Aberdour Castle

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The sun came out- the sky was blue – briefly. Today we explored a little of the Fife coast and visited the home of James Douglas 4th Earl of Morton. He was instrumental in bumping off Mary Queen of Scots’ secretary, David Rizzio and encouraging her to abdicate while she was imprisoned in Loch Leven.

Which leads us to the reign of James VI. James Stewart, Earl of Moray was assassinated at Linlithgow in 1570. In 1571, the next regent, James’ grandfather Mathew Stewart, Lord Lennox was shot and died at Stirling. The third regent was the Earl of Mar…he died in 1572 and hey presto Morton, who was already one of the nation’s most influential men, became regent. He was forced to resign six years later much to the irritation of Elizabeth I.

In 1580 he was accused of playing a part in the murder of Lord Darnley. He was condemned and executed in Edinburgh. The consummate politician had finally gone the way of so many of his predecessors. Morton’s wife, Elizabeth, was incapable of managing her own affairs. It seems that she and her sisters Margaret and Beatrix suffered from an inherited mental illness. Morton’s three surviving legitimate daughters were also declared mentally incompetent in 1581. The older women were grand daughters of James IV, through their mother Katherine (an illegitimate daughter of the king) and all of them, incompetent or not, were married to powerful men. It was through Elizabeth that Morton inherited his earldom and Aberdour. Elizabeth spent most of her time in seclusion at Tantalon Castle. An inquest after Morton’s death declared her to be incapable of managing her affairs, as she was an “idiot and prodigal”. King James VI signed a warrant appointing a legal guardian called an “administrator and tutor” to supervise her dower. (Fraser, William, eds., Lennox Muniments, vol.2 (1874), 321-322).

The earldom of Morton passed to Sir William Douglas of Lochleven (Mary Queen of Scots’ gaoler). He was eventually succeeded by his grandson who was one of James VI’s gentlemen of the bedchamber. He made several alterations to Aberdour including the gallery and walled garden. But it was Regent Morton who began the castle’s terraced gardens, planted the orchard and gave orders for the dovecot to be built.

And that leads me down an interesting rabbit hole that really has nothing to do with Aberdour or Regent Morton – What exactly did James V die from at Falkland. Was it one of the many diseases that plagued armies at the time? I’ve also seen cause of death described as pulmonary tuberculosis. And did he suffer from depression – famously having heard that his wife, Mary of Guise, had given birth to a daughter he turned his face to the wall and stayed there until he died having declared that the crown came into the Stewart family with a girl and would go with one .

Mary Queen of Scots was not without her own maladies – hardly surprising under the circumstances. I don’t suppose 19 years of captivity is going to do anyone the world of good. In all honesty being a royal Stewart, or even Stuart, wasn’t necessarily good for your health for a variety of reasons setting aside melancholy – James I was assassinated; James II was killed by one of his own cannon; James III – either died on the battle field or was assassinated trying to leave it; James IV – killed at Flodden; James V – having lost the Battle of Solway Moss either died from disease or because he was extremely peeved about the birth of a daughter; Mary Queen of Scots – beheaded. James VI/I died of natural causes in his own bed (although the tall tale that he was poisoned by the Duke of Buckingham still occasionally surfaces). Charles I – followed in granny’s footsteps and lost his head.

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Callendar House, Falkirk

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Today the house looks like a very grand nineteenth century châteaux but it’s built around a fourteenth century tower (that’s the large square block on the right hand side of the main entrance). And there’s more history than that in the grounds. It lies on the line of the Antoine Wall that stretched from the Firth of Forth to the Firth of Clyde. By the 12th century a thane’s hall stood on the site. The Callendar family held the land until the Scottish Wars of Independence. Sir John Callender was a signatory of the Treaty of Salisbury which confirmed the Maid of Norway as queen of Scotland following the death of Alexander III when he died in March 1286. He also signed the Ragman Roll in 1296 that recognised Edward I as king of Scotland following the maid’s untimely end. He was captured by those fighting for Scottish independence at the Battle of Falkirk in 1299.

Sir Patrick Callendar had his own difficulties during the Scottish Wars of Independence but Callender House passed into the Livingston family with the marriage of his daughter to William Livingston. Unfortunately it was not that clear cut because Callender had elected to support Edward Balliol’s (the son of King John Balliol) claim to the Scottish throne when David II succeeded to the throne at the age of 4-years. Ball was crowned in 1332 after which there was rather a lot of crown swaps but essentially for our purposes when David II regained his throne the Calendars found themselves in some difficulty because of their affiliation with the Balliols.

In 1345 David II regularised matters with the grant of Callendar House to William Livingston. Livingston demonstrated his loyalty to the monarch and they were all set to rise. By the 1440s the Livingstone were the guardians of James II and Alexander, 5th Lord Livingston was one of Mary Queen of Scot’s guardians. By then the originally tower house had doubled in size but still had none of the turrets and additional wings of the modern building. The fifth lord was born at the turn of the sixteenth century and had a reputation as a military commander. When Mary travelled to France in 1548, Alexander travelled with her and remained there until his death. Alexander’s daughter Mary was one of the queen’s so-called Four Marys and his son William, who was a protestant, would fight for the queen at the Battle of Languid in 1568.

William accompanied the queen into exile. William’s wife, Agnes, travelled to Bolton Castle to serve the imprisoned queen. Like William she had known Mary all the queen’s life – Agnes was the daughter of Mary’s governess Janet Stewart, Lady Fleming (making Agnes the queen’s cousin as well). She shared several years of her mistress’s captivity. The Earl of Moray seized Callendar while William set about trying to negotiate the queen’s release. The couple’s eldest son Alexander, who would become the 1st Earl of Linlithgow, also supported the queen and was captured at Dumbarton in 1571. It was another three years before the family came to terms with James VI’s regent even though William returned to Scotland in 1573.

