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April 1604: ‪Guy Fawkes‬ is recruited as the explosives expert.

29/4/2015

In this document Guy Fawkes describes how he was recruited into the famous Gunpowder Plot of 1605 while serving as a soldier in the Low Countries. It makes clear what the plotters' motives were and what they intended to do.
Fawkes, who goes by the Italian name of Guido, was fighting for the Spanish army in Flanders and was known to be an explosives expert.

Transcript:

The Declaration of Guy Fawkes taken the
9 of November and subscribed by him the 10th day
acknowledged l -- re the lordes ansswers

A Thomas Winter came over into the Lowecountries unto this
Examinate about Easter was twelve monethe, Exprisly to
break with him about some Course to be taken for the advauncement
of the Catholike Religion, which they did communicate to Owen
at the camp before ^Ostend^ and three weekes after this Examinate Came
into England in Company of the said Wright, by whose
meanes he was made acquainted with Thomas Persy, Robert
Catesby and John Wright.

B They five did meete at a Howse in the fieldes beyond
St Clements Inn; where they did Conferr and Agree, upon
the Plott they ment to undertake and put in Execucion;
and there they took a solemme Oath and vowe, by all their
force and Power to Execute the same.

(text omitted)

C The Plott was to blowe up the kinge with all the Nobillity
about him in Parlament.

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Once Upon a Time

29/4/2015

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Many of the tales read to us in our childhood begin with "Once upon a time" and interestingly this phrase has been used in storytelling since the late fourteenth century. This statement leads us into the narrative of the fairy tale, a tale that has passed down verbally from generation to generation, each story a little different but generally they contain the same set of characters, the handsome prince, the charming heroine, and the evil enchantress.

We now see in the modern interpretation of these fairy tales that the characters of both the heroine and the stepmother are nothing like the ones we all knew as children. The other evening I watched Snow White and the Huntsman, I was struck how the image of the heroine has changed over the years. The ever lovely Snow White, is no longer the rosy cheeked innocent of my day, but a self confident, sword carrying, feisty teenager, and by the end of the film I realised that the character of the step mother had actually changed too. She is no longer two characters, gone is the horrid hooked nosed, cackling, hand ringing gorgon that frightened the little eight year old girl that was me. She has morphed into one character and is in no need of a ugly disguise. The modern wicked queen and evil step mother are now beautiful in their ugliness, they are stunning medieval enchantresses, a temptress and femme fatales, a metaphorical evil step parent who's main objective is to ruin the lives of their new husbands children just to boost their own or a vengeful and powerful queen who is a cross between beauty and age, either way they are both maleficent.

Incidentally the word step is derived from the old English word Steop meaning related by marriage rather than blood and interestingly this word describes much of what the fairy tale step mother represents.....second best, a woman stepping into someone else's shoes.

Maleficent, is the latest wicked queen to arrive to our screens, she appears in the retelling of the fairy tale Sleeping Beauty. She is not unlike Disney's animated character, she is still dramatic, a Gothic, horn headed wicked queen with a difference. In this new film we learn of the events in her past that has made her the villainess she has become, and if we know this will we know not be frightened of her...don't let your guard down just yet?

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Richard Trevithick

24/4/2015

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At this time every April the streets of Camborne in Cornwall come alive with a spectacular day of steam activities in celebration of Richard Trevithick's famous invention.

The Cornish song Camborne Hill tells part of the story of Richard Trevithick's historic steam engine ride. Trevithick had built a steam engine that could provide "power for its own locomotion" and by 1801 he had designed and built the worlds first steam road 'train' to carry passengers. Called Captain Dick´s Puffer its first run took place in Camborne on Christmas Eve. Trevithick train went from Rosewarne to Beacon Hill and the last part of the journey is celebrated in the song Going Up Camborne Hill.

Have a listen to it here http://youtu.be/CgfGLArq_J0.

The songs origins are said to be connected with a ballad called the Diggers Song, a protest song in support of the Digger movement and it concerns for land rights in England during the seventeenth century. I remember the song from my childhood as my beloved grandfather used to sing it to me.......but not half as nice as this rendition.

You can also read more, if you click on the link below, about Richard Trevithick as part of my the introduction to my story of my family who were 19th century Cornish farmers.

