Parishes – Kintbury and Beyond

1731: Kintbury man murdered?

England 1731

George II had been on the throne since 1727; he had been born and brought up in Northern Germany but at least, unlike his father George I, he could speak English. The average person in the street, or out in the field, was probably little bothered by this as they were never going to talk with him, anyway. The monarchy was completely remote to most people.

George II by Thomas Hudson. Unlike his father, he could speak English.

Perhaps the Prime Minister would have seemed a slightly less remote figure: Robert Walpole was a member of the English gentry, born in Houghton, Norfolk, in 1676. He represented the Whigs in Parliament.

However, considering that very few people were eligible to vote in parliamentary elections, it would not be surprising if most people took little interest in what happened in Westminster. To be eligible to vote a man had to own (not rent) property valued for land tax purposes at £2.00 a year, at least. There were other, rather esoteric ways in which a person could qualify which varied greatly across the country but women, Catholics, Jews and Nonconformists could not vote at all. Even Sir Robert Throckmorton, owner of the Buckland estate in north Berkshire, where he would later build Buckland House, would not have been able to vote at this time because he and his family were Catholics.

However, politically this was a time of stability in England and many people in villages like Kintbury could continue with their day to day lives little concerned by the “bigger picture” – they were like the small figures in the border of a medieval manuscript.

Of course every community had its local “big wigs” – quite literally because at that time the more prominent and wealthier members of society would wear big wigs.

Kintbury’s local “bigwig”, was Sir Jonathan Raymonde (1637 – 1711) of Barton Court. He had been a Tory MP from 1690 to 1695 and what seems very strange to us today is that he had represented the east Wiltshire village of Great Bedwyn. That’s it – just Great Bedwyn. By contrast in 1731 the entire county of Berkshire returned just two MPs to parliament. “Pocket Boroughs” like Great Bedwyn were so named because the seat was “in the pocket” of an influential or wealthy person; these were finally abolished under the 1832 Parliamentary Reform Act, but in 1731, that was over one hundred years away.

Before parliamentary reform, being an MP was not really about representing the people because, after all, most of the people did not matter very much. It is not surprising, therefore, that for the great majority of people, governance would have been something only the “Big Wigs” had an involvement in, not them.

What happened in Whitehall or Westminster had very little to do with most people in places like Kintbury. The magistrates- local men chosen from the upper or upper middle classes – were the only level of authority most people would have come up against. As far as day to day life was concerned, issues such as Parish Relief and the upkeep of roads would have been dealt with at a local level. If the road through your village was rutted and deeply in mud, it was up to the local people to do something about it, or it stayed like that.

Similarly, law and order was mostly delt with at local level. In towns, parish constables were appointed at Vestry Meetings for the purpose of law enforcement. They were elected from amongst other private citizens and were armed with a staff and a whistle which they could blow loudly and call, “Hue and cry” to apprehend anyone caught committing a crime. On hearing this, all able bodied men were supposed to join the chase: it was against the law not to do so.

However, one way in which central government could be said to impact on the lives of everyone from the wealthy to the cottager was in the imposition of taxes, although it is likely that the poorer man buying salt or candles did not realise this. These were excise duties and they were levied by parliament on household commodities such as leather, beer, soap, salt and candles. For wealthier consumers, there were taxes on wine, silks, gold and silver thread, hats, horses and coaches. The consumers were, most probably, unaware of the tax as it was paid by the traders.

These taxes were collected by Commissioners of the Excise, a role appointed directly by the King. In June 1728, The London Gazette reported that eight men had recently been appointed to this role, including a certain Thomas Wylde.

However, this Thomas Wylde was not the only person with that name to be appointed a Commissioner of the Excise. Another Thomas Wylde, a member of a prominent Worcestershire family, and a Member of Parliament from 1701 to 1727, was a Commissioner of the Excise for Ireland from 1727 to 1737.

So, how do we know that “our” Thomas Wylde is not the same man? Well, unfortunately, our Thomas was murdered in 1731. We know this because of a report in the Kentish Weekly Post:

Whitehall, Dec 18. 1731. Whereas the Commissioners of his Majesty’s Excise have represented, That Thomas Wylde, instructed in the Excise, was, on the 10^th of November last, in the Night, as he was returning from his Business of officiating in the Excise, to his Residence at Kintbury in the County of Wilts, attack’d and robb’d by two Foot Pads, of his Money, Horse, Great Coat, and Boots, and was cut, bruised and beat, in so barbarous and cruel a Manner, that he died on the Twelfth of the said Month.

The report reads, “Kintbury in the County of Wilts” but this is not because there is another Kintbury anywhere else. In very old newspaper reports, Hungerford is sometimes described as being in Wiltshire and indeed part of it – Charnham Street – was, until the 1890s when there was a boundary change. As many people would have little idea as to where county boundaries were, it would have been an easy mistake to think of Kintbury as being in Wiltshire, too.

At that time, the Excise was located in Old Jewry, a street in the city of London, to the east of St Paul’s cathedral. In a world in which very few people had the need or even the where withall to travel much beyond their town or village, Thomas Wylde would have been an exception. London was at least a two-days’ ride from Kintbury. If he had been travelling westwards towards his home, it is likely that Thomas Wylde would have ridden along the Bath Road, a public stage coach route since 1657 and wider than any of the smaller roads and lanes that ran closer to the Kennet. Being wider made it easier for riders to avoid the deeply rutted sections and also made it more difficult for highway men or footpads to hide in the shadows. The night of November 10^th 1731 was four nights off a full moon so visibility would have been quite good. That autumn had been the third in a row of unseasonably warm weather and that year had been particularly dry. It would be reasonable to presume that the road would not have been too deep in mud at this time.

Wylde had been attacked by “Footpads”. That is to say, criminals who would lay in wait to attack and rob travellers on the highway. Whilst “highway men” such as Dick Turpin rode horses, footpads operated on foot. For someone like Wylde, there was very little defence against footpads and an obviously wealthy man like him, possibly carrying the money he had collected in taxes, would have been a particular target. If the attack was away from the village – as is most likely – there would be no chance of anyone’s noticing or hearing what was happening so absolutely no chance of a “hue and cry”.

The newspaper report continues:

His Majesty, for better detecting of the Persons concerned in the said Murder and Robbery, is pleased to promise His most gracious Pardon to either of the them, who shall discover his Accomplice, so as he be apprehended and convicted thereof. HARRINGTON

William Stanhope by Godfrey Kneller. Another “Big Wig”.

Harrington is William Stanhope, First Baron Harrington, Secretary of State to George II.

