Thomas Skelton: the murderous jester of Muncaster Castle

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competition, Court Jester, Cumbria, evil clowns, Fool, Foolery, Ghosts, Hauntings, Jesters, King lear, Muncaster Castle, Murder, murderous jester, Pennington, seventeenth century, Thomas, Tom Fool, Tom Fools will, Tom Skelton

Evil Clowns

Coulrophobia – the fear of clowns.  From fictional phantoms such as Stephen King’s Pennywise to serial killer John Wayne Gacy’s alter-ego Pogo the Clown, and even the current trend for ‘killer clowns’ sweeping the US and UK,  clowns have developed a somewhat sinister reputation of late.  Their painted faces and over-sized clothes intended to convey innocent humour can, to some people, appear both uncanny and disturbing.   But evil killer clowns are not an entirely modern phenomenon – if the stories about Thomas Skelton, the last jester of Muncaster Castle – are to be believed.  Thomas Skelton is thought by some to be the original Tom Fool from Shakespeare’s King Lear, but his  ‘Last Will and Testament’  may hint at a much darker side to this comedian.

My personal favourite: Twisty the Clown, from American Horror Story: Freak Show.

Who was Thomas Skelton?

Thomas Skelton is famous for being the last jester of Muncaster Castle, a stately pile near the village of Ravenglass, Cumbria, in the north-west of England.  We know this because he is the named subject of a famous full length portrait that hangs in the castle.  The picture depicts a ruddy-faced middle-aged man, dressed in jester’s motley, holding a staff of office in one hand, and a document written in doggerel, attested to be his will, hangs beside him.

Thomas Skelton last jester of Muncaster Castle. Image via BBC website.

That a portrait was painted of a family retainer must indicate that he was a beloved family servant.  His attire is masterfully comic – his patchwork robe, staff of office and scroll and mock privy seal all act to parody the pompous badges of office of high officialdom, and rather than listing his titles and achievements the scroll offers up what purports to be Tom Fools last will and testament. He even mocks the noble gallant, with the name of his lady pinned into his hatband, aping the fashions of the day, whilst wearing his jesters motley.

Interestingly, the portrait at Muncaster Castle isn’t the only portrait of Tom Skelton. EW Ives in his article for the Shakespeare Survey [1] focuses his research on a second portrait, purchased by the Shakespeare Society in 1957 from the Haigh Hall Collection of the Earls of Crawford and Balcarres. It is by examining this portrait and the text of the will, that EW Ives has attempted to pin-point exactly when and where Tom Fool lived.

Dating Tom Fool

Thomas Skelton’s Will

Ives uses references to well-known local individuals named in the will, cross checked with burial records from Wigan, to build a picture of the movements and the dates for Tom Skelton.  He proposes that although Tom Skelton was originally the jester at Muncaster Castle, upon the death of Lord Pennington, Tom accompanied the young heir when he was sent to live with his relatives, the Bradshaugh’s, at Haigh Hall in Wigan.  At Haigh Hall, sometime between 1659 – 1665, a portrait of Tom was painted. Sir Roger Bradshaw’s wife was a Pennington, and may have known Tom Fool as a child. Ives suggests that when the heir reached his majority and wished to return to Muncaster, he wanted to take the portrait of the much-loved jester with him.  As Tom Fool had been a well-loved family servant, at both Muncaster castle and Haigh Hall, a copy of the portrait was commissioned to remain at Haigh Hall (possibly completed in the 1680’s) while the original returned with the heir to Muncaster. Ives states that there is no evidence that Skelton returned to Muncaster after 1659, while the young heir was away, so it would seem likely Tom died at Haigh Hall [2].

The current incumbent of Muncaster Castle, Peter Frost-Pennington, confirms that evidence for Thomas Skelton’s life in the historical record is hard to find.  He was, after all, just a servant, even if he was one esteemed enough to have his likeness captured in oils.  Frost-Pennington keeps his margins wide quoting ‘1600 give or take 50 years’ [3],  a possible references to him comes from a letter dating to the reign of Henry VIII, while another could put him as far back as the late fifteenth century.  However if the research by EW Ives is correct, then unfortunately Tom Skelton could not be the model for Shakespeare’s Tom Fool in King Lear which dates from about 1605/6.

“King Lear and the Fool in the Storm” by William Dyce (1806–1864) (c) National Galleries of Scotland; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

A Killer Sense of Humour

There were two mains types of fool or jester,  the natural fool – one with a physical or intellectual disability; and the artificial fool – an entertainer or comedian. Fools and jesters were often part of a royal court or noble family and by virtue of their position could often speak harsh truths to their ‘betters’ in the guise of drollery.  Shakespeare often uses the fool as the voice of common sense and wisdom, in Twelfth Night the jester is remarked to be ‘wise enough to play the fool’ [4] It is not clear from the scant historical record, or the portrait, which kind of fool Tom Skelton was, but whether natural or artificial, some of his favourite antics have come down to us.

Mr Claypole from Children’s TV Series Rent-a-ghost.

Like many fools and jesters, Tom was a valued and trusted servant of the Pennington family, entertaining them with a mixture of practical jokes and wit.  He is famed for such clownish antics as cutting off a branch while he sat upon it; greasing up banisters on the staircase to annoy guests, then when asked who was responsible, quipped that he thought ‘everyone had a hand in it’.  

However things take a more sinister turn in the anecdotes relating to Tom Skelton reported in ‘The Remains of John Briggs a compilation of tales and essays’ published in the Westmorland Gazette and Lonsdale Magazine in 1825.

Briggs relates what purports to be oral tradition surrounding a murder committed by Thomas Skelton at the behest of one Sir Ferdinand Hoddleston, of Millum Castle. It all began when Helwise, the lovely daughter of Sir Alan Pennington of Muncaster Castle, had disguised herself as a shepherdess and attended the May Day festivities in order to meet her secret lover, Richard the Carpenter.  Wild Will of Whitbeck, a local ruffian, had fancied his chances but was rejected by Helwise.  To to get his revenge on the lovers he spilled the beans to Sir Ferdinand (yet another wannabe suitor for Helwise).

May Day by William Collins, Wikimedia.

Angered at losing out to a humble carpenter, Sir Ferdinand went to Muncaster Castle bent on informing Sir Alan Pennington of his daughter’s low connection.  However as chance would have it, first he met with Tom Fool, aka Thomas Skelton, and had the following conversation in which Tom recounted a nasty trick he played on ‘Lord Lucy’s Footman’.  This seems to have given Sir Ferdinand an idea of Tom’s homicidal potential…

“‘he asked me’ said Tom, ‘if the river was passable; and I told him it was for nine of our family had just gone over. – They were geese’ whispered Tom; ‘but I did not tell him that.-the fool set into the river, and would have drowned, I believe, if I had not helped him out'”. 

Briggs goes on to recount that Tom also had a personal grudge against Dick the Carpenter –

“‘[..]I put those three shillings which you gave me into a hole, and I found them weezend everytime I went to look at them; and now they are only three silver pennies.  I have just found it out that Dick has weezend them.’
‘Kill him Tom, with his own axe, when he is asleep sometime – and I’ll see that thou takest no harm for it.’ Replied Sir Ferdinand.
‘He deserves it, and I’ll do it,’ said Tom.
[..]
And the next day while the unsuspecting carpenter was taking an after dinner nap, and dreaming probably of the incomparable beauties of his adorable Helwise, Tom entered the shed, and with one blow of the axe severed the carpenters head from his body. ‘There,’ said Tom to the servants,’I have hid Dick’s head under a heap of shavings; and he will not find that so easily, when he awakes, as he did my shillings.'”

Detail of the beheading of Holofernes, by Caravaggio.

The conclusion of this unhappy tale was that heartbroken Helwise entered a nunnery, while the vengeful Sir Ferdinand met a bloody death fighting the Earl of Richmond (Henry Tudor) at Bosworth Field [5].  Which frankly, seems to place this tale much to early to be attributed to the seventeenth century Tom Skelton.

Other tales claim that Tom Fool would sit under a chestnut tree outside Muncaster Castle, watching travelers go past.  Should any traveler ask him for directions, they were at risk of being misdirected to dangerous quicksands near the River Esk [6]. May people consider that his will makes oblique reference to this murderous pass-time.

‘But let me not be carry’d o’er the brigg,
Lest fallin I in Duggas River ligg;’ [9]

Some tales even have Tom recovering the bodies, decapitating them and burying them under tree trunks.

Death from the Medieval Scapini Tarot. Image from SheWalksSoftly website.

All of this would seem to paint a picture of an evil and conscienceless individual.  But is there more to this than meets the eye?  The north-west of England was for hundreds of years,a remote and dangerous place.  Blood feuds, rough justice and robbery with violence were part and parcel of everyday life.  Could these local folk tales and stories have elided themselves onto half remembered anecdotes of the jolly japes and crude practical jokes of Thomas Skelton?  In the Middle Ages there was a tradition in the Tarot of showing death in the garb of the Fool, death having the last laugh (of course) and some traditions also associate the Fool with the trickster and with vice [7&8].  Could these earlier darker traditions, coupled with bloody local legends have become associated with the portrait of Tom Skelton.  Once the immediate family who knew him died out, the portrait, with its slightly menacing air could easily have attracted macabre tales in a similar way that some Screaming Skull legends may have developed.

The punchline…

Tom Skelton was the last jester of Muncaster Castle, and probably of Haigh Hall as well.  Jesters fell out of fashion with the restoration of Charles II to the throne (and I can’t imagine the puritans would have had much use for Jesters either!)  During his lifetime Skelton appears to have been a much valued family retainer, so much so that not one but two portraits were commissioned of him.  Even now, his legend as an entertainer has been revived, and Muncaster Castle hosts an annual Jester Competition in honour of Tom Skelton.

But was Tom Skelton the original Tom Fool from Shakespeare’s King Lear? Well probably not, the dating evidence seems to be against it. And more pressingly, was Skelton an evil killer clown?  His troubled spirit is said to haunt Muncaster Castle to this day – his heavy tread and the sound of a body (the unfortunate carpenter?) being dragged up the stairs have been reported by several witnesses…is he doomed to walk the earth for eternity re-living his heinous crimes? On that, I will leave you to make up your own mind.

If you want to view the portrait of Thomas Skelton you can visit Muncaster Castle, they even offer paranormal ghost tours so you might even get to meet him….

http://www.muncaster.co.uk/castle-and-gardens/castle-overview/

Sources and notes

BBC Cumbria, ‘Muncaster Castle jester competition reveals dark past’ [3] http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cumbria-22704190

Bob, ‘The History of the Fool’ http://www.foolsforhire.com/info/history.html

Briggs, John, The remains of John Briggs, Kirkby Lonsdale, Foster, 1825 available via https://archive.org/stream/remainsofjohnbri00brigiala#page/154/mode/2up/search/jester   [5]

Ives, E.W. ‘Tom Skelton – A Seventeenth-Century Jester’ , Shakespeare Survey 13, 1960 (partial article available via Google books)  [1] [2]

Jadewik, ‘A Little Bit of Tom Foolery’, the Witching Hour, 2011 https://4girlsandaghost.wordpress.com/tag/tom-foolery/ [1] [2]

Jones, Paul Anthony, ‘Tom Skelton: The Serial Killer Court Jester’, 2015, http://mentalfloss.com/article/68443/tom-skelton-serial-killer-court-jester [6]

Lipscombe, Suzannah, ‘All the Kings’s Fools’, History Today, 2011 http://www.historytoday.com/suzannah-lipscomb/all-king%E2%80%99s-fools

Mason, Emma, ‘Playing the fool: Tudor jesters’, History Extra, 2015 http://www.historyextra.com/feature/playing-fool-tudor-jesters

Past Presented, ‘Tom Skelton’s Foolish Will’ http://www.pastpresented.ukart.com/eskdale/tomfool3.htm (includes full text of the will) [1] [2] [9]

http://www.mythandimage.com/fool.html [8]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jester [4][8]

Clandestine Marriages: Five tales of abduction from the 17th and 18th centuries

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bride abductions, Bridget Hyde, clandestine, Earl of Rochester, eighteenth century, Elizabeth Malet, fleet marriages, forced, heiress, Marriage, Marriage Act 1753, Mary Wharton, Pleasant Rawlins, seventeenth century, Sibble Morris

Lovelace and Clarissa Harlowe. Wikimedia.

Nowadays the idea of anything being clandestine suggests something having an unsavoury, grubby and secretive undertone but in the 17^th and 18^th centuries many couples preferred to have a clandestine marriage. Tens of thousands of couples from all walks of life were legally and respectably married in clandestine ceremonies.

Clandestine marriages were recognised in Canon Law as long as the ceremony was performed by an ordained clergyman. A clandestine marriage had a number of advantages over an official marriage for instance it did away with the need for publishing banns and buying a licence making the ceremony cheaper and quicker, the betrothed couple were not restricted to marrying in their own parish, if need be the date could be backdated to cover an unplanned pregnancy and couples could be married away from the public eye as well as interfering relatives. This type of marriage could be especially convenient for foreign couples who had just moved to England and as yet were not registered in a parish or soldiers and sailors on limited leave[1].

A number of places became well-known centres for clandestine marriages including All Hallows Church in Honey Lane, St Pancreas in Soper Lane, Mayfair Chapel (which tried to encourage business by having as a centrepiece the supposedly embalmed corpse of the wife of the parson[2]) and the notorious area of the Fleet.

Under The Rules of the Fleet

Strangely enough the Fleet Prison was one of the most popular settings for clandestine marriages in the 17^th and 18^th centuries and whereas elsewhere this type of marriage was seen as perfectly reputable, Fleet marriages were often viewed with suspicion.

Prior to the law of 1711 (which closed a quirky loophole in the law) marriages took place in the prison chapel. The prison was well set up for the celebration of nuptials with the happy couple able to enjoy a range of facilities including a tap-room, coffee-house, public kitchen and eating room and even a sports area which had been built to accommodate the hundreds of visitors the prison attracted each week[3]. As with all prisons at the time bribery was rife and anyone willing to pay could do as they pleased. This ensured that the prison wardens and clergy for the correct fee would obligingly look the other way if the marriage was in any way dodgy.

