You never know what you have until it’s gone! I seem to be assembling a post lockdown buck-list of heritage sites to revisit next year. Towards the top of my list is the wonderful Weald and Download museum.
In these lockdown-days, I has having a look through my blog and came across some photographs that I posted on this blog when I visited the museum back in 2012.
Once these crazy strange pandemic days are over, how about adding the Weald and Downland museum to your 2021 post lockdown bucket-list?
You may be interested in the following links about the Weald and Downland Museum:
If you are very fortunate, you might live in a fabulous house like the ones on display at the Weald and Downland museum. But if, like me, you don’t, you may still be interested about the history of your house. Here’s some posts from my blog that might interested you:-
I’m often asked why did I call my business “Essex Voices Past”.
Well, here’s the answer!
In 2011, at 3am one night, I was researching my Cambridge University masters’ dissertation on Great Dunmow. I attempted to decipher a chunk of handwriting written in the 1520s.
There was one line of Tudor text that was particularly perplexing and mysterious. It had puzzled me for days. So, I resorted to saying the text out loud. Phonetically.
The old Essex accent
As the words came out of my mouth, I found myself talking with the true old Essex country accent.
Loud and clear, I heard the voice of a long-dead Tudor parish-clerk emerging through the night-air. My baffling text was finally solved.
Essex Voices Past
It occurred to me in that moment, that the ancient documents I had been avidly studying contained not only the stories from Essex’s rich past, but also their voices. And thus, Essex Voices Past was born. Originally as a blog to record stories of Essex’s heritage. Now I, as Essex Voices Past, research stories of our past.
And now, finally, after nearly 10 years, my research that inspired me to start Essex Voices Past has now been published!
Nothing like lock-down to focus the mind and get stuff done!
Now available through Amazon. It’s on Kindle and paperback.
Click the book below to “Look Inside” my book on Amazon
The story of a north Essex town
This is book is a must read for anyone interested in Reformation history at a local level. Or anyone interested in the local history of an Essex town. It is also of interest for anyone with Tudor ancestors who hailed from Great Dunmow. Numerous local family names are detailed within the book.
During this period, society and religion were firmly interlinked. This study provides a narrative of one Essex town during the turbulent 16th century.
If you are, you might be interested in my new book about Great Dunmow and the English Reformation.
It’s taken me nearly 10 years and a global pandemic to finally stop making excuses and just do it…
10 years ago I spent countless sleepless nights studying and writing. This was coupled with many trips to Cambridge University and Essex Record Office before I emerged triumphant.
I had finally studied, researched and written up my dissertation for my Masters degree in local history.
My topic?
The impact of Henry VIII and his three children’s religious policy on Tudor town of Great Dunmow in Essex.
The hard work was worth it – it’s the “MSt” you will see after my name – “Master of Studies”.
I was awarded my masters degree at the end of 2011.
And, as I enjoyed my research so much, I immediately created my blog – Essex Voices Past so I could continue to write about Tudor Great Dunmow.
I have also given many talks across Essex about the happenings in Tudor Great Dunmow.
And there was some terrific “happenings”… Anyone for the burning of an effigy of a Scottish Catholic Cardinal in the middle of not so sleepy Great Dunmow in 1546!
The effigy even had its very own mock-castle built so that local youths could practice their archery by shooting at it and the Cardinal!
Despite all the stories I discovered, my complete dissertation got put to one side. To rub salt in the wound – Cambridge University even sent me back their copies of my dissertation. They didn’t have the storage room to keep masters dissertations so back mine came.
For nearly 10 years, only I had my dissertation. No archive or library had a copy. Only various bits of it I’d had the time to post online on this blog, Essex Voices Past.
Until covid-19 and lockdown…
Nothing like a pandemic to focus to mind and return to the past.
Both my past and Great Dunmow’s Tudor past.
I’ve spent lockdown days productively and have turned my dissertation into a Kindle book. That was a feat in itself! But thanks to covid-19, I finally had enough time to devote turning my dissertation into a book:
Numerous other Essex towns and villages – along with their association to Great Dunmow – are also mentioned in my book. These include Great Bardfield, Barnston, Bocking, Broxted, Great and Little Canfield, Great and Little Dunmow, Great and Little Easton, Good Easter, Hatfield Broad Oak, High Easter, The Rodings, Lindsell, Northend, Panfield, Rayne, Little Sailing, Shalford, Stebbing, and Thaxted.
My book also includes Tudor history from the 1520s for Maldon and Heybridge. Both towns had a strong connection and association to Great Dunmow by way of Tudor vicar, William Walton.
If you purchase it and enjoy, please could you leave me a review on Amazon? It would help me tremendously to get more exposure if my book has reviews.