Mitchell of Crantock: An Introduction

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Dolcoath Tin Mine in Cornwall.

21/4/2015

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Mining accident at Dolcoath Tin Mine in Cornwall.

On the 19th September 1894, Josiah Thomas, who was the mine captain, and James Johns began an inspection at Dolcoath mine in Camborne.

On returning to the surface, both men voiced their concerns regarding a section of timbers that was supporting 600 feet of waste rock, both men agreed that it was bending. Orders were given that it be strengthened immediately.

The following day miners descended the half mile underground to level 412 to make repairs and this work continued all through the morning. At one o'clock there was a small rock fall, which suddenly gave way burying nearly all of the men under it. Eventually rescuers reached the miners, only one man was found alive but eight had been killed.

At the following inquest Josiah Thomas said that the men must have removed some of the old props before putting in the new ones, but this was contradicted by the survivor who reported that the men were doing nothing at the time to cause the fall. In 1898 one Albert Bluett went down into Dolcoath mine and saw the area of the accident he wrote

......As I looked into the little cavity amongst rocks and timber from which the only man who escaped alive was taken, an involuntary shudder came over me at the thought of being doubled up in that hole, with darkness and death for companions, for a whole week. 'Where is he now ?' I asked, remembering how frail he was when brought to surface. 'Oh,' came the answer, 'he went to America some time after, and is now working in South Africa.'"

The images you see were taken at level 412 four years after the accident. They also show the conditions Cornish miners were working under, they are also a reminder of the dangers faced by all those who worked in mining in the nineteenth century.

Dolcoath mine tin production exceeded that of any other mine in Cornwall. In 1896 the mine was yielding eighty pounds of tin per ton of rock lifted but this gradually declined and the mine was closed in 1915.

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Lady D'Arbanville by Cat Stevens

20/4/2015

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I just adore this song, I was eleven when I heard it for the first time, its so sorrowful, so romantic.

I can remember I had an image in my head, a beautiful woman lying on a raised cold slab, her beautiful flowing hair and her dress draping over the side, her lifeless hand had just let go of the rose her lover has given her. The rose had dropped to the floor.

The little girl that I was had never seen John William Waterhouse's Sleeping Beauty, but his work is exactly how I saw my medieval lady. I knew hardly anything of the medieval world then, and have often wondered whether it was this song that sparked my interest.

My lady D'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still?
I'll wake you tomorrow
And you will be my fill, yes, you will be my fill

My lady D'Arbanville, why does it grieve me so?
But your heart seems so silent
Why do you breathe so low, why do you breathe so low?

My lady D'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still?
I'll wake you tomorrow
And you will be my fill, yes, you will be my fill

My lady D'Arbanville, you look so cold tonight
Your lips feel like winter
Your skin has turned to white, your skin has turned to white

My lady D'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still?
I'll wake you tomorrow
And you will be my fill

My lady D'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still?
I'll wake you tomorrow
And you will be my fill

I loved you my lady, though in your grave you lie
I'll always be with you
This rose will never die, this rose will never die

I loved you my lady, though in your grave you lie
I'll always be with you
This rose will never die, this rose will never die

Just listen to it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ba_nYP6e_JE its beautiful.

Of course in reality this song is not about unrequited love from days of yore at all, but an unrequited love from the 1970's. You can imagine how disappointed I was!

Cat Stevens wrote this song in 1970 about Pattie D'Arbanville who said of the song

"I left for a month, it wasn't the end of the world was it? But he wrote this whole song about 'Lady D'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still.' It's about me dead. So while I was in New York, for him it was like I was lying in a coffin... he wrote that because he missed me, because he was down... It's a sad song. I cried when I heard it, because that's when I knew it was over for good"

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A Seventeenth Century Embroidered Jacket

20/4/2015

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Held at the Victoria & Albert Museum, this seventeenth century embroidered jacket, is a surviving example of English Jacobean embroidery. It was owned by Margaret Laton, wife of Francis Laton, who was one of the Yeomen of the Jewel House during the reigns of James I, Charles I and for a short time Charles II.

