Fearne Cotton Who Do You Think You Are?

-Right, can you crack, into this bowl, three eggs?

-OK.

Family is everything to me.

Look at that. That's fantastic.

Since becoming a parent, I base my whole life around family.

Honey, are you going to do some whisking, sweetie?

It's opened my eyes to that amazing circular motion of life.

Presenter Fearne Cotton began her career in children's television,

before becoming a household name with her Radio 1 show.

My parents definitely instilled a work ethic in me,

which has gone on to, you know, help me out massively

in, you know, how I view work and my career.

I've got this drive, and it's a burning drive inside,

and I know that comes from my ancestry.

That's not just something that I've got,

that comes from a whole heap of stuff behind me.

Today, as well as broadcasting,

Fearne writes books and looks after her two children

at their home in South West London.

My own upbringing, I guess, was...

Well, it was pretty normal to me.

Grew up thinking,

there's nothing very exotic or exciting about this.

So I think I'm actually looking forward

to looking into those other stories

and seeing if there was explosive dramas

or strange jobs, lots of travelling...

Mmm!

All that sort of stuff that I felt

wasn't really in my own childhood...

Oh, you've done a great job there, guys.

..and I think that will be a really wonderful gift

to give to my children, and, sort of, pass on.

I'm terrified!

So excited - but I'm so nervous!

Fearne is on her way to visit her parents, Mick and Linda,

at their home in Buckinghamshire.

I think I'm an even split of both parents.

I've got my mum's tenacity and drive and fire...

..but then, weirdly, I've got my dad's side,

which is very calm and grounded, and I'm kind of a weird mix of both,

depending on what I'm dealing with in life.

Hello, guys!

-Hello, what are you doing here, then?!

-Mwah!

-Daddy.

-Hi, Fearney.

Let's head in.

So, I wanted to have a chat with you about something

that's quite obvious, but I've never bothered asking you, really,

and that's about your parents, my grandparents...

Cos you don't really ever have those chats, do you?

-We're kind of just going about our everyday business and...

-Mm-hm.

-It's a good thing to do.

-I think so.

Because I wish I'd quizzed my grandparents and parents more

-when they were alive.

-I know.

So catch us while we're still here.

So, here's lovely Sylvia and Phil.

And... I mean, my memories of...

I mean, especially your dad -

-I mean, he was hilarious and crazy, wasn't he?

-Mm.

He would've loved nothing better than sat at a table

with about half a dozen kids, eating blancmange and jelly...

-Yeah, yeah!

-..and wearing a paper hat...

-Yeah, I remember.

-..and just being ridiculous, yeah.

He was such a funny man, wasn't it?

-Yeah, he was great, actually.

-I do miss him, he was amazing.

That's a lovely picture, that.

What about Nan Sylvia's parents?

Were they all London based?

They were originated from Suffolk and Norfolk.

-OK, I didn't know that.

-Yeah.

Now, do I remember correctly, or have I made this up,

that there's...because of a surname ending in BY, what would that be?

Apparently - this is only sort of hearsay...

-Yeah.

-..if your surname ended in BY, as theirs did, Wilby...

-Wilby, that's it.

-Wilby.

-I think BY is Norse for Viking settlement.

-OK.

And then lovely Nan Ruby.

So, Nan Ruby, your mum and dad.

Obviously just come back from a holiday, by the look of it.

Always. That's one of the things I remember about your mum is...

Yeah, always on holiday.

-Always...

-I think she had a hotline to Lunn Poly!

She used to ring them and say, "What's...?

"Have you got any last-minute cancellations?"

-I know!

-And they'd go away the next day.

What I know, I guess, about Nan, your mum,

is that she was born in Wales.

Yeah - and if we look at the birth certificate,

you can see exactly where she was born.

She was born in 1922, Evelyn Street, Abertillery.

-Yeah.

-That's in South Wales...

-South Wales, yeah.

-..and then her dad, Evan Meredith...

-Mm-hm.

..and then her mum, Elsie Meredith -

and that's so strange to read, because I didn't know their names,

and I never got to meet Evan Meredith,

because he died quite a long time before I was born.

'72, yeah.

Yeah, so sort of nine years before I was born.

-What does that say?

-Coal hewer.

So that was that whole area...

-It's coal-mining, basically, yeah.

-..was a coal-mining area.

What do you remember about your grandad?

Well, he always had his face in a book.

He'd had his own chemist shop, opticians.

He developed into, you know, a very clever, intelligent man -

having come from a coal miner.

-Yeah. Have you got any pictures of Evan?

-Yes, yes.

There's a very interesting one there.

Oh, wow.

Look how smart he is in that uniform.

Over 100 years ago.

Goodness me, so... This is 1913.

It says, "Dad, St John's ambulance".

Wow. So he was...

How old, here, does that make him?

'13... I think he was born '95, 1895, so 18ish?

And I can see, look, cos I've never seen a picture of him in my life,

but there's the family resemblance.

-You can kind of see the nose...

-Not so much.

-I can see it.

-Mm.

-Definitely.

-Maybe.

-I can see Nan.

-Mm.

-100% Nan Ruby.

-Mm.

-Yeah, without a doubt.

-Yeah.

-Yeah, maybe.

-Like, the nose and the mouth, the chin...

..and so, if this was in 1913, and he was already putting himself

-to great use, do you know what he did in the war?

-Not really.

Never said, he never spoken about...

not by my mum, or certainly by Grandad Evan.

He wasn't around, I know that much,

but what he did or where he was, I've actually got no idea.

-Well, that would be really interesting to find out...

-Mm.

-..I think, wouldn't it?

-Yes.

-Do a bit more delving around Evan's story.

-Yes.

