Chapter 1

(The footnotes numbered below can be found on a separate page – click here)

A NAKED CHRONOLOGY

HORSHAM 100 MILLION YEARS AGO – 1066AD

From the Beginning to its “Baptism”

Horsham’s pre-history really begins when this part of the world was a large, wide estuary, with a number of sandbars stretching out into it. It seems that the estuary stretched from Horsham (almost as far as Paris is from the town today), and flowing into it were rivers, rich in iron sediment, from the surrounding hills to the north and west of Horsham. (Geologists have recently mapped out the direction of the rivers, using information which shows how and where the sediments were deposited).[1] As in all estuaries, the combination of nutrient-rich sediments and plenty of water led to abundant plant, insect and animal life. 

One hundred million years ago, dinosaurs existed here, particularly the iguanodon, a plant-eating beast weighing 4 to 5 tons, that roamed in herds. Alongside the herds of iguanodon came the more solitary polacanthus, a smaller dinosaur that had a bony protective armour covered with spikes. Flying overhead were large dragonflies, whilst the rivers teamed with fish and plants. Occasionally the unwieldy iguanodon became trapped in the soft estuary sand or silt, and would eventually die, exhausted in the struggle to free themselves.  Alternatively, they may have been drowned by flash floods that caught them unawares. Then nature would take its course, with mammals and smaller omnivorous or carnivorous dinosaurs and fish eating the flesh, leaving behind the bones which, over 100 million years, became fossils.[2]

Horsham’s dinosaur past has to a large extent been forgotten, even though one of the discoveries in the centre of the town formed the basis of the celebrated Crystal Palace Iguanodons of 1854. The story of that can be found later in this history.

It was in the 19^th century that dinosaur fossils were recognized as the remains of giant beasts and, whilst their physiology might have been open to doubt, their remains were sought actively by geologists and natural historians, who made collections of fossils.

In the 1830s, probably around 1834/5, a Horsham- born Quaker, George Bax Holmes, started to collect fossils found in and around Horsham. The discoveries were partially noted in Dudley’s History and Antiquities of Horsham, published in 1836, and in Hurst’s History and Antiquities of Horsham, published some 30 years later. Since then, they have been forgotten. This in part was due to the collection of over 700 specimens being sold by Bax Holmes’ daughter to Brighton Museum and that, by the time of his death in 1887, the specimens he had found were superseded in importance by the discoveries found in Europe and America. It is also due to Holmes’ retiring nature, not pushing himself forward!

So, in the 1840s, Richard Owen – the man who gave dinosaurs their name and became the first Superintendent of the Natural History Museum – had taken examples of the specimens found in the Horsham area, and some drawings of their father’s collection made by the Misses Bax Holmes, and passed them off as his own. So, as Owen’s star rose, that of Bax Holmes fell, except in Horsham where he had given talks and had written notes on geology. But back in the 1830s, 40s and early 50s, Bax Holmes found at least three Iguanodons (Tower Hill, Smith Barn and St Marks), a pterodactyl from Southwater, crocodiles and a plesiosaurus from St Leonard’s Forest among other prehistoric creatures in the Horsham area.

Horsham has a rich prehistoric past. One of the questions to ask of geologists is how come Bax Holmes found so many remains and, since his death, none have been recorded from Horsham, even though the town has been rebuilt? The answer lies in how Horsham stone beds were created. They were transitory sandbars, short-lived, and so chance played a great part. Dinosaur fossils have been unearthed in the Horsham area, usually where extensive digging for Horsham sandstone or brick clay has taken place.[4] On 4^th August 2006 the West Sussex County Times recorded that Iguanodon and Polacanthus footprints had been found at Southwater along with coprolites (fossilised excreta) at Horsham Stone  Company quarries in Broadbridge Heath.

Why did the Bax Holmes collection not come to Horsham Museum? Horsham did not have a proper museum when George Bax Holmes died in 1887. It was six years before a town museum was even considered as a possibility. But even after the creation of Horsham Museum Society in 1893, which started building up collections of objects, no dinosaur remains came its way, although the brick-making industries of Southwater and Warnham were expanding, and fossils were being discovered in their great claypits. 

When the Southwater iguanodon was found in the 1920s, its remains went to Worthing Museum.[6] Some dinosaur remains were given to the museum in the 1940s, but it was not until the 1980s that the museum received its most significant prehistoric material, the Polacanthus Rudgwickensis and two dragonflies.[7]   

An account of the find can be found at the end of this chapter. The following account of this important find is taken from the notes made by Sylvia (generally known as Ricki) Standing when we prepared the labels for an exhibition in the 1990s.

The birth of a distinctive British culture?

So far, we have dealt with life in the Horsham area before man, or man-like creatures (hominids) who first appeared in Britain about half a million years ago, when a substantial land-bridge to continental Europe was still in existence. The earliest hominid fossil yet found in Britain was found at Boxgrove, near Chichester, in the Sussex coastal plain, and given the name of “Boxgrove Man”. “Boxgrove Man” was an active hunter – evidence from the Boxgrove site suggests that it was used for the butchering of large numbers of animals at a time – though it is not entirely clear how the meat would have been preserved for use over a longer period.

Whilst Palaeolithic or prehistoric Old Stone Age finds have been made in the South of Horsham district, at Pulborough and Storrington,[11] there have been no reported finds in the area that was to become Horsham. In fact it seems, from the archaeological finds, that man did not live here at all until the Mesolithic period, the middle part of the Stone Age which falls between the Palaeolithic period, to which belongs “Boxgrove Man”, and the Lascaux cave paintings in France, and the Neolithic period, celebrated for its great prehistoric monuments such as Avebury, Stonehenge and the long barrows.

Little is generally known about the Mesolithic period, yet work undertaken in the 1970s and 1980s reveal it to have been quite fascinating.[12] For a start, it lasted, depending on where you live, for around 4-5,000 years. During this period, flint technology, the knapping and shaping of flint, and the creation of diverse tools reached its height. The diet of man was probably the most varied; with the coming of agriculture in the Neolithic period the diet diminished to staple foodstuffs. Who wouldn’t savour wild boar, swan, fresh trout, wild mushrooms, berries etc? The era may have seen hunting strategies develop that led to woodland being coppiced and managed by fire to encourage certain fauna and flora. People travelled miles following game.

It was the period that saw Britain become an island with the creation, out of the low-lying marshlands, of the North Sea, the English Channel and the Irish Sea (snakes didn’t get to Ireland because of this) around 6,000 BC. In the Horsham area Mesolithic man (not women, as anthropological studies show men to be tool makers in society rather than women) started to shape flint, a hard stone that has qualities similar to glass, in a different way to their continental neighbours. They created what are known as Horsham points, a flint tool not found in Europe and possibly the first indication of a British culture.

It was during the Victorian period that flint tools were really recognised as what they were. In previous centuries flint axes were known as “thunderbolts”, especially as they were found in areas where flint does not occur naturally. One Horsham person who recognised their importance and collected these flint implements in the Victorian period was Thomas Honywood, the Captain of the local volunteer Fire Brigade, who was also an inventor and an amateur archaeologist.

The Thomas Honywood collection was used by researchers in the 1930s to identify what became known as the “Horsham culture”.[13]  J.G.D. Clark published his findings in the article “The Classification of the Microlithic Culture: The Tardenoisian of Horsham” in the Archaeological Journal, Vol. XC, in 1934. In 1939 Clark would further write: “In deciding on a label it seems to me that Horsham has a strong claim on grounds of its priority – the earliest published account goes back to 1877… it has further the advantage of being central to the area of distribution of the culture…the Horsham culture typifies the development of the British people, which drawing its inspiration from many sources, has yet at all periods managed to acquire its own distinctive features.” [14]

Ever since then, his arguments for a distinct culture based on a way of working flint have been hotly debated.

Although Horsham may have been at the centre of a raging archaeological debate, this subject appears to have passed by the Museum and most of the townspeople. Fortunately, one person, Ricki Standing, who has already been mentioned, decided to actively survey and collect prehistoric flints by field walking the area of Southwater and Horsham in the late 1960s.

Over the years she found a number of flint scatters and flint tools which are only now being fully researched.[15] What the evidence collected by Ricki shows is that Mesolithic groups lived in the area, but it raises a whole series of questions. Were the sites where Mesolithic flint tools have been found kill sites, where the animals were killed and butchered before the men returned to their camp, wherever that might have been?

Or were the sites actual camps, having a longer-term status, where Mesolithic people stayed not just for a couple of hours but for weeks? Did one group make repeat seasonal visits to the area, or did different groups produce the scatters of flints?[16] Were the sites settled enough for flint traders to bring flint nodules to them, or did the people travel with unknapped flint, and produce the tools they needed when they wanted them? Wooden and other plant tools would have rotted, as would leather items, so what has been found is probably only a very small part of the material culture of Mesolithic man.

What we can say with certainty is that the area of the Weald that became Horsham was exploited by Mesolithic people around 5 to 6,000 years ago but, apart from a few flint flakes, they left nothing behind that we can see today.

Horsham’s first known inhabitant

Archaeologists have given the name Neolithic, or New Stone Age, to the next period, and it was in this era, some 4,000-1800 BC, that agriculture and farming became the main means of feeding the population. With agriculture came stability, as it was pointless planting crops and then leaving them for others to harvest or for nature to destroy. Pottery appears for the first time, not because it was a new technology but, because the pots no longer had to be carried from camp to camp, there is more chance of finding them.

There were also significant earthworks and monumental buildings being erected, from causeway enclosures to long barrows and henges, which have become recognisable features of the landscape.  Evidence from the discovery of stone axes shows that significant long-distance trade routes were being established, which linked disparate peoples. But how do we know what was happening in Horsham during this period?

We have some evidence that Mesolithic man exploited the Horsham area for game and vegetable products, the animals and “fruits of the forest”, because of the discovery of the flint scatters and tools. It is unlikely that such exploitation stopped because of agriculture, but it may have occurred less frequently. There is ample evidence of Neolithic habitation along the Sussex Downs, but it is not so clear whether the High Weald woodlands were used as a forest larder, or whether there was a seasonal movement of livestock from the south to the north along the river courses, such as occurred in later times. 

We simply do not know the extent of Neolithic habitation, as there is so little evidence, though there are tantalising glimpses of some sort of economic and social life in the area. Neolithic flint flakes and tools have been found, often in the same area as the Mesolithic finds.[17] Is this because the same conditions that encouraged Mesolithic habitation, encouraged Neolithic habitation too? Or is it simply down to the collecting habits of archaeologists in particular places? If further widespread field walking went on, would more evidence of Neolithic settlement turn up?

As a word of caution, it is important to remember that if only one flint had been dropped in the same area once every 10 years, we would find over 200 flints dating to the Neolithic era from one place alone. But equally it is important to remember that Horsham is not a flint producing area, so all flints found here have travelled between 12-15 miles at least to get here. A small number of polished flint axes have also been found. The status of these axes has been debated among archaeologists, but it is now generally thought that they were not used for cutting down woodland, but more as signs of status, or gifts, or transfer of obligation. Were these axes lost by traders, or were they deliberately buried, or were they part of an exchange system, allowing people from the flint barring area to use the woodland? How can we determine which of these possibilities is the most likely?

When Cricket Field Drive was being laid out in the early 1930s, a skull was found that was for many years thought to be Neolithic, dating back to perhaps 4,000 BC. This is undoubtedly the earliest human remain so far discovered in and around Horsham, but it is difficult to deduce much from this one example. We cannot say whether the skull was that of an inhabitant, as he or she might just have been passing through, or been deliberately buried near a watercourse.  However, in the 1960s the skull was carbon dated, and this showed that it was not Neolithic in date, but came from the Bronze Age, which began in Europe after 3000 B.C. (Carbon dating is based on the fact that all living things breathe in carbon, which absorbs radioactivity. On death this decays at a certain rate, becoming half as radioactive every 5,400 years or so).

Why is the story so patchy?

Anyone looking at Horsham in the prehistoric period must be aware of the very fragmentary nature of the evidence. The reasons for this are complex, and may be down to the real social and economic practices of our ancestors, the habits and ideas of archaeologists, or the nature of survival, or a mixture of all these elements. This has led to differing theories about what actually happened during the prehistoric period, and much confusion.

In the past it was argued that the woodlands of the High Weald and the river valleys were not lived in by prehistoric man because they were too dense and frightening. The bulk of archaeological finds were made on the open Downs, and this suggested that prehistoric man preferred to live there. It was thought that if prehistoric man did not live in the valleys, there was little point in looking there, but this was a self-perpetuating vicious circle of argument. If we do not look, we will not find; and absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.  Mesolithic and Neolithic man were named as such because of their known use of stone tools; the term “lithic” comes from the Greek word for stone. Stone tools were easy to make on the Downs because of the ready supply of flint. Wooden tools, such as spears with fire-hardened tips, do not survive though the centuries, so it was assumed that prehistoric man did not make them. These tools could easily have been made in the woodlands, but as they do not survive, there is no evidence of their existence, or of man living there. [18]

During the last millennia, we know that the sheltered river valleys have been the main centres of habitation, rather than the Downs.  But in places like Horsham, where there are still a large number of older houses, we really have no idea of what evidence of earlier habitation may lie underneath them.  To destroy a 16^th century house on the off-chance that there might be Neolithic flint tools buried below it would not go down well!  But if medieval people chose to live in the river valleys, it is also likely that those valleys would have proved equally attractive to our prehistoric ancestors.

Add to this the simple fact that Horsham has actually had very few archaeologists. Archaeology became a popular subject from the Victorian period onwards. The leading organisation in Sussex was the Sussex Archaeological Society, founded in the 1850s, but its members mainly lived along the coast, around Brighton and Lewes, rather than inland in Horsham. So, in its early days, its members tended to concentrate their research along the coastal areas, and this yielded fantastic results, as is evidenced by the preponderance of articles on this part of Sussex in its journal.[19] Also Horsham has had very few archaeologists who have done significant work here; the Victorian Captain Thomas Honywood, mentioned above, who found medieval pottery when excavating a cellar in his house in West Street; S.E. Winbolt, a master at Christ’s Hospital, who made various discoveries in the 1920s and 1930s, and Ricki Standing, already mentioned, who was active in the 1960s and early 1970s. Horsham Museum Society created an archaeology sub-group which did some work in the 1980s, but it did not achieve much, due to lack of professional rigour. Only a very significant local discovery is likely to change this situation.

The Romans are coming

What does Horsham have to show for the 2000 years of British prehistory, between the end of the Neolithic period and the arrival of the Romans? [20] Very little, apart from the Bronze Age skull mentioned earlier, and some enigmatic items that might signify much more, but without associated evidence can only remain tantalising. A couple of faience beads have been found, one of which dates to the Bronze Age and the other to the Iron Age which followed it, beginning in about 1000 BC. Faience is an early form of glass, so these beads are rare and important items that might suggest long distance trade, or some sort of status and connection. But as they were not found with a burial, or signs of habitation, we have no real indication of their significance. They remain fascinating technological items; at one time it was thought that faience could only have been made in southern Europe, but now it is thought that it could have been made in Scotland.[21]  

There are also some fragments of bronze axes that were found at the Christ’s Hospital site, and some barbed and tanged arrowheads, but without concentrated archaeological fieldwork they are difficult to place in the story of Horsham. An Iron Age loom weight, used in weaving, was found at Chesworth. This suggests that there was a very early farmstead near the river and some long-term settlement, before the first invasion by the Romans in 54 BC. It is possible that the farmstead at Chesworth remained there in the Roman period, but it is very doubtful that it survived until the Saxons, who gave Chesworth its name, arrived some centuries later. But the loom weight might at last indicate the very earliest beginning of Horsham, long before the Saxon settlement, which is generally cited as the town’s foundation.

Archaeologists and historians love to divide time up into periods, as it breaks things up and makes them manageable. But on the ground, in real life, these divisions are not apparent. So, when the Romans first invaded in 54 BC, and conquered Britain in 43 AD, people who may then have lived in the Horsham area would not have been aware of the dawn of a new era, or thought of themselves any differently. It is later historians who have imposed these arbitrary divisions, for their own convenience.[22]

The Romans used the Greek geographer, Ptolemy, as their key work of reference. Horsham is not mentioned in the famous book Geography, but the River Arun is mentioned, as is the Thames. It is interesting to note that a number of the early Roman Villas built in Sussex are located near to the river, including one at Pulborough[23].

For years, historians argued that, during the Roman period, Horsham was covered by dense woodland so the Romans, or Britons, did not live here; although it was known that the Roman road called Stane Street ran some five miles to the west of Horsham. At Alfoldean, in the 1920s, a mansio or staging post was unearthed, along with a Roman bridge.[24] In 1964 a Roman tile works was uncovered at Itchingfield some two miles to the south west of Horsham.[25] But nothing was found in Horsham itself. Then, in 1986, a rubbish pit full of Roman pottery dating to the 2^nd century AD was found at Hills Place, just off the Guildford road, during a rescue dig conducted by the Horsham Museum Society’s Archaeological Group.

The findings of this dig have only recently been properly studied, but the results are of very great interest and confound all the earlier assumptions that there was no Roman presence in Horsham. Most of the broken pots came from the Roman potteries at Hardham and Wiggonholt, and had almost certainly been transported along Stane Street, which passes through Hardham. The pit also contained pottery from North Kent, the Farnham area, Essex and Samian ware from Central Gaul (France). This suggests that, at some time around 150AD a farmstead had existed at Hill’s Place, built on the higher ground away from the flood plain, probably in a clearing in the local woodland. A Roman, or native Briton influenced by Roman taste, probably farmed this area, though with so little material to go on, nothing is certain.[26]

Roman Sites around Hills Place, Horsham

The Saxon period and the origins of Horsham as a place

The Romans officially left Britain in 410 AD[28], though by this time their control was very weak, as they did not have a strong enough army to maintain control of such a large Empire. Britannia was by the mid fourth century seen as a safe haven away from the Continental troubles. A number of Gauls set up home in the country, whilst in AD 359 the Emperor Julian sent 600 ships to requisition British supplies for his pressured garrison in the Rhineland.

According to the historian Ammianus Marcellinus, by AD364 raiding on Britain was becoming endemic,[29] though Rome did not abandon the colony for it invested heavily in defences. They also employed Germanic mercenaries from the area between the Elbe and Weser rivers in northern Germany (now part of Lower Saxony) to keep the peace. Some of these mercenaries may have married into Romano-British society, so gradually there was some mixing of cultures and traditions.

The raiders from across the North Sea  – known as “Angles and Saxons” – from Northern Germany, the Frisian islands and Denmark, began harrying the British coast in the late 3^rd century, resulting in the construction of large Roman fortifications, known as the “Saxon Shore” forts, along the south and east coast of England. One of these forts was built at Pevensey in 293 AD, whilst the Roman fortifications at Chichester may also have been a direct response to the threat. However, no significant Saxon invasion occurred until after 410 AD, and meanwhile some Saxons were even employed as mercenaries by the British themselves.

Recent historical thinking leans more to the idea that there was a gradual assimilation of the Saxon incomers, rather than a specific invasion, or invasions. However, it is known from the historical record that some of the Saxon mercenaries revolted against their British paymasters, and this led to a Saxon leader, called Aelle, attacking Pevensey in 491 AD, and becoming the first known King of the South Saxons. (Unfortunately, there are no genealogical lists for the Sussex kings in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles as there are for several other Saxon kingdoms). 

The story of the Saxon Prince Horsa being employed to defend the lands of the Prince of Cornwall and the British King Vortigern from the Picts or Scots, around 450 AD, seems to be a somewhat garbled account of what actually happened, even though it was mentioned in the later Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, which are described in more detail below.[30]  The idea that Horsham gets its name from this Prince, who is supposed to have fought a battle here, seems to be a complete fabrication, though some people have claimed that the derivation of the place name “Horsham” is “Horsa ham” or “Horsa’s farmstead or town” rather than “place of horses”[31].  William Albery quotes at length from an alleged 16^th century manuscript found at Chesworth which put forward this theory, but there is no evidence to support it. [32] 

The series of small invasions and battles described in the Chronicles may be too simplistic a description of what really happened; it may be that areas like Sussex gradually became more willing to be assimilated by the Saxons, whose coming may have brought them benefits. The actual names given to the areas reveal a rather complex process of invasion. For example, the name South-Saxons is not geographical, but is named for or by a people.  If it were geographical in origin, then Sussex would have been called “Sussexland”, since “land of the Angles” became “England”. Although the Chronicles say that the three main Saxon tribes all came from “Old Saxony”, it has been suggested that the Saxons actually derived their name not from a place but from a type of short sword called a “seax”. If a Saxon was a man who fought with a short sword, then his geographical or racial origins were of lesser importance.  Britons who used the short sword would also become known as “Saxons” and the existing population would soon become indistinguishable from the invaders. This would tie in better with the archaeological record, which shows more evidence of assimilation than of outright conflict, although the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, quoted above, suggest that, between 450 and 495, there were a number of battles which caused the native Britons, or Welsh as they were often called, to flee or be killed. 

In areas where the place names show a greater preponderance of Celtic elements, it suggests that the Celtic or native British culture was strong, and assimilation would have been more difficult. But, in places like Sussex where there were very few Celtic elements in the place names, it seems likely that the population had either been removed, or had never existed, or had a very weak culture that did not withstand Saxon settlement. The native inhabitants might even have preferred the Saxon culture, which contained rich and diverse influences in language and storytelling, from Norway, Sweden, and Iceland, as well as from North Germany and Denmark.

In Europe, from about the year 300BC onwards, there had been strong pressure on the population to move westwards. This migration was contained by the Romans while they were strong enough but, as Rome became weaker, it could no longer be held back. Wave after wave of Germanic peoples, driven out by the movements in populations to their east, moved westwards, seeking a place to live.  These people were looking to settle, and make permanent homes in a new homeland, not just to impose themselves as a ruling elite as the Normans did in 1066. The first Saxons to arrive in southern England came across a landscape that was largely empty of people, and this encouraged many others to follow, as the land was fertile and had many natural resources.

It may also be that, at some time in the 5^th century, there was a devastating plague or a famine which had resulted in considerable depopulation of this part of the country. Many of the former Romano-British settlements were deserted. The very fact that there are virtually no surviving early Brittonic Celtic place-names in Sussex suggests how sparsely populated this part of the country was at that time, and how tempting and easy it was for the Saxon invaders to fill the vacuum. 

The Saxons did not practice intensive cultivation to produce cash crops, which was necessary in the Roman period to pay huge taxes to support the army and the Empire.  They settled on large estates, rather than in towns, and followed a more natural style of farming – following livestock to seasonal pastures in the summer and returning to the home farms for the winter months. The people from the Saxon settlements along the coast of Sussex started to move into the higher wooded northern lands, creating seasonal pastures and farms in these areas. In the 8^th century, the Saxon settlement of Steyning[33], with its port and important Saxon church, was probably the dominant economic centre, whilst nearby was a large Saxon estate based around Washington.[34] All around present-day Horsham are place names which have Saxon origins, such as Roughey (later spelt Roffey), where “rough” means deer and “hey” means fence. Chesworth was “Ceoldred’s farm”, and this clearly shows that Saxons were working the land there by the 9^th century, if not long before.[35]

We have some evidence of the methodical way in which Saxon society was organised in the 9^th century, when Eadric owned the Saxon “Villa Regis” or Manor of Washington. The people there wanted a pasture to which they could take their pigs, to fatten them up on the rich forest undergrowth. Eadric had been an intelligent, devoted and loyal servant of King Eadred, King of Wessex and England from 946 to 955, during a period when the Viking[36] Eric Bloodaxe was causing problems in the northern Saxon kingdom of Northumbria[37].  So, in 947, King Eadred gave Eadric a swine pasture, already known as Horsham, some 12 miles away up in the northern area of woodland.

This is the first mention of the Saxon “settlement” or region known as Horsham. To make sure that everyone knew of the gift, it was made the subject of a land charter, solemnly signed and sealed with the Holy Cross by Eadred’s mother, Eadgifu, and the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, and confirmed or agreed by more than twenty other bishops, aldermen and thegns.  This land charter has been described by William Albery as “Horsham’s birth certificate”.[38]

What was Horsham like in 947?

One of the key points to remember is that, although Horsham is mentioned by name, it doesn’t mean that Horsham as a definite place existed. New work on Anglo-Saxon place names and archaeology suggests “that early Anglo-Saxon settlements were dispersed and shifting, and that stable nucleation came long after the earlier layers of place-names in the landscape had been formed”.[40] So Horsham may have been a zone, a region defined by the boundaries of other land ownerships; for example, Chesworth, which would also explain how Horsham as a manor wasn’t formalised for over 100 years after the mention in this charter.

This “zone” or “region” called Horsham would in many respects tie in with the idea of herd(s) of horses similar to the New Forest Pony roaming the woodland in an area that wasn’t set aside for hunting or pasturing. Equally, “Horsham” might have described an area tightly defined and some sort of settlement. For convenience, what follows describes Horsham as a place with human habitation, a settlement of some sort; but the notion of a region should be borne in mind; a region without any settlement, for the name doesn’t describe any human habitation at all – it describes an area defined by an animal: the horse – not man. However, the interaction between man and horse must have taken place for the region or area to be so defined. Its boundaries would have had to have been “surveyed” to describe it.

So far, no archaeological finds have been found to reveal what Horsham was like in 947. But there are two clues: the name Horsham and the physical setting. The name of the town has not been changed in any way since it was recorded in the 947 land charter. It is Saxon in origin and means “place of horses”. This suggests a farmstead, or an area, linked in some way to horses. It could be a place where horses were bred, probably a bit like the New Forest Ponies, or a place where you changed horses when travelling between London and the coast. Geographically, we know that a belt of Horsham sandstone ran across the river Arun, creating a ford here which would act as the focus for a settlement. We also know that all around Horsham were Saxon settlements (from place-name evidence?), an important farmstead at Chesworth, named after Ceoldred, and a hunting park at Roffey. This all suggests that Horsham was a place that was ripe for development, but just because Horsham was mentioned in a land charter does not mean Horsham yet existed as a village or hamlet as we would know it. Perhaps all year round there were a couple of farmsteads, then seasonally the numbers would increase as swineherds from Washington and other southern settlements brought their livestock up, descending into the riverside clearing from well-trodden pathways over the hills.

Around the outside of the clearing were roughly enclosed areas of woodland where the livestock could be protected, but also feed on the rich seasonal food. Then the animals would either be taken back to the coast to be slaughtered and the meat prepared to keep their owners through the winter, or perhaps traders from elsewhere would come and trade for the livestock. It is quite likely that some of the younger sons wished to stay in the Horsham area, where there might be greater opportunities for them to build a new homestead for themselves, rather than go back to work on the parental farm. The seasonal visits created an ideal opportunity to meet people from outside the immediate family, which could lead to marriage and new beginnings.

What were the distinctive features of the Saxon settlement of Sussex?

Before the Saxons came, the native British people had either lived as tribes or as a colonised people, with only a very small elite enjoying the standard of life of the Roman conquerors. The Angles and Saxons were a well-organised, military people, who co-operated with each other and could defend themselves, after the collapse of the Roman Empire. They had “kings”, who established “kingdoms” where people were protected by the military organisation of the eorls and fighting men.  There was a requirement to give military service, but there was also a system of justice and obligation by the rulers to the ruled. They had a rich and flexible language and a culture of their own, which was a unifying factor. The Saxon kingdoms allied themselves under one ruler, who eventually became known as the “King of England”.  They introduced the manorial system, which remained the basis of land tenure for centuries, they extended the privileges of the Christian Church, which was the repository of scholarship and learning, and provided educational facilities and some medical care.   Under Saxon rule, we see the beginnings of a system of government that we can to some extent recognise today.

Saxon Christianity and Early Churches

It seems likely that a Saxon church, probably built of wood, was established in the growing settlement of Horsham in the 9^th or 10^th centuries, as a focus for the new community.[41]  No actual evidence of this has yet been found, but a wooden church would not have survived until now as the Saxon churches built of stone have done. The native British and Saxon religion had strong ties with water, woodland and fertility, and there may even have been a pre-Christian temple within the small clearing in the forest where the Saxon settlement of Horsham later grew up. A church here with a travelling priest sent out from a minster church, such as that at Steyning, might have been able to harness earlier pagan beliefs to Christianity.  The Saxon Christian Church copied the Roman model of suppressing other religions by absorbing them.

In Saxon times, Steyning was the most important early religious site in the Horsham area.  A wooden church was said to have been founded there by St Cuthman in the late 8^th or 9^th century. Later, in AD 858, King Æthelwulf of Wessex (father of King Alfred the Great) was buried there. The church would have been a prominent feature of the bustling Saxon port on the River Adur.  It was rebuilt in stone, and still survives.[42] 

In Anglo-Saxon England, churches were distinguished according to their importance.  First were cathedrals, then minsters, then lesser churches with graveyards, and lastly field churches (there may have been one of these at Horsham). The Church at Steyning was classified as a minster.  It served a wide area or parochia – parochiae were later divided into several parishes. Priests would travel throughout the parochia to preach at wayside crosses, or in small field churches. Most of these sites were less than a morning’s ride away from the minster churches. However, in the sparsely populated Wealden area, which included Horsham, they could be further afield.

According to the surviving Anglo-Saxon Charters, only twelve Sussex churches were mentioned in the pre-Norman Conquest period. But Bishop Hermann of Ramsbury commented in Rome in 1050 that “England itself is everywhere filled with churches, which are being added to in new places every day”.  This may suggest that by the time of the Norman conquest there was a great deal of Saxon church building going on. Could Horsham have had a church by this time? We do not know because, if it did, it is likely that it lies underneath the footprint of the present church. The chronicler, William of Malmesbury, reported a few years later that “you see everywhere churches in villages (villis aecclesias), in towns and in cities, monasteries rising in the new style of (Norman) architecture”. This suggests that churches were being rebuilt on old sites, rather than being built from scratch on new sites, as there is no specific mention of any new churches. This in itself does not prove Horsham had a Church before the Norman church was built, elements of which can be seen in the tower, the west door and north west wall[43], which was then absorbed into the rebuild of John de Braose in about 1243[44], but it seems very likely that it did.  

In Sussex, new proprietary churches, formed at the centre of communities, were able to carve out their own bounded districts from the old parochiae and gain baptism and burial rights, as was the case in Horsham. Horsham Parish became one of the largest in Sussex, covering some 10,967 acres, or 4,438 hectares, though its boundaries were still in dispute as late as 1251[45]. In Sussex many churches still retained their subservient link to their old mother church, which was not broken until the 13^th or even 16^th century. In the case of Horsham, no subservient link to any other church seems to have existed, and this suggests that the earliest Horsham church had very loose connections. The de Braose family gave Horsham Parish Church to their newly founded Benedictine nunnery at Rusper in 1190, along with four others. As these gifts were distinct from the secular manors on which they stood, it meant that there was less disruption of the parishes.

There were also Sussex minster churches at Henfield, Pulborough and Amberley, but none in the north Horsham district.  Between the 7^th and 11^th centuries, many local landowners paid for smaller churches to be built, and were given their own parishes within the larger parochiae.  By the 10^th century, the minster had declined in importance with the rise of the parish churches. This meant that by the beginning of the Medieval period, parish churches and minsters were distinguished by little more than the physical size of the church building, and a claim to certain rights. [46]

ELABORATIONS

 THE POLACANTHUS STORY[47]

“On the 9^th July 1985, Mr Underhill, a contractor who was excavating clay for Rudgwick Brickworks, noticed a large bone. He reported it to Morris Zdrzalck who manages the machine shop there.  Morris then telephoned Horsham Museum, the Curator (Elizabeth Kelly) and I went to Rudgwick after the museum was closed for the day at 5 pm.

As soon as I saw the bone I knew it was part of a dinosaur leg bone, however it had been moved by the digger from its original position and re-deposited, and then ran over by the machine. There was no trace of any other remains…I offered to come back with my husband on the 11^th of July to see if I could find any other bones or other traces of the dinosaur. The excavator said he would work away from that area for a few days.   On the 11^th we searched and probed in vain and after some time the excavator offered to scrape a fraction of an inch off the top of the strip where bones possibly remained. After removing about an inch, a dark stain appeared and this contained some bones still in situ. Other bones were recovered from the spoil. The loose bones were collected and some from the hard packed shale.

On the 14^th July (a Sunday) several people removed the rest of the bones – I myself and Donald Standing (husband), Nicholas and Teri Standing (son and daughter-in-law), Morris and Teressa Zdrzalck  and Douglas Honeysett and daughter… …The bones were removed to my house where they were cleaned and repaired using PVA and UHU… (and) deposited in Horsham Museum.”

Ricki Standing is a keen amateur archaeologist who has received training on a number of digs. She is also highly observant, as has been proved by the large number of prehistoric flints that she has collected while field walking of parts of Horsham and Southwater. It clearly shows how fortunate Horsham is in having people willing to give up their time to make such discoveries and donate them to the Museum, properly documented.

At the time when the Rudgwick fossils were found, specialists provisionally identified them as being from an iguanodon, but Ricki disagreed with this, so the Museum simply labelled the fossils temporarily as “The Rudgwick dinosaur”. Dr Alan Charig, then keeper of palaeontology at the Natural History Museum and an authority on dinosaurs, was asked to open a temporary exhibition where the fossils were displayed. He agreed with Ricki that they were not from an iguanodon as there was evidence of bony armour, and said that he would look into it on his return to the Natural History Museum. Nothing happened, and sometime later Alan died.  Meanwhile, in Horsham Museum, the remains, still not properly identified, went back into storage.

Some time later, Brighton Museum service employed Ed Jazemboski as head keeper at the Booth Museum. His interest was in fossil dragonflies and he asked to see the specimens collected by Ricki when excavating the fossil bones. As he was undertaking his research at the Natural History Museum, he told a colleague, William Blows, about the dinosaur finds at Horsham and the evidence of the bony armour. William then came to Horsham Museum and became very excited by the finds. A year or so later he decided that they were possibly from a unique specimen of a type of polacanthus, but he said that he would have to get proof and then publish the evidence in a scientific paper.  Until then, he asked me (the Curator) not to let anyone else know about his findings.

Everything went quiet until a year or so later, on 21 November, when the phone rang and a reporter from the Isle of Wight said that he had spoken to William Blows,  who had told him of the unique find at Horsham and asked what was the story behind it.  The following day I was away, but when I came in on 23 November it was to find that all hell had broken loose. The national papers had got hold of the story and wanted information, and had been ringing the Museum all day without success. I tried to contact William Blows who was not at home, nor at the Natural History Museum. So when the press rang I suggested that they should speak to the Press Office of the Natural History Museum, only to be told that the Press Office did not know anything about it and had told the papers to ring us. I was not sure if I should say anything, as William had not yet given us permission to announce the find. When I eventually managed to contact William, he apologised and said that it would be announced in the scientific press, and it was agreed that it was a new type of dinosaur, to be given the name of the place where it was discovered. The press and radio around the world reported on its discovery of the Polocanthus Rudgwickensis – after all, how many museums find that they have a unique dinosaur lying in their store?  (Interestingly, one national newspaper, The Daily Mail covered the story in its northern editions, but not in its southern one, and Radio Dundee wanted to know about the story, but not Radio Sussex). 

If you are wondering what recognition was given to Ricki, whose work uncovered the specimen, she and the brick worker who reported the discovery were acknowledged by Ed Jazemboski, who named the two dragonflies after them.  The other fossil remains found with these specimens were also identified and can now be seen on permanent display in Horsham Museum. Years later, the BBC TV show Walking with Dinosaurs showed an iguanodon, polacanthus and dragonflies together in one scene, continuing the story of the discovery, made by chance one weekend in the 1980s. They also appear on Horsham’s Heritage Sundial.

What is unique about the Polocanthus Rudgwickensis?

• The size: it is around thirty percent larger than the three other Polacanthus (known as Polacanthus foxii after Reverend Fox who found it on the Isle of Wight).
• The different shape of several of the bones.
• The presence of body armour – bone-type plates.
• The Rudgwick specimen also provides a number of new bones not found in the previous specimens.  No complete specimen has yet been found.

Two dragonflies from Rudgwick

Amazingly, it is the wing impressions which have survived. The specimens have been named after the finders:  Mr Morris Zdrzalek of Rudgwick and Mrs Sylvia Standing of Horsham.  The dragonflies are considerably larger than the largest dragonfly found in Britain today – the Emperor. The Emperor’s hind wing is only around 48mm long, compared with 70+mm for the fossil specimens[48]

 THE ANGLO-SAXON CHRONICLES

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles started life in the late 9^th century when some unknown clerics, possibly in Winchester, started to compile a yearly record of events in Anglo-Saxon, now the vernacular language of most of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms which had been established by then (Kent, Sussex, Wessex, Essex, East Anglia, Mercia and Northumberland) rather than Latin, which was the language of the Church and of scholars. The Chronicles began with the birth of Christ, and covered the Roman occupation of Britain. For the early years of British history they incorporated the Venerable Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum (The Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation) – the first recognisable attempt at a written history of England. The original Chronicle was distributed to, or copied, in other monasteries, where the monks added their own information; so there are now several different versions. Four main chronicles have survived, with three manuscripts derived from them, and two fragments. The Chronicles ended with the Coronation of Henry II in 1154, nearly a century after the Norman Conquest.[49]

The era that concerns us is the period between 450 and 500, when the Saxons came to Sussex, and for that the Chronicles used the account written in Latin by the Venerable Bede, who in turn drew on the work of a 6^th century British monk called Gildas, who is known to have made some errors in dating. Bede was born in Northumbria, near modern day Sunderland, around 672. At the age of seven he was taken to the monastery of Wearmouth, which possessed the greatest library in 7^th century England, and became a pupil of Abbot Benedict’s principal assistant, Ceolfrith.  When Ceolfrith became the Abbot of the nearby monastery of Jarrow in 685, Bede went with him and lived there for the rest of his life, travelling no further than Lindisfarne and York, and dying in 735.  He was ordained a priest at the age of thirty, and began writing his Ecclesiastical History in the last decade of his life, finishing it in 731. The book contains a detailed bibliography and notes on all the sources he used. One of his sources was a London priest, Northhelm, who had travelled to Rome to search the Papal archives. Although written in Latin, the Historia was translated into Anglo-Saxon, by now the main vernacular, at the instigation of King Alfred of Wessex.  

The Chronicles begin with a Preface which says “the island of Britain is eight hundred miles long and two hundred miles broad. Here on this island are five languages, English, Brito-Welsh, Scottish, Pictish and Latin”.   This section was based on Bede’s Historia, as was thefollowing account of how first the Britons (Celts) came from Armorica (Brittany), and occupied the south, then the Picts came from Scythia to Northern Ireland (Hibernia), where the people who lived there (called Scots) would not let them stay, but told them of an island to the east where they could settle in the north.  The Scots later made their own settlement in northern Britain. Then came the first Roman invasion by Julius Caesar, and the later Roman settlement. 

Christianity, which became the official religion of the Roman Empire in the mid 4^th century, flourished in Britain. But when Rome was attacked by the Goths in the 5^th century, the Britons, who were being attacked by the Picts and Scots, appealed in vain to Rome for help. Again, Bede’s account of this period is incorporated in virtually the same language in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles which, however, date it far more precisely. Under the year 449 we find the following description of how they came and where they settled: “Martiannus and Valentinian received the kingdom and reigned for seven years. In their days the Angles were invited here by king Vortigern, and they then came to Britain in three longships, landing at Ebbesfleet (in Kent). King Vortigern gave them territory in the south-east of this land, on the condition that they fight the Picts. This they did, and had victory wherever they went. They then sent to Angel, (the land of the Angles) commanded more aid, and commanded that they should be told of the Britons’ worthlessness and the choice nature of the land. They soon sent hither a greater host to help the others. Then came the men of three Germanic tribes: Old Saxons; Angles and Jutes. Of the Jutes come the people of Kent and the Isle of Wight. Of the Old Saxons come the East Saxons, South-Saxons and West-Saxons.  Of the Angles…come the East Anglians, Middle Anglians, Mercians and all the Northumbrians. Their war-leaders were two brothers, Hengest and Horsa, who were Wihtgils’ sons. First of all, they killed and drove away the king’s enemies; then later they turned on the king and the British, destroying through fire and the sword’s edge”.

In 455 the Chronicles said “Hengest and Horsa fought Vortigern the king, in the place called Aegelsthrep his brother Horsa was killed, and after that Hengest and his son Aesc received the kingdom”.  The Chronicles then describe several years of conflict between the Saxons and the Britons with Hengest as a central figure. In 473 “Hengist and Aesc fought the Welsh and seized countless spoils of war. The Welsh fled the English as one flees fire”. This is the last time Hengest is mentioned.  The Chronicles then go on to describe how additional waves of invaders/settlers moved into the Sussex area. In 477 “Aelle came to Britain, and his three sons Cymen, Wlencing and Cyssa, with three ships, landing at the place called Cymensora. There they killed many Welsh, and drove some in flight in to The Weald”. Further battles continued in 485 and 488 and then, in 491, “Aelle and Cyssa besieged Anderida, near Pevensey, and killed all who were inside, so there was not one Briton left.” 

It is important to remember that the terms Britons and Welsh were interchangeable and, in fact, what this describes is the pushing back of the native peoples into the outer fringes of England, so that the invasion of 477 saw South Saxons take over the region, winning final victory in 491. In 495, Cerdic and Cynric, who later became the leaders of the West-Saxons, came to England.[50]

Chapter 2

HORSHAM 1066-1250 AD

 The Norman Conquest and Medieval Horsham

1066 AD saw the ruling élite of England change from Saxon to Norman,[51] when Duke William of Normandy defeated the Saxon King Harold of England at the Battle of Hastings and was then crowned King of England in Westminster Abbey. The story of the actual battle is familiar enough not to need repeating, but we should consider the significant political changes it brought to Sussex, and to Horsham in particular. From the archaeological evidence, the Norman Conquest had little effect on the general population – peasant farmers went on tilling the soil and driving their animals to summer pasture, and the manorial system of land tenure, introduced by the Saxons, remained in place. The parochial system also survived, though many English churches came under the control of Norman abbeys.  Occasionally there were disputes between the great Norman barons and the Church authorities if they felt that their independence was threatened (see the case study below). [52]

King William had invaded England through Sussex. If he could do this, what was to stop other people doing the same thing? Sussex has significant north-south routes based on the rivers, but travelling from east to west is difficult. William divided Sussex into lateral strips, known as Rapes, each of which was based on one of the main north-south routes. Each of the five original Rapes contained a port, a main castle and lesser fortifications, to protect the strategic routes which all led to London. The five original Rapes were named after the main coastal towns – Chichester, Arundel, Lewes, Pevensey and Hastings, but William soon created a sixth, the Rape of Bramber, and gave it to one of his most powerful Norman allies, William de Braose, to rule.[53]

The Rape of Bramber contained the town of Steyning, which was a major Saxon settlement, larger at that time than Bath, with a tomb of a Saxon saint, Saint Cuthman.[54] Steyning was an important seaport (at this time the Adur was navigable as far as Steyning), and it had been a royal possession (it was one of the areas in dispute between Harold and William that led to the conflict).[55]

Just as Duke William had been allied in Normandy with his neighbour, William de Braose so, now, as King of England, William relied on the strong arm of William de Braose to defend the Rape of Bramber and, in doing so, help to defend William’s new kingdom. William de Braose built a stone castle on a rock in Bramber,[56] and when the large Saxon estate of Washington was absorbed into the Rape, and with it the swine pasture and hamlet or farmstead of Horsham, a motte and bailey – a fortification probably built of timber – was constructed to the north of the town, guarding the road to London. The presence of a castle gave a sense of security to the area.

Some twenty years after his conquest of England, William instructed the Saxon civil service, which he had inherited, and which was known to be one of the best in Europe, to record exactly who owned what property.  This was a massive project, and the Domesday survey is still seen as a benchmark even today. Since 1066, the political map had been completely redrawn and now William wanted to take stock of the many villages and settlements that now existed, and discover what he could expect to get from them in tax revenues. It is conventional wisdom that, if it is in the Domesday book, a place existed; if not, it did not. But this is much too simplistic. The Domesday book does not record all the information available, and some parts of the survey are more detailed than others. Horsham is not mentioned by name in the Domesday book, and although we know that there was a settlement here by then, it was probably not considered worth recording in its own right. There has been some speculation that a place called Soreham which was said to have lain in Titfield (Ifield?) may be a mis-spelling of Horsham, but Dr. Annabelle Hughes has identified a reference to Horsham under the entry for Washington, based on the references to the swine pastures which are known to have existed there previously.[58] She said that the entry for Horsham includes a reference to seventy pigs’ worth of woodland pasturage, under the Sussex custom of rendering one pig in seven to the Lord of the manor.  Some of this pasturage was in the hands of the sub-tenants Gilbert, Ralph, William and Leofwin.  Altogether, this indicates that Horsham was by now a woodland settlement capable of supporting about five hundred animals.

“Land of William de Braose

(Bramber Rape)

In Steyning 100 (Hundred)

William[59] held Washington

Earl Gyrth[60] held it before 1066

Then it answered for 59 hides;[61] now it does not give tax

Bramber Castle is situated in one of these hides

Land for 34 ploughs

In lordship [62] 5 ploughs

120 villagers and 25 smallholders with 34 ploughs

5 salt-houses at 110 ambers of salt or 9s 2d

Meadow 4 acres; from woodland pasturage 60 pigs; 6 slaves[63]

Gilbert holds ½ hide of this land, Ralph 1 hide, William 3 virgates[64]

Leofwin ½ hide;  he could withdraw with his land[65]

He gave tax to his lord and his lord gave nothing

These have 4 villagers and 2 smallholders with 2½ ploughs

Meadow 7 acres; woodland at 10 pigs

Value of the whole manor before 1066 £50; later £50;

now William’s lordship £50 5s, his men-at-arms 50s and 12d

However this manor was at revenue at £100”.

Although King William had invaded and turned England into a colony of Normandy, he did not alter the basic way of life.[66] People still continued the seasonal movement of livestock from the coast to the High Weald.[67] However, the woodland around Horsham did change status as it became a “forest”, for which there were special laws[68].  An area of land governed by laws of the forest in effect created a game reserve or “national park”, dedicated not to scenery but to hunting.[69]  

During Saxon times a number of hunting estates were laid out in St Leonard’s Forest but, with the Norman passion for hunting, much larger tracts of land were turned over to the pursuit. This meant that for the ordinary people their freedom of movement was restricted to some extent, and existing settlements became more focused, nucleated and restricted. There was a tightening up of land tenure, so that the settlements in the South Downs made sure that their claims to their daughter settlements in the Weald were recognised by manorial law. Horsham was made a manor separate from Washington in 1075. Though this status was not reflected in the Domesday Book mentioned above this suggests that, although a legal tidying up, it may not have been reflected “on the ground” when the civil servants went out “in the field” to conduct the Survey. It was after all only eleven years later and there was clear evidence that several southern communities still had claims to other land around Horsham; hence, the Bishopric area of Horsham is in the manor of Tarring-cum-Marlpost.

Tarring was a manor near Worthing, and Marlpost was its northern outpost[70]. Similarly, Broadwater Lane near Sedgwick was linked to the manor of Broadwater near Worthing. So Horsham was now a manor and as such part of a manorial and legal framework, which also provided stability and gave the settlement a focus. 

In 1100 Horsham was at a crossroads. It could have remained as a small hamlet or developed, as it did during the next hundred years, into a substantial market town.   The next century and half saw significant changes that laid the foundations for Horsham’s growth and development throughout the medieval period and into the post-Elizabethan era. However, these changes were not at all planned, because the townspeople were not the masters of their own destiny.  Horsham often got carried along in the slipstream of events happening elsewhere, but somehow this provided opportunities for the town to flourish.

As we have seen, King William needed people he could trust to look after Sussex, which was of strategic importance as the route from London to his homeland in Normandy lay through it.  He also needed to keep watch on the Welsh borders, or Marches, to protect his newly acquired kingdom safe from Welsh raiders on his western flank.   So whom did he ask to take control, look after and pacify the Welsh Marches but William De Braose and Roger of Montgomery (the lord of the Rapes of Chichester and Arundel), who had already proved their loyalty and competence. This Welsh connection would be an important economic factor for Horsham in later centuries, as Welsh cattle, from the Marcher (or maybe, Marches?) counties, were driven to Horsham market for sale in their thousands at St Leonard’s Fair, either as meat, or beasts of burden for the Wealden iron industry.[74]

The Lords de Braose could probably see from the very beginning that Horsham was a place which was ripe for development. When they visited the small existing settlement, they probably stayed in the Saxon manor house at Chesworth, which they rebuilt and fortified, as it commanded the river crossing. They needed some sort of castle as protection for their hunting interests in St. Leonard’s Forest and the deer park at Roughey as well as to provide a fortification for the route from Horsham to London. So either William de Braose, or his son Philip before he was banished in 1110, built a castle, known today as Chennells Brook castle, using a continental design almost unknown elsewhere in Britain.[75] The castle was made from timber with a dry Norman moat, though later a stream was diverted to fill it with water. Was this the first stage in increasing its defensive capabilities before the wooden walls were changed to stone, or was it because fashion dictated it? We cannot be sure, but what we do know is that the castle did not survive long. At some point it was deliberately slighted, or destroyed. This might have happened when Philip was banished, but it is more likely to have occurred after the Treaty of Wallingford in 1154 when, in order to obtain peace in the civil war between King Stephen and the Empress Matilda, after the death of King Henry I without a legitimate male heir, a number of smaller castles were destroyed.

It was probably at about this same time that the first stone Church was built at Horsham, evidence of which can be found in the tower, the west door and north west wall of the present St. Mary’s Church.[76] The tower of a stone church would be seen above the tree line, and so guide travellers to the settlement, increasing its economic potential. Probably this church was given to the area by Philip de Braose, perhaps as a religious penance for his earlier banishment.[77] Another possibility is that it was part of a rather complicated church “swap”.   Phillip gave Shipley church to his half-brother Richard.  Richard then gave the church to his brother Philip de Harcourt, Dean of Lincoln Cathedral, who in the 1130s gave it to the Knights Templar. Shipley church, one of the original endowments of Sele Priory, had originally been given by William de Braose, Philip’s father, to his newly found church of St Nicholas at Bramber in 1073, and the monks of Sele Priory may have felt resentment at losing such a valuable property.   By 1200, the de Braoses had established a small Benedictine Priory at Rusper, and St. Mary’s Church later became one of its endowments, perhaps in recompense.[78] But there may have been a quite different scenario. The Archbishop of Canterbury owned the manor of Tarring-cum-Marlpost to the west of Horsham, stretching from Southwater to Roffey,[79] and it may have been feared that if he decided to build a stone church there it would draw people away from Horsham. This would have been unwelcome to the de Braoses, who had by now probably decided to encourage the growth of Horsham as a trading centre.

However, the de Braoses were still subject to Royal interference in how they managed the lands which they had been granted. An important change took place in 1202, when King John signed a Royal charter granting the family freedom from Royal interference in the “honour” of their lands in the Rape of Bramber. They could now seek to develop their land holdings entirely for their own benefit. Soon after this, possibly as early as 1205 or 1206 (and definitely before 1233) William de Braose had asked for and been granted the status of Borough for the small town of Horsham.[80]  Unfortunately, the documents relating to the incorporation of the Borough have been lost, so the actual date is not known. Horsham was later said to be a Borough “by prescription” – in other words, it was a Borough by virtue of ancient custom and repute.  This point was explained in the earliest surviving survey of the Borough, in 1611, of which more below.

The date of 1233 was significant, because it was then that the King granted a Royal charter for the holding of a “market and Fair” in Horsham, lasting for several days, on the feast day of St. Thomas in July. For Horsham to have been granted a festival of this kind, it must have already been known as a successful market town, and it seems very likely that it had already achieved Borough status by then.[81]  

The creation of the Borough of Horsham

How was the Borough of Horsham created? [82] It was quite a complicated process. For a start, there was no free land available, since all the land was already part of the manorial system. William de Braose, as Lord of the Manor of Horsham, appears to have decided to set aside 320 acres for the Borough out of the manor lands, lying to the north west of the original Horsham settlement and just north of the church. William Albery describes the Borough of Horsham as “a manor within a manor”. The Borough was not at the centre of the Manor, like the hole in a doughnut, but to one side where it abutted onto other manors.

There were three early routes into Horsham: the original north-south track leading over the ford and over Denne Hill (now Denne Road) and the path leading up to Denne Park, which was the main road to the south in the 17^th century; a track coming from the east from St Leonard’s Forest and beyond (East Street and its extension along what is now the Brighton Road), and a track coming from London through Warnham to the north-west. Then there were other routes, which may have developed later. One of these came from the north-east from Crawley and Ifield (North Street), and another from the west along the Bishopric and West Street. The roads from Shipley to the south-west and Guildford to the north-west converged on this route into Horsham. Thus, Horsham was well placed for trade, as it was at the meeting place of five or six roads from all points of the compass.

In order to encourage new settlement, plots of land were laid out around a large empty space, which became the place where the market was held and is now the Carfax.  Its original name, “Scarfolkes”, may refer to its emptiness. It does not appear that the Carfax in Horsham derived its name from the French “Quatrevois” of “four ways”, as the Carfax in Oxford did.  The Horsham Carfax was not a crossroads where four roads met, but a large funnel-shaped space, wider at the top and much narrower at the bottom, where what is now the Causeway stretches down to the church.   The widest part of the funnel was at the north, where it lay between the two roads coming in from London and Crawley. The other roads came in from the west and east, and the main north-south route lay a hundred yards or so to the east of the Carfax.

When the Borough of Horsham was originally created, there were 52 plots of land. These plots were known as burgage plots, and whoever owned a burgage plot was known as a burgess.  It was intended that the 52 owners of the plots would run the Borough and the market for the Lord of the manor. They would also pay the Lord one shilling a year for their burgage plot, though this payment also freed them from having to undertake work in the Lord’s fields, which was generally a requirement of the manorial system. It is an interesting question: why were 52 burgage plots created?

Does this number represent the weeks in a year or, if Horsham had a certain number of property owners already, does this ensure that the Lord of the Manor had a greater number within his Borough? We do not know, but it is unlikely that 52 was an accidental figure; it was almost certainly chosen for a good reason.  However, Dr Hudson in the Victoria County History provides a possible answer in that originally it had been suggested that the manor and Borough of Horsham was smaller than the manor of Horsham. However, he now thinks this was a ploy by 17^th century lawyers to explain the different laws and jurisdictions of the Lord and the Corporation. In reality, the Manor of Horsham was the Borough and Manor of Horsham,[83] and this would explain why some earlier property was incorporated into the Borough and became burgage plots. It is difficult to be certain about this as so little documentary material has survived from the early years of the Borough, by comparison with other places.

Does all this really matter? Isn’t it rather arcane?

William Albery, in his books A Paliamentary History of Horsham and A Millennium of Facts in the History of Horsham and Sussex 947-1947, goes into considerable detail about the setting up and form of the Borough.  A lot of people consider all this to be too complex and dull, and not really important. Yet, without a clear understanding of how the medieval town ran itself, you will miss some of the fascination of that era. More importantly, and to some extent quite surprisingly, the manorial system of administration had a dramatic effect on the late 18^th century political, social and economic history of Horsham.  This is something to which we will return later.