History is full of coincidences and ironies. The date of 28th January is one such coincidence – 28 January 1457 and 28 January 1547 – two dates 90 years apart. The former the date of birth of the first Tudor despot, the later the date of his son’s death, the most tyrannical Tudor monarch of all.
Calendar page for January with additions from three different handwritting: 1. the obit of Catherine de Valois and the date of marriage of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York (black ink); 2. the date of birth of Henry VII (in Latin – faded brown ink); and 3. the obit of Henry VIII (brown ink at bottom of folio), from Book of Hours (The ‘Beaufort/Beauchamp Hours’), Use of Sarum, (England (London), after 1401, before 1415) shelfmark Royal 2 A XVIII f.28 January
Below are close-ups of the entries for the birth of Henry VII and the death of Henry VIII.
Natale d[omi]ni Henrici filij Emundi comitis Richemondie ac d[omi]ne M[ar]rgarete vxoris sui filie Joh[ann]is nup[er] duc[?is] Somersete anno d[omi]ni millio cccc quinquagesimo sexto. Born Henry son of the Earl of Richmond and Margaret his wife daughter of John, Duke of Somerset 1456. (Latin text kindly transcribed by Rob Ellis of Medieval London)
The xxviijth [28th] daie of January deceassd the noble prynce Henry the eight the yere of owr lorde 1546
Although Henry VII’s date of birth was 1457, and Henry VIII’s date of death 1547, the years above of 1456 and 1546 are correct because these are contemporary entries written at times when the old Julian Calendar was still in use in England. Until 1752, the 1st January was only the start of the ecclesiastical New Year but not when the year-date changed. The change to a new year started on Lady Day (25th March). Thus English documents written prior to 1752 will have any dates between 1st January and 24th March written in the Old Style. Modern historians either have to adjust these dates to the New Style or ‘double date’ the entry to show both old and new date (e.g. the above dates would be dated ‘1456/7’ and ‘1546/7’).
Henry VII from Guild Book of the Barber Surgeons of York (England, N. (York?), 2nd half of the 16th century) shelfmark Egerton 2572 f.7.
Henry VIII from Guild Book of the Barber Surgeons of York (England, N. (York?), 2nd half of the 16th century) shelfmark Egerton 2572 f.8.
Henry VII giving the manuscript to the monks of Westminster from Indenture for Henry VII’s Chapel (England, S. E. (London), 1504) shelfmark Harley 1498 f.98.
Henry VIII praying in his bedchamber from The Psalter of Henry VIII (England, S. E. (London), c1540-1541) shelfmark Royal 2 A XVI f.3.
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A slightly strange thing to be doing on a cold winter’s afternoon on a Sunday in January, but those of you who know me, know that I’m slightly obsessed with the witches of Essex. Essex people (mainly women) who – between the 1560s and c1680s – were legally convicted of the crime of witchcraft.
Living close to the Essex town of Maldon, I’m a mere stone’s throw from some of the major “outbreaks” of England’s Tudor witchcraft. So, hence my decision to go on a witch-hunt.
Today, I visited the village Hatfield Peverel. In this village lived one of the first people to be executed for witchcraft in England. She was executed in 1566. If Essex was Tudor witch-county (which it was), then Hatfield Peverel was witch-village. The parish had more Elizabethan witches living in it than anywhere else in Essex (and therefore, by default, anywhere in England).
Hatfield Peverel today, despite being near the City of Chelmsford, is still relatively small. It is probably better known for its a train station with fast trains into London and its very easy access to the A12.
Not many people realise that it was once a witch village.
So, I went hunting for poor Agnes Waterhouse of Hatfield Peverel – executed in Chelmsford in 1566 for being a witch. Her grandmother, sister and daughter – all of Hatfield Peverel – were witches too.
A woodcutting of Agnes Waterhouse. Executed in 1566 for murdering William Fynee by witchcraft
Today, there is very little trace of the Tudor or medieval village. A small amount of remnants are present in a few buildings and within the names of some of the houses. Such as Priory Lodge – located where there was once a medieval priory. Later, the ruins of the former priory were heavily amended during the 18th century.
Born in the early 1500s, Agnes Waterhouse and her family would have known the original Benedictine priory. It was closed in 1536, during Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries – part of the consequences of the English Reformation. Long before her execution in 1566, as a young poor woman of the village, Agnes might have visited the priory, seeking charity and alms – such as bread and milk – for her family from its monks.
With most of the medieval/Tudor village long gone, the nearest I could get to poor Agnes was today’s parish church – St Andrew’s.
Agnes Waterhouse was born in the early 1500s – during the reign of Catholic Henry VII. Today’s parish church was originally part of the pre-Reformation Catholic priory’s church. But by the time of her trial in 1566, England had changed and was Protestant under Queen Elizabeth I’s Religious Settlement.
So much religious change happened during the 60 years of Agnes’ life.
