Munitions to Municipalities: government housing for WW1 munitions workers as the model for local authority provision

munitions workers, world war one
Gretna “cottage shells”: hostels converted to separate houses

Introduction: the centenaries

A century ago, after the Treaty of Versailles had been signed, Britain celebrated Peace Day on July 19, 1919. A public holiday was declared and a parade held in London. But to many survivors – including those ex-servicemen’s associations which boycotted the event – something more tangible, more practical and long-lasting was needed. Committees in individual towns and villages collected subscriptions for their own choice of appropriate memorial. As well as crosses and plaques naming the deceased, there were stained glass windows, park benches, public gardens and village halls. Many of these ambitious community projects still benefit their community. Yet at the same time many wished to put the past behind them, not to be confronted daily by disabled and unemployed veterans.

Choice of memorial and fitting designs for monuments were considered by those professionals who might be called upon for advice. Lionel Budden, architect, writing in the Town Planning Review in 1918 proposed a regional approach emphasising ‘permanence and beauty’, ‘works of public utility’ and the setting up of ‘institutions with an educative, philanthropic and other social purpose’, under the powers granted to urban authorities by the Housing and Town Planning Act of 1909 (more on that later). But confidence in government and officialdom was limited. This had been aptly expressed during the war: ‘Your king and country need you to fight on foreign soil / But will your king and country need you when they come to divide the spoil?’ (from an autograph book kept by Geddes Carr of Dundee recording contributions from conscientious objectors he visited in various camps during the war). Others felt marginalised and betrayed. Post-war disillusionment was to be expressed by TE Lawrence in 1926: when ‘the new world dawned’ the old men ‘remade it in the likeness of the former world they knew’.

Yet amidst hopes, expectations, mistrust and politicians’ rhetoric, in July 1919 the government did achieve something ground-breaking, born out of wartime experience and worth far more than a ceremonial day out. This was the Housing and Town Planning Act, known by the name of its promoter Dr Christopher Addison, at the new Ministry of Health. This was to be the realisation of Lloyd George’s election pledge to build ‘homes fit for heroes’ but its origins lie earlier, are far more complex and potentially instructive. In many ways life did change after the war, through individual expectations and opportunities such as extension of the franchise, also structurally in national/local government relationships. Would changes have come about by gradual (slow) evolution, or was devastation necessary to bring about a revolution in welfare and housing, in what was deemed both possible and suitable? The next generation was to provide an answer to that in the 1940s.

What follows here is an investigation into some of the origins of architecture and design, community and amenity planning, and opportune manipulation of government anxiety and desperation, which fed into the Addison Act. This legislation not only permitted local authorities to clear slums and provide decent housing for their working-class residents, but was to enable them through its financial provisions and very actively encourage them through its administration. (More detail will come later). During the war the government, with or without partners, built over 10,000 houses on 38 sites, as recorded in the Ministry of Munitions’ official history. I propose to discuss half a dozen of these, with reference to their location, architects, demographics and amenities. Readers who wish to follow up a particular site will find some titles in the Further Reading section. Although I do not discuss the subsequent fate of these sites, all are worthy of a visit on the ground, and at most of them much can be identified once the eye is attuned to characteristic features and able to bypass later alteration.

I start with a brief context, then look at each site in turn, followed by some biographical detail on key people involved. I do not venture into contiguous issues of employment practices and welfare, but focus on housing and planning, giving a very brief resumé of the pre-war scene before addressing the sources of the Act and for the Manuals which accompanied it. The sites are chosen for their significance at the time and the use made of that experience, noting similarities and differences. They are:

Well Hall Estate (London, for Woolwich Arsenal)

Elisabethville/Birtley (Belgian colony near Gateshead)

Gretna and Eastriggs (adjacent townships in SW Scotland)

Mancot (N Wales, near Queensferry)

Dormanstown (near Middlesbrough, for Dorman Long)

Barrow-in-Furness (subject of special enquiry in 1917)

and a private venture: Westfield (Lancaster, for disabled veterans)

woolwich, world war one, eltham, munitions, well hall, progress estate
Popular address of the Arsenal workers

Challenge and experiment

In May 1915 the British government faced the prospect of losing the war. Despite its usual patriotism and censorship, The Times revealed a scandal. It was shortage of shells which left soldiers vulnerable and the government was thereby culpable in their deaths. This was a job for the home front. Up till now production had been by existing industries, including those such as engineering which could readily adapt to armaments, supplemented by purchases from abroad. Delivery, quantity and quality control were unco-ordinated, while demand escalated. The solution was for the new Ministry of Munitions to establish government factories in addition to those with government-controlled status. This was a new government role, combining builder, manager, employer and landlord. The workforce, male and female, who were already under direction as to occupation and workplace, were needed on the spot, for round-the-clock production without reliance on public transport. They became the Ministry’s tenants, rather in the manner of some nineteenth-century company towns, which offered this novice employer some models for welfare and entertainment thought fitting to the workers’ off-duty hours.

It was essential for national security that a large workforce with access to explosives must be kept contented and compliant. The Admiralty had some pre-war experience in 1914 when the Housing Act of that year enabled them to build housing for 2,500 civilian workers at its base in Rosyth. It had been a lesson in how not to do it, but meant that legislation was already in place. This might be seen as the end of an already substantial wedge: employment was controlled, strikes forbidden (though not prevented) and dilution imposed (that is, the acceptance of unskilled workers contrary to existing trade union agreements); unchecked inflation and rent strikes (with such slogans as ‘Fight the Hun at Home) led to rent controls in December 1915; billeting was introduced in 1917, whilst food shortages and profiteering were to bring food controls (rationing) to maintain the health – and hopefully the morale – of home front workers.

Well Hall

arsenal, woolwich, munitions, world war one, progress estate
Frank Baines’ estate of Well Hall

Within that context the government began to build, starting with the purchase of a greenfield site (literally cauliflowers and turnips) within tram reach of the existing works at Woolwich Arsenal. Doubts were expressed about possible future needs for housing in Eltham, as the Arsenal had a previous history of an expanding and contracting workforce, but were surmounted. Well Hall (later called Progress Estate and since 1971 a conservation area) was the flagship project, in London where members of the government could actually see it for themselves. The statistics are astonishing. Within nine months during 1915, approximately 1,200 permanent family houses were erected by 5,000 construction workers. The Office of Works was the government department with the most relevant expertise, and their chief architect Frank Baines (1879 – 1933) and his team produced the design. What an opportunity!

A garden city layout was set out using gentle contours and some sinuous street patterns, with attention to sight-lines, ‘street pictures’ and provision of green spaces. (See the later section for the pre-war housing scene). It was not, however a ‘city’ and did not include amenity provision such as shops or schools. The houses were mostly grouped in fours or sixes, in a generally Picturesque style incorporating a variety of designs, materials and surfaces. Intended ‘to look as if it had grown and not been dropped there’, it is more reminiscent of Hampstead Garden Suburb than any identifiable English village. Street names reinforce the intended image, including past literary notables such as Lovelace and Congreve. More important from the resident’s viewpoint was home itself. This might be a flat of three rooms with scullery, rent 7s 6d; or a cottage (the usual term for a working-class house, though here doubly appropriate) comprising kitchen, scullery and three bedrooms; or perhaps the superior version with parlour (that is, a living room or ‘front room’ separate from the kitchen) for 16s. What is more, both electricity and gas were available.

Because so many of these were family homes, the lack of amenities came in for criticism during an official visit by Lever and Cadbury, consulted as experts on account of their workers’ villages at Port Sunlight and Bournville respectively. A school for 600 pupils was set up by the local authority in a temporary building on the periphery. The other criticism was that despite speed of construction (including two strikes) and avoiding corner-cutting on quality, the cost averaging at £622 per house was way over-budget and not to be repeated. Lessons had been learnt by all concerned, and a handful of munitions workers had acquired decent houses in congenial surroundings.

Elisabethville/ Birtley

munitions, world war one, elisabethville, birtley, belgians, temporary housing
Belgian homes at Elisabethville / Birtley

This was a very different, indeed unique, situation and a different response. It should be explained that Birtley is the name of the pre-existing village, as found on the map to the south of Gateshead, while Elisabethville was the Belgian name in compliment to their queen (hence the spelling). Belgian refugees were received in many places in Britain but their presence here was due to Armstrong, Whitworth and Co, ready to expand their government-controlled armaments production and needing the workforce to do it. The collaboration of British and Belgian allies, or more precisely that of two home government departments, together with a foreign government on British soil and private business, proved too difficult, resulting in two separate factories, one of which was staffed by Belgians and managed by the Belgian government. The workers and their supervisors, of both nationalities, lived onsite in the colony designed by the Office of Works, and directly alongside the works, all contained within security fencing with guarded access.

The workforce was composed of men with dependents (the women were not employed on munitions here) and of reformés, those classified as partially disabled, not fit to return to the front, but able to undertake ‘light work’ on munitions. The heavy-handed Belgian military regime together with strict segregation from the colony’s hinterland duly provoked a showdown over the issue of wearing uniform off-duty. A potentially nasty riot was averted and more relaxed attitude subsequently taken. Indeed, Elisabethville developed its own community identity, based upon facilities provided and the residents’ own enterprise. Yet this was always a temporary place, for an indeterminate time period, in temporary buildings, of which very little now remains.

Initially, despite the muddy unmade paths of a construction site, the chilly climate, and worries over what was happening back home, accommodation must have seemed to many of the residents to be not a home-from-home but a new world, albeit in strange garb. Timber hutments were laid out on a grid pattern resembling a military or prisoner-of-war camp. Initially addresses were numbers for row and block, but soon boulevards (main thoroughfares rather than gracious avenues) were named for figures such as Reine Elisabeth; Lloyd George and Kitchener were both honoured by rues. There were 325 single-storey cottages with three bedrooms and 342 with two bedrooms, built in terraces of six. Construction materials were largely timber, with lath and plaster or hollow brick, and felt roofs. Stoves were supplied to counteract the thin walls; electricity, water and indoor sanitation were provided for each household – which was more than locals in Birtley had – and a small garden offered the chance of growing vegetables and flowers. There were also 24 hostels and six bungalows for staff. Essential furnishing for these rented homes included bedding and crockery as well as furniture. When the colony was disbanded in May 1919, the sale catalogue of household effects listed: 2,500 chests of drawers, ditto dressing tables, 1,000 armchairs, 12,000 upright chairs, 5,000 beds, various bedding, ‘mats (carpet) in attractive colourings, and a quantity of tea and dinner services with blue and gilt borders’. Allowing for some turnover, this reflected a population of about 6,000, of which 3,500 men worked in the factory.

Support was provided by a neighbouring farm supplying pork and poultry, whilst onsite the Post Office was run as an Anglo-Belgian service. A canteen fed hostel residents, and offered some sort of meeting place, whilst a substantial store bought in wholesale to supply the canteen and individual households. From October 1917, the Cheval Blanc provided extra dining space, with band nights and beer (but no spirits).There was also St. Michael’s Roman Catholic Church, a cemetery, hospital, baths, laundry, cinema, and fire and police services, including a lock-up. The children were taught by Ursuline nuns (for the girls) and army schoolmasters (for the boys). A plethora of small businesses soon sprung up, often run from home by the wives of the munitions workers. Julien Dedrie had a photography studio, and it is his photographs which provide much of the visual record for Elisabethville. Social, cultural and linguistic distinctions were observed. The two Belgian languages, French and Flemish, were in use as indicated in a photograph of the Wascherij/Blanchisserie whilst some culinary sense of home was preserved in this foreign field by such bakery goods as Lièges tarts.

Gretna and Eastriggs: the biggest development

Although the places included here are placed in approximately chronological order, they do not show a developmental sequence so much as a sporadic response to previous experience and the individual preferences of some strong-minded individuals, tempered to varying degrees by the bureaucracy. Gretna and Eastriggs were two separate townships built for workers at the enormous government explosives factory which ran along the north of the Solway, from Longtown in the east towards Annan in the west, thereby straddling the Anglo-Scottish border, and at a little distance from the nearest town, Carlisle. Although reporting restrictions enforced anonymity, and architects’ drawings were published in America, official visitors recorded their observations, and later on an oral history project gathered the memories of previous residents, especially women workers. The largely female workforce was of particular concern to the government, whose attitudes ranged from patronising to repressive and confused to bemused: some duty of care seemed to be appropriate yet the women were a potential loose cannon. Arthur Conan Doyle was impressed by ‘this wonder spot of the earth’ which showed ‘what man’s brain and energy can effect’. Rebecca West, reporter for the Daily Chronicle, expressed it differently. ‘On the marshes there lay the village which is always full of people, and yet is the home of nothing but death’.

The location had the merits of being a safe distance from major centres of population, with a good water supply, and on the west side of the country, furthest from the enemy. Manufacturing processes could be separated by earthworks (on the tried and tested lines of prehistoric fortifications) as defence against fire and blast. Personnel and materiel could be moved about the site by rail: modern technology alongside pick and shovel and horse and cart construction methods. Official photographs of work in progress recorded these details. Construction overlapped with occupation and the first headache for the Ministry, and doubtless the local population, was the presence of a vast, largely Irish, force of navvies. As many as 5,000 to 9,000 men needed to be housed at any one time, while it was estimated that at best there might be existing accommodation for 4,500 within a 25 mile radius of Carlisle, even before considering transport. They were followed by up to 20,000 male and female workers. Housing, welfare and leisure activities needed to be provided for a skewed population consisting of families (but no elderly people) as well as large numbers of single men and women, whilst proper social distinctions needed to be maintained between workers, supervisory staff and management. So many challenges required an innovative approach: very fortunately the right people were appointed and given the authority to do the job.

Planning the townships, making decisions

munitions, world war one
Annan Road timber hutments, Presbyterian Church

This time the government chose not to employ labour directly, or to use the Office of Works. Edward Pearson, of the London construction company S. Pearson, was put in charge, with a direct telephone link to the Ministry. He appointed five local contractors, one of them the Carlisle firm of Laing (later builders of the M6 motorway). The chief architect was Raymond Unwin, whose credentials included work at Hampstead Garden Suburb, New Earswick (York, for Rowntree), Rosyth, and in partnership with Barry Parker, at Letchworth the first garden city. (Biographical details in the later section on key people). At this time he was employed by the Ministry of Munitions, with a team of five architects. Of these, Courtenay Crickmer, a former colleague from Letchworth and Hampstead, was appointed site architect to minimise the risk of mistakes and misinterpretation and to avoid wherever possible delays due to lengthy long-distance consultation. It is hard to know how much of the design should be attributed to Crickmer, although drawings for the Institute and for enlargement to the cinema carry his name and current address in Carlisle, a distinctive group of staff houses resembles his work at Letchworth, and the church at Eastriggs is certainly his.

Certain restrictions from above led to interesting compromises. Security was essential so that the site was as self-contained as possible, though not to the extent of Elisabethville. Finance, after the experience of Well Hall, was more tightly controlled, and part of Unwin’s role lay in negotiating with the Treasury. Their attitude to any expenditure – also at Mancot and Barrow – on housing or other amenities was not merely rightly careful accounting but could be downright obstructive, including payment for work already authorised by other government departments. One issue was the relative merit of temporary and permanent building, with the unquantifiable variable of future use. Although Gretna and Eastriggs did receive some of the temporary wooden hutments, clearly identifiable on plan by their grid layout, a growing timber shortage plus infrastructure costs (drainage, etc) on a par for the two options, tipped the balance. In May 1916 it was decided to build permanent brick houses. After all ‘you cannot expect decent workers earning good wages to crowd into the already overcrowded houses’ as the Minister himself noted in his wartime diaries. The budget came in at £218,000 for huts, £40,000 for construction workers, with hospitals and stores costing £5,700, shops and schools £26,000, and site preparation £108,000, to produce 1038 permanent and 97 convertible dwellings.

