The Local Historian Volume 48 Number 3 August 2018

By Alan Crosby

In this issue of The Local Historian there are three articles which focus on aspects of the Home Front during the First World War, each of them looking at a less familiar aspect. Indeed, in each case they contribute significantly to other themes in local history—crime and justice, agriculture, and music and culture—as well as the experience and history of specific localities. It is particularly satisfying when papers are so multi-faceted. Many of the articles submitted to me for consideration involve case studies, of varying degrees of geographical and chronological spread, and with different levels of detail. Papers are sent out to external readers for assessment and comment, an exercise which is invariably helpful and often provides detailed and supportive feedback, and is essential in giving some objectivity to the decision-making process. But one of the criticisms quite often made of the case-studies we receive is that they are too inward-looking—they don’t have sufficient context or background, setting the broader scene; they lack comparative analysis, to determine whether the experience of a particular place was typical or atypical; and they are written in a way which makes sense to local people but means little to outside readers (for example, casual references to certain streets or landmarks which will be completely unfamiliar to most readers of the journal).

On the other hand, case-studies are potentially an invaluable way of introducing themes, approaches, methodologies and arguments. They can, if carefully managed, provide templates or exemplars which can be followed and adopted by other local historians, working in different localities and communities. In this way the body of place-specific evidence contributes towards the drawing of more general conclusions. The question of whether, for example, the same experience is shared by a village in Northumberland and one in Cornwall is absolutely crucial—if it is, a general conclusion might be drawn which argues that a trend or pattern or experience was national in its scope and impact. If it is different, we might argue instead that the generalisations are misleading and give a false impression. This is a major reason why comparative analysis is always so valuable.

The idea of the exemplar or template is attractive. A good case-study should provide a set of principles which can be transferred to comparable studies. It needs to set out, in a clear statement at the beginning, the general nature of the subject under investigation, and to present an argument which will be developed later on in the text. Where appropriate, it should refer to the existing work of other researchers and writers, perhaps to demonstrate the range of secondary sources, or to present counter-arguments and debates, or both. Then the local conditions and context can be introduced, providing the detailed framework for the evidence—matters such as the size of the community, its economic and social structures, its geographical and topographical character, its historical evolution ... not all of these, because that leads towards the dangerous road of fact-gathering rather than analysis, but giving supporting and contextual information which helps to set the scene.

Then comes the heart of the matter—the evidence pertaining to the topic in question, the sources and their strengths and weaknesses, and the ways in which data or information can be gathered and presented. A frequent weakness in case-studies is that the author simply cannot bear to leave out any fact, no matter how small or insignificant. It’s really hard to avoid this, as I know from the painful experience of taking metaphorical secateurs and pruning my own writing, but it is crucially important to realise that in 99 per cent of cases nobody else will notice that the fact or piece of information is not there ... only you, the author, was ever aware of its existence. And end-noting it is no solution!

Thus, the evidence—the processed raw material of the analysis—is presented as the central section of the study, and that naturally leads on to the conclusion. I suspect that writing that third and final section is the really hard part for most authors. We ask ourselves—or should ask ourselves—searching questions. Are my conclusions logical? Do they follow on from the evidence which I have presented? Are they so obvious that readers will think it’s all been a waste of time and effort, or are they so lightweight and insubstantial that they might (oh heavens!) simply say “So what”? Is my analysis so labyrinthine that even I can hardly understand what I’m getting at ... or, much better, have I actually touched on something which really matters? Have I identified a truth or a probability which, if followed up with further case-studies by other researchers, might actually change the accepted wisdom on a particular aspect of history?

Recently, at a conference, I was talking to another delegate about a recent issue of The Local Historian. It would be invidious to name any names, but he said how good that particular issue was (which is always nice to hear, of course) and how one article had really excited him because of the completely new light it shed on a certain topic, which was of direct relevance to his own locality, and which overturned many of the preconceptions which he, and most others, had long held regarding a very important aspect of national, regional and local history. I agreed entirely, and observed also that the sources used in that analysis were all accessible, mostly familiar, and required little technical expertise. In other words, they were ripe for analysis but nobody had approached them in this innovative and imaginative way. I was reminded of the work which Geoff Timmins undertook in the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s, when he magisterially demolished the generally-accepted notion that handloom weaving in Lancashire suddenly disappeared, in the space of a few years, in the 1830s. Using parish registers and census returns—and what could be more familiar than those sources—he completely rewrote a key aspect of textile history, showing that handloom weaving carried on, often on a large scale, into the second half of the nineteenth century.

Case-studies, therefore, have the potential for revealing much that is new and innovative, as well as providing further supplies of evidence to reinforce and support existing theories and explanations. They highlight and emphasise diversity, between regions and within regions, even between adjacent communities, but they also help us to build up a much more convincing and rounded picture of what happened and why. They allow historical explanation to be more nuanced, to use that fashionable but very useful word, and they enable the real-life complexities of history to challenge the over-simplified glib statements of popular assumptions. That’s why I generally welcome case-studies for the journal—they do not always pass the test in the judgment of external readers and me as editor, and most of those which are accepted undergo at least some revision, but they mean that every issue of The Local Historian is full of ideas and examples by which other researchers may be inspired and enthused, and which serve to demonstrate the range and breadth of work being undertaken in the subject.