As we can see, it was exhibited in front painting of Margaret Laton, who is depicted wearing the jacket. Among wealthy women in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries linen jackets, such as this, were worn as informal dress and were quite popular. It has been described as 'exquisitely decorated with flowers, birds and butterflies, embroidered in coloured silks, coiled tendrils of silver-gilt plaited braid stitch and silver-gilt sequins. The edges of the jacket are trimmed with silver and silver-gilt bobbin lace and silver-gilt spangles.'

The painting is by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger and is oil on oak boards. Gheeraerts was a fashionable portrait artist in the last decade of the reign of Elizabeth I and described as 'the most important artist of quality to work in England in large-scale between Eworth and Van Dyck.'

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The Medieval Messenger

12/4/2015

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Want a laugh and become super intelligent at the same time? Well here is the book for you.

This blog really isn't a blog as such, its more of an advert for a funny little book my husband surprised me with on our holiday a couple of years ago. Its really for children and is intended to ignite a passion for history. Now, if I'd been given it as a young child I may, no I would, have started loving history even earlier and may have been at this very moment a lecturer of Medieval History at Cambridge (some hope)

The Medieval Messenger, is a thirty two page book designed in the style of a tabloid newspaper, and covers major events that took place during the medieval period. Its covers these events in forms of news articles, features, adverts, spot the difference, personal adds all the things you would expect .

As you can see the front page covers the arrival of the Black Death, it goes on to talk about it in depth on page thirteen. On page twenty two it runs a story

"What's new in the Spanish Inquisition" We met the man who knows.

Effigies of the Great, on page 6, invite you to pick your choice of prominent people, from popes, kings, famous warriors (no Visigoth's, Vandals or Barbarians) and have them carved in stone to impress your visitors.

My favourite is the advertisment for Elkhorns Safety Visors.

No War Is Complete Without ELKHORN'S SAFETY VISORS.
How many times have you had your nose chopped off and thought, I wish I'd had one of those.

Don't take my word for it, its great for kids, a quick read for an adult and is dead funny.

Published by Usboure, at £5.99 ISBN 978-0-7460-6898-4

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Sir Ralph de Blancminster of Bien Amie

10/4/2015

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The ballad, that you can read at the end of this blog was written by Reverend Stephen Hawker, was published in 1867, and is the story of a crusading knight known as Ralph de Blanchminster of the manor Bien Amie in the County of Cornwall.

Ralph, whose tale in the ballad, is not fictitious but based on the true story of Reginald Blanchminster, a devoted husband and father, abandoned for another man by Isabel his adulterous wife.

I am adding, along with Hawkers ballad, an excerpt from my ongoing research into the "Blanchminster of Binamy" the story of my medieval maternal ancestors who were prominent in England from 1086 to 1289.

Ralph's real name was Reginald, he was the Blanchminster heir, born around the middle of the thirteenth century.

Reginald Blanchminster was the brother of my 20th great grandmother, both have a very very special place in my heart.

Islam had spread as far as France by 732, and by 1095 the Saracens had refused to allow the Christians to continue their pilgrimages to the Holy City. The Christian world considered this as an act of aggression, so it was inevitable that warfare between the civilisation of Christianity and Islam followed. Having left Isabel and Ralph behind Reginald probably arrived in Palestine shortly after Prince Edward and joined others to relieve the Christian forces in Acre, but by the time they had arrived in Tunis he found the French king had signed a peace treaty just before his death and Edward's crusading army was forced to return to Sicily to wait the arrival of the forces of the French kings successor Phillip III. Phillip never arrived and Edward and his troops continued to Acre alone finally landing at on the 9th May 1271. Jerusalem had fallen in 1244 and Acre was now the centre of the Christianity. Reginald and his fellow crusaders, although they were an important addition to the garrison at Acre, stood little chance against the Muslim superior forces and they would have soon realised that their position was increasingly desperate, by the middle of 1272 they had seen the Cypriot army join forces against them. Reginald was either killed outright in one of the many battles with Muslim forces but as the aforementioned Hawker suggests he was fatally wounded. Before we go on to reveal the real reason of Sir Reginald Blanchminster’s sad death in Syria we must read the Reverend Hawker’s ballad entitled Sir Ralph de Blancminster of Bien Amie......."

