Richard Barber

Excavations

The account of the medieval castle in Chapter 3 contains very little about its archaeology. The simple reason for this is that there have been relatively few excavations overall, and only one exploratory dig at the top of the mound. Most of the archaeological material is the result of excavations for other purposes, and the relatively few finds are mostly chance discoveries. What follows is a chronological summary of the recorded results of archaeological excavations and of geophysical surveys. There is more information as to the intended purpose of digs and surveys in the actual reports. The discussions and conclusions of the reports have been omitted, as the evidence from these operations is already reflected in the main body of this book.

In 1724, William Stukeley, in his Itinerarium Curiosam, is the first to offer a brief note on any found objects from the site, which he regarded as that of a Roman castrum called Cunetio. He saw a large copper coin of the emperor Titus, and was sure that the boundary of the earl of Hertford’s garden was one angle of the castrum ‘left very manifestly, the rampart and the ditch entire’. He marked the plan of the Roman fort on one of his illustrations and wrote: ‘I suppose it to have been 500 Roman feet square.’ The ditch and rampart were in fact those of the medieval castle; the site of Cunetio was discovered at Mildenhall in the nineteenth century.

The first reports of finds relate to building work on the site of the castle. In 1892, work near the laundry close to the mound did not produce anything medieval; nor did work in 1912 when a chimney was cut up the side of the mound for a water pump engine at the foot. In 1915, an excavation of the castle foundations started

at a point about 60 feet due South of the Mound. On the second day they struck a flint foundation running approximately East and West; this was followed westwards and signs of a wall turning to the South were found.

In the Winter Term, the operations were continued by following up the foundation eastwards, and by digging a trench towards the Mound between it and the original excavation.

Inquisition taken at the castle of Marlborough on the Friday next after the feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the abovesaid year, before the aforesaid Adam, concerning the defects of the same castle, supervision having been assigned as above, by the oath of Richard de Bray, Nicholas Heved, Geoffrey Aldewyn, John Child, John de Stanbourn, Laurence Broun, Adam le Pich, Nicholas Gramory, Walter le Bowyar, Roger le Taillour, Walter Bythewatre and John le Dyer, who say that there is a certain old bridge outside the castle gate there which ought to be rebuilt, and an outer bridge towards the town from the castle there which ought to be mended, which bridges can be rebuilt and repaired for £40 by estimation beyond [the cost of] the timber. Item, defects in the walls towards the said bridges there can be mended for 60s by estimation. Item the main gate of the said castle there, with the portcullis and chain for the same gate, may be made for 5 marks, beyond the timber, by estimation. Item defects in the chambers above the same gate there may be mended for 100s beyond the timber by estimation. Item, the great hall in the said castle, with the pantry and butlery and the adjoining chambers, and with two chambers next to the same hall, can be repaired in all their defects, both in their roofs and their walls, the carpentry and the stonework, beyond the timber, for £50 by estimation. Item, the great kitchen, with the larder, saucery and the rampart walks (‘alura’) towards the hall, which have the same defects as above, may be repaired for 10 marks beyond the timber by estimation. Item, the chambers of the tower next to the hall, having the same defects as above, may be repaired for 60s beyond the timber by estimation. Item, the high chamber, with other adjoining chambers and the rampart walks (‘alura’), having the same defects as above, may be repaired for £20 beyond the timber by estimation. Item the great chapel there, with the rampart walks adjoining it, having damage to the roof, which has been punctured, and other small defects, may be repaired for 60s beyond the timber by estimation.

We now change focus from the broad context of the castles in the landscape of Wessex to the specific case of Marlborough. Where does Marlborough stand in the hierarchy of royal residences, and what features does it share with other contemporary royal castles? Was it militarily effective or simply for show? How frequently was it used by the kings? And how did it evolve between its creation in the eleventh century and the beginning of its decay in the late fourteenth century?

The recent discovery that the mounds at Marlborough and Silbury are almost twins is a contrast to their appearances today. Silbury rises out of its solitary valley, sharply outlined against the surrounding landscape, while Marlborough is hemmed in by buildings, and until recently was almost entirely masked by trees. Yet until the Norman Conquest their histories were very similar. The Romans settled near Silbury, but the mound seems to have played no particular part in the life of the small village at its foot. At Marlborough likewise, the mound was simply a feature of the surroundings for the small borough which had grown up next to it by the eleventh century, at the centre of a small royal estate.

