Guest post by Kirsty Wilkinson. Kirsty is a professional genealogist, based in Edinburgh. She runs the My Ain Folk research service and blogs about Scottish ancestry at The Professional Descendant, here.

As most family historians know, although the UK government began collecting census information in 1801, the first census which is of use in tracing individuals is the 1841 census. However, there are a number of earlier lists of people which can help in tracking down our ancestors. These are sometimes known as local censuses, although most contain a lot less detail than we are used to finding even in the 1841 census and many do not contain the names of everyone in the community.

Scotland has a wide variety of population listings from the pre-1841 period. These include surviving extracts from the 1801-1831 censuses, church communion rolls, lists of adult males compiled for military purposes and miscellaneous lists created by church and civil authorities, as well as private landowners.

In Scotland, information for the 1801-1831 censuses was collected by schoolmasters. Although only the total number of individuals within each parish was required, it appears that some found it easier to keep a record of names to make sure that no-one was missed off or counted twice. Others may have taken the opportunity to compile a more detailed list of the population for other purposes. Examples of these early censuses can sometimes be found among Kirk Session records, family and estate papers and other archival collections, and many have been published by family history societies.

An example is the 1821 census for the Orkney parish of Orphir, which is among the Kirk Session records for the parish (National Records of Scotland (NRS) ref. CH2/1093/13) and is entitled, 'List of inhabitants of the Parish of Orphir 28th May 1821, being the names of the inhabitants, their occupations, ages, number of black cattle, sheep, geese, swine, ploughs of improved construction, carts and boats'. Only an age range is recorded for each person (a breakdown of ages was required for this census), but relationships between members of a household are shown. A typical entry reads:

Robert Wilson farmer in Upper Town 40 to 50, Jane Robertson his wife 40 to 50, their children, Andrew 15 to 20, Jane & Isabella 10 to 15, Catherine, Helen & Robert 5 to 10, 16 black cattle, 3 sheep, 20 geese, 2 swine, 1 plough.

Here, as in many Scottish records, women are listed under their maiden surnames. This is helpful for identifying particular families, especially in areas where many individuals shared a common surname.

There are some examples of true 'censuses', which list every man, woman and child, prior to 1801. The Kirk Session records for Tundergarth, Dumfriesshire, include a 'List containing the numbe of Souls in the Parish', taken between October and November 1791. (NRS ref. CH2/831/1). The purpose of this list isn't entirely clear, but it appears to coincide with the appointment of a new minister. Individuals are arranged by household and ages are included. Another example is 'List of the Inhabitants in the Island of Coll December 2nd 1776' (included in Coll Kirk Session Records NRS ref. CH2/70/1), which doesn't specify ages, although younger children are recorded in a separate 'under age' column.

Communion rolls can be found among Kirk Session records of many churches from the early 1800s. These do not contain the names of everyone within a parish (many list male heads of households only), but can still be a valuable source. Often only the more respectable members of the community were actually communicants and it is not unusual to find that a couple married in a church and had all their children baptised there, but never appear on the communion roll. Some churches used printed books with columns for name, place of residence, profession, date of admission and remarks, although it is rare to find all details filled in. The remarks column may note that a person had died, very occasionally giving an exact date of death. Communion rolls can be a useful source for migration, showing when someone came to a parish and from where (some note that a testimonial or certificate was received from a previous church). They may also indicate when someone left a parish with remarks such as 'gone to Glasgow', or 'gone to America'.

Kirk Session records sometimes include examination or visitation rolls. These were records kept by the minister as to which of his parishoners had been 'examined' on their understanding of the catechism. The parish of St. Madoes, Perthshire, has examination lists beginning in 1596 and there are surviving examples for other parishes from the 1600s and 1700s.

Lists of names compiled for various other purposes can also be found among Kirk Session records, although identifying which may be useful from catalogue descriptions is not always easy. An 'account of the population' may turn out to be just a number with no personal names, whilst a less promising 'list of subscribers' may contain genealogical gems.

One such list is that contained in the Kirk Session records for Tough, Aberdeenshire, and catalogued as 'Contributors to fund for buying the bell of Tough' (NRS ref. CH2/356/3). The full title is 'A Register of Such Parishoners and Their descendants as Contributed for buying The Bell of Tough Anno 1735', and in many cases, not only are the names and places of residence of contributors included (arranged in alphabetical order by surname), but also the names of their wives, children, grandchildren and occasionally great-grandchildren (cross-referenced to the families they married into). This entry for a family by the name of Elmsy is one of the more detailed:

Alexander Elmsy in Hay bog's was a Contributor in 1735
His Children by Isabel Bain, Alexr, John, Margaret, James, Katherine, Janet, William

3rd Generation
Alxr's Children by Jean Copland, Hannah
John's Children by Elizabeth Shirriff are ---
Margaret was married to Wm Cordiner in Templton, vide Cordiner

4th Generation
Hannah married to --- Mitchell in Little Lenturk vide Mitchell

William Elmsy in Demlin Son of the aforsaid Alexr Elmsie was a Contributor in 1735
His Children Jean, Alexander, Margaret & Isabel

The fact that it was considered important to note the descendants of those who had contributed to the bell suggests that this was not a church bell, but rather a 'mort bell', used in funeral processions. The descendants of the original contributors may have had the right to use the bell at family funerals without charge.

A similar list exists for the parish of Abercorn, West Lothian (contained within the Old Parish Register - OPR 661/3) with regard to the use of 'mortcloths', the cloths used to cover the coffin during a funeral. It appears that in 1763, several mortcloths were purchased by the parish, paid for by contributors. The original list of contributors does not survive, but in 1724 a new list was begun in order to establish which current parishoners had the right to use the cloths. Men had the right if their fathers (or grandfathers) had contributed to the original mortcloths, or if they had married a woman whose father had contributed, and in many cases detailed genealogical information is provided. The list also contains details of those who had contributed to the original mortcloths but who had died without issue or whose descendants had since left the parish.

Population listings can often be found amongst family and estate papers, as landowners, from time to time, felt the need to collect information about their tenants. These lists generally include the names of those living on particular landed estates, which do not necessarily conform to parish of county boundaries. An example of the variety of information collected can be found in a miscellaneous volume of the Seaforth Papers (NRS ref. GD46/17/52) dated 1812-1820, which contains a 'List of illiterates in parish of Stornoway' and 'Lists of best kelpers in Lochs and Bernera.'

More commonly, the reason for a landowner to want to know the number of his tenants was to judge his military strength. Such lists are often described as lists of 'fencible' men- that is, men capable of bearing arms for the defence of the country and liable for military service. In some cases, an age range is stated (such as men between 15 and 60) and some specify reasons for exemption, suggesting that these lists provide a fairly complete enumeration of the adult males within a particular area. Such lists tended to be compiled when there was a military threat to the country, including during the mid-1600s, 1715, 1745 and the 1790s-1800s.

In 1794, the lieutenancy was established in Scotland in order to encourage the development of local volunteer forces. The Militia Acts of 1797 and 1802 empowered the Lords Lieutenant to raise and command local militia and their records are often found amongst Sheriff Court or County Council records (mostly held by the National Records of Scotland). These records are often not catalogued in detail, making it difficult to identify records for a particular parish, but do contain lists, not only of the men who served in the militia, but also some ballot lists naming all men who were eligible to serve.

Edinburgh City Archives holds militia records for Edinburgh (ref. SL127), which include a 'List of Persons Liable to Serve as Militiamen c.1802' (giving name, age, rank, occupation, place of residence and observations) as well as ten volumes of 'Returns Made by Occupiers of Houses for Militia Purposes 1802-1831', which are forms filled out by men giving personal information and stating whether or not they were exempt from military service. These are not indexed by name, so a lengthy search may required to find any particular individual!

Other sources which provide lists of names of Scottish citizens include tax rolls (both national records, such as for hearth tax and the 'stent rolls' compiled in Scottish burghs), voters rolls and post office directories (many of which are now available online, here).

