Beam Me Up Scotney!

Sometimes, you just have to find a place that sells Ice Cream.

This was our mantra today.

Sometimes... you just HAVE to find a place that sells Vegan Ice Cream!

That was our challenge.

We had heard whispers of a nearby fortification, ancient and glorious. It was within our reach, it would be a challenge to hammer down the battlements, to storm the towers, to take the castle, but we were prepared for action.

Audrey was the keenest amongst us, no doubt a cauldron of ambitions arising from the sweet cool promise of ice cream, and curious rumours of her ever elusive rainbow stone, hidden in the grounds of the famous manorial seat. She spurred the way, corralling Emily Archaeomum, Bramble and I into our trusty transport and en route to Scotney Castle.

As things currently stand during our troubling world situation, access to the National Trust Property is somewhat restricted. A pre-booking system is required to secure a place in the castle car park. This however, is easily achieved online and completely free to National Trust members.

The new Scotney Castle was built in 1837 by Edward Hussey III in the Tudor Revival architectural style. It was crafted from sandstone, quarried from the grounds of the old castle. Within that same quarry, now a spectacular garden, we later discovered that a 100 million-year-old impression of an Iguanodon dinosaur footprint can be found. Audrey has already expressed her desire to return and find this magnificent marvel

It is rumoured the Hussey family were great hoarders. There is little doubt that unlimited treasures are stacked beyond the imposing walls of the grand mansion, fascinating artefacts just waiting to be discovered. Indeed it is said there is even a secret door in the library disguised as a bookcase. Such intriguing mysteries tantalised our imaginations. Sadly, thanks to the continuing pandemic, the doors were firmly closed to us on this occasion. There was, however, still plenty to see.

Edward Hussey III also influenced the design of the estate, hiring architect Anthony Salvin and gardener William Sawrey Gilpin to design the spectacular picturesque garden, cleverly incorporating the original medieval castle.

As we gradually descended from the lavish authoritative mansion, we found ourselves transported into an entirely different world. The atmosphere of serious power and wealth seemed to melt away as we stepped through thick foliage into a secret universe of imaginative wonder. The old medieval castle emerged from the stunningly sculpted gardens of rhododendrons and azaleas, wisteria, hydrangea and English rose. The picturesque landscape was like something from a dream, a secret fairytale world far beyond our own, disguised by great forested hills and spectacular scenic fields.

Scotney Old Castle sits in the valley of the River Bewl at the centre of a small lake, offering a natural moat for defence. A history of occupation in the area of the moated manor house dates back to 1137 when Lambert De Scoteni owned the estate. The castle itself was built later by Roger Ashburnham, between 1378 and 1380 and saw several reconstructions and renovations through the centuries.

Amongst the many intriguing tales of the castle is that of father Richard Blount. Between 1591 and 1598, the castle owner, Thomas Darrell, hid the Jesuit father in the castle whilst he ministered illegal catholic sermons. Authorities raided the castle to arrest the priest, but the holy man fled over a wall, into the moat and escaped persecution. There have been a number of hidden priest holes discovered amongst the ruin, illustrating its continued importance during these tumultuous religious oppositions.

We circumnavigated the mystical ruin, delving inside for a brief glance around its ancient walls before following a quiet path leading to the lush wilderness beyond. As if to amplify our immersion in the dream-like experience of the fantasy landscape, a brave Kestrel considered us from on high, its ancient eyes peering curiously from the bright blue heavens above. It observed our every move from its perch on a spindly limb-like branch of an eerie tree. Crickets chirped from the long flowing grass on all sides. Butterflies danced before our eyes, birds sang sweetly from clusters of brazen trees.

The Kestrel watched.

We made our way back towards the castle, back towards the impressive manor house. From this new aspect it was clearly a commanding seat of power at the crest of the hill. Audrey spied a number of pebbles, some with intriguing colours akin to the rainbow stone, but none with all the particular qualities of that most elusive treasure.

Still the Kestrel followed. Still the Kestrel Watched.

Back in the smart and lavish house grounds, we found a delightful little cafe. In safe socially distanced comfort we enjoyed a locally brewed beer, a cup of tea, and most importantly... a refreshing, sweet, tasty vegan ice cream! Our family weekend mission was complete.

By the time the purring engine of our trusty car was turned on, Audrey had drifted into a pleasant dream filled slumber, no doubt discovering her hidden treasures within the fairytale fantasy world we had just experienced.

Scotney Castle, we will most definitely be back soon.

Sunbathed at Bayham Old Abbey

The golden glow of the sun blazed down from glorious baby blue skies, the day was young and full of promise. Our regular work was done for the week and our roving minds were set firmly on adventure!

Our first ambition had been to complete an archaeological survey of a nearby reservoir. Emily Archaeomum has recently created the reservoir otters, an archaeological survey team with a free downloadable family kit to record erosion and features in reservoirs around the world.

We wistfully imagined a gentle meander around a local body of wondrous water, introducing Audrey to the world of marine-influenced archaeological recording whilst splashing about and hunting for the elusive rainbow stone.

Sadly, the reality was somewhat disappointing. Hordes of revellers with a similar idea had arrived at Bewl Water in their droves to enjoy the beautiful blue lagoon in the bright summer sunshine. The car park required a £5 fee to park and spaces were few. After an unsuccessful circumnavigation of the reservoir by car, pressing for a quieter corner, and an unfortunate tyre brush with a rather high kerb, we eventually abandoned the idea completely.