After 1066, Silbury remained undisturbed. In Domesday Book, Marlborough is not listed among the towns held by the king, though one-third of the taxes raised there were paid to the royal exchequer. This implies that it may have been a fief, rather than being held directly by the king, though it is not among the fiefs listed for Wiltshire. The charter in 1204 by which King John granted the growing settlement at Marlborough the right to hold markets twice weekly, and an annual fair at the end of August, is addressed to the ‘borough and burgesses of Marlborough’. It also details the right of the borough to jurisdiction and liberties similar to that of towns such as Winchester and Oxford. The borough had become an independent, if ill-defined, entity, and the ‘men of Marlborough’ paid an annual fee to the treasury. What is certain is that the status and wealth of the town in the thirteenth century was closely linked to the development of the castle.

Constables of Marlborough Castle

The Mound Trust was the idea of Eric Elstob, who was at the College from 1956–60. It was established in January 2000, and its objective was defined as being ‘to restore, conserve, preserve and maintain the Mound at Marlborough College and its immediate curtilage as a place of historic and public interest’, and ‘to educate the public about the archaeological and historical significance and merits of the Mound including organised access by prior appointment.’

These objectives were described in more detail in a strategy paper in 2003, which set out the agenda for the Trust’s activities. It began with a statement of what was known about the Mound at that point, which makes interesting reading in the light of subsequent events.

The strategy proposed for the Trust was then divided into three headings: conservation, restoration and exploration. All of these activities are still ongoing, and what follows is a brief survey of progress to date.

Conservation

Throughout the work on the Mound, there has always been an underlying concern about the stability of its structure, in the light of instances where interventions or natural occurrences have led to substantial damage to similar sites. The subsidence at Silbury Hill in 2000 as the result of earlier excavations and the collapse of part of Oxford castle motte in 2007 were very much in mind. One of the first projects was the installation of stability monitors, which fortunately have shown that the Marlborough Mound is not inherently in danger.

Hardly a vestige of Marlborough Castle, the medieval stronghold, remains – above ground. What may still be concealed under the trees of the Wilderness is another matter; something in the way of foundations has already been revealed by our Archaeological Section in one of its periodic revivals, but that discovery, made during the War, told us nothing definite, and the attitude of successive Bursars to the resulting hole has been pardonably lacking in cordiality. When some of the larger trees fall, as they are likely to do soon, we may learn more. In the meantime some digging in the Mound suggests that at least the dimensions of the Keep may be recovered, though there again successive alterations make it difficult to reach certain conclusions.

If some familiar, like Mr Bligh Bond’s Brother Johannes, would impart the information we stand in need of, the task of reconstructing the Castle – at least for the mind’s eye – might be simpler. But Marlborough, for all its Arthurian associations, has been less fortunate than Glastonbury. If the thing could be done, there are a number of men who might be invited to testify. Long contact with their activities, as heralded in Letters Patent, enjoined in Letters Close, acknowledged on the Liberate Rolls or recorded in various Ministers’ Accounts, has made them almost friends. Alexander Barentin, the King’s butler, might tell us much about the wine-cellars; William the balestier, who had charge of the King’s artillery, could explain a great deal that must for ever remain obscure in the domestic and military arrangements of the High Tower; and Simon Horn, sent down in 1222 to remodel the farm-management of the Barton, stayed long enough in these parts to see the greater part of the remodeling of the Castle as well. But if any man of the thirteenth century might be induced to revisit the glimpses of the moon, my choice would be a certain Keeper of the King’s wardrobe. It is true he went on to higher things, but he was here in those brave but anxious middle years of his century, and, if he could tell us little else, he might at least reveal something of the personality of a man who could rise to positions of dignity and honour though his name was – Peter Chacepork.