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By Andrew Emeny

pp 180-193

This paper was the outright winner of the ‘long article’ category in the British Association for Local History Publications Awards 2018. In it, Andrew Emeny explores a little-known aspect of the Home Front during the First World War – namely the impact of the war on crime and criminality, using Southend on Sea as his case study. His main source is the local newspaper, together with police and court records, and the minutes of the borough’s Education Committee. The paper begins with an analysis of the perceived causes of the ’crime epidemic’ among juveniles, as figures rose from 58 prosecutions of children in 1915 to 108 in 1916, followed by a reduction in 1917 and a renewed increase in 1918. Emeny identifies the contemporary beliefs about the underlying factors, such as the absence of fathers and older brothers (hence lack of discipline and example); the mothers undertaking war work; the weakening of parental controls as teenagers took up war work themselves; the decline in churchgoing and religious organisations; the black-out and lighting restrictions; and the bad example of films as cinema attendances grew rapidly.

He then considers who the offenders were, and the nature of the crimes which they committed. The typical offender was a boy of 12, living in overcrowded accommodation in the northern part of the borough.  There were of course many variations and divergences from this simple categorisation, and the paper discusses the characteristics of offenders in detail. Most offences were minor – such as the opportunistic theft of food, sweets and bicycles, vandalism and hawking, and sleeping rough. Girl offenders were (on average) rather older, and their offences generally involved petty theft of jewellery and money. Methods of detection, such as they were, are outlined, and the paper then concentrates in detail on sentencing, punishment and preventative action. The final sections asks ‘How typical was Southend’ and argues that much larger towns and cities saw a greater tendency to more serious juvenile crime, such as gaming and assault. This paper will serve as an excellent model for anybody undertaking comparable locally-focused research.

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By Wendy Tibbitts

pp 194-207

This paper begins with a detailed account of the developing food crisis in wartime Britain, and the government response to the problem. It emphasises the role of Lord Selborne, president of the Board of Agriculture and Fisheries, as he sought to take action including increasing the labour force by recruiting women, and bringing more land into intensive cultivation. This section provides an excellent and accessible overview of the national deliberations and the significance of changing personnel in government. The main administrative innovation was the creation of a War Agricultural Committee for each county, with the task of implementing government policies, taking direct interventive action to determine local efforts, and supervising the campaign to increase food supplies. Tibbitts gives a detailed account of the establishment, staffing and policy development of the Middlesex War Agricultural Committee, with analysis of its actions in key policy areas, and the great range and diversity of matters which came within its remit.

The paper then considers the 1918 harvest, in the context of the increasingly desperate search for men to serve in armed forces, highlighting the conflict between military requirements and the urgent needs of agriculture. In this, the role of women became a central issue, and the paper investigates the recruitment of women to work on the land, the work that they undertook, and reactions to their employment. The final sections considers all of these ‘big issues’ as they impacted on one specific community – Harmondsworth in West Middlesex, and in particular Heathrow Farm, giving a detailed case study of the way in which the stream of regulations and the procedure of appeals tribunals affected a single large farm in a highly-productive rural area.

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By Jacqueline Cooper

pp 208-213

This paper was the winner of the ‘short article’ category in the British Association for Local History Publications Awards 2018. It concerns the case of Rebecca Law of Clavering, between Saffron Walden and Bishops Stortford, who in 1862 killed her husband and infant son at their home just outside the village. The circumstances of the murder are described, using local newspaper reports, as is the subsequent trial and sentencing. The focus of the article, however, concerns the newly-available documentary evidence from Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum. Rebecca, who was probably suffering from post-natal depression, was sent to Broadmoor in April 1863, only the 51st woman to be admitted (three weeks after the opening of the asylum). She stayed there for the rest of her life, and the article recounts the evidence which can be gleaned from newly-released papers, including annual reports required for each patient. These reports tell of her health, her diet, her mental condition, her educational attainment (which was very limited) and her final decline. The papers also include letters from members of her family. The author points out that although the records are now released under the 100 year rule (Rebecca died in 1915) they cannot be reproduced and permission is needed to quote verbatim from them.

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By Joyce V. Ireland

pp 214-225

In this article Joyce Ireland investigates the potential for middle and upper middle class women to find fulfilling work, albeit voluntary and unremunerated, in the evolving educational system during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. She argues that although contemporaries took the view that the ‘perfect lady’ did not work and had servants, charity gave opportunities to find ‘an alternative to vacuity’ as the historian Martha Vicinus phrased it. The paper looks at a range of examples from the contrasting towns of Chester and Warrington, highlighting the work of women as managers, visitors, fundraisers and donors, and teachers, though concentrating on the non-teaching aspects. It considers their motives, and the links with women who were pioneering educational theorists, and then recounts in detail a range of specific examples of the way in which women managed and administered charitable schools. It reviews the wide variety of tasks which they undertook, and responsibilities which they exercised, and argues that women developed a range of skills which could often be more effective than those of men on committees and boards – indeed, that many of these roles have been performed by women through to the present day. The paper will be of special interest to anybody interested in the history of education, or the role of women in the community in the period 1750-1850, and should provide examples of the sources and approaches which can be adopted by other researchers looking at their own community.

