the turn of the century in January 1901 (the 20^th century was deemed to have begun in 1901, not 1900) most people had known no other monarch.

Victoria died on the Isle of Wight on January 22^nd 1901 and was succeeded by her son, the new king, Edward VII. And so, the people of Britain were no longer Victorians, but Edwardians.

So what was the Christmas period like for the new 20^th century Edwardians? I looked through the pages of the Newbury Weekly News to find out.

The first thing that I noticed was that the Christmas period was much more low-key than at present with very few Christmas themed events, if any, and far fewer advertisements for Christmas goods. Life in our part of West Berkshire was not much different from any other two week period in the autumn or winter. Disappointingly, there are hardly any news reports from the villages in our area at this time although there are several reports from Hungerford and a few from Kintbury.

A colder spell before Christmas 1901 had resulted in the canal freezing over such that the inhabitants of Hungerford had been looking forward to an ”oldfashioned” Christmas, presumably looking back to the very cold winters of the mid 19^th century. Hopes were dashed, however, when the weather turned wet and windy. To prepare for the inclement weather, inhabitants of Newbury could, if they so liked, purchase a mackintosh with velvet collar for between 5 shillings 11 pence and 18 shillings 11 pence from McIllroy & Rankin of Cheap Street, and compliment the new coat with an umbrella from 1 shilling three farthings. Bailey’s of Northbrook Street boasted selling the cheapest boots: ladies’ at 1 shilling 9 pence a pair, gentlemen’s at 2 shillings 6 pence and children’s at 1 shilling 4 pence.

Despite the availability of wet weather clothing, Hungerford Primitive Methodist choir abandoned their customary carol singing in the town as the weather was considered too bad to go out. Perhaps instead they stayed at home and read by the light of a gas lamp, obtainable form Joseph Hopson of Newbury, which, it was advertised, would burn for 10 hours for only a farthing.

Although outdoor carol singing might have been abandoned, the pages of the NWN reveal that much local indoor entertainment was music- based. “Choral classes” were established in Kintbury with a Mr. S. Argyle conducting. The choir were practising a cantata called “King Harold” by Cunningham Wood. Also in Kintbury, a musical evening was held in the Wesleyan Methodist church on December 18^th where members of the newly formed Guild Band were hoping to raise funds for a harmonium by presenting a concert of religious songs, instrumentals and readings.

“The band is only in its infancy, “ the NWN reported, “ and does not yet expect criticism but promises to be worth hearing at no distant date”.

For the more energetic ladies of Hungerford, a Spinsters’ Dance was held at the Town Hall on a Friday before Christmas. It was attended by between 80 and 90 people and took place between 8 o’clock and 3 o’clock, which, I am presuming, was am rather than pm, although the report does not specify!

I had expected to read something of children’s Christmas parties but, if these were held in the local villages, no reports of them appeared in the pages of the NWN. Fundraising, however, did continue in Kintbury, where, in the week before Christmas, £1, 15 shillings 11 pence was raised by the children of St Mary’s School for Dr Barnado’s Waifs Association.

On the subject of schools and education, however, a letter in the NWN reveals that a very retrogressive attitude toward education still existed in some sectors of society, despite this being the 20^th century. A letter printed just after Christmas and sent from a former Newbury teacher reads:

“Sir, I am sorry to notice in your paper that there are a few people who are still of the opinion that education is not good for farm labourers and other working folk…

They themselves do not object to education but on purely selfish grounds they would keep it from the poor lest they should be less servile.”

If educational opportunities did not present themselves for the new Edwardians, servile or otherwise, an advertisement in the local paper suggested a career in the military might be beckoning as recruits were wanted for all branches of His Majesty’s army. I wonder how many local lads responded to the offer.

On the Monday after Christmas, the Craven Hunt met at Wallingtons, Kintbury, the residence of Mr William Hew Dunn. Attended by various of the great and the good of the area, the occasion was “of particular interest” as a portrait of Mr Dunn was presented to him in recognition of his service to the hunt.

Elsewhere, the Christmas period was a quiet one; at Hungerford market, corn had been in short supply due to the meagre attendance of farmers and traders. Anyone looking to buy “Native Guano” however, could obtain a 1 cwt bag mail order, which would be sent carriage paid to any station in England on receipt of a postal order for 5 shillings. I wonder how many were delivered to Kintbury, or whether the local equine population provided local gardeners with all they required.