But by 1580 Alexander was a gentleman of the king’s bedchamber. In 1592 Alexander succeeded his father as Lord Livingston. He had worked his way into royal favour as a follower of Esme Lennox and by seizing Stirling Castle in 1584 after the Ruthven Raid. In 1594 he played a part in the baptism of James VI’s eldest son Prince Henry.

Two years later he and his wife Helenor (or Eleanor)Hay were entrusted with the care of James’ daughter Princess Elizabeth. The fact that Helenor was a Catholic did not make her unsuitable. As well as spending time at Linlithgow Palace, Alexander was its keeper, the princess also spent time at Callendar House. In 1600, at the time of Prince Charles’ baptism, Livingston became 1st Earl of Linlithgow. In 1603 the Livingstons’ took Princess Elizabeth to Windsor to return her to her father.

The couple’s eldest son, Alexander, became the 2nd Earl of Livingston while his brother James, who was a similar age to Elizabeth, became 1st Earl of Callendar in 1534. He had spent his formative years as a mercenary fighting in the Low Countries and in Germany. He served James VI (and 1) as well as Charles I but his support for the Covenanters led to difficulties. Ultimately though, he took the field on the side of the royalists. His estates were seized in 1654 and he was imprisoned by Parliament. By then Callendar House had also taken something of a battering. In 1651, following his victory at Dunbar, Cromwell had seized most of Lowland Scotland. That summer Callendar House was placed under siege. General Monck stormed the building with his men killing 62 of the garrison. The house’s governor was among the dead. Having buried the dead and demolished the gatehouse Monck departed, although not before Oliver Cromwell had arrived to survey the scene. Unsurprisingly given Livingston’s affinity, the estate was sequestered and it was General Monck who received the income from it.

The Restoration saw James Livingston return to Callendar and begin work on alterations and refurbishment to his home – a seventeenth century Manor House was added on to the tower. When he died in 1674 his title and estates were inherited by his nephew, another Alexander, who completed the building work that James’ began before his death. Unfortunately it wasn’t long before the house saw more soldiers – Alexander’s own views ran somewhat contrary to those of James VII of Scotland ( II of England) but he was dead before the Glorious Revolution of 1688. The third earl continued the policy of extending the house.

James, the 4th Earl of Calendar showed his ancestors’ loyalty to the Stuarts. He rose in support of the Jacobites in 1715 and was attainted for treason. His son-in-law, the Earl of Kilmarnock took possession of the property but in 1745 he supported Bonnie Prince Charlie (yup he stayed in the house which was looking a bit tatty again), was captured at Culloden and beheaded at the Tower of London.

In the latter half of the eighteenth century Callendar House was sold to the Forbes family. William Forbes was from Aberdeen and was known as Copperbottom from his business of coating the bottom of naval vessels. He was also a slave owner. He was very wealthy indeed, if not very popular with the people of Falkirk. It would be the Forbes’ family who turned Callendar House into a French Chateau.

You will notice that once again the sun did not shine! Good job I just need black and white photographs for Raising the Stuarts. The parking at Callendar House, which is owned by Falkirk Council, is free as is entry to the grounds and house. The history of the house was extremely well presented, as was the explanation of the location of the Antonoine Wall. Even better they did a very nice maple and pecan scone…

Falkland Palace – and me being grumpy about the no photography rule…

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In 1458, on the orders of James II, Falkland became a royal burgh. The palace itself, really only the gatehouse remains today, was built in the twelfth century. It became crown property in 1424 after the death of David Stewart, Duke of Rothesay at the hands of his uncle, the then keeper of the castle. It was said that Rothesay died of a mysterious illness while quieter, but more persistent gossip, said that he died in chains in Falkland’s cellars. In any event it was James I, Rothesay’s little brother, who with the crown firmly on his head took possession of Falkland when their uncle, the Duke of Albany, fell from power.

In 1451, James II of Scotland gave the castle to his queen Mary of Guilders -and it was she who turned it into a palace with comfortable apartments and a pleasure garden. It was improved upon by successive kings. At the turn of the sixteenth century by James IV (the one killed at Flodden in 1513) improved the hunting on offer by importing wild boar from France and began work on a Renaissance palace. James V, who spent much of his minority in Falkland in captivity at the 6th Earl of Douglas, continued his father’s plan for a splendid summer palace by adding the gate house with its magnificent twin towers. It was he who added the tennis court in 1539. It was one of James V’s favourite retreats, despite the fact that he had been forced to escape from his step-father’s clutches at Falkland dressed as groom. He died at Falkland Palace in December 1542 following his defeat at the Battle of Solway Moss.

Later Falkland would hold the same appeal for his daughter Mary who could see the influence of France in its architecture and the chapel which retained its Catholic flavour in the newly Protestant realm. Her son, James VI, commissioned the famous Falkland Bed but by the time it was ready for him, he was James I of England and never slept in it. Charles I visited briefly. Charles II, who stayed in Falkland in 1650 when the Scots recognised him as their monarch was the last of the Stewarts to stay at the palace. In response, Oliver Cromwell, burnt the palace to the ground in 1654- although the fire could have been an accident.

Warning – the next two paragraphs contain evidence of a grumpy blogger at work!!

Unfortunately, despite the current entry fee of £17 per person, interior photography is not permitted. It’s a bit of a non sequitur I admit but it does make me feel that history is only for those who can afford it – which is just plain wrong on so many different levels. How can heritage belong to people if it’s made inaccessible to them? You’ll have to take my word that the painted ceilings and nineteenth century renovations including heraldic glass in the chapel are a treat – I could have an entire project on the way heraldic beasts are presented at Falkland beginning with the stencils of the red lions on the staircase at the entrance, to the wallpaper with its assorted stylised beasts, stained glass and, of course, various coats of arms. Falkland, still technically in the hands of the Crown even today, was purchased in 1887 by the 3rd Marquess of Bute who became the palace’s keeper. It was he who set about conserving and rebuilding what he was able of the palace. He even purchased the Falkland Bed when it came up for sale – and used it for the next three decades. It is indeed a bed fit for a king – complete with six royal swans, the virtues and a warning to remember that it is God rather than monarchs who are in charge! The wall paper and the decorative metalwork are pure Arts and Crafts and absolutely wonderful ( I loved the candle sconces in the chapel).