I have created a list of Scottish population listings (mainly from the pre-1841 period), which can be downloaded from my website, here. This is a work in progress and I would appreciate anyone contacting me with details of other Scottish population listings of which they are aware, or with further information concerning the lists I have identified.

For those looking for ancestors in England and Wales, Pre-1841 Censuses and Population Listings in the British Isles by Colin R. Chapman and Local Census Listings 1522-1930 and Militia Lists and Musters 1757-1876, both by Jeremy Gibson and Mervyn Medlycott, provide detailed information on surviving records. it's also worth contacting the local family history societies covering the places where your ancestors lived, who may have published transcripts or have knowledge of other population listings for their area.

The survival of pre-1841 population listings is extremely patchy. Some parishes have multiple lists, providing a snapshot of the inhabitants over several deceades, whilst others appear to have nothing at all. Where records do exist, they can provide a valuable supplement to the more heavily used genealogical sources, such as parish registers,  and are well worth seeking out.

The following extract is taken from The Lancaster Gazette, dated Wednesday, 5th November 1879.

"At the last weekly meeting of the Chorlton Board of Guardians, a few days ago, the clerk said that in the list of deaths at the workhouse, was one of a somewhat remarkable character, Charles Cartwright, aged 64, who had been an inmate for a good many years.

He (the clerk) understood that at the commencement of his life, Cartwright lived for many years in very different circumstances, and it was reported that he got through two fortunes of £40,000 and £80,000 each. He knew from one of Cartwright's apprentices, who was a friend of his, that he used to drive to his works regularly in a carriage drawn by four horses.

He was a man of considerable education, and it was interesting to converse with him. It was reported in the workhouse, and he never denied it, though he was charged with it frequently, that, in addition to composing little poems, which were inserted in the newspapers at Stockport and the neighbourhood, he was regularly engaged in writing sermons for some clergymen with whom he had a permanent connection. Cartwright wrote very fluently.

He lived very contently in the workhouse, where for some time he was paid for by his friends. He was taken out sometimes, but like a good many other people in the workhouse, he could not control himself when outside, and no matter what allowance was made to him he got through it. He had a great number of friends, and the clerk was frequently applied to make arrangements for his maintenance out of the "house".

At one time he had an allowance of £1 per week, and he used to drive about in cabs, smoking expensive cigars and dining in the most expensive restaurants. Mr Bailey said that not twelve months ago he was at the workhouse when Cartwright drove up in a handsome phaeton, smoking a cigar. He said he had been to see friends."

Guest post by Emma Jolly. Emma is a professional genealogist and author of the forthcoming book, Tracing Your British Indian Ancestors.

Britain's relationship with India was close but controversial for more than four hundred years. Increasing numbers of ships sailed annually to and from the Indian subcontinent, taking with them government officials, military personnel, engineers and labourers; and returning those on leave, or whose work in India was over. As well as Europeans, many Indians made the passage to Britain. Lascars worked aboard the ships, ayahs tended the children, and many high-status Indians were sent for a British education.

Amongst those arriving on English shores in 1855 was Dadabhai Naoroji, a professor of Gujarati who had been recently appointed to University College, London (UCL). Bombay-born Naoroji was the son of a long line of Zoroastrian Parsi priests. Through his intellect and hard work he became the first Indian professor of the prestigious Elphinstone College on Bombay.

Naoroji's energy ensured a life well-lived. Beside his academic work he founded a newspaper, Rast Goftar, in 1851, and involved himself in reforming politics and business. He became a partner in the cotton trading Cama & Co. with a fellow Parsi, establishing it as the first Indian firm in England. Through this he became a member of the Manchester Cotton Supply Association. Significantly, his commercial life was to have a deep influence on his politics. After leaving UCL in 1865, he formed the East India Association, through which he campaigned for the Indian Civil Service (ICS) to be opened to Indians and propounded his 'drain theory'.

The 'drain theory' has been deliberated and discussed by historians, political theorists and economists ever since. Full details of Naoroji's theory can be found in his text, Poverty and Un-British Rule in India (1901). His argument centred on Britain draining India's wealth and resources to the detriment of the Indian people. He blamed, for example, the sixteen Indian famines between 1860 and 1878 which 'had resulted in the mortality of 12 millions of people' [1], on the demands of British rule. In 1876, he stated that the amount of resources being taken from India by Britain 'is much in excess of such necessity, and goes far to counteract the good with which British rule is capable of conferring to India.' [2] He further alleged that Indians were the most heavily taxed people in the world and that this was in contradiction of them being the 'free citizens and natural subjects as if living and born in England' that they had officially been since the grant to the EIC of Bombay in 1660. [3] Senior politicians and thinkers of the time did not deny the existence of the drain. In fact, Lord Salisbury, the Secretary of State for India in 1875, was quoted as saying that 'as India must be bled, the bleeding must be done judiciously.' [4]

Although Naoroji spent most of his time after 1856 in England, he regularly visited the land of his birth. He took the role of diwan in Baroda in 1873 but eagerly left after a year to work for the Bombay Municipal Corporation, where he used the knowledge gained to build on his 'drain theory'. In 1885, Naoroji, along with Allan Octavian Hume, Surendranath Banerjee and others associated with Theosophy, helped to create the Indian National Congress. Naoroji became president of the association in 1886, 1893 and 1906, and was a member of its British committee. He also founded the London Indian Society with W.C. Bonnerjee, and the East India Association.

Building on his success in India and of the 1885 Indian delegation to London, Naoroji stood for Parliament as Liberal candidate for Holborn in 1886. However, not everyone was ready for an Indian MP. Nevertheless, Naoroji benefitted from the reaction to his standing. He gained public sympathy after Lord Salisbury, by then Prime Minister, stated that no 'British constituency would elect a black man' and that 'no-one who had not been born in Great Britain ought to sit in the House of Commons'.

In 1888, after some disagreement within the constituency party, Naoroji was adopted for Central Finsbury. Also in 1888, he established the Indian Political Agency. He became an establishment figure, regularly attending formal dinners, and official functions in London. At a dinner in his honour at the National Liberal Club in January 1889 Naoroji said that, 'it was the first occasion on which the British people had come face to face with Indians, and had told them that the pledges given to them of British citizenship were true.' [5]

Finally in 1892 Dadabhai Naoroji was narrowly elected Liberal MP for Finsbury Central. A major milestone had been reached in Anglo-Indian relations, and India celebrated accordingly: 'The native Press is jubilant at the news of the election of Mr. Dadabhai Naoroji. In honour of the event it is proposed to have a holiday to all schools to-morrow, to have illuminations and othe rejoicings, and to hold public meetings for the purpose of congratulating Mr. Naoroji and of voting thanks to the electors of Central Finsbury.' [6]

From then on, Naoroji focused his time in Parliament on Indian economic affairs and on opening up the ICS. The 1895 General Election was won by a huge Conservative majority. It was not surprising, therefore, that the Liberal Naoroji lost his seat - but by only 800 votes.

Where one door closes, another opens. And in the same election another Bombay Parsi, this time standing for the Conservatives, won the seat of North East Bethnal Green. Sir Mancherjee M. Bhownaggree was the son of a merchant but differed strongly from Naoroji in his poltics. His were milder than his countryman, and did not support Indian Home Rule. Bhownaggree had begun his career in journalism (at the Statesman), but soon became Agent for Bombay (succeeding his father), and in 1885, at the age of 30, arrived at Lincoln's Inn to study law before being called to the Bar.

Bhownaggree was mentioned in the British Medical Journal for 1902 [7]: 'Small-pox in Bethnal Green. - In reply to Sir Mancherjee Bhownaggree, the President of the Local Government Board stated on Monday that 136 persons had been reported to the Medical Officer of Health for Bethnal Green as suffering from small-pox during January and February. Thirteen were found not to be cases of the disease. The particulars as to the vaccination were as follows: 31 were unvaccinated, of these 12 died; 76 were persons above 13 who were stated to have been vaccinated in infancy, of these 7 died. The medical officer had no information as to the vaccinations of the remaining 12 cases.'