A booklet printed at the time of her execution stated that Agnes said her prayers in Latin. A clear indication to Tudor folk that she was of the old religion – the banned Catholic faith. During Elizabeth I’s reign, England was a Protestant country and everyone was legally forced to say their prayers in English – the language of Protestantism.
Agnes’ prosecutors used the fact that she said her prayers in Latin – the language of the banned Catholic faith – as evidence that she was a witch.
Strange times…
Unfortunately, today Hatfield Peverel’s church was locked, so I couldn’t get inside it. The interior probably looks very different to how it was during Agnes’ childhood. Back then, at the start of the 1500s, the priory’s church must have been highly decorated with paintings of Catholic saints and symbolism. The interiors of English churches were white-washed on the orders, first of Henry VIII and then later by his son Edward VI.
Today, 450 years on, it was the nearest I could get to Agnes Waterhouse.
It was very peaceful in today’s churchyard – although I could hear the constant roar of the nearby A12 – East Anglia’s equivalent to a motorway. A murder of crows was calling in the churchyard’s trees (I love that expression – I’ve always wanted to say it!). But even in the coldness of the first Sunday in January, snowdrops were in full bloom.
Normally, when I’m witch-hunting, my next steps would be to look in the parish registers – baptisms, marriages and burials. It’s unlikely I’d find the burial of a convicted Essex witch– they were buried in a pit of executed criminals in Chelmsford – in unconsecrated ground. But I might find a witch’s victims buried in the local churchyard.
However a quick look at Essex Record Office’s website shows that Hatfield Peverel’s parish registers start in the early 1600s. I don’t know the complete history of St Andrew’s – particularly when it started to be the village’s parish church after the priory (and therefore it’s church) was closed. Agnes may have worshiped at another nearby church such as the one at Ulting.
So that’s one avenue of my research closed.
I didn’t quite find Agnes. But I certainly found the places where she played and roamed – and learnt her craft of being a witch – as a child in Henry VII’s and Henry VIII’s England.
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By the way, many people think that the major road in Chelmsford – Waterhouse Lane – was named after her. Even Chelmsford’s local newspaper has published an article saying that it was….
But think about it carefully… Witches were feared throughout England. Would a road (even what was, in Tudor times, a small country lane) really be named after a convicted notorious and much dreaded executed witch? Moreover, poor Agnes came from Hatfield Peverel – not Chelmsford.
But then, playing devil’s advocate, maybe the lane was named after her because of her place of execution. Chelmsford’s gallows was located approximately at the start of Waterhouse Lane. The hangman’s gallows were roughly where the road called Primrose Hill now is.
Then again, would the great and good of Tudor Chelmsford really really name a road after an executed and much feared witch from Hatfield Peverel who had a cat called Satan – who spoke to her and told her to say her prayers in Latin.
I think not.
Agnes Waterhouse’s cat – Satan
You can learn more about Agnes Waterhouse and other witches of Essex by enrolling in my online course on the Witches of Elizabethan and Stuart Essex. Click the “Learn More” button below to discover more details…
I give talks all over Essex and Suffolk on various aspects of local history (full list as below). A fully illustrated PowerPoint presentation accompanies all my talks and I will bring all the equipment required (including a portable screen). I am on the approved Panel of Speakers for the Federation of Essex Women’s Institutes. I am available to give talks during both the day and evening – all talks last for between 45 minutes and an hour. If you want to arrange me to speak at your group, please contact me via email on kate[at]essexvoicespast.com.
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Talk 1: The Witches of Elizabethan Essex
During the sixteenth century, the cry “she’s a witch!” was heard throughout many towns and villages across England; particularly within Essex. Our county indicted and prosecuted more than double the combined totals for those legally accused of witchcraft within Hertfordshire, Kent, Surrey, and Sussex. My talk puts the witchcraft trials of Essex into their legal and historical context and explores local Essex cases to explain why there were so many witchcraft court-cases within Essex.
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Talk 2: Great Dunmow and Henry VIII’s English Reformation
The first half of the sixteenth century was a turbulent time to live within any English town or village. The king, Henry VIII, increasingly attacked English parish life in his quest to rid England of the influence of the pope. This talk is about the impact of the English Reformation on the rural town of Great Dunmow and how the town moved from its pre-Reformation Catholic communal life and finally embraced Henry VIII’s Reformation by publicly re-enacting a notorious and bloody murder of a prominent Scottish Catholic. (NB This talk is more suitable for local history groups & societies, rather than general interest.)
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Talk 3: From rural Essex & Suffolk to the Battles of the Somme: the story of a nurse of the Great War
In the months before the First World War, a young woman from Suffolk joined the Voluntary Aid Detachment nursing service and nursed in small military hospitals within Essex and Suffolk. Just weeks before the opening days of the Battles of the Somme, she was sent as a volunteer-nurse to one of the largest military hospitals on the Western Front where she nursed casualties from the battlefields. This talk is the story of Clara Woolnough’s life as a nurse of the Great War in Essex, Suffolk, and France.