The hereditary keeper today is the great grandson of the Marquess of Bute but the deputy keepership resides with the National Trust for Scotland. And if anyone from that august body is reading this – I don’t make any money from the History Jar – so any photographs would be entirely non-commercial. The guides dressed in period costume are very informative and their costumes splendid – can’t photograph those either and I don’t think they’re going to stand still while I get a sketch pad out. Nor can I show you the 17th century stump work mirror frame with its rendition of Nonsuch Palace, the beautifully embroidered night cap or the modern examples of blackwork embroidery that are on display. And I shall not be recreating the blackwork motifs even if I wanted to (which I do) because there were no postcards available and there were certainly no images of the blackwork in the guide book or of the Jacobean bed hangings (in enough detail) in the event that I fancied creating a crewel work memento of my visit. Am I grumpy about this? Yes I am. But then, you’ve probably already gathered that fact. The Falkland Tapestries are old and their colour needs to be conserved – yes – but that doesn’t explain why everything is off limits. As a visitor, my experience is better when I’m looking closely at the detail and think about how I might use an image or design if I was going to turn it into a piece of needlework or even a sketch. And let’s not forget that I use images as a visual reminder of what I want to write about both for this blog and for anything else I might be writing. I think the sight of a woman scribbling manically into a notebook might be rather more off putting than one taking photos – and certainly more irritating for those members of her family who have to wait while she writes everything down and does neat little annotated sketches in the margins. In this day and age no one needs to use a flash to obtain a decent picture – so long as there is some natural light. And there weren’t that many people there so I don’t think it had much to do with crowd control. Oh well – rant over. I do think a book introducing the history of needlework through the embroideries of the Trust (Scotland or England) with some practical projects would sell a treat. I’d rather buy something like that than yet another tea towel. Come to think of it, I would love to be the one to write it. Perhaps I’ll add a new section to the History Jar- the meanderings of an embroiderer…

Falkland is a pretty little palace, or rather very large gatehouse, and it’s the first one off my Stuart odyssey. The spelling changed from Stewart to Stuart in about 1548 when Mary Queen of Scots married the French dauphin. The village has some quirky shops, friendly locals and a couple of excellent cafes. If you’re a fan of Outlander it will look very familiar. And now the sun has come out. Fingers crossed that’s it for the dreek greyness and my grumpiness for the rest of the visit.

When is Watling Street not Watling Street? – answer when you’re visiting Rome’s northern most town on Hadrian’s Wall

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Vicar’s Pele, St Andrew’s Churchyard, Corbridge

I’m currently working on the Stuarts so am enjoying a break in sunny Scotland – a continuation, if you will, of the Mary Queen of Scots world tour upon which I intermittently indulge. So yesterday we joined some camels for breakfast off the A66 before heading in the direction of Hadrian’s Wall. There was a pause at Corbridge so that I can re-photo the Vicar’s Pele in the churchyard of St Andrew’s. Once upon a time, the vicar during time of trouble between England and Scotland the vicar would shut himself into the defensive building and hope for the best. It was built in the fourteenth century just at the point when the wars of independence were warming up. Its builders used dressed stone from Coriosopitum Roman camp known locally as Coria and by the modern world as Corbridge.

So far so good but I must admit to being slightly bewildered to seeing the street name Watling Street. For a moment I thought I’d got things very badly wrong over the years. I thought the famous Roman Road started in Kent made its way to St Albans and then cut across country towards Wroxeter. By the ninth century it was effectively the border between the Saxons and Scandinavian ruled Danelaw. So why does a short stretch of Watling Street suddenly turn up in Corbridge in Northumberland?

The answer is that the Romans did not build a small extension to the road in Northumberland. Dere Street Stretches from York north into Scotland (quite some way beyond Hadrian’s Wall) up to the Antonine Wall. Error arose because of the written record. The Antonine Itinerary which was created during the Roman period and which was reproduced by the Anglo-Saxons between the seventh and tenth centuries is a good example of the way confusion could arise. It was basically a road map of the Roman Empire with a British section. The second route listed in the British part of the itinerary misidentified a route between York and Carlisle as Watling Street. And by the Middle Ages short stretches of Roman Roads were being called Watling Street whether it was accurate or not. You can find a Watling Street from Catterick to York; from Knaresborough to Ilkley; there’s an example in Preston; and of course – the proudly named section of Dere Street in Corbridge.

And yes – we stopped off in a very misty and damp Corbridge Roman town to have a look at the Corbridge hoard which was buried during the second century AD and which was rediscovered in 1964. The Roman segmented armour is the star turn of the hoard which is thought to have been buried for safekeeping by a smith but there are also leather and textile artefacts. Until its discovery no one quite knew how the armour was manufactured. The museum also boasts a dodecahedron, an artefact that is something of a mystery because no one has yet established what its purpose was.

Then it was on to Otterburn, the site of the battle in 1388 between the Scots and the English – for an account look at Froissart but don’t expect to find a photograph of the site here. By the time we arrived it was like wondering around inside a very damp cloud and I fully expected to become lost. We stopped at the mill shop to see if I could find a waterproof that actually is waterproof and I was pleased to find a field full of tenterhooks so it wasn’t all in vain.