The Fleet Prison. Image Wikimedia.

When the prison was finally banned from holding marriages, business just moved outside its walls to an area which for some bizarre reason fell beyond the jurisdiction of the church but was still classed as being under ‘the Rules of the Fleet’. This unsavoury neighbourhood which had sprung up allowed prisoners to live in lodgings outside the prison compound as long as they paid the keeper a fee for loss of earnings[4]. The taverns and coffee houses such as the Bull and Garter, The Great Hand and Pen and The Star took full advantage of the new business opportunity and turned themselves into extremely profitable ‘marriage houses’ (half the marriages in London took place in the Fleet)[5]. These marriage houses used any means possible to encourage business and some even had their own in-house clergyman such as Dr Gainham who could be found at the Rainbow Coffee House[6].

Touts were employed to harass and persuade visiting couples to pop into their marriage house for a quick ceremony and even single gentlemen were approached – I guess that there must have been a pool of potential wives that you could marry at short notice!

It is not surprising then given the character of the place, the booming marriage industry and the fierce competition amongst around 80 disgraced clergymen at a loose end and living in the area, that everyone involved was prepared to turn a blind eye to unwilling participants or repeat customers.

Fleet Street Marriage. Via Wikimedia.

Hardwicke’s Marriage Act of 1753

The passing of the Marriage Act proposed in 1753 by Lord Chancellor Hardwicke and implemented the following year put an end to clandestine marriages. From then on it was illegal to get married without bans or a licence, girls under the age of 21 had to get the permission of their parents or guardians and the marriage itself had to take place in an Anglican church (Jews and Quakers were exempt). Verbal and written contracts were no longer accepted as legal evidence of marriage. Couples had to register their marriages in a parish’s register and the signatures of the bride and groom had to be witnessed[7].

Lord Hardwicke. Image Gretna Green Website.

This Act would have appealed to Daniel Defoe and other like-minded individuals who believed that prior to this “a gentleman might have the satisfaction of hanging a thief that stole and old horse from him, but could have no justice against a rogue for stealing his daughter” [8] and who had to confine his daughters to their chambers to prevent them from being abducted by “rogues, cheats, gamesters and such like starving crew…”[9].

It took six days for the new legislation to be passed as there were influential opponents of the law who believed that all that was needed was a tightening up of the current system and better record keeping. The politician Henry Fox was concerned that the delay which publishing banns and obtaining a licence created might even ruin some women. He believed that some rogues would convince their intended wife to compromise herself and then drop her before they got to the altar. The Act was also accused of being used to protect the insular nature of the aristocracy by barring new blood and commoners from entering its hallowed circle and some worried that the law would prevent children from being legitimised[10].

The downside of the current system was the few but distressing cases of forced marriages of young girls in particular heiresses and the numerous cases of bigamy which came up regularly at the Old Bailey. Although these cases gave weight to the necessity of the Act, the MP Charles Townshend questioned those who regularly spouted these examples. He believed that the legislation was an overreaction and asked his peers to consider that although forced marriages were scandalous and “a public evil. But how rarely do such infamous marriages happen, especially with respect to those that are under age”[11].

How often did these sorts of marriages really occur is difficult to gauge. Forced marriages did happen but in reality Charles Townshend was correct and these incidents were rare. Nevertheless the damage and distress they caused their unfortunate victims should not be underestimated.

The notion that an unscrupulous and undesirable suitor could persuade or force a wealthy young heiress into an unsuitable marriage against the wishes of her family generated a high level of paranoia amongst the aristocratic and wealthy classes. Older relatives trying to pre-empt and restrict inappropriate behaviour in their female offspring recounted to them cautionary tales of the perils of abduction and impulsive marriages.

The Bolt by Fragonard.

Elizabeth Malet

Elizabeth Malet by Peter Lely.

“Here, upon my [Samuel Pepys] telling her [Lady Sandwich] a story of my Lord Rochester’s running away on Friday night last with Mrs. Mallett, the great beauty and fortune of the North, who had supped at White Hall with Mrs. Stewart, and was going home to her lodgings with her grandfather, my Lord Haly, by coach; and was at Charing Cross seized on by both horse and foot men, and forcibly taken from him, and put into a coach with six horses, and two women provided to receive her, and carried away.”[12]

The abduction of the wealthy heiress Elizabeth Malet on the 26

May 1665 scandalised London and infuriated King Charles II who quickly signed a warrant for the arrest of Lord Rochester. Sent to the Tower and later to sea, it seems that Rochester’s had not abandoned his matrimonial plans as in January 1667 he again ran off with Elizabeth (this time with her consent). They married in a clandestine ceremony at Knightsbridge Chapel against the wishes of her father, John Malet.[13]

Bridget Hyde

Bridget was the daughter of the acknowledged beauty Mary Hyde and the wealthy Sir Thomas Hyde. On the death of her father shortly after she was born, Bridget became an heiress worth £100,000 and a pawn in her relatives’ tug of war game.

The Family of Sir Robert Vyner (Bridget is on the far left). Image NPG 5568;

In 1674, Mary became seriously ill and Bridget now aged about twelve was sent to stay with her mother’s sisters, Susan and Sara in Hertfordshire.  Her aunts had not done quite as well in their marriages as their successful sister, marrying two brothers of the name Emerton who worked as bailiffs on the Hyde estate[14]. Aware that Bridget’s step-father, Robert Vyner was hoping to marry Bridget to the son of Lord Danby (in return for a cancellation of his debts which were the result of lending money to Charles II) and afraid for their own livelihood, Bridget’s aunts decided to marry her to her cousin, John. Probably presenting the marriage in the form of a game, Sara and Susan convinced Bridget to go through the ceremony which was conducted by the morally challenged priest, John Brandling. When Vyner found out about the marriage he was furious seeing all his plans falling apart. Determined not to be bested by his wife’s deceitful relatives, Vyner took the case to the Ecclesiastical Court to have it declared null and void. In the meantime Bridget returned to her step-father’s care but her estates were awarded by the Court of the King’s Bench to Emerton. The case lasted six years!

Lovelace Abducting Clarissa Harlowe – Louis Edouard Dubuf

For some reason, Bridget seemed to attract trouble like a moth to a flame. Whilst the legality of her marriage was being debated she became the subject of a second marriage plot. One fateful night, Vyner invited a man known as Henry Wroth to dinner at his house in Ickenham. On finishing his dinner Wroth repaid his host’s hospitality by pulling out a gun and absconding with Bridget. Wroth with his ‘unwilling bride to be’ headed towards Richmond where he had a ferry waiting for them. Vyner pursued and Wroth was arrested. Bridget was unharmed except for losing an amber necklace and a hankerchief[15].

In 1680 the Ecclesiastical Court finally came to a decision and announced in favour of Emerton (possibly due to the key witnesses being unable to testify as they had been excommunicated) [16]despite the fact that the marriage was conducted without the consent of the Bridget’s guardian, Vyner or even Bridget herself. The story did not end there as Danby was still determined that Bridget would eventually marry his son. For the next two years Danby and Vyner entered into negotiations with Emerton. All Emerton had ever really wanted was financial compensation in order for him to renounce the marriage. Thinking that things were progressing far too slowly, Viscount Dunblane decided to matters into his own hands and eloped with a this time willing Bridget to St Marylebone Church (another notorious location for clandestine marriages). The Ecclesiastical Court ever mindful of their own interests, suddenly decided that the marriage with Emerton was not legal!

Although it is sad that even after all this, Bridget did not have the fairy tale ending she deserved (as in a few years Dunblane had run through all his wife’s fortune forcing her “to part with all her plate”) she did in a way finally get the man she wanted as shortly after their marriage it was reported “The Lord Dunblane is dancing with his mistress day and night, and she dotes on him.”[17]

Pleasant Rawlins

Contemporary pamphlet from the abduction trial. Source Heineonline.

In 1701, the seventeen year old heiress, Pleasant Rawlins was arrested for an imaginary unpaid debt of £200 trumped up by a Haagen Swendsen, a German adventurer whose advances Pleasant had previously rebuffed.

Seized under false pretences, Pleasant was taken first to the Star and Garter in Drury Lane and then moved to The Vine in Holborn where Swendsen’s accomplice, a Mrs Baynton convinced Pleasant that she would be incarcerated in Newgate if she refused to go through with the marriage. Now more afraid of being murdered by her captors than worried about imprisonment, a terrified Pleasant reluctantly agreed to the union and was married to Swendsen in the Fleet Prison.

When Pleasant’s horrified family finally found out what had happened to her, Swendsen and Mrs Baynton were arrested and the marriage ruled illegal. Swendsen was found guilty and hung but a pregnant Baynton escaped the death penalty[18].

Mary Wharton

The Honourable James Campbell of the Clan Campbell was an officer in the Royal Scots Army and the British Army, politician[19] and unsuccessful kidnapper. In November 1690 Campbell conspired with Sir John Johnson to abduct the thirteen year old daughter of the late Philip Wharton (cousin of Lord Wharton) worth £1500 and heiress to Goldsborough Hall in North Yorkshire from outside the home of her mother in Westminster.

Image by Hogarth.

Her aunt and cousins who had been in the coach with Mary testified in court that after having returned from dinning with a Mr Archibald Montgomery in Soho they saw a coach drive hurry past them. On stopping, three men jumped out and in the process of forcing Mary into the six horses coach knocked the footman down and pushed one of her cousins into the gutter. Mary was taken to Watson the coachman’s house where despite being in tears and protesting she was coerced in to marrying Campbell. Disturbingly evidence from the Old Bailey trail also suggests that she tricked into sleeping in the same bed as Campbell by his female accomplice, Mrs Clewer[20] (whether or not Mary was raped by Campbell can’t be ruled out but is not inevitable as often girls married before their 14th birthday would sleep in the same bed as their husband on their wedding night but actually consummate the marriage a few years later).

The next day Campbell compelled Mary to write a reassuring letter to her aunt telling her that she was happily and safely wed and that they would soon visit. Whilst Mary and Campbell were having breakfast, Mary felt ill and was taken to an apothecary where her family finally found her and removed her from Campbell’s clutches by order of the Lord Chief Justice.

Although Johnson was convicted of abduction and sentenced to death, Campbell escaped due to a plea of ignorance of English law. Apparently in Scotland at the time abduction was a conventional method of obtaining a wife and he was falsely led to believe by Johnson that such practices were also accepted in England. Even though his excuse was accepted as reasonable by the powers that be it does sound a little dubious to me.

The marriage was annulled on the 20 December of that year and Mary later married her guardian, the son of her aunt. Hopefully after undergoing such a horrible ordeal Mary went on to have a happy and successful life.

Sibble Morris

The evidence given in the case of Sibble Morris is particularly disturbing and heart-breaking and does clearly reveal how vulnerable young girls could be.

On the 5 March 1728, Sibble Morris and her maid Anne Holiday were paying a second reluctant visit to a Mrs Hendron. On the way they met two acquaintances of theirs, Kitty Pendergrass and Peggy Johnson who told them that Mrs Hendron was not at home and was instead visiting a house in New Round Court in the Strand. They convinced Sibble to accompany them there. On arrival they all entered the house and made their way to a shuttered candle lit room filled with a number of people including a Mr Richard Russel (who Sibble had met only once on the previous visit to Mrs Pendergrass’ house and whom she believed to be a wealthy merchant) and a clergyman.

Frightened and wanting to leave both Sibble and her maid were pulled into the room and the door closed behind them. Mrs Pendergrass told Sibble that it was no use screaming as no-one would hear her. Despite the fact that the girl was young only about 16 years old, was in a near faint and had to be held up throughout the ceremony and could not speak, the clergyman seemed not to notice anything amiss. Even when questioned in the trial he maintained his innocence and stated that he was under the impression that he was marrying a gentleman to a servant and that she was just overcome by the whole situation.

After the ceremony, “Hendron and others dragg’d her [Sibble] up Stairs to a Bed-Chamber, which was also shut up with Shutters, and Kitty Pendergrass and Peggy Johnson, pulled off her Cloaths by Force, Hendron holding her Hands; and that one Mrs. Rigy was there present while all this was done, that they forc’d her into Bed, and that Hendron held her down in Bed”[21] and waited until Russel joined them.

Futile Resistance by Fragonard.

It was only on the following Thursday that Sibble’s father heard about the marriage from a man who had pretended to be a friend of Russel. On hearing the devastating news Mr Morris confronted his daughter, who in her distress admitted that it was due to fear and shame that she had not told him what had happened. Mr Morris refused to speak to Russel who on hearing that a warrant for his arrest had been issued, fled.

Throughout the trial, Sibble maintained that she had never at any point agreed to the marriage. Russel’s female accomplices were found guilty of aiding and abetting a kidnap and rape and sentenced to death but the incompetent, oblivious and brainless clergyman (if you can believe he really did not know what was going on) was let off[22].

To love, honour and OBEY!

What did Hardwicke’s law really achieve? Girls were still forced to marry men they abhorred and detested just now they did it with their parents or guardians’ blessing. The main objective of the Act was never the welfare of vulnerable young girls but the protection of a family’s property by placing complete control on where it would be bestowed in the hands of the heiress’s parents or guardian. Girls lost any power or control they may once have had over their own lives and became just a pawn in their family’s dynastic game of chess. Any chance of escaping their family’s clutches and marrying their own choice of husband was now cut off (although the long shot of Gretna Green was still available).

In an ironic way if one of the aims of the Marriage Act was to protect women it did so by imprisoning them within their families and making them even more vulnerable to forced marriages then before.

The ambitious mother and the obliging clergyman by Charles Dana Gibson.