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Talk 4: Al Capone’s gangster car and the Kursaal in 1930s Southend
Hotly pursued by the FBI through 1930s gangster Chicago, my great-uncle exported Al Capone’s bullet proof car from America to England. My talk is the story of my American great-uncle, who, to use his own words, was a ‘showman from yester-year’. And how Al Capone’s car (along with an enormous embalmed whale called Eric) ended up at the Kursaal amusement park in 1930s Southend. My talk also includes the life of my great-grandmother who literally ran away to the circus to perform as Thauma – theHalf Living Lady for American 19th century shows such as Barnum’s Greatest Show on Earth and Buffalo Bill’s Wild West.
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Talk 5: Postcards from the front: 1914-1919. The story of how postcards sent home to loved ones became the Facebook and Twitter of the Great War.
Between 1914 and 1918, a special mail-train left Victoria train station in London every single day bound for the Western Front, carrying with it letters and postcards sent from British people to their loved ones serving overseas. With millions of items of correspondence passing over the channel, postcards became the social media phenomenon of the day. My talk charts the First World War and its immediate aftermath through postcards.
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Talk 6: Christmas in Medieval Essex
Boy Bishops, the Feast of St Nicholas, the Lord of Misrule, the Christmas Candle, Plough Monday, and the Twelve Days of Christmas. These were once all part and parcel of Christmas celebrations in many parishes within Medieval and early Tudor Essex. This talk looks at some of the Christmas revells our Essex ancestors enjoyed. You may be surprised to discover which ancient customs have evolved into modern day much-loved traditions!
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Talk 7: My ancestor was a witch: The Witches of Elizabethan & Stuart Essex
Please note that this talk is only suitable for local or family history groups. The talk is similar to my witches talk (detailed further up this page). However, this talk is longer at 1½ hours and concentrates on the historical and primary source evidence used when researching Essex Tudor witches. Therefore this talk is only suitable for societies or clubs whose members are very familiar with historical sources and research methods.In 1562 a devastating Act of Parliament against Conjurations Enchantments and Witchcrafts was passed in England. For the first time, the “common sort” could be put on trial for their life, accused of the diabolical act of witchcraft. With most legal proceedings taking place in Essex, the county became infamous for its witches. This lecture traces the progress of the Elizabethan and Stuart witchcraft prosecutions in Essex, detailing cases from across the county. Also considered are the sources available to family historians researching witches, including legal court records, contemporary sensational pamphlets, and sources once kept in the parish chest.
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Happy talk clients
As featured in…
I look forward to receiving your booking!Kate J Cole, MSt Local History (Cantab)
It is widely known that following Henry VIII’s break with Rome in 1533, he went on to forcefully dissolve and destroy all the numerous religious monasteries across England. This he achieved by the end of the 1530s. Dissolved religious houses included priories, abbeys, and friaries from all the religious orders; the Augustinians, the Dominicans, the Cistercians, the Franciscans, the Carmelites. The monasteries were a massive medieval mechanism with houses and institutions all over England. From large and complex abbeys such as Furness Abbey in Cumbria, to smaller houses such as Little Dunmow Priory in Essex.
Artist impression of the remains of Little Dunmow Priory in 1820 (now part of Little Dunmow’s church)
Whether the hundreds-years old medieval monastery-system was a corrupt and decaying hulk deserving to be destroyed, or a network of religious houses who gave much needed relief to the poor and sick, is still widely debated today.
What isn’t so widely known is that there was mass whole-scale looting of the religious houses as each shut its doors. During my research on Great Dunmow (Essex) and for my two new local history books on Sudbury (Suffolk) and Saffron Walden (Essex), I came across two instances of looting which had been carried out, quite openly, by parish churches from dissolved religious houses.
Great Dunmow’s parish church and Tilty Abbey Tilty Abbey in North West Essex was surrendered to the king’s commissioners on 3 March 1536. It had been present in Essex since the middle of the twelfth century and was probably founded in September 1153. By the time of its surrender, it had a net yearly value of £167 2s 6d with a gross value of £177 9s 4d. This was considered to be a small house, so would have been forcefully dissolved under the First Suppression Act of 1536 if its abbot hadn’t voluntarily surrendered it. On the same day, an inventory was taken; the abbey had goods to the value of £19 19s 0½d, along with forty-three ounces of plate valued at £7 18s 8d. [1]
Artist impression of the remains of Tilty Abbey in 1784 (now part of Tilty church)
This was just the tangible goods which could be carried away and sold off. The abbey also had valuable building material in its very structure. In the churchwardens’ accounts for St Mary’s Great Dunmow, it can be determined that both the vicar and the churchwardens openly took advantage of the nearby dissolved abbey which was just four miles away. Sometime in the months between April 1537 and September 1538, Richard Parker sold 24 paving tiles from Tilty Abbey to Great Dunmow’s churchwardens for 2s 8d. He also sold lime sand for the tiles and charged the churchwardens 7d to bring them from Tilty Abbey to St Mary’s. Another person, Richard Barker, was paid 6d for laying the paving tiles in the church. To put this into context, at this time, the average day’s wage for a labourer was approximately 4d.
