Everything Comes Full Circle: The journey from family history to a PhD.

To most 24 year old’s a Sunday spent in a cemetery looking for the grave of a close relative you’ve only very recently learnt existed, wouldn’t be the most favourable option. But not me.  And this is exactly what I found myself doing a few weeks ago – the most recent development in a journey that for me began a decade ago. “If it hadn’t been for you and that initial letter 10 years ago, this wouldn’t have been a possibility” – a fact I was reminded of as we sat and had lunch at a family gathering last month. It was only in that moment I was reminded of where it all began and how long ago. All of a sudden I felt very reflective. Everything had come full circle.

My Grandad died 10 years ago this year and it was hearing his eulogy at the funeral that left me with a lot of unanswered questions, many of which I wished I’d had opportunity to ask him when he was alive. He was quiet and reserved man and so I suspect my questions would have gone unanswered. But all of a sudden he felt like a stranger to me, not my Grandad - a man who’d led an extraordinary life and yet one that I knew very little about. So my way of grieving and of fixing that became to find out as much about him as possible, from those who had known him better than I did; those who could recall his childhood, his military service and work.

Cue a flurried exchanging of letters with members of my family from all across the world, some of whom I’ve since had chance to meet and get to know; trips to archives where I would have my first on site researching experiences; and hours spent hours poring over census records, birth marriage and death certificates and all manner of other things, to find whatever it was I was looking for. It soon became about more than piecing together my Grandad’s life and I was charting the entire family history – on both my paternal and maternal side! A mammoth task and not typical teenage behaviour it has to be said!

I had entered into a world that completely enthralled me. I’ve probably said before that the study of history is much more than a hobby for me and this is exactly why. It’s become part of who I am and has helped me to understand where I come from and the people I’ve descended from. What began as shear curiosity and a desire for answers has blossomed into this incurable thirst for knowledge about the past; to learn about the lives people led and to understand the times in which they lived, whether my family or not.  

But at times, the personal nature of my family history research has been difficult and has led to some shocking discoveries and rather difficult questions. Every family has its skeletons I know, but you’d be amazed how many more appear when you start enquiring and poking around. I’d like to use recent events as one such example but it’s both a complicated story and a delicate one, so I will refrain from saying too much. Just that a recent effort to locate the grave of a close relative, a sibling of my cousin, bought to light the life of another sibling, one we had no knowledge of prior to that enquiry.

As the first person to be notified of this news I found it quite unsettling. It was as if I’d made an intrusion into a private family matter, I think because of the proximity. This all happened within living memory and that hadn’t happened too often with other aspects of the research. As you can imagine this ‘discovery’ has prompted many new questions and been surrounded with emotional responses, but where it goes from here is a decision for the immediate family. We did however go and find the grave and were able to I hope, offer my cousin some degree of closure and, in a way, re-acknowledge and re-claim the two children as members of our family.

My Dad has jokingly referred to me as “guardian of the family information” – and it sounds odd, but in way I do now feel a responsibility to make sure things are recorded and that everyone is remembered and talked about. Incidentally, this weekend marks the passing of my other Grandad and in a conversation with my Grandma about the difficulty of talking about passed loved ones I was struck by her remark that “to not talk about them is to deny them and we mustn’t do that”. And we mustn’t; death really shouldn’t be a taboo subject- we should talk about people that have passed and remember them as often as we can. But I digress.

I wanted to draw on this example because what made this whole experience more poignant for me was that it coincided almost day for day with the news that I would be doing my PhD come September. It’s been a decade since I began on this ‘journey’ (I know the word is so over used but I don’t know what else to call it) and I’m so grateful for where it’s bought me so far. Not only have the discoveries and the knowledge I’ve gained through my family history research helped to give me roots and to construct my identity, but they’ve given me a hobby and, I hope, the beginnings of an career doing something that I really enjoy. It’s therefore been hard to separate these two threads as it’s because of the family history research that I’m on the road to becoming a historian. And so everything seems to have come full circle.

I’m sorry for the reflective nature of this blog – it’s not as entertaining, I suspect, as some of the others which usually offer reviews or rants, as I suspect some would describe them. I just thought I’d share this rather emotional and somewhat exceptional journey with you – one that’s headed into a new chapter and one that I am sure, will only continue to unfold.

The Royal Pavilion, Brighton – A memory shattered as the truth is learned!

The Royal Pavilion, Brighton
Authors Own Photo

As I’ve probably mentioned before when writing this blog, my family history is something I’ve done a lot of research into and is an ongoing project for me. And one of the things that has really developed out of that work is the connection I feel to the city of Brighton. It’s where my Dad grew up and where his family have lived for generations; where as a child I spent time visiting family and somewhere, over the years, I’ve heard a lot. But in actual fact I haven’t spent a lot of time in the city. I visited the church where my grandparents were married and viewed the register, and had my first archive experience there, but what I know is largely second hand.