Whilst Bhownaggree was making his mark inside Parliament, Naoroji continued the polticial fight for Indian rights outside. During his time on the Welby Royal Commission on the Administration of the Expenditure of India 1895-1900, he argued that the Indian Military Establishment (beyond the Indian Army) was too large, and consequently too expensive, for Indians - particularly with the costly fighting on the North-West Frontier. He also used the opportunity to make the argument for an independent India within the Empire. Although critical of British policy, he was keen always to confirm his allegiance to Britain and the Queen. He admired traditional British values and honour, wanting a prosperous India that would be in the financial interests of both nations.

Just as the previous election had been a landslide for the Conservatives, so the election of 1906 was a landslide for the Liberals. And this time, Bhownaggree lost his seat. Naoroji tried to gain the seat of North Lambeth, but after splitting the Liberal vote, he came third. After this he served another term as President of the Indian National Congress, and was then advised by doctors to retire to India in 1907. He settled in Versova, near Bombay. In 1916, he was awarded an honorary LLD by Bombay University.

The following year on 30th June, aged 92, Dr. Dadabhai Naoroji died in Bombay. He left two daughters - his son having died in 1893 and his wife in 1910. Naoroji was remembered in The Times as 'the father of Indian Nationalism'. Besides this he left a legacy of liberal politcs and a desire for reform. As a proponent of female emancipation, one of Naoroji's slogans was 'educate your women'; in 1930, following in the footsteps of her grandfather, Mrs. Perin Captain was elected president of the Bombay Provincial Congress Committee.

The third Indian to enter the House of Commons was Shapurji Saklatavala, also a Parsi from Bombay, who took up the seat for North Battersea as a Labour MP, although he was an advowed Communist. The first Indian to take his seat in the House of Lords was Baron Sinha of Raipur in 1919. Sir Mancherjee Bhownaggree died in Cromwell Road, Earl's Court, in 1933, aged 82.

'To Mr. Dadabhai Naoroji will ever belong the honour of having been the first Indian gentleman to win his way into the House of Commons.' [8]

Notes:

[1] The Times, Friday 10 Aug 1888, p7, Issue 32461, col B
[2] The Times, Wednesday 6 Dec 1876, p6, Issue 28805, col E
[3] The Times, Thursday 27 Dec 1906, p3, Issue 38213, col C
[4] William Digby, "Prosperous" British India: A Revelation from Official Records, London, 1901
[5] The Times, Tuesday 22 Jan 1889, p7, Issue 32602, col F
[6] The Times, Monday 11 Jul 1892, p5, Issue 33687, col F
[7] British Medical Journal, 15 March 1902, Vol 1, No. 2150, p674
[8] The Times, Tuesday 11 Sep 1894, p6, Issue 34366, col A 

When considering the subject of health reform during the nineteenth century and the associated development of public works (particularly when focusing on the history of London and its environs), certain names will naturally arise to the fore, such as Joseph Bazalgette, Anthony Ashley-Cooper and Edwin Chadwick. Whilst each of these figures undoubtedly deserve their place in history for the vital contributions they made to reform, the recognition and credit that they receive often overshadows the achievements of fellow (and, perhaps, equally important) social reformers of that era. One of the most underrated of the Victorian reformers was Dr. George Alfred Walker, whose tireless crusade for the abolition of intramural burials and the establishment of municipal cemeteries has largely gone unrecognised to this day. Here, we take a look at this intriguing character and attempt to highlight the remarkable efforts he made to initiate change.

George Alfred Walker had been born in Nottingham on 27th February 1807, the second son of William Walker, a local plumber, and his wife, Elizabeth. From an early age, Walker had decided upon a career in the medical profession and had taken up preliminary studies in the subject well before he secured a position at the Aldersgate School of Medicine, in London. Having remained there for some time, he proceeded to continue his studies at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, before finally completing his professional education in Paris. Whilst there, it is said that Walker spent much time visiting the principal cemeteries of the French capital, purely for the purpose of noting their condition, having been "deeply impressed" by the horrific mutilations and upturnings of human remains in the small graveyards of his native place. With these thoughts being ingrained in his mind from youth, the subject of interment and the relationship between burial and public health was to become a burning issue for Walker for much of his life.

On his return to London in 1836, whilst conducting a successful surgery at Drury Lane, he persisted to dedicate his remaining time to investigating and researching the effects of intramural burial on the welfare of the city. In this work, Walker left no stone unturned. A brief account featured in Men of the Time, published at the time of his death many years later, noted that "his way of life lay among the squalid streets and pestilential alleys and foetid back slums of a densely peopled neighbourhood, festering in the midst of which were several of the most revolting gravepits in the metropolis." As he went, Walker meticulously and resolutely gathered a mass of evidence, which was eventually to be published as Gatherings from Graveyards: Particularly those of London, in 1839. In this work, he attempted to convey as best he could the strong impressions the arduous task left upon him:

"My reflections upon leaving the masses of corruption here exposed, were painful in the extreme; I want language to express the intense feelings of pity, contempt and abhorrence I experienced. Can it be, thought I, that in the nineteenth century, in the very centre of the most significant city in the universe, such sad, very sad mementos of ignorance, cupidity and degraded morality, still exist?"

One of the most prominent cases of this 'degraded morality' was the notorious Enon Chapel, which lay situated on the Western side of St. Clement's Lane, surrounded on all sides by houses and "crowded by inhabitants, principally of the poorer classes." This building had been used as a place of public worship since about 1823 and had contained a vault below, which was used as a burying place; the two levels being separated by a simple, boarded floor. Walker tells us that, on investigation, the vault was found to be crammed with corpses from floor to ceiling, with the uppermost bodies only being covered by a mere few inches of earth. Recent alterations to a makeshift sewer, which had run at an angle through the vault, had disturbed many of the bodies and left them in a horribly mutilated state.

As a result, the stench arising from the floor of the chapel was "frequently intolerable" and one informant stated that "he had a peculiar taste in his mouth during the time of worship, and that his handkerchief was so offensive, that immediately on his return home, his wife used to place it in water." Unusual, black insects were soon to be found crawling and flying about the chapel in vast numbers, particularly during the summer months, which children attending Sunday School there soon began calling "body bugs". Meanwhile, nearby residents complained of the terrible rat infestations which plagued the surrounding dwellings and local undertakers noted how the area had been notorious for "body snatchers" some years previous. 

Yet, Enon Chapel was but a microcosm of a much wider issue. All throughout London and beyond, he found that the small, parochial graveyards and church vaults were rapidly becoming full, creating a serious hazard to public health and a crisis which, Walker felt, could not be ignored any longer. To alleviate the problems, he strongly recommeneded the establishment of municipal cemeteries at a suitable distance from towns and cities, which would remove the immediate dangers of housing the dead amongst the living. However, he knew this would not take place without the hand of those in power:

"I am so fully convinced of the necessity for legislative interference to destroy the present dangerous system of inhumation, that I hesitate not to express my opinion, that the Government of the country will ultimately be driven to the adoption of means for enforcing the prohibition of interment in the vicinity of the living."

To some extent, Walker succeeded in drawing attention to this cause, particularly from the medical profession, who appear to have applauded and greatly respected his labours. In 1840, he was called as a principal witness to the Select Committee of the House of Commons on the Health of Towns and, in the ensuing years, continued to gather further evidence on the topic, which he published in a series of books. Due to this apparent fascination with and commitment to the dead, he soon became known as 'Graveyard' Walker. However, despite his ongoing efforts to produce the necessary evidence and his reluctance to admit defeat in a cause which he believed so vehemently in, his suggestions appear to have been bluntly ignored. Whilst some companies gradually began to 'cash in' on the burial crisis by establishing private cemeteries on the outskirts of the metropolis (such as the London Cemetery Company, responsible for the construction of the Highgate and Nunhead cemeteries), it wasn't until the Metropolitan Burial Act was passed in 1852 that the Government finally took control by establishing a system of public cemeteries. 