Tenterhooks at Otterburn Mill

Thankfully we made our way to our overnight accommodation without mishap and were shown to the ‘wobbly room’ which proved an apt description of the floor. Much to my delight I was staying in a pele tower – something I’ve always wanted to do. This particular one, at Clennell, was a bit like the little doll in the middle of a set of Russian dolls. Like the Vicar’s Pele it was built during the fourteenth century. It may have evolved into something slightly more comfortable by 1567 but the emphasis would still have been on defence. A new range was added in the seventeenth century around the original building and then more additions were made in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries – actually perhaps I should have described the hall as being a bit like a many layered onion. In any event I was delighted by the whole thing.

Clennell Hall, pele tower.

The Chaloner family – an ambassador, a chemist, a governor and a regicide

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AndyScott, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Our story starts with Thomas Chaloner the Elder who was born in 1521. Thomas’s father, Roger, was an usher in the privy chamber of Henry VIII. Thomas was well educated and was sent off in 1540 as secretary to Sir Henry Knyvett to the court of Charles V and from there he was sent to Scotland where he was knighted after the Battle of Pinkie in 1547. He continued to serve Mary I in a diplomatic capacity before becoming Elizabeth I’s ambassador to Philip II at Brussels, although it is known that he was in England during 1560 and 1561. By then he was wealthy enough to build himself a house in Clerkenwell and he also had properties in Guisborough, St Bees and Steeple Clayton, a property in Buckinghamshire that he had been granted by Queen Mary.

From there he journeyed to Paris where he met Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, the English Ambassador to France. Unfortunately he arrived just as war broke out between the authorities and the French Huguenots. Chaloner, who despite his good relations with Mary was Protestant, was promptly arrested. When he was released, having met with Catherine de Medici and the Huguenot leaders, he made his way to Madrid, where he continued to serve Queen Elizabeth despite the fact that he hated the weather, the cost of living and the extremes of Catholic faith that he encountered. Nor did the fact that he was unmarried help with the management of his estates in England.

He had hoped to marry Elizabeth Sands who was one of the queen’s ladies but in his absence she married someone else. In 1563 he received a visit from Audrey Frodsham from Cheshire. She was 33 years old when she travelled to Spain. By the time she returned to England she was expecting Chaloner’s child. Chaloner’s brother Francis, who might reasonably have expected to inherit his brother’s wealth, would describe the boy as illegitimate. The problem was that the pair wished to marry as Protestants rather than in a Catholic Church but Chaloner was delayed by his duties, trying to negotiate the release of some English sailors, so it appears that the marriage took place after the birth of Chaoloner’s heir, which took place at the end of 1564.

Chaloner the elder’s health was not good, it seems that he may have had malaria, and he died in 1565 having made a new will ensuring that his belonging went to his son. In order to prevent his brother Francis Chaloner from contesting the will, Chaloner arranged for a group of his friends, including William Cecil, to become trustees of his estate having made provision for Audrey. he also arranged that Thomas Chaloner the Younger should be educated by Cecil.

Thomas Chaloner the Younger was tutor and friend to Robert Dudley the explorer. Like his young friend, Chaloner travelled extensively and after Dudley’s flight to Tuscany with his mistress in 1605 did his best to retrieve Dudley’s fortunes for him. He was well placed to do so, having gained a place in Queen Anne’s household. This happy circumstance derived from him having been an acknowledged part of the Earl of Essex’s circle. It was his task to manage the queen’s private estates. The king also appoint him governor of Prince Henry’s household at Oatlands. Chaloner’s reputation as a chemist and his interest in natural history were the ideal qualities in a man responsible for educating a renaissance prince. Chaloner was married twice and had eighteen children. In 1610, Chaloner became Henry’s chamberlain at St James’ Palace. As well as being a scholar, Chaloner like his father was also well informed on military and diplomatic matters.

He also identified the value of his Guisborough estates for its alum, having learned the process of its manufacture during his travels to Italy. Unfortunately his plans were ruined when the king seized the mines for the Crown. The seizure was one of the reasons that Chaloner was appointed to the role of Prince Henry’s governor – it was a sweetener for the loss of a fortune. Realistically Chaloner may have thought that his family would benefit more by their association and education alongside Henry. Unfortunately the prince died in 1612 – leaving the Chaloners out in the cold.

Two of Chaloner’s sons, James and yet another Thomas, would become regicides when, in 1649, they served on the commission that tried Charles I. James did not sign the death warrant but Thomas did. This meant that in 1660 Thomas, along with the other men who signed the document, was excluded from the act that pardoned other parliamentarians. James who was prominent in Yorkshire under the patronage of General Fairfax was arrested in 1655 for suspicion of involvement with the Sealed Knot and died prior to the Restoration. Thomas, the regicide, fled to the Low Countries, under the alias of George Saunders, where he died in 1661.

Chaloner the regicide had always had a difficult relationship with the Crown. The loss of the alum mines did not help matters, especially as Charles gave them to a syndicate of favoured courtiers. However, his religious beliefs, which were opposed to all formalised religions, and the publication of a treatise led to his arrest and subsequent flight from England in 1637. He returned home by 1644 and witnessed Laud’s trial. Nor was he a fan of the Scottish army in England during the First Civil War and he espoused the view that the king was bound by the laws created by Parliament – he was one step away from declaring the sovereignty of Parliament. He would be known for his opposition to the king and it was perhaps because of this that he retained his parliamentary seat (the Borough of Richmond) after Pride’s Purge. He was instrumental in the creation of the Commonwealth and was a key figure in the development of its trade and foreign policies. As a complete aside, the Chaloners were related by marriage to Oliver Cromwell. Thomas’s nephew Edward, was married to Anne Ingoldsby – who was one of the Protector’s cousins. Richard Ingoldsby, Chaloner’s brother-in-law, for those of you who might be interested, was another regicide but because he claimed that he was forced to sign the death warrant and because he supported General Monck, he was pardoned where other regicides were not.