In the days before a police force, one way of catching the criminal was, it seems, to hope that any accomplice could be persuaded to “Turn King’s Evidence” , and to inform on their partner in crime. The penalty for murder was the death sentence, but this did little to reduce levels of crime: the penalty for stealing a handkerchief was the same. The possibility of being caught and subsequently hanged was clearly not a threat enough to deter footpads. There is no detective work, no police enquiries. Just an offer to pardon the person willing to turn in his accomplice and see him hanged.

The report continues:

And as a further Encouragement, the Commissioners of his Majesty’s Excise do hereby promise a Reward of Fifty Pounds to the Person making such Discovery, to be paid by Stephen Poyntz, Esq; their Cashier, upon such conviction, as aforesaid.

By Order of the Commissioners Sam. Grey Secr.

Fifty pounds in 1731 equates to over £10,400 today. However, Stephen Poyntz probably knew there was very little chance that he would ever have to hand it over.

Then, almost as an afterthought, there is a description of the suspects and the stolen items:

N.B. One of the persons suspected of being guilty of the said Robbery and Murder, is marked with the Small Pox, between 30 and 40 years of age, about 5 Feet 8 Inches high, and wore a knit Cap on his Head. The other a …. thin Man about 20 Years of Age, had on a light coloured Coat without Pleates, and a light Wig.

The Horse taken from the said Wylde, was a black Gelding, about 14 hands high, one white Foot behind, a small white Snip down his face, and the great Coat was a light Shag, with 2 Capes, the upper one faced with Plush something lighter than the Coat.

These descriptions are particularly interesting because the details are very much of the time: the “light Wig” worn by one of the footpads recalls an era when many men shaved their heads and wore a wig as a matter of course. The stolen coat was of a “ light shag, with 2 Capes” in the style so often used to represent typical men’s fashion of the period.

There must have been someone accompanying Thomas Wylde to have been able to describe the footpads. It has to be likely that this was a manservant of some sort, but in a lowly position so he does not get a mention. Despite the attack happening in November and at night, this someone got a good look at the thieves and was able to describe their height, what they were wearing and that the older one was pockmarked. Perhaps he was attacked as well, but being of a lower order, this was of no consequence – we do not know.

Assuming that Wylde did indeed have a servant who escaped the attack, there would have been absolutely no way he could have easily raised the alarm or a “hue and cry”, particularly if the attack had happened in the open countryside. But there must have been someone else with or close to Thomas Wylde, to relate what happened and provide a description of the footpads to the authorities in Whitehall.

Dr Syntax & the highwaymen by Thomas Rowlandson

Any footpad or highway man of that time would have been well aware of the punishment if that had been caught. It is likely that the details of one notorious local case would, by the 1730s, have passed into folk lore but not entirely forgotten, due to the presence of the gibbet on Walbury Hill. Back in 1676, George Bromham and Dorothy Newman had been hanged at Winchester Assizes for the murder of George’s wife and son. Their bodies were later hung in chains on the gibbet for all passing by to see. The gibbet was ( and its most recent replacement still is ) clear for all to see who might pass by the highest point on chalk in England, just south of Kintbury & Inkpen. But the unlikelihood of the attackers ever being caught meant that it and its grisley story were not a deterrant.

At this distance of nearly three hundred years and with the resources available to me at present, I can find absolutely nothing else about Kintbury’s Thomas Wylde. Socially, as a Commissioner in His Majesty’s Excise, Wylde would have belonged to the higher echelons of society; he may well have been known to the Raymonde family at Barton Court. Furthermore, for others of the travelling classes, a robbery and murder somewhere on the highway to London is not something you would be pleased to hear about, particularly if your status in society meant you were expected to ride into the city from time to time yourself.

As a tax gatherer Wylde might have been the subject of disapprobation on the part of those who resented paying money to the crown. After all, there had not been much love felt for tax collectors since the days of Zaccheaus in Luke’s gospel. Thomas Wylde, as a member of the Commission for the excise, would have represented authority.

Perhaps, when the news of a robbery and murder reached the villages around, there were those who, knowingly and in lowered voices, muttered the names of whom they suspected as being responsible. Who had recently ridden home on a black gelding, wearing a coat no one had seen before? But no questions would be asked and no stories would be told of what had happened on that mild November night.

Weather in History 1700 to 1749 AD

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British Newspaper Archive

Hungerford Virtual Museum

Enborne & the First Battle of Newbury

The church of St Michael & All Angels, Enborne is situated in what must be one of the most peaceful and picturesque corners of West Berkshire. The view from the back of the church looking south, is across farm and woodland to the distant Beacon Hill just over the border in Hampshire. It’s a view that, surely, has not changed much over centuries.

Looking south from St Michael & All Angels, Enborne

In the September of 1645, however, the view south across the churchyard was not a peaceful, pastoral one, but of a battle.

It has to be likely that, in the early 1640s, many of those living in the villages to the west of Newbury would have been little bothered by what had been happening in London, in Parliament, or between the wealthier classes. Charles I’s accession in 1625 meant a different head on the coinage, if you were lucky enough to see some of it. However, many who took an interest in these things felt this new monarch heralded a more optimistic period.

Some were concerned because his wife, the new Queen, Henrietta Maria, was of the Roman Catholic faith leading them to suspect that the new King was sympathetic to Catholicism and the views of the Pope in Rome, too. England was now a largely Protestant country and many people believed the Catholic faith was a threat. But for now, that could be put to one side.

However, the optimism was not to last. Many of those closer to Charles found him a difficult person to work with and this problem was exacerbated by the fact that the new King seemed to want to rule without any reference to the will of parliament. As monarch, Charles was not able to raise money through taxation without the approval of parliament and when parliament said no to his requests, in 1642 he tried – and failed – to have certain members arrested.

After this, unsurprisingly, Charles’ relationship with parliament deteriorated rapidly particularly as there were other issues of contention. Inevitably, sides were taken and what had started as a war of words tragically became a war of weapons.

It is easy to caricature the King’s supporters as being wealthier and from the upper classes, High Anglican with Catholic sympathies, flamboyant in their dress and with ready and available armaments and the ability to mobilise easily.

By contrast a caricature of a Parliamentarian would be a non- conformist, soberly dressed foot soldier from the less wealthy sections of society and with a distrust of any church which seemed to have Catholic sympathies.

Whilst both these caricatures are true to a certain extent, the reality was much more complex. Many men were drawn into taking sides because of pressure from the influential and powerful in their town or village and there were many families who found themselves with divided loyalties.

Also, it would be wrong to think of all wealthier families as supporting the King. Although the Dolman family at Shaw House were Royalist supporters – to the extent that Charles stayed at Shaw House on the eve of the second Battle of Newbury – the Popham family at Littlecoat House near Hungerford were Parliamentarians.

C17th map showing Hungerford, Kintbury & Enborne with Newbury to the west

Unlike, for example, World War I, in which the Allies were defending the Western Front, there was no “front” as such in the English Civil War. Instead, troops found themselves defending or attacking towns and cities across the country and the pattern of warfare became complex and confusing.

