Seventeenth century gossip
Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like the village snoop with this project. In uncovering the lives of witches and their accusers, all kinds of intimate details are unearthed about their communities as well. Some of these insights are amusing and heart-warming, others are sad or painful. It’s especially striking how much can be learnt from the curt, formulaic lines in parish registers, and how invested one can become while working through them. This post is about some of the joys, scandals and tragedies I’ve found so far.
The proud new parent
The parish register for Keyston in Huntingdonshire suggests that Thomas Lumley was enthusiastic about his role. He was appointed as registrar in 1653 and made responsible for not only Keyston, but also the surrounding parishes of Molesworth, Bythorn and Covington as well. It feels as though Thomas took a genuine interest in parish life and was proud of his job: his diligence shines through in the neatness of the register’s entries and the many extraneous details he includes. But nothing compares to his excitement at the birth of his first son. While everyone else’s children are awarded the same amount of space in the book, Thomas junior’s entry is much larger and bolder. I couldn’t help but smile at the obvious pride and delight Thomas took in his child’s birth.
The entry serves as a welcome reminder of how much personality can shine through in hand-written records. Though parish registers sound relatively banal, moments like this bring home the fact that these are not neutral documents. The author had feelings and opinions which affected how he logged information, and each line is a small window into a whole world of experiences and emotions.
The double baptism
Some lines are enough to make the imagination run wild, especially this one from Haddenham, Cambridgeshire:
January 1637
John the base sonne of John Sammon and Alice Maline bapt[ised] the first day
Thomas the sonne of John Sammon and Barbarah his wife bapt[ised] the first day
It’s not unusual to come across children born out of wedlock in the parish registers, though the baptism record’s wording can tell us something about how compassionate or disapproving the priest was towards the birth. Describing the child as ‘base’ was perhaps the most common, while ‘bastard’ suggests greater disdain. In some instances the infant is just described as the child of a widow (even though the woman hadn’t been widowed in the last nine months), leaving the question of paternity open. Martin Faulkes, the minister for Haddenham, normally opted for the word ‘base’, suggesting a broadly neutral position. I can’t help wondering, though, what he thought — and said — on 1st January 1637.
I’ll admit that this entry took my breath away. John Sammon’s two children — one legitimate, one not — were baptised in the same church on the same day. Was it the same ceremony? Were all three parents in attendance, and what was their relationship like? Was it Alice or John who decided to name their illegitimate son after his father? Was John Sr being unspeakably cruel in pushing for the baptisms to be held on the same day, or was this Martin’s decision as minister? From the rest of the register we know that Barbarah and John went on to have several more children, while Alice and John did not: maybe the christening prompted a reconciliation between the married couple, or maybe the public humiliation of the double baptism pushed John into fidelity.[1] Either way, the register has given us a tantalising insight into a moment of scandal in Haddenham’s history.
The three-line tragedy
While some entries feel like gossip, others are simply devastating. I’ve become familiar with what I’ve started to think of as two or three-line tragedies: short, poignant stories of loss made all the more upsetting by the fact that they’re dealing with real, identifiable people. One example from Haddenham still haunts me. In 1638, the year after John Sammon’s children were baptised, the parish register records the following:
September 1638
Miles the sonne of Thomas Bland and Helen his wife buried the second day
Barbarah the daughter of Thomas Bland and Helen his wife bapti[ised] the 9th day
Helen the wife of Thomas Bland was buried the same day
There are so many things we don’t know — will probably never know — about the Bland family, but these three lines show us a realm of pain and heartbreak. It is a stark summary of loss, life, and further loss that brought tears to my eyes. As far as I can tell the daughter, Barbarah, survived and Thomas didn’t re-marry: did he opt to raise his young daughter alone? If so, it wasn’t for long: within just a few years Thomas too had passed on, and little Barbarah was made an orphan.
Though all the people mentioned here lived in communities where witches were examined and arrested, none of them were directly involved in the hunts of the 1640s. It is a poignant reminder that the witch hunts weren’t happening in a vacuum: every line in a parish register is its own story. The communities were celebrating, gossiping and grieving before, during and after the witch trials, absorbed in affairs and weaving lives which we’re only briefly privy to.
- Dr Tabitha Stanmore, April 2023
[1] When I shared these entries on Twitter, one user suggested that they actually concern two John Sammons — possibly cousins. I think this is unlikely as no other John Sammon is mentioned in the register, but if it is the case it opens up a whole new set of questions.
