Uncategorized – Kintbury and Beyond

The man who remembered Jane Austen: Kintbury’s Rev Fulwar Craven Fowle

We have, I believe, just one description of Jane Austen’s appearance, recalled by someone who knew her well all her life – someone who had known her since she was a small child of three.

“She was like a doll……certainly pretty – bright and a good deal of colour in her face – like a doll – no, that would not give at all the right idea for she had so much expression – she was like a child – quite a child, very lively and full of humour.”

That person was Kintbury’s vicar, Rev Fulwar Craven Fowle.

Fulwar ( pronounced “Fuller” – it was a family name ) was born in Kintbury on June 12^th 1764, the eldest son of Rev Thomas Fowle and his wife, Jane née Craven. These were the days when having connections, either within the family or otherwise, could lead to appointment to a parish; in the case of the Fowles, Fulwar’s grandfather Thomas Fowle I had been appointed vicar of Kintbury in 1741 and his father, Thomas Fowle II, followed him in the post from 1762 to 1806.

At the time, it was not at all uncommon for a priest to hold the position of rector in other parishes. Thomas II was rector of Hamstead Marshall, not far from Kintbury, and also Allington, near Salisbury in Wiltshire. Later, as well as being vicar of Kintbury, Fulwar himself was also rector of Elkstone in Gloucestershire.

So the Fowles could be said to have been very much a family of the vicarage. This was a time when vicarages, wherever they were, were larger, higher status houses and those who lived in them led relatively comfortable lives supported by servants and other staff. However, a vicarage life was not associated with opulence and none could be described as stately.

By contrast, the Cravens’ seat at Hamstead Marshall, three miles to the east of Kintbury, was far grander.

Fulwar’s mother Jane Craven was born in 1727, the second daughter of Charles Craven and his wife, Elizabeth Staples of Hamstead Marshall. Charles is better known as “Governor Craven” from his time as being governor of South Carolina in America. The former Elizabeth Staples has a reputation as a socialite with little time for her family.

The Former Elizabeth Staples, grandmother of Fulwar Craven Fowle

When Charles Craven had been growing up, the Craven family seat was the elegant baroque mansion in Hamstead Park, designed by the Dutch architect Balthazar Gerbier in the mid C17th. Unfortunately, this building burnt down in 1718 and by the time of Charles Craven’s marriage to Elizabeth Staples in 1720, it is likely that the family home was an extended hunting lodge on the estate.

All that remains of the Baroque mansion in Hamstead Park. Photo by Mick Crawley via CreativeCommons

So, even though the Hamstead Marshall Cravens no longer had a “stately” house, they did have a high status home and close family links to the Earls of Craven, such that Jane Craven’s family could be said to occupy a higher rung on the social ladder than that of the Fowles.

Jane & Thomas were married at Kintbury on July 18^th, 1763. Jane was 36 and Thomas was 37. Thomas had been ordained priest the previous year and became vicar of Kintbury following his father’s recent death and the post becoming vacant. Perhaps the comparatively later age at which the couple married could suggest that their marriage was not economically viable until then, despite Jane’s family having been wealthy. We do not know.

Thomas & Jane had four sons: Fulwar Craven, born 1764, was followed by Thomas, born 1765, then William, born 1767, and finally Charles, born 1770.

Fulwar was a fair-haired, blue-eyed child, slight of stature and never very tall, even in adulthood. The country side would have encroached on the village of Kintbury more so than it does today, enabling the Fowle boys and their friends to roam at will and swim in the Kennet. Like all of the more comfortably off, the boys would have learnt to ride as a matter of course and by adulthood, Fulwar had the reputation of being a very good horseman.

We can assume that, whilst life in the Kintbury vicarage might not have been opulent, it would have been economically secure particularly when compared to the lives of many working people and farm labourers in the cottages of Kintbury.

There was no universal education in late eighteenth century England. In some towns and villages a basic education was offered by religious or charity groups and there were well-established grammar schools in more prosperous towns which prepared young men for the professions or university entry. For the sons of wealthier families there was a choice of “public” schools – a misnomer in that these schools were – and are – expensively fee-paying and elitist.

The novel, “Tom Brown’s School Days”, published in 1857, is a fictionalised account of being a pupil at Rugby, a public school in the south east midlands, in the 1830s. Its author, Thomas Hughes, was the grandson of the vicar at Uffington, then in Berkshire, across the downs around twenty miles to the north of Kintbury.

It might be assumed that, coming from a similar background, the Fowle sons would also have attended a public school, perhaps Eton, close to Windsor in east Berkshire, or Winchester, in Hampshire. Instead, Jane and Thomas chose to send their sons to the school run by Rev George Austen and his wife, at Steventon, near Basingstoke in Hampshire. George Austen’s “school” was actually in the family home – the Steventon vicarage.

Thomas Fowle had known George Austen since their days at Oxford University so perhaps he felt more comfortable entrusting his sons’ education to someone he knew very well. Alternatively the costs of a public school education might have been beyond the budget of a rural parson, we cannot say. The reality might have been a combination of both factors.

We do not know precisely the curriculum Rev Austen would have offered his students although it would very likely have centred on the Classics – Latin and Greek- which would prepare the boys for further study of the same at Oxford University.

Fulwar was fourteen when he first joined the other borders at the Steventon vicarage school. At that time the Austens’ eldest son, James, was nearest to Fulwar in age and became his closest friend. Edward was 11, Henry 7, Cassandra 5 and Francis 4. The baby of the family at that time was Jane, aged 3. Charles was to arrive a year later.

It goes without saying that the Austens would have had servants; however, even with help with cooking, cleaning and laundry, the household must have been a particularly busy one. One can only assume that George Austen’s wife, Cassandra, must have been a particularly well-organise and relaxed person – laid-back, we might say today – to run such a household.

Fulwar’s brothers later joined him at Steventon: Tom in 1779 and William and Charles sometime in the early 1780s. The young Austens also visited Kintbury, and many years later, in 1812, James Austen wrote a poem in which he recalled staying at the Fowles’ home in Kintbury:

And still in my mind’s eye methinks I see

The village pastor’s cheerful family.

The father grave, but 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.

Whilst James Austen was clearly not a second Wordsworth, his words suggest the Fowles were a warm, happy family. Perhaps the “humour dry” and “quaint jest” suggest that the Austens & Fowles shared a common sense of humour or enjoyed the same sort of witticisms. Perhaps both families would a have agreed with Jane Austen’s Mr Bennett when he said,

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?”

There is certainly evidence that Fulwar had an acerbic sense of humour, which is perhaps not surprising in a close friend of the Austens.

At Steventon, all the Fowle brothers were successful students. Fulwar went on to enter St John’s College, Oxford in 1871 where he gained a BA in 1785 and an MA in 1788. His brother, Thomas went up to Oxford in 1783 and gained an MA in 1794. William went on to study medicine ( not yet a subject taught in an English university ) as an apprentice to his uncle William Fowle in London. Charles studied law and was called to the bar in 1800, later practising law in Newbury.

Perhaps it was inevitable that Fulwar would follow his father and grandfather into the church; in 1786 he was ordained deacon at Salisbury cathedral and was installed curate of St Mary’s, Hamstead Marshall on the following Christmas Eve. It has to be very likely that he obtained this post due to family patronage, which, at this time, would have seemed perfectly normal and acceptable with no accusation of nepotism.