With public restrictions still in place and social contact not recommended, we opted for a lesser frequented spectacle than the beach or the reservoir, realising that all of these places were certain to be swelling with excitable leisure seekers in the sweet summer warmth.

Fortunately, in our midst, we are surrounded by stunning sights, ancient wonders and the remains of tantalising historic architecture. Our lovely locale is brimming with intrigue and spectacular stories. Glancing over our trusty OS map for inspiration, we came across a potential spot of gothic wonderment, visual majesty and immersive enjoyment; a destination with a spiritual foundation and of course, a good spot for a picnic.

Bayham Abbey is nestled in the heart of the valley of the River Teise, on the Kent Sussex border. The area is naturally blessed with picturesque surroundings and luscious forested countryside in all directions.

The Abbey was founded in 1207 by Premonstratensian ‘White Canons’ who followed a life ascribed to St Augustine. Impressively crafted from local golden sandstone, the remains are quite extensive, including a church, chapterhouse and the stone frameworks of three enormous arched windows of the nave. The Abbey was perfectly placed to benefit from the natural environment, with the river providing a regular water supply.

In its later years, Henry VIII took control of the estate following the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16th century. His daughter, Queen Elizabeth sold the estate and it fell into the hands of Sir John Pratt. The Camden family, descendants of Sir Pratt, built a family mansion, the Dower House, or Bayham Old Abbey House, next to the abbey, a luxurious 18th century Gothic manor which remains on the site today. In the 19th century the grounds were landscaped by Humphrey Repton whose phenomenal works included the gardens at Kenwood House in London. The Abbey ruins were partly modified during this period to offer a more romantic landscape. Bayham Abbey remained in the Camden family until 1961 when it was donated to English Heritage.

The first challenge was the driveway, which requires careful navigation as the narrow roadway has space for only one vehicle at a time and a sharp turn at about the halfway point, making it difficult to spot oncoming traffic. A few reversals later and we parked up to unload our adventure gear.

It is free to enter and wander amongst the Abbey ruins, though there is a very reasonable £2 car parking charge for non-English Heritage members, the proceeds of which appear to go to the upkeep of the amazing monument and surrounding grounds. Dogs on a lead are very welcome and the only time restrictions were it’s opening and closing hours. To our utter delight, just a handful of others had chosen the day to explore the ruins, which meant lots of space for quiet reflection.

We embarked upon our adventure around the ruins, Audrey eager as always to investigate every inch of the mammoth complex. We were well aware the rainbow stone could be effectively disguised amongst the ruinous remains, with a keen eye and her trusty sidekick Bramble; she carefully explored every corner of the potential treasure trove.

The bright beating sun continued to dispense its life-giving gifts as we wandered joyously through stone alleys and cavernous cloisters. We found a quiet spot by the Kentish Gatehouse to unravel the picnic blanket and enjoy our lunch. Emily and Audrey continued their explorations whilst Bramble and I lazed luxuriously on the luscious green grass, enjoying our Hasselback potatoes and spiced shroomdogs... and a cold beer of course.

A shout from across the Abbey indicated we had completely lost track of time and the gates were about to close. Our utter contentment relaxing in the Abbey gardens had made the minutes accelerate at a breakneck pace.

Audrey discovered an incredible specimen of rainbow leaf... surely an indicator her mission for the rainbow stone was gaining momentum. We swiftly shoved our possessions into the cool box, took a final enraptured glance at the enchanting Abbey and dashed for the car. It was time to head for home.

The forgotten Prince of Burma - A British Library Investigation

Dearest Emily,

I trust you have been deep in discoveries of late, your last letter spoke of such wondrous archaeological expeditions throughout our fascinating little island. I cannot wait to hear all about your adventures very soon. As for me, my immersion into the collections I maintain at the British Library continues. This is perhaps my most astounding revelation to date, I can’t wait to share it with you.

The rollercoaster race for Royalty in 19th century Burma is well documented in British Library collections. As well as printed biographies in English and Burmese language, the India Office records contain a mass of correspondence, reports and private papers pertaining to British operations in Burma, particularly regarding the reign and dethronement of King Thibaw, Burma’s last king.

Some of these tumultuous tales are lesser known than others. An album of Photographic illustrations chronologically recounts a remarkable journey through the recently annexed country by a British expeditionary force. Within this document is an intriguing tale of daring escapes, hidden identities, attempted revolution and a long-forgotten prince.

King Thibaw ascended the Burmese throne aged just 19. His rise to power was shrouded in brutality, as was typical of Burmese royal transitions in the age. British soldiers transmitted tales of convicts trampled to death by elephants, the beheading of unsatisfactory palace staff for minuscule mistakes and the massacre of Thibaw’s entire Royal lineage, a feat most likely orchestrated by the Queen Mother and Thibaw’s wife and half-sister, Suphayalat, to secure his place on the throne.

The princes and princesses of Burma had been summoned to Mandalay Palace, to attend the death bed of King Mindon. As each arrived, they were cruelly executed and buried in the palace grounds. Over 70 family members and potential rivals were eradicated.

