by Dr Sarah E Hayward
Lucy’s Story is what I will forever consider to be a gift from the archives. A gift which presented me with three rich characters and a compelling plot of tangled secrets and conspiracies. A gift which comprised a complete story arc – with beginning, middle, end, and epilogue – from multiple perspectives.
My discovery of Lucy’s Story was the result of a period of concentrated research at the London Metropolitan Archives (LMA). At the time, I was working towards a PhD project about the early years of Normansfield Hospital, a former residential institution for people (mainly children) with a learning disability.
As I read through thousands of archived letters dating from the late eighteen hundreds, I found myself not merely gathering tantalising glimpses of the past, but actually (re)assembling the substantial building blocks of people’s lives and stories long forgotten to history.
Lucy was one of those people, and the correspondence written by her mother, Alice, her father, William, and her formidable grandmother, Lady Audrey, gradually established three distinctive characters and revealed a fascinating narrative.
I broadened my search and gathered everything I could find about Lucy, garnering a fourth, formal perspective on her story from her various medical records. By now intimately familiar with the material – and wishing to pass on something of the power of discovery which makes archival research so captivating – I was convinced that, through considered selection and revision, that material could speak for itself.
The final outcome, Lucy’s Story, is a 47-minute video essay in which the letters of Alice, William, and Lady Audrey drive the narrative. Each one is given a fitting visual representation, and their words are read aloud by three different voice actors. A calendar in the corner of the screen heralds the passing months and years of Lucy’s life.
Lucy was just five years old when she was admitted to Normansfield Hospital in 1879. Upon arrival, she was clinically classified as having epilepsy, and (in the terminology of the day) as being an “Imbecile”; the purported cause being an “emotional disturbance of the mother”. Further notes describe her as “a pretty child with perfectly uncontrolled instincts; screams, bites, kicks and has sensual habits of the worst class. She speaks but it is the echo only of what one says to her”.
Within a couple of months, Lucy is noted to have settled in happily. Although she remains somewhat “boisterous”, she is “much more orderly and talks better”. Her medical records spanning her first year at Normansfield repeatedly describe her as “improving”: she now “sings very nicely and takes part in the school exercises”, although she is “still very excitable”. Moving into her second year and beyond, however, there is little further mention of improvement.
In one of Alice’s earliest letters, she recounts with enthusiasm: “how much pleasure it gave me to see so marked an improvement in Lucy’s looks and behaviour. I went down twice to Normansfield during my stay in London with Mother and on the last occasion Miss Jones allowed Lucy to remain a little time quite alone with me, which was a test of her behaviour. I was much pleased at her gentleness, also appearing more intelligent. She pointed out and admired the ornaments in the drawing room but told me I must not touch them as they were Dr Down’s. Then I sang nursery songs, which she highly appreciated, and ‘Goosey Gander’ I had to repeat many times. I left her singing and most joyous and happy, and it is a great comfort to my mind to see how well and bright she is”.
A couple of years later, Alice requests: “I should be glad of a few lines to let me know how little Lucy is getting on. I hope the east winds have not upset her, for any physical derangement always retards and throws back her mental progress. Does she write? And can she read a letter? Her youngest sister Beatrice wished to write to her, so I enclose a note from her for Lucy. If she cannot read it perhaps Miss Jones will kindly read it to her. I have spoken to my little girls about their sister and how kind Miss Jones was to her”.
In 1885 – by which time Lucy, now aged 11, has been living at Normansfield for more than half her young life – Lady Audrey reports from a recent visit that Lucy: “appears to me to have made no progress during the last year, and this I regret very much as an affection like hers never stands still – but as she keeps her bright happy look and physically is the picture of health, and so well developed, I trust I may yet hope for better things as her years increase”.
Whilst her mother and grandmother write regularly and at length, her father’s notes are generally brief, and often begin with apologies for delayed payments for Lucy’s care. It is towards the end of 1885 that William moots a change which provokes Alice and Lady Audrey to mobilise their efforts (often secretly) against him.
The following brief excerpts from the script to Lucy’s Story demonstrate how the letters – which have not been addressed to one another but, rather, have all been sent to the Hospital’s proprietors – are transformed into a dialogue which reveals the story.