If not carte blanche, this certainly offered scope. How far might a garden city layout be applied? The site was almost too much of a blank canvas, being flat, marshy and largely lacking in trees or other distinctive features to anchor the new into the landscape. The link is the alignment with Skiddaw across the Solway. John Laing recalled this from an early morning stroll alongside Unwin ‘with his shiny head and cheery face’, presumably on a clear dry day. The mature trees on the access road at Eastriggs were maintained and new avenues planted, but for the duration of the war residents must have been less aware of greenery than of living on a building site. No parks or public gardens were included, although there were some small greens and closes with central grassy areas and playing fields on the outskirts. The plans for the two townships show the extent of flexibility in the layout and the way in which it was attempted to humanise the influence of the grid. Cul-de-sacs and small closes appear, also some set-back corners (a characteristic feature of Unwin’s planning) as at Loanwath Road cross roads, while small individual gardens help maintain low density.

Houses, hostels and ‘cottage shells’

munitions, world war one
Gretna shopping street and Co-operative stores

All three housing categories were needed and within each numerically accurate provision had to be made for workers and supervisors, male and female, and staff which meant both managers and professionals. The latter included those part of any civilian community such as doctor and clergyman as well as engineers and scientists for the factory’s business. In Gretna, the breakdown was 127 cottages, with 160 in the smaller township of Eastriggs, 40 houses for supervisory grades and 150 for staff. In appearance, houses made no concession to local tradition or materials, nor did they embody the imaginary vernacular of Well Hall. Houses were red brick with slate hipped roofs, mostly joined in four, five or six, with access to the rear for each, and built as semis for the higher-paid. Doors, windows and chimneys offered scope for some decorative variation to the basic ‘box’ (as it was described at the time). Porthole windows, reminiscent of Hampstead Garden Suburb, occur on Annan Road, and hexagonal ones on Canberra Road’s semis. Some of Unwin’s characteristic unifying screenwalls appear between houses on The Rand and The Ridge at Eastriggs, and on the intervening Crescent. Along Gullielands Place and Gillwood Road small houses suggest the proportions of former timber houses, and some may still be concealed behind later cladding.

Inside the family home of a non-parlour cottage (built for £350), there was a 12 x 15 ft (3.6 x 4.5m) living room, with rear larder, scullery and separate bathroom, WC and coal store against the outer wall, and three bedrooms upstairs. The Office of Works was responsible for furnishing the properties. The living room contained a 5 x 3 ft (1.5 x 0.9) table with single drawer, two wheelback Windsor chairs, two adjustable Morris chairs with upholstered seat and back, a small table with green serge cover, three Turkey-patterned Japanese rugs and a bookcase (which was omitted in parlour houses which received more rugs). Also provided was an umbrella stand, bedlinen, and a cork bathmat and wire sponge holder. Detail was not stinted in fitting up a parlour cottage. Kitchen equipment included an earthenware breadpan, fish kettle, four saucepans, egg pan and stew pan, and two sizes of frying pan. Blue band crockery was sufficient to serve six. In total, furnishing a house cost the government £107. 5s. 4d.

munitions, world war one, unwin
One of the housing types in the Gretna housing scheme

Hostels were built for men and women, ranging internally from the basic to those with more communal facilities and perhaps a club-like atmosphere. Some occupational groups – nurses, postal workers and women police – had their own hostels. Exteriors were varied as along Victory Avenue in Gretna, including plain (now rendered) walls and triple arch-moulded doorways, and the most elaborate type with central pediment and datestone. None is high rise, and some are grouped as at Kitchener Hostel, composed of three ranges about a small green. In total 134 hostels were constructed, 17 in sets of three at Eastriggs and 12 at Gretna. Residents paid from 12s. to 18s. per week, rent and wages rising with inflation. ‘Cottage shells’ were an innovative form, where the hostel could readily be split post-war into four separate parlour houses. As this is how they are occupied today, the architects’ case to the Treasury would seem to be justified. The female hostel resident occupied a rather small cubicle with bed and single cupboard but this was ‘alright because you made it nice to suit yourself’ as Emily Hubble said when interviewed about her experience at Gretna.

Civic and amenity buildings

world war one, munitions
Leisure: Carlyle Hall, Eastriggs; the cinema, Gretna

These were integral to both townships, planned from the beginning. Without mimicking a ‘traditional’ village centre, these buildings, visually and functionally, offered foci within the layout, more substance and gravitas. They also offered some individual design opportunities to the architect. So what is deemed necessary for a munitions workers’ community, in an isolated location, and with its particular, but geographically diverse, demographic? Shops were essential, in each case built as parades of about half a dozen units to let commercially. Tenants included a Co-operative drapery in Gretna, and café and bank in Eastriggs. A community lifeline was the post office. In Gretna this was on the corner by the shops and near the entrance to the township. In 1917 alone it handled an estimated four million letters. Professional fire and health services (including dentistry) were of obvious importance on account of the nature of the industry, while the police (of whom 167 were women) had an imposing presence in nicely-proportioned, and very visible, offices with Venetian windows.

Facing the shops in Gretna was the Institute, hosting social events such as dances, evening classes and with a quiet area for reading newspapers and magazines. These facilities were housed in a symmetrical, winged building with pronounced brick quoins, banded chimneys and central cupola. Amidst an overall mildly neo-Georgian style, the cinema made a bold statement. Steps, columns and architrave indicated a Classical temple: the most venerable style for the most modern form of entertainment. Popular demand led to its extension. Eastriggs, by comparison, had the Carlyle Hall (named for Thomas not the town) comprising a central courtyard with shops at either end, an events space, and some separate male and female areas. The womens’ club was placed next to the tea room and the mens’ club beside the billiards hall. For dances, there was the Central Hall, famed for its ballroom able to hold 800 dancers. This was quite different in appearance, favouring the (Germanic) style of the Folk Hall at New Earswick, with low buttresses and semi-circular gable-end window. Gretna’s demolished Border Hall was similar. Does this reflect a lighter touch for entertainment buildings or the taste of the architect concerned?

The latter was certainly the case in church building. A range of denominations were accommodated, tactfully dispersed and none in a central position. They provide the only height in a low skyline, and some difference in colour, but again eschew the local vernacular. Episcopalians could worship within a rosy All Saints (Geoffry Lucas, 1872-1947), Presbyterians at white-harled St. Andrew’s, and Roman Catholics at St. Ninian’s (C Evelyn Simmons, 1879 – 1952) within a Byzantine ensemble of brown pressed brick. Crickmer’s contribution was the red sandstone St. John the Evangelist’s church at Eastriggs. The original school buildings have since been replaced, but Gretna School was ‘planned on modern and well-considered lines, thoroughly well lighted and ventilated and with bright, spacious and airy classrooms well supplied with all necessary teaching apparatus’: an interesting assessment and statement of values from the Ministry of Munitions.

munitions workers, world war one
Gretna’s St Ninian’s RC Church by CE Simmons, and bakery

Other utilitarian buildings (as at Elisabethville) included the laundry, essential for contaminated work clothing as well as general hygiene. In Eastriggs it was conveniently situated in the timber hostels area and equipped with 42 wash tubs and drying and ironing facilities. The bakery operated on a large scale, producing 5,000 to 6,000 two-pound loaves daily as well as buns and cakes. But by now the reader may have noticed an omission: there were no pubs. So serious was the issue of alcohol control that the government took the unprecedented step of becoming pub landlord for Carlisle and district, an arrangement which continued until the 1970s. Elsewhere there were issues about unpalatable diluted beer and loss of casks in transit by rail. (See Further Reading for more on this fascinating topic). Finally street names should be mentioned. The theme was Imperial, referencing South Africa, Singapore and Australia, although Ireland seems to have escaped the planners’ notice. As places to live, Gretna and Eastriggs were commended by former residents as well as by the architectural profession, especially in the USA where they were seen to demonstrate ‘welfare, amenity and the service of man’.

Mancot: chemists on call in North Wales

housing, homes, munitions workers, world war one, screen wall, unwin
Hawarden Way & Cross-way in Mancot, then and now

This site deserves greater recognition. Although smaller than Gretna/Eastriggs, the Queensferry works, on the Dee estuary, west of Chester, was a major producer of gun cotton and chemicals, notably nitric and sulphuric acid. The government factory moved into an existing industrial site where the former steel works had closed in 1910. Its temporary residents – internees and prisoners-of-war – were summarily moved to the Isle of Man. It was assumed that most of the workforce would commute, so less housing was needed, mainly for key workers responsible for safety and security, imported supervisory staff and the chemists. A suitable village site was located a few miles inland, between Big and Little Mancot, on the Gladstone estates. Extended discussion ensued as the landowner haggled over compensation for the ‘particular nuisance at Queensferry of smoke and noxious fumes’ claiming in June 1916 that ‘miles of hedgerows and all trees in the area affected by prevailing winds, were already leafless’. This nimbyism was overcome and building started, to cease (uncompleted) in March 1918. About 180 houses were built, as well as hostels, for a population of up to 800. The site architect was Theodore Fyfe under the direction of Raymond Unwin. The latter had worked in the area previously, laying out a ‘garden city’ at Sealand, north of the river, while Fyfe had a very different background (see the later biographical section).

Mancot might seem less imaginative than its prototype, but presents a well-built distinctive enclave, appreciated by its present residents. A rectangular plan was set out using Hawarden Way and Mancot Lane as boundaries, Mancot Way as a parallel spine road and Crossway forming the main interconnections: no significant naming for new streets here. Fortunately building materials were available locally: light red bricks and Welsh slate. Features used at Gretna and Eastriggs may be spotted: hipped roofs, projecting wings or bays, triple brick arching for front doors (though no longer the original casements or sashes), linking screen walls, and hedged garden plots. Hostels were again built as cottage shells for post-war conversion.

This offered little scope for an architect to make his mark, yet there are some subtleties in the layout. Two small greens gave privacy to their three surrounding blocks whilst the three most imposing hostels faced the tennis court. The street view is varied by the patterned use of set-backs, where the central blocks in a run of three, four or five lie further back from the road. A few of the larger houses on Hawarden Way boast hexagonal porthole windows, but overall appearances do not emphasise social differentiation. To the occupants, whether their home was parlour or non-parlour cottage might have been more relevant. Amenity provision was perfunctory, consisting of the hospital, Co-op and temporary church. Residents had to lobby vigorously before gaining a post office. But despite lack of halls and meeting places, an active and articulate community grew up who showed their mettle in circumventing DORA to publish their local news sheet, the Mancot Circular.

Dormanstown: company town with experimental housing for a government-controlled factory

munitions workers, world war one, housing, homes, Redcar
Dormanstown: Dorlonco steel frame housing, by Adshead, Ramsey & Abercrombie

Other small schemes were built in various locations throughout the period, but the next one, in roughly chronological order, and with some striking differences, is Dormanstown. Named for the iron and steel makers Dorman Long, this is again a level windswept site, in between Middlesbrough and Redcar. The workforce was increased to satisfy wartime demand, and a self-contained community was envisaged. This continued to develop after the war, with the distinction in 1931 of building the first local authority housing for the elderly. (More on this in a future post).

Only one house, Westfield, interrupted the site and this was retained. The architects appointed, the partnership of Adshead, Ramsey and Abercrombie (about whom more later), brought a very different vision to their plan, as shown in the drawing. A straight road ran from the factory across Coatham Marsh into the marketplace (later named Ennis Square for the works manager) and on into the semi-circular green with houses elegantly laid out between the east-west boundary roads. This has been described by Pepper and Swenarton as ‘a spectacular example of baroque planning’. Indeed, on paper the design recalls Classical European garden design as well as a highly regulated company town.

By the time the initial build was completed in 1920, neo-Georgian houses accommodated 342 households, but these rendered walls and hipped roofs with handsome doors and satisfying proportions were deceptive, concealing the experimental Dorlonco system. This utilised an inhouse steel framework with a filling of conventional brick, and later of lightweight concrete blocks, coated with a two-inch thick sand and cement render. The thinking was that local men from the steel works could erect, as well as manufacture, the frames without the need for experienced construction workers: a quick, efficient and labour-saving piece of system building. Unfortunately this early attempt at pre-fabrication was not up to the persistent local damp atmosphere, and rusted frames led to demolition – although that was not until 60 years later. Traces of the original Dormanstown are apparent in its green spaces and low density, and in the surviving columns of the Classical colonnade fronting the semi-circular shopping parade.

Barrow-in-Furness: housing traditions and hot-bedding in the ‘longest cul-de-sac’

How did Barrow, on its isolated peninsular, come to be the subject of the sole individual study within a wartime enquiry into industrial unrest and the potential for revolution? The report of this 1917 Commission identified the problem of bad and insufficient housing as ‘a very serious and urgent one, and if not dealt with at once, will naturally be the cause of serious unrest in the future’ (a message taken to heart by the decision-makers of 1919).

Barrow had begun with the railway, followed by a succession of industrial entrepreneurs, each contributing housing to attract appropriate workers. Railway cottages and red sandstone Scottish tenements preceded the company town of Vickerstown, built between 1899 and 1905 on Walney Island. Publicity declared this to be ‘a marine garden city’ (showing dilution of the terminology even before the twenty-first century), with the streets named for warships and allocation of housing adhering to tenants’ position within the works hierarchy. The estate formed one fourteenth of residential Barrow and was run at arms’ length by a public utility company (housing association). Residents commented on the non-appearance of planned amenities. Barrow, then as later, was vulnerable to wider economic influences, with little unconnected alternative employment, limited scope for physical expansion or opportunities to commute to work elsewhere, transport being restricted naturally by the peninsular location. The delicate balance between local authority and business was now interrupted as Vickers became a government-controlled works.

A further 600 houses were built with an additional 90 for a detachment of the Ministry of Munitions inspectorate from Woolwich. These houses were ‘of a slightly better type than others belonging to the company’, being semi-detached with living room, kitchen and scullery, three bedrooms above and small garden front and rear. The social mixture was further enhanced, and pressure on accommodation increased, by the arrival of women workers. The latter were seen as something to be kept separate, best contained in wooden hutments. Hostels proved unpopular as ‘the women, who were mostly of a very poor class, disliked their restrictions and preferred to crowd into private lodgings’. Sharing digs with friends might at least be some substitute for home and family, and independence was one of the positive aspects of female munitions work. Their landlady also benefited from the rent, and company may have been welcome, despite extra cleaning and the provision of meals for shift workers. The official view was a little different: ’the married man returns home to find his wife cleaning up for the lodgers and his own meal not ready – in fact, with children, lodgers and husband the wife has her hands full – with the result that one or the other is neglected and naturally becomes dissatisfied’. The term ‘hot-bedding’ used earlier referred to the practice of one shift worker going to bed as another one got up from the same bed – a consequence of overcrowding.

Dissatisfaction became a national concern for government in 1917 as the war-weary population struggled to cope with high rents and ejectment orders, food shortages and profiteering (herring up to threepence in Barrow), physical exhaustion, often unhealthy employment, and continual worry over absent family members. Cost of living was estimated to have risen by about 70% and food by even more. Although the Inquiry was able to conclude cautiously (and perhaps optimistically) that ‘feelings of a revolutionary character are not entertained by the bulk of the men’, regional grievances were bluntly stated including that of an unresponsive government down in London, promises made and not kept, and in particular interference by the Treasury. Readers may find these comments uncannily familiar.