So a couple of weekends ago, as part of a trip to visit family, my Dad and I made a stop at Brighton Pavilion, for it had been on my “wish list” to revisit for a while. I had been before, but many moons ago and I couldn’t remember that much about it, asides from it being Indian in influence, having connections with the Indian Army during the WW1 and, I thought, had been a much loved summer residence of Queen Victoria. Like St Paul’s it’s a building I am just fascinated by and fondly remember, how around Christmas time, we’d ask that Dad drive back through the city, rather than over the hills, so that we could see the city’s Christmas lights and the Pavilion – it was majestic and exotic, especially when lit at night. Even now, something about it just captures my imagination and as we were heading down anyway, I asked if we could make a pit stop and revisit.

The thing is, the visit shattered all the memories I had – especially learning that Queen Victoria had sold it as she didn’t really like it, owing to the lack of privacy it availed and the fact it wasn’t large enough to house her growing family. I mean how did I get it that wrong? I can only think I had confused it with Osbourne House, but who knows! And, far from being Indian in influence, the inside is completely Oriental and its history is more centred on George IV and to an extent, William IV, than it is on Queen Vic. In that sense, the visit was incredibly worthwhile for it corrected those misunderstandings I had and allowed me to reconnect with a building that’s history fascinates me. 

So what did I make of it? Well, I was really impressed by the audio guide that is available in multiple languages for all visitors and they were really modern and easy to use. The information was clear, informative and in bite sized chunks which could be expanded upon by choosing further options. In actual fact, I’m not normally a fan of audio guides, I would rather make my own way around and read the information panels, but on this occasion welcomed the additional device, and actually without it I would have struggled to learn anything - the audio guide being the main way in which the historical narrative is told to visitors.

I just love this building!

At first, I wasn’t sure if I was a fan of this approach, but having spent some time thinking about it, I reached the conclusion that it is perhaps the best option the Royal Pavilion could offer its visitors. Let me explain my train of thought. What I was particularly struck by during our visit was how many of the artefacts and items on display are actually on loan from various collections or have been donated to the Pavilion by patrons. There are few original fixtures on display and as I learnt that, I have to admit it did lose some of its wow factor for me.  
It is still an impressive building with an interesting history, but that atmosphere is evoked more by the sense of place than what it contains. It made me think of Avebury Manor actually, another site where the place itself has significance, and the items, although not original, are given meaning because of the power that sense of place creates. Had I not been informed by reading the guidebook that these items had been donated, I wouldn’t have known any different; they fit in and they recreate the image of what you’d expect it to look like. So I don’t know why knowing of the origin of items changes that, it just did for me.

So the fact that the information is given through the audio guide, which can talk specifically about the building, its occupants and what it would have been like, gives you the history the Pavilion, rather than of the objects which have alternate origins. If the more mainstream approach of  using object labels and the like had been adopted, I think the history the Pavilion would have been lost against the history of individual items and not been what visitors walked away having learnt about. 

There is also a fair bit of renovation underway, The Saloon in particular. The curatorial team have gone to some lengths to explain this and have included a display which informs visitors about aspects of the process. But again, when reading the Guidebook, I was surprised to learn that this room has been under renovation since 2009. That’s six years and it is still a way off being completed. And this comes after other periods of serious renovation. For example an arson attack in 1975 destroyed much of the music room which then underwent a huge restoration effort, only then, when near completion, to suffer at the hands of the Great Storm of 1987, which saw stone work fall through the roof and require a repeat of the process.

Majestic!

So much time and care has clearly been put into the Pavilion and its restoration has clearly been a labour of love. I heard it described as “the heart of the city”, and the fact that such huge efforts have been made to restore it to its current state is amazing. I think for a community to be so attached to such a landmark is really admirable in this day and age – it’s a piece of history really cared about by the people of Brighton, the precedent for which began when the city bought the Pavilion from Queen Victoria in 1850 for the sum of £50,000.

What I also really found interesting was the information about the Pavilion’s use as the Indian Military hospital during WW1 and couldn’t help but pick up the guide on it. I think I’ve posted a blog about the Chattri before (another Brighton landmark) and it’s all connected – the Chattri being the memorial unveiled in 1921 by the Prince of Wales, to all Indian soldiers who died in Brighton. This aspect of the Pavilion’s history is one I also find interesting because of a family story that claims our Great Great Granddad West, a concertina player, entertained the Indian soldiers when it was Military Hospital. Now how true that is I have no idea, but it has sparked and sustained my interest in the Pavilion over the years.

I am really glad we took the opportunity to revisit the Pavilion but it does go to show how you take different things away from places when you revisit and that there is much more to be learnt that can be done in a single trip. It was only last month that I admitted my apathy to the Imperial War Museum, but perhaps it’s because I’ve been comparatively recently and not enough time has passed to allow me to visit and connect with it again. In the case of the Pavilion, this is certainly what happened. I had these memories of it from childhood which were completely incorrect but they had caused me to remember it fondly and encouraged me to visit again, where this time I learned more accurate information about the Pavilion and how it fits into history.