As already mentioned, the original hamlet or farmstead of Horsham was almost certainly at the junction of the road to the coast and the road to the forest, now the East Street/Denne Road junction. The road to the south was known in the early medieval period as Stanestreet, and along it lay a number of properties. Burgage status was probably given to the existing buildings and the fields surrounding them, and this explains why some burgage plots do not lie around the marketplace, or ever appear to have had a house built on them. It was decided to create the large funnel shaped marketplace to the west of the hamlet and lay out most of the new burgage plots there. Many of the burgage houses built on these plots, especially those around the Market Place and top of the Causeway, can still be seen today. They start at the corner of West Street and run around the Carfax, into the Market Square and the eastern side of the Causeway, ending at Hadmans, an important burgage plot immediately to the north of Morth Gardens, which marks the boundary between land belonging to the Borough and land belonging to the Church. Originally the central area of the Carfax was devoid of buildings, but gradually the market stalls that were set up in this area became permanent fixtures and, over time, houses were built to shelter them.  Between them, a network of twittens and alleys grew in the gaps between the original stalls or the later shop buildings.[84] It may be that traders of similar products were put in distinct areas, so islands of buildings grew up with specialist retailers, as in larger cities, but there is little direct evidence of this. However, Middle Street was known as “Butchers Row”, at least from the 18^th century onwards, and it seems likely that the butchers and their slaughterhouses were mostly built here for convenience, as it was in close proximity to the cattle market in the Carfax.

So, the shape of the present-day town centre of Horsham has been very largely decided by the layout of the medieval Borough. Its boundaries were to some extent determined by other factors.  Marlpost, an outlier of The Manor of Tarring which was owned by the Archbishop of Canterbury, a powerful neighbour, prevented further expansion beyond the western boundary of the Borough. The southern boundary of the Borough was already determined by the presence of the Church and its lands, which lay on both sides of the river and stretched up to what is now the Causeway. The Church lands later became the Manor of Hewells. The de Braoses owned the manor of Chesworth, which lay to the south-east of the Manor of Horsham, but they did not want to lose this valuable land on the bank of the river to the newly created Borough, and so the manor of Chesworth remained quite separate. The eastern side was probably determined by the position of the original settlement along what is now Denne Road, the original north-south route which crossed the river, where there is now a triple crossing with the railway overhead on a viaduct. The common land that belonged to the Manor of Horsham swept in an arc around the Borough, to the north and east, determining the northern and north-eastern boundary.

In order to administer the Borough, William de Braose or his successor established two Courts.  One was a Court Baron which dealt with matters concerning the customs and rights of the Lord of the Manor and privileges of tenants. The Court Leet dealt with local administration of the Borough, on which the Lord of the Manor also had a strong say. His representative in the Borough was the Steward, whilst the representatives of the Borough were the two Bailiffs, who were elected annually. As Lords of the Borough and Manor of Horsham and the Lords of Horsham Manor, the de Braose family and their successors were generally known as the Lords Paramount.

Medieval Horsham: Hunting and Hawking

Today we tend to make the assumption that the countryside around Horsham is natural, but in reality it is a landscape created by man in order to manage the natural world. Equally, we assume that late 19^th and 20^th century people were the greatest destroyers of the natural world in Horsham, but in terms of impact on the local environment it can be argued that medieval man had the greatest impact, with the creation of the Forest and its hunting parks. The account below explores this development because, although Saxons created some parks, and shooting estates were being sold in the Horsham area in the early 20^th century, it is the Norman period that saw the most significant developments.

Driving along the A24 just south of the junction with the A272, you will see the ruins of Knepp castle, built in the late 12^th century.  You may imagine that it was built as a defensive structure, but in reality it was little more than a fortified hunting lodge.  The “castle” design gave a very visible sign of authority, wealth and status; it was built in the style that the senior rank of Norman rulers adopted.  Like the other two local castles, Chennelsbrook, (mentioned above) and Sedgwick, its defensive role would have been minimal,[85] and its main purpose was that of a base from which hunts could take place.  King John and his Queen are both believed to have spent time at Knepp during his reign (from 1199 to 1216), as will be seen in more detail below. The Saxons had already turned part of the Sussex woodland into deer parks, as the very names “Rusper” and “Roughey” suggest.[86] These parks could be managed to provide more or easier hunting, as hunting was a practical necessity for food, as well as a noble sport[87]. Such practices not only continued in Norman times but were greatly expanded upon, as hunting was a significant pastime of the Norman aristocracy and served as a necessary exercise for men who needed to keep in fighting fettle.

Horsham lay at the edge of a complex web of parks, lodges, and forests, a web that was strengthened by Royal ties and “Forest” laws. There were parks at Broadbridge, Chesworth, Sedgewick, Knepp, Hawkesbourne and Roffey.[88] Whilst not the largest local castle, Knepp Castle was important, as the park was in effect one of the many Royal larders for the King’s table. Originally it had been in the ownership of the de Braose family, but when they fell under the displeasure of King John in 1207 he seized it, and in the last months of his reign demanded that it be burnt down in order to save it falling into enemy hands during his civil war with the Barons. It was rebuilt later and still used as a hunting lodge[89]. Sedgwick Castle was probably the largest fortified hunting lodge in the area, and it was owned by the de Sauvage family who hunted in Sedgwick Park (see below for a separate account of Sedgwick). The de Braoses probably used Chennelsbrook or Chesworth for hunting, returning to Bramber as their main seat after a hunting expedition.

These parks all lay within the Forest of St Leonard’s, and the land between these parks was also said to be part of the Forest.  Today we assume forest means dense woodland, but in medieval times, “forest” meant that the area was set aside under the jurisdiction of the laws of the Forest.  In many places it was a Royal preserve but, in Sussex, the forest was under the special jurisdiction of the Lords of the Rape.  Forest laws were designed to preserve and enhance the hunting: they stated that cattle or pigs could not graze when deer were fawning, or prohibited people from lopping the boughs from trees (but deadwood could be collected).  Dogs had the claws of their forepaws clipped to prevent them from running after game.  Whilst the punishments were originally severe and involved mutilation, they were gradually changed to fines and so became a form of taxation.  The forest in effect became a place where extra laws were applied in order to preserve its special nature, not unlike country parks today.

Why was the northern part of the Weald turned into forest?  The soil was too poor to farm intensively; nevertheless, it could (as the Saxons had shown) take a number of grazing animals, and this co-existence between domestic herbivores and wild game had occurred for centuries. With the arrival of the Normans, who were first and foremost warrior knights, it became obvious that they would manage this resource more for wild game than for domestic animals. It was not until much later, with the rise of the Wealden iron industry in the 16^th century, that things changed. The Forests were then in demand for producing large amounts of wood for charcoal. This in turn led to some opening-up of the woodland and the encroachment of agriculture, but now we are leaping forward some three to four hundred years.

Feudal Horsham – the Military Backdrop

The Normans were not French (descendants of the original Gallic tribes who were conquered by Rome in the 1^st century BC).  They were originally “North Men” who settled in what is now the Normandy region of France in the 10^th century. These were Vikings of Scandinavian origin and part of the great expansionist movement that saw invasion and settlement in the north of England and Scotland in the late 9^th and 10^th century, as well as in northern France.  Like the Saxons before them, the Vikings had a rich culture with a strong military tradition.  The Danish invasion of England thus led to a clash between these two warlike peoples, and a great deal of time was spent during the next century or so in battles, invasions, negotiations and marriages, before England was eventually unified under the Kings of Wessex before the Norman invasion. A century or so later, when the Normans were trying to establish themselves in England by securing the Welsh borders, the French Kings of the Capetian dynasty, whose heartland was the Ile de France, with Paris as its centre, were expanding and coming into conflict with their Norman neighbours. It was against this backdrop that the story of Horsham’s development takes place.

Between 1066 and 1200 it is possible to view Sussex as an area that was comparable to the Welsh Marches, that border area between Wales and England, and as a highly militarised zone dominated by castles. The powerful Lords of the six Rapes instilled a sense of domination over the native population by building a series of castles across the county. The castles built in Horsham were just part of this process and should not be seen as anything special – the same process went on in the other Rapes, which each had a main castle by the coast that also defended a river. To reinforce the appearance of power in both mind and in reality, the main castle in each Rape was garrisoned with soldiers and also became the administrative centre.   This was also the place where people had to travel to pay “fealty”, the swearing of loyalty to their Lord.

The reason for all this was simple enough. Sussex lay closest to the Norman power base of the Duchy of Normandy and guarded the route between there and London. It is easy to forget that, to the first Norman Kings, William I and II and Henry I, England was a colony, and their homeland was in France. They needed to be able to make swift and safe journeys between the two countries. This route became even more important during the reign of King Henry II (1155-1189), who was also Count of Anjou by inheritance and ruler of Aquitaine in the right of his wife, Eleanor.  He had to spend much of his time defending his French dominions. The loyalty of the Lords of the Rapes was regarded as crucial: both Arundel (1101) and Pevensey (1088 & 1147) suffered sieges for disloyalty, whilst King John seized Bramber and Knepp from William de Braose (the third of that name) when they had a major dispute in 1207. 

In addition to the main castle there were also lesser ones: for example, Knepp.  The exact relationship has not yet been fully worked out, though it can be shown in an order from the king to Roeland Bloet dated 18May 1214 which states that: “we command you, without delay, to transfer all the stores which you have at Knepp or elsewhere, and which you are able to gather, to Bramber; and that you fortify that house in the best possible manner you can…, that you destroy altogether the houses at Knepp”. This suggests that the King was concentrating his supplies on Bramber, a more substantial castle than his outliers.  Knepp, however, was not destroyed at this time, for two years later another order was issued on 13 June 1216 demanding that Knepp be burnt and destroyed.  This not only shows the close relationship between the castles, but may also show the weakness of the King at that time, as his first order was ignored, or countermanded. 

Then there were the lesser castles such as Chennelsbrook (mentioned above).  The right to build castles was very closely supervised, but in the political vacuum that occurred from time to time, such castles might have been built privately, rather than as part of the network of the kingdom’s defences. Chennelsbrook might be one such example, but the evidence is unfortunately not conclusive.  The building of castles was supervised more closely than that of moated sites.  While some sites were built as purely defensive structures, to give shelter to people or animals, others could be defended.  These “defendable” structures had another function, more related to status, social ranking and symbolic meaning. As they did not pose a real threat to the King they were not really part of the militarisation of Sussex. There are nine moated sites near Horsham and, whilst little work has been done on them, nationally there was a rapid expansion of moated sites from around 1200 to 1325.[91] What does this mean for Horsham? Does it show that the Horsham area was becoming popular with lesser nobles, who were perhaps keen to hunt? We do not know, but it is another tantalising part of the early origins of the town.  It might have echoes in late 19^th century Horsham, with the arrival of city folk who built themselves large houses, but this is something to be explored later in this history.

In 1205, however, the importance of Sussex changed. In a war against King Philip II of France, King John lost the Duchy of Normandy and most of Aquitaine, and was thereafter nicknamed “Lackland”[92]. His failure to recover Normandy led to baronial opposition and demands for constitutional reform, which led to the drawing up of Magna Carta (the Great Charter) which John was forced to seal in June 1215 at Runnymede.  From now on, English rulers were perforce based in England, and there was a foundation for English common law. Nonetheless, Sussex retained its military importance, as it was now a bulwark against possible foreign invasion from France. This was a very real threat, and we know that some fifty years later the owner of Sedgewick was plotting just such an invasion. (See Sedgewick below).

Chapter 3

 THE DE BRAOSE FAMILY

 – Lords of Horsham

One of the problems for any 21^st century reader of medieval history is understanding how the medieval mind worked when dealing with land and its ownership. All land was either owned by the King or by the Church, but the King gave land to his lords to look after in return for services rendered. That land could be passed down to the next generation; i.e., inherited, but the King could take it back and give it to someone else. The Lord, in giving the land or house to a son or daughter, could also give his wife ownership of that land for life, and she could then strip it of most of its assets before it went to the son, or even give it to her other children, leaving them to sort out the problems that would then arise, or the King to step in and resolve the situation. Some disputes went on for years. The Lord could also give the land or house to his grandson or granddaughter. As you will see in the story that follows, in the case of Chesworth ownership of this estate did not necessarily mean ownership of other de Braose lands, or vice versa.  These lands could be owned independently of one another and then be rejoined at a later time, but whoever ran or owned Chesworth had an obligation to be aware of the wishes of the de Braose family.[93]

The de Braoses played an important part in Horsham’s development, forcing through change and stimulating growth.  It is they that gave Horsham the lion rampant in its crest and it was this family that changed Horsham from a hamlet into a flourishing market town that economically, socially and politically dominated the local area.  Their support of Horsham probably meant that places such as Shipley which, in 1086, was recorded in the Domesday Book, never grew beyond its hamlet status, and Crawley, which had a charter to hold a Friday market from 1202-3, never became a Borough.

The first de Braose was William (I) de Braose; he was a neighbour of William the Conqueror in Normandy and was rewarded with 41 manors in Sussex and other lands.  He was a loyal, trustworthy and skilled soldier on whom William could rely on to defend the route between London and his homebase in Normandy.  He established Bramber Castle and its Church, St. Nicholas, in 1073.  He was alive in 1082 but we do not know when he died.  His son Philip confirmed his father’s grants and awards, but King Henry I accused him of treason and took away his lands, banishing him in 1110, probably because he supported Robert of Normandy. It should be remembered the de Braoses were Norman and viewed Normandy as their homeland, just as the King did. After going on a crusade, possibly as an act of penance, Philip’s lands were restored to him between 1112 and 1115.  His son, William (II) de Braose, married the Earl of Hereford’s daughter who gave birth to William (III) de Braose.

William (III) de Braose was a man who lived in the upper echelons of power and, of all the de Braoses, he lived the most colourful of life. He fathered five children: three sons and two daughters. All the children, apart from the eldest, grew up at Bramber. He was heavily involved with his newly inherited Welsh estates, based around Abergavenny Castle where he carried out various acts of murder and treachery. His ability to control his Welsh border lands made him a favourite of King John.  However, there was a dramatic reversal of fortunes and a falling out between him and the King around 1207.

The Quarrel – King John versus William de Braose

The following gives the various conflicting accounts to explain the quarrel between John and William (III) de Braose. Before we explore this story, there is the Welsh dimension that needs to be given in order to understand the full implications of what was happening.

The Welsh Background

The death of Henry II in 1189 led to a struggle between King Richard and his brother John. John was the favourite of Henry II, and Richard had joined the French King Phillip II to attack Henry in 1188. On Henry’s death Richard asked for a pardon of the Archbishops of Canterbury and Rouen for taking up arms against his father; also, to smooth things over, he asked for his mother, Queen Eleanor, to be regent in his absence. In September 1189 he was crowned. Almost immediately he started to prepare for his great Crusade, and in 1190 he declared Arthur his successor. The crusade lasted till 1194 and, in those years, John plotted behind his brother’s back. It is against this backdrop of John’s plotting that the story continued.

It should be remembered that Wales was not part of England but consisted of Welsh princes who owed loyalty to the Crown. One of the leading Welsh princes was Lord Rhys, who regarded his loyalty not to the crown of England but to King Henry personally. He took it as a slight when Richard refused to meet him halfway at Oxford. He felt no loyalty and started to attack his Welsh neighbours, which situation lasted until his death in 1197. In the southern Welsh region there was a power vacuum which made his successes easier as “the lords of the southern marches had in the later years of the twelfth century been very much weakened by failure of heirs and by the exodus to Ireland. Only the Mortimers of Wigmore and the family of Braose had steadily increased their power.”[94]  Through marriages, English lords acquired Welsh estates, even though they had little interest in Welsh politics. For example, John married Isabel of Gloucester and through this marriage acquired Glamorgan “To John at any rate, the chief value of his Welsh inheritance (which he retained after his divorce from Isabel in 1200) was that it provided him with an almost inexhaustible supply of mercenary troops to aid him in his rebellions against his brother and in the troubles of his later years”. As Poole notes:  “William of Braose was far and away the strongest of the barons of the march at the close of the twelfth century; he held authority over Brecknock, Builth Radnor and Upper Gwent.”[95] The standing of the (de) Braose(s?) increased further when in 1203 John gave William the Gower.

In 1199 John was anointed King. In the same year the Welsh prince Llywelen ap Ionwerth, Prince of Gwynedd, known as Llywelyn the Great, captured Mold Castle making himself master of Snowdonia. John, who through his Welsh lands knew about Welsh politics, tried to rule by the principle of ‘divide and rule’; in other words, keep the Welsh princes quarrelling amongst themselves by fomenting local feuds. But Llywellyn was too strong for such tactics, so in 1201 a treaty was signed, agreeing that if John recognised the lands Llywelyn had taken, Llywelyn would “render fealty” to King John. This suited John who was now involved in trying to retain his French lands.

Three years later when John had returned from the continent, having lost his French lands, the prince of Gwynedd did homage and was betrothed to the king’s natural daughter Joan in 1204.  Thus, the prince could continue his expansion without interference from England. In 1208 he took over Powys, even though it was in the custody of the crown. This did not upset John – in 1209 he supported John in his campaign against the king of the Scots, and in the autumn of that year he repeated his homage, along with other Welshmen, to the king at Woodstock. Then it all changed, as Poole explains:

“Then came the rupture, sudden and unaccountable, in 1210. It has been suggested that Llywelyn had involved himself in the attempt made by William de Braose to recover his lands, an attempt which led to the latter’s flight to France where he died shortly after, and to the gruesome murder of his wife and eldest son at the king’s hand”[96] (see below: John was determined to crush Llywelyn). His campaign was boosted by his success in Ireland that summer which involved marching triumphantly through southern Wales; this show of force impressed the Welsh. By 1211 Lyweyln was under attack, and took the defensive measure of withdrawing all the goods and chattels to the mountains. This meant that John’s army had nothing to live on, for invading armies feed off the land rather than have long supply trains, leaving John’s men in imminent danger of famine.  John had to retire, but later he advanced again moving out from Oswystry. In this new campaign he was successful, burning the city of Bangor and seizing the bishop. Llywelyn had to sue for peace, which he obtained through the help of his wife Joan, having to accept humiliating terms.  

John’s success in the north was followed by one in the south. John was soon in a position to subjugate the whole of Wales, and to enforce this by building a castle at Aberystwyth  But the Welsh princes, whilst willing to help John in putting down Llywelyn, could not accept the building of the castle at Aberystwyth – it gave the Welsh a clear idea of what John wanted. The Welsh revolted and seized and burnt the new castle, and Llywelyn now became the head of a united Welsh movement. John also found that he could not rely on his barons to support him, leading to the loss of two castles. In his rage John put a price of one shilling on the head of every Welshman. The Welsh had hoped to turn the revolt against John into a crusade; a holy war, but John made peace with the Pope (Pope Innocent III had released the Welsh insurgents from their allegiance to the king).  Peace of sorts broke out around 1213[97].

But it did not last long. In July 1214 John lost the important battle of Bouvines; all chance to recover his French lands went with that battle. At home he managed to upset the barons and drive a large number of them to revolt. John had hoped to get Welsh support in the ensuing dispute, but it was met with renewed Welsh confidence. As Poole relates: “Llywelyn captured Shrewsbury; the family of Braose, who had their own bitter quarrel with the king and were now bound to the prince of Gwynedd by a marriage[98] tie took the opportunity to recover their lost lands on the southern march. They regained, amongst other strongholds, those of Abergavenny, Brecon, Radnor, and Builth. The one man who might have stayed the tide of rebellion, William, the earl marshal, too engaged in directing critical affairs of the kingdom to give his attention to Wales” [99]. In England the Barons’ revolt forced the King to sign the Magna Carta, in which clause 56 specifically dealt with the Welsh complaints; as Poole explains: “ it was provided that all lands and liberties of which the Welsh had been deprived during John’s reign should be immediately restored; cases of dispute were to be determined by English, Welsh, or march law according to the location of the lands in question”[100].

However, peace did not last long, as John rebelled against the Barons and the Magna Carta resulting in Civil war which enabled the Welsh under Llwyelyn to take the great strategic centres. By the end of 1215, only the area around Pembroke remained in English hands. Llywelyn brokered a long-lasting peace with his Welsh princes and in 1218 obtained the English agreement to the settlement by doing homage to the infant King Henry III.

Version I

The services William (III) de Braose did for King John in Wales may have encouraged John to grant William freedom from Royal interference in the “honour” of the Rape of Bramber.  This could be a sign of friendship and trust.  Equally, it could be a sign of weakness, as John knew that he did not have the power or authority to stop him, so tried to bribe him for his loyalty.  Either way the granting of this freedom probably allowed William (III) to establish the Borough of Horsham around 1205.

King John needed money to fight and defend his lands against the growing expansion of the French King, Philip II.  By 1205, he had lost his French heartlands of Normandy and Anjou. After this date he concentrated on regaining his territory by managing his English estates better.  This meant raising taxes and tightening up laws.  In 1207 a tax of one thirteenth was raised on chattels and rents, giving him an annual income of £60,000.  The newly formed Horsham market would have been hit by this tax, which was rather like present-day VAT.  Added to this, the tightening of Forest laws (which through their fines became something of a “stealth tax” on hunting), inflation and a series of one-off taxes known as “scutage”, all led to disquiet and rebellion. By refusing to accept Stephen Langton as Archbishop of Canterbury, John also managed to upset the Pope so that, in 1208, all church services were suspended by papal interdict for six years, and John himself was excommunicated in 1209. John retaliated by confiscating Church estates and lands, which helped him financially. [101]

William (III) de Braose felt that he could not sit back and see what was happening to the country under the rule of King John. He started to link up with other barons to argue for better and fairer administration. The King decided to make an example of William, but rather than seize him and turn all Sussex against him, John asked William for his children as a guarantee of good behaviour.  William refused, so John sent an army to march against Bramber.  De Braose knew he could not defeat the King’s army and fled to France, sending his family by boat to Ireland where his brother Reginald lived.  On landing in Ireland his wife and children were captured, returned to Windsor Castle and starved to death as an example to the other Barons.

Version II

Another view was that William (III) knew something about the death of the King’s nephew, Prince Arthur who, although younger than John, had a more legitimate claim to the throne, as the son of an elder brother. (Arthur’s claims were supported, not surprisingly, by John’s main enemy, King Philip II of France).  It is thought that William’s (III) wife was a proud and undiplomatic woman who in an unguarded moment let slip the suspicion that John had murdered his own nephew.[102] The king had William’s wife and his eldest son, William (IV) starved to death in Windsor during 1210 and William (III) escaped to France from Shoreham dressed as a beggar, where he died in Corbeil in 1212.

The important part of this version of events was that William (IV) had married before he died at Windsor.  Due to the scant nature of the documentary evidence we cannot be sure of William (IV)’s wife’s name, though she may have been called Maud or Matilda.  It is also thought that this woman claimed the rights of a widow and thus a share of the manors of Washington, Knepp and Horsham.  It is possible she lived at Chesworth whilst her husband (William IV) was being starved to death and their son, called John, was being nursed in hiding in Wales.

Version III

One historian, David Carpenter, has stated that William de Braose’s row with King John was “one of the defining events of the reign”.[103] Whilst our story involves Horsham, it was an Irish dimension that, according to Carpenter, caused the rift. He said that King John granted William the “honour of Limerick” but that John himself retained the actual city itself, whilst William had the land around it. This became a bone of contention. De Braose had promised to pay £33,333 at £666 a year for the grant. By 1207, all that William (III) had paid was £468. (Was the Borough of Horsham established as a way of getting ready cash to help pay the fee?)  The granting of land by a King to a Lord could be one of outright gift, or during the lifetime of the person. The grant was also a visible sign that you trusted the person. Now, however, with this conflict developing, the trust between King John and William (III) de Braose failed and John started to regret giving William the hereditary grant of the lordship of Gower in Wales. John eventually seized the de Braoses’ chattels in Wales to enforce payment of their debts. The result was violent conflict in the winter of 1208/9, with de Braose fleeing to Ireland. William was welcomed by his son in law and another baron and so, in effect, “the great barons of Ireland were in rebellion against the King”.

In 1209 King John marched north into Scotland to ensure that the Irish received no help from the Scots, and the following year he invaded Ireland with 1,000 foot soldiers and 800 knights. William had by now fled to Wales and had tried to sort out the problem before fleeing back to Ireland, but John wanted to show his power, so he chased William’s wife Matilda, together with two of the other Barons, out of Ireland.

Matilda was captured in Galloway and sent to King John. She was already celebrated for her defence of Painscastle in 1190 and her refusal to give her sons up as hostages, declaring that “Arthur’s fate reveals what happens to boys in John’s custody,” John regarded husband and wife as a team and forced Matilda to offer £33,333 for the life and limbs of herself and her family.  Before she agreed, she insisted on seeing her husband in Ireland, but he then fled to France, leaving Matilda to her fate. When the King’s ministers came to the prison and demanded the first payment, they were offered £16 and a few gold coins. She and her son were starved to death in the dungeons of Windsor Castle.[104]

Whatever the reason for the falling out between William (III) de Braose and King John, the result was the same, in that the de Braose lands were seized by King John. Horsham now had a new lord, King John himself.  It was now that Knepp Castle became a Royal hunting lodge and the other de Braose lands were given to Richard of Cornwall.  William (III) died in France, in 1211 or 1212, never returning to Sussex.  Around three years later King John was forced to sign the Magna Carta by the rebel barons who had captured London.  John probably viewed it as a means to buy time but continued quarrelling[105], resulting in further war with the Barons.  The King gave the de Braose lands in England back to Giles de Braose, (the Bishop of Hereford and brother of William (IV), though the king still demanded the destruction of Knepp, so he was not handing back absolute control. 

In September 1215 the rebel barons offered Louis, the eldest son of King Philip II of France, the throne.[106] Louis accepted, explaining that the barons “by the common counsel of the kingdom judging (John) unworthy, chose us as king and lord”.[107] In May 1216, Louis entered a cheering London with 1,200 knights and soon had most of the south-east of England under his control. John fought back and criss-crossed the country, losing estates and lands. It was around this time, July 1216, that he demanded the destruction of Knepp castle. Giles de Braose died soon after in 1216, and the de Braose lands went to another brother, Reginald.  King John died in October 1216 of dysentery at Newark, having lost his baggage train in the tides of the Wash, and with it the royal treasure.

A Time of Stability

John’s eldest son succeeded to his father’s throne as King Henry III, with London and much of the south-east still in the hands of the French dauphin Louis, whilst the north was under the control of rebel barons. Yet within a year he had regained control of the whole kingdom.  This return to stability meant that Reginald, the de Braose brother in Ireland and Wales, took over the family lands, probably because John de Braose, the rightful heir from the senior line, was still too young.  In December 1215, Reginald had married the Welsh Prince Llywelyn’s daughter Gwladus, and was now the most powerful member of the de Braose family, holding estates in the Gower peninsula in Wales.  The claimant to the Welsh throne, Prince Llywelyn, sought a chance for revenge on the English King, and looked to Reginald as an ally, though he was never firm in his support. (Perhaps this was one reason why Reginald was given back his English estates by King Henry).  Prince Llywelyn was soon in control of much of Wales. It was in this position that he entered negotiations with Henry III and resolved the vexed question of the relationship between himself and Henry, as king and subject.  Reginald, having changed sides, was now a supporter of Henry, but faced the wrath of Llywelyn and had his Gower estates seized and given to his nephew and rival, William de Braose.

On Reginald’s death in 1228 (though some say 1224), the lands went not to John, who was of the senior de Braose line, but to Reginald’s son William.   William, however, was a prisoner of Llywelyn and under the arrangements for his release in 1229 William agreed that his daughter Eva should marry Dafydd, Llywelyn’s son and heir, and be given Builth as his marriage portion. Builth,[108] owned by the de Braose family, was a jewel in their Welsh estates and had been coveted by Llywelyn.  William also had to pay 200 marks for his release.

In 1230, William foolishly gave the opportunity to Llywelyn to break up the de Braose estates in Wales (they held lands in Radnor, Hay, Brecon and Abergavenny as well as the Gower peninsula). In that year, he was found by Llywelyn in his wife’s bedchamber and was publicly executed. (Llewelyn’s wife Joan just happened to be one of King John’s illegitimate daughters.) William’s large estates were divided amongst his daughters, including Eva, but the Barony and the Rape of Bramber went to his cousin, the rightful heir, John de Braose, who still owned the Gower estates.

John, known as John of Gower, was brought up in Wales, and to make sure things were kept in the family he married the daughter of the Welsh Prince Llewellyn . They had a son, William (V) de Braose. It was John who, on coming into the de Braose estates in Sussex in 1230, gave Horsham church to Rusper Priory, the small Benedictine nunnery of St Mary of Magdalene that had been founded at the end of the 12^th century.  In 1231 he endowed the vicarage giving it a house, three acres of land, the small tithes, hay tithes and mill tithes (which the vicarage held onto until the 1840s). [109]  It was also stipulated that, because of the size of the Parish, there should be an assistant priest, a deacon and a sub deacon.  The first vicar of Horsham was Robert of Wallingford in 1231.[110]  

In 1232 John died falling from his horse at Bramber.  He left a son, William (V), who at only twelve years old was farmed out as a ward to Henry III’s brother Richard, Duke of Cornwall. (Later, perhaps as a “thank you”, William (V) de Braose decided to back King Henry III as the rightful heir to the throne, helping to defend Rochester during the Barons’ War).  Within a year, Henry had granted William (V) de Braose the right to hold a July Market at Horsham.  William (V) continued to invest in the Borough with the decision to rebuild the Parish Church. Technically, the construction was to have been paid for by the nunnery which owned it, but such a small priory which constantly pleaded poverty could ill afford such a construction so it is likely that William and the Borough helped with the expense. (The Priory probably paid for the Chancel, which was built to a lower standard and would cause problems later, whilst the parishioners and William(V) built the Nave[111]). Roger, the first vicar, oversaw its construction and in 1247 St Mary’s was consecrated.  The popularity of the church meant that further alterations were carried out, and in 1270 the roof was raised and the clerestory was added.[112] This again was probably funded by William (V) de Braose.  In 1272, King Henry III died and William (V) de Braose acquired, through exchange, the castle of Sedgewick, in whose ownership it continued until 1395.

With Henry III’s death, his son Edward I was crowned king and William (V) de Braose continued to provide loyal service.  He was rewarded with increased estates including “free warren in his lands at Chesworth”. Warrens were medieval rabbit farms. The Normans brought over the rabbit to England and, as such, rabbit meat and skins had a higher value than those of sheep.  They were a delicacy, and the right to farm them was particularly valued. However, it has also been argued that “warren” didn’t refer just to rabbits but also to the “chase”, an area of land set aside for hunting. The term “free warren” meant freedom to hunt there without the King’s interference; a very important and valuable gift within an élite society dominated by the sport.[113]

Whilst William (V) seemed to spend time on Horsham’s development and provide some sense of stability, his private life was chaotic, and a lot of it was spent sorting out his mother’s and sister’s property claims. (It should not be forgotten that his mother was the child of a Welsh prince and an illegitimate daughter of King John!). William (V) married three times and had to sort out the future of his five children. These family complications would cause problems for his son William (VI) de Braose.

On William (V’s) death in 1290, his son William (VI) de Braose inherited both the lands and the problems that went with them. Two years later William (VI), along with his step mother Mary, (William V’s third wife), appointed local arbitrators to meet at Horsham to do two things: firstly, it was agreed that Mary should sort out what property was due to her and her mother and secondly, that William (VI) de Braose should make an accurate account of his father’s estate. The arbitrators, two of whom came from Horsham, worked out that William (V’s) Welsh estates were worth five times as much as his English ones. This would obviously cause even more problems with his stepmother, and it did. By 1306, the dispute had reached the courts and, when the arguments became heated, William (VI) insulted the judge, who threw him into the Tower of London to calm down!  Clearly William was not very good at financial or estate management.  The Chronicler Capgrave describes him as “a gret wastoure of good” who “sold ye baronie to dyvers lordis & took his money”.

However, though not that good on the domestic front, William (VI) de Braose was a good soldier and continued his father’s service to King Edward I. He fought for Edward in Gascony, Flanders and Scotland. In 1298 his daughter Alina (in some accounts she is called Aliva) married John de Mowbray. In 1299, King Edward I graced Horsham, or rather Chesworth, with three Royal visits on 30 June, and 2 and 3 September. These, however, were not special visits but part of the Royal procession of King and court travelling across the country.  In fact, King Edward was on his way to Canterbury to marry his second wife on the occasion of the September visit. Chesworth was not technically owned by William (VI), but by his mother Mary, who held it until she died in 1326, when it passed to her grandson Thomas. Nevertheless, it was William (VI) who controlled Chesworth. A further Royal visit occurred, on 24 September 1324, when Edward’s son, King Edward II, was also entertained at Chesworth by William (VI). These visits suggest that Chesworth and Horsham were both growing in importance.

William (VI) died in 1326 and, according to the settlement, the manor and Borough of Horsham passed to Alina, his daughter who had married John de Mowbray, whilst his grandson Thomas inherited most of the other de Braose lands, including the Manor of Chesworth. Thus, Chesworth remained with the de Braoses, while Horsham passed to the Mowbrays. Little is known about Thomas, other than the fact that he died in 1362. On Thomas’s death the estate went to John de Braose, who died in 1368, and from him it passed to his brother Thomas, who was only fifteen at the time and proved to be the last of the male de Braose line.  Thomas de Braose was living at Chesworth when illness struck in 1395, killing him and both his year-old son and two and a half year-old daughter, within five weeks of his death. Thomas lies buried in the de Braose tomb in St Mary’s church, probably with his two young children.

Horsham had passed to John de Mowbray, and one of his heirs, Thomas de Mowbray, was created Duke of Norfolk in 1398.   So it is through the de Mowbray connection that the Dukes of Norfolk became Lords Paramount of the Borough and Manor of Horsham and remained so, with a few interruptions such as the Civil War, right up until the 19^th century when most of the political and legal powers associated with Lords of the Manor were removed. However, they did not take much interest in this part of their estates until the 11^th Duke inherited them in 1785, as we will see later.

Chapter 4

NAKED HORSHAM CHRONOLOGY

1247	St Mary’s Parish Church consecrated after rebuild.
1258 Establishment of the House of Commons.	John Maunsell, owner of Sedgwick Castle, given permission to build castle walls. Further fortifications were allowed four years later turning a fortified hunting lodge into a castle.
1279	William De Braose established markets on Wednesdays and Saturdays.
1295	Horsham’s growing importance shown when Walter Burgeys (Burgess) and Walter Randolf sent as MPs to Parliament.
1299 Edward I invades Scotland in 1300.	Edward I visited Chesworth on 30th June, and on 2nd and 3rd September.
1306 Robert the Bruce crowned King of the Scots and defeated by the English. Edward II crowned in1307.	First record of an assize (court) held at Horsham in July. The Assizes that year dealt with 38 civil cases, 22 criminal cases and 21 pleas of complaint, mostly to do with trespass and assault. Eight felons were found guilty and sentenced to hang, including two murderers, two cattle thieves, an outlaw and three thieves, two of whom were women.
1315 TheGreat Famine 1315 -1322. (Worst in British History).	Three thieves indicted for ‘robbing certain foreign merchants outside Horsham to the west’ of goods to the value of £40, showing that Horsham was growing in importance and attracting foreign traders.
1327 Edward II deposed by Parliament and murdered; succeeded by Edward III.	Local iron industry already established with 1,000 horseshoes sent from Roffey to Shoreham, and then by boat to the north for the King’s army.   Town ranked 12th in Sussex, the people paying a total of £53 in tax.
1330s-1340s King of Scots recognised Edward III as overlord in 1332. The bubonic plague orginates in India. In 1337, Edward claimed French crown; 100 Year War.	Horsham supplied Crown with a large number of arrows. Horsham was an armament production area. In 1338, 6,000 arrows for crossbows were bought at Horsham to be taken to London. They had to be of good dry wood with the heads well sharpened. In 1342, Horsham provided a part batch for the Sheriff of Kent and this was followed in 1346 with a further request.

HORSHAM 1250-1350

A century of consolidation and networking – Horsham on the map

By 1250, Horsham had a church, a thriving market which was run by the burgesses, and a three-day July fair, and the surrounding land provided good hunting for sport. Even though the Church had been rebuilt by 1247, the growth of Horsham was such that further additions were made to the church some twenty years later to make it even more imposing, including the addition of a clerestory[114]. A clerestory is a “clear story” a row of high-level windows in the nave that are above the roof of the aisle to let light flood in.  The significant thing about the addition was that it did not create extra space for the population. The work is a clear indication that Horsham was growing more wealthy, but its population wasn’t increasing in size; if it were, then they would have invested money in increasing the floor space, but they did not – they used the extra income being generated to glorify God and the wealth of the borough. The capital cost would have come from the income generated through the tithe, or, from the generosity of the De Braose family. What we do not know is if the clerestory had been part of the original grand design but money had run out and they had to wait twenty years to obtain it, or whether it was a “new” feature, perhaps introduced so the congregation could view the wall paintings, for at that time the walls were a riot of colour depicting scenes from the Bible as well as symbols of morality. 

Though dating from an earlier period (1080-1120), magnificent wall paintings, which can be seen in the churches at Hardham and Coombs,[115] lie within the Bramber Rape and may represent a concerted plan funded by either the Diocese or perhaps by the Lord de Braose himself to decorate churches.  Stylistically, the paintings are similar to the Norman manuscript illustrations and the colour palette has been likened to ‘bacon and eggs’: reds, browns, yellows but not greens and blues. 

The Horsham wall paintings were of a later date, painted after the rebuild in 1240s, and may have been painted by the same artist who undertook the nave paintings at West Chiltington, which date to the second quarter of the 13^th century. As Marks and Beevers write of West Chiltington:  “The narrative scenes, which are arranged in tiers under arcades with angels in the spandrels (an arrangement borrowed from contemporary sculpture), are no more than provincial work and cannot match the sophistication of the exquisite roundel depicting the Virgin and Child in the Bishop’s Chapel Chichester, of 1260”. [116] The Horsham wall paintings were painted over in the 16^th or 17^th century during the religious troubles that saw much destruction of church art, only to resurface during refurbishments in the 1860’s[117].  Fortunately, at the time of the refurbishment Dorathea Hurst was able to record the decorations and their colours. The following is taken from her book, History and Antiquities of Horsham: “The walls were at an early period covered with rude paintings in red, black, and yellow; some of them representing sacred subjects, others being inscriptions, or diaper patterns of considerable beauty. On the splay of two of the windows of the south aisle has recently been discovered a graceful pattern, representing apparently, the fan palm and bamboo, in black and bright scarlet; indeed every part of the building seems to have been ornamented in a similar manner”[118]. Another person recording the paintings later mentions  ‘quatrefoil decoration’ and a painting of Christ with SS Peter and Paul, as well as Passion scenes recorded, but not visible, in his day.[119] The vicar at the time arranged for the pictures to be enhanced and restored rather than conserved, but the Victorian over painting in Horsham’s parish church seems to have been rather overzealous so that, in the early 1960s, before the fashion for Victorian style and colour occurred, they were covered with white paint and obliterated for good. They, though, would have been the most public form of art in medieval Horsham.

The growth of the Church continued to reflect Horsham’s increasing wealth when, in 1307, Walter Burgeys (Burgess), Horsham’s first MP, sent to the king’s parliament along with Walter Randolf in 1295[120], gave 50 acres of land in Horsham, Rudgwick and Warnham, with rents worth 39s 4d, to endow a chapel dedicated to the Holy Trinity.  (It is interesting to note that 4d of this rent was paid by Alan Dragon for a shop in Horsham, the first reference to such an establishment[121]). A chaplain was attached to this chantry chapel and was obliged to celebrate divine service daily for the souls of its founder and his successors.  He would also have carried out other services for the church and parish.  The chapel lay to the north of the church in the churchyard but was originally only accessible from the church porch.[122] 

As the borough became more established, civic administration developed.  We cannot be certain if the process of administration was gradual, or if it was introduced from the beginning when the borough was founded.  We do know from the records that the borough had a complex network of courts and administration reflecting how it was increasing in importance and its relationship with the lord of the manor or, in Horsham’s case, the Lord Paramount (see above).  As well as Horsham’s own manorial courts, there were the courts relating to the manors that had land within Horsham.  Despite the fact that they were not all recorded in the medieval period, nine manors are known to have held courts here as well as the Borough Court. Horsham folk were well regulated.[123]

Beneath this layer of higher administration was, as we would refer to it today, a layer of “micro-management”. The burgesses managed their own affairs a great deal, including the market, and each year on Law Day, around one month after Michaelmas, the Court-Leet appointed two bailiffs from the four burgesses nominated by the Court-Leet Jury.  In 1288 only one bailiff was recorded but perhaps due to the development of the town, in 1350 this increased to two.[124]  The jury consisted of no less than 13 and no more than 23 burgesses.  The bailiffs carried out a number of civic functions representing the burgesses to the steward who, through his legal training, acted as a mediator between the lord of the manor and the borough.  The boroughs also appointed constables; in 1401 three were elected (later reduced to two), who had to carry out the punishments handed down by the Court-leet, as well as maintaining law and order. The constables also looked after the stocks and pillory.[125] 

The headboroughs were also appointed on Law Day, an Anglo Saxon idea introduced by King Alfred, where one person would be responsible for an area.  They ensured the people in their care maintained good order and answered for their conduct. In 17^th century Horsham there were five headboroughs, Carfax and one for each main street – North, South, East and West.[126] The concept of a headborough came from tithing.  A tithing was a company of ten neighbouring families who acted as surety to the king for each other’s good behaviour. Its continued use highlights an important point and one borne out in much 20^th century genealogical research. The notion of love had a very low priority, and families often intermarried.  The reasons for not needing a state police force were simple:

1. The number of inhabitants was small.
2. Due to the amount of intermarriage, if theft occurred it could well be stealing from a relative and not an unknown person.
3. Everyone’s business was common knowledge.
4. Life was lived largely outdoors in daylight.
5. Sound travelled, especially through wooden and wattle and daub walls.

HORSHAM’S FOUR COURTS

There were four courts in Horsham until the 19^th century.  Each court dealt with different types of crimes bearing out the medieval origins of the courts.

Court-baron

This court dealt with issues relating to the administration of the manor.  The lord of the manor had to hold it if he wanted to maintain his power.  Tenants were able to appeal against the lord in the court and vice versa, though the judge was, in fact, the lord himself or his steward.  The court was able to create by-laws with various penalties. 

Court-leet

This was a court of the king, a court of public jurisdiction, as well as dealing with civil matters.  The king granted the right to hold the court to the local lord.  Every male above 12 years of age who lived within the borough area for a year and a day was under its jurisdiction.  The court dealt with minor offences. The last Court-leet was held in 1834.

Quarter Sessions

Formed in 1362, these sessions were quarterly meetings of the justices of the peace and gradually replaced manorial court functions, dealing with both criminal and administrative responsibilities, during the Tudor period.  The Horsham Quarter Sessions that dealt with criminal cases took place between 1626 and 1939, though not continuously, as sessions were held at Chichester, Midhurst, Petworth, Steyning and Arundel.  The courts dealt with wide ranging offences, from fining Richard and Agnes Gardner 3s. 4d in 1647 for eavesdropping, to Jane Hatkins, a spinster who, two years later, was whipped for stealing a shirt worth 10d. Up until the 18^th century they were able to impose the death penalty.

The Assizes

The Assizes dealt with the more serious cases. Judges would travel on a circuit visiting various towns every six months or so.  The first recorded assizes for Horsham were in 1306 when 22 criminal and 57 civil cases were heard.  The judges usually arrived in the town the previous day and on the first evening the vicar would preach a sermon, which would sometimes be published.  As most punishments were usually the death penalty, bail was rare, so those committed to the Assizes often had to wait for up to six months in gaol.

The emphasis on knowing everyone’s business meant that gossiping was an essential part of the fabric of society, maintaining social controls on a community without police.  However, malicious gossip was frowned upon far more than it is today; hence the severity of punishments for gossips. It has been argued that the notion of white witches originates with women who, while knowing various herbal remedies, also kept their eyes and ears open, gleaning snippets of information, which made it seem as if they knew these things by magic. In the early 17^th century, Horsham had a white witch licensed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. (See the section on Medicine below).

This embedded nature (not having to go to external forces, such as the police) of keeping the peace worked well within a settled community but not so well with people who had no loyalty to a place or family, or whose crimes demanded more severe punishment. When Horsham became a legally recognised borough by 1235, as well as giving it certain status it also meant that Horsham as a corporate body had certain responsibilities including the administration of justice.  Therefore, in 1288, the town was held corporately responsible for the escape of a Kentish horse thief taken at Bramber.[127]  It would seem from the record that Horsham at that time had a small lock-up from which he escaped.  In July 1306 the first record of an assize, or Court held at Horsham, is mentioned.  The justices were named as Roger de Hegham and P Mallory.  There were 36 civil cases, 22 criminal cases and 21 complaints of trespass and assault.   Eight felons were found guilty and sentenced to hang and included two murderers, two cattle thieves, an outlaw and three thieves, two of whom were women.[128] This suggests there must have been a lock-up in the town and also a gibbet.  Edmund de Otterworth, Keeper of the Gaol at Guildford, was acquitted of allowing Reginald de Tyresergh to wander from the prison where those who awaited punishment were sent as there was no county gaol.  Assizes were held at Horsham in July 1327, January 1328, October 1329, July 1334, September 1335 and March 1336, thereby establishing a regular pattern[129].

The economic impact of having an Assize in the town would have been considerable as, apart from the justices and their servants, there would have been the defendants and their families, witnesses, lawyers, spectators and tradesmen drawn to the town by the potential crowds.  There must have been some venue in which to hold the court, an early market house, town hall, the nave of a church or, perhaps, even in the open air.  Such activities would not have taken place if the town could not provide the right level of services (a point that the judges in the 1830s made clear).

A well run and managed town or borough gave confidence to traders, and so Horsham entered a spiral of success, drawing in from the local area wealth and ensuring other nearby settlements did not expand, as well as attracting people to trade. For example, William Aylbrich of Arundel was a Horsham burgess by 1270 and Walter Randolf, a wool merchant from Steyning, also traded in wine. Some came from further afield: a tenant living in the Bishopric in 1285 had a surname of Fleming, suggesting his place or origin, whilst in 1378 two residents in the parish were surnamed French.[130]  The 13^th century saw the creation of markets and fairs across the country as the economy grew.[131]  In 1279 another market was established by William de Braose; a Wednesday and Saturday market.[132]

HORSHAM: A HOTBED OF CRIME

The first Assize was held at Horsham in 1307, but it doesn’t mean that criminal activity did not take place until then. Looking through the Assize Rolls, so called as they are written and stored in rolls and not as books, mention is made on a number of occasions of Horsham crime.  Some of the wording and phraseology is difficult to work out. In 1245 to 1249 the Assize Roll of Lewes mentions that: “an unknown malefactors came by night to the house of Lucy of Chichester and bound her and her two sons and carried away their goods”.  Whilst another incident records: “that William de Sarpenhill and John de Herst are accused of breaking the parks therefof”. At Chichester the Assize Roll of 1261-2 records that: “(in the) Borough of Horsham, Hugh de la Denne and Alice wife of John Le Peck killed the said John husband of the said Alice and Hugh and Alice fled therefore they are outlawed”.  This also meant that their goods were seized by the state; i.e. the King.   The Assize Roll goes on to record: “The goods of Hugh valued at 4s 0d and the Sheriff answers to the goods of Alice 2s 6d”.

Probably the most interesting one for Horsham is the Assize Roll for Guilford in 1315 when three thieves were tried for robbing a ”certain foreign merchant outside Horsham to the west” of goods valued at £40. Clearly indicating the status of Horsham.

Whilst it is often suggested that Horsham had a variety of tradesmen, very rarely is there proof.  As the borough grew, there must have been trade, but who, what and where?  Much of that information cannot be found until two to three hundred years later; however, a few documents do exist that mention tradesmen in Horsham.

The earliest known is a draper mentioned in a document dated around 1230; some 30 years later there are at least two drapers or cloth merchants mentioned.  Later in the 13^th century a Walter Randolf, who dealt in cloth, wine and wool, and who also had property at Findon and Ashurst, is mentioned as having property in Horsham.[133]

Some clues to tradesmen can come from surnames: a Baker, Cooper, Glover, Turner, Salter and Skinner are all recorded in Horsham before 1350 suggesting the usual complement of tradesmen for a bustling borough.  This is as well as a Spicer being recorded in 1362. [134] These people probably worked in buildings similar to that which was found at Horsham Museum.[135] In those excavations a very rare aquaminalay, a type of small water jug in the shape of a lion or gryfyn, was found (and subsequently lost), suggesting real wealth in the town. The tax record does show some fluctuations in those that were wealthy enough to be taxed, though that could be more due to changing tax regulations and the deliberate hiding of wealth than the actual picture. Equally, it could be showing wealth becoming concentrated in fewer and fewer hands as certain burgesses increased their economic status. Nonetheless, in 1296, 42 individuals were taxed; in 1327 it was 35, and by 1332 it had dropped to 27[136]. An example of this increasing wealth can be seen at Chennellsbrook where the farmhouse has been dated back by dendrochronology to 1295/6.[137] In 1322, Horsham was wealthy enough to supply one armed footman for the war in Scotland.  Like many other towns in Sussex, it had in 1334 the second lowest taxation assessment for a borough in Sussex after Bramber so, whilst it was becoming established, it hadn’t yet become the dominant force.

The growing awareness of the importance of the borough can be shown when in 1350 the borough bailiffs complained to the Mayor of London that trade was bypassing Horsham and going straight to London, a complaint that would resonate 400 years later.[138] Links between Horsham and London were becoming more structured and embedded, as in 1328 one Horsham man owned property in a London suburb[139].

Some of Horsham’s growing wealth could have come from military supplies and the trade in armaments. Today we may not think of wood as a material used in armaments, but it was an important raw material used in the manufacture of weapons and defensive structures. In 1338 six thousand arrows for crossbows were bought at Horsham to be taken to London.  These arrows had to be of good dry wood and the heads well sharpened.  In 1342 Horsham provided part of a batch of arrows for the Sheriff of Kent and this order was followed in 1346 with the request for 150 sheaves out of 266 for London.[140]

What we don’t know is whether the money made from this went into the local economy, or whether it was more a matter of the colonial system of trade, where the profits remained outside the area of production. Were the Fletcher and Bowyer recorded in 1330s in Horsham[141] the workmen making the arrows, or were they the tradesmen as well?  What this does suggest though is the farming of the woodland on a grand scale. To produce that number of arrows means growing and having readily available straight wood, suggesting extensive coppicing.  So as well as the woodland being managed for game, it also was managed for arrow production. Interestingly, we do not know, though from the description it is unlikely in the first order, if the arrows had iron tips.

There is also the use of timber for fortifications. In 1214 when Knepp was forfeited to the king, the carpenters had to cut, dress, and prepare timber for use at Dover castle. Two years later Roland Bloet was ordered to construct siege engines in the “forest” of Knepp and send them to Dover without delay.[142] Interestingly, how did Bloet know how to make siege engines, unless he had a manual of military architecture/construction?

The Romans had exploited the iron rich deposits found near Crawley, so with the fast flowing streams being stained red as they flowed over the exposed deposits it isn’t surprising that iron making would be re-established in the Weald (if it ever went away). Horsham town itself had no iron ore deposits, but on its very outskirts lies Warnham Pond which was built in the 17^th century to exploit the iron rich beds that lie underneath the water (see below for a fuller account). At Roffey, however, there was a bloomery in 1327 because 1,000 horseshoes were sent from it to Shoreham and then by boat to the King,s army in the north. This bloomery site was probably the one excavated in the 1980s.[143]

THE SUSSEX IRON INDUSTRY[144]

It is a difficult vision to imagine when you are driving along the local roads, or taking a walk through the forest, but 400 years ago this area was blighted by the extensive and environmentally destructive iron industry. Since the iron industry died here in the early to mid- 18^th century, nature has reclaimed what man destroyed and in doing so has created some of the south of England’s most beautiful landscapes with wooded valleys mirrored in the large ponds and lakes.  Before the industry came, however, those valleys would have descended fifty or sixty feet into a wooded glade, and would have been seen as a jewel like habitat.

The pre-Roman people used iron; hence the name Iron Age, but it was the Romans with their need for iron nails and fittings that truly expanded the industry.  Locally, this occurred particularly in the Broadfield area of Crawley, with the products being shipped out of Sussex on a maritime fleet known as the Classis Britannica, which seems to have managed the Roman Wealden Iron industry. It has been suggested that the fleet dealt with transportation and support services whilst the iron works were managed by civilians.[145]

The Roman workings could have been even more extensive but later medieval workings have destroyed the evidence, just as medieval workings were destroyed by 17^th century work.  In fact, the physical evidence that remains isn’t that of an industry at its height, but at the end of its life.

As later workings destroyed earlier ones, research has often had to be based on documentation, rather than the existence of any physical remains, which is why the discovery of the small furnace at Roffey is so important.  In the 1930’s, iron slag had been found in the area, but it wasn’t until 1985 that the Horsham Museum Society archaeology group working with the Wealden Iron Research group excavated the site revealing a phased development. Documentary evidence suggests that, around Horsham, iron was being produced as bar and finished products.  It is possible that there may have been some regionalisation of manufacture based on local ores. Southern weald ores have a higher sulphur content, which is more suitable for making nails, whilst those in the Horsham area are more suitable for arrows. This is based on the assumption that the Horsham arrow trade tipped the shafts with an iron arrowhead. We do know that the iron trade made horseshoes.

Around the 12^th century the European iron industry saw major changes with the introduction of water powered hammers and bellows. This continental improvement did not occur in England until the 14^th century.  A manually blown hearth produced 30 lbs of bloom; a water powered hearth 200lbs.  With the shortage of labour, post-Black Death, it is likely that water-powered bloomery forges were built, but so far no evidence has been found in the Weald.

The years 1490-1540, the same period that saw significant growth in Horsham grow, also saw significant changes to the technology and management of the bloomery, blast furnaces and the finery forges.  The agents of change were the French ironmasters and craftsmen who brought over the new technology.  This created such a boom in the local iron industry, so that by 1574 there were 52 furnaces and 58 forges working in the Weald.

The basis of this expansion was the ability of the Weald to produce competitively priced bar iron in the medium to lower quality range along with small quantities of cast iron. It was during this period that the iron workings in St Leonard’s Forest developed. The most recognizable remains of the industry are the hammer ponds that can be found throughout St Leonard’s Forest. Unlike the north or midland valleys where water is plentiful, here they had to dam the stream to produce enough water, and hence power, to turn the wheel. The water wheel can be powered by water running underneath it, using the flow and speed of the water to turn the wheel, or by letting the water flow on top of the wheel using the force (speed and gravity) to turn the wheel; the latter, known as “overshot”, was the type used with the hammer ponds in this area.  The dams (known locally as a bay) are earthen and cross the valley, trapping the entire flow. Today the roads use these dams to bridge the valley, as in St Leonard’s Forest.