Chaloner’s eldest brother William become Baronet of Guisborough in 1620. However, like his father and grandfather before him, William was well travelled and his died in Turkey the following year – meaning that the baronetcy was extinct almost before it began.

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Joseph Bampfield – womaniser, bigamist, spy – unlikely (very) short term guardian of a prince.

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BOL93904 Portrait of James II (1633-1701) in Garter Robes (oil on canvas) by Lely, Peter (1618-80) (school of); 121.5×99.5 cm; © Bolton Museum and Art Gallery, Lancashire, UK; English, Wikipedia

Well this is embarrassing – what happened to an entire month! I hope that all History Jar readers have had a good summer with plenty of history to keep them entertained. I’ve been researching Colchester, Nottinghamshire and the Stuarts – which perhaps explains the prolonged pause. I’ve also been drawing a parish map for where I live which took a bit longer than I anticipated but which I’ve thoroughly enjoyed doing. For those of you who spotted that someone in the family was doing their GCSEs this year – I’m delighted to report that she passed with flying colours and is now poised to begin her A level history – the Luddites will be beckoning, and I’m quite looking forward to exploring the Pentrich Rebellion.

So today – where am I at? I’d like to introduce you to Joseph Bampfield – a man who was probably born in Devon and who had something of a shady employment history. He first appears in the Bishops’ War against the Scots in 1639 as an ensign when he was still only 17 years old. By September 1642 he was a major in the Royalist army – when he was captured by forces loyal to Parliament. In December he escaped custody and in January 1643, still only about 19 years old, was commissioned as a colonel by Charles I. He turns up in the southwest throughout the rest of the year but in December was at Arundel trying to capture the castle there. Unfortunately having been given command of the castle he was himself besieged and once again taken prisoner having surrendered in January 1644. After a spell in the Tower he was released on parole…which he promptly broke. He turned up in Oxford and rejoined the royal court.

In 1645 having had a somewhat colourful career he became one of Charles I’s couriers and intelligencers. Which is where he really enters my current field of interest. In April 1648 he was in London where on the night of 20 April Bampfield helped James Duke of York, who was 14 years old by then, to escape his custodians at St James’ Palace dressed in women’s clothes. James knew Bampfield by sight and was apparently trusted by the king to fulfil his task helped by Anne Murray. The pair landed in the Low Counties at Zealand on 22 April.

Bampfield returned to London would go on to have a bigamous relationship with Anne – he told her his wife, who he married when he was very young, was dead. In reality the pair had been estranged since almost the beginning of the First Civil War but whether Bampfield truly believed his wife to be dead or it was just a convenient lie is another matter entirely. Anne would eventually become Lady Halkett.

The spy continue to serve the royalist cause but fail to gain King Charles II’s – or more importantly Lord Clarendon’s trust- after he fled to Holland. He was also forced to fight a duel with Anne’s brother-in-law who was not amused by Bampfield’s deception. By 1652 he had returned to England but was politely asked to leave the country. He spent the next few years roaming Europe, including a spell in Vienna. He wrote an account of his career in 1685. By then he had lived his life as a professional spy and there were several versions of events to choose from as well as many variations of his name. In summing up he was something of a rogue who lived by his wits.

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Derbyshire’s memorials of the Wars of the Roses 1 of 8 – Ralph FitzHerbert, Norbury

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Hurrah – that’s the indexing done – although bizarrely I actually rather like doing the final stages of the process. Think I need to have a better starting process though… Anyway, we took a trip because as those of you know me understand, I do like a list. And I have a lovely book entitled Memorials of the Wars of the Roses by W.E. Hampton. It’s also an opportunity to replace some of the images that disappeared when my external hard drive stopped working.

So today, it was a trip to Norbury and the wonderfully named church of St Mary and St Barlok near Ashbourne. I’ve posted about the location before (https://thehistoryjar.com/2015/07/17/nicholas-and-ralph-fitzherbert-a-glimpse-of-the-wars-of-the-roses/ – click on the link to open a new tab) as I have a fascination with the livery collar that Ralph is wearing.

The FitzHerbert name is a well known one in Derbyshire. Ralph Fitzherbert was lord of the manor at Norbury from 1473 onwards when he inherited the estate from his father, Nicholas Fitzherbert (whose effigy sports a livery collar with a lion pendent) Originally, during the 12th century, the holding was granted by the Abbot of Tutbury but by the 15th century the family owned the manor, having exchanged some land with the abbey, rather than renting their principle seat at Norbury. Inevitably he was caught up in the events of the Wars of the Roses, hence my interest. The gentry in Derbyshire principally supported the House of Lancaster who were their patrons from the medieval period onwards. Nicholas FitzHerbert made the transition from Lancaster to York and served in an administrative capacity with the county. He was associated with Walter Blount who got himself into difficulty with the rest of Derbyshire’s gentry because of his support for the House of York.

Ralph FitzHerbert owed his own loyalty to William, Lord Hastings who, you may recall, was one of Edward IV’s friends. It was he who was with the king when he was forced to flee his realm in 1470. The least said about his womanising the better. In return for supporting Hastings, Fitzherbert expected political advancement – this was the era of so-called ‘bastard feudalism’.

In 1475 FitzHerbert was part of the force which accompanied Hastings to France on military campaign. His place in Hastings’ retinue may have seen him at Picquigny where a peace deal was agreed. Fitzherbert’s association with Hastings so him rise to become a teller of the king’s money before becoming his remembrancer. A remembrancer essentially kept a list, or a roll, so that barons of the exchequer knew what business was pending.

We know that FitzHerbert married Elizabeth Marshall from Upton in Leicestershire. It was a good match as she was an heiress – and should not be surprising. After all, it was the way in which gentry families extended their land holdings and kinship networks to increase their power base within a particular region. Elizabeth who outlived her husband asked to be buried beside him.