Fearne has discovered that before becoming a chemist,

her paternal grandmother Ruby's father, Evan Meredith,

was a coal miner from South Wales.

To find out more about Evan,

Fearne has come to Abertillery to meet mining historian Ben Curtis.

-Hi, Ben.

-Hi, Fearne.

Welcome to Abertillery.

-Thank you. How are you doing?

-Yeah, good, thanks. Lovely.

What a lovely view of the Valleys.

Land of my forefathers - and more specifically my great-grandfather,

Evan Meredith. Am I saying Meredith right?

I would say Mer-EDD-ith rather than MEH-redith, but, yeah...

Evan Mer-EDD-ith.

-Erm, who I know worked down the mines.

-Yes.

I don't see any mines here now, though.

No, no. There aren't any.

I mean, the last mine closed 30 years ago now -

but in the early 20th century

when Evan Meredith was living and working here,

it was an absolute hive of industry.

Six Bells Colliery, which is where Evan worked,

a bit further down the valley,

just under 3,000 men and boys in 1913 working there,

producing something like just over three quarters of a million tonnes

of coal a year at that time.

It's a tough life, isn't it, for a kid?

-Very tough, very dangerous work for, kind of, anyone, yeah.

-Wow.

Like most boys in the area,

Evan went to work down the mines aged 13 after leaving school.

It was physically hard work that risked serious injury

and even death...

..but there was a strong sense of solidarity

in mining towns like Abertillery.

Although the pits have gone,

Fearne and Ben are visiting one of the last surviving reminders

of that community spirit.

OK, so here we are, Fearne, Llanhilleth Miners Institute.

It's a lovely building.

So, what year would this have been built?

-1906.

-So it's sort of quite likely that Evan would have known

about this building, maybe even visited it?

Yeah, it's entirely likely he would've done.

It's a lovely thought.

-Thank you, Ben.

-No problem.

This is the lovely picture that my dad gave me

of my great-grandfather, Evan.

Which is 1913, so just shortly before World War I.

How would Evan's life have changed once the war begun?

This is a period when cutting coal

is an essential part of the war effort,

and mining was deemed a reserved occupation,

-so for most of the war, he would've been...

-Carrying on.

..the work, the essential war effort, down the pits.

The situation does change slightly towards the end of the war,

with the need for even more men to be called up to go and fight,

and that does necessitate a change of government policy

with regards to the reserved occupations -

and if you have a look at this document...

-OK.

-..this gives you a sense of what this means for South Wales.

So, this says "Miners & Comb-Out".

"A conference of delegates representing the whole of the miners

"of South Wales and Monmouthshire were held at the Cory Hall, Cardiff,

"on Thursday, to consider the comb-out scheme, by which it is..."

-Proposed.

-"..proposed to take 50,000 single men from the collieries

"of the country, the quota of South Wales being 10,000,

"or 5% of the workmen, for the Army."

So, it says several times here, "comb-out". What's that?

It's a selective process,

whereby those who are deemed to best fit the criteria

are taken from the industry,

selected, "combed out", and sent off,

called up to go and fight.

So, I mean, my gut's saying that he probably ended up going to war.

If you have a look there...

And this is July the 6th, 1918.

"Two conscientious objectors, WN Hulin, Abertillery,

"and Evan Meredith, Six Bells,

"were on Thursday at Abercarn Police-court

"charged as absentees from the Army

"and handed over to a military escort.

"No fine was inflicted.

"They were removed to Brecon Barracks next day."

Right.

So does that mean they would've been called up to the Army

but refused, and then were, essentially, arrested?

Yes.

When conscription was introduced in 1916,

men who refused to fight were known as conscientious objectors.

Some objected to killing on religious grounds.

Others opposed the war for political reasons.

Whatever their beliefs, they faced hostile public demonstrations,

the threat of imprisonment, and ridicule.

Despite this, more than 16,000 men refused to join up and fight,

including Evan Meredith.

It's quite rebellious - but maybe he had a good reason.

Yeah, this is 1918, this is getting towards the end of the war.

I mean, the scale of slaughter really, on the Western front -

-people know that it's been an absolute kind of slaughter.

-Yeah.

I mean, what a...

awful decision to have to make.

God.

I guess I'm quite shocked

to hear about Evan's refusal to join the Army.

I doubt that it's just sort of a simple act of rebellion,

so I really want to try and understand more

about his decision-making

and the impact that had on Evan and the family -

and I also want to find out what happened to him next.

Fearne is meeting Welsh historian Aled Eirug at Brecon Barracks.

I was quite shocked today, finding out that my great-grandfather, Evan,

refused to join the army.

I know from this document here that he was arrested

and then he was brought with another objector here to the barracks...

That's right, yes.

So, what sort of thing would happen once you arrived at the barracks?

They'd tried to persuade him to put on a uniform,

to conform to regulations, which he refused -

-and if you look down the list, his name is there.

-Yes, Meredith.

-Yeah.

-Does that say six...?

-Six months.

-Six months?

-That's a long time.

-So he would've been sentenced on this day,

and then the following day

he would've been taken to a civil prison.

-Where would he have gone?

-Well, we have this document here,

-if you have a look.

-This is August 1918.

-Yeah.

-"The following cases were decided at Wormwood."

-Wormwood Scrubs prison?

-Yes, yes.

-In London?

That's right. So that's where he goes next, and...

That's quite a long way to go, from South Wales.

-He does get a lift.

-Goodness me!

But if you go down the list, you can see his name there.

-OK. So, 5298 Evan Meredith.

-Yeah.

So, the interesting thing about this is, they give him a Category B.

Category A was where they thought the person opposed the war

-on religious basis.

-OK.