By August 1643, King Charles had taken siege of Gloucester in an attempt to take control from the Parliamentarians. However by early September he was defeated by the Parliamentarian Earl of Essex who subsequently set out to return to London whilst avoiding the Royalist troops in Oxford.

Essex’s route took him through Cirencester, reaching Swindon on September 17th. From there he intended to take the road now known as the Bath Road or A4, skirting Hungerford slightly to the north and on to Newbury. However, when it became clear that this route could be strategically unsafe, he decided to cross the Kennet at Hungerford and march his troops along the narrower lanes eastwards through Kintbury and Hamspead Marshall.

The weather was extremely wet and the narrow lanes deep in mud. For the unsuspecting inhabitants of Kintbury, the sight of hundreds of weary, wet and mud-splattered soldiers marching through the village and up Newbury Street must have been terrifying.

Military Odyssey 2007 English Civil War Reenactment
Tim Sheerman-Chase
Creative Commons Attribution 2.0

The Parliamentary Quartermasters rode on into Newbury where they were well received by townspeople who had prepared food and lodging for the troops. However, Charles’ troops, led by Prince Rupert, had advanced faster than the Parliamentarians realised, riding into Newbury from the north west, capturing some of Essex’s men, commandeering the provisions and taking the town for the King.

With Royalist troops at Newbury, Essex lost any hope of progressing eastwards and on to London. While the King’s troops spent the night of September 19th in the town, occupying the billets and eating the food originally prepared for the Parliamentarians, Essex and his men were left to camp in the wet and the mud of the open country. Some men camped around Enborne and others on lower ground towards Skinner’s Green. Essex himself is believed to have spent the night at Bigg’s Cottage on the edge of Wash Common. The cottge is still there, in Enborne Street, Wash Common.

Biggs’ Cottage. Illustration from Walter Money’s History of Newbury, originally published 1905

Some time during the night, Royalist troops rode up to the higher ground at Wash Common. However, they neglected to position troops on the higher ground to the north known as Round Hill. So, in the early hours of 20^th September, Parliamentary troops led by Major-General Philip Skippon advanced down Skinner’s Green Lane to take up their position on Round Hill.

Philip Skippon, Sergeant-Major General of Foot in the service of Parliament during the English civil wars
Unknown author
Public domain

It is worth mentioning the numbers of fighting men involved at this time. There were, it is believed, around 14,000 Royalist combatants and 15,000 Parliamentarians. Very few of these men were what we would consider today as professional soldiers. Although the troops on both sides were being led by men with titles or who belonged to the nobility, many were ordinary working people who had left their homes, their families and their everyday jobs far, far away. And all this was happening across the swathe of countryside we can still see from the back of St Michael’s church at Enborne.

Pikeman of the Parliamentary Army outside St Michael’s Church, Enbourn. These re enactors keep alive the memory of those who fought and died here in 1743

Then, as now, this countryside was crossed by a network of narrow lanes lined by the banks and hedges which delineated enclosures. Thus it was impossible for cavalry charges of the kind often depicted in later artwork, neither couold infantry units advance as they could in open country.

In the early hours of September 20th, Skippon’s men, postioned on Round Hill, opened fire on the Royalist troops. They responded with an attack to the west of Wash Common and across Dark Lane.

Plan of the First Battle of Newbury (1643)
Walter Money (1877);
Public domain

Prince Rupert led his men into three charges across Wash Common whilst the Royalists’ brigade of foot attacked Round Hill. Then, their brigade of horse, led by Sir John Byron, attacked Round Hill from the north. It was during this advance that Lucius Cary, Viscount Falkland , rode through a gap in a hedge and into the enemy fire. A membert of parliament and one of King Charles’ secretaries of state, Falkland was a bright and able man whose prospects, in other times, would have shown much promise.

Lucius Cary (1610–1643), 2nd Viscount Falkland – 598081.1 – by Cornelius Johnson (1593-1661) –

He was peace loving man who abhorred what was happening to his country, and it is believed that he rode into eneny fire deliberately to die on the battle field. He was thirty three.

The Royalist brigade of horse succeeded in pushing Skippon’s men back across Round Hill but Skippon responded by calling the advance of the London Trained Bands. These were a part-time militia from the City of London who had long been trained as a defensive force, in contrast to many of the volunteer forces. With increased fire power and the stand of the pikemen, the Parliamentarians were able to force the Royalist cavalry back.

To anyone looking south and across the valley from St Michael’s churchyard, any peace and tranquillity would have been painfully shattered. The thud of cannon fire , the blast of the muskets, the screams of both horses and men would have reached the higher ground though it would have been impossible, at that distance to know who was winning.

OS map of 1889 showing the site of the Battle of Newbury

The fighting continued until nightfall after which the Royalist forces had to consider what to do next. But supplies of gun powder and musket shot were low so it was decided not to resume fighting at this time. Essex and his men were able to continue their march towards London.

The battle left hundreds of men from both sides dead. It has been estimated that fatalities reached 3,500 with greater losses being on the Royalist side.

A network of narrow lanes still winds across the land between Enborne and Wash Common just as it did in 1743. To this day it is easy to take a wrong turning if you are not very familiar with the lay of the land. The extent of the slaughter on that day in September is difficult to visualise and it must have taken weeks if not months to recover the bodies, many of who would have remained unidentified.

No one knows where the majority of the men were buried although it is believed that some lie in Enborne church yard. The mounds on Wash Common were long believed to be Civil War graves but these are in fact Neolithic or Bronze Age burial mounds. An example of how local myths or legends occur. Similarly, the village of Gore End, to the south west of Wash Common, was thought to have been named as the place where the blood from the battle stopped running. Another example of a rural myth.

However, today many of the roads on Wash Common are named in memory of the battle, including Essex Street, Charles Street and Battery End. The Falkland Memorial, a granite obelisque errected in 1878 to commemorate Lucius Cary as well as nameless others killed in the battle, has given rise, over the years, to the name Falkland being applied to a local parliamentary ward, a primary school, a dental practice and a vets amongst other businesses.

Late C19th OS map showing the Neolithic burial mounds long thought to be graves of the Civil War dead. It also shows the Falkland Memorial and a farm named for Lord Falkland.

Newbury was once again the scene of a battle, in October 1644, but this time the focus of the fighting was around Donnington Castle. For the most part, Enborne and the surrounding villages saw much less of the military action. Until, that is, three hundred years later, when Enborne and Hamstead Park were to host the military again – this time from the USA.

