• The East Combe Hoard (10 items)
• The Charlynch Hoard (6 items)
• Apostles (8 items)
• Seal Tops (3 items)
• Trefids (15 items)
• Miscellaneous (9 items)

An extract from `General Background'

"Thomas Dare II was evidently a man of drive and ability, so that when [Taunton] received a new charter in 1677 constituting it a close corporation, he was nominated one of the eleven capital burgesses who elected the local MP as well as governing the town. There was plenty of scope for political in-fighting at Taunton, described as `the most factious town in England', and Dare joined in with this with enthusiasm. This was the period of the `Popish Plot', with many, such as Thomas Dare, very concerned over the prospect of a Roman Catholic king in James, Duke of York, and anxious to pass legislation excluding him from the Succession. In October 1679 a general election produced a large majority for the `Exclusionists' led by the Earl of Shaftesbury, and in order to prevent the passage of an Exclusion Bill the King prorogued Parliament as soon as it met. This produced a spate of petitions calling for the sitting of Parliament. In December the King issued a Proclamation against petitions, but they increased, while at the same time the other side presented addresses expressing `abhorrence' of such petitions. Parliament met, but on 26th January 1679/80 the King prorogued it again, and on this occasion Thomas Dare was waiting for him on the stairs and put the Taunton petition into His Majesty's hand as he descended. The King asked how he dared do that, to receive the reply `Sir, my name is Dare'. Not long after this, Dare was prosecuted at Taunton for sedition, it being alleged that he had said `there was but two ways to remedy grievances, by petition or sword'. The excellent pastel portrait of Dare by William Faithorne in the Ashmolean Museum shows him holding the petition and records not only his correct age, 36 years, but also the precise day of presentation."

This booklet, like the collection itself, contains material from SANHS Collections. Most handsomely produced, it was designed by Lawrence Bostock of the County Museums Service.

Stuart Bath

Life in the Forgotten City 1603-1714 by John Wroughton

2004 The Lansdown Press (41 The Empire, Grand Parade, Bath, BA2 4DF)

09520249 4 2 (paperback) £16.99
09520249 5 0 (cased) £25
224 pp.; illustrated

(from the `Blurb')

`This is the first definitive study of Stuart Bath ever to be published. It tells the story of life and work in the seventeenth-century city—a period which has largely been ignored by historians in the past and gently airbrushed out of Bath's rich heritage. And yet this forgotten city was a lively, colourful and affluent place with fine buildings, a vigorous health spa and a brand new Abbey church.

`During the first fifty years it found itself at the heart of the Puritan revolution and played a significant part in the Civil War, before eventually freeing itself to lay

foundations for the spectacular rise of the leisure resort under Beau Nash. There was, of course, a more seamy side to the city—the squalor of its streets, intimidation by its beggars, the stench of its atmosphere, the addiction of its gamblers, and the bitter in-fighting of its councillors. Furthermore, travellers approached the city at their peril, faced by steep descents and impassable tracks—only to find on arrival that there was no room to park their coaches and even less to make use of them.'

(Preface)

`The story of both Roman Bath and Georgian Bath has been extensively covered not only in the numerous histories which have appeared over the past two centuries, but also visually in the city's impressive museums. Furthermore, buildings and artefacts of those times have survived in abundance for the enjoyment of visitors. It has to be said, however, that the most perceptive of these go on to pose the question...But what happened in between? Thanks to the work of the Bath Archaeological Trust and Peter Davenport's excellent book, Medieval Bath Uncovered (2002), the `Dark' and Middle Ages are gradually being brought to life.

`Stuart Bath alone, alas, has lacked its own impassioned advocate over the years. Indeed, the seventeenth-century city was initially written about by largely unsympathetic historians—John Wood in the eighteenth century, who wrote in disparaging terms about its buildings and its interiors; and Richard Warner in the early nineteenth century, who ridiculed `the grossness and simplicity' of its people. Even today, it still finds no place in our museums and galleries. It is as if, for two hundred and fifty years, this period has been gently airbrushed out of our heritage—an age, it seems, which is never mentioned in polite company.

`However, in spite of this, many enthusiastic and scholarly individuals were working away quietly on various aspects of the period throughout the twentieth century, so that gradually a great fund of knowledge was being accumulated. The aim of this book, therefore, is to bring together all that research—along with my own published work on civil war, education and religion—in an attempt to resuscitate our forgotten city. What emerges is a city which is both beautiful and ugly, both progressive and traditional, both colourful and squalid—but a city which is always fascinating, lively and controversial; a city which eventually manages to throw off its medieval image to lay foundations for the spectacular rise of the leisure resort under Beau Nash.'

Contents

• 1 Nation and City in 1603
• 2 The Government of the City
• 3 Political Life: City and Nation, 1603-1714
• 4 Security
• 5 Life at Home
• 6 Public Health
• 7 Agriculture
• 8 The Cloth Industry
• 9 The Baths
• 10 Commercial Activity—and the Post
• 11 The Poor
• 12 Education
• 13 The Daily Pressures of Civil War
• 14 Religious Life
• 15 Entertainment

Somerset's Buses, The Story of Hutchings & Cornelius and Safeway Services by Laurie James

ISBN 0-7524-3171-4 Tempus Publishing Ltd., Stroud, £12.99

The West Country has long been a bastion of independent bus operation, and this is the story of two of the most highly regarded independent bus companies in Somerset. Both based in the village of South Petherton, the local reputation of Hutchings & Cornelius and Safeway Services is legendary. In the face of state-owned competition, they successfully offered cheap, friendly and reliable bus services to the market towns of Taunton and Yeovil.

Somerset's Buses is not just a history of the companies and their vehicles, but a testament to the people who managed and worked for Hutchings & Cornelius and Safeway Services. Whilst Hutchings & Cornelius ran their last service on 31 May 1979, Safeway Services continue to offer bus services from South Petherton. The efforts of both are celebrated in this history of Somerset's `friendly buses'.

Published to coincide with the passing of twenty-five years since Hutchings & Cornelius Services ceased operations, and to celebrate over seventy-five years of service to the people of South Somerset by Safeway.

Contents: Hutchings & Cornelius

• 1 Thomas Hutchings of South Petherton: 1926-1934
• 2 Alfred Cornelius & Sons of Barrington: 1928-1934
• 3 Unification and Consolidation: 1934-1939
• 4 The War Years
• 5 Signs of Change: 1946-1958
• 6 The Way It Was: anecdotes about personalities (staff & customers)
• 7 The 1960s
• 8 Difficult Times: 1968 Transport Act - 1978; negotiations with Western National & etc.
• 9 The Finale and Afterwards: 1979 - Safeway Services
• 10 From Beer to Buses: 1st service to Yeovil, 28 March 1928
• 11 Getting on with the Job: 1931-WWII
• 12 Success and Frustration: 1946-1953
• 13 New Opportunities: mid 50s-mid 60s
• 14 David and Goliath: 1967-1978; tussles with Southern National
• 15 New Pastures and Old Worries: 1979-1987; 1985 Transport Act
• 16 Celebration and Attack: Veronica Gunn awarded MBE in 1987 for `services to transport'; to 1994
• 17 A New Era: up to date Appendix 1: Lists of Staff
• Appendix 2: Fleet Lists (registration-chassis-body-date acquired-former owner-date of disposal-details of disposal)

(Preface)

"The West Country has for long been a bastion of independent bus operation, but even more so since the `deregulation' of the industry in 1986, although it could be argued that after the privatisation of the National Bus Co. in the middle part of the 1980s nearly all bus companies have been `independent'. Many small operators in the West were based in villages and ran infrequent market day services once or twice a week to the nearest important towns, often of a quite lengthy nature. The buses with which this book is concerned were provided by two companies who operated their main services six or seven days a week, with some running alongside routes of the ubiquitous state-owned `National' undertaking for considerable distances, on equal terms. More remarkable is the fact they were based in the same village in Somerset—South Petherton—and managed to co-exist harmoniously alongside each other.

"Mention the words `buses' and `South Petherton' to many people in South Somerset and they will quickly reply `Miss Gunn and Safeway', while those of a certain age might also say `Hutchings & Cornelius'. The local reputation of these firms was legendary, and in the case of Safeway still is, as happily they are still with us. In the early days the need to compete effectively with National was essential for

survival as many small companies simply caved in under pressure, or sold out at a relatively low price. Messrs Hutchings, Cornelius and Gunn achieved almost hero status as they managed to provide the villages with a cheaper, friendlier and more reliable bus service than that offered by National. The fact that they were local counted a lot in terms of customer loyalty and it says much that people would deliberately let the National bus go by so they could travel with H&C or Safeway. If the driver or conductor was not actually related to you, they were probably a friend or acquaintance. People would be picked up outside their door, with the bus waiting if they were not quite ready. On the return from town, the bus could not leave until any latecomers had got back with their shopping. Yet this familiarity did not mean inefficiency. The companies provided the only means of transport for many of the inhabitants of sleepy villages scattered over the pleasant landscape along the rivers Isle and Parrett.

"In terms of geographical features, the operating area of H&C and Safeway falls into two contrasting categories. From a line through Barrington, the Lambrooks and Martock southwards to South Petherton and on towards Crewkerne and Yeovil, there is undulating farmland and many villages with buildings made from hamstone, a scene typical in many ways of classic pastoral England. Yet to the north is a large area of flatter, low-lying, wetland and pasture, punctuated by a network of drainage channels and roads on raised causeways, to which cling scattered villages and hamlets. Osier beds were a feature, and in the old days the frequent flooding of the Levels added to the rural isolation and made for a difficult operating territory for bus services.

"Yet H&C and Safeway Services are known well beyond the boundaries of Somerset. Their inclination for unusual vehicle purchase policies, at least for a small rural independent operator, coupled with the forthright views of their proprietors on the right way of running a successful local bus service, ensured that they were well-regarded within the transport industry and also recognised by people generally interested in buses, especially those having a connoisseur's penchant for rural independents. Their reputation is a result of the great efforts of the proprietors and their loyal staff, including through difficult times.

"For the historian, there are plenty of dates and facts within these pages, but buses are about people too, as people made H&C what they were and Safeway what they are, so a sprinkling of anecdotes and reminiscences is included. The material in this book includes some local research and personal observation carried out by the late Roy Lee in the 1950s and 1960s. As well as digging into the past, he made extensive notes of routes taken, vehicles operated and working practices. The material in his carefully home-produced but unpublished volumes has proved most useful. Much additional research and interviews have been undertaken to make this record more complete and it is hoped that this book will serve as a tribute to those associated with the two companies, that it will appeal to various categories of reader and will bring back memories for those who knew H&C and Safeway or have used their services."

Book Titles noted by David Bromwich

Gledhill, David The Gas Works of Somerset
76 pp., illustrated, £4.95; published 2003 by Somerset Industrial Archaeological Society
(D Warren, 52 Stoke Road, Taunton, TA1 3EJ), 0 9533539 7 4

Williams, Robin & Williams, Romey The Somerset Levels
2003 [revision of 1996 edition] Ex Libris Press, 0 903341 16 7; 176 pp., illustrated; £8.95

Brooks, Tom The Hand of Man: Britain's History Decoded
2004 Edward Gaskell Publishers (6 Grenville Street, Bideford, EX39 2EA); 1 898546 63 0; £9.99
`Inspired by Alfred Watkins' The Old Straight Track, this may prove equally divorced from reality and full of popular appeal.'