Also in the manner of the time, Fulwar became rector of Elkstone in Gloucestershire in 1788 where the manor had belonged to the Craven family since 1623. 0nce again an example of an appointment made as a result of family connections.

1788 was also the year in which Fulwar married his cousin, Elizabeth – known as Eliza – Lloyd. Eliza’s mother was the former Martha Craven, daughter of Governor Craven of Hamstead Marshall. Martha had married the Rev Noyes Lloyd, vicar of Enborne in 1763 and Eliza, along with her sisters, Martha & Mary, with their brother Charles, had grown up there. Sadly, Charles died in 1775 following an outbreak of smallpox.

In Elkstone, the elegant, three storey rectory built earlier in the century became Eliza & Fulwar’s family home for the first six years of their marriage. Their first child, however, Fulwar William, was born at Deane, near Basingstoke in Hampshire in 1791. It has to be likely that this was because Eliza’s mother and her sisters Mary & Martha had been living there since having to vacate Enborne vicarage on the death of Rev Nowes Lloyd in 1789. As a first-time mother, Eliza probably wanted her confinement to be somewhere close to her family for support.

The Old Rectory, Elkstone Phto: Chris Brown, via CreativeCommone

The couple’s second child, Mary Jane, was born at Elkstone in 1792 although the baptism of their third child, Thomas, in 1793, is recorded as being in Hurstbourne Tarrant, near Andover in Hampshire. Although it is a very long way from Elkstone, Eliza’s mother and sisters were now living at Ibstone, a hamlet close to Hurstbourne Tarrant so it would be logical to assume Eliza had once more returned to her family for her confinement.

In 1794 the family returned to Kintbury where Fulwar took over the incumbency. By now there were two more children: Mary Jane, had been born in Elkstone in 1792 & Thomas in Hurstbourne Tarrant in 1793.

Caroline Elizabeth had been born in December of 1794 but died the following January. Both her baptism and death are recorded as being at Hurstbourne Tarrant.

In January 1797 a happier event occurred at Hurstbourne Tarrant where Eliza’s sisters Mary & Martha were still living with their mother. Mary Lloyd married the widowed James Austen and became step-mother to James’ daughter Anna. In the custom of the time, Eliza Fowle could now speak of James Austen as her brother. Martha Lloyd was to become one of Jane Austen’s closest friends and a life-long companion.

However, tragedy was soon to strike the extended family.

In 1795, Fulwar’s brother Tom Fowle had become engaged in secret to Cassandra Austen prior to joining an expedition to the West Indies as Lord Craven’s chaplain. However, he was never to return and news of his death from yellow fever reached Kintbury in the February of 1797. It was James and Mary who broke the news to Cassandra.

Over the next eight years four more children were born to Fulwar and Eliza in the Kintbury vicarage. In a letter to Cassandra of December 1^st, 1798 Jane Austen wrote,

“No news from Kintbury yet – Eliza sports with our impatience.”

It is worth remembering that this was a time when everyone would have known someone who had died in childbirth so Jane Austen’s wry humour would be masking a real concern for Eliza’s welfare. Elizabeth Caroline ( known as Caroline ) arrived five days later on December 6^th. She was christened in Kintbury on January 19^th by James Austen.

Isabella followed in 1799, Charles in 1804 and Henry in 1807.

The Fowles, the Lloyds and the Austens remained friends throughout their lives. The little girl Fulwar had first got to know in the Steventon vicarage had shown a prodigious talent for writing and become a very succesful novelist. In 1815 the Prince Regent even requested that Jane should dedicate her latest novel to him, which she did. As it happens that novel was Emma, the one about which Fulwar famously said he would only read the first and the last chapters as he had heard it wasn’t interesting. I very much doubt that Jane would have been particularly offended by this comment – after all, she knew him almost as well as she knew her older brothers, and for almost as long.

Despite the disparaging comments about Emma, we know that Fulwar did indeed purchase other of Jane’s novels, as copies with his name, written in his handwriting on the title pages, have fairly recently come up for auction. We know from Jane’s letters that Eliza bought a copy of Sense & Sensibility.

Throughout this time there are many passing references to Fulwar & Eliza in the letters of Jane Austen. However the most telling reference as regards Fulwar is that January 1801. In her letter to Cassandra, Jane writes:

“We played at vingt-un, which, as Fulwar was unsuccessful, gave him an opportunity of exposing himself as usual.”

Fulwar, it seems , was not good at hiding his bad temper. But by this time Jane had known him for over twenty five years and must have been very well aware of his moods.

As their priest, Fulwar Craven Fowle served the people of Kintbury for the rest of his life. Whilst not all Anglican clergy were in any way wealthy and some seem just to have been scratching a living in their parishes – (indeed it is believed one of the reasons why the ill-fated Rev Thomas Fowle took the post of Chaplain to Lord Craven’s expedition was to raise enough money to marry Cassandra ) – all the evidence suggests that the Fowles’ life in Kintbury was secure and comfortable.

As well as carrying out his duties as parish priest in Kintbury and, from time to time visiting the parish of Elkstone, Fulwar was very much involved in West Berkshire public life.

In 1805 he was appointed Lieutenant Colonel Commandant of the Kintbury Rifle Corps and in the same year led the local Volunteer Brigade to Bulmersh, near Reading where they and other volunteer regiments were inspected by George III. Apparently the King was particularly impressed by the “military perfection” of the Berkshire Volunteers and with Rev Fowle as their officer.

I think it’s worth remembering that at this time there was still the threat of invasion from the French under Napoleon across the channel and the south coast felt particularly vulnerable. Having an efficient volunteer force was important to the nation’s security in the same way as the Home Guard was in the Second World War.

Despite the country being on a war footing and the newspapers continuing to carry reports of Napoleon, daily life continued relatively uninterrupted.

It seems that Rev Fowle moved within what Jane Austen’s Mrs Elton would have described as “the first circle” socially. According to a newspaper report of 1807, for example, he was one of several dignitaries to attend a race meeting at Enborne Heath near Newbury. Others named include the Earl of Craven and Sir Joseph Andrews of Shaw House, Newbury. Very much the local “great and good”.

What is perhaps surprising is the amount of property and land that Fulwar owned in the area. This included 55 acres of farm land, two cottages and other farm buildings at Rooks’ Nest farm just south of Kintbury, and also 350 acres of pasture and arable land with adjoining farm house and other buildings at East Woodhay, just over the border in Hampshire.

However, Fulwar does seem to have taken an interest in agriculture and was not simply a landowner who cared solely about collecting the rent. In 1808 he was elected Steward of the Berkshire Agricultural Society for that year and in 1820 became a member of the Hampshire Agricultural Society

This was the time of what is now known as the agricultural revolution – the period throughout the late eighteenth century into the nineteenth century when many landowners and working farmers were developing ways to increase agricultural production. In this area, South Downs and Merinos were the breeds of sheep most commonly kept by farmers but at the Hampshire Agricultural Show of 1820 the Rev Fowle exhibited a pen of Leicesters which, “excited much attention” as they had not been seen there before. Furthermore, the superior weight gain of these sheep, when compared to that of the usual breeds, was due, it was believed, to their having been fed on a diet of “sliced Swedish turnips” rather than corn and cake. Over the next two years, the Leicesters maintained their advantage when reared under controlled conditions.