Sources:

britishbattles.com/english-civil-war/first-battle-of-newbury/

The First & Second Battles of Newbury: Walter Money

A History of Newbury: Walter Money

First Newbury, 1643 : Graham Turner

National Library of Scotland O.S. maps

First Battle of Newbury

“Rough Music” comes to Kintbury

Throughout the nineteenth century, “rough music” was a popular form of protest amongst some sections of society. In parts of the north, these protests were known as “stang riding” and in the midlands, “Lewbelling”. In Dorset the term “skimmington” or “skimmity ride” was used. Thomas Hardy describes one such in his novel of 1886, The Mayor of Casterbridge. Throughout our area, “rough music” seems to have been the accepted expression and a scroll through the local papers on line shows just how frequently these protests occurred.

Dr Syntax & the Skimmington Riders by Thomas Rowlandson

Most newspaper reports seem to assume that their readers, being local, I suppose, would understand what was meant by the term. However, in a libel case of 1862 between the proprietors of the Hampshire Chronicle and a chemist from Alton, Mr Justice Compton, hearing the case in Westminster, had to ask:

“What is rough music?”

“Old tin kettles and the like”

“And that is what you call music?”

So, whilst banging saucepans, kettles or making a noise in any other impromptu way, the protesters would make their way through their town or village, stopping outside the home of whoever it was they considered not to have lived up to the standards expected in the community. Those who might have cheated on their wife or husband were a particular target. In some examples the protestors carried effigies of the supposed guilty parties, as described by Thomas Hardy in The Mayor of Casterbridge.

However, marital infidelity was not the only reason a person was subjected to rough music. In April 1851, the Reading Mercury reported the inhabitants of Brimpton, “manifested their disgust at the conduct of John Henry Stair… for illtreating his son, a child little more than four years of age… by assembling in great numbers, perading (sic) the village with “rough music” and burning the individual in effigy”.

The Reading Mercury of 1858 reported a local variation of the custom from East Ilsley when James Powell, a local Primitive Methodist preacher appeared before the magistrates on a charge of ill treating his pregnant wife.

“In accordance with an old custom in Ilsley, when a man beats his wife, a quantity of chaff was thrown about in front of Powell’s house. It was intended to have given him a little rough music but the police superintendent removed Powell from the place for Newbury before the party could muster to carry out their intentions.”

In 1860, James Lancaster & Thomas Talbot, labourers of Litchfield, Hampshire, “were charged with having on the 13^th December, in the parish of Itchingswell, ( sic – presumably a mis- spelling of Ecchinswell ) assaulted P.C.19, R. Clapsan, whilst in the execution of his duty. It appeared from the evidence that the assault arose through the constable interfering to prevent an obstruction in the road, caused by a large number of persons assembled together for the purposes of having what is called, “rough music” the same being produced by the blowing of cows horns, beating of tin cans, sheep bells etc.”

In October of 1865, the more law abiding inhabitants of Kintbury found that their peace was shattered on two successive nights when, if newspaper reports are to be believed, two hundred people paraded through the streets making, “rough music”.

The ring leaders were members of the Butler family: Thomas, Job & Edward. The newspaper report does not give the men’s ages and as there were at that time many and various Butlers living in Kintbury, it is difficult to work out exactly who these three were. It is likely that all were agricultural labourers and I think it is fairly safe to assume that at the time of the protest, Job was a 39 year old agricultural labourer married to Ann and the father of Charlotte, 12, Ellen, 10 and Julia, 7.

Of whom or what the protestors were objecting we have no idea although as the event drew a substantial crowd, I think we can assume it would have been someone well- known and/or in a prominent position in society. In previous reports from across this area, the names of those targeted by the protestors are given in the newspaper. For some reason this was not the case with the Kintbury incident, which leaves me to wonder if the journalist who originally filed this report was at pains not to offend a local dignitary or person of high profile who had upset so many villagers.

Perhaps the protestors felt they had a right to express their feelings in such a public way; after all, it was what people had been doing for years. The fact that many rough music protestors from other villages had ended up before the local magistrates did not seem to deter them.

“Lewbelling” – an example of rough music in Warwickshire in 1909 from the Illustrated London News. Wikki Media Commons

However, that would be without reckoning with William Harfield, Superintendent of Police in the Newbury Division of the Berkshire Constabulary.

Superintendent Harfield features frequently in newspaper reports of this period. He had been born in Hampshire around 1825 and by the 1851 census he was a policeman in the New Forest village of Sopley. At this time the Hampshire Constabulary was less than 12 years old, having been formed, along with constabularies in other counties, in 1839. The Berkshire Constabulary was established in 1856 and career policeman Harfield became the first Superintendent of the Newbury Division.

Responding to complaints, Superintendent Harfield arrived in Kintbury and quietly requested the rough music makers to desist. However, “the crowd set him at open defiance, telling him he had no power to interfere.”

Perhaps this was the first time some of these men had come up against the strong arm of the law, or perhaps they were just chancing their luck. Perhaps they thought that Harfield should just go back to where he’d come from and leave the people of Kintbury alone. As “rough music” protests were not uncommon the men may well have believed that they were doing nothing wrong.

Unfortunately, the outcome of this particular protest was an appearance at Hungerford Petty Sessions where all three men pleaded guilty.

According to the newspaper report, Harfield said he : “ had no wish to press the case further than was sufficient to teach them that they must not do such things with impunity.”

All three men were “bound over in the sum of £10 to keep the peace for three months” and ordered to pay 5 shillings costs each within a week.

These sums of money might not seem much to us today; however, £10 in 1865 would be over £1000 in today’s money. As for 5 shillings to be paid within the week, this could easily have proved very difficult for labourers whose weekly earnings would have been little more than 10 shillings, if that.

I cannot find any other references to rough music in Kintbury after this event, so perhaps the fines given out to the Butlers were enough to deter other villagers from expressing their disapproval in this way.

Job and Ann Butler were still living in Kintbury at the time of the 1871 census but after then I can find no trace of them.

William Harfield continued as Superintendent of Police in Newbury until his death in 1874, aged 56.

As for the practice of rough music as an expression of protest at certain people’s behaviour, this continued sporadically until the early decades of the twentieth century. However, I have not been able to find any other examples from Kintbury.

Sources:

British Police History/ Berkshire

British Newspaper Archive

Ancestry

Celebrating Ethel King Martyn and the murals of Inkpen church

In Medieval England, many church walls were decorated with colourful murals depicting Biblical scenes or the lives of saints. In an age of mass illiteracy, these images helped in the teaching of scripture and often provided a warning of what might happen to those who strayed from the narrow path of righteousness. “Doom” paintings depicting the day of judgement were popular if rather uncomfortable to look at.

For poorer people whose homes were very much devoid of colour, the bright paintings on otherwise white interior walls must have provided something to gaze at and wonder. Sadly, so very many were painted over in the years following the Civil War (1642 – 1651) when they were regarded as idolatrous by the puritanical protestants. Much later, other murals were destroyed during the eighteenth and nineteenth century when the fashion for “restoration” meant that they were painted over in favour of plain white interior walls.