The Photographic illustrations of the Mandalay & Upper Burma Expeditionary Force, taken and compiled by cavalry officer Robert Blackall Graham between 1886-7, told of two princes who survived the massacre.  Prince Moung Peng, grandson of King Mindon and his older brother were rescued from the plot by Phongyi’s.

A Phongyi was a Buddhist Monk. They dressed in an orange robe wrapped around the body, usually thrown over the left shoulder. Their heads were shaven and always uncovered and they carried a palm-leaf fan for protection from the sun. A Phongyi lived on charity, taught the young and lived a life of devotion, in order to be absorbed into the divine essence.

The princes were spirited from danger and hidden in temples amongst the Phongyi’s, disguised as priests for many years until the British suppression of Mandalay meant the immediate danger to their lives had subsided. They resided in Ava for a while, but after mistreatment by his older brother, Moung Peng sought refuge with his former protectors in Mandalay.

A wise astrologer prophesied that Moung Peng would one day be returned to the Burmese throne. In December of 1886, the prophecy was used as justification to rebel against the invading British forces and Moung Peng became the focus of a botched coup. A plot was arranged to set four fires in Mandalay and draw the British forces into a trap. One of the fires was mistakenly lit before the arranged date, revealing the entire plan to the occupying armies.

The instigators of the plot, amongst them two senior Burman monks and several priests, were transported for life to the penal colonies in the Andaman’s where confinement was the least of the punishments they could expect. Torture, starvation, medical testing and murder were amongst the brutal regimes of these remote British fortresses.

Prince Moung Peng, aged just 13, was sent to Dr Marks School, a Christian mission in Rangoon. The British aimed to condition the prince in a secure environment and remove any threat he might pose to their control in Burma. His eventual fate is unclear, but he never fulfilled the prophecy to become the King of Burma.

Craig Campbell

Curatorial Support Officer

India Office Records

The British Library

Further Reading:

Photo 996 - Photographic illustrations, with descriptions of Mandalay & Upper Burmah Expeditionary Force, 1886-87. By a cavalry officer. Photographer(s): Graham, Robert Blackall

Photo 996 (56) - Prince Moung Peng [Mandalay]. Photographer: Graham, Robert Blackall - 1887

Portrait of Moung Peng, a grandson of King Mindon Min, here seen seated in a royal carriage. After the British occupation of Upper Burma, he became part of a conspiracy to regain power and oust the British. He was later sent to study under Dr Marks at Rangoon. At the time of the taking of this photograph he was aged thirteen.

Englishman’s Overland Mail; 01 February 1887; pp 9-10 – Special Telegram from our correspondents: Rangoona Jan 28

Available on Find My Past                                                            https://www.findmypast.co.uk/

(While within British Library you have access to certain records through a partnership with Findmypast)

Mss Eur F595/8/16 - Confidential India Office Note on the relations between the Government of India and Upper Burma during the present King's Reign [Thibaw Min, King of Burma 1878-1885]: India Office Records and Private Papers

Or 14963 - [Scenes of British deposition of King Thibaw]: Oriental Manuscripts

Mss Eur E290 - Papers of Col Sir Edward Sladen, Madras Army 1849, British Burma Commission 1856-86: India Office Records and Private Papers

V 16959; X.800/6024 - Deposed King Thibaw of Burma, in India, 1885-1916 / W.S. Desai. Bombay : Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1967.

DRT ELD.DS.450930 - The king in exile : the fall of the royal family of Burma / Sudha Shah. New Delhi : HarperCollins Publishers India, a joint venture with the India Today Group, 2012.

09059.aa.45; T 2865; X7/1536 - They reigned in Mandalay / E.C.V. Foucar. London : Dennis Dobson, 1946.

RITUAL REVELATIONS IN THE WEST KENT DOWNS - part 2

The next barrow sites were not a great distance as the crow flies, but a vast forest and dangerous highway separated us from the sacred monuments and with our loaded provisions and entourage of varying ability, we would probably not have been able to succeed on foot. First on the list was Addington Long Barrow. We loaded the car and made our way through winding country roads, cute village outposts and blissful scenic spaces until we discovered the sought-after side road, well off the beaten track.

Addington is another sub rectangular Long Barrow of the Medway Megalith style.  It was probably built during the early Neolithic period and has since been vastly damaged, but is still recognisable as a significant prehistoric monument. The most troubling aspect of the Addington Long Barrow is the road which has been constructed directly through the centre of the mound. Collapsed kerb stones in the northeast of the structure would likely have been the space for deposition of human remains, though none were ever discovered within the tomb. The Long Barrow itself is on private land and is only visible from the roadside, but is still worth seeing, though severe caution is suggested when viewing from the narrow winding road.

The last of the substantial Medway Megaliths on the west side of the river in this incredible landscape is Chestnuts Long Barrow. This prehistoric monument is found very close to Addington, a mere 150 feet away. Chestnuts, though, is further into the aforementioned private land, engulfed by leafy trees and thick shrubbery and utterly impossible to approach without some questionable law-breaking. Keen to avoid invading private land or inviting potential criminal prosecution, we made the disappointing decision not to pursue this objective any further. Having established the monument was definitely not visible from the road and after enduring abuse from some of the roadside plant-life; we hopped back into the car and set a course for the final destination of our adventure.

By this point, Audrey had collected a number of intriguing stones for investigation.  Though not the elusive Rainbow Stone she desired, these were certainly related artefacts and would offer vital information into the whereabouts of her target treasure.