Having continued in surgery at Drury Lane for many years, Walker eventually retired to Ynysfaig House in Barmouth, North Wales. Following a short illness, he died at his residence on 6th July 1884, having reached the age of 77. In retirement, he had continued to write on an array of medical subjects, including skin conditions, ulcers, gout and rheumatism and for his contributions to medicine, he was later offered the Fellowship of the College of Surgeons, which he modestly declined. Yet, his work in initiating reform in intramural burial practices has never truly been appreciated. Some years later, an acquaintance wrote in his memoirs, "it was chiefly owing to agitation inaugerated by him, and sustained by his exertions, that interments in London graveyards were made illegal. London has never properly recognised the debt of gratitude it owes to George Alfred Walker, the Drury Lane doctor."

Dress history and portrait images are my joint passions relating to the past, and the two complement each other perfectly in my line of work, which must be as fascinating and fulfilling as any job can be. It all began in 1987: having finished a BA History degree and declining tempting offers from Oxford and Cambridge to read Medieval Archaeology (another story...), I threw together a last-minute application to study for an MA degree in the History of Dress at the Courtauld Institute of Art, University of London. Being a late applicant and also a polytechnic graduate (then unheard of in those hallowed walls), imagine my surprise to be selected as one of just eight students for a place on the full-time, two-year course at such a prestigious art establishment. The next two years were to set me on an irreversible path.

Studying dress history:

Studying advanced dress history at the Courtauld Institute of Art was a life-changing experience, and not only because of the palatial college setting, complete with marble floors, sweeping staircases, vast fireplaces, elegant statues and chandeliered, panelled library - a world away from the beer-drenched, SWP-dominated Student Union bar at the Polytechnic of North London, although both had their own charms! The course syllabus was vast, immensely challenging, yet enthralling and unforgettable: covering the entire history of western fashion, from Ancient Greece to the late 20th century, it also taught special occupational attire, theatrical costume and regional clothing styles - anything and everything to do with dress history. We students routinely attended two-and-a-half-hour long lectures, scrutinised and memorised hundreds of new portrait images every week and dashed into libraries and record offices to prepare seminar papers about dress in sources as diverse as the dubious memoirs of the Marquis de Sade and indecipherable medieval wardrobe accounts. We also visited costume and textile collections up and down the country, going behind the scenes to handle objects and learn about construction and conservation, and enjoyed a trip to Copenhagen, to view early surviving court dress. The eight of us on the course came from various backgrounds and from four nations, including two American students, one Icelandic and one Spanish, but several of us became firm friends and have remained so since.

Royalty, travel and a wedding outfit:

As newly-qualified dress historians, we entered an exciting and cosmopolitan world, in those heady days before regular work commitments and domestic responsibilities. Following university, two fellow students were employed to catalogue the wardrobe collections of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor (Edward and Mrs. Simpson), following private purchase of the contents of the deceased Duchess's home in the Bois de Boulogne. During their year-long project, other colleagues and I enjoyed frequent visits to Paris and were party to fascinating, 'unofficial' revelations about the Duchess's fashion-house accessories, last used in the 1960s, and her ancient, faded lingerie - not to mention the curious pockets and ingenious garment linings personally devised by the Duke and expertly sewn inside his snazzy 1930s Savile Row suits.

After the MA degree, I began research towards a doctoral thesis on the dress of the British in early colonial India and was awarded a grant to visit India to view the 18th and 19th century portraits and study indigenous historic dress and textile collections. Having been to India previously for two months, when an undergraduate student, I was used to the hectic environment and the way things were done (or not done) there, but will never forget the numbing back-to-back overnight train journeys in Third Class carriage compartments as I travelled alone between touristy Delhi, non-touristy Ahmedabad, sacred Varanasi and heaving Calcutta, on a miniscule budget and within tight time restrictions.

In 1993, a dress historian friend - a professional period costumier - rashly agreed to collaborate with me on designing and making my 1910s-inspired wedding outfit: this turned into both an education into shopping for clothes the traditional way and a labour of love, as we scoured the Indian sari shops of Southall and Chinese silk warehouses of the East End for materials, hunted down trimmings in poky, Dickensesque Berwick Street haberdashery shops, found a wonky hat in Covent Garden that my friend then dyed to match the fabric and finally had Louis-heeled button boots made to measure by an old London bespoke shoe makers. The final days before the wedding found my 'favourite little dressmaker' (to use a phrase from the past) finishing the outfit by hand in Rome, bizarrely while working on the film set of that year's PG Tips advert - stitching tiny beads onto my fragile jacket edges, in between sewing buttons back onto miniature buttons ripped off in abandon by playful chimpanzees. I promised to behave more sedately in my new ensemble...

Working with dress and portraits:

Such specialised, in-depth academic training as the History of Dress inevitably leads to certain types of work: job possibilities are varied but there is no clear career path and gaining suitable employment can be a question of pursuing useful contacts, voluntary work, good fortune, ingenuity and sheer hard work and determination. Some colleagues have become respected curators of museum costume and textile collections, some teach fashion design students or design history students at university and others design and/or make costume for films, theatre or television. After completing the course, through my doctoral research I became involved in organising and writing catalogue entries for the fabulous The Raj: India & the British, 1600-1947 exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery, London (1990-91) and from that temporary project happily secured a permanent position as an Archive Assistant at the gallery's Heinz Archive & Library.

At the NPG I worked increasingly with historical portraits in all media, but without straying far from the dress aspect that had led me there in the first place, often using my knowledge to help with portrait queries in which clothing played a prominent role. The most high profile of these was the highly-publicised case of the controversial Rice portriat supposedly portraying Jane Austen when a girl - a series of increasingly heated 'discussions' between the art establishment, the Jane Austen Society and other interested parties. Around that time, I also completed various freelance projects, including costume research for the re-presentation of the Tudor kitchens at Hampton Court Palace and researching and designing Victorian nightgowns for the retail chain, Past Times. Random dress queries continue to come my way now, for example, advising historical novelists on good sources for the dress of different eras. Some questions are unusual and unexpected, like what was the date of the  (cobwebby) Victorian child's skirt found by a local builder down the back of a neighbour's chimney breast last year - impossible!

Connecting dress and family history:

Since going freelance, I have tended to work mainly in the family history arena, writing books, fashion history articles and photo dating columns for magazines, hosting workshops and photo dating sessions, giving talks and also providing private picture dating /analysis services via my website. I have met some wonderful genealogists and family history professionals, our paths crossing regularly on Twitter, Facebook, in magazines and at public events such as the annual Olympia show, although I always emphasise that I am not in any way a genealogist: tracing family history is essentially a different discipline to mine. However, since in-depth dress history knowledge is invaluable and, I would argue, essential when determining an accurate time frame for undated and unidentified portrait images - be they family photographs, silhouettes, drawings or paintings - there is a natural connection between my kind of expertise and the pictoral aspects of family history research. Family historians also enjoy learning about the history of dress in a general sense, as this helps them to envisage what ancestors would have looked like in different ereas and to understand how forebears acquired and cared for their garments. Dress provides a very direct link between the present and the past: after all, we as humans have always had to get up in the morning and put a set of clothes on for the day - garments for modesty, warmth and sometimes display that we have bought or made, washed, dried and stored when not wearing. Since most of our forebears were fairly humble working folk, I am interested in writing about and teaching the history of ordinary clothes and practical work garments, as well as the more glamorous and aesthetically-appealing aspects of high fashion.

Picture insights and mysteries:

Dating photographs and artworks is one thing, but often it is what they represent - the stories behind them - that really grabs the attention. I am always keen to learn any known background details behind a portrait, as this brings a real, human dimension to the image and may well have a significant bearing on its interpretation. I feel privileged to have been permitted an insight into the histories of many families through their surviving pictures, including tales of the personal events and experiences of past generations - both good and bad. For example, rags to riches and riches to rags situations may be expressed only too potently in photographs, while in some collections wonderful sequences of portraits record the major stages of a person's life, from birth to retirement, even death. Sometimes an accurately dated image reveals a wealth of unexpected information about a family's past, for example, pregnancies and babies' births that were never recorded, a surprise geographical location for an ancestor, or an unforeseen line of work - these are just a few of the surprises that may result from professional picture dating and analysis.