Where these murals have survived, it is frequently just the reds and reddish browns which can be seen today. One such example in this area is in St Michael’s, Enborne where there is a painting of the Annunciation at the east end of the north wall. What other paintings have been lost we shall never know.

Mural, St Michael’s & All Angels, Enborne

In the late nineteenth century, St Michael & All Angels’ church in Inkpen was “restored”. According to the Reading Mercury of March 1897 the church had, in the words of its rector, “long fallen into a lamentable state of decay”. As a result, a restoration, lasting more than a year, had seen the greater part of the church rebuilt and, “the only ancient portions of the actual fabric are the exterior walls and one west window” remained.

Medieval wall paintings had been discovered when the plaster was stripped from the walls but these were badly decayed. However, the architect, Mr C.C. Rolfe decided that there should be new and at that time very modern murals to grace the newly restored interior.

The person chosen for this work was Miss Ethel King Martin, an artist and sculptor.

Ethel had been born in Bristol in 1863, the daughter of Samual – a physician – and his wife Katharine. She studied at the Slade School of Fine Art in London’s Gower Street, then a very new establishment which had opened in 1871. It was groundbreaking as, unlike other art schools, it enabled women to study on the same terms as men, in particular with reference to life drawing. Other students studying there at around the same time included the illustrator Kate Greenaway and Evelyn De Morgan.

At this time, the influence of the Pre Raphaelite Brotherhood of some 40 or 50 years earlier could still be seen in contemporary work. The “Brotherhood” which included D.G. Rossetti, William Holman Hunt, J.E. Millais and Ford Maddox Brown was a group of artists dedicated to painting in a style which had, they believed, existed “before the time of Raphael.”

Pre Raphaelite paintings are bright, clear and bold, their subjects mostly devoid of the swirling drapery or dark backgrounds of earlier works.

Christ in the house of his parents: John Everett Millais

Their work used bright colours and achieved a realism by having friends and family as models, giving their work a contemporary feel. Later other artists and craftsmen joined their circle of influence, most notably William Morris and Edward Burne Jones.

Adoration of the Magi: Edward Burne Jones

In turn, Morris and Burne Jones became influential in what has become known as the Arts & Crafts movement – in part a reaction to factory made and mass produced items. Emphasis was placed instead on traditional crafts in arts and design.

A Morris & Co stained glass window at West Woodhay

One name associated with the Arts & Crafts movement is Walter Crane, remembered particularly for his illustrations of children’s books.

Illustration for “Little Red Riding Hood” by Walter Crane

Another was Kate Greenaway – a near contemporary of Ethel Martyn who had studied at the Slade some years earlier and who, like Walter Crane, is particularly remembered for her illustrations of children’s books.

Another female student in the early years of the Slade was Evelyn De Morgan. Her work, which frequently features the female form, also shows the influence of the Pre Raphaelites.

By the time of the “restoration” of St Michael’s Inkpen, Ethel King Martyn was an established painter and illustrator, having been elected Associate of the Royal Society of Printmakers in 1892 and then Fellow in 1902. She had also exhibited at the Royal Academy. Her work at Inkpen was completed in 1910 and remains as beautiful today as it was then.

The Annunciation: Ethyl King Martin, St Michael & All Angels, Inkpen

It is, I think, easy to see the influences of the Pre Raphaelite painters in Ethel’s work in terms of the use of bright colours, composition and realism as well as an appealing story-book quality reminiscent of Walter Crane and Kate Greenaway.

Some time ago, I wrote an article for this blog called, “Our churches: Not what they seem?” When I researched that article, using sources from the nineteenth and early twentieth century, I hardly ever came across the name of a woman – certainly there were no references to female architects, designers, builders or, of course, priests. Nationally, some women had achieved recognition alongside the men who were their contemporaries – I have already mentioned Kate Greenaway and Evelyn De Morgan in the field of art and design, however, they are in the minority.

Ethel King Martyn never married but lived with her twin sister, Agnes. She died in Budleigh Salterton, Devon, in 1938. You may never have heard of her before reading this, and her work has never, as far as I am aware, been reproduced on posters or greetings cards. But her work on the walls of the church at Inkpen is, I believe, stunning, and for that she should be celebrated.

Kin & Kintbury

In this article, Ellen Lock Ireland discusses Jane Auten’s close relationship with friends and extended family in Kintbury.

Similarly to the way in which we meet the families in Jane Austen’s novels (the Bennets, Bingleys, Dashwoods, Morlands, Bertrams etc), we can get to know a real life Kintbury family through her letters to her sister. As Jane herself says “the true art of letter writing…is to express on paper exactly what one would say to the same person by word of mouth…”

The protagonist family in Kintbury’s particular local story, which we might call “Kin and Kintbury”, are, of course, the Fowles, a dynasty of local vicars. The two families first becoming acquainted when George Austen met Thomas Fowle Senior during their university days at Oxford. The relationship was solidified for the next generation when Thomas Fowle sent his sons Fulwar, Thomas, William and Charles to study with George at the Steventon rectory prior to their going to university. Studying and living in the same house alongside the Austen children inevitably resulted in lifelong friendships.

The closeness of these two families is reflected in the fond memories shared by James Austen in his poem, Lines written at Kintbury- May1812:

“And still in my mind’s eye methinks I see

The village pastor’s cheerful family.

The father grave, yet oft with humour dry

Producing the quaint jest or shrewd reply;

The busy bustling mother who like Eve,

Would ever and anon the circle leave,

Her mind on hospitable thoughts intent;

Careful domestic blunders to prevent.

And ever ready on her guests to pour

The corner beaufet’s rich and savoury store.

While yet a gayer group, 4 manly boys

Heightened the relish of domestic joys

Of future happiness gave promise fair”

As we know, Fulwar became Vicar at Kintbury in 1798, taking on the role from his father Thomas. As a fan of Jane’s fictional clergy, it is perhaps gratifying to read her description of Fulwar’s response to a less than successful card game session of 1801, reporting to Cassandra “We played at Vignt-un, which as Fulwar was unsuccessful, gave him an opportunity to expose himself as usual”. Fortunately, perhaps, for Fulwar’s legacy, the plaque installed in his memory leaves a somewhat more positive impression for posterity, stating that it was commissioned “by the parishioners of Kintbury, in testimony of their respect and affection for him as their pastor, friend and neighbour”.