A Leicester Ram Photo: John Wrightson via Creative Commons

Whilst it has to be likely that it was a shepherd in Rev Fowle’s employment who would have undertaken all the husbandry involved in this experiment, Fulwar himself must have approved of its happening and may well have initiated it.

The Agricultural Revolution resulted in a slow and relatively peaceful change throughout the country. The same could not have been said about the French Revolution, observed from across the channel, where social change had included the violent removal of the monarchy and aristocracy. Throughout Fulwar’s life there were campaigns for social and political reform across the country but these were accompanied by fears, on the part of the establishment, of the kind of violence that had been seen in France. I think it is in the light of such fears that we need to assess the response of certain authorities to the unrest that broke out across southern England in 1830, though it does not excuse the more extreme reactions.

By 1830, Fulwar was 66 and Eliza 65. The couple still lived in the vicarage: the white building next to the River Kennet where Fulwar had grown up although now its garden formed part of the south bank of the Kennet & Avon canal as it flowed towards Kintbury wharf, bringing coal and other commodities to the village.

Fulwar also served as a magistrate and was, therefore, regarded as a figure of authority and most probably of derision on the part of those who came before the bench. Such is human nature. He seems to have been respected and held in affection by the members of his church; by now, however, Kintbury had both a Methodist church and a Primitive Methodist church so numbers of nonconformists in the village would not have been inconsiderable: Rev Fowle was not everyone’s priest.

Their neighbour, 79 year old Charles Dundas still had his seat at Barton Court, less than half a mile along the coaching road which led from the Bath Road into the village. Dundas had been Member of Parliament for Berkshire since 1794.

We have written quite extensively in this blog about the events which led up to the Swing Riots of 1830. Formore information you might like to look at these articles: The Kintbury Martyr parts 1, 2 and 3.

Following a year of escalating hardships, by the autumn of 1830 the agricultural labourers focussed their attention on threshing machine: the mechanical devices that could do the work of several men at a time rendering them redundant when their casual employment was most crucial if they were to earn enough to feed their families through the upcoming winter. By the night of November 21st of that year, a riotous mob of angry men was roaming through the local villages, demanding money from the farmers and threatening to set fires and smash machinery, in particular the hated threshing machines.

Thanks to a letter held by the National Archives we can read Fulwar’s own account of what happened when the Kintbury mob arrived at the vicarage. Apart from some of his sermons, the letter is the only time we can hear his voice through his writing – writing that is small and neat despite the strain of the night he has just witnessed. He frequently punctuates by using dashes. Both the neatness, much of the letter formations and the dashes are reminiscent of Jane Austen’s letter writing, which leads me to wonder if both were influenced by George Austen. It’s a thought.

The letter opens:

Dear Dundas,

The mob continued their work of breaking machines the whole of the night. They came to me about 4 oC in the morning. Harrison consulted with me and I agreed with him that it would be better to bring your machines to Kintbury and let them break them there than that they should go to BC for that purpose. They were brought up accordingly and taken into the street.

I think it is important to remember that at this time there was no police force and no authority that the Fowles could have called upon easily had they felt threatened. We do not know if anyone else was living at the vicarage besides Fulwar and Eliza – there may well have been one or two domestic servants and we know that Fulwar had a gun licence but all the same the couple would have been aware that they had very little personal protection had the mob turned violently against them.

Fulwar’s tone is resigned with acceptance of the situation rather than anger. He is clearly being kept informed of developments, telling Dundas that the mob has moved on to Titcombe, Hungerford Park and North Hidden, intending to go further. If this is correct, the rioters must have been moving swiftly through the area to have covered the distance. Furthermore, someone – or perhaps several people – must have been following on horseback to be able to report back as to what was happening. In these days of radio or mobile phone communication, it is easy to forget just how difficult it must have been in 1830 to follow what was happening.

The rioters have been demanding money:

I understand that they will have two pounds from each person; I know they had two from me, from Johnson, Captain Dunn and Mr Alderman.

According to the Bank of England online inflation calculator, £2 in 1830 equates to £199.40 today.

Once more I find Fulwar’s tone interesting – he is accepting of the situation and, at this time at least, offers no criticism or disapprobation.

I have not heard that they have committed personal violence on anyone rather than forcing the labourers to join them. Ploughs with cast iron shears appear to me as much the object of their hatred as machines and these they have broken many.

It is obviously important to Fulwar that he points out to Dundas that the rioters have not been personally violent to anyone and that the labourers ( by which I understand those not originally part of the “mob” ) are being forced to join in. Today we might speak of these people as being radicalised by the original protesters.

Further details are being brought to the vicarage as Fulwar writes:

I have just received a message from Mr Willes that the different parties have joined at Hungerford and exceed 1000 men.

One thousand men. That is half the population of modern day Kintbury. Even if that number is an exaggeration, a mob of even 250 angry men would be very frightening.

Fulwar continues to add to his letter as further information is brought to him. The Hungerford and Kintbury men have met with Mr Pearce ( a farmer ) and Mr Willes ( John Willes, JP of Hungerford Park ) and others. The men were demanding:

… twelve shillings a week for a man & wife & three children & the price of a gallon loaf for every child above three – these terms were acceded to by the Gentlemen as far as they could be, they were to be recommended for adoption to the farmers. I hope they will aceede (sic) to them I am in momentary expectation of being sent for by the Kintbury men who are returned or just returning to the village. I cannot of course try to beat them down to a lower price. These loaves to the children are all that men in health are to have from the parish as I understand these Gentlemen

According to the Bank of England, twelve shillings in 1830 equates to £59.82 today. The price of a gallon loaf in Newbury varied between one shilling and seven pence and one shilling and nine pence, so something around £8 today.

Fulwar concludes his letter at this point, then adds a post script:

I have just met the men – they (missing text) the same terms which had been agreed at Hungerford and I told them that as far as was in my power I would endeavour to persuade the farmers to agree to them. The men gave three cheers and expressed themselves perfectly satisfied but they all agreed that there must be no payment in bread but all in money. I could not feel justified in bringing back angry feelings by refusing to promise to recommend that also.

Fulwar’s tone in this letter is undoubtedly conciliatory. Whilst he admits that he does not want to bring back angry feelings, I don’t believe he was merely seeming to be sympathetic to the demands because the men are threatening.

Unfortunately, not everyone was in agreement with the way Fulwar dealt with the mob, believing him to be too much in sympathy with them and encouraging them. Someone complained to Lord Melbourne, the Home Secretary, and as a result, Charles Dundas and over ninety other villagers signed a letter to Melbourne, assuring him that Rev Fowle had done everything he could to quieten the disturbances.

Despite Fulwar’s attempts, the wider disturbances did not end there and then at the Kintbury vicarage, as we have written about elsewhere on this blog. The resulting court case was eventually heard at Reading the following January. Whilst several of the rioters were transported to Australia, just one man was executed: Kintbury’s William Winterbourne.

Winterbourne was hanged in Reading Gaol on January 11^th 1831. Fulwar had his body returned to Kintbury where he was buried the next day in St Mary’s churchyard and later a grave stone erected. On the stone, Winterbourne is recorded as “William Smith” , Smith being his mother’s name and, as his parents were not married, it was the custom of the time to regard a child’s official surname to be that of the mother.