Bibliography

Elizabeth Wilmot, Countess of Rochester: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Wilmot,_Countess_of_Rochester

Samuel Pepys, Diary of Samuel Pepys

Georgian London: http://www.georgianlondon/post/494612709431/fleet-marriages

Marriage among Londoners before Hardwicke’s Act of 1753: when, where and why?  http://www.geog.cam.ac.uk/people/newton/MarriageArticleDRAFT.pdf

Fleet Prison: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fleet_Prison

The Fleet Prison: http://www.okima.com/tour/fleet.html

From Fleet Street to Gretna Green: The Reform of “Clandestine Marriage” under Lord Chancellor Hardwicke’s Marriage Act of 1753, http://jenpayne10.info/clandestine.html

Daniel Defoe: Conjugal Lewdness or Matrimonial Whoredom

Nigel Pickford: The Sad History of Bridget Hyde

Nigel Pickford, Lady Bette and the Murder of Mr Thynne, 2014

Naomi Clifford: Two 18th-century bride abductions http://www.naomiclifford.com/two-18th-century-bride-abductions/

James Campbell (of Burnbank and Boquhan): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Campbell_(of_Burnbank_and_Boquhan)

John Johnson, William Clewer, S – C -, Grace Wiggan, Miscellaneous > kidnapping, 10th December 1690: http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/browse.jsp?div=t16901210-56

Mary Hendron, John Wheeler, Margaret Pendergrass, Miscellaneous > kidnapping, 1st May 1728. http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/browse.jsp?id=t17280501-13-off75&div=t17280501-13#highlight

Guardian Shorts: A Marriage Proposal by Sophie Ward http://www.theguardian.com/news/2015/jan/30/guardian-shorts-a-marriage-proposal-by-sophie-ward-chapter-1

The History of Parliament: http://www.historyofparliamentonline.org/volume/1660-1690/member/osborne-peregrine-1659-1729

Jacqueline Rose: Godly kingship in restoration England: The politics of the royal Supremacy, 2011

Notes

[1] Georgian London: georgianlondon/post/494612709431/fleet-marriages

[2] Marriage among Londoners before Hardwicke’s Act of 1753: when, where and why?  http://www.geog.cam.ac.uk/people/newton/MarriageArticleDRAFT.pdf

[3] ibid

[4] Fleet Prison: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fleet_Prison

[5] Full text of “The history of the Fleet marriages [electronic resource] http://www.archive.org/stream/historyoffleetma00burnrich/historyoffleetma00burnrich_djvu.txt

[6] ibid

[7] From Fleet Street to Gretna Green: The Reform of “Clandestine Marriage” under Lord Chancellor Hardwicke’s Marriage Act of 1753, http://jenpayne10.info/clandestine.html

[8] Daniel Defoe: Conjugal Lewdness or Matrimonial Whoredom

[9] Nigel Pickford: The Sad History of Bridget Hyde: http://nigelpickford.com/sad-history-bridget-hyde-2/

[10] From Fleet Street to Gretna Green: The Reform of “Clandestine Marriage” under Lord Chancellor Hardwicke’s Marriage Act of 1753, http://jenpayne10.info/clandestine.html

[11] ibid

[12] Samuel Pepys, Diary of Samuel Pepys, Entry on the 28 May 1665

[13] Elizabeth Wilmot, Countess of Rochester: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Wilmot,_Countess_of_Rochester

[14] Nigel Pickford: The Sad History of Bridget Hyde: http://nigelpickford.com/sad-history-bridget-hyde-2/

[15] ibid

[16] Nigel Pickford, Lady Bette and the Murder of Mr Thynne, 2014

[17] ibid

[18] Naomi Clifford: Two 18th-century bride abductions http://www.naomiclifford.com/two-18th-century-bride-abductions/ Naomi Clifford

[19] James Campbell (of Burnbank and Boquhan): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Campbell_(of_Burnbank_and_Boquhan)

[20] John Johnson, William Clewer, S – C -, Grace Wiggan, Miscellaneous > kidnapping, 10th December 1690: http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/browse.jsp?div=t16901210-56

[21] Mary Hendron, John Wheeler, Margaret Pendergrass, Miscellaneous > kidnapping, 1st May 1728. http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/browse.jsp?id=t17280501-13-off75&div=t17280501-13#highlight

[22] ibid

Dead Gorgeous: the life and death of Venetia Stanley, Lady Digby

Tags

Brief Lives, cosmetics, death portraits, died in bed, in praise of venetia, John Aubrey, memento mori, Poison, private memoirs, seventeenth century, Sir Kenelm Digby, stelliana, Van Dyck, Van Dyke, Venetia Digby, Venetia Stanley, Viper Wine

Stelliana

“…if she had been in those times when men committed idolatry, the world would certainly have renounced the sun, the stars and all other devotions and with one consent have adored her for their goddess.”[1]

As an acknowledged beauty of the Stuart Age, with a slightly suspect reputation, it was to be expected that scandal and gossip clung to Venetia Stanley’s name. However it was her mysterious demise – which led to suggestions of suicide and allegations of murder, and the obsessionally morbid devotion displayed by her husband after her death, that would ensure her lasting fame.

Sexual adventuress or secret bride?

Venetia Stanley had had an effect on men from the moment she was born. She was born in 1600, in Tong Castle in Shropshire, into a well-connected family. Her father was Lord Edward Stanley and her mother Lady Lucy Percy, co-heiress to the vast Percy fortune. When Lucy tragically died, Lord Stanley had the young Venetia sent away rather than have her presence a constant reminder of his lost love, Lucy.

Growing up in the countryside, at Enston Abbey in Oxfordshire [2], the young Venetia’s star burned bright.  Gossipy polymath John Aubrey, writing several decades after Venetia’s death, wrote of her early life:

“..it seems her beauty could not lie hid. The young Eagles has espied her, and she was sanguine and tractable, and of much suavity (which to abuse was a great pittie)”[3]

I’m no expert on the idioms of seventeenth century speech but it sounds rather like Aubrey is suggesting that the young Venetia might just have been a bit of a flirt.

Venetia Stanley, Lady Digby. By Henri Toutin, painted in 1637 (after her death). Via Wikimedia

After Oxfordshire, she decamped to London where she continued to make a stir everywhere she went. In the debauched Stuart Court beauty was everything and young Venetia had it all – perfectly meeting the ideal of the Stuart age with her fine dark locks, alabaster complexion, languid ‘come to bed’ eyes, and as Aubrey so nicely puts it, her ‘bona roba’, her curvaceous figure.

The Stuart Court was a place of great sexual license, but barring one or two privileged exceptions (such as the notorious Countess of Somerset) that license tended to be issued to men only: randy cavaliers could bed whom they pleased with little fear of tarnishing their reputation. The sexual politics of the time was not quite so tolerant of female rakes; money and social standing could offer some protection to a young adventuress but gossip and scandal could be cruel bedfellows.  Venetia was not immune to slander, both during her life and even decades after her death.

Aubrey, generally the most quoted source for her life, claimed that Venetia was the mistress of Richard Sackville, Earl of Dorset, and had children by him.  In his Brief Lives, Aubrey states that Sackville paid her £500 annually – no mean sum. However, Aubrey is not necessarily the most reliable source, writing decades after her death and often reporting gossip and hearsay as fact. Another possibility is that Venetia’s reputation as a courtesan may be in part due to the fact that her marriage to Sir Kenelm Digby in c1625 was kept secret until after their first child was born [4].

The Ornament of England

Sir Kenelm Digby, c1632, after Van Dyck. Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University.

Kenelm was the son of Sir Everard Digby who was executed following the Gun Powder Plot.  He was a scholar, philosopher, courtier,alchemist, privateer, and general all round clever-dick given the somewhat pompous epithet “the ornament of England”.

“Sir Kenelme Digby was held to be the most accomplished cavalier of his time. [..] He was such a goodly handsome person, gigantique and great voice, and had so gracefull Elocution and noble address, etc., that had he been drop’t out of the Clowdes in any part of the World, he would have made himself respected.  But the Jesuites spake spitefully, and sayd ’twas true, but then he must not stay there above six weeks.'”[5]

I can’t help but think that Aubrey seems to take sly delight in spiking this unctuous description with a little acid.

Theories as to why the pair might have kept their marriage a secret abound: from Sir Kenelm’s mother disapproving of her prospective daughter-in-law’s libertine life-style or considering her a penniless gold-digger to fears that Venetia would be cut off from her father’s will should she marry against her family’s wishes.

Chastity crushing Cupid, Anthony Van Dyck, National Portrait Gallery.

Whatever the truth behind the rumours, Sir Kenelm appears to have loved Venetia deeply and she him.  He commissioned many portraits of Venetia, both during her life and after her death. One such portrait entitled  ‘Chastity crushing Cupid’ – could be perhaps interpreted as a bit of PR for his wife’s reputation as a sexual adventuress.  Aubrey suggests Sir Kenelm was well aware of the gossip surrounding his wife’s (lack of) virtue and claims he said “..a wiseman, and a lusty could make an honest woman of a brothell-house” [6].  For a man who went on to write incessantly about his love for Stelliana, aka Venetia, in his Private Memoirs, it would seem quite a harsh thing for him to say of her.

Even Aubrey concedes that Venetia transformed from mad-for-it party girl to virtuous wife and mother with ease. However the slight twist in the tale of the stolid church-going matron.  Venetia was an avid, and it would seem, successful gambler, and it is alleged she funded many of her good works through her winnings…so perhaps a little of the wild-child remained after her marriage.

Lead Powder and Viper Wine

Lady Elizabeth Pope, c1615,  sporting pale complexion and rouged lips and cheeks, and a vast amount of bosom. Robert Peake, via wikimedia.

Several years of happy and uneventful marriage ensued, Venetia and Sir Kenelm had four sons and seemed ready to slide into comfortable middle age.  Hermione Eyre, author of Viper Wine, a novel about Venetia, suggests that far from being a time of placid contemplation of impending old age, Venetia may have found the transition from youth to middle age extremely difficult.

As a celebrated beauty seeing her charms fade as the years passed, living in a society that judged women on their looks (sound familiar, anyone?), she could easily have fallen back on cosmetics and potions in a desperate bid to preserve her looks.

Certainly the fashionable women (and men) of the Stuart Court were not shy about slapping on the make-up.  Pale complexions and acres of bare bosoms were enhanced and perfected with ceruse a mixture of finely ground lead powder and vinegar. A tracery of pale blue veins might be drawn on to imitate the translucent skin of youth, a lead comb could darken the eye brows. Spanish wool, or Spanish paper (a cloth impregnated with cochineal) was used to colour the lips and cheeks [7] and all of this could have been held in place with a varnish of egg white.  The look would seem to be porcelain doll… with a whiff of omelette…

Ladies might go further than the surface and could take any number of miracle beauty preserving potions…such as Viper wine…filled with such hearty ingredients as baked viscera of vipers (yummy) such concoctions could claim near miraculous effects:

“This quintessence is of extraordinary good virtue for the purifying of the flesh, blood and skin” and “preserves from grey hairs, renews youth, etc” [8]

As Hermione Eyre points out, ladies regularly using lead as their cosmetic of choice would quickly ruin their complexions and must have been willing to try pretty much anything to improve them.   Venetia was certainly a big fan of Viper wine and had been drinking it, so Aubrey claims, at the behest of her husband for a number of years.

Sleeping Beauty….is dead

On the morning of the 1 May 1633 Lady Digby’s maid entered her bed chamber to wake her mistress for her morning ride.  Sir Kenelm had spent the night tinkering in his laboratory until the early hours, he had slept there rather than disturb his wife.  It was he who was disturbed however, by  “That shrill and baleful sound expressing her heavy plight struck my eares.” when the maid screamed in horror upon finding her mistress dead in her bed.  She was only 33.

Sir Kenelm was distraught, Venetia lay in her bed exactly as she had laid down to sleep the night before, a faint blush on her cheek, looking as though she might wake up at any moment.  What he did next may seem strange…he called an artist.  Within two days of Venetia’s death he had Sir Anthony Van Dyck (1599 -1641) come and sketch the corpse of his wife, as it lay, in her bed.  He also had casts taken of her head, hands and feet.

Portrait of Death: Lady Digby on her Deathbed

Sir Anthony Van Dyck’s portrait is either tender and seductive, or slightly creepy and stalker-ish depending on your view-point. Portraits of the newly deceased were not unheard of in the Stuart Age, and later, the Victorians were famous for their morbid family portraits of dead relatives. But from a modern perspective at least, the realisation that the subject is in fact dead, is enough to jar the senses and the sensibility. In the modern age we have become so separated from death and the dead, seeing their images mainly in news footage and usually connected with violent or tragic events. This is different, this is not a celebration of the corpse, or a quick snap-shot for the family album, it is a meditation upon death. Sleeping beauty has entered into that long good night that beckons us all.

Suicide, Murder or Misadventure?

Even in the seventeenth century, an age when death came regularly to the young and apparently healthy, suspicions were raised about Venetia’s sudden and mysterious demise.  Poison was suspected but was it suicide, murder or over indulgence in viper wine?  Aubrey reports that gossips said:

“Spiteful women would say it was a ‘viper husband’, who was jealous of her, that she would steal a leap.” (have an affair).

There was also the curious suggestion that Digby was given a letter by the maid, just before Venetia’s death, in which Venetia had enclosed paper that might be of interest to him…what that paper may have been has never been discovered [9].

Sir Theodore Turquet de Mayerne(?). Via Wikimedia

An autopsy was ordered by Royal Command, and the famously rotund Dr Theodore de Mayerne was called in.  Digby insisted she had always been healthy, but did take Viper wine for headaches. Upon opening her head the good doctor found “but little brain” and it has been inferred from that, that the cause of death may have been a cerebral haemorrhage.  However due to the time that elapsed before the autopsy was carried out it is likely that the results may have been invalid [10].  Hermione Eyre proposes the theory that the viper wine itself may have killed Venetia.  She showed the recipe to a doctor who said:

“this type of “beauty potion” usually works, if it works, by blocking the muscarinic acetylcholine receptors, which can be toxic in the wrong doses. “Hence ‘deadly’ nightshade,” he said. Viper Wine’s herbal elements – not the snakes, which are incidental – could have been used to dilate the pupils, vasodilate the cheeks leading to a healthy blush, and promote euphoria, but if she drank too much, it could have been fatal.” [11].

So was it suicide, murder or misadventure? Personally I don’t think she committed suicide, she was a devout Catholic, attending Mass daily. She would surely have regarded suicide as a sin and a bar to heaven.  I don’t think the evidence supports the theory that that Sir Kenelm poisoned her. His eccentric and obsessive behavior after her death does not necessarily mean a guilty conscience, it could just have been how he coped with the such a devastating and unexpected loss.  On balance, I like the viper wine theory proposed by Hermione Eyre.  If not the Viper wine specifically, one of the other deadly cosmetic ingredients could easily have been the silent killer in this case. However after the passage of time, and the possibility that Venetia simply had some underlying medical condition, it would seem that the true cause of Venetia Stanley’s death will likely never be proven.

