Author: Dave Gibbons, Sir Gilbert Hoghton’s Companie of Foote

Orders of the day, Volume 33, Issue 2, 2001

All Hugger-Mugger and Kim-Kam

February 16th 1646 saw the Royalist and Parliamentarian armies under Hopton and Fairfax – not to mention Cromwell – meet for the last major battle of the Civil War at the strategically important Devon town of Great Torrington. The Parliamentary forces won the day, and in defeating Hopton’s forces signalled the effective end of the King’s hold on the West and the throne of England.

The effect of the battle upon local people’s lives can be imagined all too easily: the hunger, depredation and carnage, not to mention the fear of having to face a new regime after holding out for the Royalist cause for years. Add to this the loss of the town church when the barrels of gunpowder stored there ignited, destroying the building, sending debris across the town and killing the two hundred Royalist prisoners held there. It isn’t difficult to understand that life in seventeenth century Torrington was hardly a bed of roses for the ordinary man or woman.

I’ve been lucky enough to gain a further insight into those lives as I am a costumed interpreter – not guide, for reasons that will become clearer – at the Torrington 1646 Civil War Heritage Centre. The centre was established in 1999 as part of a local regeneration scheme by the town’s Community Development Trust; the emphasis was on volunteers as well as paid employees, and from the beginning of the project a number of Sealed Knot people were involved from Hoghton’s, which has a very strong presence in the town.

Loads of us were involved, especially in building the Physick Garden under the inspired leadership of John Wardman - reclaiming a wasteland and turning it into an authentic seventeenth century herbalist’s delight. It now includes virtually every plant of importance in medicine at the time, alongside culinary and aromatic herbs and the occasional oddity such as woad and a mulberry tree grown from a cutting taken from one belonging to King James I. The garden has now grown to the extent that we are able to sell surplus plants to the public.

The tour begins inside though, where visitors are taken into an exhibition of maps, models and artefacts alongside archaeological finds from the battle site. They then watch a video presentation which includes footage of the 1996 SK muster to commemorate the battle’s 350th anniversary, before being met by their first interpreter, who takes them into the recreated streets of Torrington on the night of February 16th 1646. I won’t spoil the surprise for would-be visitors by giving away what goes on in the town, but it’s well worth the admission price in itself.

And that’s where I come in. It’s a strange sort of job really, speaking in period English and trying not to frighten small children… mostly. You do get the odd one who becomes upset, but they tend only to be the smaller ones who don’t really know what’s going on and don’t like the darkness and sounds of battle. Or my role as a turncoat musketeer, levelling a matchlock at the party and demanding the password!

The Rev. Thomas Larkam in a dark Devon alleyway

That said, we look at the groups of visitors and assess the right member of staff to guide them, so that if, for example, there are a lot of small children who are likely to become nervous, we have nice friendly ladies in character; then again, there’s always the Rev. Larkham, a highly dodgy priest, or Trooper James, the scary one if that suits.

When I joined the staff, one of my first jobs was to research and create for myself a character, in which guise I would meet and accompany the visitors. The detail of the research had to be meticulous, even down to the sort of things that I might know even if not actually ever called upon to talk about them. For example, as my character, David deGilbert, comes from Midland sheep farming stock, he has to have a good idea of the various prices of wool and meat, as well as a rough working knowledge of the agricultural system in England at the time - and of course all the weights, measures, prices and background detail that anyone of the time would have known without really having to think about it. And I’m a soldier, remember, so I also have to know the things that would particularly interest me in that sphere: in the space of five minutes I can be called upon to teach basic sword fighting, charge my pike to the rear and give fire with the musket! And that’s why we’re not guides; anyone could put on a T-shirt and lead visitors around a static museum, but we try to interpret life in the 1640s as best we can for a modern audience.

I usually work outside in the Living History area rather than inside the ‘town’, the reason being that Master deGilbert is lurking around the outskirts of Civil War Torrington, afraid to enter the town in daylight for fear of the townsfolk who remember his depredations whilst billeted upon them. Instead, I hang around trying to sell armour left behind by the defeated Royalists, or challenging all comers to a wager on a game of alquerque, which leads to much public hilarity when know-all grandad gets well and truly beaten. We use lots of period games and artefacts outside, and many people actually spend hours trying to master the horseshoe trick or the cup and ball, for example. We also have spare clothes for the children to dress up in - everything from bum rolls to full armour, including tassets. When we get people into armour, we teach them the basics of pike drill with full size pikes, which is always a terrific opportunity for the kids to a) humiliate Dad and b) chase the chickens or the cat (named Firky Toodle – look it up!).

After that, they’re met by another staff member who takes them around the Physick Garden, explaining the herbs and their uses, and often thoroughly disgusting them in the process: it’s amazing how many people don’t drink lemon balm steeped in white wine to cheer them up, but strangely even less slap spider’s webs and comfrey on their sore bits or use gillyflowers to strengthen the parts!

Once they’re reeling from the horrors of seventeenth century medicine, some of which makes the state of the NHS seem rosy in comparison, they go off for a nice sit-down and coffee, etc., either indoors or in our period rose garden next door. This was where we did some of the filming for the BBC’s “Charlie’s Garden Army” last year, although Ms Dimmock’s handiwork is actually a few hundred yards down the road. At this point I’m free for a minute or two to nip inside and knock back a cold mug of coffee before the next party comes through and I go back into character again. And on my summer days off, I run around some muddy field in darkest Lancashire waving a pike in the vague direction of the King’s Guard … it’s a funny sort of a life.