Aylesford is a pretty little riverside village just northwest of Maidstone in Kent, with delightfully crooked old buildings and enticing traditional public houses.  At the peak of the hill which adorns the historic village is a striking Norman church, wonderfully encircled by a charismatic gothic graveyard.

We were here on the hunt for a high-status late Iron Age cemetery located in the area. In 1886 the site was excavated by renowned antiquarian Arthur Evans, famed for his incredible discoveries in Crete at the Palace of Knossos, a ruin he excitedly exclaimed was that of King Minos mythical Labyrinth. The late Iron Age cremation cemetery in Aylesford was richly furnished with spectacular grave goods including bronze buckets, pans and jugs, as well as wheel-thrown Belgic wares from the 1st century BC.  Discovery of this unique burial illustrated a high level of continental connectivity prior to the Roman invasion. The find was deemed so important that an entire culture, the Aylesford-Swarling culture, was named after it. There has been speculation that Aylesford was also the location of the Battle of Medway, a recorded clash between native Britain’s and invading Romans during their occupation of Britain, though there is no evidence to back up this claim.

We parked the car in an easily accessible, fee-free car park close to the village centre and set off on foot through the narrow rustic streets.  The glorious sunshine had enticed throngs of leisure seekers into the communal village spaces, parks and bridges were swarming with families and friends enjoying all manner of refreshments.

We wandered along the river, onto the high street, past the historical buildings lining the narrow roads and we climbed towards the church.  The views from the top of the hill were splendid, but we found our path restricted by the ‘no dog’ policy of the churchyard and had to skirt the most scenic areas and stick to alternative pathways.  Despite our best efforts, and many dead-end streets and alleys, we were unable to locate the area of the cemetery.  Our phone batteries had long since expired so we were wandering blindly through the village, which had its advantages but eventually proved frustrating. We gave up on the quest, satisfied with our explorations of the ancient village itself. Audrey collected some further stony specimens for her study and it was time to go.

Since we had been enjoying a period of detox, we celebrated with ice cold non-alcoholic beers and light snacks when we finally made it home.  I made the mistake of checking precisely where the Iron Age cemetery was located... we had been just meters from a decent vantage point, if only we had followed the unpromising road at the peak of the hill a little further, perhaps we would have witnessed our goal. Ah well, something to try for next time!

Ritual revelations in the West Kent Downs

Following our recent pursuit of local prehistoric pleasures, we embarked upon an ambitious plot to uncover not one, not two but three Long Barrows and discover an elite late Iron Age burial ground... all in the same day! It would prove a tantalising, testing task.

In the wild picturesque West Kent Downs near West Malling are a cluster of ancient burial chambers, much damaged but still visible in the landscape if you know where to look. We had found the incredible sites via our trusty OS map and decided we had to see them for ourselves.

As ever, our dependable transport was loaded and provisions were prepared before we set out into the luscious green hills. Audrey had instructed us on her own particular interest in this adventure. She was on the hunt for the elusive Rainbow Stone. Rarer than diamonds and rumoured to be extremely well guarded, the Rainbow Stone has lured many an intrepid adventurer for as long as records have been kept. Thus far, all have failed in this quest, but with unique treasure hunting talents and a brave and fearless spirit, Audrey was confident that this journey would yield important results.

We made our way through the cute village of Trottiscliffe. Nearby, we were able to stow the car in a secure location supplied by the amazing National Trust. The parking was free and safe, but do be warned, the car park is quite small and fairly busy so you may find yourself waiting a short while for a free space to become available.

From here, rucksacks packed and boots laced, we set off expectantly on foot. Trekking excitedly through the stunning hills, atmospheric forests and ancient earthen pathways, we approached the first of the incredible monuments on our list, Coldrum Long Barrow.

The Coldrum Sarsens have been a point of heated discussion for many centuries. Suffering significant disruption and destruction through the ages, arguments have arisen about precisely what this megalithic structure may have been. Some argued it might have been a Henge site, whilst others tussled over the style of Long Barrow it may represent. Current consensus suggests the monument is a rectangular Long Barrow, an ancient burial tomb of the Neolithic Age in use from around 4000 - 3850 BC.  Field systems were already existent in the area prior to the construction of the monument, indicating this area hosted some of Kent’s earliest farming communities. The tomb contained the bones of over 22 men, women and children of all ages from newborn to elderly.  These have been proven to be family members illustrating the close familial community of the age.

We had not planned it as such but found ourselves at Coldrum Long Barrow just hours after the summer solstice. Though the stones are cordoned off by a small wooden fence, a gathering of cheerful revellers had set themselves amongst the heart of the monument, with tents, campfires and refreshments. No doubt they had situated themselves for a fully immersive experience of the solstice sunrise within this ancient spiritual space.

We skirted the monument, enjoying the magnificent splendour of the stones, but ultimately felt slightly uncomfortable and so we were unable to dwell there for too long. It was a little bit like accidentally wandering into someone’s house whilst they were sitting down for dinner. We smiled and offered awkward apologetic greetings before briskly moving along, out of immediate sight.