".........In Hawkers ballad we see the fictitious Bertha as a young woman who was already resolved of the fact that her husband will not return to Binamie with his life, she states “Time trieth troth” or “time tests faith” She goes on to give Reginald a time frame and a ultimatum stating “three years let the severing seas divide” and “a warrior must rest in Bertha's bed”. Obviously undeterred by these words from his wife, he cries a sad farewell to his turreted castle and riding into the distance shouts "Thou too farewell my chosen bride" Hawker then goes onto suggest in the verse “The Treachery” that Bertha had not kept her side of the bargain. In a wilful betrayal of fidelity, Bertha becomes an adulterous wife fleeing Ralph’s manor of Binamie on the call of one Sir Rupert! The Cornish messenger tells the dying Ralph of three dark omens in a kindly effort to break the new of Bertha's betrayal but the astute Ralph asks “Say on the woe thy looks betide” to which the poor page has to reply “Master, the Lady Bertha s fled the hall."

Reginald’s wife in Hawkers ballad is named Bertha, in fact she was Isabel, a woman who we know little about. At this point Reginald had been married only a few years and between 1262 and 1265 Isabel had given Reginald a son who they named Ralph. During the next five years Reginald became increasingly unhappy and his family think that this was due to the discontent he felt on having heard of the decision of the young prince Edward and Edmund of Cornwall leaving on a crusade to the Holy Land, but we now know is that this could not be further from the truth. At prayer and his frequent times spent alone he struggled with his conscience, asking himself whether he should he remain at his Cornish manor or if he should take up the cross himself. Ralph’s decision to journey to the Holy Land would have been either duty or religious sentiment. Of course both of these would have undoubtedly influenced him as it had done large masses of people who enthusiastically set out for the east to meet the Muslims in battle. Finally with his mind made up Reginald set forth in 1270 to join Prince Edward and the Earl of Cornwall on crusade.

Hawkers ballad is of the sentimental kind, very popular in the late nineteenth century, he has romanticised the tale of a hero knight and his young wife fleeing to the arms of her waiting lover, in fact Hawker was not too far from the truth.
The Sir Rupert in the ballad was one John Allet.

According to an entry for him in the Cornish Fleet of Fines it is stated

Ralph Blanchminster * She was the widow of Sir Reginald Blanchminster, and her marriage with John de Aleth had been secretly performed. ...

in a manuscript dated 1284 it states

John Allet in Kenwyn and Isabella his wife hold the Isle of Scilly and hold there all kinds of pleas of the Crown throughout their jurisdiction and make indictments of felonies.

The aforementioned * entry of Reginald’s fathers death in the Episcopal Register of Exeter we find the entry of the death of Reginald and along side it, probably written at the same time, is an entry regarding Isabel Blanchminster. The purpose of this entry regarding Reginald’s widow in this register is to record the sentence of excommunication pronounced against her for her adultery with Allett. We can assume that Isabel began an affair with Sir John Allet soon after the birth of Ralph and this was the real reason that induced Reginald to take up the cross. How poor Reginald came to know of this infidelity is not known, betrayed and rejected his journey to the Holy Land must have been a sorrowful one. Away on crusade and supposing him dead Isabel and Allet married in secret. The effect all this had on their son is not known but the news of this adulteress marriage and excommunication must have been a major scandal at the time. The Allets must have been keen to stay on good terms with Reginald’s sister Margery, for we know that the two families were still in contact by 1290 as John Allet witnessed a gift of land on the 9th June.

After this date both Isabel and Allett fade into obscurity.

And now for Hawker's Ballard

The Vow

Hush! Tis a tale of elder time
Caught from an old barbaric rhyme
How the fierce Sir Ralph, of the haughty hand
Harnessed him for our Savious land.
“Time trieth troth” the lady said
“And a warrior must rest in Berthas bed.
Three year let the severing seas divide,
And strike thou for Christ and they trusting bride”
So he buckled on the beamy blade
That Gaspar of Spanish Leon made
Whose hilted cross is the awful sigh
It must burn or the Lord and his tarnished shrine.