There are other places on my wish list I hope to revisit for similar reasons; nostalgia, curiosity and seeking blog inspiration among them! I just wonder, can childhood memory stand the test of time, or will it fall short, as it did here?

Medals: An act of remembrance or better best forgotten?

Medal Index Card of one of my relatives.

Within the National Archive there are over 5 million medal index cards for soldiers and other military personnel who served between 1914 and 1920. This included most British army officers, Indian Army personnel, British Army nurses, Royal Flying Corps personnel, Royal Naval division personnel and some civilians. 5 million cards, issuing any number of the medals issued to those who served in one of the most difficult periods in modern British history. And that is a figure which excludes those many thousands of records for the service men and women from the Second World War.

I started thinking about this topic the other day when I caught a few minutes of one of these day time auction shows and on there, they were selling a collection of WW1 medals. These medals had no connection to the person who was selling them and it got me to thinking what a sad state of affairs that is. These medals represent the courage and sacrifice made by our generation of grandfathers and great grandfathers, and yet here they are, detached from anyone with a personal connection and being sold off to the bidder of the highest price.

Perhaps it’s a rather sentimental view to take, but it is one I find quite difficult to understand. In the year in which we mark the centenary of this life changing event, to think that so many medals have been disregarded and have ended up in auction rooms or antique shops across the country is quite a sad thought. I suppose for me, it’s because we as a family take such pride in the medals earned by my grandfather and great grandfather, and for the last few years they along with a picture of them both (only one in uniform unfortunately) have taken pride of place on my Nan’s living room wall. For me they are part of our family story – the fact my great grandfather is believed to have arrived in Britain because he wanted to fight in the war and his native Sweden being neutral, marking a changing point in the family history. I can’t imagine them being given away or sold and would fight to keep them in the family.

With this in mind,  I got thinking about the fascinating project my fellow MA student Sue has begun, which uses the diaries her granddad kept during WW1 to offer a very personal insight into life during the conflict. The collection of memorabilia also includes medals, postcards and letters all of which are providing her with some wonderful material on which to base blog posts and with which we, as the interested audience, can engage. It is a really thought provoking way to think about one of those periods of history we think of as familiar, by emphasising the personal experience. The diaries were only discovered after his death, which in itself tells us something about what those diaries meant to him, but had they not been kept and treasured by Sue and her family, this valuable record would have been lost. And it's that idea that underpins my whole reason for writing this blog - the idea of giving away or disposing of something so valuable to a family story. Sue's project is a very personal one but it is also a very publically relatable story and I for one am very keen to hear more of William John West Taylor’s story as it unfolds.

Selection of one of my relatives medals.

I’m sure that Sue’s project is driven by a desire to find out more about the stories behind this amazing assortment of material and the people involved, just as it is with many of us who embark on our own similar family history projects. The genealogical revolution has really gripped the nation and there is an inexhaustible desire to know more about our own individual’s family’s past – so what it is that motivates some people to sell medals or memorabilia? Or worse, too throw it away? And what has led to so much of this material being ‘family-less’? I notice this is not just a predicament found in Britain, but remember vividly passing a stall in Rome which was also selling medals and at the time commented, how if I could have afforded too, I would have bought the medal, traced to whom it was awarded and returned it to the family – they are only small items but they represent so much and I think that is all too easily forgotten. However then on the other hand, I think well, if they were appreciated and valued by the family they'd never have been given up in the first place. There are also those  soldiers who actually sold them, so I guess as with everything, there are many different ways to look at this.

What makes this worse, for me anyway, is that some people have seen the commercial value in this and try to exploit the interest some of us have in our family’s past. Not so long ago I was contacted by a medal dealer who had acquired the medals of a distant relative of mine. He’d tracked this relative through Ancestry and seen my relationship to him and contacted me to see if I would be interested in buying these medals from him. I can only assume, others in a similar position were also contacted, but what a thing! I mean not only has he reduced this item to a meaningless commodity, but he was also willing to play on the sentimentality of those of us with an interest in genealogy. Now I know this is a livelihood for some people, but really? In my view these items are invaluable and should be treasured by families as a reminder of the contribution their ancestors made to two of the greatest conflicts in modern history and at such a prominent time in the ceremonies of remembrance we should really be remembering this.

Then again, as a final thought, perhaps those who were awarded the medals want them forgotten? I know in our case, those medals were hidden away in a tin for years, not displayed - perhaps that's what they both would have wanted? It's hard to say really isn't it - but to see them auctioned on the television just seemed disrespectful in some way.

To be taken to Sue’s blog please follow this link - http://fromshacklefordtothesomme.wordpress.com/ and she has also set up a Facebook page which can be found here https://www.facebook.com/shacklefordtothesomme?fref=ts. Do take a look and keep an eye out for updates on this very interesting project as it evolves.