The Deviant Nuns of Littlemore Priory

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abbess, convents, Deviant burial, deviant nums, Deviant nuns, english, LIttlemore, Medieval, Naughty nuns, nunneries, priory, Reformation, women

_{Frolicking nuns c1600. Malcolm Jones Pinterest}

Between 27 March 2014 and 20 December 2015, an archaeological dig led by Paul Murray of John Moore Heritage Services took place at a site to the south-east of Oxford, near the Kassam Stadium. The land on which developers had gained building permission to erect a three-storey hotel had originally been the site of a priory which had been dismantled during the reign of Henry VIII, as part of the English Reformation.

During the excavations, 92 bodies were discovered. Some would have been buried in the church itself and others just outside, east of the choir. This discovery led many people to suspect that they were deviant burials and somehow connected to the infamous nuns residing in what became known as “one of the worst nunneries of which record has survived”[1].

A Fall from Grace

The Priory of Benedictine nuns at Sandford was founded in 1110 BC, during the reign of King Stephen by Sir Robert de Sandford and initially dedicated to Saints Mary, Nicholas and Edmund. Eventually its association with Mary and Edmund was dropped and the religious house became solely devoted to Saint Nicholas[2]. The Sandford family remained beneficiaries of the religious establishment until around 1239, when it was gifted to the Knights Templars who held the preceptory at Sandford Manor[3]. Sometime during the thirteenth century, the priory became known permanently as Littlemore and its fortunes waxed and waned. The priory like other small and obscure houses on a limited income struggled to survive. The slide into poverty was probably the reason behind the nunnery’s dissolute and wayward behaviour. Despite its long-standing reputation as a place of ill-repute, it only had its first visitation in 1445, when Prioress Alice Wakeley (or Wakelyn) was in charge[4].

_{Tenth century illustration of nuns singing in a chorus. Universal History Archive}

Beware Oxford Students!

At the time of the visit of Dr John Derby on behalf of William Alnwick, Bishop of Lincoln, there were only seven nuns living at the priory. These included Agnes Marcham and Joan Maynard and to our knowledge, four laywomen; Agnes, a serving woman of Robert Fitz Elys; the daughter of John Fitz and; Ingram Warlands’ daughters[5]. Derby discovered to his horror that the nuns were eating meat every day[6] and that the dormitory was in such a dilapidated state that the nuns were afraid to sleep in the room[7]. The financial state of the priory was so dire that the nuns were sleeping two to a bed as the prioress had been forced to sell most of the furniture. 

Agnes Marcham spoke vehemently about the salacious behaviour of the prioress and the other nuns, decrying “the ill-fame which is current there-abouts concerning the place”[8]. On questioning it was revealed that the nuns often entertained male visitors and that men regularly dined with the prioress, on some occasions even spending a couple of nights at the priory. Among these ‘visitors’ were a monk from Rievalulx who was studying at Oxford; John Herars, a kinsman of the prioress and masters of arts and Oxford scholar and; Sir John Somerset, a parish chaplain of Sandford Boards (who was suspected of being rather closer to Joan Maynard than was acceptable)[9]. The other nuns in turn argued that Agnes was lazy and rebellious, refusing to do her share of the work[10]. With all this bad feeling, the atmosphere at the priory must have surely been an unpleasant one.

On the close of the visitation it was decided to issue an injunction against secular persons (especially Oxford scholars) from consorting and speaking with the nuns. The nuns were also warned against sleeping together, each nun had to have their own bed and stay there – alone! The nuns were charged under “pain of cursing and command of fasting”[11]. It is interesting that despite Agnes Marcham’s repulsion at the behaviour of the sisters, her refusal even after thirteen years (she had spent half her life at the priory) to make her public profession and her deep fear that the priory would sink even further into poverty, she stayed! Unfortunately, Agnes prediction on the fortunes of Littlemore turned out to be correct.

_{Naughty nun and friar. Malcolm Jones Pinterest.}

The Worst Prioress in England

In 1517, scandalous reports of lewd behaviour reached the ears of the higher ecclesiastical authorities leading to Atwater, Bishop of Lincoln charging his commissary Edmund Horde with the task of finding out what exactly was going on[12]. Horde found a priory going to ruin under the mismanagement of the scheming, licentious and deceitful prioress, Katherine Wells (who had been appointed to the role in 1507). Only five nuns were in-resident. These were Anne Willye, Juliana Bechaump and the sisters Juliana, Johanna and Elizabeth Wynter. Despite Katherine threatening her nuns to remain silent[13], the nuns under questioning revealed a number of crimes committed by their prioress spanning the last eight years. Financial mismanagement had left the priory destitute with no food, drink or pay for the nuns. She had also pawned off the priory’s silver as well as “pannes, pottes, candilsticks, basynes, shetts, pelous, federe beds etc”[14] in order to raise a dowry for her now deceased daughter whom she had had with Richard Hewes, a priest from Kent[15]. In addition, she had leased tenements under the common seal and pocketed the money[16]. As punishment Katherine lost her title of prioress but was allowed to carry on with her duties, presumably until a suitable replacement was found, as long as she took advice and direction from Horde. Things did not improve and nine months later on the 2 September 1518, Bishop Atwater arrived in person.

The Bishop found the priory in an even worse state of disarray and the feud between Katherine and the sisters even more acrimonious. Katherine had continued to allow Hewes to visit and had been selling off the wood from the lands belonging to the priory without permission[17], Juliana had fallen into sin with a male commissary, Elizabeth was romping and wrestling with the boys in the cloister and one of the Wynter nuns (it is not clear which one) had had a child with a married man from Oxford[18]. Katherine complained to the Bishop that Elizabeth refused to correct her behaviour and so had been put in the stocks (it must have been a regular punishment for the unruly nuns). It seems that three of the other nuns released Elizabeth and burnt down the hated stocks. In the chaos, Katherine sought help from neighbours and servants but while she was away the nuns escaped by breaking a window and fleeing to friends for safety[19]. When they returned Katherine apparently beat Elizabeth around the head and kicked her[20]. The nuns for their part complained of Katherine’s violent temper and accused her of punishing them for no reason (maybe as retribution for them speaking out against her).

_{The Monk and the Nun in their Cell. Malcolm Jones Pinterest}

The End of the Road

No replacement prioress was ever found for Littlemore, perhaps no-one wanted to take on such a burden! Maybe Littlemore was seen as a lost cause. Somehow the priory continued to exist for the new few years. It wasn’t until 1525, that Cardinal Wolsey, in need of money for his new school, Cardinal College, Oxford was given the authorisation to dissolve some of the decaying monasteries and religious houses. One of the those he chose was Littlemore. Probably, it was seen as a way to stop the contagion of immorality from spreading to other houses. Katherine was pensioned off and the nuns were released from a vocation that they were obviously not suited to. As former nuns, according to a decree issued by the hypocritical Henry VIII, they were forbidden from marrying. It is possible that some of the women may have returned to their families but it is equally as likely that a far worse fate then being a nun lay in store for them.

The Littlemore Burials

As mentioned in the introduction, 92 bodies were found during excavations. Of the 92 remains, 75 were adults, three adolescents and 13 children of which 35 were females and 28 were male, with the others unidentifiable. The majority of the females were over 45 years old, although their actual age when they died would be difficult to gauge from the remains (the older age at which these women would have died would correlate to the nuns’ circumstances which meant that they would have had access to better quality food than the general female population)[21].  

It is more than likely that the burials included nuns, lay-sisters, servants, patrons, children attending school at the nunnery and relatives. Archaeologists stressed in the site report the importance of the find as one of only four out of a 152 nunneries known to produce a large enough sample for scientific conclusions to be drawn and is “one of the few collections of remains from a small English nunnery”[22].

The burials included that of a woman, probably a prioress, interred in a limestone coffin; a still born baby buried in a casket; a man who had died from trauma to the back of the head; two children aged six and ten (probably female) with congenital hip dysplasia (which would have left them with walking difficulties) and; an individual who had probably suffered from leprosy when he was alive. Two other high-status males were discovered buried in the church – possibly beneficiaries of the priory, clergy or close kin to the prioress[23]. None of these burials are unusual in themselves with the exception of one!

_{East door of the dormitory range of the former Littlemore priory.
By Motacilla – Own work, Wikimedia Commons}

A Deviant Burial

At the time of the excavation, a number of sensationalist headlines hit the newspapers about the finds such as the Daily Mail’s headline “Sex-crazed nun in a bizarre position among 90 skeletons dug up near priory”[24]. The Daily Mail and other papers were referring specifically to one burial that of a female, aged between 19 and 25, buried in a prone position along with a 6-month old infant.

Prone burials where the body is placed face down are not uncommon in the United Kingdom where over 200 cases are known (these burials are usually found on the edges of a cemetery to indicate that they have been cast out; in shallow graves or buried without a coffin)[25]. Often this type of burial was an after-death punishment reserved for sinners or ‘witches’ but it could have equally been the wishes of the deceased. Such a request could have been seen as a desire to atone for sins (either theirs or a close relative or friend’s) or to show humility.

So, was the woman a penitent nun who had been interred with her illegitimate child or had the baby just been added to the burial as occasionally happened or was the woman a wealthy and noble lady who had been buried with her infant[26]? We are unlikely to ever find out but for some it is irrefutable physical proof of the debauchery and immorality that went on behind the priory’s walls.

Nuns Behaving Badly

The question that is raised from all the accounts of the priory is how unusual was the lewd behaviour of the nuns and prioress at Littlemore?

Examples of nuns acting against their vows are plentiful. Many of these women had entered the nunneries and convents at a young age and not through choice. Parents would send their girls to become nuns for financial or moral reasons (maybe the girl was bringing shame on their family) or even as a pawn in a game of power, abbesses were influential figures in medieval England and so having an abbess in the family was definitely a bonus. So, it is not surprising that as these girls grew up, some of them rebelled against the constrictive and stifling life they had be condemned to.

_{A blocked 15th-century window of the dormitory range of the former priory,
now Minchery Farmhouse. By Motacilla – Own work, Wikimedia Commons}

Stories of nuns having relationships and children (usually with male priests – often they themselves had been pushed into a lifetime of celibacy against their natural instincts) abound in literature and folklore. The punishment for such immoral behaviour was severe but did not usually result in their deaths. Walled up nuns and priests became a trope in gothic literature but was hardly, if ever practised in Britain (more evidence of such a practice occurs on the continent)[27]. Nuns who took a lover were forgiven as long as they repented of their sins. More severe action was also common with women placed in strict isolation. For instance, in 1535, when a Cistercian nun at Esholt Priory in Yorkshire became pregnant she was sentenced to two years imprisonment in a room within the nuns’ dormitory[28] – for many this would have been a death sentence.

In 1442, at a convent in Catesby a prioress named Margaret Wavere had an affair with a priest named William Taylour. Furious when her indiscretion became public knowledge, she tore off the veils of her charges and dragged them about by their hair. Six of the nuns escaped and gave their account of the situation at Catesby. Apparently at a bishop’s inquiry, “she beat any nun who gave testimony against her, and bribed the bishop’s clerk to discover what had been said and by whom”[29].

Not all were isolated cases. Stories of the bad behaviour of entire nunneries can be found throughout England during the middle and later medieval periods. In 1351, the Cannington Convent in Somerset was compared to a brothel by a commissary of the Bishop of Bath and Wells[30] whilst the black nuns of Wroxall Priory in Warwickshire during the 1320s and 1330S, earned a bad reputation due to the obsession of the prioress, Agnes de Aylesbury with the priest, John de Warton. According to records, the priory “slid into serious disarray during her rule”[31] with her nuns running wild and refusing to obey her. A situation not helped by the fact that she lavished food and gifts (which the house could ill-afford) on her lover[32].

Conclusion

In conclusion, the situation at Littlemore was not an exception but it was also not the rule. Many convents were respectable institutions with nuns fulfilling their duties with dignity and devotion. At another point in time Littlemore would have survived but the era of the nunneries and monasteries in England was drawing to a close. Worsley, Thomas Cromwell and others used examples such as Littlemore to justify first the reformation of and later the dissolution of the religious houses and create, on behalf of Henry VIII, a new religious order. In the end, the closure of Littlemore was probably met with a sigh of relief rather than pangs of regret.

_{The sole remaining monastic building of Littlemore Priory, seen in 2009 when
operating as the public house The Priory and…? By Steve Daniels, via Wikimedia.}

Bibliography

Logan, F. Donald: Runaway Religious in Medieval England, C.1240-1540, Cambridge University Press, 1996

Power, Eileen: ‘Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535’ in The Complete Works of Eileen Power, Eileen Power, Shrine of Knowledge, 2020, Kindle Edition

Rosewell, Roger: The Medieval Monastery, Shire Publications, 2012

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Notes:

[1] Eileen Power, Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535 in The Complete Works of Eileen Power, Shrine of Knowledge, 2020, Kindle Edition

[2] Littlemore, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Littlemore

[3] Littlemore Priory, Grenoble Road, Littlemore, Oxford (NGR SP 5455 0231): Archaeological Excavation Report,

On behalf of The Firoka Group, John Moore Heritage Services, August 2016, https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5989abd4ebbd1a409ec819ad/t/5ec69fc57cfadf2550261eb5/1590075371586/JMHS+Report+%281963%29+Littlemore+Priory.pdf

[4] Ibid

[5] Ibid

[6] F. Donald Logan, Runaway Religious in Medieval England, C.1240-1540

[7] Eileen Power, Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535

[8] Ibid

[9] Eileen Power, Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535

[10] Ibid

[11] Littlemore Priory, Grenoble Road, Littlemore, Oxford (NGR SP 5455 0231): Archaeological Excavation Report

[12] Eileen Power, Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535

[13] F. Donald Logan, Runaway Religious in Medieval England, C.1240-1540

[14] Eileen Power, Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535

[15] Ibid

[16] Littlemore Priory, Grenoble Road, Littlemore, Oxford (NGR SP 5455 0231): Archaeological Excavation Report

[17] Ibid

[18] F. Donald Logan, Runaway Religious in Medieval England, C.1240-1540

[19] Ibid

[20] Eileen Power, Medieval English Nunneries c. 1275 to 1535

[21] Littlemore Priory, Grenoble Road, Littlemore, Oxford (NGR SP 5455 0231): Archaeological Excavation Report

[22] Ibid

[23] Ibid

[24] Ellie Zolfagharifard, Oxford: ‘Sex-crazed’ nun in a bizarre position among 90 skeletons dug up near priory, https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-3098406/Medieval-scandal-uncovered-Oxford-Sex-crazed-nun-bizarre-position-90-skeletons-dug-near-priory.html, 2015

[25] Ibid

[26] Littlemore Priory, Grenoble Road, Littlemore, Oxford (NGR SP 5455 0231): Archaeological Excavation Report

[27] Immurement: A History of Walled in Terror and Cruelty, https://allthatsinteresting.com/immurement-history

[28] Roger Rosewell, The Medieval Monastery

[29] The Violent, Lusty, and Sad Medieval Nun, https://www.marlowkelly.com/marlows-blog/the-violent-lusty-and-sad-medieval-nun

[30] Ibid

[31] Revealed: The times when naughty nuns entertained their menfolk, https://www.worcesternews.co.uk/news/4094167.revealed-the-times-when-naughty-nuns-entertained-their-menfolk/

[32] Ibid

The Mysterious Turf Mazes

_{Internet Archive Book Images, No restrictions,
via Wikimedia Commons}

A common definition of a turf maze is a “convoluted path cut into level areas of short grass” [1]. Sometimes the groove cut into the turf is to be walked but more commonly it is the turf itself which is the path. The maze is cut into level areas of short grass or lawn to create raised paths of turf marked by shallow channels excavated between twists and turns.