Fulwar’s wife, Eliza, nee Lloyd, also features in frequent subplots in Austen’s letters, with Jane impatient for news of the familial goings on in her life, for example complaining to Cassandra prior to the birth of one of Eliza and Fulwar’s children in 1798 “No news from Kintbury yet- Eliza sports with our impatience! She was very well last Thursday…”

A letter addressed to the vicarage at Kintbury

In a letter of 1801, Jane provides us with a less than flattering impression of Eliza, telling Cassandra “Eliza says she is quite well, but she is thinner than when we saw her last, & not in very good looks. I suppose she has not recovered from the effects of her illness in December.- She cuts her hair too short over her forehead, & and does not wear her cap far enough upon her head- in spite of these many disadvantages however, I can still admire her beauty.”

As well as being the wife of an old family friend, Eliza also had the familial claim, not only as the sister of Jane’s brother James’ wife, but also the sister of her particular friend Martha Lloyd, whom Jane once described as “the friend and sister under every circumstance”. Martha is known to have lived with Jane, Cassandra and their mother in various residences including those in Southampton and Chawton. The close bond is reminiscent of that between sisters, with Jane complaining in jest to Cassandra “I would not let Martha read First Impressions again upon any account…she means to publish it from Memory, & one more perusal must enable her to do it.”

The close bond between the families is further highlighted at times of personal tragedy. Following the death of Edward Austen-Knight’s wife Elizabeth, in 1808, Jane wrote to Cassandra of Eliza’s correspondence to her, quoting Eliza’s own words “A very kind and feeling letter is arrived today from Kintbury. Mrs. Fowle’s sympathy and solicitude on such an occasion you will be able to do justice to, and express it as she wishes to my bother. Concerning you, she says “Cassandra will, I know, excuse my writing to her; it is not to save myself but her that I omit so doing. Give my best, my kindest love to her, and tell her that I feel for her as I know she would for me on the same occasion, and that I most sincerely hope her health will not suffer”.

Just as the Fowle and Austen family links survived into a second generation, Jane and her family eagerly concerned themselves with the development and news of Fulwar and Eliza’s growing family. The couple, in total, welcomed 8 children, Fulwar-William, Mary Jane, Thomas, Caroline Elizabeth, who sadly died in her first year, Elizabeth Caroline, Isabella, Charles and Henry.

As with the families in her novels, Jane provides us with a vivid image of various interactions and her opinions of her friends’ children:

Fulwar William, the eldest, is described by Jane as “attentive” and “affectionate”, although Jane seems to have difficulty keeping track of his age, commenting to Cassandra that he “is actually 14, what are we to do?”

During one family gathering, Jane recalls her impressions of various of the Fowle clan, telling Cassandra,

“William & Tom are much as usual; Caroline” (who we also learn was Christened by James Austen in 1799 , “is improved in her person; I think her now really a pretty Child. She is still very shy, & does not talk much.”

As is a theme in Jane’s novels, another, perhaps more distant, character of interest in Jane’s letters regarding the Fowle family is Fulwar’s distant relative, Lord Craven, the token member of the landed gentry in our story, whose far reaching impact is felt closer to home.

Lawrence, Thomas; Lieutenant-General William Craven (1770-1825), 1st Earl of Craven; National Army Museum; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/lieutenant-general-william-craven-17701825-1st-earl-of-craven-182755

Jane informs Cassandra that “Eliza has seen Lord Craven at Barton, and probably by this time at Kintbury, where he was expected for one day this week.”

Jane eagerly seizes on the opportunity to relish in the gentleman’s foibles, telling Cassandra that Eliza “found his manners very pleasing indeed. The little flaw of having a Mistress now living with him at Ashdown Park, seems to be the only unpleasing circumstance about him.”

Let us not forget, of course, Lord Craven’s most lasting impact on the two families. In a seeming act of generosity, Lord Craven appointed Tom Fowle, Fulwar’s brother and by this time Cassandra Austen’s fiance, to the role of domestic chaplain, a role which would see Tom travel to the West Indies with his kinsman, where he sadly contracted yellow fever and died.

When reading “Mansfield Park” in this context, what is striking is that Jane Austen writes about a Tom, who is sent to The West Indies, during which time there is much fear around the dangers of such a trip, and speculation that he may not return. The marked difference is, of course, that in her fictional world, Jane Austen was able to ensure that her Tom returned home safe and sound, when in reality, sadly, our Tom could not. Movingly, as was the case for Cassandra in real life, Tom in Jane’s fictional world, remains unmarried.

As discovered above, there is much more to the Austen family connection with Kintbury than originally meets the eye and, as a life long Janite local to the village, it is fascinating to continue to explore this. To leave the last word to Miss Jane Austen herself:

“It is pleasing to be among people who know one’s connections and care about them” (June 1808).

Charles Wright & the White Horse of Inkpen

There are many hill figures cut into the chalk downland of southern Britain. The oldest and probably the most famous is the Uffington White Horse in Oxfordshire (formerly in Berkshire before 1974) cut into the scarp slope of the North Wessex Downs overlooking the Upper Thames Valley, which is over 3,000 years old.

By contrast, the Fovant Badges were originally cut in the years after the First World War. These depictions of military badges were cut to honour the hundreds of soldiers who had been training near the village of Fovant in south west Wiltshire.

Fovant badges Marchibald.fly via Creative Commons

Dorset boasts two hill figures. The horse and rider on Osmington Down near Weymouth was created in 1808 in honour of George III, a frequent visitor to the town. However, no one really knows why the Cerne Abbas giant – a figure of more likely humorous or satirical intent – was created above the village in Early Medieval times.

Humerous or satirical intent?
Pete Harlow via Creative Commons

However, the majority of white horses can be found across Wiltshire. The Westbury white horse is believed to have been made sometime in the late seventeenth century which would make it the oldest figure in the county. Next comes the white horse above Cherhill, which is believed to date from 1780. Pewsey’s horse was cut in 1785 and then in 1808, pupils at a boys’ school in Marlborough constructed the town’s white horse.

The Cherhill white horse
Brian Robert Marshall via Creative Commons

At Broad Hinton, it is believed that the parish clerk, Henry Eatwell, may have been responsible for the Hackpen Hill white horse, which was constructed in 1838 to commemorate Queen Victoria’s coronation.

Broad Hinton white horse
Brian Robert Marshall via Creative Commons

The Devizes white horse first appeared in 1845. Then, rather later than the rest, Broad Town in 1885.

But how many people know that, sometime in the early 1870s, Inkpen was added to this list?

The Ordnance Survey map, Berkshire, Sheet XLI, surveyed in 1873 and published in 1877, does indeed show another white horse, situated on the north facing slope of Inkpen Hill and just over the county boundary in Wiltshire.

So, who was responsible for Inkpen’s white horse and what happened that we can no longer see it?

The Inkpen ( or Ham ) white horse was constructed on land owned as part of the Ham Spray estate, just to the east of the small village of Ham in Wiltshire and to the west of Inkpen, Berkshire. In 1869 it was bought by the then thirty year old Charles Wright. In the 1871 census, Wright is described as a farmer of 370 acres employing 8 men and 4 boys, so is clearly quite successful.