B suggests that Evan was seen as somebody who opposed the war

on political grounds, which they didn't like,

in that people argued that it was a capitalist war

between imperialist powers,

that it had nothing to do with the working classes.

Men like Evan didn't accept why they should be fighting.

They didn't see ordinary German soldiers as their enemy.

They saw the war as reinforcing the inequalities

they believed society should be getting rid of.

I'm guessing now, from what you've said,

he had such strong political beliefs

that, you know, it was worth doing six months' time

rather than going against his wishes.

-Well...

-Gosh.

But still, I'm sure the majority of people of Abertillery

would've been very, very upset

by the fact that he wasn't going to go to war,

especially in a period when, you know,

-families had lost their own loved ones...

-Yeah.

-It's difficult to imagine how...

-It is.

-What an awful decision to have to make, as well.

-Absolutely.

So, he was in Wormwood Scrubs for six months

-and then...

-That's right.

-..after that allotted time,

would he have been sent back to South Wales?

He would've been released from Wormwood Scrubs in December 1918,

the end of the six months, but then, once he walked out of prison,

there would be soldiers there from the Welsh Regiment to rearrest him,

-take him back to Wales for another court martial.

-Oh, my goodness.

It was like a catch 22 - you couldn't get out of it.

If you have a look here...

So, the 9th of May 1919 - so, by now, the First World War is done,

-it's over...

-Absolutely.

..but he's still got to serve his time,

so, "Men still in the hands of the military and civil authorities..."

-There we are.

-Meredith, Abertillery...

and then it says Carmarthen.

What's that about, then?

-Well, Carmarthen in West Wales...

-Yeah.

..is - or was - a garrison town.

It had its own local prison.

Wow. It kind of makes no sense, cos you want him, really,

to get back to work and keep that mining community alive

and put him to good use - but they were more adamant

on just keeping him in there for the punishment.

That was a very controversial issue at the time,

and there were lots of protests from public figures

about the treatment given to conscientious objectors -

but Evan ended up right in the middle of that row.

Yeah. Gosh.

I didn't know anyone from my family had ever been in prison.

What a revelation!

I feel slightly confused and, I guess, in conflict

about the information I've just learned.

On one hand, I massively admire Evan's courage

and his strong willed ways,

the fact that he vehemently stuck to his moral reasons

as to why he didn't want to go to war,

even though he had these severe consequences,

he still stuck by that and I really admire that,

but then, on the other hand, there's so many families

that obviously lost relatives at war in the same area

and that's unbelievably heartbreaking.

So it's really hard to sort of digest it all

and work out how I feel.

Fearne has come to Carmarthen to find out Evan's fate

following his second court-martial.

She is meeting historian Professor Lois Bibbings.

Thank you, Lois.

What I know is that my great-grandfather Evan

was brought here to Carmarthen to serve his second sentence

for being an objector.

Do you know how long he would've been here?

Well, this is one of the original papers from Carmarthen prison.

OK. So, Evan Meredith, 14th of December 1918...

What's that date in reference to?

That looks like the date on which he was court-martialled and sentenced.

So this here says, "Disobeying a lawful command".

-Yes.

-So what would that have been?

So, yeah, something like not putting on a uniform, most probably.

Something fairly mundane.

One-year sentence.

Yes, so his six months has now become a second sentence,

one year and hard labour.

Oh, my goodness.

Prison regime at that time, as you might imagine, was fairly strict.

There'd be a single plank for him to sleep on.

For the first two weeks of his sentence,

he'd be lying on the plank with no mattress.

After two weeks he would have earned the right to a mattress.

He'd have a stool,

a small table and a few pots for drinking and...

-doing other things in.

-Got you. Got you, Lois.

-Mm-hm!

Um, and he would be adhering to the silence rule,

-so he wasn't allowed to communicate with other prisoners.

-Oh, my God.

He wasn't allowed to speak -

and that's what objectors found really the most hard.

So isolating.

-It's horrible.

-But prisoners, if they behaved well,

were automatically entitled to one sixth remission of sentence,

so two months off, effectively.

Oh, right. Do you know if Evan did behave well and he got out early?

Well, if you have a look at the next column...

So, it says "Remarks",

and Evan's got quite a lengthy section in there.

I guess the really important date to look at is the temporary discharge,

and to wonder why he was discharged at that point,

because it doesn't match either the end of his sentence

or the usual remission period.

Yeah, it's quite a way before both - so do you know why?

Well, we do have a little bit more information on Evan's case.

We are very lucky to have located a history of the Meredith family.

Chapter three of that history is written by Evan,

and it records what happened to him in prison in the First World War.

Wow.

"We had heard of hunger strikes in various parts of the country

"and some of them are beginning to think in these terms.

"Not only that, I was in the best position to organise such a move."

So I'm trying to get my head around this!

So, he was basically the person who started a hunger strike here

for a group of prisoners.

-Am I right?

-Pretty much.

There have been hunger strikes in some of the prisons

around the country from 1918 or onwards,

and they were largely about the conditions

in which the prisoners were being held.

By this time, post the Armistice,

they tended to be about release dates.

"By careful contact,

"I discovered that everyone was ready and waiting

"for me to fix the day.

"This I did on a day one week ahead,

"so that I would be sure of contacting each man

"individually beforehand.

"The appointed day arrived

"and every breakfast was returned to the kitchen..." Wow.

"..including my own.

"On the fourth day, the governor called in the evening

"to bring the news that I was to be released the next morning

"under the Cat And Mouse Act."

The Cat And Mouse Act had been introduced in 1913.

Officially known as the Prisoners (Temporary Discharge For Ill Health) Act,

the Government had passed it

to tackle the hunger strike protests by suffragettes held in prison.