Most interesting to all of us, I believe, are those portraits that embody a curious feature or that demand some serious detective work to unravel their hidden secrets. For example, I have come across several photographs that have been deliberately torn in half, so as to quite literally leave someone out of the picture - usually a spouse, presumably following a dramatic breakdown in marital relations, although we may only guess at the precise circumstance of the split. In one case, a pre-WW1 photograph of a well-dressed little girl was passed down the generations along with a mysterious painting that had been a gift, linking intriguing family rumours concerning a Russian duchess, her Paris-based English nanny and an unidentified benefactor. Another photograph from a large collection, dating from the early 1870s, shows a mysterious headdress that, so far, four museum curators and I have failed to positively identify, although we suspect a possible Eastern European folk origin - a connection that the family cannot possibly explain. The mystery has yet to be resolved...

The watercolour painting above, which features in my latest book, How to Get the Most from Family Pictures (Society of Genealogists, 2011), had a more successful outcome and shows how accurate dating using dress clues, informed guesswork and further checking of evidence led to a new interpretation of the image and discovery of a poignant explanation behind its creation. This family group scene was originally presented as an artwork dating from at least 1858, based on the fact that the mother, who died in that year, was absent from the picture. My suggestion of a slightly earlier date in the early-mid 1850s, judging from the children's clothing styles, was then supported by the family researcher's realisation that the toddler (far right) was this family's eighth child, born c.1853, and that their ninth child was not present in the painting. The 1854-55 date that was now emerging for the picture led me to wonder whether it may have coincided with the departure of the father, a Colonel with the 56th Regiment, for the Crimean War. Online research confirmed that his regiment entered the war at the time of the Siege of Sevastopol, September 1854-September 1855. So, the visual evidence and family records, combined with historical fact, all pointed to the likelihood that the scene, painted from life and depicting a doting father surrounded by his young sons and daughters, was a war-related departure picture, created just before his journey overseas and involvement in a military campaign from which he might not return. Only one question remained: why wasn't the officer's wife and the children's mother present in the painting? Having been researching amateur artists for the book and learning how genteel ladies with artistic training often sketched and painted their family members and friends, it crossed my mind that she may actually have been the observer and artist. Many surviving artworks are not signed and there was no inscription on the front of this picture, but when the owner studied the back again, there in the faintest writing was her name: the wife and mother was the artist responsible for painting this charming and intimate family scene.

Admittedly, relatively few portraits offer such possibilities for extended analysis and interpretation, but the pictures keep coming and every one has its own story to tell. I suspect I'll still be prattling on about dress and visual imagery for many years to come! 

Guest post by Suzie Grogan. Suzie is a freelance researcher, writer and author of the popular blog, No Wriggling Out of Writing.

In April 1944, as the Second World War reached a critical phase, a memo passed from Winston Churchill to Herbert Morrison at the Home Office. Why, Churchill asked, had the Witchcraft Act of 1735 been used at a recent trial at the Old Bailey? Why had a Recorder been called and a witness accommodated in London for two weeks at great expense?

Churchill was known on occasion to be superstitious, interested in pagan beliefs and perhaps willing to accept spiritualism as a religion in its own right, at a time when Spiritualist church was establishing itself in Britain following success in the US. The memo suggests a concern at the cost of the trial. However, many believed and continue to maintain that his concerns were much more serious, involved MI5 and actually lay at the heart of the war effort.

Why was Churchill so interested in the trial of Helen Duncan, an unprepossessing woman in late middle age, accused only of tricks that she and other so-called 'psychics' and fake mediums had been playing on vulnerable minds for centuries?

Helen McFarlane was born at Callander, Scotland, in 1897. The family was not desperately poor but she grew up in an austere, Presbyterian environment and when Helen began to experience moments of 'clairvoyance' when she was just seven, her mother warned her to keep them secret. Her town was still one where omens and second sight was treated with seriousness and prurient interest.

Pregnant and unmarried, Helen was banished to Dundee on the outbreak of the First World War and gave birth to the first of her eight children. In 1916, she married Henry Duncan, a superstitious young war veteran who, invalided out of the army, became keenly supportive of his wife's apparent psychic talents. By 1926, she was offering her first 'sittings', impressing relatives of the deceased with emissions of 'ectoplasm' (a white, stringy substance supposed to enable a spirit to interact with the physical universe).

As her fame as a medium grew, she travelled around Britain offering her services, and those of her spirit guide 'Peggy', in Spiritualist churches and private homes. Across every strata of society during the inter-war period, the number of expressed 'psychics' boomed to meet the apparent needs of grieving families. However, sceptics were on Helen Duncan's tail and, in 1931, the London Spiritual Alliance denounced her as a fraud. In 1933, she was charged at Edinburgh Sheriffs Court with 'affray' and as a 'fraudulent medium'. Found guilty only of affray, she was sentenced to a fine of £10 or one month imprisonment. Those that believed in her talent - embellished by props or otherwise - continued to support her work. Helen Duncan was simply another in the long line of spiritualist mediums first embraced by the Victorians - hokum perhaps, illusion almost certainly but in an age of scientific materialism, a challenge to be embraced by the scientific establishment.

So, eminent scientists continued to try and establish the truth behind the phenomena. In 1934, the National Laboratory of Psychical Research paid Helen to 'perform' under scientific conditions after a sample of the ectoplasm gathered from one of her sittings was found to be mostly egg white. Harry Price, a psychic researcher who courted controversy himself, found that Duncan's spirit manifestations were actually strips of cheesecloth that had been swallowed and regurgitated. She responded to Price's tests with a violence that called their accuracy into question and believers still claimed to have witnessed events that trickery could not explain. But what happened in the next decade to ensure that this woman aroused interest at the very top of the War Cabinet?

It was in November 1941, when Helen held a seance in Portsmouth that she first came to the notice of the government. That month, the battleship HMS Barham had been sunk by a German submarine with the loss of 862 crew members. Families of the men were informed of the death in the strictest confidence, but at the time of the seance, no public announcement of the loss had been made. Helen should not have known of the sinking. Although versions of the events vary, it is said that, at this seance, the spirit of a dead sailor materialised for his mother, with the name of HMS Barham on his cap-band. Portsmouth police and the navy began to take an interest. Helen and her supporters were becoming more brazen and the hoaxes more ridiculous but the mixture of fear at her sources of information and the knowledge that vulnerable people were being defrauded meant that the case was taken seriously. Two naval lieutenants attended a seance on 14th January 1944 and on 19th January 1944, and police arrested her at another seance. A white shrouded apparition turned out to be Helen herself, covered in a cloth. She was found in possession of a cap-band with HMS Barham sewn into it.

She was initially charged under section 4 of the Vagrancy Act 1824, a minor offence tried by magistrates. However, the authorities, regarding the case as more serious and perhaps wishing to make an example of Helen, discovered section 4 of the Witchcraft Act 1735, which covered fraudulent "spiritual" activity, triable before a jury. Contrary to popular belief that she was the last to be charged as a witch in Britain, she was actually accused of 'procuring spirits' and seven counts were put before the jury, two of conspiracy to contravene the Witchcraft Act, two of obtaining money by false pretences, and three of public mischief. Helen stood trial with members of the Portsmouth Psychic Centre, who had encouraged, or perhaps exploited, her work.

The trial was a cause celebre in wartime Britain. Rumours and conspiracy theories still abound. Why did the authorities choose to treat Helen Duncan as such a threat? Why were they so keen to charge her with a more serious offence when there were, by this time, countless supposed 'psychics' exploiting those desperate to remain in touch with lost loved ones? The answer may be in the air of suspicion prevelant at the time and in the fact that, throughout the war, Britain had used Hitler's expressed belief in the supernatural and astrology in particular as a propaganda tool. Where was Helen getting her information from? How much more did she know? There was even a rumour that she was about to expose Britain's cracking of the Enigma code. The memo from Churchill to Morrison has only fuelled the idea that Helen was in fact a genuine medium, or had perhaps even worked for one side or the other as a spy.