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By Patrick Heggarty Morrish

pp 226-231

This paper was a runner up in the ‘short article’ category of the British Association for Local History Publications Awards. It describes the internment of German, Austrian and other ‘enemy’ nationalities who had been living in Britain at the time of the outbreak of the First World War. This procedure is well documented, but less is known about the detailed existence of the internees. Alexandra Palace in North London was one of five internment camps in Britain, accommodating about 3000 men by the end of 1917 (mostly German or Austro-Hungarian). Patrick Heggarty Morrish describes aspects of the regime operated at Alexandra Palace, including diet, sleeping arrangements and the almost intolerable boredom, and then considers in detail the camp orchestra established in 1915. He looks at the concerts they performed, including the choice and types of music, and at the challenges of finding players, and then assesses the psychological and emotional benefits of performing in, or listening to, the orchestra, arguing that these men were to all intents and purposes prisoners, though they had committed no crime, and that at the heart of the community they created ‘was the orchestra, whose music gave respite through the four years of imprisonment’.

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By Michael Chisholm

pp 232-238

This short article describes a map held by Cambridgeshire Archives. Drawn in 1727 and showing the Fens south of the Wash as far as Crowland and Wisbech, it is a copy of a 1618 copy of a pioneering manuscript map drawn in 1604, apparently as a prelude to schemes for the draining of the Fens and their conversion to productive agricultural land. Michael Chisholm discusses the provenance of the various versions of the map, together with other maps of the same area, and shows how analysis of fine detail can help to elucidate aspects of the copying and revising processes which they underwent. He indicates the value of the map in terms of the broader analysis of the Fenland landscape and the evolution of its extremely complex pattern of waterways and former watercourses. Details of the whereabouts and on-line accessibility of the map are given.

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By Sam Riches and Fiona Edmonds

pp 239-241

This brief note introduces the Elizabeth Roberts Working Class Oral History Archive, which is based at Lancaster University and Lancashire Archives. The archive was created by the highly influential oral historian Elizabeth Roberts in the 1970s and 1980s, when she undertook extensive and wide-ranging interviewing programmes in Lancaster, Preston and Barrow-in-Furness. These are now recognised as of national importance, as one of the key oral history collections of the twentieth century. They are now available online, and this article describes the procedures for digitising the archive material, access and searching the material, and its research potential.

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By Sarah Rose

p 242

This annual round-up review (my last as Reviews Editor) has no particular theme but aims to highlight some of the publications received from different parts of the country. They reflect a broad chronology and draw upon an interesting mix of source material, whether it be the built environment, official records, or documents originating from a personal context such as letters and diaries.

Northern England

Barningham Local History Group, who also featured in last year’s roundup, continue their valuable work in transcribing local archive sources. Their latest offering, Barningham Reading Room: History and Transcript of Minutes, helps to highlight the importance of these under-researched local institutions. Accompanied by an introduction that details the history of the Reading Room and its library, its rules and benefactors, the minutes reflect how leisure time was spent in Barningham at the turn of the twentieth century. Incomplete or absent records makes reconstructing past communities far from straightforward. Historians of Beverley should therefore welcome A Directory of Beverley for the Years 1717 and 1722. Ingeniously, given the lack of published directories for this period, Ann Bennet of the East Yorkshire History Society has compiled her own using local rate books, which name at least half of the householders in the borough. Other sources have been consulted in order to determine the occupations of ratepayers and to produce brief biographies of ten individuals, chosen to reflect different aspects of life in this prosperous market town. 

Across the Pennines, a window onto life in late thirteenth-century Lancashire is revealed by the Crown Pleas of the Lancashire Eyre 1292, produced as three volumes by the Record Society of Lancashire and Cheshire. Thanks to the efforts of Margaret Lynch and other members of the Ranulf Higden Society, this scholarly edition illuminates the cases of violent crimes, sudden deaths and corruption brought before the royal justices. Collectively, they yield important insights about criminality and the state of local administration over a twenty-year period (the previous eyre being in 1272). Yet these records are also a rich source of evidence about daily life, making reference to landscape and farming, trade and transport, health, wealth and social status. The first book is an extended introduction to the workings of the eyre by Henry Summerson, which is a very useful publication in its own right. It also helps to place Lancashire in context. Indeed, despite the county being far from the centre of royal authority, the homicide rate was lower than in some counties further south. The text of the document follows in the next two volumes, with the Latin transcription and English translation given on adjacent pages, a format which will no doubt help to widen the readership. The third volume contains a very full index masterfully prepared by Carrie Smith.

A little over half a century after this eyre, Lancashire became a county palatine under the control of the newly styled duke of Lancaster. Palatine status gave the duke quasi-regal authority in the county with jurisdiction over various courts, including those of Crown, Chancery and Common Pleas. These ran separately from the centralised courts for the rest of England and Wales from the mid-fourteenth right through to the twentieth century. The number of civil cases contained within the palatinate records is reason enough for them to deserve better exposure. Unfortunately, it is not easy to identify them among the vast Duchy of Lancaster collections held at The National Archives. In response to this, Mike Derbyshire has produced an Introductory Guide to the Records of the Palatinate of Lancaster, which follows the same format as his earlier guide to the Duchy’s records. A succinct but accessible introduction to the palatinate and its judicial and administrative functions is provided, followed by a detailed explanation of how the records are organised and the type of information they contain. An essential read for anyone wishing to consult these documents.