Instead of force-feeding them,

the act allowed the early release of weakened prisoners

who might be at risk of dying, and their rearrest

once they had recovered.

So, when conscientious objectors like Evan began their hunger strikes

in 1918, they were treated the same way.

Do you know if he was then rearrested

-after that temporary time of discharge?

-We don't for sure,

but we don't have any evidence that he was picked up again.

I'll happily read through all of this. Thank you so much.

I mean, what is clear to me already is...

..which I didn't factually know...

is that he didn't want to go to war

because he didn't want to kill anyone.

It's that simple, really.

I'm really getting a picture of who he was.

You know, it's not necessarily jobs,

location that you continue in that lineage,

it's all of those traits and all those beliefs,

and they filter through in their own way,

so it's really, really special to read his words.

Fearne has one final visit to make to piece together Evan's life.

Evan's son, my great uncle Hayden, is still alive, and he's in his 90s,

and he's incredibly with it,

so it'd be really interesting to see what Hayden, you know,

makes of all this, and I guess how that impacted him as a son.

No! I don't believe it!

Liquid sunshine. Hello, there.

Liquid sunshine.

-So lovely to see you.

-And you.

I haven't been here for so long -

I must have been, I don't know, 12 or something last time I was here.

Yes, well...

I knew so little about Evan

before I, sort of, started on this exploration,

and I've learned that he was a conscientious objector...

-Yes, yes.

-And that he refused to go to war.

Did he ever talk about his time in prison?

Or was it just a no-go subject?

-No-go subject.

-Yeah.

-Never touched it.

-Mm-hm.

-Never touched it.

-Do you think that was because it was just too painful

-of a memory for him?

-Oh, yes, I think it...

-Yeah.

-..it was looked upon with disdain.

-Hmm.

But, of course, some of them out on the Western Front were shot....

-Yeah.

-For... For disobedience.

-Yeah.

-But, hopefully, there's a place in heaven...

-..where they don't judge in this way.

-No.

I guess there is, then, a bit of a gap that I need to fill,

-between him going back into the mining community...

-Yes.

And then him arriving as a real pillar of the community...

-Yeah.

-..out of Wales, in Kingsbury, and how that happened.

Yeah. He didn't talk to me about South Wales generally.

I used to love to go to Abertillery, because if you've been there,

there were these beautiful mountains.

-Yeah.

-It was such a wonderful place...

-Mm.

-..and out of the blue, my father said,

-"I worked damned hard to get out of that place."

-Yeah!

He did it by digging himself out of the pit.

Yeah, quite literally.

-Look at it that way.

-Yeah.

He dug himself out of the pit into pharmacy,

-and eventually into a chemist's shop.

-Wow.

I can remember him answering the phone, "Meredith the chemist",

he used to say. In a Welsh accent, "Meredith the chemist",

and, um, really, that was how it...

how it came about, because he was learning, learning, learning...

-He was very, very studious and driven?

-Absolutely -

and towards the final stages of his career as a pharmacist,

he was given a fellowship of the Pharmaceutical Society,

which very, very few pharmacists ever achieve.

-Really?

-Yeah.

But, I mean, so this was a really big moment for your dad, to...?

Oh, yes. Apart from a knighthood, there's not much else!

No! I mean, it's safe to say that Evan didn't do things by halves.

-Oh, no, he really...

-He...

-Once he got stuck into it...

-Yeah.

-Yeah.

What a lovely photo.

-So, looking back, do you feel a huge sense of pride?

-Yes.

-Yeah.

-I always did.

-Mm.

I was never without pride.

That's... You know, I used to tell people what he did

and what he was doing.

-All his life he's been giving, giving, giving.

-Yeah.

What an incredible man.

It's been such a pleasure learning about him.

-It's been a real treat.

-Yes.

It was really quite emotional talking to Hayden today

about his father, Evan.

There was this huge sense of pride about where his father had come from

and where he ended up,

working so hard and digging himself out of quite a hole,

and I can't help but feel completely bursting with pride about that.

So, next, on to my mum's side of the family, who I know so little about.

I've heard rumours of Viking blood and several surnames thrown around,

but really I know very little indeed,

so I'm really looking forward to getting my teeth into a new story.

Fearne is meeting genealogist Laura Berry,

who's been looking into her mother Linda's ancestors.

I don't know very much about my mum's side of the family.

I've heard a few rumours and stories.

The only thing my mum has ever said

is that there might have been a surname that ended in "BY" -

Wilby, something like that, along the way,

and that that could have been Viking related.

That sounds like a wild fairy tale to me,

and I don't know if there's any truth in it, but that's...

That's all I've ever heard.

Well, I've done quite a lot of digging

into your mum's family history, and actually there is, obviously,

a Wilby surname here on your nan's side, and you can see here

we've got you at the bottom, then there is your mum...

Oh, lovely Nan Sylvia.

..and then her dad.

Ronald! I had no idea he was called Ronald.

-Did you not know?

-No!

-Oh!

Well, Ronald's mother was a Wilby,

and that line has been traced back a few generations.

Yeah, I've heard Suffolk and Norfolk being knocked around a lot.

Like, it's that area of the country.

Whether or not it has Viking origins, it's hard to say.

Possibly, because that "BY" ending, like you say,

it's said to derive from old Scandinavian,

meaning farm or settlement -

but, I mean, we're talking, sort of, ten centuries...

-Yeah.

-..maybe even more, back...

-Yeah.

-..and unfortunately the records just don't go back that far,

but, as you can see, this tree shows lots of London-based ancestors,

as you suspected, until you, sort of,

work back further into the 19th century

and then you find that they are coming from the Home Counties

before they moved to London in search of work.