Forrester, Peter Pub Walks in the Mendips
2004 Countryside Books, 1 85306 849 7; 96 pp., illustrated; with maps; £7.95

Nott, Anthony & Hasler, Joan (eds.) Wells Convocation Books 1589-1665
1,080 pp.; published by Somerset Record Society
volume 1: 0 901732 38 9 £18
volume 2: 0 901732 39 7 £21
`Wells City as distinct from Cathedral records.'

Somerset Walks: 16 Circular Walks
Taunton Deane Ramblers; on sale in Taunton Tourist Information Centre; 1 901184 69 2;
48 pp., illustrated, with maps; £2.95

Stuckey, Douglas Wessex Rising!
2004 Wessex Books; 1 903035 21 X; 48 pp., illustrated; £4.99
`Short, well-illustrated, accounts of both the Monmouth Rebellion and the Glorious Revolution.'

and, FINALLY:

Forsyth, Michael Bath
Yale University Press. Paperback, £9.99. 0 300 10177 5

****************************

Natural History Notes

One pleasure we can indulge is browsing our Natural History Library in the Adam Room—especially on a dark stormy day in mid-winter. I usually find something of interest, often unexpectedly: opening a nineteenth-century bird book, I found a cutting from The Penny Illustrated Paper of 3rd March 1894 which showed a sketch of a great auk's egg which had just been sold at auction for a record 300 guineas to Sir Vauncey Crewe. William Yarrell, author of the well-known History of British Birds, finding the egg hanging from a string in a Boulogne fisherwoman's cottage, had bought it for one franc. I wonder if the egg still exists?

Well, one must not spend too much time in libraries, remembering that bird activity gradually increases with daylight. This is surely so for ravens, which often begin building in late January. Their croaking can enliven any January day; I recall watching one such over the Quantocks being intercepted by four or five jackdaws. To my surprise, the raven deviated from its previously direct course to fly fiercely at one of them, the others sensibly losing interest and flying away. The raven buffeted and tried to seize its victim which, however, managed to extricate itself and retreat. The raven quickly resumed its flight towards the Brendons. I understand ravens have occasionally been known to kill jackdaws, but they probably know them better as carrion.

Ravens appear quite black against the sky but, close up and in the sun, the plumage glints with a purple or greenish iridescence—like that of other `black' members of the crow family.

In the middle of January I saw another blackish bird in an alder by the Tone which I first thought was a male blackbird. But it was clearly smaller and had spotting on the breast: I concluded it to be a melanistic song thrush rather than (sadly!) a Siberian visitor. It appeared healthy and flew off strongly, with no suggestion of having just escaped from a sooty chimney !

Another January observation was watching a wood pigeon on the bare earth under a conifer feeding plentifully on seeds or invertebrates. It was soon joined by a wren busily investigating the displaced soil, evidently successfully since several items were swallowed. Doubtless this individual showed intelligence in thus exploiting a productive feeding-association. Wren and wood pigeon made an unusual and attractive scene feeding together.

Robins are quick to take advantage of any feeding opportunity, as all gardeners know. I saw several in display last Winter and Spring: cocking his tail and protruding his breast, a male will posture at a rival, which either responds in kind or flies off in defeat. This posturing will also attract a potential mate and help maintain the bond after pairing. There must be difficulties as male and female are so alike—at least to my eyes! Doubtless there is some subtle female response which appeals to the wooing cock.

Robins will display on the ground or branches; in April I watched two cocks showing each other red feathers from either side of a lane without attempting closer opposition. This confirms the importance to birds of colour-vision as well as body-attitude. Further, in early May I watched a male and female on the ground near their nest mutually displaying; each writhed and twisted passionately before mating.

Still on red, in late February I was intrigued to see in a bush a shimmering red spot moving with the breeze. It took me several seconds to realise this was the orbital eye-ring of a long-tailed tit reflecting like a jewel the low winter sunshine. Happily, this species survives winter well; early breeders, they start nest-building in late February, after the dispersal of winter flocks. Plenty of sticky cobweb is used to consolidate pieces of moss.

There has been much discussion recently about the frequently fatal glass strikes involving garden birds. One such sad death against one of my own windows in March was of a male siskin, presumably en route to its northern breeding grounds—either attacking its reflection or perhaps fleeing a sparrowhawk. These most attractive small finches have well forked tails and green, black and yellow markings. I saw a few others in the same month, mostly taking peanuts in gardens. (Occasionally they can be identified flying in flocks.)

*

Still in March, I was pleased to see good numbers of common toads arriving to breed in a deep pond. At the fall of darkness, they arrived at the water's edge, sometimes already paired—the female carrying on her back her often diminutive partner; a few carried two and one even three. When mounted by others of the same gender, the males emitted high-pitched release cries. The more stoical females, however, kept silence whilst entering the pond, where they remained at least overnight; I think the males stayed longer. Long strings of spawn resulted, tangled round the water vegetation. Using a torch, I noted great variation among the toads of colour and patterning. The population of the pond was certainly impressive, but many others had been squashed on neighbouring roads.

In April and May I was fortunate to come across a few adders basking on open patches, although only during sunny spells. Unexpectedly, I saw more of the black than the brown form, irrespective of sex. Even so, the black adders all had a recognisable diamond pattern down the back and a V mark on the head. No doubt either form makes a good meal for a buzzard, especially if killed before ingestion; an internal bite would be most unpleasant! In general, I have not heard small birds sounding the alarm when adders appear, but I have observed, perched above a curled-up viper, a wren burst into vigorous defiance.

By mid May, male sedge warblers on the Levels had generally given up sustained song, having sung well soon after arriving in late April, especially on calm nights, in an effort to attract females on nocturnal migration. Once paired, the males do not need to sing and communicate instead by hard, rasping, wooden vocalisations. When we can see the bird, perhaps in brief flight, the black stripe through the eye and the white above, together with the streaked brown of the wings and back, enable quick identification. In contrast, its common neighbour, the reed warbler, looks plain, with its smooth unstreaked buff-brown upperparts. Another contrast is that these warblers continue territorial song after pairing, albeit at a reduced level.

In mid May, on the Levels, I was surprised by large numbers of mute swans. In adult plumage but clearly non-breeding, they seemed to be just loafing about: behaviour so different from the familiar vigilance over mate and nest.

In my observation, some birds appear to have nested early this year, for example robins and blackbirds. I did hear of a few swallows in the west of the county in February but wonder if any survived; they did not seem to be well distributed in the Quantocks until late April, which also saw those cuckoos which did not wait until May. As in 2003, they have been reported to be generally scarce in Somerset. Another favourite village and garden visitor in poor numbers this year is the spotted flycatcher; it arrived late and I did not see one at Bagborough until May 29th.

Insectivorous species such as warblers arrived about the usual time. One pair of garden warblers I observed did not have a full clutch until May 20th. Wrens have been plentiful and have probably bred well; prominent features of local woodland and forest walks have been their contact calls and warning cries. Again locally, blue and great tit chicks have been emerging from nest-holes in early June: about the usual time and, as usual, making easy prey for hungry sparrowhawks. Considering the large number of newly-flown birds abroad

in June, one must assume the effect of global warming on birds is difficult to predict.

The dry late Summer and Autumn of 2003 resulted in a scarcity of fungi. I hope for a better crop this year, as woodland devoid of fungi is deprived of an important interest. We have seen, however, plentiful springtime fungi this year, including St. George's mushrooms; I told my neighbour on Easter Monday his garden had morels: delicious and attractive with their ridged honeycomb cap. Perhaps incidentally, their spores are shot out rather than merely dropped.

©2004 Philip Radford

*************************************

Between Scillies & Pennines Russell Gomm in Conservation, Natural History Meeting February 14th

As the scheduled speaker was unable to come, it was fortunate Russell Gomm was available at the last minute to step in to talk about his thirty years working with various conservation agencies.

Ameria Heath on the Isles of Scilly
©2004 Russell Gomm

When first appointed, Russell was sent to Cornwall: an idyllic posting, especially as his line-manager was as far away as Dorset! But the idyll ended dramatically when the wrecking of the Torrey Canyon deposited thousands of tons of fuel-oil on the beaches.

©2004 Russell Gomm

Thoughts of nature-conservation were superseded by the need to clean up before the tourist season. Many gallons of detergent succeeded in removing the oil sludge but the shore was left effectively sterile. It must have been a great relief to `get back to Nature': establishing a reserve on the Lizard and protecting the bog orchid on Bodmin Moor.

A move to Yorkshire provided new challenges: the high fells with their waterfalls are a very different environment. Russell showed us a memorable hillside scene of lady's slipper orchids.

Lady's Slipper Orchid
©2004 Russell Gomm

However, once again Man's greed was causing trouble: this time, due to the popularity of the garden make-over, the indiscriminate removal of limestone pavement (seen in the Pen-y-ghent photo) had to be controlled.

Pen-y-ghent from SW
©2004 Robin Downes

Russell was involved in larger-scale conservation when he helped in the setting-up around Lundy of the first British marine nature reserve. Back on land, work on the re-introduction of the large blue butterfly into Cornwall must have been particularly satisfying: during his previous posting in the county, he had monitored its decline and extinction. Thanks to new research into its life-cycle, sufficient numbers could be bred to ensure the successful re-establishment of the species.

©2004 Dennis Hill-Cottingham

***********************************

Fine Buildings under Boar Hill
Evercreech Historic Buildings Visit February 21st

The Evercreech and District Local History Society joined SANHS members for an afternoon with Chris Sidaway.

We began with Mark McDermott introducing us to the church: notable features are the fine tower (unfortunately, rendered inaccessible to extended viewing by the weather) and the sixteenth-century king-post roof with its carved angels—resplendent in presumably authentic colouring. Our admiration was also drawn to the fine woodwork in the decorative carving and main trusses; these latter rest on figured stone corbels depicting heads. Fine workmanship is also apparent in the front of the organ balcony considered by some to be part of the original rood screen.

The owner of Priory Cottage kindly allowed us to view the sixteenth-century fireplace, above which is the fine plasterwork described in John and Jane Penoyre's Decorative Plasterwork in the Houses of Somerset 1500-1700. (Including initials and masks, this work seems stylistically related to that in the room above depicting a crown and the initials of Elizabeth I.) To the right of the fireplace, a small door gives access to a winding stairway to the upstairs rooms. A motif in the doorframe is identical with those elsewhere in the room. The right-hand side of the house's front elevation seems to have been rebuilt in the 1960s.

Priory Cottage Fireplace

A walk to the other end of the village brought us to another stone cottage. This features a double door dated to 1634 of unusual design recognised by one of the group as a `Cromwell' door: the leaves are double-boarded and studded. (A Sussex example of such a door is illustrated in Fixtures and Fittings in Dated Houses 1567-1763 by N W Alcock and L Hall.)

A large chimney stack has a later-inserted bread oven. Facing the door by which we entered is a stone turret with a winding staircase lit by an ovolo-moulded timber-framed window possibly dating to the seventeenth century. As the cottage has been so much altered, there is little datable fabric. The owner showed us an old map isolating the building at the edge of the village.

The local history group had arranged afternoon tea for all at the Village Hall, providing a welcome and warming conclusion to an enjoyable afternoon. The Evercreech Society, particularly Gill Lindsay and Ben Hodgson, were thanked, together with house-owners, for their kind hospitality.

©2004 Mary Ewing

[supplemented from official listing descriptions]

All photos ©2004 Anthony Bruce

Telling the Differences Somerset's Warblers, Natural History talk by Philip Radford, March 13th

Some twenty or so members heard Doctor Philip Radford speak on one of his favourite subjects at the Wyndham Hall. Using a carefully chosen selection of colour slides, he took us through reed-beds and bramble, oak-woods and scrub, to demonstrate the diverse appearance, behaviour and life-histories of that family of birds many of us may hitherto have classified only as `little brown jobs' !