I think it is difficult for us today to appreciate how very unusual – indeed, practically unheard of – it was then for a labourer such as Winterbourne to have a grave stone. Such would be completely beyond the budget of poorer people and even skilled craftsmen and women and many who today we might consider to be “lower middle class” would not necessarily have a grave stone but be laid to rest in an unmarked plot. Rev Fowle was responsible for Winterbourne’s burial and grave stone in Kintbury churchyard and it would be interesting to know how the rest of the village reacted to what he did.

There has long been a persistent idea locally that Fulwar did this out of a feeling of guilt. I do not believe this to be so and there is absolutely no evidence, as far as I have been able to find, to suggest that Fulwar had any responsibility for the outcome of the trial or felt any guilt as a result of it. I believe his feelings would have been of extreme sorrow.

As a parish priest and also as a magistrate he was a figure of authority in a village where, in common with all of England at this time, everyone was expected to know their place in society, and stick within it. So, if he was known amongst many villagers as “Ol’ Fowle”, as some people believe, this does not signify any particular derision than that which would have been afforded to many other figures of authority or those who had agency over the working people.

On May 26^th 1839, Eliza Fowle died at the Kintbury vicarage. She was 71. On March 9^th of the following year, Fulwar also died. He was 75. His memorial, over the pulpit in the church describes him as: Pastor, Neighbour, Friend.

The Fowle family grave, St Mary’s churchyard, Kintbury

Fulwar’s death brought to an end nearly 100 years of the Fowle family as priests in Kintbury. Less than thirty years later, the white vicarage mentioned by James Austen in his poem, had gone, to be replaced by a then very fashionable neo gothic house which is still there today.

Elizabeth Caroline lived in Kintbury all her life. When Cassandra Austen died in 1845, she left £1000 and a shawl which had previously belonged to Mrs Jane Fowle to her. Very sadly, Elizabeth Caroline died in a London asylum in 1860.

Mary Jane Dexter, née Fowle, died in 1883 and Isabella Lidderdale, née Fowle, died in 1884, both in Kintbury.

On January 11^th every year, people gather in Kintbury church yard to remember William Winterbourne/Smith, the Kintbury Martyr. But for Fulwar, Winterbourne’s grave would be in Reading, not here in Kintbury.

Throughout the year, Janeites ( as those who love the works of Jane Austen are called ) visit Kintbury because of her connections to the village through the Fowle family. Fulwar Craven Fowle is the link between what are often our very different parties of visitors.

And thanks to him we have this charming recollection of the woman he had known as a friend all her life:

” Like a doll……certainly pretty – bright and a good deal of colour in her face – like a doll – no, that would not give at all the right idea for she had so much expression – she was like a child – quite a child, very lively and full of humour.”

Sources:

Jane Austen’s Letters, collected and edited by Deirdre Le Faye, 1996

The National Archives

Ancestry

British Newspaper Archive

Adventuresinarchitecture.co.uk/tag/balthazar-gerbier

Elkstoneparish.gov.uk

National Library of Scotland OS map collection

Bankofengland.co.uk/monetary-policy/inflation/inflation-calculator

West Woodhay: A downland village in a changing agricultural landscape

This post is in two parts. In the first part, I consider the village of West Woodhay from a changing historical perspective. For the second part, we are delighted to have a contribution from Harry Henderson of West Woodhay Farms in which he describes the recent changes in agricultural practices which have enabled vitally important regeneration of the land.

On the road to nowhere in particular, the hamlet of West Woodhay is situated in the extreme south of West Berkshire just below the North Hampshire downs, a little over two miles south of Kintbury as the crow flies.

The Road to West Woodhay: Des Blenkinsop via Creative Commons

Although a motte is all that remains now of a twelfth century hunting lodge, today the village is probably best known for the elegant grade one listed West Woodhay House and also the grade two listed St Laurence’s church with windows by Morris & Co.

Early censuses show that most of the population were engaged in agriculture during the nineteenth century; early maps of the village suggest there has been little if any development, so, on the whole it might be presumed that very little of any great note has ever happened here. However, the effects of very significant changes in agricultural practices can be traced in the history of this village and the surrounding area.

The eighteenth century saw many developments in agriculture, enabling increased food production necessary to feed the growing population. Whilst innovations in agricultural machinery, such as the horse drawn seed drill developed by Jethro Tull of Prosperous Farm, near Hungerford, made the cultivation of larger fields much easier, this had a downside for thousands of rural labourers.

Since medieval times, many rural families had cultivated strips or patches of land, often dotted around their parishes, relying upon what they could grow to feed their families. However such a system was useless for food production on a large scale. The 1773 Inclosure Act enabled the Lords of the Manor or other land owners to enclose the diverse patches and strips of land, creating large fields each devoted to one particular crop and of the size that could be cultivated using new machinery. Whilst this might have been good news for the markets, it was devastating for many who lost their ability to grow their own food.

The effects of the 1773 Act were not felt straight away although it was eventually to change the face of the English countryside.

The Hampshire Chronicle of July 1816 reported that an Act of Parliament had been passed for the inclosure (sic) of Woodhay Common. However, “the labouring poor in that neighbourhood have lately shewn strong symptoms of their disapprobation and at length proceeded so far as to collect in considerable numbers with the avowed intention of preventing the farmers ( to whom it had been allotted ) from breaking it up.”

Fearful of trouble, the authorities called out military back-up which arrived in the form of the “Donnington and Newbury Troop under the command of Capt. Bacon” and also “Oxford blues ( who had been sent from Maidenhead )”

It is hard to believe that anyone would have felt it necessary to employ the military to prevent any sort of a riot in such a quiet and peaceful corner of the county. It is hard to imagine troops, not just from nearby Newbury but also from Maidenhead, well over a day’s ride away, descending on the village. Insurrection is not something you would associate with West Woodhay.

However, due to the “spirited exertions of constables” the military were not required although several of those involved in the protest were bound over to appear at the Quarter Sessions.

Enclosures were not the only things to make life increasingly difficult for the rural poor. Harsh game laws meant the penalty for catching rabbits for the pot could be transportation and poor harvests in the 1820s resulted in increased prices, particularly for bread.

William Cobbett was a writer and campaigner born in 1763 to a Hampshire farming family. Critical of the way new laws impacted upon the rural population, in 1821 Cobbett set out on a series of “Rural Rides” to observe for himself the situation throughout the midlands and south of England. Amongst other things, Cobbett was critical of the amount of money the country was spending on defence rather than on improved conditions for the rural poor. One of those of whom he was particularly critical was Berkshire M.P. and Kintbury resident, Charles Dundas. A prominent and influential figure, Dundas would have been well known across local towns and villages.

Although it is not always easy to work out Cobbett’s exact route through the countryside, it is clear from reading his work that he travelled across North Wiltshire and into Berkshire, stopping at Newbury on October 17th.

Whilst at a public dinner in Newbury, Cobbett took the opportunity to call out Dundas’s false accusation that he, Cobbett, was complicit in a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister and members of the cabinet. Known as the Cato Street conspiracy, those involved were eventually either executed or transported. For Dundas to accuse Cobbett of complicity was a particularly serious slur and something which reflects how polarised political views were at this time.

Later, Cobbett observed that “a good part” of the wheat offered for sale at Newbury market was wholly unfit for bread flour. Considering the importance of bread in the diet of poorer people, this must have led to severe consequences locally.

Not everything Cobbett observed as he rode through the downland was negative, however. At one point as he rode across the downs, he observed, “immense flocks of sheep which were now ( at ten o’clock ) just going from their several folds, to the downs for the day..”