OK, so we've got here Middlesex and Essex, and Ipswich,

Essex again...but then Ireland -

I've never, ever heard of Ireland being connected to my family

in any way at all.

-Really?

-So that's really surprising, yeah.

I had no idea.

That's your four-times great-grandfather up there.

-Wow.

-William Gilmour.

Now, so, William was born in Garvagh,

which is in Northern Ireland, right back in the 1820s.

That's fascinating.

I would love to explore more about William Gilmour.

Fearne's discovered unexpected Irish roots on her mother's side.

Her four-times great-grandfather William Gilmour

was born in what is now Northern Ireland in the early 1820s.

Fearne has come to Northern Ireland to explore those Irish roots.

I am feeling really excited,

considering up until recently

I had never even heard the name William Gilmour,

my four-times great-grandfather,

and had no idea that my family were rooted in Ireland.

I'm so curious to find out more about William.

Fearne's meeting Irish historian Elaine Farrell

at the museum in William's hometown of Garvagh.

I know that my four-times great-grandfather William Gilmour

was born in Garvagh in around 1821.

I know nothing about him.

What would his early life have been like here?

Well, Garvagh would have been a predominantly rural town,

so most people would be employed in farming...

-Yeah.

-..and would have been involved in the textile industry, as well.

So, I suppose, for William, in terms of work,

-his choices would have actually been quite limited.

-Mmm.

So, our very first document actually shows us

that William Gilmour is not in Garvagh any more.

So it's the Londonderry Standard here from 1844.

-So he would have been 23ish, roughly?

-Exactly, yeah.

"We have much pleasure in stating that Mr William Gilmour,

"of Garvagh, has been appointed

-"apothecary to the Liverpool South Dispensary."

-Mm-hm.

So an apothecary is what we would understand as a chemist.

Yeah - there is a running theme in my family with this.

-Really?

-On both sides of the family now, which is peculiar.

So, his work has now taken him to Liverpool.

Yes, exactly - and obviously, if he's working in Liverpool,

he's quite close to the docks,

and there would have been a very busy port,

so he would be treating people maybe who got injuries

aboard some of those ships, and also treating people

who would have got diseases.

-So he's really learning on the job here.

-Wow.

-And such big news it made the paper, as well! Wow.

-Yeah.

So, the next document dates to 1851.

-What is this document?

-It's a census.

OK, right. So he's still in Liverpool...

-Yeah.

-..at 31, so he's been there for quite some time now.

-He has.

-William Gilmour, "Rank, profession or occupation,

"chemist and druggist."

Wow - and then, so... So, this is the rest of his family here?

Yeah. So we have - now he's married.

Elizabeth, wife, born Bucks Hulcott.

So, Buckinghamshire?

-Yeah.

-Wow. How did they meet?

SHE LAUGHS

-Must have been in Liverpool.

-She's having...

She's on a girls' weekend in Liverpool and meets William!

Goodness me -

-and then Bessie, I imagine that's his daughter...

-Exactly.

-Kate.

-Yeah - and you can see, as well,

he has an assistant working in the chemist, and he also has a servant.

That's incredible - cos that's not a huge amount of time.

So, he was 23 when he arrived in Liverpool

and then, by 31, he's found himself a wife, he's had children

and he's started up, seemingly, a successful career for himself.

-Yep.

-Wow.

So now we have the Coleraine Chronicle.

What a wonderful big book!

So, this is Saturday, May the 20th, 1854.

"Mr William Gilmour...

-"..surgeon"!

-Yeah -

so the term wouldn't be what we would understand as a surgeon,

-it'd be more of a GP.

-OK, wow.

Member of the Royal Pharmaceutical Society of Great Britain.

Bridge Street, Coleraine.

Coleraine would be quite close to us here in Garvagh.

So, he has now moved back with his...

-With his whole family.

-..English-born wife. Yeah.

So, at this point, in 1854,

he seems to have settled quite nicely back to his home region.

-Mm-hm. You would think that, Fearne, but...

-Oh!

-..let me show you the next...

-There's always another surprise,

isn't there? There's always another surprise!

So this is the Coleraine Chronicle again.

This is from 1855.

-So this is less than a year after the last newspaper.

-Yeah. Mm-hm.

"Medical appointment, we understand that Dr Gilmour,

"of this town, has been appointed medical superintendent

"of the screw steamship Great Britain,

"which has been chartered by Government

"as a transport to convey troops to the Crimea

"and bring back invalids."

Wow, so he's off on a ship.

He's on the SS Great Britain, yeah.

This is less a year after he was announcing himself

as setting up his practice in Coleraine, so, for whatever reason,

whether it didn't go well or he got itchy feet

and he decided to head off again -

but you'll remember that he had brought his wife and his children

-back to Coleraine...

-Yeah.

-..and now he's heading off on a ship.

I mean, if that were me,

and I'd just not only moved from where I was born,

but had just settled and I had young kids, I'd be livid.

-Absolutely.

-I'd be like, "You're not going on that ship, I'm afraid!"

-Yeah. It was a lot for her to take.

-I don't care about your certificates

-and your career, you're staying here.

-Yeah.

You're staying put. Get back in that surgery.

I'd be very angry...

but I'm very selfish.

SHE LAUGHS

The SS Great Britain was the largest ship in the world

when it launched in 1843

as a state-of-the-art passenger liner

to cross the Atlantic to New York...

but when the Crimean War began a decade later,

ships like the Great Britain were commandeered

to take troops and supplies to the Black Sea, 3,000 miles away,

and bring back injured and sick soldiers -

and the man responsible for their welfare

was the ship's surgeon, William Gilmour.

Fearne has travelled from Northern Ireland to Bristol,

where the SS Great Britain is now in dry dock,

to find out more about William Gilmour's time aboard.