Looking further north to Cumbria, the history of the ancient market town of Penrith is brought to life in A New History of Penrith, Book 1: From Pre-History to the Close of the Middle Ages. Given the fact that the last dedicated history of the town is well over 100 years old, a fresh look has been long overdue. Professor Michael Mullett’s new assessment of Penrith’s past is all the more welcome thanks to his meticulous scrutiny of original documents. The first in a five-volume paperback series, this book is based on sound scholarly research, but remains accessible to a non-specialist audience largely because of its chronological approach.  While the early settlement was Norse in origin rather than Roman, the town’s strategic location at the heart of an ancient communications network was a key factor in Penrith’s subsequent social and economic prosperity. Yet its position also brought complications: the town was annexed (along with the rest of Cumberland) to the Kingdom of Scotland for periods in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and then the inhabitants suffered from raids by the Scots in the fourteenth. The political situation behind all of this is clearly explained, while the religious and cultural history of Penrith is woven into the story. A whole chapter is devoted to the curious stone monuments in the parish church yard known as the ‘Giant’s Grave’ and the ‘Giant’s Thumb’, which have caused much speculation amongst antiquarians.

Midlands

Many local history societies have produced guidebooks for their locality, but the one created for the Oxfordshire village of Hook Norton is a little unusual in terms of its target audience. The Story of Hook Norton: for Readers of All Ages has been intentionally designed with 9-year-olds in mind: the same children who in Years 5 and 6 will be studying local history at school. As well as the colourful, well-illustrated design and pithy text, there is specific emphasis on the place of children in Hook Norton’s story, including street games of the past and the work they did at the local brewery. There is plenty here for adults too, and at 48 pages, the book contains a lot of key facts and figures. Fun, informative and nicely produced.

The Eydon Historical Research Group in Northamptonshire has now produced its tenth publication, containing seven articles pertaining to a miscellany of local historical curiosities and questions. Under the umbrella title Geology, Generosity and Glimpses into Eydon’s Past, the essays cover topics as a diverse as the pre-Victorian appearance of the local church; changes in twentieth century farming practices; and the possible the identity of the African Thomas Bull in Tudor Eydon. Indexed and fully referenced, it offers intriguing glimpses into Eydon’s past. For the Cottesmore History and Archaeology Group, a single question lies at the heart of their local study: How Old is Cottesmore?, at least in terms of its built heritage. This attractive publication is the product of an 18 month HLF-funded investigation into the history of several buildings in the village, including the church, farms and workmen’s cottages. While architectural surveys and dendrochronology confirm that Cottesmore might not look very old (the oldest building in the sample dates from the seventeenth century), there is evidence that some medieval building material survives. As well as a study of the buildings themselves, archive material has also been used, including census returns and the field books compiled by the Treasury’s valuation officers in 1913-14.

East

Patrick Taylor’s Drainage Windmills on the Broads is a comprehensive and highly practical gazetteer of all known windmills and sites thereof in the area. The book’s arrangement of the mills on a river-by-river basis makes it ideal for those exploring the Broads by boat or using its many miles of footpaths. Each entry includes reference to the mill or mill site on nineteenth century Ordnance Survey and tithe maps, as well as comments as to how the current state of the mill differs from that described in the earlier work of Rex Wailes or Arthur Smith, thus reducing the need for the reader to carry several books in order to cross-reference. The importance of this work as a record of the historic environment is further enhanced by the inclusion of a photograph for each surviving mill from the 1990s, juxtaposed with an updated image if there has been any significant change in that time. 

Towards the north coast of Norfolk stand the striking remains of Binham Priory, a Benedictine house founded in the late eleventh century. A daughter house of St Alban’s, Binham has a fascinating history thanks to the often-fraught relationship between the priory and its patrons, both lay and religious. Many scandals are associated with Binham and it is likely that its original charters were destroyed during the peasants’ revolt of 1381. Indeed, the loss of these makes its surviving medieval cartulary all the more important. The Cartulary of Binham Priory, published by the Norfolk Record Society, offers a transcription of the original held among the Cotton manuscripts at the British Library. Compiled in the fourteenth century, the cartulary is notable for the fact that nearly a third comprises rentals, suggesting that the financial state of the Priory was a motive for its compilation. This seems to be reinforced by the arrangement of the documents according to Binham’s landed properties, which are nearly all in the north of the county. The original document is also distinguished by having been compiled by ‘one of the most inaccurate copyists known to have worked on a medieval English cartulary’. One may therefore sympathise with the editor Johanna Margerum who has grappled with over 400 documents to provide a transcription of the Latin text in full, accompanied by a summary of each document in English. With an introduction providing a comprehensive overview of Binham’s turbulent history, this will be of use to anyone researching the medieval history of north Norfolk.