Great Dunmow churchwardens’ accounts folio 28r[2] – Tilty’s paving slabs
Item payd for lyme sande & for fecchyng
24 pavyng tyle from Tyltey ——————————————————7d
Item payd to Rychard P[ar]ker for the sayd 24
pavying tyle———————————————————————————2s 8d
Item payd to Rychard Barker for laying the
[a]forsayd pavying tyle in the church ——————————————6d
The accounts are silent as to how and why the 24 paving tiles were in Richard Parker’s hands in the first place. However, between 1525 and 1533, Great Dunmow’s churchwardens’ accounts had documented several times that Richard Parker was a “tyler” living in Windmill Street (now Rosemary Lane). How many other paving tiles did Richard Parker, the tiler, sell off to nearby churches? Did he also sell paving tiles to Great Easton church? Little Easton church? Thaxted church? There were enough churches in the immediate area of Tilty Abbey for him to have furnished them all with fine tiles from Tilty Abbey. We will probably never know how many he did manage to sell, as the relevant records have not survived in other nearby parish churches. Also, we don’t know what type of tiles these were, but perhaps they were hard-wearing stone slabs worthy of 11d per dozen. I like to think that this is the first recorded instance of the Tudor equivalent of an Essex man in his white-van doing dodgy door-step trading.…
There is some excellent unwitting testimony about the paving tiles. Firstly, the churchwardens had very openly disclosed that they had bought the tiles by documenting them within their financial accounts for the church. Secondly, at this time, churchwardens’ accounts were open documents available to the scrutiny of not just the parish clerks, vicar and churchwardens, but also any king’s commissioners who just happened to be passing by (remember, this was the late 1530s – troubled times for parish churches within England). Finally, churchwardens’ accounts were read out in church to the entire parish after evening service at the end of each accounting year – probably by the vicar himself. Therefore the whole parish (from the local elite to the paupers) would have heard for themselves that 24 paving tiles from Tilty Abbey had been bought from Richard Parker. So this was not a hidden transaction but had been openly declared and was probably considered to be of good positive benefit for the church in Great Dunmow. This really was not “dodgy dealings”.
In a similar manner, but less detailed in the churchwardens’ account, St Mary’s church in Great Dunmow bought a tabernacle from the recently dissolved Hatfield Regis Priory. The tabernacle was an ornate vessel which was used to hold the Eucharist when it was not in use during mass. Hatfield Regis’ tabernacle cost the churchwardens 20 shillings. This was a considerable amount of money. It is likely, therefore, that the priory’s tabernacle was very ornate and probably made of silver. Ironically, this “loot” was likely to have been given up to Henry VIII’s son, when church plate had to be handed over to the king’s commissioners during Edward VI’s reign.
St Mary the Virgin, Great Dunmow. Does the church still contain 24 paving tiles from nearby Tilty Abbey?
Saffron Walden’s parish church and Sudbury Priory
There is a legend that when John Hodgkin became the vicar of St Mary’s in Saffron Walden in 1541, he brought with him the chancel roof of the recently dissolved Dominican priory in Sudbury. John Hodgkin, who was made suffragan bishop of Bedford in 1537, had previously been a friar at Sudbury[3]. Lord Chancellor Thomas Audley (c.1488-1544) is alleged to have helped Hodgkin with the task of bringing the roof to Saffron Walden’s church. Whether this is true or not is open to debate. I have not seen any primary source evidence that it happened, and in my research for my book on Saffron Walden, I could not find any secondary source evidence that referenced Thomas Audley’s help. However, whilst researching my other book on Sudbury, I did find secondary source supporting this theory [4]. Of course, Thomas Audley himself was living at nearby dissolved Walden Abbey, which Henry VIII had granted to him in 1538 (now known as Audley End House). Therefore, if the roof from Sudbury’s priory had come to Saffron Walden’s church, then Thomas Audley would have been ideally placed to help.
Sudbury Priory’s remains in 1748
Moreover, as we have seen in the case of Tilty Abbey, it is indisputable that looting by parish churches of former monastic buildings had happened. It is therefore possible that Hodgkin had taken the priory’s chancel’s roof with him. The involvement of someone as senior and influential as the Lord Chancellor in this “looting” and that Hodgkin was a suffragan bishop demonstrates that this was perfectly legitimate practise for the time.