CATHOLISM AND THE MINATOUR

There are two types of turf mazes; classical and medieval. The medieval pattern of turf mazes is identical to pavement labyrinths found in Gothic Cathedrals elsewhere in Europe such as the famous example in Chartres Cathedral.

On the other hand, the classical form seems to have taken its inspiration from ancient Greek mythology and history. Coins depicting the minotaur’s labyrinth found in Crete at the site of ancient Knossos confirms this as does the names of three of the surviving English examples; ‘The City of Troy’, ‘Troy’ and ‘Troy Town’. The preference for the name Troy could refer to an ancient Roman equestrian game which re-enacted the battle of Troy played over a maze-like pattern with the grooves separating the pathways representing the walls of the ancient city[2]. The link between the name Troy and the design is taken as evidence of the deliberate decision to connect the mazes to the ancient world but there is another school of thought that asserts that ‘Troy’ is a corruption of the Celtic word to turn, ‘tro’[3]. I personally don’t see any reason why the name ‘Troy’ couldn’t have been chosen precisely because of its double meaning.

Although they are known as mazes, the name itself is misleading. They are actually labyrinths because unlike mazes there is only one route from the entrance to the centre.

_{Wi1234, CC BY-SA 3.0
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/,
via Wikimedia Commons}

SURVIVAL AGAINST THE ODDS

Turf mazes come in all sizes and can be found in Britain, Ireland, Germany and Denmark but the practice of constructing mazes from stones and boulders was much more widespread. Most experts believe the tradition of ancient stone mazes predates the creation of the earliest turf mazes. This is more than likely correct but it is nearly impossible to verify because of the nature of turf mazes. In order for turf mazes to keep their shape they need to be constantly re-cut; this destroys any archaeological material which could have helped with the dating process.

_{Saffron Walden turf maze. Image by Miss Jessel}

Evidence from written sources such as W.H. Matthews, who in his 1922 book, Mazes and Labyrinths recorded over 30 mazes[4], and also from local oral folklore reveal that at one time turf mazes existed all over Britain but unfortunately only eight have survived in England. These are: –

• Alkborough, North Lincolnshire
• Breamore, Hampshire
• Dalby North Yorkshire
• Hilton, Cambridgeshire
• Saffron Walden, Essex
• Troy Farm, Somerton, Oxfordshire
• St Catherine’s Hill, Hampshire
• Wing, Rutland

So, what was the purpose of these mazes? Many theories have been put forward including those relating to religion and fertility rites. Whatever the reason, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the trend of cutting turf mazes reached its peak. More and more appeared, mainly on village greens but also on estates of wealthy landowners. During Cromwell’s reign the use of turf mazes was forbidden but they regained popularity after the restoration of the monarchy. A memorial obelisk placed at the centre of the Hilton turf maze by 19-year-old William Sparrow who re-cut the turf maze in 1660, commemorates both the return of King Charles II to England and the rededication of the maze [5]. Turf mazes witnessed a revival in interest in the nineteenth century although many on private land were destroyed by Capability Brown, who disliked their unnatural stylised form.

TORMENTING THE DEVIL

As was mentioned before, turf mazes cut in the medieval pattern are identical in style and shape to the engravings found in the naves of cathedrals in mainland Europe. These labyrinths symbolised the search for redemption. Penitents were encouraged to cleanse their souls by following the path of the labyrinth as it was believed that walking a twisting path would confound the Devil who could only travel in straight lines[6]. Many would do so on their hands and knees[7]. Few of these survive, most were destroyed, seen as a distraction from the religious solemnity of the services. You can sort of picture the scene, a queue of sinners all lined up to walk the labyrinth and so focused on keeping their place that they become oblivious to the words of wisdom coming from the pulpit.

_{Walking the maze at Wing. SiGarb at English Wikipedia,
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons}

There are no records of pavement mazes inside English churches but there is evidence that some turf mazes existed just outside as well as close to places of pilgrimage such as Julian’s Bower, the twelve-circuit turf maze in Alkborough which was located next to a thirteenth century Benedictine cell [8]. This has led some to speculate that they fulfilled the same function as their European counterparts. An unsubstantiated but interesting legend recounts how the Alkborough maze was created to force a knight who took part in the murder of Thomas Becket to pay penance[9]. Even if this can explain why turf mazes were first introduced it does not account for the fact that so many mazes were located far from any religious sites. The evidence for a few mazes near churches have also led to some theorising that they actually predated Christianity which is also a possibility as early Christian sites do have strong links to the sacred places of pre-Christian religious practices[10].

If turf mazes were linked to Christian practices it leads to the question of why English churches or cathedrals did not incorporate them into their design? Could it have been due to differences in architectural, cultural or religious preferences or is there another reason that we are just not aware of. Did the early turf mazes have a religious purpose and if not, why was this particular design adopted? Do the origins of the English turf mazes lie in the European pavement labyrinths or were the church versions built upon an earlier tradition? There are so many questions, most of which we will never know the answers to.

PROTECTION FROM THE PERILS OF THE SEA

A number of stone mazes existed and still survive along the Baltic coast. According to the folklore of this area, these mazes were used by fishermen as a snare to trap evil sprites during tempestuous weather. It was believed that the smagubbar or little people followed fishermen everywhere and brought bad luck [11]. In order to prevent them from wreaking havoc the fishermen would walk the maze calling on the smagubbar to follow them. Once they reached the middle the men would flee and put out to sea, thus confounding the smagubbars’ dastardly plans. It was believed these sprites were unable to turn corners which links back to the Catholic belief about the Devil only being able to walk in straight lines[12].

Studies of labyrinth imagery from Scandinavia has shown that from the earliest times it was asserted that

“walking the stone labyrinths in the proper way gave fortune and protection healing and magical aid – even fishermen used labyrinths in the hope of being able to control the weather and increase the catch, as well as protection against the perils of the sea”[13].

_{St Agnes Lighthouse by Colin Park, CC BY-SA 2.0
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0,
via Wikimedia Commons}

Fishermen and sailors because of the perilous nature of their work and the fact that their lives depend on elements which are beyond their control have some of the most fascinating superstitions of any other group of people. Therefore, considering how so many countries share similar mythologies and practices I can see no reason why this link between fishermen and mazes shouldn’t have also existed in England. Although no examples exist in England, the closest comparison we have comes from St Agnes in the Isles of Scilly where a stone and boulder seven-ring maze can be found on the coast[14]. The present form of the maze was built by the son of a man who worked the local lighthouse in the 1700s[15]. Considering that the role of lighthouses is to keep sailors safe it would be logical to think that the maze was also a form of protection. Excavations of the site have revealed that the current maze was built on top of an earlier one, lending support to the idea that this connection goes back a long way.

FERTILITY RITES

As with every ancient countryside ritual or structure sooner or later we get back to the idea of fertility and turf mazes are no exception.

There are many different versions of this practice but they all centre around one particular theme, that of the boy finding his way to the girl and carrying her off. Often the event took place during village fairs. In some places the chosen girl would stand in the centre and a group of young men would run through the maze to reach her and claim her as their prize or the men would race to the middle, the winner able to take his pick of the young women waiting on the edges of the maze[16]. At the turf maze in Saffron Walden a young maiden would have to wait patiently at ‘home’ i.e. the centre of the maze, to be rescued by a boy who had managed to negotiate the twists and turns of the path without stumbling.

_{Saffron Walden turf maze. Image by Miss Jessel.}

Lending credibility to the similarity of uses of the turf mazes and their stone maze cousins is the fact that nearly identical fertility rituals existed in Scandinavia where races would take place and girls saved and ‘freed’ from their imprisonment in the maze. In Finland another strange custom existed called The Virgin Dances, whereby the man who won would be allowed to lead her in a dance[17]. In Sweden even as late as 1985, the folklore department of Abo Akademi recorded how locals from one area would still meet in secret at their stone maze during the summer, choose a girl to stand in the centre and watch the boys race the maze. The girl would belong to the first boy to reach her who had not taken any wrong turns. The rest of the villagers would watch the entertainment clapping and encouraging the participants[18].

In many ways these practices remind me of the rituals surrounding the harvesting the last sheath of corn and the creation of the corn dollies, in that the young men of the villages would run a gauntlet in order to demand a kiss from one of the village girls.

RUSTIC REVELRY

Connecting the mazes back to their classical associations can be seen in the writing of Abraham de la Pryme. Whilst at Alkborough in 1697, he relates how he sat on the hill overlooking the maze and watched two Roman games being played[19]. I would hazard a guess that this must have been an English version of the Battle of Troy re-enactment. From his account the games seemed to have been very popular.

Understandably the mazes became a source of amusement for local children who would make up games and invent rules for playing on the maze. Few details of these games have survived.

The mazes also seem to have been turned into a drinking game where local men would wager beer for walking the maze. In one village a game was played where three men, blindfolded, tried to follow the maze’s path without stepping off [20]. Not sure if they did this sober or drunk!

_{Saffron Walden turf maze. Image by Miss Jessel}.

In Saffron Walden there still survives the largest turf maze in Europe with a circumference of 132 feet, a pathway of one mile, seventeen circuits and enclosed by a bank and ditch. Four bastions are located at equal distances around the perimeter. A notebook owned by the town’s museum records how each part of the maze was named after a local town. During festivals and fairs everyone would come together to watch men race between the different sections of the maze within a set time. An umpire watched over the proceedings to ensure no cheating took place[21].

The cutting of the turf was also an occasion for celebration as the whole village would turn out to help with food being provided and music and dancing taking place. It seems that turf mazes played an important role in village life.

 THE LEIGH WITCHES

William Barnes in 1879, wrote how the eastern part of Leigh Common was called Witches Corner and that records from Somerset magistrates contain information about the site between 1650 to 1664, being the meeting places of a coven of witches. The turf maze at Leigh has long since disappeared and although there is no evidence of the maze having any association with witchcraft, a local legend has somehow developed which fuses the two together. Personally, I think it would have been a very appropriate place for them to meet except for the fact that it seems that evil beings are unable to traverse the mazes due to their circular design, maybe witches were an exception to this rule! According to sources in the 1990s, Leigh Women’s Institute designed a banner which depicted a witch on a broomstick viewing the six-sided puzzle[22].

MEETING PLACE FOR LOST SOULS

Not only does England boast the largest turf maze but we also have the smallest one too. The classical shaped seven-ringed turf maze in Dalby, North Yorkshire is tiny but beautifully preserved. I am not sure if someone was being ironic but it is known as the City of Troy. A sign nearby informs visitors that the maze is a waiting point for trapped lost souls and that they may be consulted at the centre of the maze[23]

_{Hilton Turf Maze by Alan Simkins via
Wikimedia Commons}

CONCLUSION

Although most documentary evidence suggests that turf mazes sprung up in the sixteenth century, there is no reason to suppose that they had not existed prior to this period. Why they appeared is a mystery, it is possible they originally had a religious purpose whether that was for Christians or Pagans but it is equally as likely that they were simply a form of rural entertainment.

Why they were allowed to overgrow and disappear was probably due to several factors. Maybe over time the reason for their existence disappeared alongside many traditional countryside superstitions, maybe just like many fads they just fell out of popularity or maybe the money and labour needed for their upkeep was seen as an unnecessary expense, for example in 1699, it cost 15 shillings to pay for three men to work for five days to cut the turf at the Saffron Walden maze[24].

I am just really glad that at least a few of them defied the odds and survived. They are a remnant of a bygone age and as such should be cherished and protected because they are just as much a part of our history and culture as the castles, iron age forts and standing stones which decorate the English countryside.

_{Dalby City of Troy turf maze. User:SiGarb,
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons}

BIBLIOGRAPHY AND FURTHER READING

Kraft, John: The Goddess in the Labyrinth, Abo Akademi, 1995

Gogerty, Clare: Beyond the Footpath: Mindful Adventures for Modern Pilgrims, Little, Brown Book Club, 2019

Bounford, Dr Julie E: The Curious History of Mazes: 4000 years of Fascinating Twists and Turns, Wellfleet, 2018

Baker, Katherine: The Mizmaze at Leigh,  www.labyrinthos.net

Saffron Walden, http://www.visitsaffronwalden.gov.uk/Mazes.aspxlocal

Saward, Jeff: The Turf Maze on Saffron Walden Common, C41 Saffron Walden.pdf (labyrinthos.net)

Reprinted from: Saffron Walden Historical Journal No 23 Autumn 2017 Saffron Walden Historical Society, https://saffronwaldenhistoricalsociety.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/saffron-walden-turf-maze.pdf

Labyrinths and Ritual in Scandinavia, http://freya.theladyofthelabyrinth.com/?page_id=356

Troy Town Maze, https://www.cornwalls.co.uk/photos/troy-town-maze-4260.htm

City of Troy, the Dalby turf maze, https://www.worldwidewriter.co.uk/city-of-troy-dalby-turf-maze.html

The Megalithic Portal, https://m.megalithic.co.uk/article.php?sid=5901

The Riddle of English Turf Mazes, Karen Warren, https://www.worldwidewriter.co.uk/english-turf-mazes.html

English Turf Mazes in the Regency, Kathryn Kane, https://www.google.com/amp/s/regencyredingote.wordpress.com/2010/04/02/english-turf-mazes-in-the-regency/amp/

NOTES

[1] Wikipedia, Turf Mazes

[2] The Riddle of English Turf Mazes

[3] The Curious History of Mazes

[4] Wikipedia, Turf Mazes

[5] The Curious History of Mazes

[6] The Riddle of English Turf Mazes

[7] Wikipedia, Turf Mazes

[8] The Curious History of Mazes

[9] Ibid

[10] English Turf Mazes in the Regency

[11] Wikipedia, Turf Mazes

[12] The Riddle of English Turf Mazes

[13]Labyrinths and Ritual in Scandinavia

[14] Troy Town Maze

[15] Ibid

[16] English Turf Mazes in the Regency

[17] Labyrinths and Ritual in Scandinavia

[18] Ibid

[19] The Curious History of Mazes

[20] English Turf Mazes in the Regency

[21] The Curious History of Mazes

[22] The Mizmaze at Leigh

[23] City of Troy, the Dalby Turf Maze

[24] The Curious History of Mazes

The Lambton Worm: the dragon-slayer and the radical politician

Tags

chivalry, county durham, dragon slayer, dragons, Fatfield, Lampton worm, legends, radical jack, worms

_{Image from More English Fairy Tales
by Joseph Jacobs 1894– Illustrated by John D. Batten}

‘Whisht! Lads, haad yor gobs,

An Aa’ll tell ye’s aall an aaful story

Whisht! Lads, haad yor gobs,

An’ Aa’ll tell ye ‘boot the worm ¹

Anyone who went to school in the North East of England will probably be familiar with the famous chorus from the folk-song The Lambton Worm. The song was written in 1867 by C M Leumane and quickly took on a life of its own in popular culture. My own memories of learning it as an eight-year-old, were that I loved the catchy chorus, but there were way too many verses to memorise! 