The Christmas period does not seem to have been a time of conspicuous consumption and over-spending for the new Edwardians. However, should any one of them need some extra money, and just so happen to have an old set of false teeth lying around, an advertisement in the NWN of January 1902 has the answer. RD & JB Fraser of Princes Street, Ipswich would buy your old false teeth from you. So the new century was not without opportunities to make that bit of extra cash!

Our Neolithic neighbours

So who were our neolithic neighbours?

It is mind boggling to think of people living in this area over 6000 years ago. However, if you know where to look for it you can still see evidence of those people who lived around here between c4000 and 2500 years BC in the neolithic period.

The neolithic, or new stone age, was the period which saw a more settled way of life with the domestication of plants and animals and the beginning of farming rather than a hunter/gatherer life style.

During this period there were communal constructions of large scale earth works, banks and ditches. The famous henge monument at Avebury dates from this period.

But where is the evidence that neolithic people once lived in this area?

A favourite local destination for many of us in our area is Combe Gibbet above Gallows Down, close to the highest point on chalk in England and affording spectacular views particularly to the north across the Kennet valley. Standing right next to the gibbet we admire the view and identify local landmarks. It is an uplifting and spectacular spot.

But is there something that we miss? I know I did when I first walked up to the gibbet. As it stands on one of the highest points of the hill, it is easy to overlook the fact that the gibbet has been erected on a mound. The mound on which it stands is actually a neolithic long barrow.

There are around 500 neolithic long barrows in England of which three are in Berkshire and many more over the borders in Wiltshire and Dorset. Generally speaking most are in the Cotswolds or Wessex.

Our local barrow is oriented east to west and measures 65 meters by 20 meters and is surrounded by a ditch about 7 meters wide. Constructing it was no mean feat particularly when the only tools available were made from bone or flint and would have required a well-organised and dedicated work force.

But why was it built up here?

Long barrows were important communal burial sites during the neolithic. A chamber was usually constructed of wood or stone with an entrance at one end, then covered over with earth. Members of the community were laid to rest in the tomb but, in a practice that seems strange to us, often only certain bones were placed within and it seems likely that the remains were, at times, taken out and replaced.

It is likely that the long barrow would have been an important ritual site for the local community and might have indicated ownership of a particular area by a particular group of people. A location commanding an impressive view seems to have been important; for example, Wayland’s Smithy Long Barrow near Uffington and West Kennet near Avebury are also sited on higher ground.

The long barrow above Gallows Down was likely to have been the focus of communal events. However it may well be that our neolithic neighbours would have travelled further afield to meet up with other family members or community groups; the henge and stones at Avebury could have been reached by following the river Kennet westwards, for example. We know that neolithic peoples often travelled hundreds of miles to join in the ceremonies at Stonehenge so the thirty or so from here across Salisbury Plain would have seemed any easy journey to people used to walking long distances

So, as we traipse up to the gibbet and admire the view, perhaps we should remember that beneath our feet is a construction that would have been important to our neolithic neighbours – something that would have been revered and respected, which had taken much time and effort to build. After all, we can not imagine a time when we would walk through Winchester Cathedral whilst ignoring its significance as a place of worship, or pass Windsor Castle without seeing it as something just a bit special.

Our local long barrow, up above Gallows Down, might not look particularly important to us now, but it is worth remembering that 6000 years ago it might have been the most significant thing in the landscape.

From a dig at Inkpen to the skies above Stonehenge:

O.G.S. Crawford – the man who put history on the O.S. Maps

I have always enjoyed looking at Ordnance Survey maps – to plan routes for days out or just afternoon walks, or simply to see the names of woods, rivers, hills or countless other features all carefully recorded. But for me one of the most fascinating features of O.S. maps are those places labelled in a gothic or Old English font which indicate a site of historic or archaeological significance. “Walbury”, “long barrow” ( on Gallows Down ) and “moat” ( at Balsden Farm ) are all good examples from the Kintbury area.

Although the Ordnance Survey started publishing maps over 200 years ago, originally for military purposes, it was not until the 1920s that historic and archaeological sites were first identified as they are now. And the person first responsible for including that information had an interesting connection with our area.