The “immense flocks” aside, there was, as Cobbett noted, little to impress in the daily lives of the agricultural workers. Enclosures, the rising cost of bread and harsh laws which mitigated particularly against rural people, and changes in agricultural practices such as the introduction of mechanisation made life for the agricultural worker extremely difficult. The bad harvest of 1830 was the tipping point, leading to what became known as the “swing riots” which broke out in December of that year.

Although most of the protests in this part of West Berkshire were centred on and around Kintbury, West Woodhay did not escape the disorder. Here, Cornelius Bennett and Henry Honey were charged with robbery although both were subsequently acquitted. However, shock waves must have rippled across this part of Berkshire when it was reported that others of the rioters had been charged at Reading Assizes with several transported to Australia and one executed for his involvement.

In the following years, however, the agricultural industry in England generally was thriving. But this was not to last and by the 1870s it was in depression. By 1893 an anonymous contributor wrote to the Newbury Weekly News:

“There are thousands of acres not tenanted at all, and scores of landlords only too anxious to let on almost any terms.”

He continues:

“The real cause of agricultural depression is very easy to find, but very difficult to remedy. It is because the enormous development of steam navigation has brought the millions and millions of foreign acres into practical proximity to our shores and accompanied by a full market has made England a central emporium of a huge percentage of the surplus produce of the world.”

Throughout England, the numbers of people engaged in agriculture, particularly as labourers, declined as many sought better paid factory work in towns and cities. In West Woodhay, the 1851 census records William Taylor of West Woodhay farm as employing 15 labourers. By 1861 the farm has been taken by an in-comer from Buckinghamshire, Job Wooster, who employs 9 labourers. By the 1881 census, there are just 16 agricultural labourers in the whole of the village.

Throughout the early years of the 20^th century, many young people from rural communities emigrated to the colonies such as Canada or Australia to try their hand at agricultural work far from home. Whilst I have not been able to discover how many pioneering young men or woman left the villages of West Berkshire in this way, it has to be likely that some, at least, would have done so.

The twentieth century witnessed two world wars during which thousands of agricultural workers from all over the country enlisted in the armed forces. To make up the short fall in manpower, thousands of young women joined the Women’s Land Army and were posted to rural areas throughout the UK. In July of 1918 the Reading Standard featured on its front page photographs of some of these women at work on Berkshire farms under the bold sub-headings:

THEY MILK THE COWS

AND FEED THE PIGS

AND TRUSS THE LOADS OF HAY

most probably to the cynical and wry amusement of those rural woman who had been undertaking farm work for decades.

The 1939 Register lists 24 people engaged in agriculture in West Woodhay although it is difficult to draw an exact comparison with numbers of agricultural workers at the time of the nineteenth century censuses in part due to changing definitions of occupation. However it is true to say that the village had remained a predominantly agricultural community.

It is now over 200 years since West Woodhay Common was enclosed and 195 years since the Swing Riots. Although the associated violence is now very much in the past, the farm lands of West Woodhay still reflect the changing agricultural practices and the need for farming to respond to changing times.

For the second part of this post we are grateful to Harry Henderson whose family owns and runs West Woodhay Farms, an estate on the Berkshire/Hampshire border.

West Woodhay church: Matthew Prior via Creative Commons

Farming for the Future: Soil, Sustainability, and Success at West Woodhay

Harry Henderson

The estate spans 830 hectares of challenging land with fragile soils. Since 2008, a regenerative agricultural policy has been in place, with a focus on prioritizing soil health. The estate now follows a crop rotation system that includes herbal grass leys, flower meadows, wild bird feed areas, and very low-input cereals.

Agricultural chemicals and fertilizers have been replaced with more sustainable cultural methods. As a result, there has been a significant increase in soil biology, leading to enhanced organic matter levels and improved carbon capture.

The shift in farming practices—driven by soil health—has led to remarkable nature recovery. The planting of herbal leys and wildflower plots has created a thriving environment for insect life. Since adopting a no-insecticide policy in 2014, West Woodhay has seen a resurgence of beneficial insects such as spiders, beetles, and parasitic wasps. This has enabled the successful establishment of flea beetle-sensitive crops like stubble turnips.

The rise in insect populations has also benefited birdlife, which is supported further through the planting of wild bird plots for the leaner months. All this recovery work has been monitored and independently audited over many years, and the data clearly shows a strong link between soil health and biodiversity.

In-depth soil analyses have shown that, given time and the absence of soil disturbance, soil indices can begin to rebalance naturally, making primary nutrients more available to crops. This reinforces the estate’s approach of minimal intervention and maximum biological support.

A large sheep flock has been used to manage the land and maintain productivity. The breed of choice is the Welsh Cheviot, native to the Brecon Beacons. With West Woodhay’s highest point reaching 900 feet, this hardy breed is ideally suited to the challenging upland climate. Their thick, dense fleece protects them from January’s easterly winds and rain.

Lambing begins in late March, with all ewes lambing outdoors in a natural environment, giving mothers plenty of space and time to bond with their lambs. During the summer months, the flock grazes on the herbal leys, enriching the soil’s biodiversity. After weaning in early autumn, they are moved to higher ground to help manage the fragile downland ecosystem.

The estate’s latest and most exciting initiative is the production of cereal crops for human consumption, grown with little or no artificial fertilizers or pesticides. These crops are established using zero-tillage methods. By using legumes to naturally supply nutrients for fast-growing spring cereals, West Woodhay has successfully tapped into new opportunities through Wildfarmed contracts.

Importantly, the farming enterprise has remained consistently profitable. Without profit, nature recovery would be difficult to sustain. Savings on fertilizers, agrochemicals, fuel, finance, and labour have helped support this transition. The increase in soil organic matter has broadened the estate’s cropping options, helping to future-proof the farm for the next generation.

Defending the border? The view from Walbury Hill

At present I am writing this as I look out at my garden on a particularly hot day. I am in Berkshire, or, if you prefer, Royal Berkshire. Less than three miles from my garden fence is Hampshire and I can look out of my bedroom window at Wiltshire. If I were to stand on my roof, I would see, three miles to the south, Walbury Hill, the highest point on chalk in England.

This wider area is often described as Central Southen England, although I like to think that, in our corner of West Berkshire, we look much more towards the west than towards Reading and the south east.

Berksshire and surrounding counties before 1974

My local authority – the one responsible for emptying our bins, amongst other things – is West Berkshire, based in Newbury. Before 1998, when West Berkshire became a unitary authority, our local authority was Berkshire, based in Reading. The Berkshire, that is, which was considerably smaller than it had been before April 1974, when the Vale of the White Horse in the north of the old shire county was transferred to Oxfordshire, and Berkshire gained Slough, previously in Buckinghamshire.

West Berkshire from 1974
Image:Nilfanion under Commons Licence, accessed from Wikimedia

Some people, with both a sense of history and also an ironic sense of humour, like to call the Vale, “occupied North Berkshire” – a nod to the feeling that Berkshire’s border with Oxfordshire should be along the Thames as it had been for hundreds of years.

The Upper Thames: The Berkshire/Oxfordshire border? Or perhaps the frontier between Wessex & Mercia?

However, very soon our local authority will be changing yet again. It may, although at the time of writing, this has not yet been confirmed, be known as Ridgeway, named for the prehistoric track that runs east to west across the Berkshire Downs. The Berkshire Downs, that is to say, the downs currently partly in Oxfordshire after Vale of White Horse – formerly in north Berkshire – was transferred to Oxfordshire following the local government reorganisation in 1974.