Tales of worms or dragons are not uncommon in British folklore, one only has to think of St George and the Dragon to appreciate how entwined dragon-slayers are in national and regional identity.  

But is the tale of the Lambton Worm simply another Dragon Slaying tale, or is there more to it than that?  

The Legend of the Lambton Worm 

The Legend of the Lambton Worm first appeared in print in 1785. Antiquarian William Hutchinson outlined the folk explanations of the formation of Worm Hill, a glacial moraine, in Fatfield, Washington:

“Near this place is an eminence called the Worm Hill, which tradition says once possessed by an enormous serpent, that wound its horrid body round the base; that it destroyed much provision, and used to infest the Lambton estate, till some hero in that family engaged it, cased in armour set with razors…the whole miraculous tale has no other evidence than the memories of old women…” ²

This figure from the distant past was often identified as Sir John Lambton, Knight of Rhodes.³

However, these written accounts draw on older local oral traditions.

Here is my summary of the Legend of the Lambton  Worm, as we know it today:  

Young Lambton, the heir to the Lambton Estate, was fishing in the River Wear one Sunday, when he should have been in church, when he caught a very strange eel-like creature with a dragons head. Unhappy with his scrawny catch, he blithely discarded it down a well, later known as Worm Well, and went on his merry way. Young Lambton grew to repent of his profane ways, and joined a crusade, leaving his home for many years.  The worm, however, did not leave, and was thriving and growing to a prodigious size at the bottom of the well where it was discarded.  So much so, that it had to relocate to a larger habitat, choosing first to wrap itself around a local hill, which became known as Worm Hill, and later favouring a rock in the River Wear.  

^{Image via Pinterest, source unknown}

All would have been well enough, had the worm not also had a very large appetite. Cattle, Sheep, and even the occasional child all made it onto the worm’s menu.  Consequently, the locals lived in terror of the poisonous and very hungry worm that young Lambton had unwittingly set loose amongst them.  Finally, young Lambton returned, a new man, from the crusades and set about righting the wrong he had set in motion in his youth.  His initial skirmishes with the worm were unsuccessful until he consulted with a local witch or wise woman.   

The wise woman gave him some sage advice on how to tackle the slippery beast, which asides from being extremely dangerous, had a habit of being able to pull itself back together if it was ever cut in half. Following her advice almost to the letter (this will be important later) he donned a suite of armour studded with razors and took on the worm on its home territory, the River Wear.  The worm, seeing Lambton as another tasty snack, wrapped itself round the knight, in order to crush him, but was instead sliced and diced, with all of its pieces flowing away in the river, never to reform again.  The Worm was dead, and the local people were saved and there was much rejoicing! 

All would have been well and good, except for one small omission by Lambton, the witch had warned him that once his mission was accomplished, he must kill the first thing that greeted him on his return home, or else the next nine generations of Lambton chiefs would not die in their beds. Despite taking some precautions, Lambton’s father was the first to greet him on his return, and well, young John couldn’t bring himself to kill his own father, so the curse fell upon the Lambton’s and the next nine generations did not die in their beds.  

Dragon Tales 

^{St George and the Dragon, Newcastle War Memorial, image by Lenora}

Tales of Dragon Slayers are common throughout Medieval Britain and Europe.  The Northeast of England (taking in Northumberland, County Durham and Yorkshire) has twenty or so tales of Dragons and their slayers, for example, the Sockburn Worm and The Laidly Worm to name but two.⁴ 

What has been noted to be different about English, and these Northern tales, is that, unlike many of the European tales, the hero is not seeking to win treasure or maiden fair, but has a more pragmatic aim, often to save the local area from some peril (as in the Sockburn and Lambton stories). ^5,6

What is particularly distinctive about the Legend of the Lambton Worm, is that once the hero has slayed the dragon, he does not win maiden fair or treasure, in fact he and his family are cursed for several generations to come.  

Unpacking the Worm 

There are certain elements in the Lambton Worm tale that are worth unpacking. 

Dragons and Worms (terms often used interchangeably in historic texts) can mean different things in different cultures and depending on who is using them (see Miss Jessel’s excellent post for more on Dragons in general).  For the Medieval church, dragons often represented evil, but for many noble families they represented valour in fighting, so appear on many family crests.⁷ They have also been linked to natural and manmade catastrophes, water spirits, and remnants of ancient nature religions (of which more below).  

Monster theory 

Jeffrey Jerome in Monster Culture considers the monster to be a cultural body.  The device of the monster can be used to present a warning (of lines not to be crossed), to reveal a truth, to represent the ‘other’ (both within society or external to it), or to embody a cultural moment (often a moment of change). In killing the monster, the hero reaffirms group identity and order.  And of course, as any horror fan will know, even if you kill the monster, it may still return.⁸

The Legend of the Lambton Worm can be seen to contain many of these attributes.  

Toxic Masculinity  

In folklore, fishing on a Sunday can be seen as shorthand for profane behaviour, young Sir John should be in church attending to his Christian duty.  One interpretation of the legend, suggested by Tom Murray and discussed in his interview with James Tehrani, an anthropological folklorist, is that the worm as a metaphor for toxic masculinity.  It is Sir John’s own out of control behaviour that has put the community in danger, and only Sir John can defeat it, by reforming himself through Christian duty (going on a crusade) then defeating the very phallic worm on his return.⁹

This idea of toxic masculinity has something of a pedigree, in 1823, William Hutchinson suggested that worm tales, such as the Lambton Worm, could represent a folk memory of the disastrous Viking raids on the Northeast coast that took place in the eighth and nineth centuries.  It could perhaps commemorate a local hero who protected his community from them, or more broadly, show the community dealing with the threat itself, without outside assistance. ¹⁰ 

Water beings and the old religion 

Another interesting interpretation of the Lambton Worm is that the worm is a metaphor for the relationship between man and water, and that this is part of a global tradition. Veronica Strang¹¹ sees the popularity of dragons in the Medieval period as linked to the changing relationship with water and nature, new technologies and new social and political organisation both controlled water (e.g., through irrigation) also commodified it.  

The Lambton worm is set in the Medieval period, at this time Church felt it was facing an existential threat on two fronts: externally in the form of the Islamic world, and internally from lingering nature worship amongst supposedly Christain communities (evident in the churches concerted effort to rededicate pagan holy wells to Christian saints). 

_{anonymus, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons}

Strang projects that the tale of the Lambton Worm could be read as the story of a local lord who fails in his Christian duty, allows pagan nature worship to flourish in his community, and, metaphorically, poison the well.  Only when he has taken up his Christian duty and defeated another set of ‘pagans’ by joining the crusade against Islam, can he return home and re-assert Christianity in his local community.  Here then, the worm represents the ‘other’ or pagan, which must be defeated in order to restore the established order. [strang]  This potentially also links into the worm’s ability to come back to life, until the wise woman offers her advice to Lambton on how to vanquish it for good, if there was a fear that old nature religion would keep on resurfacing if left unchecked.¹²   

A Local tales for local people  

Another important factor in the Legend of the Lambton Worm is that it provides a heroic and ancient pedigree for a prominent local family, the Lambton’s, setting up one of their ancestors as the hero of the hour, protecting his community. It also incorporates tangible local landmarks – Worm Hill in Fatfield, Washington – further fixing the legend to the local imagination. 

_{Lambton Castle, early nineteenth century, public domain}

Jamie Beckett¹³ has identified the Legend of the Sockburn Worm as a potential inspiration for the Lambton Worm.  The Sockburn Worm is attached to the ancient and once powerful Coyners’ family and is a much older tale but running along similar lines.  Sir John Conyer’s defeats the dragon and saves the day with his trusty falchion sword. Visible reminders of Conyers bravery and chivalric pedigree remained for all to see in the ‘greystone’ marking the worm’s burial place and the Conyers’ Falchion, still extant today and held in the Treasury at Durham Cathedral (it forms part of the ceremony of enthroning new Bishop’s of Durham to this day).  

Beckett sees the rise of the Legend of the Lambton Worm growing out of this tale, and coinciding with the declining fortunes of the Conyers family in the seventeenth century, and the rise of the ancient but not previously powerful Lambton’s from that period onwards. ¹⁴

The Lambton Worm and the Radical Politician 

Folktales and legends morph and change over time.  The Legend of the Lambton Worm is no different. One element of the tale that I certainly grew up believing, was that the Worm wound its tale around Penshaw’s Monument.  I’d never heard of Worm Hill or Fatfield.  So why is Penshaw’s Monument (or Penshaw’s Folly) come to be intrinsically linked to the Legend of the Lambton Worm? 

The simple answer is that in 1867 C.M. Leumane wrote a very catchy tune about the Lambton Worm, forever linking it with Penshaw: 

This feorful woorm wad often feed
On calves an’ lambs an’ sheep,
An’ swally little bairns alive
When they laid doon to sleep.
An’ when he’d eaten aal he cud
An’ he had has he’s fill,
Away he went an’ lapped his tail
Ten times roond Pensher Hill. [Cj]

_{John George Lambton Portrait, after Sir Thomas Lawrence. Print after 1850 (author’s collection)}

The Penshaw Monument, visible for miles around, is a Greek Temple on a hill in Penshaw Village Co Durham.  It was built by public subscription in 1844/5 in honour of John Lambton, 1st Earl of Durham, who died a few years earlier in 1840.   

John Lambton was born in 1792, he was Byronically handsome, rebellious, and had suffered many tragedies in his life (his first wife, Harriet, who he married for love, in 1812, died only three years later, they had three children who all pre-deceased him).  While he was undoubtedly a tragic and romantic figure, what endeared him to the local population was his politics.   

Known as Radical Jack, he was MP for Co Durham from 1812, pursuing radical Whig politics, he was in favour of a number of very progressive reforms such as secret ballots, fixed term parliaments, universal suffrage.  Following the shocking Peterloo Massacre in 1819, where a large crowd of unarmed people, campaigning for parliamentary reform, were violently attacked by the cavalry, resulting in many deaths and injuries, Lambton controversially criticised the actions of the establishment in attacking and killing innocent people.  He was later instrumental in the passing of the 1832 Reform Bill. All of this made him terrifying to the establishment and beloved of the working classes.  

Such was his reputation, that by the 1820’s and 30’s at least three chapbooks existed that told the tale of the Lambton Worm, with the inferred compassion between the contemporary John Lambton defending the poor from political and social oppression, and his Romantic and heroic namesake ancestor, protecting the poor from a dangerous worm, in the distant chivalric past.¹⁵ 

Such was his popular appeal, that a lasting monument, funded by public subscription, was erected in his honour on Penshaw Hill. Tens of thousands of spectators watched as it’s foundation stone was laid in a Masonic Ceremony by the 2nd Earl of Zetland.¹⁶

_{Penshaw monument by Lenora}

In conclusion  

I am drawn to Veronica Strang’s interpretation of the Worm as a metaphor for the church suppressing lingering elements of nature religion in its congregation, whilst fighting off ‘pagan’s abroad. This would seem a good fit if the legend was of Medieval or earlier origin.  However, if the tale was created later, then Jamie Beckett’s view that these type of Legends were used by prominent families to establish their pedigree in the dim and distant past, then the legend of the Worm might be best interpreted as a public relations exercise by a family on the rise.   

Perhaps more likely, is that it may contains elements both these theories, and others, with the most recent and most popular written iterations of the legend, from 1785 and onwards, being designed to give prominence to the powerful Lambtons, and to handsome, radical, John 1st Earl Lambton, in a fashionably Romantic and nostalgic way.   

Perhaps it is appropriate that the worm is still slippery enough to both elude and fascinates us today, like all good folktales, it is alive and well and no doubt, continuing to evolve through the ages with each retelling.  

There is undoubtably a lot more that could be said about the Legend of the Lambton Worm, its origin (ancient or otherwise), and its deeper meanings. For anyone interested in finding out more about the Lambton  Worm (and other worms, dragons, and water spirits), I have provided a list of excellent sources below.

You can hear The Lambton Worm (C.M. Leumane, 1867) arranged and performed by Geordie Wilson on YouTube, via the link below.

Notes

1. The Lambton Worm composed in 1867 by C. M. Leumane
2. Jamie Beckett, The History of the Lambton Worm and Sockburn Worm
3. Robert Surtees et al, The history and antiquities of the county palatine of Durham 1816-40
4. Jamie Beckett, The History of the Lambton Worm and Sockburn Worm
5. Icy Sedgwick, The Lambton Worm and Penshaw Monument
6. Jacqueline Simpson and Jennifer Westwood, The Lore of the Land
7. Icy Sedgwick, The Lambton Worm and Penshaw Monument
8. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, Monster Culture
9. Tom Murray, Tracing the Cultural History of the Monstrous Lambton Worm
10. Veronica Strang, Reflecting nature: water beings in history
11. ibid
12. ibid
13. Jamie Beckett, The History of the Lambton Worm and Sockburn Worm
14. ibid
15. ibid

Sources

Beckett, Jamie, The History of the Lambton Worm and Sockburn Worm https://community.dur.ac.uk/reed.ne/?page_id=2322#:~:text=The%20History%20of%20the%20Lambton%20Worm%20and%20Sockburn,can%20boast%20a%20few%20dragon-slayers%20of%20its%20own. edited by Laura McKenzie.

Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome, Ed.,  1996, Monster Theory: Reading Culture [chapter 1 Monster Culture]

Leumane, CJ, 1867, The Ballad of the Lambton Worm, available at: https://wp.sunderland.ac.uk/seagullcity/the-ballad-of-the-lambton-worm/

Murray, T, 2016, Tracing the Cultural History of the Monstrous Lambton Worm, https://www.modernaustralian.com/news/2237-tracing-the-cultural-history-of-the-monstrous-lambton-worm

Sedgwick, Icy, The Lambton Worm and Penshaw Monument, https://www.icysedgwick.com/lambton-worm/ 13 July 2017

Simpson, Jacqueline, Westwood, Jennifer, 2006, The Lore of the Land: A Guide to England’s Legends, from Spring-heeled Jack to the Witches of Warboys

Strang, Veronica, 2015, Reflecting nature: water beings in history in Waterworlds : anthropology in fluid environments. New York: Berghahn Books, pp. 247-278. Ethnography, theory, experiment. (3).

Surtees, Robert, Taylor, George, Raine, James, pre-1850, The history and antiquities of the county palatine of Durham 1816-40

A Confusion of Dragons

Tags

amphipetere, dragon slayers, dragons, george and the dragon, guivres, knuckers, lambton worm, sea serpents, types of dragon, wurms, wyverns

_{Chinese Dragon by Sodacan, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0&gt;,
via Wikimedia Commons} 

There is no mythical creature more enduring in literature, myths and ballads or whose image both fictional or imagined has struck terror in the hearts of so many people from around the world, as that of the dragon.

It is not known when the idea of a ‘dragon’ entered the consciousness of people but texts from both the Sumerians and Ancient Greek civilisations contain references to such a creature[1]. Indeed, the word dragon comes from the Ancient Greek, drakōn and was originally used for any large serpent[2]. Dragons may come in all shapes and sizes but the one thing they have in common is their long serpentine torso.

The way in which the character of the dragon has been represented has changed over time, its appearance and nature adapting to the environment and culture in which it was created. In China, the dragon came to symbolise both imperial power and the emperor whereas in the Middle East, dragons were viewed as evil (transferring the characteristics of the poisonous and deadly snakes common in the region onto its mythical counterpart). In other regions, the feeling towards them was more ambivalent, for example in Ancient Greece, they were sometimes depicted as benevolent towards humans. [3].

In general, in Northern Europe and Britain, dragons were portrayed negatively, a belief which only intensified under Christianity when they came to represent an embodiment of evil, something to be destroyed at all cost. The legend of St George and the dragon typifies this belief, symbolising Christianity’s defeat of paganism and the old beliefs[4]. In stories and ballads, dragon slaying became almost a rite of passage for any brave young man or knight seeking to prove his worth (as well as save some terrified villagers and their livestock). The reward aside from fame, was often wealth and/or the hand of a nobleman/king’s daughter. It is interesting that despite their fearsome reputation, the dragons are nearly always defeated even when it is at the expense of their slayer.

This leads on to the question of what exactly are dragons?

Recognising a dragon!

_{St George and the Dragon, Newcastle War Memorial, image by Lenora}

As has been said before, the traits of dragons varied from country to country, so too do their physical appearance. In Asia, dragons are depicted as more serpentine whereas in Northern Europe, they are often shown as composite beasts i.e. composed of different parts of different animals[5].

If asked for a description, most people (in Europe) would describe a dragon as a gigantic creature with massive fangs, four strong clawed legs, a pair of powerful wings, a ridge of razor-sharp spikes along its entire torso, a barbed tail and a mouth from which deadly fire erupts. Although this is the image that in general people are the most familiar with and the one that commonly appears in heraldry, books and films, it is not the only one that exists in literature and oral traditions. There are a number of variations across countries and regions. Some are not even immediately recognisable as dragons but which do fall under the classification of dragon.

Here is my short guide to the more unusual types of dragons. It is not complete, there are just too many variations to include but if you are like me and find the whole subject daunting then it may just give you some clarity.

Wyverns: A Biped Dragon with Poisonous Breath

There are different views on the origin of the word wyvern. One interpretation is that it came from either the Middle English word wyver or from the Anglo-French word wivre taken from the Latin, vipera – meaning viper, adder or asp. The second school of thought claims that after the word was reintroduced into Medieval Latin, it took on a different meaning, that of light javelin. So, the meaning of viper and light javelin became melded to reflect the shape of the creature, creating a new type of flying biped snake[6].

Wyverns are described as having only two legs which end in eagle’s claws. Their wings extend from where their front legs would have been. Some descriptions have their front limbs forming the wings and in others the limbs are not visible. All descriptions depict the leathery wings similar to those of a bat, with a claw protruding from either the top of the wing or half-way down. Their tail is another distinctive feature, ending in either a diamond or arrow-shaped tip. Often drawn as a knot or turned in on itself, it carries a powerful sting which is fatal to humans. Rarely are they described as breathing fire, rather their breath is said to be poisonous and, in some stories, it is told that they pollute the earth over which they walk, causing fungus to grow (one explanation for fairy rings) and leaving distorted animals such as flounder fish in their wake[7]. They are said to always be hot – images of wyverns and sculptures found on medieval buildings usually show them with their mouths open[8. Wyverns occur in numerous tales. Some people believe, based on imagery, that Geoffrey of Monmouth in his Historia Regum Britanniae, was describing wyverns when he spoke of the prophecy that Wales would fall to the Anglo-Saxons[9],

“Woe to the red dragon, for his banishment hasteneth on. His lurking holes shall be seized by the white dragon, which signifies the Saxons whom you invited over; but the red denotes the British nation, which shall be oppressed by the white. Therefore shall its mountains be leveled as the valleys, and the rivers of the valleys shall run with blood.”[10]

_{Illumination of a 15th-century manuscript of Historia Regum Britanniae showing
king of the Britons Vortigern and Ambros watching the fight between two dragons. 
^{Lambeth Palace Library MS 6. Vortigern studies,
Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11738642}}

Another myth recounts how in the distant past, a “huge, coiling and writhing monster with a humped back and undulating neck”[11], took up residence in Llyn Cynwch in North Wales. People fearful of its presence avoided the lake. This beast (from its description recognisable as as a wyvern), terrorised the surrounding area, eating livestock and on occasion an unlucky villager. Eventually, the locals decided they had had enough and decided to put an end to the wyvern’s reign of terror. Many tried and failed, killed by either the creature’s poisonous green breath or by the deadly sting in its tail. A warlock from Ganllwid decided to use archers who would be positioned at a safe distance. Unfortunately, his plan failed, the wyvern could sense when the archers were close and would hide beneath the water. One morning a young shepherd from Meredydd, noticed the wyvern lying on the bank of the lake, sleeping under the hot morning sun. Seizing the opportunity, he ran to Cymmer Abbey where the monks on hearing the shepherd’s news, gave him a magical axe which they had in their possession. Returning to the lake, he was relieved to see the wyvern still asleep and with a powerful blow, severed its head from its body[12].

Many more stories of wyverns exist in other countries. Often in Northern Europe, no distinction is made between four and two legged dragons.

Lindwurms: A Dragon without Wings

_{Lindworm carving at Urnes Stave Church  
By Jchancerel – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=59298225}  

Images of lindwurms can be seen as early as the eleventh century in Sweden, incised on runestones[13]. Although their descriptions can vary, in general they are shown as large wingless creatures with serpentine bodies, a dragon’s head, scaly skin and two clawed forearms. Its limbs used not to bear the weight of its body but to pull itself along the ground. Some believe that its name is derived from the Old High German word for flexible. Their shredded skin was believed to have magical abilities and could increase a person’s knowledge about nature and medicine. They were said to feed on cattle and human corpses, often invading a churchyard in order to eat the remains of those buried there[14].

A tale from Klagenfurt, Austria, in the thirteenth century, recounts how the villagers blamed a lindwurm for the severe flooding they were suffering. A duke offered a reward to anyone who could kill the creature. A group of young men decided to try their luck. Fixing a bull to a chain, they lowered it into the river. The lindwurm taking the bait, grabbed onto the bull, allowing the men to pull it up on to the bank and kill it[15].

Even as late as the nineteenth century, the belief in lindwurms in Sweden persisted, especially in the province of Småland where people claimed to have seen them first-hand. The folklorist, Gunnar Olaf Hyltén-Cavalius in 1884, became a figure of ridicule when he put up a reward for anyone who could bring him a lindwurm, dead or alive[16]. No-one did!

Wyrms: A Wingless and Legless Dragon

_{The Lambton Worm By Unknown author – English fairy and other folk tales. By Edwin Sidney Hartland, Pforzheimer Bruce Rogers Collection (Library of Congress).Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8250993} 

Wryms (worms) look exactly how they sound. They are simply wingless and legless dragons. Despite the fact that they lack appendages, myths recount their dangerous nature and the terror they inspired.

There are many stories centred around these wyrms including the famous tale of the Lambton Worm.

Set in the county of Durham in the North East of England, it tells the story of John Lambton who one Sunday morning, decided to go fishing in the River Wear. While fishing, instead of a fish he caught to his horror a hideous looking worm-like creature. Thinking he had snared a devil, he dropped it into a well. Years passed and John went off to fight in the Crusades. During this time, the creature presence had poisoned the well. Eventually it had grown to such a size that it slithered out of the well, coiling itself around a local hill (either Worm Hill or Penshaw Hill). It stayed there for awhile, devouring livestock, taking small children and preventing cows from producing milk. Finally, it decided to make its way to Lambton Castle. All those who attempted to kill it were despatched quickly. Its strength residing in the fact that every time a piece of its body was chopped off, it would reattach itself, making it near impossible to kill. On his return, John was horrified to discover what had happened during his absence and was charged with the task of killing the beast. John sought counsel from a local wise woman. She told him to wear armour covered in spikes but warned him that in order to avoid his family being cursed, he needed to kill the first thing he saw afterwards. Making his way to the hill where the wyrm resided, he confronted the creature which coiled itself around him, impaling itself on the spikes, allowing John the opportunity to cut the worm to pieces and float them away in the river – so the worm could not reassemble itself. He then blew a horn alerting his father of his success. His father in his excitement, instead of releasing a dog to be killed, ran to his son. John refused to kill his father and so his family was cursed [17].

Tatzelwurm: A Cat-faced Dragon

_{Depiction of the cat-faced “mountain dragon” of the Swiss Alps claimed to have been encountered in Sarganserland, c. 1660. By Johann Jakob Scheuchzer (author) – Houghton Library, Public Domain,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34694094} 

The Tatzelwurm (sometimes called a bergstutz) is a mystical creature found in the Alpine regions. It is said to be a relative of the dragon and lindwurm. Small in size, its physical appearance is rather strange with its snake-like abdomen, two paw-studied forelimbs, a reptile’s body and a head resembling a big cat[18]. The legends say that Tatzelwurms lived in tunnels and caves dug into rock and that although it was in general a shy creature, it could be dangerous and aggressive, preying on both humans and animals. It was believed that when a Tatzelwurm crawled through sand, it turned the sand into glass due to the extreme heat of its body[19].

A Swiss tale tells of how one Tatzelwurm was killed. On Mt Pilatus, a Tatzelwurm caused chaos by burning stables and killing cattle. No-one had the courage to face it. The only person who was willing to risk their life was the convicted killer, Heinrich von Winkelried who had nothing to lose. In return he was promised his freedom if he killed the monster. Using his sword to carve a sharp point at the end of a tree trunk, he confronted the beast. When the Tatzelwurm opened its mouth, Winkelried pushed the point of the thorny trunk into its mouth. With the beast in agony, Winkelried killed it. Unfortunately, when he raised his sword in victory, a drop of the Tatzelwurm’s venomous blood fell onto his hand, killing him instantly[20].

In a similar vein to Big Foot, the Loch Ness Monster and the Yeti, sightings of the Tatzelwurm had been reported as recently as the 1980s, in South Tyrol and Aosta in the Italian Alps.

Knuckers: A Sea Serpent with Tiny Wings

^{Olaus Magnus’s Sea Orm (knucker), 1555 Source: Ellis, R. 1998.
”The Search for the Giant Squid”. The Lyons Press. Public domain.}

Knuckers were considered to be a type of water dragon found in Sussex, England. Its habitat were the knuckerholes – a very deep (believed to be infinitely deep) pool. Their name comes from the old English word nicor, meaning ‘water monster’. They are mentioned in the Old English epic poem, Beowulf[21].

Knuckers have been described as possessing a giant slithering sea serpent’s torso, cold eyes, a deadly hissing mouth, four legs, tiny wings[22] and as having a fondness for shiny objects such as glass or marbles.

Legends of knuckers, centre around Lyminster, Lancing, Shoreham and Worthing.

The most well-known story concerns the Knucker of Lyminster. There are two versions of the tale. The first involves a knight-errant who agrees to kill the beast in return for the hand of the King of Sussex’s daughter. He is victorious and returns to claim his wife. In the second version, the Mayor of Arundel offers a reward to anyone who could slay the creature. A local farmer’s boy, Jim Pulk (or Puttock) accepts the challenge. After baking a huge poisonous pie, he transports it on a horse and cart to the knucker’s hole. The greedy knucker eats the pie, horse and cart and while it is dying, the boy cuts off his head (in some versions the boy also dies). A slayer’s slab reputed to be the grave of the knucker’s slayer can be found inside Lyminster Church[23].

Guivres: A Rather Prudish Dragon

^{Liber Floridus (1448) – Shuker, K. (2006). Draken. Een geïllustreerde geschiedenis. Kerkdriel: Librero. ISBN 9057647044, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3052514} 

Guivres (also known as vouivres) are a dragon common in the legends of Medieval France. They were described as highly aggressive and dangerous with a breath that causes diseases. Interestingly they have one major weakness – naked humans. It was said that if you confronted the guivre wearing your birthday suit, it would blush and turn away![24]

Guivres were believed to live in woods, forests, lakes and pools, anywhere that was damp and isolated[25]. They were described as a monstrous reptile with the head of a dragon and horns protruding from its forehead. They were also said to be extremely greedy[26].

The book, The Drac: French Tales of Dragons and Demons, contains a tale adapted from a French legend which describes a female vouivre. She is said to have dazzling green scales which emit a sound when she flies and to wear a crown of pearls around her head and a gold ring on her tail. It claims that this vouivre preferred to live in a cave, which she only left for a short period of time, so she could bathe[27].

Amphiptere: Bi-winged Serpent

Stories of amphipteres (also spelt: amphithere, amphitere, phipthere[28]) can be found in Europe, Africa, Asia and the Americas. Although descriptions of them vary considerably, on two-points there is consensus: they have no legs but do have a serpentine shaped body. Some descriptions portray them as scaly; a few as having a body completely covered in feathers; while others state that they had light-coloured feathers, a body similar to a lindwurm’s, feathered bat-like wings and a wyvern-like tail[29]. In Egypt they were believed to guard Frankincense trees, defending them against anyone who wanted to harvest the trees’ precious substance[30].