Osbert Guy Stanhope Crawford was born in 1886 in Bombay, India where his father was a judge. However, as his mother died soon after his birth, he was sent back to England to live in London with two of his aunts. While the young Osbert was still of school age, he moved with them to The Grove, East Woodhay, a few miles from Kintbury and just over the border in Hampshire. Later the Crawfords relocated to Tan House, Donnington, just outside Newbury.

Crawford was educated at Marlborough College in Wiltshire and it was there that his interest in archaeology grew. As a member of the College’s Natural History Society, Crawford visited various Wiltshire archaeological sites such as Stonehenge, West Kennet Long Barrow and Avebury.

From Marlborough, Crawford went up Oxford University where his interest in archaeology continued. In 1908, whilst still a student, he excavated a Bronze Age round barrow at Inkpen, not far from his aunts’ East Woodhay home, as well as other – possibly less successful – work excavating at Walbury Beacon.

It was around this time that Crawford became friends with archaeologist and anthropologist Harold Peake and his wife Charlotte, excavating with them at Botley Copse near Marlborough. Harold Peake is particularly remembered in this area as being curator of the Borough of Newbury Museum from 1867 to 1946 and the person responsible for building up an important collection for what was later to become the West Berkshire Museum.

The Peakes lived at Westbrook House, Boxford, just to the north of Kintbury. Their interests included not only archaeology and anthropology but music, folklore and drama and they were very supported of younger people such as Crawford. It is believed that, under Peake’s influence, Crawford began to question the kind of extreme religious beliefs held by his aunts, in favour of a more science-based world view.

After graduating from Oxford, Crawford worked as an archaeologist in both Britain and Sudan. During the First World War he served as a photographer with the Royal Flying Corp but spent time in a German P.O.W. camp, having been shot down.

In the 1920s, Crawford worked for the Ordnance Survey in Southampton, as its first Archaeological Officer. It was around this time that historians and archaeologists began to use aerial photography in identifying and interpreting historic sites which could no longer be seen clearly above ground. The remains of structures and earth works which have long disappeared can be identified through crop marks and shadows which can then be studied using aerial photographs. Crawford’s time with the Royal Flying Corp would have given him first hand experience of how useful such photographs can be.

Crawford used the study of aerial photographs as well as information gathered from local antiquarian and historical societies to identify the locations of many ancient monuments which would not have been visible to cartographers working in the field. He also conducted his own surveys, often travelling across the countryside on his bicycle. Crawford then annotated each O.S. map by hand, adding the names and locations we are now familiar with but which today are identified on our maps in a gothic font.

At this time, Alexander Keiller, heir to the family fortune made in marmalade, was living at Avebury Manor. An amateur archaeologist, he had been involved in excavating the world-famous neolithic henge and other associated sites. In 1924 Crawford joined Keiller in an aerial survey of Wiltshire and Somerset as well as Berkshire, Hampshire and Dorset and in 1928 they published Wessex From The Air, a groundbreaking aerial photography survey of our area and the landscape of the wider Wessex.

Crawford assisted Keiller in the fund raising which enabled Stonehenge to be bought for the nation, and in 1927 he founded the influential archaeological journal, Antiquity.

Keiller worked for the O.S. until 1946 when he turned his attention to the preservation of those historic buildings in Southampton which had survived the devastation of the blitz during the Second World War.

Today, O.G.S. Crawford is recognised as an important figure in twentieth century archaeology. It is interesting to think that this important career began in part with an excavation at Inkpen and a friendship in Boxford.

Crawford died in 1957.

Sources:

https://www.ordnancesurvey.co.uk/about/history

https://historicengland.org.uk/images-books/archive/collections/aerial-photos/

https://hantsfieldclub.org.uk/ihr100/profiles-c/crawford.html

https://www.sarsen.org/2018/04/capturing-material-invisible-ogs.html

Wild Will Darrell

In Memory

Of Sr William Darrell

Of Littlecote in Wilts Knt

Who dyed without issue

On the 1^st of Oct 1589

He was Uncle of Sr John Darrell

West Woodhay and Balsdon Bar

Who was High Sheriff of Berks

In the Year 1626

And was buried in this Place

On the 14^th of May 1657

This memorial, now much faded and difficult to read, is on the wall of the north transept of St Mary’s church, Kintbury. From the information given on the memorial, one could assume that William Darrell’s main claim to fame was that he was uncle of a one-time high sheriff of the county. However, this is far from the whole story.