The Adieu

“Now a long farewell tall Stratton Tower
Dark Bude, thy fatal sea
And God thee speed in hall and bower
My manor of Bien amie.
“Thou, too, farewell my chosen bride,
Thou Rose of Rou-tor land
Though all on earth were false beside
I trust thy plighted hand.
“Dark seas amy swlll, and temests lower,
And surging bellows foam,
The cresset of they bridal bower
Shall guide the wander home.
“On! For the cross in Jesu’s land,
When Syrian armies flee;
One thought hall thrill my lifted hand,
I strike for God and thee”

The Battle
Hark! How the brattling trumpets blare,
Lo! The red banner flaunt the air,
And see, his good sword girded on
The stern Sir Ralph to the wars has gone.
Hurrah! For the Syrian dastards flee
Charge! Charge! Ye Western chivalry
Sweet is the strife for God’s renown,
The Cross is up and the Crescent down.
The weary seeks his tent
For good Sir Ralph is pale and spent
Five wounds he reaped in the field of fame
Five in his blessed masters name.
The solemn Leech looks sad and grim
As he binds and sooths each gory limb
And the solemn Priest must chant and prey.
Lest the soul un-houseled pass away.

The Treachery

A sound of horse hoofs on the sand
And lo! A page from Cornish lands
Tidings,” he said as he bent the knee
“Tidings, my lord, from Bien amie”
“The owl shrieked thrice from the warder’s tower
The crown-rose wither in her bower
Thy good grey foal, at event fed,
Lay in the sunrise stark and dead”
“Dark omens three!” the sick man cried
“Say on the woe thy looks betide”
“Master! At bold Sir Rupert’s call,
Thy lady Bertha fled the hall

The Scroll
Bring me,” he said “that scribe of fame,
Symeon el Siddekah his name
With parchment skin, and pen in hand
I would devise my Cornish land.
“Seven goodly manors, fair and wide,
Stretch from the sea to Tamar side,
And Bien amie, my hall and tower,
Nestles beneath tall Stratton Tower
“All these I render to my God,
By seal and signe, knife and sod
I give and grant to Church and poor
In franc-almoign for evermore
“Choose ye seven men among the just,
And bid them hold my lands in truse:
On Micheal’s morn, and Mary’s Day,
To deal the dole, and watch and pray.
“Then bear me coldly o’er the deep,
Mid my own people I would sleep
Their hearts shall melt, their prayers will breathe,
Where he who loved them rests beneath.
“Mould me in stone as here I lie,
My face upturned to Syria’s sky
Carve ye this good sword at my side
And write the legend, “True and tried”
“Let mass be said, and requiem sung;
And that sweet chime I loved be rung,
The sounds along the northern wall,
Shall thrill me like a trumpet call”
Thus said he, and the set of sun
The bold Crusader’s race was run.
Seek ye his ruined hall and tower
Then stand beneath tall Stratton Tower

The Mort Main
Now the Demon had watched for the warrior’s soul
Mid the din of war where blood streams roll
He had waited long on the dabbled sands,
Ere the Priest had cleansed the gory hand
Then as he heard the stately dole,
Wherewith Sir Ralph had soothed his soul
The unclean spirit turned away,
With a baffled glare of grim dismay.
But when he caught those words of trust,
That sevenfold choice among the just,
“Ho! Ho! Cried the fiend with a mock at heaven
“I have lost but one, I shall win my seven.”

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The Amazingly Beautiful Cornish Hedgerow.

9/4/2015

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As a child I spent many a happy hour walking around the lanes and fields that surrounded Newquay in Cornwall, much of the time we walked in the fields above the River Gannel that separated Newquay from the hamlet of Trevemper and Crantock.

In the background of my photograph you can see one thing that Cornwall is known for - its hedges.

My grandparents garden had two Cornish hedges, the one at the back of the garden, was smaller and flattish, the second one was massive, it must have stood up to six feet in height and was about three foot wide at its base.

It was a delight in the summer when all the wild flowers were at their best, an absolute heaven for an inquisitive child. Hour upon hour I spent sitting against that hedge, butterfly net and jam jar at the ready. What I was waiting to see was the bright green grasshopper with its funny, distinctive sound, the cute little snails with swirly patterns on their shells, furry little caterpillars who were destined for my jam jars, and the beautiful, beautiful array of butterflies that I hoped my collection of caterpillars would turn into. My favourite of all the creatures that lived in my grandparents hedge was the slippery slow worm, who I loved as he wound his way in and out of my little fingers.