_{Amphiptere by Edward Topsell (1608)} 
 

My Concluding Thoughts on Dragons

So, there you have it – my brief guide to dragons. Although, there are many differences between dragon types, they do share a few traits in common, aside from their serpentine bodies – that is their aggressive nature and preference for a solitary life. I hope that this guide will help you to identify them – just in case you happen to come across one! Still, whereas the differences might be important for an observer, I would think for the people in the tales and legends, when you are being eaten by a large serpentine creature, it doesn’t really matter whether it has two or four or no legs!

On a sidenote and just for accuracy sake, Daenerys Targeryen wasn’t actually the Mother of Dragons, but rather the Mother of Wyverns – I guess that didn’t sound quite so catchy!

^{Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Wyverns! Emilia Clarke in HBO’s Game of Thrones,
created by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss for HBO 2011-2019} 

---

Bibliography and Further Reading

Ogden, Daniel: Dragons, Serpents, and Slayers in the Classical and Early Christian Worlds: A Sourcebook, Oxford University Press, 2013

Rose, Carol: Giants, Monsters, & Dragons: An Encyclopedia of Folklore, Legend, and Myth, W. W. Norton & Company, (Reprint) 2001

Shuker, Karl P.N: Dragons: A Natural History, Simon & Schuster, 1995

Notes

[1] Dragons: A Brief History of the Mythical, Fire-Breathing Beasts, https://www.livescience.com/25559-dragons.html

[2] Dragon, mythological creature https://www.britannica.com/topic/churning-of-the-ocean-of-milk

[3] Ibid

[4] For more information on this subject look at Daniel Ogden’s, Dragons, Serpents, and Slayers in the Classical and Early Christian Worlds: A Sourcebook

[5] Carol Rose, Giants, Monsters, & Dragons: An Encyclopaedia of Folklore, Legend, and Myth

[6] Wyvern, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wyvern

[7] Wyvern, https://www.mythicalcreaturesguide.com/wyvern/

[8] Ibid

[9] Wyvern, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wyvern

[10] Geoffrey Monmouth, Historia Regum Britanniae

[11] The Strange and Ancient Tale of a Welsh Dragon, https://mysteriousuniverse.org/2019/09/the-strange-and-ancient-tale-of-a-welsh-dragon/

[12] Ibid

[13] Lindworm, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lindworm

[14] Ibid

[15] Ibid

[16] Ibid

[17] Dragons in Folklore: The Lambton Worm and the Laidly Worm, https://www.icysedgwick.com/dragons-in-folklore/

[18] Tatzelwurm (mythical animal), https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tatzelwurm_%28Fabeltier%29

[19] Ibid

[20] Ibid

[21] Knucker, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knucker

[22] Ibid

[23] Ibid

[24] Guivre, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guivre

[25] Dragon Species

Guivre / Wivre, http://www.blackdrago.com/species/guivre.htm

[26] Ibid

[27] Guivre

[28] Amphiptere, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amphiptere

[29] Ibid

[30] Time-Life Books, Dragons, https://archive.org/details/dragonstime00time

Spooky Christmas Collaboration with Voices from the North East podcast

Wishing all of the readers of the Haunted Palace Blog a happy holidays, however you celebrate them. If you’re taking it easy this Boxing Day, following a day of over-indulging in festive cheer, why not relax to a spooky tale for Christmas. I’ve been collaborating with Paul from the excellent Voices from the North East podcast again. This time I’m talking about the Legend of the Alnwick Vampire, vampire lore and medieval revenants. And for anyone who listened in to The Wallsend Witches, you’ll be glad to hear I’ve invested in a better mic for this episode!!

Voices from the North East podcast is available free on anchor.fm/voicesfromthenortheast , spotify or wherever you get your podcasts.

Enjoy!

Available now on Amazon! The Haunted Mirror: History, Folklore and the Supernatural, from the Haunted Palace Blog

Tags

dark history, folklore, Ghosts, Haunted Palace book, haunted palace collection, Macabre, new book, supernatural

Published 16 May 2021, 230 pages

Paperback £8.99

Kindle £3.99

Buy now on Amazon, click here: The Haunted Mirror: History, Folklore and the Supernatural from the Haunted Palace Blog (The Haunted Palace Blog Collection): Amazon.co.uk: ., Lenora, Jessel, Miss: 9798505220504: Books

_@chknstyn

A compendium of dark history, strange folklore and mysterious hauntings culled from the Haunted Palace Blog. Lenora and Miss Jessel have selected and re-worked some of their favourite posts for your enjoyment.

Did you know that a prodigious palace once stood in the London Borough of Wanstead and Woodford but a dissolute Earl threw it all away, leaving his heart-broken wife to haunt its ruins forever? Or that Victorian tourists flocked to the grim spectacle provided by the Paris Morgue – the best free theatre in town? Or that a murderous jester is reputed to have lured people to their deaths at a castle in Cumbria? Join us as we explore a past populated by highwaymen, murderers, eccentrics, and lost souls.

Lavishly illustrated with specially commissioned art, engravings and photographs from the Haunted Palace Collection, and national collections.

@igamagination

A Stroll through a graveyard: a very brief history of British cemeteries

Tags

burial, burial practice, Cemeteries, charnel house, Christian burial, churchyards, Graveyards, headstones, history, monuments, tombstones, Victorian Cemeteries, victorian graveyards

With the Coronavirus lockdowns of 2020/2021 many of us have had to find our pleasures closer to home than usual.  One of my favourite past-times has been visiting some of my local graveyards and taking a leisurely stroll amongst the tombstones and monuments.

Overgrown urban cemeteries and churchyards provide a haven for nature, an escape from the bustle of the modern world, and respite from the claustrophobia of a national lockdown. Often protected from traffic and pollution, and hidden from sight behind high walls, they can easily be overlooked by passers by. Yet within those high walls you can find butterflies dancing on delicate wildflowers, squirrels sheltering in the branches of ancient trees and foxes hiding amongst the tangled brambles.  Cemeteries are also steeped in cultural history and rich in public art, with elaborate memorials and tombs, describing a rich and varied iconography of death and remembrance. I have done a separate post on some of the common cemetery symbols found on headstones.

As the subject of burial and funeral monuments is a vast one, this article will be by nature selective, focusing mainly on traditional Christian burial practices found in mainly English cemeteries and churchyards. However, it is important to note that there are also many examples of different regional styles and practices as well as those of other faiths, all of which can also be found in our historic graveyards.

A very brief history of traditional British cemeteries and their monuments

Romans, Saxons and Medieval burial

Many British churchyards sit on much older pre-Christian burial grounds, and may contain remnants of those earlier times, occasionally these remnants can be seen today. It has been suggested that the Romans may have invented (or at least developed the idea of) the headstone as we know it [1]. The Roman tombstone below (L) can be found in Holy Trinity Churchyard, Washington, Tyne and Wear, and does look remarkably similar to later headstones.

Medieval churchyards did not contain many stone grave markers, so were ideal places for community activities such as fairs and village games (until the puritans put a stop to jollity, that is). Often the only stone monument was a large cross, although many of these were destroyed during the Reformation of the sixteenth century [2]. The example below (M) is the Mercian Cross, a Saxon cross from the eighth-tenth centuries, which can be found in St Lawrence’s church, Eyam, Derbyshire. In this period, only those of very high status would merit an individual burial and memorial, many people would expect to end up in a charnel house. Initially ‘wet’ bodies (i.e. fresh, fleshy bodies) were stored in stone coffins until they decomposed and became ‘dry’ (i.e. bones). The bones would then be stacked in the charnel house. The stone coffins below (R) can be seen at Tynemouth Priory, Tyne and Wear. If you were wondering where the corpse liquor went, some stone coffins also contained a hole to let it drain out [3].

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From pomp and purgatory to the resurrection men

Richard Fleming’s tomb and chantry chapel, Lincoln Cathedral.

Our relationship with the dead has changed over time. Purgatory as an actual place was introduced as a concept from the late twelfth/early thirteenth centuries. This lead to a drive to encourage the living to ease the passage of the deceased through purgatory with prayer. Gruesome monuments, such as Cadaver Tombs, (which depicted the deceased as rotting corpses) were often linked to chantry chapels to elicit prayers for the dead. This provided the living a sense of moral and religious satisfaction while assisting the dead towards  salvation [4, 5]. Other, less macabre tomb monuments, called gisants, emphasised the earthly status of the deceased, showed them in fine regalia, as if in prayer or sleeping.

The Gisant style monument for Sir Ralph Grey (d1443) and his wife, Elizabeth. St Peter’s church, Chillingham, Northumberland.

While most people in the medieval period were buried in unmarked graves, tombs or memorials of the great and (often not so) good were sighted inside churches and the higher the status of the deceased, the closer to the altar (and God) they would be placed. In later times this also protected the dead from body snatchers. This resulted in some very dubious practices, such as at Enon Chapel in London, where cut price burials resulted in the dead being piled up to the rafters in a tiny crypt, in order to line the pockets of the rapacious minister.   In the past, these intramural burials in churches were notorious for causing a bit of a stink (and worse in the case of Enon chapel), but such burials can result in problems even today. Recently, the floor of Bath Abbey, which is paved with ledger stones, flat grave markers, was restored to stop the floor sinking into the cavities caused by the decayed bodies beneath. (Somerset Live).

The Reformation of the church in the sixteenth century, which made the concept of purgatory redundant for many, the restoration of the monarchy in 1660 that ousted the party-pooping puritans, combined with a rising class of wealthier farmers and merchants, created a sea-change in funeral monuments. From the end of the seventeenth century churchyards begin to fill up with tombstones, recording personal status, family ties, occupation and epitaphs, as well as some very macabre iconography [6].

As with burials inside the church, burials outside had their pecking order. Burial on the east side of a churchyard was preferred, with the body facing east in order to rise on the day of judgement. Burial on the north side was reserved for the illegitimate, criminals, suicides and strangers, and was therefore a less favourable location [7]. There is a wonderful description of this in MR James’s The Ash Tree, the executed witch, Mrs Mothersole, is said to have been buried on ‘that unhallowed side of the building‘. In some areas these ‘undesirable’ burials would take place outside the church yard itself or the corpse would have to be unceremoniously bundled over the wall of the churchyard, after being refused the usual welcome by the vicar at the lych-gate [8].

While post mortem social status was a pressing issue for some, from the late eighteenth century, body snatchers were a real fear for many. This was the case right up until the passing of the Anatomy Act in 1832 (which solved the problem of supply of cadavers for the anatomists table by co-opting the corpses of the poor and destitute). To protect the dearly departed from such ‘resurrection men’ elaborate precautions were put in place and they can still be found in some graveyards today.

Image by https://wellcomeimages.org/indexplus/obf_images/0a/b0/95f14983a9a287f3932cd1e71806.jpgGallery: https://wellcomeimages.org/indexplus/image/V0010462.htmlWellcome Collection gallery (2018-03-24): https://wellcomecollection.org/works/b2gb3sp8 CC-BY-4.0, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36452434

Famous examples of post mortem protection can be found in Greyfriars Kirkyard, Edinburgh which boasts a very fine mortsafe.  While the infamous Burke and Hare may have preferred to obtain their bodies by seeking out ‘future corpses'[9] in the drinking dens of the old Town, many others were stealing corpses from graveyards to supply Edinburgh’s famous medical schools. 

Tombstone trends

As more people were able to afford permanent grave markers, churchyards began to fill up and certain styles of headstone became popular. Headstones began short and stout, gradually becoming taller and less chunky as the centuries progressed – although this could depend on the quality of the local stone. More elaborate ornamentation and inscriptions became popular, however, the execution of the design could depend on the skill of the mason, many of whom may have been illiterate, as is seen below.

The examples above, from St Andrew’s, Newcastle, and Tynemouth Priory, Tynemouth, show eighteenth century grave stones with the text cramped together, of uneven size, and occasionally with words broken over lines. The example on the right also shows some naïve attempts at decoration.

The size difference between the early 18th Century gravestone on the left, and the nineteenth century one on the right. St Peter’s Church, Chillingham.

These headstones were often in three parts – decoration at the top, details about the deceased (names, dates, occupation, family ties) then an epitaph or scriptural quote at the bottom. Some stones also have the mason’s name as well.

These earlier grave stones had their inscriptions facing away from the actual burial plot, and some had a ‘body stone’ covering the burial, or a small ‘footstone’ indicating the length of the grave. In some cases the direction of the headstone was reoriented by the Victorians. The Victorians often marked the limits of a grave or family plot using kerbstones or railings [10].

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As the times changed, so did decorative motifs, one of the most notable metamorphosis being that of the infamous grinning skull and crossbones. This first evolved into a flying head before morphing into a chubby cheeked cherub (a more sentimental, but no less disquieting images, to my mind).

Seventeenth and early eighteenth century skull and crossbones motifs, usually found in the top section of decoration, acted as a memento mori, reminding the living that they too would soon be dust (so they should behave themselves and lead good lives). This tradition evolved into flying faces, which symbolised the soul flying up to heaven, and later still, in the late Georgian and Victorian period, morphed into flying angels/cherubs, symbolising innocence (they were often used on the graves of children [11].

The taste for the macabre in graveyard symbols lingered well into the eighteenth century, but by the closing decades, tombstones could be found with tranquil classical iconography, in keeping with Georgian taste for all things ancient Roman and Greek. 

Late eighteenth century tombstone with classical motifs, St Andrew’s, Newcastle.

By the nineteenth century, it was the rising urban middle classes who drove the developments of tombstone designs.  Huge gothic follies, classical urns and columns sprouted up across the land. Crosses and Angels as grave markers even made a come-back, shunned after the Reformation and centuries of anti-Catholic feeling in England, they underwent a renaissance in the nineteenth century and can be found in abundance in many Victorian cemeteries. 

Victorian Gothic, the funerary monument of the Reed family, at Jesmond Old Cemetery, Newcastle.

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Angels and crosses from Highgate Cemetery, London, Jesmond Old Cemetery, Newcastle and Tynemouth Priory, Tyne and wear.

The Civic minded Victorians also came up with the concept of the Garden Cemetery, situated in the suburbs, laid out like parks and dotted with attractive grave monuments, these cemeteries not only addressed the problems of overfull and unsanitary urban burial grounds, but made a visit to the grave of a loved one into a pleasurable day out [12]. 

• 

• 

The difference between the overcrowded headstones in Bunhill burial ground, in use in the centre of London since the seventeenth century, and the elegant nineteenth century suburban garden cemetery, in this case Jesmond Old Cemetery in Newcastle, was plain to see.