One of the later iron-working sites is Warnham mill.  Built by the Caryll family around 1609 it worked on a yearly cycle.  The iron ore was excavated from the bottom before the pond was allowed to fill up again with water to supply power for the forge, thus draining the pond ready for further excavation. The English Civil War saw the forge destroyed, a common occurrence across the Weald, which signalled the start of the decline, so that by 1650 it was noticed and the decline was blamed on Swedish bar iron, which was cheaper and better quality.  There were changes in the market away from making armaments to making everyday products: pans, cauldrons, fire backs and hammerheads etc.  The decline was not dramatic, but by 1800 there was no Wealden iron industry left.

So, whilst it is always dangerous to read too much into stray records and the odd mention, it is possible to argue that Horsham was becoming established as one of a number of market towns that had links to London and the coast.  This link to London and rise in status was reinforced when in 1295 two of Horsham’s burgesses were sent to Parliament to represent the Borough and the 52 burgesses had the right to vote for the County representatives as well.  Horsham, a new town, was now tied economically, politically, militarily and socially into the emerging kingdom of England and Wales.

Horsham on The Map 

Richard Gough was an 18^th century antiquary; someone who researched the past. Somehow, he got hold of an undated map drawn on vellum.  Who drew the map is not known, though because more detail is given for East Anglia than for the other areas of Britain the assumption is that he or she, though probably he, lived in that area. The style of writing on the map suggests that it was drawn in the mid 14^th century.  As the centre of the world was then seen as Jerusalem, place names are written to be read as if England was on its side with the east coast to the top.  What purpose the map had can only be guessed at, though in Wales it shows the King,s newly built castles and places of pilgrimage as well as rivers and mountains. This map is important for Horsham since Horsham is marked on it.  Whatever the criteria used for selecting places to be marked, Horsham met it. Horsham is shown on a route from London, via Dorking to Shoreham. [146] Known as the ‘Gough Map’, it is a rare survival and is apparently the best-drawn map of Britain for the next two hundred years, though it disappears from sight only to be rediscovered in the 18^th century.  It is interesting to note that in the return to the commissioners (Nonarum Inquisitions) in 1340, when the taxes granted to Edward III, were levied, it was mentioned that there were then no merchants in Horsham, [147] which seems strange, and possibly an aberration.

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Chapter 5

ST LEONARDS FOREST

Horsham’s Great Natural Resource

Although St Leonard’s Forest is not part of Horsham, the large natural resource has played a significant part in the town’s economic and social development. What follows below explores in greater depth the growth and development of the forest than possible in the main narrative of Horsham’s history, though it is not intended to recount what has or will be mentioned, though there will be links between the two. However, some aspects of the Forest need to be reiterated as they are fundamental to our understanding of St Leonard’s.[148]

Key points to remember:[149]

1. The term ‘forest’ in Western Europe means land on which deer were protected by special bylaws.  It was introduced into England by William the Conqueror, of whom the Anglo Saxon chronicle in 1087 said:

“the King W set up great protection for deer and legislated to that intent. That whosoever should slay hart or hind should be blinded…he loved the high-deer as if he were their father.”[150]

2. The connection between forest and trees probably grew out of the usage of the King James Bible of 1611 which uses the term to describe woodland.

3. Whilst Forest could be Royal Forests, they could also be held by private landowners.

4. If the Forests are fenced, then they are extended parks; therefore, Forests are unfenced areas where deer are kept.

5. Legal Forests were larger than the physical forests. This has given rise to the notion of Britain being heavily wooded in the medieval period. For example, Waltham Forest enclosed 60,000 acres, but Epping Forest, which today covers 6,000 acres, is not much different in size from its medieval area. What it meant is that when deer strayed into open countryside, or even the town, they were still protected by Forest Law.

6. Up to the signing of the Magna Carta (1215) the Kings of England set aside land for Royal Forest, in part as a way of curtailing troublesome barons. After 1215, no more Forests were declared in England. In both Wales and Ireland, Forests were established: “there may have been ninety-four in the southern half of Wales alone. Only a few were royal. Many Forests had a shadowy existence; they were operated by the marcher lords out of a taste not so much for venison as for the status symbols of English royalty.”[151]

7. Royal Forests were set up where the Crown had land, not in areas of woodland. So there were no Royal Forests in Sussex.

8.   The king owned the deer in the Forest, but not necessarily the land. It was this habit of the king owning the deer on someone else’s land that was unpopular. If the Forest were declared over common land, then commoners had rights. The groups involved with a Forest were the owners of the Rights (the right to keep deer, pasture, wood cutting), landowners and commoners.

9.   Deer were treated as important animals, with swine treated as honorary deer, as was, in some Forests, the hare. When one was found dead an inquest was supposed to be held.[152]

10. “Forests were not hunting preserves… ordinary working king had no time or opportunity to visit eighty Forests, and records of royal hunts are very few…hunting was done by professionals.

11. The king owned trees on about half his Forests…(he) took timber from his Forests for works on his castles and palaces, and gave trees to his subjects. He rarely sold timber.[153]

12. The deer, landowners and commoners were subject to the Forest court. “In popular myth these were blood- thirsty courts, cutting off the limbs etc. of even minor offenders against Forest Law, but not a single case has been brought forward as evidence of this having been done. In reality the courts were interested in pence not limbs, and adjusted the fines so as not to dry up.”[154]  

 St Leonard’s Forest, a hybrid?

St Leonard’s was not a Royal Forest. It had never been a Royal Forest. The first documentary mention of St Leonard’s Forest was in 1208 it was in fact, technically, though, a chase.[155] As for the name St Leonard’s the lords of the forest De Braose built the chapel dedicated to St Leonard’s, a French hermit saint who lived in the wood. He was popular with the Benedictines, the order that owned Sele priory in whose parish the forest lay.[156]

At some time the woodland gained the name Forest where laws of the Forest applied, but by whom?  To be a Forest there had to be administrative courts to adjudicate and administer Forest laws, and here there is evidence for this in the archives held at Arundel Castle, for the records show that courts of attachment and swainnimote were held. As those courts were held by the Howard family, then St Leonard’s was a Forest in the ownership of the family. But the Howards did not come onto the scene until the late 14^th century, when they inherited the de Braose land. The fact that the first mention of a forest was in 1208 suggests, and it can be no more than that or, a suggestion, that when King John granted the de Braoses freedom from royal interference, the de Braose family decided to create the forest of St Leonard’s out of the woodland, and Courts etc. were set up to administer the woodland as a Forest.  At the same time, Horsham’s Borough status, with its courts, was established, in effect creating a new legal framework across the landscape.

The trouble is, there is no documentation showing the creation of the forest, and no disputes or legal notices, but circumstantial evidence does point to its creation by the de Braoses. The fact that the marcher lords were associated with the creation of a large number of Forests in Wales suggests that it was the de Braoses who established a Forest status for St Leonard’s; after all, why create Forests in Wales and not in Sussex? Their ownership may have protected the woodland, for the Weald as a whole saw some 450,000 acres of woodland grubbed out in around 260 years; some five acres a day, after the Norman conquest as the population rose and land hunger took place.[157] The Howards continued the woodland courts and maintained the status of the Forest in the 15th century on wards. Ownership of the land, as well as ownership of the rights to hold Forest Courts, was therefore held continuously by one family; there was no subdivision, which gave the Forest a peculiar status. The Crown could only take game and trees from the parks it seized as at Knepp, not from St Leonard’s. Therefore, the St Leonard’s was protected until, that is, the Howards fell out with the Crown in the 16th century and St Leonard’s was plundered.

The boundary of St Leonard’s Forest

As Rackham notes – and it is important to remember that this general comment could be made for St Leonard’s: “The twelfth century is poorly documented, and no record survives of how a Forest was declared. As with a modern National Park, it would have been necessary to define the boundaries – in effect, to put up notices saying “This is a Forest” – and to set up a bureaucracy of justicars, seneschals, wardens, Foresters-of-fee, verderers, riding-Foresters, foot Foresesters, etc. The existing terrain, ownerships and land-uses would have gone on unaltered. The one practical matter would normally have been introducing some deer”. [158]

There is some evidence, both physical and through place names, that suggests how the forest was laid out. There seems to have been a barrier around the whole of the Forest, with internal barriers set up creating distinct areas known as bailiwicks and later known as walks, though how the two are related is difficult to say. Whilst the various place names with “gate” at the end indicate access points into the different bailiwicks and walks and the Forest itself. For example: Parkgate and Peppersgate on southern boundary of parish and Monks Gate in the south west may allude to forest boundaries (Peppersgate is mentioned in 1608), and Ivorygate on the Lower Beeding and West Grinstead boundary.

Other gates may refer to entrances in the bailiwicks; for example, Faygate is recorded in 1614, whilst Coots and Roffey gates led to the Roffey bailiwick in Horsham parish, Shelley gate is mentioned in 1330, Grouse gate mentioned in 1795, Colgate, whose first part of the name suggests a link to charcoal burners is recorded in 1279, suggesting a gateway linked to this economic exploitation of the underwood. There is a possibility of earthworks still surviving from the Bewbush bailiwick (207264-213268) which is mentioned in 1498, whilst in 1829 a gate recorded in a document in 1330 was shown to still exist near Bewbush Mannor House. Other gates mentioned include Heythorngate recorded in 1439 and Gosden Gate in 1499.[159] To many Horsham people the most well known “gate” is Monks Gate and various suggestions have been made that it ties in with monks using the woodland. However, the probable reason is a lot less romantic. Monks gate was recorded as a farm in the 17^th century, apparently deriving its name from a family mentioned in 1450 and alluding to a gate into the Forest.[160]

All the place name evidence suggests that by the late 15th century the forest had been divided into several wards or baliwicks: Roffey, Bewbush “Alkynburne (perhaps Hawksbourne in Horsham) in the north, Hyde and Shelley in the east; Gosden and Patchgate in the south, Horningbrook in the west and Whitebarrow (described as near Issacs Croft presumably Issac Cottage in Nuthurst), Horestock (described as near Swallowfield in Nuthurst), New Park, Rickfield, Sedgwick and Chesworth in the south west with Knepp being an outlier. The central area might correspond to un-located bailiwicks of Thrustleholke and Herony. By the 16^th century St Leonard’s was generally agreed to have a circumference of 25-30 miles marked off by a paling fence to discourage the deer from getting out. The forest as a whole had an outer pale and there were internal divisions between the bailwicks. By 1720 the forest was said to have walks with their relationship to the bailiwicks being obscure Middle walk (1,500a) and clockwise around it from 12 Stone Lodge, Roffey End, or North End (839a), Carter’s walk (600a0, Docker’s Lodge walk (700a) South End walk (800a), Monk’s Lodge walk (400a) and New Lodge walk (600a) the last one also being known as St Leonard’s walk in 1593.[161]

What did the forest look like?

The hunting and preservation of game seems to have been on standard lines, with each walk presided over by a keeper whose rights were established by vague and inconsistent customs. The deer, which often had to be handfed, numbered several hundred. The keepers’ rights to pannage and herbage – grazing cattle and sheep – were granted separately. The forest included a number of small ponds whose fishing rights were guarded.[162]

As for what the forest looked like, documentary evidence suggests a mixture of, in equal measure, woodland and heath land with 3,000a of woodland in the early 14^th century, while the forest at this time recorded at 7000a. The scattered nature of the woodland is indicated by place names such as Bewbush (beautiful thicket), a grove belonging to John Shelley in 1330, and a wood called Suthboys in 1354[163] and the various parks mentioned above.

Documentary evidence of fauna of the forest

A number of the classical animals associated with the Forest were introduced by the Normans to hunt or to create further revenue from the specially demarcated areas

Feral or wild horses.

The place name of Horsham alone suggests that they bred on the forest edge, whilst “tithes” of colts born in the forest were among those settled at an unknown date on Sele priory.[164] Stray mares were mentioned in the 16^th century.[165]

Deer

When the Crown took wardship of the forest in 1234, it presented seven bucks from the forest and gave them to the archbishop of Canterbury, at the same time confirming the grant given by William de Braose, who died in 1232, to the abbot of Fecamp, of the right to take five bucks and five does a year.

In 1303 eight fat deer were ordered to be presented to the prior of Christ Church Canterbury. In 1553 there were said to be no deer other than game in the entire forest, though red deer were mentioned in 1584. In 1941 wild deer, rather than farmed, were recorded.[166]

Fallow deer were a Norman introduction, probably acquired from their fellow Normans in Sicily who inherited the classical and Islamic tradition of keeping oriental beasts in parks, so probably a 12^th century introduction.  For many centuries, the fallow deer were semi agricultural animals kept in parks.  Fallow deer and rabbits were introduced within a decade of each other – the aim was to produce meat on poor quality land.[167] Deer, though, could not be bought and sold in the market place.

Cattle in the forest.

By the mid 13^th century, cattle as well as swine were being pastured in the forest. Tithes of herbage were mentioned in 1235 and calves and chesses in 1247, and around 1250 William de Braose confirmed to Sele priory all the grazing rights for cattle in the forest which they had before [168]. Place name evidence suggests the importance of cattle to the area with the village name Cowfold, which lay on the outskirts of the Forests. The size of its church alone suggests some economic importance. Then there is St Leonard’s Fair which was a noted yearly market for cattle from as far away as Wales.

Hares, rabbits, pheasants and herons

Bewbush, St Leonards Forest and Knepp Parks all recorded these animals in 1295.[169] Pheasants, unlike deer, could be bought and sold in the market place.  An oriental bird, the pheasant, is a native of central Asia and south east Russia. They arrived here possibly in the 11^th century, but certainly by the 12^th century, when they were regarded as creatures of the warren, but not systematically managed like rabbits.[170]

St Leonard’s Forest in the 16^th century

The century of political turmoil for the Howard family was also the century that saw St Leonard’s under the greatest threat; not by the iron industry, nor by farmers, but by the monarchy.

There has been an assumption made that the destruction of woodland was caused by the Wealden iron industry. This occurred as early as Evelyn, who wrote:

“He that should deeply consider the prodigious waste which these voracious Iron and Glass-works have formerly made but in one County alone, the County of Sussex, for 120 miles in length and thirty in breadth (for so wide, and spacious was the antient Andradswald, or old one intire Wood, but of which there remains now little, or no sign) would be touch’d with no mean Indignation” John Evelyn 1664.[171]

Yet, as work by Rackham and others has shown, this clearly was not the case. For no iron master would destroy wood which was essential for the production of the iron; the wood was farmed and managed. It has been estimated that around 2,500 acres of coppice woodland would satisfy a furnace with around 1,500–1,600 acres for a forge; thus, around 4,000 acres of coppice woodland per forge and furnace, or three mile radius of the site if one quarter were set aside for coppicing. It has been estimated that at the height of its activity the Wealden Iron industry required around 220,000 acres of coppiced woodland; around one quarter of the total area of the Weald. The extent to which the woodland was managed in a sustainable way can be shown by Evelyn in 1667 who estimated that there was around 200,000 acres of coppice in the Weald[172] and: “Coppicing was the key to the profitable use of woodland…The ‘small woods’ used for charcoal were either young coppice cut after 7-12 years, or, ‘top and lop’, branches cut from larger trees”.[173]

The iron industry used wood near to its furnaces, for the wood had to be converted into charcoal to produce iron. Charcoal is more friable and likely to turn to dust when carried over long distances; therefore, the forge and furnace had to be carried out near the site of charcoal production. The iron master would not destroy the key to the furnace, a sustainable supply of wood.

So, if the iron industry did not destroy the woodland, what did, if anything? The reality was that the Wealden forest was not destroyed. BUT, St Leonard’s forest was devastated, as contemporary surveys record. By Charles I’s reign, a survey showed no great trees or valuable timber save one, worth £1, and the other young timber was worth only £30 in St Leonard’s. How had this happened?

It was down to the greed of Queen Elizabeth or, if not her, the political machinations of her courtiers. The Norfolks lost control of the woodland by the mid 16^th century (see below). It was even proposed by Thomas Seymour, who acquired some of the Norfolk lands including St Leonard’s, that a new town should be built in the forest (see below), but was thwarted by his political intrigue.[174] When Elizabeth came to the throne she was politically weak and demand for timber was strong. Elizabeth, in 1562-3, bought the Forest from the Howards, who were in no real position to disagree, in return for a long lease on equitable terms.  Not all the land belonged to the Howards, as various landowners had freehold within its bounds.

Selling the ownership of the forest to Elizabeth meant that the administration of the woods, as distinct from the forest or the land rights, was now open to the royal court. Since many in the court were hungry for timber this led to conflict. The Crown was not the manager of woodland.[175] As Jack has shown, the absorption of the Crown management by the exchequer just made it worse: instead of the chief justice of the forest authorizing sale of the wood, it now required an exchequer warrant  – and the exchequer seemed to rely on no expert advice, so those who had access to court favour would be granted rights. Warrants for timber for buildings were soon being granted irrespective of previous agreements.[176]

The Crown did have an expert on hand: one Roger Tavener, the deputy surveyor of woods, who came forward with a management plan that suggested the woods could produce 50 loads a year for 100 years. He noted that the forest was well supplied with desirable timber especially oak and beech “of a very great age and of a great length”, but it did not regenerate because of the landscape – the wind on the exposed slopes. The trees grew in plumps and the inner trees protected the outer trees and vice versa “the uttermost trees of the said plumps defend the wyndes from the innermost and the innermost trees growing thick do keep the uttermost from falling, by their high standing with them”.[177] Since the Queen had ownership of the land the plumps were being opened up with glades giving the wind entrance into the plumps thereby destroying the woods.

The Queen or her Government did not listen and within 4 years of the Crown taking ownership over ten tenements were built within the forest, disturbing the deer, as did the expanding iron industry. Tavener tried a rear-guard action to defend the forest. He brought suit against Roger Gratwick and others for executing the warrant from the Queen for 1,000 trees. The Queen had also granted a further 1,000 to Mr More. These went to building Gratwick’s dwelling house, Horsham mill, the schoolmaster’s house (Collyers) and a number of small cottages. No proper account was given to the woodwards. The grantee, along with George Hall, the under-surveyor, selected the trees, with the criterion being convenience rather than sylvian husbandry.  It was reported that 240 trees were felled in “Mr Merry’s walk” since 1581 and 1409 in John Asshely’s. Also, there was a dispute over the manner of felling and bringing the wood down which damaged other trees.

The situation was deteriorating rapidly; George Hall and Sir Thomas Shirley were given one warrant for timber in 1579 and another warrant for great timber in 1580. The new surveyor John Tavener declared that there were not enough trees to fulfil the warrant. Sir Thomas, in the first warrant, had been given 2000 cords of beech, birch, and oak yearly from St Leonard’s for £60 and a rent of £66 13s 4d. The second warrant granted a further 2,000 cords. Nineteen years later a commission of enquiry was established, which showed that George Hall had, between 1579-98, cut the following: 60,981.5 cords for himself, a further 4035 more for John Middleton as assignee and 10,000 for Roger Gratwick as Shirley’s assignee, producing a total of 75,016.5 leaving only 696 cords standing.[178]

Interest in the forest declined as the trees left standing were not economically viable, the land was eroded and no replanting took place. This led to the deer leaving and in turn the keepers did not maintain the pales. 

There is, however, one piece of evidence that suggests the woodland was not destroyed, just ecologically changed, for the broadside published in 1614 (see below for a full account on the “Horsham dragon”) on the serpent of St Leonard’s describes the area as wooded; wooded densely enough to hide the “dragon/serpent”.  This suggests that the area was covered in scrub shrubs, ash and thorn rather than the majestic oak – there were trees but not of the original flora. In addition, by the 1630s it was noted that only 120 deer were left, and as they destroyed the corn or agriculture now being planted in the Forest they were likely to be killed. Sir Walter Covert, as tenant to Sir John Caryll, who had taken over the lease from the monarch for fifty years, let in sheep and cattle to graze, thus resulting in even more diminution of the woodland.

By the end of the 16^th century, St Leonard’s Forest could be described more as St Leonard’s wood rather than Forest as it could no longer maintain the fauna that defined it as a Forest. During the Civil War there was further destruction and, in the survey of 1650 of the Crown lands by Parliamentary Commission, St Leonard’s was calculated as only having 1,870 mostly young oaks at Bewbush, besides a few birches and beeches. By 1670 the underwood, generally birch and beech, predominated over timber trees; but that was said to be in decay, the reason being the reduction in the iron industry which led to less forest management

There then occurred an ecological disaster: the rabbit. Horsham by the late 18^th century would be noted for its rabbits. However, the rabbit in effect stopped or drastically curtailed the regeneration of the woodland as they ate the young shoots, and the rabbit breeders burnt the heath land for their food.[179]  Mention is made of warrens in 1602, where one of 1,500 acres and another of 900 acres are recorded. In 1647 a parishioner was prosecuted for hunting rabbits. However, the rabbit, being a Mediterranean animal, suffered with the bad weather and numbers declined so, in 1684, the heath land was being burned to provide food for rabbits. There were three warrens in Lower Beeding, with two others recorded in 1724 and 1730. About 1800, the centre of the parish had two warrens extending over 3,000 acres. The Great Warren extended from Hammerpond Road northwards to Colegate (Warren Wood being recorded in 1879). Plummers Plain Warren south of Hammerpond road includes an area of rolling heathland known as Plummers Plain in 1795, named after the Plummer family who were recorded there in the 18^th century). Whilst another warren called Sibballs Field on Bewbush estate is recorded in 1608. By 1650 it comprised 834 acres, including a lodge, with the annual rent being 360 rabbits. By 1787 the warren consisted of 598 acres and said to contain 12,000 rabbits. In 1794 St Leonard’s Forest was said to yield only rabbits which were sent to London.

By 1800 the centre of the former forest was largely heathland, with isolated pollarded beeches and oaks, and some wooded areas such as Holmbush. It was bleak and miserable, as so graphically described by William Cobbit in his Rural Rides.

However, after 1800, three changes occurred:

1. conversion of heath land to arable, and later pasture
2. afforestation
3. ornamental parkland

In many respects it is the afforestation which is remarkable, because today we today see its effects as the trees mature. The sheer scale is hard to comprehend, but at Holmbush, for example, over a million trees were planted including larch, fir oak, and sweet chestnut, and Buchan Hill had 100 acres of plantation by 1824. By 1875 much of the central and southern parts of Lower Beeding were wooded, continuing in the 20^th century around Hawkins and Hammer Pond though, by 1909, 281 acres of heathland were still recorded in the parish.[180]

It is interesting to note that some planning may have occurred in the 18^th century when Mick Miles race – a long avenue of trees south west of Colgate – was laid out perhaps by Michael Mills who is recorded in 1720. The avenue blew down in 1836, and was then replanted, creating a popular Victorian attraction beloved by photographers and writers of myths.

The scale to which deforestation had occurred by the 19^th century can be seen in the horse races held in St Leonard’s forest recorded by Burstow in his Reminiscences,  where between 1834 and 1840 a course 1.5 miles long, west of St Leonard’s house, was laid out (see Horsham history below).

The St Leonard’s area also appealed to the landed gentry to create ornamental parks and gardens. There had been gardens and parkland in the later 18^th century at St Leonard’s house, where a canal was created (see section on Sedgwick), and Holmbush also had gardens laid out at this time. However, today it is Leonardslee Gardens which are the most well known; they grew out of the first half of the 19^th century when an ‘American’ Garden was created.  After 1850 it was extended by the Loder family, whilst the Beauclerks developed South Lodge. In the late 19^th century gardens and parks were created at Sedgwick, and on Horsham’s very outskirts, Comptons Brow.  There were also parks or gardens at Kilnwood, Beedingwood, Carters Lodge, Plummers Plain House, Grange, Selshurst and others, so that it seems like a continuous garden.

Chronology of owners

One of the frequently asked questions at the Museum is: “Who owns St Leonard’s Forest?”

Set out below is its ownership:

St Leonard’s Forest was called a manor in 1553 – until the 16^th century when it descended with the Rape of Bramber.

• Granted to Sir Thomas Wrothe
• It passed to Sir Thomas Howard Duke of Norfolk
• Granted to the Crown
• Duke of Norfolk received a 21-year lease from the Crown, but due to his troubles only held it for two years
• A 21-year lease by the crown to John Blenerhassett and William Dix. Possibly sub-let Roger Gratwicke. Walter Covert had an interest in the lease so contested Roger’s lease. Roger Gratwicke lease confirmed
• Sir John Caryll of Warnham had an interest in the lease
• Sir John Caryll obtains a 60-year lease from the Crown
• His son also Sir John takes over the lease
• Walter Covert, mentioned above, or a namesake is said to have held the south part of the forest
• The Crown granted the reversion of the forest in trust for Sir William Russell, but at an annual rent of £63
• Russell conveys his interest to Sir Richard Weston of Sutton
• Sir Richard Lord of the manor of St Leonard’s
• John and George Weston dealing with the manor
• 1660/1672 King Charles II granted the forest to his physician Sir Edward Greaves who dies in 1680
• Peter and Mary Calfe dealing with it, Mary being the daughter of Sir Edward
• Peter dies leaving Mary to deal with it
• On her death it passes to her nephew Capt William Powlett
• On his death it passes to Abel Adridge of Uxbridge
• Able’s son John, MP for New Shoreham, takes over
• John dies so it passes to his son, also John
• John dies so his son Robert takes ownership.
• C. 1803, 1,000 acres in the south of the parish was sold from the estate to Charles George Beauclerk forming, after 1870, Leonardslee.  Around 1852 the estate passed to W Egerton Hubbard who sold it to his future son in law, Sir Edmund Loder. After his death in 1920, over 900 acres were sold, and Sir Edmund’s grandson Sir Giles took over. The present house was built in 1853 The pleasure grounds and gardens were around 40 acres including an American garden. They were expanded after 1888. In 1892 an exotic variety of wildlife was recorded there, though most of the animals were sold on Sir Edmund’s death.
• Robert is said to own a considerable portion of St Leonard’s Forest
• Robert dies so his son Col John Aldridge, MP for Horsham, takes over. However, between 1878 and 1889 most of the land was sold (see HMS sp 203)
• Robert dies and his son, also called Robert, takes over, dying in 1892
• Robert’s brother and heir, Maj Charles Powlett Alderidge, takes over and sells what is left in 1906

Chapter 6

THE NAKED CHRONOLOGY

Mid 14th century	Horsham appeared on the Gough Map of Britain. South of the Water (Southwater) first mentioned in 1346.
1348 Black Death came to England.
c. 1395	Tomb of Thomas de Braose erected in Parish Church. Upon his death the Manor of Horsham passed to the Norfolk family.   By 1399, possibly earlier, Horsham, as a corporate body, leased market tolls from the Lord of the Manor for two marks a year.
1423	Parish Clerk appointed to oversee the business of the church. Core layout of Horsham defined over next 50 years.
1449 Cade’s rebellion of 1459. People of Sussex and Kent marched on London demanding, and getting, fairer taxes.	Archbishop of Canterbury, owner of the Manor of Tarring-cum-Marlpost, abutting the borough of Horsham to the west, obtained charter for a market in West Street, a continuation from the area now known as the Bishopric.

HORSHAM 1350-1450

Death and Rebirth

In 1348, the Black Death hit the shores of England, arriving first at Melcombe in Dorset and rapidly spreading throughout the country. The so-called ‘Black Death’ was a pandemic wiping out an estimated one third of the population of Europe.  There had been pandemics before: for example, after the Romans left these shores, a plague hit the country leading to widespread depopulation, creating vast tracts of virgin territory for Saxon settlements to be established.  But this pandemic, which affected the very fabric of life itself, was the first to be so well recorded.[181]

The years before the Black Death hit were stressful: there was a growing population, so farmers were moving into the marginal lands, probably including the poorer soils of the Weald.  Woodland ‘assarts’ were increasing, (an assart is where trees are cut down in woodland and the land turned to arable) as the demand for foodstuffs increased to feed the population.  Crockhurst and Marlpost, both in the south of the Parish, had assarts in the 13^th century, and the belts of woodland that we see enclosing land today could be the remnants of these. The very place names may hint at this origin: Shortsfield, for example, or modern farm names reflecting the surnames of 13^th and 14^th century people, such as Pilfolds, Griggs, Bulls, Curtis’s and Kings.[182] Then, in the years immediately before the Black Death, there were harsh winters, bad summers and devastating harvests resulting in starvation. The population was weakened[183].

The trouble is that, whilst we know that the Black Death (a debilitating illness that caused swellings, festering sores and large black buboes which erupted, leading to death; or if you were lucky, you survived to be marked for life) affected everyone, physically, socially, psychologically and economically, we don’t have any accounts of its effect on Horsham. We can say what the general economic impact was, we can say how it affected society and people’s relationship with the Church, and how it affected the manorial system, but what we cannot say is how many people died in Horsham and what happened to the thriving market town.

In general terms the Black Death kept reappearing for decade after decade, the reappearance of the plague in 1360-1[184] being just as devastating in the Weald as 1348-9. This outbreak was known as the “mortality of children” as it particularly affected the young.  It continued to appear, for example in 1369 and 1375, and killed a further 10 per cent of the population[185], and sometimes centuries later (1666 and the Plague in London for example). We know that with one third less population, those that survived felt no longer obligated to their Lord, who may also have been killed by it.  These peasant survivors could move to new lords who would treat them better as now the “employee” was king, as the lords needed them to work their fields.[186]  Equally, those that farmed the poorer soils of the assart farms may have moved to the farms with better soils of those that had died, and who was to stop them? We know that a shortage of labour meant labour costs rose in an industry that had turned to cash rather than crop for payment. One such industry was the important Wealden iron. It had relied on workers who were looking for supplementary incomes; now they could leave the woodland industry and take up tenancy in vacant farms. To combat this, wages had to rise, and they rose by 50% of their pre-Black Death level. As the following account, recorded for the Manor of Petworth in 1349-50, shows, this meant rising prices: “and for iron bought for maintaining the ironwork of the ploughs this year 8s 4d, and so much because iron is dear by reason of the mortality”.[187]  The Petworth accounts continue to comment on high prices of iron in 1352-3, and this was recognised nationally when in 1355 iron was a commodity banned from export from the southeastern ports. The problem for the iron industry was that demand remained high, the King was still conducting his wars and the Lords had to improve their estates in order to attract people to farm them.[188]     

So, what were the effects for Horsham?  We can assume that the markets and fairs stopped trading initially. We know that people thought the contagion was carried in the air, not on the fleas living on the black rats. Therefore, people fled to places with fresh air and also to sites of pilgrimage. Horsham had neither. We know that the demand for military supplies continued,[189] and that with the fracturing of society lawlessness increased, so civic and judicial administration had to continue. We also know that, whilst one third of the population died, it was not evenly spread, the country did not implode and life continued.  Farmers had to sell their goods, and in fact wanted to sell foodstuffs because they could get higher prices, though with fewer people to feed, too steep a price rise was kept in check. The breakdown in manorial duties probably had less effect on Horsham as its burgesses had commuted those services to payment of one shilling a year. However, there may have been some surplus houses in Horsham as the population nationally declined.  We cannot be certain, but we do know from the few records that we have that in 1357 one house was bought for 66s 9d, and then taken apart, with the stone roof being dismantled and carted off to Steyning, for 6s 10d for the work, whilst the timber was sold in Horsham for 16s 8d. Which suggests that what was left was worth 44s to the purchaser assuming they were not doing it to make money, or more if they were. The weekly wage for a building labourer at that time was around 2s a week.[190] 

The renewed conflict with France had to be paid for. Whilst as an armaments producer Horsham would have seen wealth flowing into the region, it also saw the Crown’s taxation policy taking money out of circulation. The period of 1370 to 81 was one of some stress and strife within England. In 1369 the plague flared up, in 1370 war broke out and in the same year famine. This was followed by a massive slump in grain prices in 1374/5 with a resultant fall in land values. Then, in 1377, the first Poll tax, charged at the rate of 4d per person, was collected. It is thought that as this rate was reasonable there was little evasion.

From the tax figures, it has been estimated that England’s population stood at 2.5 million, about half that of 1300.  The War was expensive, so further poll taxes were introduced in 1379 and 1381. The last was the most crippling, being charged at 3 groats, or one shilling, for everyone over 15 years of age. Tax evasion was widespread, with over 450,000 people disappearing from the tax records between 1377 and 1381. It is likely that the woods around Horsham became home to some of those that evaded the tax. [191] However, from 1375 the price of bread and other foodstuffs fell.[192]

One sign of the importance of Horsham post-Black Death occurs with the swearing of oaths to uphold the acts passed by what is known as the Merciless Parliament[193]. Richard II had suffered the ignominy of powerful magnates taking over his Government and Parliament passing a number of legislative acts. To ensure that the acts would be carried out, the magnates asked the leading men of the borough to swear an oath to uphold the wishes of Parliament. Although the swearing was carried out throughout the Country only two lists survive: Lincolnshire and Sussex, which suggests that the lists were destroyed by Richard on his return to power to remove all trace of his humiliation.

The list is divided into clergymen and laymen, with the laymen group being sub-divided into three sub-groups: the knights, esquires and the burgesses. For Sussex, there were seven knights in all, nearly 90 esquires or freeholders, and then the burgesses. There were eight Parliamentary boroughs in Sussex, with Chichester being the largest urban area, having the largest number of Oath takers; Horsham and Lewes both had six, and fewer for the other places.  The sheriff noted that no-one had refused to take the oath, though there are notable omissions. This might be because of the haste, as the writ was sent out on the 4 June, with returns expected by 26 July.  They had 4-5 weeks to assemble the courts, call the people together, administer the oath and make a return. One key person absent is William de Braose of Wiston, but he was abroad, involved in the Earl of Arundel’s expedition against the French at sea. The list is important because it identifies those men whom the Sheriff considered important, including the leading burgesses.

One interesting feature of the list is the number of people from the Horsham area. One possible reason for this is that Thomas Mowbray, Earl of Nottingham, the second most powerful magnate and therefore keen to see the swearing of the oaths, also happened to have interests in Sussex with his largest landholdings being in the Rape of Bramber and the Horsham area in particular. Horsham was a Mowbray demesne manor, and Walter Bradebryg, Stephen and William Absele, Henry Frenssh, Walter Randekyn and Robert ate Lee all came from the town or its vicinity.  In addition, there were half dozen burgesses of the town. One of the oath-takers from the town, John Wantele, was Mowbray’s receiver in the rape. The people who swore the oath are listed below, with footnotes giving further information on the oath takers.

Under

Nomina secularium hominum comitatus predicti

Walterus Bradebryg[194]

Thomas Newebryg

Stephanus Absele[195]

Jacobus de Byne[196]

Rogerus de Byne[197]

Johannes Clothale[198]

The “Burgus de Horsham” listed are

Ricardus Coudenne ballivus

Willelmus Shode ballivus[199]

Johannes Wantele

Henricus Frenssh[200]

Henricus Boteller[201]

Rogerus Wyldegoos[202]

“The extent of popularist participation in local politics in later medieval England has become an issue of lively debate. One view is that, on the whole, such participation was limited. Local government, it is argued, was essentially oligarchical. Dominance was exercised by gentry elites who carved up the main offices and commissions between them “a sheriff had to have an income of £20 a year in 1370s and a 40 shilling qualification for the parliamentary electorate in 1429. The opposite view is also held evidenced by local petitions to Edward’s I reign “far from seeing a shrinkage of the political community witnessed its expansion and diversification”[203]

The Sussex oath takers list thus reveals “a political society that was both broadly based and hierarchically organ. It also shows that post-Black Death, Horsham was  a major  centre within Sussex and a number of landowners were deemed important within the matrix of government. It is also revealing that a number of the burgesses were either politically aware or, through the influence of Mowbray, encouraged to swear the oath in a deeply religious society, or one that demanded the word was their bond.  The swearing of an oath was not a casual affair; therefore it is likely that before swearing the oath they found out what the oath was for and what it meant, in effect receiving a political education.

The awareness of the political world and how politics played out identified above is also illustrated in the apparent rise in the power of the Borough, the corporate body of Horsham; a power not obtainable unless the Burgesses were willing and able to take part. This development might also be linked to having an absentee Lord and the impact of the Black Death. By 1368, and certainly by 1399, the corporate body of Horsham was leasing the tolls of the markets and fairs from the Lord at two marks a year.[204] This gave the Lord a guaranteed income,[205] and it enabled Horsham itself to set market tolls which could attract traders. Was this agreed because the Lord was weak, or was it because it was more to do with risk aversion, or simply an awareness of the real situation on the ground? Either way, by now, Horsham, although never fully granted corporate status, took on that role. This new-found freedom may have encouraged the town body to allow traders to set up permanent shops, rather than market stalls on the market waste, though making clear to them that they had no rights in town administration. Or it could reflect their weakness, and the Lord’s, at stopping it. Either way, by around the mid to late 13^th century the infilling of the market waste with islands of traders had started. In East Street, Vigors, a typical style Wealden house was constructed as an, in modern day parlance, “office” block development, probably as an administrative centre for Fecamp Abby who owned lands and properties in the Horsham area.[206]

Perhaps as a reflection of this change in status of the town, the church now employed a Parish clerk, creating the office in 1423[207] in order to look after their interests in response to the Borough of Horsham looking after itself, as they could no longer rely on the Lord to mediate. If that is the case, is it now that Morth’s Garden, that alleyway halfway down the Causeway betwixt borough and church-controlled land, was first defined? Another sign of the church’s own growing sense of self-importance is the memorial brass to Thomas Clerke, Vicar of Horsham from 1411-1429[208] within the church itself, an honour usually given to the local Lord.

The country took time to recover from the plagues, but changes were occurring in society that would see Horsham continue as a thriving market town. The popularity of the town is shown in that in 1378 two residents were called French.  Some 60 years later, in 1436, there were natives of the Netherlands and Cologne living in the town[209]. Horsham was continuing to attract foreign as well as domestic merchants. The town’s administrators must have been doing something right as now, following on from the Black Death, they seem to have had greater degree of freedom.

This degree of freedom was also apparent in people’s own lives, with less regard for the obligations of service to the local Lord, particularly over service on the lord’s fields, and more time was spent on improving one’s) own lot. For some farmers, this meant increasing the size and quality of their farmland, which led to the birth of the yeoman.[210] In some areas of the country the poor soils which had been turned to arable were now turned to pasture, which led to sheep farming on a massive scale resulting in booming woollen markets and great wealth. Horsham could not have been immune to these changes, but there are few records to tell us. In 2001, archaeological excavations carried out at 9 The Causeway (Horsham Museum) revealed an extensive new build or rebuild around 1420 of a three or more – probably four – bay house/workshop/offices (though evidence of only three exists today). The building lay not facing the Causeway, but at right angles to it, probably facing north. It was built out of timber and to the modern design of the day. This meant that the large, open, hall-like building had disappeared, and in its place was a suite of bays and rooms that denoted status. No longer did the owner of the house sleep in a bed surrounded by his servants and family on the floor. As, later, the Denne Road end bay would have a kitchen range attached to it, it is suggested that the eastern end bay which was floored was the “low-end” service accommodation. Whilst the “high-end” parlour would be in the opposite, now missing, fourth bay that lay Causeway-side. In the middle was a large open hall with a central open hearth, not closed in a chimney, as soot marks were found on the roof timbers[211]. As this was a new build and obviously status-driven, it is likely that other buildings in Horsham were being built at the same time to a similar pattern, as the “retro look” was not in vogue for centuries to come. It should be remembered that Horsham had links with London, as debts of Horsham men to London tradesmen are recorded in 1401 and 1433[212], and Horsham had foreign residents.

Horsham was becoming what today we would refer to as a cosmopolitan town, a place that was also developing and changing and attracting entrepreneurs.  By 1424 a stone bridge had been built over the Arun near some medieval tanneries, so taking the name Tanbridge[213], giving another way into Horsham; leading off from what would become Worthing Road, was West Street. As there are no burgage plots along this important thoroughfare it was probably laid out in the 14^th century. When one shop was being rebuilt in Victorian times, an important collection of pottery was found in a well, known as the Horsham hoard (see below for details). This hoard reflects both the importance of the town and of this street. West Street went down to a Market Cross known as Lynd Cross. Market crosses were often built at the boundary and this one is no exception, for it lay at the junction on the lands belonging to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Borough. The Archbishop was well aware of how Horsham was becoming wealthy, and so was awarded a charter in 1449 to establish a market in West Street[214]. As he didn’t have land in West Street it must mean its continuation; an area we know as the Bishopric. The market could be held on a Monday and two three-day fairs: one on 16 November, (the feast of St Edmund), the other the Monday before Whitsun. Horsham had, by 1450, a market on Monday (Bishopric), Wednesday and Saturday (Carfax), and three three-day fairs, in late spring, mid summer and early winter.[215]

HORSHAM MARKET DAYS

Apart from the weekly markets, which on Monday sold poultry and on Saturday sold corn, the following days were set aside for yearly markets and fairs:

5^th April: Lambs and sheep

Monday before Whitsuntide: Horses and cattle

18^th July: Lambs and sheep

Saturday after 18^th July: Fair for pedlary and toys

17^th November: Welsh cattle fair known as St Leonard’s Fair

27^th November: Horses and cattle

This vote of confidence in the town of Horsham by the archbishop can be reflected at No. 9 the Causeway, where the burgess living there was creating a larger, more prestigious and more modern house for his family. By 1500 the eastern bay of the open hall was floored over and a partition inserted into the upper hall truss creating an additional floor chamber; increasing the separation of work and rest, and family status from work. If people became wealthy, they were encouraged to give some of it to the church for their souls. The church had already had one chantry established at the beginning of the 14^th century; now, 140 years later, another was set up when Richard Wakehurst was given licence to found a perpetual chantry in 1447 named after his friends Henry and Maria Boteler. This chantry funded a chaplain to say the divine office daily forever for the king, the Royal Family and the Boteler. The original endowment was 70 acres and £5.8s4d.[216] 

Not everyone was carried along in the rising prosperity of Horsham. Some were left behind. So, in 1457/8, a patent was granted for the foundation of a guild for the relief of the poor.[217] Known as the Brotherhood of St John the Baptist and St Anne, it basically consisted of parishioners who wanted to help the poor. In 1828, “a beautifully carved figure in very bold relief on an oak panel” about 18 inches high was found in a building, known locally as “The Priest’s House”, at the church end of the Normandy. It seems to represent St John the Baptist, and so links this building to the Brotherhood chantry. This chantry, “based at the alter of St John the Baptist” had one chaplain to celebrate the mass at the altar.

One hundred years after the Black Death, Horsham was in a stronger, more economically viable, position to face the next century, a century that would see it on the national stage. Horsham had changed; the Lords de Braose were now no longer in charge, but a new, powerfully emerging family that would dominate the next 400 years: the Dukes of Norfolk.

ELABORATIONS

THE HORSHAM HOARD[218]

In June 1867 Thomas Honywood bought a dilapidated property in West Street. He decided to pull down the house and erect a modern-style building with a cellar. In excavating the cellar his workmen found a large number of medieval green glazed pots and jugs as well as one or two wooden items, including a stirrup-shaped piece of oak. Had they stumbled on a kiln, or perhaps a disused well? We don’t know, as the excavation techniques and recording methods were not good enough to research today. The reality was that the workmen and Honeywood were more concerned with the recovery of the pots than the context. In 1868 the discovery of the hoard was published in Sussex Archaeological Collections of that year in a letter to M. A. Lower.

The hoard was later dispersed, given or sold to various people and museums. One such person was the first Keeper of the Department of British and Medieval Antiquities and Ethnography at the British Museum, Sir Augustus Wollaston Franks, who acquired one jug and gave it to Brighton Museum. Brighton Museum has over the years continued to acquire a number of pieces from the hoard.

“In August 1906 the premises in West Street (no 3) adjoining those described by Mr Honeywood, were pulled down for the re-building. In carrying out the work excavations had to be made to a depth of 18-ft. In the S.E. corner of these seven pieces of similar pottery were found packed in heather and close together in a pit. Many fragments of pottery were also found. Three of these pieces (pitchers) were entire. Four were damaged in the upper part. The pitchers how found have a gash marks on them similar to those described in 1867 by Mr Honeywood and have been glazed, and still have the metallic colour on them. This recent find tends to show that Mr Honeywood’s surmise was probably correct- that this was the site of a potter’s factory some 600 years ago. The adjoining house has since been pulled down but no more pottery was found, though excavations were made to the same depth as before” P. S. Godman reporting in Sussex archaeological collections notes and queries series.

In 1996, most of the hoard was reunited for the first time and can be seen at Horsham Museum.

Ken Barton in 1979 published his seminal book on Medieval Sussex Pottery where, after years of looking at pottery found across Sussex, he could come to conclusions impossible for Thomas Honeywood to deduce. The Horsham hoard or pottery is known as West Sussex ware jugs, so called because of their distribution pattern. It is a very distinctive pottery and there are two main sub-groups (archaeologists group like materials to see patterns which suggest possibilities). One sub-group is known as the Horsham type after the Horsham hoard. The key points are:

• The pottery dates to around the 14^th century and stopped being produced no earlier than the first half of the 15^th century so, say, from 1320s to 1470s.
• That the Horsham ware is poorer quality than the other group known as Binsted wear. 

What were the jugs and pots used for? The range of shapes suggests more than one use. The decorative pattern and glaze suggests that they had a status. If they were found in a well, were they the ones that could not be recovered after trying to get water out? Yet why risk such an item – why not use a bucket – and equally, they are very decorative just for water. Perhaps they were bundled up in a sack and lowered into a well to keep safe, only never to be recovered. Or did a trader, to distinguish different types of wine in a society where labels on wine would be meaningless, use them? The trouble is, we don’t know. What we do know is that the hoard is a superb collection of medieval pottery that inspired Goss china in the late 19^th early 20^th century to make a miniature replica souvenir, and then send it across Britain with different town crests on.

A MEDICAL EXAMINATION REVEALS ALL

The degree to which there must have been some sort of rudimentary education in Horsham by this time can be shown by the career of Nicholas Hostresham.[219] Very little is known about this medical man other than the following, which is taken from “Biographical Memoirs of Medicine in Great Britain from the Revival of literature to the time of Harvey” published in 1780:

“Nicholas Hostresham flourished about the year 1443, and is, from his name, supposed by Fuller to have been a native of Horsham in Sussex. He is said to have been “a very eminent physician, and in high esteem among the nobility as well for his conversation as his medical skill. He wrote several books, of which the following list is given

Viaticorum necessariorum, lib.VII

Antidotarium, lib I

Contra dolorem renum, libI

De Febribus, lib, I.

Practicae medicinae,lib I

De Mode consiciendi& dispensandi lib I

Besides others, the titles of which are lost”

Although we don’t know what Nicholas thought about medicine, we do know from other sources the general beliefs doctors had based on contemporary or near contemporary accounts.[220] The key aim of medicine wasn’t to find out the reasons something happened, but how did this reveal God’s purpose? The idea that such a divine plan did not exist would not have occurred to him. To think that micro-organisms, or chemical imbalances caused the ailments would have meant turning your back on a thousand years of learning.  This thinking led to an over-reliance on early medical works of Hippocrates and Galen. Unfortunately, these two key works came to the west through Latin translations of Arab translations of the original; often Greek versions. Therefore, great stress was placed on discussion and argument, and very little on observation – theoretical rather than practical. This suggests that Nicholas would have been an academic rather than a “hands-on” doctor, looking at medicine in the abstract.

Although living some 100 years earlier, there is a comparable doctor whose career possibly matched that of Nicholas: one John Arderne of Newark where he lived between 1349 and 1370 when he went to London where he worked in the court of Henry IV. Whilst he became known as a first-rate obstetrician and as a practical surgeon, some of his cures cause today some amusement, as no doubt ours will in 700 years’ time. For example: For alleviating the pain of kidney stone apply a hot plaster of pigeons dung and honey. For a cough hold the breath as it warmed the lungs. As for epilepsy the names Jasper, Melchior and Balthazar had to written in blood taken from the little finger and gold, frankincense and myrrh had to be put in a box. Then three pasters and three aves were then to be said every day for a month on behalf of the souls of the three kings, and peony juice had to be drunk daily mixed with beer and wine. However strange this may seem, his operation he invented for fistula was still being used in the 1970s.

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Chapter 7

Naked Horsham Chronology

1472	North Heath first mentioned; a name revived 500 years later. Horsham Common known as Horsham Heath.
1486-87 Henry Tudor became Henry VII in 1485.	Canopied tomb of Thomas Hoo of Roffey erected in Parish Church.
1488	Henry VII visited Horsham.
1519 Leonardo Da Vinci died.	Henry VIII visited Horsham, most probably staying at Chesworth owned by Thomas Howard after he was created Duke of Norfolk in 1514.
1525 Peace Treaty signed between England and France.	Tax figures for England and Wales revealed that Horsham achieved highest increase in wealth in Sussex, rising from 12th place in 1327 to 6th place in this year. This wealth reflected in new or rebuilding of Horsham and the ‘typical’ Wealden farm house in the parish.
1533 Henry VIII married Anne Boleyn.   Elizabeth I born.	County Gaol moved from Lewes to Horsham in 1530s. Horsham-born merchant Richard Collyer died in London. Estate went to his family with some money put aside for a road.
1538 Mercator used the name America for first time.	Every parish priest had to ‘kepe one boke or register wherin ye shall write the day and year of every weddying, christenying, and burying’.   Horsham’s records survive from 1540.
1539 First Christmas tree at Strasbourg Cathedral.   Henry VIII married Anne of Cleves.	Death of Richard Collyer’s two children evoked part of his will. In the event of the death of his children, Richard Collyer had set aside money for the setting up of a school. He wanted his house, ‘The Sun’, to be sold and the proceeds used to build a school for 60 Horsham scholars in Horsham. His other house, ‘The Key’, was to be given to the trustees, the Mercer’s Company, as an endowment to pay for, amongst other things, the salaries of the staff and repairs of the school.
1540 Henry VIII married Catherine Howard.	At Henry VIII’s Court, Catherine Howard enjoyed the ‘high life’, her household costing him £4,600 a year, part of which was spent on servants from Chesworth in Horsham.
1541-1542 Henry VIII and Catherine Howard.	Collyer’s School neared completion ready to be opened in the summer.
1543	Richard Sherrey, vicar of Horsham, had the favour of Thomas Howard D of N who gave him Horsham amongst others. Wrote four books including two on grammar.
1546-47 Henry VIII died in 1547, succeeded by Edward VI.	On 12th December 1546 Duke of Norfolk and Earl of Surrey arrested for high treason. Edward Seymour created Duke of Somerset taking over Howard estates including Chesworth. Chesworth given to his younger brother, Thomas Seymour.
1548	Certificate for the suppression of chantries signed.   The certificate describes the parish of Horsham as ‘a greate parish and conteyneth in length 5 myles and within the same about 900 houseling people and hath no preiste but the parish prieste to serve the Cure and minister which is verie slender to serve so greate a parishe’. Horsham was attracting foreign immigrants with three French men recorded living here between 1545 and 1552. The French brought new skills to the Wealden iron and glass industry.   Around this time Thomas Seymour became Lord Admiral and a Privy Councillor and was secretly married to Catherine Parr, Henry VIII’s last Queen. He proposed building a new town within St Leonard’s Forest, which he owned. The town would supply the iron workers and would be a source of investment whilst not destroying the town.
1548-49	Quarrel between Seymour brothers, Edward and Thomas, led to accusation of treason and later execution of Thomas on 20th March. The new town plan died with him.
1555	Act passed making roads the responsibility of the Parish. Three years previously Christ’s Hospital founded by Edward VI in London.
1556	George Agricola’s De Re Metallica published.
1560 Queen Elizabeth I crowned in 1558.	The Plague struck Horsham killing 111 people. Further deaths occurred in later years though not as many as during the Black Death.
1567	Anthony Copley, writer and conspirator, born.   The Copley family had estates in Roughey (Roffey). On 26th June, Richard Topcliffe reported to the Queen, ‘Anto(ny) Coplaye, the most desperayte yowthe that lyvethe…Bee most familiare with (Robert) Southwell. Coplay did shoote at a gentleman the Last summer, and killed an Oxe with a musket and in Horsham Churche threwe his dagger at the parishe Clerke …There lyvethe not the lyke I think in England for sudden attemptes…’
1572	Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, born at Chesworth, executed, aged 35 years, for involvement in the Ridolfi plot to replace Elizabeth I with Mary, Queen of Scots.   Thomas Howard, 4th Duke of Norfolk, was executed for his involvement in the Ridolfi plot to replace Elizabeth with Mary Queen of Scots. He was 35 years old. He was born at Chesworth in 1536. He later married Mary Fitzalan, but she died in childbirth giving him a son who was named Phillip. He was later martyred and canonised. The marriage was important because it combined the Howard and Fitzalan estates giving them Arundel Castle as their main Sussex base rather than Chesworth.
1576   In 1575 population of Paris 300,000, London, 180,000 and Cologne, 35,000.	William Lambard, an author, described Horsham as a ‘place anciently frequented with trade and merchandise until the decay of Shoreham Haven.’ (Bramber & Steyning port). He also stated the place ‘hath one thousand five hundred houseling people.’
1577 Francis Drake embarked on voyage around world.	Horsham’s only witch trial. Alice Casselove of Mayfield was found guilty at Horsham’s court of bewitching an ox valued at £4 and three pigs valued at 10 shillings. She was sentenced to one year’s imprisonment and to stand in the pillory four times. She died in the gaol.
1588	James Alleyn, a master at Richard Collyer’s school, raised troop of militia to defend Horsham against the Spanish Armada.
1592-94	Richard Eldridge set up a bell foundry in Normandy, renting Bell House from the churchwardens.
1595 Shakespeare published ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’	Horsham granted its own seal. The borough could now seal its documents in its own right, thus diminishing the power of the Lords. Robert Southwell, Jesuit poet, hanged at Tyburn.
1598 John Manwood’s ‘Treatise on Laws of the Forest’ published. Set out the management of woods.	Langhurst Wood provided 17¼ million kg of under wood. (By 1591 a cord cost 30d or 2/6d making it worth £1,437). Horsham still well wooded even though 24,000 timber trees were chopped down. The iron industry used wood for charcoal.

Horsham 1450-1600

RELIGIOUS, SOCIAL, ECONOMIC AND POLITICAL TURMOIL

The next 150 years greatly affected Horsham.  The town by now was no longer in a backwater and was emerging as an important trading and civic centre.  As such it was buffeted by the great struggles and conflicts that were being played out on the national scene.  From the dissolution of the monasteries, educational reform, struggles over kingship, church and state to growing industrialisation, increased wealth and poverty; all of this can be seen in Horsham over the next century and half. In effect the transformation is from a truly medieval to an almost modern town.