South East

Richard Dawes was an educational reformer whose vision drew praise and respect from the likes of George Eliot and Florence Nightingale. In a new biography, Richard Dawes, Education Pioneer and Dean of Hereford (1793-1867), Norman Denison describes the significance of the school that Dawes established and ran with his wife in the village of King’s Somborne, Hampshire, where he served earlier in his career as rector. Dawes believed education to be a means of social and moral improvement and the school offered an impressively wide curriculum. Mathematics and science were rooted in examples from everyday life, while history and geography were taught with a local emphasis. The reading of secular texts was also encouraged through a lending library. As a result of his efforts, the reputation of Dawes and his school went far beyond King’s Somborne. A Yorkshireman by birth, with family and educational connections to Westmorland and Cambridge University, his background and friendships, which are also examined here, makes his biography of wider interest and the book does a fine job of giving a rounded picture of the man and his works.

Another man who saw the value of education, not only of the young but also as a means of self-improvement, was Richard Gardner, also the subject of a new biography. In “A Life Well Led”: Richard Gardner (1842-1918) and the Metropolitan and City Police Orphanage, Twickenham Christopher French examines the career and family life of this self-made man, who beat over 400 other candidates to become headmaster of the Orphanage in 1880, and who remained there until his retirement in 1905. What makes this study possible is the remarkable survival of Gardner’s daily journal, which he began aged 16 and conscientiously maintained throughout his life. References to national events and the workings of the Orphanage are fairly scant in these entries, but there are insights into his thoughts, interests, and family life that tell us so much more than the bare bones of census data can provide. Illustrated with photographs, Gardner’s story is well-told here thanks to Dr French’s careful blending of personal and public records.

While diaries are perhaps the most intimate and compelling historical texts, letters come a close second in bringing us nearer to individuals and the past, often giving a perspective not found in the official records of business and state. The Letters of John Collier of Hastings, 1731-46, published by the Sussex Record Society, are a case in point and will be of interest to many. Collier rose to prominence through his own ingenuity and by working as an agent of the Whig government. Among his many achievements, he served five times as mayor of Hastings, established his own legal practice in London, was solicitor for the Cinque Ports, and Surveyor General of the Customs riding officers of Kent. With business often taking Collier away from home, letters were a vital link with his family. The warmth and affection between them is very apparent, as too is the heartbreak.  Collier and his second wife had 18 children, but eleven died in infancy, while the loss of his eldest son from smallpox whilst at Westminster School hit him particularly hard. Illness, physical and mental, is a major theme here, along with education, domestic arrangements and social engagements.

At one level therefore, these letters thus provide a valuable window on the daily activities, concerns and interests of a gentry family in Georgian Sussex. But Collier’s successful legal and political career, for both Hastings Corporation and for the Duke of Newcastle, also means that his correspondence illustrates how local and national affairs interconnect. Collier helped to ensure local elections in the Cinque Ports were in the government’s favour and had the daunting task of helping to prosecute smuggling on the south coast, a problem which was rife thanks to protectionist legislation and rising tariffs. Collier’s life and work is carefully explained by Dr Saville in the introduction to this volume, which improves on the 1907 edition of the Collier correspondence by giving the letters in full rather than just extracts. The transcription here also faithfully retains the Sussex dialect, and the index is helpfully divided according to subject, place and persons.

Another theme running through Collier’s Letters is the state of the roads between Hastings and London—a major grievance for anyone who had to travel as much as he. He also made much use of public carriers to send home various items bought for his wife and daughters. By the mid-seventeenth century, hundreds of carriers journeyed to and from London every week, transporting goods, letters, money and people. In London Carriers and Coaches 1637-1690 Dorian Gerhold has made a study of this network, drawing together and commenting on three contemporary lists of carriers. The first, John Taylor’s Carriers Cosmographie of 1637 identifies many of the places the carriers served before turnpiking was widespread, although it is not comprehensive. The lists of 1681 and 1690 by Thomas Delaune are much fuller and include the actual names of carriers and coach masters, allowing individuals to be traced in probate records. Details from inventories (horses being the key stock owned) are included in an extensive appendix.

South West

By the late 19th century, the building of carts and wagons was a growth industry that helped to put the village of Chewton Mendip near Bath firmly on the map. The Harris family’s ironworks at Cutler’s Green expanded into what became the Mendip Engineering Company.  By the early twentieth century it was producing its own steam lorries known as Mendips, followed by commercial vehicles and the Mendip Light Car. This mini industrial revolution is examined by Tom Randall in Mendip Engineering and the Mendip Car, a well-illustrated book which blends local and family history with technical detail to trace the history of the company, the vehicles it made, and the men behind it. Oral testimony is among the numerous sources are consulted here and the book is accompanied by a CD with an audio recording of a BBC interview with a former employee in 1956.