Local/national government relationships were an issue in Barrow. Central government expected Barrow Council to deal with housing problems and negotiations began in an atmosphere of resentment and distrust. With Barrow’s history of boom and bust, the local authority was concerned about future tenants. Would employment be maintained, enabling them to pay the rent, and at what level should it be set to cover the costs incurred in building? (These were the sort of concerns to surface again with the 1919 legislation). On the other hand, if the national government was to be builder and landlord, how would their rent levels impact upon others in the town, and would the council be left to pick up the tab when war ended, at some unpredictable future date? These were valid concerns, but the result was more delay, with a compromise programme not agreed until January 1918, reducing the proposed 1,000 houses to be built to 250 permanent with 202 semi-permanent ones. That was the term for single-storey hollow-walled concrete buildings, life expectancy set at 30 to 40 years (as distinct from 15 to 20 for temporary timber).

munitions workers, world war one, housing, homes
Symmetrical row of eight houses on Abbotsmead, Barrow-in-Furness

Those 250 houses were not completed until late in 1920, overlapping new post-war housing schemes. Street names were uncontroversially historic, referencing the former medieval Furness Abbey. Within Abbotsmead estate, there is Friars Lane, Priors Path and Monks Brow: a very different image to that of Powerful and Vengeance in Vickerstown. The borough surveyor was responsible for layout and house design. WC Persey had visited Rosyth (designed by AH Mottram, formerly an assistant of Unwin’s) with members of his housing committee, while the Vickers connection could have led them to their model estate at Crayford in London: a low-cost garden village producing Maxim guns. However, considering style and date, Persey’s choice may have been influenced by designs which were published in the 1918 Tudor Walters Report – the sign of things to come.

Westfield Memorial Village

Thomas Moreson, George Storey, veterans, disabled, community, housing, homes, world war one
Westfield, Lancaster

We have now reached the end of the war, but Westfield is included here as a community built for some of those who experienced the disabling physical effects of munitions; it is juxtaposed here with the housing for those workers whose production had kept the war going. Westfield was in itself a memorial, in the sense discussed earlier, and incorporating an appropriate sculpture as monument.

The idea came from Thomas Mawson (1861-1933), a landscape architect whose son James was killed in April 1915. Mawson’s illustrated pamphlet An Imperial Obligation: industrial villages for partially disabled soldiers and sailors, was issued in February 1917, widely circulated and read especially in government circles. This was important as Mawson saw his scheme as a national one, to be rolled out by government. The account of a man ‘not heroic-looking perhaps’ who has made ‘sacrifices of health and strength, of powers of mind and body’ is truly moving. And what was the future for such a person? ‘He shall not stand in the mean courts (slums) of a large town’ but ‘his pre-war experiences and capacities should be investigated, his sympathies and aspirations consulted’ and fitting employment promptly found and life passed in green and peaceful surroundings. As usual, government was concerned about potential numbers, uncertain date and future commitments. Also, despite his later reputation, Mawson was not seen as part of the establishment and himself felt that his suggestions carried less clout for this reason. However the clinching argument for government’s rejection of the proposal came from the Ministry of Pensions: such segregation was unacceptable.

In Mawson’s home patch of Lancaster, generous public subscriptions, fund-raising ventures and the support of local businessman and benefactor Herbert Storey, enabled a single village to go ahead. This was therefore a private charitable project. Mawson’s plan for Westfield (within which houses were designed by various architects) produced a place of quiet and calm, on garden city principles as regards space, density and planning, though without many facilities of its own as these were readily available within Lancaster. Bungalows set about the bowling green and two-storey houses offered a choice of accommodation, although in twenty-first century terms these did not specifically cater for disabled residents. Originally there were also flats, and workshops, but the employment aspect of the venture failed and was soon discontinued. Elsewhere too, government support and training schemes became unpopular, regarded as unfair competition once unemployment became the new urgent issue of the decade.

Interim summary:  some biographical notes and the pre-war housing scene

This section could easily be much longer, so biographical detail is restricted to key people involved, especially the architects already mentioned. It was, professionally, a small world. Conferences and publications kept individuals in touch, either directly or through one another’s work on paper. It is worth remembering too that for all those concerned, this critical period was one episode in a longer career. Crucial influences in common were those of the garden city movement, arising from the work of Ebenezer Howard, and the new discipline of town planning, with links to Liverpool University.

unwin, courtenay crickmer, CE simmons, housing, homes, munitions workers, world war one, geoffry lucas
Team of architects in the Gretna drawing office

The name to appear most often here has rightly been that of Raymond Unwin (1863 – 1940).        Influenced by the socialism of William Morris and Edward Carpenter, Unwin worked on industrial villages in Derbyshire before going into partnership with his brother-in-law Barry Parker. The practice was closely involved in New Earswick for Rowntrees, Letchworth First Garden City, and Hampstead Garden Suburb. Unwin also wrote Cottage Plans and Common Sense, published by the Fabian Society in 1902, and Nothing Gained by Overcrowding in 1912 for the Garden Cities and Town Planning Association. In 1914, aged 51, he was at the Local Government Board, whence seconded to the Ministry of Munitions. During 1917-18 he was a member of the Tudor Walters Committee (named for its Liberal MP Chair) alongside Frank Baines. As war ended, he moved to the Ministry of Health (from which Housing was later to emerge) retiring in 1928, but continuing to work as a consultant, especially in America. Mervyn Miller’s biography charts the evolution of Unwin’s designs from quadrangles with communal facilities through rural Buildings for Smallholdings in 1913 to those of the 1919 Manual.

Courtenay Crickmer (1879 – 1971) worked at Letchworth, building his permanent home there in 1905, also at Hampstead, where he would have met Geoffry Lucas before working with him again at Gretna. A prize winner in several cottage competitions, Crickmer’s style evolved over a long lifetime, through Arts and Crafts, Moderne and beyond. Theodore Fyfe (1875 – 1945) had worked with Arthur Evans on the excavations at Knossos – very different buildings and clients. After the war he moved to Cambridge, becoming the University’s first Director of the Department of Architecture. He applied his local knowledge of the area around Mancot to the Deeside Regional Plan, in conjunction with Patrick Abercrombie.

Stanley Davenport Adshead (1868 – 1946) and junior partner Stanley Ramsey (1882 – 1968) developed the Duchy of Cornwall’s London estate in Kennington as working-class housing, sympathetic to existing Regency buildings in the vicinity. Commissions prior to this had included the library and seaside pavilion at Ramsgate (both recently restored). He had a parallel academic career, appointed first Professor of Civic Design (that is, town planning) at Liverpool University, and editor of the Town Planning Review. Patrick Abercrombie (1879 – 1957) followed him in both roles as well as working in partnership at Dormanstown. Between the wars he worked as a town planning consultant across the country, and is best known for his County of London and Greater London Plans of the 1940s: the next generation’s post-war developments.

Thomas Mawson (1861 – 1933) had a background in garden design. He worked abroad, designing the Peace Palace gardens at The Hague, a scheme to alleviate water shortage in Athens, and the initial plan for rebuilding Thessaloniki after the devastating fire of 1917. He wrote and illustrated The Art and Craft of Garden Making in 1900 and Civic Art a decade later. He was involved in other memorial designs and town parks including Barrow-in-Furness. Post-war he tried to salvage Gretna/Eastriggs, but by then government preferred to sell off assets (at a loss).

Two businessmen have been mentioned, on account of their own (or family) building projects and for their influence on government. Seebohm Rowntree (1871 – 1954) was a member of the Quaker chocolate family of York where New Earswick was built as a philanthropic village for the workforce, in the tradition of Saltaire and others. He had an independent career as a sociologist, undertaking a survey of poverty in York on the lines of Booth’s study of London, identifying structural rather than moral causes. He was appointed director of the Ministry of Munitions’ welfare services in 1915, then served in the Department of Reconstruction. William Lever (1851 – 1925), later Lord Leverhulme, from Bolton, created the workers’ village of Port Sunlight, naming it for the product – soap. His receipt of a libel payment from Northcliffe’s Daily Mail group prompted him to found two chairs at Liverpool University, tropical medicine and town planning. At the end of the war he purchased an estate in Scotland, creating a small port, Leverburgh, on the Isle of Harris, to stimulate its fishing economy, selling the catch through the Macfisheries chain.

Finally, there is Christopher Addison (1869 – 1951) of the eponymous Act. Trained as a medical doctor, the observation of poverty and its link to ill-health led him into politics as a Liberal MP, making a valuable contribution to Lloyd George’s National Insurance bill of 1911 (the start of the old age pension). The coalition government sent him to Munitions as Minister (an irony he himself noted in his wartime diaries Four and a Half Years), then to Reconstruction and via the Local Government Board to be the first Minister of Health. A couple of years after the Housing and Town Planning Act of 1919 became law (effectively kick-starting council housing through state financial backing), he was sold out by Lloyd George. Despite this setback, provoking him to write The Betrayal of the Slums, published in 1922, he had a later career with the Labour party and in the House of Lords.

All the people mentioned here were part of the programme of munitions workers housing during the war, often connected, and contributing to post-war reconstruction. Before considering the run-up to the Act, the pre-war housing scene and reformers’ approaches to working-class housing need to be born in mind. There is plenty of excellent reading matter elsewhere on the subject. It is enough here to mention Edwin Chadwick’s work on public health (establishing the connection between health and housing), the 1890 pioneer legislation on working-class housing, the model towns or villages of industrial philanthropists, garden cities and their derivatives, the 1909 Act, and programmes of slum clearance. These had begun before the war, notably but not solely in London, but clearance of overcrowded slums led to the further problem of rehousing the displaced inhabitants, and high-rise (usually called tenements in the old sense of blocks of flats) were a response. Some developments were philanthropic, for instance Peabody dwellings, and there were a few early ‘cottage estates’, but there was always an issue about funding decent homes for the very poorest at affordable rents. This issue was one of the drivers of the 1919 Act. During the war, normal new building and regular maintenance were in abeyance, the housing stock inevitably suffered and by 1918 with the prospect of a large influx of returning servicemen and new households, the situation was dire.

Reconstruction and Reports

The government intended to be ready for the challenge of peacetime, setting up the Ministry of Reconstruction in 1917. On the housing front, the Local Government Board was also looking ahead, sending out a questionnaire to local authorities. This had the interesting effect of producing a feeling of solidarity among many previously disparate councils, as well as producing figures to indicate the level of need, regionally and nationally. Negotiations over funding for existing munitions workers’ schemes were overtaken by an announcement of a new post-war state-aided programme for working-class housing. That was the principle, but what form was it to take, how would it be administered and funded, and just what scale and nature of commitment was expected of local authorities nation-wide? Could a way be found to circumvent the opposition of ratepayers, private construction interests, and the inequality of levels of prosperity and deprivation between authorities? What about the availability and acquisition of land, not to mention materials and labour, and at what costs? Even before the end of war, and before politicians’ electioneering of 1918, action on housing was seen as a palliative for potential ‘unrest’- even the word ‘revolution’ was occasionally mentioned – by a large body of men trained to fight. These fears, as well as harrowing accounts of the conditions to which many of these men would be returning, were expressed by MPs and others, and may be read in Hansard and preambles to official reports. Some descriptions of unhealthy living conditions and congested districts (extreme overcrowding) are only too familiar from nineteenth-century reports.

The government responded to concerns in time-honoured fashion by setting up committees. These, to the credit of their members, summoned witnesses and reported fully and promptly. Not to miss out on an opportunity, RIBA (the architects’ professional body) held a competition – also a pre-war tradition – for cottage designs, which served to publicise possible house types as well as their designers. Courtenay Crickmer was successful, but his attractive contribution was rather different to his work at Gretna/Eastriggs.

Also through Reconstruction, the Women’s Housing Sub-Committee was convened with these terms of reference: ‘To visit specimen houses which have been erected by the Ministry of Munitions or other houses selected after consultation …to make suggestions with specific reference to the convenience of the housewife’. The committee, under the chairmanship of Lady Emmott, used a panel of investigators to visit, observe and record the comments of women on their homes, not from the stance of Lady Bountiful but using experienced professionals such as house property managers who worked for the societies or trusts providing working-class flats. Their findings were presented in an Interim Report, published May 1918, giving a twenty-page overview and commentary upon the recent cottage competition and on the memorandum and plans put forward by the Local Government Board in November 1917. The final Report included an additional section on ‘the conversion of middle-class houses into tenements for the working-class’ in such a way as to ensure ‘the health and convenience of the tenants are properly provided for’.

The scope of the Report is indicated by the Contents, from Heating to Management.  Recommendations cover: overall house size, decent materials and good workmanship, a frontage wide enough for air, light and sunshine with living room and larder each having the appropriate aspect; a parlour is highly desirable, a bath in a separate bathroom is essential, and a hot and cold water supply to both bath and sink, adequate ventilation and heating, and  electricity should be supplied (and made available quickly and cheaply). District heating should be investigated. Further, published registration of landlords should be compulsory, any conversions to multiple occupancy should be preceded by a sanitary certificate from the Medical Officer of Health, whilst in rural circumstances the water supply was a ‘matter of national urgency’ and provision of drainage must govern density of cottages per acre.

‘From the point of view of the housewife the question of the health of the family runs predominate over all others’. This encompasses amenity provision within the neighbourhood: gardens, playgrounds, schools and social centres are discussed, with some examples of good practice from co-operative and co-partnership schemes.  Communal (as well as community) facilities are mentioned, especially the launderette (as it would later be known in a different social context) and the café. ‘The returning soldiers will have become familiar with the sight of the worker and his family sitting under the trees in foreign cafes and enjoying a cheap and well-cooked meal’. Such an introduction would be ‘a vast improvement in our public houses’ and ‘a source of rest and enjoyment for the working women’. The basic requirements set out for a decent home were felt to be too extreme (or progressive) to receive the attention that such depth of investigation deserved. This writer cannot help reflecting that many builders over the ensuing century could have done a better job had they followed the recommendations of the Women’s Sub-Committee.

Next in 1918 came the Report of the Tudor Walters Committee. It stated its remit as an investigation and recommendations into ‘building construction in the connection with the provision of dwellings for the working class’ and ‘methods of securing economy and dispatch’ in getting it done. In addition to committee members, 71 witnesses were listed including Adshead, Crickmer and Seebohm Rowntree, technical experts and engineers, and others with experience in building or running relevant schemes. The lengthy report (supported by plans) begins by stating the scale of the housing shortfall from replies to the recent questionnaire. Around 300,000 more houses were already needed in England and Wales and a further 109,000 in Scotland, even before allowing for population increase and for normal annual demand due to demolition and replacement. That produced a target of 500,000 new houses. Operational issues were also addressed. Local authorities were going to need substantial help from the state, even those who are ‘energetic’ rather than ‘supine’. Private enterprise is likely to be limited for the immediate post-war term by availability of labour and materials. A strong Housing Department with greater powers is needed, with a regional network of local commissioners. A continuing role is seen for public utility societies (third sector plugging the official gap). The aim is to create ‘spacious suburbs with convenient and attractive houses designed by competent architects’ where districts are ‘planned so as to provide the amenities of healthy social communities’ instead of ‘gloomy streets and squalid dwellings’.

The influence of town planning, and of Unwin’s Nothing Gained in particular, is apparent in a long section on sites, drainage and roads, accompanied by drawings: clearly substantial schemes are envisaged. Regional preferences are recognised with a wish not to be too prescriptive in the section Accommodation and Economy in its Provision, inevitably followed by the issue of the parlour house (where cooking is separate from relaxation) and of three bedrooms (which had become a Victorian moral issue, surfacing again more recently as ‘bedroom tax’). In terms of household composition, the taking-in of lodgers is weighed against the success of wartime hostels in housing single workers. It is clear that opinions were not always unanimous, but after offering a range of house plans, and recommending some standardisation in fittings, overall guidelines on room dimensions and arrangement were stated strongly. These were: a minimum of 180 sq ft for the living room, 120 sq ft for the parlour (where provided), 80 sq ft for the scullery, and 150, 100 and 65 sq ft for bedrooms, hence a total of 766 sq ft as a minimum for a non-parlour house rising to 1,150 sq ft for a parlour house.

Meanwhile yet another committee was looking into the supply of materials. There was clearly no shortage of advice, with a fair supply of statistics and self-interest. The elections at the conclusion of war showed the success of Lloyd George’s campaign in placing housing foremost as ‘a great national charge and duty’, helped by slogans in the press. Land settlement, working conditions and employment protection were seen as projects less easy to demonstrate visibly. With so much hard work already done, it was possible to bring the Housing and Town Planning bill rapidly before the House, progressing to become law in July 1919.