Our warblers are nearly all small, active, brown and insectivorous; because insects are less available in winter, most British warblers are summer-visitors. Probably we all have difficulty distinguishing between them by sight, so it is fortunate that most species have characteristic vocalisations. (Those attending last October's Edington Symposium will remember Philip treating us to a wonderful series of recordings.) These sounds, combined with the habitat where we encounter them, are vital clues to the precise field-identification of birds seen only in brief glimpses of flickering shadows in the undergrowth.

This Saturday, Philip completed the story by presenting pictures of various stages in the life-history of selected birds accompanied by an informative and entertaining commentary.

For convenience, our warblers may be classified into four main groups:

(1) The first bird described exemplifies the swamp warblers represented in Somerset by the genera cettia, locustella and acrocephalus. Cetti's warbler, more often heard than seen, has been surprising us for nearly twenty years with its explosive call from deep within bushes and reed-beds. Few of us realised its eggs are a beautiful red.

Only one locustella warbler, the grasshopper, is regularly seen in Somerset, although its characteristic insect-like song is heard less frequently nowadays—the species' decline perhaps the consequence of changing agricultural practice. Other members of the group, like the lanceolated and Savi's, are only rarely recorded.

By contrast, acrocephalus warblers are very familiar, including reed, sedge and the much rarer marsh species.

Female Blackcap on Nest ©2004 Philip Radford

(2) Scrub, or sylvia, warblers are also familiar. The soprano blackcap, contralto garden warbler and, more recently, the Dartford (in suitable habitat on Mendip, Exmoor and the Quantocks) are all welcome sounds of Summer.

(3) Several leaf, or phylloscopus, warblers are quite common visitors: chiffchaff, willow and wood warblers.

Wood Warbler Fledgelings ©2004 Philip Radford

(4) Tree, or hippolais, warblers such as the melodious and icterine are not found in Somerset. (Witherby cites records of both species in the South of England, from Cornwall to Kent, but not in Somerset. Ed.)

Slides of vipers, grass snakes, owls, buzzards and even red deer were used to demonstrate problems encountered by ground-nesting birds.

Discussion ranged over associated topics, from warblers' relationships with cuckoos to blackcaps some of which, having spent the winter in our gardens, would shortly be leaving for their more northerly breeding grounds. It being nearly Spring, we could look forward to hearing our first chiffchaff of 2004.

Philip Radford provided us with timely encouragement to look, listen and record more carefully when observing `little brown jobs'.

©2004 Russell Gomm

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Good Cheer under Dark Skies
Crowcombe Historic Buildings Visit, March 14th

No sooner had we gathered at the Church House than showers turned to heavy rain. No one could find the key so—after we had got thoroughly wet—we crossed the road to the fourteenth-century church of the Holy Ghost, our camaraderie only strengthened by the weather.

Our leader Chris Sidaway told us about the origins and history of Crowcombe village. (Its Saxon name Crauuncumb means `Crow Valley', but there was some inclination towards the interpretation `Steep-sided Valley'.) After the ninth century, ownership transferred from Glastonbury Abbey to West Saxon royalty, thence to the church of St. Swithin-in-Winchester, before falling into the hands of Robert de Mortain at the Conquest and then the nuns of Studeley near Oxford. It became a substantial manor, with burgages, market and gallows. In 1616 the Carew family created the majestically wooded chase surrounding the manor house and to this day are residents of Crowcombe.

We revelled (spiritually) in the famous sixteenth-century benchends and the fine contemporary porch before returning to Church House (built, like the church, of local Quantock warm red sandstone). This pre-Reformation house, given to the parish in 1515, specifically provided to facilitate raising funds for the church, was finished in grand style like other such buildings: witness the finely-moulded window and door surrounds as well as the wind- and arch-braced roof structures. Before the Reformation—as so sympathetically documented in Eamon Duffy's The Stripping of the Altars (1992) and The Voices of Morebath (2001)— money was raised by holding `church-ales', parish festivals which included dancing, feasting and minstrelsy. At Crowcombe, following the usual pattern, brewing was downstairs (witness the large smoke-bay) and the `ales' celebrated on the first floor. After the Reformation and into the Puritan period, sadly, these popular houses became parish halls, schools, almshouses or private homes. At Crowcombe, the poor were accommodated on the ground floor, the school being above. So, look again at that old building near your church and wonder if it might once have been one of these wonderful places.

Nearly dry by now, we settled down together for an excellent lunch at the eighteenth-century Carew Arms. By the time we walked up the imposing drive to Crowcombe Court, we could not have been more cheerful—despite black skies and March drizzle. Patsy Smith, herself an architectural historian, welcomed us into the grand interior with its ornate fireplaces and plastered ceilings. From upstairs, the views over the park to the ancient beech woods were breathtaking; the dark skies were darker still as rooks wheeled over stag-headed oaks.

The house was built (up to the ground floor) by Thomas Parker for Thomas Carew in the 1720s, in traditional solid style. But the continuation by mason-sculptor Nathaniel Ireson was in more contemporary mode. A covered gateway to accommodate disembarking coach-travellers was later added, together with an adjoining colonnade running the rear length of the house. Both structures were extended to the full height of the house, whence its asymmetry. Two rear wings create a large courtyard, where many a meet must have gathered.

Before taking our leave, we congratulated Patsy and her husband on their superb restoration of beautiful Crowcombe Court.

©2004 text & photos

Anthony Bruce

Mosaic Day Archæology March 27th

This event took place at Stanchester School. Speakers included David Neal and Bob Croft

Rock Art Talk by Stan Beckensall

hosted by Bridgwater & District Archaeological Society, March 29th

Chatton Park Hill Rock Art

Beyond any immediate practical purpose(s), did the engraver(s) intend to communicate with posterity and therefore us? If so, to which aspects of our humanity do these graffiti appeal? Is it possible we are so different a society from that in which they had meanings that we cannot hope to `understand' them? If conventional interpretation is baffled, what other responses might be legitimate?

It seems impossible for us not to respond: we are so highly sensitive to enigmas that we enjoy their discovery and decipherment; any scepticism about our ability to produce `appropriate' interpretations is swept aside by an enthusiasm very much at the heart of the amateur archæologist, nowadays a species on the increase, thanks partly to televisual publicity of professional activity: `rock art' can be studied without dirty digging (that traditionally hallowed but increasingly unnecessary and damaging archæological technique needing special tools, training, time and permissions); neither is our imaginative freedom curbed by that other preserve of the professional specialist—documentary evidence. No wonder there is a growing popular fascination with `rock art' accompanying the inevitable development of associated academic `disciplines'.

A focus and `star' of the subject in this country is Dr Stan Beckensall. His energetic and articulate enthusiasm is excitingly infectious. A born and practised communicator, Stan has sustained an intense and productive involvement in Archæology along with a teaching career at all levels, mostly in his adopted Northumberland. He has had published many articles and books ranging from the academically factual to the imaginatively poetic (see Bibliography).

We know for certain that x, y or z interpretation is correct?'

Which might lead one to deduce that he is convinced a modern intellectual response is not appropriate: evidence that he favours non-intellectual responses came when he argued against an excessive valuation of the scientific `objectivity' so precious to academia. He offered a cautionary motto: `People before data'. Further evidence of his scepticism about the traditional valuation of pseudo-science was provided by his reading one of his own poems, in order to suggest how we perhaps might properly respond to prehistoric `monuments':

Cairns

Stamped with lichen, bound by bracken root,
Sunk in acid soil,
Each heap of stone affects disguise.
Death's ritual leaves slight signs.
Slanting sunlight, morning, evening,
Shadows each circumference. Betrays.
Many gouged by curiosity and greed.
First in rank and ostentation—first to fall;
The unpretentious huddle humbly in the soil, survive.

They are the scanty evidence of another life.
A smear upon the soil,
Burnt bone, a piece of flint, a pot, a bead,
Sealed once, but not invulnerable.
We focus on these tiny scraps of time
With force that hurls jet fighters overhead
And simulates the power of sun.
We are our Age, we bring technology
To bear upon a past where writing played no part,
But symbolism loomed large.

Gods lived and were placated;
Man and woman not enough.
Force drove through grass blades, crackled in the skies,
Hurled rainbows, hid the face of moon and sun.
Awesome. Kept us in our place.
We are the piece of broken bone, the pile of dust.
A piece of flint is our technology,
A bead or two our power or vanity.

We are the hands that placed the pot inside the grave,
Love that mourns a while.
The cairn above our heads cuts out the sky
As we move on.

©Stan Beckensall

(Poem printed with the permission of Dr Beckensall)

To be critical about that poem as poetry would miss its point: through an imagined recreation of what life might have been like for prehistoric people, it constructs a suggestion for the literate of an intrinsically illiterate world. His vision is, of course, speculative, but presumably Stan thinks that's allowed in poetry.

(He is not alone in taking an imaginative approach to recreating and writing about the weltanshauung of prehistoric societies: it has been done without resorting to poetry, as for example by Mark Edmonds in his Ancestral Geographies of the Neolithic or in his collaboration with Tim Seaborne, Prehistory in the Peak. Both books are published by Tempus.)

For me the poem evokes the contrast, orthodox enough, between the current norm (since the `Industrial Revolution' in this Western World ?) of an exploitative and imperialistic attitude to Nature (Human as well as non-Human), which feeds off and nourishes a confident conviction of superiority and power, and, on the other hand, an attitude we might regard as superstitiously symbiotic with, even subservient to, `Nature'—so that our customary and unconscious distinction between our `selves' and who and what is around us does not apply; notions of self-hood simply would not have been much developed. The poem suggests that prehistoric people were more likely to feel intimately linked with forces `outside' themselves than we are, who are able to `distance' ourselves. Whereas for us there is a dichotomy between `sacred' and `profane' (conventionally venerating the former over the latter), for our prehistoric ancestors there must have been a more unified, less categorised, world.

Although the poem encourages us to `empathise' with those people whose world incorporated rock-art with meaning (in the conclusion, especially), we are still left with an idea we can perhaps all too readily grasp—an implication of a sharing of essential aspects of humanity between ourselves and our remote ancestors. Paradoxically, the poem's implication of kinship may contradict Stan's basic premise! We had better not be so bold as to think we understand those ancestors, even empathetically.

You may well have found my foregoing convolutions hard-going: I certainly did ! Let's turn for relief to some `nitty-gritty'. Stan lightly and entertainingly sketched definitions of rock-art, its locations and geographical contexts, its petrology, execution and artistry, dating and chronology, recording and description.

Locating, recording, photographing and describing examples of rock art are probably more fun than thinking about it. However, there seems little point in even suggesting any sort of catalogue here. If you want to explore and discover, you will need several of Stan's detailed books as well as at least 1:25,000 OS maps (1:10,000 for professionals, presumably) with a compass and (preferably) GPS equipment, reasonable weather, adequate clothing (including stout walking boots), permission to invade private land, patience to use when you don't find what you're looking for, at least one willing companion, as well as plenty of time. Notable sites are in West Yorkshire (on the moors either side of Ilkley), Cumbria, Northumberland (notably, east and south-east of Wooler) and Argyll (especially around Kilmartin).

The Largest Known British Expanse of Rock Art, at Upper Achnabreck, Argyll

(Somerset's own example of rock-art, on the Bronze Age cist-cover from Pool Farm, West Harptree, may be viewed in Bristol City Museum. See PSANHS 144 (2000) pp.25-30.)