Thomas Audley,1st Baron Audley of Walden, Lord Chancellor of England 1533-1544
Rich pickings from themonasteries It has always been well known that extensive looting by locals for their own houses is the reason why former monastic buildings now stand in ruins. However, it is often thought that this looting was carried out some years – or even centuries – later. Townspeople taking stone for their buildings; eighteenth century gentleman touring Britain, taking home a little souvenir with them. However, the evidence at Great Dunmow/Tilty and Saffron Walden/Sudbury shows that this looting happened as the monasteries closed their doors. Moreover, this looting had occurred whilst Henry VIII was still alive and on the throne. The King’s will had been absolute. The monasteries had been closed by him. And there was no going back. The people were in no doubt that this was not a short lived whim of the king, but the new way of life and the new status quo. Furthermore, this was not “looting” but was a legitimate business transaction between interested parties. All open, and all above board. The firm evidence of Tilty Abbey’s paving tiles used in St Mary’s church in Great Dunmow, along with the more circumstantial evidence of Sudbury priory’s roof used in St Mary’s church in Saffron Walden, both suggest that dissolved former monastic buildings were, at least in north Essex, “rich pickings” for entrepreneurs and local parish churches in the immediate aftermath of the dissolution of monasteries.
St Mary’s, Saffron Walden in the early 1800s Did some of its 1530s’ roof come from Sudbury Priory?
Footnotes [1] ‘Houses of Cistercian monks: Abbey of Tilty’, in A History of the County of Essex: Volume 2, ed. William Page and J Horace Round (London, 1907), pp. 134-136 http://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/essex/vol2/pp134-136 [April 2015].
[2] Great Dunmow’s Churchwarden accounts (1526-1621), Essex Record Office, reference D/P/11/5/1.
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I am absolutely delighted to tell you that my first local history book is in the final stage of its publication. It’s due to be in all good book shops in the UK 15 September 2014 – but you can pre-order it at a very reasonable price from Amazon.co.uk. In the USA, it will be available on 28 September – Amazon.com
I hope that if you do decide to buy it, you will like it. Many readers of my blog and correspondents on Twitter have actively encouraged me to write my book, and many have helped with the identification of postcards and photographs of Bishop’s Stortford. A massive thank you to everyone who helped me.
If you wish to pre-order my book from Amazon, please do click on the picture below. I’d love you to tell me in the comments section below on this page if you do decide to buy it. If you’re out and about, and see my book in a bookshop, I would love it if you sneakily made it more prominent to potential browsers and purchasers.
From its earliest days, Bishop’s Stortford was a prosperous town, something that continues up to the present day. After the manor of Stortford was purchased by the Bishop of London in the eleventh century, Bishop’s Stortford developed into a thriving market town in the Middle Ages. The opening of the Stort Navigation in 1769, along with the introduction of the railway in the nineteenth century, further increased its prosperity. Today, with excellent transport links to London, and Stansted Airport providing access to the rest of the world, Bishop’s Stortford is a town on the rise. Featuring full-colour images and fantastic vintage postcards, Bishop’s Stortford Through Time takes the reader on a fascinating journey of the town’s history and how it became what it is today.
One of the pages from my book- my wonderful children and their husband/partner alongside an image from the early 1900s. Some parts of Bishop’s Stortford haven’t changed at all (apart from the cars!).
I am delighted to say that during my research into the town, one of my daughters and her partner fell in love with the town, and so have decided to make Bishop’s Stortford their home. They moved into the town in July – one of the many young couples who have found that Bishop’s Stortford certainly has a lot to offer them.
PS: You may wonder why the town is called “Bishop’s Stortford” (always always always with an apostrophe after “bishop”). It’s because at the time of William the Conqueror’s Doomsday survey (1086), the manor of Storteford was owned by the Bishop of London. Hence the town should really be called “The Bishop of London’s Stortford”. But I guess Bishop’s Stortford or, as it’s more commonly known to locals, simply “Stortford”, will do. If you want to find out more about this historic town, then please do buy my book Bishop’s Stortford Through Time
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At the moment, I am knee-deep in postcards, papers and books relating to the Hertfordshire town of Bishop’s Stortford, whilst I research and write my forthcoming book Bishop’s Stortford Through Time for the publishers, Amberley Publishing. During my quest for material, I happened across a book from 1882: The Records of St Michael’s parish church, Bishop’s Stortford, edited by J.L Glasscock, Jun. This book has verbatium transcripts of various manuscripts, which, at that time, were held in the parish chest within the church at Bishop’s Stortford. These manuscripts included various churchwardens’ accounts – which start in 1431. My regular readers will know that I am just ever-so slightly obsessed with churchwardens’ accounts, having spent a great many years researching and analysing the Essex town of Great Dunmow’s Tudor churchwardens’ accounts. Great Dunmow’s accounts start in the 1520s, when Henry VIII was on the throne and still married to Katherine of Aragon, and England was still a staunchly Catholic nation. Bishop’s Stortford’s, although incomplete, start in 1431 – nearly a hundred years earlier, when the boy-king King Henry VI had been on throne 10 years, and the main protagonists of the bloody War of the Roses from the Royal Houses of Lancaster and York had either not yet been born, or were still peaceful law-abiding young men. Pretty impressive for medieval manuscripts – regarding the workings of a small English parish church – to have survived for so long.