The Addison Act and the Housing Manual

homes, addison, addison act, unwin, 1919, tudor walters report, council housing
Housing Manual Number 3, Class A Urban, northerly aspect (non-parlour pair)

The underlying principle of the Act is that the state has a duty of care to ensure sufficient affordable housing of decent quality. Local authorities and some others might be the providers, but it was the funding underwritten by government subsidy which would make it feasible. There were to be no excuses: councils were to present schemes, at least in draft, within three months. To assist them, new regional Housing Commissioners would be available. Schemes could be submitted in phases (and could start as soon as initial approval was received): land purchase, infrastructure, layout and then house building. Councils were able to take out loans, and for land purchase, this could be from the Public Works Loan Board, on very reasonable terms. Where the cost of building – unavoidably affected by shortage of materials – would lead to a rates increase of over a penny in the pound, this would be covered by government subsidy. The Commissioners would check on the proposed quality of design, materials and construction, as well as value for money. In practice, unrealistic schemes had to be re-submitted for greater economy. It was up to the architect, whether already employed by the council (and usually a surveyor or engineer) or appointed for the project, to come up with something suitable, and acceptable to the councillors, who then had to decide what rents should be charged, in line with local earnings, and gain the Commissioner’s acceptance.

That sounds like a tricky balancing act, and to help preparation the Local Government Board issued a series of manuals during Spring 1919. These covered: Unfit Houses and Unhealthy Areas, Part I Policy and Practice, Part II Legal Powers and Duties of Local Authorities; a shorter manual on the conversion of existing redundant larger houses into flats with proper facilities for each unit; and the most widely-read, the Manual on the Preparation of State-Aided Housing Schemes. This is notably well written (before the Plain English campaign) and designed to be accessible to the least technically-minded of councillors, with well-illustrated examples and tact in acceding to local knowledge and sensibilities.

This was just what was needed to get councils through the processes of the Act and with helpful drawings, in plan and elevation, of good practice, but with an element of choice. So helpful were these examples, that many local authorities saw no reason to waste time re-inventing the wheel, so adopted them wholesale, sure of their acceptance by the Commissioner. The result possibly produced greater replication – and perhaps monotony – than foreseen, as the no-frills designs could use materials from the Office of Works and some standardised fittings. On the other hand, layout had to fit the particular site, so groups, cul-de-sacs and linking screen walls could offer unity without regimentation. Designs were known to be workable, having been trialled by the munition workers on a sufficient scale to be convincing, and passed by Raymond Unwin through the Tudor Walters Committee, in some cases recycling designs from his earlier publications. This would encourage the ‘supine’ to become ‘energetic’ as they absorbed the concept that sound materials and construction plus adequate facilities, once suitably simplified and standardised, could be even more cost-effective than the alternative. The Act required two-storey cottages wherever possible, houses preferably with a parlour but at the minimum: living room, scullery, larder, fuel store, WC, bath in a separate room (that is, not in the kitchen/living room) and three bedrooms. The old industrial terraces and back passageways were banished as light, ventilation and aspect became new criteria.

Considering the house types illustrated in the Manual, the reader would find only four of the twelve had the recommended parlours, whilst the most notable change from the wartime model was in the preference for semis; only one showed the previously popular group of four. Was this to be understood as a mere simplification in drawing, with the parlour issue less important if cost was – as was inevitable – an issue? In practice, estates tended to feature the larger semis on the more visible periphery, while applying the illustrated site layouts for road junctions to good effect with some set-back corners. Ideal density was set at the garden city mean of 12 to the acre, allowing for gardens and public open spaces. Self-contained suburbs – though with varying provision of local amenities – were the aim, although the terminology was later to change, giving ‘suburb’ a different image from ‘estate’. Seven of the twelve house designs were ‘urban’ and illustrations suggest that substantial schemes were the main focus, with minimal choices shown for other situations. Although site layouts showed a continuity from town planning ideas current before war broke out, houses reflected far more closely their wartime prototypes. A ‘Standard Cottage’ had superseded the ‘Model Cottage’ as neo-Georgian replaced Picturesque and ‘vernacular’. Even latter-day Arts and Crafts supporters could be beguiled by the avoidance of irrelevant ornamentation. The new housing quickly gained its own identity. Much was built and the wartime innovation became the new familiar urban landscape.

What next?

The programme ran until 1921 (plus completion of schemes already underway). The first twelve months saw 10,907 schemes submitted (205 from public utility societies) and 7,674 sites approved by the Ministry. A year later, with less than half the target built, the project was ditched following a press campaign over ‘waste’ in spending on luxury villas for the working classes, comments reminiscent of those once labelling improved workhouses as ‘pauper palaces’. Addison resigned, whilst the new Minister, Alfred Mond (who came from the chemical industry to Health) cited newly-weds too blissful to notice squalid conditions and Eastern countries where families were happy to share a single room – just a joke, he said, such as politicians often enjoy. A succession of later Acts tinkered with the government’s promises of 1919, encouraging private builders to apply for a subsidy to build, and by lowering standards. This meant parlour houses were treated as unnecessary luxury, as were separate bathrooms and a third bedroom, while there was a loss of interest in providing community amenities, always liable to come last in a housing project. Concern over popular unrest was no longer linked to living conditions and it was to be a while before the health of the nation was again assessed in terms of adequacy for war.

I would now like the reader to take a stroll through some local inter-war estate. Does it seem familiar, from the ones you’ve looked at here, built for WW1 munitions workers? Is there a suggestive name, maybe an Addison Street? That familiarity stems from the provisions of the Housing and Town Planning Act of 1919, implementing the designs and ideas of the preceding Reports and accompanying Manuals. These in turn derived largely from Raymond Unwin’s pre-war principles, both published and on the ground. The government’s need of its workforce to produce the munitions to win the war provided the incentive to fund, build and manage housing schemes for over 10,000 houses. This afforded the reformist architects and new town planners the opportunity to experiment. It accustomed government to this new state role which the politicians could pick up in 1918 and carry through to the local authorities without succumbing to cold feet. By the time reaction set in, the scale of construction across the country and its all-round success had established a model which outlived war and the Act and has remained influential ever since. The next generation was also to observe the role of war as a catalyst in tackling the housing crisis, as it embarked on slum clearance and New Towns. Now, a century after the Act, you may ask: do we yet have sufficient decent, affordable housing?

Illustrations

Original plans, drawings and photographs may be seen in:

The Journal of the American Institute of Architects, Architects’ and Builders’ Journal, Building News; Tiffen and Gibbings Sale Catalogue for Gretna and Eastriggs; Weaver, Whitaker and archive sources listed below.

All modern photographs by the author.

Further reading

In the National Archive (TNA)

Files from MUN and RECO, especially:

MUN 5/239, Feb-March 1916, construction photographs

MUN 7/257, designs for amenity buildings

MUN 4/6166, house contents, Gretna

RECO 1/622, full reports for Women’s Sub-Committee on Well Hall visits

T161/68 (Treasury), origins of Well Hall

Government publications

Report of the Commission of Inquiry into Industrial Unrest, 1917

Interim Report of the Women’s Sub-Committee on Housing, 1918

Report of the Tudor Walter’s Committee, 1918

Housing and Town Planning Act, 1919

Manual on the Preparation of State-Aided Housing Schemes, 1919

History of the Ministry of Munitions, vol. V, 1921

Other contemporary sources

Addison, C, 1934, Four and a Half Years: a personal diary from June 1914 to January 1919

Addison, C. 1922, The Betrayal of the Slums

American Institute of Architects, Oct 1917 and Feb 1918 (illustrated report)

Town Planning Review, 1920 (position statement on the Addison Act)

Weaver, L. 1926, The Country Life Book of Cottages (includes Gretna/Eastriggs, New Earswick, Dormanstown and Crickmer)

Whitaker, CH. 1918, The Housing Problem in War and Peace

More useful reading

Appleby, C. Cocroft, W. and Schofield, J. eds, The Home Front in Britain 1914-1918 (Council for British Archaeology Field Guide)

Caffrey, H. 2016, ‘Housing the Munitions workers: Gretna, Eastriggs and Barrow-in-Furness’, Transactions of the Cumberland and Westmorland Antiquarian and Archaeological Society, vol 16, 2016

Daunton, MJ. ed, 1984, Councillors and Tenants, local authority housing in English cities, 1919-1939 (local studies including Finnigan on Leeds)

Gaskell, SM. 1987, Model Housing from the Great Exhibition to the Festival of Britain

Merrett, S. 1979, State Housing in Britain

Miller, M. 1992, Raymond Unwin: garden cities and town planning (includes a chapter on Homes fit for Heroes)

Pepper, S. and Swenarton, M. 1978, ‘Home Front: garden suburbs for munitions workers’, Architectural Review, no 163, 1978

Ravetz, A. 2001, Council Housing and Culture

Rodger, R. ed, 1989, Scottish Housing in the Twentieth Century (especially chapters by Minett, R and Whitham, D)

Survey of London, 1990s, (online, by borough)

Swenarton, M. 2008, Building the New Jerusalem

Individual sites

Well Hall

http://www.ideal-homes.org.uk (Progress Estate by Kennett, J)

Progress Estate Conservation Area character appraisal (online)

Elisabethville/ Birtley

http://www.birtley-elisabethville.be (Belgian website, illustrated)

Gretna and Eastriggs

Brader, C. 2014, Timbertown Girls

Liddle Archive (oral history transcripts), Leeds University Library, Special Collections

Routledge, G. 1999, Gretna’s Secret War

Seabury, O. 2007, The Carlisle State Management Scheme (pubs)

Mancot (Queensferry)

The Architects’ and Builders’ Journal, Dec 1918, ‘The government housing scheme carried out at Mancot in Chester’ (special supplement, with plans)

Pritchard, TW. 2003, A History of the old Parish of Hawarden

Dormanstown

TNA, HO 185/350

Barrow-in-Furness

Supplementary Report to the Inquiry, 1917 (cited earlier)

Trescatheric, B. 1992, Building Barrow

Westfield, Lancaster

Mawson, TH. 1917, An Imperial Obligation: industrial villages for partially disabled soldiers and sailors

For any specific site, visit the local library and check the regional archive catalogue. There is also the Devil’s Porridge Museum at Eastriggs and the Dock Museum at Barrow.

Freedom to Farm: housing smallholders on the Chartist Land Colonies

Rosedene, Dodford
Rosedene, Dodford

Helen Caffrey

 Introduction

This is an investigation into the buildings which make up the five Chartist land colonies: small agricultural villages built to one model during the 1840s. This is one of the most creative and long-lasting aspects of the movement, also one of the best surviving but least studied. My approach is ‘social architecture’ meaning that the design and layout are considered in close relation to smallholders’ practical requirements and way of life. I shall look at what was built, contemporary context, and possible influences leading to the unique design. The questions to bear in mind are:

*What were the origins of the design?

*How did the housing compare with contemporary workers’ living conditions?

*How did the buildings function as home/work units?

*How far was each settlement a ‘planned community’ with a Chartist identity?

*And finally, did the colonies influence any later building?

The final section, Further Reading, details the sources used as well as some more general works on Chartism, Feargus O’Connor, and other model settlements. Individual local studies, which continue the histories of their respective communities, are also listed. It should be emphasised that my work takes a pragmatic approach, avoiding political or ideological assessments.

Location and Visual Images

The five settlements, known as land colonies, are listed here, with their grid references and current counties. It is informative to look at the map, and even allowing for later changes, notice such features as high or low ground, soil and drainage, potential access to main roads and towns. The layout, discussed in the Planning section, may be better appreciated on the ground, but it should be remembered that these villages are not showplaces or deliberate monuments. Only at Dodford can an individual house and holding be entered, where Rosedene is cared for by the National Trust and open by appointment.

In order of building:

Heronsgate, Hertfordshire, TQ 025944 (OS Sheet 176)

Lowbands, Gloucestershire, SO 775316 (OS Sheet 150)

Minster Lovell, Oxfordshire, SP 313105 (OS Sheet 164)

Snigs End, Gloucestershire, SO 792 285 (OS Sheet 150)

Dodford, Worcestershire, SO 732931 (OS Sheet 139)

Heronsgate was also called O’Connorville and the settlement at Minster Lovell is named on the map as Charterville Allotments.

The visual images from the time are drawings and engravings, in particular in the Northern Star newspaper and the Illustrated London News magazine. There is also a fascinating and complex ‘poster’ in colour for Heronsgate, classified by the British Library as a map. A portrait of Feargus O’Connor shows a selection of buildings and fields as a backdrop, while in 1859 his Nottingham supporters (after some controversy) provided a statue of their MP in the Arboretum. One of the Chartist schools is embroidered as a stylized motif in Ann Dawson’s sampler. Current descriptions and layout for those which are listed buildings may be found on the Historic England website. All these resources are listed in the section Further Reading.

Origins: Feargus O’Connor and the Chartist Co-operative Land Society

As both the Land Company and the colonies themselves were so closely associated with their founder and protagonist, a few words of background are in order. Feargus O’Connor (c.1796 – 1855) was the son of a prosperous Irish Protestant landowner, himself inheriting an estate in County Cork in 1820. This offered ground for his own experiments as a reforming landlord whilst politics led him to England. A powerful orator and ‘independent agitator’ he became involved – not always consistently – in radical debate, allying or clashing with other notable figures such as Daniel O’Connell (the Liberator) with whom he fell out. Skill with written as well as the spoken word led to journalism and the foundation of the Northern Star and Leeds General Advertiser in 1837 (later the Northern Star and National Trades Journal), achieving a circulation figure of 40,000 by May 1839. After the proposed national holiday (general strike) and Newport rising (in which he did not take part) Feargus was imprisoned on the grounds of responsibility for seditious libel published in the Northern Star.

In1843 he joined the executive of the National Charter Association possibly becoming its highest profile member. The six aims of the Charter were: universal male suffrage over the age of 21; secret ballot in elections; removal of the property qualification for MPs; payment of MPs; equal voting constituencies; annual parliamentary elections. After government dismissal of the Charter a new direction beckoned in the land movement and to this Feargus devoted his considerable energies as well as his own money, continuing his personal involvement even once elected MP for Nottingham in July 1847. Despite a support team, his administrative skills were less effective. Whilst he drove the creation of the land colonies, their thorough construction and settlement in an astonishingly short time, their legal position remained anomalous. In 1848, the Year of Revolutions across Europe, this loophole was eagerly seized on by a hostile press and government, playing on fears of rising Poor Rates payable by those who might have smiled on a landowner’s model estates if unaccompanied by radical ideals. Issues were further compounded by contemporary debate over a franchise dependent on freehold property ownership, and over freehold and leasehold more generally. From 1851 Feargus suffered increasingly serious mental health problems and died four years later. His subsequent reputation has had its ups and downs; he was both bombastic orator and hands-on worker, idealist and activist rather than theoretician. Without entering that debate, it is sufficient to say that without Feargus there would be no Chartist land colonies for us to discuss 170 years later.

Buildings on the ground

By 1845 the land programme had emerged from its subsidiary position within the National Charter Association to become the Chartist Co-operative Land Society (renamed two years later as the National Land Company). Its objects, as stated at the Manchester conference in December 1845, were: ‘to purchase land, erect dwellings, and allot them to its members upon such terms as shall enable them to become small freeholders and to live in comparative comfort and independence’. The next published details for buildings appeared in the Northern Star on 14 March 1846 accompanying the joyful news of the purchase of the Herringsgate (later Heronsgate) estate. Here ‘cottages – neat cottages with suitable offices – not hovels – will be built without delay’. The plots are to be laid out ready for their occupants ‘enclosed either with quick hedges [hawthorn] or single post and rail’. As to the accommodation itself ‘the centre room, a kitchen, of each cottage will be tiled [the floor] and will have a kitchen range with oven and boiler, the other two rooms will be boarded and papered [floor and wall respectively]. The cottages will be painted and aired, and the lands suitably laid out, so that the responsible occupants will have nothing to do but put in their furniture and go to work…. Roads will be so constructed that every occupant can go without interruption from his own place to a road leading to the highway’. No estate agent could do better! Crucial points here are the quality of construction; no bare earth floors as so often found both in rural dwellings or housing thrown up hastily such as mining villages without adequate foundations or drainage. The essential facility for cooking, heating and heating water is included, though at this point no mention is made of water supply, while it is also clear that occupants will supply their own furniture. This first mention of road layout will be discussed later.