The Victorians also helped to democratise death, through their more industrialised production techniques, machine cutting inscriptions, standardised patterns, and a budget range of guinea graves, and community burial clubs. As the nineteenth century progressed more and more people could have a permanent marker to meet their budget. The downside of this was that the idiosyncratic and personal memorials of earlier times were often replaced with standard shapes, such as the ubiquitous lancet gravestone,  and more generic  religious or moral sentiments. Of course, this doesn’t meant that the families and friends of the departed grieved any less, only that the outward language of death and the business of burial had become more of an industry [13, 14].

The ubiquitous lancet headstones found in Victorian cemeteries across Britain.

New materials also played their part, with machine cut inscriptions, lead lettering and occasional iron headstones (very appropriate for such an industrial age).

This unusual but appropriate iron headstone was chosen for William Crawford, an Iron Founder, and can be found in Jesmond Old Cemetery, Newcastle. Unfortunately, it has weathered badly.

The twentieth century saw the mass death of the First World War, with Cenotaphs, empty tombs, for recording the deaths of millions, and many soldiers buried on foreign shores.  You can find the occasional pristine war grave, striking in its simple poignancy, amongst the unruly ivy clad headstones of a previous era. However, it was inevitable that death on such an industrial scale, with so many families left grieving without a body to bury, would cause a fundamental change in how the dead were commemorated, World War I was the beginning of the end of the lavish Victorian way of death. 

• 

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Gone but not forgotten. A solitary war grave sits amongst older graves at Church Bank Cemetery in Wallsend; while a war grave from 1917, in Jesmond Old Cemetery, is adorned with a recent poppy tribute.

Today, in Britain, cremation far outstrips burial, nevertheless, you can still find some unique and personal grave monuments on occasion. A particularly poignant example can be found in Westgate Crematorium in Newcastle, where a huge black marble edifice stands for a young man, dead before his time, and which includes a marble motorbike. While this may not be to every ones taste, it is a unique and very personal memorial.

There has been a church on this site since the 12th Century, St Peter’s church was rebuilt in 1809 and remodelled in 1892. Wallsend, North Tyneside.

Who lies beneath

Cemeteries are filled with the famous and not so famous, all with their individual tales that remind us that these mossy and ivy cloaked monuments hid the bones of people just like us, who lived and loved and sometimes suffered.

Dame Mary Page, 1729, Bunhilll, London

Grave monuments could be very personal in the eighteenth century, one could say, too personal, as this famous monument to Dame Mary Page at Bunhill cemetery in London demonstrates. The unfortunate Dame Mary died in 1729, the inscription describes her final years “In 67 months she was tap’d [tapped] 66 times, Had taken away 240 gallons of water without ever repining at her case or ever fearing the operation.”

The Keenleyside Monument, 1841/2, Jesmond Old Cemetery, Newcastle

This canopied monument featuring a reclining cherub rests beneath mature trees in Jesmond Old Cemetery and hides a terrible family tragedy. The monument was erected by Thomas William and Louisa Keenleyside in memory of their children, Eleanor, 2 years old, Charles, 12 years old, and James who was 10 years old. The children died in quick succession between December 1841 to January 1842, victims of the Cholera epidemic that raged through the city. Epidemics and other diseases such as scarlet fever were common in the Victorian period, and could rip through a family taking siblings one after another. It is hard to comprehend how Thomas and Louisa came to terms with this heart wrenching loss, although this monument may have been part of that process.

Tom Sayers, 1865, Highgate Cemetery, London

You would be forgiven for thinking this monument in London’s Highgate Cemetery was the grave of a large dog, but in fact is commemorates Tom Sayers, Victorian superstar prize-fighting bare-knuckle boxer, who died in 1865. Sayers had a turbulent personal life, so the chief mourner at his funeral was his mastiff, Lion, who rode alone in a pony cart behind the hearse. Sayers kept the hound next to him even in death, and Lion was immortalised by sculptor Morton Edwards and forms the most prominent feature of Sayers monument [15].

Epilogue

For me, the apogee of cemetery design came in the nineteenth century, when over-crowded, unsanitary urban cemeteries, such as Bunhill Fields, were replaced with leafy suburban garden cemeteries.  Highgate cemetery, Abney Park and Kensal Green were intended as pleasure grounds as much as for memorialising the dead.  Recently, I have spent many hours exploring my local cemeteries and churchyards, discovering fascinating facts about my area – the pastoral poet buried in the centre of Newcastle, the Georgian composer, organist and music critic buried in St Andrews, as well as countless ordinary people, whose lives flicker before us briefly in their epitaphs.

Ledger stone for eighteenth century Newcastle composer and organist Charles Avison. Avison died in 1770, but the ledger stone was replaced in the nineteenth century.

The Coronavirus pandemic has claimed so many lives, however, once the pandemic itself has entered into the pages of history, I hope that we will not forget the quite pleasures of walking in these public gardens of the past and experiencing that fleeting connection with those who have gone before us.

All Saints, Newcastle.

Part 2 will look at the meaning behind some of the symbols found on headstones.

Sources

Cohen, Kathleen, 1973, Metamorphosis of a death symbol

King, Pamela, 1987, Contexts of the cadaver tomb in fifteenth century England

Morgan, Alan, 2004, Beyond the Grave, Exploring Newcastle’s Burial Grounds

Ross, Peter, 2020, A Tomb With a View, The Stories and Glories of Graveyards

Rutherford, Sarah, 2008, The Victorian Cemetery

Snider, Tui, 2017, Understanding Cemetery Symbols

Victorian Web, Funerary monument to Thomas Sayers (1826-1865), Western Cemetery, Highgate, London N.6. (victorianweb.org)

Yorke, Trevor, 2017, Gravestones, Tombs & Memorials

Notes

1. Alan Morgan, Beyond the Grave, Exploring Newcastle’s Burial Grounds
2. Trevor Yorke, Understanding Gravestones, Tombs & Memorials
3. ibid
4. Pamela King, Contexts of the cadaver tomb in fifteenth century England
5. Kathleen Cohen, Metamorphosis of a death symbol
6. Trevor Yorke, Understanding Gravestones, Tombs & Memorials
7. Tui Snider, Understanding Cemetery Symbols
8. Peter Ross, A Tomb with a View, The Stories and Glories of Graveyards
9. The Order of the Good Death (death positive movement)
10. Trevor Yorke, Understanding Gravestones, Tombs & Memorials
11. Tui Snider, Understanding Cemetery Symbols
12. Sarah Rutherford, The Victorian Cemetery
13. Tui Snider, Understanding Cemetery Symbols
14. Trevor Yorke, Understanding Gravestones, Tombs & Memorials
15. Victorian Web, Funerary monument to Thomas Sayers

Which Mortality Remindin’ Shirt is for You? | The Order of the Good Death

Medieval Death: The Danse Macabre

Tags

black death, cemetery, charnel house, dance of death, Danse Macabre, death, Death Art, Holbein, Holy Innocents, John Lydgate, Medieval, memento mori, Paris, Religion, Rowlandson, St Paul's

Ms. 109 (2011.40), fol. 156 c 1493-1510. Getty collection.

In the late Middle Ages, life was tough and brief, and King Death presided over all.  Plague, social upheaval, famine, and the Hundred Years War had all taken their toll on the population and this was reflected in the dark art of the fifteenth century.

Ars Moriendi, or Art of Dying, texts set out how a Christian could have a Good Death; Memento Mori images, such as the three living and the three dead, reminded people of the transient nature of earthly pleasures – and the judgement to come;  Cadaver or Transi tombs begged the passer-by to pray for the departed and so to quicken their passage through purgatory.

Grim traditions for a grim time.  However, the late Middle Ages also saw the development of the gleefully morbid Danse Macabre or Dance of Death which could be found in Northern Europe and as far south as Italy. It is worth noting that the subject of the Danse is a vast one which encompasses performance, literature and the visual arts.  This post will focus mainly two of the more well known, but now lost, visual representation of the Danse at Holy Innocents Cemetery in Paris and Old St Paul’s in London.

Origins of the Macabre

Nuremberg_chronicle Dance of Death (CCLXIIIIv) Via Wikimedia

Macabre, a word that evokes not just morbid themes, but also hints at a certain fascination or even relish for the subject.  A word that fits the art of the post plague Medieval world like a decaying body fits a tattered shroud.

There is scholarly debate as to the origin of the word macabre. It has been argued to be Hebrew, Arabic or a derivation of the Biblical name Maccabeus (the slaughter of the Maccabees was a popular subject of Medieval Mystery plays) [1].  Whatever its true origin, it soon became indissolubly linked with a particular form of Medieval Memento Mori art, the Danse Macabre.

The first literary reference that partners it with the Danse Macabre appears in 1376 in Jean Le Fevre’s Le respit de la mort, written, appropriately, when Le Fevre was recovering from plague.  Here ‘Macabre‘ appears to be a character or a personification of death:

I did the dance of Macabre
who leads all men to his dance
and directs them to the grave,
which is their final abode.[2]

This poem exemplifies the Medieval literary penchant for didactic poetry.  Such poetry often took the form of a conversation between the body and the soul, and usually had a Christian, moral theme entreating the reader to eschew the vanities of life in favour of preparing the soul for the afterlife.  This genre sat comfortably alongside other Memento Mori traditions such as the Three Living and the Three Dead.  Its didactic form was also a perfect fit for the Danse Macabre theme – with the personification of Death summoning his unwilling victims to the grave.

The hours of Dionara of Urbino’), Italy, ca. 1480

Dancing in the graveyard

The Danse Macabre usually depicted a line of dancers, from different estates in society, partnered by cavorting skeletons.  Dancers are drawn from all levels of the social hierarchy – from Popes and emperors, princes of the church, kings, labourers and even children. Later depictions added women and newly emergent professional classes such as doctors and merchants – all clearly identifiable by stereotypical dress.

Often text or dialogue accompanies each pair of dancers, death calling each one and the dancer bemoaning their fate. Examples were found on charnel houses, cemetery walls and in churches. As a subgenre of the popular Medieval Estates Satire, the Danse Macabre hammered home, like nails into a coffin that, no matter your position in society, death was the great leveller [3][4].

Guy Marchants Danse Macabre from Holy Innocents Cemetery. c1491 -92.

The first known artistic representation Danse Macabre was to be found, appropriately enough, on the walls of the charnel house of Holy Innocents Cemetery, Paris. Holy Innocents cemetery was the oldest in Paris, dating from the end of the twelfth century and was situated next to the bustling marketplace of Les Halles. The cemetery would have been bustling with people, traders, scribes, sex workers. The Charnel house, a place where the bones of the dead, high and low, were all mixed together regardless of rank, would have been an ideal location for the mural.  The Images at Holy Innocents were also accompanied by Le Fevre’s text, forever linking the two in the popular imagination and creating what some have likened to a Medieval comic strip with images and speech ‘bubbles’ [5][6].

Locating the Danse Macabre in a cemetery fitted with folk belief as well, it has been noted that in popular culture, it was not uncommon for people to report seeing corpses dancing in graveyards [7]. Overall, the average Medieval person was concerned with the unquiet dead, sinners roaming about with unfinished business amongst the living – as many contemporary reports of revenants, attest.

Charnel House at Holy Innocents/Cimetière des Innocents, Paris. Via Wikimedia.

The mural was commissioned between August 1424 and Lent 1425, a period of truce in the One Hundred Years war.  The Treaty of Troyes gave Henry V, right to the throne of France, when he died in 1422, his son Henry VI, became king of France and England.  However, as Henry VI was only a baby, France was placed under the regency of John of Bedford, Henry VI’s uncle and a well-known patron of the arts.

The image is a macabre carnival – death mocks and pulls at his dance partners, the fat abbot is told he will be the first to rot, while death flirts with the handsome chevalier and gropes the physician.  There are 30 couples in all, from the highest to the lowest.  With an ‘authority’ figure to introduce the dance, and another authority figure and a dead king to deliver the moral of the dance [8].  As John Lydgate put it:

Come forth, sir Abbot, with your [broad] hat,
Beeth not abaissed (though thee have right).
Greet is your hede, youre bely large and fatte;
Ye mote come daunce though ye be nothing light.
[..]
Who that is fattest, I have hym behight,
In his grave shal sonnest putrefie. [9]

The subject matter of the mural may have been influenced by the contemporary political situation – the figures mainly depicted the ruling and martial classes, the king, constable and, of course, a corpse king.  It was also this political situation, a lull in the hostilities, that allowed English poet John Lydgate to visit Paris in 1426.

Lydgate was impressed with the image and accompanying text and was influenced to write his English translation of Le Fevre’s text with the addition of extra characters drawn from Mystery plays and masques of the time.  Lydgate also introduced some female characters to the text [10].

Danse Macabre from Talllinn by Bernt Notke c1500.

In 1430 a version of the Danse Macabre was painted at the Pardoner Churchyard, Old St Paul’s, London (commonly known as the ‘dauce of Poulys‘).  Both image and text were influenced by the Mural at Holy Innocents. This version depicted 36 dancers from different stations in life, summoned by death.  The St Paul’s images were augmented with dialogue between death and his victims, this time provided by John Lydgate’s translation ‘Out of the Frensshe’ [11].  Writing in 1603 in his Survey of London, John Stow described the St Paul’s Dance, thus:

“[..] About this Cloyster, was artificially and richly painted the dance of Machabray, or dance of death, commonely called the dance of Pauls: the like whereof was painted about S. Innocents cloyster at Paris in France: the meters or poesie of this dance were translated out of French into English by Iohn Lidgate, Monke of Bury, the picture of death leading all estates, at the dispence of Ienken Carpenter, in the raigne of Henry the sixt.”

Stow’s comments highlight how influential the Danse Macabre at Holy Innocents was on subsequent versions.

Another common feature of both Holy Innocents Danse Macabre and St Paul’s was that they were situated in busy areas bustling with life and frequented by the public, both became popular, and thought provoking, attractions.  Sadly, neither survive – Holy Innocents Cemetery was completely removed at the end of the eighteenth century and the mural at St Paul’s was destroyed in 1549.

Holy Innocents Cemetery by Guy Marchant c1491-92.

Many other examples of the Danse Macabre were created in the following decades, notable ones having existing at Basel (c1440), Lubeck (1463) and Tallinn, Estonia (1500).  Each was tailored to its own locale and reflected the patrons who commissioned it – where Holy Innocents focused on the martial classes, Lubeck featured more from the merchant classes.

Sadly, many examples are lost, surviving only in copies or as fragments of vast originals – such as the fragment at St Nicholas’ Church Tallinn by Bernt Notke (a copy of his earlier lost work at Lubeck).  Clearly, later ages did not share the Medieval fondness for macabre public art.