Wright had been born in 1839 in the Leicestershire village of Market Bosworth. In 1841 he is living with his grandfather, a clergyman and in 1851 he is a boarder at a grammar school in Derby. By the age of 22 he is living with his father and his older brother Thomas who is in the military. Charles himself is described as “gent”: a very precise distinction at this socially divided time.

Ten years later, Thomas Wright has a seat of his own: Tidmington House in Worcestershire, where he lives with his wife and eight staff. Younger brother Charles has relocated to the south west.

When Charles Wright bought Ham Spray House, it was a modern building still only around thirty years old. Perhaps Charles wanted to establish his own seat, distinct and away from the family in Leicestershire.

Ham Spray House
Charles Richard Sanders via Creative Commons

Some nineteenth century landowners become high profile figures within their towns or villages and their names feature frequently in the local press. This cannot be said of Charles Wright in the time he lived at Ham Spray House. The only reference I can find to him in local papers, aside from details of the sale of his property, was when he contributed generously, along with other local gentry, to a fund for the sick.

Finding himself in a county famed for its white horses cut into the chalk downland, Wright may have wanted the distinction of adding to that number. Perhaps he wanted to impress his neighbours, or just to add to the view from his house. So, sometime in the early 1870s he had his workers cut the outline of a horse into the downs. The new white horse must have been distinctive enough for the Ordnance Survey surveyors to notice it when working in the area in 1873 and include it on the latest edition of the O.S. map, published four years later..

However, the 1877 O.S. map is the only one to include the new, Inkpen white horse. Sadly, it did not endure partly because it had been constructed by stripping away the turf with out digging and packing out trenches with compacted chalk. Further, subsequent landowners did not bother to clear away the encroaching grass.

Charles Wright died on 12^th December 1876 at Ham Spray House. He was only 37. The estate, his house and all its contents were sold. His time at Ham Spray House, like that of his newly cut white horse on the downs above Inkpen, had been brief.

https://www.wiltshirewhitehorses.org.uk/index.html

Ancestry

British newspaper Archive

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

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.

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.

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

Traditional Views & Challenging Opinions: Kintbury Men’s Fellowship of the 1950s

In the 1950s the church in Kintbury had a thriving Men’s Fellowship.

Now, as a mere woman, I would not have been able to attend these meetings, however the minute books were passed to me as a possible source of parish history.

The minutes make interesting reading – on the one hand they reflect an echo of earlier time, for example the home- grown entertainments at the Christmas Party could belong to the previous century, whereas the discussion of the Wolfenden Report into Homosexuality reflects a consideration of changing attitudes more associated with the 1960s. The minutes record several comments which reflect some opinions and values of the time and which would cause raised eye brows if expressed today.

I’ll begin by eavesdropping on the November meeting 1956. All, as the minutes say, were ‘seated in comfort, thanks to the vicar’s good offices’.

The talk was, as you might expect from a Christian fellowship, an exploration of the Bible. The speaker was Kintbury’s Mr. Sidney Inns (well- remembered by many of us). Sid, it says, probed with an historian’s knowledge into the early writings of the bible. So enjoyable and instructive was the talk that Sid had to promise a further contribution.

This meeting ended with plans being made for the Christmas Party, to which members could invite six people each, and a “Practical Day”, during which members would decorate the Parish Room. Finally the vicar drew attention to ‘Operation Firm Touch, a means of influencing adolescents back to church’ – so much for those who say that only this generation has deserted the pews.

The party was held in the Coronation Hall on 5^th January and seems to have been quite popular as approximately ninety people attended. Entertainment was provided by local people and included Mrs. Bailey and Mrs. Aldridge performing a sketch called ‘Over The Garden Wall’, The Kintbury Handbell Ringers, Gordon Perris singing a selection of popular songs, accordion players Geoff White and Miss Pat Reeves, and four ladies who, apparently, gave a hysterically funny performance of the play, ‘Mr. Macgregor comes to Tea’. Finally the Men’s Fellowship performed the ‘Berkshire Widdicombe Fair’. This last item was so popular that it was asked for over and again at different gatherings.

However, it is the next meeting that fascinates me most. The Vicar said that he really found it rather difficult to find a suitable bible passage for the topic under discussion. This does not surprise me for the topic was ‘Flying Saucer – Fact or Fiction’

A Mr. A.E. Jones proceeded to convince everyone present that flying saucers were not purely figments of the imagination but really existed. He explained that they had been observed in 1619 and now in 1956 a schoolmaster on the Yorkshire Moors had been confronted by a visitor from Mars and had experienced a strange feeling of peace almost as if the visitor was a deity. Mr. Jones produced other testimonies ranging from Norway to the USA and added the information that the saucers were reckoned to travel at 9000 miles an hour.

Not surprisingly after this stirring stuff the group returned to a safer subject, ‘The Drift From The Churches’. The minutes say that this was the first meeting in the redecorated Parish Room and maybe the brightness of the room demanded that the meeting be bright as it undoubtedly was. But was it safer than flying saucers – it was certainly a healthy discussion.

‘The Church in its capacity as the established church had backed the wrong horse probably due to tradition and the bowing to the demands of the wealthy section of the community, said Mr. Parry, the leader of the discussion.

This was most likely a controversial opinion to hold in the 1950s. Mr. Parry believed that 40 years ago a large number of poor people attended church regularly, thereby to gain spiritual salvation. Now one could only imagine that the lack of poverty had increased physical greatness with a consequent falling off in spiritual discipline.

Mr Parry was of the opinion that Sunday was now largely a family day, whereby most of the family could be together. No doubt the motor car and coach trip also accounted for absent seats at the local parish church. Further, Mr. Parry felt that a lot of people just didn’t seem to need the church.This provoked a very lively discussion and the majority of members present raised their voices and opinions regarding the apparent falling off and decline in church congregations.

The next talk was to be given by the vicar on ‘Church Architecture’ causing a Mr. O’Rourke to comment, ‘From Flying Saucers to Flying Buttresses’.

The meeting concluded with Mr. Palmer inviting members back to his home for cups of tea. Despite being newly decorated, the Parish Room did not have mod cons and refreshments could not be catered for.

A committee meeting in March brought forth suggestions for future gatherings. Some topics under consideration were of a seriously religious nature and included a Clarification of The Creed in Three parts, and a further two talks by the ever- popular Sidney Inns. However other suggestions were more topical and concerned contemporary issues such as, ‘Does the Welfare State Make for Better People?’, ‘Education Today,’ ‘Love Thine Enemy’, ‘Blood Sports’, ‘Local Government’, and ‘Trades Unions.’

It seems the men of Kintbury did not shirk from a subject because it might upset someone, put them off church, or create tensions. Lively debates took place and there was what might be called a ‘frank exchange of views’.