On 22 August the open day at Heronsgate was exuberantly reported ‘35 superb cottages’ (13 with 4 acres, 5 with 3, and 17 with 2) were so far completed and ‘a magnificent schoolhouse’ while the star of the day ‘Rebecca [the cow] was tastefully dressed out for the occasion’. The accompanying engraving of ‘the people’s first estate, O’Connorville’ shows a fascinating combination of factual detail, artist’s licence and an image of pretty and productive smallholding lives. The artist, as usual, was not credited, though the illustration must have been approved by the editor. Houses abut straight roads on which the inevitable woman and child stroll, but there is also a purposeful man with a wheelbarrow, hay is scythed and raked (though not into regular rows) while on another holding a cow rests in the shade of a mature tree, a laden cart awaits drawing by a horse (whose hire was only acceptable to Feargus on a temporary basis to keep down feed costs) or possibly donkey, and water is drawn from a substantial well. Bound stooks show a cereal crop in an L-shaped field, while more formal, presumably kitchen garden or vegetable beds complete the scene. Towards the distant boundary a field, perhaps already cropped is being ploughed ready for the next sowing. The inhabitants of this bucolic scene do not live in the cottage so carefully described three years earlier, but in two-storey semis distinguished by single-storey side wings and a large emblem of the charter at the shared apex. Sure enough a dozen of these houses with four-acre plots may be found at Heronsgate, but not at the four later colonies, and already the characteristic cottage is appearing.

Purchases, open days, ballots and settlement now follow thick and fast. Feargus conveys the sense of excitement and hard grind through his frequent letters in the Northern Star. His reader – as prospective smallholder – is kept in the loop as a plan of an ‘estate in the parish of Redmarley D’Abitot, Worcs’ (now Gloucestershire) published on 14 November shows existing field boundaries and focal position of Forty Green: Lowbands of the near future. Reporting on 19 December from the recent conference the Northern Star states that ‘the conference has decided that the maximum-sized cottage shall not exceed four rooms of 12 ft (1.11 m) square each. This was commended for preserving a larger amount of land thereby keeping down rentable value compared with a higher value where a larger proportion was given to housing. It is also a recognition of rents payable despite later ambiguity over the leasehold/freehold issue. Once ballot winners were known, the Company’s secretary would write to each successful individual requesting their choice of a three- or four-roomed property. Three would of course be smaller but – depending on accompanying acreage of two, three or four – could be more profitable in allowing more space for stock or cultivation. Clearly a lot had gone on at this conference, which included some heartfelt discussion on the school. A month later (23 January 1847) the reader is engaged with a breakdown of the worker’s time on a three-acre smallholding. This included 24 days planting potatoes and two for putting out manure, while flax makes an appearance here as a crop which would provide winter work for the family in textile production. This was one of the ideas which seems to have fallen by the wayside, as did the mention of ducks and honey.

On 13 February Feargus wrote from Lowbands, the second site to be built, where he was now living on site. The drawing which accompanies Feargus’ letter is squashed awkwardly into the paper’s column layout. It is more often reproduced than Feargus’ earlier one but conveys little beyond a three-room house with outbuildings in which are ‘the dairy and back kitchen communicating with the dwelling, housing for the donkey and donkey cart, a cow-house for two beasts, pig sties for four, fowl-house, fuel store and privy all set about a walled and gated yard’. Building materials are given as brick and slate. The Heronsgate two-storey semi of unknown origin has gone for good; the house is pared down to a basic three rooms (which could offer no more than two bedrooms) but is still well built of good quality materials. Utility has advanced from the earlier 1843 design (see the later section The evolution of Feargus’ ideas) in ergonomic connections, notably dairy and kitchen, and in layout and integrated access to all outbuildings from the yard. No explanation appeared in print as to the changes. Reduction in costs could be a factor, with the intention of offering long-term opportunities for more smallholders, but reaction to the early settlers’ experience and working practice could be relevant too. Whatever the explanation, this became the model for the distinctive Chartist cottage: a building of quality and simplicity designed for its particular function.

One unusual feature is worth mention: the lack of decoration. The charter logo found at Heronsgate is not repeated. There are no plaques or inscriptions; no need is seen to inform or boast to any visitor or passer-by, nor is Feargus as founder visually commemorated. However the Chartists were expert in publicity through mass events with processions and ‘family entertainment’ (receiving plenty of attention in their respective local papers and beyond). The demonstration (open day or gala) at the now-established colony of Lowbands on 16 August 1847 allowed visitors to admire the ‘tasteful gates swinging from stone piers at several entrances’ (since lost), ‘beautiful crescents’ (but without comment on their presence or distribution) and ‘45 stone-built cottages and out-houses and the splendid school’. Wheat, barley and grazing cows were there to be admired. Despite his duties as an MP, Feargus was present in the rain, quipping cheerfully that the wet weather was good for the potatoes. Among others, Robert Owen from New Lanark was also present, though his opinion of this realised ideal so different to his own was not recorded. However, a Mr Wild from Mottram advised young women in the crowd to be sure to marry a Chartist!

During 1847, ’48 and ’49 the Northern Star continues with news of the land colonies, including the fifth and last to be established, at Dodford (initially referred to as Bromsgrove, the nearest town). Amidst stirring national and international news, agricultural items were sent in by Feargus. Whatever his administrative failings, he cannot be faulted over communication. Much of the content dealt with figures and finance, yet there was enough to convey a sense of the settlements in their early stages to those readers unable to escape industrial or depressed rural surroundings for an open day visit. By 8 January 1848 ‘vermin coverts’ at Snigs End had been converted into ‘labourers’ fields’ and a pump placed ‘in every man’s back kitchen’, while oxen were on site producing manure. At the conference in nearby Lowbands, Feargus had agreed to residents’ requests to ‘plant a double row of pear trees in front of each cottage’ and undertook to ‘sow French furze seed around each allotment’ whose preparation for winter cattle feed would be explained. Then there are enthusiastic reports on produce and instructive items for the smallholder.

The demands of the Select Committee investigating the accounts and legality of the National Land Company, led to Feargus providing extensive detail on building materials, costs and method in the June 24, 1848, edition of the Northern Star. From this, houses can be seen to be costed at £120 each (and there had been earlier comments rejecting builders tendering at £200 per house), while the four school houses came out at about £500 each (more on these later). Land drainage, so beloved of contemporary agricultural improvers, was sadly not costed separately, though in terms of infrastructure about 10 miles of road (surely an underestimate) came out at £2000. Detail available for Lowbands shows close ox fencing cost £88 and guano (additional fertiliser) £99. The carpenters, joiners and their timber – currently working at Dodford – accounted for about £1200 of expenditure on Lowbands. 36 pairs of ‘splendid entrance gates’ are itemised (though location not given), while at Heronsgate an additional sum of £1500 had been spent – presumably above the basic £120 – on 13 five-room and five four-room houses.

An additional sum of £500 had gone on water tanks for the dry sandy estate at Minster Lovell. Work involved in land preparation, as on any greenfield building site, plus the added requirements of subsequent agricultural use, was extensive. Old fencing was grubbed out, plots marked, pipes laid for drainage, ground levelled for road laying, and initial ploughing and harrowing was followed by planting potatoes and barley – ¼ acre of it per four-acre plot at Snigs End. Faggots and roots from the land clearing were stacked behind the houses for fuel. Labour, preparation and portable workshops used during construction for the first four  colonies (as Dodford was still ongoing at the time of the report) were estimated to cost about £8000. The quality of materials and construction implies good value: this is still apparent in surviving buildings and from the examination of Rosedene at the time of its restoration.

By early 1849, as Feargus wrote optimistically of future colonies to grow not only in Hertfordshire, Gloucestershire, Worcestershire and Oxfordshire, but ‘spread to the plains of Poland and fields of Russia’ it became possible to see the progress made over the first one to two years of a colony’s existence. In August the schoolhouse at Snigs End offered the ideal venue to host the Land Company’s annual conference, attracting many attenders from the wider area, including the curious as well as fellow Chartists and possible future settlers. As Lowbands is only two miles away, comparisons could be made between an estate on level ground and a higher one more attractive but further from markets. The inclusion of a rare aesthetic comment was, perhaps, a marketing ploy, and no mention seems to have been made of possible co-operation between the neighbouring settlements over transport. However, Feargus had judged the crops to be better than those seen from the approaching main road: barley and wheat were well advanced, mangold wurzels and swedes were large, potatoes and other greens plentiful and healthy; only the carrots had failed. Perhaps there were enough roots already for stockfeed and a balanced diet. Finally there is a rare visual comment to supplement the few printed engravings. ‘The cottages present a neat and clean appearance, and the greater part of the allottees, with commendable taste, have combined the useful with the ornamental, by rearing vines and other climbing trees, roses and different varieties of flowers around their doors and at the end of their dwellings’.

This was encouraging – and maybe also liable to raise expectations. New arrivals at Dodford, where completion may have been rushed due to the growing legal and financial problems for the Company, voiced some dissatisfaction. Feargus honestly noted in the Northern Star on 7 July 1849 that: 1) there were no pumps in the houses, 2) wheat was not yet sown, 3) crops so far were poor. In response pumps were ordered and duly installed ‘in every back kitchen now’, crops which had been sown were (per holding) ¼ acre of potatoes, 1 acre of cabbages, and the rest was to be prepared for turnips; only the peas had failed and extra guano was being supplied while the cabbage area was to remain fallow until the autumn sowing of wheat. This is an instance of direct interaction between the colonists and Feargus, and could be seen as the attitude of a responsive landlord. On the other hand, what exactly were colonists told as they entered their holdings? How far would they follow the initial crop scheme or make changes of their own?But by now the scheme was being wound up, Feargus’ health was declining and mental health became fragile, and journalists eagerly descended to report the sorry state of the Chartist colonies and their inhabitants. Good journalistic stories do not need to adhere to too many facts and objectivity may be overcome by the interests of the paper’s proprietors. Not surprisingly, the focus was on issues of tenure rather than a balanced account of the settlers’ way of life.

Taking a closer look: planning

Crescent at Minster Lovell. Illustrated London News, 12 October 1850

Now that the colonies are up and running, it’s time to look more closely at their physical form, examining in turn layout, dwellings, and agricultural features. Essential considerations, for any planned settlement, include topography, existing features such as roads, and connection or separation from sources of employment. The centre might require special treatment, and zoning or distribution of buildings could be used to separate activities or reinforce social differentiation. Whether an imposed grid or artful dispersion, the layout must move from the drawing board to implementation onsite. Although some nineteenth-century schemes seem to be a visual representation of ideas and social relationships rather than concrete planning, there was no shortage of model villages, whether rural or industrial, philanthropic or experimental, for the designer to study.

Interest at this time focussed on the city as it was affected by industrialisation. Imaginary nostalgia and a need for order and regulation competed amongst the theorists. Seven years before founding Harmony in Indiana, USA, Robert Owen (1771-1858) brought out a prospectus for a group of villages. These utilise his favoured form of buildings about a square, set in an unconvincing landscape of coast, river, and rectangular road network among fields. JC Loudon’s scheme for a city centre, published in 1831 though he dated its conception to the year after Owen’s, also set buildings in a square, but these are high rise blocks (seven storeys) within a community of 80 households, to function co-operatively. This was to be the chosen population size of the larger Chartist land colonies. By the mid-century a small number of high profile villages created by more or less philanthropic industrialists could be seen: Bessbrook in Ireland, Bromborough Pool in Cheshire, Saltaire and others in Yorkshire. Elements of tradition, social engineering and business pragmatism were present within an employer’s perspective. At the opposite extreme, AWN Pugin (1812-1852) offered romantic medievalism as a solution to modern urban ills in Contrasts in 1836, but sadly no client gave him the chance to build his dream community.

The aberrant nature of the Chartist colonies is thus apparent as Feargus chose none of these options. Despite a lack of apparent formality in the layout, the constraints of divisibility into four-, three- and two-acre plots (1.62, 1.21, 0.81 ha) of comparable quality, together with the nine-foot wide (2.74 m) roads, are consistent features, with all houses set within 30 yards (9.13 m) of the nearest road with individual access. Perhaps even more noticeable are the omissions: no centre, church or green, and no implicit hierarchy. Absence may be as significant as presence, and these issues are discussed later.

The first estate at Heronsgate was, and is, bounded on the east by an existing road, Long Lane. Plots were laid out on both sides of an approximately north-south spine, Nottingham Road, with those to the east and along the straight Halifax Road being the smaller, two-acre holdings. Association of semis with the larger plots along the west side of the main spine may reflect ease of surveying rather than any unacknowledged distinction between colonists. The short Stockport Road crosses to join Long Lane and a short east-west arm, Bradford Road, to its north. Roads were consistent in their width of nine foot, sufficient for a cart, while there was no apparent need for separate pedestrian footpaths or roadside pavements. The street names were chosen to reflect some home areas for subscribers to the scheme (and Nottingham for its MP), but do not refer directly to the actual settlers who were located upon the numbered plots. This seems to have been the only colony to be named in this way, and it is worth noting that names were not chosen to reflect either ideas or individuals. As Heronsgate differs from the subsequent sites in its inclusion of two-storey semis, any significance in height, prospect and visibility is hard to detect. However, the tallest building, the schoolhouse, was placed in pole position at the head of the spine road. Later growth of hedges and trees now speak more of privacy and gardeners than of any plan that may have appeared to the original settlers.

Minster Lovell (Charterville Allotments) is separated by the A40 (Witney to Cheltenham road) from the much older village to the north. The site is elongated, superficially similar on the map by virtue of its north-south spine road, single offshoot to the east and west-east development crossing the spine’s northern top. However the effect on the ground is of a straggling linear street village, enhanced nowadays by road widening and fewer hedges, so that in some respects it may be nearer to the original pattern seen by earlier residents. From the erratic spine of Brize Norton Road, the south-east offshoot of Bushey Ground sits oddly to the rear of adjacent plots, with unbuilt land to the north. Another new feature to appear at Minster Lovell is the crescent. This enabled plots, usually the smaller ones, to be set back from, though still facing, the main road. The school was located on one of these.

At both Snigs End and nearby Lowbands, perhaps the best that can be said is that the existing estate boundaries and bisecting road prevented any more clear-cut plan. However, Lowbands retained the triangular Forest Green offering some semblance of a centre, with the school originally by its apex, possibly reached by footpaths although this was not the most accessible point. At Snigs End the two parts of the settlement are loosely linked, both including crescents which are here a more dominant feature. These crescents are not the Georgian ones of Bath fame, but simply curved roads: Ledbury Road Crescent for instance is set back from the main road with the houses located on the further side of the crescent but facing north so that front plots stretch over the crescent access road, with the rest of the holding lying behind the house. Another pair of crescents, now apparent only in the angle of the buildings, faced each other across the A417. As seen in the Illustrated London News a pair of metal gates, with a simple decorative element of a circle above a row of uprights, hung from pyramidal-topped piers, defining the entrance to the crescent. Although they could have some security function in separating livestock from the main road, the gates did not mark the boundaries of the settlement nor emphasise its Chartist identity.