So, how did the Medieval viewer read such an audio-visual experience?

The Unwanted Dance Partner

Danse Macabre by Bernt Notke via Wikimedia.

The most obvious message that even an illiterate Medieval viewer could take away from the Danse Macabre, is that death is the great leveller.  No matter how high your estate, in the end death is coming for you.

The Danse was also personal, all of the estates of society could be found, so whether you were a king, a merchant or a labourer, or even a child, you could find your own representation in the danse; some of them even set the dance in a recognisably local landscape, for added impact.  The viewer could also, in a sense, participate in the dance, because many of the life size frescoes within churches, such as that at Tallinn, required the viewer to process along the fresco in order to see all of the original 48-50 figures[12].

The danse was also undeniably slapstick.  Viewers would have been familiar with figure of death or devils and their comedic antics in Mystery plays and even court masques so the viewer could laugh at the expense of their betters as they are dragged to the grave by a cavorting skeleton, whilst also being viscerally reminded of their own mortality.

A medieval burial, from a Book of Hours made in Besançon (detail), France, c. 1430–1440, Rare Books Collection, State Library Victoria.

But more than that, the Danse subverted the natural order of things.  The dead should be at rest, subject to the funeral mass, and quiet in their graves, not cavorting about.  It’s notable that many of these images were associated with graveyards – often sights of lively activity, commercial and personal, so much so that in Rouen in 1231 and Basel in 1435 edicts were passed prohibiting dancing in graveyards [13].  The Danse images were challenging the norm.  Dancing in Medieval thought was primarily associated with sin, paganism and seduction. Placing images of a sinful activity in a holy setting would seem to point to their purpose being penitential or confessional [14].

But, what of the text that sat alongside the images.  In a world where the majority of people were illiterate, how important was it?  While the images convey death as the great leveller, the dialogue between death and the living, prompts people to remember that earths glories are temporary, pride is the greatest sin of all, and that they should repent and prepare their souls for the afterlife.

However, while only a few would have been educated enough to read the text themselves, the message of atonement it conveyed would not have been lost on the illiterate.  The images would have been viewed in the context of lively sermons on the subject and oral tales reinforcing the message that death could strike at any time, so you should prepare your soul.  After the ravages of the Black Death this would have been particularly poignant [15].

The reformation and Death gets a reboot

The Abbess by Holbein 1523/5. Public domain.

In the sixteenth century, the religious and political landscape of Europe was drastically altered by the Protestant Reformation as well as technical innovations like the printing press. Nevertheless, it was during this period that the Dance of Death had its most famous reboot.  In 1523-25, Hans Holbein produce his famous version of the Dance of Death, however, rather than a public fresco in a church, his work was a series of woodcuts often reproduced in codex/book form.  This broke up the dance into a series of pages and also provided a more private and personal experience for the viewer. And, also, from a modern perspective, reinforces the link between the format of the Dance and modern graphic novel or comic strip art forms. Holbein’s Dance of Death also repurposed the genre as a tool of social satire and religious reform, rather than as a moral or religious lesson [16]. 

Dancing down the ages

The heyday of the Danse Macabre as religious symbolism was the Late Middle Ages, however, the striking visual image of death harrying the living has remained a popular subject for artists throughout the ages, although its message may have changed.

In the nineteenth century, Thomas Rowlandson collaborated with poet William Combe to produce the satirical series The English Dance of Death in 1815.  In the twentieth century, Ingmar Bergman’s Iconic film the Seventh Seal (1957) used Dance imagery, and in the twenty-first century, English Heavy Metal Band Iron Maiden’s 2015 album was named for the Dance of Death.

The English Dance of Death, Thomas Rowlandson 1815. Image from Haunted Palace Collection.And if you thought that the Dance of Death was now just the preserve of historians and heavy metal fans, one school of thought has it that the modern predilection for dressing up in scary costumes at Halloween can be linked back to that most macabre of medieval traditions [17].

Sources and notes

Binski, Paul, Medieval Death, Cornell University Press, 1996 [3] [13] [14] [16]

Cook, Megan, L, and Strakhov, Elizaveta, Ed. John Lydgate’s Dance of Death and Related works, Medieval Institute Publications, 2019 [1] [2] [4] [5] [7] [9] [10] [11]

Dodedans – St Paul’s dance, [8] http://www.dodedans.com/Epaul.htm#:~:text=The%20most%20famous%20dance%20of%20death%20in%20England,%28And%20fro%20Paris%20%2F%20to%20Inglond%20hit%20sent%29.

Ebenstein, Joanna, Ed. Death: A Graveside Companion, Thames & Hudson, 2017. [6]

Gertsman, Elina, The Dance of Death in Reval (Tallinn): The Preacher and His Audience, in Gesta Vol. 42, No. 2 (2003), pp. 143-159 (17 pages) Published by: The University of Chicago Press on behalf of the International Center of Medieval Art [12] [15 [17]

Platt, Colin, King Death: The Black Death in England and its aftermath in late-medieval England,  UCL Press.

The Legends of Agnes Hotot and Skulking Dudley

Tags

Agnes Hotot, Clapton, Clopton, duels and duelling, female fighters, female knights, female warriors, jousting, Medieval, Northamptonshire, Skulking Dudley, Women who fight

The Etiquette of Duelling

The Code of Honor. Godefroy Durand, Harpur’s Weekly, January 1875.

• No duels were to be fought on Sunday, on a day of a Festival, or near a place of public worship.
• A Principal was not to “wear light coloured clothing, ruffles, military decorations, or any other … attractive object, upon which the eye of his antagonist [could] … rest,” as it could affect the outcome of the duel.
• The time and place were to be as convenient as possible to surgical assistance and to the combatants.
• The parties were to salute each other upon meeting “offering this evidence of civilization.”
• No gentleman was allowed to wear spectacles unless they used them on public streets.
• There was to be at least 10 yards distance between the combatants.
• The Seconds were to present pistols to Principals and the pistols were not to be cocked before delivery.
• After each discharge the Seconds were to “mutually and zealously attempt a reconciliation.”
• No more than three exchanges of fire were allowed, as to exchange more shots was considered barbaric.

The above duelling rules were taken from the Royal Code of Honour which aimed to lay down a code of etiquette governing how duellists behaved[1]. During the height of duelling popularity a number of codes were written in Britain and in Europe, sometimes with conflicting rules and covering a range of topics including how to accept a challenge, how to behave after the duel and even how to die!

Codex Manesse. Early 14th Century. Public domain.

Despite slight differences expressed in the competing codes one area which they wholeheartedly agreed on was that honour of both the challenger and the defender must be maintained at all costs. This idea of personal honour goes to the heart of duelling and in turn acts as a mirror to the society in which duelling as a practice flourished. It also provides a thread connecting it to its distant medieval ancestors, trial by combat and the spectacle of the joust.

Duels were generally considered the preserve of men, in particular those from the aristocratic classes. To refuse a duel was viewed as a stain on a gentleman’s reputation. The most common reason to duel was over a perceived insult to a woman’s virtue but records show that on occasion women did take the initiative. In 1777 Paris, Mademoiselle Leverrier shot her former lover, Duprez in the face after he had left her for another woman. In fairness she had given him the chance to defend himself but chivalrously he had shot into the air, she had no such qualms[2].

The Honour of the Hotots

Another famous duel involving a woman reaches back in time to a period of history when jousts were not only a popular form of entertainment but also a pretty useful way of settling scores.

Medieval Jousting tournament. Public domain [?]

In 1390 a duel took place in Northamptonshire, on the line was family honour. The story believed to have been documented by a monk living in Clapton during the reign of Henry VII, tells of Sir John Hotot, a wealthy landowner who was in dispute with a man called Ringsdale over the title to a piece of land. Eventually the situation escalated to the point where the only way to resolve their quarrel was through a contest of skill and strength. Unfortunately when the appointed day came, Sir John was taken ill, suffering from gout and so his daughter and heiress Agnes “rather than he should lose the land, or suffer in his honor”[3] decided to take her father’s place.

Dressed in armour “cap-a-pie” style[4], armed with a lance and astride her father’s steed, she set out to meet Ringsdale. She was said to have fought bravely and hard and finally managed to dismount her opponent. Once on the ground she removed her helmet and with her hair cascading down her shoulders revealed herself to a stunned Ringsdale. Another variation is that she also removed her breastplate in order to remove any doubts that the victor was in fact a woman. This action despite adding a dramatic flourish to the story is extremely unlikely, nothing to do with modesty but simply due to the difficulty of removing a breastplate from armour!

Miniature issue du manuscrit Les vies des femmes célèbres d’Antoine Dufour, 1504, Nantes, musée Dobrée.

The Crest of the Dudleys of Clapton

Having saved the reputation of her family, Agnes later married into the wealthy Dudleys’ of Clapton or Clopton, Northamptonshire. In honour of Agnes’ courage, her in-laws designed a new crest, depicting the bust of a woman with dishevelled hair, a bare bosom and a helmet on her head with “the stays or throat latch down”[5]. The crest was rumoured to have survived for as long as the male line of the Dudley family held the lands of Clapton. In 1764, Sir William Dudley, the last male descendant of the Clapton Dudleys died.

Agnes and Skulking Dudley

This intriguing tale of honour and daring has over time become conflated with the darker legend of ‘Skulking Dudley’. In this version, Agnes is the daughter of Dudley, the bullying lord of Clapton Manor. Her father having insulted a number of his fellow landowners in the area was finally challenged to a duel by Richard Hazelbere of Barnwell. By nature a coward Dudley feigned illness, took to his bed in order to avoid having to fight and persuaded or forced his daughter to go instead. According to this account, Agnes despite fighting valiantly, loses. Just before striking the fatal blow, Hazelbere discovers her identity and allows her to live. Impressed by her courage and virtue, they marry shortly afterwards. Dudley finally gets his just deserts when he is decapitated by Hazelbere.

Bodleian Library. 14th Century Manuscript.

The Legend of Skulking Dudley

The actual legend surrounding ‘Skulking Dudley’ is much more unpleasant and has absolutely nothing to do with Agnes.

The most popular version is that Dudley, a member of the influential Dudleys of Clapton was known to be a violent and vicious character, bullying his servants and tenants. In 1349 he was believed to have committed a gruesome murder. Who he was supposed to have murdered is unclear but one account claims that it was in fact, Richard Hazelbere. Dudley was reported to have shown no remorse and instead revelled in the deed[6]. The tables turned when Dudley was killed by a scythe to the head when a harvester he was whipping fought back in self-defence[7].

 

Source unknown. Public domain [?]

For some reason at the beginning of the last century after an absence of nearly 600 years his ghost minus a head suddenly reappeared to torment the villagers (maybe for imagined slights inflicted on him by their ancestors). Locals reported having seen him make his way from the site of Clapton Manor, past the old graveyard, along Lilford Road to a small coppice (later named after him). His spirit was named ‘skulking’ from its habit of dodging in and out of hedgerows[8]. His soul was finally laid to rest by the efforts of Bishop of Peterborough aided by twenty-one clergymen. Skulking Dudley has not been seen since. A popular local tradition has it that Dudley was hunch-backed[9], a physical deformity which was in the past often viewed as the outward symptom of a corrupt and vicious nature – just think of the much maligned Richard III.

One other interesting variation of the Skulking Dudley legend manages to bring it back to the concept of a duel. In this description, Dudley killed his own cousin in a duel over the ownership of Clapton Manor House. Despite not being injured in any way, Dudley suddenly aged and withered, dying soon after[10].

Women who joust

Source unknown. Public domain [?]

How probable is the story of Agnes Hotot? In 1348 a British chronicler records how at tournaments beautiful ladies from wealthy families and of noble lineage would regularly take part in jousting competitions. At one event he recounts that as many as forty female contestants were seen participating. From his writing, it becomes clear that he holds these women in low esteem as he describes how dressed in divided tunics with hoods, wearing knives and daggers they fought on splendidly dressed horses and “in such a manner they spent and wasted their riches and injured their bodies with abuses with ludicrous wantoness”[11]. Whether or not the chronicler’s disparaging remarks reflect how the medieval world in general really felt about female jousters is unclear but accounts of women fighting in tournaments do continue to appear in later centuries. So the evidence indicates that the legend of Agnes Hotot could very well be rooted in a real event, as to the legend of Skulking Dudley that could be stretching possibility a little too far!

Bibliography

Pistol Dueling, Its Etiquette and Rules, Geri Walton, https://www.geriwalton.com/pistol-dueling-its-etiquette-and-rules/, 2014

Duel: A true story of death and honour, James Landale, 2005

Haunting History of Clopton, https://www.facebook.com/historyhaunted/videos/1824694297556642

Agnes Hotot, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agnes_Hotot

The Encyclopaedia of Amazons, women warriors from Antiquity to the Modern Age, Jessica Salmonson, 1991

Dudley, Sir Matthew, https://www.historyofparliamentonline.org/volume/1690-1715/member/dudley-sir-matthew-1661-1721

Dudley baronets, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dudley_baronets

Skulking in the Woods, https://www.northamptonchron.co.uk/news/opinion/skulking-in-the-woods-1-4402161

Haunted England: The penguin book of ghosts, Jennifer Westwood and Jacqueline Simpson, 2010

A genealogical and heraldic history of the extinct and dormant baronetcies of England,  John Burke, 1838

Notes

[1] Pistol Dueling, Its Etiquette and Rules, https://www.geriwalton.com/pistol-dueling-its-etiquette-and-rules/

[2] Duel: A true story of death and honour, James Landale, 2005

[3] Agnes Hotot, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agnes_Hotot

[4] Duel: A true story of death and honour, James Landale, 2005

[5] Ibid

[6] Skulking in the Woods, https://www.northamptonchron.co.uk/news/opinion/skulking-in-the-woods-1-4402161

[7] Ghostly Tales of the Unexpected, https://www.northantstelegraph.co.uk/news/ghostly-tales-of-the-unexpected-1-718777

[8] Haunting History of Clopton, https://www.facebook.com/historyhaunted/videos/1824694297556642

[9] ibid

[10] Ghostly Tales of the Unexpected, https://www.northantstelegraph.co.uk/news/ghostly-tales-of-the-unexpected-1-718777

[11] The Encyclopaedia of Amazons, women warriors from Antiquity to the Modern Age, Jessica Salmonson, 1991

Fire and Brimstone: The Animal Kingdom on Trial

Tags

Animal Trials, Animals on trial, crimes, criminals, do animals have souls, excommunication, france, leeches, mice, Murder, Perrinot Muet, punishment, sow on trial, St Bernard of Clairveaux

‘The Law is an Ass’[1]

Image by Lenora.