So, when – and if – we become “Ridgeway”, our devolved local authority will once more include the Vale, although people living there – for example in Uffington – will still be in Oxfordshire as far as their postal address is concerned. Furthermore, the Thames will once more become the border between our local authority and whatever the devolved authorites to the north are finally called.

Confusing? Definitely. But this is definitely not new.

http://Walbury Hill within the Iron Age landscape

To consider the long view – the very long view – we need to travel back in time over two thousand five hundred years to the Iron Age. The hill fort on Walbury Hill – which I mentioned in my opening paragraph -is home to people known to the Romans as the Atrebates. We will never know how they identified themselves because the Atrebates did not have a written culture but valued committing ideas and stories to memory instead.

If a man or woman from that hill fort were to stand on the highest point of Walbury Hill and look across the Kennet Valley, all the territory below would, perhaps reassuringly, belong to their tribe. In the far distance to the north west, was the territory of the Dobunni, and to the distant south, the Belgae. Of course there was no signage back then; no, “You are entering the territory of the Atrebates” although the locals may well have known that a particular river or ditch marked the boundary between Us and Them. Indeed, the very existance of a hill fort on a prominent ridge would have of itself made a statement visible for miles around.

Emil Reich
Map by Emil Reich. Under Commons Licence accessed from Wikimedia

Our area at the time of the Romans. Spinae may be modern day Speen and Cunetio is near modern day Marlborough

The arrival of the Romans in Britain around 55 BC brought some obvious changes. For the people of the Atrebates, their tribal centre at Calleva, ( modern day Silchester ) became an important Roman town. In the valley below Walbury Hill, the construction of the road to Aqua Sulis ( the Roman name for Bath ) would have seen an increase in traffic. Villas appeared in the landscape, as at Kintbury. Trade with the newcomers meant an increased variety of foods and other goods.

We do not know for sure if anyone was still living in the hill fort on Walbury Hill when the Romans arrived. We do not know, for sure, if any Iron Age man or woman, standing on the highest point on chalk in southern Britain, would have felt threatened by the increasing presence of the Romans in the valley below. We do know that it has to be likely that many Iron Age Celts continued to live pretty much as they had done before Caesar landed in Kent and continued to do so long after.

*Roman province of Britannia*. (Map of the Historical Atlas of Gustav Droysen, 1886) Under Commons Licence accessed from Wikimedia

It may well be that, being impressed by the site of Roman soldiers marching through the valley below, young Iron Age Britons were persuaded to join up. As Roman soldiers and with the promise of Roman citizenship after a long period in military service, they would have identified as Roman. Perhaps they would have served in the north of the country or even abroad and maybe they began to view the world below and beyond Walbury Hill as part of something greater – as part of the Roman Empire. We will never know for sure, but, human nature being as it is, this has to be a possibility.

Fast forward some four or five hundred years. On a clear day it might have been possible to spot some activity in the valley below Walbury just to the west of what is now Inkpen.

Director General of the Ordnance Survey, UK. Under Commons Licence accessed from Wikimedia

To the left – or west – of the map above, “Wodnes Dic” is the earth work we know today as the Wansdyke. The crossed swords symbols at Ellandun, Beranburgh and Bedwyn indicate that this area sawconflictds during this period, known as the “Dark Ages”.

Part of OS map showing Inkpen and the eastern end of the Wansdyke

If you look carefully at modern editions of the OS map for this area, and you will see a track running north to south and just to the east of Lower Spray Farm, Inkpen, at grid reference SU 35170 63746. This is Old Dyke Lane, marked on the map as an earthwork and as a scheduled ancient monument.

Despite the name “dyke”, Old Dyke Lane has nothing to do with drainage, neither is it a scheduled ancient monument just because it is a lane. On some maps, Old Dyke Lane also has the word, “Wansdyke” printed in Old English script, which gives a clue to its historic importance.

The Inkpen section of the Wansdyke is in fact the very eastern end of “Woden’s Dic” – defensive ditch and bank running all the way from Portishead near Bristol, right across Wiltshire and concluding just over the border in what is now Berkshire. In places the bank is at least 4 meters high with the ditch being 2.5 meters deep although when first constructed it is likely to have been both higher and deeper. As the ditch is on the north side of the bank, it is likely that the Wansdyke was built by those living to the south of it for defence against those living to the north.

When first constructed, the bank may have had wooded revetments and a walkway; certainly the chalk of the freshly constructed bank would have been bright white, making a definite statement in the landscape and very likely visible from the hills above.

Constructing such a defensive work as this, at a time when there were only primitive excavation tools available, must have been a colossal feat, so who would have been responsible and whom were they defending themselves against?

There had been suggestions that the Wansdyke was constructed by the Romans but now this idea has been challenged. However, although Roman authority departed Britain around 410 C.E., that did not mean that every last Roman marched to Dover, waved goodbye and got on a boat heading to Italy. By the early fifth century, many who had originally arrived with the Roman army had formed relationships with the indigenous Britons whose culture and way of life had endured despite the occupation. So, by the fifth century, many people could be described as “Romano-British”.

There are, of course, very few written documents from this period of British history and what there are were written by clerics and the religious. Gildas was a monk writing in the 6^th century CE and a very early chronicler of British history – although not necessarily a very accurate one.

Gildas believed the Wansdyke was constructed by one Ambrosius Aurelianus, a fifth century Romano-British military leader who fought against the Anglo Saxons as they advancing towards the south west from the north.

The Welsh cleric, Geoffrey of Monmouth was an eleventh century historian with a particular interest in the Arthurian legend. He elaborated on the story of Ambrosius Aurelianus, describing him as the uncle of King Arthur, no less.

King Arthur Asks the Lady of the Lake for the Sword Excalibur, illustration by Walter Crane. Under Commons Licence, Accessed from Wikimedia

It is, of course, completely fanciful to think of the Wansdyke as having any connection – even remotely – with King Arthur. However, it may well have been constructed in the Dark Ages – the time in which the Arthurian legends are set – by Romano- British people as defence against aggression coming from the north.

Alternatively, some archaeologists believe that the Wansdyke could have been constructed in the 8^th century by West Saxons as a defence against the Mercians, attacking from the area of the River Severn and Avon Valley.

We can – almost – be certain that the section of the Wansdyke in this area would have been constructed, at least in part, by local people who would have felt the need to defend themselves. Whether those people would have indentified as Romano-British or West Saxon, we shall popbably never know but we can deduce that they felt the need to construct a defensive border to define and defend their territory.

By the 6^th century CE, the Anglo-Saxons – incomers from the European mainland – were the dominant authority in what is now England. In our part of the country, that is to say the south and south west, it was the West Saxons who held sway, and our area came to be known as Wessex. For most of this period, the River Thames was the border between Wessex and the Saxon kingdom of Mercia which stretched up into the Midlands.

Cross-border relationships were tense: leaders on each side wanted hegemony over the other Saxon kingdom, and there were frequent battles. A West Saxon person, standing on Walbury Hill and looking northwards, could have regarded the distant hills as enemy territory, to be defended. However a decisive engagement is believed to have come in 825 when Ecgberht of Wessex defeated Beornwulf of Mercia at the Battle of Ellendun, near what is now Wroughton in modern day Wiltshire.