It was lunchtime and we were well prepared, we had packed a delightful picnic and leaving the stunning stones of Coldrum behind, we found a secluded picturesque space in the immense landscape to sit and enjoy our refreshments. From our serene space, we curiously scanned the many scatters of natural flint, whilst Audrey desperately searched for the ever-elusive Rainbow Stone. As yet, there was no sign of it, but Audrey felt we were getting closer. Our snack time over, we ensured our picnic area was clean and made for the car. There was still much to explore, and we only had half a day left to achieve our hopeful holiday holy grail

To be continued...

Kits Coty Escapade

We were heading deep into uncharted territory on the hunt for a prehistoric wonder with a wild and mysterious origin.

The maps were vague and uncertain; the terrain was tricky and testing.  Our family unit was prepared for the worst of conditions and potential dangers, but even so, we knew this would be a true test of our adventurous resolve.

We had heard whispers of Kits Coty House and Little Kits Coty House, two megalithic ‘dolmen’ burial chambers hidden in the Kent hills. These were ancient and magnificent structures adorning the hilltops, standing proud against the test of time.

Armed with only vague references on a map and suspicious rumours from our colleagues, we packed our provisions and set out on the road. Nearing the location of this ancient wonder, we found the way to be well disguised. Our guidance restricted, maps and signposts rendered useless, we had to rely on intuition to guide us.

A few wrong turns later and we had discovered a suitable place to stow the vehicle and trek on foot.  It hadn’t been easy to find a safe space to stop, but discovering a suitable lay-by; we unpacked and ventured into the unknown.

Immediately faced with some fairly treacherous obstacles, we carefully navigated dangerous highways and made it to an ancient earthen path, descending the hillside towards the open fields beyond. This was far safer terrain but we were still going in blind, there were no obvious directions available, it was a case of seek and adventure.

Kits Coty House and little Kits Coty House are megalithic long barrows which have managed to partially survive in the modern landscape. Their remains reside in open fields overlooking the North Downs and Medway Valley. Thought to have been constructed between 4000 and 3000 BC, these monuments could represent burial chambers of some of the earliest settled communities in the area. The prehistoric structures were likely to have been the focus of burial rituals, powerful, impressive symbols to celebrate the dead.

Kits Coty House is made up of three enormous Sarsen Stones, capped by a further Sarsen. These form the burial chamber of the barrow.  The long earthen mound has mostly disappeared from view, a probable victim of the plough, but the Sarsen Stones remain elevated and impressive.

Kits Coty is rumoured to have gained its name from a Dark Age prince named Catigern, the son of Vortigern.  According to legend, Catigern died nearby in a battle against the Saxons around 455AD.

In the 17th and 18th centuries, several esteemed antiquarians visited and studied the site including John Aubrey, William Stukeley and Edward Hasted. Each published documents and drawings of the ancient monuments, and in the 19th century, famed archaeologist Augustus Pitt Rivers and colleagues strived to have to site protected under the Ancient Monuments Protection Act 1882.

As we ventured through ancient wooded walkways, an opening appeared, and to our delight, cresting the hilltop were the astonishing Sarsen giants which made up Kits Coty House. The monument, though only a fraction of its ancient magnificence, remains awe-inspiring.  The enormity of the stones and their positioning on the hillside is a worthy spectacle.  Imprisoned in iron gratings for protection against overzealous potential vandals, the stones cut a lonely figure in the landscape.  Ancient graffiti is testament to its age and effects through the years.

We wandered around the monument for a while, basking in its majesty, before exploring further and seeking Little Kits Coty House.

Little Kits Coty House is an intriguing collection of collapsed stones, once making up a chambered tomb. Both monuments represent a localised regional variant of the barrow style common to the River Medway. Sadly, Little Kits Coty has been long destroyed. 

A curious myth surrounds Little Kits Coty House.  The remains are commonly known as the Countless Stones due to a legend suggesting it is impossible to count the exact number of stones that lie on the ground.  Whoever might try, would never reach the same number twice.

Sadly, we failed to discover its whereabouts.  Despite our best efforts, the stones remained elusive.  Upon our return, we discovered that entry to the countless stones required a dangerous dice with death walking along the highway, before a well hidden and overgrown pathway emerged, leading to the caged remains. It was not a journey I would have been comfortable to demand of my family.

Defeated by the final quest, but not deflated, we made the steady climb back to our car and began the journey home. It was time for a quick beer, snacks and refreshments in our local pub before heading back to the house for a comforting cup of tea and some careful planning. Next time we will surely have to find an alternative route to witness the Countless Stones, and the many other prehistoric monuments littering this fascinating landscape.

The Treasures of King Thibaw of Burma - A British Library Investigation

My dearest Emily,

I find my attention drawn to the fascinating histories of Myanmar. This magical and mysterious landscape has seen millennia of intrigue and evolution, conflict and Kingdoms. The later histories of this incredible land are so littered with stimulating stories, they could be straight from the pages of some fiction novel. My latest curiosity regarded a dethroned King and a stolen treasure hoard.

In 1885, British forces sailed up the River Irrawaddy in Burma to force the abdication of King Thibaw.  On 28 November, General Sir Harry Prendergast and Colonel Edward Sladen entered Mandalay Palace and accepted the King’s surrender.

Thibaw’s palace in Mandalay was a magnificent carved and gilded structure with a great seven- roofed spire.  Whilst the government reported a largely peaceful and mutual transfer of power, other accounts suggested an unruly takeover.  The palace was brimming with priceless treasures, and there was a scramble for its riches as British soldiers took control.