Ralph made his will on 21 January 1484 and after his death, in March, was buried in the church with an effigy which recorded his loyalty to the house of York – in particular to Richard III. His livery collar is an unusual one as it depicts Richard’s white boar (I still think it’s the only extant one on an effigy.) Ralph, a pious medieval Christian, wished to ensure a smooth transition from purgatory to Heaven. His will details money to be given to the priests officiating at his funeral and well as to various abbeys so that prayers could be said for his soul.

His heir, John, was to receive the hall’s hangings, an iron grate, the best bed, armour, a flock of sheep with a ram as well as a wagon, 6 oxen and 6 cows. Another son, Thomas, was also in receipt of a bed as were two of Ralph’s daughters. They were also gifted a silver cup each.

John FitzHerbert had his own difficulties to contend with – aside from the effigy of his father sporting a noticeable link to Richard III at the start of the Tudor period. He was married to Benedicta Bradbourne (yet more kinship networks and alliances within the region – her mother was part of the Vernon family) but it didn’t work out quite as his family might have hoped. John’s will, written in 1517, records that the couple were no longer cohabiting because Benedicta had been unfaithful. He described her as ‘lewd and vile’ ( LRO, B/A/1/14, fol. 109v.) – so not a harmonious parting of the ways. His will goes on to ensure that she did not receive any dower rights. Under English law she would usually have been entitled to a third of her husband’s estates for her use during her life time. Sometimes it is quite frustrating to be provided with a fragment of a tale but not to be able to locate more information! And this is one of those occasions.

So in Derbyshire the other 7 ‘Wars of the Roses’ effigies are -At Ashover the effigies of Thomas Babington and his wife Edith FitzHerbert. John Babington, Thomas’s father, fought for Richard III at Bosworth and its possible that Thomas did as well but he made the transition to the Tudor regime.

Ashbourne – John Cokayne and his wife Anne Vernon. He was associated with the Duke of Buckingham and on one occasion Nicholas Fitzherbert was called upon to arrest him for being at feud with the Blount family. Like FitzHerbert he served Lord Hastings in France in 1475.

Barlow – Robert Eyre and his wife Margaret Delves.(Yorkist livery collar)

Hathersage Robert Eyre of Padley and his wife Elizabeth FitzWilliam. He also served Lord Hastings in 1475 and his ability to shift with the tide is reflected by his service as a justice of the peace under Edward IV, Richard III and Henry VII.

Kedleston John Curzon and his wife Elizabeth Eyre (SS collar)

Morley John Sacheverell and wife Joan Statham. Another Derbyshire member of the gentry indentured to serve Lord Hastings in 1474- so in France 1475.

Youlgrave Thomas Cokayne (York collar) – Served Lord Hastings in France in 1475.

I’ve posted about the Ashover and Ashbourne images before but will be revisiting them. Inevitably I will be looking at Nottinghamshire for research into The Little History of Nottinghamshire (a further eight). In Yorkshire – for those of you who are wondering,-there are a whopping 49 effigies with a link to the Wars of the Roses including the tomb chest at Beverley – which definitely doesn’t have an effigy- of Henry Percy, 4th Earl of Northumberland.

FitzHerbert, R. H C. (1897). Will of Ralph Fitzherbert, Esq. of Norbury, A.D. 1483.. The Derbyshire Archaeological Journal 19. Vol 19, pp. 94-100. https://doi.org/10.5284/1065424.

The end of the Wars of the Roses in Colchester

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By Rs-nourse – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=29264615

I’m still indexing – have I mentioned how much I dislike the task? Probably several times but never mind. Today we’re shifting away from medieval Colchester – and for those of you who spotted the missing sentence in the last post relating to the start of the Anarchy, which was promptly amended, thank you…I really must stop trying to do two things at once.

I have elected to skip the whole of the Wars of the Roses in terms of Colchester’s history. The town had strong associations with John Howard, a supporter of Richard III, but my intention is to concentrate on the late summer and autumn of1485.

St John’s Abbey hosted various supporters of the House of York including Francis Lovell 1st Viscount Lovell, Richard III’s friend and Chamberlain. It’s not totally certain where Lovell was in August 1485. He might have seen the battle unfold and the disastrous consequences of William Stanley’s betrayal or there’s another theory that he might have been in Suffolk, potentially near Gipping Hall the family home of the Tyrells, on clandestine business – yes it is Princes in the Tower related and relies on the theory that one or more of the princes was alive and well in Suffolk! Immediately after the Battle of Bosworth, it was thought that Lovell was dead. Suffice it to say Lovell, who was very much alive, and Sir James Tyrell turned up in Colchester and claimed sanctuary in St John’s Abbey. It was a long way to go to claim sanctuary if he started his journey on the other side of Leicester but much closer if he came from Suffolk…make of it what you will. With Lovell in sanctuary were members of the Stafford family who seem to have travelled there with him. Altogether they remained in Colchester for six months.

One of the advantages of Colchester was that its hythe, or port, had good trading links with the Low Countries and with Burgundy where Edward IV and Richard III’s sister, Margaret, was duchess. Colchester held a potential escape route to safety- although it begs the question why the party didn’t ride straight to the coast in order to make their escape. Polydore Vergil described the town as being by the ‘seaside’ which is perhaps pushing it a bit.

Technically sanctuary seekers had 40 days before they were forced to abjure the realm but Henry VI had granted St John’s extended rights of sanctuary. Henry VII made no attempt to remove the Yorkists from the abbey even though Hugh Conway told him that Lovell was plotting against him and intended to escape. Perhaps Henry VII, who didn’t immediately declare everyone a traitor although he dates his reign to the day before the Battle of Bosworth, hoped for some reconciliation – although that is impossible to know. Certainly at the time of Henry’s first parliament in November, Lovell was attained. It would appear that, rather than contemplate peace, love and harmony, Lovell did indeed use his time in sanctuary to make contact with discontented supporters of the House of York. Early in 1486 he escaped the confines of the abbey to ferment rebellion in the north against the new regime.