Finally, the last colony to be built, Dodford, comes closest to an approximation of a grid plan, influenced by the central presence of the stream and the rising ground along Woodlands Road. Only 41 of the intended 54 plots were set out, and there is no school or record of a spot set aside for one.

Taking a closer look: dwellings

Illustrated London News 23 February 1850

These homes are unique. Without architectural pretension, yet not in the local vernacular, their specific smallholding function is too readily overlooked by those who see only the front façade. Single-storey working-class dwellings were far more common than survival (except in Scotland and the North East) may suggest. Perhaps the superficial similarity to 1930s bungalows and plotlands has led to their later ‘invisibility’. Yet their nature as deliberate examples of ‘work home’ living design should commend them to architects, who from Alvar Aalto (1898-1976) onwards have seen this as an important element of a satisfactory lifestyle. Dismissal of the design as ‘back of a fag packet’ (according to the National Trust guide at Rosedene) is inadequate. But firstly the domestic provision will be considered before any attempt is made to define a ‘Chartist style’.

Some evolution of design took place, as has been seen, between A Practical Work and the Northern Star plan, while on the ground the two-storey semis were soon overtaken by the three-room model in all five colonies. The change took place at Heronsgate where both types may be seen. The two-storey semi is described by the colony’s historian: ‘the kitchen was built at the side; entry was through the kitchen into the two living rooms. Stairs led up to the two bedrooms on the first floor…. Rooms were 12 ft (3.66 m) square, boarded and papered, with oak floor boards and built-in cupboards, but the bedrooms were smaller because space was taken up by the stairway’. The composite ‘poster’ suggests greater diversity, possibly to accommodate different sizes of household and allowing for experimentation. Although the eye-catching prospect, blending the factual and fanciful, omits most agricultural buildings and rear yards, the individual ground plans and elevations show five house types. In addition to the single-storey form, there is a three-room version of one-up-one-down plus a one-room side wing (appearing only once in the prospect), a symmetrical four-room form with one-room wing on each side, and two versions of the semi-detached pair, similar at the front but with the larger four-room version having side wings projecting to the rear. As drawn, the elegant symmetry is enhanced by the roofing of the side wings to resemble Georgian pavilions, but this was bound to be more expensive and is not seen in surviving buildings. There is also some discrepancy between the four-room cottage illustrated and the five-roomed version (at extra cost) referred to by Feargus in his report to the Select Committee, already mentioned. Foster found only one pair of semis with a single upstairs room, apparently as built, retaining the rear catslide roofline characteristic of the later colonies.

In the single-storey, detached, three-room form which became the Chartist norm, the façade is symmetrical, the central third slightly protruding for the entrance (usually) up two steps with a window set on either side. This weights the building to its surroundings, emphasising and lighting the front entrance. It is worth noting that the most common later alteration is the addition of a front porch. No use is made of the re-entrant angle and the single but generous 16-pane window for the room on either side is both symmetrical and proportioned. There are no additional side windows, keeping down cost and heat loss but also providing uninterrupted wall space for cupboards and shelves. Building size is consistent, irrespective of attached acreage.

Building materials varied due to local availability. Heronsgate favoured brick and stucco (though not all rendering is original), Minster Lovell used coursed rubble stone, Snigs End is built in brick on stone foundations while neighbouring Lowbands (and the Moat area of Snigs End) uses rubble stone with pronounced quoins. A lime kiln on nearby Corse Wood Hill processed stone for the lime mortar. At Dodford suitable clay was obtained on site for bricks which were laid on sandstone foundations. The main house walls here are nine inches (22.86 cm) thick, with internal and rear walls four and a half inches (11.43 cm) in thickness. Brickwork at Snigs End includes a plain string course and rubbed brick arches over the windows. Roofs were slate, and at Minster Lovell and Lowbands they were hipped. Three chimneys indicate the position of the fireplaces and stove: a heat source, if lit, in each room. Where original stacks remain, they show neat corbelling, but no additional height so presumably draft was adequate. The distinctive quoins are not all they seem: some are made of ‘Roman cement’ which was quicker to produce and has certainly remained sound and water-tight. All joinery was made inhouse, of well-seasoned timber. Ventilation was important for residents’ and buildings’ health, and grilles set in the foundation wall below the wooden floors may be seen at Rosedene. The archaeological investigation here also suggested that the house was built in two parts, possibly by separate contractors, working at the same time and under pressure to complete.

The shallow roof space also needed ventilating without introducing drafts and these ventilation covers, centrally and symmetrically placed, have been exploited to provide the sole decorative feature. Designs include a quatrefoil (popular at Minster Lovell and Snigs End) and a trefoil within a triangular vent (notably at Dodford). A double quatrefoil also appears at Bushey Ground in Minster Lovell and a dumb-bell at Lowbands. They are not unduly intricate but neither do they convey specific associations. Some resemble traditional medieval masonry motifs and might well have been culled from a pattern book which would make mass production easy. A quatrefoil ventilation cover was used in the prize-winning design submitted by Mr Hine of Nottingham for the cottage competition held in 1848 by the Society for Improving the Conditions of the Labouring Classes, shown in the Illustrated London News. Hine’s version was placed in the upper wall of the living room near the fireplace, in a pair of two-storey semis, and features prominently in his internal and external drawings. Heronsgate is again the exception among the colonies. As mentioned earlier, a large logo of the charter was placed centrally at the apex of each pair of semis, and again at the side over the entrance door into the kitchen. On the single-storey cottages, it appeared on the gable end, before the introduction of the ventilation covers. None of these motifs refer personally to the founder, unlike the common practice among philanthropists of claiming their place.

Indoors, the kitchen was equipped with a range (boiler, grate and oven) and dresser, whilst the two bedrooms were generous in size (approx. 12 x 12 ft) (3.66 x 3.66 m), again furnished with cupboards and shelves for books and personal possessions. In 1967, AM Hadfield visited 26, Moat Lane, Snigs End, noting the solid 10in (25 cm) floorboards in the two side rooms, with two built-in cupboards in one of them, while the kitchen dresser comprised three drawers with shelves above. The kitchen forms the all-purpose heart of the house, with scullery and the water pump directly behind, under a roof which slopes from 8ft to 6ft (2.44 to 1.83 m). The ‘front room’ or parlour, later such a distinguishing feature in better working class housing, is absent, but one of the side rooms could have this function and its generous size would allow it to double as a bedroom at night, as indeed was common practice in over-crowded terraces. What did Feargus have in mind? He had provided homes which were small, well-built and equipped, in unpretentious but detached houses each surrounded by its own plot and reached by its own entrance. How far were these independent home-owners to partake of middle-class comforts and amenities? Comments by journalists, visitors and inspectors from the Select Committee do not reach the heart of the experience of living here, though on entering their new homes in Heronsgate in 1847 ‘the women, if possible, appeared still more overjoyed than the men’. In terms of architectural style, contemporary comment is lacking: there were no Picturesque or Gothic Revival details to commend or abuse.

Taking a closer look: the yard and farm buildings

House plan inserted by Feargus’ editorial letter, the Northern Star 13 February 1847

The essence of the design was a fully integrated and comprehensive living and working unit. No additional sheds would be needed so that extra costs and loss of precious ground would be avoided. No time and energy would be wasted on the journey to and from work: a grievance noted by farm labourers who might be allowed to take on allotments in some out-of-the-way part of their parish or obliged to live at a distance from farms where they were employed to avoid their employers’ potential Poor Rate liability. Perhaps there was also the intention that the Chartist smallholder would be ‘lord of all he surveyed’ whether a two, three or four-acre plot.

Feargus’ plan of 1843 showed an attached projecting rear yard into which the animal housing (except poultry) protruded in a row. No other buildings hemmed the yard, which is shown as totally enclosed. The arrangement is explained as follows. Four cows would occupy separate stalls within an overall area of 24 x 10 ft, (7.32 x 3.05 m)) with 4 ft (1.22 m) internal partitions. Animal welfare is considered as cattle are given ‘perfect freedom to lie down and get up with perfect ease, not being tied, or in any way confined’. It seems as though they would be indoors a good deal of the time so convenience of feeding, cleaning and milking were important. Next door came six sheep sharing an area of 5 x 10 ft (1.52 x 3.05 m) – what about lambing? – leaving 9 ft (2.74 m) of the building’s total 40 ft length (12.19 m) for a pig sty comprising ‘room for sleeping, and a yard for feeding’. The reason for separating the poultry is not given, but could imply use of a run (to keep them out of the vegetables), no productive muck to be collected, and a possible division of duties for the ‘henwife’. The yard is explained further: 40 ft square (3.72 square metres), it would contain only the tank for the run-off water and the manure itself. The tank would require some excavation at 12 ft square (1.11 square metres) with a depth of 5 ft (1.52 m). (A thrifty suggestion that this could be used to make mud building bricks was not pursued.) Into this would drain the liquid from the combined animal housing, while the rest of the yard would contain the manure heaps. ‘There is nothing more sinfully neglected than the preservation and application of this admirable manure’. Calculations follow for the rate of application to root crops, cabbage and grass.

But by February 1847 the amended and streamlined plan appeared in the Northern Star. By now the essential three-room house was more compact, without side wings, but with all the facilities attached to the rear of the domestic area and reached either through it or by the back gate into the yard. Some changes have been made for the livestock: cows have a smaller area and are presumably fewer in number, sheep are omitted, but a pony is stabled next to its cart-shed, and a wash-house and dairy complete the row. Buildings utilise both side walls of the yard, accommodating two pigs in separate sties and the privy on one side, and fuel, with probably implement and crop, storage opposite. The rear entrance is securely gated but wide enough to admit a pony cart. A frequent variation by residents was the addition of a separate shed for pony and cart freeing up two units for other livestock of choice. The orderly arrangement about a yard is in line with contemporary thinking for model farms, albeit on a much smaller scale and without the gentrified family’s removal from such close proximity to its source of income.

The Illustrated London News for February 1850 shows a valuable rare engraving of both front and rear aspects of a cottage at Snigs End. There seems no reason to doubt the accuracy of the artist’s observation. The disposition of the chimneys is correct as is the doorway to the yard, sloping (catslide) roofline and separate roofs of what would be the pigsties and opposing open storage area, as well as the double rear gate. The timber awaiting chopping and storage may be artistically placed, but the function of the side fence is not clear. The front view (though not necessarily drawn from the same cottage) does not show fencing, though on the other side a pole suggests a homely washing line and some token cabbages imply vegetable-growing. New arrivals received a cash start-up grant, but there are no individual residents’ accounts to show what was grown. They may not have automatically followed Feargus’ recommendations on roots, greens and wheat (the latter less realistic on a small scale and not equally suited to all soil types). Fruit, both soft fruit and orchards, certainly followed later as well as space allocated to grazing. Indeed, were the plots big enough to make sense of the diversity of rotation implied by Feargus’ subsistence programme?

Half a century and more later, oral accounts document a change in crops and in the extent of subsistence farming and produce for sale. Dodford moved into strawberry production for Birmingham consumers, as well as ingredients for Worcester sauce. Colonists at Minster Lovell found a niche local market for potatoes – until neighbouring farmers saw their opportunity and undercut them. Building usage also changed in accordance with cultural trends, mainly the extension of living space into the former working area, although this did not necessarily prevent the smallholders from using their plots to run other small businesses. Two studies, at 69, Brize Norton Road, Minster Lovell in 1978, and Rosedene, Dodford in 1997, document these changes. However it was noted in the site at Minster Lovell that the original wall still contained the rear buildings and the pair of pig sties was unaltered. The versatile pig later tended to replace more demanding cattle. Archaeological investigation at Dodford revealed the original lower level of the rear buildings for drainage, and the brick surface of the yard. The dairy had been designed for cold storage with an internal brick-framed clay wall supporting horizontal slabs or tiles and the quarry-tiled floor at a lower level, maintaining the room’s temperature below that of the adjacent domestic area.

An issue for both domestic and agricultural tenure was water supply. The household needed water for drinking, cleaning and washing as well as for thirsty livestock and watering crops. Three wells were insufficient at Minster Lovell and an individual collection and storage system was introduced. ‘Cast iron gutters were fitted to both roofs, encompassing the building. These culminated at a point on the south wall and discharged into hexagonal hopper heads decorated with a rose motif. A single downpipe led to an underground sump, about a yard from the house. This sump was connected to a pump in the rear service section so giving each house an internal water supply’. The system continued in use until at least the 1930s. At Dodford underlying geology was kinder, and a well with adjacent hand-crank pump was located in the wash-house, directly behind the kitchen/living room and conveniently adjacent to the dairy. For those today who have not experienced dependence on a non-mains supply, it is difficult to stress how valuable this was.

School and community

Former school house at Snigs End

Education was integral to Chartism. This was part of a wider interest in working class education, expressed by Robert Owen’s experiments at New Lanark and the founding of Owenite Halls of Science, Mechanics Institutes and Sunday Schools (not solely for children) and a concern to increase school provision by the National and British Societies. In effect, it was a contemporary issue amid mixed models including dame schools, individual local foundations, a few larger charities, and denominational provision. Among the Chartists, William Lovett from the London Working Men’s Association together with John Collins put forward a programmein 1840 for schools from infant to agricultural and industrial, teacher training colleges and the selection of teachers and their employment, as well as discussion of curricula including ‘citizenship’ and even exemplar lesson cards. Across the country, class meetings, readings and discussion were part of the glue that held together a diverse movement, which might overlap with or eschew religious affiliations or any provision that implied patronage or censorship. Considering the age range and the value placed on ‘improvement’, this was truly lifelong learning. One such school, the People’s School, was purpose-built in Stalybridge on behalf of Joseph Rayner Stephens, activist and sometime Methodist preacher, but the building (now a private house) bears no resemblance to subsequent Chartist schools.

Correspondence in the Northern Star during December 1845 had already suggested that ‘a portion of land be set aside in each colony, for the erection of a school-room and play-ground for the children of the residents. As the only non-domestic, non-agricultural structures within settlements that had no civic, religious, commercial or elite buildings, the schools were potent visual symbols. The background land colony landscape in the engraved portrait of Feargus shows the school at the apex of the composition. The schools have a distinctive presence, similar to one another (four were built) but not quite identical, and over-represented in contemporary illustration, where topographical artists were accustomed to feature a convenient mansion or church with tower or spire. The image of Heronsgate School on Ann Dawson’s sampler includes a cupola with bell, but this does not appear at the other schools, unless later removed.

Due to lack of centrality and to subsequent development, their value as a statement is no longer so apparent, though height remains significant: amongst single-storey buildings, a school stands fully two and a half storeys tall. The distinguishing features are the tripartite design of a central pedimented block of two storeys and an attic, with a single-storey wing on either side, paired doors and windows, stone facings and octagonal roof slates. Overall length is 75 ft (22.86 m) with each wing 24 ft (7.32 m) long. At Snigs End stone emphasises quoins, lintels and even faceting on the tall diagonally-set chimney stacks, whilst at Minster Lovell the whole building is of dressed stone with three porches. Unfortunately later changes of use (to a pub at Snigs End and into three properties at Minster Lovell) have obscured original internal layouts although one possible arrangement would be for the school to use the two wings as classrooms while the schoolmaster, possibly with his family, would occupy the central block, which could also offer a meeting room. Outer doors could allow flexible day and evening use, and above all the school building offered a generous amount of space for a population of around 80 households, of whom only some would have had school-age children. At Heronsgate there was sufficient space for a substantial sit-down meal on open day, whilst Lowbands hosted the 1847 conference ‘in their own schoolroom’. When Hadfield visited Snigs End in 1968, she was told there was originally one central door, with side entrances for the children on each wing. The large windows made the schoolrooms light, while a fireplace was provided in each.