On the national scene the Tudor period saw significant changes to the demographics which would affect economic growth etc. For example, between 1525 and 1540 the population of England grew by a quarter, and by the end of the 16th century it had grown to 4 million from 2.5 million in 1525. From the newly-created parish records, the Tudor population was young: “half were under twenty-five and only 10 per cent or less reached the age of sixty. Families were relatively small and nuclear – parents and children lived together, but not with lots of relatives. By 1550 fertility rates had improved and children were not a major financial burden for the poor, as they were usually put to work from around the age of six. Life expectancy varied between thirty-five and forty-two years”[221] The rise in population led to inflation. Wages had remained high when labour was scarce and food prices and rent were low, but now it reversed. The rise in population caused wages to fall (the labour supply increased) and food prices also rose due to increased demand from a rising population to feed. Between 1502 and 1547, prices had risen by 270 per cent and two years later it rose by 409 per cent, in part due to currency debasement. By 1598, it had risen by 685 per cent (the price index is based on the equivalent of a supposed building craftsman’s wages, from a base rate in the late 15^th century)[222]

The rise in wealth of the individual can be seen in the Horsham area as well as within the town. It is notable that a number of the medieval farmhouses that survive today date to the 15^th century. In the southwest of Horsham there is Needles, a very fine high-quality Wealden farmhouse, whilst Parthings, Sawyersland, Sayers, Stakers and Jackrells Farm[223] show that there was money to be made in the land.  This scattered, rather than nucleated, settlement suggests that the centralizing forces of the Lord’s power were sufficiently weakened to allow individuals to build up landholdings that created the excess capital to invest in “timber and mud”.  It should be remembered that these and other farmhouses did not represent instantaneous wealth.  More often it was the case that wealth accumulated over a period of years and individuals had to save to build. Nonetheless, once acquired, it could be passed through the generations by skilful marriage settlements and good management; exactly the same skills that the Lords had shown in previous centuries.

Within Horsham itself there were distinct signs of increased wealth.  As there is a paucity of documents for this period compared to many other comparable towns, we have to look for more material evidence of wealth. It is in the buildings that we find it.

Recent unpublished work by Dr Hughes has shown that, at 19/20 Causeway, a chimney or hearth with some type of smoke hood was constructed to the side of the building and not in the centre where one would expect it.  This was revolutionary in building design and was distinctly “cutting edge”[224].  It would have vastly improved the quality of life of the owners, but no one else seems to have copied it. Why? Perhaps it was too radical, or perhaps, as this area of Horsham was under religious authorities, the design change was linked to their influence. We don’t know, but it is quite a change, and one not copied until a lot later elsewhere. Another building in the Causeway that saw significant changes is No. 9, currently home of Horsham Museum. Sometime between 1450 and 1500, at the back of the Museum a triple bay, timber framed range was added, with the possibility that there was a smoke bay and that this range of buildings served as the kitchen.

When Henry VII visited Horsham in 1488,[225] he would have found a town that was about to undertake a periodic boom.  The density of housing was still quite low, with most buildings facing the street rather than being side on.  Horsham, though, was growing; the market waste area was being colonised with islands of stall holders converting their stalls into permanent shops.  The area known as “South of the Water” was gradually becoming populated. First mentioned in 1346,[226] this area could not be described as a hamlet, but more an area of the parish of Horsham.  Why wasn’t it called South of the Arun, Southarun (or possibly Southrun)? Because the Arun was then known as Horsham Water[227].  Of course, it is known today as Southwater. 

In the opposite direction, North Heath was first mentioned in 1472,[228] a name that was revived for this area some 500 years later. The name North Heath (so readily accepted today, like Broadbridge Heath) makes direct reference to the quality, or lack of, of the soils. The land was heath and scrub land, not suitable for intensive agriculture or farming, but for other cash industries such as timber, charcoal and grazing livestock.  Horsham Common was originally known as Horsham Heath, acquiring the name ‘common’ in direct response to the legal pressures of enclosure and maintaining rights.[229]

Evidence of Horsham’s growing wealth can be seen in the establishment of a Horsham Guild founded in 1457/8.[230] The term guild is usually associated with trade, and restricted practices such as only members of a guild could trade in certain goods. However, in Horsham the Guild was not established for trade but for the relief of the poor, or as the licence referred to it, “brethren”, with two houses being occupied by the poor without charge. These two houses in The Normandy survived until the 19^th century. The actual License explains how the Guild would work. There was a master, four wardens, and brethren and sisters, in honour of the Virgin and St John. In addition, there was the foundation of a Chantry consisting of one chaplain to celebrate mass at the altar of St. John the Baptist, in the southern part of the parish church of St. Mary and to acquire lands to the value of twenty marks per year to pay for the support of the chaplain.[231] The establishment of the poor houses clearly shows that Horsham corporately was taking responsibility for its poor and was wealthy enough to do so. It could also indicate that the town was acting as a magnet for the local poor (the “streets paved with gold” myth of urban life as the contemporary Dick Whittington tale shows).

A year or so before Henry’s visit, a very public monument was erected within the church: the canopied tomb of Thomas Hoo of Roffey, who died in 1486. He had married Alice Urrey, whose grandmother was the widow of the last Lord de Braose whose tomb lies opposite in the Church.[232]

In 1524/5 a major national taxation was introduced.[233]  It is dangerous to read too much into the tax receipts but it does give some indication as to what Horsham was like. The economic growth of Horsham was shown through its taxpayers who had a higher average wealth than those of any other town in the County, whilst only Chichester and Petworth in western Sussex were assessed for a greater total sum.[234]

NATIONAL TAXATION – WHAT IT REVEALS ABOUT HORSHAM

The subsidy roles are an excellent sou,rce for working out the comparative wealth of a region for three reasons: they covered virtually everyone who owned significant amount of land or property; secondly, they taxed the wages of the labouring classes normally considered too poor; and thirdly, precautions were set in place to stamp out evasion.

For Sussex at this time there were around 20 towns; none were large – Horsham was in the second tier, along with Eastbourne, Petworth, Midhurst, and perhaps Winchelsea, with around 500 people. The per capita wealth was the most interesting, with Horsham coming out top with £6 per person, and Chichester second at £5.5, Broadwater third with £5.3, whilst Lewes ranked eighth on £4.6. What emerges is that in Sussex towns were a long way from being centres of wealth and were not relatively more prosperous than many villages.

Horsham saw a marked increase in wealth – in 1327 it was ranked 12^th in Sussex with a value of £53, and by 1524 it was ranked 6^th with a value of £648; an increase of 1130%, making it Sussex’s fastest growing town. In the 12^th and 13^th centuries markets had been created in the hope of attracting business and yielding a profit rather than to meet any demonstrable need.

The value and number of people valued at that amount, with the total value

Under £2 there were 52 people making a total value of £52

Between £2 and £3 there were 21people making a total value of £43

Between £3 and £4 there were 7 people making a total value of £23

Between £5 and £9 there were11 people making a total value of £68

Between £10 and £19 there were 4 people making a total value of £49

Between £20 and £39 there were 7 people making a total value of £170

Between £40 and £99 there were 5 people making a total value of £241

£100 and above 0 people were in this bracket.

This makes the total number of people 107, with a total value of £648

The area to live in was South Street and Causeway which, in 1524, had three owners of property living there assessed at over £50 and a further three at over £20 in value This same tax record refers to an area known as Scarfolkes which, in the late 18^th century, is identified with an area to the west and north sides of the original market area, a place that around 1548 was mentioned as a “street called Scarfax”[235]. This name was eventually corrupted to Carfax, but its original name suggests an area scarce of folk or market waste.  Both this area and North Street had two properties with owners assessed at over £20 in tax, but East Street and West Street only had one such property each.  East Street was first mentioned in 1457 and West Street in 1449, suggesting that the town was defining its core layout.  The Bishopric was first named as such in 1514, but later named Lower West Street and Oxford Road, though its name does link it back to the Archbishop of Canterbury who owned the land here. By the 19^th century it was a run-down area, but in 1524 it is thought that the seven people assessed at over £20 were living there.[236]

By now, the Manors of Chesworth and Horsham were under the control of the Howards, a family who would dominate the national political scene for the next hundred years.  Thomas Howard had been created Duke of Norfolk in 1514. His second wife Agnes was given Chesworth upon his death, and in 1524 she became Dowager Duchess.  Although it is not possible to prove, it is likely that, on creation to a Dukedom the Norfolks went on a campaign of rebuilding their homes to make them worthy of their new status[237].  Henry VIII, who visited Horsham in 1519[238] probably came to Chesworth, where he saw the rebuilding carrying on. Agnes’s stepson was Thomas, who took the title in 1524, and some 10 years later took a mistress; Elizabeth Holland. It is likely that Agness, who was seen as “stiff-necked, testy and old fashioned”, did not approve of the 3^rd Duke’s behaviour since, after 1533, she seems to have removed herself to Chesworth where she became very fond of it.  In 1539, Edmund Howard, the youngest son of the second Duke of Norfolk, died leaving behind ten children and no mother as his wife had died earlier.  One of the children, Catherine, was, as was the usual practice, farmed out to relatives to look after.  She came to Chesworth, the home of her step grandmother, at the age of 13 to be brought up as the daughter of the dead brother of the 3^rd Duke of Norfolk, one of the most powerful men in England and confidant of the King.  Chesworth’s status locally was probably now back to the level it had been under the de Braoses.

AGNES HOWARD (TILNEY), THE RULER OF CHESWORTH[239]

Agnes was born in or before 1477 in Lincolnshire; her brother Philip was a servant of Thomas Howard, the then Earl of Surrey. On 8November 1497, she was married to the Earl four months after the Earl’s first wife had died, even though she had hardly any dowry. The marriage was very fruitful, with thirteen children: five sons, three of whom died early, and eight daughters, half of whom also died young. In 1514, her husband became Duke of Norfolk, though ten years later he was dead.

Agnes outlived her husband by twenty years, and had the job of bringing up a large household at her Horsham and Lambeth homes. As well as her own children, she also brought up cousins including Katherine Howard. The cousins shared a dormitory with the upper servants, receiving lessons in music but not the classics. Agnes did not neglect the children, but she was preoccupied with running the homes which meant that they had a great deal of freedom, only being rebuked when she found out about the misconduct.

Agnes had a prominent role at Court, reflecting the growing power of the Norfolks: she was godmother to Princess Mary, for example. When Henry, in 1526, reorganised the royal household and issued ordinances confirming the status, she was given the status of the first lady of the queen’s household after the king’s sister. Although she disapproved of the King’s divorce as the step-grandmother of Ann Boleyn, her status remained. This was confirmed by her carrying Anne Boleyn’s train at the coronation procession and carrying the infant Elizabeth at her baptism when she acted as godmother. Her power was such that Lord William Howard and Norfolk both asked Cromwell to intercede on their behalf with her, whilst in 1528 she acted in a “motherly fashion” by sending recipes for medicines to Cardinal Wolsey. It was customary at that time to be a patron to an artist, musician or man of letters. Agnes was patron to John Skelton, which may suggest some degree of culture, though as she did not employ a classics teacher for her cousins this may be questionable. Though not often at court, she was a powerful woman.

However, it was the marriage of Katherine Howard, another step-granddaughter who would cause her fall from power. She promoted Katherine, praising her to the King, even though she knew of her indiscretions with the servants. She even “beat” her in trying to control her, but with little success. She was obviously aware of the implications of these affairs when she promoted Katherine in the king’s eyes, for she encouraged Katherine to promote Francis Dereham and later broke into his coffers destroying letters. When the affair came out she was arrested and put under enormous pressure to tell all, and also reveal where her own fortune was. It was feared that she might die before her trial – if so, the King could not seize her goods, so the trial was brought forward. She was found guilty of misprision of treason and imprisoned in the Tower in January 1542, but pardoned four months later. She died in 1545 and was buried in Thetford abbey, but six months later in, October, her remains were removed to Lambeth church, Surrey, as she had directed in her will. Within a year most of her lands had been regained by her stepson.

Horsham, as a wealthy market town and a centre of civic, judicial and economic administration, would require a number of learned men to act as clerks.  The simple need to write things down and to keep a record increased as society developed and grew ever more complex.  Horsham was not educationally backward; the Church probably had some role to play in educating Horsham’s children, and the fact that in the 1520s there is a reference to “singing children” suggests a choir school, perhaps attached to a Chantry[240]. 

This desire for education can be seen some thirty years earlier when, in 1491, a chaplain to the Chapel of the Holy Trinity was given four years’ study leave, perhaps to equip him in the role of teacher[241].  The education of the sons of Horsham received a much-needed boost when The school of Richard Collyer was opened near the Church in 1541, the same year that the Chantries of the church were dissolved under the religious reforms of Henry VIII.[242]

RICHARD COLLYER AND HIS SCHOOL

For at least 300 years, there had been links between Horsham and London, generally with traders coming from London to purchase local produce (see above). It is likely that some sons of Horsham traders were sent back to London to learn the good business skills of a London Merchant.[243]  Just as social advancement today is seen by going to the “right school” (be it Public schools or University), in those days without these networks such advancement could be achieved by joining the Mercer’s Company, or other livery companies in London. 

Richard Collyer, [244]who was born around 1490-1493, would probably have received some basic education from the Chantry schools, especially if his parents wanted him to succeed.  He was then apprenticed for ten years to a London Mercer, probably William Bromwell. On completing his apprenticeship, he continued working for the master as a servant and entered in the Book of Freemen as a Batchelor or Yeoman.   At around the age of 28-30 he could set up business on his own, but still within the structure of the Mercer Company. Within seven years of finishing his apprenticeship he was a Master Batchelor who was presented to the newly elected Lord Mayor at the Tower of London.  It was the year 1513, which suggests that he finished his apprenticeship in 1506 and left Horsham around 1496.  Within thirty years he had become a successful merchant who would wear “a livery of blewe with hode of Cremysen saten” (a blue suit with a hood of crimson satin) when being presented to the Lord Mayor.

Very little is known of Richard, though a letter of complaint by a servant, Henry Parker, to Cardinal Wolsey, the Lord Chancellor, does shed some light.  The letter complains that “Richard Colyer of his cruell mynde withoute any cause” had him thrown into prison, suggests a number of things: Richard was a hard businessman who treated servants badly, or he was a fair man and this appeal was the typical plea of a guilty man, or that Richard had eventually given up all hope of redeeming his servant’s soul so put him in prison as a final lesson, or he punished staff severely for even minor infringements. We unfortunately do not know.  However, we do know that when Cardinal Wolsey required provisions for a Royal ship to sail to “the New Island”, Richard was one of those who came forward – was this a pay-off?  We don’t know, but what we can say is that Richard was trading in circles far beyond those of his Horsham origins.  In 1528 he was made Warden of the Mercer Company, and some four years later he made a will. By this time, he was certainly a man of some wealth.

The will[245] is extensive but, interestingly, it mentions no property in Horsham – where was his parents’ property; were they tenants of a shop?  This begs the question: was he a younger son, or did he have Horsham property which he sold in order to raise capital for his London-based business?  The will refers to two London houses: “the Sunne, in the Parish of our Lady at Bowe” and a great mansion known as “the Golden Key” in Cheapside.  He also had property at Hoxton and Kent, which may have come from his wife’s side.

The will contains a lot that does not refer to Horsham; however, in it he does make direct reference to his place of birth being Horsham.  He then leaves £50 for spending on the road between Horsham and Crawley and £50 for repairs to the road from Crawley to Reigate.  The whole works to be supervised by commissioners from the three towns “such as be good and charitable men and will take payne for the honour of God and the comfort of the travellers”.  In other words, they will supervise the work for free.  This might be the key as to why the repair work was not to be carried out until he died: almost moral blackmail.  If he was alive, they would expect payment to supervise the work; now he is dead they should do it to honour God, which clearly shows he had a good grasp of understanding of the human psyche, a key requirement for any businessman and merchant.  Does this bequest reveal something else about Richard; did he make his money trading with Horsham and Crawley merchants, or did he have a servant working at Reigate taking in produce from Horsham and Crawley, which was then sent by ox or packhorse to his houses in London?  Can we see Richard using his family connections in Horsham to exploit the High Weald area, a source of cheap goods which he could sell at higher prices in London?  Why would he want to benefit other merchants by improving the roads?  Perhaps he wanted to open up Horsham to further trade, having benefited himself from the close connections, and now wanted to expand the trade further.  All we do know is that Richard was no fool and that he was a highly successful businessman.

As well as improvements to the roads which, if they were carried out, were carried out before 1555 when, by law, roads had to be kept up by the parishes, Richard left money for prayers and “dirige and masse of Requiem by note praying specially for my soule, my father and mother’s soules and all xpen souls”.   In other words, he gave money to the church, possibly in repayment for the church providing him his education.  After all, his request was not a special service required, just a mention before prayers and mass as part of the day-to-day services of the Church, and it was only to last ten years.

Richard then gave his property to his wife Katherine and his two children, George and Dorothy.  He states in his will that if his children should die underage, his house ‘the Sun’ should be sold and the proceeds used to build a school at Horsham for sixty Horsham scholars.  His other home, the great mansion ‘The Key’, would be given to the Mercers as trustees as an endowment to pay for, amongst other things, the salaries and repairs of the school.  If the Mercers refused to take on this role, then the house would go to the Parish of Horsham.  Any surplus revenue from the house was to be spent on repairing Horsham roads. Richard probably never thought that this part of the will would be enacted, but he wrote it out to ensure that the property did not go to the king if his children died.  Around this time the idea of founding schools was also seen as a “good thing”, and Richard, being wise to the world, probably had asked the Mercers if they would take on the responsibility, thus letting it be known that he was thinking of charitable deeds.  Richard died the following year in 1533.

What is often overlooked in Richard’s will is his clause that showed he was also concerned with feeding the body as well as feeding the mind. For the will states that the “overplus” left after the expenditure on the “placebo and dirige and masse of Requiem” mentioned above, was “to be spente in bred Ale and Chese according to the costume there used at the discrecion of the said church wardeyns.” He then makes the additional request that the same Churchwardens will be given “thre pounds yerely for the space of tenne yeres and therewith to bye in Lent in heryng or in other salt Fisshe as they thinke best and to be distributed and gevyn to the pour inhabitaunts dwelling within the same parishe”. The churchwardens were paid 3s 4d to carry out this work, and “to bestowe it well and profitably for the comforte of the pour people.”[246]  This concern with the poor of the Parish makes the location of the school interesting. For it was near the Brotherhood chantry, Horsham’s medieval equivalent to the poorhouse.

His widow Katherine would have been a wealthy woman, and she soon remarried another mercer named Robert Pakyngton.  Robert was described as “a man of good substance and yet not so riche as honest and wyse”. Although he was honest and wise he also was a vocal opponent of the Church, so the Dean of St Paul’s, according to John Foxe, the historian, paid an Italian hitman 60 crowns to murder Katherine’s husband “with a gone, which of the neighbours was playnley heard” as described by Hale in his 1548 Chronicle.  It was November 1536 and Katherine was a widow again, but this time she had two children by Collyer and a step son by Pakyngton.

Tragedy struck Katherine because in 1539, the same year as she married Mr Mighell Dormer, her two children died.  This meant that she lost the houses. Even though she and her husband wanted to live in The Key, they couldn’t, since according to the will The Key belonged to the Mercers to pay for a school.  However, her stepson also claimed the house.  In the spring of 1540, the Mercers laid the whole situation out before the Lord Mayor.  This forced Katherine to act.  Katherine sold The Sonne and used the money to buy the land and build the school.  In August 1540 a parcel of land near St Mary’s Church was bought from Henry Pulford (or Bulford), a husbandman, for £8.8s 6d. This plot of land was near the Brotherhood chantry house, which became known as The Priest’s House, with its two small tenements which performed the medieval equivalent of the workhouse.[247]  By the summer of 1541, the school was built.  Its design seems to have been similar to others of this period.  In the centre was a long room in which all teaching took place, and above this room was a dormitory for boarders.  At either end was accommodation for the Master and the Usher.  The Master was to receive £10 a year salary and the Usher 10 marks a year.  It is probable that Katherine and her husband who, in the same year the school opened, was elected Lord Mayor of London and a knight, came to Horsham to see the school open (this rise in status to Lord Mayor might have been foretold to them; hence the quickness with which they settled their dispute with the Mercers, but that might just be considered too cynical).

Unfortunately for Katherine, her third husband died in 1543.  She was a widow again, but this time known as Dame Katherine Dormer, and as such she gave funds for a school playing field, or “a close adjoining the school at Horsham” of which, ,on her death in 1563, the Mercer company agreed to pay the Parish of Horsham for the upkeep, something Katherine had done.

Richard, in his will, also set out how the school was to be managed.  The school was to have sixty scholars who should come from the Parish of Horsham and educated for free, and that “poor people’s children of Horsham and neighbourhood be admitted before any other”. The Master and Usher would be nominated by the Vicar and churchwardens and presented to the Wardens of the Mercer Company for approval (a role he must have experienced as he was elected a Warden himself). The school day probably ran on the standard Tudor lines.

The school day was eight hours long, with lessons on a Saturday and all conducted in Latin.  Boys joined at the age of 8 and had one year to become proficient in the language.  After this, only Latin could be spoken, including in the playing fields.  They mastered Latin before they had learnt reading or writing in English.  The older pupils spied on the younger ones, informing on them if they spoke English.  There was a two-hour midday break for physical activities such as state sponsored archery.  Initially, the boys had to say de Profundis for the immortal soul of Richard Collyer, but the Protestant reforms of Henry VIII stopped that.

It is rare in a town’s history that significant lives in the nation’s history will be totally forgotten and ignored by all the previous historians.  Nonetheless, that is what has happened in Horsham’s history.  One of Henry VIII’s queens came from this market town and, whilst the impact of her life may have been marginal in the town’s history at the time, the reason for the need for Henry VIII to marry and the desire for him to have legitimate children, which led to a split with the Church in Rome, all had a significant impact on Horsham.

In the early days of Henry’s reign, he had been a great defender of Church power against the Protestant movement that spread out from Germany and Switzerland on the back of the printing press.  Then, after many years of trying to have legitimate children, Henry VIII forced through a divorce from Catherine of Aragon.  She was a devout Catholic with powerful allies in Europe, and appealed to the Pope for support. Henry decided to, in effect, nationalise the Church in England (note: the name only changed to the Church of England when it became Protestant). In order to obtain a clearer picture of the land distribution in England, he sent surveyors into each parish to record the wealth. Armed with this information, he then instituted laws to closedown monasteries and chantries and pass the wealth over to the Crown.  Over 700 years of the Church slowly and skilfully building up parcels of land separate from those of the King was wiped out at a stroke and passed to the state.

Meanwhile, Henry embarked on a passionate affair with the niece of the 3^rd Duke of Norfolk, whose other niece, Ann Boleyn, was beheaded. Catherine Howard was about nineteen at the time when she was used as a pawn in her uncle’s ambitions to become the premier family.  Unfortunately for the family, Catherine had not been brought up on a tight leash in Horsham and seems to have had affairs from the age of 14 with local Horsham lads, and what became more troubling was that the affairs were quite public, as the interrogations would reveal.  Anything involving the King had an impact on the Country, but for Horsham it is difficult to gauge, as it is not something that tended to be reported on, and it might even have been thought not quite right to be proud of; therefore, “forgotten”. An account of the affair is set out in the elaborations at the end of this chapter

The reform of Church administration continued apace.  In 1538 it was declared that every parish priest should “kepe one boke or registere wherin ye shall write the day +and yere of every weddying, christenying, and burying”.  The state was now taking an interest in individual people, moving away from the Lord of the manor’s control.  It, in effect, draws attention to the shift in power, so that the individual needs to be monitored by the state and religious authorities. Horsham is fortunate that its registers survive from the very beginning, 1540.  This is unusual, for by 1603 the importance of such records is noted, so instead of being written on paper they had to be written on parchment and the paper records had to be transcribed, the implication being the paper records, once copied, would be destroyed, but Horsham’s were kept. These paper records often contain more than just the record and provide a rich vein to be mined for local history research.

In 1548, a certificate for the suppression of the chantries was signed which put an end to a 400-year-old practice of allowing “a camel to pass through an eye of a needle”, as the very rich could absolve their sins by getting prayers said daily for their souls. What is particularly interesting is how the certificate describes the parish of Horsham. It was “a greate parish and conteyneth in length 5 myles and within the same about 900 houseling people and hath no preiste but the parishe prieste to serve the Cure and minister which is verie slender to serve so greate a parishe”.[248] This suppression of monasteries and chantries was in effect the nationalisation by the Crown of vast swathes of church land.  Some of the great landed aristocratic families acquired their vast estates by the buying-up of this land.  In Horsham there weren’t such rich pickings because one of the priests had defrauded one of the chantries.  This was revealed in the 1550 survey, where it is recorded that “Ornaments, Jewells, or any other goods there was none remaining at this Surveie because the said Ribley sumtyme Incumbent had Imbecilled and sold them awaie”.  This Thomas Ribley was the same person to whom Sir John Caryll had paid £450.2s.7d for the house and at least 115 acres that had belonged to the Holy Trinity chantry[249].

The suppression also caused a headache for the parish authorities. The Brotherhood, that chantry founded in 1457/8, looked after the poor of Horsham; now what was to happen to the poor? According to the certificate the chantry, as well as having “one tenement with separate chambers for two priests…situate and lying in the churchyard of Horsham’ and ‘ two small tenements adjoining to the same… …ever used by the Wardenis and Brotherne to be let to the poor wtoute (without) anie rente taking for the same”. We know that the land that generated 20 marks a year was seized by the Crown and given to Sir Thomas Seymour. Therefore, there was no income to maintain the property. Did Sir Thomas offload the Poor houses on to the Parish; did he look at it as part of his Christian duty? We don’t know. What we do know is that by the 1600s, they had become the responsibility of the Parish, as repairs to the properties feature in the churchwarden’s accounts. 

Against this backdrop, Horsham was continuing to change and grow.  In the 1530s, the County Gaol moved from Lewes to Horsham leading to even greater judicial presence in the town.[250]  At the same time, the Duke of Norfolk could boast about making burgesses whenever they wanted to[251] the implication being they had absolute control of the town authorities; possibly, their national associations hindered any complaints, or the town just had no wish to reassert its control.  This environment did not stop the town appealing to foreign immigrants, or aliens, who were setting up home with their sons and daughters marrying into the community. 

The parish registers record French men being buried (Jhon Gyllett, a French man, being buried in 1545/6), baptism (Thomas in 1548/9) and marriage (Willi the son of a Frenchman 1552).[252]  The French were the skilled workmen who helped to revolutionise the Wealden iron and glass industry[243].

HORSHAM’S FIRST GAOL [254]

Gaols had three purposes: to hold people awaiting trial, to encourage debtors to pay their debts and to act as a form of punishment. It was in the mid-14^th century that Edward III allowed creditors to put debtors in prison to encourage them to pay their debts. The idea of punishing someone by sending him or her to gaol greatly increased from the 13^th century onwards. Knowing that the sentenced would go to an unpleasant, expensive (for the prisoner had to pay for board and lodgings) and dangerous place acted as a deterrent.

The idea that prisons could reform someone did not exist in the medieval mind – crime occurred because man was sinful, not for any other reason other than opportunity. Gaols and prisons were kept in an appalling state so as to act as a deterrent. It was in the 18^th century that this idea changed, linked to the idea of man’s relationship with God and with sin. Horsham’s New County Gaol is the clear example of this change, whilst the Carfax Gaol clearly represented the earlier ideas.

WHERE WAS THE FIRST GAOL?

Standing at the corner of the Carfax and North Street there is an unassuming building, but the exterior covers a late 16^th century building which was the gaoler’s house – not the gaol itself but the house the gaoler lived in. The woodcarving on the timber joist taken from this building when it was altered in 1999 shows the quality of the building. In 1659 a legal document refers to ‘that ancient pile of stone building formally used for a common gaol or ward for prisoners – abutting and adjoining to or near a certain lane or highway called the North Street – on the east’. This led town historian William Albery to suggest there were two gaol sites, but recent work by Dr Hughes has shown that there was only one – the gaol house and the gaol near it. This was the gaol from 1531 to 1640, some 110 years.

What is remarkable, to our eyes, about the Gaol is its location. The gaol wasn’t put in a backwater, but in one of the most valuable stretches of real estate in Horsham, according to the tax list shown above. Also, it should be noted that when the Gaol was rebuilt in the 1640s it wasn’t moved from this prime location.  The stigma that gaols and prisons have today obviously didn’t exist then; in part this was due to how they functioned as noted above.

HORSHAM NEW TOWN[255]

The following fascinating story is recounted in more detail in the elaboration at the end of the chapter.

In 1547 the Howard estates, including Chesworth and thereby Horsham, were seized by King Henry after the Earl of Surrey; the Duke of Norfolk’s son had committed treason and given them to the Duke of Somerset.  Somerset gave the lands out to members of his family and Chesworth was given to his son, Thomas Seymour, who seems to have looked at the newly acquired estates and seen how he could maximise profits, including a master plan which could have seen the destruction of Horsham as a borough.  According to a document in Magdalene College there were clear plans for creating a new town in the Forest: “There is communication that the Lorde Admirall aforesaid will buylde a toune within the Forest of St Leonarde, wher increase of tythes may growe to the College …. Whereas now we have but 3s for the herbage of the forest and 8s for the parke of Bewbushe sometyme parcel of ye foreste”.[256]

Fortunately for Horsham, Thomas Seymour was later accused of treason on 23 February and executed on 20 March 1549.  This meant that the grand plan for a new town in the Forest died with him.  If the plan had been put in force, what would have happened to Horsham?  Whilst the document mentions an increase in “tythes” going to Magdalene College, they would have been at a maximum of one tenth of the produce, and the College would have had to provide some religious services in return.  Thomas would not want their town to fail, so together they would have encouraged trade to go to their new town, and with it being in the Forest it would have serviced the expanding Wealden Iron Industry.  Horsham may not have failed, but it would not have grown as it did in the latter half of the 16^th century, as money would have gone where the power was.

One of the strongest forces of inertia on town development is the Church, in keeping towns in a fixed spot, as they were generally the most substantial building. People had to go to church, not the Church to the people, so communities were tied to the church’s location. The new town would have had a church built, a new church for a “new” religion which those who wanted to be influential would have gone to, to be seen in. This would have put pressure on St Mary’s, especially as the Church was no longer a force of inertia. This sense of belonging, of stability, was being eroded and if anything, increasing with the dramatic shift in power to the Protestant faith. The Seymours were ardent Protestants and it is under their advice that King Edward VI instituted many radical reforms that led to a dismantling of Henry VIII’s moderate approach to the Church reform. 

The Church was now a radical new force with few historical ties.  After all, the chantries were abolished, with the Crown seizing their lands and endowments, including those at Horsham. For example, the land that provided an income of 20 marks a year for the priest to say mass at the altar of St John the Baptist established in 1457/8 was seized by the Crown and then leased to Sir Thomas Seymour, reverting back to the Crown when he was arrested. (see below). The saying of de Profundis to Richard Collyer’s soul by the Collyer school pupils was also abolished amongst the many reforms.  With the production of the new prayer book, the services changed and all the traditions of the church were thrown out. The Church’s interiors were smashed up and over-painted, and stained glass removed. All adherence to the past was dramatically altered. So, a new town in the Forest could have seen Horsham remain a small village, like Rusper, to a larger, more powerful town. But that was not to be. 

 CHANTRIES [257]

The Chantry is, literally speaking, a mass said or ‘chanted’ for those who had died.  In Medieval times, it was a type of insurance policy.  You could lead a corrupt, debauched and sinful life but, before you died, you paid for mass to be sung or said for your soul, enabling you to reach Heaven.  During the 13^th century it became increasingly common for those who could afford it to construct and staff a chapel in which the mass could be said.  Often the sites for these chapels were found on an ad hoc basis, between pillars and buttresses and occasionally occupying entire aisle bays.  In the main, sites nearest the altar or holy relic were preferred.  By the 15^th and 16^th centuries Chantries were becoming very popular so that by 1547 there were an estimated 2,000 chapels in England.  Many of the chapels were elaborately decorated from old stone, some from metal and some from stone and timber.

Why were Chantries banned?

There were a number of problems with Chantries, the biggest being that for the state and for the King, they tied up of vast amounts of wealth.  In order for the prayers to be said, the individual had to endow the Chantry with sufficient money or property to provide rent which, in turn, would pay the priest.  As early as 1279, a law was passed which made endowments of Chantries subject to official enquiry to make sure money was not being diverted from the King.  In the 16^th century, there were Acts of Suppression in 1529, 1545 and 1547 which put an end to the chantry.

The artistic heritage of Chantries

Unfortunately, very little remains of the splendour of Chantry chapels due to the religious struggles of the 16^th and 17^th centuries and the Victorian Restoration.  Many of the chapels were affected by Edward VI and the early years of Elizabeth I, when smashing of images was commonplace.  During Charles I’s reign there was some recovery in church ornamentation, but this was followed by extensive destruction through the Puritan-inspired actions of Parliament in the 1640s.  In 1643, religious committees were set up to make sure religious imagery in churches was destroyed.  During this destruction, monuments to the dead or brasses beseeching people to pray for souls were ripped out.

On the arrest of Thomas Seymour for treason, an inventory was carried out on Chesworth.  This revealed the house to be run down and neglected, as if it was unlived in and had been stripped of its possessions.[258]

The fall of Seymour was followed that summer by a number of rebellions.  The failure of the Lord Protector to enforce Law and order led to his overthrow and arrest on 12 October 1549.  Although deprived of the Protectorate by an Act of Parliament, he was released from the Tower in 1550, and rejoined the Council soon after.  The Council had two factions: the first, the Earl of Warwick’s, who had engineered Seymour’s arrest, and the second, the conservatives who were under the control of the Earl of Southampton.  Warwick had released Somerset to act as a counterweight to Southampton, but Somerset turned sides and worked with Southampton against Warwick.  The Duke was arrested for a second time, and as recorded in Edward VI’s journal for 22 January 1552, “The Duke of Somerset had his head cut off upon Tower Hill between eight and nine o’clock in the morning”.

All this time the Third Duke of Norfolk was still imprisoned in the Tower.  His house, Chesworth, had seen various families use it whilst visiting and in fact it is possible to see the house as being used as a place of favour.  For example, a servant of the First Earl of Southampton was drowned and buried at Horsham in May 1550, at exactly the same time that Lord Somerset was working with him against Warwick.  A year later, one of Somerset’s servants, Peter Ravenscroft, who was also described as master of the horse to the Duke of Norfolk, married Jane Voyce in the church, showing the house was still functioning.[259]

As for the Third Duke of Norfolk, he was released from Prison on the accession of the Catholic Queen Mary in 1553 and all his lands returned to him, including Chesworth. Horsham was now back in the Norfolk fold and against all odds, and after all the previous decades of turmoil was still linked closely to the rulers of England.

Horsham from 1550 Onwards

The middle of the 16^th century saw a rise in the economic wealth of the country, and this continued for a number of years.  The reasons for this are not part of this history, though the effect could be seen everywhere in Horsham.  The poor were getting poorer relative to the rich getting richer and, if you were rich, you flaunted it. This had an obvious impact on inflation, though then little understood. An author in 1581, complained that prices had in several instances risen 50 per cent, within his own recollection: “cannot you, neighbour, remember,” says he, “that within 30 years I could in this town buy the best pig or goose I could lay my hands on for four pence, which now costeth twelve pence; a chicken for a penny, a hen for two pence?”[260]

Horsham was sitting on, as the 19^th and 20^th centuries would show, a vast amount of clay suitable for brick making.

 MEDIEVAL AND TUDOR BRICKMAKING[261]

Although some bricks were being imported, there was little brick or tile making industry in Sussex during the medieval period. The decorated floor tiles found in Sussex churches are now thought to have been imported from France. In the Horsham area there were local potteries making jugs and other vessels as seen in the Horsham ‘hoard’, but as there were plentiful wood and timber supplies, there was little demand for bricks. Sir Roger Fines built Herstmonçeux Castle in the 1440s with bricks probably made under the supervision of Flemish brick makers. The building was said to have cost £3,800 at a time when labourers received 2d a day. Other houses may have had brick elements, but they no longer survive

BRICK VERSUS TIMBER CHIMNEYS AND THE WEALDEN IRON

INDUSTRY- A SPUR TO THE BRICK TRADE

The authorities constantly battled with owners over the building of chimneys. By the late medieval period, chimneystacks were being built in houses, the owners no longer content with open hearths flooding the room with smoke. Chimneys were originally built on the outside wall of the house, but gradually they were moved to the centre of the building where the heat would warm both floors. Timber and wooden chimneys were a fire hazard, so brick stacks were suggested. The average chimneystack would require about 6,000 bricks, which were imported. 

The Wealden iron industry required brick-lined, stone-built, charcoal-blast furnaces. The bricks had to be dense, well burnt and free from cracks. The iron ore came from a type of clay which could be, and was, used to make the bricks. Not only bricks were made, but also roof tiles to replace the thatch. The iron masters grew wealthy and started to use bricks in their own houses. In 1584, Roger Gratwick burnt a clamp of bricks in St Leonard’s Forest for use at Gosden furnace and in his house at Cowfold.

By the 16^th century, the technology for making bricks and acquiring high enough heat for the kilns was well known, and yet houses were still being made of wood.  Not only that, but the wood could have been covered with plaster to hide it, but it was not. 

If anything, this period saw a stripping away of the building surfaces to reveal the skeleton of the building, and where that wasn’t possible the plaster had painted wooden posts and beams (as at Horsham Museum when the archaeologists revealed wooden beams painted on the plaster dating to the latter half of the 16^th century).[262]  The popular image of black and white ‘Tudor’ buildings dates to this time because wood was a sign of wealth; it was the fashion and status symbol of the day and remained so until the late 17^th early 18^th century.[263]  If you had it you flaunted it, and money was being pumped into grander and grander properties.

Like most of Britain, the plague struck Horsham in 1560 with a death toll of 111.  This was not the only outbreak to occur: the following year 68 individuals died, then it lay dormant only to strike again in 1574 when 62 died, dropping to 27 deaths in 1575 and 30 in 1576.  For twenty three years there were no further outbreaks, until 1599 when 91 souls died.[264]  These figures may seem slight, if compared to the Black Death, but in terms of the population of Horsham at that time up to 10% of the population was wiped out.  In 1548 there were said to have been 900 communicants in the parish, which (as previously mentioned) covered a large area.[265]  William Albery, in his Millennium, refers to 1,500 inhabitants in 1576, but doesn’t say where the figure comes from.  In fact, Lambard mentions the figure where he wrote that Horsham “hath one thousand five hundred houseling people”,[266] which as an outsider looking in might be more a rough estimate than a true figure. 

What impact would the plague have had?  During the Black Death people turned towards the Church, but now the Church was not, if they were older than 20, the one that they knew from childhood.  It had undergone a constant state of change, from Edward’s protestant reforms, to Mary’s reversion to Catholicism and now Queen Elizabeth’s changes.  Equally, whilst the number of deaths seems high, people probably just resigned themselves to this fate, as the modern idea of free will that we take for granted[267] was not developed in Elizabethan England, and would not be for generations to come.  People still believed in the afterlife and had faith in the church to protect them after death.  This is clearly shown in John Butler’s will of 1559 which includes the desire that his wife should “sell my blewe coote and with the pryce thereof to burie me honestly”.[268]  Whilst it may seem perverse, the fact the plague hit whole areas of Britain meant that everyone and every place was affected.  Horsham was not an isolated case, life had to carry on, and this seems to have been the general opinion within society.

One aspect that could improve Horsham’s economy would be to improve the roads.  In 1534 an Act was specifically passed that dealt with roads in Sussex; not the repair of them, but the creation of new ones.[269] 

As we have seen, Richard Collyer had left money in his will for the repair of the Horsham to Crawley and Crawley to Reigate roads.  In 1555 it became the responsibility of the parish, supervised by the justices to look after the roads by using enforced local labour.  The old saying about a chain being as strong as its weakest link obviously played a part here as each parish would only maintain roads necessary for its own existence, rather than for the benefit of the whole county.  There was little appetite in Horsham or even Sussex as a whole for keeping up or maintaining roads and bridges.  The number of complaints about the state of the roads in the following centuries is testament to this.  One fear expressed by tradesmen in the town was that of higglers: people who would cut out the middlemen, (i.e. the market or shopkeepers) and deal directly with the purchasers.  Improved roads would encourage them to by-pass Horsham and travel directly to London. A fear recorded in 1720, but just as likely a concern as in 1581, complaints were made against them.  In 1581 the main concern was that the higglers were bypassing the markets and so were not beholden to the fixed market prices that had been introduced to help the poor.

The condition of the roads also had an impact on the State’s ability to defend itself. The Wealden Iron Industry was key to the effective defence of the realm.  In order to transport an iron bar to make the cannons, it had to travel by road from the furnaces to the armouries.  The state could not stand by and let poor roads interrupt this vital trade.  In 1584, four years before the Spanish Armada, an amendment was specifically tagged on to an Act “for the preservacion of Tymber”, saying that the owners of iron works had to provide one load of road material, “sinder, gravel and stone”, for every ton of iron carried.  This was followed up 13 years later in 1597 with an Act that made iron manufacturers pay one shilling per mile for every ton of iron or three cartloads of iron ore carried, to help the parishes upkeep the roads.  Just as the Roman roads created by the military had encouraged trade, so it is probable that these measures were a lifeline to places like Horsham.  We know that such measures were enforced because in the 1930s excavations took place on Denne Road that showed slag had been used to repair one of the main routes into and out of Horsham.

In 1576 Lambard described the town by saying: “This place was anciently frequented with trade and merchandise until the decay of Shoreham Haven”[270] (Bramber and Steyning port).  Politically, the Norfolks, who had regained power after the coronation of Queen Mary, suffered a major catastrophe.[271] In 1554 the Third Duke died, having seen his estates restored to him and his grandson, Thomas. Thomas was born at Chesworth in 1536 and was created Earl of Surrey.  Although a Protestant, and having the celebrated historian John Foxe as a tutor, Thomas was appointed to the service of Phillip of Spain, Mary’s husband, and became Duke the following year.  He later married Mary Fitzalan, but to his grief, she died in childbirth giving him a son whom he named Philip, and who would later be martyred and canonised by the Roman Catholic Church.  However, this marriage is important because it gave the Howards Arundel Castle and the Fitzalan estates.  Chesworth was no longer their main Sussex home. 

He married again and, for the second time, his wife died giving birth to William.  He was grief-stricken but married again, only for his third wife to die in childbirth. This seems to have been the last straw and he had a breakdown.  Catholic Mary Queen of Scots was now on the scene.  Queen Elizabeth’s reign looked very fragile and the Catholic sympathisers in the North of England, based around the Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland, were plotting to put Queen Mary on the throne. Somehow, Norfolk was persuaded to court Queen Mary’s hand in marriage as if the marrying of the only Duke in the land, who was Protestant, to the Catholic Mary would resolve matters.  Unfortunately, Queen Elizabeth wasn’t aware of what was going on and the Catholic party were not too happy with the plan.  Nothing had been fully thought out when Norfolk got cold feet and gave himself up to the Crown.  He then fled to his estates in East Anglia, where he hoped to sit quiet until matters were resolved.

However, he could not leave well alone and some three years later was involved in the Ridolfi plot to replace Elizabeth with Mary.  He was arrested on the orders of Lord Cecil and it is believed that Thomas was betrayed by his secretary, Hickford, who led agents to secret letters hidden in the attics at Chesworth.  Imprisoned for five months, Norfolk was executed aged 35 in 1572.  Chesworth was now no longer part of the national events, even though the Crown had seized the lands and the Norfolks reconverted to Catholicism with their story continuing elsewhere, only coming back into Horsham’s life in the 18^th century.

The improved roads may have been sufficient for the economy in Horsham to pick up from its apparent decline noted by Lambarde.  Nonetheless, whatever the chronicles and documents suggest, the architectural and archaeological evidence shows Horsham was undergoing a building boom towards the end of the 16^th century.  At 9 Causeway, for instance, the mercer Edward Parkhurst built a low shop-type building facing the Causeway[272] whilst he lived in the medieval buildings to the rear.  Then, later, when he no longer wanted to live in a medieval house, he built one that matched his rise in status and wealth.  So a brand new imposing house was constructed, the tallest in the Causeway.  It was next to his workshop and retained the medieval buildings at the rear as a service quarter and offices.  This made the hall, the place where he would greet people, at the front and thus facing the Causeway.  This posh new house had wood panelling and made a great show of timber.  This sense of confidence in the town by a merchant would not have been the only one. For example, at No. 10 Market Square, part of burgage building known as The Wonder, or Talbot, five paintings were exposed during building works, the largest of which measures about 6 feet by 4 feet, which vary in size and shape according to the panels between the timber framework. Painted in buff, terra cotta, blue and green they show a conventional floral design enclosed in a semi-circular headed surround. This suggests to Dr Hughes that the designs were taken from a pattern book, the owner selecting the design and the artist copying them to fit the space between the timber[273].  According to E. Clive-Rouse, an authority on wall paintings, they are of late Elizabethan or Early Jacobean work, but the characteristic guilloche between the panels may make them a little earlier. A safe date would be 1590-1610[274]. Horsham was on the up.

Another sign of this improved, or improving, status of the town can be seen in Collyer’s school and the actions of James Alleyn, the master. On 1 January 1575, Thomas Comber was born at Shermanbury, the 12^th child of John Comber, a barrister. John decided that Thomas would attend Collyer’s school to receive an education that would enable him, if clever enough, to go on to university. The school was acting as a magnet drawing in from the Sussex hinterland children of educated parents, such was its rising status, or perhaps, this indicated the lack of choice; though home tutoring was possible. When entering Collyer’s around 1584, few would have guessed at the outstanding scholar he would become, eventually becoming master of Trinity College Cambridge[275]. He was at the school when the Master, James Alleyn, in 1588 raised a troop of militia to defend Horsham against the Spanish Armada.[276]  The town felt it was a target and worth defending.  James had in fact paid for the home defenders out of his own purse, though the Mercer’s Company refunded him the £10 at the very time the Spanish Armada were sailing up the English Channel.

The same year that James Alleyn was raising a troop to defend Horsham from the Spanish, a young lad entered the school, one Thomas Garnet[277].  The School registers do not survive from earlier than 1890, so the record that he attended the school came from a later record where it is stated, “And Thomas Garnet saith that he went to the Gramer School at Horsham in Sussex for the space of 3 or 4 years”. Garnet’s father was a Catholic and at one time he, his wife and children ended up in Horsham jail for debt having been forced out of his fellowships of Balliol College, Oxford.  It might have been now that the authorities decided to send the eleven year-old to Collyer’s to receive a Protestant education.  In spite of this, some five years later in 1593 Thomas was smuggled out of England to become one the first seven pupils of the English Jesuit College of St. Omer that had recently been founded in France.  From 1599 he was an active member of the Catholic underground until the arrest of his Jesuit uncle, Henry Garnet, for complicity with the Gunpowder plot and his imprisonment in the Tower. He was banished along with 50 other priests, only to return a year later when he was captured.  On 23^rd June 1608 Thomas Garnet was hanged, drawn and quartered for being a traitor, though none of the capital charges were proven.  It is said that the Tyburn crowd felt sympathy for him and made sure he was dead before being drawn and quartered. His body and clothes were returned to the chapel of St Omer as relics. He was canonized by Paul VI on 25^th October 1970.

Another Catholic martyr has a slight connection with Horsham, or rather Roughey, and is today remembered in a name of a local primary school: that is Robert Southwell[278].

Robert was born at the old Benedictine priory of Horsham St Faith, Norfolk in 1561, his mother was Bridget Copley the daughter of Roger Copley and Elizabeth Shelley. (The Copley family moved into Roughey through the marriage of the surviving daughters of the Hoo family mentioned above, one daughter married into Bulleyns – from whom Queen Elizabeth I would descend – the other into the Copleys).  She was a governess to Queen Elizabeth who married the wealthy Sir Richard Southwell. Robert was brought up a Catholic, and it is said that he was once stolen by gypsies living in the woods around Horsham St Faith. Having been educated in Douai, France, he came back to England in 1586 with Henry Garnet, mentioned above. He travelled the countryside preaching, though he spent some time in London, and a short time at Roughey with his uncle’s family, the Copleys. Richard Topcliffe, the Elizabethan Catholic hunter, whose name became a verb: to Topcliffizare, to hunt Catholics, a man who had at his Westminster home his own private torture chamber, wrote “Young Anthony Copley…and some others, be most familiar with Southwell”.[279]  In 1592 he was captured and, after being tortured thirteen times he was, in 1594/5, eventually, at the age of 33, hanged, drawn and quartered, though the crowd forced the hangman to make sure he was dead before being drawn and quartered. Within the Catholic world he is respected for his faith, yet within English literature his body of religious poetry is highly thought of, with the poet Ben Jonson saying that “Southwell was hanged, yet so he (Jonson) had written that piece of his “The Burning Babe” he would have been content to destroy many of his”. Many of Robert’s poems and tracts were printed on a private printing press installed in the London home of Anne Dacre, Countess of Arundel, and were widely circulated.

Life, however, continued as best it could whilst all the struggles were going on.  The parish registers for the period show that the town was quite self-sufficient, with a range of tradesmen living and presumably working in the area.  Mention is made of hammerman, furnace boy, foregeman, armourer, stone-digger, collier, foyster, point maker and trugger.[280] The first three show clear links with the iron industry, whilst the stone-digger was linked to the Horsham stone trade that split stones for the roves or for the paving of the town.  A foyster made saddle-trees; the point maker was employed in the lace industry and the trugger made baskets.  In 1598 mention is made of an inn, the Red Lion.  This was probably not the only one in the town, for 24 years later 20 victuallers were presented for short measure at the Court Barron.[281]

Interestingly, the area around Horsham continued to be exploited for its natural resources. It might in fact be these natural resources that maintained a steady economic base for Horsham when the plagues struck. By 1572 the iron working sites at Upper Forge at the Hammer Pond and the Lower Forge and furnace at Hawkins pond were, after the execution of the fourth Duke of Norfolk, in the hands of John Blennerhasset and William Dix[282]. These two were in the Duke’s household and could be seen more as estate managers until the Duke’s heirs were old enough to take responsibility. They in turn leased the sites for 21 years at a rent of £36 14s 3d a year. The lessee was one Roger Gratwick the younger, and he obviously could see long-term economic potential, as not only did he sign a 21-year lease, but also developed the Lower Forge site, as it wasn’t completed until 1584. This shows a sense of stability and prosperity and, importantly, a willingness to invest in the Horsham area.

In 1573 a Royal Commission was set up[283] to look at the depredations of the woodland caused by the iron industry, a year after the lease. Restrictions on the iron industry were introduced, including no iron works less than 22 miles from London, and no cutting of timber within 12 miles of the coast. (Queen Elizabeth passed a decree that all lands laid out to coppice were to be overplanted with hardwood, oak or ash, at 12 to the acre.[284] Overplanting doesn’t mean replanting, but planting trees that grew over the coppiced woodland; after all, it has been estimated that the wealden iron industry required 220,000 acres of coppice woodland to supply its forges and furnaces on the basis of 2,500 acres per furnace and 1,500-1,600 per forge)[285] Yet even with these restrictions, the iron industry grew. How come? It is down to our misunderstanding of what people in medieval times referred to as timber and woodland. Timber referred to a size of tree that could be cut to make houses or substantial structures. Woodland refers to the smaller, thinner trees and bushes. The reality was that the treescape was intensely managed.[286] No iron master would cut down the trees around his site without replanting; they needed a constantly renewable supply, and just as game keepers made sure woodlands and shooting areas were well stocked with game, so iron masters ensured the woods were well stocked with the right wood to make charcoal that fed the furnaces; not timber trees, but coppiced woodland. It is evident from the records that even by the late 16^th century the Horsham area had a plentiful supply of timber, as in 1598 Langhurst wood, to the north of Horsham, provided 6,000 loads of timber and 11,500 cords of underwood, and Nutham wood to the south, 1,200 loads and 2,500 cords. Whilst only six years later, at Coltstaple manor which, along with Chesworth and Marlpost, had passed to the Crown, there were 1,200 timber trees, or 300 loads of timber.[287] On this equation, of four timber trees per load of timber, it means that Langhust had 24,000 trees chopped down. This was extensive forestry operation, which isn’t that surprising as the quality of the soil was suitable for heath land. This may also explain why in 1556 a shepherd is recorded in the parish, clearly suggesting sheep farming – not on a scale of the downs, but probably providing enough wool and fleeces for very local demand.[288]

TROUBLE AT T’FORGE – HORSHAM’S “WILD WEST”[289]

Roger Gratwick the younger did not get on with his neighbouring ironmaster Edward Caryll of Shipley who, at the time the lease was signed, owned Gosden Forge, and whose pond was later incorporated into the gardens of Leonardslee by the Loder family in the 19^th century. The dispute ended up in the courts with an attempt by Caryll to dispossess Gratwick. This ill feeling either spread to the workers, or the workers were employed to threaten each other, for it is recorded that:

“Giles Moore and others, 20 or more, a company of most dissolute, disordered, quarrelsome and riotous persons, his (Caryll’s) servants and hangers on, have committed a great riot . . . being armed and apparelled in warlike manner with swords, daggers, staves and other weapons, did forcibly wound and beat (Gratwick’s) servants labouring about the iron works and digging and drawing stone, and have violently taken great quantities of ore and carried it to the works of Caryll” On another occasion Caryll’s men attacked an ox –wain train, when “drivers came running in with their goads and beat and wounded Henry Wood . . . fearing the danger of his wounds, least he should die of the same, they cut off a piece of the lower part of his shirt and laid it on his wounds”. 

On another occasion the violence flared up in Horsham where Thomas Marsh attacked Richard Whitebread “with his dagger drawn, in Horsham town as he was going to church, and chased him into the house of Thomas Champion”.

Whilst an analogy to the wild west of America might seem far fetched, with gangs of feuding miners roaming the countryside, it does give a flavour of what was going on in an era where if justice occurred, it did so because those around the event wanted it to happen. With no police force and a reliance on informants in a culture or society where justice and punishment were physical, then a degree of lawlessness in the mining and woodland industries would not be surprising. These people, it has been suggested, were seasonal and casual, so they had even less ties to a community and, thus, the social controls which medieval society relied on for maintenance of law and order. The woods were “outside the law” – not the law of the forest, but the law of the town, so it would also be a place of “outlaws”; those that lived beyond the margins of society.

Another interesting point in the account above was mention of ox-wain trains. The use of ox as beasts of draught was something which we tend to forget, imagining the horse or pony, But mention in the parish burial record of Roger Lewis, “a Welchman, a drover of cattle”, has led to the suggestion that draught oxen could have been supplied from southern Wales, where the iron masters of the Weald were encouraged to set up business and where some 400 years earlier the De Braose and other Wealden lords had strong ties.[290]

The Church, which had seen its chantries close, and the number of priests drop, so that the vicar in 1548 would complain that they couldn’t serve such a large parish, seems to have attracted high powered or influential vicars. Mathew Allen, vicar from 1574 to 1605, was a domestic chaplain to the Archbishop of Canterbury. He lived at Horsham but also served at Warnham church. In 1584 he is recorded as preaching almost every Sunday.[291] The Archbishop, through his landownership of Marlpost with the lands of the Bishopric, would have an interest in Horsham and the maintenance of the markets. Was the vicar also an agent for the Archbishop, keeping his eye on his lands? His lands also included Needles farm and Tanbridge estate, which would have lain close to or next to the land managed by the parish/church, rather than borough authorities. Did the Archbishop use this relationship to involve himself in Horsham’s development, especially at a time when the Lord of the Manor, the Norfolks were in disgrace and their lands seized by the crown? Who knows? Horsham may have been too insignificant to cross the radar of the Archbishop, but probably not his administration. His successor was Regius Professor of Hebrew at Cambridge, John Collins, vicar from 1612 to 1642 and also personal chaplain to the Archbishop.[292] With this and other duties could he have kept a detailed watch on the Archbishop’s lands as well?