Epilogue

The final word should perhaps go to Sir Kenelm, unable to forget the beautiful wife whose sudden death shook his world to the foundation, he retreated to Gresham College and led the life of a scholarly hermit.  He kept the portrait with him for many years, until he lost it during English Civil War.

“This is the onely constant companion I now have…It standeth all day over against my chaire and table …and all night when I goe into my chamber I sett it close to my beds side, and by the faint light of the candle, me thinks I see her dead indeed.” [12]

Sources and notes

Aubrey, John, Brief Lives, available online via Gutenberg Press [1] [3] [5] [6]

Digby, Sir Kelemn, Private Memoirs/Stelliana available on Google Books [2]

Downing, Jane, 2012, Beauty and Cosmetics 1550 – 1950, Shire Library [7]

http://www.dulwichpicturegallery.org.uk/explore-the-collection/151-200/venetia,-lady-digby,-on-her-deathbed/

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/great-works/van-dyck-sir-anthony-venetia-stanley-lady-digby-on-her-deathbed-1633-795383.html [11]

http://www.hermioneeyre.com/

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/history/10680346/Venetia-Stanley-did-viper-wine-kill-the-17th-century-beauty.html [8] [10][11]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venetia_Stanley [4] [9]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenelm_Digby

 

 

Lady Frances Howard – Magic, Murder and Misogyny at the Court of James I

Tags

Astrologer, Countess of Somerset, Cunning folk, Dr Simon Forman, Earl of Essex, Lady Frances Howard, Love Philtres, Mary Woods, murder trials, Robert Carr, seventeenth century, Sorcerer, unruly women

Lady Frances Howard, Countess of Somerset c1615 by William Larkin [public domain]

“She that in every vice did soe Excell,
That she could read new principles to hell;
And shew the fiends recorded in her lookes
Such deeds, as were not in their blackest books:
Canidia now draws on.”

[..]

“Whose waxen pictures fram’d by incantation,
Whose Philters, Potions for loves propagation
Count Circe, but as a novice in the trade,
And scorne all Drugs that Colchos ever made;
Canidia now draws on.” [1]

Lady Frances Howard, Countess of Somerset and formerly Countess of Essex, stares out confidently, or wantonly perhaps, from her gilt frame.  A strikingly beautiful woman, in a daringly provocative dress, she seems to be sizing up the viewer.  She looks as though she could be the keeper of dark secrets.  She was condemned as a murderer and accused of resorting to witchcraft to achieve her ambitions.  And in the end a king stepped in to save her from the gallows.

History has, until recently, been quite unkind to Frances Howard.  Not surprising since she was condemned as a cold and calculating murderess, nevertheless much of the vitriol poured out against her seems to have come about not just because of her crime, but because she was a woman and willful one at that, and there is nothing a paternalistic society fears more than a strong-minded woman.

The Child Bride Rebels

James I by Nicholas Hilliard

Despite a plethora of female rulers: Mary Tudor, Elizabeth I, Mary Queen of Scots to name but a few; Tudor and Stuart society was very much dominated by powerful aristocratic men.  Women were supposed to be domesticated, decorative and submissive first to their father and then their husbands.  Having your own opinion was not encouraged.  Acting on it, even less so.

Things began unremarkable for Frances. She was born in the early1590’s, the daughter of Lord Thomas Howard (1st Earl of Suffolk).  At the age of about 13 or 14 she was married, for dynastic reasons, to the 13-year-old Robert Devereux, 3rd Earl of Essex.  It was said that the couple were:  ‘too young to consider, but old enough to consent.” [2]  The couple lived apart for a few years, the Earl traveling abroad and Frances living with her mother and attending court.  So far so good.

Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset; by John Hoskins c1625-30

The glittering and decadent Court of King James was precisely the kind of place to turn a girl’s head.  Frances was young and very beautiful.  It was hinted that the kings own son and heir Henry had set his sights on her.   However, Frances had her sights set on none other than the kings Favourite.  The handsome Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester and later Earl of Somerset, had quite literally fallen into the king’s path one day when he was thrown by his horse and broke his leg.  James, ever a connoisseur of male beauty, took the opportunity to take the young man under his wing.  From that day Carr’s star had been rising inexorably.

Apparently not the jealous type, the King seems to have looked favourably on the liaison between his favourite and the lovely Frances.  But the path of true love seldom runs smooth, and eventually Frances’ husband Essex returned from his European travels.  Finding herself whisked away to Chartley, the Earl of Essex’s country seat, she barrackaded herself into her room, came out only at night and verbally abused the Earl at every opportunity.    Desperate he turned to her father the Earl of Suffolk to entreat her to fulfill her wifely functions.  All to no avail. Even when she did allow Essex to lie with her, he was not up to the job.  Possibly because she cooled his ardor by haranguing him so much during the attempt.

Eventually, with the assistance of her father she sued for the marriage to be annulled on the grounds of the Earls impotency.  The case dragged on.  During this time, Robert Carr’s secretary the overbearing and misogynistic Thomas Overbury had been expressing some very  vitriolic opinions of Frances Howard in a very public manner, and had been trying in earnest to dissuade Carr from marrying the tainted Frances once her marriage was annulled.  This enraged Frances who was not about to lose her man to a jumped up clerk’s misogynistic tirades and it also convinced the enamoured Carr that his secretary was now becoming somewhat tiresome. Eventually Overbury was manoevred into refusing a Royal Commission overseas and was sent to the Tower of London to cool his heels.  During this time Overbury fell dangerously ill, and after much suffering, he died.

Robert and Frances, Earl and Countess of Somerset; by Reginold Elstrack

At the time nothing was suspected, and few seemed to mourn Overbury’s loss. A few days after his death the marriage was annulled.  Frances got her man, and on the 26 December 1613 she and Robert Carr married, with the full blessing of the King (he hurried the annulment along).   The court had never seen such a lavish ceremony.

The Queen of Hearts she baked some (poisoned) tarts……

In 1615 the whole house of cards fell down.  Suspicion had been growing as to the cause of death of the overbearing Overbury.  Investigations revealed that poisoned tarts and jellies had been sent to him in the tower, when they failed,  a poisoned enema containing copper vitriol (sulfuric acid) was administered by an apothecaries boy.  All of evidence led back to the Somerset’s, Frances in particular.  The accused were the Somerset’s, Robert Weston, Anne Turner, Gervaise Helwys, and Simon Franklin.

The state trial was a sensation.  The public devoured exaggerated tales of debauchery, intrigue, sexual licence and murder involving the highest in the land;  scandal sheets, libelous ballads and verse proliferated and the misogynistic Overbury became a martyr of sorts – his dreadful poem ‘The Wife’ going through numerous editions after his death.

The State Trials report the events in great detail and give some insight into the emotional state of Frances during the trial – she was after all very young and on trial for her life:

“The countess of Somerset, all the while the indictment was reading, stood looking pale, trembled, and shed some tears; and at the first mention of Weston in the indictment, put her fan before her face, and there held it half covered til the indictment was read.” [3]

Later when asked to plead, her fear is palpable:

“Mr Fenshaw:  Frances, Countess of Somerset, what sayst thou? Art thou guilty of this felony and murder, or not guilty?

The lady Somerset making an obesience to the Lord High Steward, answered Guilty, with a low voice, but wonderful fearful.” [4]

The final outcome was dramatic: all of the accused were sentenced to death.  Robert Weston, Anne Turner, Gervaise Helwys, and Simon Franklin were executed. Although disgraced the Somerset’s still had powerful allies, including the king himself, although both given a death sentence and were imprisoned in the tower until 1622 they were eventually pardoned by the King and allowed to live our their lives in obscurity far from the court they both adored.  Ironically the Earl of Essex, Frances’ first husband was on the jury and pressed for the death penalty – hell hath no fury like a husband scorned?

Potions, powders and philtres – the witchcraft connection

Mrs Anne Turner on her way to the gallows. Public Domain.

Frances Howard was not alone in her pursuit of a handsome suitor.  Her waiting woman and confidante, Mrs Anne Turner, was also hot in pursuit of her man, Sir Arthur Mainwaring.  Mrs Turner was an attractive woman who had fallen on hard times when her physician husband died.  She became Sir Arthur’s mistress but had ambitions to be his wife.  Together she and Frances plotted how to achieve their aims.

In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the best way to influence love matters was to visit a cunning man or woman, or if you had a little more money, visit an astrologer or sorcerer.

Frances had previously had an unfortunate entanglement with Mary Woods a cunning woman from Norwich known as ‘Cunning Mary’.  Cunning Mary was a palmist and fortune-teller specialising in love matters.  As a back up when her spells failed, she threatened that if her clients denounced her to the law she would accuse them of trying to poison their husbands.  She was notorious for this, something that worked in Frances’ favour when she fell for a scam pulled by Cunning Mary.  In 1612 Cunning Mary had a practice in Clerkenwell and Frances tried to engage her services re the problem of the Earl of Essex.  She gave Mary a valuable diamond ring to render certain services, however Mary disappeared with the ring.  A JP was called to investigate but Mary accused Frances of offering it as down payment to kill Essex.  Much of Frances story did not add up, but Mary was known to cry wolf so the JP found in favour of Frances.  However, this and further links to occult practitioners would come to haunt Frances in her trial.

Dr Simon Forman c1611; public domain

Dr Simon Forman had had many brushes with the law before he met the Countess of Somerset and Mrs Turner.  Astrologer, sorcerer, necromancer and inveterate ladies man he was a charismatic occultist who, like Cunning Mary, specialised in love matters.

The assistance he rendered Frances Howard, through the medium of her confidante Mrs Turner, came out in sensational style during the murder trials, illustrating both the superstitious horror and fascination the occult provoked:

“There was also showed in court certain pictures of a man and woman in copulation, made in lead, as also the mold of brass, wherein they were cast, a black scarf also full of white crosses, which Mrs Turner had in her custody.  At the shewing of these, and inchanted papers an other pictures in court, there was heard a crack from the scaffolds, which caused great fear, tumult and confusion among the spectators and throughout the hall, everyone fearing hurt, as if the devil had been present, and grown angry to have his workmanship shewed by such as were not his own scholars; and this terror continuing about a quarter of an hour, after silence proclaimed, the rest of the cunning tricks were likewise shewed.”[5]

The testimony of Dr Forman’s wife was equally damning:

“Mrs Turner…did demand certain pictures which were in her husbands study; namely, one picture in wax, very sumptuously apparelled in silks and satins, as also one other sitting in form of a naked woman, spreading and laying forth her hair in a looking-glass…”

“There was also enchantments shewn in court, written in parchment wherein were contained all the names of the Blessed Trinity mentioned in the scriptures; and another parchment, +B+C+D+E.  And a third likewise in a parchment were written all the names of the Holy Trinity and a little figure, in which was written the word Corpus; and upon another parchment was fastened a little piece of the skin of a man – in some of these parchments were the devils particular names, who were conjured to torment the Lord Somerset and Sir Arthur Mainwaring, if their loves should not continue, the one to the Countess, the other to Mrs Turner.” [6]

16th Century Magical paraphernalia; British Museum collection.

Such matters raised in the Overbury murder trial only helped to malign Frances in the eyes of her peers and the public at large, even if they had little bearing on the accusation of murder they helped paint a picture of an immoral and disorderly woman.  Despite the fact that her action in visiting cunning folk and astrologers was hardly unusual at the time.  Dr Forman, for example,  had many illustrious clients including the Dean of Rochester.   Even Essex seems to have, however unwillingly, colluded in the witchcraft element of the annulment hearing agreeing that it was only Frances that he could not perform for.  It is possible that both parties used the witchcraft clause in an entirely pragmatic way, simply to get out of a untennable marriage and be able to remarry.  Nevertheless this pragmatism would have far graver consequences for Frances, as a woman.

Frances Howard the disorderly woman: Proto-feminist or ruthless murderess?

There is a lot about Frances Howard to like.  Despite being born into a conventional role as a pawn of dynastic ambitions, she rebelled against her fate.  She defied her first husband and successfully had her marriage annulled (a verdict that would allow both parties to remarry).  She pursued her heart’s desire and got her man.  But, her passionate determination and impetuous nature made her ruthless and willing to take risks.  She sought out unorthodox means to achieve her ends – potions and powders and charms. In casting off Essex she publicly humiliated him as impotent in front of the whole court; Overbury may have been a charmless, pompous sexist, but her rage against him lead to the end of his career and ultimately to his agonizing death.

Possibly Frances acted in the only way her nature would allow in that setting at that time.  Bellany as quoted by Underwood says of Frances that she fitted:

“The conventional image of the sexually emancipated disorderly woman whose independence and moral libertinism threatened the basis of the patriarchal system.” [6]

Had she been born today, no doubt she would be the queen of the tabloids, but probably not a murderess.

Notes & Sources

1. Anonymous poem ‘She with whom troops of bustuary* slaves’  ‘Supposed to be made against the Lady Francis Coun of Somerset’ http://www.earlystuartlibels.net/htdocs/overbury_murder_section/H17.html [pertaining to funeral pyres]

2. Abbott, George (1562-1633) The case of impotency as debated in England: in that remarkable tryal an. 1613. between Robert, Earl of Essex, and the Lady Frances Howard, who, after eight years marriage, commenc’d a suit against him for impotency; http://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/ecco/004847628.0001.001/1:5.3?rgn=div2;view=fulltext

3, 4, 5.  Howell, TB; A Complete Collection of State Trials for High Treason and other crimes and misdemeanors, Vol II; p954, p933

6. Underdown, David; Sex and Violence at the Court of King James; 2002,

Abbott, George (1562-1633) The case of impotency as debated in England: in that remarkable tryal an. 1613. between Robert, Earl of Essex, and the Lady Frances Howard, who, after eight years marriage, commenc’d a suit against him for impotency; http://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/ecco/004847628.0001.001/1:5.3?rgn=div2;view=fulltext

Howell, TB; A Complete Collection of State Trials for High Treason and other crimes and misdemeanors, Vol II; Londonn 1816, http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=2vc8UQII-jsC&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false

Somerset, Anne, Unnatural Murder: Poison at the Court of James I, 1997, Weidenfeld & Nicholson

http://www.tudorplace.com.ar/Bios/FrancesHoward%28CEssexCSomerset%29.htm

Underdown, David; Sex and Violence at the Court of King James; 2002, http://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=6231

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frances_Carr,_Countess_of_Somerset

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Turner_%28murderer%29

King Coal and the witch-pricker: the Newcastle witch trials of 1649/50

Tags

civil war, Hobson, King Coal, Newcastle Corporation, Newcastle upon tyne, Newcastle Witches, Ralph Gardiner, seventeenth century, St Andrews Church Newcastle, witch trials, witch-prickers

Newcastle c1590

The case of the Newcastle Witches lead to one of the biggest witch trials in England, yet the story is not as well-known as the infamous cases at Berwick and Pendle.  This is a tale of a ruthless City Corporation,  a coal monopoly, a corrupt witch-finder and how a skeptical Lieutenant with an eye for the ladies saved an accused witch from the gallows-tree.

