The ‘Ancient’ Game in a Modern Conflict

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First World War, hospital, Paralympics, Royal Pavilion, sports, stoolball

A Bite-size Museum Talk by Jody East and Dan Robertson titled ‘Before the Paralympics: sports for amputees at the Royal Pavilion during World War One’ will take place in the War Stories exhibition from 12-noon this Saturday 7^th February 2015. They will discuss the sports played which helped those convalescing at the hospital maintain morale and improve their fitness and strength in preparation for receiving prosthetic limbs.

Below is a little taster of what will be discussed at the talk. If you wish to discover more and see objects relating to the sports played, please feel free to attend this Saturday.

Prosthetic leg, akin to those used by limbless soldiers injured in the First World War [R5950]

Prosthetic leg, akin to those used by limbless soldiers injured in the First World War [R5950]

Technical advancement met the battlefield in the First World War. Increasingly mechanised on a scale never before seen, the war became a “storm of steel”, coined as the title to the memoir of German officer Ernst Jünger’s experiences on the Western Front.

Among scenes of mud, futility and sacrifice, particular forms of offensive and defensive weaponry became synonymous with trench warfare: the machine gun and barbed wire; sapping and the laying of mines; trench, field and heavy artillery and names like ‘howitzer’, ’18-pounder’ and ‘Big Bertha’; shell fire and shrapnel are to name but a few. The latter in particular claimed more lives than any, an estimated 70-80% of all fatal casualties. Furthermore, wounds from shrapnel significantly contributed to the approximately two million British soldiers, sailors and airmen that had been permanently disabled or disfigured by the conflict. This included over 41,000 amputees.

Colonel R Neil Campbell, C.B., C.I.E., Commanding Officer of the Royal Pavilion Military Hospital. From the Pavilion “Blues” magazine, June 1916 [BH700117]

Postcard featuring two Pavilion “Blues” patients [HA927575]

Cartoon from the Pavilion “Blues” magazine, July 1916 [BH700117]

The first limbless patients at the Royal Pavilion were admitted on 20^th April 1916 following the complex’s use as a hospital for Indian servicemen. Colonel Sir R Neil Campbell, “the trusty Scot to be relied on”, and his staff focused on rehabilitation and vocational training, pioneering at the time, laying the groundwork for today’s treatment of limbless ex-servicemen. Here, they convalesced to improve their strength before referral to Queen Mary’s Hospital at Roehampton, a specialist centre for fitting prosthetic limbs.

Maintaining morale of the invalided men as well as preparing them with the skills needed to find employment after the Army were very much part of daily life at the Royal Pavilion Military Hospital. The Pavilion “Blues” magazine, running from June 1916 to February 1920, gives a good insight into the activities patients involved themselves in. Sport features strongly, and a Sports Committee was quickly formed to organise events within the hospital and elsewhere, answering the cry “Play up “Blues”, and make the Pavilion the most interesting Hospital in Brighton”. Of the outdoor sports football, ‘king’ cricket and the ‘ancient’ game of stoolball would prove especially popular among the men, and women, who participated.

For those not familiar to stoolball, it’s probably best described as ‘cricket in the air’ with different bats, balls and wickets. My personal interest in the ‘ancient’ game comes from having played it whilst at primary school in Brighton. Regrettably, I have yet to pick up a stoolball bat in anger since and was completely unaware of its fascinating heritage and significance in rehabilitating injured soldiers until reading through volumes of the “Blues” magazine, seeing it referred to time and time again. This curious game predates cricket and other modern batting-sports, being played for over 500 years. It is even given a mention in Shakespeare’s comedy The Two Noble Kinsmen, “playing stool ball” supposedly used as a euphemism for sexual behaviour! The origins of the game lie firmly in Sussex and it could be argued that England’s first female sports ‘stars’ were those named in the Glynde Butterflies team of 1866, along with teams from other Sussex villages with brilliant names like the Chailey Grasshoppers and Selmeston Harvest Bugs.

Stoolball bat, c1900. Kindly lent by Stoolball England for display at the Bite-size Museum Talk.

Stoolball bat, c1900. Kindly lent by Stoolball England for display at the Bite-size Museum Talk.

The popularity of the sport has ebbed and flowed over the past 150 years or so, but midway through the First World War it experienced a real resurgence thanks to one Major William Wilson Grantham (1866-1942). He almost single-handedly revived the sport, suggesting its suitability to Military Tribunal for men invalided by war “for whom cricket or football was too strenuous”, prompted by his own son being wounded whilst serving in the Royal Sussex Regiment. Thanks to his efforts, knowledge of the game was passed to military hospitals such as the Royal Pavilion where it was very much enjoyed by patients and staff alike.