Although some criticisms were heard over expenditure on erecting sound and decent homes and workplaces, this does not seem to have extended to spending on education. Perhaps in a context of contemporary charities which could spend more on an eye-catching decorative chapel than on the accommodation of its objects – orphans or the elderly poor – this appeared unexceptional. Indeed it is some of those charitable buildings which most closely resemble the symmetrical school building. Small almshouse and school combined charities, with a resident supervisory schoolmaster, often show a similar plan with central pedimented feature demarcating the schoolhouse. A more typical building for a school resembled the now-familiar church hall, often with Gothic windows, and the master’s house at one end. Before the ubiquitous Board Schools from the 1870s there were opportunities for innovation. Other models might be sought, but neither religious communities such as Fairfield (Droylsden, Lancashire), Whitwell’s corner buildings for infants, children and youths (an idealised design) nor the creations of industrial philanthropists such as Edward Akroyd at Copley (West Yorkshire) show similarity, while estate villages might present a school as part of a group rather than according it a distinctively educational style. Internal arrangements would depend on teaching methods.

The schoolmaster would occupy an interesting position socially as sole professional resident of the colony and would need to be at the least sympathetic to Chartist ideals. Some discussion, duly reported in the Northern Star, took place as to who had the right to appoint to the position, or to remove an unsuitable postholder. Eventually it appears that this authority was reserved to the executive, rather than a local committee. Mr O’Brien and his wife from Exeter were appointed to Lowbands, with a wide-ranging curriculum and music lessons offered as an extra; a band was soon formed. Heronsgate attracted an ambitious master, M D Graves. His advertisement for ‘the agricultural college’ in the Northern Star on 1July 1848 suggests his intention of attracting students from further afield, who would be paying boarders, in line with small grammar schools of the period when these longer-term fee-paying pupils offered some security for the master’s salary. This does seem surprising in the colony context and it is not known whether he was successful or how long he stayed. Perhaps the ‘interview panel’ was swayed by these candidates’ confident promises. Little is known of the curriculum delivered, nor of numbers registered or attendance, although Feargus’ calculation of available family labour suggests only part-time schooling, on the lines of the factory system, with the plot (not a play-ground) attached to the school used for practical lessons. The school had the potential to become a community centre for the activities, societies and committees indicative of a lively village life, but this did not materialise.

The evolution of Feargus’ ideas

Initial sketch suggested by Feargus in 1843

Having explored what was created and noted some changes during the short period of rapid foundation, it is now appropriate to step back and consider the written evidence for the underlying ideas, then place them within the contemporary context in order to identify what may have influenced the chosen design, and the originality of the Chartist model.

In 1843, Feargus’ book, A Practical Work on the Management of Small Farms, set out his ideas as to what a smallholding should comprise and how this would work profitably. Following in the respected footsteps of William Cobbett’s Cottage Economy of 1821, general principles and then husbandry are covered in some detail, with a shorter section on buildings. Feargus favoured spade agriculture over horse power (a hot topic of the time) as superior both for job satisfaction and for the quality of production on a small intensively worked area. A basic ground plan and elevation with a key to rooms and functions follows a do-it-yourself approach: not a scaled architectural drawing but one which indicates the underlying principles. It is not intended to be prescriptive as ‘I do not seek to restrict any man’s fancy to that description of houses which takes my own’, but recommends overall dimensions of ‘40ft (12.19 m) long in the clear, and 19ft (5.79 m) wide, consisting of 5 rooms, and no stairs or back door which is always a nuisance’, though he does not say why. Individual animal housing takes priority, sufficient for all stock to winter undercover, accessible for care, feeding and cleaning.

The long frontage of the house, which would be prohibitively expensive in an urban location, is dictated by the lack of an upper storey. The central heart of the house, the kitchen, is a generous 18 x 16 ft (5.49 x 4.88 m), entered through an enclosed porch of 6 x 6 ft (1.83 x 1.83 m) ‘with benches for wash tubs and sink’. This suggests that the worker could wash and leave muddy boots here, and vegetables would be prepared for cooking – in other words, it would function as a scullery but in an unusual front position on account of the discredited back doors. The stove is placed centrally at the back of the kitchen, shown on the elevation by a more substantial chimney, while the rear wall might allow some exchange of warmth from the sheep and cows housed behind it.

Either side of the kitchen, entered off it, lie the parlour and front sleeping room each 12 x 10 ft (3.66 x 3.05 m) and behind these, apparently without daylight, are two additional bedrooms each 12 x 8 ft (3.66 x 2.44 m). This arrangement avoided the use of a loft, commonly used as sleeping space for children in other single-storey cottages. The provision of three bedrooms and a ‘front room’ living space separate from the kitchen are striking as the former was to become an issue for housing reformers later in the century on grounds of health and morality, and subsequently an essential feature of local authority housing, then again an issue in the present century as ‘bedroom tax’. The provision of the parlour was also significant as contemporary thought saw no need for any separation of activities within a working class home. The family would supposedly be happy to sit by the kitchen table where children might do homework, adults have private conversation, and racks of wet washing would add to the pervasive healthy atmosphere! Feargus offers an improved model of comfort.

Another noticeable feature of the plan is the extent of symmetry. It would be rash to dismiss this as a ‘child’s drawing’ or as a metaphor for a well-ordered existence. Rather, a simple repetitive outline should be quick and easy to build, while actual use would depend on the individual occupants. Less convenient is the placing of dairy, potato and fuel store, and privy, fowl-house and implement shed on either side of the living space, apparently accessed from outside. This was due to economy of construction, ‘requiring no additional brick or stone work beyond the mere erection of partitions’. The door to the dairy, indicated on the drawing, is ‘for the advantage of light as well as appearance’. No other mention is made of aesthetic factors. The projecting rear yard was mainly occupied by the essential stock of manure.

While A Practical Work came out in instalments during 1843, Feargus continued to keep readers of the Northern Star up-to-date on a weekly basis through articles on land ownership, machinery and spade husbandry. An expert’s figures were cited for productivity, scaled up to a four-acre holding. The source was Mr Linton, an iron manufacturer with an experimental farm near Selby (with different soil and conditions from the areas later farmed by the colonists), visited by Feargus and his researcher, London Chartist Thomas Wheeler. On 29 April Feargus outlined a model rural community, very much on Owenite lines, but this vision did not reappear. It would seem that at this stage a range of options was being explored, always with enthusiasm and persuasively expressed.

Architect and builder: Feargus and Henry Cullingham

While the extent of Thomas Wheeler’s contribution to A Practical Work is unknown, an essential force in the creation of the land colonies – and acknowledged by Feargus as such – was Henry Cullingham. But in an era when architect and builder (except for elite buildings) was often one and the same, and planning as a modern discipline had yet to be established, how much of the design, adaptations and modifications, should be attributed to the builder? Henry Cullingham (1791 – 1873) was the builder of the land colonies, an experienced middle-aged tradesman and contractor by the time he is recorded as present at Heronsgate in April 1846. Feargus’ volatile temperament led to fallings out with many fellow Chartists but the client: builder relationship continued until Feargus himself withdrew from the project. His written refences to Henry acknowledge his essential role and indicate a successful working relationship of mutual respect.

Born in 1791, Henry Cullingham was apprenticed in 1806 to the carpenter John Simmonds in Kensington. Construction is vulnerable to economic fluctuations, and the next record is of bankruptcy in 1823. However by 1827 he was again in business as a builder at Montpelier Street, Kensington, and by 1841 he was a family man with wife Ann and two teenage daughters, living in Hammersmith. This was a far cry from rural smallholdings and nothing is known of his intermediate career or recruitment, though it would seem reasonable to assume at least sympathy with Chartist values. From living on the job at Heronsgate, he moved on to supervise the building at each site in turn, and was still living at Snigs End, on a two-acre plot transferred by its original allottee Mary Clarkson, at the time of the 1851 census. Early training as a carpenter is apparent in the attention given to the quality of woodwork, particularly apparent in window frames and fitted cupboards. When questioned on the subject by the Select Committee in 1848, he stated that ‘it is what we call good sound work’.

Working methods demonstrate his skills in management and organisation. Portable workshops were used, 170 ft (51.81 m) long and capable of accommodating 100 carpenters, and a store for converted timber 40 ft (12.19 m) long with its front boarded and gated. There were further portable workshops for blacksmith and wheelwright, and a stable about 40 ft long for 44 horses, with a granary to store beans and oats, a chaff room and a room for bruising beans, all boarded and gated. Here was the on-site compound for construction workers, equipment and transport (horses and their fuel). Initially there were three departments with a Mr King employed as overseer for the labourers; as work escalated overseers were taken on for joiners, smiths and masons. Questions remain about numbers of workers, how recruited and where accommodated, whether taken on locally for each project or moving with the job, although a few names indicate some sub-contracting.

Overall the benefits of this mass production appear in time and costs, without sacrifice of quality in materials or construction. The completion rate, which had to follow site preparation, was impressive. During his attendance before the Select Committee, Henry was listed as ‘Master Builder’ and described by Feargus as ‘architect’. When asked about the instructions he received for building Heronsgate, he replied ‘there was a plan laid down and we had drawings and models of them; we build all our cottages of the same dimensions now’. That was a straightforward, and modest, reply, and sufficient for the Committee, whose agenda was naturally different to this investigation. But the mention of models is tantalising – and some of the illustrations on the Heronsgate ‘poster’ are reminiscent of small-scale models – while the point of change is noted but not explained. It may be that consideration of costs and some comment by early residents caused the reversion from the two-storey semis to a consistent design closer to Feargus’ original. Equally discussion with the experienced builder may have been a critical factor, but it is impossible to know what else Henry may have seen and read. Certainly interpretation and implementation on the ground were left to Henry Cullingham with his client’s full confidence.

Contemporary housing and possible influences

Whilst reformers and theoretical writers were aware of the dire nature of much urban housing, rural poverty, whether experienced amongst cornfields or coal mines, was easier to avoid. Yet it may be perceived in the work of contemporary artists, too often dismissed as ‘chocolate box’ for being attractive enough to make a living through conforming to sentimental views of the countryside. A closer look at the paintings of George Clausen, Myles Birkett Foster and Hubert van Herkomer among others reveals decayed thatch, collapsing barns and cabbages amongst the roses. The rural housing stock, albeit subject to regional variation, was often run down and poorly maintained. Original construction might be the product of individual endeavour, landowner/employer, or small-scale speculation, in each case reflecting available skill, materials and capital. Considerations might include a projected long or short term future (for instance in the case of some industries) and an estimate of rents to recoup expenditure.

At the beginning of the century county volumes of the General View of Agriculture, instigated by the Board of Agriculture in the 1790s, made some mention of housing. In Gloucestershire, Thomas Rudge noted in 1807 that many cottages were dilapidated as tenant farmers in particular would not cover the rising costs for builders’ wagesand materials. He had seen some good building on behalf of Edward Chamberlayne at Mangersbury: a row of four two-storey cottages with a central unit for use as a Sunday school above a shared oven for baking. In Worcestershire – another county later to receive a Chartist colony – William Pitt found the majority of cottages in 1810 had ‘nothing particular to recommend them’ being ‘merely a shelter from the weather, without any particular attention having been paid to comfort and convenience’ although accompanied by a useful garden. At Lickey he commended a short row of three cottages, each with a kitchen/living room and pantry, two bedrooms upstairs, and a shared wash/brew/bakehouse and artisans’ workshop symmetrically placed. These small-scale examples were quoted as exceptional cases of good practice.

Pitt had noted a difference between older and newer cottages across the county and this was also observed in Oxfordshire in the 1880s by Flora Thompson, although presented as fiction. In the hamlet of Juniper Hill most cottages were owned by small tradesmen based in the nearby market town. The layout was unplanned ‘dotted down anywhere in a more or less circular group’, connected by paths and trackways, cut by a new road link to the main road. Materials were stone or brick with tiled roofs, only three out of 30 had their own water supply (well) and not all had an oven as well as a fire for cooking. One room downstairs and one or two bedrooms above was the norm, often with a garden and pigsty. One elderly couple still lived off their produce of eggs, vegetables and honey, taken to market by donkey cart, which they might also hire out: a smallholder’s lifestyle. Further north, in rural parts of West Yorkshire, single-storey cottages of one or two rooms plus a pantry, often open to the rafters, might be the homes of mining families as well as agricultural labourers. More substantial, but not necessarily larger or accompanied by gardens, was the occupational housing for canal or toll road employees.

By the mid-century the trend, whether rural or urban, was for two-storey terraces, stimulated by the rapid development of building societies after legislation in 1836. Meanwhile the era of architectural competitions had arrived, and cottage designs could be studied in publications such as The Builder, the Illustrated London News, the magazines of societies such as the Labourer’s Friend, and in encyclopedias including JC Loudon’s 1833 Encyclopedia of Cottage, Farm and Villa Architecture, reissued fully illustrated in 1846, the year in which Chartist building commenced. By 1851 some more fanciful (and expensive) cottages might be seen at the Great Exhibition. The link between housing conditions and health – and public health issues and morality – was made overwhelmingly clear in Edwin Chadwick’s influential report The Sanitary Conditions of the Labouring Population in 1842. Building on his experience as former Secretary to the Poor Law Commissioners, Chadwick requested and received reports from a wide range of experts across the country. These tend to focus on the worst cases and make grim reading. In rural Cerne, Dorset, the Medical Officer attributed the incidence of typhus to living in cottages ‘some mere mud hovels, and situated in low and damp places with cesspools and accumulation of filth close to the doors’. The best cottages in his area were those ‘consisting of a day-room and two bedrooms, constructed with a due regard for ventilation and warmth, pantry and wash-house, with a small garden and pig-sty adjoining’.  Mr Parker in Buckinghamshire noted the relevance of materials and sound construction: cottages ‘constructed of mud, with earth floors and thatched roofs’ should be replaced by dwellings with drainage and ventilation, for which proper brick foundations should be laid, sufficient to carry the superstructure and to resist moisture.

Loudon’s agriculturist model cottage 1842

Recommendations for improvement are given in the appendix Healthy dwellings for labourers where Loudon provides a spec for an Agriculturist Model Cottage, with plan and elevation, suitable for Northern England or Scotland, with their customary ground floor sleeping rooms, 18in (46 cm) thick walls and thatch suited to ‘the cold bleak country’. The cottage is set in one sixth of an acre of ground, with a rear yard, surface sloping to the manure tank, fruit at the front and a larger garden at the back for ‘the culinary crops’, the whole surrounded by a hedge. The next section, Statement of the requisites of cottage architecture, recommends siting alongside a public road, as being ‘more cheerful than a solitary situation’, aspect chosen for sunlight (years before Raymond Unwin), detached dwellings or at most pairs of semis, thick walls with a damp-resistant course, and a thick roof projecting at the eaves to keep walls dry. Two storeys are preferable, and three bedrooms, reached by stairs from a front porch where tools may also be stored, avoid access from the kitchen on health grounds. If no spring is immediately available, a well or tank under the back kitchen with a pump will be needed, while the privy is separate from the house, beside the manure tank. Loudon’s first version of this cottage had appeared in The Gardeners’ Magazine in 1830, and gained greater currency through its later reprints, with supplementary designs V and VI. A Lowland Scot, Loudon had a practical background and wished to see ‘decent accommodation for “the greater mass of mankind” ’. His Encyclopedia shows a grasp of intimate domestic detail, such as filtration of drinking water, a well-made kitchen dresser, the preparation and use of ‘Roman cement’, and even a tubular slot to hold the clothes’ pole, with costings explained.

The two sources acknowledged by Feargus in A Practical Work were William Blacker, for his Irish treatise on small farms and Loudon, though he did not specify which publication. It is reasonable to assume that Feargus read The Sanitary Conditions which came out a year before A Practical Work, and was impressed by it. A comparison of the designs illustrated by Loudon and Feargus shows both similarities and some interesting differences. Feargus, unlike Loudon, did not explain the domestic arrangements of his cottage, giving more attention to housing the livestock. Strikingly similar are the porch (to disappear when the land colonies were built, but perhaps remembered vestigially in the projecting central section), the choice of a detached dwelling with its own street access, and the integrated row of domestic/agricultural spaces between house and yard under a sloping roof. Loudon’s key to the drawing’s features lists c-f as back kitchen, pantry, place for fuel or poultry, and ‘the dairy, if the occupant should have a cow’. The rear of the yard offers flexible space for fuel, a pig or rabbits.