Avon Local History and Archaeology continue to be prolific in their publication of superbly researched paperback books, examining a variety of historical topics in and around Bristol. Book 21 in their series offers very thorough yet eminently readable account of The Herepaths of Bristol: a Medical and Scientific Dynasty, who produced no fewer than six generations of scientists and doctors from the eighteenth to the twentieth centuries. Their theories, discoveries and connections with other notable scientists of the day, including the likes of Humphrey Davy and Michael Faraday, are interwoven with the story of their personal lives, as is the history of Bristol Medical School, which often served as a backdrop to their work. Book 22, written by Kathleen Hapgood examines Change and Continuity East of Tudor Bristol. Once over looked by Bristol Castle, this area became heavily industrialised during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and is now largely residential.  But in the sixteenth century it was a far more rural landscape, albeit with the precursors to future industrialisation through the extraction of clay and coal. The post-Reformation era saw changes in land ownership, with property coming into the hands of local gentry families and the dean and chapter of Bristol Cathedral. The core element of this study, however, is the inhabitants, their occupations and the economic opportunities afforded them. Finally, in Book 23, Nicholas Orme, an expert on the religious, social and cultural history of medieval and early modern England, turns his attention to The Kalendars: Bristol’s Oldest Guild and Earliest Public Library. A rarity in England, Guilds of Kalendars was fraternity of laymen and clerics who met, as their name suggests, on the first of the month. Orme examines the Guild’s form and functions, from its origins in the twelfth century to demise at the Reformation, including the establishment of its public library in 1464.

Books featured in this review:

Barningham Reading Room: history and transcript of minutes by Ann Orton (Barningham Local History Group no.18 2017)

A Directory of Beverley for the years 1717 AND 1722 compiled by Ann Bennett (East Yorkshire Local History Society EYLHS Series no.62 2017 ISBN 978 0 900349 62 1) £2

Crown Pleas of the Lancashire Eyre 1292 vols.1-3 edited by Margaret E. Lynch and members of the Ranulf Higden Society (Record Society of Lancashire and Cheshire 2015 ISBN 978 0 902593 83 1) £80

Introductory guide to the records of the Palatinate of Lancaster by Mike Derbyshire (Rowton Books 2016 ISBN 978 0 9931689 2 5) £14

A new history of Penrith: book 1: from pre-history to the close of the Middle Ages by Michael A. Mullett (Bookcase 2017 ISBN 978 1901414 99 8) £12

The story of Hook Norton: for readers of all ages by Sean Callery (Hook Norton Local History Group 2017 ISBN 978 1 9998256 0 7) £8.99

Geology, generosity and glimpses into Eydon’s past by David M. Kench, Kevin Lodge, Judith Watson and Christine Howes (Eydon Historical Research Group vol.10 2017) £5

How old is Cottesmore? Cottesmore History and Archaeology Group (Cottesmore History and Archaeology Group 2017 ISBN 978 1 527206 77 9) £5

Drainage Windmills on the Broads by Patrick Taylor (Polystar Press 2017 ISBN 978 1 907154 61 4) £12.95

The cartulary of Binham Priory edited by Johanna Margerum (Norfolk Record Society vol.80 2016 ISBN 978 0 9556357 9 3) £18

Richard Dawes: education pioneer and dean of Hereford - family, friends and legacy by Norman Denison (Somborne & District Society 2017) £6.50

“A life well led”: Richard Gardner (1842-1918) and the Metropolitan and City Police Orphanage, Twickenham by Christopher French (Borough of Twickenham Local History Society Paper no.99 2017 ISBN 978 0 903341 98 1) £6

The letters of John Collier of Hastings, 1731-1746 edited Richard Saville (Sussex Record Society vol.96 2016 ISBN 978 0 85445 078 7) £25

London carriers and coaches 1637-1690 by Dorian Gerhold (2016) £7

Mendip Engineering and the Mendip car: an industrial revolution in Chewton Mendip by Tom Randall (Radstock Museum 2017 ISBN 978 0 9551684 1 3) £12.95

The Herepaths of Bristol: a medical and scientific dynasty by Brian Vincent (Avon Local History and Archaeology no.21 2016) £3.50

Change and continuity east of Tudor Bristol by Kathleen Hapgood (Avon Local History and Archaeology no.22 2016) £3.50

The Kalendars: Bristol’s Oldest Guild and Earliest Public Library by Nicholas Orme (Avon Local History and Archaeology no.23 2016) £3.50

SARAH ROSE has been Reviews Editor of The Local Historian since the summer of 2014. She has now stepped down because of family and work commitments, and I am sure everybody at the British Association for Local History will join me in thanking her for her highly efficient and invaluable contribution to the journal during her tenure (Alan Crosby).

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By Kate Thompson and Robin P. Jenkins

p 250

THE VICTORIA COUNTY HISTORY OF LEICESTERSHIRE:  CASTLE DONINGTON by Pamela J. Fisher and J.M. Lee (University of London 2016 viii+133pp ISBN 978 1 909646 27 8) £12.50 including p&p from Leicestershire Victoria County History Trust, 5 Salisbury Road, Leicester LE1 7QR

The publication of the Leicestershire VCH came to a halt in 1964 after funding ran out, something that also happened in other English counties. Only one of the proposed volumes for the six hundreds in the county had been published, the one for Gartree. One of the joint authors was J.M. Lee, who over 50 years later is credited as one of the authors of this new title, one of the VCH series of paperback parish and urban histories and the first for Leicestershire. There is a foreword by Lady Gretton, president of the county’s VCH Trust and the lord lieutenant of Leicestershire.