Now that taking rubbings or using chalk to highlight incisions are discredited methods, recording rock-art may take the form of photographing (as demonstrated by Stan's slides), sketching or painting; laser-scanning is an appropriate professional tool.

Description needs to take into account some sort of catalogue of iconography (such as shown on p.14 of Stan's British Prehistoric Rock Art or p.12 of his Prehistoric Rock Art in Northumberland). Evidently, iconography was very limited, cup and ring being major motifs. Stan characterised such imagery as basic, `intactic', unconscious, spontaneous, instinctive: more tactile than intellectual.

It is important to observe and record ways in which rock art acts out some kind of symbiosis, not only between itself and human and physical geographies on a wide scale, but also on a more intimate scale whereby natural features of the stone surface are respected and enhanced: for example, a fissure may be left alone, deepened or continued. Designs may respect, imitate, merge into and move away from natural features.

Intriguingly, British rock art may be contrasted with that on the Continent or elsewhere in the world by its relative love of abstraction and lack of figuration (comparable with the English propensity for the geometrical in Romanesque art contrasted with the relatively greater Continental development of historiated figuration).

Rather more fascinating to me is a consideration of the possible implications of the siting of instances of rock-art: usually at good viewpoints and often intervisible; often overlooking fertile areas; sometimes associated with springs; often suggesting a correlation between altitude and iconographical complexity, in that more elevated art may have a greater sophistication than that below, which may be more restricted to simple cups: an altitudinal hierarchy.

The interpretation that the rock-art may have had some such rôle as articulating herding routes was frequently mentioned by Stan and is convincingly explored in Richard Bradley's Rock Art and the Prehistory of Atlantic Europe (Routledge)—see particularly the chapter Reading Roughting Linn (pp.105ff) on a major Northumbrian site, which relates rock art to the whole ritual landscape). To be honest, I am sceptical about the need for signposts for herding livestock and am more inclined to imagine some kind of `ritual' significance.

An example (see bottom of previous column) of British rock art discussed by Stan which seemed to have had a definite ritual significance was the slab now in the Durham City Archaeological Museum (the former fulling mill on the right bank of the Wear just a short distance upstream from Framwellgate Bridge). This came from Fulforth Farm near Witton Gilbert, about 6 km to the NW , where it had formed part of a cist-burial, the decorated side facing the body. Such a use, he said, was not unique (cf. the Somerset example). Bradley has suggested that such usage is evidence of Bronze-Age re-use of Neolithic art: formerly public and outward-looking, burial rituals had by then become private and inward-looking—and thus a part of a change in world-view, particularly a change in the attitude to and the treatment of the dead. (Cf. the essay `Turning the World—rock carvings and the archaeology of death', in the festshrift edited by Sharples and Sheridan Vessels for the Ancestors: Essays on the Neolithic of Britain and Ireland in Honour of Audrey Henshall, Edinburgh 1992.)

Dating rock art, although perhaps it may be thought inappropriate to date what seems as timeless as it is universal, is important since that might cast light on its relationship with particular stages of the development of societies (focusing particularly on the movements of and the relationships between people). Stan did not say much, except that British rock art is later than the obvious Irish examples (of the Boyne Valley `school') and seemed to have had about 1,500 years of use.

Stan's talk confirmed the evidence of his books: that he has many an amusing or touching anecdote. However, I have to admit I was not much impressed by his telling us of being passed underneath by fighter aircraft while surveying land rich in archæological features from a microlight: his being torn out of the sky would be a grievous loss.

Much more happily memorable was his account of working to reveal the surface of an incised stone at Ketley Crag in Northumberland while simultaneously excavating the other side were the badgers who had originally uncovered the stone surface.

Perhaps badgers cannot do much harm. More concerning to Stan is the possibility of damage by heavier animals like cattle or humans; publicity in the mass media may be a mixed blessing and need careful monitoring.

Another memorable anecdote was about Stan's continuing educational work: he was looking forward to taking some students from Newton Aycliffe College (`fast-track' Year 10 Art specialists) to visit some sites (`site' being broadly conceived to include landscape and water-course features, natural and human history generally, as well as prehistoric rock-carving). They were to be prepared by being as far as possible totally unprepared for what they would see. Afterwards, they would be invited to express their reactions to rock-carving in context—their own artwork being a legitimate articulation of response.

Plenary discussion after the talk was frustratingly if necessarily cursory and curtailed. Questions put to Stan:

Q. `Was there any local mythology associated with rock art ?' A. `No, since it had not generally been known to the people.'
Q. `Is contemporary ceremonial re-use of sites desecration ?' A. `Not if respect is paid to the site. This means no mess or damage.'
Q. `Are there academic comparisons of designs over areas of sites ?' A. `There will be.'
Q. `Is it possible rock art was executed by itinerant artists ?' A. `Yes.'
Q. `Is there evidence of shamanism ?' A. `No. That is usually associated with underground sites.'

Thanks are due to the Bridgwater & District Archaeological Society for hosting this important event, especially Jennifer May for organising, David Baker for compèring, Peter Mayhew and `Treb' Trebilco for `facilitating'.

For invaluable assistance in the writing of this article, my thanks to the Bridgwater Society and Dr Beckensall.

©2004Robin Downes

(All illustrations taken, with permission, from British Prehistoric Rock Art. The first is of rock art at Chatton Hill, Northumberland.)

In May this year, Stan was awarded an honorary Doctor of Letters degree by Newcastle University for his outstanding work in recording British Rock Art, raising its international profile to great heights, and for his publications, broadcasts and lectures which have made it available to a large academic and general audience. He continues to represent archaeology on national, regional and international committees.

Select Bibliography

Stan's Archive may be accessed via Newcastle University's web-site: www.rockart.ncl.ac.uk.
[All books available in paperback from Tempus, except where indicated]

1998 (with T. Laurie) Prehistoric Rock Art of County Durham, Swaledale and Wensleydale Durham County Books; ISBN 1 897585 45 4; £9.95
1999 Prehistoric Rock Art in Britain hb, £18.99, ISBN 0752414712
2001 Northumberland: the Power of Place £17.99, 0752419072
          Prehistoric Rock Art in Northumberland £16.99, 0752419455
2002 British Prehistoric Rock Art £16.99, 0752425145
          Prehistoric Rock Art in Cumbria £16.99, 0752425269
2003 Prehistoric Northumberland £16.99, 0752425439 (in preparation)
2004 The Prehistoric Rock Art of Kilmartin to be published by the Kilmartin Trust
2005 Northumberland: Shadows of the Past to be published by Tempus

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The Changing Scene of Taunton Deane Natural History Talk by Derek Briggs, April 3rd

A larger than usual audience gathered at the Wyndham Hall to hear geologist and naturalist Derek Briggs speak about the geology of the local area.

Using earth history as a basis, Derek presented a cleverly interwoven story during which he used threads of rock-type, physiographical processes, climate and soils, to illuminate the history of man's settlement, farming and other exploitation in Taunton Deane. We were shown how, throughout geological time, prehistory and more recent times, these elements have interacted to create the landscape we know today.

Initially we were shown how the position of the settlement of Taunton had been determined by, and developed at, the meeting point of important communication routes through a natural low-lying basin protected by the Quantocks, Brendons and Blackdown Hills.

Many of the area's rock types are well displayed in the walls of Taunton's older buildings such as the castle, where hard `Devonian' sandstone from the Quantocks and Brendons is juxtaposed with flints and cherts from the Cretaceous Blackdowns as well as with softer grey limestone.

The talk was illustrated with colour slides, including a number of excellent hand-drawn block-diagrams and cross-sections which gave a clear insight into the geological structures lying beneath our feet.

The oldest rocks of the area, having been formed some 400 million years ago, are the Devonian sandstones and shales which formed the Brendons and Quantocks. Whilst the relatively infertile soils of these Uplands, with their cool temperatures and high rainfall, are not so good for agriculture, they have provided excellent building stone and aggregate. Mineral extraction has included iron ore occurring as hæmatite and siderite. The occasional limestone band is revealed by subtle variations in the flora as much as by remains of the limekilns which converted local and imported stone into fertiliser.

The more resistant Devonian rocks form part of the rim of a basin in which were deposited the desert-type sandstones and clays of the Permian-Triassic period about 290 million years ago. The source of these sands was an uplifted land mass to the north caused by the great tectonic plates of Africa and North America colliding with the Eurasian plate.

Largely sandy, warmer and better draining, these rocks break down into soil relatively favourable to agriculture. As well as providing building stone, they give clay suitable for bricks. There are even salt deposits deep down, evidence of the desiccating climate at the time of the formation of the rock. Although fossil animal and plant remains are scarce, these rocks preserve sun-cracks and ripples which tell us they were deposited in shallow water which occasionally dried out.

Derek's photographs of fossils and drawings illustrated reconstructions of the conditions prevailing as marine conditions returned to the area some 200 million years ago; they showed how animals like ammonites (extinct relatives of the contemporary pearly nautilus) and reptiles like plesiosaurs and ichthyosaurs dominated these shallow and warm seas in the Lower Jurassic period. In the Taunton Deane area, sediments producing the layered limestones and muddy rocks of the Lower Jurassic accumulated on the sea bed. These relatively resistant rocks form the lower terrace of the Blackdowns, upon which rest the often even harder sandy rocks of the Cretaceous Upper Greensand (about 120 million years old). Together they form the southern rampart of the Taunton Deane protective basin.

The Jurassic Sea

Throughout the afternoon, Derek illustrated his talk with fascinating insights into the major and minor ways in which Man has used the structure and constitution of rocks and soil to determine what activities should take place in particular localities: it was fascinating to reflect how, even today, the exploitation of the land is still subject to the same constraints and conditions.

©2004 Russell Gomm

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Sherborne Castle E Front in c.1750
(The walled garden was swept away in 1763.)
©2004 Sherborne Castle Estates reproduced by courtesy of Mr John Wingfield Digby

Over the Frontier into Wingfield Digby Territory
Sherborne Historic Buildings Trip, May 1st

We might have ventured into Dorset, but only a little way and, anyway, within yards the whole time was the Yeo—an alternative route home for Alex? Our morning was devoted to the New Castle, the afternoon to Sherborne House. Some of the party may well have visited the Old Castle in the morning; I myself walked into the deer park, from Haydon church to Jerusalem Hill, for a distant view of Raleigh's `lodge'—frustrated by mist, on May Day of all days—and a closer view of the roe herd.

Though it was our privilege to be shown those parts of Sherborne Castle open to the public, there can be few of us who felt truly entitled to that view and to tread those corridors and carpets of feudal and political power, privilege, plenty, comfort and leisure. Here was the home of Sir Walter Raleigh (`rawlee' is the approved Devonian pronunciation so carefully adopted by our guide) from 1594 and, from 1617, of Sir John Digby, ambassador to Spain; here had been kings and queens; here was the power-base of a major Dorset dynasty from which it dispensed good to the local public at the same time as exacting its allegiance.

The New Castle had a relatively humble beginning in 1594 as a `lodge'—in the words of a clearly enthusiastic Pevsner, `. . . one of the earliest lodges, those smallish, compact, but flamboyant houses which one especially associates with the reign of James I.' Seemingly, the original design was for a simple box, without the corner turrets designed in 1600 which do not bond into the main fabric of the building. After acquiring it in 1617, Sir John Digby added the four wings (at right angles rather than at an angle which Pevsner would have preferred as avoiding a boxed-in appearance) and corner turrets to produce the present shape by 1625. Sir John also added Renaissance details, including Tuscan doorcases to the original house, and gateways to the south and north forecourts. Modernisation in the eighteenth century principally affected staff accommodation and `drastic' restoration was effected in the nineteenth.