She's meeting naval historian Professor Andrew Lambert.

-Hi, Andrew.

-Hi, Fearne.

-Lovely to meet you.

-Welcome to the SS Great Britain.

Thank you. It's such a beautifully restored ship.

-I would love to have a look around.

-Yeah, brilliant.

-Let's go below.

-Let's go.

During the Crimean War,

these...these cabins here were put up for the soldiers,

and they're packed in, four men in a little tiny space.

Oh, my goodness. Gosh.

-Tiny little beds.

-Yeah.

This was a soldiers' barrack that rolled from side to side,

-and people were being sick all the time, as well.

-Ugh!

-Sounds horrific.

-It was pretty grim.

This is where William would have worked.

This is the surgeon's cabin.

I mean, it's not very big, is it?

Considering he's got goodness knows how many men to look after,

it's a tiny room.

-It is - and it's also where he lives.

-Wow.

So what sort of injuries and illnesses

is he going to be working with?

As they're going out, he's got a lot of men,

most of whom are pretty healthy, and he's got to keep them healthy.

Once they get to theatre, musket-ball wounds,

-very large numbers of amputations...

-Ooh...

..and particularly major outbreaks of cholera, which is lethal,

-dysentery, which can be lethal...

-Mm.

So he's making those big decisions. He's the surgeon on board.

He's the man who is going to actually do those difficult jobs.

That's a huge undertaking, to do a job like that.

War is...is terrible, but it also creates opportunities,

and the fact that he volunteers for this

-means that he sees this as a step up.

-Mm.

-This is a man on a journey.

-Yeah.

Well, I'm very curious to learn how William

made the transition from quite a basic rural life in Ireland

to having really quite an important job here on the SS Great Britain.

I can't quite piece all of that transition together.

Well, what we're looking at is a classic example

of Victorian social progress. It's all about taking a chance,

finding another way of getting on.

I mean, that must have been quite terrifying,

slash also him not quite believing his luck...

-Yeah.

-..that he'd landed such a job.

I think there is a clue to that in, actually,

an entry that we have from the ship's logbook,

where he features in the day-to-day record of the ship.

Oh, so, William Gilmour, MD.

Medical degree.

So when would he have got that?

-On board?

-Whenever he fancied claiming to have been at university.

Oh, really? So he just made it up?

There is no evidence he attended any of the universities

that awarded medical degrees,

so other men serving in this capacity on other ships,

they've actually earned this.

He's assumed it.

And so he's flying by the seat of his pants.

-He is.

-He is going to have to get up to speed

with everyone else on board that boat,

with a really important and difficult job to do.

Yeah. You know, there's... There's an opportunity and he grabs it -

and, of course, this is a results-based industry,

so the key thing we need to know is, is he successful?

-Yeah.

-Can he actually make this claim stick?

Right, exactly.

Here we have the London Standard, and the ship has come home.

-So, this is 1855.

-Yeah, it's...

-November.

Yeah, it's the end of the voyage.

OK, so, "The Great Britain, iron screw transport,

"came into the harbour at noon and landed the following:

"30 invalided officers, five women, for children, 81 military invalids.

"They were under the medical charge of Dr Gilmour,

"belonging to the Great Britain.

"The unremitting care and attention of this gentleman

"to the wants and comforts of the sick are beyond all praise."

So, this is a success story for him.

-Yeah - MD? Who cares?

-So this, for him, is exactly what he wanted.

-Oh, yeah.

-He went there, he knew he was underqualified,

but he got the results, and they're in print for all to see.

And he gets even higher testimonials than that...

in the Coleraine Chronicle.

That is where he wanted the news to be spread, isn't it?

-He wanted that news to reach home.

-Yeah.

"The Great Britain was honoured by a visit by Her Majesty the Queen."

Wow!

"She went to enquire after the health of the invalids on board,

"and on the Sunday following, Doctor Gilmour, we understand,

"had the honour of lunching on board the Royal yacht,

"Victoria and Albert, by special invitation."

-Yeah.

-This is the dream.

-Yeah.

-Oh, my goodness.

"The Great Britain is now in Liverpool taking..."

Blah, blah, blah. Who cares about that bit?!

Oh, my goodness, he had lunch with the Queen!

He might not have a degree, but he's got better than that.

Oh, my goodness. I mean...that is huge news.

Huge news -

and for everybody to know that, to be sort of graced by royalty,

to be commended by royalty,

it doesn't get any better than that, does it?

-It doesn't.

-And rightly so, because what he did was incredible,

an amazing feat, and huge success,

and he took the biggest risk and the biggest chance and it all paid off,

and there he is on the yacht having lunch with Victoria.

-Yeah.

-Fab.

It's the ultimate success story,

someone who come from really quite humble beginnings

and had this vision, had an idea and made it happen.

He's a real chancer.

He had that self belief and confidence and did it -

and I've got a feeling there's probably more to come.

Fearne is on her way to meet historian Imogen Dickens

to find out what her four times great-grandfather

William Gilmour did next.

I'm trying to piece together this intricate puzzle

of my four times great-grandfather, William Gilmour.

I know he had a really successful voyage on the SS Great Britain

during the Crimean War - but I don't know what happened after that,

so I'm hoping that you can help me with this next leg of the journey.

Yes, so let me show you this poster.

So, "Liverpool and Australian Navigation Company.

"Steam from Liverpool to Australia in under 60 days."

Wow! So, he's gone back to sea.

He's gone back to sea aboard a different ship -

so it's not the SS Great Britain,

but it's the Royal Charter which is the SS Great Britain's sister ship.

So, it was designed by the same shipwright, the same shipbuilder.

So, "Including stewards fees

"and attendance of an experienced surgeon."