But the differences are significant too. Most obvious is the elegance of the drawing, neatness of Loudon’s cruciform layout, and attention given to those persuasive details of hedge and gateposts, although the building itself is strictly unadorned. Feargus has no artistic pretensions and does not attempt an isometric view. Soundness of construction are important to both but there is a clear divergence in the division of domestic space. If  Feargus was following Loudon in A Practical Work, he retained the protruding sides and extended rear yard but made no use of the roof space, omitted stairs and avoided windows in the side walls. Internal divisions differed, and crucially Loudon’s two rooms at the front were to be replaced in what was built by the characteristic three. The proportions, to become so distinctive in the Chartist cottages, have not yet appeared; Loudon’s windows are square, with the façade broken by the porch. The eventual Chartist cottage is therefore more regular internally, losing both visual clutter and time and money spent on porch and stairs. Ironically, it was the less sophisticated drawing which gave rise to a more architecturally satisfying symmetrical design.

Feargus, and Henry Cullingham, may also have been aware of William Allen’s well-publicised venture at Lindfield, Sussex, based upon his 1827 pamphlet Colonies at Home, advocating an alternative to emigration. The Quaker educationalist (1770-1843) had already been involved in the establishment of industrial schools and in the decade before the Chartist land colonies he founded a hamlet composed of 18 cottages, in three sets of six, each with one and a quarter acres of ground, whilst a further five cottages were equipped with five or six acre plots. Three grades of cottage, at two shillings, two and sixpence, or three shillings weekly rental were described as follows. The most basic type consisted of a single-storey building, one room depth, ‘with a good-sized kitchen and three bedrooms connected by a long passage … the inconvenience is the length of the house, 50 or 60 feet (15.24 or 18.28 m) , and the distance between the extreme rooms’. The half-crown model had slate in place of thatched roofs and stucco in place of mud (possibly cobb) walls, and a more compact layout. The houses were paired as semis with the outbuildings for both – bake house, wash house, wood store and pig sty – in a rear wing running back centrally from the pair, ‘strongly built and well-arranged’. The target tenants were agricultural labourers with large families. Although these were not tied cottages, tenancy agreements were strict, including: ‘to observe moral conduct’, no alcohol in the home, the children to attend school, ‘to cultivate with the spade, on the plan laid down for them or not to vary without leave, and to keep neither lodgers nor horse without permission’. The economic viability of the scheme, which remained a one-off, was variously discussed, but in 1937 the houses were condemned as unfit, and by the end of the 1950s all were gone. Neither quality of materials and construction nor flexibility of design were sufficient to ensure their survival.

Another smallholding experiment took a different route in rural philanthropy. Talbot Village, near Bournemouth, was the creation of two sisters, Georgina and Mary Anne, who responded to the hunger and unemployment which they observed in Dorset, based on their belief in self-help. They claimed inspiration from German improving fiction, apparently unaware of homegrown examples. The village was built during the 1850s, providing five farms and 16 cottages, each equipped with an acre of ground, a pigsty and fruit trees. The dwellings are substantial, comprising three rooms downstairs and three rooms above, in a Picturesque style reminiscent of Blaise Hamlet near Bristol, with patterned roof tiles and porches artfully placed, muck and pigsties out of sight, possibly justifying the rents of four to five shillings weekly. These were designated homes for agricultural workers, though with minimal provision for livestock, and the sisters’ priorities for the community may be deduced from their addition first of an almshouse, so that none need leave for the dreaded workhouse in old age, then a school and eventually a church. No stipulations were made on the cultivation of the allotments, though regulations addressed tenants’ morals. The Talbots were also canny businesswomen, safeguarding their foundation for the future through a trust which manages it today, though not as agricultural smallholdings. These two examples indicate contemporary concern and the range of responses, but are typically based on a retention of the tenant: landlord relationship, regulation of morals and crops, and were not intended to be fully self-sufficient smallholdings.

Conclusion

It is ironic that the independent lives of articulate Chartist smallholders have not been preserved in their own words; no diaries, memoirs or household accounts have come to light. Those who took up a holding did so by choice and through success in the ballot of subscribers. Like emigrants to overseas colonies, many faced the challenge of a new landscape, a break from familiar social and family ties, and lack of an existing network such as workplace, shops or chapel. Independence offered opportunities to work together, and co-operatives would have assisted in cheaper (if small scale) bulk purchasing of supplies and in marketing surplus produce, yet this does not seem to have happened. Agricultural knowledge was another issue: those fitted book shelves in the cottage living rooms could have held copies of Cobbett’s Cottage Economy, Chamber’s Encyclopedia (which reads like a ‘Dig for Victory’ manual, with helpful content on spade cultivation and related topics) as well as more local and ephemeral publications. But again, no inventory is available, while no provision of guidance or ‘training courses’ is known to have taken place in the village school. On the other hand, not all new arrivals had a totally urban industrialised background. Many came from the districts now known as Tameside, Kirklees and Calderdale, where a dual economy of small upland farms and textile production took place, until the collapse of handloom weaving during the previous generation. In Gloucestershire, where two of the villages were located, the press noted the success of local men who gained holdings, and this had been observed independently at earlier schemes for redeployment from their regional textile trades. Others may have brought relevant experience from keeping allotments.

Smallholding as a solution to unemployment has a long pedigree, from the Gracchi brothers in Rome in 133 AD (who were assassinated for their efforts), via settlement on the waste, often on marginal common land in response to Elizabethan enclosures (four acres the recommended holding), to Jesse Collings’ ‘three acres and a cow’, and county council schemes after the First World War. Other experiments range from the seventeenth-century Diggers to the ‘small is beautiful’ self-sufficiency movement of the 1960s and ‘70s, and have produced a gallimaufry of one-off idealistic communities. The shrewd old Chartist, Benjamin Wilson, reckoned that ‘the scheme was before its time; yet I believe the day is not far distant when it will be carried out.’ A few colonists are known to have kept up their old trades, for instance as a cobbler, but not enough is known as to what and how much could be successfully produced on a two-, three- or four-acre holding to support a family. This could be investigated through the type of research carried out at Butser Ancient Farm in Hampshire, where experiment in Prehistoric farming is carried out using appropriate historic varieties, breeds and cultivation techniques.

But the subject of my investigation is the buildings of the Chartist land colonies. Guided by the original questions, some conclusions may be set out here.

    What were the origins of the design? The written sources – Feargus’ book, the Northern Star, illustration on completion in the Illustrated London News – show a development of ideas over a short period. The distinctive Chartist design is noticeably close to Loudon’s agriculturist’s cottage, in its most functional form without adornment to sell the idea to improving landlords. It may be coincidence or simply a reflection of contemporary practice, but ‘Roman cement’ appears in both, while another passing similarity is with Mr Hine’s wall ventilators. The early Heronsgate two-storey semis make a discontinuous narrative, and it is tempting to suggest that Feargus’ consultation with his master builder/architect, Henry Cullingham, may be responsible for their future omission. Observation, albeit undocumented, must also have contributed to the ultimate design selection.

   How did the housing compare with contemporary workers’ living conditions? The range of rural, urban and regional types to be seen at the time was extensive. Features less commonly found, but essential to the Chartist model, were: individual family accommodation within its own plot, each with its own front door and street access; fitted cupboards, shelves and a well-positioned stove; sound construction (at a reasonable price); boarded floors, and attention to underfloor and loft space ventilation, important health issues to avoid damp and rot.

   How did the buildings function as home/work units? Usage was a key feature to their integrated design, with convenient relationships between domestic and agricultural elements. Livestock could be tended directly, firewood readily brought through or the privy used, while the lower temperature needed for the dairy was also inbuilt. The traditional longhouse or laithehouse had many of these merits, but here they were presented on a small scale in a modern format. While there was no need to commute to work, there was provision for transport (pony and cart) and ready road access. Individual wells were sunk for most holdings.

   How far was each settlement a ‘planned community’ with a Chartist identity? The answer to this is less clear-cut. In strictly visual and material terms, much of this is negative evidence. Whilst symmetrical house design, its repetition, and buildings all of the same age identify these as planned villages, other factors do not, notably the lack of plaques – beyond the scroll emblem at Heronsgate – and significant naming, the deliberate omission of internal hierarchy or centralised layout with church (excluded on grounds of its potentially divisive nature) or other civic buildings, and the lack of adherence to any chosen architectural fashion. The inclusion of a school for each small community was very much a Chartist priority, though not theirs solely, and again not marked by engraved foundation stones or other signs of ownership. It is difficult in retrospect, when most Chartist hopes and demands have become common practice, even taken for granted in this country, to recognise identity statements in a very different political context. New neighbours may have had an opinion, and the xenophobic sermons of a clergyman when some members of the Gloucestershire colonies attempted to join his congregation, record one perceived identity (with women especially singled out for abuse). But this is an issue for the sociologist, and still lacks record of residents’ own self-image. What is known is that by the time smallholdings came onto the market later in the century, many of the new residents were locals who had seen the potential and did not feel themselves excluded.

   Did the Chartist land colonies influence later building? The answer to this is, regretfully, no. Although the underlying ideas reappear, most directly via Jesse Collings, and concepts of decent homes for working class occupants were common to the broader ongoing movement in housing reform, there are no direct architectural descendants. They do however demonstrate the planning virtue of settling discreetly into the existing environment though without deliberate connection to national infrastructure or markets. It is worth noticing too that their survival is due not only to sound materials and construction but to the flexibility that has recommended them to those current occupants who run small businesses from home. Perhaps we should see them as the village component within an understanding which includes both garden cities and local authority estates, with the Chartists taking the first step? That may be a challenging thought, but another is that if the colonies had become anywhere near as numerous as the number of subscribers and Feargus’ intentions predicted, they would have effected a re-arrangement of the English landscape.

Acknowledgements

I should like to thank Faith, present-day smallholder at Snigs End, for showing me her home.

I must also acknowledge Alice Mary Hadfield whose book, encountered by chance in a Gloucester bookshop, first took me to these villages.

Further reading

The Land Plan and Biography:

Bowie, D. 2017. The Radical and Socialist Tradition in British Planning

Bronstein, J. 1999. Land Reform in Britain and the United states, 1800-62

Chase, M. 1996. ‘We wish only to work for ourselves: the Chartist Land Plan’ in Chase, M. and Dyck, I. eds. Living and Learning: essays in honour of JFC Harrison pp. 133-48

Chase, M. 2010. ‘Chartism and the Land: the mighty people’s question’ in Cragoe, M. and Readman, P. eds. The Land Question pp. 57-73

Epstein, J. 1982. The Lion of Freedom: Feargus O’Connor and the Chartist Movement, 1832-42

MacAskill, J. 1959. ‘The Chartist Land Plan’ in Briggs, A. ed. Chartist Studies pp. 304-41

Royle, E. 1996. Chartism

Local Studies

Ashton, O.R. 1986. ‘Chartism in Gloucestershire: the contribution of the Chartist Land Plan, 1843-50’, Transactions of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society, 104, pp. 201-09

Forest of Dean District Council. 2000. Snigs End (Stanton Corse) Conservation Area and Character Appraisal (online)

Foster, I. 1999. Heronsgate: freedom, happiness and contentment, the first 150 years of the estate

Hadfield, A.M. 1970. The Chartist Land Colonies

Paine, C. et al. 1978. ‘Working class Housing in Oxfordshire’, Oxoniensa 43, pp. 188-215

Poole, D. 2012. The last Chartist Land Settlement: Great Dodford, 1849-99

Robson, S. 2001. Building Recording and Watching Brief at Rosedene, Dodford with Grafton, Worcestershire (online)

Rogers, J. for Bromsgrove District Council. 1999. The Chartist Land Plan

Searby, P. 1968. ‘Great Dodford and the later history of the Chartist Land Scheme’, Agricultural History Review 16, 1, pp. 32-45

Tiller, K. 1985. ‘Charterville and the Chartist Land Company’, Oxoniensa 50, pp. 251-66

Selected Context

Burchardt, J. 1997. ‘Rural social relations, 1830-50: opposition to allotments for labourers’, Agricultural History Review, 45, 2, pp. 165-75

Choay, F. 1969. The Modern City: planning in the nineteenth century

Gillett, M. 1993. Talbot Village: a unique village in Dorset 1850-1993

Hardy, D. 1979. Alternative Communities in Nineteenth Century England

Harwood, E. 2010. England’s Schools

Mingay, G.E. 1989 ed. The Agricultural History of England and Wales vol. VI

Nicolle, M. 2001. William Allen Quaker Friend of Lindfield 1770-1843

Simo, M. 1988. Loudon and the Landscape: from Country Seat to Metropolis

Wade Martins, S. 2002. The English Model Farm: building the Agricultural Ideal

Contemporary Observation

Blacker, W. 1834. An essay on the improvements to be made in the cultivation of small farms, by the introduction of green crops and house feeding the stock thereon

Caird, J. 1852. English Agriculture in 1850-51

Chadwick, E. 1842. Report from the Poor Law Commissioners on the Sanitary Conditions of the Labouring Population of Great Britain

Chambers, W. and R. 1842. Information for the People (Encyclopedia) vol. 2, pp. 345-52

Cobbett, W. 1821. Cottage Economy

Loudon, J.C. 1833, revised with supplement 1846. Encyclopedia of Cottage, Farm and Villa Architecture

O’Connor, F. 1843. A Practical Work on the Management of Small Farms

Stevens, W. 1862. A Memoir of TM Wheeler

Thompson, F. 1939, reprinted 1973. Lark Rise to Candleford

Wilson, B. 1977, first published c.1890. ‘Struggles of an Old Chartist’ in Vincent, D, ed. Testaments of Radicalism: Memories of working class Politicians, 1790-1885

Newspapers and Reports

Northern Star, especially: 13 Dec 1845; 14 Mar, 22 Aug, 14 Nov, 12 Dec, 19 Dec, 1846; 23 Jan, 23Feb, 21 Aug, 1847; 8 Jan, 8 May, 24 Jun, I Jul, 1848; 11 Apr, 7 Jul, 1849

Cheltenham Free Press, Gloucestershire Chronicle, Gloucestershire Journal: various (see Ashton)

Reports of the Select Committee on the Chartist Land Plan, British Parliamentary Papers, 1848, XIX (six reports from June to August) especially: Second report Q1796-8, p.43; Third report Q2530, 2537, p. 36; Fourth report Q2270, p. 21, Q2378, p. 25; Q3354, p. 46; Q3635, p. 52; Q4187, p. 73; Q4193, p. 74

The Visual Record

Chadwick Sanitary Conditions Appendix 8, pp, 395-7, 398-9

Loudon Encyclopedia Supplement, pp. 1131-5

O’Connor A Practical Work  pp. 171-4

Illustrated London News 17 Jun 1848, p. 393 (Hine’s ventilator design); 23 Feb 1850, p. 120-2 (Snigs End cottage); 12 Oct 1850, p. 296 (Minster Lovell prospect with schoolhouse)

Northern Star 22 Aug 1846 (Heronsgate); 13 Feb 1847 (house plan)

Feargus O’Connor, MP, Nottingham. T. Martin, artist, M. Devlin, engraver (portrait) Nottingham Library NTGM 009710

O’Connorville The first estate purchased by the Chartist Co-operative Land Company, situate in the parish of Rickmansworth, Herts. Founded by Feargus O’Connor Esq 1846 (Heronsgate ‘poster’) British Library Maps 162.s.1

Ann Dawson’s Sampler (showing Heronsgate School) 1847 (reproduced in Foster p. 58)

Listed Buildings entries: historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list

Statue of Feargus O’Connor, MP, 1859, Nottingham Arboretum a