One of the strangest practices that developed in the early medieval period was that of animal trials.

Animals were only brought before the law and punished if they affected people or society; animals killing other animals for food was seen as a part of the natural order of things – pretty sensible or there would have been no animals left.

For some reason the majority of cases seem to have taken place in France, maybe animals and insects held an unusually strong grudge against the French. Whatever the reason the industry surrounding animal courts and lawyers specialising in bestial crimes flourished there. Eventually it was decided that it was unfair that animals were being sentenced without the chance to prove their innocence. Obviously the animals and insects were unable to arrange their own defence and so under Francis I (1494-1547) it became illegal for an animal to be tried without a defence lawyer present to act as an intermediary between the animals and the injured human parties[2]. This practice was to some extent adopted in other mainland European countries.

There seems to have been two main types of charges; that of a single animal or small group of animals attacking an individual person and that of large numbers of a species causing harm to a community or society.

The punishment meted out depended on the crime. If an animal or insect could be identified as the culprit they could face a death sentence i.e. death by hanging, burning at the stake or decapitation.

The Death Sentence

Although dressing animals up in human clothes, appointing them a lawyer and conducting a trial is no longer employed, putting down animals which have injured or killed humans is still in use. Whereas today it seems to be dogs that are often in the news for attacking people, in the past it was pigs who dominated the animal trials.

A famous case occurred in Falaise in France where a sow was accused of killing a child and then devouring it. The sow was tried and found guilty of murder and condemned to be killed by the sword. Since the child’s head had been eaten as well as an arm, the sow’s foot was cut off and its face mutilated before it was dressed in men’s clothing and led away to face the executioner[3].

Trial of a sow from The book of days: a miscellany of popular antiquities, Public Domain.

Another occasion also in France, three sows were accused of killing the swineherd, Perrinot Muet. The sows were duly convicted but as if the case wasn’t strange enough two entire herds of swine were accused of being accessories to murder since they had heard Perrinot’s screams, ‘rushed’ to the scene of the crime and ‘witnessed’ his death. After appealing to the Duke of Burgundy, Prior Humbert de Poutier managed to get the death sentence dismissed against the herds[4]. This weird judgement was based on medieval law codes that stated that any living creature in the vicinity of certain serious crimes e.g. murder, rape and sexual assault could be seen as an accomplice and decapitated[5]. What did people expect the animals to do; fight the perpetrators, go for help or raise an alarm? It seems in these situations only Skippy, Flipper and Lassie would have survived.

Banishment

Sentences of banishment or exile were also used where the crime was not considered as severe or where the prosecutors felt sympathy for the perpetrators.

In Russia a he-goat was exiled to Siberia after butting an important official whilst he was tying his shoe[6] and in 1519 a community in Western Tyrol brought to trial some mice which were causing grave damage to the harvest. The defence lawyer argued that the mice served the community by eating insects and enriching the soil. Despite losing the mice were treated with leniency and kindness. Although they were ordered to leave immediately a fourteen day reprieve was granted to any pregnant mice that were unable to travel or any young that could not make the journey unaided[7].

Sometimes the situation was beyond the power of the law courts to deal with and the church was called in to intervene on behalf of the complainants. The church wielded two unique weapons; these were the power of excommunication and anathema.

Excommunication and Anathema

An excommunication in full swing. Public domain.

Excommunication involves ejection from the church and exclusion from its services and communion[8]. Anathema was a more severe form of excommunication and was often used to cast out the devil or his agents. Anathema involved using curses and denouncements to ban a person or thing from the light of the church and was implemented in religious solemnity by ecclesiastical authority[9].

The problem with excommunication was that how can you eject something from an institution that it is not a part of in the first place? The other difficulty is that it suggested that animals and insects have souls, something the Catholic Church at that time denied. That is why anathema was often seen as a more powerful and appropriate punishment.

How the excommunication or anathema was implemented could vary. Sometimes it was on the spur of the moment and at other times a representative was appointed to argue on behalf of the accused.

The Power of a Saint

In general the success rate of these judgements against insects, mammals and birds is unknown but in one case the records definitely confirm a win.

St Bernhard of Clairveaux Jorg Breu the elder. 1500. Public domain.

In 1121 St Bernard Clairvaux, initiator of the Cistercian Order and fervent proponent of the 2^nd Crusade was preaching at the monastery of Foigny which he had founded when a swarm of irreligious flies entered without permission. These flies showed no respect for the solemnity of the occasion and proceeded to irritate St Bernard and distract his parishioners. The infuriated saint reaching the end of his tether suddenly addressed the flies and announced in a prophetic voice “I excommunicate you”. The next morning all the flies were found dead on the floor and had to be swept out[10].

It does seem that even though excommunication could be performed by any clergyman, effectiveness was more likely when performed by someone high up on the religious ladder.

The curse of the caterpillars

Caterpillars for some reason in particular seemed to have raised the ire of our medieval ancestors.

Image by Bob King — kingICK2c2.

One of the earliest recorded excommunications took place in 1120 and was carried out by the Bishop of Laon when he issued a letter biding the annoying caterpillars to vacate the area. The caterpillars were apparently working in cohorts with some field mice as they were also named. It is really interesting that the formulae used by the bishop to deliver the proclamation was the same as that employed the previous year by the Council of Rheims which cursed priests who continued to marry ‘in spite of the canons’[11]. So in France it seems that rebellious priests and mutinous caterpillars warranted the same treatment!

Further decrees of excommunication against caterpillars were issued in 1480 by the spiritual court of Autun responding to complaints from the inhabitants of Mussy and Pernan, in 1543 in Grenoble, in 1585 by the Grand Vicar of Valencia who ordered the caterpillars to vacate his diocese and on the 9 July 1516 when Jean Milon, an officer of Troye passed this damning sentence,

after having heard the parties and granting the request of the inhabitants of Villenove, we admonish the caterpillars to retire within six days; and in case they do not comply, we pronounce them accursed and excommunicated [12]

In general it is not known how the caterpillars felt about these denouncements but in the case of the caterpillars of Valence in 1587 they stuck their suckers in and refused to budge[13]. It seems that the loss of the comfort of the church was less important than the pleasure of some tasty greens.

The Leeches of Geneva

In 1451 a pile of leeches were brought to court on the order of William of Saluces, the Bishop of Lausanne, to listen to the accusations against them. How this worked I have no idea as they don’t have ears but anyway it was against the rules to issue any legal edict without representatives from those accused being present. The leeches had been threatening the destruction of fish, in particular salmon stocks in Lake Geneva. The edict confined them to one specified part of the lake. It seems that the leeches on this occasion were not excommunicated as they obeyed and caused no further trouble[14].

Noah’s Ark Stowaways

Sometimes the ingenuity of the arguments given by the lawyers prosecuting and defending insects and animals smacked of brilliance and their arguments had a weird logic to them.

An Inger…? Image by Chickenstein.

In 1478 the community of Berne in Switzerland asked for judicial help against a plague of insects called ingers which were destroying their crops. A proclamation made from the pulpit gave the ingers six days to leave and if they failed to do so they had to appear at one o’clock at Wifflisburg to face trial before His Grace the Bishop of Lausanne or his deputy. When the ingers did not appear they were appointed Thruing Fricker as their defence lawyer. The clever prosecutor dismissed Fricker’s statement that as one of god’s creatures they were allowed the right to live. He instead argued the opposite pointing out that ingers had survived the flood as stowaways aboard the Ark as they were not listed amongst the creatures invited by Noah. The prosecutor won and it was decreed that the ingers should be banned, exorcised and accursed and that wherever they go their numbers should decrease[15]. Maybe it worked, as I have never heard of ingers! If anyone has please let me know.

The Weevils’ Revenge

Probably the most drawn out animal court case concerns the weevils of Saint-Julien. In 1545 a lawsuit was taken out against weevils who were destroying a local vineyard. A preliminary judicial judgement was successful and the weevils left. Unfortunately forty-two years later they returned. This was seen as the weevils breaking the agreement. I think that this is very unfair considering weevils have a life span of at the most two months, which means at least 252 generations had passed between the original and 1587 miscreants. Even if weevils have an oral tradition it would have been unlikely this 252^nd generation of weevils would have been aware of the original judgement. Nevertheless the new trial went ahead. It was finally decided that the accused should be given another piece of land where they could live in happiness and comfort although the opposing lawyers could not agree where that should be since the prosecutors’ choice was deemed as unsuitable. It is unclear what the final decision was as possibly in revenge of theirs and their ancestors’ blackened reputation either the weevils or some of their friends ate the pages outlining the trial summary and the court proceedings[16].

The Rat Attorney

Image by Lenora.

One of the most successful animal lawyers was Barthélemy de Chasseneuz, a French jurist and theologian who studied law in France and Italy. He worked in the service of the duchy of Milan and Pope Julius II but moved back to France after a plague outbreak where he became famous for defending a group of rats who were destroying a barley crop in the vicinity of Autun. The citizens of Autun finally applied to the Episcopal Court to get the rats excommunicated as all other means of removal had failed. The court appointed Chasseneuz to represent the rats. Chasseneuz studied the evidence and put forward an interesting argument for adjoining the trial i.e. that the rats had not been properly summoned to the hearing as not all the priests in the infected areas had issued formal citations. This approach did not result in a dismissal of the case so he then tried to delay the trial by arguing that not enough time had been allowed for the rats to present at court considering the physical peril they faced in having to negotiate the church cats[17]. I could not find a record of the sentence but this group of rats probably lost and were excommunicated.

The Deviancy of Birds

Birds did not escape the wrath of the church. Most often they were excommunicated for damaging harvest crops or livestock as in Canada at the end of the 17^th century when a number of birds of prey were excommunicated, but occasionally there were other concerns.

In 1559 the Saxon vicar, Daniel Greyber, excommunicated a flock of birds which were residing in his church. Greyber was angry at them disrupting his services and even more concerned at their sexual shenanigans or “scandalous acts of unchastity”[18]. Possibly the vicar was worried about the birds setting a bad example!

Cockchafers and their Deceased Defender

Sometimes the law was ignored and insects not given their proper legal aid. For instance in 1479 in the Lausanne area some cockchafers (whatever they are) were invited to appear at the bishops’ court to face charges. Perrodet was appointed to represent them but neither Perrodet or the cockchafers showed up. Both had good excuses, the cockchafers were insects – enough said and Perrodet had been dead for six months. In their absence a judgement was given in the name of the Holy Trinity and Blessed Virgin and the insects ordered to quit the area forever[19].

Parson Hawker

One of the last known animal excommunications took place in England by the 19^th century vicar, Robert Stephen Hawker of Morwenstow who excommunicated his cat for mousing on Sundays.

Image by Lenora.

The difference between this and most of the earlier examples is that Hawker was a minister of the Church of England and not a Catholic priest. Putting that aside his parishioners saw the excommunication as an extension of Hawker’s eccentric behaviour rather than religious adherence, for instance he was known to dress on occasion as a mermaid[20].

“Four legs good, two legs bad”[21]

The list of animals that faced a legal trial is a long one and includes aside from those already mentioned snails, slugs, locusts, moles, eels, grasshoppers and dolphins. Nearly 144 excommunications and executions of animals and insects took place between 824 and 1845[22] but in reality by the 1700s animal trials had begun to fall out of favour.

Although we can laugh at it now at the time animal trials were taken completely seriously as in the medieval mind the devil was working through these creatures and so they needed to be dealt with severely.

As to the views of the members of the animal kingdom that were executed, exiled and condemned, we are in the dark but if Christianity is wrong and Hinduism right about reincarnation then we know who has had the last laugh!

Miss Piggy on trial. Image by Michell O’Connell from Spiked 9 Sept 2015

Bibliography

Popular Science, Dec 1882, https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=JSsDAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA248&lpg=PA248&d#v=onepage&q&f=false

Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 38, Number 5867, 15 January 1870, https://cdnc.ucr.edu/cgi-bin/cdnc?a=d&d=SDU18700115.2.10&e=——-en–20–1–txt-txIN——–1

Medieval Religion and its Anxieties: History and Mystery in the Other Middle Ages, Thomas A Fudge, 2016

Scapegoat: A History of Blaming Other People, Charlie Campbell, 2011

Encyclopædia metropolitana; or, Universal dictionary of knowledge, Volume 18, (ed) Edward Smedley, 1845, https://books.google.co.uk/books

Barthélemy de Chasseneuz, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barth%C3%A9lemy_de_Chasseneuz

Popular Science Feb 1876, Feb 1876, https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=CSIDAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA504&lpg=PA504&dq=the+bishop+of+laon+excommunicate+caterpillars&source=bl&ots=r8dx_n0saM&sig=Wq3xCjO7hpFd9NWYNoGsPww6zvw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj6lfGjyPfdAhXLKMAKHaD-ChgQ6AEwA3oECAUQAQ#v=onepage&q=bishop%20of%20laon%20excommunicate%20caterpillars&f=false

The criminal prosecution and capital punishment of animals, Edward Payson Evans, 1906

Bugs and Beasts Before the Law, Nicholas Humphrey, Chapter 18 in The Mind made Flesh, OUP 2002, http://www.humphrey.org.uk/papers/2002BugsAndBeasts.pdf

Fantastically Wrong: Europe’s Insane History of Putting Animals on Trial and Executing Them, Matt Simon, https://www.wired.com/2014/09/fantastically-wrong-europes-insane-history-putting-animals-trial-executing/

Bernard of Clairvaux, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernard_of_Clairvaux

Beasts before the Bar, Frank A Beach, http://www.naturalhistorymag.com/picks-from-the-past/041873/beasts-before-the-bar?page=2

Robert Stephen Hawker, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Stephen_Hawker

Legal Prosecutions of Animals, William Jones, https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Popular_Science_Monthly/Volume_17/September_1880/Legal_Prosecutions_of_Animals

Anathema, https://orthodoxwiki.org/Anathema

Excommunication, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excommunication

Animal Farm, George Orwell

Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens

Notes

[1] Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens

[2] Popular Science, Dec 1882

[3] ibid

[4] Medieval Religion and its Anxieties: History and Mystery in the Other Middle Ages

[5] ibid

[6] Beasts before the Bar

[7] ibid

[8] Excommunication

[9] Anathema

[10] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 38

[11] ibid

[12] The Popular Science, December 1882

[13] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 38

[14] ibid

[15] Bugs and Beasts

[16] Medieval Religion and its Anxieties: History and Mystery in the Other Middle Ages

[17] Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 38

[18] Medieval Religion and its Anxieties: History and Mystery in the Other Middle Ages

[19] Legal Prosecutions of Animals

[20] Robert Stephen Hawker

[21] Animal Farm, George Orwell

[22] Scapegoat: A History of Blaming Other People