Wow, so that's part of your service going aboard this ship,

that you get a very experienced surgeon.

-Yeah.

-What I love about this is knowing a little bit more

about William now is that he's probably not as experienced

as they might have liked!

I'm wondering what has made William want to go back to sea.

Either he just liked it -

or would this have been a particularly well-paid job

to help out his family?

Because he's got a young family who is back in Ireland,

and I'm sure they are pretty reticent to let him go again.

Yeah, the wage would have been good,

but it wouldn't have been exceptional.

Of course, he would have got to visit

loads of really exciting places.

A lot of ship's surgeons tended to go to visit new places.

Yeah, they liked the adventure.

Yeah, maybe bitten by the travel bug.

Yeah, completely. So it's all working out rather nicely for him.

-Wow!

-Yeah, well, let me show you this.

So, "Ball's Cottage, Buckingham Road, Aylesbury.

"April the 25th, 1859.

"Gentleman, I beg most respectfully to tender you my resignation

"of the situation I have held as surgeon of the SSS Royal Charter.

"I'm going to commence the practice of my profession here in Aylesbury.

"I may succeed, and may not."

Right, so he's got himself a nice little practice in Aylesbury.

Yes, he's back on land, he's away from the ship.

Right, that's good. So that makes me feel relieved -

so he's kind of set up there, he's got his new practice,

the wife's happy.

His days on the sea were over.

-That's a relief.

-Yeah!

-Morning!

-All right, darling?

-Good, thank you. You OK?

Fearne has come to Aylesbury

to visit the house where William set up in private practice.

She's meeting historian Elaine Thomson.

-Hi.

-I'm Elaine.

Welcome to Aylesbury - and The Mount.

It's so pretty.

William, at this point, is in his 40s.

I'm imagining there were far less choppy waters living in Aylesbury

with his practice and his family.

I think when he came here, that was certainly his expectation.

He's moved into a beautiful house,

and it's here that he would have had his private practice.

Probably this room...

-Oh, really?!

-..would have been used to actually see the patients, yeah.

So they would be coming into a very...you know, a nice space

to be treated, to see the doctor sitting behind his desk

and it would all look very professional and proper.

Is there a "but" coming? I feel a "but".

Well, I think things maybe turned out slightly differently

-to how he expected them to be.

-Right.

So if I could just show you this.

The Bucks Herald.

"In bankruptcy."

-It's not a great start.

-It's not a good start.

So, "Castle Street, Aylesbury,

"150 lots of household furniture, books, medicines,

"bottles and other effects will be sold by auction

"by Mr Robert Gibbs.

"On the premises of Mr W Gilmour, surgeon, Castle Street, Aylesbury,

"by order of the Court of Bankruptcy."

-Oh, that's so sad.

-I know, it's terrible.

So he's just selling everything.

It's such a shame.

-Where did it all go wrong, William?

-It's tragic.

Everything he has worked so hard for

is now practically in a yard sale in Aylesbury in this very house.

So, I think it must have been very difficult, very shaming.

And almost, I guess, it felt for him less chancy setting up here,

rather than at sea where there is sort of trepidation and uncertainty.

I think that's what you would assume,

that this is a safer port, as it were,

that he can be with his family

and set up in private practice and do well -

but I think the people who tended to be particularly ill

-were the poor...

-Oh.

-..and they're of no use to you at all,

-because they can't pay you.

-Right.

Who you want, ideally, are the rich middle classes.

You know, some rich, constipated widows

who would come to you for laxatives,

or gouty old men who you could look after on a regular basis.

Simply not enough rich, constipated women in Aylesbury.

Not enough, yeah.

-And there's another...

-Poor William!

..sort of another bit of detail about the bankruptcy.

So, this is the Bucks Herald.

This is 1865.

"The bankruptcy of William Gilmour.

"The total amount of his debts is about £500..."

That must have been extortionate.

It's about 50...about £50,000.

"..and he ascribes his failure to the following causes -

"insufficiency of income to meet my necessary expenditure

"and pressure of creditors. My income has been very fluctuating,

-"and having a family of seven children..." by this point?!

-I know.

Oh, my goodness.

-I mean, that pressure is immense.

-Yeah.

So, he's scrambling to get himself out of quite a huge problem.

Yeah. So you really feel for him.

He's had an adventurous life...

-He's had a fall from grace.

-..he's done his best.

-I mean, he came back a hero at one point.

-Yeah.

But he's not a man to let these things grind him down.

-He doesn't give up, does he?

-He doesn't give up.

He never gives up - and he moves on and we see him listed in the Lancet.

You see, it's just the 1st of July.

This is a couple of months after bankruptcy.

Yeah, hardly any time has passed.

So, what's William up to now?

There he is.

So, "William Gilmour, LRCP Ed, has been elected medical officer

"and public vaccinator for district number one of Ongar Union, Essex."

Do you know what the Ongar Union is?

-No.

-It's a workhouse.

-OK.

-It's maybe not the most fantastic opportunity...

-But it's a job.

-It's a job -

but I think it was the kind of job you would do

-when you couldn't find too much else.

-Yeah, yeah.

I think, at this stage in his career,

he would probably be very disappointed to end up in the Union.

-But desperate times!

-He's not given up.

He's not in prison, and his family aren't on their own in poverty,

so he's still all he could, I guess, at this point.

He meets his responsibilities.

-I think, an impressive man.

-Mm.

It seems terribly sad now,

thinking back to William's resignation letter,

there is this one line saying about his move to Aylesbury,

"it may work out, it may not,"

and it hasn't - and I'm sure he wasn't particularly expecting that.

It's very poignant, now, looking back at that.

I like that he doesn't give up, though.

-I like that a lot.