Thibaw was exiled to Ratnagiri in India and saw out the remainder of his life in some degree of comfort.  He wrote to King George V, claiming Colonel Sladen had promised to secure his crown jewels for safe custody and return them when it was safe to do so - a pledge he did not keep.

Many of the regalia were shipped to Britain, but some royal treasures simply disappeared.  Rumours began to circulate of rogue British soldiers securing a portion of it.  They were said to have buried loot in bags within the palace compound, being unable to sneak it past the guards at the gates. Amongst the missing treasures was a gold calf weighing several hundredweight, a crown studded in rubies and diamonds surmounted by a peacock, quantities of precious stones, and an enormous and valuable ruby formerly on the forehead of a giant golden statue of Gautama Buddha.

On 9 January 1893, John Mobbs, an estate agent in Southampton, wrote to the Earl of Kimberley at the India Office regarding a rumour he had heard from a Charles Berry.  William White, alias Jack Marshall, was a private in the 2nd Queen’s Royal West Surrey Regiment.  He spent two years in Burma on the signalling staff, spoke the language, and left a wife and son there.   White lodged for some time with Berry’s mother-in-law at Wandsworth, and disclosed that he and another soldier had hidden away King Thibaw’s crown jewels and regalia.  The second soldier had given a death bed confession, admitting the theft and burial.

White was working in Kent and Surrey as a labourer and dock worker.  Mobbs sought him out to ascertain details of his story.  White agreed to cooperate so long as the government indemnified him from punishment for the theft.  The government, unsure of the situation and unwilling to participate in a treasure hunt, offered Mobbs a percentage of the treasure’s worth should he retrieve it.

The situation was complicated when White decided to retrieve the jewels alone.  He deemed the government reward insufficient and intended to move permanently to Burma.  Having received his indemnity, he took his last pension payment and disappeared.

Reports stated White left England for Rangoon in May 1894.  The India Office did not believe he could recover the hidden treasure without their knowledge, though Mobbs feared some could be accessed with ease.

Information on the hunt is as elusive as the jewels themselves.  Where did White go?  Did Mobbs make the journey to Mandalay?

The missing treasure also remains shrouded in mystery.  Did the Government hide it?  Did soldiers retrieve the buried loot?  Maybe palace staff discovered it?  Perhaps it is buried there still?

Craig Campbell
Curatorial Support Officer, India Office Records

Further reading:
British Newspaper Archive also available through Findmypast -
Illustrated London News 7 April & 14 April 1894
Englishman's Overland Mail 9 May 1894
The Lincolnshire Echo 21 May 1894
The Glasgow Herald 3 April 1894, p.7 and 6 April 1894, p.8
The Sphere 28 March 1959
Southern Reporter 7 June 1894
Photo 312 : 1885-1886 - Burma - One hundred photographs, illustrating incidents connected with the British Expeditionary Force
Photo 472 : 1870s-1940s - Sir Geoffrey Ramsden Collection: Photographs relating to the life and career in India of Sir Geoffrey Ramsden
Photo 1237 : 1885-1886 - Lantern slides relating to the 3rd Anglo-Burmese War
IOR/L/PS/20/MEMO38/14 : 4 Dec 1885 - Memorandum by His Excellency the Governor [on Upper Burma, following occupation of Mandalay by British forces] M E Grant Duff, 4 Dec 1885
IOR/L/MIL/7/9167 : 1885-1888 - Collection 205/7 Reports by General Prendergast and his officers on operations up to fall of Mandalay.
IOR/L/MIL/7/9162 : 1885 - Collection 205/2 Telegraphic reports of operations until fall of Mandalay, November 1885.
IOR/L/PS/20/MEMO38/14 : 4 Dec 1885 - Memorandum by His Excellency the Governor [on Upper Burma, following occupation of Mandalay by British forces] M E Grant Duff, 4 Dec 1885
Mss Eur E290 : 1845-1891 - Papers of Col Sir Edward Sladen

Midsummer Meandering at Ightham Mote

Seeking solace in the summer sunshine, our little band of misfit adventurers desired open countryside and ancient homesteads for exploration. It was an opportunity to enjoy fresh air and exercise, not too far from home.

Flicking through the annals of local historic intrigue, we came across the delightfully picturesque Ightham Mote, a 14th century moated house in the Kentish countryside near Sevenoaks. Blessed with 546 acres of ancient landscape, patchworks of forest and luscious farmland, Ightham Mote is a gem, run by the National Trust and open to families throughout the year.

There is a charge for none members using the car park and a separate charge to enter the house and gardens, but most of the estates are free to wander and enjoy. We planned an adventure around the estates, as we knew Bramble was not permitted inside the house or gardens, and Audrey was very keen to take her new bike out for a spin.

The house is a beautiful romantic caricature of medieval splendour. Its wooden beams, impressive chimneys and grand turreted entrance are a tapestry of continuous additions throughout its ever evolving lifespan.

Ightham Motes earliest known owner was Thomas Cawne, a young rogue, daring soldier and cruel knight. Thomas settled at Ightham Mote with his wife and two children in around 1360. He had a history of illicit activities and suspicious dealings. His son Robert inherited the house, but Robert was later sent to the Tower of London for attempting to murder his wife.