Colin Scott, our guide, took us through a series of rooms ranging in style from a reception-hall where non-gentry were dealt with in relatively spartan surroundings, to a boudoir where the ladies could retire to `sulk': judging by the fittings and décor, they could enjoy a fine comfortable sit-down in a south-facing snuggery with a table for refreshments to sustain their mood or, if there were several, their chat.

In one of his favourite put-downs, Pevsner thought the pseudo-Jacobean interiors, largely redone in 1859/60, `of no special merit'; however, there are noteworthy features, some surviving from much earlier.

Taking the rooms in the traditional order of public viewing as followed in the Souvenir Guide (well worth £5 for the photographs alone), we first visited, in the south-eastern wing added by Sir John Digby, the `Gothick' Library of c.1760 in `Strawberry Hill' style. Pevsner was harsh on the ceiling: `. . . in a Jacobean style, but too sparse and with flower sprays too naturalistic to convince.'

How I should have loved to peruse the volumes, no matter their dates and bindings! Here was a missed opportunity to gain an insight into the character and constituents of a standard gentry library as well as explore particular interests of the family.

Sherborne Castle from the Old Castle
©2004 Robin Downes

Instead, our admiration was drawn to the furniture (Georgian/Regency), woodwork and ceiling. One of our party, intrigued by a chair which extended to steps, was given a demonstration of the articulation.

(Of special importance these rooms, as their decoration held clues to the history of the house and family. It was a great shame that the flat roofing had led to inevitable rain-damage.)

©2004 Sherborne Castle Estates, reproduced by courtesy of Mr John Wingfield Digby

We looked at the Solarium, horribly desecrated by a good number of contemporary chairs for that afternoon's wedding—but at least we were allowed to sit on them. Originally the Great Parlour where Sir Walter entertained, its ceiling has retained its original Tudor roses set against oak leaves. Updating came in 1859 with Austrian oak panelling and a marble fireplace. Pevsner tartly noted: `[Here] Hardwick made his biggest show (i.e., in the 1859/60 refurbishment)'.

Just in case you should think all this wealth undeserved, there is the Digby motto on the lintel above the fireplace: `DEO NON FORTVNA'. In English, `[This came] through [the grace of] God rather than by Good Luck.' (I am not sure our guide was clear enough about the ablative case.)

The Red Drawing Room will be remembered for its original seventeenth-century plaster ceiling, bearing the Digby fleur-de-lys and ostrich as well as fish, dolphins with many kinds of flowers (a veritable heraldic riot), the Digby coat of arms above the fireplace (the ostrich with a horseshoe in its beak derisively to signify its superiority in battle over equine quadrupeds). Another memorable feature was the Procession Portrait of Queen Elizabeth I.

Gwendolyn Wingfield Digby's bedroom of the 1930s is now a showplace for the family porcelain collection, matching oriental examples with their English counterparts.

Sir Walter's Great Chamber, the principal room of the house, is now the Green Drawing Room. It affords wide-ranging northerly prospects of the Old Castle, across the East Lawn (formerly a walled garden) up to the Deer Park and Jerusalem Hill and across the courtyard south to Gainsborough Hill. As well as the notable ceiling, fireplace and furnishings, the curtains attracted notice: designed in about 1859 by Owen Jones, they are in remarkable condition for their nearly 150 years.

©2004 Sherborne Castle Estates, reproduced by courtesy of Mr John Wingfield Digby.

The Blue Drawing Room was succeeded by the aforementioned Boudoir.

(I wonder how the drawing rooms were used: whimsically or methodically, according to social groupings, season and weather, or whatever ? In any case, it must have been jolly useful to be able to fall back on another room when your usual was being refurbished or invaded by rainwater.)

©2004 Sherborne Castle Estates
reproduced by courtesy of Mr John Wingfield Digby, Sherborne Castle Estates

The Entrance Hall, Oak Dining Room and Kitchen displayed solidity rather than refinement. Here was the kind of masculine design and workmanship one expects from the Elizabethan-Jacobean period: very handsome indeed and far more liveable to my way of thinking than the multitude of fine rooms overwhelming what had originally been a relatively simple dwelling. Of the Oak Room, Pevsner notes the `complete panelled interior of 1620'.

Unlike the Old Castle, the New one could not be a fortress, as was realised in the Civil War: not the only example of it being in the thick of political action. That's what is so valuable about these visits: the houses visited always focus for the imagination the lives of significant families as well as national history more generally; they encapsulate so much history. `Inanimate' stone, cement, wood and metal are all they are, in one sense. But that fabric holds the lives of those who have inhabited it, no matter how briefly. The House keeps and remembers. I hope Sherborne New Castle will feel we respected it and all it means.

The Orangery ©2004 Robin Downes

Having previously placed half a frame round my own visit with a survey of the outside, I spent some time afterwards looking for details initially missed. Out in the back courtyard (the one with access to the offices, chiefly kitchen) I found two examples of game larders giving a fascinating glimpse of the domestic economy of the Castle which must have tied in with its management of the attached estate and farms.

It is a shame there is no public access to Pinford Bridge (based on an Adam design) to the east; one can get only a frustrating glimpse from the public footpath leading from Haydon church to Pinford Farm through the deer park. This was part of the eighteenth-century project to create a ferme ornée as destination for boat trips up the newly-constructed lake along the course of the Yeo.

Another missed opportunity (or, more sensibly, motive for further visits): to set the Castle into its park context and, in particular, the fashion for Capability Brown designs.

It would also be interesting to learn more about the life of the Castle and its inhabitants during the last century. For example, part of the park was the setting for an American Military Camp during World War II (the remains discreetly concealed now in forestry in the south-east corner near to Haydon church). The Military is also responsible for the horrible south prospect from the Castle—Timothy Mowl pulls no punches in his Historic Gardens of Dorset (p.87): `What is regrettable . . . is that the great amphitheatre of parkland to the south of the New Castle has been turned into a dreary, treeless agri-prairie, a parody of what Brown intended.' I have no doubt at all that those bare slopes must have jarred with the æsthetic sensibilities of some of our party.

At the time of our visit, parts of the south elevation were receiving some of the clearly long-term and considered tender loving care appropriate to the house.

©2004 Robin Downes

East Façade ©2004 Robin Downes

North Façade ©2004 Robin Downes

North Courtyard ©2004 Robin Downes

W Aspect, from across lake ©2004 Robin Downes

NW Aspect ©2004 Robin Downes

Arms above Main Entrance ©2004 Robin Downes

Ostrich Motif on E Side of N Courtyard ©2004 Robin Downes

Entrance to Stables ©2004 Anthony Bruce

©2004 Sherborne Castle Estates reproduced by courtesy of Mr John Wingfield Digby.

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Sherborne House ©2004 Anthony Bruce

The ghosts of Sherborne House were a lot nearer than those of the Castle. It seemed only the day before that the grammar school girls had had their last lesson there and had had to leave their beloved school. This extinct species had vanished, leaving behind their obsolete tools for the entertainment and speculation of archæologists. Their academic litter was everywhere: cupboards were still crammed with texts and equipment redolent of the period before the 1960s when change was anathema and high standards de rigueur: a poignant reminder to this former teacher of English of what it had been like when he started. (Presumably, all the books still `relevant' when the girls moved in the 1980s would have moved with them.)

Accumulated in melancholy abandonment were these testaments to a lost tradition: dry old copies of `the precious life-blood of a master spirit' (remember the Nelson imprint ?)—not just Shakespeare, but sober Johnson and intoxicating Byron, among the rest of the canon. As so many of the party commented: `They don't teach that any more.' Alex's face lit up when he unearthed an edition (not the one familiar to him, though) of that book of the Æneid he had loved at school. Sifting through all this detritus, we imagined a Lost Civilisation—the end of an Empire sharply

focused by imagining the very last grammar school girl gingerly descending that famous Thornhill staircase past his mythology; even if giggling at the frankness of some of the imagery, the lucky pupils must have absorbed osmotically some benefit from the High Art. (Or am I being too romantic again ?) Lord Digby's School had certainly been a fitting site for a `classical education' in the broadest sense.

Parts of the house are still used for work, chiefly artistic; indeed, the present hope is to restore the fabric of the building to a decent state suitable for a regional arts centre. At the moment, that fabric is rather sad, to say the least. Life left with the girls; it will be difficult to replace them. It's going to need a tremendous amount of work over a long period to rescue it from neglect; frankly, I did not get the sense that the County Council had spent very much.

Our guides, Jeremy and Katherine Barker, are clearly committed to the restoration of this house. Praising it as `the town's best individual house', Pevsner is particularly enthusiastic about the Thornhill staircase. This fine, well-built, eighteenth-century town-house could serve useful community/regional purposes, when fully restored. But there is much fund-raising ahead.

Some intrigue is provided by the north-west wing, which dates from the sixteenth-seventeenth centuries. Some of our architectural historians enjoyed trying to work out its original plan and features and subsequent alterations, on the evidence of a few interesting features—notably some fine beams.

Both the Old Castle and the House are remnants of vanished worlds—not even in today's ultra-conservative Dorset do the Digbys or the Wingfield-Digbys have the power they once had. (Or do they ?)

Our thanks for a good day out go to Ian Pollard at the Castle, Anthony Bruce & Alex Findlater of SANHS. My thanks to Anthony for help in the writing of the account.

©2004 Robin Downes

Detail of Thornhill Staircase ©2004 Anthony Bruce

Sherborne Castle

With the benefit of a preview of Robin's entertaining and sometimes provoking piece about our visit to Sherborne Castle, it is an easy luxury to add something.

For me, its style and drama were most concentrated in the Red Drawing Room. The procession of Elizabeth I is the noble and flamboyant painting that most of us know—but strangely theatrical as, with all her courtiers surrounding her in their finery and looking in the same direction towards the viewer, she seems to float in her throned cart.

An outrageous heraldic ostrich over the magnificent fireplace tips the luck out of a horseshoe with its beak, commemorating bearing victorious Barbarian riders into battle against Roman cavalry. One could argue that, although nimble and fast, the ostrich has a temperament and intellect unsuited to battlefield deployment—to put it mildly! Perhaps there has been some confusion with elephants? Another story, equally risible but more plausible, is that the ostrich in Old England was thought to devour iron. So, in the exotic world of heraldry the horseshoe, which nearly always has its mouth pointing downwards but nonetheless symbolises good luck, frequently appears in the beak.

Turning away from all scepticism to the opposite wall, a great gilded mirror both reflects and repeats the seventeenth-century motifs of the fireplace and is bordered by monkeys. The Castle's pet monkeys had rescued a Digby baby from a blazing tower, climbing down the façade to earn their place as heraldic supporters.

Below the mirror, the gilded top of a side-table is supported by . . . (Yes !) . . . gilded ostriches. But—most fantastic of all—the great stone window to the north frames the spectacular Byronic view of the old Norman castle above Capability Brown's wide lake. (Swooned . . . .)

Awoke to a different world: Raleigh's original entrance-hall and dining-room; armour; Stuart royalty in oils; smoke-scented fireplaces surmounted by prehistoric fossilised antlers; a table-top in elm, the twenty-two foot slab cut over four hundred years ago from the park; Sir Walter's own carver in solid oak retrieved from the Tower, so elegant and wonderfully fresh-looking still.

We thanked Colin Scott for guiding us with such knowledge and enthusiasm before descending to the museum cellars where we saw a magnificent collection of Civil War armament, records and some worked Norman masonry (including a corbel) rescued from the sacked Old Castle.