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Heightening popularity resulted in matches featuring injured servicemen being played at the County Ground, Hove and elsewhere in the country, including Lords. The first of these matches at the home of cricket on 31^st August 1917 featured teams from the 2^nd London Hospital, ‘damaged by wounds’, and Ye Ancient Lawyers, ‘damaged by age’. It was reported in newspapers as far afield as Kalgoorlie, Western Australia and was also recorded for promotion and posterity by the Topical Film Company. Soon after the war’s end, showpiece matches were being played to raise funds for injured ex-servicemen such as that played at Buckingham Palace, watched by George V and Queen Mary, in September 1922. Through Major Grantham’s passion and determination, stoolball would experience a golden era and an almost worldwide reach being achieved, funds raised being used to send equipment and copies of the rules to Australia, Canada, Egypt and Japan.

All-female stoolball teams battling it out at the County Ground, Hove, c1930s. Image obtained from a glass plate negative of the Brighton & Hove Herald newspaper [DB1124.346]

Dan Robertson, Assistant Curator

Untold War Stories

Tags

Brighton Museum, First World War, War Stories, Women, ww1

In advance of her bite-size talk at Brighton Museum tomorrow, War Stories curator Jody East discusses one of the untold stories she discovered during her research for the exhibition.

Gertrude Coggins. Courtesy of Gerald Wheatley.

The exhibition War Stories: Voices from the First World War focuses on 13 individual stories. These are 13 of many of the experiences and lives we explored when researching the exhibition over the last few years. They represent a snapshot of life 100 years ago, during the First World War.

As curator of the exhibition, one of the hardest parts of the planning was not being able to include all of the stories we discovered. The researchers and I spent many days talking to families who had been exploring their family histories, reading through old copies of the Brighton Graphic and Pavilion Blues magazine and searching Brighton Museum’s collections.

We found a fascinating mix of detailed stories and memories passed down through generations, but with no accompanying material objects to display within an exhibition; and some interesting objects but very little known about the person they had belonged to.  For an exhibition where the focus was very much on the individual, it was important for us to combine a personal stories and personal objects.

Gertrude Coggins’ autograph book

One of my favourite stories not included in the exhibition is of Gertrude Coggins, who became a train ticket collector at Brighton station in 1915. She was previously in domestic service and this is one of the many jobs that women took on during the war. In 2014, her son brought in her autograph book to show us, which she had kept from 1912 and contains poems and an interest in fashion. From 1914 the war features heavily, including cartoons about the Kaiser. Although Gertrude gave the job up in 1919, her son remembers that for many years after they would catch the train through Brighton and his mother would always stop and chat to the other ticket collectors because they all knew each other. It is a poignant example of the life changing effects of war combined with the carrying on every day life.

To discover more of these untold war stories I will be doing a gallery talk in the War Stories exhibition on Tuesday 3 February at 1pm. It is free and open to all.

Jody East

Creative Programme Curator, Brighton Museum & Art Gallery

 

The Ghost of Halton Grange

Tags

First World War, Ghost Stories, Halloween, Royal Pavilion, ww1

Happy Halloween and welcome to my spooky first blog post. As part of my Digital Media Apprenticeship, I have been sourcing some interesting images and poetry from the Pavilion Blues newspaper. The newspaper was produced by patients who were recovering from their injuries in the Pavilion Hospital for Limbless Men during the First World War. This is an article from December 1919 about Halton Grange (now Runcorn Town Hall) and a Sergeant’s encounter with the supernatural.

Scary cartoon from WW1

 

The Ghost of Halton Grange 

First published in the Pavilion Blues, December, 1919

The day was bitterly cold and the sky was heavy, as the wind blew an icy blast through the tree tops.

Snow had now commenced to fall in great flakes. The occupants of the hut huddled closer to the fire, sitting there, expressionless and silent. It was Christmas Eve; many of them, no doubt, were thinking of home ties, before being called to the colours. The door suddenly opened and the sergeant in charge entered, glancing at the boys he wished them a Merry Christmas. ‘The worst time I ever had,’ said Edwards, a raw recruit yet in his teens. ‘There’s Dodger, been a trying to cheer us up with singing Christmas Carols, and Nobby telling us the most fearful ghost stories, now, you Sergeant, comes and wishes us merry Christmas.’

 

‘Ghost stories, eh? Answered the Sergeant, ‘Speaking of them, that just reminds me of a little incident that happened with this Regiment not many miles from London, some years ago.’

‘I am sure the lads would like to hear it, wouldn’t you, boys? Said Nobby.’

The Sergeant glanced at the company for approval, seeing they were looking at him expectant. He soon made himself comfortable with them around the fire.