Newcastle in the Seventeenth Century

Newcastle Keep, image by Lenora

The seventeenth century was a time of turmoil, civil war, regicide and religious upheaval; as if this wasn’t enough it was also a superstitious age and an age of dreadful and incurable diseases.  All of these factors created a perfect recipe for social and economic uncertainty across England.  In such parlous times, people often look for scapegoats….

“In every place and parish, every old woman with a wrinkled face, a scolding tongue, having a rugged coate on her back, a skull-cap on her head, a spindle in her hand, a dog or cat by her side, is not only suspected but pronounced a witch.  Every new disease, notable accident, miracle of nature, rarity of art, nay, and strange work or just judgement of God, is by the people accounted for no other but an act or effect of witchcraft.” [1]

Newcastle upon Tyne, in the mid seventeenth century, had been in the thick of things.  Burgeoning industrialisation on Tyneside as a whole had created a large class of poor and often disgruntled workers – as many as 40% of households in Newcastle did not have a fireplace.  In 1636 the city had been visited by plague and the death toll had been devastating – out of a population of 20,000 people 7,000 died.

In the impending Civil War, Newcastle found itself on the Royalist side and as a hub of the Coal trade was a rich source of funds for the king. As tensions rose in the Kingdom,  Charles I decided to introduce (or should that be foist?) the English Prayer Book on Scotland.  London merchants saw this as a perfect opportunity to hit out at the King, and hit him where it hurt most (in his pocket) so they encouraged the Scots to capture Newcastle in order to disrupt the highly lucrative coal monopoly.  The town was captured in 1640 then again following a siege in 1644 – this time the Scot’s army stayed for two years.

16 & 17C Buildings on Sandhill, Newcastle. Image by Lenora

Ralph Gardiner and the coal monopoly

Frontispiece of Ralph Gardiner’s book published in 1655

By the end of 1640’s, with the Civil War ended, the Corporation of Newcastle was now in the hands of the Puritan’s in place of its former Royal Burgesses.  The new Puritan Corporation was no less harsh or money-grubbing than the previous one, and continued to exercise the lucrative monopoly on the coal trade much to the annoyance of one Ralph Gardiner.  It is thanks to Gardiner and his book which railed against the Coal monopoly that we have so much information on one of the largest witch trials in England – that of the Newcastle Witches.

Gardiner was an angry man.  He was unhappy at the punitive tax on the coal trade exerted by Newcastle, and the attendant risk to ships and men sailing up the perilous river Tyne to pay it. Gardiner felt North Shields was the logical focus for this trade being ideally placed at the mouth of the Tyne rather than several miles in land.  To emphasise his case Gardiner also draws on other injustices carried out by the Corporation which further illustrate the arbitrary oppressive nature of the corporation’s rule.  As part of his book he looked at the brutal public humiliations visited on citizens of the town – the scold’s bridal being one such punishment. He also took testimonies relating to the notorious witch trials of 1649/1650.  One has to respect the bravery of his witnesses in standing up to the witch-finder, one woman who Gardiner spoke too – Elinor Loumsdale – had actually been prosecuted for trying to dissuade witnesses giving evidence against the accused.

Enter the witch-pricker

Fear of witchcraft was rife in Newcastle.  The new Puritan Regime fostered this fear with a more fundamental reading of the Bible especially the passage: ‘thou shalt not suffer a witch to live’ (Exodus XX11, V18). In March 1649 the council of Newcastle heard a petition concerning witches.  The Puritan council demanded that all witches be tried and sent to Scotland for a witch-finder, or witch-pricker, to assist in rooting out these individuals.

One such man was currently wreaking havoc in Berwick and at 20 shillings a head had rounded up 30 unfortunates whom he accused of witchcraft.  It is recorded that some of them confessed to use of harmless magic, whilst others claimed to have been present at Preston (a battle where witchcraft was blamed for the kings defeat).  Sensing a profit to be made further south, this unnamed witch-pricker who, according to one local MP ‘professeth himself an artist in that way’ found his way to Newcastle by December 1649.

The newly powerful Puritan’s of the Corporation encouraged the plague and war ravaged population of the city to vent their frustrations on their neighbours, and they heralded the arrival of the witch-pricker very publicly.  The Magistrate’s bellman went about the town announcing that anyone with a complaint against a witch should denounce them, the accused would be brought to the town hall and tried.  It seems that many Novocastrians embraced the opportunity to settle old scores and soon 30 people had been brought before the magistrates and their witch-pricker.

Newgate Prison, Newgate Street c1823, where the Witches were imprisoned.

Methods used by witch-finders and witch-prickers were quite brutal. Although torture was not legal in England, the accused would often be deprived of sleep or walked for hours until they confessed.  They were also subject to public humiliation, being stripped and searched for witch marks which were then ‘pricked’ by the witch-finder.  If no blood flowed then they were guilty of witchcraft.   It was not unusual for witch-finders to employ retractable bodkins to prick their victims thereby ensuring a guilty verdict – and their fee.

Of the 30 unfortunate women accused at Newcastle, 27 were found guilty, 2 were declared innocent…but it was the final woman who caused some controversy.

17C image of woman being stripped [4]

It seems that this final accused was not the usual warty old crone of stereotype, but a quite handsome and well-presented young woman.  The woman had been ‘pricked’ by the witch-finder and had not bled thus condemning her to be hanged.

Lieutenant Col Hobson, had witnessed the degrading spectacle.   The witch-finder had pulled up the woman’s clothes thereby exposing her, much to her horror.  He then appeared to pricked her thigh just as he let her skirts fall about her – thus obscuring the actual ‘pricking’.  When questioned as to whether she felt anything, the woman admitted she had not – at this point the witch-finder theatrically reached up her skirts and pulled out his bodkin.  She was condemned by her own words.  Hobson, who was a Baptist not a Puritan, and was also an ex military surgeon seems to have suspected either sleight of hand on the part of the witch-finder or simple shock on the part of the woman,  objected.  May be the fact that she was quite attractive also spurred the gentleman into action –

“The said reputed Witch-finder acquainted Lieutenant Colonel Hobson that he knew women, whether they were Witches or no by their looks, and when the said person was searching of a personable, and good-like woman, the said Colonel replied and said, ‘Surely this woman is none, and need not be tried’..”[2]

Hobson had cunningly tried to employ the witch-finders own argument against him, however the chilling response from the witch-finder was: –

“..but the Scotch-man said she was, for the Town said she was, and therefore he would try her;”[3]

The power of gossip and calumny was all that was required to bring about a successful accusation of witchcraft and clearly young and attractive women could be just as vulnerable to slander as the more obvious targets: old crones.  However in this case Hobson insisted that the process was repeated in a more decent manner, this time the woman bled and was thereby acquitted.

Nevertheless, despite Hobson’s intervention, of the remaining accused 17 women and 1 man were hanged on the Town Moor in August 1650.  Their remains were buried in unmarked graves in St Andrew’s Church Newcastle.

The Newcastle Witches being hanged, from Ralph Gardiner’s book, 1655

Karma catches up with the Witch-pricker

Too often these sinister individuals seem to escape justice, however, in this case the witch-pricker himself met a sticky end.  Heading into the remote reaches of Northumberland in order to pick up more fat fees for his vile trade, the witch-pricker found himself arrested by JP Henry Ogle. Escaping into Scotland, Gardiner says that he was later hanged after confessing to causing the deaths of 220 English and Scottish women.  Perhaps this was just Gardiner emphasising that the Corporation had been at best hoodwinked or at worst complicit in murdering its citizens,  Gardiner certainly seems to have thought that the whole thing was hokum, however, I like to think that in this case at least Karma caught up with the witch-finder.

Have the Newcastle witches resurfaced after 350 years?

Bones found in St Andrews Church, Newcastle – are they witches bones? Image from NE Chronicle

In 2008 the Newcastle Chronicle reported that teeth, ribs and skull bones had been recovered during renovations to St Andrew’s Churchyard.  The bones were believed to be those of the Newcastle Witches finally uncovered after being flung in an unmarked pit following their execution.  It was claimed that the bones could be cursed as a workman is said to have come up in blisters and boils following handling the bones….it seems that the even after 350 years very little has changed and people are still willing to attribute bad luck to witches….

St Andrews Church, Newcastle, final resting place of the Newcastle Witches. Image by Lenora

 

Notes

1. John Gaule, 1646, ‘Select cases of conscience touching witches and witchcraft’
2 & 3. Ralph Gardiner’s England’s grievance discovered, in relation to the coal-trade(1655).
4. Image source: https://the1642goodwyfe.wordpress.com/2012/09/26/stripping-whipping-and-pumping/

Sources

Armstrong, Pamela, 1990, Dark Tales of Old Newcastle, Bridge Studios
Bath, Jo, 2002, Dancing with the Devil and other True Tales of Northern Witchcraft, Newcastle City Council
http://www.chroniclelive.co.uk/news/north-east-news/bones-find-casts-spell-workers-1465557
Unattributed, 1989, More Ghosts and Legends of Northumbria, Coquet Editions
http://roy25booth.blogspot.co.uk/2010/02/newcastle-witch-pricker-1649-and-other.html
31 Days: Witches (A Tale of a Northen Witch Finder)
http://www2.newcastle.gov.uk/collections.nsf/display?readform&id=EEC2032B0AFCE516802574270030652B
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hostmen_of_Newcastle_upon_Tyne

Mother Shipton: Yorkshire’s Nostradamus

Tags

English history, history, Knaresborough, Mother Shipton, Nostradamus, Petrifying Well, seventeenth century, tourism, witches, Yorkshire

Old Mother Shipton

I visited Knaresborough in Yorkshire on a family holiday when I was a teenager.  One of the things I remember most about the trip was a visit to Old Mother Shipton’s cave and the Dropping Well – famed for its petrifying properties (hang a teddy up and it will turn to stone in under five months).

The Dropping Well, Image by Chris (click image for copyright info)

For a start Old Mother Shipton looked like the archetypal witch, but more than that, she was credited with being Yorkshire’s answer to Nostradamus.  She was a prophetess and seer who had predicted everything from the death of Cardinal Wolsey, the great fire of London, the building of Crystal Palace, the Crimean War, the train, the car, the telephone – you name it Mother Shipton had prophesied it!  I was understandably impressed.

The legend is born

Sculpture of Mother Shipton in the cave where she was alleged to have been born. Image by Chris, click image for copyright info.

In 1488 Ursula Southeil was born out-of-wedlock to a fifteen year old girl called Agatha.  Agatha steadfastly refused to name the father of her child and sought refuge in the cave by the dropping well on the banks of the River Nidd, here she gave birth to the remarkably ugly Ursula.  Agatha either died in childbirth, or gave Ursula up for fostering when the child was two.  Because strange happenings followed the child, people began to suspect her father was non other than Old Nick himself.

Tales of objects moving around or going missing and furniture shifting about were common.  In one such tale, the foster-mother returns home to find baby Ursula gone, and a commotion in her cottage.  Upon entering, she and her companions are set upon by imps disguised as monkey’s.  Ursula is finally located swinging in her crib – up the chimney!

Ursula Southeil was noted for her startling appearance.  One early source describes her thus:

“She was of an indifferent height, but very morose and big boned, her head very long, with very great goggling but sharp and fiery eyes; her nose of an incredible and improportionable length, having in it many crooks and turnings, adorned with many strange pimples of divers colours, as red, blue and mix’t..”  (1)

When she married Toby Shipton at the age of 24, it was said she used a love potion to attract him (either that or else he just had very bad eyesight!).

Their home in Shipton soon became the focus for people seeking advice and her reputation for wisdom grew.  She was particularly good at locating lost or stolen property.

She is most famous for her prophecies, many of which came true during her life time.  She was also supposed to have predicted her own death, at the age of 73, in 1561.

A talent for prediction

Mother Shipton did not write down any of her prophecies.  As a poor woman in the sixteenth century the chances of her being able to write would have been slim – nevertheless her biographers credit her with a sharp intelligence and inborn ability to read from a very early age.

Mother Shipton and Cardinal Wolsey, image Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

Her fame grew beyond her locality when her prophecies were published in 1641.  ‘The Prophesie of Mother Shipton in the Raigne of King Henry the Eighth’ was printed in York and was composed of regional predictions and had only two prophetic verses, this version did not predict the end of the world (2).

A later version of her life and predictions ‘The Life and Death of Mother Shipton’ was published in 1684 by the unfortunately named Richard Head.  It is likely that he invented most of the biographical details about her.

A still later version published by Charles Hindley in 1862 contains the famous rhyming couplets relating to Crystal Palace, cars trains, and the famous end of the world prediction (1881):

“Carriages without horses shall go,
And accidents fill the world with woe.
Around the world thoughts shall fly
In the twinkling of an eye.
The world upside down shall be
And gold be found at the root of a tree.
Through hills man shall ride,
And no horse be at his side.
Under water men shall walk,
Shall ride, shall sleep, shall talk.
In the air men shall be seen,
In white, in black, in green;
Iron in the water shall float,
As easily as a wooden boat.
Gold shall be found and shown
In a land that’s now not known.
Fire and water shall wonders do,
England shall at last admit a foe.
The world to an end shall come,
In eighteen hundred and eighty one.”