Windhill and parish church of St Michael’s, Bishop’s Stortford in the 1900s
Unlike Great Dunmow’s churchwardens’ accounts – which were beautifully bound in a tooled leather volume – Bishop’s Stortford’s accounts were loose-leaved and lying scattered in the parish chest. Amongst the churchwardens’ accounts were other manuscripts, including the “reckonings” (accounts) of the vermin catcher(s) for the years 1569 to 1571. They make fascinating reading – so I have reproduced them here – exactly as J.L Glasscock, Jun, transcribed them over hundred years ago in 1882.
St Michael’s parish church, Bishop’s Stortford in the 1900s
The Destruction of Vermin The Accounte and Reconynge of me Edward Wylley of Stortford, Collectore of all man’ of veyrmane of ij [2] yeres past both of Charge and Dyscharge as here aftr folloth frome the xij [12] daye of App’lle in a° [i.e. Anno Domino]1569 to this yere of a 1571.
On the first page is what he terms his “charge,” which is an account of moneys received by him from various persons “at v [5] tymes;” he received altogether “lij.s. vij½d” [52 shillings and 7½ pence]. Then follows his “Dyscharge,” which consists of various payments made by him to the destroyers of vermin :
He paid for:
Hedge hoggs heads . 2d each
Crose [crows] eggs 2d per doz
Pyse [magpie] eggs 2d
vj [6] crose [crows] hedds 1d
vj [6] hawkys hedes 1d
xij [12] Ratts hedes 1d
1 mowlle [mole] ½d
xij [12] myse [mice] heddes 1d
xij [12] starlyngs hedes 1d
a wysells [weasel] hede 1d
v [5] hedds of the kyngs fyschers [king fishers] 5d
a powlle cats [pole cat] hed 2d
1 boulle fynches [bullfinches] hed 1d
During the two years over which this account extends I find that vermin was destroyed within the parish of Stortford to the following extent, viz :
141 hedgehogs, 53 moles, 6 weasels, 202 crows’ eggs, 128 pies’ [magpies’] eggs, 18 young crows, 80 rats, 18 crows, 2 bullfinches, 5 hawks, 24 starlings, 5 kingfishers, 1 polecat, 1,426 mice; and besides these there are 118 heads of crows, hawks, and “cadows” (jackdaws).
Note: “There used to be a standing committee in every parish for the destruction of ‘noyfull fowles and vermyn.’ The practice still exists in some rural parishes. But many readers may be surprised to learn that this object was formerly felt to be so important that the practical use of it already then existing in many parishes received the express sanction of general suggestion by statute. A committee, consisting of the churchwardens together with six other parishioners, is named with power to tax and assess every person holding lands or tythes in any parish yearly at Easter, and whenever else it may be needful, in order to raise a sum of money to be put in the hands of two other persons, who are to distribute it. And these distributors are to pay this money in rewards for the different sorts of vermin brought in. The record is curious, and interesting enough on its own account to be rescued from forgetfulness, if only for its bearing on the natural history of the country.” Toulmin Smith, “The Parish and its Obligations and Powers“, 1854 p. 232.
The Records of St Michael’s parish church, Bishop’s Stortford, edited by J.L Glasscock, Jun, 1882, p156-157
Some of the English wildlife captured and killed by the vermin man of Tudor Bishop’s Stortford 1569-1571
As someone who was brought up listening to the bedtime English tales of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle, The Wind in the Willows, and The Little Grey Rabbit – along with the American tales of Thornton W Burges and Old Mother West Wind – I find Tudor tales of killing these creatures thought-provoking. Some, now as then, still vermin; whilst others are now much loved members of the English countryside’s wildlife.
A Tudor Rat Catcher
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A slightly strange thing to be doing on a cold winter’s afternoon on a Sunday in January, but those of you who know me, know that I’m slightly obsessed with the witches of Essex. Essex people (mainly women) who – between the 1560s and c1680s – were legally convicted of the crime of witchcraft.
Living close to the Essex town of Maldon, I’m a mere stone’s throw from some of the major “outbreaks” of England’s Tudor witchcraft. So, hence my decision to go on a witch-hunt.