Although relations between those identifying as West Saxons and the Mercians north of the Thames might have become more peaceful, there was to be another potential threat.

Larson, Laurence Marcellus, 1868-1938 Under Commons Licence, accessed from Wikimedia

The Vikings had begun to invade and attack towns and villages on the north east coast of what is now England in the late 8^th century. The term, “Viking” means pirate or raider and is often used to describe any raiders from what is now regarded as Scandinavia. The raiders from Scandinavia who attacked Wessex in 871 are more accurately referred to as Danes and these are the invaders defeated by (almost) local man, King Alfred at the Battle of Ashdown in 871.

“King Alfred” Photo: Bill Nichols Under Common Licence accessed from Wikimedia

Alfred had been born in Wantage – or Wandesiege as he would have known it – sixteen miles to the north of Kintbury across the downs, in 849. As well as effectively seeing off the Danish threat, King Alfred did much to improve standards of literacy and education in his kingdom and also revised the legal system. He remains the only British monarch to be known as, “the Great.”

By the beginning of the tenth century, a man or woman standing on Walbury Hill would have been looking at Wessex to the north, to the south, to the east and to the west. Now the Kingdom of Wessex was one of the most powerful in what was being called Enga land.

Anglo Saxon Wessex: Informatiion based on Hill, An Atlas of Anglo-Saxon England Under Common Licence accessed from Wikimedia

The Saxons were responsible for dividing up the country into administrative areas we know today as counties. Berkshire exists from sometime in the 9th century.

Berkshire in the 17th century. National Library of Scotland

By the Norman conquest, I think it is safe to say Berkshire was a county of size and shape we could identify at least as looking something like the pre 1974 county. However, the final details were not set in stone.

Detail from map of Berkshire, 1830, by Sidney Hall. Note Shalbourn & Oxenwood shown as being in Berkshire (National Library of Scotland)

The 1894 Local Government Act resulted in some smaller towns and villages moving from one authority to another. (See my earlier post, “Where in the world is Combe?”)

Until 1894, the border between Berkshire and Hampshire ran across Walbury Hill. Combe Gibbet was just inside Hampshire as was the village of Combe. The intention of the Local Government act was to enable the public – by which was meant certain men over 21 – to vote for local and district councillors. Districts were defined by a consideration of certain factors which included not only population but proximity to magistrates courts, banks and poor law unions ( or workhouses.) And so it was decided that for Combe, Hungerford in Berkshire was nearer and more convenient than Kingsclere in Hampshire. The boundary was redrawn therefore, so that Combe and Walbury Hill, along with Combe Gibbet, should be in Berkshire.

But, as far as I am aware, none of these changes were accompanied by violence. In 1894 the good burghers of Charnham Street, Hungerford did not have to defend themselves against Berkshire taking it by force from Wiltshire. And no one in Combe sharpened their pike staffs and marched up Walbury Hill to repel similar forces from Inkpen and Kintbury.

Although the redrawn border between Hampshire and Berkshire was not done for defensive purposes, certain measures taken in 1940 definitely were.

Part of OS map, 1945 showing defences of Britain

After the defeat at Dunkirk in 1940, Britain faced the severe threat of invasion. Plans were made to delay the German forces should they actually invade, to which end a series of defensive constructions were eventually built which included concrete “pill boxes” at locations along the Kennet & Avon – known as “Stop Line Blue” – and also the Thames. They would be manned by Local Defence Volunteers – men unable for whatever reason to join the regular forces but who could contribute to defence.

Thankfully, there was never an invasion during World War II and so the pill boxes were never used to defend a border. But it is a chilling thought that, if an invasion had been succesful, the Kennet & Avon canal, or even the Thames, could have become the border between a free England and the occupied sector.

Interestingly, the name Wessex has endured even though Alfred’s Kingdom has long gone. It is as if many of us still take a kind of atavistic pride in living in what was once a very powerful part of England – and perhaps also a very beautiful one. I believe the novelist Thomas Hardy was in part responsible for the resurgence of Wessex as an idea, if not strictly a geographic location, when he used it as locations in his novels.

Speaking for myself, I quite like the name “Ridgeway” and I hope that is what our authority will be called. Alternatively, I rather like “North Wessex” as Thomas Hardy called this area in his novels. But whether we are Wessex or Ridgeway, West Berkshire or Royal Berkshire, Walbury Hill – our highest point in chalk in England – will still be there, and the White Horse will still be galloping over the downs above the vale

White Horse from the air: Dan Huby Under Commons Licence .accessed from Wikimedia

(C). Theresa A. Lock 2025

Sources:

Battle of Ellendun Project Plan

http://www.wansdyke21.org.uk/faqs.htm https://howardwilliamsblog.wordpress.com/2022/10/24/exploring-east-wansdyke

Click to access SMR_Wiltshire_Wansdyke.pdf

When the Stars & Stripes flew over Enborne

Hamstead Park lies between the villages of Hamstead Marshall and Enborne, around four miles to the east of Kintbury. In medieval times it was a deer park belonging to William, Earl Marshall of England and later became the property of the Crown. However, between 1620 and 1984, Hamstead Park belonged to the Craven family. A notable member of this family was Governor Charles Craven, governor of South Carolina between 1711 & 1716.

But Governor Craven was not to be Hamstead Park’s only link with America.

In the years immediately preceding and following the outbreak of war with Nazi Germany in 1939, the Government was able to requisition properties and land for use in the war effort. One thousand new military industrial factories were built on green field sites and 450 new military airfields were constructed, mainly on agricultural land. Throughout the south and east of England, concrete “pill boxes” and anti -tank devices appeared across the landscape.

A “pill box”. Photo: Sam Tait, Wikicommons

Many larger private houses were requisitioned for military purposes. Basildon Park, near Reading, Shaw House near Newbury and Littlecote House near Hungerford were under military occupation for at least part of the war.

Littlecote House. Photo: Phil Catterell, Wikicommons

Following the Japanese attack on Pear Harbour in December 1941, the United States, under President Franklin D. Roosevelt, entered the war. In the following years, over two million American troops passed through Britain.

In preparation for their departure, British and Canadian troops were stationed in the south and south east of England, whilst the American troops were stationed towards the south and south west.

In January 1944, Hamstead Park had seen the arrival of men from the 2^nd Battalion of the 501^st Parachute Infantry Regiment.

Once in England, the battalion became permanently attached to the 101^st Airborne Division, known as the “Screaming Eagles”. Several villages in the area found themselves playing host to men of the 101^st, including Ramsbury, Chilton Foliat, Froxfield and Aldbourne in Wiltshire and Greenham Common, Welford and Aldermaston as well as Hamstead Park in Berkshire.

According to Newbury resident, Allan Mercado, speaking to the Newbury Weekly News in June 2024, Newbury children would cycle out to Enborne at weekends to see the fascinating new arrivals living in tents in Hamstead Park. The soldiers would give the children gum and teach them card games.

By May 1944, 1.5 million American troops had arrived in Britain in preparation for “D Day” – the day on which they would depart for France as part of the plan to liberate northern Europe in what was to be known as Operation Overlord.

For those weeks in 1944, American soldiers were a familiar sight in the village shops in this part of Berkshire and over the border in Wiltshire. American voices filled village pubs. But then, very suddenly, on that day in June, they disappeared. At first no one knew where they had all gone, or why

By the time the various villagers realised the soldiers had departed, those men would have been fighting on the beaches of Normandy. Many would never return home.