Influential Kent family, the Haughts, owned the house in the later 14th century after marrying into the Cawne family inheritance. Their family were well connected knights, Sheriffs and even married into the monarchy. The house grew with inner and outer courtyards, reception rooms and guest accommodation added. It quickly became one of the country’s most desirable properties. In the early 16th century, Edward Haught amassed large debts and before he ended up in a debtor’s jail, he sold the house.

Courtier of Henry VII and VIII, Richard Clement purchased Ightham Mote in 1521 for £400. He added stained glass windows to the building and the remarkable painted ceiling in the guest chambers. Clement led a life of influence and illicit intrigue, having 2 wives, at least two mistresses and three illegitimate children. After his death, the estate fell to his wife, Lady Anne Grey.

The Selby’s, a family of law enforcement officers from Northumberland, controlling the borders between England and Scotland during the 16th and 17th centuries, would own Ightham Mote for nearly 300 years until the 19th century. In 1889 Sir Thomas Coyler-Ferguson bought the property and began conservation work, modernising and conducting vital repairs. He returned it to a country residence and even allowed paying visitors to the house, at 2 shillings per person.

After the sale of its contents and only narrowly being saved from destruction in the mid 20th century, it was purchased by Charles Henry Robinson, who spent three decades furnishing the property with appropriate medieval collections.  After his death, he bequeathed Ightham Mote to the National Trust, so that it could be enjoyed by all the ages.

We skirted the impressive building, peering over carefully trimmed hedges at the immaculate structure beyond. The moat glistened sweetly in the glorious sunshine, gently disguising its fearsome protective function.  Our path began to rise, spiriting us away from the stately centrepiece and into the green and dynamic surrounding countryside. It was a gradual climb on uneven gravel paths, not the easiest to navigate with a children’s bicycle, but we continued, higher and higher until our efforts were rewarded with stunning views of the Kent Downs Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

We walked for over an hour along the circular route, through forests, over hills, alongside streams and lagoons, taking in the wonders of nature as we went. Wildflowers sprung in all directions, bluebells, wood anemone, marsh marigold, campion, rosebay and willowherb burst into bloom amidst the oak, sweet chestnut and beech trees. It was a welcome escape from the crowded chaos of city life.

Exhausted and satisfied, we gladly made our way to the busy little cafe for refreshments. Tea and cake was thoroughly appreciated, there were vegan options aplenty and even treats for our daring puppy! Of course, in this heat, a cool refreshing beer was also a welcome sight!

Whilst some of the additional costs and restrictions make it essential to double check before visiting, the fascinating history and wondrous scenic pleasure of Ightham Mote is certainly worth the adventure.

Fantastic Falls

With undisguisable excitement, we undertook an exploration of a natural wonder. It was a chance to witness one of the most beautiful spots in all of England.

Like a postcard from a Caribbean hideaway, High Force Waterfall is transported from another world.  It’s exhilarating waters crash to earth from 21 meters above, gloriously exploding into a perfect pool below. If an image of heaven exists in England, this is surely it.

The waterfall lies along the River Tees and was only a short drive from home. We were joined on our expedition by the daring ArchaeoUncle Rob and ArchaeoAuntie Christina, expert adventurers always ready for action!

We made our way by occasionally treacherous winding roads to a pub at the gateway of this marvel. Aptly named The High Force Hotel, it is a quaint and charming establishment situated at the peak of the adventure.  Here you will find a car park and information points regarding the area of outstanding natural beauty. There is a combined admission price for parking and access to the falls, but it is minimal and the funds go towards the care and upkeep of the area.

The River Tees begins high in the north pennies and picks up strength through the scenic countryside before it reaches this point at Forest-In-Tees. Here it rages in a furious torrent, flowing longingly towards an ocean escape.

This luscious edge of the island was once beneath a shallow tropical sea.  330 million years ago corals, shell fish and crinoids accumulated on the seabed and over time, hardened into limestone.  These layers form the lower part of the falls. Layers of sand and mud periodically washed into the sea and formed layers of sandstone above.

Around 295 million years ago, molten rock rose from within the earth, cooling and forming a layer of hard dark rock called dolerite.  This rock forms the upper layers of High Force Waterfall, protecting the softer limestone and sandstone beneath from a speedier erosion, and carving out the incredible visual spectacle. Over thousands of years, the softer layers beneath gradually erode and lead to the collapse of the harder dolerite above, forcing the waterfall to slowly retreat upstream.

To reach the waterfall, you must descend steep valley slopes; navigate cliff faces, cross streams, hike woodland and green fields before emerging at the raging riverside.  Thankfully a careful path has been forged by the endless pilgrimage of countless souls seeking delight in this magical natural monument.

It has no doubt been a centre of ancient spectacle. Mother Nature has illuminated herself with ferocious power, creating a unique splendour unsurpassed on the island.  Perhaps spiritual leaders gathered here to ask the earth for blessings, or made sacrifices in hope of sharing in its majesty. Certainly the modern world of tourism has been widely attracted to this spectacular spot. There is an air of importance about the site, an electric buzz as if in the presence of some supreme might.

Viewing platforms at the foot of the waterfall offer incredible views of the cascading falls. The river roars in a continuous growl, a haze of vapour clouds gather as the water merges with the pristine pool beneath.  It is like something from a dream.