Helen was found guilty on one of the counts and sentenced to nine months in prison, the other charges were held over. She had suffered with ill-health for much of her life and prison only exacerbated problems. After her release in 1945, she promised to stop conducting seances but was arrested again in 1956. She died at her home a short time later.

This is a disturbing case on a number of levels, not least in how it illustrates that the security forces in Britain in wartime could leave nothing uninvestigated and were keen to stamp out any worrying 'gossip'. Discovery of the HMS Barham cap-band secured Helen's arrest but, in fact, the word 'Barham' was not used on cap-bands at the time and others at the seance suggested she only mentioned the name of the ship having 'cold read' the sailor's mother. Was the band planted on her to secure the conviction? Her supporters might say so. For others, who believe the only reason she was prosecuted was because she was making money from the vulnerable, it is a red herring.

Helen, although manipulative and fraudulent, was exploited herself; first by her husband and then by a number of the other 'hangers on' that made money out of what had originally been viewed by Helen's mother as an unwanted, but natural, talent for communicating with spirits. Like many of her Victorian predecessors, being female and a clairvoyant offered a route to empowerment that society and the role of women at the time could not. Her family continue to press for pardon.

In an age of constant technological advancement and the increased availabilty of records, the nature of genealogical research has changed drastically over the past few decades. Never before has family history been such a popular and accessible subject, with programmes such as Who Do You Think You Are? and Heir Hunters increasing this interest further still and a whole host of dedicated websites now providing access to relevant records. However, despite the welcome improvements in online resources, there is still much fun to be had in taking the 'traditional' approach; delving into 'real' documents in the archives can be a particularly fascinating and rewarding part of the research process. 

The following article, written by the Dorset historian and antiquarian, Rev. Charles Herbert Mayo, reminds us of a simpler time for family historians, well before the rise of the internet. Published in Notes & Queries of Somerset & Dorset in 1903 (of which Mayo was the Dorset editor for many years), it was entitled Ancestry of Dorset Peasants - Napier and neatly details the research process of this Edwardian genealogist.

"There are living at the present day in the parish of Minterne, Dorset, persons of the name of Napier, now occupying a lower position in the social scale, who claim to be descended from the distinguished family of the name, formerly landowners there and at More Critchell, whose estates have descended through a distaff to Henry Gerard Sturt, Lord Alington. This claim appears to be well-founded, and the writer has been able to trace their line of descent from Sir Nathaniel Napier (or Napper, as the name was usually written) of Middlemarsh and More Critchell, knighted at Newmarket, 1617, Sheriff of Dorset, 1620, and its representative in Parliament, 1625.

Sir Nathaniel had a younger son, John Napier, as appears by his will dated 14th Feb, 1632, proved 1 Feb, 1635-36; a short extract of which has been kindly sent us by Mr. G. S. Fry:

'Nathaniel Napier of Moore Critchell, Dorset, Knight. My three daughters, Elizabeth, Jane and Frances. My son Robert. To my youngest son, James, the perpetual donation of Mintern Magna. My son Nathaniel. To my son, John, my burgages in Dorchester. My son, Gerard. My son, Robert, to be my executor. My son [in law], Thomas Clerke, Mr. Edward Hooper, and my kinsman, Mr. Peter Sainthill, to be overseers.'

This son, John Napier, is stated in Hutchins' [History of] Dorset, in the Napier pedigree there given, to have died without issue. This is proved to be incorrect by the following extract of the said John's will, for which we are also indebted to Mr. G. S. Fry:

'John Napier, the elder, of Great Minterne, Dorset, gent. 12th April 1693. My daughters Elizabeth Woodnott, Jane Cooke, Frances Kiddle, Margaret Browne and Mary Dunne. My granddaughter, Mary Napier. To my grandson, John Napier, an estate in Buckland Newton. My grandsons, Robert, William and Gerard Napier. My son-in-law, Anthony Browne, of Winton, South'ton, gent. My late father, Nathaniel Napier, Knt., of Moore Critchell, Dorset. My son, John Napier, and Nathaniel Napier of Grange [Middlemarsh, Minterne], Dorset, to be executors. Codicil 1st May 1693. My son, John Napier, to enjoy the estate at Buckland Newton given to his son, John Napier, until the said John Napier be 21. Proved 3rd March 1693-94.'

So far with the aid of these two wills. On turning to the help of parish registers the following additional information is gained. At Glanvilles Wootton were baptised three of the children of 'John Napier, Knt.' (the son of Sir Nathaniel) - viz. John, 15th Sept, 1645; Margaret, 11th Feb, 1647; and Mary, 11th March, 1648. These are three of the children mentioned in their father's will. John Napier, the father, was buried at Minterne 3rd Feb, 1693-94, as 'Mr. John Napper'. He is called 'the elder' in his will, to distinguish him from his son: -

JOHN NAPIER, called 'Mr. John Napper, junior' in the Minterne Register, 1685 and 1689. He married Mary, buried 16th Feb, 1699, as of Tyly, and had issue:

1. Mary, bapt. 14th Feb, 1677
2. Robert, bapt. 22nd Sept, 1680
3. John, bapt. 3rd Nov, 1681, and perhaps the John brought from Chetnole and buried 29th Nov, 1762
4. William, bapt. 1st Feb, 1685. Buried 6th March, 1732-33
5. Gerard, bapt. 12th Dec, 1689 

WILLIAM NAPIER aforesaid married Elizabeth (perhaps buried 30th Aug, 1763). She is probably 'ye widow Napier', who received three shillings, part of the forfeit paid for burying in linen Wyndham Napier, the eldest son of the squire (another Sir Nathaniel Napier), who was her late husband's second cousin, 28th May, 1734. Her name occurs in The Account how ye fifty shillings arising from ye burying of Windome Napier, Esqr. in linnen was disposed of. It should be noticed that in the list of recipients of this forfeit, 'ye widow Napier' received sixpence more than any of the poor - which may be taken to be a recognition of her relationship with the deceased. William Napier had issue:

JOHN NAPIER, bapt. 9th Oct, 1730, and buried 18th April, 1810. He had issue by his wife (apparently Sarah, buried 12th Oct, 1813, aged 80), a daughter Susanna, bapt. 24th April, 1764, and a son:

WILLIAM NAPIER, bapt. 28th March, 1762, buried 17th Feb, 1852, aged 91; who married at Buckland Newton, 20th April 1784, Ann Perrett, buried 6th May 1851, aged 88, and had issue, ten children, viz. -

1. John, bapt. 4th March, 1787, who had by Mary his wife a son Jacob, bapt. 26th Sept. 1813, who, then styled of Hillfield, married at Evershot, 19th Nov, 1838, Mary Jessop. Jacob Napier was buried 23rd Nov, 1896, aged 83 and had a son, John, now of Minterne, woodman, who married 15th April, 1881, Elizabeth Collins, and has issue, Annie, bapt. 22nd Aug, 1886.
2. Gerard, bapt. 4th Jan, 1789
3. Jane, bapt. 10th April, 1791
4. GEORGE, bapt. 8th Sept, 1793, a woodman, buried 14th Dec, 1875; who married 1st May, 1823, Fanny Foote, buried 4th Sept, 1843, aged 47 and had issue.
5. Mary, bapt. 24th April, 1796
6. Sarah, bapt. 17th Sept, 1797, buried June, 1798 
7. Thomas, bapt. 13th Jan, 1799, buried 28th April, 1843, aged 44; who married Hannah, buried 9th Oct, 1871, aged 72, and had issue.
8. Susannah, bapt. 3rd May, 1801
9. Anne, bapt. 25th Sept, 1803
10. JAMES, bapt. 23rd Oct, 1808, of Gorewood, woodman; buried 1st Sep, 1852, aged 44; married (1) Emma, daughter of Isaac Fox, 15th Oct, 1838, buried 24th Sept, 1839, by whom he had one child, Herbert, bapt. 21st July, 1839. He married (2) at Buckland Newton, Caroline Fox, buried 5th Oct, 1881, aged 63, and had issue.