Sherborne House

From the moment we saw Sherborne House, we thought something was missing—something not quite right. Here was the splendid block of a classical town-house, sadly treated with its grey cement rendering and patches covering the ashlar. The rich yellow of the wonderful Sherborne sandstone showed itself only on the side walls, leaving us to imagine the splendour of the façade proper. The `gardens' were tarmac and undulating humps of weed and grass. Here Katherine talked to us about her research into the history of the house. Records are sketchy, but c.1720 several burgage plots were amalgamated by the Portman family for the site of the house; they wanted a stopping-place between their palatial estates at Bryanston and Orchard Portman. To ensure an open aspect, two further plots across the road to the south were acquired c.1750. A row of old buildings was sacrificed. Two maps dating from the 1730s (shortly after the house was built) show mysterious extensions east and west from the house. They are not mentioned in the 1726 Inventory; nor have they been seen since.

Having entered through the east elevation, we were impressed that the rooms were laid out in the grand manner, albeit scaled-down. We soon met the wonderful staircase, its strings let in with heraldic marquetry, shadow balusters and, all around, the trompe-l'œil theatre of Sir James Thornhill's mural of Diana's Caledonian Hunt.

Jeremy explained that his research had revealed the painter to have been a leading English artist—the first Renaissance artist from outside the Continent. Of his many commissions, his proudest were the great ceilings of St. Paul's Cathedral and Greenwich Palace. Here at Sherborne House, Jeremy detected Thornhill's hand throughout: the walls were panelled for the display of paintings; the upstairs rooms, being flooded with light, constituted natural galleries.

Before murdering the delicious cakes and emptying the tea-urn, we took a last look at the side walls: noticing evidence of an old roofline, we realised the enigmatic wings must have been magnificent colonnades which enhanced the main building and elevated this fine house to greatness.

There are numerous great eighteenth-century buildings in the British Isles in the restrained Palladian style which followed Queen Anne for comparison. In particular, the very grand Houghton Hall in Norfolk shows colonnaded wings and balustraded parapets. A reason for looking more closely

lies in the knowledge that it was greatly enlarged in the 1720s for Sir William Walpole at the zenith of his prime-ministerial career. So, one of the country's most prestigious projects was created in the wake of Sherborne House.

The Digby family might have felt a little uneasy about the imposing construction rising in the midst of their domain at the hands of another foremost family whose progress they could not impede. Even more than political power-brokers, the Portmans were kingmakers; they could reputedly (with several mighty jumps) ride from Taunton to London without leaving their own land. It can be imagined the Digbys were not sad when the house was sold and down came the columned arcades, deprived of their practical purpose of easing the endless loading and unloading of a travelling family. The building was reduced and leased out. Maybe the estate records, which would have illustrated the building's former grandeur, have been mislaid?

So, in a misty-eyed moment, one might fondly fancy, after three hundred years of neglect, this first-rate building being embraced by the many cultivated citizens of Sherborne for their own use and enjoyment (as they have already begun to do). Perhaps the town will facilitate the reinstating of the missing parts and thus fully resurrect the house? The noble arcades flying out to east and west, the colour and fecundity of the walled garden behind, the sculptural formality of the front garden, the gentle south prospect across the town enabling a perfect view of it, the house neither dominating nor competing in this treasured urban landscape but making its exact and ordered contribution, showing its own historical context: nothing less than a national monument, a palace in miniature.

This last July, the house was featured in `Restoration', the Channel 4 programme that invites the public to choose from a sad list of deserving old buildings at risk, and in so doing awards the winner with the finance needed for salvation. We hope luck will finally turn for Sherborne House when the results are announced in the Autumn.

©2004 Anthony Bruce

Thornhill Staircase Banister ©2004 Anthony Bruce

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On the Defensive after Dunkirk

Creech St. Michael WWII Defences Archæology Walk

led by David Hunt May 19th

On the 19th May I joined the group in Creech St. Michael to be taken on a walk around the area to look at the various pillboxes and other things that were put up as the defence line from the Bristol to the English Channel known as the South-West Peninsula Stop-Line.

We walked past the Baptist church and over the canal bridge, down some steps and under the bridge, where we saw some blocked-up holes that would have held bombs to blow up the bridge. We then walked by the canal until we came to a pillbox that had been built inside an old cottage. We were allowed to go inside to have a look: there were no rooms, only small windows.

Next we walked back the way we had come, to a small alley which took us to the road by the railway bridge, where we saw the remains of the base of a pillbox which had defended that bridge. We then walked along the road over a single-lane bridge, into a field and along a path by the river Tone. This path took us to another bridge which had formerly carried the Chard Canal over the river. It had four arches, one without water at this time of the year. There was yet another pillbox on top of the canal bank, on the south side of the bridge.

Then we walked across the field before stopping to look at some arches underneath the canal bank which had been built to allow the flow of floodwater but were later blocked to stop German tanks. We then came to a large pillbox alongside the remaining embankment of the railway branch to Chard. It had lots of windows of different sizes. Another alongside the railway had been disguised as a workmen's hut by having a chimney on top.

©2004 Robin Downes

We walked to the road and crossed over, where we were surprised to find the canal embankment had a tunnel containing a pillbox and a few bats!

We continued along the road and down a lane, where we met Mr Smith who had been a sergeant in the Home Guard. He told us lots of things they had had to do. I remember one was to fill a car with concrete to make a road-block, but the concrete was so heavy that the car collapsed!

We walked back up the lane, then down another to the canal, where there was a white bridge which was once a swing-bridge over the canal. We walked back to where we had left our cars.

It was a really interesting walk and I would like to thank Mr Hunt for a lovely walk.

©2004 Abigail Munson

It was a superb evening when David Hunt
showed the World War Two defences of Creech St. Michael (connected with both the Taunton Stop-Line and the village as an anti-tank island) to a party of sixteen including three children. They were shown remains of pillboxes—some in good condition but most concealed by vegetation, possibly more effectively than when they were originally disguised as railway plate-layers' huts and cow-sheds etc. Also visible were vestiges of tank ditches and barriers. Sadly not to be seen was the car which, inevitably but undeliberately rendered immobile by being filled with concrete, had remained blocking the Ruishton road near the Chard canal aqueduct until after the War: it had been an object of some hilarity, one suspects.

Seriously though, real fear of invasion after Dunkirk had led to concerted and feverish activity. Defences associated with the Taunton Stop Line were supplemented (as at various other locations along it) by those considered necessary to make an anti-tank island (partly out of a policy to create defences which would need minimum manning). David led his party more or less around the perimeter (in so far as that is possible using mostly public roads and paths) and gave a sense of the whole—as well as constructing scenarios of the pillboxes in action. However futile all this might seem now, all the preparation must have been plausible. One wonders to what extent the War Department really believed in the likely efficacy of the Stop-Line and its associated works! It would be interesting to access relevant contemporary records documenting discussion, decisions and orders.

Human evidence appeared at Brickyard Farm in Sergeant Ron Smith, who had been in the local Home Guard: he corroborated David's descriptions and enhanced one's imagination of what it had been like for a participant.

What it was like this May evening was very lush: a most pleasant walk along fairly quiet roads and through luxuriant water-meadows was enjoyed by all, made confident of their security by immaculate planning and most careful supervision.

Highlights of the tour included the road bridge over the canal which had been prepared for demolition (the evidence visible to the keen eye), the handsome bridge carrying the Chard canal over the river Tone, the various pillboxes sunk into the protecting earth or perched up without their original disguise and the unusually long pillbox built in a tunnel under the Chard canal by the Ruishton road (the extra space used for storage).

For the children David had organised an `I Spy' competition with matching books as prizes. There was a tie. It was a pity no more youngsters had participated in this archæological walk for all ages.

Obviously, David Hunt is the first to be thanked. But also present as organisers were Barry Lane and Chris Webster (whose Historic Environment Record web-site is a required reference for the subject: <www.somerset.gov.uk/her>). David also recommends:

<www.somersetpillboxes.co.uk>

<www.pillbox-study-group.org.uk>

©2004 Robin Downes

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Taunton 1100

The Taunton 1100 celebrations took place throughout May. This was an important historical occasion for the whole county and Local History Committee members were delighted to participate by sponsoring talks on all aspects of Taunton history. We had arranged all three to be in the Municipal Hall but the popularity of the first overwhelmed us: we were forced to turn away more than thirty after the capacity of one hundred and twenty had been reached. After hurried debate, the remaining were scheduled for the larger spaces of St. James and St. Mary Magdalene. Mind you, I would that the Society had such difficulty more often !

Our first talk had three speakers. The first, County Archaeologist Bob Croft, spanned several thousand years in taking us from pre-history to the recent excavations at Hestercombe of garden furniture. He used a wealth of fascinating slides of maps, hillforts, Roman artefacts and industrial buildings.

Steve Minnitt followed with a discussion of the little-known Saxon Mint —especially interesting for myself since Axbridge also had one. He reviewed the different styles of coinage, the production process, how (not) to find an ancient mint, the moneyers, the practice of cutting coins for smaller value transactions and the harsh penalties for debasing coinage.

The last speaker at this session, Richard Brunning, concentrated on the excavation of the Civil War Defences. We learnt about some of the poorly rebuilt walls, the location of banks and ditches, sieges and their archæological traces. Dramatic details included the skeleton of a Royalist soldier flung into a ditch and General Blake's four pairs of shoes, three of which he vowed to eat before he would surrender.

The second talk (chez St. James) by County Archivist Tom Mayberry covered slightly less ground than that of Bob Croft—eight hundred years merely— although he did include the signing of Codex Wintoniensis in 904 and the political context of that crucial event in the foundation of Taunton as an internationally significant town: Taunton had already been important to the Crown under King Ine, focused on its castle and nearby minster church; the Codex exchanged the Royal estate with the Bishop of Winchester's lands at Crowcombe in the west and at Banwell and Compton Bishop in the north of the county. His lands were, by 1400, among the wealthiest in Europe, second only to Milan. Taunton had been the `jewel in the crown'.

From this base, Tom toured local medieval life, discussing administrative and physical features of the town and satellite villages. We heard the not entirely holy language in which the Visitation of Bishop Bekyngton exposed ladies being entertained in monks' cells. This widely ranging review took in the inns and alehouses of the market square, the wool industry, the Black Death, local personalities and events, the grammar school (now the Municipal Buildings), the arrival of the Duke of Monmouth and the church of St. James. One observation stood out for myself: discussing the area's magnificent church towers, Tom pointed out that that of St. Mary Magdalene had been built for a population of 5,000. Could the current 60,000 he wondered, afford such?

The starting point of our last speaker, Robin Bush (`foreigner' as he dubbed himself) was that some things seem to happen in order to be discovered by historians. Citing such events over three hundred years, he described the possible appearance of the town in 1700 and mentioned they had reduced its members of parliament to two in order to ensure there were fewer people to bribe !

One major problem which he highlighted was that all the early borough records had been lost or destroyed, except for the 1677 Charter—which made it difficult to assess changes.

In the nineteenth century, systematic water-supply and sewerage effected considerable change, along with the development of railways. In the last century, the M5 motorway had been a comparably potent agent of development.

It is difficult in a short report to do full justice to all the speakers who gave such good value to such a good attendance. However, I hope we have managed to enthuse some of our audiences with the fascination to be gained from a study of local history. The Local History Committee is most grateful to all speakers and organisers.

©2004 John Page

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Rugbourne Farm Historic Buildings Visit June 12th

A group of SANHS members, led by Anita Sims, was privileged to tour Rugbourne Farm (in the parish of High Littleton, several miles north of Midsomer Norton, in the present county of Bath & North-East Somerset).