All summer long I was kept amazed and fascinated.

The best way to describe these hedges would be to call them small English meadows, tiny woodlands or miniature cliffs. They contain everything you might associate with those three things, the bluebell, honeysuckle, foxglove, moss and heather, the damper wetter parts even contained fern. The sea pink, which I don't remember being there, is a common flower that often cover the whole of the hedge and in the sea breeze can be seen bobbing and weaving as if dancing to Cornish sea shanty. Among all these flowers and plants and including my childhood playmates, there are over ten thousand different insects scuttling among them all.

According to the Guild of Cornish Hedgers some Cornish hedges are believed to date from 5000 BC. A Cornish hedge will have two sides which are built by placing huge stone blocks into the earth and packing them in with sub-soil. Smaller interlocking rocks are used to build the hedge high until it reaches a level when random turns into neat rows of square stones called edgers. Two inches of grass are sliced from the ground and stuck on top of the structure with sticks. Many can be seen around the county forming a distinctive field-pattern in the Cornish landscape, it is estimated that there is about 30,000 miles of hedging in Cornwall today. It was during the Neolithic age that hedges were first used and by the Bronze and Iron Ages Cornwall's traditional landscape pattern became established. During the eighteenth and nineteenth century many were built in the tin and copper mining areas. The positioning and the look of these hedges helps us to identify how old they are. Older hedges wind their way through the Cornish countryside like a snake, they often have pieces missing or a bend in them, the squarer the field and the straightness of the hedge indicates that they are recent historically speaking, and looking at what lies between the hedges we can often see evidence of Bronze Age settlements, deer parks and mining.

A Cornish hedge will need to be repaired about every 150 years and this job is a skilled craft which has more or less died out like that of the hedgerow itself. Over the centuries, other counties in England, have had an on/off relationship with it hedgerows, many hedges being destroyed due to the manorial open field system only to be replaced again by the Enclosure Act and those in turn destroyed once again by our intensive modern day farming practices,but Cornwall has been lucky, it has more well established historic hedges than any other part of Britain.

If you want to fall in love with something in Cornwall, other than the beaches and the weather, let it be the hedgerow.

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Richard III's Book of Hours: A Trophy of War.

9/4/2015

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Books of Hours formed an important part of religious life in medieval England, they contained a series of prayers recited at specific hours of the day. The most elaborate were created for the wealthy. One of the most famous is King Richard III's.

This Book of Hours is a beautifully decorated piece of art, thought to have been created in London in about 1420. It has been said it accompanied Richard to Bosworth and was in his tent on the eve of the Battle in the August of 1485.

During Richard's reign, a hand written prayer was added, either by Richard himself or by a scribe. One prayer reads,

"Lord Jesus Christ, deign to free me, your servant King Richard, from every tribulation, sorrow and trouble in which I am placed..."

Tradition has it that Richard either heard his last Mass in the parish church at Sutton Cheney or before he went into battle. Either way I have often wondered, would Richard have taken such a precious item with him onto a battle field? There would not have been a problem if he considered he would be the victor that day, but we know he was unsure of the outcome. In the event of him being unsuccessful, would he really want to it to fall into the 'wrong hands!'

You could argue that actually it did..........new kings mother!

You can imagine Margaret Beaufort turning the pages, admiring the imagery and reading the texts. It has been suggested that she crossed out any reference to Richard and wrote her own name in the back of the book. It is true she did write her name, after all it was a a trophy wasn't it? A trophy of war or more importantly to her, a trophy of conquest.

As to vengefully scratching out the kings name, that is just an image created over the years to blacken her name, the stuff of films and television series. Before finding its way into the library of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Richard’s Book of Hours passed through the hands of many. One owner, during the reformation, wiped out every mention of the Pope.

Today we too can stare in wonderment at this fifteenth century work of art, and visualise this brave king holding it in his hands on the eve of his last day on earth. What is more likely though is that this book remained in a safe place and Richard brought with him his own private prayer book, one that he kept with him, one that he used every day.

Which book Richard used that day in 1485 we will never know but we can see his Book of Hours on display at New Walk Museum in Leicester until the 28th of June.

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