Although, in the grand story of Horsham, witches have a miniscule part to play, thanks to the popularity of horror films and stories etc, it is one question that is often asked. Unlike Germany where many thousands of women and men (one quarter of all witches were men) were put to death for witchcraft, the number of trials in Sussex was slight and only one was put to death. Witchcraft was originally an ecclesiastical crime, becoming a civil crime in 1542. In Sussex the trials took place between 1572 and 1591 when 18 witches were tried, of whom only four were found guilty and only one, Margaret Cooper from Kirdford, was hanged in 1572 for bewitching three people to death. “At Horsham assizes on 8^th  July 1577 Alice Casselowe of Mayfield, spinster, who had been sent to gaol by William Overton, esq. J.P. had been indicted for 2 offences: one indictment alleged that on the 6 June 1577 she  had killed an ox worth £4 belonging to Magnus Fowle, gent at Mayfield by witchcraft; and the other that on 1 June 1576 she had similarly killed 3 pigs worth 10s belonging to Richard Roose at Mayfield. She had pleaded not guilty but was convicted and sentenced to one year’s imprisonment and to stand 4 times in the pillory”. Considering the state of the gaol this was probably a death sentence and, in fact, Alice did die whilst in prison as the Coroner accounts show in February 1578.[293] She could be seen as a black witch. Horsham did, however, have its own white witch, or cunning folk.[294] The Archbishop of Canterbury licensed these cunning folk and, in 1603, Horsham had its own licensed witch.  It is generally assumed that such women were skilled in herbalism and were in effect people who could find, as if by magic, things lost. The more cynical mind would argue that these women kept their ear to the ground, observed what was going on and listened in to other people’s conversations, and from this network of miscellaneous bits of information, they deduced and discovered. They were also probably skilled in reading signs and physical characteristics. They were the way through which local society could release tensions, fears and worries, the corporate agony aunt, and by being licensed by the Church were seen as providing a morally important service; not corrupting the corporate body but healing it.

The late 16^th early 17^th century sees Horsham as a corporate body becoming a reality. It had by the late 14^th century showed some degree of independence and was, in court cases already mentioned, treated as a corporate body responsible for the security of prisoners. The town or village had leased of the Lord for two marks a year the tolls of the markets in 1368, and definitely by 1399, and continued to do so. With the Lord of the Manor residing outside Sussex from the end of the 14^th century with the death of de Braose, Horsham grew in status and sense of independence. This was not a rapid development; more incremental. Unfortunately, with so few documents existing, the story can only be surmised, but it would appear that the town saw itself as acting as the lord of the borough rather than the lord himself. So, by 1595, a common seal existed, meaning the borough could seal documents in its own right.[295] It also, according to later documents, held a portmoot court from time immemorial. This court was the borough’s own court, though it has been suggested that it evolved from a medieval type of manorial court. Whilst the development occurred on an ad hoc basis, the threat of losing its acquired status led to a major reappraisal and a consolidation that saw the borough have its most powerful role, which it would lose in the 18^th century as the Lord re-established his power, and see it finally die in the 19^th century.

In 1604 John Dodderidge, born in 1555, was made an MP for Horsham.[296] Born in Devon, where he seems to have had the greatest affinity, he became one of the great lawyers of the early 17th century. He graduated from Exeter College, Oxford in 1577, and was called to the bar in 1585. In 1604, the year he became MP for Horsham, he was made sergeant-at-law. Nine months later he gave up the post to become solicitor-general. Three years later in 1607 he resigned so that Francis Bacon could be promoted and, probably in return for this, he was knighted. In 1612, one year after being MP for Horsham, he was appointed judge of the court of king’s-bench, retaining his place until he died in 1628.

He was an active Member of Parliament and spoke like an academic rather than with rhetorical flourish, thus losing some of the impact his words should have conveyed. He was described by Cecil as a “very great learned man”, whilst Francis Bacon described him as “shooting a fair arrow”. He got to the heart of the matter in both law and parliament and his arguments were very lucid and compelling. He wrote a number of books on law and antiquity, all of which were published after his death. He lies buried under a fine effigy of him in his judicial robes in Exeter Cathedral.

It is clear that Dodderidge was mainly concerned with Devon, rather than Horsham, though he did build a substantial mansion at Egham.  It is questionable as to what effect having one of the great legal brains of the time as MP, had on the town. Except that, for Barnstaple, which he represented in Parliament in 1589, he acted as counsel for the borough in 1611, and later on in life took an active interest in local administration of the borough. Perhaps – and this is all it can remain; perhaps – he was involved in the 1611 survey mentioned below; perhaps his legal mind was the one who suggested it to the Norfolks, or he was the one who helped the Borough authorities to sort out the answers to the questions, especially as there was no documentation to draw on. 

In 1611 a detailed survey of the borough was conducted under the authority of the Thomas Earl of Arundel and Surrey on 16 August. It has been argued that this survey was conducted to pre-empt the challenge from the King to the Borough status.[297] (James I was in conflict with parliament and he wanted to make sure of the status of the Boroughs when it came to unseating elected members). James was fortunate to employ one of the greatest legal and philosophical minds that Britain has ever produced: Francis Bacon, Lord Veralanium, as his Attorney General, and in 1614, three years after Horsham’s survey, he launched his enquiry into the rights of certain boroughs.

However, another reason for the survey has little to do with this enquiry, but more to do with the Norfolk family re-establishing their power. Having fallen out with the monarchy in the 1570s, with the arrival of James I, the Norfolks started their climb back to being politically important. What better way to see what powers they had than through a survey that asked questions about:

1. The actual boundary of the borough
2. Who is the true owner and lord of the borough or manor of Horsham
3. What were the courts
4. How many fairs and markets, and who has the profits
5. If the Lord of Arundel owned Horsham heath/common
6. How many trees were cut down on the heath
7. What encroachments, cottages, fences etc had been built on the common.

There were also a number of questions relating to manorial law and fees paid on inheritances etc.[298]

Are these the questions that Francis Bacon would ask to find out about voting rights? No, they are the questions the Norfolks would ask to find out the status of what they owned and managed. The answers provided a clear definition, a consolidation of ad hoc arrangements that had grown and developed. From 1611 onwards, whenever questions about Borough status, the Lord’s status and the status of the corporation arose, the answers would start from this 1611 document, even in 1837 when the Historical Manuscript Commission asked the town clerk which important documents the office held, this, and copies of this survey, was the only one recorded.[299]

ELABORATIONS

KEEPING IT IN THE FAMILY, the politics of property and inheritance

De Braoses, Mowbrays, Howards and Hoos[300]

(Also see the history of the De Braose family above)

It is strange how the last in line of the Hoos and De Braoses should both be buried in the same Church, of St Mary’s.  In many ways this reflects how important it was to keep land holdings within the family. The first part deals with how the Howards came to Horsham and the second, the Hoo family. Through marriage and service to the Crown, they ended up having substantial land holdings in Sussex and Kent.

In 1395 Thomas De Braose died at Horsham and soon after, his two infant children died. His young wife Margaret survived him for another 50 years, dying in 1445 holding a life interest in Chesworth, though this did not necessarily mean owning the property.  The de Braose barony continued through until 1399, when the last male of the line died and the barony became extinct. A major part of the inheritance went to the children of Alina, daughter of William (VI) marriage to Elizabeth de Sully (see de Braose above).  Alina married John De Mowbray in 1298 who, like the de Braose, gave their eldest sons the same name as the father, so this John is John (I). They had a son John (II), before John (I) De Mowbray was beheaded in 1322 with Alina dying some ten years later in 1332.  John (II), their son, married Joan Plantagenet and their son also called John (III) was created John De Axholme who married Elizabeth Seagrave. They had two sons, John (IV) who died in 1385 without an heir, and Thomas who married Elizabeth Rich and who as Thomas Mowbray became the first Duke of Norfolk. They had two sons: Thomas in 1385 (who was executed 20 years later) and John (V) in 1390, who had a son John (VI) whose granddaughter Ann married Richard Duke of York, who was murdered around 1483; thus extinguishing the male line.  They also had two daughters, Isobel and Margaret. Margaret married Robert Howard in around 1420 and a year or so later gave birth to John, named after Margaret’s father John Howard. John became heavily involved in the politics of the day, as did his eldest son Thomas born in 1443. 

It was a rich household that Thomas was born into; having 130 horsemen, an auditor, steward, treasurer, clerk of the kitchen, groom of the hall (a butler) and two chaplains as well as two fools. In 1472 Thomas married Elizabeth Tilney by whom they had a number of children including Thomas in 1473, Elizabeth and Edmund.  Unfortunately, John who was created Duke in 1483, was on the losing side at the Battle of Bosworth where he died in 1485.  The victor turned on the losing side, stripping them of much wealth and imprisoning Thomas for nearly four years. He spent the next thirty-four years regaining his position of trust and power and, more importantly, the family lands including Chesworth. In 1497 Elizabeth died so Thomas married her sister Agnes with whom he had another son William. In 1501 he became Lord Treasurer and in 1509 on Henry VII’s deathbed all the family estates were returned in respect of his loyal service. Then, as a final seal on his rise from ignominy and in respect for his victory at the Battle of Flodden in 1513, he was restored to the title Duke of Norfolk.  His son also showed military ability, being created at the same time Earl of Surrey and Lord High Admiral. He died in 1524.

The young widow Margaret de Braose was an attractive marriage proposition and soon wedded a local landowner, Urrey of Rusper; they had a son, Walter, whose daughter was Alice Urrey. 

Meanwhile, the Hoo family were becoming established as loyal servants of the Crown. Sir William de Hoo, who died in 1410 aged 75, had very large estates. They passed to his son Sir Thomas, who followed in his father’s footsteps giving loyal military service, including being the only knight in the retinue of Lord Camoys who commanded the left wing of the English Army at the celebrated battle of Agincourt in 1415.  Sir Thomas died in 1420 only 10 years after his father.  He sired two sons, both called Thomas, from two different wives. The elder Thomas served Henry VI as a lawyer and soldier which included service in France during the Hundred Years War.  He had four daughters, the eldest of whom, Anne, married Sir Geoffrey Boleyn whose great granddaughter would be Anne, Queen of England, who was executed in 1536. The elder Thomas died in 1455 and as, he had no male heir, a large portion of his estates passed to his half-brother Thomas.

The manor of Roffey was a sub-manor of Chesworth.  In 1427 it was settled on by Thomas and Alice Hoo, probably on their marriage by Walter, Alice’s father. The following year they acquired additional land in Horsham and Itchingfield. They had a magnificent home in Roffey, said to have been timber built with a moat. Thomas de Hoo was now ensconced in Horsham life. As the de Braose family were no longer around and the Norfolks were dealing with national political affairs and were probably absentee lords, the Hoos then became the prominent family. Thomas became an MP for Sussex in 1446 and 1448.

Like the Howards, Thomas became involved in the War of the Roses, fighting on the side of Henry VI and his French Queen Margaret of Anjou.  Having lost at the battle of Towton, Thomas retired from military life, becoming involved in the local scene. Still being respected for his undoubted experience and connections, he was sent to Parliament, serving as an MP for Horsham in 1467, 1472 and 1478.  On his death in 1486, a substantial tomb in Purbeck marble with a canopy was constructed in the Parish Church, which some 60 years earlier had been dedicated to St Mary, for all to see.

It is thought that the Tomb may have played a part in the Easter services. The Easter Services were either the most, or second most, important religious services in Medieval times, so reinforcing the honour that the Hoo family had in Horsham. Lying opposite the last member of the founding family of Horsham, the de Braose, lay the tombs of distant relations, the last of that particular branch, who had served the area well in parliaments at a time of some political upheaval. This is why the Hoo memorial lies in Horsham’s church and is probably why Henry VII visited Horsham to acknowledge his respect for a family who had served the Kingdom well.

GRAVES INSIDE CHURCHES[301]

Prior to the 9^th century it was not unknown for churches to be built on sites of graveyards with total disregard for the dead. Nevertheless, the practice of burial within the body of the church grew from that time onwards and to be buried within the church tended to have had some significance to the church.  By the 12^th century, all restrictions were lifted so that men and women of middling rank might acquire a grave space and a stone marking the location.   In the 18^th and 19^th centuries most of the tombstones were removed, misplaced or re-laid after restoration in the wrong place.  Such disregard of the gravestone was not a new thing.  Medieval man was not bothered about cutting through earlier graves in order to bury the recently departed. 

As William Davenant put it:

‘Lie close in the church and in the churchyard

In every grave make rome, make rome!

A heavy monument or, better still, a chantry chapel, tended to protect the deceased from disturbance.

Some families had vaults built to ensure everlasting peace, or so they thought.  In the museum archives are bills for funerals in Horsham, where cleaning out of the vault is a recorded expense.  Whether this meant removing the previous incumbent or just tidying up we cannot be sure.

THE STORY OF HORSHAM’S LOST QUEEN[302]

(see also the account of Agnes Tilney above)

It is 1539/40, and events that Catherine had so innocently enjoyed when she was growing up in Chesworth; the flirtation and possible sexual liaisons with Horsham lads, would assist in her losing her head. The whole story takes only 18 months from beginning to tragic end and whilst the events unfold outside Horsham it is very much a Horsham story, which is recounted below. 

Although the next 18 months of the story take place outside Horsham, the story told in the records provides an interesting insight into Catherine and the degree to which Henry had fallen for her. In essence, the story was one of an old, grossly overweight man with ulcerated leg, in the last years of middle age, who was revitalised by the charms of a girl some thirty years younger than him. He was powerful and rich; she had just lost her father, was living with a step grandmother who had no control over her, and was doted on by the suitor, and it played well into her ambitious, power-hungry uncle‘s hands – a Victorian melodrama played out for real in a non-Victorian era.

ACT ONE

THE COURTSHIP

The King’s marriage to Anne was a sham, and known about by the court. By Easter, his passion for Catherine knew no bounds. Her Uncle and other members of the Catholic party were promoting her “pure and honest condition”, whilst the French Ambassador described her as “delightful” and “a young lady of moderate beauty but superlative grace, of small stature, of modest countenance and gentle, earnest face”. Henry started to shower her with gifts including a dress edged with 23 diamonds and 60 rubies with an edge of pearl 

By 24 June, Henry had found a suitable reason to have his marriage to Anne of Cleaves declared illegal. She made no fuss, and because of that she was rewarded with a generous settlement of £500 a year, Richmond palace, Hever Castle and the manor of Bletchingley as well as the right to call herself the King’s sister, and she could also keep all the jewellery, silver plate, wall hangings and cloths. On 9 July the marriage was annulled. Some 21 days later, on 28 July, Henry married Katherine at Oatlands Palace. That night they slept in an ornate pearl bed made especially by French craftsmen. On 8 August it was made public.

ACT TWO

THE HONEYMOON

Contemporary accounts talk of Henry being “so amorous of her that he knows not how to make sufficient demonstrations of his affection, and caresses her more than he did others”, and record that “the king had no wife who made him spend so much money in dresses and jewels as she did, and every day some fresh caprice”.

The new Queen spent her days in luxury, without the cares of the state. Each day at 6pm she would ask for a report on the King, but that was all. Although we refer to her as Queen, Henry had no plans for a coronation, though she did make a state entrance into London by river barge.

Katherine, possibly to ensure silence, appointed many of her friends or relatives to her household – those that knew of her earlier indiscretions. She was given Baynard’s Castle on her marriage, and her household cost Henry £4,600 a year. Henry still continued to indulge her with jewels, and a new gown in the French fashion every day for the court. Katherine’s personal badge was a crowned rose and the French motto “No other will than his”. This was embroidered in gold around her sleeves.

With Katherine now the Queen, the Norfolks made sure they dominated the court, much to the annoyance of the reformists.

On 10 April 1541 the French Ambassador reports that “the queen is thought to be with child, which would be a very great joy to this king who it seems, believes it and intends, if it be found true, to have her crowned at Whitsuntide”. By the end of June, she had miscarried or it was a phantom pregnancy; either way the king was avoiding her. This, though, did not stop him taking her on a tour of the North with over 5,000 horses, a thousand soldiers and most of the court.

ACT THREE

 THE FALL

Whilst the Court was making the progress North, Katherine’s eyes started to wander, particularly during the King’s illness. She stated having secret flirtations with Thomas Culpeper, a king’s favourite and another cousin[303]. In her household, Lady Rochford, Margaret Morton and Katherine Tilney all colluded to keep her involvement secret, including her spending two nights at Lady Rochford’s chamber, slipping out of hers when it was late.

Then her past caught up with her, for on 27 August Francis Dereham, her ex lover, arrived at Pontefract where the King and Queen were staying, seeking employment. Possibly through blackmail, Francis was made her Private Secretary and Usher of her Chamber. He would boast and brag, thus arousing Culpeper’s jealousy.

Whilst all this was going on Henry showed renewed interest in his wife and on 1 November, special services were held throughout the land to give thanks for his life and this “jewel of Womanhood”. On that day, Henry arrived at the Royal Chapel to give thanks. There on his pew he found a sealed letter, which exposed Catherine.

Archbishop Cranmer wrote the letter; Cranmer wanted to see the Norfolks and the conservative group toppled from power. John Lassels, a reformer who would eventually be burnt at the stake for his Protestant beliefs, had given him evidence of Catherine’s misdeeds. John had been told by his sister Mary, who worked for the Duchess of Norfolk’s household and had been overlooked by the Queen when giving out places in hers.

Henry at first refused to believe it; however, on being given proof, he broke down. The Queen and Lady Rochford were arrested and held at Hampton Court. All the evidence though concerned her pre marriage affairs. However, Cranmer would not give up and took Francis Dereham to the Tower, who only admitted that he and Katherine had been pre-contracted. A pre-contract was as binding as a marriage, making Henry’s marriage invalid. If true it meant that Katherine had committed adultery, and therefore her marriage to Henry was invalid and Dereham was innocent.

Katherine, when asked about this denied it, perhaps trying to ensure the Norfolk influence remained, though she did admit to having sex on many occasions with Dereham and that she practised birth control. Dereham was asked if he had sex after the King’s marriage; he denied it, but implicated Culpeper by saying that “he had succeeded in the Queens affections.”

The Queen was now asked about her relationship with Culpeper: she said she had flirted, but that was it. Lady Rochford was accused of spreading rumours. Lady Rochford in return said she believed adultery had taken place. The Queen’s maids were questioned, revealing her past, but none could say adultery had been committed. Culpeper was arrested and threatened with torture and he admitted that they had met in secret but that only words had passed between them, though “he had intended and meant to do with the Queen”, and he also went on to say that the Queen was the prime mover and Lady Rochford had encouraged it. Lady Rochford had acted as a bawd.

On 13 November, the Queen’s household were dismissed and all the Queen’s coffers and chests were sealed for an inventory to be made. On the 14^th, Katherine was taken to Syon Abbey, whilst Lady Rochford and Culpeper were taken to the Tower. Lady Rochford had gone mad.

On December 1, Dereham and Culpeper were tried for treason and condemned to death. Henry commuted Culpeper’s sentence to beheading whilst Dereham, who had not committed adultery, was hanged, drawn and quartered on 10 December, with their heads placed on spikes on London Bridge where they remained till 1546. On 13 February, Katherine was executed.

THE EPILOGUE

Catherine’s fall from grace meant a dramatic decline in status for the Norfolks. Charles Howard was dismissed from the Privy Chamber. The Dowager Duchess of Norfolk, amongst other family members, was arrested, tried and imprisoned for treason, having been guilty of hiding the Queen’s misbehaviour, and they also lost their possessions. However, within a year they were all pardoned and released. Norfolk who, more than anyone, had promoted the marriage, wisely stood back and retired from public life; his son, Surrey, remained untouched by the scandal.

THE NORFOLK- SOMERSET CONFLICT – WHAT MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED TO HORSHAM[304]

Chesworth, the true Manor house of Horsham and the home of the lords of the manor, suffered after the execution of Katherine.  The dowager Duchess returned home in May 1542 after spending time in the Tower, and letters sent in November that year to Chesworth by the Duke of Norfolk suggest that he was using this home as a base, as he intended ‘not to be far from court that winter’ in the hope of rebuilding his influence at Court.  The Duke had pleaded for forgiveness in a letter dated 15 December where he put the blame on all but himself and his son, Earl of Surrey.  It worked to a point, and soon the Norfolks were back in favour, fighting the King’s wars in France and Scotland.  The Duke of Norfolk advised his son, Surrey, to persuade the king to lose his French possessions, which were simply not defendable.  However, Surrey thought he knew best, so when he was made Governor of Boulougne he tried to increase the King’s land. Unfortunately, he suffered many losses in skirmishes with the French and was forced to leave in disgrace, thus bringing shame on Henry. The conservative faction led by Norfolk had been in ascendancy at court with the Protestant faction licking their wounds following the fall of Cromwell.  However, in July 1546 things were to change.

In July 1546, the Earl of Hertford and the Viscount Lisle were returned to court and Surrey was recalled in disgrace for the loss of French lands.  Henry VIII’s last years were spent trying to sort out who would look after the Kingdom and the Prince Edward when he died.  He thought he had it all sorted with a balance between the two powerful families, the Howards and the Seymours.  Everything was working out well until The Earl of Surrey overreached himself in France, which raised Henry’s suspicions of a challenge over the succession. This was then allied to Surrey’s desire to change the heraldry of his coat of arms.

FUNERAL HATCHMENTS – A VISIBLE SIGN OF HERALDRY[305]

St Mary’s Parish Church, Horsham, and other churches around the District, have funeral hatchments.  These large, painted wooden panels display the heraldry relating to a deceased individual.  Originally, they hung on the house of the dead person, being transferred to the Church with the coffin and then hung in the Church after the funeral.  The funeral hatchments were drawn up in order to publicly announce the importance of the person within society.  From the mid-15^th century the Heralds would be in control of public funerals of great dignitaries, so that by 1621 they had laid down the number of mourners and types of armorial bearings that could be displayed.

Interestingly, heraldry was a late medieval invention, used to confirm social rank and status.  With the Black Death in 1349 and the growth in the economy in the late 14^th and early 15^th centuries, society was very fluid.  Heraldry enabled people to publicly claim a pedigree and status.  The very dividing of the arms determined the rank within a family, creating order out of what could have been disorder.  From the Reformation onwards, black cloth was the backdrop to such funerals with strict rules on weight, weave, cut etc.  The black cloth would enhance the brightly coloured heraldic signs.

With Sir Timothy Shelley and Henry Treadcroft in the Parish Church, their hatchments could have been painted simply to reinforce the message that these were important people in a time when Horsham was growing out of its close-knit world of interrelationships

Today these may be seen as trumped up charges, but to Henry it mattered greatly, as can be seen in the draft articles against the Duke of Surrey and his father, the Duke of Norfolk, that included alterations in Henry’s own shaky hand.  On 12 December 1546, both the Earl and the Duke were arrested on treason and thrown into prison. The charges against Surrey boiled down to the changes he proposed to his coat of arms, and he was found guilty. After a quick trial he was executed on 19 or the 21 January 1547.  Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, son and heir to the Duke of Norfolk, was a poet, and passionate Protestant who often stood up to Henry VIII rather than follow his father’s ability to plead for forgiveness, and he paid with his life for this streak.

The aged Duke was now in prison awaiting execution. Fortunately for him, Henry VIII died on 28 January 1547, some seven days after the death of the poet Earl Surrey.  It was felt improper that the King’s death should be associated with another, so he had a stay of execution.  Henry had spent his last years trying to sort out what would happen on his death.  In 1544 he had written a third will.  He had thought that Parliament would solve any problem, so enshrined his will in the Third Act of Succession.  However, two years later with the Howards out of favour he had to make rapid alterations.  He had three issues to resolve: the composition of the Council, who would also be executors of the will, how to distribute the Howard’s lands, and thirdly whether his son’s government would be run corporately or by a Protector.  Henry was not the only one concerned, and it was Surrey’s involvement in trying, through genealogy and heraldry, to make his father the protector, that led to his death.  Henry did not want a Protector, but the Seymours did.  With their ally, the King’s secretary Paget, they altered the King’s will to give an outward appearance of excluding a Protectorate, whilst actuallyrequiring one.  There was also an “unfulfilled gift clause”, allowing the King’s executors a free hand in distribution of honours and estates (including Norfolk’s lands.)  The King could not sign it at this stage, so it was stamped with his signature stamp that was in the custody of a Seymour ally, who also antedated it to 30 December.  Seymour had got his way.  Edward Seymour seized power, overturning the Regency Council set up by Henry, and made himself Lord Protector Somerset and sole guardian of the King, who soon made him Duke of Somerset, on 31 January 1547, three days after Henry’s death.  Edward became a puppet to a strong Protestant faction.

What was the effect of this on Horsham?  For a start, in 1547 the Howard estates, including Chesworth and thereby Horsham, were seized by the King (after all, the Earl of Surrey had committed treason) and given to Somerset.  Somerset gave the lands out to members of his family, and Chesworth was given to his son Thomas Seymour who seems to have looked at the newly acquired estates and seen how he could maximise profits including a master plan which could have seen the destruction of Horsham as a borough.  According to a document in Magdalene College, there were clear plans for creating a new town in the Forest, “There is communication that the Lorde Admirall aforesaid will buylde a toune within the Forest of St Leonarde, wher increase of tythes may growe to the College …. Whereas now we have but 3s for the herbage of the forest and 8s for the parke of Bewbushe sometyme parcel of ye foreste”.[306]

The “Lorde Admirall” was none other than Thomas Seymour, younger brother of Edward Seymour, and it was he who had been given Chesworth by his older brother to look after.  He and his elder brother did not get on; in fact, they seemed to have constantly plotted against each other.  Thomas had originally wanted to marry Catherine Parr in 1543, but she felt it her duty to marry the King Henry VIII and look after the children. Now, with the king dead, he could marry her. Technically, as Queen dowager, she needed the consent of the Privy Council to remarry, but neither she nor Thomas sought it, and married clandestinely in early May and kept the marriage secret for some months, even from his elder brother.

In August 1547 the Protector, Somerset, went on a campaign in Scotland leaving Thomas as lieutenant of the South and one of the custodians of Edward VI. Resentful at not being given outright custody, he had thought of removing Edward VI into his own home, but decided in the end to try and bribe him with pocket money and to, “bare rule, as other kings do”.  However, it did not work and Edward VI signed statements saying how Thomas had tried to control him.  Thomas was deeply in love with Catherine Parr and, although being in her thirties, with all the problems that would cause, he was delighted when she bore him a daughter, Mary, in August 1548. Tragedy soon followed and Catherine died early in September.

The relationship between the brothers was deteriorating throughout that year. Although raised to peerage and made Lord Admiral and a Privy Councillor in February 1547, Thomas resented not being made Governor of Edward VI when Somerset was named Lord Protector, and his clandestine marriage to Catherine did little to help matters.  By February 1548, the two brothers quarrelled publicly.  In December rumours circulated that Thomas Seymour was going to marry Princess Elizabeth and that she was expecting his child.  The thought of a second clandestine marriage upset the Lord Protector Somerset and the Council.  According to a letter written to the Emperor Charles V by his ambassador, Thomas Seymour had tried a coup against his brother, for he was discovered late one night in the palace with a large number of his own men and the dogs that kept watch at the king’s door were found dead; he was arrested on 17 January 1549 at 8 o’clock in the evening and sent to the tower. Thomas Seymour was accused of treason on 23 February and executed on 20March. 

This meant that the grand plan for a new town in the Forest died with him.  If the plan had been put in force, what would have happened to Horsham?  Whilst the document mentions an increase in “tythes” going to Magdalene College, they would have been at a maximum of one tenth of the produce, and the College would have had to have provided some religious services in return.  Thomas would not want their town to fail, so together they would have encouraged trade to go to their new town, and with it being in the Forest it would have serviced the expanding Wealden Iron Industry.  Horsham may not have failed, but it would not have grown as it did in the later half of the 16^th century, as money would have gone where the power was.

THE ELIZABETHAN RELIGIOUS TURMOIL – THE EFFECT ON ONE HORSHAM FAMILY

The Elizabethan period was one of some excitement, particularly amongst those who followed the Catholic faith, often causing turmoil within families as people tried to sort out their own beliefs.[307] One such family were the Copleys [308], who owned land at Roughey, or Roffey as it is known today. Thomas Copley was born in 1532, the eldest son of Sir Roger Copley and of his second wife Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Shelley of Mitchelgrove. He was related to Elizabeth I by common descent, through Lord Hoo, mentioned above, as well as being kinsman to William Cecil Lord Burghley and Francis Walsingham, the famous spy master. He was in other words very well-connected, owning estates in Southwark and in Sussex, Roughey included, and Lincolnshire. Queen Elizabeth would be godmother to one of his sons.

He spent money on “costly building, chargeable music, horses and such like vanities”. During Mary’s last parliament he spoke out as an ardent Protestant, promoting the cause of Princess Elizabeth’s right to succeed her. For that he was imprisoned, though he pleaded his youth. It was expected that he would marry into the powerful Howards of Effingham, his neighbours, but instead he married Catherine, the Catholic daughter of Sir John Luttrell of Dunster, Somerset.

When Elizabeth became Queen, he received royal favour, but according to the Spanish ambassador he converted to Catholicism in 1563. The reason for the conversion has been put down to finding faults in Bishop Jewel’s Apology – he must have read the version in Latin which was published in 1562, as the English version wasn’t published till 1564, though how true this is we can not say. Copley was fined and imprisoned by recusancy, even though he was still a commissioner for the peace for Surrey. In 1569, two of his books, translations of the church fathers: Certain Treaties….Touching the Doctrine of Good Workes and A Treaties of Justification were published in Louvain in the Spanish Netherlands.  He, in his works, was trying to seek unity rather than attacking Protestants. But, by 1570, he went abroad without a royal licence.

Although he remained abroad for the rest of his life, he corresponded with the Queen, Burghley and Walsingham amongst others. Although a devout Catholic he was a loyal subject who through necessity, he argued, had to serve foreign princes. (The Howards benefited from his property and he received no income from it). William Camden, the antiquary and chronicler, described him as “A prime man among the English Fugitives”. He was given a Spanish pension, ennobled by Philip II, and made a baron and knight by the French king. He died on 25 September 1584 at the Spanish military camp near Antwerp. According to Dr Hughes, Catherine, his wife, remained at Roughey bringing up the children. However, whilst she died and is buried in Horsham, she was with Thomas in 1577 and in Rouen in 1582 and Leige in 1586. In 1577, at Louvain in the Spanish Netherlands, she gave birth to John Copley, their fourth and youngest surviving son. At some time, possibly in 1595, she returned to England and in May 1596 she was confirmed, hence being able to be buried in a Horsham Church. John had an older brother, Anthony, who was born some ten years before and seems to have remained in England when his father fled abroad.    

Anthony Copely would have a short but tempestuous life, inheriting, it would seem, some of his father’s impatience (his father was imprisoned for making off with the mayoral sword of honour at a dinner in 1566 when the Lord Mayor was present), as well as literary skill. In 1582, at the age of 15, he left England or, as he wrote: “being a younge student of Furneval’s Inne under the charge of a kinsman…Mr T(homas) Southwell[309], who is now himselfe beyond sea, him unwitting I stole away.” He joined his parents at Rouen where he stayed for two years.  His cousin, Robert Southwell, in 1585 obtained a pension of £10 for him from Pope Gregory XIII, probably on the agreement that he would study in Rome where he spent a further two years. On Gregory’s death he lost the pension, so seems to have “served the king of Spaine in his warres in Flanders”, obtaining a pension of 20 crowns from the Duke of Parma, till his return to England in 1590. Shortly afterwards he was arrested, and from the prison on 6 January 1591 he sought the Queen’s pardon and employment. He, through a series of letters, then detailed the whereabouts of English Catholic fugitives pleading loyalty to the Queen.

It is probably then that Katherine returned to Roughey, along with Anthony – though his behaviour left a lot to be desired. His father’s will gave him £30 a year, and it was now that he married and settled down with his wife, however, as Richard Topcliffe reported to the Queen on 26 June 1592:

“Anto Coplaye, the most desperayte yowthe that lyvethe…Bee most familiare with Southwell. Coplay did shoote at a gentilman the Last summer, and killed an Oxe with a muskette and in Horsham Churche threwe his dagger at the parishe Clarke…There lyvethe not the lyke I think in England for sudden attemptes”[310]

It would seem that Anthony was back in Horsham by the summer of 1591. By December of that year he was questioned about some speeches that he made. The state was watching him because “he doth avoutch himself to be a papist”. Copley was though a moderate Catholic, loyal to the throne and hostile to Jesuits.

It was during his life at Roughey that he wrote “Wits, Fittes and Francis fronted and Entermedled with Presidentes of honour and Wisdom”, published in 1595 and again in 1614, though this time without his name. The book contained translations of the Spanish La floretta sagnola, containing jests, tales and sayings. The following year he published the poem A Fig for Fortune. This poem, and Love’s Owl, published in the 1595 edition of Witt, Fittes and Fancies, have little artistic merit but reveal a political side. The Fig for Fortune has been described as “versified allegory… is a barely concealed plea for Catholic toleration, couched in terms of hyperbolic praise, with an argument at once elaborate and transparent”[311]. This was then followed by pamphlets concerning Jesuits.

In 1603, King James came to the throne and Copley became involved in the Bye plot. The plotters’ aim was to kidnap the king and compel him to grant Catholic toleration. It failed due to lack of Catholic armed support and, according to Copley’s Jesuit informers, Copley’s own sister refused to help him, so he gave himself up and gave an “ample and full” confession implicating others. The trial took place on 15 November 1603. His confession, which was also used at the trial of Sir Walter Raleigh, led to the conviction of most of the Bye conspirators. Copley was pardoned, but banished from the realm. He travelled to Jerusalem, Brussels, Rome and the Hague. He then disappears from the records, as do his wife and children.

The fourth son, John Copley, was born in Louvain but taken back to England at nine days old to be nursed and educated. He stayed with his conformist uncle Southwell, worshipping as an Anglican, though in his seventh year he was taught the Roman Catholic faith. When he was nine, he and his mother Katherine went to Liege, and the following year he entered various Roman Catholic colleges and schools, being one of the first to enter the Jesuit English college of St Omer in 1593, remaining there till 1595. Soon afterwards, he and five fellow students were captured by an English ship near Calais and taken to London. His relation Lord Howard of Effingham, then the Lord Admiral, entertained them. He then attended Anglican instruction and, whilst doing so, as he described it, he “indulged in worldly pleasures”, and he continued to receive the Catholic sacraments.  In 1599, he was admitted to the English college in Rome, becoming a priest in 1602 when in September he left for London.

The Gunpowder plot of 1605 led him to question his faith. He was convinced that priests were connected to the plot and that the priests would not have acted without the pope’s blessing, so the pope was in the wrong. In July 1606, he was banished, along with Thomas Garnet who is mentioned above and 22 other priests. He was shocked by the Jesuits’ approach to the plot and thought the teachings on the pope’s power to dispose of rulers un-actable. He returned to England but was arrested in 1607.

By now, Copley had read up on the protestant beliefs in order to refute them, yet he was also being converted to them. This led to doubt, in which “my poore soule environed with perplexed assaults of flesh and bloud” and a struggle “to overcome these conflicts between truth and falsehood”.

By 1611 he had converted. The following year, he wrote In Doctrinall and Morall Observations Concerning Religion. He then led a comparatively quiet life, marrying three times but apparently not having any children. He died in Ashford Kent in 1662.[312]

THE TUDOR & ELIZABETHAN MERCHANT AND HIS IMPACT ON HORSHAM

The 16th century saw an expansion in trade, and with it the growth of the merchant class. Today we associate merchants with shop keepers, but in this period the merchant was what we today would call a “captain of industry”. They created the culture of the period; without them there would have been no Tudor buildings in Horsham, for they invested in outward signs of wealth.

They were also in some respects the creation of age. The Tudor Merchant saw a rise in credit and how it was managed. Without credit there could be no trade. At this time most payment methods for consumption expenditure depended on credit. Since the coinage was valued in specie and not in tale (that is, valued by the precious metals composing it, and not by state fiat) the smallest practical unit of coin which was issued in Elizabeth’s reign was the ten shilling piece; denominations below this were in silver down to the halfpenny, (the silver halfpenny introduced in 1582 was of four grains and not convenient for daily purchase) until the introduction of the copper farthing. Thus, domestic purchases tended to be tallied until a sum had been reached that would allow payment by coin…cash itself was a scarce commodity and, indeed, a risky one, given the state of the coinage. Its circulation was limited to an elite group, forcing dependence on credit until sufficient coin could be obtained to fulfil an obligation, or reciprocal debts between a number of people could be balanced off against each other in complex patterns.[313]

For credit to work, there have to be very strong moral and ethical ties, to know that the credit will be redeemed, that someone is creditworthy. It also meant that gossip had economic value, for knowledge about someone was power, enabling a level of trust to be created. Credit regulated and controlled society, and at the apex was the merchant, who was both creditor and debtor. The Merchant was a man of honour, “the very morall Law itselfe, as written by Moses, was long after the customary Law of Merchants…Faith or trust is to be kept betweene merchants, and that also must be done without quillets or titles of the law, to avoid interruption of trafficke”.  [314] In other words, the merchant’s word was his bond and had to be taken as such in order to operate.

Whilst it was recognised that the merchant’s word was trustworthy, there were over a hundred manuals written which set out how the merchant should record his transactions and why. Not because his word was not trustworthy but, because he needs to be honest and above board, and seen to be, book keeping was a moral duty, so that “all their affairs maie bee both finely, netly, and truly observed, and that in suche dewe order and exact manner that the Marchaunt while he liveth maie knowe aswel what he oweth and is in debted to other, and what apperteigneth of right to himself…”. [315]

The Merchant would also maintain accurate records because, according to the Dutch proverb, “That which is written, Remaineth” .[316] To ensure that there was no falsifying of the accounts and records, the manuals explained how they should be written up: “just, true, and perfect …not to falsifie any parcel, matter or thing, or yet interline or shuffle one matter with another, but to set everything …plainly, directly, and orderly downe” [317]

One of the key distinctions between today’s accounting systems and the Tudor one is that today’s are generally based around institutions which network with other institutions (banks,  cheques, credit cards and actual money, coins and notes)’ whereas in this period the creditworthiness or otherwise was located in the individual; part of the persona of the merchant.

The impact of this on Horsham society and structure would have been considerable.  For the Merchant to operate, he would require a book keeper or clerk, obviously a pupil from the newly created Grammar school, that had been founded by a Horsham/London merchant and now funded by a Worshipful Company of Merchants, and so having a level of kudos which would have been passed on to its pupils. (The “I went to Collyer’s School” statement). It would also lead to a society that watched and observed each other: gossip had a value beyond just small talk, and so false rumours could be economically disastrous and so punishable. It would make outsiders untrustworthy, as they would have no credit status within the community. It also made the Merchant a beacon of virtue, a man of standing and honesty within society, and so it isn’t surprising that merchants tied themselves to the Church, to obtain God’s blessing to be buried within the Church itself. (And vice versa; the Church would gain through the image of honesty, especially during the religious turmoil). Merchants had status, and they manifested this through the building of substantial houses, and through the ownership of goods etc. This differentiation within the community also spread to seeing the Merchant as a person having mysterious knowledge; knowledge that ordinary people did not have.

As Lewes Roberts wrote in The Marchants Mapp of Commerce:

“ruder Countrey-men (who) despise

The Mysteries of Trade and Merchandize;

With whom ‘tis counted Learning but to know

The price of Runts, how Sheepe and Cattell goe:

Such as (for Coine) doe onely understand

That which with them doth passé from hand to hand” [318]

As the majority of Horsham society was still rural then, the Merchant was a person to be held in awe and respect. As Horsham was a market town relying on merchants to set up credit networks etc between various peoples, it is easy to see why the Merchant could be “king” in the town, especially as in Horsham’s case the local Lord was no longer “king”.

PETER OSBORN – A NEW BREED OF MERCHANT AND BURGESS OF HORSHAM 1563 [319]

Peter was one of the new breed of merchants, administrators and politicians. Born in 1521 in Essex, he was probably educated at Cambridge. He soon came to the attention of William Cecil, Lord Burghley and, through marriage, to Sir John Cheke, his wife being his niece. Burghley became his political patron, though he obviously had some skill as an administrator, for in 1553 he was described as “a great officer in the Eschequier, being also of right good estymacion & lernyng, and one who in that place (Bridport) maye doe your towne mouche good” .[320] Two years earlier, he had been made clerk of the faculties and keeper of the privy purse for the young king Edward VI.

Through Cheke, who was chamberlain of the exchequer and principal secretary, he obtained some lucrative government posts. During Mary’s reign he spent some time in prison, though during Elizabeth’s reign he regained his prominence in the country’s financial affairs as he was considered “an authority upon commercial matters”. However, he needed to be in Parliament to be effective, so through Burghley he was elected MP for various places including Horsham in 1563 (then Guildford in 1571, Plympton Eagle, Devon in 1572 and so on). The administrative posts he held include: ecclesiastical commissioner in 1562, deputy governor of the Society of Mineral and Battery Works in 1568, Commissioner for disputes with Portugal in 1573 and for piracy in 1580. He died in 1592. 

Chapter 8

THE NAKED CHRONOLOGY

1602-1610 Elizabeth I died 1603, James I crowned.	Three notable families: Caryll, Eversfield and Middleton, moved to Horsham area. A white witch licensed by Archbishop of Canterbury.   Chesworth House, park and lodge were leased out for £60 to Sir John Caryll of Warnham. Sir John Eversfield, or Sir Thomas, paid £5,500 for Denne Park in 1604, and started to build a house in the local sandstone. In 1604, John Middleton bought the Hills estate from his landlords, the Caryll family, and then started to build a substantial house attached to the old accommodation. In 1609, Warnham’s hammer pond and forge were set up by Caryll to exploit the local iron ore.
1611 James I dissolved parliament.   King James Bible published.	Thomas, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, son of Duke of Norfolk, commissioned a survey of the borough. The Norfolk family tried to regain their status, auditing their power in the town.
1614 Galileo faced inquisition for first time.	Booklet published in London attempting to describe the sighting of a serpent in St Leonard’s Forest. The people who saw the serpent describe it as such, and not a dragon, thus showing evidence of the new learning.
1617	First evidence of the existence of a Bridewell, a house of correction for confining disorderly persons, when £8 quarterly maintenance payments were recorded in the Quarter Sessions for Horsham.
1626 Dutch colony of New Amsterdam, (later known as New York), founded on Hudson River.	First Quarter Sessions held in Horsham dealing with a variety of cases, from fining Richard and Agnes Gander 3s 4d for eavesdropping in 1647, to punishing Jana Hatkins with a whipping for stealing a 10d shirt.
1628	On 24 December, William Brown, celebrated poet, married *Timothy Eversfield and lived at Denne, moving to Dorking in 1634. (*A lady’s name of the time). On 28 October, Matthew Caffyn, leading Baptist and pamphleteer, baptised. Matthew Caffyn went to Oxford from whence he was later expelled. He returned to Horsham and joined a General Baptist Church at Southwater led by Samuel Lover.   In 1653, Caffyn settled at Pond Farm, Southwater and in 1654 became a founding member of the General Assembly of General Baptists. He debated with the Anglican incumbents of Henfield and Waldron, several Presbyterians and leading Quakers, and in June 1655 debated with Quaker leader, George Fox, in Bryan Wilkinson’s house, Sedgwick Lodge. Also in this year, a publication was circulated attacking Caffyn that resulted in a six year pamphlet war. Another Quaker preacher, Alexander Parker, tried to preach in a church near Horsham, but the minister had the bells rung to ‘drown him out’ and then used dogs to chase him from the building. In 1666, Caffyn and his family moved to Broadbridge Farm along with his two elder brothers. Another pamphlet war began in 1679 with Richard Haines who farmed at Sullington. (Caffyn disagreed with patents).   For the next 20 years he was in dispute with the Baptists over which tenets of faith should be followed. Mathew Caffyn died in 1714 at Broadbridge Heathand was buried at Itchingfield, Sussex.
1600-1650 First coffee shop opened in London in1632.	Two wells in Horsham: the public fountain in North Street called ‘Comewell’, recorded in 1627 when it needed repairing, and the Normandy Well.   Plague struck again in 1630s. Children affected most. In 1635, the mortality rate for the Parish doubled, creating a shortage of children attending Collyer’s School.
1630	John Pell, mathematician, became an assistant master of Collyer’s School.   John Pell was born at Southwick in 1611 and educated at Steyning. He went on to Trinity College, Cambridge at the young age of 13. He was a striking figure; remarkably handsome, with strong, excellent posture, dark hair and eyes, and a good voice. Two years later he married and had four sons and four daughters.   John, who had become a leading member of the group that surrounded John Comenius, left Collyer’s School for a mathematics teaching post in London in 1638. In the same year, he published An Idea of Mathematics, which proposed putting all theorems and methods of mathematics together in one publication. Though not seen as such by today’s standards, his ideas were revolutionary at that time. Robert Hooke* included it with comments from René Descartes**, amongst others, in his Philosophical Collections published in 1679. John Pell was influential in his day.   *Aka Jan Komensky, Czech educational reformer
1633	Richard Haines baptised.
1640-41 Parliament recalled after 12 years.	New Horsham Gaol built at the expense of the County. Building poorly built and condemned in 1649.
1642-1643 English Civil War.   Income and property tax introduced in England in 1642.	Vicar of St Mary’s Parish Church died. Dispute over appointment of successor.
1643	King Charles’ troop invaded Sussex to secure an escape route and the iron industry. Thomas Middleton, MP for Horsham, feigned sickness and did not fight. Invited the King’s men to take Horsham.
1644 William Penn born.	A Parliamentary commander reported that he could rely on 200 of 504 men from Horsham.
1648 Poor harvests led to discontent and a rise of localism.	Up to 300 men surrounded the arsenal in Market Place to prevent arms from leaving town and going to Arundel. Watched from 9 – 28 June.   In the end the men gave up and allowed those who wanted to fight for the King against Cromwell to take what they needed. Within a week, fear of revolt had spread. People linked Horsham with the Clubmen, a movement that raised armies to prevent the Royalists or Parliamentarians from entering the neighbourhood. Support for Horsham was growing in the Pulborough area and on the Hampshire border. Parliament sent over Sir Michael Liversay from Kent, who encountered skirmishes at Knepp and then in Horsham itself where three townspeople and one roundhead were killed. Thomas Middleton was imprisoned for his Royalist sympathies.
1650s	Religious dispute between Quakers and Baptists after Civil War.   Founder of the Society of Friends, George Fox, came to Horsham in 1655 to preach.
1654	Elizabeth Delves, daughter of Halls Ravenscroft, MP for Horsham, died on 2 December. A magnificent black and white monument was erected in Parish Church with a fulsome memorial honouring this prominent woman of the day.
1657 Oliver Cromwell crowned, his son declared Lord Protector.	Minister John Chatfield died. Nathanial Tredcroft appointed to the vicarage. Appointment signed by Oliver Cromwell’s son Richard
1659 Oliver Cromwell died in September 1658, succeeded by Richard.	In June, 5,000 Fifth Monarchists gathered for a peaceful meeting lasting eight hours.   Fifth Monarchists believed in using violence to bring about the imminent Fifth Monarchy of Christ, part of a wider movement that believed a perfect society would be established by divine intervention. The movement grew out of the unrest caused by the collapse of Richard Cromwell’s protectorate.
1660 Charles II returned to England.	Mercer’s company rebuilt Richard Collyer’s school at a cost of £253, of which the town provided ‘some small helps’.
1661 Return of confiscated property.	Chesworth given to Charles I’s wife Queen Henrietta Maria.
1662 King given £1.2 million on his return. Not all paid to him, so more funds required.	Hearth Tax introduced, paid at 2s per hearth. In 1664 Hills Place had 22 hearths. Ambrose Rigge, Quaker and author, imprisoned in Horsham Gaol.
1665-66 The Great Plague and the Great Fire of London.	Great Plague killed c.100,000 people in the city. Horsham probably affected in the short term by standstill in trade. Between 1664 and 1670 seven traders issued tokens owing to shortage of small change. The Great Fire affected Horsham because the Mercer’s Hall and the ‘Key’, the house used to fund Collyer’s school, also burned down.
1670	Isabel Machell born at Hills Place.   At the age of 15 or 16, Isabel Machell married Arthur Ingram, the second son of a recently ennobled family from Yorkshire. The family connection was based on the cloth industry. Isabel dominated the political scene of 18th century Horsham, bringing up her eight sons alone following the early death of her husband in 1702.
1673 Test Act excluded Roman Catholics from office in England.	Questionnaire sent to Collyers by Christopher Wase, a printer at Oxford University, asking about libraries.   James Nisbet Master replied: ‘Libraryes, manuscripts, we have none, nor are there any considerable in any Parish about Horsham that I know of’. Inventory lists of the period show a reading community in Horsham with at least two Mercers selling books including ‘customary books’; books of manners, not manorial law books. The other books which may have been popular were those written by Ambrosse Rigge, a Quaker, and Mathew Caffyn, a Baptist, who issued numerous pamphlets disputing religious questions and attacking each other.
Late 17th Century ‘Penny Post’ in London established in 1680.	A thrice weekly postal service existed between Horsham and London in 1678. In 1683 a bowling alley is recorded on the common.
1696 New coinage in England carried out by John Locke and Isaac Newton.   First English property insurance company founded.	The First Turnpike Act for Sussex passed for a road ‘between Rygate in the County of Surrey and Crawley in the County of Sussex. …being the road from Stenning in Horsham and other parts of great trade and commerce in the County of Sussex, to London…’ Survey in 1686 showed that Horsham had stabling for 365 horses and beds for 83. East Grinstead, the next town down, had 247 horses and 103 beds.

Horsham 1600-1700

A WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN

The early 17^th century saw a significant development in Horsham with the arrival in the area of three notable families. The Norfolk home of Chesworth was leased out in 1602 to Sir John Caryll of Warnham who took a 60 year long lease on the house, the park and a lodge (providing he entertained a royal steward and surveyor on two days a year) He seems to have sold portions of the building, reducing it to a large farm house rather than a stately home in the process, to Sir Thomas Eversfield who was rebuilding on an old site at the top of Deene Hill[321]. Both the Caryll and Eversfield families were involved in the iron industry, with the Eversfields making their wealth in the East Sussex industry[322].  On the outskirts of Horsham at Hills the Middletons moved in. These three families would dominate Horsham for the next century and all three came to the town at the beginning, as if to take advantage of the power vacuum caused by the disgrace of the Norfolks.

Denne, whose name suggests its origins as a woodland pasture, was originally part of the Washington manor in the 10^th century. The de Braose family established a deer park there, but by 1499 it had passed in to the ownership of the Broadbridge family.[323] From them the estate passed through various owners until, about 1605, Stephen Barnham sold it to Sir Thomas (or to Sir John in 1604 for £5,500, who died soon after passing it to Sir Thomas),[324] who started to build a house in local sandstone, according to a date on the building. It was a large house, with four ranges built around a central courtyard with an entrance on the west side. The three gabled bays of the east front with their tall chimneys still survive, as does the four-storey north tower and an early 17^th century staircase.[325]

Denne Park is on a stone escarpment, there are a number of stone quarries, and the house is tiled with it. In 1570 Chesworth was dis-parked, not removing the enclosed land, (a pale survived in 1617 when it was drawn on Norden’s plan)[326] but throwing open the land for uses other than hunting. It is thought that Denne’s deer park was also dis-parked at this time, enabling the rebuilding of the house and the quarrying of the stone etc. Although it was dis-parked, it was still a park and the house became known as Denne Park House. Denne Park needed to be a large house; Sir Thomas had nineteen children from two marriages.

What effect did this have on Horsham? It brought to the town the Eversfield family, who would become the prominent family of the 17^th century in Horsham, particularly towards the end of the century when they controlled the elections[327]. It could also be argued that the creation of a new power base away from the Norfolks who were, possibly, re-sorting their estates with the Borough survey and “licking their wounds”, not wanting to cause a stir with the new Jacobean monarchy,  led to the burgesses feeling more independent and not so reliant on one family. Another effect can be seen in the roads into Horsham. The strengthening of the park status as the area now around the home of a prominent wealthy family, rather than a dis-parked area, might have encouraged the development of the Worthing road rather than the old route over Tower hill out of Horsham prior to the legal reality.[328] In 1764 a private Act of Parliament closed the road through Denne Park to wagons, thus creating a legal reality to a situation that had existed for at least 160 years. In the same year, Worthing road was also turnpiked, a nice coincidence[329].

On the other side of the town, the Caryll family were also making their impact felt. They had been involved with the iron industry in the Forest,[330] now they moved closer to Horsham with the opening-up and working of Warnham Forge. In 1609 they leased the forge and continued working it until at least 1653, though by 1664 it was noted as ruined[331]. The Carylls were the most prominent iron masters developing and exploiting the local iron sites[332]. The question to ask, though we may not have any answer, is: why wait till just after 1600 to work the Warnham site? The iron ore deposits stained the river red (hence its name Red River), the technology was in place at least 100 years before, and on the doorstep was a booming market town with a ready market. The answer may be that the quality of ore was too poor, production costs too high, or demand not great enough until the conditions were right around 1600. However, being Catholics, like the Norfolks, they seem to have kept a lower profile than their wealth would dictate in the town’s management. Their impact was one of proto-industrialist rather than power-monger. They created the wealth that was part of the matrix of factors that enabled Horsham to develop. 

Just before 1600, John Middleton moved from East Sussex to Horsham and settled down with his young family in a rented house.  By 1604, John had eight children and was about to buy Hills from his landlord, the Caryll family, who may have needed the money to invest in the Warnham forge venture. The house he was buying,, though may not have been in good repair, as an inquest for Elizabeth Michell, the young girl that had died falling down the rickety stairs as the coroner recorded…:

 ‘About 7 pm on 18 December Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Michell aged 13 went from a ‘parler’ at Hills with 9d in her left hand to deliver it to Thomas Skynner for the use of his brother John and with a knife, bread and cheese in her right hand, and climbing defective stairs in ‘le superiore parte’ of the hall of the same house, by misadventure she fell on the knife which gave her a mortal wound in the left side of the neck …’[333]

This suggests the Caryll landlords had allowed the old house to fall into disrepair. With an eye to his future, John Middleton embarked upon building a fine new range against the south side of the old house.  His great-grandfather had been a servant to Henry VIII, and he seems to have been intent on making his own mark.

Most people are familiar with the idea that a person can project an image through his house – through its size and aspect, whether it is traditional or modern in style, ‘off-the-peg’ or ‘architect designed’.  The death of Queen Elizabeth in 1603 had marked the end of an era.  Most of the gentry in the vicinity of Horsham were content with building new wings onto old houses, or just refurbishing the interiors.  The only significant new house to be built nearby at this time was up on Denne Hill.  There the Eversfields (also from East Sussex), who had made their money in iron working, used size to make an impact. They built a solid, unimaginative house with traditional gables and a square tower with pitched roofing, incorporating materials they had salvaged from the site of the old house at Chesworth.