There are intriguing caves at the foot of the falls, our inquisitive minds are drawn to the dark chasms, what treasures do they hold?  What stories could they tell?  Alas, the dangers involved in exploring such openings far outweigh the potential excitement in adventuring towards them.  For now, they must keep their secrets.

We lounged at the foot of the falls for some time, enjoying the hypnotising awe of the forever flowing waters and the melodic ferocity of its roaring voice. Afterwards we ascended the well trodden path back to the homely haven of the High Force Hotel. In the glowing warmth of a rustic wood burner, a welcome beer was enjoyed by Emily and I as Audrey delighted in a glass of milk and Bramble lapped up her water.

This natural wonder has undoubtedly conjured fantastic worlds in many an imaginative mind, perhaps the origin of enchanted beasts and magical universes. Such creatures and worlds surely have a home beyond the fierce cascading walls of water known as High Force Waterfall.

Wild and Wicked Whitby Wonders...

There is a destination whispered continuously through the curious circles of horror literature. This is a place steeped in history and legend, famed throughout the known world. We had to see for ourselves. Despite being less than an hour away, we had yet to explore the infamous seaside town of Whitby.

Famed for its Abbey and its associations with blood-sucking demons of darkness, Whitby has become a Mecca for those who enjoy the delights of gothic imagination.  Twice a year Whitby hosts a Goth Festival. Heroes of the macabre, mechanical music and monochrome fashion descend on the town to share an appreciation of a subculture much evolved from its primitive beginnings.

The festival, however, would not be for another few months. We chose to venture into the town on an altogether more horrifying weekend… the Bank Holiday.

During the beautiful scenic drive, we mused with wide eyes and electrified minds. Approaching from the stunning North York Moors, we crossed the horizon and peered down upon Whitby.  The town is sprawled across steep slopes falling to the mouth of the River Esk, where it empties into the North Sea.

The first evidence of settlement at Whitby appears in the 7th century AD when the Abbey was founded by the Christian King of Northumbria, Oswiu.  It saw Viking raids and the rebuilding of monasteries as the town grew and grew.  The name Whitby comes from the Old Norse meaning White Settlement. In later history, it became an important maritime centre, where famed figures such as Captain Cook would learn their seamanship. The architecture is delightfully quirky and traditional; the streets are narrow and windy, the views are to die for.

The gem of this great literary centre is, of course, Whitby Abbey.  The Abbey ruin sits atop the East cliff as the town’s oldest monument.  It was built as an act of thanks following the defeat of Penda, the pagan Anglo-Saxon King of Mercia. Its first Abbess was the royal princess Hild, who was later venerated as a saint.  The Abbey was home to Caedmon, the earliest English poet, who cared for animals and was unaware of the gift of words until he miraculously dreamt the art of song. It would be destroyed and rebuilt over the centuries until Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries finally left it to ruin.

We had made the journey along with ArchaeoNana, to enjoy the seaside resort and see what all the fuss was about.  As I mentioned, however, we chose the wrong day for a visit.  The bank Holiday seemed to be an excuse for mass pandemonium in this little town. As with most coastal hotspots, the usual popular vendors of souvenir shops, ice cream parlours, fast food joints, penny arcades and public houses are prominent.  On this day, all were utterly bursting at the seams.

Families crowded the narrow streets, gangs of adults filled the pubs, cars and busses clogged up the chaotic roads.  Noise and smog suffocated the air. The searing summer heat did little to alleviate the claustrophobia of it all.  Merely seeking suitable parking was beyond stressful. So far, not the incredible adventure we had anticipated.

Fortunately, as we made our way up the 199 steps leading to the Abbey, the enclosed chaos began to evaporate and an open and relaxed atmosphere befell our party. Up here in the heavens, amongst the ancient ruins of the Abbey, it was a different world.  The air was fresh, a serene quiet hung over the stone relics.  We explored the historic building blocks perched upon the cliff edge. The views over the ocean were sublime, even the busy shuffle of life from the town below appeared as a quaint visual curiosity.

Throughout the ancient world, people have been drawn to this area for the luxury gemstone, Jet. Derived from wood of the Monkey Puzzle Tree, changed under extreme pressure. Jet has been used for jewellery and prized objects since at least the neolithic period.

Thanks to the timing of our visit, we witnessed an incredible immersive performance of Bram Stoker’s mesmerising literary success, Dracula. From within the walls of its inspiration, we followed the characters and tussled on that most epic of journeys. We cowered as Dracula pursued his blood lust. We cheered as Jonathon Harker escaped his clutches and Abraham Van Helsing assisted in defeating the demon.

Our final adventure of the evening came with a choppy boat ride out into the deep blue of the North Sea. The brief maritime excursion offered a viewpoint from which Dracula himself might have first appreciated the gothic splendour of this special site.  The waters were particularly rough, it was a nervy journey for us, but one that Audrey found immensely enjoyable!

We squeezed into a small pub on the hill for a farewell drink, the place was rammed and not the most comfortable, but the beer was good and to my delight, we even caught a little of the bank holiday football.

Making our way back to the car, we joined the throngs of tourists leaving town.  It was a slow and uncomfortable exit, but once out of town, the traffic eased and we enjoyed the glorious greens of the Moors as the sun set over the horizon and day was overtaken by night...

...into the realm of bloodsucking demons!