The Local Historian Volume 51 Number 3 July 2021

By Esther L. Cuenca

pp 178-192

This paper was the winner of the British Association for Local History’s Medieval and Early Modern Essay Prize for 2020. It begins by outlining the significance of gender in the structure and business of borough courts in the early medieval period, emphasising that men dominated the operation and everyday business of the courts, but also arguing that although women were excluding from positions of formal authority, they were essential to, and closely involved in, the court system as participants in cases which came before the courts, by paying fines, and by performing the basic policing function of raising the hue and cry. The introduction then discusses the survival of court records and the importance of the bureaucratic process, and returns to the importance of women in new perspectives on a history which has hitherto focused largely on men as lawyers, bureaucrats, litigants and jurists.

Esther Cuenca then describes in detail the operation and procedures of the Colchester borough courts during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, showing their central place in the town’s system of law and order, and the significance of the written record. She then discusses the women indicated or accused in the courts, identifying how these shed light on their economic activity (in particular, their dominant role in brewing), their significance in cases of market offences and infringements, and cases of debt. There is consideration of the legal status of married women, and of the generally limited instances where women were accused of violence or theft. An analysis of women as plaintiffs follows, with comparisons with studies of other towns. The conclusion provides an overview of the theme, placing women in their proper perspective as participants in the medieval legal process.

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By Keith Bailey

pp 193-206

An enduring image of Victorian Britain is that there was a much higher level of formal religious observance than today. In some respects—for example the Oxford Movement, post-emancipation Roman Catholicism, and the Salvation Army—a groundswell for change and growth is apparent, but the extent to which this translated into actual attendance at church, chapel or meeting was very variable. It is of course impossible to assess the individual and personal religious beliefs, attitudes and commitment for most of the population, but counts of church attendance allow trends to be examined. In this paper Keith Bailey analyses the evidence for the borough of Battersea, using surveys or censuses carried out in 1851, 1886 and 1902-1903. He begins with an overview of the social and demographic profile of the parish, which experienced exceptionally rapid growth during the nineteenth century, and draws attention to the no less dramatic growth in the number of places of worship (7 in 1851, 67 in 1902). The quality and usefulness of the three key sources is assessed, including their methodologies.

The paper then describes the three surveys in turn, detailing their findings and their statistical results. That of 1851 is covered relatively briefly but the other two are discussed in depth. Contemporary descriptions and comments are used to highlight a range of particularly significant patterns and trends, including factors such as social class and its geography. The conclusion highlights the fact that despite the opening of new churches, chapels and meeting places, population growth far outstripped provision, but perhaps even more important is the author’s considered view that ‘long before 1900, organised religion played at best a marginal role in the lives of most Battersea people’.

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By John W. Hawkins

pp 207-220

This is a very detailed microstudy of a small area in Norbiton, a suburb of Kingston-upon-Thames. It focuses on the activities of James Goulter, a well-connected local speculative builder, and provides a forensic examination of the processes and procedures whereby land which had formed part of Norbiton’s open fields, and which was owned by the Kingston Corporation, was leased off and developed. The author emphasises throughout a dimension to the study which is generally downplayed and often ignored, namely the real-life economics of the process, and the potential for financial returns and profit. He achieves this by analysis of sources such as building leases, council minutes, newspapers and valuation books, all supported by his own expertise in the field of finance.

The first part of the paper describes the history of the land in question, and the decision-making which led up to the development of the land. This includes the issue of whether to opt for freehold sale or letting on long-term leases. It then continues with discussion of the negotiations with Goulter, and the circumstances which lay behind his offer in 1866 to undertake the leasing and development. Hawkins analyses the terms of the agreement, including the financial aspects and the planning implications, such as densities, housing types, the provision of roads and the inclusion of shops and other amenities. He then considers the ‘building strategy’ of Goulter as a developer, showing in fine detail the sub-leasing of divisions of the estate to individual builders, a process absolutely typical of the period. The next section then calculates and assesses the financial logic of the exercise, using such measures as building costs, rentals, premiums achieved, and the interest rates which prevailed. The final sections look at what happened to the estate after Goulter’s death in 1881, including its large-scale destruction as part of redevelopment in the 1970s. This paper, with its methodology and creative use of sources, might serve as a model for comparable investigations of Victorian development schemes, an idea inspired by the work of James Dyos in Camberwell over 60 years ago.