-No - he is not a quitter, is he?

-Persistent.

-Yeah.

-Yeah.

That trait's in our family, for sure.

I think, for William,

he might just have one more roll of the dice in him.

He's a chancer, and so far it's worked out pretty well,

so I'm hoping at this point he can really pick himself back up

and get his career back on the straight

and support his family and get a better life for them all.

Fearne has come to the former Ongar Union workhouse in Essex.

She's meeting historian Peter Higginbotham.

Mind the steps.

It's an amazing building, this.

The fact it is largely untouched

-since it actually was a workhouse.

-Yeah.

So, how many people would William have been looking after?

Although he was kind of based here,

he was a district medical officer, was his job title,

that meant he looks after people in their own homes.

Technically, he probably had a couple of thousand people...

-Mm-hm!

-..that potentially could be patients.

Considering William now had seven children to feed, and a wife,

do you think he was making a sufficient wage to live on?

Um, quite possibly not.

First of all, the salary was not very good.

There were lots of things, lots of outgoings,

that you had to take out of that salary.

So, the doctor had to pay for all the medicines

that he dispensed to his patients. Which could make quite a big hole...

-Yeah.

-..in his salary.

-Absolutely.

If you were ill or you wanted time off,

then you had to arrange a standing as a sort of substitute

and you had to pay their costs.

So you could end up working virtually for nothing.

I guess, although this was a very hard life for William,

there were some pluses.

You know, he's in a beautiful sort of rural area,

perhaps reminiscent of where he's from, Garvagh,

where he had a very rural existence.

Nice for the children to be able to run around freely

and not be in a stuffy city with lots of disease.

He's managed to just about keep everything afloat

and keep some sort of stability.

When I first found out about William's life here,

I was relatively concerned,

but I feel like it wasn't as bad as I initially thought,

his life and his work here.

That's true. I mean, he settled into the job -

but life is never simple,

and in 1871, something happened that was to change

how things were going for him.

This is an entry from the Guardian's meeting minutes.

"Dr Gilmour, medical officer of district number one

"attended this board to answer a charge of neglect

"for not attending the child of a pauper at Fyfield,

"named Rose Madle when first requested to do so

"on the 8th of September last,

"and that such child died a few hours

"after his attendance the next morning."

So that's pretty serious.

"Mr Gilmour, having explained that he was ill

"on the evening of the 8th of September last,

"but that he attended at seven o'clock on the following morning,

"that his substitute had left this neighbourhood

"and that he had been, and still was,

"unable to obtain another medical substitute."

So, as you said, that would have been his responsibility

to therefore pay for someone else to go and do his job.

Yeah, that was one of the key responsibilities.

No matter what, you have to provide a service.

-And he didn't.

-He didn't.

-And a kid died.

-Yeah.

I mean, I don't know how you ever recover from that.

Do we know if he lost his job?

We're not absolutely sure.

-We do know he moved on from Ongar fairly soon after this event.

-Mm.

-We do know where he was in 1880, in fact.

-OK.

We've now moved on to the Bethnal Green workhouse in London,

so he's now the workhouse dispenser making up the drugs and potions

that were prescribed for the workhouse inmates.

So, "Gilmour, dispenser.

"Clerk read a letter from Mr Gilmour asking the guardians

"if they would pay him his salary weekly."

So what's going on here, then?

The fact he wanted his salary weekly, I guess,

sort of implies he didn't really have the savings

-to keep him going...

-Yeah, he's in trouble.

..throughout, to the next pay cheque.

It's literally hand to mouth.

He needs to get that money and get that food on the table for the kids.

-Goodness me.

-So, just a few months later,

early 1881, again, he crops up in the minutes.

I'm imagining at this point it's more bad news.

Let's have a look.

"The medical officer reported that there was no improvement

"in the health of Mr Gilmour, dispenser."

-So he's ill now?

-That's right.

Do we know what was wrong with him?

We could move forward another few weeks.

Another entry in the minute book.

This is the 22nd of March 1881.

"Mr Knox reported that Mr Gilmour, the dispenser, died on Monday."

Oh, gosh, how sad.

Do we know what William died of?

Well, final piece of paper.

So this is certified copy of an entry of death.

"William Gilmour, 60 years old, cause of death, bronchitis."

So, three months.

So, it could have been something that he caught from a patient,

or someone he was dispensing drugs to,

or is that quite common of that era?

-I think it's probably a reflection of his living conditions.

-Mm.

-It was a typical workhouse kind of condition.

-Mm!

He had such high hopes, and he kept on trudging and battling away,

and...and never quite made it.

So, he finished his life in quite a humble way -

-as it had started, I guess, really.

-Mm.

-As far as we know, there weren't any obituaries.

-No.

No, he just seems to have...

-Just drifted away. That was it.

-Yeah, really sad.

-Mm.

Poor, poor William -

and his poor wife.

"Widow...

"present at the death."

Gosh, how sad.

Good story, though. He had a great story.

He definitely wasn't boring.

That's for sure.

Definitely wasn't boring.

He was never prepared to surrender.

He had huge dreams, and...

..it just didn't work out for him.

He was made of strong stuff,

and I think that's what I'm going to take away from this story

more than anything.

I really hoped when I was starting out that I would discover

some real hard-working characters who had grit and passion

and determination.

Evan, who went from coalminer to chemist.

Sure, he had his ups and downs, but it was a real success story -

and then poor William, who tried so hard.

He was relentless in his efforts to do well for himself and his family,

and he had these wonderful glimmers of hope and great moments,

but the end of the tale was really quite heartbreaking.

I really want my kids to understand these brilliant stories

when they get older and see the determination

and the grit and the passion there.

So, on that note, I'm off to go home to give my kids a big hug.