D Day landings Photo: Robert F. Sargent, Wikimedia

Today Hamstead Park is a peaceful green space enjoyed by ramblers and local dog walkers. Sheep occupy the area once filled with temporary military accommodation, the only remaining signs of the paratroupers’ presence being the concrete platforms slowly being lost to the grass and undergrowth.

All that emains of the soldiers’ accommodation

But the people of Hamstead Marshall and Enborne remember when the villages played host to the American troops and every year on Remembrance Sunday the service at St Michael’s & All Angels, Enborne begins at the memorial in the park.

At Chilton Foliat, just over the county border in Wiltshire, the site of the 101st Airborne Division’s base has been excavated by archaeologists from Operation Nightingale and Time Team:

:https://www.timeteamdigital.com/digging-band-of-brothers—wiltshire

TimeTeam & Operation Nightingale archaeologists excavating at Aldbourne

Sources:

http://www.ww2-airborne.us/units/501/501

museumofberkshireaviation.co.uk/html/history/avinberks

https://www.berkshiregardenstrust.org/hamstead-parkhttps://www.berkshiregardenstrust.org/hamstead-park

hungerfordvirtualmuseum.co.uk

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

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.

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!

The short life of Kintbury’s Catholic chapel

It is easy to forget that, before the reformation, all English parish churches would have been Catholic and all priests looked to the authority of the Pope. Although ancient buildings such as St Mary’s in Kintbury or St Michael’s in Enborne might seem to represent an enduring and continuing tradition of Christian worship, over the hundreds of years parishioners will have experienced turmoil and change particularly in respect of the break with the Catholic church in Rome.

After the Reformation, life became very difficult for those people who chose to follow the “Old” religion as keeping the Catholic faith became prohibited by law. Catholic positions in public life were restricted, for example Catholics were not allowed to enter the legal profession until 1791 and no Catholics were able to vote – even if they fulfilled other restrictive requirements – until 1829. Catholics were not accepted at either Oxford or Cambridge university until 1871.

It is not surprising, therefore, that in the south of England most people in towns or villages were either members of the Anglican church or one of the other protestant denominations – Baptist, Methodist, Congregationalist, Quaker and so on. However, some prominent families were able to maintain their Catholic faith and, in the south at least, these were mostly the wealthier families.

The Dukes of Norfolk, whose family seat is at Arundel in Sussex, are one such example. The present Duke is the country’s most eminent Catholic. Nearer to Kintbury, Sir John Throckmorton of Buckland House – the man who, in 1811 put up the wager which resulted in the Newbury Coat – was Catholic. Unusually for a small English village, mass was regularly held in the Catholic church in Buckland until the beginning of the twenty first century.

In 1893, a member of a wealthy Catholic family from the north of England chose to relocate to West Berkshire.

Humphrey J.G. Walmsley had been born in 1846 in Wigan, second son of William Gerard Walmesley & Caroline De Trafford of Westwood House, Lower Ince in what is now Greater Manchester. In common with other wealthy Catholic families of the time, the Walmesleys had a private chapel of their own which had been built between 1855 & 1856, the work having been overseen by the prominent church architect, Edward Welby Pugin.

In the world of church architecture, Pugin was a name to be reconned with. E.W. Pugin was the son of Augustus Northmore Welby Pugin, particularly remembered for having designed the interior of the palace of Westminster and the Elizabeth Tower which houses “Big Ben”. When his father died in 1875, E.W. Pugin took up the family business and continued as a successful designer of buildings in the then much admired Gothic style.

In employing E.W.Pugin to design the family chapel, the Walmesleys must have been making a statement not only of their commitment to the Catholic faith but also one which spoke of their ability to afford this addition to their home in the most fashionable design.

When Walmesley relocated to Inglewood House, a mansion near Kintbury, the nearest Catholic church was in Newbury. This must have been one of the reasons why the new owner decided to have a chapel erected at Inglewood. However, rather than commissioning the building of an entirely new place of worship, Walmesley had the chapel at his home in Wigan removed and transported brick-by-brick to Berkshire using the canal system for transportation. It must have been a slow and laborious process – to say nothing of the expense.

The re-erected chapel was consecrated on 26^th July 1905 by the Right Reverend Dr Cahill, Bishop of Portsmouth. According to the Wigan Observer, the new chapel was a site to behold with an altar of marble and alabaster, the altar steps of Italian marble. The stained glass had been designed by Hardman & Co., one of the leading designers of the time. Lamps, candlesticks, candelabra and vases were of brass burnished with gold. “It is a gift to West Berkshire” the report concludes.

It seems that everything about Humphrey Walmesley’s chapel was lavish. Not surprisingly, perhaps, as this family newly arrived from the north were clearly very wealthy. During his time at Inglewood, Walmesley was able to purchase several neighbouring farms to add to his estate making him a prominent local landowner and person of standing in the Kintbury area. The 1901 census had shown that he was living on independent means and, not surprisingly, he and his wife Marie employed 16 live-in staff at Inglewood House as well as their own Roman Catholic priest.

The Walmesleys welcomed other local members of their faith to hear mass with them at their chapel thus enabling Catholics from the Hungerford area to attend a service without having to travel to Newbury or Woolhampton. I have not been able to find out if baptisms or weddings were ever celebrated at Inglewood, although I believe it must be likely that some baptisms would have been.

Inglewood House remained in the Walmesley family until 1928 when it was purchased by the De La Salle brothers, meaning it remained a centre for the local Catholic community

However, in 1972 the De La Selle brothers left Inglewood for Wallingtons, a similarly large property a little nearer to Kintbury. From 1972 the house was home to the Inglewood Health Hydro, then in 2006 it was sold to Raven Audley Court as a retirement home.

This sale was bad news for what remained of the relocated Pugin chapel and those with a fondness for Victorian ecclesial architecture, as well as those local Catholics who may have had very fond memories of hearing mass there. Despite representations to English Heritage from both the Victorian Society and the Pugin Society, the demolishers moved in before the building could be listed and subsequently preserved. The English Heritage report of 2006 gives us some idea of what it might once have looked like:

The chapel is built in Gothic style and is brick built with stone dressing.

Historic photographs indicate that the windows had tracery and stained glass.

The painted ribs to the nave ceiling and painted panels and ribs to the chancel survive as does the highly colourful tiled floor to the chancel. The tiles are Minton and are decorated with fleur-de-lys and floral motifs. There is also an elaborate metal-work rood screen in blue and gold incorporating the family coat of arms.

Historic photographs indicate that the chapel was very richly decorated internally with fixtures and fittings that were originally of the Pugin scheme. These included stained glass depicting the name saints of the Walmesley family, and a carved altar and reredos in alabaster and marble.

The walls were part covered in carved wooden panels.

All these features are believed to have been removed in the last couple of weeks.

So, to all intents and purposes, Humphrey Walmesley’s chapel was no more, its fittings and stained glass sold or given away to who knows where. The rest of the building was finally demolished and Kintbury’s small Pugin masterpiece became just a memory.

References & sources:

https://www.hungerfordvirtualmuseum.co.uk/

English Heritage adviser’s report re possible Listing of Chapel, 22 Dec 2006.

The Wigan Local History and Heritage Society website on Humphrey J.G. Walmsley.

“Bulldozers outpace the Heritage bureaucrats”, The Times, 9 Feb 2007.

https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk

https://www.ancestry.co.uk

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.