Architect Andy Patterson, its current owner, is undertaking extensive regeneration of this interesting three storey, double-pile building of the late seventeenth century. The exterior has dripmould string-courses at first and second storey levels; the windows have stone mullions except where replaced by sash frames. Each gable is pierced by two small decorated oval oculi but it is not clear whether they were originally glazed or not.

We were first ushered into a parlour whose ceiling is finely decorated with strapwork (four panels with central roundels and corner foliage sprays). A replaced section is a good match to the original, which itself has been strengthened from above. This room is separated from the entrance-hall by a curious narrow dressed stone wall, possibly re-used from another site.

Behind this room is the principal original kitchen with an opening for the former fireplace. A small decorated spice cupboard attracted interest, as well as an end bracket of what must have been a dresser in a similar style. The spice cupboard (illustrated on p.30) has pierced decorations, scratch mouldings and butterfly hinges.

A similar cupboard in the room above has cockshead hinges. Lower in head-height than later examples, a doorway into an adjacent bedroom had its original chamfered arris and decorated stop. The opposite bedroom, like the main reception room below, has a fine stone fireplace of uncertain date.

Apparently the servants' staircase rose from the back kitchen, close to the principal dog-leg staircase at the rear of the entrance-hall; part of it can still be seen boxed-in, at first-floor level.

Mr Patterson intends to open blocked windows on the second floor, whose lack of internal division is presumably evidence of a servants' dormitory. There was probably provision for storage in the roof-space ventilated by the previously mentioned openings.

Unfortunately, Mrs Patterson was unwell at the time of our visit. It is very much appreciated that our visit was nevertheless allowed.

©2004 Mary Ewing

[supplemented from the official listing description]

Endnote

It was recorded that in 1618 John Britton, occupant of Rugbourne, bought the lordship of High Littleton. Following his death, his son married in 1670. It is not confirmed, but perhaps the present building was erected then. Rugbourne Farm was tenanted as a farmhouse from 1690 until the 1950s.

William Smith, `father of British Geology' in the words of Adam Sedgwick, was a tenant in the 1790s. He wrote of working in the courtyard niches, admiring the elm driveway to the old main road. Needless to say, the elms have long gone but the inspired geological map formulated at Rugbourne founded a whole science—in the teeth of opposition from such eminent figures as Bishop Usher, who declared the world to be exactly 6,000 years old (calculating from the generations mentioned in the Old Testament).

On the way home, we briefly visited Holy Trinity at High Littleton. Although the medieval building had been heavily restored in Victorian times by the Tractarian Movement (alias the `Oxford Revival'), it had nevertheless conserved so strong and balanced a character that we departed in a perfect state of mind.

©2004 Anthony Bruce

Spice Cupboard ©2004 Anthony Bruce

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Dragonflies on Mendip Natural History Trip led by Dr Philip Radford June 19th

Philip has reported a successful day. Despite cool weather, good sightings were made of expected species.

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The Rise & Fall of Somerset Landed Families Local History Annual Symposium June 26th

Our theme this year explored families
which have made significant contributions to the political, social and economic life of the county. While `rise' proved a useful concept for interpreting the histories of individuals and families, speakers found `fall' less appropriate.

Kicking off, Dr Robert Dunning tabulated threats to the landed gentry, the quality and strength of whose genes would otherwise have guaranteed unchallenged continuity: poison, execution and foreign wars in the sixteenth century; civil war in the seventeenth; unsuitable marriages and alcohol in the eighteenth; imperial commitment in the nineteenth; world wars and death duties in the last century.

Of course, many successful gentlemen become aristocrats. (And several Somerset knights would crop up during the symposium.) However, the principal focus of the day would be on the `gentry'—on those sensibly avoiding aristocratic aspiration and content to be `public figures in a smaller world'.

Having given several examples of such families, Dr Dunning mischievously courted challenge in his firm peroration: `Is it my fancy, or is [not] continuity, rather than rise and fall, the strongest theme in Somerset's history ? I know the organisers of today's symposium will not thank me for raising the question, but the four great collections of family papers at the Record Office—those of the Luttrells, the Sanfords, the Wyndhams and the Acland Hoods—illustrate continuity in a remarkable way in recording houses and estates whose owners may have changed their names but whose lands have passed by marriage or inheritance and never by sale.'

Mary Siraut thought `rise and fall' more likely in fiction than reality. Her chosen family demonstrates the wisdom of moderate ambition: undoubted survivors, the TREVELYAN family can attribute their success largely to their own common sense and prudent providence.

Sensibly content to be gentry and not aspire to grandee-status, the Trevelyans have `married well' in the sense of going for money: that has ensured continued financial viability. Less wordly family members taking orders have been content to be humble parish priests. Not surprisingly, there has been little debt in this family; longevity and wise succession policies have consolidated well-founded stability.

Their firm financial footing far from merely mercenary, the Trevelyans have consistently cultivated genuine moral virtue and have been able to do a power of good. At home (principally Nettlecombe Court), they have been conscientious custodians of the land and humane landlords of their tenants—as shown in their commitment to good estate-management and improvements in husbandry. Even more significantly, strong humanitarian principles have been successfully applied to the physical, mental and moral welfare of people in their care.

Such enlightened attitudes and practices could hardly have existed without being nourished by national and international currents—intellectual, cultural and philosophical. Indeed, Trevelyans have been (and are) noted academics and writers, without excluding practical involvement in the Services, Law, the Arts and Travel. Their signal contributions to our benefit can be glimpsed in the material evidence of their properties, moveable possessions and publications. (The Library at their Northumberland hall at Wallington, now a National Trust property, speaks volumes for their cultural interests and achievements.)

Of Cornish rootstock, the Trevelyans first came to prominence in the fifteenth century. John Trevelyan's 1452 marriage to the heiress of Nettlecombe established an enduring focus for the family, which still owns the estate. From the Nettlecombe annals, Mary highlighted a revealing 1525 inventory of house and contents, deer-poaching disputes with the Luttrells and—suggesting either a rash reliance on neighbours or unaccountable ignorance of them, or just uncharacteristic lack of caution—their traumatic time with the Sydenhams: the latter family, having been allowed to rent Nettlecombe, abused their neighbours' trust by neglect of and damage to house and estate (tenants included). Eviction was necessary. One may well be puzzled by the apparent unwisdom of both families. Perhaps there was more to this episode than we were told?

Confirmation of their salient qualities came when Mary, in response to Richard Emeny's asking how Trevelyans had been transformed into high-powered left-wing intellectuals, summarised her evaluation: they never showed right-wing attitudes or a desire for aristocratic status; they sustained a humane concern for dependants (building schools for tenants' children, for example); their contact with reformers like Hannah More and Macaulay was formative; but underlying and supporting all their commitments was real pride in family and land.

The title of Alex Findlater's presentation, `Henry's Social Monitors', refers to state officials commissioned to administer the `Visitations' which, instituted by Henry VIII, continued until 1687. Visitations were procedures simultaneously to promote and control the acquisition of official gentility.

Henry VIII was faced with the consequences of the repressive rule of his father, Henry VII, the depredations of the Wars of the Roses, surging overall population growth (+10% in each decade of the early sixteenth century) and the increasing strength of the squirearchy on the back of mercantile success—all these factors on top of the perennial problem of the tendency of male lines to expire in three generations.

Social control in general was urgently necessary. Men of high status who had given their lives to the country in war had to be replaced by new gentlemen loyal to the Crown and prepared to devote themselves to political, social and economic stability—even to give their very lives in their turn, if needed.

Men are not like that really, of course, and, however much he needed to exploit less altruistic motives, Henry was shrewd enough to incorporate into his legislation mechanisms for countering merely self-serving aspects of vanity and ambition. Officials known as `heralds' had the job of visiting all aspirants to gentility to check them out—whence `Visitations'. The heralds went on their rounds, to be entertained by the hopefuls whose responsibility it was to produce proof of eligibility for gentle status (as well as generous hospitality). With time and natural escalation of work, this arrangement became unmanageable and assemblies were held (theoretically at the chief town of the hundred but in practice also at assize towns) to which candidates were summoned.

An illuminating account survives by William Harbin of Newton Surmaville on the Dorset frontier. Being summoned in 1672 all twelve miles to Ilchester was evidently an occasion for hurt pride: `[This Visitation is] more to grant new coats-of-arms to upstart families than to review ancient gentlemen's coats;' (his own family having acquired them all of sixty years previously) `neither any of the ancients appeared at all in our county, for I was the best that appeared at Ilchester in 1672, of thirty at least, and if I had not been a very young man, not above eighteen I believe, I should have not been there and parted with my money for nothing.' He had paid 39s/6d—c.£250 in today's money.

Status was even more important and sought-after than it is today. Sumptuary laws made it immediately visible to all and sundry. A vital prerequisite to legitimate and officially sanctioned gentility was `virtue'—not moral virtue, as we customarily interpret the word, but public, such as would be demonstrated by the holding of such offices as magistrate or sheriff. (Private moral virtue was less important in a society where display counted for everything.)

The methodology and thoroughness of Visitations, left to the initiative of individual heralds, were inconsistent. For example, all of a county's gentry was unlikely to be checked in each census; coverage was partial and spasmodic. Presumably, to be effective, legislation did not have to account for every `gentleman'. Equally, one imagines discontinuance after 1687 to be caused by its redundancy: perhaps the Court of Chivalry inherited and perpetuated the functions of Visitations; whatever happened, there is a strange absence of complaint from vested interests. (What happened to the heralds when this job stopped? Alex would very much appreciate any ideas about why Visitations ended at that particular moment.)

Heralds made one of three decisions about aspirants to gentility: they could be declared legitimate if they passed the tests; if they failed, but did not require gentle status there and then, they would be encouraged to persevere and try again; if, having claimed gentility, they failed to meet the requirements they would be publicly `disclaimed' (`named and shamed', in the current phrase). If such a denial was considered unfair, appeal was possible. Clearly, the legislation had been expertly and wisely framed.

Of the five Somerset Visitations in 1531, 1573, 1591, 1623 and 1672, the first two are incomplete and that of 1573 may have been begun in 1565. Printed copies were made of 1623 in 1838 and 1876, and of 1531 and 1573 in 1885. SANHS possesses the working copy of the 1591 Visitation by Ralph Brooke (v. A W Vivian-Neal in PSANHS 84, 1938).

Taking a different perspective, John Page looked at Cheddar village and its associated landed families. Rich local resources included the Royal Mendip Forest, mining, wool, mills and cheese. While a royal domain, any change in its

ownership necessitated a social drop. Subsequent owners, bishops of Bath & Wells, were absentee—possibly deterred by large-scale rioting in the 1330s. They created sub-manors which survived after Lord Bath acquired the ecclesiastical estate.

Seventeenth-century records of Parsonage Manor refer to subsidiary manors of Cheddar Episcopi, Cheddar Fitzwater, Cheddar Hanam and Cheddar Berkeley and one owned by the Vicars Choral of Wells. All these were soon to have absentee owners, including one suffering so much misfortune she was `on the parish' for twenty-five years.

Inevitably, these once royal and ecclesiastical lands eventually fell into the laps of rich farmers.

Richard Emeny focussed on the WYNDHAM family. Bearing in mind Dr Katherine Wyndham's emphasis in a recent farewell—`We haven't fallen yet!'—he contended that the success in this family's history suggests flexibility is at least as crucial as good health or luck.

Not that they have not benefited from the latter: John Wyndham (c.1500-1574), scion of a Norfolk family from Wymondham, ten miles south-west of Norwich, married fortunately when he chose Elizabeth Sydenham and bought out her sister. The house hitherto occupied by the Sydenham sisters, Orchard Sydenham, he renamed Orchard Wyndham.