Determined as he was to build afresh, John Middleton did not demolish the old house at Hills, just downgraded it to a ‘service’ wing.  He must have seen Danny, built only a few years earlier by George Goring, near Hurstpierpoint.  He took that traditional ‘Elizabethan’ design and added fashionable Dutch gables to all five bays, three storeys high.  The banks of glazed windows and tall clusters of chimneys were intended as evidence of wealth and innovation – he was able to afford so much glass, to choose to let in lots of daylight, he had the wherewithal to heat many rooms.  It was the very latest thing, and it would either make or break the ambitious newcomer.

His ‘gamble’ paid off.  John Middleton went on to be a county JP, and represented Horsham at Parliaments from 1623 until 1628, thus breaking the control of the Dukes of Norfolk, who had managed to get their men elected for several decades.

Two of John Middleton’s sons married conspicuously well.  When Richard, his fourth son, married Elizabeth Eversfield of Denne in 1620, John’s heir, Thomas, was already married to Barbara Shelley of Warminghurst.

Horsham was becoming more and more wealthy. This translated itself in a number of ways; ways which would not seem alien to us today: investment in buildings (the craze for home makeovers in the late 20^th century is nothing new), buying of goods and chattels, and in funeral monuments. The period 1570-1640 has been termed the “Great Rebuilding” by the historian W.G.Hoskins; however, this has been hotly debated, but whatever the academics decided, what is known is that by the end of the 16^th century there were significant changes to building techniques which affected the construction of timber-framed buildings. Placing the chimney in the house, possibly because of brick construction, enabled two-storeyed houses to become more common. It also meant that “carpenters began commonly to use larger trees and to cut them down into smaller component parts rather than choose the right-sized tree for a particular member as in earlier times. The considerations both of fashion and of cost became more important; the two merging with the eventual adoption of tile-hanging and weatherboarding, which were both used to conceal inferior timber framing”.[334] This would have encouraged greater exploitation of the woodland surrounding Horsham, though its use would have been tempered by the forest laws which were still in force and it has been suggested that wood from field boundaries and hedgerows or shaws could have been exploited.[335]

However, whilst there are apparent similarities between 16^th and 17^th century Britain and the late 20^th century, it should be remembered that buying more than you needed was considered by many sinful, a view that did not change till the 18^th century[336], but that did not stop you buying better quality items. Wills and probate lists of the period make for fascinating reading; however, it could be argued with some justification that the presence of a will and the retention of the document marks out the person being recorded as different from the vast majority of Horsham folk. There are 455 probate inventories catalogued in West Sussex Record Office for Horsham between 1610 and 1774[337]. From now on we can give snapshots of individual people and signs of their possessions. Whilst probate lists do record the value of the items, it is far too complex an issue to explore in a history of Horsham; therefore, the value of an item will only be given as a comparator to the value of another item in the probate, and not as a true value. The transcriptions were carried out by Dr Hughes.

In 1611, Robert Treadcrafte[338] (known as Robert Tredcroft) owned The Red Lion where he had 24 rooms. (Whilst the phonetic spelling is full of flavour it makes for difficult reading, so the transcription has been modernised unless the meaning is not clear.) In the upper chamber, there was one standing bedstead with green curtains (a four-poster?), 2 low bedsteads, 2 feather bed, 1 flockbed, 1 quilt, 2 rugs, 3 blankets, 3 coverlets, 4 feather boulsters, 2 feather pillows, 3 pairs of sheets and 2 pillows. In an era without central heating, plenty of bedding was a must. The inventory goes on to describe his “wearinge apparel” including 4 jerkins, 3 payers of breeches, 2 cloakes, 1 gown, 4 shirts, 5 bands, 2 hats, 5 pairs of stockings. In the same room there were also 2 bibles, one of which was “old pultons abridge…”, 2 books of Common Prayer, as well as one dozen silver spoons, 1 all silver salt, 1 little salt, 8 silver bowls and 1 beaker, all weighing in total nearly 6 pounds and valued at £12 6s, whereas the books were valued at 15s. On a desk in the room was found “one lookinge glass” (spectacles?)

This inventory of the inn has so much of interest recorded in it. Mention is made of “paynted cloths” in the parlour, whilst in the chamber over the Hall and in the “butterie” chamber, mention is made of painted cloths about the room and curtains for the window, as well as numerous beds throughout the building. There were wicker chairs, jointed stools, cupboards, and table linen napkins. The kitchen was well stocked with four iron pots, two brass pots, four dripping pans, one brass cauldron, seven brass kettles, eight spits, two frying pans, one iron “morter”, one “stone morter”, one latin (a type of metal) ladle, and one skymer slice as well as wooden dishes and pewter ware including 17 platters and 26 small plates amongst a host of material. He also owned the 8-room Anchor as well.

In 1614, Thomas May died, and his probate records that he owned 2 dublets, 2 jerkins, 2 pairs of breeches, one new doublet, one new jerkin and 2 new breeches, 3 pare of stockings, 2 cloaks and 3 pairs of shoes. He also owned a number of weapons: two swords, one pistol, one bow. As he was leaseholder of The Anchor, was he expecting trouble? Or did he go hunting in the Forest for which he would have to obtain permission? Perhaps the bow was for archery, the sport, rather than hunting.

The tailor John Pilfold[339] had a shop, and at his death in 1622 the “woollen cloathe with other things ther” in the shop were worth £3, the same value as his cloaths and the money in his purse. John also owned an “oulde Bible” as well as one hutch with two connies, two pigs and three hens.

Samuel White, who died in 1626, was helped by the Mercer Company to become a lawyer for in 1606/7 when he was a pupil at Collyer’s; they gave him an exhibition (a grant) of £5 per year for five years “to comence imediatelie from his placing in either of the Universities”.  The Whites were an established family, with his father Richard having interests in iron-founding, so whilst the money would have been useful, the award was not because of his poverty; more because of his intellectual ability.[340]

His probate, interestingly, doesn’t identify any rooms, but gives more a short list of his goods. When he died, he had five shillings in his purse yet was owed £90 (xc). His clothing was valued at 40 shillings, whilst his horse was worth £4. The most interesting item was “his Books” worth £20, yet his “household stuff” was worth only 10 shillings.[341]

One tailor’s probate list is revealing in that it shows what people in Horsham were wearing. On the basis that a tailor would not have cloth that was not popular, the probate list for Thomas Wood[342] who died in 1632 shows that there were two types of broad cloth, each type based on price per yard 7s and 9s, four type of kersies, cotton, “baise”, and “fries”. There were also 10 yards of blue linen and fustian, canvas, cheesecloth, “buckerom”, 6 pairs of stockings, 22 “grose” of silk buttons, 16 “grose” of thread buttons, 1lb 3 oz of silk, 1 dozen silk bindings and the same of cloak buttons, 10 yards of Ferrell ribbon, 3 doz silk lace, 3 gros of statute lace. There were also 2 firkins of “soxe”, 4lb of starch and blew, and some unusual items for a tailor such as “pepp nutmeg & other small wares”… “suger Corrence and Reasons” (sugar, currants and raisins?). So Horsham folk were wearing cotton, linen, silk, but also some grocery items, unless the foodstuffs were used in some aspect of the textile trade.   

As noted before, Horsham was developing as a thriving market town but it was not immune to the national economic events and challenges. With the rise in wealth went a corresponding rise in the number of vagabonds and beggars. This was a national problem and one that taxed all monarchs from Tudor to Jacobean times. The vagabonds were not put in gaol, but in houses of correction or Bridewells.[343] Elizabeth had passed an Act in 1578 encouraging the setting up of such places, but they were not mandatory. Horsham may have had such a house, for in 1586 a “Streeter, whose in the house of correction” was buried. 

In 1609, when James I insisted that every county had to have one or more houses of correction, which were to be equipped with “mills, turns, cards and suchlike necessary implements, to get rogues, vagabonds, sturdy beggars or other idle vagrant and disorderly persons on work.” No mention is made of providing assistance to the poor in this Act as poverty was not a crime; being idle and begging was a social crime. The churchwarden’s accounts for 1612 and 1615 identify payments towards this “public facility”; however, it isn’t until 1617 that a Bridewell is first mentioned in the quarter sessions for Horsham. In that year it records that “It is ordered that £8 by the year shall be paid quarterly by the treasurer for charitable uses for use of Bramber Rape unto the Master of the House of Correction at Horsham for and towards his better maintenance.”

As the Quarter Session notes that the money was for better maintenance, not establishment of, a House of Correction, this suggests that the House of Correction, or Bridewell, already existed in the town.   With James I’s Act, Houses of Correction ceased to be like workhouses; more like gaols.

The Borough survey of 1611 identifies the Gaol house. As it states “And that John Lyntot son and heir of Richard Lyntot deceased holds to him and his heirs . . . a certain house called the Gaol House . . . “The first known gaoler in Horsham was a Nicholas Lintott, a member of a family that had lived in the Horsham area since 1300. Nicholas was appointed gaoler in 1589, though there is ample evidence to show that Horsham had a gaol before that date, from, in fact, the 1530s. Nicholas was born in 1541; he was the son of Richard Lintott of Southwater. He married in 1567, but his wife died in 1572 leaving him two children and by 1580 he had married again. Nicholas, with a young family, probably needed a good income so, when the opportunity arose to run the gaol, he took it. The 1589 contract set out at great length his duties as gaoler, or rather as county gaoler, because he “shall take upon him the charge and kepinge of the Sheriffs Gaole or Gaoles… for the said Countye of Sussex”. These duties included the carrying out of punishments, including executions. However, the key point of the contract was that the gaol was farmed out. He had to carry out various duties in return for the fees paid by the prisoners, and if prisoners could not pay the fees they would languish in gaol for debt even if they were acquitted. Nicholas and his family probably lived at the Gaoler’s House next to the gaol, a site recently identified by Dr Hughes. Nicholas was either open to bribes, or incompetent, for he was indicted for 8 gaol breaks; the worst one in 1598 when six men escaped (a common occurrence until the gaol moved to its East Street site which is recounted later). Nicholas died in 1600 and his deputy Edward Jeffreyes, appointed in 1596, was appointed gaoler until 1622, though the Lintott family owned the gaol house, as recorded in the borough document.

Horsham gaol was a busy and unhealthy place where the mixing of the sexes led to pregnancies both wanted and unwanted. Between 1600 and 1630 forty-eight prisoners were buried according to the register; eleven of whom were executed, three being women. Two babies died and two inmates had the plague: one, a John Alleyn, was described as “a child of the gayle”. Seven baptisms were also recorded: three to married couples in prison and three as bastards.

TUDOR AND ELZABETHAN POOR – A NATIONAL AND LOCAL PROBLEM[344]

Nationally, the Tudors and Elizabethans faced a problem of what to do with unemployed people. They roamed the streets, begged, and were involved with petty crime. There was a mini crime wave going on. In the countryside, workers could be under-employed, but when theses people moved to towns and cities they became unemployed poor, with no home, no ties to the place and no moral links to the community. They were known as vagabonds and whilst certain friars, returning solders and sailors could beg for money, laws were passed to stop begging. They tried whipping, branding, enslavement and hanging as a deterrent, but none proved successful. The problem was worse in London. In 1547 it was decided that the citizens and inhabitants of London would pay to solve the problem, not the churches.

They looked at Hospitals as a solution. Hospitals were not solely there to heal the sick, but were places to provide hospitality to those in need. (Henry VIII, by closing down the chantries, had closed many hospitals; it has been estimated that it took 250 years for the provision of hospitals for the sick to recover).  What has this to do with Horsham? One of the four was Christ’s Hospital, founded to look after fatherless children, which came to Horsham in 1898/02.

The other royal hospitals established in Edward’s reign were: St Bartholomew’s for the sick, St Thomas for the aged sick and Bethlehem for the lunatic. For the able-bodied poor there was no place at all.  In 1553 the King was asked for Henry VIII’s palace of Bridewell. One of King Edward’s last acts was agreeing to its use. In December 1556 Bridewell received its first prisoners.

WHAT THE BRIDEWELL ATTEMPTED TO ACHIEVE

The Bridewell was set up to solve a large number of ills. It was to provide:

Shelter to both the wilful and hapless poor

Food and lodgings to misfit children

Food and lodgings for the destitute prisoner

Punishment and reform for rogues swindlers, petty criminals,

The keeping apart from society of various petty offenders (out of sight, out of mind)

In addition to all this, those held would maintain themselves in part by working

The overriding idea, and one steeped in Protestant religion, was that work was morally good for you. Here, the unfortunately idle would be separated from the deliberately idle, good from evil. Bridewell therefore held, tested, punished, trained and reformed all in one go. In 1576, Queen Elizabeth had authorised mayors and justices to provide stocks of wool, flax, hemp iron and other materials so that:

“Yowthe may be accustomed and brought up to Laboure and Worcke, and then not lyke to growe to bee ydle Roges.”

The Act went on to allow Houses of Correction to be built in every county, to which those who refused work would be sent. Though not mandatory, building Houses of Correction or Bridewells was encouraged. This act was renewed three times until 1597 when another “Acte for the punishment of Rogues, Vagabonds and Sturdy Beggars” or the “thriftless poor” was passed. This Act stated that rogues and vagabonds were to be punished by whipping and then sent to the nearest House of Correction, gaol, or to their place of settlement (i.e. back to their home town); they were then put into service, or if sick in an almshouse. This was to be the basis of poor relief until modern times.

Horsham’s status as a market town can be seen through the celebrated publication, in 1614, of the first news account of a dragon. Dragons had been recorded in literature, stories and myths, but not in a proto newspaper, something purporting to be news. It is for this reason an important document. However, the version that has come down to Horsham today turns out to be an abridgement of a more substantial, almost academic, work[345]. The account has often been quoted in a discussion on the appearance of a dragon, but the record may provide more revealing information[346].

The Dragon of St Leonard’s Forest

In 1614 the most celebrated but, as research for this book revealed, misunderstood, publication in the history of Horsham was published. The publication was originally thought to be a single-sided broadside or news sheet issued by John Trundle in London of an account of a dragon seen in St Leonard’s Forest and recounted by A.R. The news sheet has been reprinted in its entirety on at least four occasions, from 1836 onwards.[347]

However, we now know that what had been published was not the full account but an edited highlight, stripping away a great deal of information and revealing the story that solely concerns the incident of 1614.[348]

The key essentials that are revealed by the publication are:

1. The story concerns the sighting of a serpent, not a dragon and that is made explicit in the text.

2. The serpent kills cattle and a couple of mastiff dogs that are sent to destroy it.

3. The serpent is seen within half a mile of Horsham

4. Its diet is mainly rabbit, which tells us that the Forest had by now in large part been turned over to rabbit warrens (see the chapter on the History of St Leonards). The killing of cattle also tells us that the Forest was no longer a hunting preserve, but other herbivores had moved into the denuded woodscape.

5. That parts of the tree cover still survived, as the forest is described as “vaulty”.

6. The booklet was 20 pages long, printed in the type of authority: black letter.

7. The author supplements the account with extensive quotation from the classical and other authors, including: Seneca, Father Augustin, Plato, Macrobius Elianus, Lucius, Pliny, Lucanus, Plutach, Setonius etc. and the chronicler Holinshed, thus revealing the author to be well versed in the learning of the Renaissance.

8. The author translates the Latin phrases used, so accepting that some of his readers might not be versed in Latin, though the actual phraseology is not clear and rather convoluted to our ears, but quite structured.

9. The wording of the booklet suggests a fluidity of expression as if, like a child in the candy store, the author is experimenting with the language.

10. The woodcut was cut specifically for this publication, as the image directly relates to the text: the two mastiffs, for example. Thus suggesting the publisher expected a long print run.

11. Sue Djabri, in her article Horsham Heritage, suggests that A.R. was local: either Adrian Russell or, though unlikely, Abraham Russell. Yet:

1. There is no evidence for that; in fact, the expressions used suggest that he was an outsider looking in on what was happening in his neighbouring area, not his neighbourhood.

• Also, to have access to the library that contained all those classical books, or an anthology about Dragons, suggests someone of some wealth, and no-one fits the bill. The author could have lived in Surrey or London itself.

12. Although the printer is given as John Trundle[349], it was not, based on the printing blocks used. The blocks used are those of Edward Addle – notably his device numbers 4 and 5, as well as some initials in McKerrow’s[350] listing. This would also tie in with an old verse published in an old tune book: “Catch that Catch can”, ed. 1663. There, the verse to Poor a Maid  has the following lines:

“I should howl outright to tell of the rest,

How this poor a maid was over prest;

Therefore quickly come, and read for your penny,

Come, my hearts, ‘tis as good a bargain as e’re you had any.

Here’s no Sussex Serpent to freight you here in my Bundle,

Nor was it ever printed for the Widow Trundle.”[351]

13. John Trundle was a known printer, bookshop owner, publican and publisher who lived where the Barbican complex is today. He is known for issuing the first Shakespeare edition of Macbeth, though his is known as the Bad Edition, because of the number of differences with the celebrated First Folio and good quartos.

  On his death his widow, Margaret carried on selling. The author of the verse must have:

1. known of the publication
2. known the imprint was false.

14. The publication tells us that the relatively new discipline of science based on actual observation was current in Horsham, for the carriers and those listed as seeing the serpent didn’t say it was a dragon, but that it was a serpent.

What was the reason for publishing the account; who benefited? Was it to make a quick profit, to print a best-seller? Who was it aimed at? The well-read merchants who as members of the mercer company probably could read if not write. Who bought the 20-page booklet with its extensive quotations from learned books? What impact did 750 to 1,000 copies or more of this publication have[352]? How true or real were dragons thought to be[353]?  Was this a publication aimed at sophisticated London, a city with men of exploration and learning and the theatre? After all, it was printed in London by John Trundle for circulation in the shops, inns and taverns, probably in London, the most ready market where tales and tall stories sold and were played out on the stage.[354] Was it given a veneer of respectability by its academic apparatus? We do not know the answers to all these questions, but for some we can hazard an answer.

The account of the “Dragon” is in fact a genuine account, though not of a dragon, but a serpent. For the term “dragon” was used as a visual and literary metaphor for the serpent. The people who saw the serpent used the image of a dragon to describe the serpent, but the description, as Susan Djabri has shown, is more like a serpent[355]. In fact, what the account actually shows is an awareness of the importance of observation and detailed recording. It shows that a general awareness of scientific principles, though not termed in that way, was permeating through levels of society. For the writer makes it explicitly clear that this is an accurate account; that he knows people will think it a tall tale; but it is not. In an era when cabinets of curiosity were one of the dominant methods of explaining and visualising the world, the writer is describing a curiosity that is real, not made up.

One thing to remember is that the literature of the day was full of exploration and mystery, with new lands, and now, on London’s own doorstep, not 30 miles away, was a “new land” full of monsters,[356] just as on the sailors’ maps, so if it was “created” it may not have surprised many people; but the account was not trying to create a myth, it was trying to give a true and accurate account.  Unfortunately, the language of science did not exist in 1614 so the report became a report of a myth, rather than a report of the truth, particularly when the only popular account available was an abridgement,[357] an abridgement that, by removing the scholarly apparatus, also removed the emphasis on learning.

Who was the author, A.R.? He either attended university, probably Oxford, and had an astute memory; or, more likely, he had access to a well-stocked library. The following statement by A.R. has suggested to Sue Djabri[358] that the author was a local Horsham man. “The Countrie is neer us, Sussex; the Time present, August; the Subject, a serpent; strange, yet now a neighbour to us: and it were more than impudence to forge a lie so neere home.” However, to own such a library would indicate some wealth and, if read closely, the author writes of Sussex as being “neer us”. But on reflection, Sussex is seen as near, which suggests that he is writing from outside Sussex, i.e. London, or Surrey, and therefore “near home”, need not imply Horsham at all. In fact, what he could be saying is that the work is published in London, those in London could verify the facts and his neighbours, and the London readers could turn on him. 

What about the printer? Is there any clue from this aspect of the publication? What does this tell us? For a start, John Trundle put his name on it, but this is a false imprint; perhaps he was the publisher, the distinction at that time being blurred. This would tie in with his known career as a bookseller who specialised in ballads, news, plays and ephemeral literature. 

As for the woodcut, publishers and printers frequently re-used cuts made for other purposes but the description of the dragon/serpent with a “white ring (as it were) of scales about it” and “blackish” scales on its back,[359] and in the text the reference to a man with two dogs going out to kill it, with both dogs dying, strongly suggests that it was commissioned for this work. The woodcut was used twice in the work, on the front cover and inside, obviously a marketing ploy and also suggesting that the booklet didn’t have a simple paper protective cover. It was intended to stand out and catch the eye, and sold by a known retailer of such items.

If we take the document at face value, an historical record, it shows that Horsham had a regular carrying service to London run by at least one person – he is the, not a, Horsham carrier – unless that is used to describe the premier carrier. It shows that the forest was still psychologically if not physically out of bounds[360], a dark secret place to some people; but more importantly than all of that it shows that the new learning was taking a hold in Horsham.  (See the elaboration at the end of this chapter for a further discussion about the dragon and smuggling and the town hall. See also the account of St Leonard’s Forest)

LATE TUDOR AND JACOBEAN MEDICINE IN HORSHAM[361]

Whilst Horsham may have given birth to a celebrated medieval doctor of medicine[362], there are few records that identify medical practitioners in the town. Today, with the modern world of health care, primary care trusts, (and whilst writing this the Government’s long awaited white paper tackling the nation’s health was published) it is easy to lose sight of how health care worked. It is also very easy to laugh at, or find amusement in, the cures which to today’s ear sound more like Macbeth’s witches brew than medicines. Yet it is sobering to realise that to the Tudor and Jacobean mind it was just as logical as our cures for illnesses. It can also be argued that the belief in the cure is halfway to the cure itself (the placebo effect).

Today we would not think of looking at church records to find out about medical treatment. But 400 to 500 years ago when the curing of the sick could be seen as magical there was a fine line between magic and the devils work. In an era where a 14^th century monk’s treaties on how to detect witches became a printing sensation and circulated widely throughout Europe, the connection between witchcraft, devilment and medicine was all too easily made. In medieval society the Lord of the manor controlled many social actions: the right to marry, etc. The Lord’s power was devolved from the King’s just like his lands. Now, with the decline in the Lord’s power, the importance of the church in controlling actions became more important to the state. The state was by the 16^th century using the church as its own regulators and social services. In 1512 Henry VIII passed an Act which empowered the church to licence medical practitioners and thus control their activities under canon law. These documents, and further laws passed in this period, gave the church even greater regulatory control and provide clues to the state of medical healthcare in Horsham during this period, a period that saw nationally the population rise from 2.7 million in 1541 to 5.1 million a century later.

There were three types of medical practitioners: physicians, barber-surgeons and apothecaries. There were also midwives who, though they were on the boundary of the medical world, played an important part in the life of the community. Midwives could be licensed, whereby after matrons recommended them for their skill and the Parish minister vouched for their religious character, they had to swear a 15-part oath.  Part 14 of this oath enabled licensed midwives to swear in deputies who were of “right honest and discreet behaviour and also apt, able and having sufficient knowledge and experience”.  From 1579, the Parish churchwardens were obliged to submit reports to the ecclesiastical authorities including the activities of local midwives.

Why would the church be involved in midwives?  The simple reason is that if a birth went wrong, the baby could die, but it would have received a baptism.  (The Warnham-born poet Shelley, some 200 years later, was baptised at home, then four days later at the church because it was thought he would not survive until the church baptism). Whilst lay baptisms were possible, restrictions were placed on them in 1577. The licensed midwife also acted as the church inquisitor to make sure that there was no foul play, or concealment. It was also her sworn duty to find out the father’s name in cases of the child being illegitimate. (In 1577, Elizabethan Poor Law Act tightened up the control of illegitimate children, as the Parishes did not want to pay to look after destitute children. This Act led to a large increase in bastard infanticide – the killing of illegitimate children – up by 80% in West Sussex in the 17 years after the Act was passed compared with the 17 years before the Act).

Midwives had no formal medical training; they learnt on the job (formal training schools were not established till 1902), but were seen as being morally upstanding. So, if a birth ended in complications, a surgeon was called. The baby would be removed piecemeal (literally pulling leg, arm, head off the trunk),[363] or be born through caesarean operation from a dead mother. The Horsham Parish register records six mother infant burials within a fortnight of each other between 1560 and 1630, excluding plague years, and only one mother child dying in labour, which may show a degree of success in midwifery. However, perinatal deaths were common with, for example, Alexander Inge of Horsham losing a wife and un-baptised child in 1613, remarrying a year later and losing four more infants in such a way within three years. And such deaths had no regard to rank, as George Allyn, a Horsham “gentleman”, lost four newborn children between 1608 and 1611, but though they are recorded as un-baptised it is not clear if they were stillborn, or the midwife did not carry out her duty. Before 1642 there were six midwives recorded in Horsham.

For many, the most interesting medical people are witches, and whilst the church did not like any form of magic, it had accepted that society needed it, so reluctantly accepted white magic The church could prosecute those who practised white magic who were unlicensed; these people were known as cunning folk, also known as white witches. One of two such West Sussex prosecutions involved the Widow Lickfold who ‘takes upon her to find things lost and deceives the people and being altogether ignorant practices physic and surgery in Horsham to the hurt and danger of many”. Unfortunately, we don’t know the result of the prosecution but it does show that in this case the church was in effect acting as a trading standard officer.  It would be in this role that the church would benefit from their confidence and close connection with the community, for they would know from Parish chat and gossip who was practising and, importantly, if they were successful at it.

Whilst not relating to medical witchcraft, there were two other cases connected to devilment that are mentioned in the records from this period. The first involves a Horsham husbandman who was blamed when cattle were “strangelie taken” and “could not be recovered by the skyll of bullocke leaches”.[364]  Who actually publicised his attachment to the devil? At the same time a Warnham woman who threw dirt on her neighbours from her gate, reviled them and even prepared a “possett of scalding water” to do them harm was “tarred with the same brush”. In both cases it was probably more to do with petty village/town squabbles and rivalries than any real belief in witchcraft; hence, the cases not appearing in the church records.

In 1540, Henry VIII undertook even further tightening up of medicine with the Physicians Act. This Act tried to rationalise and define those who were able to practice medicine. The difficulty was that medicine was a “catch-all phrase”, and with the growing awareness of medical practices the discipline, as other professions and disciplines would do later, splintered into different competing groups; each group laying claim to their speciality and thus making the differences define them rather than seeking the common ground. The difficulty for them would be, as shown below, that the public wouldn’t care about this; they just wanted to be cured.  So the Physicians Act of 1540 defined medicine as surgery, physicians had given up manual healing to them and they, as a group, comprised of barbers, barber surgeons, surgeons and chirurgeons. Surgeons could carry out surgery, but barbers were only permitted to undertake blood letting, dentistry and minor surgery as well as hairdressing. In 1540 Barbers and surgeons united together to form the London Company of Barber surgeons, only separating in 1745. They were generally expected to be literate in English and have basic medical skills, and after an apprenticeship they were examined by four experts and licensed by the bishop. In Horsham, as elsewhere, the trade (it would not have been classed a profession) was carried on as a family tradition by the Pikes and Nappers.

Not content with the first law, another was passed in 1543 that prohibited the practice of physic by surgeons. That did not stop the Nuthurst, later Horsham-based, surgeon John Miller being paid seven shillings “for physic” ministered to John Bottinge  ‘in time of his sickness’ in 1601. This shows a lack of clarification and or willingness by people not to be bothered about definition, provided they were cured. However, in this case John Bottinge, the patient, died.

The medical practitioner that had the highest status was the physic who, as he administered internal medicine based on spiritual as well as physical condition, was of greater concern to the church. Medicine was also in direct competition with the church, as both could be at the bedside of a dying patient trying to save body and soul. Two Horsham physicians, William Eade of Rusper, who died in 1614, and James Alleyn of Horsham, earned enough money to have their wills sent to Canterbury for probate.  Whilst both practised physic, the latter may have obtained his wealth through inheritance rather than work, though it does show that there were enough wealthy people living locally who could afford a physic. The most interesting physic, though, was James Alleyn, who was Master of Collyers school from 1567 to 1617[365]. He married Thomasina Ferrys, the daughter and sole heiress of Queen Elizabeth’s surgeon Sir Richard Ferrys, with whom he had at least ten children and eighteen grandchildren, many of whom married into the upper echelons of Horsham society. Although not licensed, he obviously picked up some medical knowledge from his father-in-law or his wife, or simply through reading the numerous medical books now available, for he is also mentioned as a physic.

At the other end of the social scale were healers. These men and women were unlicensed, but could, according to an act passed by Henry VIII, treat certain conditions suffered by people too poor to pay medical fees. These complaints included burns, scalds, swellings, agues etc. To give an indication of medical costs, Elizabeth Smyth had to pay eight shillings in 1632 to a surgeon for setting her arm. Whilst another surgeon, Mathew Napper, owned property worth £60 in 1648 his barber son, also called Mathew, was valued at £241 in 1672. The increase in family wealth could be due to marriage, inflation and other factors not possible to explore here, but it does give an indication that there was money to be made from medicine, except from the very poor who relied on healers, an unnamed, unrecorded group of itinerant people whom the church could define as cunning folk.

The final group of medical people were not even classed as such; they were classed in the same group as shop traders, grocers etc. They were the apothecaries. They were versed in Latin, took seven years’ apprenticeship and were “duly examined”, but were still classed as mercer. This was until 1617, when they split and were given their own Worshipful Society which was part of the Worshipful Company of Grocers; hence, their measurements for drugs were the same as for spices: grains, simples and drachms. This split with the grocers was in part due to a Star Chamber court case that gave apothecaries the right to practise medicine. This set an important precedent that blurred the boundaries between healers, leading to the church licensing a host of apothecaries in the 1630s. Because apothecaries were seen as grocers they very rarely appear separately in the documents of the period. However, a William Roffey of Horsham came from a prosperous family that took its name from the village, gained a degree from Cambridge in 1631 and was later described as a “gent” as well as as a physician, though he was a highly successful rural apothecary serving a large community.

To summarise the evidence: Before 1642 the Church courts and documents identify two physicians, five barber/surgeons, one apothecary, six midwives and one cunning folk making 15 medical practitioners working in Horsham area in an era of constant threat of the plague. Chichester, by comparison, had 47 people listed in the Church court records, Petworth had eight and Steyning two. 

Around the end of the 16^th and beginning of the 17^th century, there was one trade, not now associated with Horsham, that flourished here: bell casting.[366] The Horsham area had a reputation for metal working, with the new iron forge opening at Warnham, but brass working was a different way of working and probably far more technical in the creation of the bell, though not that different from the casting of cannons that took place in the south of the County.  The bell foundry was on the church’s doorstep in Normandy, where there used to be a field and a house marked on maps as Bell Founders Field and cottage. Between 1592/94 and 1623, there was a bell foundry in Normandy run by the Eldridge family. Richard Eldridge was the first bell founder, and later, his partner and successor Bryan Eldridge ran the foundry before moving to Chertsey around 1623. They rented a property known as Bell House from the Horsham churchwardens at a rent of 10s a year. In around 1615 the house or foundry was rebuilt; possibly enlarged, to cope with the increase in work, and the building became known as New Bell House.

The bell foundry carried out work for churches around the area. In 1594, the Lindfield Parish churchwardens accounts record paying the bell founder, whilst in 1593, Slinfold accounts record taking the bells to Horsham and, again, the 1611 accounts record the same journey and for casting the great bell. In 1615, lightning struck the steeple at Horsham killing Elizabeth Stroode, and the resultant fire did much damage, so the big bell required recasting in 1616. It would appear from the accounts that the churchwardens ran a running account with the Eldridges. Even when Bryan Eldridge moved to Chertsey, the bells were sent to him for casting in 1645 and 1652.[367]

In 1614,[368] Francis Bacon, one of this country’s outstanding thinkers and author of numerous books on the new discipline called science, including Sylvia or Ten Centuries of Natural History, and philosophy, such as The New Atlantis, was also the Attorney General. It was as Attorney General that he was instructed by James I to find out by what rights certain boroughs had to elect members of parliament, as parliament was at loggerheads with James over his spending and debt. Fortunately for Horsham, the survey conducted in 1611 seemed to answer most of the questions of Quo warranto, or what right the corporation of the Borough of Horsham had to be a corporate body, to run its affairs etc. The Borough employed an attorney to argue its case, and in 1617 Letter Patent was issued which said everything was in order and Horsham was a Borough.

In the same year, 1617, Lord Keeper Bacon reiterated the importance of the relationship between the Judges and the JPs which had a direct effect on the administration of Justice in Horsham[369]. Whilst there was a single Commission of the Peace for Sussex, the difficulty of travelling across the County meant that in practice, the western division and the eastern division acted as two separate bodies, with only a full county session at mid-summer.  This had been well established by the 1570s, and whilst privy councillors may have criticised the situation, the leading JPs were unwilling to travel from Lewes to Chichester and vice versa. It was argued that the JPs could learn from the Judges, who travelled down from London, how to administer the law, as well as hear the new case law and the King’s new orders. If all the justices never met together then how was there to be consistency? As it was pointed out at the time, there was a lack of opportunity for “general conference and resolution”, and that “the whole assembly of justices by theire authorytie and presence shall much better both discerne and judge of causes than the one half of them maie or can”. Whilst Lewes was the one town that was most convenient for the fully county sessions, by its location, accommodation and status, Horsham and East Grinstead were also chosen for the midsummer sessions.[370] The status of the JP was reiterated by Bacon, who told the judges that though they oversaw the county magistracy they were not simply the justices’ masters, “Ye are above them in power, but your rank is not much unequal”, adding that they should not be “imperious and strange to the gentlemen in the country”,[371]  because they depended on the JPs to enforce their order.

What was the impact of all this on Horsham? Quarter Sessions had begun in 1362, but the Horsham Quarter Sessions did not start till 1626, and ran until 1939, though not continuously.  Above them in status were the Assizes, which had been held since the 12^th century, though the first one was held in 1306 at Horsham[372]. The Lent and the Summer Assize were the most important.[373] Small minor offences were dealt with at petty sessions, and in Sussex these tended to relate to the old rape boundaries, though offences that took place in Slinfold and Rudgwick were held in Horsham, even though they were in Arundel Rape.[374] The Quarter sessions could deal with a variety of cases; from fining Richard Gander and Agnes his wife 3s 4d for eavesdropping in 1647,[375] to punishing Jana Hatkins, spinster, alias wife of Abraham Hatkins, for stealing a 10d shirt with “a whipping”. They could, until the 18^th century, impose the death penalty though that was usually reserved for the Assizes.

With the arrival of additional courts, Horsham saw increased trade, as with all these courts various administrators and legal men would be in attendance. However, there was one problem: where to put those awaiting trial. As the trials could take place six months apart, the prisoners were held in Horsham Gaol. It was decided to rebuild Horsham Gaol. Those justices in the eastern division argued that they should not pay for it. It was now that the judges stepped in and ordered that the whole county should pay for the rebuilding of a new Gaol at Horsham on a site slightly further along from the original site (from the corner of the Carfax/North Street junction to where the post office is today (2006). It opened in 1641[376]. The other change to the status of the gaol reflected the sweeping puritanisation of society. The puritans viewed poverty without the will to work as a crime against society for which the “criminal” could be punished by whipping or imprisonment etc. In 1630,[377] it was ordered that all Houses of Correction should be established next to the gaol. This would save money, as there would now be joint management and maintenance costs. This happened at Horsham where in 1645 William Wadey is named as “Keeper of His Majesty Gaol at Horsham” and Master of the House of Correction[378]

 THE NEW GAOL 1640- 1779

The new County Gaol was built from scratch in 1640. In 1729 the building was described as ‘…at the North end of the market place stand the gaol built of free stone and crenelled on top’. In 1868 it was noted that ‘…parts of it still exist in the Literary Institution, and in the cellars of the adjoining house is the condemned cell’. Today it no longer exists; the site is covered by the Post Office. The new gaol was built on the burgage plot known as Oakendens, ‘…bounding abutting lying or adjoining to the great street commonly called the Bulls Place (north Carfax) in the said town…’ bought from a Billingshurst butcher, William Greenfield, and his son. [379]

The effect of the Civil war on Local administration was considerable. The regular assize circuits, those travels by Judges from London, were not held between 1642 and 1645. As the amount of military conflict in Sussex was not great, the administration never completely came to a standstill. There were no assizes held in Sussex in 1643, and the records for 1645 and 6 are scanty, with the normal order not being restored till 1646 when the twice-yearly visits by the judges to Sussex were restored to their normal footing. [380]

Along with the difficulty of the assizes went a difficulty in finding JPs to sit on the bench. Parliament did not want Royalists to sit, so sought out either Parliamentarians or neutrals; one such being Sir Thomas Eversfield, a known neutral; to become a JP in 1644 but he refused. However, at no time was there a complete hiatus in legal oversight.

RICHARD LUCKINS – A HORSHAM GAOLER

One of the most celebrated, but for the wrong reasons, gaolers of this period was Richard Luckins. Luckins was a “notorious drunkard, quarreller and blasphemer, who kept a thoroughly disorderly house at the George Inn near the gaol. He was accused in 1645, among other things, of extorting unjust fees, of putting debtors in irons ‘upon the least discontent given him’, of allowing prisoners to escape and of dabbling in black magic”. [381] Two years later, in 1647, he was indicted, not for maladministration but for forcibly excluding the sheriff, Sir Thomas Eversfield, from the gaol. For Luckins to have stayed in power for so long meant he must have had the tacit support of the under-sheriff. The Sheriff was appointed on a yearly basis, whilst the day-to-day administration that demanded continuity relied on the under- sheriffs.  As early as 1609, the Sheriffs were being warned to be careful about appointing men “bredd in nothing but craft, extorcon and corruption”. [382], Thomas Henshaw seems to have been one such man, who held office from 1643 to the 1650s. He had helped Luckins out on a number of occasions, including persuading people not to press bills against Luckins for fighting and breaking the peace. For Luckins to have kept his job so long there must have been collusion. Somehow, Henshaw managed to keep his, probably because by now at the height of civil unrest no one wanted to rock the boat.

The Quarter sessions were important in maintaining County administration. The Quarter sessions saw the enforcement of road and bridge repairs, for example, and with the Civil War going on, a number of these vital amenities were deliberately destroyed or let go to ruin. With the lack of judges and a breakdown in judicial administration caused by the war, the full panoply of legal administration could not take effect, storing up problems for later on. At Horsham it is possible to see the problems first-hand.[383]

From 1636, the County Gaol at Horsham was a matter of great anxiety and dispute. The Western Bench wanted a new gaol built at Lewes, but the Assize judges refused so it was rebuilt at Horsham opening in 1641. However, the building was of poor standard and in 1649 it was condemned as “not of sufficient strength to hold the prisoners by reason whereof diverse have made escapes”. Between 1651 and 1656, the County paid out £460 for work on the gaol that should have been carried out in the 1640s, but due to the problems mentioned above it was not possible to raise the money. In fact, during the 1640s, the Bench was struggling to pay of the debts of the previous gaoler[384].

However, it was not all bad. The systems in place were flexible and common sense prevailed. So, when Horsham gaol work was carried out in 1649, the JPs requested the Committee at Horsham to look after the work, as they could not. The same Horsham committee in turn asked the provost marshal to rid the iron working area around Warnham of vagrants, a task usually carried out by the bench.[385] People realised that administration had to carry on and personal ties helped ensure that county government did not collapse. This meant that when peace did return the country could get back on its feet.

PARISH ADMINISTRATION[386]

Whilst all this turmoil was going on, day-to-day life had to continue in Horsham, and it would seem that a fair amount of responsibility for the continued government of the town did not reside with the Borough authorities but with the Parish; the Parish being a greater area than the Borough, and the Parish linked to the church. Reading the accounts of the period it becomes apparent that there seems to have been a blurring of responsibilities, as if commonsense, rather than “jobsworth”, mentality ruled. The size of the Parish was such that there were, after 1662, three Churchwardens: one for the town (borough?), one for the rural areas to the north and one for the south, which today covers Southwater. These apparently mirrored the overseers who were recorded from 1642. The Parish was involved in surveying the roads, and from 1610 between two and four were appointed. As surveyors, they would have to ensure the roads were in good condition, as repair of the roads had passed to the Parish in the 16^th century.

In the mid 17^th century, it was the Parish and not the borough which carried out repairs on Tanbridge clapper bridge and to the Causeway, though other “causeways” or pavements in the main streets of the town had been a Borough responsibility from 1622. In 1645, it was the Parish who paid for the legal costs for indicting trespassers of Horsham Common, not the Borough, at the Lewes Quarter sessions. As the Common relates to the Borough, not Parish responsibility, this is surprising, though there was probably a very good, long forgotten reason. The following year, the Parish paid for repairing Normandy well. There were two public water supplies in 17^th century Horsham. In 1627 it was recorded that “the public fountain (fons publicus) in the North Street called Comewell, is very defective for want of a curb and, a nuisance, and is to be repaired before the next Court”. It would appear that Comewell was a Borough responsibility and the Normandy well, which according to Miss Hurst in 1863 never went dry though only four feet deep, was under Parish care.

One of the main expenses for the Parish was the poor. Apart from the House of Correction mentioned above, which seems to have had both a Parish and County-wide responsibility (see above), there was also in 1618 a mention of “poor houses”, which presumably were the same as the “alms houses” mentioned in the Normandy in 1624 and 1642 for which no endowments have been found, so were presumably funded by the Parish as a poor house. These were probably the two tenements mentioned in the dissolution of the Brotherhood chantry mentioned in the previous chapter. There was also out-relief, paying dole to those who did not live in the poor houses or Houses of correction.

In 1665, it was decided that the paupers receiving poor relief should wear a badge, “on the right Arme in open view as a badge of their Poverty Two letters, vizt. H.P. of the coulrs yellowe and blue, each letter to be fower inches in Length & one inch in breadth at the least And that every of the said poore people of the said Parish which shall refuse to weare such Badge constantly in view as aforesaid shall have no releife out of the Poore booke until he or she shall conforme to the said order”[387]. New applicants would only be accepted at the Monthly meeting; thereby, if you missed the meeting, you had no relief for four or more weeks[388]. The Parish authorities also decided in the 17^th century to board out pauper children. However, in the 17^th century, there were some charities for the relief of the poor; generally for small amounts of cash, bread or distribution in kind, including Henry Pilfold, Henry Wickens, James Smith of London, Richard Myhill and Mr Anthill as well as Theobald Shelley.[389]

The Parish received its income from various means. A church rate is mentioned in 1611, whilst in 1640 a 6d rate was levied on each householder in the Parish to pay for the clerk’s wages. The church and Parish became inventive in raising funds, so in the 17^th century fees were charged for digging graves, and fines were levied for drunkenness, swearing and for absence from church; the revenue from the latter three paid directly to poor relief. Church pews were sold or leased and monies from the endowed charities mentioned above were also used for Parish matters. In fact, it was not until the late 18^th century that the church and poor rates were separated; before then, they were used indiscriminately. Payments to the poor can be found in the churchwarden’s accounts, whilst late in 1730 it was agreed to pay for the repair of the roads from the poor rates.[390]

On 24 December 1628 at Horsham church, William Browne[391] married Timothy Eversfield, the daughter of Sir Thomas Eversfield of Denne. She was nine or ten years his junior, being 28 years old. William was no ordinary man, but one of the great literary figures of the early Jacobean era: one of the Spenserian poets who in the middle of the 20^th century were neglected as throwbacks to the Elizabethan age. Yet, in the 19^th century, Coleridge, Southey and Clare all read and respected him, whilst Keats adopted lines from Britannia Pastorals for the motto to his Poems, as did Elizabeth Barrett Browning in her ‘Vision of the Poets’, and Hazlitt published The Whole works of William Browne. Whilst, in his day, Ben Johnson, Michael Drayton, George Wither and John Selden were amongst those who contributed prefatory verses to volumes of his poetry, such was the high esteem in which he was held [392].

Who was William Browne? He was born around 1590/1 in Devon. He trained to be a lawyer and, whilst at the Inner Temple, he became their quasi-official poet, composing the majority of the verses to the first book of Britannia’s Pastorals in 1613. He wrote an elegy for fellow Inner Templar Thomas Manwood (see the chapter on St Leonard’s).  He was a prolific poet, with Britannia’s Pastorals, written over a number of years, being his first major work, composing a pastoral epic on a national theme; the title recalling William Camden’s book Britannia, an antiquarian study of Britain.

Browne developed a successful patronage relationship with the Herbert family, Earls of Pembroke, which lasted till his death. William Herbert, the third earl, was a co-dedicatee of Shakespeare’s First Folio as well as patron to the literary stars of this generation. Browne seems to have been their official poet, producing various elegies for the family members. It might have been this connection that appealed to Eversfield. Timothy’s father’s will allowed her a dowry equivalent to 1,000 marks, yet there may have been some conflict, as Lady Eversfield, in her will dated 1640, stated that she owed “my son Browne not one farthing of my daughter’s portion for use nor yet principal”. Browne lived with the Eversfields at Horsham after his marriage, being recorded there in 1634. His son Robert was baptized there on 27 September 1629, dying on 22 October. A second son, also Robert, was baptized on 20 March 1631, and was buried two days later, whilst a third, Ambrose was baptized on 13 November 1635.

While Browne was living at Denne, he would have had around him some of, if not his full, library including at least 16 medieval manuscripts.  Fortunately, William would write his name “in the upper margin on the recto of an early leaf in his distinctive hand”[393],  enabling scholars to identify his books. From such detective work a picture emerges of Browne as being one of the most important collectors of Middle English verse and prose in an era when “vernacular literature seems to have been particularly neglected by both the scholar and the collector.”[394] He owned a manuscript copy of Chaucer’s Troilus & Criseyde which he studied with some care, as well as important manuscripts of John Lydgate’s verse and lives of two saints. However, it is his ownership of the manuscripts of the works of the early fifteenth-century poet Thomas Hoccleve that is particularly noteworthy. Some of the manuscripts owned by Browne had previously belonged to the celebrated chronicler and antiquary John Stow. Is this important in Horsham’s history? We don’t know, because we don’t have diaries or accounts that we have for the 18^th century[395], that record people visiting Denne house, or other homes, and being shown the manuscripts. But it does leave open the possibility that within the parish of Horsham, there may have been a group of people who were shown and took an interest in this library. It, in effect, expands the horizon of Horsham’s intellectual vista.

By 1640 Browne had moved to Dorking, Surrey, near the seat of the Browne family home, Betchworth. On 6 November 1645, the administration of his estate was granted to his widow. When he died and where he was laid to rest is not known. However, his poetry circulated in manuscript form around universities and inns-of-court. Milton imitated him. He was, and is, a noted English poet; writing at a time when the English identity was being created.

The 1630s saw a decade of scarcity and diseases[396]. The degree of economic difficulty could be seen in the special payments made to the new master of Collyer’s school, Thomas Robinson and his wife Sarah.[397] In 1634, they were granted twenty nobles because of her illness. The following year, the Parish mortality rate doubled that of the previous year. The young seemed to suffer most, as the records of the school show, where it is recorded that “Mr Thomas Robinson the Schoolmaster of Horsham lamenting the absence of his scholars occasioned in that the small pocks are there very rife whereby his benefit is much decreased…” The company gave additional funds to the Schoolmaster and the usher, both of whom the following year received higher grants. Horsham must have been in a poor financial state, and or in some duress caused by the plague, as there were insufficient children attending school to fund the teacher’s salary.  This could have been due solely to the illness, or to the parents withdrawing children from the school to work in the shops and manufactories to cover family illnesses, or a combination of all such things. Either way, Horsham society was under strain medically and socially.

Horsham was experiencing other strains as well.  The natural order in the church was challenged. In 1642 the Vicar, John Collins, died. He had run an orthodox church which, as a peculiar, of the Archbishop, meant the Archbishop could nominate his successor, who was usually appointed. However, a number of the puritan Parishioners complained that they had not received spiritual comfort for the last thirty years.[398] This may seem strange, as in 1625 and 1636 payments were made for “work in Whiting the Church” suggesting that, if not spiritually, the Church in Horsham was following, physically, the more simple puritan lines. The whiting out may have included the overpainting of the medieval wall paintings, though that was probably carried out during Edward VI’s reign. It has also been suggested that some of the angel bosses in the roof may have been defaced at this time, but it is not known for certain. They had also complained over the appointment of a replacement master at Collyer’s in 1630, so some disagreement was probably likely, unless the right candidate was appointed. When Archbishop Laud presented Mr Coners in 1642, they appealed to Parliament. On 19 December 1642 the Journal of the House of Lords reads,

“Petition of inhabitants of the Borough and Parish of Horsham, in the county of Sussex; shewing, That one Mr Coniers hath been presented to that Parish, by the Archbishop of Cant. Who is a disserving Man, and unfit for that Place. Hereupon it is ORDERED, That the Archbishop of Cant. Shall have Notice, that this House doth not approve of the said Conyers to be presented to the said Parish”[399]

The following year, they managed to engineer a sequestration of Horsham Vicarage; and now Parliament, not the Archbishop, would appoint the vicar.  Parliament appointed the puritan’s “lecturer”, John Chatfield, though instead of calling him a Vicar, a position that only the archbishop could appoint, they used the term “minister”.  He looked after the church until his death in 1657.

His ideas on interior church decorations must have mellowed somewhat, as in 1654 one of the church’s most prominent and ornate tombs was constructed by Edward Marshall, a well-known English sculptor of the day. (He was Master of the Masons’ Company and Master Mason to the Crown, though not at this time.) Elizabeth Delves was only 25 when she died, and her husband was heir to a baronetcy in Cheshire, but her father was a Hall Ravenscroft, MP for Horsham in 1640. Her tombstone has a fine epitaph, which glorifies the ideal woman in the Church of the perfect woman, the Virgin Mary[400]

‘Here lyeth (expecting a joyfull resurrection) the body of Elizabeth late wife of Thomas Delves Esquire son and Heire apparent to Sir Henry Delves of Duddington in the country of Chester Barronett: who deceased the 2^nd day of December 1654; being somewhat more then 25 yeares old then in childbed of Henry their 2^nd son who with Thomas their eldest son did both survive her: she was enriched wth many ornaments both of mind and body and memorable for virtue in the severall relations of her life whereunto she was any way engaged, being religious as she was a Christian, dutiful as a daughter, affectionate as a wife, tender as a mother, discreete in her own family as a mistris, charitable in the relation of a neighbour, also of a sweet and affable disposition and of a sober and winning conversation. She was ye only child of Hall Ravenscroft Esquire of this Parish, by the mother descended of ye family of Stapleys of this country.  Her sorrowful husband (sadley weighing such a considerable losse) erected this monument, that an impartiall memoriall of her might bee the better comunicated to posterity.’

Possibly this ideal image mirrored that of the ideal warrior man, de Braose, who also has a prominent position in the church.

Finally, there was the national strain, caused by the clash between Parliament and the King which led to the Civil War. In 1625, Charles I succeeded his father and embarked upon a collision course with Parliament.  From being little more than a Royal rubber stamp, the English Parliament had been developing into much more of a power to be reckoned with. Kings needed their support for raising money, and Parliament took those opportunities to debate much wider issues. The Reformation of the English church and its closer alignment with radical Protestant movements in Europe had encouraged a greater interest in individual freedoms.

Charles had inherited all his father’s ideas about the divine right of kings, without any of his ability to handle people. More than that, his queen was a Roman Catholic, and he was both unwisely sympathetic to those beliefs and personally extravagant.  When Parliament was unsympathetic to his demands for money, he tried to rule without them, which only made him even more unpopular.

When lack of money finally compelled the King to summon Parliament in 1640 after a gap of twelve years, Thomas Middleton was one of Horsham’s two MPs.  He must have been rather well-built because, in 1641, he and another MP, both described as ‘of good bigness’, stood up in the House to hear better and ‘weighed down a board in the gallery, which gave so great a crack that an alarm of fire, of the House falling, and of a malignant conspiracy spread rapidly over the town’.  This created such an alarm that the London trained bands (or militia) were turned out to cope with an expected emergency! Thomas was not thought highly of by some local people. One Rusper gentleman was fined 10 shillings for saying of him “he is noe honest man but a knave” at the Quarter Sessions. [401]

After months of wrangling between King and Parliament, it became clear that differences were insurmountable, especially when Charles tried to arrest five MPs in the House.  In August 1642, the King raised his standard in Nottingham, and set in train the Civil War which divided counties, local communities and families, and culminated in his own execution in January 1649. In England we refer to it as The English civil war, and in Ireland they call it The War of Three Kingdoms. This truly reflects its nature, for war broke out in Scotland and Ireland, both of whom were separate nations.[402]

Horsham did not see much action during the Civil War. When the outbreak of the war occurred in August 1642, Horsham was neither Royalist nor Parliamentarian. It was reported that in December 1643, when the King’s forces invaded Sussex, Thomas Middleton of Hills, the most prominent of local people, pretended to be sick[403], discouraged troops from fighting against the King and even invited the King’s forces to take Horsham. In 1644, a parliamentary commander could report that out of a male population of 509, he could rely on 200 Roundheads from Horsham.  However, Thomas, in spite of his inauspicious start, was a strong supporter of the Parliamentary cause, becoming deputy lieutenant for Sussex in 1644. 

Although militia training was only one day a month and men were not supposed to serve outside the County, the men had to pay for food, and the pay was just above agricultural rates as well as being late.  This led to a great deal of dissatisfaction which, tied to the system of free quarterings which could be imposed at will (though Cromwell ended this in 1645), resulted in unease.[404] By 1645, a large movement of dissatisfied people called the Clubmen emerged. They fought neither for Parliament nor for King; they wanted peace and a return to stability. They tried to raise armies to stop the Royalists or Parliamentarians entering their neighbourhood. One major gathering of “vulgar multitude ignorant of manners” took place at Warberton in 1645, though it was quickly dispersed. Resistance to the harshness of Committee rule continued through 1646, 1647 and 1648. Poor harvests led to discontent as well as to a growth of localism. The Committee at Horsham, fearful that the weapons might “be in danger of surprise by a malignant party”, decided to move them to Arundel.  The townsfolk thought differently and “Our countrymen rose with one consent and two or three hundred appeared in an instant, leaving their mattocks and plowes to rescue the swords and musquets”, according to a Horsham correspondent signing themselves R.T.[405]

Watch was kept every night from 9-28 June 1648.  Then “At a full assembly in the market place it was voted unseasonable, unreasonable to watch them (the arms) any longer, and resolved upon the question, that the day following, being Wednesday, at the sound of drum and ringing of bells, those men in towne and country who are resolved to fight for the King and the liberties of the county against the encroachments of one Freeman (Cromwell) and his followers should come in and take what they pleased”. During the first week in July, the fear of revolt spread. “Wee fears we shall be imbroyled in blood in this county” wrote a Steyning correspondent, reporting the massing of support for the Horsham demonstrators around Pulborough and the Hampshire border. The Horsham demonstrators were being linked with the Clubmen.