Sir Henry buys a well

In 1630 Sir Henry Slingsby, a local grandee, purchased some land around the River Nidd from King Charles I.  The land contained the Dropping Well (now known as the Petrifying Well).  The enterprising Sir Henry, seeing the potential in such an extraordinary geological feature quickly constructed an exhibition and began running tours.

Could it be co-incidence that only 11 years after he begins this commercial venture, a book of prophecy linked with the well is published?  As Philip Coppens points out, having a famous prophetess linked to the miraculous well would be an added draw to reel in visitors.

Some believe that the well was feared and avoided by the locals during Mother Shipton’s life – supposedly believing that its petrifying properties would turn them to stone.  However, this does not seem to have been the case with everyone.  John Leyland, the Antiquary of Henry VIII visited the well during Mother Shipton’s lifetime – 1538.  He remarked that the well was known for its healing properties and was regularly visited.  He doesn’t seem to have mentioned Mother Shipton at all.  All of which would point to Mother Shipton being a fabrication to bring in paying visitors.

And tourists did come – even the famous female traveller Celia Fiennes visited the cave in 1697 and noted the following in her journal:

‘and this water as it runns and where it lyes in the hollows of the rocks does turn moss and wood into Stone …I took Moss my self from thence which is all crisp’d and perfect Stone … the whole rock is continually dropping with water besides the showering from the top which ever runns, and this is called the dropping well’(3).

The Truth behind the legend…

So what is the truth behind the legend?  Well, the historical evidence for the existence of Mother Shipton is as scarce as clear skin was on her nose.  This is not necessarily proof she didn’t exist, but if Leyland visited the well during her lifetime  and knew of the miraculous properties of the well, surely he would also have mentioned the presence of a noted seer so closely associated with it?

The links to the commercialisation of the well and the publication of the first prophecies are also suggestive of her tale being fabricated.  Also, as Philip Coppens points out: it is quite a common historical feature to associate oracles with wells, caves and other subterranean features.  Mother Shipton added a mythic dimension to the geological feature.

Mother Shipton working at her predictions, image public domain via Wikipedia Commons

There might even be a hint of intercontinental rivalry going on here as well – the French had Nostradamus, so maybe the English came up with Mother Shipton?  It is notable that after the repeal of laws relating to witchcraft in 1736 Mother Shipton’s image began to transform from the archetypal witch, to a more benign prophetess, depicted with scrolls instead of familiars, and much less warty about the nose.

As for the predictions – the earliest are from 80 years after her death, and relate mainly to events that have already happened.  The later versions seem to have embellished the prophecies.  Charles Hindley author of the 1862 version (extract quoted above) later admitted to inventing the predictions he published.

A Folk-memory of a cunning woman?

For hundreds of years (and well into the nineteenth century) the cunning woman or cunning man was an integral part of village life in England.  A local healer who could offer advice and assistance in the form charms and love potions.

I like to think that Mother Shipton falls into this category.  That she did exist in the capacity of a local cunning woman, and that a folk-memory of her endured until Sir Henry’s day allowing him to appropriate her for his own purposes. The facts and details of her life that have come down to us may be total fabrication and her prophecies have certainly been elaborated down the centuries, but I think that there is a tiny grain of truth in the tale of Mother Shipton which has fixed her in to the very fabric of folk-memory and the landscape itself.

The Cave and Well are open to the public, you can find details of how to arrange a visit on the Museum website:  http://www.mothershipton.co.uk/

River Nidd, Mother Shipton’s Museum just visible under the arches.

Notes

(1) Extract from ‘Yorkshire Legends and Traditions’ by Rev. Thomas Parkinson 1881, himself quoting from Richard Head’s 1684 account.
(2) Wikipedia/Mother Shipton
(3) Morris, Christopher (Ed), The Journeys of Celia Fiennes, Cresset Press, 1947.

Sources

http://www.ephemera-society.org.uk/articles/shipton.html
http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/occult/mother-shipton.html
http://www.philipcoppens.com/mother_shipton.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mother_Shipton

The strange case of Sir Francis Bacon and the frozen chicken

Tags

bizarre deaths, chickens, English history, Ghosts, history, science, seventeenth century

One of the strangest ghost stories that I have ever come across involves Sir Francis Bacon, empirical scientist and a frozen chicken.

Sir Francis Bacon, “The Queen’s Bastard”*

Sir Francis Bacon, by Paul van Somer [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Sir Francis Bacon (1^st Viscount of St Albans), philosopher, jurist, statesman, author and scientist was born on 22 January 1561 at York House in London.  At the age of twelve, Bacon was sent to study at Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1579 he took up a residence in law at Gray’s Inn.  Famous as a liberal-minded reformer he openly opposed feudal privileges and religious persecution.  He was a favourite with Queen Elizabeth I as well as being a close advisor of the Earl of Essex.  He also flourished under the reign of James I, under whom he was granted a knighthood in 1603.  In 1618 he was appointed Lord Chancellor but his success did not last and three years later, after falling into debt, he was accused of twenty-three separate counts of corruption and thrown out of office.  With the end of his public career, Sir Francis Bacon turned to the other great passion in his life, the philosophy of science. He believed that science should be used as tool for the betterment of humanity and espoused a new approach, one based on tangible proof achieved through experimentation, gathering of data and analysis.  Alas his dedication to his beliefs eventually led to an experiment which effectively caused his death on the 9 April 1626 at the age of 65.

Bacon and the first frozen chicken

In the early part of 1626, Sir Francis Bacon whilst out in his carriage fell into an argument with his companion Dr Winterbourne.  The cause of the disagreement was Dr Winterbourne’s scepticism over Bacon’s hypothesis that fresh meat could be preserved if frozen.  In order to prove his theory he ordered his coachman to buy a chicken from the nearest source.  According to John Aubrey in his book “Brief Lives”,

“They alighted out of the coach, and went into a poor woman’s house at the bottom of Highgate Hill, and bought a hen, and made the woman gut it, and then stuffed the body with snow, and my lord did help to do it himself.

After the chicken had been partially plucked, Bacon placed the chicken in a bag, packed some more snow around it and buried the carcass.  Unfortunately according to Aubrey, Bacon caught a severe chill and was so ill he was unable make the distance to his own lodgings and instead was taken

“to the Earl of Arundel’s house at Highgate, where they put him into a good bed warmed with a pan, but it was a damp bed that had not been laid-in about a year before, which gave him such a cold that in two or three days, as I remember Mr Hobbes told me, he died of suffocation.” 

Death by chicken: Fact or fiction

It is difficult to tell how reliable Aubrey’s sources were.  The main problem with his account is the time of the year. If Aubrey’s report is correct then London would have been suffering from snowy conditions in April 1626.  According to contemporary evidence there is no record of snow in London at that time.  This is not to say that Bacon did not conduct an experiment with a frozen chicken or that it wasn’t an experiment with refrigeration that led to Bacon’s illness.  It could be that either two separate incidences were confused or that the illness that Bacon picked up earlier that year was a lingering one or even more likely that Bacon on returning to analysis the results of his experiment caught a chill in the damp, cold weather.  In fact Bacon himself confirms the cause of his illness.  In a letter written to his absent friend, Lord Arundel, he apologises for being a burden on his household and admits that it was whilst concluding an experiment in refrigeration that he caught a chill,

“My very good Lord,—I was likely to have had the fortune of Caius Plinius the elder, who lost his life by trying an experiment about the burning of Mount Vesuvius; for I was also desirous to try an experiment or two touching the conservation and induration of bodies. As for the experiment itself, it succeeded excellently well; but in the journey between London and Highgate, I was taken with such a fit of casting as I know not whether it were the Stone, or some surfeit or cold, or indeed a touch of them all three”

Whatever the truth behind the story, the death of Sir Francis Bacon will always be linked with that of a frozen chicken,

“Against cold meats was he insured?

For frozen chickens he procured —

brought on the illness he endured,

and never was this Bacon cured.”**

 

The hauntings of Pond Square

In a bizarre twist to the story, Pond Square, believed to be the site of Bacon’s experiment, has developed a reputation for being haunted, not by Sir Francis Bacon as you would expect but by a ghostly chicken.  Numerous sightings have been reported in the leafy suburb of Highgate (in 1864 the pond itself was filled in) during the winter months, and at least twenty of these were made in the twentieth century, most during the Second World War. 

In December 1943, Aircraftman Terence Long was crossing the pond late one night, when he heard noises of what sounded like horses’ hooves and a carriage behind him.  Turning around he was stunned to see something which looked like a half plucked, shivering chicken shrieking wildly and running around in circles until it eventually disappeared. Shocked he then met an Air Raid Precautions fireman to whom he recounted his visitation.  The fireman told him that the bird was regularly seen in the area and that one ARP had chased it, hoping to catch it for dinner until it ran into a brick wall and disappeared. 

Chicken Run; Parks & Lord; Dreamworks Pictures

Again during the Second World War, a Mrs J. Greenhill, a resident of the area, confirmed that she had seen the ghostly chicken on a number of occasions, describing it as a “large whitish bird”.

In the 1960s a motorist who had broken down, reported seeing a half plucked bird in a state of distress, squawking and running in circles.  Going towards it, concerned that it was injured, he was startled when it suddenly vanished into thin air.

The last confirmed sighting of the poultry ghost was in 1970.  The couple whilst kissing were rudely interrupted when a bird dropped out of the air next to them.  They stated that the bird was squawking and running in circles and disappeared shortly afterwards.

Recently the sightings of the ghostly chicken have virtually ceased.  Maybe the bird, distressed at its unorthodox demise has finally accepted its place in scientific history and come to terms with the circumstances of its death. 

Notes

*Edward Coke (opponent of Sir Francis Bacon)

** Composed by the poet, Pip Wilson

Sources and references

 Brief Lives, John Aubrey

Pond Square Chicken, Highgate http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/england/greater-london/hauntings/pond-square-chicken-highgate.html

The Ghost Chicken of Highgate, London http://news.bbc.co.uk/dna/place-lancashire/plain/A14042099

Highgate Chicken Ghost http://www.real-british-ghosts.com/highgate-chicken-ghost.html

The ghost of pond square http://www.unexplainedmysteries.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=3678

The Penguin Book of Ghost Stories, J.A. Cuddon

True Ghosts and Spooky Incidents, Vikas Khatri

Francis Bacon: Biography, http://www.biography.com/people/francis-bacon-9194632

 

Sawney Bean: Cannibal, Progaganda or Bogeyman?

Tags

Cannibal Clan, cannibals, Christie Cleek, eighteenth century, Hills have eyes, history, James I, James VI, Progaganda, Sawney Bean, scottish folklore, Scottish history, seventeenth century

By Levi L. Hill [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, image adapted by Lenora

“A man and his wife behind him on the same horse, coming one evening home from a fair, and falling into the ambuscade of these merciless wretches, they fell upon them in a furious manner…..in the conflict the poor woman fell from behind him, and was instantly murdered before her husbands face; for the female cannibals cut her throat, and fell to sucking her blood with as great a gust, as if it had been wine.  This done, they ript up her belly and pulled out her entrails….It pleased providence…that twenty or thirty from the same fair came together as a body; upon which Sawney Bean and his blood thirsty clan withdrew and made the best of their way through thick wood to their den.” Captain Charles Johnson in 1742.

The legend of Sawney Bean and his incestuous clan of cannibals is famous in Scotland and a whole heritage industry has grown up around the infamous Sawney. The grisly tale has spawned horror films such as The Hills Have Eyes, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Ravenous, as well as films dealing directly with Sawney himself.

The Legend

There are a number of versions of the legend, but most agree that Alexander ‘Sawney’ Bean was born in a village in East Lothian a few miles outside Edinburgh and that he began life as a hedger and ditcher.  Not keen on honest graft Sawney ran away from his parents in the company of a like-minded woman who may or may not have been called Black Agnes Douglas. It seems the couple tried to settle in Ballantrae but Black Agnes was accused of witchcraft and the pair decamped to the hidden cave of Bennane Head.  They soon took up a more sinister occupation suited to their vicious natures namely highway robbery with a cannibalistic twist.

Sawney Bean and wife [Pulbic domain] via Wikimedia

It is said that their reign of terror lasted for 25 years during which time they bred an incestuous clan of children and grandchildren numbering nearly 50 at the time they were caught.  They were remarkably good at evading notice, despite the high numbers of victims attributed to them – some say up to 1000 were murdered by the clan.  In part this was due to their hideout – their cave lair extended a mile under ground and its entrance was covered by the sea when the tide was in.   The other element in keeping their bloody lifestyle a secret was leaving no survivors.

The size of the clan enabled them to attack groups of travellers and it is said that they often had a surplus of food.  Discarded arms and legs were tossed into the sea miles from the cave and caused alarm amongst coastal villages when they washed up on the shore.

As the surrounding area became depopulated, and the local villagers became more fearful, accusations were levelled against innocent individuals, particularly innkeepers, and many were hanged for the crimes of Sawney Bean and his family.

Eventually the Bean Clan’s luck ran out.  They were interrupted in attacking a couple returning from a fair and their crimes were exposed.  The husband had survived the attack and took his wife’s mutilated body to the magistrate at Glasgow and the matter came to the attention of the king.

Sawney Bean’s Cave, Image by Tony Page via Wikimedia

A party of 400 men led by King James VI set out to catch the culprits.  Riding up and down the coastline it is said that they overlooked the cave because nobody could conceive of human beings living in such conditions.  But the bloodhounds they had brought with them were drawn towards the cave and the smell of rotting meat issuing from it.  Entering the cave the king and his men found Sawney Bean and his clan.  Captain Charles Johnson writing in 1742 describes what they found in the cave:

“Legs, arms, thighs, hands and feet of men, women and children, were hung up in rows like dried beef.  A great many limbs lay in pickle, and a great mass of money, both gold and silver, with watches, rings and swords, pistols, and a large quantity of clothes, both linnen and woollen, and an infinite number of other things, which they had taken from those they had murder’d, were thrown together in heaps, or hung up against the sides of the den.”