The dates of baptism &c., where not otherwise stated, are from the Minterne register, for many of which we are indebted to the Rev. W. G. Barclay, Rector. If any apoloy is necessary for the length of this article, it must be grounded on the fact that a peasant's ancestry, from good old stock, though often conjectured, is not to be traced every day. - DORSET EDITOR."

For some researchers, the mention of maps would not incur the same enthusiasm as a collection of old family photographs or ancient parish registers and, as a result, these historical gems are often neglected for other sources. Yet, when used effectively, contemporary maps and plans can provide family and local historians with a wealth of information about the world in which our forebears lived and the lives they led.

Environment can often be an important factor in determining the structure of people's lives and the decisions people subsequently make. With this in mind, are we really able to draw an accurate picture of our forebears' lives without taking into account the character of their surroundings? By studying maps and their accompanying records, it is possible to construct the backdrop necessary for our research.

This post looks at a variety of historical maps and aims to provide some contextual information for these valuable documents, as well as some (hopefully) useful tips on how to use them and where they can be found.

Estate & Manorial Maps:

Estate maps became particularly popular during the sixteenth century, following the re-allocation of land in the wake of the Dissolution of the Monasteries. It became commonplace for landowners to commission maps of their newly aquired property as a symbol of power and wealth, as well as a tool for estate management. The maps were also used to establish manorial boundaries and to settle disputes over land ownership.

These documents can sometimes show the layout of an entire village, complete with surrounding fields and common land, with names of tenants and the size of their properties. Later examples might also be accompanied by a written survey, giving greater detail about the properties and their boundaries, as well as measurements of buildings, fields or woodlands. The useage of land might also be noted.

Many of these maps and their accompanying documents will usually be found in the relevant County Record Office but survival rates can vary. Some examples are maintained in private collections, whilst others are housed at The National Archives.

Enclosure Award Maps:

Between the mid-eighteenth and mid-nineteenth centuries, almost 7 million acres of arable, common and waste land were gradually enclosed into smaller, rectangular fields, following a series of Enclosure Acts. Under this legislation, commissioners were appointed to survey each affected parish and to draw up an Enclosure Award, outlining their decisions on how the land should be redistributed.

Whilst these documents can vary due to local interpretation, the following information might be expected from the Enclosure Award: 

• Name of landowner/occupier
• Description of the land or property
• Acreage of the land or property
• Type of tenure (i.e. copyhold or freehold)
• Amount of rent-charge payable

Each award was drawn up in correspondence with a map of the parish (or area of the affected parish), using a simple numbering system. When used in tandem, the documents can be of particular use, acting as a key resource for the tracing of individual properties and land ownership. Few examples of these records can be found at The National Archives, with the majority held at the relevant County Record Offices. Some digital copies of Enclosure Maps are making their way online, such as those for Norfolk, here.

Tithe Award Maps:

The payment of tithes had been established in England during the Anglo-Saxon period, as a means of supporting the church and local priest. Originally, this had been paid in kind, with each parishoner contributing one-tenth of their produce to the established church. However, following the Tithe Commutation Act of 1836, a new system was introduced to allow tithes to be converted into monetary payment and, between 1836 and 1852, each parish was surveyed to determine the tithe awards.

Tithe Apportionment records were drawn up to detail the results of these surveys, generally listing the following information:

• Names of the landowners
• Names of the occupiers
• Name or description of the land or property
• State of cultivation (i.e. arable, pasture, orchard)
• Acreage of the land or property
• Amount of rent-charge payable
• Names of the tithe owners

As with Enclosure Awards, these apportionment records were produced in correspondence with a map of the parish, using a simple numbering system. Once again, these are of great use to the family and local historian, providing key information about properties and land ownership. The original version of the documents were kept by the Tithe Commissioners but are now held at The National Archives, where they can be viewed on microfiche. Copies were also made for the Bishop of the Diocese and for the parish, which are now usually held at the relevant Diocesan or County Record Office. An increasing number of tithe maps and apportionments are also becoming available online, such as those for Cheshire, here.

Fire Insurance Maps:

Since the late eighteenth century, fire insurance companies had produced large-scale maps and plans to assess the risk to properties. These can be particularly useful for tracing the development of towns and cities, as well as providing further information regarding businesses and individual buildings. The London-based firm, Charles E. Goad Ltd., published copies of these maps on a regular basis between 1886 and 1970. These usually contained the following information: 

• Details of building useage (i.e. commercial, residential etc.)
• Number of floors
• Height of the building
• Details of construction materials
• Details of fire hazards

Whilst some copies of these maps might be found at local studies libraries, the Map Library at the British Library holds a comprehensive collection. The archive also contains 39 volumes of letter books, manuscripts, corresponence, surveys and other relative documents.

Ordnance Survey Maps:

With heightened fears of invasion by Napoleon's forces, it had been decided that the task of accurately surveying the South Coast of England was necessary, so that plans for the defence of the nation could be made. The first official map published by the Board of Ordnance was that of Kent in 1801, at the scale of one inch to the mile. 

During the 1840s, the Board focused on producing the Great Britain 'County Series', mapping the entire country, county by county. Due to a demand for greater detail, an abundance of town and city plans were produced throughout the following decade and, as the century pressed forwards, maps increased in accuracy.

Ordnance Survey maps can be useful for the identification of properties listed in census returns, civil registration documents and other family records. They are particularly helpful when trying to trace properties which have since been demolished or on occasions where street names may have been changed.

The maps also reveal places of work, such as nearby factories or mills, as well as local churches, schools, workhouses and other public buildings. By studying them in detail, it is possible to construct a fairly colourful picture of the area in which our ancestors lived, including the sights, sounds and smells that they would have experienced on a daily basis.

Many local libraries and County Record Offices have extensive collections of Ordnance Survey maps. Some good examples are also online, here.

Poverty Maps:

Having believed that social commentators had exaggerated the state of poverty in the metropolis, Victorian businessman, Charles Booth, set about conducting an Inquiry into Life and Labour in London in 1886. He and his researchers walked the streets of the city, making meticulous notes regarding the conditions in which people lived and worked. From this survey, a set of maps were drawn up to plot London's social structure, assigning a colour-code to each street depending on its character and status. The seven classes were:

• Yellow: Upper-middle and Upper classes. Wealthy
• Red: Middle class. Well-to-do
• Pink: Fairly comfortable. Good ordinary earnings
• Purple: Mixed. Some comfortable, others poor
• Light Blue: Poor. 18s to 21s a week for a moderate family
• Dark Blue: Very poor, casual. Chronic want
• Black: Lowest class. Vicious, semi-criminal

Booth's papers are held at the London School of Economics, whilst a digital version of the Booth Poverty Map can be found online, here.

Land Valuation Maps:

Following the Finance Act of 1910, provisions were made for taxing the increase in the value of land, with a subsequent valuation being conducted throughout England and Wales by the Board of Inland Revenue. The information collected was entered into 'Domesday Books' and Field Books, which can be of particular use to family and local historians, as they offer a tantalising snapshot of the places inhabited by our ancestors. Whilst the information contained in these documents can vary depending on local interpretation, they essentially contain the following:

• Value of the property
• Name of the owner
• Name of the occupier
• Type of tenure (i.e. copyhold or freehold)
• Description of the area covered by the property
• Details concerning tenancy (i.e. term and rent)

Each unit of property was assigned an assessment number, which corresponded to large-scale plans, based on Ordnance Survey maps. Two copies of these were produced; working plans were used during the course of the valuation and records plans were compiled after the valuation had been completed.

Surviving copies of the 'Domesday Books' and Fields Books should now reside in County Record Offices, with the exception of those for the City of London and the City of Westminster, which are housed at The National Archives. Surviving examples of working plans should also be held at their relevant County Record Office, whilst record plans belong to The National Archives.