At only 133 pages, this volume can only scratch the surface of the history of Castle Donington, and many of the sub-sections have minimal information, but the footnotes are numerous and informative, so anyone wishing to follow up any of the links can do so without too much trouble. There are two exceptions to this:  one of the principal sources was the archives of the Melbourne Hall estate, which are unlikely to be easily accessible to other researchers, but of greater concern is that the majority of the extensive archives of the earls of Huntingdon (one of the major landowners in the county) are in the Huntington Library in California, with a smaller archive in the county record office.  The documents in the United States comprise about 50,000 items, covering the years 1100 to 1892 and are much the most important material. To make matters worse there is no complete online catalogue so anyone wishing to do research has to travel to California.

The genesis of this book lies in a history of Castle Donington parish written by Michael Lee in about 1954, when lack of funds prevented its publication. It has been brought up to date by Pamela Fisher, a volunteer coordinator for the VCH project since 2010. The parish is perhaps best known as the location of East Midlands Airport and the race track. An introductory chapter deals with parish boundaries, the landscape and geology, communications, settlement and population, there are five other chapters. Another, on landownership, discusses the manor, castle, Derby Hills, Donington Park and religious estates. The chapter on economic history covers the usual themes of agriculture, industry and utilities, while that on social history has sections on social structure, community activities, social welfare, poor relief, charities and education. The chapter on religious history includes information on the Anglican Church, the various nonconformist denominations, and Catholicism. One of the more unusual branches of Methodism, the Countess of Huntingdon’s Connexion, has its roots in the Hastings family, earls of Huntingdon, already referred to. A final chapter covers local government:  the manor, courts, parish and policing.

There is an extensive list of sources, including (as well as those already referred to) material at The National Archives and other county record offices, and printed material. The book finishes with a list of abbreviations, a glossary and an index. There are black and white photographs throughout. It is gratifying to see a new VCH publication for Leicestershire and while it can never match the potential scope and ambition of the original volumes, it follows a similar pattern and will be a welcome addition to histories of parishes in the county.

Kate Thompson

THE VICTORIA COUNTY HISTORY OF LEICESTERSHIRE:  BUCKMINSTER and SEWSTERN by Pamela J. Fisher (University of London 2017 ix+128pp ISBN 978 1 909646 69 8) £12 from Leicestershire Victoria County History Trust, 5 Salisbury Road, Leicester LE1 7QR

This latest flowering of Leicestershire’s Victoria County History is not only an important addition to local research but also an encouraging sign of what may be expected of the county’s reinvigorated VCH Trust. The familiar red volumes of Leicestershire’s Victoria County History have served researchers well but when the project stalled in 1964 only the city of Leicester and one of the hundreds had been properly recorded. In 2008 the new Trust revived the scheme, once again employing a capable editor but also mobilising a wide range of local people to undertake research. This volume is the second to appear from this new phase of what the publisher declares to be ‘the greatest publishing project in local history’.

The study of Buckminster and Sewstern, two settlements in the same parish, is a pleasing amalgam of modern style and traditional academic rigour. Instead of a single chapter in a one-day-to-be published red volume, Pamela Fisher has produced a readable, well-illustrated and scholarly paperback at an affordable price. The familiar chapters are there; but instead of the ‘manors’ of the red volumes, we have a rather more detailed and analytical coverage of ‘landownership’. Similarly, while ‘economic history’ survives, ‘parish administration’ gives way to a far more readable and (to be frank) useful ‘religious history’.

To those studying later changes in Buckminster and Sewstern, or simply trying to make sense of new authorities and jurisdictions, the additional chapters on ‘social history’ and ‘local government’ will be a priceless starting point. The social history exemplifies well the egalitarian feel of the book (despite the ever-present influence of the Buckminster Estate). Although it is a careful analysis of social trends and impactful historical events, Dr Fisher has contrived to give her account much of the feel of a narrative, which makes it entertaining as well as informative. For a modern resident, or a family historian with roots in the parish, there are plenty of personal names (and references to further source material) to whet the appetite and certainly enough tantalising snippets to excite interest. Buckminster will never again seem to be a quiet backwater to this reviewer, having read of the turmoil (including riots and even a shooting) caused by the importation of 528 Irish labourers in the late 1820s. Still waters run deep indeed.

If this project is to prosper, these new ‘parish’ books must walk the difficult tightrope between popularity and punctiliousness. Dr Fisher and her team have done so with considerable style. This is a readable parish history, well set out and attractive, with plenty of clear maps and appropriate illustrations. If this book serves as a model for future work on Leicestershire parishes, then the series should do well and serve generations of local historians as well as its grandparents in their red covers.      

Robin P. Jenkins

KATE THOMPSON was successively county archivist of Leicestershire and of Hertfordshire. She is a former chairman of BALH and now a vice president.

ROBIN P. JENKINS has been on the staff of the Record Office for Leicestershire, Leicester and Rutland since 1986, where he currently serves as Senior Archivist (Collections).