November 1885, from William:
” My dear Dr Down, I want to consult you on a change which I will be very reluctantly compelled by circumstances soon to make. I have, you will be sorry to hear, lost a very considerable sum in one or two of my investments. This of course makes a great difference in my income, and I fear it will be necessary at no very distant date to remove my poor little one from your valuable and valued guardianship. “
November 1885, from Lady Audrey:
“ Dear Mrs Down, it is not nice to open up one’s private affairs, but I don’t believe his losses have been such as to necessitate his current plan. My belief is that temper, and the wish to annoy his wife, and make her feel his power, has as much influence in the way he is now acting as anything.
I shall, like the mole, work quickly and leave no stone unturned. I shall go and see the place he proposes, and I hope I may be able to arrange for her not being removed there. “
December 1885, from William:
“ Private. Confidential.
My dear Dr Down, I would ask you if in case of my being able to arrange for Lucy’s coming to Scotland, you could – and would – kindly send a trustworthy servant to bring her.
But before making any final arrangement, I venture to propose this last ultimatum, and I hope you will not feel offended at my doing so. Would you be willing to take Lucy for £65 per annum till such time as our income would admit of an increase in that sum? Of course, at Lady Audrey’s death we shall be much better off. All this I say to you in confidence and trust you will treat it as strictly private. “
January 1886, from Alice:
“ Dear Dr Down, I have done all I can to prevent Lucy being removed from your care, but my husband is determined to do the opposite of what I wish. The move will be a dreadful change for her, and I am concerned that they will not keep her. She is different to any of the children they have, for they are all gentler, and physically weaker. Lucy will electrify them when she gets there. With her restless and active disposition, I fear she will prove too troublesome. I only hope that, if Lucy cannot stay there, perhaps you will be charitable enough to let her return to you. “
Lady Audrey ultimately offers to make up the difference in cost herself, and William relents, soon thereafter returning to his former pattern of sending repeated apologies for forgotten and late payments. Chancery records reveal a separation deed granted to William and Alice in 1895.
Meanwhile, Lucy remained at Normansfield. She died there at the age of 26 in August 1900. Within the day, an emotional letter arrived from Lady Audrey: “It would be impossible for me to say that I am not very much distressed to hear that my dear Lucy has passed over to the spirit land. It is to me inexpressibly sad to think that she has passed away without any one of us seeing her”. Alice soon followed with her own wishes that she would: “much prefer cremation. I must seize this opportunity to thank you. Lucy had a truly happy, comfortable home at Normansfield, and both Lady Audrey and I feel we have reason to be grateful to you and the staff for all you did for that poor child”. William sent a telegram: “Please cremate. Keep expenses down”.
Having shared some of the final content of Lucy’s Story, I also want to mention what I decided to leave out. Through wider research, I discovered fascinating points of connection between Lucy’s close relatives and the ‘Lady with the Lamp’ Florence Nightingale; the celebrated actor Sir Henry Irving; the blossoming world of ‘cat fancying’; and even to ‘the wickedest man in the world’, Aleister Crowley.
The decision to omit this information was not an easy one – if one were looking to sell a story, these facts would surely headline the poster. But this brings me to a critical point about Lucy’s Story. There is no documentation produced by Lucy, and thus she possesses no voice in her own narrative. Her presence is conjured up through the words of others. Her existence is delicate and nebulous, and the introduction of any such famous and colourful characters would only serve to draw precious limelight away from her.
I have been fortunate to present Lucy’s Story on screens large and small, to academic and non-academic audiences, and to people with a learning disability. Every experience was unique and rewarding, and responses to the story revealed that audiences found this cast of characters, and the tale they had to tell, just as fascinating as I did.
As I stated at the beginning of this piece, Lucy’s Story was a gift from the archives. Everything required of a compelling, affecting story was contained within the raw research material. My own role, then, was as conduit and coordinator, working to bridge the gaps in the story without distorting history, and to expose the most pointed gap: the lack of Lucy’s own voice. Even though I could not give Lucy a voice of her own, I was able to give her, just briefly, a meaningful and memorable presence in the world.
[The Normansfield Archive collection is held at the LMA, ref. code: H29/NF]