So, you have successfully managed to trace your lineage back to the 1600s, produce an impressive family tree and discover that you are somehow related to royalty through your great-aunt's second husband. Well, that's a fair achievement but, at the end of the day, what does it actually mean? Do you feel particularly enlightened by it all? Whilst I'm sure there are many who would say they feel sufficiently satisfied with this, others might argue that they'd want to know more. To me, at least, the pursuit of tracing one's ancestors isn't particularly about how far it can be traced back or, dare I say, producing a family tree. It's not about discovering illustrious forebears or famous historical figures. Of course, this can all be an added bonus but, in my opinion, there is much more to be gained from taking the time to research around the various aspects of our ancestor's lives. This will provide a far more interesting insight into your personal heritage than mere names and dates. But perhaps this is where we can begin to distinguish between what is genealogy and what is actually family history?

In terms of work, I tend to spend much of my time researching the latter. It seems fair to say that the majority of my clients tend to have a thirst for a more detailed family history. This means that I am often delving into the background details, adding relevant aspects of social and local history to the research, providing an effective backdrop to the genealogical details which I will have previously uncovered for the client. With a love of history, as well as family history, I get the splendid opportunity to use a variety of fascinating sources. 

Considering that most of our ancestors will have spent the majority of their lives toiling just to earn a crust, one of the most interesting aspects to research is their working lives. In most cases, such as for agricultural labourers, there won't be surviving documents detailing exactly what they did, how much they earned and who they were employed by. But, with some basic background research, we can gain a fairly good picture of what their job was like. Trade directories are a good source, not only for listing traders and their professions, but also for discovering the main industries in a particular town or area. Was your ancestor involved? Look into this trade and see how it fared over the course of time - what were the periods of prosperity and times of depression? Perhaps this had a direct impact upon the family and can explain another chapter of their story, such as incarceration in the union workhouse or removal to another area. Directories and maps can also help to pin down where the nearest place of work might have been, so if you know your ancestor was employed at a dye-works, you may be able to narrow down the correct one.

On a similar slant, it is also important to research the area a family hailed from, as this can also explain personal events and add further knowledge to the overall picture. Whilst you might not find your ancestors specifically mentioned in local history books, these can be a brilliant resource for researching the events which occured in your ancestral town or village. It is likely these events had a direct impact upon the inhabitants. Even some of the most important genealogical sources can help us here, particularly parish registers. You may be used to searching for names in these documents but they can also contain further insights into local history, such as notes regarding local epidemics or accidents. Likewise, newspapers can be a treasure-trove for shedding light on both national and local affairs, which your ancestors might have been involved with or affected by, even if they weren't directly mentioned. 

It can also be helpful to ask much broader questions. When did the railway arrive in your ancestral town or village and what impact did it have on the area, the residents and the local industries? When was gas or electricity introduced to the town? What were the sanitary conditions like at the time and what improvements were subsequently made to the sewers and such? It is also worthwhile looking specifically at the streets and roads on which they lived. When was the street built and was it part of a local building scheme? Are there any photographs of it in the local archives, giving a picture of what it was like at the time? In some cases, advertisments for available property can be found in old newspapers, giving a wonderful insight into the cost and layout of the home. All of this can help build on the bare facts.

By taking the time to look into various aspects of their lives, it becomes easier to understand the decisions that these people made and what was the impetus behind these choices. The most frequent question that faces the family historian is what was the reasoning behind a move from one place to another. Well, the answer could well lie in what was happening locally. As Kath Chater explains in Tracing Your Family Tree, 'we can all put ourselves into the shoes of a pregnant woman whose husband has just died, leaving her to raise four children alone. But what if the death occured during the Civil War with a battle being fought 10 miles away? Her worries about the future would have doubled.'

Indeed, it might be said that a family tree is completely worthless unless the lives of the people feature on it are brought to life and placed within the wider context. Because, only then can we begin to understand our forebears, the lives they led and the legacy they left behind. The time and effort taken to research these aspects of social and local history will prove worthwhile, as you will not only be more enlightened about your personal heritage but our collective heritage too.

Perhaps the most radical of these reforms was the National Health Insurance Act of 1911, devised and promoted by Chancellor of the Exchequer, David Lloyd-George. Whilst measures had been taken throughout the nineteenth century to improve public health, the Act saw the first centralised attempt to insure the working population against the threats of illness and unemployment. Well into the early 1900s, the provision of medical care still relied upon a haphazard and uneven system, based mainly upon localised institutions and charitable organisations. The rich were at liberty to seek the services of whichever doctor they chose, able to obtain the assistance of the most eminent. The doctors had the freedom to charge what they desired. The poor, on the other hand, were forced to rely chiefly upon the workhouse infirmaries, voluntary hospitals and the medical officer to the Board of Guardians.

Since the introduction of the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834, it had been a prevelant opinion that expenditure and provision through the Poor Law system should be drastically restricted and, where possible, reduced altogether. In the wake of this imprudence, the sick and destitute were often neglected at a time of great need. At the same time, given the level of social stigma attached to obtaining relief from such an institution as the workhouse, many families were deterred from seeking medical assistance in the first place. In some cases, friendly societies and worker's clubs were established to provide finanical assistance to members in times of ill health but, nonetheless, no state system of insurance had been in place. Following the outbreak of the Boer War in 1899, the Government received a severe shock when one-third of men volunteering their services for the armed services were rejected on grounds of poor health. At a time when international tensions were starting to become strained and with the growth of foreign powers such as Germany and the United States, the fact that Britain had struggled to raise a fighting force was incredibly worrying. The National Health Insurance Act, as Lloyd-George stated, was to provide 'the relief of pauperism' and help pull Britain back to its feet.

So, what did the new legislation entail? Firstly, all wage-earners between the ages of sixteen and seventy were to register for the scheme. Each worker who earned under £160 per annum was to contribute 4d per week, with the employer adding 3d and the state funding a further 2d. In exchange for these payments, the worker received the right to free medical attention, free medicine and the payment of 10s per week for the first 26 weeks of sick leave and afterwards 5s. To safeguard against unemployment, the worker was to pay 2.5d per week, which was matched by the employer and added to by 3d of taxpayer contribution. In return, after one week of unemployment, the worker was to receive 7s per week for up to 15 weeks in a year. These benefits could be collected at the local Labour Exchange - another initiative implemented under the Liberal Government in 1909. The scheme was also to set a capitation fee for doctors. In terms of administration, it was to be under the jurisdiction of the newly formed National Health Insurance Committees - independent panels, drawn from insurance companies, friendly societies, trade unions and medical practitioners who chose to participate.

However, the Act created a deluge of opposition, particularly from the medical profession, who were hugely vocal in the face of this new legislation. Fearing state encroachment on their profession and the financial consequences, by December 1911 over 11,500 doctors had made a pledge to refuse to accept any service under the new scheme. Sir James Burr, President-Elect of the British Medical Assocation, accused the Act of being 'unjust to the medical profession' and moved that it 'must not be allowed to disgrace the Statute Book'. Meanwhile, employers protested about having to pay into the scheme - particularly in the manufacturing districts. On 28th December 1911, The Times reported the following:

"The impressive meeting of North of England employers in Manchester a few weeks ago indicated the strength of the opposition to the National Insurance Act which exists, not only in the cotton trade, but in other areas of great industry."

Sir Charles Macara, the Lancashire cotton-spinner, vehemently joined the cause. He sneered, 'I think we may postpone the Insurance Act for a very considerable time and we can improve it, although I do not think we can ever get it right. But the biggest thing of all is to prevent anything of the kind being done again.' Yet, it was not solely the industrial employers who voiced their concerns. Employers of domestic servants were reluctant to pay contributions, with some being arrested for refusal to pay. For some families, being able to hire a servant was something of a luxury - would they be able to fund these extra payments as well? In many cases, even the workers themselves despised the scheme; they were outraged that deductions were to be made from their wages.

But despite this opposition, Lloyd-George continued to push the Act throught government and, on 1st July 1912, it was finally implemented. At the outset, the scheme covered approximately one-third of the population and, by the mid-1940s, this had increased to over half. Whilst the new system had its faults, this was ultimately a crucial step in state invervention in the welfare of its people and, for something which was opposed so strongly at the time of its introduction, it is surprising how it is merely accepted as part of everyday life a century later.