Today, I visited the village Hatfield Peverel. In this village lived one of the first people to be executed for witchcraft in England. She was executed in 1566. If Essex was Tudor witch-county (which it was), then Hatfield Peverel was witch-village. The parish had more Elizabethan witches living in it than anywhere else in Essex (and therefore, by default, anywhere in England).
Hatfield Peverel today, despite being near the City of Chelmsford, is still relatively small. It is probably better known for its a train station with fast trains into London and its very easy access to the A12.
Not many people realise that it was once a witch village.
So, I went hunting for poor Agnes Waterhouse of Hatfield Peverel – executed in Chelmsford in 1566 for being a witch. Her grandmother, sister and daughter – all of Hatfield Peverel – were witches too.
A woodcutting of Agnes Waterhouse. Executed in 1566 for murdering William Fynee by witchcraft
Today, there is very little trace of the Tudor or medieval village. A small amount of remnants are present in a few buildings and within the names of some of the houses. Such as Priory Lodge – located where there was once a medieval priory. Later, the ruins of the former priory were heavily amended during the 18th century.
Born in the early 1500s, Agnes Waterhouse and her family would have known the original Benedictine priory. It was closed in 1536, during Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries – part of the consequences of the English Reformation. Long before her execution in 1566, as a young poor woman of the village, Agnes might have visited the priory, seeking charity and alms – such as bread and milk – for her family from its monks.
With most of the medieval/Tudor village long gone, the nearest I could get to poor Agnes was today’s parish church – St Andrew’s.
Agnes Waterhouse was born in the early 1500s – during the reign of Catholic Henry VII. Today’s parish church was originally part of the pre-Reformation Catholic priory’s church. But by the time of her trial in 1566, England had changed and was Protestant under Queen Elizabeth I’s Religious Settlement.
So much religious change happened during the 60 years of Agnes’ life.
A booklet printed at the time of her execution stated that Agnes said her prayers in Latin. A clear indication to Tudor folk that she was of the old religion – the banned Catholic faith. During Elizabeth I’s reign, England was a Protestant country and everyone was legally forced to say their prayers in English – the language of Protestantism.
Agnes’ prosecutors used the fact that she said her prayers in Latin – the language of the banned Catholic faith – as evidence that she was a witch.
Strange times…
Unfortunately, today Hatfield Peverel’s church was locked, so I couldn’t get inside it. The interior probably looks very different to how it was during Agnes’ childhood. Back then, at the start of the 1500s, the priory’s church must have been highly decorated with paintings of Catholic saints and symbolism. The interiors of English churches were white-washed on the orders, first of Henry VIII and then later by his son Edward VI.
Today, 450 years on, it was the nearest I could get to Agnes Waterhouse.
It was very peaceful in today’s churchyard – although I could hear the constant roar of the nearby A12 – East Anglia’s equivalent to a motorway. A murder of crows was calling in the churchyard’s trees (I love that expression – I’ve always wanted to say it!). But even in the coldness of the first Sunday in January, snowdrops were in full bloom.
Normally, when I’m witch-hunting, my next steps would be to look in the parish registers – baptisms, marriages and burials. It’s unlikely I’d find the burial of a convicted Essex witch– they were buried in a pit of executed criminals in Chelmsford – in unconsecrated ground. But I might find a witch’s victims buried in the local churchyard.
However a quick look at Essex Record Office’s website shows that Hatfield Peverel’s parish registers start in the early 1600s. I don’t know the complete history of St Andrew’s – particularly when it started to be the village’s parish church after the priory (and therefore it’s church) was closed. Agnes may have worshiped at another nearby church such as the one at Ulting.
So that’s one avenue of my research closed.
I didn’t quite find Agnes. But I certainly found the places where she played and roamed – and learnt her craft of being a witch – as a child in Henry VII’s and Henry VIII’s England.
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By the way, many people think that the major road in Chelmsford – Waterhouse Lane – was named after her. Even Chelmsford’s local newspaper has published an article saying that it was….
But think about it carefully… Witches were feared throughout England. Would a road (even what was, in Tudor times, a small country lane) really be named after a convicted notorious and much dreaded executed witch? Moreover, poor Agnes came from Hatfield Peverel – not Chelmsford.
But then, playing devil’s advocate, maybe the lane was named after her because of her place of execution. Chelmsford’s gallows was located approximately at the start of Waterhouse Lane. The hangman’s gallows were roughly where the road called Primrose Hill now is.
Then again, would the great and good of Tudor Chelmsford really really name a road after an executed and much feared witch from Hatfield Peverel who had a cat called Satan – who spoke to her and told her to say her prayers in Latin.
I think not.
Agnes Waterhouse’s cat – Satan
You can learn more about Agnes Waterhouse and other witches of Essex by enrolling in my online course on the Witches of Elizabethan and Stuart Essex. Click the “Learn More” button below to discover more details…
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