‘I had not long been in the service,’ commenced the Sergeant, ‘When I had the satisfaction of unveiling the mystery of Halton Grange.’

‘It happened like this. Not far from the Barracks there stood on a hill a fine old English Mansion. It was surrounded with a high wall, a large imposing gate for an entrance. For the past two years it had many tenants. Weird noises were heard at night, and it soon had the reputation of being haunted. Many boys of the Regiment swore they had seen a figure glide mysteriously through the gate, and disappear in the garden. At that time I took no notice of the different tales told about the place, as I knew that after leaving the canteen, the lads might have imagined anything. One night as I was passing the Grange, I was astonished to see running towards me, Billie Roist. Now Billie was no coward, he had stood up to many of the best men of the battalion in the ring. Knowing that of him, I was thoroughly knocked when he reached me and fell in a dead faint at my feet. On getting him to consciousness, he commenced to babble about the awful yell that came from the house and swore that he saw a figure disappear suddenly in the grounds, as if the earth opened and swallowed him up, giving at the same time the noise complained of.’

‘I succeeded at last in getting him to Barracks after he had pulled himself together, we had a consultation on the subject and it was decided that we should make a thorough inspection of the house and grounds the next evening.’

‘At the appointed time we both set out for our observations both of us being armed with a service Colt revolver. Nearing the Grange, a solitary figure could be seen going ahead of us. Billie recognised him at once. He was one of our chaps named Arden-Brooks. He had been serving with the regiment for three years; there was some mystery attached to him. It was said that he had been a student of Oxford University, studying for surgery and medicine, failed his exams, and not daring to face his people, joined the army. We both followed him, keeping a good distance behind. Billie clutched my arm, as Brooks, giving a quick glance around, climbed the wall, and dropped on the other side. Keenly on the alert, we slowly advanced, but not a trace of him could be found. At last I made a discovery, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight shot down between the trees, what looked like an old well, proved to be an ingeniously built vault, cunningly concealed by a growth of ivy.’

‘So far we had heard and seen nothing unusual. Both of us drew our revolvers, and began to descend slowly down the vault. On going below the earth to the depth of about six feet, we found ourselves firmly established on terra firma. It was pitch dark, Billie fumbled about in his tunic pocket for a candle that he had brought on lighting it we received a startling shock, for there staring us in the face was a passage, apparently leading to the Grange. At the end of it a gleam of light was streaming through the crack of an old door. Billie and I crept silently towards it. Billie meanwhile, had blown his candle out. Suddenly an awful shriek came from behind the door that we were now approaching. I felt myself shivering from head to toe. I heard Billie mutter, ‘Good God, Sergeant, what’s that?’ My teeth were chattering too much to answer him, but grasping his arm firmly I led him to the door and peeped through. What I saw was one of the queerest sights I have ever seen. Brooks was bending over a huge boar hound it was stretched out on an old table, its legs firmly fastened at both ends. He had administered an anaesthetic and gently injecting the animal with some sort of fluid from a syringe. Billie by now had got his eye glued to the keyhole, ‘Sergeant,’ he said, ‘I can’t stand this,’ and with that he threw his whole weight against the door; with a crash the door tumbled down, throwing Billie headlong into the room and I following, Brooks staggered back, all of a sudden made a flying leap at Billie. I yelled a warning to him, but too late, he gave Billie a blow on the head with some instrument that he had picked up on us entering. My brain was conjuring up what I should do. I levelled my revolver at him; he went ghastly, his eyes blood-shot, I could sense danger as I gradually made my way nearer to him. At that moment the dog set up a mournful howl, the anaesthetic had just worked off. I glanced round hurriedly, Brooks taking advantage of my distracted attention, jumped clear of the broken door, and was soon lost to sight down the passage. I had now time to look around, first attending to Billie who soon recovered, the blow just making him a little dazed. Not caring to let the dog loose, we soon put the dog out of his misery. The room, we soon found out, was situated under the Grange, and at one time or other has given access to the kitchen, for what had once been a door had been bricked up; undoubtedly the strange noises heard, had been from various animals that Brooks had experimented with at different times. The room was simply littered with various surgical instruments that Billie and I knew nothing about. Packing them up carefully, we made our way back to the barracks, duly reporting the facts to the Guard room. The next day Brooks was reported as an absentee, and still remains so till this day. Some times afterwards, a body was found floating in the Thames, the description given of it was suspiciously like Brooks, but no one could swear to it.’

Needless to say, the Mansion after this soon found a tenant. I believe our O.C bought it. I have nothing more to say, only that the Ghost of Halton Grange is still spoken of by some of the old soldiers now serving the Battalion.

********

Nicola Adams, Digital Media Apprentice