E. M. R. Ditmas, in two essays on Arthurian relics which still remain the best summary of the subject, touches briefly on ‘Gawain's sword’. All she says is that it was exhibited at Wallingford, but she gives no references. Sir Frederic Madden, in his pioneering edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, privately printed for the Bannatyne Club in 1839, discusses Gawain's sword in his notes, saying that ‘I was the first to discover the following curious memorandum … relative to the sword of Gawayne’. This was in a series of medieval notes on a blank leaf in a manuscript from the abbey of Bury St Edmunds, which was in the hands of a local Suffolk antiquary, and which Madden dated to the reign of Edward I. It reads:

Hec est forma gladii Walwyn militis: a puncto usque ad hilte, 53

pollices; hilte continet 11 pollices et dimidii; manicle prope 11

pollices; pomel continet 3 pollices. Latitudo 5 pollice, longitudo

in toto continet 66 pollices et dimidii, unde scribere in canello gladii:

The four lines in italic are a verse proverb: a suggested translation is ‘Put aside foolish handsomeness (or elegance) and cherish wise patience (or weakness)’.

It is almost certainly not part of the inscription, and has been tacked on by accident. Madden's note was followed by a discussion of the same text from a different source by Robert Huntington Fletcher, a pioneer in the study of the Arthurian legend in chronicle sources.

The history of the tournament gives us the clearest picture of the development of chivalry, and also illustrates the distinction, which only exists in English, between chivalry and knighthood. Tournaments begin with an entirely practical purpose: training knights and honing their military skills. Their origins are in the world of warfare and training for warfare, but they quickly cross into the world of games, and evolve in ways which are clearly of no military value. They may serve to identify the most skilful knights, and to create a bond among the participants which transcends ordinary loyalties. However, once the tournament ceases simply to be a military exercise and takes on the nature of sport, it gradually becomes a social occasion. By the fifteenth century the actual jousting is simply one element in an elaborate spectacle which draws together many aspects of chivalric culture.

A training ground for warfare

We know very little about the training of a knight in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. The skills required for fighting in armour and on horseback were acquired, it would seem, in the same way that riding was learnt, informally and within the knightly household. In Chrétien de Troyes’ romance Perceval, the hero comes to Arthur's court ignorant of knightly matters and armed only with a javelin. He kills a knight who has insulted the king, tries to strip him of his armour, and has to be shown how to do it. Likewise, he has to be instructed in knightly ways. The lord who teaches him first enquires how he manages his horse, and then mounts Perceval's horse to show him how to handle shield, lance and sword:

The letters and papers which follow are unusual in several respects, and this will emerge in the course of this volume. The diary of George Price Boyce, friend of Dante Gabriel Rossetti and John Ruskin, and a familiar figure in artistic circles in the mid-nineteenth century, has been known to scholars since the publication of excerpts from it by the Old Watercolour Society in 1941. The discovery, in the 1990s, of the letters of his sister Joanna and of Henry Wells, who was first George's friend and then his brother-in-law, led to an account by Sue Bradbury which not only drew extensively on these ‘Boyce papers’, but told the dramatic story of Joanna and Henry's courtship and marriage. Joanna, George and Henry: A Pre-Raphaelite Tale of Art, Love and Friendship was published in 2012. The protagonists were my great-great grandparents, and the papers remain with the family. They are in a form that presents considerable editorial challenges, and are difficult to use in their surviving state. It seemed appropriate to make available the whole body of the letters and diaries, with suitable annotations, for the extensive light that they shed on artistic life in London and Paris in the 1850s, and for the intrinsic interest of the letters themselves, sharp and stylish, which build a portrait of the three artists. Joanna in particular was a remarkable artist and writer of powerful criticism, praised both for her pictures and her articles in the Saturday Review.

A companion volume is in preparation which will build on the themes that emerge from the present publication. This will address the lives and artistic careers of all three artists in their historical and cultural context. The essays will explore art historical topics including Academic painting, watercolour practices, Pre-Raphaelite landscape painting and modernity and representation, technical developments and artistic training. Equally, The Boyce Papers contain a great deal of interest to students and scholars concerned with a range of topics in the Victorian era, including literature, music, theatre, life writing, the history of death, mourning and memory, and medical and pseudo-medical practices.