Is there treasure in your vaults?

For centuries, solicitors have looked after clients’ papers. Their role as custodians has been vital. Proving title or rights often came down to ancient, waxy parchments that lay in chests, far from daily view. The idea of disposal was barely a topic for discussion, while the historical value of them was a niche concern. Those papers mostly gathered dust until something was sold or somebody died.

Then the state began to create some flashy new facilities – entities such as the Probate Registry and Land Registry. They acted as a place of record and for providing copies. The need to retain client papers – particularly orphaned client papers, where the commissioner was long gone – became more a matter of working choice.

At around the same time, a modern view of those papers was forming. There might be value in them, possibly financial, and certainly historical. Law firms began to receive approaches. When the British Records Association was formed (in 1932), it found London solicitors happy to invite them into their premises. Orphaned papers were rooted out by association volunteers and then distributed among the country’s growing number of public archives.

This is where I come in. I head the Royal Berkshire Archives, one of a network of ‘county record offices’ – sponsored by local councils – that collect papers on behalf of their communities. This reflected both the growth of public accountability and of further and higher education. Solicitors’ archives are a key element of offices such as mine.

But some perceived those archives as a source of commission. Orphaned client papers began to appear at auction, or in the sale catalogues of manuscript dealers. To some extent that is a win-win situation. Solicitors’ offices gain space, agents receive commission, and the client does not lose out. No harm is done.

Sometimes, though, harm is done. Items of historical value, of local and national importance can be lost to their communities through sale at home or abroad. Complete collections, full of contextual links between individual items, can be split into lots and dispersed forever.

It is against this backdrop that I write as a member of the Document Working Party of the Reviewing Committee on the Export of Works of Art and Objects of Cultural Interest (RCEWA).

This is a group of archivists, manuscript dealers and representatives of auctioneers who advise the RCEWA on matters relating to historical records destined for overseas. Export controls for culturally important items were introduced during the second world war. Today, there is a licensing process. Unlike many heritage items, there is no monetary threshold for exporting archives. However, if they are more than 50 years old, all require a licence before they leave our shores. Some items are so important that the export process can be stopped, in order that such items might be ‘saved for the nation’. These decisions are governed by what are known as the Waverley Criteria. Put simply, the criteria ask – ‘is there treasure?’.

The process is more complex than that. Some expertise is required to apply Waverley, for making a judgement requires a case to be argued between applicants and institutions. Money is always involved but there might also be tax incentives for something remaining in the UK.

No one is expecting legal professionals to be Waverley experts. But the historical and local communities, and even the nation would be very grateful for any help they can get in keeping items of value for future generations.

Deciding what to keep and what can go is not an exact science, even for those who have spent their lifetimes immersed in waxy parchment. The plea, though, is to give archives the chance to make decisions based on history and communities before orphaned papers are consigned to the skip or the auction house. Everyone should ask the question – might there be treasure?

Mark Stevens is county archivist at the Royal Berkshire Archives, Reading