It was an opportune moment to acquire such an estate: agriculture had been profitable for 100 years and it made sense to invest in improvements. Revealingly, techniques were so backward it was wise practice to read classical authors like Virgil (especially his Georgics), not so much for literary pleasure, but for practical instruction and advice for better husbandry. John Wyndham built an extension of the house to the north (demolished between 1780 and 1830) for their own use, appropriating the original for staff quarters.

His son John (1559-1645) looked after his succession by siring nine sons and six daughters; keeping out of the Civil War, he managed to preserve his estates intact. For his Royalist loyalty, Charles II gave him the clock still to be seen at the house.

Sir William Wyndham (1687-1740) was considered by Disraeli the most important member of the family so far. Partly through marriage to a Seymour but largely through his own enterprise and efforts, he became leader of the Hanoverian Tories and Chancellor of Exchequer in his late 20s. Thus does this family, by entering the aristocracy, veer away from Somerset and our focus on the gentry.

As earls of Egmont, Sir William's sons became the senior branch and lived at Petworth, making that the major estate (leaving the Somerset estate to the doubtful mercy of a bailiff who sold most of the portable property). They became patrons of the Arts (v. the Turners at Petworth) and aspired to aristocratic grandeur—also exemplified in the Devon estate centred on Silverton House.

Unfortunately, the third earl omitted to marry the mothers of his children, so the Somerset and Devon estates went to a nephew and the remainder to other family members. Thus were divided family and estate.

Contributing to the English diaspora, three sons of the Wiltshire (Dinton) branch emigrated in the nineteenth century to Australia and spawned many descendants among the new colony's élite. In the early pioneering days of course, materials and tools had to be shipped out from the home country. Fascinating letters documenting such traffic survive, which also contain recommendations for servants from transported convicts. Those letters read with extraordinary intimacy; one could imagine the correspondents to be within a parish or so of each other.

Inevitably and in common with all such landowners considered by a socialist administration anachronistically, incongruously and culpably rich, recent fortunes were adversely affected by the punitive inheritance tax of 19s/6d (97.5p) in the £.

Recent inhabitants of Orchard Wyndham have included William (died 1950), who was involved in historical research and philanthropy, and his succeeding nephew, who died young. These deaths were early and unfortunate for the Wyndham family.

Another aspect of the subject was revealed by David Rabson, in the history of Charles Bailey (1796-1858), land-agent to the gentry. Son to a tenant farmer of the Sanford family who had also managed the Nynehead Court estate, Charles succeeded his father in 1820 and became a professional land-agent and freelance surveyor.

From a relatively modest start working for the Sanfords (including re-modelling the park), he rapidly extended his business to include involvement with the Barnstaple Turnpike Trust, the Blaythwayte estates, works at Porlock Weir on railway and port facilities for the Knights of Simonsbath. On Nynehead Court land itself, he was involved with surveying and construction of both canal and railway. Simultaneously with his work on behalf of landlords, he administered tithe-apportionment—a conflict of interests hardly to be imagined today!

In 1838, Charles moved to London to manage the Sanford metropolitan properties (including land at Deptford earmarked for urban development). He lived in a fine house just off Oxford Street, in Stratford Place, but did not neglect his Exmoor link, buying Lee Farm (which he developed into what we now know as Lee Abbey) just west of the Lynton Valley of Rocks. He ran this estate as well as his London agency without neglecting work for his one-time patrons. After a busy and successful life, he was buried grandly (but less protected than his father in a humble plot hard by Nynehead church, I suspect) in Kensal Green cemetery. His move from provinces to metropolis in search of greater interests and profit may have been archetypical, but so was his retention of the idyllic coastal retreat (fitted out with the organ from Nynehead Court on which he had formerly learnt and enjoyed music).

David concluded: `It is clear that as a land-agent Charles Bailey was a highly skilled professional and no doubt ambitious. He played a considerable rôle in helping the Sanfords and others achieve their aspirations for their estates, but would surely have been pleased that he also left his mark on Exmoor at Lee Abbey.'

(The above report was compiled with the extra assistance of David's article published in the Exmoor Review.)

Our last session highlighted the PORTMAN family. Tom Mayberry picked up the `fall' thread, modifying the concept in relation to his chosen family by referring to its ebb and flow. The `flow' in this case meant the family moving out of the county but not out of financial wealth.

Orchard family roots can be traced to the twelfth century and the de Orchard family. Their lands were originally part of the Bishop of Winchester's estate. Christina Orchard married into the Portman family; her grandson William became very wealthy and influential, acquiring considerable assets at the Dissolution. During the Civil War, the manor was occupied by both armies; Sir William vacillated, having initially declared for Parliament. He escaped from Taunton prison; recaptured at the battle of Naseby, he died in the Tower.

The Monmouth Rebellion found the house again in the midst of the action: a Portman witnessed the execution of the Duke.

Recovering from the fine of £20,000 (c.£2m today) imposed at the Restoration, family fortunes were channelled into further acquisition of property. In the eighteenth century, Henry Portman leased 293 acres in London to accommodate the goats (rather a lot!) to provide liquid sustenance for his allergic-to-cows'-milk wife. 1764 saw the foundation of what would become the Portman Square estate and the assured continuation of good fortune. Meanwhile—back on the ranch, as it were—the Portmans were model farmers and interested in agricultural improvement, like other families featured in this symposium.

Heavy suffering from death duties was in their case exacerbated by the fraudulent depredations of Lord Goodman. Nevertheless, the London properties survived to keep the Portman family among the ten most wealthy in the country.

This had been a day full of variety and interest. Our grateful thanks go to all speakers.

©2004 Robin Downes & John Page

(supplemented with notes kindly supplied by speakers)

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Nightjars Natural History Outing led by David Ballance July 7th

Unfortunately, this event was hit by an extremely severe and dangerous storm.

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Somerset Archæology Fortnight July 17th-August 1st

This was a series of events for the family.

Somerset Flint Day Archæological Committee Practical Day
Wells & Mendip Museum, July 24th
Stone Tools in the Stone Age
Speakers included Roger Jacobi, Chris Norman and Jodie Lewis. Martin Green gave a demonstration of flint-knapping and Elaine Howard-Jones identified flints and other finds.

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Compton Dundon from Collard Hill to the NE ©2004 Robin Downes

Between Collards & Lollover

Compton Dundon Historic Buildings Visit July 24th

This visit was occasioned by the forthcoming publication by the Somerset Vernacular Building Research Group of the book on Compton Dundon in the Somerset Villages Series (probably £10—details in the next newsletter). Surveys of the parish's secular and ecclesiastical buildings having been accomplished by John Dallimore and Mark McDermott, those lucky enough to enjoy this wonderful day were privileged indeed to be conducted by these authorities.

Itinerary and group were divided into two: Compton Street and Castlebrook with John; the church and other buildings in Dundon with Mark. We did not visit Littleton, where is the only surviving manor house of the original three (the others having been at Dundon and possibly at the top of Compton Street, part of Tray's Farm). (An inventory of the buildings visited is given later.)

Before we set out from the village hall, John sketched the history of the parish and presented us with a map showing the position and age of its buildings. An astonishing fifty-nine have now been surveyed by SVBRG—a level of voluntary commitment which must evoke the strongest admiration. The terminal recording date was 1840 but a significant number of buildings date back to the thirteenth century.

The sixty or so vernacular buildings dating from the nineteenth century and earlier included on the map comprised nine from the medieval period up to the end of the fifteenth century (c.10%), six from the sixteenth, fourteen from the seventeenth, twenty-one from the eighteenth and the remaining eleven from the nineteenth centuries. Our guides mainly concentrated on buildings originating from the seventeenth century or earlier.

Dendrodating had been difficult at Compton Dundon because much of the timber is elm or fast-growing oak not amenable to the technique. However, one success was noted at Castlebrook Farm. The large medieval farmhouse (evocatively depicted in Buckler's evocative drawing in the SANHS Collection) to the south-west of the market area (now the main crossroads) has been replaced by a Regency building. However, the adjacent barn remains in good health, its three sets of true crucks intact and dated to 1283-8.

It was extremely useful that John and Mark carried with them a `mock-up' of the forthcoming book—with its plans, diagrams and other illustrations—so that we could better understand design and structural detail.

A welcome feature of explanations was that the `laity' among us were helped to make sense of architectural technicalities; structural design was constantly related to the ways people used buildings.

Naturally, local blue lias is the traditional stone, but we did see some hamstone detail—probably `upmarket' decoration.

Mark's intricate but lucid account of the church (sole survivor of three medieval places of worship) enabled us to participate in the exciting detective work involved in a thorough survey. Each intriguing detail held a fascinating story.

©2004 Anthony Bruce

For example, the greater elaboration in the window in the south nave nearest the chancel arch may be related to a nave altar being in the angle lit by that window.

©2004 Robin Downes

As another example, Mark suggested that the unusually ornate sedilia were so because of the prebendary status of the incumbent.

©2004 Robin Downes

Even after exhaustive study, many features remain enigmatic—for example, the tower arch. Mark invited our speculation on many details—such `inter-active' presentation contributing greatly to our enjoyment.

One of the more striking enigmas dates from as recently as 1872: the memorial east window, erected by parishioners grateful to their late vicar, Thomas Wayne Harrison, depicts Christ in Glory. That Harrison looks out of the composition towards the congregation seems incongruous. But then, other figures are not sharply focused on Christ, either.

©2004 Robin Downes

I wonder whether the intention may have been to represent Harrison's arrival into Paradise and to immortalise him shepherding his flock. His stern gaze may be seen as commanding us to contemplate the Ascension. (How confidently Protestant in its contrast with the pre-Reformation appropriation by the clergy to themselves and the Sanctuary of the Divine Mystery!) The more I consider this window (or at least, that part in the illustration) the more intrigued I am. Could anyone shed any light on its iconography ?

Talking of mysteries, as an appendix to his comments on Decoy Farm at the end of his part of the tour, Mark treated his audience to an imaginary wildfowling excursion in which he vividly explained how decoys operated.

On behalf of the SANHS Historic Buildings Committee, Anthony Bruce formally thanked John Dallimore and Mark McDermott for their expert guidance. We must all have deeply grateful for their instruction and entertainment; so many intricate details, each one fascinating and enjoyable for itself, had been assimilated into a coherent and comprehensible story.

We were also most grateful for our good fortune in being able to visit such a pretty village in lovely summer sunshine and light refreshing breezes. Some of us enjoyed excellent supplementary refreshment at the village inn.

©2004 Robin Downes
with additional material by Anthony Bruce

Inventory of Vernacular Buildings:

In Compton Street:
Tray's Farm, Lilac Cottage,Tudor House, Law's Farm, Withies Cottage, Old Farmhouse, Willey's Farm, Middle Farm, Chimney Cottage, Kerris, Orchard Leigh.

Around the former market-place at the cross-roads:
Crosslands & Castlebrook Farm barn.

In Peak Lane, in Dundon
Lollover Thatch, Lollover Cottage, Lockyer's Farm, Badger's Farm (now `Cottage'), Burt's Farm, Cook's Farm (now `House').

Tray's Farm ©2004 Anthony Bruce

Tudor House ©2004 Robin Downes

Withies Cottage ©2004 Robin Downes

Willey's Farm ©2004 Robin Downes

Cottage at cross-roads ©2004 Robin Downes

The Inn ©2004 Robin Downes

Lollover Cottage ©2004 Robin Downes

Compton Dundon from Lollover Hill to the SW ©2004 Robin Downes