By Ian E.W. Beckett

In this issue of The Local Historian there are three articles which focus on aspects of the Home Front during the First World War, each of them looking at a less familiar aspect. Indeed, in each case they contribute significantly to other themes in local history—crime and justice, agriculture, and music and culture—as well as the experience and history of specific localities. It is particularly satisfying when papers are so multi-faceted. Many of the articles submitted to me for consideration involve case studies, of varying degrees of geographical and chronological spread, and with different levels of detail. Papers are sent out to external readers for assessment and comment, an exercise which is invariably helpful and often provides detailed and supportive feedback, and is essential in giving some objectivity to the decision-making process. But one of the criticisms quite often made of the case-studies we receive is that they are too inward-looking—they don’t have sufficient context or background, setting the broader scene; they lack comparative analysis, to determine whether the experience of a particular place was typical or atypical; and they are written in a way which makes sense to local people but means little to outside readers (for example, casual references to certain streets or landmarks which will be completely unfamiliar to most readers of the journal).

On the other hand, case-studies are potentially an invaluable way of introducing themes, approaches, methodologies and arguments. They can, if carefully managed, provide templates or exemplars which can be followed and adopted by other local historians, working in different localities and communities. In this way the body of place-specific evidence contributes towards the drawing of more general conclusions. The question of whether, for example, the same experience is shared by a village in Northumberland and one in Cornwall is absolutely crucial—if it is, a general conclusion might be drawn which argues that a trend or pattern or experience was national in its scope and impact. If it is different, we might argue instead that the generalisations are misleading and give a false impression. This is a major reason why comparative analysis is always so valuable.

The idea of the exemplar or template is attractive. A good case-study should provide a set of principles which can be transferred to comparable studies. It needs to set out, in a clear statement at the beginning, the general nature of the subject under investigation, and to present an argument which will be developed later on in the text. Where appropriate, it should refer to the existing work of other researchers and writers, perhaps to demonstrate the range of secondary sources, or to present counter-arguments and debates, or both. Then the local conditions and context can be introduced, providing the detailed framework for the evidence—matters such as the size of the community, its economic and social structures, its geographical and topographical character, its historical evolution ... not all of these, because that leads towards the dangerous road of fact-gathering rather than analysis, but giving supporting and contextual information which helps to set the scene.

Then comes the heart of the matter—the evidence pertaining to the topic in question, the sources and their strengths and weaknesses, and the ways in which data or information can be gathered and presented. A frequent weakness in case-studies is that the author simply cannot bear to leave out any fact, no matter how small or insignificant. It’s really hard to avoid this, as I know from the painful experience of taking metaphorical secateurs and pruning my own writing, but it is crucially important to realise that in 99 per cent of cases nobody else will notice that the fact or piece of information is not there ... only you, the author, was ever aware of its existence. And end-noting it is no solution!

Thus, the evidence—the processed raw material of the analysis—is presented as the central section of the study, and that naturally leads on to the conclusion. I suspect that writing that third and final section is the really hard part for most authors. We ask ourselves—or should ask ourselves—searching questions. Are my conclusions logical? Do they follow on from the evidence which I have presented? Are they so obvious that readers will think it’s all been a waste of time and effort, or are they so lightweight and insubstantial that they might (oh heavens!) simply say “So what”? Is my analysis so labyrinthine that even I can hardly understand what I’m getting at ... or, much better, have I actually touched on something which really matters? Have I identified a truth or a probability which, if followed up with further case-studies by other researchers, might actually change the accepted wisdom on a particular aspect of history?

Recently, at a conference, I was talking to another delegate about a recent issue of The Local Historian. It would be invidious to name any names, but he said how good that particular issue was (which is always nice to hear, of course) and how one article had really excited him because of the completely new light it shed on a certain topic, which was of direct relevance to his own locality, and which overturned many of the preconceptions which he, and most others, had long held regarding a very important aspect of national, regional and local history. I agreed entirely, and observed also that the sources used in that analysis were all accessible, mostly familiar, and required little technical expertise. In other words, they were ripe for analysis but nobody had approached them in this innovative and imaginative way. I was reminded of the work which Geoff Timmins undertook in the 1980s and beginning of the 1990s, when he magisterially demolished the generally-accepted notion that handloom weaving in Lancashire suddenly disappeared, in the space of a few years, in the 1830s. Using parish registers and census returns—and what could be more familiar than those sources—he completely rewrote a key aspect of textile history, showing that handloom weaving carried on, often on a large scale, into the second half of the nineteenth century.

Case-studies, therefore, have the potential for revealing much that is new and innovative, as well as providing further supplies of evidence to reinforce and support existing theories and explanations. They highlight and emphasise diversity, between regions and within regions, even between adjacent communities, but they also help us to build up a much more convincing and rounded picture of what happened and why. They allow historical explanation to be more nuanced, to use that fashionable but very useful word, and they enable the real-life complexities of history to challenge the over-simplified glib statements of popular assumptions. That’s why I generally welcome case-studies for the journal—they do not always pass the test in the judgment of external readers and me as editor, and most of those which are accepted undergo at least some revision, but they mean that every issue of The Local Historian is full of ideas and examples by which other researchers may be inspired and enthused, and which serve to demonstrate the range and breadth of work being undertaken in the subject.

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By Stephen H. Rigby

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By Stefan Schutt, Sam Roberts and Leanne White

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By Tim Cockin

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By Jim Sutton

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By Philip and Julie Spinks

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By Graham Hart

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By Alan Roby

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By Michael Winstanley, assisted by Rob David and Ian Whyte

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