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By Ian Beckwith

pp 221-230

This is a very detailed examination of a tragic case of suicide, recorded in the parish register of Little Clacton, Essex, in the summer of 1592. The suicide itself is discussed in terms of the language used in the register entry and its implications in the context of spiritual and religious beliefs and perspectives. However, the majority of the paper considers the possible motives for the act, focusing on a highly complex sequence of legal actions and cases involving the deceased woman, the husband whom she had just married, her late husband, and a variety of associates. Ian Beckwith painstakingly pieces together the often ambiguous evidence, seeking to establish the apparently murky financial and legal goings-on in which Prudence Fenn seems to have been an innocent participant.

The paper demonstrates the way in which documents must be interrogated, in order to understand their implications, but it also highlights they can very often supply only one perspective and cannot necessarily be taken at face value. The author points out how incomplete sequences or groups of written evidence leave gaps in knowledge and interpretation which may only be filled by solidly-grounded interpretation, or even by speculation. The paper acknowledges that the available evidence cannot tell the whole story, but it is a case study in the potential for historical and archival exploration triggered by a single reference in a common type of document.

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By Lydia Gray

pp 231-243

This article is drawn from a detailed investigation into illegitimacy in the rural parish of Addingham, east of Penrith, Cumbria. The study covers the period from 1820 to the Second World War—during the research, 173 unmarried mothers and their 236 children were studied in detail, to examine the strategies employed by the mothers, and the subsequent lives of the women and children. The initial prompt was most often a baptism record, but marriage registers, newspapers, and census returns were also important—as was the workhouse births register, on which much of the article is based. This register is complete from 1837, although the 100-year closure rule for personal records means that the research into workhouse links effectively ended in 1918. The study demonstrates that very few local women resorted to the workhouse, contrary to a common impression that most unmarried women were forced to do so. There was limited interaction between the Penrith Workhouse and the mothers and children in this study at three main junctures: first, when the mother needed somewhere to give birth; second, when she needed support thereafter (which, in later years, might take the form of out-relief, rather than entry into the workhouse); and third, when, towards the end of the nineteenth century, other links were created between illegitimacy and the parish, with the adoption by the Poor Law Guardians of fostering and boarding-out.

The paper focuses primarily on the experience of illegitimacy for the mothers and children of Addingham. Was this the experience for many of the illegitimate children born in places such as Addingham? Many have concluded that it was. But while it is certainly the case that most of the babies born in the workhouse were illegitimate, within the Penrith Poor Law Union these were only a small percentage of those born illegitimate. Neither the high mortality noted elsewhere, nor the ‘ending up’ in the workhouse, nor the requirement to stay in the workhouse, nor the abandonment of the child, applied to the vast majority of the mothers or children in this study. Addingham mothers and babies generally survived, and they overwhelmingly remained in the community. Therefore, were the few who turned to the workhouse the most friendless and desperate, initially denied out-relief under the New Poor Law of 1834 and lacking the family support that a married woman could expect? Or were they the most brazen, or the more astute and aware of their rights, or the ‘ins-and-outs’ who used the system as suited them best, or the most able to live with the shame and humiliation of being admitted to the workhouse?

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By Barry Shurlock

pp 244-254

The process of publishing local history involves collecting information, arranging and assessing it in some way, and then making it available to others. For centuries this only meant printing, but of course now digital formats are very widely used. Nevertheless, it is unlikely that print will die out, and those with a feeling for archives and libraries must hope that most digital records of importance are also made available on paper, even if in small quantities. The great majority of local history publications are produced by non-commercial groups and do not have to make a profit. Receiving more money than spent is always desirable, but the majority of local historians simply want the results of their ‘blood, sweat and tears’ to be accessible to the public. The first part of this article is a survey of publishing activities of various kinds—newsletters, journals, booklets and books—which are being undertaken by local history groups in Hampshire. It is largely based on evidence from websites, which are convenient sources but may lack background detail. In the second part some general principles are outlined, particularly for publishing booklets and books. The third part sets out some suggestions for good practice in local history publishing. Clearly, a focus on one county may potentially miss some important aspects of the subject and it is hoped that others will make good any deficiencies.

As with most creative industries, in publishing everyone has their own style, but practice has shown that there are some basic rules that are best followed. The final section itemises some suggested universal guidelines for all products (including text-and-picture digital products) and then some particular guidelines for newsletters, journals, booklets, and books. Naturally, these are personal recommendations and other people may have further ideas.

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