It wasn’t the end of the matter for Colchester. In the summer of 1486 a royal messenger was sent to the town with a secret letter (see Lewis). In 1487 Lovell was seen escaping from the Battle of Stoke Field. It was the last time he was officially sighted – his last days or years remain the subject of speculation, some of which fits nicely into my current research about the county of Nottingham. Two years later, Anne Fitzhugh, Lovell’s wife and the Kingmaker’s niece, was granted a royal stipend of £20 a year. It is not clear when she died, although she was still alive in 1495.

In 1497 Abbot Walter Stansted of St John’s Abbey who is likely to have known what Lovell was up to at the end of 1485 also died.

There are several books about Francis Lovell including Schindler’s Lovell Our Dogge and Stephen David’s Last Champion of York which are both non-fiction. For those of you who enjoy a time slip novel in which Lovell features somewhat unexpectedly – Nichola Cornick’s Last Daughter of York is worth a read.

Lewis, Matthew, The Survival of the Princes in the Tower, covers the theory that at least one of Richard’s nephews found a home at Gipping.

And given my new drive to find some of the ‘history’ themed items available on a well known Internet shopping site, all I can say is fancy a flag? In the interests of fairness I also looked for Henry Tudor’s red dragon standard but nothing was forthcoming. I’m not sure how “He who is occasionally obeyed” would feel if I start littering the house with flags and standards, especially as having watched Stacey Solomon’s Sort Your Life Out on the BBC earlier this year (and I’m addicted to the programme) I’m having a decluttering campaign…so far removing non-fiction books has not gone well…I need another bookcase sooner rather than later.

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Medieval dates to remember

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In my last post I presented these dates as pivotal ones – to my mind at least- to the medieval period: 1066, 1086, 1100, 1135, 1154, 1204, 1215, 1265, 1314, 1337, 1348, 1381, 1399.  How did you do at identifying which events lurk in the dim recesses of my brain?

At different times, a number of you have also asked how I remember different events and dates. I guess that these particular dates act as way markers to other dates, events and significant interludes, throughout the medieval period. They’re bit like a ‘neural motorway’. I don’t need to think about them – they’re just there. And to continue the analogy, other dates are signposted along different, often more convoluted, neural pathways from the ones I automatically know.

1066 – the Norman Conquest – I don’t think that there’s anyone in the UK who wouldn’t get this date, especially after years of the Horrible Histories entertaining children and adults alike.

1086 – The Domesday Book – William I’s great book of tax and land evaluations linking back to the reign of Edward the Confessor as well as providing a snapshot of post-Conquest England (but not Cumbria because it was Scottish at that point).

1100 – Henry I ascends the throne. I think this one sticks in my head because of William Rufus’s unfortunate demise in the New Forest, Henry I’s pro-English outlook and also because his coronation charter – called the Charter of Liberties- which is a forerunner to Magna Carta. Interestingly I wouldn’t necessarily identify regnal dates as key ones, although I do know them. Also it heralds a period relative stability and we begin to see more chronicles detailing events from now onwards.

1139 – The Anarchy begins with the invasion of the Empress Matilda following the death of Henry I in 1135 and lasts for 19 years – this date is one that fans of Cadfael will remember. It’s not a particularly popular period of history these days.

1154 – Henry II, the son of Empress Matilda, ascends the throne. It’s the period of the Angevin Empire, Thomas Becket, falling out with the Pope, invading Ireland, Richard the Lion heart, the Crusades and of course King John.

1204- King John lost Normandy (which was careless) to the French. There is a new emphasis on England – bringing changes to administration, law and order and society- even if kings spend most of the rest of the medieval period trying to retrieve their former continental possessions.

1215 – turns out John gets two dates! This one is for Magna Carta.

1265 This date corresponds to the Second Barons’ War and Simon de Montfort’s Parliament – democracy is evolving. King Henry III’s reign is a lengthy one from 1216 to his death in 1272.

1314 Battle of Bannockburn – Edward II loses rather badly to the Scots. Interestingly Edward I’s reign which would include the start of the Scottish Wars of Independence in 1296 isn’t something that pops into my head in the first instance despite my interest in the history of the borders and border reivers, probably because the date is part of the back story to Tudor turbulence.

1337 King Edward III starts the Hundred Years War – which actually lasts for 116 years and is most definitely a game of two halves for those of you who don’t mind cliches.

1348 The arrival of the Black Death in England – the changes are obvious and dramatic in the first instance but, longer term, the disease contributes to the decline of feudalism and the number of women inheriting property increases as well.

1381 The Peasants’ Revolt – Up until 1381 the peasants don’t get a voice – the people who have acquired more say in the running of the country up until the end of the fourteenth century were the elite but now the peasants protest and will go on being stroppy, occasionally beheading people they don’t much like, across the next 500 years or so.

1399 Richard II is deposed by his cousin Henry of Bolingbroke, who ascends the throne as Henry IV, unleashing the delights of the Houses of York and Lancaster during the fifteenth century.

I should add that for each name on this list or key event I have a mental map of places, people and events linked with that person. – So for Richard II, in no particular order other than how my mind produced them, I have the Black Prince, Joan of Kent, John of Gaunt, poll tax, Peasant’s Revolt, the Savoy, Wat Tyler, John Ball, Mile End, Simon of Sudbury, Anne of Bohemia, Isabella of Valois, Lords Appellants, Duke of Gloucester – mattress, Wonderful and Merciless Parliaments, Chester archers, Wilton Diptych, white hart, Ireland, Conwy Castle, Flint Castle, Pontefract Castle, Froissart Chronicles, royal portrait, Geoffrey Chaucer, Sheen Palace, flushing toilet, majesty, handkerchiefs and last but not least pointy shoes. I could go on but I think its probably time to stop while I’m ahead!

