In 1862, when the Union Army marched iNTO Fairfax and commandeered what is now known as Historic Blenheim—a farmhouse owned at the time by secessionists—the soldiers left their mark. Literally. The young soldiers sketched their names, poems, buglers and ships on the walls, offering a peek into their contemplations—and leaving what is tantamount to a Civil War diary on the walls.
After the owners abandoned the property, Union soldiers inhabited the farmhouse for three different periods of the Civil War, including when it was a reserve hospital for sick and injured soldiers after the Second Battle of Bull Run. The farmhouse was brand new when war broke out, and the occupying soldiers found dozens of blank walls on which to draw.
After the war, when the owners returned, they papered and painted over the 19th-century graffiti. But now, 160 years later, historians are working to reveal the story that the walls at Historic Blenheim can tell.
“Every one of these pictures tells a story,” says Mike Toth, chief technology officer of R.B. Toth Associates, an Oakton-based research firm that uses cutting-edge methods to advance historic preservation around the world. “We’re trying from every image to capture all the stories we can … It’s a long process. It takes good eyes. And a lot of history.”
In late 2020, Historic Blenheim was awarded a competitive grant from the National Park Service’s National Center for Preservation Technology and Training. Already listed on the National Register of Historic Places and the Virginia Landmarks Register, Historic Blenheim was one of just 11 projects nationwide to receive the prestigious grant of nearly $20,000.
Toth and Andrea Loewenwarter, the historic resources specialist at Historic Blenheim, are not just studying the writing on the wall at the popular regional tourist destination—their work is poised to become a model for future delicate restoration projects.
The technology Toth uses is a relatively new technique called multispectral imaging.
Set up inside the pitch-dark Blenheim farmhouse on a recent winter day, Toth described the process: “We take 20 pictures, all lined up and registered, with a 100-megapixel black and white camera. We use two LED light panels to help us to capture images in the ultraviolet, visible and infrared light. Then we combine those images to bring out the areas with the best spectral response.” The result is a stack of images that yields new information about paints and wall coverings as well as illuminates previously indecipherable graffiti.
And the discoveries are happening minute by minute.
One breakthrough using multispectral imaging revealed the words “Commit No Nuisance.” Loewenwarter began researching and discovered the phrase on signs in Great Britain. Next, she established that a regiment staying at Blenheim was led by a captain with British roots. She believes this officer may have said or written the expression to caution the soldiers to behave. “Deduction,” Loewenwarter says. “That’s science meets history right there.”
In addition, Loewenwarter has so far identified 123 soldiers’ signatures by comparing them to manifests of regiments that were stationed at Blenheim.
In the past, conservators at Historic Blenheim applied chemicals and used Q-tips to gently remove layers of wall coverings. From the information gathered by Toth’s lights and cameras, preservationists will be able to study preservation techniques without exposure to harmful chemicals. “Whereas the side effect will be to find more signatures and images at Blenheim,” explains Loewenwarter, “we are investigating different wallpaper and paints and discovering what methods were used to remove them.” They’re also using the method to analyze environmental damage from the more recent 2011 earthquake.
Toth has used multispectral imaging to decipher hidden images on historic documents for the Library of Congress, such as President Abraham Lincoln’s handwritten notes on the Nicolay copy of the Gettysburg Address and the 1507 Waldseemüller World Map, the first to cite the word “America.” The images he created were digitized and made freely available for global access. But with this project, the Oakton resident has been able to work on a preservation project practically in his own backyard.
While Toth’s work typically requires him to travel 50,000 to 100,000 miles a year, the Blenheim project is just 5 miles from his house in Oakton. After the one-year grant is up, look for the published results to reveal in-depth details about what the lives of Union soldiers were like right here in Northern Virginia. And even though it’s close to home, Toth says, Historic Blenheim “is probably one of the most exciting and difficult projects [I’ve worked on]. It’s the greatest challenge I’ve faced.”
This story originally ran in our March issue. For more stories like this, subscribe to our monthly magazine.