The murderous troupe was taken to Edinburgh Tollbooth, then to Leith were they were executed in suitably Grisly fashion:

“The men had their privy members cut off, and thrown into the fire before their faces, then their hands and legs were severed from their bodies; by which amputation they bled to death in some hours.  The wife, daughters and grand children…were afterwards burned to death in three several fires.”

All died cursing and unrepentant.  One daughter was said to have left the clan and married, but when the horrible deeds of her family were uncovered she was lynched by the villagers and hanged from the ‘hairy tree’.

What lies beyond the legend?

Like many legends concrete evidence is hard to locate.  One of the biggest stumbling blocks to proving Sawney Bean ever existed is that the records simply are not there.  If a thousand people had disappeared over a generation, and the culprits had been found by the King himself and executed in such a gory fashion, then surely someone somewhere would have recorded it?  Sean Thomas sees this as one of the biggest proofs that Sawney is simply a legend.

No official records, no royal records, no letters, no journals no contemporary evidence of these extraordinary crimes exists.  Even allowing for the sparsity of records in early seventeenth century Scotland Dr Louise Yeoman, in an interview with the BBC,  has pointed out that if a king such as James VI of Scotland/I of England had been involved in such a perilous and successful venture against a group of blood-thirsty cannibals he would surely have publicised it.  After all this was a king with a strong sense of paranoia and a hands on interest in demonology and witchcraft.

Frontispiece of Captain Charles Johnson’s 1742 book

In fact the earliest references to Sawney Bean and his family occur in eighteenth century English broadsheets and chap-books.  Publications that were designed to amaze and horrify their audiences with tales of terrible deeds.  Dr Yeoman in her BBC interview and Fiona Black writing in ‘The Polar Twins’ support the idea that Sawney Bean was actually a piece of English Propaganda.  It is to be noted that the earliest versions of the story appear in English publications not Scottish.  Perhaps it was a colonial view of the barbarous Scots designed to show the superiority of the English at a time when suspicion of the Scots was rife.  The Sawney Bean tale surfaces just after the Union of England and Scotland, and at a time when Anti-Jacobite feelings were running high.   Dr Yeoman further supports this interpretation with the fact that ‘Sawney’ was a derogatory name often given to Scotsmen in English cartoons at the time.

Against this view, Sean Thomas points out that these same periodicals also contain a plethora of horrible deeds perpetrated by English criminals.  However, it would seem to me that Sawney’s deeds stand out from the rest.

Neverthless there seems to be some consensus in the view that one of the biggest anomalies in the various tellings of the story relates to when the events took place.  The most common time-period is the reign of James VI/I, but versions exist that take place in the reign of James I in the 1400’s and some set in earlier periods.  Could the legend be based on earlier tales of real cannibalism?

During Scotland’s turbulent history and its many conflicts with England, there were many periods of famine.  During such times of starvation there were tales of cannibalism occurring.  One such documented case is that of Christie Cleek who lived in the reign of David II.  Christie was a butcher from Perth, and in a period of famine, he and a band of friends lived a life of scavenging to survive.  When one of the party died, Christie used his butchers skills and the group ate their comrade.  Eventually Christie took to attacking travellers and robbing them and when necessary eating them to ward of starvation.  This story is documented in the 1400’s when it was alleged to have occurred so appears to be historically plausible.

Goya [public domain] via Wikimedia

It may be that the story simply fulfills the psychological need for a good scare story and it certainly contains many of the staple ingredients of the macabre that seem to crop up time and time again whatever the century. Sean Thomas certainly draws this conclusion. Sawney Bean has never lost his gory appeal – from the broadsheets, to John Nicholson’s 1843 version of the tale, the Newgate Calendar, numerous film versions, and even the Edinburgh Dungeon’s Sawney Bean experience, shock horror endures because it appeals to something dark within the human psyche.

At the end of the day it may be that Sawney Bean is the archetypal Bogeyman, a tale to tell children at bed-time; a half-remembered folk-memory of times when famine drove people to commit terrible deeds to survive and that was then co-opted by anti-Jacobite propagandists.  We may never know for sure.

Sources

Brocklehurst, Steven, Who was Sawney Bean? http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-21506077
Johnson, Charles, A General and True History of the lives and actions of the most famous highwaymen, murderers, street-robbers, &c, 1742 http://archive.org/stream/generaltruehisto00defo#page/n49/mode/2up
Sawney Bean: Scotland’s Hannibal Lector,http://www.bbc.co.uk/legacies/myths_legends/scotland/s_sw/article_1.shtml
The Legend of Sawney Bean, http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/scotland/dumfriesshire/legends/the-legend-of-sawney-bean.html
The Newgate Calendar – Sawney Bean, http://www.mysteriousbritain.co.uk/scotland/dumfriesshire/legends/the-newgate-calendar-part-1-sawney-bean.html
Thomas, Sean, In Search of Sawney Bean, http://www.forteantimes.com/features/articles/129/in_search_of_sawney_bean.html
Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sawney_Bean; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christie-Cleek

The Wicked Lady: folklore, fiction – fact?

Tags

civil war, English history, folk lore, Hertfordshire, highway women, highwaymen, history, Katherine Fanshawe, Lady Katherine Ferrers, legends, Markyate Cells, seventeenth century, The wicked lady

The Gentleman’s Magazine, Monday, 24 November 1735:

Margaret Lockwood as the Wicked Lady, 1945 Gainsborough Pictures.

“A Butcher was Robb’d in a very Gallant Manner by a Woman well mounted on a Side Saddle, &c. near Rumford in Essex. She presented a Pistol to him, and demanded his Money; he being amaz’d at her Behaviour told her, he did not know what she meant; when a Gentleman coming up, told him he was a Brute to deny the Lady’s request, and if he did not gratify her Desire immediately, he wou’d Shoot him thro’ the Head; so he gave her his Watch and 6 Guineas.”†

The term Highway Man entered the English Language in 1617, courtesy of one William Fennor in his work ‘The Counter’s Commonwealth’ and it did not take long for the female highway man to follow.

One of the most colourful and persistent legends of the female highwayman is that of The Wicked Lady.  Her tale has entered both the local folk-lore of the Hertfordshire area and become well-known to the public at large through the 1944 novel by Magdalen King Hall and the 1945 Gainsborough film starring Margaret Lockwood and James Mason.  A later more frolicsome version was also produced by Michael Winner in 1983 and starring Faye Dunaway (although it is not to be forgotten that the 1945 version was considered extremely daring in its day because of the low decolletage of the ladies gowns).

The legend of the Wicked Lady

Both book and film contain most of the salient points of the legend, although they clearly embellish the account.  King Hall names her protagonist Lady Barbara Skelton of Maryiott Cells (rather than Markyate Cell), her lover the notorious highwayman Captain Jackson.    These versions of the tale have taken on an authority of their own in imparting the legend to a contemporary audience.

The main elements of the traditional tale are that a beautiful, young and bored noblewoman takes to dressing as a man and riding the countryside between Markyate Cells, Watling Street, Nomansland Common and Gustard Wood holding up travellers at gun point and stealing their goods.  Her antics are unknown to her husband and retainers as she is able to exit Markyate Cells via a secret passageway.

She falls in love with a local farmer Ralph Chaplin and together they continue their reign of terror.  Eventually Chaplin is hanged during a failed robbery on Finchley Common and in her grief the wicked lady terrorises the villagers around  Markyate Cells burning their cottages as they sleep, killing livestock and even going as far as to kill the Constable of Caddington.

Faye Dunaway – the death of the Wicked Lady, from the Michael Winner film 1983

Despite her grief she continues to rob and plunder travellers until one night she attacks a lone waggoner on the remote and chillingly named Nomansland Common.  Unbeknownst to her, he has comrades hidden in the waggon and she is shot and fatally wounded.  Riding back to Markyate Cells she dies before she can reach her home and is found, in her highwayman’s garb, in the grounds by servants who under the cover of darkness convey her body for burial.

Spectral Sightings

It might be supposed that the death of The Wicked Lady would see the end of her antics.  However, there was more to come, as Magdalen King Hall well knew.  At least one-third of her novel deals with a fictionalised history of the sightings of the female highwayman’s ghost particularly in and around ‘Maryiott Cells’.

“Slow dragging footsteps could be heard across the floors and lights seen in windows of unoccupied rooms; where mysterious rappings, sighs and whispering disturbed the stillness of the night house.”

A trembling bishop at a garden party describes seeing a comely female form in male attire that chilled him to the bone:

“The expression on the face was malign, predatory, doleful and all together most disquieting”

Nomansland Common, image by Hogweard

Not so fanciful it would seem, as there are many real life accounts of the spectre of the Wicked Lady.  The accounts seem to begin in the nineteenth century and include the somewhat surprising manifestation of the lady swinging from the branches of an old Sycamore tree in the grounds of Markyate Cell, terrifying a gang of workmen away from the location of her hidden treasure.

In 1840 Markyate Cell burned down and this was said to have been caused by the wicked lady – those fighting the fire are said to have felt very uneasy and many thought that their efforts were being watched from the woods by her baleful spirit.

In the late 19th Century the journal of August Hare records her presence at Markyate Cell – he apparently was not phased by sharing his home with a phantom and often bid her good night when he passed her on the staircase.  One comical entry states he found her shade standing in a doorway. Calling to his wife, who was on the other side, they both ran forward arms outstretched to capture her but – of course – she was not there. I don’t believe Mr Hare’s journal notes whether he and his wife bumped noses as a result of this encounter!

In the early twentieth century one George Wood was travelling the road from Markyate to Kensworth and saw a female figure dressed as a man about half a mile away.  The figure jumped into a ditch and when he reached the spot she was gone.  Mr Wood was unaware of the legend, but a local woman interpreted his vision for him and decided it was clearly the famous highway woman herself.

In 1970, Doug Payne, owner of The Wicked Lady Pub in Wheathampstead, claimed that whilst dog walking on Nomansland Common one night he was startled by the sounds of hoof-beats fast approaching him – yet he saw no rider.  The Wicked Lady pub was an inn in the seventeenth century and was thought to be one of her haunts.

More recently still, a woman returning to St Alban’s and stuck in a traffic jam was amazed to see a rider galloping in front of her car, pursued by a figure on foot who leaned on the car bonnet!  The vision dissolved in front of her eyes.

Local legend has it that horses left out in the fields near Markyate Cell at night, have been found in the mornings foam-flecked and exhausted, as thought they had been ridden hard all night….

Who was the Wicked Lady?

Katherine Fanshawe – the wicked lady? Portrait currently in Valence House Museum

Such a rich legend has to be true, doesn’t it?  There has to be a real woman behind this legend – right?  Well many people have tried to identify the real historical woman behind the legend and by far the most popular candidate is Lady Katherine Ferrers (1634 – 1660).

Katherine Ferrers (sometimes spelled Catherine) was the daughter of Knighton Ferrers and his wife.  Early in life she suffered the tragedy of losing her father and grandfather and brother which meant that by the age of 6 she was heiress to a vast fortune and extensive property and land.  Her mother remarried in 1640 Simon Fanshawe (later Sir Simon) but died only two years later leaving the young Katherine to the mercenary mercies of her step-father.

The Fanshawes were another wealthy landowning family, and a match between the Ferrers and the Fanshawes would seem practical – both families needed to ensure an heir or die out, their lands were adjoining and both were of the same religion.  Katherine was betrothed to Simon Fanshawe’s nephew Thomas.  In 1648 when she was 14 and he was 16 they were married and their fortunes were united.

One cloud on the horizon for the young couple was the Civil War.  It is likely that both families were royalist, but the Fanshawe’s were very actively so, and had suffered as a consequence.  The Sequestration Act took one of their properties and unlike parliamentarians, royalists had to obtain funds for their cause through contributions (from willing contributors such as the Fanshawe’s and less willing contributors who were looted or taxed unfairly).  Many of the Fanshawe’s fled abroad and others were often away fighting or in prison.  All of this made the family short of ready money.  Katherine’s inheritance was fair game and bit by bit her lands and properties were sold off for the cause.  Even Markyate Cell, so integral to the legend was sold by her husband in 1655 to ‘3 Londoners’ then again in 1657 to Mr Coppins.

Did this sudden pressure on the Ferrers/Fanshawe coffers lead Katherine to a life of highway robbery?  It was not unheard of – the Civil War left may noble and dashing young royalist without funds and a number of noble men (and even some noble women) were credited with taking to the highways and byways to replenish their wealth.  Did the bored and beautiful young wife, neglected by her husband take up with the handsome Ralph Chaplin and seek a life of adventure and peril on the open road?

She certainly died young – only 26 years of age.  She was not recorded as having any issue and was buried by night not in the Fanshawe family vault as might be expected, but at St Mary’s Church, Ware.  With her early death, the Ferrers line died out.

Katherine Ferrers – Guilty or Innocent?

Putting aside any thought for what the real Katherine may have thought about her posthumous fame/infamy, I would love her to be the prototype for the Wicked Lady.  A modern minx or proto feminist who just wouldn’t sit back and be the passive wife while her inheritance was frittered away by her neglectful husband, someone who took destiny by the throat, and even though she eventually lost, someone who died trying!  I would like to think she had an exciting, if short, life.  But I just don’t think the evidence holds up.

Markyate Cell, from The Gentleman’s Magazine, 1805

Yes, she was in the right place at the right time, and circumstances could have led her to seek her fortune on the road and her early death may hint at some violent end….but.

The legend sets her base as Markyate Cell, her ancestral home, yet it has never been proven that she actually lived there and in any-case the manor was sold well before her death.  In addition to this, Markyate Cell would seem too far away from her alleged stomping ground on Nomansland Common to be practical (although Gustards Wood has been mooted as an alternative HQ).

The handsome Ralph Chaplin, who swept the bored young girl off her feet, appears no where in local records and seems as much a phantom as the unseen rider.  Finchley Common, the site of his death, is also just a bit too far away to be likely.

Her early death, and burial by night can hardly be seen as uncommon in the seventeenth century.  Insanitary conditions, even for the wealthy, and poor understanding of medicine would have led to many an untimely death.  Burial in the evening was also a common practice at that time.  Her choice to be buried in the Church at Ware may have been out of respect to her Ferrers heritage rather than a sign of disgrace.

A case of mistaken identity or folk-lore gone wild?