For fans of the History Hit podcast, which is one of my favourite history podcasts (all of them are really good), who want to delve into the medieval world:

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Medieval Colchester

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Colchester Castle By Jonathan Dann – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=129383764

There are no prizes for spotting yesterday’s typo I’m afraid. Several of you identified that instead of 1086 I managed to land in the twentieth century – the error has now been fixed. Many thanks to those of you who gave me a gentle nudge. However, today we’re back in medieval Colchester.

East Anglia became associated with sheep, wool and the cloth trade during the medieval period. Magnificent churches, such as the one at Lavenham, were built on the back of the profits. Colchester was a centre of the trade with its own market, although it was never as wealthy as Norwich. And matters weren’t helped at the turn of the thirteenth century when the Bishop of London established the town of Chelmsford which was close to a royal manor and more convenient for court sittings. However, until 1250 Colchester Castle was key to the defence of the region. The Plantagenet kings all spent time in the town.

In 1214, prior to the Barons’ War, King John showed up to try and persuade the castle’s constable, William de Lanvali, to side with him rather than the barons – to no avail. The castle did find itself under siege in 1215 having changed hands from de Lanvali, to the king’s man Stephen Harangood( who was a Flemish mercenary) and then back to de Lanvali after the signing of Magna Carta in June 1215. In March 1216, John arrived in Colchester to take the surrender of the castle garrison which was composed of 115 French troops. The garrison thought that they had safe passage to London but on leaving the castle they were all arrested. That year the castle changed hands five times but it was a few months later when an army favouring the barons looted the town. Keeping up? Good, because in 1217 Prince Louis of France reoccupied the castle on behalf of the barons. It reverted into the hands of Henry III’s regents the same year, by which time I’m guessing that the inhabitants of the town were well and truly fed up.

In 1290 Colchester’s Jewish community, nine households, were expelled from the kingdom, by Edward I under the jauntily named Edict of Expulsion. Essentially the king wished to raise taxes to fight a French campaign and parliament saw an opportunity to rid itself of the realm’s entire Jewish population. Edward’s need for funding proved greater than his desire to safeguard England’s Jews. On the same day as the edict became law the Sheriff of Essex, Henry Gropinel, received a writ to proclaim that the county’s Jewish community was to leave the kingdom by 1 November, taking with them only what they could carry. Property was forfeit to the Crown, anyone remaining might be executed but the king provided that families should be escorted to safety to prevent any harm coming to them (not always terribly successfully). Up until 1290, medieval Colchester had a synagogue on Stockwell Street. It and nine properties on Stockwell Street became Crown property. Officially, anyone Jewish was not allowed to resettle in England until 1656 unless they had a special licence.

In 1348 the Black Death arrived and two years later the castle’s principal role changed from fortification to goal.

Throughout the period there were tensions between St John’s Abbey and the town over land rights and fishing rights but the abbey wasn’t alone. The FitzWalter family held the manor of Lexden and appeared reluctant on several occasions to allow the people of Colchester their rights. In 1343, John FitzWalter accused 96 townsmen of cutting down his trees, hunting deer and taking his fish. Trespass turned into a brawl. There were injuries, a death and a protracted court case which involved jury intimidation.

Colchester even has its own chronicle, or oath book, dating from the fourteenth century written by the town clerk of the time. Morant’s History of Essex, written during the eighteenth century, contains a translation and explanation for its existence. This is one of the texts that gives us the story of St Helena originating from Colchester and being the daughter of King Coel or Cole (yup – the merry old soul) and identifies the town’s problems with the Danes in 1071. The chronology for early Colchester is not entirely accurate but as Philip Crummy observes, the archeology and the medieval account of Colchester’s past tie together remarkably well even if the inhabitants of the town mistook the Temple of Claudius for King Cole’s palace The book also contains information about the burgesses, where they lived and where they came from, deeds, wills, legal precedents and a summary of court rolls. It helps to unpick the evolution of Colchester’s civic administration and the increasing power of the burgesses. It was only in the Elizabethan period that the town clerk was required to keep more thorough records.

What I like about my study of Colchester is that many of the followers of the History Jar, and those of you who have attended various classes, will know the national history that impacts on Colchester and be familiar with key events. Seeing examples from a specific location – in this case my home town- gives context to the various patterns of development and decay that can be repeated in towns across England.

I’m only mildly concerned that the key dates that pop up in my head for medieval history are 1066, 1086, 1100, 1139, 1154, 1204, 1215, 1265, 1314, 1337, 1348, 1381, 1399. The fifteenth century and the Wars of the Roses have their own set of dates lurking at the back of my mind. Of course, you may have different dates entirely that act as your historical reference points. But can you identify the key events which I work around when I navigate medieval history from the Normans onwards. I’ll provide the answers in my next post. You’ll be relieved to hear that I won’t be doing the same for the fifteenth century!

Crummy, Philip, Aspects of Anglo-Saxon and Norman Colchester, (Colchester: Colchester Archeological Trust, 1981)

https://archive.org/details/bim_eighteenth-century_the-history-and-antiquit_morant-philip_1768_1_0/page/28/mode/2up?q=chronicle&view=theater

As a complete aside I’m quite tickled by a discovery made during my search on the Internet for Morant’s History of Essex – regional colouring books for adults depicting the past as well as the present. There’s one for Yorkshire, Hampshire, Cumbria and even one for castles that I spotted in my cursory search. They’re produced by The History Press (what will they come up with next?). I’m thinking that images from the books could be an excellent basis for a blackwork embroidery- because let’s face it I do love my history in many shapes and forms. I’ll also admit to being tempted by the Great Tapestry of Scotland Colouring Book – the original is currently housed in Galashiels…whether the whole experience would be a mindful one is another matter entirely.

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