Parliament sent over from Kent Sir Michael Liversey, who met the people first near Knepp Castle and then at a skirmish in the town, where three townsfolk and one Roundhead were killed. Their deaths are recorded in the Parish Register, “A soldier of Sir Myhell Lucies killed in the back lane… Edward Filder killed in his house through the window with a sword,…William Baker killed in Nicholas Sturt’s hop garden…Thos Marshall Gent killed in East Streate nere Thos. Michell dore”.[406]This also seems to have been the end for Thomas Middleton who, in the same year, was accused of Royalist sympathies and imprisoned. He did not regain control of his estates until after 1651.[407]

The impact of Quakerism on Sussex between 1655 and 1660 was dramatic.[408] The Quaker doctrines were first preached in Horsham in March 1655 by George Fox,[409] who recorded in his journal that “I Fox journeyed into Sussex and came to a Lodge near Horsham”. The Quakers would often attend the local church and, before the people had time to leave, evangelise to the congregation. In 1655, Thomas Leycock attacked John Chatfield, the Horsham Minister, “before he was come out of the pulpit and poynting to him sayd Thou lyar and that he was a ravening wolfe in sheepes cloathing”.

When Leycock was imprisoned in Horsham gaol in 1656, Major-General Geoff reported to Secretary Thurloe how the multitudes flocked in to him. From his cell, Leycock distributed copies of a Quaker book ‘brought on horsebacke in a sacke…’.  The book contained “many desperate words”. Thomas Leycock, at his trial, had attacked the local gentry on the Bench saying “that they sate there to maynteyne those lawes that maynteyned priests and false wayes”. The local JPs often used the law to keep in gaol Quakers whose influence threatened the social and religious stability of the shire. In one such case, the group of Quakers in Horsham Gaol in 1656 were found to be innocent of the charges and were freed in 1657. Usually, though, JPs were free to impose harsh sentences free from outside interference.

The Baptists also attacked the Quakers through their sermons. One famous local Baptist was Matthew Caffyn, who preached in 1656 a sermon called ‘the deceived and the deceiving Quakers discovered’. The equally well-known Quaker Ambrose Rigge recorded that according to his own words: “they committed me to Horsham Gaol, the 28th Day of the 3rd month, 1662…… where I continued above ten years, under many sore Abuses in the Prison, from several Gaolers”. Whilst in gaol, he married, but the gaolers seized all the possessions he and his wife had, including their bed.

In 1657 the death of the minister, John Chatfield, saw the appointment of Nathaniel Tredcroft to the vicarage of Horsham by the Commissioners for the Approbation of Public Preacher,s signed by Oliver Cromwell’s son, Richard. Nathaniel had obtained a B.A. at Oxford in 1654 and was appointed at the comparatively young age of 27. It was at one time thought that he was the son of the Horsham vintner, Robert Tredcroft, and this might explain his youthful success.[410] He was not; his father was Edward Tredcroft, the rector of Shipley, his brother became Rector of Newdigate in 1651, and his Uncle John,[411] Rector of West Grinstead. On his death in 1696, Nathaniel was recorded as the richest man in Horsham with an income of £500 a year. This he achieved through two marriages and various inheritances.[412]

Oliver Cromwell died on 3 September 1658, having in the last years of his life adopted regal pretensions, to the extent of receiving a coronation in 1657. His son Richard was declared Lord Protector and it was in this role that he signed the document giving Horsham the vicar Nathaniel Tredcroft. Nathanial served the town for 39 years.

There was, however, one final act of radicalism which occurred in June 1659.  England had suffered further bouts of insecurity with the death of Cromwell and the collapse of Richard Cromwell’s protectorate in April 1659[413], which in turn led to the rise in groups known as Fifth Monarchists.  This sect believed in using violence to help bring about the imminent Fifth Monarchy of Christ, and was part of a wider movement who believed a perfect society would be established through divine intervention. In June 1659, some 5,000 gathered in Horsham for eight hours, though it seems to have been a peaceful meeting.[414]

Richard Cromwell did not last long as Protector, and by the middle of 1660 Charles returned to England. The great experiment in republicanism died. Charles returned chronically in debt and remained so throughout his life, but Edward Hyde, the skilful advisor to Charles, had decided not to push Charles’ luck by asking Parliament to clear the future king’s debts, for the country had been bled dry by taxation and there was an economic downturn.[415] Even though there was an economic downturn, it did not stop Collyer’s school from being substantially rebuilt. The total cost was £253, of which the town provided “some small helps” and the Mercer Company the majority of the funds, taking their responsibility under Collyer’s will to heart. The cost was £67 more than they had budgeted for, but the money “bin layd out with greate care, frugality and good forecaste”, they paid the difference. In the report of their visit to see the school they mention that the town had suffered with smallpox “for halfe a yeare” and that parents had removed children from the school for fear of infection.[416]

During the Intergnum, Parliament had confiscated Royalist sympathisers’ property and sold off the assets of the monarchy. One such asset was Chesworth (see below). Now a debate took place over how restitution should be made. Charles agreed to leave it to Parliament to sort out and he would grant a pardon to all those who collaborated during the Interregnum, as the period was now known, except those that Parliament named. There then followed the trial of the Regicides with the bodies of those who died, including Cromwell, being dug up, hanged in their green coffin clothes and heads hacked off and impaled on spikes, whilst those who were alive were hanged, drawn and quartered. Parliament had decided that 20 additional names would be added to the list of Regicides, with the poet Milton being considered as the 20^th. Fortunately, he was not put on the list, and in December 1660 was pardoned. He, however, in return wrote Paradise Lost, the child of the Revolution and its defeat. After ten deaths, the King had had enough of bloodshed and called a halt[417]. He wanted a period of toleration, both of religion and within society. However, Parliament thought otherwise and from 1661 to 1667 Parliament was known as the Cavalier parliament due to its pro-Royalist sympathies.

What effect did this have on Horsham? In far away Yorkshire, Henry Ingram was created Viscount Irwin by Charles II for services the family, and his grandfather in particular, had served in financing the government of James I and Charles I. Within 30 years, Horsham would be inextricably linked to this recently ennobled family and their fortunes. However, closer to home, in 1661 the Act of Uniformity had been passed by the Parliament, much to Charles’s displeasure. The act restored the bishops (thus returning Episcopalian authority rather than Parliamentary authority), and ejected Presbyterians and other undesirable ministers, prohibiting religious meetings outside the restored Anglican Church. (The Act also sought the return of the Book of Common Prayer replacing the Puritan Directory of Public Worship.) The Act treated all nonconformists, as well as Catholics, alike, even though most sects and Catholics, as Charles was aware, just wanted to worship in peace. One thousand dissenting clergymen were ejected from the church.

An obvious ejectee would be Nathaniel Tredcroft, the Vicar appointed by Richard, but he survived, having by 1663 subscribed to the Act. Parliament followed up the Act with further acts of intolerance, which have the misleading name of the Clarendon Code and included, in 1664, banning religious services other than those of the Church of England and, in 1665, the Five Mile Act preventing dissenting ministers living within five miles of a town, with the Bishop of London arguing that the reason for the severity was that “Those who will not be governed as men, by reason and persuasion, shall be governed as beasts, by power and force”. You were fined 5s for attending a dissenting meeting, and that could be on the say-so of one person, who then received one third of any fine levied.

Two prominent groups who were affected by these laws were The Quakers and the Baptists. Charles II tried to provide some softening of the Acts, but in 1662 the Quaker Act was passed and even further prosecution followed. The Religious census of Sussex in 1676[420] revealed that Horsham had 2870 conformists, 30 papists 100 nonconformists – a surprisingly small number given all the problems that had occurred and compared with the number attending Fox’s meeting some 20 years earlier It might be that the act of actually recording your religious belief forced people to “climb off the fence” and actually state their preferred church, and if you wanted to progress in the world you declared your conformity.

In 1662 the unpopular Hearth Tax was introduced. The King was given initially by Parliament £1.2million a year, which was insufficient for such a profligate monarch and, as the full sum which never materialised was not enough, Parliament decided to tax hearths, or fires, in each house; but this did not solve the problem of the King’s finances and it never would. The tax was at 2s per hearth and continued till 1689. For the local historian the tax provides fascinating information, including the fact that at Hills, the magnificent house built around 1604, there were 22 hearths. In 1662, Thomas Middleton died and Hills passed to his grandson, Thomas who was born around 1641 and was barely 21 at the time. He seems to have let Hills soon after to John Machell, a gentleman whose ancestors came from Cumberland, but who had skilfully married into the prominent local families who, with their Catholic and importantly Royalist sympathies, were on the ascendancy.  Four years later, Machell had bought Hills from young Thomas Middleton, who had moved down to live in Hangleton.[419]

The King had a Portuguese Catholic wife, Catherine of Braganza. Whilst the King had tried to have legitimate children by her, all he needed to do to his mistresses was look at them to make them pregnant, so to speak, for the court was populated with his illegitimate offspring, and yet with Catherine they could produce no heir. In 1661 the manor of Chesworth was settled on Queen Henrietta Maria, Charles I consort, who returned to France in 1665, and on her death in 1669 it was settled on Catherine of Braganza by 1674 who still held it in 1699.[420] Chesworth was a shadow of its former self; (a parliamentary survey of 1650 taken of “Charles Stewart, Late Kinge of England” lands with the purpose of selling it recorded: “That ye Mancon howse affords hath beene demolished and sould in great part” and that all remained was a house “consisting of five rooms below stairs, besides other necessary rooms, and five chambers above stairs, wth garrets over them, wth an oast for malt, wth a barne, stable, and cowhouse, wth a faire orchard, well planted, and a garden and yard, wth divers ould fich ponds, containeing by estimacon four acres”.[421] As a side note, as well as selling off the King’s land, Parliament also sold off the Royal collection of artworks, one of the greatest dispersals of art that ever occurred). However, the house was leased out and in doing so provided part of the Queen’s income to allow her to run her own court. It is doubtful if she was ever involved in the day-to-day affairs of Chesworth, but due to its previous royal associations was still part of Royal lands, obviously being returned to the King on his return in 1660.

In 1665 The Great Plague hit London, killing off at least 100,000[422] people in the city that had trebled in size since 1600. In the first week of September that year, 6,988 deaths were recorded in the City. There was a financial crisis in the City, as the rich left as soon as they could without concern for the poor. Along with the rich went the Clergy, and so the nonconformist ministers excluded under the Five Mile Act returned to tend the sick, a point not lost on the Bishop of London who told his clergy that they could lose their incumbency if they did not return.

The nonconformists would come preach, tend the sick and condemn the depravity and vanity of the court. The Quakers also remained to tend their sick, and 1,177 Friends died in London, but they used their country connections to channel relief into the city, with meetings taking place asking for relief for the victims. Whilst we know today that the plague was probably spread by fleas on rats, in London, money was set aside for killing 40,000 dogs and 80,000 cats, the very animals that would have killed the rats. The King asked the country to help, but in London itself trade was at a standstill. Obviously, this would affect Horsham which by now had a regular trade with London. Then, with the first frosts, the plague abated; people returned, only to die as they did not have the immunity, but by February 1666 the Court had returned and within a generation the population of London had recovered.

For ten or more years people had worried over the year 1666, regarding it as the most dangerous of years because of 666, the mark of the beast in the Book of Revelation in the Bible. Preachers had written about pestilence to be followed by fire and, after the Restoration, the restoration of the devil, or pope, to this land, as the Puritans saw it. Then on 1 September fire struck. The summer had been dry, and London was like a powder keg ready to burn. Within six days it was all over. Why mention the Great Fire when dealing with Horsham? Because the fire had a major effect on the town in an often unrecognized way.

Collyer’s school had, as the will of Richard Collyer stated, as far back as 1532 been funded by the Mercer Company using profits from a large house in London. This large house, The Key, along with the Mercer Hall was burnt down. The School had been rebuilt in 1660, but around 1693 when new repairs were required the Company agreed to some of them but rejected the building of additional rooms, since “the estate belonging to the school doth not reimburse the annual salaries paid unto the school master and the usher”[423]. From now on the Mercers Company would question its contribution to the school, as it pointed out in 1704 when being asked for further funds: “The towne of Horsham have the sole benefit of the said school house and . . . the same never was any advantage to the Company”. [424]

The interconnectedness between London and Horsham that previously benefited Horsham greatly, now, in the 1660s, meant that harm to London could and did harm Horsham. The reduction in trade whilst the plague was rampant and the great Fire led the Mercer Company to question its obligations to a market town some 30 miles away that seemed to do very little for itself. As John Donne would so aptly write: “no man is an island”; or in Horsham’s case “no town is an island”.

The connections between London and Horsham were developing as trade expanded. There had always been trade links, but in Medieval Horsham the ties had been more with the south, with the family connections linked with the manors along the coast, with Bramber rape, and even the iron foundries, being in the south[425], Horsham was exploited by the south; in effect being a “colony” (providing raw materials which were then converted into finished products, iron and foodstuffs on the hoof), and whilst some from Horsham had moved to London, the connections were not as strong. Now, as the medieval manorial ties weakened and disappeared, so Horsham looked north. Or, to put it in the correct context, the influence of London was increasing; Horsham was becoming part of London’s hinterland. Yet the one drawback was the roads. In 1671 Dr John Bargrave could write that “especially after the raynes very bad wayes from whence it (Horsham) is sayd this towne had its name, the steps to it being up to the horses hams”.[426]

In 1673 Richard Bloome in his survey of Britain would describe Horsham as “a very great market for corn and all sorts of provisions, especially fowl, which is bought up by the London higlers”,[427] suggesting that trade with London flourished, and in 1681 there was a regular weekly wagon service. This suggests a mixed historical message: in terms of folk lore the roads were poor, but in economic terms they were not bad enough to stifle trade. The answer might lie in the purpose for which the travel was undertaken. Higlers worked on the margins of the merchant society; they would be condemned by reputable traders some 60 years later. They therefore might accept poor road conditions to make some quick and easy money, whereas the professional men, including the barrister, later to become Lord Chancellor, Cowper, viewed the roads as a hindrance to their work. Cowper would write to his wife after attending the assizes in Horsham in 1690: “the Sussexways which are bad and ruinous beyond imagination. I vow ‘tis a melancholy consideration that mankind will inhabit such a heap of dirt for a poor livelihood”.[428]

Whilst the waggoner, with the broad wheels and pulled by oxen, would accept the conditions as being the normal part of the service, with his wheels compacting rather than cutting up the road surface. The reason for the poor roads was explained by Cowper in the same letter to his wife: “The Country is a sink of about forteen miles broad which receives all the water that falls from two long ranges of hills on both sides of it; and not being furnished with convenient draining, is kept moist and soft by the water till the middle of a dry summer, which is only able to make it tolerable to ride for a short time”[429].

The problem of the roads came to a head when in 1696 the first Turnpike Act for Sussex was passed. The repair and maintenance of the roads was a Parish responsibility. Many Parishioners argued: why they should pay for roads if they did not use them and the people who benefited were the traders? The “let the user pay” attitude had hindered the road’s development. The Turnpike Act was an administrative device that allowed for just that. It charged tolls on the users and what is more, money could be borrowed on the proposed income to pay for road improvements, before the income arrived. Today this may seem to be commonsense, but in the 17^th century it was sophisticated banking and monetary control.

To ensure payments were legally enforced, the Act was passed by Parliament and administered by justices. The first turnpike was for a road “between Rygate in the County of Surrey and Crawley in the county of Sussex . . . being the road from Stenning, Horsham, and other parts of great trade and commerce in the county of Sussex, to London, …” .[430] But this was just one road; interestingly, the same stretch of road that Richard Collyer had paid for repair of in his will, some 160 years earlier. Horsham and Sussex roads would not improve until well into the 18^th century, when one of the fears over improved roads was that of bypassing the town. Why would a trader buy their items from Horsham market when they could buy direct from the Farmer? So it was deemed better not to improve the roads at all; restricting access for trade would come to fruition[431].

By 1668 John Machell, who had been renting Hills, had bought the estate from the Middletons. He could now with this permanent base enter into the political sphere with his strong royalist tendencies. Following on from the Civil War, Parliament was now the dominant force, not the King, and with that change went the subtle realisation that Britain was no longer a medieval country ruled by lords who took their power from the King, but a country whose parliament gave the King its power. Gradually Parliament started to interfere in everyday life. In the 1620s, the Burgesses of Horsham elected their own MP, no longer being influenced by the local Lord. They were seen as being independent. However, the newly elected MP had to be paid for his time; the loss of earnings when Parliament sat. If the town was unwilling to pay, then only the rich could go, or those in the pay of a rich person, and who “pays the piper calls the tune”. Samuel Pepys, the celebrated diarist who was also an outstanding administrator and civil servant, noted in his diary:

“the base of the Parliament hath been the leaving off the old custom of the places allowing wages to those that serve them; by which they chose men that understood their business and would attend to it, and then could expect an account; but now they cannot and so Parliament is become a company of men unable to give account for the interests of the place they serve for.” [432] 

The very time Parliament started to show an interest in how the country was governed, was the time when local independence was being swallowed by apathy. The domination of parliamentary rights was by one or two local families who took on the responsibility to send MPs, providing they could dictate what they voted on and spoken about, if at all. Did Parliament take an interest in communities because they were dominated by placemen, or did their interest occur before then? Probably the latter, for it was during the Interregnum that Parliament became involved in communities. 

Look at Horsham: for example, there was Parliament saying who could be the vicar and Parliament deciding to persecute Quakers. The number of people who attended Fox’s meetings, and the rapidity with which people converted to Quakerism, suggests that there were strong nonconformist groundswells and, whilst many may not have crossed that line, a number tiptoed around it. An example of this can be seen in the county gaoler, Luckins, who looked sympathetically on the Quakers’ plight in gaol, only for him to be gaoled at Lewes for doing so, as the record in 1656 states: “Richard Luckin Joyler of the county of Sussex was committed to the house of Correction in Lewes by the magistrates and there was kept 3 weeks because he gave more liberty to the people called Quakers than they were willing.” In many respects Parliament was now criminalising things for which the local community had resolved itself.[433]

In 1680 John Machel, the owner of Hills, who was connected with royalist sympathisers and royalist families, was returned as MP, as was John Michell, a descendent of the former owners of Hills. Neither were typical burgesses, both were substantial landowners and both connected with the upper echelons of society. Horsham had lost its independence through apathy, a common trait throughout its history.[434]

The restoration of the monarchy and the period after 1660 saw a resurgence in learning; almost a scientific and cultural renaissance, with some of the greatest thinkers that Britain has ever produced making their names, including Newton, Wren and Boyle. Can this be seen in Horsham; was there any evidence of a cultural elite in the town, an intelligentsia, or was the town in a backwater concerned only with trade?[435] The town had a recently rebuilt and expanded grammar school that had been in existence for around 160 years, each year producing around ten pupils who could read and write in Latin as well as English, and with the right Master having the teaching staff whose interest extended beyond the narrow curriculum. That must, one must assume, have produced a circle of people who could discuss, debate and develop ideas at an educated level. It did not, though, on the basis of James Nisbet’s reply, produce anyone with the spare capital, or desire, to endow or create a library. For James Nisbet, Master of Collyer’s, replied in 1673 to a questionnaire sent out by Christopher Wase, printer at Oxford University for a future publication on “Considerations concerning Free Schools”, with the following observation: “Libraryes, manuscripts, we have none, nor are there any considerable in any Parish about Horsham that I know off.”[436] But as we will see later, that is not the full story.

His reply, though, is revealing at a number of levels. Firstly, the school did not have a library (in fact Collyer’s would not get a library until 1924). Therefore, there was little opportunity for the poor scholar, even if they had wanted to, to argue and debate the wisdom of what they were taught by using previously written arguments. Learning was by rote, not by debate. This fossilisation of knowledge was apparent throughout the education system: the pupils from Collyer’s who did go on to Cambridge or Oxford would have found their libraries in very poor state, more a repository of books than an intellectual tool. However, the fact that Nisbet refers to it suggests that a library or recourse to a collection of books was one judgement on what made a school.

The second important point is that Nisbet obviously mixed in a community of people whom he would expect to have a library, for he deliberately makes a comment that there are no libraries in the Parishes around Horsham. Did he mean by that Parish Libraries, libraries attached to the churches, or was he also referring to individuals living within the Parish, or was it referring to both groups? For he could have left the statement that there was not a school library, but he deliberately expanded it, perhaps to show how successful he was as a teacher by educating pupils in a bibliographical void. (The mention of manuscripts should not conjure up illuminated medieval documents, because until the mid-19^th century when printing costs plummeted, the manuscript was a common method of publication for small number of copies, say under 100[437].)

His reply also does beg the question of what happened to the “one library of bookes” valued at £10 mentioned in the inventory of Mr Thomas Robinson, the “scholemaster”, who died in 1639. As it is mentioned in his inventory one presumes it was a personal library and not treated as part of the schools. It is also interesting to note that Nisbet did not count his own collection of books as a library, even though when he died in 1684 he had a study with a “parcel of books” valued at £30 6s. (This suggests that he had around 800 books, see below.) This was a substantial library for the period. Did the Vase inquiry stir him in to buying a library, or was he being modest?[438]

If we use books as an indication of the intellectual vigour of the town, the comment by Nisbet would suggest that the town was in an intellectual stupor. However, by looking at wills and probate lists, we might find another picture. By looking at those documents for people whose jobs we would, today, class as professionals we might find a number with books. In an ideal world we would like to see the books listed, but the probates and wills rarely did that. However, one point that is interesting is how the values described below were obtained and, equally, where the books came from.

Horsham had no bookshop in the town, as there is no mention of a stationer or bookseller in the Parish registers from 1541 to 1635, in the inventories from 1611 to 1774, or in the deeds and apprentice registers from 1572 to 1798, though mention is made of a chapman.  But chapmen did not just sell chapbooks: those 24-page booklets sold for 2d, or 48-page sold for 3d, crudely printed on soft paper so that they, after being read, could be used for other less noble purpose,[439] and they also sold other trifles. So were the books the sideline of a merchant that had connections with London? For the trade was dominated by the London-based Stationers Company that ensured a high-priced monopolistic state-regulated trade[440] Were the values ascribed to the book determined by resale value within Horsham, or resale value within London, (a Latin church father book would have a greater market in London than in Horsham, though its scarcity value in Horsham might give it a premium), or was it determined by a percentage of the price given on the title page? These are questions we cannot answer. What we can answer, though, is that the Apothecary Jn Williams had £10-worth of “Books and other physical ingredients” when he died in 1662, which suggests that these books were linked to his trade rather than intellectual relaxation or debate. (Though it should be noted that the selling of books and medicine were closely linked up to the early 19^th century, and even in to the 20^th century, with Boots, the chemist selling books.)[441] Whilst Henry Nye, another Apothecary who died in 1671, had 40 shillings-worth of books in the Brewhouse chamber, which seems to have been a private study or spare room as it had a bed, chair, table and chest. John Pickle, Barber-surgeon who died in 1668, left two bibles not separately valued, whilst his son Thomas who died in 1681 had a “parcel of Bookes” in the “Clocke Chamber” valued at £5.[442]

Other people who owned books include: James Chapman, gent, who had a “Bible and other small Bookes” in the Parler valued at 6 shillings; another gent, John Seale had 5 shillings worth of “old bookes”. Whereas Nicholas Shaw, gentleman, had a study and “all the books and other goods in that room” were valued at £6 in 1691, whilst the surgeon Chasmer who died in 1694 also had £1 of books. However, in the period we are concerned with, the only person where the number of books is actually identified is Mathew Woodman, Clerk and curate at the church who, when he died in 1684, is listed as having in “his study of 400 bookes in number greate and small” valued at £15. (Interestingly, the vicar John Collins, also listed as clerke in his inventory of 1642 is listed as having “bookes in his study” valued at £80.) The question to ask is what is meant by “great and small”; the obvious answer is books that are large, i.e. folio, and small or duodecimo, but that may not be the right answer. For at the time these inventories were being drawn up, small often referred not to the size of the book but the quality of the text; small as in trifling things, things of no or little consequence, often referred to as small pleasures.[443]

However, knowing that in 1684, 400 books were valued at £15 does give an imprecise indication of the number of books people had in their homes.  What this clearly shows is that there were a number of homes with large numbers of books; for example, Thomas Pickle who died three years earlier would on this reckoning have over 120 books, Nicholas Shaw over 130.

So we can tell that in Horsham there was a “reading” or “book owning community”. However, these were people we would expect to have books (based on transferring our notions of what we would expect to find in the homes of these professionals today, back some 340 years). What would be interesting is if other tradesmen owned books. Here the inventories and probates reveal that William Jenden, shoemaker, had 10 shillings worth of “bookes in the house” in 1683, A Benjamin Dod, a mercer, had “several small bookes and other bookes valued and praysed at £1” in 1671. Interestingly this line appears underneath, but separate from, the valuation of the items in the “shoppe Chamber” and the shop stock valuation occurs at the head of the inventory, suggesting that this is for personal use. He also had “fower pictures” in the little chamber. In 1679, Michael Woodgate, a mercer with extensive premises and large range of goods in his shop, had “a pcell of bookes cout 13 in number” valued at 10s.  Richard Wood Taylor, whose list was drawn up in 1671, had “in the kitchinge… some old bookes with other small Implements (belongining in the same Roome”. Were these “old bookes” herbals, cookery books, books one might expect to find in a kitchen, or was the kitchen the best place in the house to read to the family whilst the meal was being prepared? No other books are mentioned in the inventory and as the books are valued with other items in the Kitchen, no value can be ascribed to them. Leonard Booker, “taylor”, who died in 1681 had “one bible two other bookes”, which is what would have been expected in many of the homes: a bible, perhaps a common prayer book and a book of approved reading.

In 1701/2 Henry Waller, Innkeeper of The Star in Horsham, had “Two Bibles” and ‘other’ Bookes valued at 13s 4d in “The Buttry ovar The Sellar Steares”. As this room also held “Two sillvar Tankurds one sillvar booate and 7 sillvar spoons,” various linen items for table and bed as well 17 towels, it can be assumed that it was the store room and household treasury, suggesting the books were valued by the owner, but may not have been read.

From the above, which is only a brief look at some inventories published by Dr Hughes, it is apparent that the reading community in Horsham was wider than just the professions; tailors, inn men and merchants all read. Unfortunately, we don’t know what they actually read apart from Bibles and even then, just because they owned them did not mean that they read the books.  In undertaking this research the question of where where the books came from has been answered. For buried in the inventory list for Michael Woodgate (1679,) mercer, amongst the “Goods in the Shopp” is a copious list of textiles, gunpowder, spices and dried fruit, needles, yarn, waistcoats and the following lines:

“It a pccll of Hornibookes? Primmers combes thred & thredbuttons Tobacco boxes logrings? Hookes & eyes & whipcords washbrills? & pads “ valued at £1 4s 6d.

A couple of lines further on is the following

“It. 2 bibles 5 testaments 3 Crammers & 2 other… bookes & a customery  booke” valued at 15s 6d.

Here we have the first sign of a mercer selling books. The hornbook is a small wooden paddle shaped hand-held board, with written or printed “ABC” and/or catechisms attached to generally one, but occasionally both, sides. The paper is covered with a thin translucent sheet or horn, hence its title. (When Glayshers shop in Middle Street was taken down in the 1960s and moved to Weald and Downland, a wooden horn book paddle was found under the floorboards). The primmer is a simple book with short sentences setting out core religious beliefs, whilst the Crammer was a Latin/English educational work. The Bibles and new testaments would have been King James Version, restored after the restoration of King Charles II. Whilst it would be nice to think that Michael had that year’s Oxford printed bible[444] with its side notes giving the dates from creation, it is unlikely, but not impossible as the Bishopric was known as Oxford Road, suggesting a trade connection with that city. The customary book is interesting as it is probably a book of manners or customs rather than a law book relating to manorial duties. When Charles returned to England, he brought with him new modes of address and customs at court. People who wanted to know how to behave, to make the right impression, had to learn these new modes of behaviour; for example, no spitting in the fire, in order to mix with the right society.

In 1693 another mercer, William Potter, died and his inventory list has the following item:

“In the Shoppe

It in cloth serge stripes linone & linsey groserey weare haberdashware & salters weare counters Shelves & draws & books & scals & wayts” valued at £50.

Were the books; note the modern spelling, shop ledgers or were they books for sale? As the shop ledger book would not be counted as a valued item; more the information it held, and as the inventory makes no account for money owed on account, as other inventory lists do, I suspect that William Potter also sold books as a sideline. Interestingly, Michael had 13 books in his home whereas William had none.

Today, in our predominantly secular society, we tend to view intellectual vigour as within the sciences, within mathematics, philosophy etc. Yet, to the Restoration, world debate over the meaning of scripture, how prayer should be conducted, was viewed as more intellectually demanding and stimulating than any discussion of the sciences. Isaac Newton was, for example, prouder of his theological writings than the work for which he is known today[445]. If we look at this field of debate, we can see that Horsham was one of the great centres of religious debate; probably more by accident than design.  From 1655 to 1680 two of the great firebrands of the Quaker and Baptist movements argued out their ideas in Horsham, issuing forth numerous pamphlets which were printed in London before being distributed to a hungry audience. There were three great debaters around Horsham during the restoration period: two lived locally, the other forced to live in Horsham though not a local person. They were Mathew Caffyn, Richard Haines and Ambrose Rigge who was gaoled in Horsham for over 10 years. A chronology of the debates and pamphlets issued is given below at the end of the chapter.

This discussion started with the question of whether Horsham could be seen as being outside the intellectual vigour of the Restoration world. Clearly there were a number of people who could read and a number who invested spare capital in books, capital brought about by rising wealth. This growing wealth can be seen across England and can also be detected in the number of Trade tokens being issued in Horsham at this time (and elsewhere nationally). When the crown did not issue enough small change, traders would have to mint their own; if not, trade suffered. The earliest token is that of William Hamper in 1653, who was probably a candlemaker as the token shows a man making candles. He was followed in 1657 by Edward Parkhurst; both of these were probably due to the government’s inefficiency of running the mints. There then follows seven traders issuing tokens in the next ten years: Robert Hurst 1664, string of candles, John Hart 1666, John Hindly 1666, Thomas Lucas 1667, (his token was for a half-penny) William Short 1667 The Kings Arms, (this was an Inn ), Richard Barnard 1669 another string of candles so probably a candlemaker, Arthur Rowland 1669, again a half-penny token, whilst John Higginbottom  with the mercer arms is undated.[446] 

From all of this evidence, we can say that Horsham had a reasonable reading community that could if they wanted to, and a number did, buy books. What the probate list does not provide is the distribution network of such books. For all we know many of these books could have been lent out to friends and extended families. Work done on samples of probates from London, East Kent and Hampshire for the pseriod 1675-1725 shows that between 24% and 30% of the households had books[447], and Horsham doesn’t seem to be any different. But there is a qualitative issue: Horsham seems to have been a place where rigorous intellectual debate could take place, and the debate was based on more than personal experience. There was a group of people who entered into debates, and the debates carried out in Horsham saw their way into print, for it is unlikely that Caffyn, Rigge or Haines, the religious firebrands, debated the issues to themselves, but played them out on colleagues to receive their comments. 1655-1680 was a period when Horsham, more than any other period in its existence, had a rigorous intellectual culture. Horsham was not a backwater.

At Hills, the Jacobean mansion with 22 hearths and home of John Machell[448], a personal tragedy was being played out. In 1670 Isabel was born, followed by a son, Warmestry, who died as a baby in 1673, followed by a daughter Celia born in 1674, and John in 1678. Two years later John was declared MP for Horsham. He had two young healthy daughters and a healthy son and heir. He was on the up and so in 1685 he married his 15, probably 16, year-old daughter to Arthur Ingram, the second son of the recently ennobled family mentioned at the start of this chapter. Family connections based on the rag trade were being made across Britain, tying the nation together as never before. Little did Horsham know it at the time, but this marriage would set the tone for the next century – the long century, as it is known: the 18^th century. 

ELABORATIONS

THE DRAGON AND SMUGGLING

Locally, a number of people have argued in that the dragon myth was created to try and stop people from entering the forest, so allowing smugglers the freedom to roam at will.  This idea combines the “sexiness” of history – dragons, smugglers and dark virginal woodland – with the home of other mythic creatures such as the unicorn.  Unfortunately, real history gets in the way. 

The dragon story was first published in 1614: a pamphlet that has since disappeared from the public view. The 17^th century saw the rise of the interior tourist and traveller; a movement that continued throughout the 18^th century. It was the era of antiquarianism when people recorded strange stories and monuments.  For example, Plotts History of Staffordshire describes the end of a dinosaur femur as a scrotum of a giant, and prehistoric flint tools as thunderbolts. However, in not one of these accounts that cover Sussex is there any mention of the dragon of the forest; it is as if the story were lost.[449] Nevertheless, a copy of the pamphlet ended up in the book collection of one of this country’s greatest collecting families: the Earls of Oxford. Their collection of manuscripts was sold to the nation, forming the basis of the British Museum[450], and their vast book collection was sold in a number of sales by Thomas Osborn.[451]

Thomas Osborn decided to make more money by “printing by Subscription, the Harlieian Miscellany: or, a Collection of Scarce, Curious, and fascinating Tracts and Pamphlets found in the Earl of Oxford’s Library”. (A hack writer, Samuel Johnson, who used the information garnered in this work to develop his celebrated dictionary, edited the miscellany.)  One such tract was the booklet of the Dragon of St Leonard’s Forest. Though unknown to the reader and future Horsham historians, Johnson, or whoever was the editor, edited sections of the account, leaving just the “factual” information.[452] As the miscellany was not widely distributed (it was sold by subscription when published in 1744), it is questionable how common the story was.  What is known is that Howard Dudley, the precocious and talented author aged 16, who researched, wrote and drew the illustrations to his History of Horsham published in 1836, makes mention of the tract,[453] as does Dorothea Hurst in her History and Antiquities of Horsham.[454] From the other material mentioned in his book, Howard Dudley obviously had access to a research library which included this account. From 1868 the story was in the domain of Horsham’s reading public and this was the era of historical myth making.

On the question of smuggling, St. Leonard’s Forest was not used by smugglers until the 18^th century.  Prior to the 18^th century, smuggling involved the EXPORTATION of wool, not the importation of goods, and thus the evasion of paying exportation duty. From the records it would seem that importation smuggling really started at the time of King William and Queen Anne, around the 1680s onwards, and not in 1614.  However, this does not mean that verbal accounts of the dragon were not widespread, except that if that were the case, one would expect to find mention of it in the travel books and accounts of the period; which we don’t. 

So where did the connection with smugglers come from? The answer may lie in how we read books. For whilst Dorothea Hurst mentions smuggling and goes straight into the dragon tale, she does not say that the two are connected; only that smugglers travelled along “unfrequented roads” and “It is not to be wondered at that a country so wild and lawless, (i.e. unfrequented) should abound in legends and traditionary tales of a superstitious character…”  She does this before she recounts the dragon story, which to the casual reader implies a connection. 

The dragon on the Town Hall

There is one other query that needs to be resolved. The front of the Town Hall has a crest of Horsham flanked by both the Royal Arms and those of the Duke of Norfolk.  Horsham’s crest includes a horse’s head and dragon tails.  The Duke of Norfolk had the town hall rebuilt in 1812/13 after he bought the town (see the later account of the purchase).  In rebuilding the front, he added the arms and the dragon tails. Interestingly, he made the façade historical by adding crennelations, giving it a look of a castle with its two turrets.  This historical theme is explored in greater depth below.  At the time, circa 1800, there was a strong revival in historical, picturesque and gothic imagery.  This was parodied by William Combe in his Dr Syntax’s Tour of the Picturesque and drawn on by writers including the young Shelley, who wrote the story St Irvyne, a gothic tale.  This passion for the Gothic started in the mid 18^th century[455] and flourished in the late 18^th and early 19^th century. This is the first time the dragon’s tails and horse’s head were added to the lion rampant of the de Braose and Mowbray arms, and from then on it was used on official documents.  Was this historical fantasy, a bit of fun by Norfolk, a genuine attempt at recording the town’s history, or was it providing historical validation to the town by referring it back to the first printed account of Horsham?  If this was the case, did the people of Horsham have easy access to the story? 

There was a printer in Horsham from at least 1784[456] and the museum holds a large number of printed notices and articles from that period,[457] so it would be surprising if a popular broadside, or chapbook, printed in Horsham from the time the town hall was refurbished had not survived. It is more likely that the architects working with Norfolk, or even the Duke himself, who was a keen historian, were having fun. Norfolk believed in medieval history; he was absorbed by notions of the medieval past, of a land of myths, therefore adding the dragon’s tail validating the creation of a mythic past for Horsham’s newly built Town Hall, a symbol of all that was historical, truthful and virtuous.[458]

HORSHAM BELL RINGING, RINGERS AND THE MAN WHO CREATED MODERN BELL TUNNING – HORSHAM’S MUSCAL HERITAGE

Until 1752, there were six bells at Horsham, when two more were added. This enabled 5,040 changes to be rung without the tenor bell or 40,320 to be rung with it. Although it was in 1667 that the possibility of ringing 5040 changes was first recognised, and it was in 1715 that John Holt worked out how to do it, it was not until 1766 that the Horsham ringers managed to perform the feat. Between 1766 and 1789, the Horsham ringers held nine records and two national records for ringing.

The first peal ever rung in Sussex was the ‘Grandsire Triples’, performed on 11 April 1766 and consisting of 5040 different combinations of 1234567; the maximum number that can be rung on seven bells without repeating any sequence. The tenor bell was used like the big drum in a military band; that is, to keep time. This peal took just over three hours, with no stop for a rest.

In 1775, the Horsham ringers rang the first peal of ‘Union Triples’ ever rung in Sussex at Bolney. In 1777, the first peal of ‘Bob Triples’ in the county was rung, and in 1777 they rang the ‘Backward Grandsire Triples’ at Horsham, claiming it was the first in this method ever rung in the United Kingdom. After about 1800, the enthusiasm for ringing declined in Horsham, only to be revived around the time of Henry Burstow in the late 19^th century.

Unbeknown to the bell ringers, in the era of decline, a man would be born in Horsham who would be credited with creating the modern style of Bell tuning, a skill that we all take for granted every Sunday when we hear the perfectly tuned Church Bells.[459] This person was Canon Arthur B. Simpson, born in Horsham in 1828, the son of the Vicar of St Mary’s Church. In 1876, he became Vicar of Fittleworth, but not before spending time in Holland exploring their history of bell founding.  By 1876, he had worked out most of his ideas, but it took another twenty years to perfect them and see them put into practice. Just before his death in 1900, he had two articles published in order to encourage the public to demand tuned bells. His basic argument was that no peal in England was in tune, that a good bell should be in tune with itself, and that scientific study could find the solution.

How the sound is made

When a clapper hits the bell, a number of sounds or notes are made, each struggling with each other to be heard by the human ear. The bell itself is actually slightly distorted and wobbles or resonates producing the sound. Canon Simpson argued that there were at least five tones that should be in perfect accord for the bell to sound in tune. This is known as the Five Note Harmonic Principle.

Reaction to his ideas

The famous Whitaechapel Foundry disagreed with Simpson’s ideas when he first approached them, arguing that the public did not go around with tuning forks to see if the bell was in tune, but used their ears. The Canon was using science; they preferred to trust the ear. The Canon then turned to John Taylor & Co. of Loughborough and discovered that this bell foundry was working on similar lines as his own, though it took twenty years to perfect the work.

Canon Simpson had compared British and Dutch bells and discovered that the Dutch were more in tune. He rediscovered that the Five Tone Harmonic Principle was the aim of continental bell founders in the 16^th century and that between 1644 and 1684 the Hemony brothers of Amsterdam had achieved it and produced many bells. By the mid-18^th century the technique had died out until Canon Simpson and Taylor & Co. rediscovered it.  In 1896, J. Taylor & Co. produced the first perfect bell.

In a letter dated 9 July 1898, Canon Simpson praised the foundry: ‘the peal of eight bells which you invited me to test, scientifically, is simply perfect. You may have made others as good; but, as far as my experience goes, this is the first and only peal in England of which I could say this much. Each bell has its several tones in absolute harmony. And the several bells are in perfect tune with each other. The purity of tone is not only remarkable as compared with the ordinary run of bells. It is perfect.’

Canon Simpson’s articles were important enough for them to appear, not in an obscure publication but the ‘Pall Mall’ magazine, with many photographs in order to ‘move the public to move the tuners.’ In others words, make the public aware so they demand tuned bells.

Canon Simpson died in 1900 and lies buried in Fittleworth Church, having never seen or heard the full impact of his work.

THE LICENCE OF NATHANIAL TREDCROFT AND ITS CHEQUERED PAST OR HOW THE MUSEUM ARCHIVE CAME ABOUT

In 1953 this important local document came up for sale and Mr Stan Parsons, a man who would later receive the epithet “Mr Horsham”, bought the document, presenting it to Horsham Museum Society. It was in the years after William Albery’s death, and without his action the document would have disappeared from the public domain. When I arrived in 1988 the document was no longer at the museum, for Stan had “rescued” it again from the neglect that the museum went through in the late 50s to 70s. He had, as he would relate to me when he handed over the document, found it lying on the floor in the attic, being walked over. As the document was framed it was stored with pictures, and the pictures were held in the glorified tip that was the museum storeroom.

My predecessor, on her arrival at the museum in 1983, found dead pigeons and other disgusting items in the store. Elizabeth Kelley spent her four years getting the storeroom into some semblance of a proper museum store. I, on my arrival, persuaded the council to build a proper archive store to hold the Albery collection of documents which the Horsham Museum Society had claimed as theirs by right. In researching various documents, I found a copy of the Will of William Albery whereby he gave his manuscript collection to the town, asking the museum society to look after them.

Some of the Society Committee members and general members viewed the collection as “theirs”, so felt that they had carte blanche to take them home and do what they wanted to them. A year after starting, I stopped one member walking out with over 40 documents under his arm, much to his protestation to the fact that they were his as he was a member of the Society. (Part of the collection had been stored after 1962 in a large 16^th century iron-bound Flemish chest after it was purchased from an antiques dealer. By the time I arrived the collection was in the Museum Society Library either on open shelves or in boxes behind locked doors). The discovery that the documents belonged to the town meant that the Society could not restrict access only to Society members and, more importantly, Horsham District Council, as inheritor of the assets of the Horsham Urban District Council, had a duty of care, so agreed to the funding of a store. In return for providing a purpose built, humidity- and temperature-controlled store, the museum gave up a small room on the ground floor that had been an office and was going to be turned into a fine and applied art gallery as a Tourist Information Centre. Martin Pearson, the then Chief Executive of Horsham District Council, liked to negotiate deals even within the same organisation.

The Council wanted a cost-effective Tourist Information Centre, and the Museum wanted an archive store and the wagon sheds converted to a proper display area. For the museum this was a “win-win” situation. The museum would have a state-of-the-art store and display area costing in total £120,000. Moving the bicycles from the rear of the museum building to the outside gallery area released space that could be used to display its ethnography. It also increased the space to allow the museum to have the Horsham Fire Engine returned and provide proper display/storage for the museum’s carts. In return, the museum gave up a room that had functioned as an office, to serve as a TIC which, in turn, would encourage visitors to the museum. As a TIC, the museum would be able to argue that it should have increased opening hours throughout the year.

Following on from these developments, Stan, in 1992, returned with the document and handed it over saying, with some justification, that he had confidence in the museum being able to look after the document. It had taken 40 years for the museum to get to that stage following the generous bequest by William Albery; a bequest that led to the museum being given its current home – but that is a later story.

RELIGIOUS DISPUTATION[460]

 – CAFFYN RIGGE & PAINE

DRAMATIS PERSONEA

Mathew Caffyn

 (see Naked chronology above for short outline of his life)

Richard Haines

Richard Haines, who styled himself as a gentleman, became a farmer at Sullington, a pamphleteer and a member of Matthew Caffyn’s Baptist congregation. He was interested in the state of agriculture, industry and the national economy, and corresponded with members of the Royal Society. In 1672, he obtained a patent for a new method of ‘cleaning trefoil so to improve the seed’. In 1674, he published The Prevention of Poverty, or a Discourse of the Causes of the Decay of Trade, Fall of Lands, and Want of Money Throughout the Nation. This advocated the devaluation of the shilling by 25% in order to stimulate domestic manufacturers and discourage imports. Another of his pamphlets, Proposals for Building in Every County, a Working Alms House or Hospital, as the Best Expedient to Perfect the Trade and Manufactory of Linen Cloth, was published in 1677.

In 1678, Richard took out a patent for a simple engine that turned the wheels for flax spinners. In 1679, yet another of his pamphlets was published: A Breviate of Some Proposals for the Promoting of Industry, A Method of Government for such Public Working Alms Houses proposed the union of small Parishes for workhouse purposes, and the election of ‘delegates or overseers’ from the Parishes. (This occurred later in the 1830s). Following the publication of his views in 1681, summarised in England’s Weal and Prosperity Proposed, Parliament found no time to discuss his influential proposals.

Richard’s third patent in 1684 was for a method of doubling the strength of cider, which he promoted in the Aphorisms upon the New Way of Improving Cyder or Making Cyder-Royal, which also included advice on looking after orchards. Richard Haines died in 1685 and was buried at Christ Church, Greyfriars.

Ambrose Rigge

Ambrose Rigge was gaoled for ten years and four months for refusing to take the oath of allegiance. Already a prolific author, he continued publishing pamphlets from his prison cell; the first one in September, addressed to Charles II: A Visitation of Tender Love. In 1663, Rigge issued two further pamphlets from his cell in Horsham. Ambrose married a fellow inmate, Mary Luxford, in 1664 in the gaol; they had five children. Mary had furniture and cooking utensils removed from her cell.

The publication of his pamphlet, The Good Old Way in 1669, argued that the Quaker opposition to tithes and oaths followed early Christian practice. Although a warrant for his release was issued in May, he remained in prison. William Penn distributed some of Ambrose’s pamphlets in Ireland.

Ambrose Rigge was finally released from Horsham Gaol in 1672, and while staying in Horsham was host to William Penn in September of that year.  He acquired 5,000 acres in Pennsylvania, but he never emigrated. He eventually left Horsham.

THE CHRONOLOGY

1628 28 October Mathew Caffyn was baptised at Horsham.

1633 Richard Haines was baptised.

1645 Mathew Caffyn expelled from Oxford for opposing infant baptism, returned to Horsham and joined a General Baptist Church at Southwater led by Samuel Lover.

1653 Caffyns settled at Pond Farm Southwater.

1654 Caffyn, a founding messenger of the general assembly of General Baptists, debated with Anglican incumbents of Henfield and Waldron, several Presbyterians and leading Quakers.

1655 June – Caffyn debated with Quaker leader George Fox in Bryan Wilkinson’s house, Sedgwick Lodge. This year saw the publication of an attack on Caffyn that resulted in a six- year pamphlet war. Another Quaker preacher, Alexander Parker, tried to preach in a church near Horsham, but the minister had the bells rung to drown him out and then used dogs to chase him from the building. 

1662 Ambrose Rigge, Quaker, was imprisoned in Horsham Gaol for 10 years 4 months for refusing to take the oath of allegiance. Already a prolific author, he continued publishing pamphlets from his prison cell; the first one in September addressed to Charles II: “A Visitation of Tender Love”.

1663 Rigge issues two further pamphlets from his cell in Horsham.

“Whether to do good and not to commit sin, be a perfection that any Man dares challenge whilst he lives on Earth, or whether it is possible for any Man so to keep God’s Commandments and to observe his Righteous Law as to say any day I have not offended I have no need to say forgive me in anything I done amiss. This was the question. By which I struck the Devil dumb in the Quakers Oracle at Horsham known to the world by the name of Ambrose Rigge. Lord open his lips that his mouth may shew forth thy praise in saying plainly it cannot be done”. September 1663.

1664 Rigge marries fellow inmate Mary Luxford in gaol with whom he had five children. Mary had furniture and cooking utensils removed from her cell.

1665 Rigge issued another pamphlet:

A Lamentation over England because of the Judgement that is now appearing against her for her manifold Transgressions” Dated “From the Prison in Horsham in Sussex this day 12^th day of the 6^th Month called August” 1665.

1666 Caffyn and family moved to Broadbridge Farm along with his two elder brothers.

1669 Rigge issues a further pamphlet, “The Good Old Way,” in which he argued that the Quaker opposition to Tithes and oaths followed early Christian practice. Although a warrant for his release was issued in May, he remained in prison. William Penn distributes some of Rigge pamphlets in Ireland.

1672 Richard Haines obtains patent for new method of cleaning trefoil so to improve the seed. Rigge finally released from Horsham Gaol, and whilst staying in Horsham hosts William Penn in September of that year. Rigge acquires 5,000 acres in Pennsylvania, but never emigrates.  He leaves Horsham.

1674 Richard Haines published “The prevention of poverty, or, a discourse of the causes of the decay of trade, fall of lands, and want of money throughout the nation”. This advocated the devaluation of the shilling by 25% in order to stimulate domestic manufacturers and discourage imports.

1677 Haines published “Proposals for building, in every county, a working-alms-house or hospital, as the best expedient to perfect the trade and manufactory of linen cloth”.

1678 Haines took out a patent for a simple engine that turned wheels for spinners of flax.

1679 Caffyn has another pamphlet war, this time with Richard Haines who farmed at Sullington. (Caffyn disagreed with the notion of patents.) For the next 20 years Caffyn was in dispute with the Baptist over which beliefs they should follow. Haines published “A breviate of some proposals for the Promoting of Industry” and “ A Method of Government for such Public Working Alms-Houses”, which proposed the union of small Parishes for workhouse purposes and the election of “delegates or overseers” from the Parishes (something that would occur in the 1830s).

1681 Richard Haines publishes a summary of all his views in “England’s Weal and Prosperity Proposed.” Parliament found no time to discuss the influential proposals.

1684 Richard Haine’s third patent: a method of doubling the strength of cyder which he promoted in the “Aphorisms upon the New Way of Improving Cyder or Making Cyder-Royal” which also included advice on looking after orchards.

1685 Richard Haines died.

1714 Mathew Caffyn died at Broadbridge Heath and was buried at Itchingfield, Sussex. 

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Chapter 9

The Naked Chronology

Horsham 1700-1790

A SPLIT PERSONALITY

Horsham had survived the 17^th century very much intact, if not improved. The town and borough had seen their political independence being won, and then lost mainly through apathy. The era, although no longer Medieval, still to our eyes seems to have been medieval in outlook – the town’s administration was dominated by the burgesses, technically owners of the 52 plots of land first laid out some 600 years earlier. However, their independence was compromised by the buying up of burgage plots, or the control of the courts that oversaw the administration by not one local lord, but three powerful families: the Norfolks, who were taking a back seat, the Ingrams/Irwins of Hills Place and the Eversfields of Denne Park. The housing stock was medieval in dress with an abundance of wood and very little brick, and with few glass windows even though the nearby Wealden glass industry was making its noted window glass.

The Common, or Horsham heath, provided some of the townsfolk and the burgesses with an ample supply of kindling wood for the fire and grazing for livestock, as well as a place for the public to meet for the execution of criminals found guilty in the Assizes by judges travelling from London and no further into the County due to the appalling roads. The County Gaol that stood on the Carfax was the scene of a number of outbreaks as well as a place from where disease and contagion emanated, especially when the Carfax became a breeding place for flies during the wet springs and dry summers.  At the back of the houses, piles of household waste built up ready to be spread on the common, burnt in the hearth or removed out of sight at night. Some of the streets in Horsham were paved with Horsham stone, letting the well dressed foot rise above the squalid roadways; the foot probably shod by one of Horsham’s numerous cordwainers or shoemakers whose leather was purchased locally from the tanneries after the hide had been treated with oak bark produced in the nearby woods.

Looking at probate inventories around 1700, we can catch a glimpse of how some people in Horsham lived and saved. As in the previous account, rather than a full copy of the inventory that has been published by Dr Hughes, the following highlight things[461] which are interesting. The valuation of items is not given unless they are unusual. The first one is the innkeeper Henry Waller of The Star, dated 1701/2, who leased the building. The inventory describes a large property that included a “billiard Rume” but without a Billiard table, though an “old Billiard Table” is recorded “In The olde Chambar” along with “other Lumbar” suggesting that it was treated as wood for the fire or scrap, rather than a billiard table. The most interesting room named is “In the Cooffe Rume” [462]which had “one dosen of Leather Chears 4 Table 3 Arme Chears one Stolle 3 Tubes one Tonges one peare of brand Irons” which strongly suggests “café society” had reached Horsham; a café or coffee shop with a fire, easy chairs and tables and chairs. The Kitchen had “coofee potts mille and rostar”, to roast, grind and serve the sludge-like coffee, which was drunk, dark, unfiltered and sweet. Whether we can envisage London-style coffee shops with newssheets and merchants debating the cost of trade and local and national news is open to question and will be explored in detail below, but  Henry Waller did have “30 pounds in the Sheare of A vessel at sea”; perhaps he was persuaded to join a joint stock venture by one of his customers? What is also known from the inventory is that there was a lot of linen: “36 peare of sheats, 4 dusen of fine napkins two dosen of corse napkins 8 diaper Table Cloathes, 6 flaxen Table Cloathes, 10 peare of fine pellaburs(?) 4 Corse peare 7 Corse Table Cloathes one dusen and 5 towells” stored amongst other things “in the Buttry ovar The Sellar Steares” suggesting a well-stocked inn with demanding clientele (fine and corse napkins – fine for the coffee room, corse for the inn?). Other items included a mixture of new and old furniture and beds. Only “In The Shope Chambar” is “one glass window” mentioned, whilst curtains occur throughout the building. The Inn had a “Corte”; probably courtyard, and some grazing land for, apart from foggots, hay and dung, there were “hoges and piges one meare 5 kine one Calfe 25 Sheepe”. The culture of the coffee shop that this implies is discussed in the elaboration at the end of this chapter

HORSHAMS FIRST CLUB?

The Coffee house was transforming space that saw the introduction of many new forms of business and association: from the Stock Exchange to insurance market, and even literary culture.  There is also one other area that the coffee house highlights: the creation of the club. In medieval society, ties were linked through obligation or blood, or in certain cases for certain men, trade guilds. Although there were some religious groups, such as religious orders, religion was essentially Catholic. The 16^th century saw the medieval ties put under strain but still holding fast, except that religion was now Protestant or Catholic. By the 17^th century feudal ties had been destroyed, so ties were now family, trade and a proliferation of religious groups; nonconformist and conformist. The expanding world of trade meant that not every merchant could or would belong to a guild. So, springing up were coffee houses, which through the culture being developed became clubs, linking of people with like opinion and interests; not based on social standing, as the contemporary satire makes clear (see the elaboration), nor through religion, but through ideas, through being like-minded, and through business. Anyone could join who could afford the price of a cup of coffee; about 1d per cup. Horsham had the beginnings of societies and clubs.

This wealth compares with William Chambers; a cordwainer, or shoemaker, who died in 1707. At his death all he had was his cloaths he was wairing, “one Bed one Bedsteddle and all things belonging on”, four chests, one box and one cradle (for a baby?), three chairs, one chair table, one warming pan and other “lumber”, linen “Seaven pairs of shoes, one parcel of Leather, “lasts and other Lumber” and “debts good and bad”, total value £9 15s 5d compared with Waller, whose wealth was valued at £256 10s 3.5d.

A gentleman, John Fields/Anstee, died in 1708 and seems to have had a frugal life. His probate lists in detail the contents of his “one house or Cotedg”, which is almost recorded as an afterthought; the third from last item, before recording “on fether bead, things forgot & not apprised”, and after detailing such items as one “Lader 2 Iorn pots one Iron Skellet 2 buckets one frying pann one Oven pell one ston bottle” and so on (lader, 2 iron pots, one iron skillet, 2 buckets, one frying pan, one stone bottle). The value of all his domestic items including three types of Axe is £2 13s 4d, whilst the value of the house/cottage and feather bed is £11.0s 0d, the total value being £13 18s 04d.