In March, 1957, the Bishop of Reading wrote to the Fellowship telling them of a meeting in Reading to be addressed by the Bishop of Coventry and titled, “Operation Firm Faith”. It was hoped that 2,000 men would attend although it seems that women were not invited.

In the event over 1,000 men turned up and were, apparently, held in the palm of the Bishop’s hand as he convinced them of the joy of being a Christian. Five points, he said, needed to be practised and the churches would be filled to over flowing. The points were Go Out, Stay Out, Think Out, Speak Out, Live Out.

This stirring meeting ended with the singing of Jerusalem and the minutes say that ‘words cannot describe the harmony of sound produced by so many male voices’.

There might also have been harmonious voices at the Annual General Meeting in May. It was a glorious evening and members set out to a private room in the Red House. There were abundant refreshments and a private bar. The title for the evening was; ‘Thirst after Righteousness’. The minutes record that, with regard to suggestions for the coming year, one suggestion, ‘Is beer our favourite beverage’? was no doubt prompted by the proximity of the beverage – the Red House was – and still is – a pub. The rest of the evening was devoted to general good will and the vicar soared to the heights of comedy by his presentation of Norfolk rustic life.

The following meeting was devoted to ‘Does the Welfare State make for Better People’? Speaking in favour, Mr. Cummings thought that education enabled people to choose their way of life rather than follow like sheep and be fearful of the consequences as happened in ‘the good old days’. Mr. Jones, opposing, felt that the Welfare State brought about a selfish outlook on life and mentioned that in eastern countries it was honourable to care for one’s parents in old age. The ensuing discussion was ‘most enlightening and many controversial facts were raised tho’ politics did not intervene.‘ It was thought that it would make interesting reading to have a similar discussion in fifty years time.

The spring of 1957 had seen the publication of the Wolfended Report which recommended that homosexual acts between two consenting adults should no longer be a criminal offence. At the time this was a contentious issues but the Men’s Fellowship did not shy away from it and the report was discussed at the April meeting. Question time produced many interesting items but they were evidently considered too risqué to record in the minutes. So what the men of the Kintbury Fellowship thought about this proposed change in the law, we shall never know.

January 1958 was devoted to a very touchy subject for a rural parish: Should Blood Sports be Abolished? Mr. Bob Sanders spoke about his boyhood in Devon and the damage that a stag and his harem can do to crops. Hunting, he said, was nature’s way of controlling vermin. Mr. R. Westcott proposed the motion and although secretly he agreed with hunting, from his vehemence one would have thought that all hunters and hounds should be boiled in oil. Hunting, he said, was a form of sadism in a civilised world. He ended by announcing that if the meeting voted to retain bloodsports they would all leave the meeting forever branded as sadists! Controversial stuff for a village.

Despite this ominous note members did condemn themselves by voting for retention which was probably not surprising

The following talk, once again by popular speaker Sidney Inns, was on a completely different – and much lighter – subject: Superstitions. Sidney explained the significance of different numbers and why horse shoes were considered to bring luck.

In May a touch of the exotic was introduced when Mr. Parry brought along his guest, Mr. Mohammed El Amin Ghabshawi, who was wearing the national costume of the Sudan. He explained the history of the Sudan and spoke with enormous enthusiasm about his country. The Sudanese government, he said, was friendly to all and welcomed foreign capital investment. It is rather sad in view of all that has happened since to read that the overall picture gained was that ‘here was a people who were striving in the right ways to improve their economy and by their general attitude to all other nations might very well attain a very high standard of living in the not too distant future.‘

The speaker in March 1959 was happy to express views that very few would concur with today. This was the era of apartheid in South Africa and the subject was inspired by a cutting from the Sunday Times in which the Prime Minister, Harold MacMillan, said that the South Africans were making a grave mistake in handling racial affairs.

The speaker, a Mr. Wallace, expressed some very controversial opinions which today would seem prejudiced and ill-informed. He said that he had not been in South Africa but he knew the Africans and had employed some of them on his farm. The word ‘freedom’ was being shouted by all Africans and they were becoming very unruly, in his opinion. He did not see what cause they had for shouting this as they had been given many freedoms. For example freedom from slaughter by other tribes and freedom from fear of being sold as slaves. He went on to say that he did not want any mixed race marriages and who really would? Africans, he believed, only understood harsh rulings and were much better off now than one hundred years ago all due to the whites.

Mr Wallace concluded by asking if anyone had any questions or comments. Mr. Inns then asked if witchcraft was still practised. Mr Wallace said that it was and that one of his farmworkers had died when cursed. He finished by saying that the proposed international boycott of South African goods was stupid.

The minutes do not record what the men of the Christian Fellowship thought about Mr Wallace’s hard line opinions.

Meetings continued into the early 1960s and Sidney Inns’ faith themed talks were still popular. In his next talk, Sid gave a brief description of four major religions in which he included – rather surprisingly – Mithraism along with Hinduism, Buddhism and Islam.

The recently published New English Bible – the New Testament of which had been published in 1961 – was, not surprisingly, a topic for discussion and the men were informed by a speaker that the new version was now listened to with more interest than the “King James” version of 1611.

These were the days before the Church of England updated its forms of service and the Book of Common Prayer of 1662 was the most frequently used. Opinions were expressed that the service of matins was very hard to understand particularly for the younger generation and a “Family Communion” in which all share would be easier to understand.

Other reforming ideas were discussed and during one of the periodic ‘Any Questions’ it was decided that it was a good idea, within certain limits, for priests to work side by side with factory workers and get the gospel to them that way. However, the right man ( no women priests back then, of course ) for the job must be found who should be very careful in his manner of approach.

Reforming suggestions continued to be discussed with the proposal – radical to some – that the appointment of a vicar to a living for life would no longer continue –led to a very lively discussion, opinions being divided more or less equally on most points.

Meetings continued throughout the 1960s. One topic that was perhaps surprising for a Christian fellowship was Psychic Research. Canon Harmon, vicar of Froxfield spoke about the nature of the mind, spirit, soul, telepathy and visions. Jesus, he believed, had psycho kinetic powers and examples of this were shown in His miracles. Canon Harmon was so interesting that he was invited back again and in his second visit gave examples of séances, materialisations and the return of departed spirits.

The Fellowship finally demised in the early seventies by which time some subjects under discussion had become a little more political. One of the last topics to be discussed was the war in Vietnam and the justification, or otherwise, of American intervention.

The Kintbury Men’s fellowship was obviously of its time. It is difficult to imagine that so openly racist views as held by Mr. Wallace in 1959 being allowed to go unchallenged today although the topic of bloodsports would still divide opinion. However, over sixty years later, “Does the Welfare State make for better people” might still prove to be a topic for an interesting debate.