The female highwayman/soldier/sailor is a common folk motif in English tradition. And treasure – what good folk-tale or legend is repleat without lost treasure to keep the story alive!

“Near the Cell, there is a wellNear the well there is a tree
And under the tree the treasure be”

Ballads and folktales abound on this subject of cross-dressing highwaymen and lost treasure; and perhaps at a time of civil war when there was so much turmoil and unrest a female highwayman entering the local cannon of folk-lore might be expected.  That Katherine Ferrers name has become associated with this local legend may be down to misidentification and coincidence.

In the 1820’s builders discovered a secret passage way at Markyate Cell.  It ran from the Kitchen to a chamber above.  The discovery excited local gossip about the legendary highway woman.  In 1833 a poem called ‘Maude of Allinghame’ told of the exploits of a female highwayman.  Coincidentally Katherine’s mother was related to a family called Allinghame.

Add to this the muddled memory of the Wicked Lord Ferrers, hanged at Tyburn in 1760 for murdering a faithful servant and it’s not to big a step to create a Wicked Lady Ferrers – the film versions have the wicked lady murdering a faithful old retainer so incorporate this element.

Overall, I am with John Barber and Marianne Gilchrist on this one and I believe that on balance, Katherine Ferrers probably wasn’t the Wicked Lady of folk legend; but that the strength of this legend in the popular consciousness was such that it appropriated a real person to validate it.

Certainly Anne Fanshawe writing the family history in the 1920’s had little to say of Katherine, and gossip at the time of her death did not attribute any scandal to her name.

She was, perhaps best described thus (despite the unfortunate emphasis on her fortune):

“A very great fortune and most excellent woman”§

Katherine Fanshawe

Notes

† Quote taken from http://www.outlawsandhighwaymen.com, http://www.outlawsandhighwaymen.com/gentmag.htm

§ Quote from ‘Dictionary of National Biography’,  http://www.hertfordshire-genealogy.co.uk/data/answers/answers-2001/ans-0021-wickedlady.htm

Sources

http://www.dunstablehistory.co.uk, http://www.dunstablehistory.co.uk/archives/VWX/Wicked_Lady.htm
http://www.hemelonline.com, http://www.hemelonline.com/history
http://www.hertfordshire-geneaology.co.uk, http://www.hertfordshire-genealogy.co.uk/data/answers/answers-2001/ans-0021-wickedlady.htm
http://www.johnbarber.com, http://www.johnbarber.com/wickedlady.html part 1-4
/the_wicked_lady_of_markyate.html
King-Hall, Magdalen, ‘The Wicked Lady’, 1944, reprinted 1976.
http://www.lutonparanormal.com, http://lutonparanormal.com/hertfordshire/popups/markyate.html
http://www.watfordobserver.co.uk, http://www.watfordobserver.co.uk/nostalgia/crimelibrary/katherineferrers/
Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lady_Katherine_Ferrers
http://fadedvideolabels.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/the-wicked-lady-1945.html

Eyam: Village of Death

Tags

black death, bubonic plague, Derbyshire history, England, Eyam, history, mompesson, plague village, seventeenth century

A Lovers Tryst

Detail of tombstone at Eyam

Two lovers meet in secret. Gazing across the grassy Delph, they dare not speak for fear of discovery, they dare not touch for fear of the terrible consequences.  This silent meeting takes place every day for many weeks until one day, at the end of April, the young man stands there alone.  Although he returns often she does not come again.  He is fraught with worry but he cannot go seek her at her home.  His name was Rowland Torre of Stoney Middleton, her name was Emmott Sydall and she lived in the village of Eyam.

I visited the sleepy village of Eyam (rhymes with stream) on a dank and misty day in February.   The village nestled beneath damp green hills and was encircled by the shiny black branches of winter trees – the whole landscape seemed drenched in silence and mystery.  I would almost say there was a mournful air to the place, but that would be to over simplify the incredible story of this village and the terrible sacrifice its inhabitants chose to make.

Signs and Portents

They said that Plague was a punishment from God visited on the sinful, and that it should be borne with fortitude and prayer.  The seventeenth century had seen a world turned upside down with regicide, the commonwealth and the restoration bringing religious, political and economic turmoil in their wake.  But by the 1660’s things had calmed, Charles II was on the throne, the village of Eyam was thriving with a rich lead mining industry, busy yeomen farmers and tradesmen plying their trades.  But the signs were there all the same…

They said that village lads had allowed the cows to stray into the churchyard, the nave had been fouled; soon after unnatural white crickets were spied on hearths; the Gabriel hounds were heard calling on the moors:  God was displeased with Eyam.  Or so the faithful reasoned when plague arrived as an unwanted guest a year later.

The Plague

Plague Doctor/undertaker

The Plague has been known in Europe since the mid fourteenth century.  Its first terrible outbreak in the late 1340’s wiped out up to one-third of England’s population.  In the intervening years there were many sporadic outbreaks across Europe.  It was not until the early twentieth century that the cause of the plague was discovered to be bacillus carried by fleas and transmitted to Black Rats and thence (when there were not enough rats to support the fleas) to humans.

The Bubonic Plague was spread by black rats who lived in very close proximity to humans (in the wainscot, in the thatch, under your floor).  You could expect vomiting, high fever, extreme pain, gangrene in the extremities, swellings of the lymph glands, particularly in the groin.  These swellings were excruciatingly painful, large and often burst.

“The pain of the swelling was in particular very violent and to some intolerable; physicians and surgeons may be said to have tortured many poor creatures, even into death.”  So wrote Daniel Defoe in his ‘Journal of the Plague Year’.

The Pneumonic Plague  was even more virulent as a flea bite was not required in its transmission – it was spread by the coughs and sneezes from its victims.  Pneumonic plague affected the blood and lead to extreme fluctuations in temperature which usually lead to coma and death.

During the three hundred or so years when the Plague visited and revisited Europe, people had few defences against it.  Nostrums and charms both Christian and more pagan varieties were employed.   Sweet smelling nosegays were used to ward of noxious plague filled air; fires were burned in the streets to disperse the infected miasma.  Some of the cures on offer were unorthodox to say the least – tying a chicken or a toad to the buboe to draw off the poison; poultices made up of varying degrees of foul ingredients.  Preventative measures were taken such as killing cats and dogs who were mistakenly seen as responsible for spreading the plague; and most disturbing of all the immuring of whole families where plague had visited a household, effectively condemning sick and healthy alike to a slow and painful death.  Some advice was sound:  leave the infected area, however this also facilitated the spread of the disease.

Plague comes to Eyam

1665 saw the plague raging in London but the remote village of Eyam would seem far away from the problems of the capital. But plague, like bad news, travels fast.  Legend has it that sometime in August or September 1665 a bundle of cloth was sent from London (some say Canterbury) to a travelling tailor lodging with Mrs Cooper of Eyam.

The Plague Cottages

Records suggest that Mrs Cooper was a relatively affluent widow, and possibly a merry one as she married a second time in March of 1665.  Her new husband Alexander Hadfield may have been the travelling tailor referred too in local legend but he was away from home at the time of the plague (not returning until much later).  It is likely that he had an apprentice or a servant by the name of George Viccar’s whose fate was to be the first victim of the plague.  Dr Richard Mead, writing in the eighteenth century and using the recollections of Mompesson’s son described the scene thus:

“a box of materials relating to his trade [was delivered] a servant [George Viccars] who opened the aforesaid box, finding they were damp was ordered to dry them by the fire.”

Perhaps he loosed fleas from the cloth or perhaps flea eggs hatched in the warmth of the fire, what ever he let loose George Viccars paid the price and died within the week.  The second victim was young Edward Cooper Mrs Cooper’s son.  Over the next few days close neighbours began to fall ill and die: Peter Hawksworth, Thomas Thorpe and his 12-year-old daughter.  It couldn’t have taken long for the villagers to realise that something was terribly wrong.

The deaths continued through the late summer and autumn, those who had means, such as the wealthy Sheldon family, fled.  Those who were tied to their trade or land, or simply too poor or too late to flee remained.  Some camped in the hills and caves in the surrounding area but many stayed in the village.  Those who camped nearby might have made the best decision – in fleeing the outbreak they had left behind the insanitary conditions that helped spread the plague.

Plague comes in the summer, preferring the warmer months of the year so there was a falling off of deaths during the winter.  Numbers began to creep up again in spring 1666, and by April there had been 73 deaths (well above the average for a village of Eyam’s size).  May saw a lull and the villagers hoped for the best.  Medical knowledge of the day said there should be a clear gap of 21 days with no new infections before an area could be deemed clear of plague.  Eyam was not so lucky.

William Mompesson

By June many more had fled – the Rector William Mompesson had sent his children to safety in Yorkshire although his consumptive wife Catherine had insisted on remaining by his side to help tend the sick, although it would cost her life (she died in August and was buried in the churchyard by special dispensation).  It was clear that action needed to be taken in order to prevent plague spreading beyond the village.  In the absence of the usual village hierarchy who had mostly fled, the Rector became the focus of authority in the village.  However, village life was never simple and the rector was a young man and a newcomer to the village.  He needed an ally in order to successfully carry out any action, and he found it in Thomas Stanley the former incumbent.

Thomas Stanley was a puritan who replaced the traditionalist and unpopular rector during the civil war.  The old rector was re-established in 1660, but Stanley remained a part of religious life in the village and was very popular.  Mompesson took the rectorship in 1664 but Stanley’s influence must still have been very strong in the village.  Nevertheless  despite their widely differing views both were able to put aside these differences in order to present a united front to the village.  This unity undoubtedly helped in gaining their parishioners consent to the radical plan the men proposed.

A Simple Plan

1. No more burials in the churchyard – people would bury their own dead on their own land or gardens.
2. The Church would be closed and services would be held out-of-doors at Cuckold Delph with family groups remaining at least 12 feet apart from their neighbours (sound advice).
3. The village would be quarantined.  No one would leave or enter the village until it was clear of plague in order to prevent it spreading to neighbouring villages and towns such as Bakewell, Fulwood and Sheffield.

The villagers entered into a pact with their Rector and consented to the quarantine, knowing full well that for many of them it was a death sentence.  Nevertheless their religious faith fortified their resolve – many felt it was their religious duty to seek divine forgiveness, some went to the extreme of refusing the cures on offer for fear of offending God.

It is hard to understand how terribly these simple rules would have affected the villagers. It is harder still to imagine the suffering that was to come:  whole families were wiped out, people were forced to bury their own dead, inscribe their own headstones when even the mason died.  The infected, whilst still living, would have heard their own graves being dug in preparation.  But death would bring no respite because at that time it was held that if a person was not buried in consecrated ground they would not rise on Judgement Day and be reunited with loved ones in paradise.  That was the extent of the sacrifice the villagers were prepared to make to prevent plague spreading.

Staying alive

Mompesson’s well

Despite the bleak outlook, in the midst of death, life still goes on.  Practical measures were implemented to alleviate suffering.  The Earl of Devonshire paid for food and medical supplies and local villages supported Eyam by supplying goods which were dropped off and paid for at set points around the boundaries of the Cordon Sanitaire.  Many of these drop off points remain today as poignant reminders of this time.  In order to disinfect coins left by the villagers they were usually left in water – Monday Brook earned its name at this time when goods from Bakewell’s Monday market were exchanged there.  The Boundary Stone has niches drilled in it that were filled with vinegar to disinfect the coins and Mompesson’s Well sits on a lonely stretch of the Grindleford Road.

Of death and life

The death toll was huge, Mompesson stated 76 families were affected. Some of the monthly figures show the devastation of the plague:  July 56 deaths, August 78, September 24, October 14.

However, statistics can never truly convey the human cost of plague, individual families suffered huge losses:  Jane Hawksworth lost 25 members of her immediate and extended family; The Talbot’s and the Hancock’s were all but wiped out:  Mrs Hancock burying her husband and 6 children in the space of a week before eventually fleeing Eyam.  The graves she dug can still be seen, and have become known as the Riley Graves, they stand as a silent testament to one woman’s almost unimaginable loss.

The Riley Graves dug by Mrs Hancock, Image by Stephen G Taylor

Not everyone who contracted plague died, some survived and their stories have entered local folk-lore. Margaret Blackwell was in the final stages of plague when suffering from a raging thirst she swigged back a jug of bacon fat mistaking it for milk.  She vomited up the fat and made a remarkably swift recovery, convinced that the bacon fat had saved her.  Another case has a certain macabre humor about it – Marshall Howe himself a plague survivor thought he may have built up some immunity so offered his services (for a fee) to help bury the dead.  One such client was a man called Unwin, and as Marshall dragged the corpse towards its grave, he was horrified to hear the dead man call for a drink.  Marshall fled in terror thinking the dead had risen.

Finally by Christmas 1666 Plague was officially over and the villagers began to return to their homes.  One final action was required to ensure plague was gone for good and, lead by the Rector himself, villagers burned all but the clothes on their backs.

Emmott and Rowland meeting at Cuckold Delph, a window at St Lawrence Church

And what of Emmott and Rowland?  Rowland was one of the first outsiders to enter the village once the quarantine was lifted.  When he found the Sydall house empty his hopes must have begun to fade.  He soon discovered that the Sydall’s were all dead and that his precious Emmott had fallen ill and died shortly after their last meeting.  All his months of waiting and hoping had been in vain.

In all close to 260 villagers of Eyam died in the outbreak which lasted for 14 months.  But they had succeeded in their plan – the plague did not spread beyond Eyam.

Today Eyam is a working village, but it has never forgotten its extraordinary history.  The Parish Church commemorates events in a stained glass window, and Eyam Museum provides historical detail.

Every year, at the end of August a commemorative service is held at Cuckold Delph to remember those who made this sacrifice.

List of plague victims on display at St Lawrence Parish Church, Eyam

Sources

BBC – Legacies, http://www.bbc.co.uk/legacies/myths_legends/england/derby/article_1.shtml
Clifford, John, ‘Eyam Plague 1665 – 1666’, 2003 edition
Eyam Museum, http://www.eyammuseum.demon.co.uk/museumguide.htm
St Lawrence Eyam Parish Church, http://www.spanglefish.com/EyamChurch/index.asp?pageid=14206