Tag Archives: Imber St. Giles

Interpreting Imber

Interpreting the lost village of Imber

Behind the wire and warning signs of the British Army training area on Salisbury Plain, lie the remains of a lost village. It is not alone; earthworks linger there of eleven settlements vanished by the Middle Ages.

But Imber thrived in the medieval wool trade, survived centuries of thinly profitable sheep farming, and abruptly ended on 17th December 1943, World War II. As the Allies prepared for the multi-national invasion of Europe, the village was evacuated for heavy armoured manoeuvres. Given 47 days to leave, the villagers thought to return but never regained their homes.

The evacuation of Imber is locally well-known, and is told at the village church on the few open days permitted. The interpretation, a rich collection of photographs and research by the Friends of St. Giles’ Church, needed redisplaying, and I was contracted for the task.

Many people feel deeply about the 1943 event, and the village houses that no longer stand; but know less of the era of Imber’s wealth when the church was built, 1280 to 1500, or about Imber’s rare living conservation today. I visited on a cold March noon, by special permission, when activity across the firing ranges was low. Driving over rutted tracks with Peter Lankester of the Friends group, it was hard to imagine the route had led to homes in the twentieth century; but for most of Imber’s existence it was thus, the road across the plain identified by chalk boulders in the turf.

The church of St. Giles, one of a handful of buildings still remaining, is cared for by the CCT and the Friends. Outside, are yews, graves, and the waste. Inside, its medieval past is striking. The nave arcades are covered in a C13th chequerboard design with flowers of lead paint, originally in hues of dark and bright red, and brilliant orange. It was built by lord of the manor Thomas le Rous, a Coroner for Wiltshire investigating murders were they lay.

Around 1400, up in the tower a furtive hand incised graffiti in the plaster. The figure, hunting with two hounds, wears a fancy chaperone hat with the liripipe dangling forward. His shoes are pointy, of the kind that bishops railed against for the long toes indicated licentiousness and inhibited kneeling in church. Maybe it is a portrait of William Rous who lost his Imber inheritance through problems with women and money. Of him contemporaries said he was ‘alwey occupied in lechery and avowtry and took no heed to sew’.1   One can only guess at the opinion of the person who scratched the image above the stair.

On the day I visited, the church was under wraps, awaiting the next seasonal open day – military activities and pandemic allowing. The public visit en masse, so the new interpretation had to be visible to a throng, well-spaced, back against the walls, and suitable for packing away during the empty months.

I had previously collaborated with designers Motivation81 on the exhibition for Hartley Wintney St. Mary’s Church, which has rare medieval wall paintings, and is the size of a shoe box. There we devised a system of portable lecterns over the box pews, and free standing easels, so the boards did not touch the ancient plaster. You can read more about the medieval wall paintings in both churches.

At Imber, we continued the use of easels but chose large banners for the chancel. The photos and information were organised around the 1901 map of Imber, and the censuses of 1851-1911, to find out how the functions of the village interacted and who lived where. Then I used that to write the narrative of Imber in its rural heyday. Captain Peter Lankester, R.N. described the moving events of WW2; and Neil Skelton, captain of the bell tower, wrote about the bells.

The final banner echoes the Domesday name for Imber – Wild Imemerie, and I invited two contributors to describe its ancient past and wild present.  Richard Osgood, Senior Archaeologist MOD, expertly provided an account of the British Romano villages.

The Salisbury Plain Training Area Conservation Group made this astounding point – the wild turf and flowers from before 1943 still flourish at Imber. The 40,000 ha of the Salisbury Plain Training Area is the largest tract of unimproved chalk grassland in NW Europe, because it lies within the military training area. Protected from intensive agriculture and new building, it supports a wonderfully rich diversity of species. The conservation team supplied fantastic photographs and text to tell of the wildlife of the Plain now.

Neither suburbs nor pesticides smother the lands of Imber.

Left: Stone Curlew. Right: Sainfoin flower with Sainfoin bee unique to Salisbury Plain.

If you would like to visit Imber, see current open days and events

  1.  VCH Wiltshire, Vol 7, 61, note 46.