The “Littlecote” mentioned on the memorial is a grade 1 listed Tudor mansion, 6 miles to the west of Kintbury in the parish of Chilton Foliat, Wiltshire. It was built towards the end of the fifteenth century by Sir Edward Darrell and replaced the much earlier medieval house.

The second Sir Edward Darrell – son of he who built Littlecote – died in 1549 when his son William was just ten years old. Sir Edward left Littlecote to his mistress Mary Danyell although when he reached his legal majority of 21, William successfully challenged this in court. It was the first of many legal battles William was to engage in throughout his life.

In 1568 William had been involved in an affair with Anne Hungerford, wife of Wiltshire landowner Sir Walter Hungerford. Sir Walter sued for divorce but was defeated in court, subsequently spending three years in London’s notorious Fleet Prison.

In 1572 William Darrell was elected as Member of Parliament for the constituency of Downton in Wiltshire. This was a very small constituency with few people eligible to vote in these pre- parliamentary reform times, so Darrell’s time as a Member of Parliament probably said more about his personal influence rather than his popularity.

At the time of the Spanish Armada in 1588, Darrell is believed to have offered his support to Sir Francis Walsingham, the Protestant Queen Elizabeth’s so-called spymaster and arch enemy of those Catholics who were attempting to restore England to Catholicism.

Although there seems to be no evidence that William Darrell engaged in any form of military service, his life could, none the less, be described as colourful. Scandalous would probably be more accurate. He is believed to have had a profligate lifestyle, left bills unpaid and engaged in disputes with his neighbours frequently leading to litigation.

There are many versions of Wild Will Darrell’s story in histories, guide books and online. The monument in Kintbury church makes no suggestion of a colourful or notorious life and it is difficult to find out exactly when Darrell acquired the epithet, “Wild Will” and more colourful accounts of his life emerged. It is likely that the seventeenth century biographer, John Aubrey, may have written the earliest account although the History of Parliament website states that Darrell was first described as “Wild Will” by the popular Regency period novelist Sir Walter Scott in his poem, Rokeby. The name obviously stuck and the Wiltshire Independent of May 1855 carried the report of a Derby winning racehorse from stables in Hungerford being named “Wild Dayrel”. The paper then went on to print a detailed version of Darrell’s connection with Littlecote house and the now notorious murdered baby story.

There are many versions of this story and the main points have clearly been added to and embellished over the years. It goes something like this:

In 1575, on what may or may not have been a dark and stormy night in November, a village midwife, who might have been called Mother Barnes and may have lived in Great Shefford, was summonsed to Littlecote where a woman was in labour. The midwife was taken there on horseback, allegedly, according to some accounts, blindfolded so she could not identify where she was being taken.

On arriving at the house, the midwife was taken to an upstairs room with a roaring fire in the fireplace. A man was standing by a bed in which lay the labouring woman and he instructed the midwife to save the mother’s life. As soon as the child was delivered the man threw it in the fire ignoring the protestations of the mother, who might have been a servant.

According to some versions of the story, the midwife eventually reported what she had seen to the local magistrates, although she might not have mentioned Darrell by name. Some versions say that Darrell’s enemies decided that he was the newborn’s murderer. As proof that events had happened at Littlecote, the midwife is said to have produced a piece of the bedcurtains she had surreptitiously cut off and brought away with her.

Depending on which version of events you read, Darrell was either tried at Salisbury assizes or by the Commissioners at Newbury but escaped punishment, possibly by bribing the judge.

Although many of the supposed “facts” about Darrell’s life may well be apocryphal I think we can probably believe the memorial in Kintbury church when it states that he dyed without issue on October 1^st 1589. His death was the result of a riding accident and, of course, it is almost inevitable that the story of his life has been further embellished by the supposed appearance of the ghost of the murdered infant to frighten his horse, thus causing the accident.

Despite being remembered on a monument in Kintbury church, William Darrel was buried at St Lawrence’s church, Hungerford.

Littlecote House is now a hotel – and famous for its ghosts.

Further information and sources:

https://historyofparliamentonline.org/volume/1558-1603/member/darrell-william-1539-89

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Darrell_of_Littlecote

https://hungerfordvirtualmuseum.co.uk/?view=article&id=462:littlecote&catid=24#wild_will_darrell

https://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/berks/vol4/pp205-217

https://www.bbc.co.uk/wiltshire/content/articles/2007/05/31/psi_report_littlecote_feature.shtml