In 1707 John Greenwood, a tailor, died and his probate describes a range of textiles that he sold or made up in his shop which according to the probate had “2 chares a Table and the sopboard (shop board – shop sign?) and other things”. The textiles included “1843 yds of stufes & halfe Silkes, 113 yds of Narrow Cloath, 87 yds of Broad cloath, 417 yds of Demask and Russells, Silke Mohair and Buttons, 501 yds of Drugets and shalloones, 675 yds of Sarges, ferrels and Galloones, Readymade frocks and Briches”. This graphically describes the sort of cloth worn by Horsham folk, which compares well with previous probate lists in the increased range of diversity and quality. He carried a large amount of debt owed to him, £228 14s 7d, as well as £107 19s 3d for the 1,843 yrds (over a mile) of cloath. The total value being £727. 6s 8d.

These probates and others show that Horsham had survived the 17^th century with its Civil and religious conflict. Not only did it survive, but it seems to have been a place where people could make money and could look ahead with some confidence. Interestingly the traders, the innkeeper and the tailor seemed to have made substantial amounts of money, suggesting that Horsham’s position as a trading centre was buoyant, even though the roads to the south; witness the refusal of the judges to travel to the south for the Assizes, were atrocious and routes up to London were not much better. As a stopping-off point to change horses, or to rest them before riding over the Weald clays, Horsham seems to have had a pivotal role; a role that was apparent in 1686 when a survey was carried out, possibly for billeting purposes (the housing of soldiers during a war) which revealed that Horsham had stabling for 365 horses and beds for 83.  (East Grinstead was the next town (247 horses and 103 beds). Horsham can be seen as the necessary port of call for travellers journeying from London to Chichester, Shoreham and Brighton, whilst East Grinstead supplied travellers to Lewes, Eastbourne, Hastings and Rye.[463]

The early 18^th century saw a number of events that with hindsight, that 20:20 vision, would have a major impact on Horsham. In 1685, sixteen-year-old Isabella Machell, second daughter of John, owner of Hills Place on the outskirts of Horsham, married Arthur, the 19- or 20-year old second son of Henry Ingram, first Vicount Irwin. It was a marriage that involved land and textiles, as the Machells originally came from Cumberland and were involved in the cloth industry, whilst the Ingrams from Temple Newsam in Yorkshire were involved with the alum trade. Isabella and Arthur spent the first four years of their marriage at Hills with her father, Arthur, on the sudden death of his elder brother, inherited the title in 1688, and in 1689 they and their two small children moved north to the family home. In 1699 John Machell, aged 62, wrote a will that gave the Hills estate to the children of that marriage, though interestingly, Edward, the first-born son, was the last to inherit the estate as he would inherit Temple Newsam and the title. Hills was the consolation prize[464].

What does this all have to do with Horsham? John Machell, Isabella’s father, continued to represent Horsham until 1698. Arthur, in Yorkshire, involved himself in finding favour with the court, investing in good works in Yorkshire and investing in the house. If all had gone to plan, Horsham would have been a minor player in the grand scheme of the Irwin family, but fate played a cruel hand and Arthur died in 1702 leaving Isabella aged thirty-four with eight surviving children to look after. Two years later, in 1704, her father John died whilst staying at Temple Newsam. He was taken to Horsham where he was buried at midnight on 24 June.

NIGHT FUNERALS

an account by Henry Burstow

In his book Reminiscences of Horsham, Henry Burstow records one of these, which to us seems strange, customs, of a nighttime funeral. “The first event outside our house that I have any recollection of was the last night funeral at Horsham, which took place in November, 1829, when Mrs. Kellick, from Tanbridge, was buried. These night funerals were elaborate, ceremonious affairs, with torch-light procession, accorded to the rich only. I was not present on this occasion; my recollections are but second hand, derived from hearing my brothers and sisters talking about it the next morning.” [465]

Isabella was a wealthy woman in her own right; she did not, though, own either Temple Newsam or Hills, for they were settled on the sons. She could have remarried, but she did not, instead using the knowledge of political control that she must have learnt from her father and perhaps the sense of undertaking civic work that she picked up from her husband (or the desire to carry on her husband’s ideas); she spent the rest of her life being the matriarch of the family. The sons, who had no father figure, looked up to Isabella and constantly asked her for advice, or even orders, as well as expecting her to mediate between their conflicting interests. Isabella also retained an interest in Horsham to the extent that the borough became synonymous with her, not her children, as will be shown later.

On the national stage, with the death of King William, Queen Anne (1702-1714) took the throne and ruled Britain as one nation, for in 1707 Scotland joined England through the Act of Union. The politicians in London feared that unless a formal political union with Scotland was cemented, then on the death of Queen Anne Scotland might opt for James Edward Stuart, her exiled half brother, a Roman Catholic, instead of agreeing as the Welsh and English had done for the Protestant dynasty from Hanover. Through the Act of Union, England had to give up being English and be called British and become Great Britain.[466]  

Whilst it would be wrong to think of political groupings as parties in the formal sense that we know of them today, it can be argued that Queen Anne ruled Britain through the Tory Party, that is, through a number of power broking lords who believed in similar ideas of monarchy and constitution. On Anne’s death the Government could not face, nor did the nation want, the return of a Catholic monarch, so offered the crown to the Hanoverian prince, George. George who spoke very little, or no English at all, became in 1714 King George I. One of George’s first challenges was a threatened uprising in Scotland in 1715 by those who felt that the Stuarts were rightful claimants to the throne. The Tories who worked for Queen Anne favoured the Stuart accession, the Whigs George’s reign. The rebellion of 1715 failed, but it had a lasting impact.

1. George felt that he could not trust the Tories so they went into the political wilderness, a wilderness that was to last 50 or 60 years.[467]

2. The Tory gentry’s exclusion from court led them to invest in improving their estates rather than seeking political gain. They invested in land, oversaw agricultural improvements and nurtured their local power bases, in many respects literally and politically going back to grass roots. The next 60 years would be the era of the agricultural revolution and the gentleman farmer.[468]

3. The fear of Rebellion in 1715 with invasion from the north meant that the powerful landowners in the north of the country suddenly valued their landholdings in the south, especially if those holdings had parliamentary seats. For the Ingrams Temple Newsam, which with the Act of Union had become a safe seat away from the threat of Scottish invasion, was now directly in line for attack. So in 1715 the Ingrams negotiated with the Eversfields, then Horsham’s premier family, to have one of the two parliamentary seats.

4. The fear of real and imagined Scottish rebellion and invasion was a constant threat throughout most of the 18^th century, until around George III’s reign which in turn made Horsham an important political seat to retain for the Ingram family.[469]

Whilst the fear of Jacobite invasion was strong, particularly in the North of England, it is surprising to learn that there might have been Jacobite sympathisers in Horsham itself. Possibly one of the most surprising was Sir Harry Goring, who was elected MP for Horsham in 1707 when plain Harry, inheriting the family title of Baronet in 1713. However, Sir Harry was a Tory and large numbers of the Tory squirachy joined the Jacobite cause, especially after George I turned to the Whigs to help him manage the country, a move that became even more stark after the Jacobite invasion.  In 1715 Sir Harry stood as a Tory for Horsham, was elected but was unseated on appeal in one of the famous corrupt elections that made Horsham so well known in the annals of political history (See below for a fuller account). The same time as The House of Commons was hearing the appeal the Jacobite rebellion was panicking London. Sir Harry was unseated on 16 June and was reported “to have gone off to France with the pretender in June 1715”[470].

Another possible Jacobite was Alexander Hay, Vicar at Itchingfield, some 2-3 miles from Horsham and had been since 1696. Educated at St Andrews, in his 40^th year he was elected headmaster of Collyer’s school in 1700. He involved the Mercers Company in an expensive lawsuit involving the school house. The Court in East Grinstead eventually decided in 1704 that the school orchard together with a slice of the School-House belonged to the Michel family, and that the Mercer Company did unknowingly build on land they did not own. The division marked in the house by a row of brass nails.[471]  The Mercers had a large legal bill to pay and they now felt that the school benefited the Parish more than the Mercers, as they said: “The towne of Horsham have sole benefit of the said school house and … the same was never any advantage to the Company”[472]. In 1706 Hay resigned and confined himself to Itchingfield. After the 1715 Rebellion, rumours spread about his Jacobite involvement. One John Maclean, a known Jacobite, was buried at Itchingfield, while Lord Charles Murray, son of the first Duke of Atholl, after being pardoned lodged with the Rector, who then had difficulty securing payment on monies spent on the young man.  (The skull found embedded in a beam is believed to have been that of Sir Hector Maclean, who was caught and executed, with his head being placed in the Church either as a warning to the Rector, or in defiance by the Rector.) It was even rumoured that fugitive Scots lay hidden in the woods around Hay’s rectory. All of these stories could be just that, made up by pupils who would now be young men over-egging the situation and heightening fears. What is known for certain is that Nathanial Levett spent two years in Horsham Gaol for drinking the Pretenders health.[473]

Another change that was happening at the time, but difficult to pin down exactly when it occurred, was a change in values. Sometime in the early 18^th century people in Britain decided that luxury was not a sin.  The throwing away of old items that had not worn out, but because they were old and buying new was not wrong, sinful, but was in fact desirable.  This new view was brilliantly summed up, or exposed in Mandeville The Fable of the Bees published in 1714 from where the following lines come

                               Luxury

Employ’d a Million of the Poor,

And odious Pride a Million more.

Envy it self and Vanity

Were Ministers of Industry

Their darling Folly, Fickleness

In Diet, Furniture and Dress,

That strange ridic’lous Vice, was made

The very Wheel, that turn’d the Trade.

Their Laws and Cloaths were equally

Objects of Mutability;

Thus Vice nursed Ingenuitity

Which join’d with Time, and Industry

Had carry’d Life’s Conveniences,

It’s real Pleasures, Comforts, Ease,

To such a Height, the very Poor

Lived better than the Rich before;

And nothing could be added more”[474]

The probate lists mentioned above often refer to old furniture, such as an old chair. These were not viewed as antiques, but as old items, of less value than the new yet performing the same function, so technically the same value, but not because they were old. This belief in the new would see a transformation in society and in the land and townscape. For Horsham it would have an immense impact and probably led Horsham to outstrip its neighbours in growth, for at the end of the century both Steyning and Petworth would be secondary to Horsham. The reason was economic.  Horsham grew up on trade; it was created in the 12^th Century for trade. The century that saw not the birth, but the modernisation, of commercialism, the creation of commodities, also saw Horsham become a commercial centre, often nearly losing its way, but always able to transform itself and so survive, very often more by pure luck than planning as will be seen below[475].

So in the early 18^th century Horsham had a powerful family that valued it politically and for the security it offered, a hinterland that was being developed by the politically disaffected gentry and a people whose values were changing away from puritan “make do” to one of not so much luxury, as in excess, but luxury in the sense of having more. How Horsham and its people adapted and developed through these changing circumstances is very much the story of the 18^th century, and a fascinating story it is.

Back at the beginning of the century something was happening in Horsham that has no clear determining factor. The town saw the construction of two notable houses: one today has the name Park House, the other the Manor House in the Causeway.  Both can be described as estate houses, reflecting the demand of two wealthy families to live in the town, not in an estate on the outskirts, away from the stench of the populace, not like Hills, Denne, or even the scaled-down Chesworth. What was it about Horsham that made people want to live in it and importantly invest considerable sums of money in creating notable houses? They could obviously see a future in Horsham, yet by 1700 the medieval markets which had provided the town with one of its primary purposes had all but disappeared, reduced in number to one, held on Saturday. It was this market that was described in 1673 as thriving by Bloom in his Britannia, also mentioning poultry trade with London.  In this there might be the clue to Horsham’s development.

By 1700 London had rebuilt itself from the Great Fire and Plague; it was booming and sucking in people and produce from a wide area. Horsham lay on the outer edge of London’s hinterland, 30 miles beyond it, the weald where poor roads restricted transport. Horsham would or could act as a funnel drawing in produce from its own hinterland (which would include the coastal areas with which it still retained its medieval ties) then trading the produce with London merchants, or its merchants trading in London. What had worked in medieval times would work now, but even better, so as London grew so did Horsham. London grew physically and economically; Horsham grew, but not physically, for the town would not be a magnet for the disaffected or disposed setting up squatter or shanty hovels. Horsham was close enough to London for London to perform that task, but it grew economically.  Those who were based in Horsham could see incomes rise; the town was a place to make money. The economically aware could see this, so why not invest in Horsham rather than London; be a big fish in a little pond rather than the other way round.

But Horsham could only grow if there was the opportunity to trade, and therefore Horsham needed to develop its markets. One person, a brewer, John Wicker, who originally came from Croydon[476],  could see this, so in 1703 he petitioned Queen Ann for a monthly market for cattle and other produce, obtaining permission in 1705.[477] As a brewer he could see demand for increased drink trade every month and with the London population growing apace, a demand for beef. (In fact his petition stated it would benefit London as much as Sussex). The beef itself came on the hoof from the cattle breeding areas of the west, from Wales in particular, with which Horsham had long connections including the St Leonard’s cattle fair held on 17 November.[478] Another agricultural product in demand was corn. The importance of corn was considerable: it was the staple foodstuff for man, animals and for brewing and Horsham had been the local centre for the milling and selling of corn at its markets. In 1460 the Archbishop of Canterbury had been granted a corn market at Horsham[479], and there has been mention of corn mills from at least 1231 when the rector’s Corn mill was given to Rusper Nunnery.  The 18^th century saw no let up in the trade. The large number of corn mills, both wind and water, around the town graphically highlights its importance. (see elaboration at end of chapter).

Interestingly it is apparent from the records that corn was not grown here in any great acreage,[480] suggesting that the mills were set up to mill corn from outside the area, which is not that surprising if you consider the heath land and poor soils already noted. Daniel Defoe mentioned in 1724 that Corn was “cheap at the barn, because it cannot be carry’d out, and dear at the market because it cannot be brought in”[481] owing to the poor quality of the roads. This again emphasises the importance that the road network had to Horsham’s development. Cattle did not demand roadways, but corn did; waggoners needed good roads to get the corn from the market to the population at large and Horsham’s story throughout the 18^th century is one of how communications impacted on its development.

John Wicker was a successful brewer and merchant; as early as 1683 he had conveyed a hop garden to Samuel Blunt.[482]  At some time, he decided to build what became known in the 1930s as Park House around the core of the medieval burgage house known as Cockmans.[483]  Wicker based this house on the newly-built Hewells Manor house erected in 1704. Was it the same architect or was it copied? Did Wicker build it as a gesture to show Horsham folk that although he lost the election in 1705 he was still a “player”? After all, he had been elected in 1701 in the first contested election, it was he that petitioned Queen Ann for a new market for the benefit of the town, and now he had lost the election not because of corruption but through popularity – he polled third.[484]  So was it a show of defiance, showing that although no longer an MP he still could build as grand a house as the best in Horsham, or, as the Tories would do some 10 years later, was he licking his wounds and spending his time and energy investing in property and his estates rather than a political career?

In 1701 Horsham experienced its first modern corrupt election. Parliament had changed in 1688, post Glorious revolution,[485] for it now met every year for a number of months at a time.  This meant that MPs cost more to run, but it also meant Parliament became more important in the day-to-day affairs of government. Also, not to be ignored, allegiances and friendships could develop over time in a more sustained manner. Gradually party politics evolved, not to the extent of nineteenth or twentieth century centralisation of the party, but loose groupings. All this meant that elections were becoming important and, as they became important, so means to ensure parliamentary success became more and more elaborate or devious and in Horsham, as elsewhere, more corrupt.  In 1611[486] there were 52 burgage plots, with or without buildings, and whoever owned the title deed had the right to vote and run the town.  Ownership was “proven” at the local Court Baron. The Court Baron held the Burgage Roll and if you were listed on the Burgage Roll you had a voting right. Whilst it would be wrong to ascribe strong political structures and party allegiances at this time, there was a splitting along party lines developing. The way the landowner voted was publicly accounted for in an “open book”. Someone could buy the freehold to the plot and “ask” the tenant to vote for a candidate, the tenant “holding” the title deeds. It became possible for the title deeds to be given to people outside the borough, thus creating bogus burgesses. These deeds became known as “snatch papers” as they were snatched back by the true owner after the election for some other purpose.

Then there was the splitting of burgages, where two owners could lay claim to owning the burgage plot. In 1696 this was deemed illegal. However, in 1701, even though the 1611 survey showed that there were only 52 burgage plots, 54 burgesses were recorded. Most burgages were probably independent so the need to control the way they voted was not important if there were only two candidates for the two seats. But in 1701 there were three candidates, John Wicker and Henry Yates both being successful, and Henry Cowper being unsuccessful. He petitioned the House of Commons citing corruption on the basis that Wicker had his brother-in-law made one of the Returning Officers. Before the petition was heard William III died and a new election was called, whereby Yates withdrew and an uncontested election held. By 1705 Charles Eversfield of Denne Park, now being 21, stood as an MP.

It had taken a hundred years for one of the most prominent landowners in the area to think it worthwhile to enter the political arena, and this new blood topped the poll, with Cowper next and Wicker third. Eversfield would remain an MP for the next 36 years. There then followed a series of corrupt elections which have been seen by many as a stain on the illustrious record of Britain’s electoral history. Yet, as Linda Colley has pointed out, the corrupt seats, of which Horsham was one, allowed for men from unrepresented electoral areas to sit in Parliament for over-represented places[487]. In Horsham there was one local person, and one non-local; the Ingrams might have an estate at Hills, but they were mainly Yorkshire landowners and their Yorkshire interests would outweigh any local concern of Horsham.[488] The corruption did lead to some sort of national balance and in some respects did lead to a breakdown of parochialism, since not everyone was concerned with their own back yard.

The other question to ask is: did it really matter that so few people in Horsham could vote and that the elections were so corrupt? Compared with the rest of Europe, it was more democratic than most other countries,[489] but that does not make it right. Equally, should we apply historical relativism to it; should we apply our standards to the past? The real question to ask is did Horsham as a town and as a corporate body benefit from this corruption? It could be argued that the splitting of burgage votes, though illegal, did widen the franchise so that instead of 52 people having the vote, over 80 did at some elections.[490]  That, though, would be to ignore the fact that the vote was bought before the election took place; the newly franchised burgage holders were only enfranchised to vote one way, not to hold an opinion. Unfortunately, the historical records no longer exist to any great extent to show how Horsham corporately benefited from this state of affairs. In respect of the gifts, including a fire engine and a town hall, by the Irwin family mentioned below, were they bribes or gifts to the corporate body to smooth over election doubts, or were they given out of a sense of civic pride? Would the burgage holders have rebelled against the “ordained order of things” and voted against their landlord’s wishes for the benefit of the town; could they ever act in such an organised manner?  Doubtful. In fact, from the records, it would seem that when petitions were raised in the town; when the town saw itself as a corporate body, it was for matters that were either patriotic – i.e. the King’s health, or economic. (See below).

In fact, the benefit to the town of electoral corruption might have been psychological in that, as Colley has identified, electioneering taking place in a community, the reading out of the proclamation of election, the canvassing and the voting all gave a “patriotic and Protestant education”, which she sees as developing the idea of “Britishness”. However, to take this argument further,  I would contend that for Horsham it gave the town an air of importance; it was an integral part of the thing called parliament, an institution that Britons could take pride in, and every few years this sense of pride, civic worth was reinforced at election time. The fact that only a few had the right to vote was immaterial; what was important was that the vote took place in Horsham and Horsham had been sending MPs since time immemorial, so Horsham’s status as a Borough was reinforced, a status that could only be determined by tradition, not by a legal deed. (As we shall see, later in the 1830s it was this tradition that ensured the Borough existed.) If that were the case, and it is only supposition, then the fact the elections were corrupt was not important; the important fact was that elections took place in Horsham. It also helped to integrate Horsham into the political culture of Britain and gave Horsham a sense of worth for, as we will see later, the King knew of the elections taking place in Horsham[491].  When elections were contested by Irwin and Norfolk (see later), it proved to the town the importance of itself, just as petitions for the King’s health and safety reinforced its own identity and self importance.

Back on the ground, though, what was happening? In 1713 the Ingram family, who had acquired Hills through marriage, made their first appearance with Richard Ingram, soldier and inheritor of both Temple Newsam and Hills. The Ingrams, although supporters of the monarchy, were linked to the Whig faction (Ann’s reign as mentioned above saw Tories in ascendancy). So although Richard allied himself with John Wicker and took his advice (and probably that of his mother, whose father was John Machell who was himself an MP for Horsham in the 17^th century), using Wicker to buy up votes through purchasing bogus burgage deeds was unsuccessful;  the Tory candidates won the seats. Wicker and Ingram petitioned Parliament over alleged corruption, but Tory-controlled Parliament was in no hurry to investigate and within two years another election was held.

The election of 1715 was the last truly contested election for some 75 years until 1790, and whilst incidents that occurred in other elections will be mentioned because they form part of the rich tapestry of Horsham’s history in the 18^th century, this will be the last election looked at in any depth until that date because, in reality, corrupt elections were not a talking point in Horsham, and not that important.

The Election took place on 29 January 1715[492]  and was conducted on clear party lines; for the Whigs, The Hon Arthur Ingram and Arthur Ingram[493]  and for the Tories, Charles Eversfield and Sir Harry Goring. The corruption occurred as soon as the election was called. Eversfield and Goring managed to get control of the Court Baron where the validity of the Burgage deed was proved, and thus the right to vote. Then Ingram who only had one or two burgage properties was persuaded to pay £350 for a property that in 1702 had cost £120. Lord Irwin gave a quartermaster place in the army to three burgage holders, including Richard Pilfold who changed his vote from Eversfield to Ingram. In another case a bad debt that had lain dormant for years was resurrected and the debtor was thrown in Horsham gaol two days before the election. Fortunately, Lord Irwin paid the debt, whilst John Wicker, one of Ingram’s principal supporters, was also thrown into gaol; this time on the day of the election, but again he was liberated in time to vote.

Even with all this going on the actual voting returns were a dead heat between Ingram and Goring, but Goring was returned by the Returning Officers who were in the pocket of the Eversfield/Goring camp. On 26 March 1715, the result was petitioned by Hon. Arthur Ingram in Parliament. The Committee, looking at the voting, decided that 45 of the 79 votes cast were matters of dispute. The first thing the Committee had to decide was under what right the voters had to vote. They decided that it was “all such persons as have an estate of inheritance or for life in Burgage houses, or Burgage lands lying within the said Borough”[494].  But this ignored an important fact, a Horsham peculiarity, that they also needed to be presented and have their admission recorded on the burgage roll as burgesses at the Court Baron, even though every witness called said it was normal practice in Horsham. The “Horsham peculiarity” was easy to understand; in effect it was an administrative procedure. Preceding every Election, a Court Baron was held and new Burgesses were admitted, and their names put on the roll. At the Election itself the roll was checked, and if your name was not on the roll you could not vote. Only Wicker thought that every Burgess, admitted or not, should have the right to vote. The Electoral Committee, by not noting this peculiarity in Horsham’s electoral procedure, would cause problems at a later date.

After investigating the validity of the votes, the Committee declared that Eversfield and Goring were deselected, and Sir Arthur and Arthur Ingram were elected. This,, though could have had more to do with Parliament being under Whig control, following Jacobite/Tory backlash. Following this difficulty, by 1721 Ingram and Eversfield came to the conclusion that each should have one seat and so be balanced between Tory and Whig, which was probably the truth of the matter.

The one question that does need to be answered before leaving the political scene is: why was the Duke of Norfolk not involved?  After all, he could, as Lord of the Manor, have played an important part in the electoral proceedings as the Stewards were Stewards of the Lord’s court, not the Eversfields or the Ingrams. It is as if they abrogated their responsibility and sat back and observed from the touchline. The answer is given in a letter dated August 1733 to the Duke of Newcastle from Edward 9^th Duke of Norfolk:

“I was wholly ignorant that any design was made to sett upon any new Member for the County of Sussex being little inquisitive, our meddling with elections having been so often objected against us who are entirely cut off from all imployments and publick affairs. My not meddling farther in elections, several of my friends have done me the justice on the like occasions to attribute to a necessary prudence”[495]

The Norfolks had read the political situation wisely and had decided to invest their energies in building and developing their estates rather than in futile electoral contests where, as Catholics, they could not even be classed as citizens of the country; they were not second class – more third class, lower in standing and greater in public loathing than the Protestant sects springing up. What did not help were the Scottish rebellions mentioned above. So the Norfolks minded their own business and gave free reign to other dynastic families.

A HORSHAM-BORN ENTREPRENEUR IN THE PRINT WORLD – LINTOT

Whilst Horsham was undergoing one of its contested electoral bouts, a business contest of sorts was being conducted in London that would have significant influence on the fortunes of one Horsham family and, in turn, on land ownership in the later quarter of the 18^th century. Bernard Barnaby Lintot from Southwater would, with Alexander Pope, help to change the look of information. The amazing story is told in the elaboration at the end of the chapter

You might be wondering why all this matters to a History of Horsham; after all, the events happenning in the world of publishing and literature in London have little to do with a Wealden Market Town. But Lintot is the first Horsham person to make a big impact in any cultural sphere: his successes in publishing took his family out of the ranks of nonentity to a status of being made High Sheriff of Sussex, a rank also given to his son, an important civic and legal position within society.  He and his heirs would, through the world of publishing, amass a fortune enabling them to buy land in Horsham and the surrounding area. Lintot would have a poem written by Swift about him (see below). They also represent 18^th century economic expansion where families could, if they took the risk and opportunity, make fortunes. So, whilst nationally students might learn of Wedgwood as an innovator and successful pottery manufacturer,  Lintot was Horsham’s own version – a true entrepreneur and innovator, taking a gamble, and he should be remembered; instead, he tends to be forgotten[496], except by collectors of 18^th century books.

The British economy was growing, and there was a general sense of post-war boom as Britain emerged victorious from the War of Spanish Succession which ended in 1713. In Sussex the armaments manufacturers continued to produce cannons for the Navy, though they were never required. Each cannon was numbered to fit in a certain place on board the man o’ war. By 1720 the navy was reduced in size and the cannons were left stockpiled; the nation did not expect a war with our European neighbours as they recovered from the wars that had blighted the continent for most of the 17^th century. Two of these cannons were used as gate posts in the Napoleonic depot of 1804, and lay in a garden in Depot Road before being given to the museum in the 1990s.

The succession of George I went quite smoothly apart from the fear of a Jacobite rebellion, but once that was crushed in 1715, Britain started to grow.  The nation saw trade expand and wealth flowing in from the colonies, especially the West Indies where sugar was grown to feed the increasing demand to improve the taste of drab diets back home[497], from Rum to jam; sugar was growing in popularity and with it wealth in the Caribbean helped by a rapidly expanding slave trade.

The poor in Britain (and in Horsham) were getting richer, and so were developing a taste for the sweeter things in life. Naturally, Horsham saw this wealth through increased market trade. This growth in trade might have encouraged the town to see the building of a new town hall. No town hall is mentioned in the medieval period, though as seen during the Civil War the loft of a “market house” was used to store arms (see above). It would seem that sometime around 1720 a new hall that was called various names, from shire hall to market house, was built. Charles Eversfield and Arthur Ingram signed an agreement with various traders in 1721 to complete its construction. It was a two-storeyed building of Portland stone with a three-bayed entrance facing north and five-bayed east and west facade forming an open arcade. In the centre of the hipped roof was a turret clock; not, as Albery shows, a clock at the north end.[498] Horsham had a market hall/town hall to rival its neighbours, and whilst it was probably built as an electoral sweetener to the town it benefited greatly from it.

Around this time the first big national financial scandal that ruined many families including, but not quite, the Irwins of Hills Place, occurred. The South Sea Bubble[499] has a romantic air about it, yet it showed how poorly understood was economic theory and how poorly understood was the psychology of greed. (Though it could be argued that those who devised the scheme understood it perfectly well). In the 17^th century the Whig Government had set up as a private company, the Bank of England, which loaned money to the Government of the day at preferential rates of interest. In 1711 the Tories who were in power decided to set up a new company to rival the Bank of England; the South Sea Company, which sounded a bit like the East India Company, a genuine company trading in East India. In 1719 the Company proposed that it would take over 3/5^th of the nation’s debt, around £30 million, in return for being granted trading privileges and 5% interest repayment up to 1727, and 4% after that. The Company would pay £7 million immediately.  It took a year for the Government to agree, but agree they did, and the value in the shares in the company rose. They were already trading at 130% of face value, and within 6 months they were over 1,000% of face value – the first stock market boom; Rich Ingram decided to invest in this sure-fire guaranteed bet; after all, even the King invested, as did Cabinet ministers, so for £41,000 he bought £10,020-worth of South Sea stock.[500]

In 1716 Rich[501] married Anne, the second daughter of the Earl of Carlisle, and with his wife came £6,000 within a month of marriage and a further £2,000 on Carlisle’s death. In December the following year he bought a new regiment for 9,000 guineas and sold his old one for 6,000. (The Government expected private individuals to pay for regiments and pay towards the upkeep of them, and in return the owner received a substantial amount of money from any “booty” captured in campaigns and a modest income – this worked well if Britain was at war.)  In 1719 his Regiment had one kettle drummer, 9 trumpets, 18 corporals, 225 privates and 253 horses. But the government was looking at what today we would refer to as a “peace dividend”; the likelihood of war diminished the need for a standing army so troop reductions occurred, thus saving money. For Rich that meant his regiment was reduced in size to 157 men and 157 horses, so he could save money, though a month after buying the South Sea stock he had to pay out “£2,002.17.8d on cloathing for his Regiment and received in June 1720 only £71.14.4d as Colonel of the Regiment for 183 days’ pay.

It could be the realisation that, whilst there was a saving to be made in running a Regiment from a reduction in troop size, if the Government did not perceive any military threat the chances of making a substantial fortune through military campaigns also disappeared. He could see that he had expenses in maintaining a regiment, one that he wanted to keep, as a military man. His whole life had been spent around the army and expenses in maintaining and developing Temple Newsam as a family home for his wife who, being a daughter of an Earl, expected certain status. Rich probably took the risk of buying South Sea shares to jump on the bandwagon and not lose out – risk was in his nature, military campaigns carry risk, and South Sea shares could not fail, not with Government support.

The problem occurred when other companies sprang up with a range of daft schemes in which to invest money. Money was being sucked into the City of London and the emerging stock market, drawing profits out of the land into schemes based not on producing anything, not even based on knowledge or information, but simply on existing. The South Sea Company knew that the shares would only keep their high price if people kept on wanting to buy them, thus creating a vicious circle, and these new companies were drawing money away from them, so they deliberately created rumours and alarm. There was a crash, shares plummeted in value and thousands were ruined, Rich was not ruined but was put in some financial difficulty. Fortunately he had land, and he had friends in high places, so in March 1721 he was appointed Governor of what was to become Barbados, St Lucia and the Dominico Islands at a salary of £2,000 a year. This would help restore his and the family fortune; through corruption, which was commonplace and expected, and through income alone. Naturally his clothing was suited to the cold northern Europe rather than warm Caribbean so, possibly showing signs of vanity, he went out and spent £1,000 on his Caribbean wardrobe, but within a month he was dead, from smallpox. He lies buried in Westminster Abbey, such was his status.

What effect did the crash have on Horsham? Difficult to say, as there is no documentation. The Government and the nation were saved from complete economic meltdown by the actions of Walpole, who is seen as Britain’s first Prime Minister in all but name. He came forward with a rescue package, saved the company and thus restored some calm within the stock market, though large fortunes were lost and the official enquiry found rampant corruption. But this measure did enable markets and trade to continue. We know it affected the Irwins, but did it affect any other of Horsham elite landowners?  It might have caused the Eversfield family, owners of Denne Park to look at their assets, for in 1723, having come to a mutually acceptable compromise with the Ingrams over the elections after 1715, they suddenly decide to sell 20 burgages to them. Arthur Ingram, who had been MP for Horsham, had to relinquish his seat when Rich died in 1721, so his brother Henry took over.

If the accounts are anything to go by, he spent most of his money on Temple Newsam leaving his younger brother to run the Hills estate. In 1723 Charles Eversfield sold Arthur 20 burgage plots for £6,000, and Lady Irwin (nee Machell), a wealthy woman in her own right, gave Charles £1,000 with £5,000 owing. The Eversfields did not own the burgages they were selling and the Irwins did not have the money to buy them, so was it really a payment of £6,000 for burgages, or was it really a price on political power; had they sold out their political control for £6,000, giving them immediate access to £1,000 with income to come but in the meantime status quo ruled, or was it a way for Lady Irwin to show that the Ingrams, though down on their luck financially, Horsham was still important to them, even though a younger brother was running the estate.

The Political impact of the South-Sea bubble crash was significant, in the degree to which the Whigs were now mistrusted. As the future Speaker of the House Arthur Onslow said later, if the Pretender of the throne had somehow landed at the Tower “he might have rode to St James’s with very few hands held up against him.”[502] Walpole realized this and seized the initiative by blaming the usual “bogeymen”: Jacobites, and their allies the Roman Catholics. He forced through the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act, imposed a fine on the Catholics of £100,000 and set up an armed camp of soldiers in Hyde Park.  Then, to add to this mix, the Continental Jacobites under the Duke of Ormond planned to invade England during the general election of April 1721.  The Government knew all about it and the invasion plot never went ahead. This, though, shows why the Norfolks were wise to keep out of the election process and so hand Horsham over to other men to fight over. Walpole manipulated fear of invasion and Catholics to make him seem the saviour of the country, when he was probably involved in the financial scandal.

Into this heady mix of financial scandal and political corruption went the everyday corruption of smuggling. Smuggling has a very romantic air about it, seen almost like highway robbery as a crime that was, to use modern-day parlance, sexy.  But if, instead of smuggling tobacco and brandy, they smuggled in drugs, then its romantic air dissipates in light of today’s fears about drug criminalisation. Is it historically wrong to compare the two, which after all are separated by 200 years? Possibly, in that drinking brandy and smoking are legal pursuits whereas taking of drugs is not (in 2006 at least).  The degree to which smuggling invaded everyday life was probably greater in the 1720s than drug smuggling invades 2006 life but, as a way to make 18^th century smuggling more real, it has its uses.

Smuggling was perceived initially as a “victimless crime”, in that the only one damaged by it was the state. However, because the state imposed the severest penalties for smuggling, the gangs that grew up on the trade retaliated with more violent attacks on those sent to stop them or inform on them. In 1721 the Commissioners for Customs wrote:

“It having been represented to us that smugglers are grown so Numerous and keep together in such large Gangs Composed of desperate Stout Fellows who all ride good horses and are well armed, that it is impossible for the Riding Officers to prevent the Running of Brandy and other Goods and that their insolent Carriage and behaviour in the Country is become insupportable the Civil Magistrates being afraid to do anything towards suppressing them lest they should be abused by them in their Persons or Properties…”[503]

The government’s response to this state of affairs, as there was no police force – only customs officers who were initially employed to stop the exportation, not importation, of goods (see above) – was to use the army, so it became, to use again a modern day expression, a “war on smuggling”, though this time literally, with “a Number of Dragons may be quartered in such places within the Counties of Kent and Sussex and that Detachments may be made from the Headquarters and quartered in such places as shall be judged most proper and settled by the Secretary of War in concert with Mr Saxby Surveyor General of the Riding officers of those Counties…” 

In the summer of 1721 John Wicker and Charles Eversfield were the Magistrates.[504] In front of them was Edward Jarvis, a leading member of the Mayfield Gang whose smuggling operation was county-wide. He had been injured in his capture by Rogers, Horsham’s Customs officer. When being presented to the Magistrates for commitment to gaol the Horsham attorney, John Lindfield, claimed the smuggler had been illegally captured and, if he died from his injuries, then the captors would be guilty of murder. Eversfield and Wicker ordered the captors (the customs officers) to be put in custody and Edward Jarvis into care of the constable, John Chasemore.

The situation then gets even more murky and corrupt. Jarvis escapes dressed as a woman and then, 24 hours later, 10 or 11 of the Mayfield gang including four Horsham men come into Horsham fully armed, searching out Rogers. This, though, may have been more of a ploy to throw off the scent of insider corruption or, probably more likely, to silence a witness for good.  For Chasemore, the constable acted as a go-between, between Jarvis and Rogers. The Customs Officer had his price for keeping silent and that was £17.15s 0d. Chasemore paid Rogers £10 immediately but, because Jarvis escaped using his own wit, he did not need to pay Rogers anything. Rogers wanted the £7 owing to him, and Chasemore, who had already paid out £10, couldn’t get the money owing to him from Jarvis; and neither could do anything about it.

This level of corruption in the judiciary might seem strange to us today. But it mirrored the corruption prevalent in the body politic. Both Eversfield and Wicker had used the splitting of burgage plots to gain seats in Parliament; something declared illegal in The Splitting Act of 1696. The attorney who acted for Jarvis was one John Lindfield, who had acted as agent for the Tories in the elections and had been heavily involved in the corrupt election of 1715 when he had arrested voters for the opposition (the Ingrams) and was himself taken into custody of the Sergeant-at-Arms for “divers illegal and unjustifiable practices” when he was the returning Officer. [505]

This, though, is not the end of the story. Sometime later a sweep of the Sussex countryside by Rogers and his men captured 11 owlers (the name for those who carried the smuggled items across the country). They were brought before Wicker and Eversfield who were holding Court at The White Horse Inn (Horsham did not have a Court House, see below). Mr Eversfield started to question the owlers when he noticed Rodgers in the room. He forcibly evicted Rogers so the questioning could be done in private. When Eversfield called Rogers back, and enquired under what authority the arrest was made, Eversfield then let the smugglers go free, saying they had been arrested illegally.

Was Eversfield bribed? Almost certainly. Was the arrest illegal? Probably not. Was Eversfield getting his own back at Rogers by releasing the men Rogers couldn’t claim any reward money, knowing that Rogers was willing to be bribed by Jervis and had received £10 from Chasemore? Difficult to say. What we can say is that it was a sorry state of affairs that did not seem to get any better.

What impact did the smuggling have on Horsham as a town? Probably mixed. Smuggling provided a number of people to be hanged on a regular basis, and a good hanging attracted audiences from far and wide, with up to 3,000 people attending. A hanging was good for business. Against that, the town gaol was in the centre of the town, and escapes from the decrepit gaol were commonplace.  This, and the presence of known smugglers or gangs of smugglers such as the Mayfield gang who searched the inns mentioned above, must have brought an air of violence to the town; the threat, if not real. Then there was the sale of the smuggled goods. The markets were regulated; could the smugglers sell their goods in the open at Horsham fairs and markets, or was it sold “under the table”, never entering the legal world of trade. The failure or decline of Horsham markets noted by 1750, blamed on the higglers, (see below), might also be due in part to the illegal trade of the smugglers. In March 1745 “A Report to the House of Commons from the Committee appointed to enquire into the causes of smuggling” recorded the following, startling facts: “when tea is landed…and disposed of at certain markets to people £1,000 at a time. And “It is estimated that 4,000,000 pounds of tea are consumed in this kingdom, of which 800,000 pounds only paid duty, therefore 3,200,000 pounds were run every year”[506].

All of this brings forward a sorry state of affairs where corruption and illegal activity was endemic and all-pervasive seeping through literally every strata of society. The 18^th century world was corrupt with the political body with its corrupt elections, the judiciary through smuggling, the financial world through the South Sea Bubble corruption and everyone buying or benefiting from a rampant black market in smuggled goods. Although difficult to date, there is an old Sussex rhyme which implies more about Horsham than any of the above accounts.

Ridgick for riches

Green for poors

Billingshurst for pretty girls

And Horsham for whores[507]

Charles Eversfield and Ingrams had worked together over a couple of issues that affected Horsham in the years immediately before and after the South Sea Bubble crash. In 1721 they, with help, paid for the construction of the new town hall (mentioned above), possibly as a point-scoring exercise; one agreed so the other felt obliged to.  Then, sometime before 1724, a fire engine was presented to the parish[508]; unfortunately, we do not know by whom, but it might again be a political sweetener. However, there is one clear case of mutual co-operation and clear evidence of political power struggle, for the outcome probably would not affect either of them, but they wanted to show their influence. Unfortunately, they lost. In 1722 they tried to get the Rev. Theobald Michell as master of Collyer’s School, though the Vicar, Robert Pitt, put up a fight and managed to get his candidate Francis Osgood elected.[509] This sign of determined action by the Ingrams, which included a letter by Henry to the Mercer Company, might have put the idea in Charles Eversfield’s head that if the Ingrams were that determined enough to run or control Horsham, perhaps they would be willing to buy out his power and influence. Or perhaps the fact that, jointly, they couldn’t push forward their favoured candidate showed Charles how precarious their power really was and he decided to “cut and run”. I suspect the former, but we just don’t know.

Horsham itself was starting to look different. Both Hewells Manor House and the Wicker home (Park house) were built out of brick and stone. The fashion for wood was in decline: no longer did you show your wealth by exposing timbers; now you covered it up with a skin of plaster or with bricks which were made at field kilns. In 1736 a brick layer is recorded in the town, whilst in 1709 two brick kilns are recorded on the common.[510] Another building on the outskirts of the Borough also, rather surprisingly, was made of bricks: the Baptist meeting house. Built around 1719 or 1721 [511] in Worthing road, it was registered for worship in 1719. 

The chapel served the congregations of the area, and not just Horsham which two years earlier recorded 350 hearers, though that must have included people from outside the parish as by 1724 there were only 18 Baptist families.[512] The building is of red and blue brick with a Horsham stone roof. Why? Were they trying to be “cutting-edge”, or had the change to brick occurred so suddenly that to build out of timber now would look perverse, or was a member the owner of a brick kiln. We don’t know, but what we do know is that after this time, for houses in Horsham and elsewhere, wood was out, except for agricultural buildings where weather boarding still carried on.

 NICHOLAS DINNAGE

HORSHAM’S 17^th CENTURY BRICK MAKER

Horsham Common was not, as is popularly believed, owned by everyone. Individuals owned the land, but the ‘commoner’ had rights to use it for collecting scrub wood and feeding livestock etc. The common land provided scrub for firewood and generally thin topsoil, which could easily be removed for access to the clay.

In 1711, the document on show was drawn up between John Dinnage and the Duke of Norfolk which describes a ‘Dwelling house Barn Stable hovel, outhouses …together with the watering pond lying on the north side of the said Garden. And also one Rood of land more or less lying on the East side of the Brick Kiln in Horsham common.’   This kiln was probably the one that was originally owned by Nicholas Dinnage, who was recorded in 1665 as a brick maker in the parish records. He was not, however, the first brick maker recorded in Horsham, for in the parish burial records there is mention of ‘HenryeSoche a bryck maker’ who was buried in the churchyard.

The other document on show is dated 1796 and there is reference to the Dinnage’s brick kiln. The document was drawn up between Wm Caffyn, a peruke (wig) maker and hairdresser, James Tyler, inn holder and Samuel Rowland, a bricklayer. In 1725 the Duke of Norfolk had leased to Elizabeth Rowlands land described as ‘all that small piece or parcel of Land formally Nich Dinnages with the Workshop and Brick kiln thereunto belonging or near to or adjoining and commonly called by the name of Dinnages Brick kiln lying on the South East part of the Common called Horsham Common.’ The lease with Elizabeth and her executors was to last 99 years: hence this document. Interestingly, by 1792 the land was being built on as mentioned at the bottom of the document. Another kiln had been erected on the Common and that was to make the bricks for Horsham Gaol in 1775.

A TAX AND THE COST OF BRICK

In the 18^th century the government of the day would raise revenue through taxes, but rather than direct taxation it was raised through indirect taxation on consumables such as soap, windows and bricks. Britain was undergoing a housing boom in the late 18^th century with houses being built for workers moving to the new industrial centres. In towns and villages like Horsham, houses were being modernised. In 1784 a tax was imposed at 2s 6d per thousand bricks which then cost 18s per thousand. The duty was increased in 1794 and in 1797 to help pay for the wars against France. By 1805 the tax was 5s 10d per thousand, and a thousand bricks would cost around 55s. The tax was eventually removed in 1850.

WEALDEN–TYPE WOOD FIRED BRICK KILNS

Most 17^th and 18^th century brickyards had small brick-built kilns. Dinnages on Horsham Common would have used this type of kiln.

They were straight sided, open topped and usually built into a bank of earth which provided insulation. The kiln would have been fired at a lower level with the floor of the kiln pierced either by vents, or by a row of holes. The bricks would be laid out from the other side with gaps between them, that formed flues through which hot gases would rise during heating. The heat would come from burning brushwood bundled into faggots. The temperature would be raised slowly to burn off any moisture, then maintained at around 1000C for 48 hours; the whole process taking six days. An example of this type of kiln can be found on Ebernoe Common, Kirdford.[513]

At St Mary’s around this time there had been some internal alterations reflecting changes in religious services. The return to a less puritan style of worship saw the construction of galleries on all three sides of the church by the turn of the 18^th century. In 1716 a singing gallery is mentioned.[514]  “In the early 18^th century, singing in many churches was choir-led. As organs were expensive, many churches began to use local musicians, and choir bands grew up to accompany the services…(In Sussex) these choirs often sang from galleries erected at the west end of the church…so that when they performed the congregation would stand, turn and literally face the music.” The advantage of Box pews was that they had seats facing different directions.[515] Then, some five years later, in 1721, a “woman’s gallery” was constructed[516]. In the 17^th century there had been galleries for different functions: in 1619 one was built for Collyer’s school, and in the late 17^th century a “gentleman’s gallery” and a “Southwater Gallery”[517]; and the galleries and box pews were always being rebuilt or refurbished so it is not surprising that galleries were being constructed. But did the creation of a woman’s gallery reflect something deeper within Horsham Society, did it reflect the growing economic power of women who took over husband’s businesses, did it reflect a desire of the community to separate the sexes, the counter-balancing of the gentlemen’s gallery, was it a gallery for unwed women, and was it popular? We do not know, but it must reflect something within Horsham as the Church mirrored society.

HORSHAM 1723

In the British Library is a manuscript account of Horsham. It was written by John Warburton in late September early October 1723 when he made a tour of the County. His journey took him from his home in Wimbledon through Horsham and on to Arundel and then Brighton. John’s notes, according to William Burrell, the celebrated Sussex Antiquary (see below), were “a few idle superficial observations in pencil and outlines of houses miserably sketched.”[518]; found in the Lansdowne papers which, on internal evidence, date from between 1722 to 1729.

“September 28^th …Horsham. A large straggling borough and town corporate in the figure of a cross and ye streets called by ye names of East, West, North and South streets. The church is at ye South end of the town and is a large edifice but irregularly built and in bad repair. The steeple is a spire of a good height and covered with slate. The Churchyard is near covered with frames of wood that are set over the graves and on them are various singular inscriptions. The Town House w’ch stands in ye Market place is a good edifice of Portland stone supported by {14} arched Collums of the[519] (blank) order and over it is ye Chamber where (?). At ye North end of the Market place stands the Gaol built of freestone and crenelled on top (the manuscript contains a drawing of the gaol).”

And the houses worthy of remark in the town are:

1) A goodly brick building of nine sash windows in front with Pylasters and Pediments of order belonging to Philip Treadcroft Esquire.

2) A neat new edifice of nine sash windows in front wh freestone Palasters etc., at ye North end of town. The seat of John Wicker Esquire.

3) A goodly edifice in ye West Street belonging to Dr Norman an eminent surgeon.

4) A neat edifice not yet finished belonging to a miner (minor)”[520].

He then describes a ride over Broadbridge Heath to Strood on the 30^th, suggesting that he had stayed two days locally before returning to Horsham:

“In my return to Horsham I called at Hills a good old edifice belonging to the Lord Viscount Irwin and was formerly the Middletons. From thence returning through Horsham, at one mile from it, I came to Denne the seat of Charles Eversfield Esquire, Member of Parliament for Horsham. It is situated on a (?) Hill w’ch yield a delicious Prospect over the wild of Sussex and at the East hath a pleasant Park well stocked with fallow deer and wood (?) and the House w’ch is of Free Stone is surrounded  with good Gardens and avenues and besides other good surroundings. (The house) hath in it several good Family Pictures by Capital hands as Mr Eversfield and his Lady…”  This picture now hangs in Horsham museum, having been bought at the end of World War II. The description then goes on to recount some other pictures including “A landscape by Brughill” (?), before describing the houses interior.

“The Hall is a spacious Room and the Lobby floored with marble Slabbes. From thence I went to Sedgwick Park the seat of Sir John Bennet Kt. Sergeant at Law. It is a small new House on an (?) and yields a beautiful prospect over the wild of Sussex even from Lewes to Chichester and at ye same time may be seen the South Downs and the Sea….”[521].

This account is interesting, for what it does say, as much as what it doesn’t say. The Carfax is not mentioned other than the marketplace, which is also used to describe the market square, and which may suggest that the square was not as enclosed as it is today, but seen as a natural progression of the market area. The church is described as in poor state yet, as previously mentioned, money was spent on its interior and, importantly, the Vicar had put up vigorous opposition to the Ingram candidature for Collyer’s; not the best way to seek money from the two wealthy families in the town, so he might be comparing the church with others he knew, rather than with those found in Sussex area, and if he came from London where a number of city churches were being, or had been, rebuilt post- Great Fire, it is not surprising (though that is conjecture). The description of the churchyard is fascinating, with the wooden grave markers suggesting multiple burials on top of one another. The town hall is described as obviously having some sort of decoration to the columns, as they are described as being of an architectural order.  The description of only four private dwellings in the town worthy of note is surprising; perhaps these were the only four to be brick-built, or in the new fashion; the other houses showing their timbers.

Then he ignores the fact that Irwin is the MP for the town, which might suggest his political affiliation (Tory rather than Whig), or when he called on the Irwins they were not at home, as he doesn’t describe Hills interior. The other notable absence is any criticism of the roads: all other accounts highlight the roads, but not this one, and perhaps on horseback he suffered no problems. The writer is obviously interested in the history or genealogy of the families and of the area, so if the dragon of St Leonard’s was well known it is surprising he doesn’t mention it at all in his description of Horsham; or the forest, which he mentions in the preceding line to his account of Horsham as thus “passed through the forest of St. Leonard’s which brought me to Horsham.”

The unknown author/traveller could have mentioned the following things about Horsham at this time:

Around 1725, a Pest House was established in the town. It may have stood in Pest House Lane, which in 1830s became New Road.[522] This was where the contagious were sent to recover or die. In 1725, the poor Relief cost the parish some £705; a large sum, so in order to reduce the amount it was agreed to create a workhouse, with the poor kept in one place, and then pay someone to look after them.

For £300 borrowed from the Vicar at 4.5% interest per year, the Justices of the Peace (Henry Ingram, John Wicker and Charles Eversfield) entered into a contract to build a workhouse. The bond was guaranteed by the Churchwardens and Overseers[523]. The workhouse either replaced the old almshouses in the Normandy, or they were refurbished. In 1734 it had at least 25 rooms and the hall had five spinning wheels for the paupers to use.[524]  The Parish then contracted with Richard Lintott to farm the poor for £300 a year, making a saving on the Poor rate of £400. Farming out was common practice for certain social functions such as looking after the prisoners and the poor. Richard was paid £300, for which he had to keep certain standards. If he then made additional money through hiring out the poor, or, as the spinning wheels show, by making goods, then he could keep the money. The advantage to the Parish was cheap care of the poor and knowledge of expenditure. Everyone was happy with this arrangement, until sixty years later (see below).

Horsham, in the space of a few years, was developing or renewing its civic infrastructure: a new market hall, pest house (or hospice), new poor house, and new fire engine. Though not everything was rosy, for the Borough Survey of 1723 recorded that the Borough market petitioned for by John Wicker in 1703 and awarded in 1705, had failed, for it was rarely held[525], which suggests that though the petition for establishing it said that the market would benefit London, there simply was not enough trade, either locally or with London, to sustain the new monthly cattle market. Or, perhaps more likely, it was easier, or just as easy, to take the cattle and other livestock to markets nearer the capital as to Horsham.

One of the great movements recorded in the 18^th century was what became known as the agricultural revolution. Whether it was a “revolution” or an evolution is for others to debate, but what it did see was renewed interest in the land. The Tories, who were in effect disbarred from the politics of government, left London and spent their time and energy on improving their land, both agricultural and farming and social – that is, creating gardens around their homes. If they could not manage the state, they would manage nature.

It is easy to forget that Horsham was still very rural: as late as 1844 there were 70 farms in the Parish.[526] The degree to which the farmer improved his or her land was dependent on the individual; there was no state interference, either through subsidies or regulation. For example, in 1720s one Horsham farmer had 70 ewes, whilst in the 1740s more oats than wheat were grown, potatoes were grown on the Denne estate in the late 18^th century as horse fodder, barley was grown, perhaps for the brewing industry, peas were mentioned in the 1740s, not for human consumption but for fodder, whilst at Chesworth farm in the 1780s turnips and clover seeds were also grown as fodder. In 1750, there was one hay maker mentioned in the Parish. And in 1717 fruit is being recorded as being grown in the parish.[527] This diverse record suggests that farming was predominantly pastoral rather than agricultural, growing livestock, including poultry, which Daniel Defoe recorded at Dorking market as coming from Horsham,[528]  and which would have suited the poor soil prevalent throughout the parish. Whilst a large number of books and articles were published in the 18^th century suggesting how the farmer/landowner could improve the profitability of his land through crop rotation, new breeding techniques, and fertilizing the soil etc., it is difficult to know who in Horsham read such books and incorporated those methods except to say that clover and peas are very good crops for putting nitrogen back in to the soil and were promoted for that, along with the promotion of turnips as an animal feedstuff.

However, the key part of the agricultural revolution was enclosure of the common, which in Horsham did not occur until 1813 onwards, some years ahead. So what was happening to the Common in the 18^th century and why was it not enclosed? In the 18^th century, Horsham Common stretched for around 750 acres[529]  in an arc covering the north and east of the parish, and, whilst it is known now as Horsham common, it was in fact then known as Horsham Heath: it acquired the name “Common” as part of the legal language used to define its rights and to enclose it.[530] A great misunderstanding occurs with commons; the perception being that the common was owned by the commoners. It was not.  The common was owned by certain people, but commoners had the right to exploit it for certain things, such as collecting firewood and grazing of animals, but they did not own it. This is clearly set out in the 1611 Borough survey mentioned above where it states:

“that the said Common or parcell of Land called the Horsham Heath is the inherytance of the said Earle of Arundell as Lord Paramount and is parcell of the Earle’s said Mannor and that the herbage pannage sand pasture thereof belongeth to the said Borroughe as their Common of Pasture for all manner of Coiable cattle without number…”[531]  In Horsham the burgesses, those that owned burgage plots, had pasture rights to the common, as did the tenants of Roffey, Hawksbourne, Marlpost and Shortsfield manors, reflecting its medieval origins.[532]

In the 17^th century; particularly in the18^th century, a number of people encroached on the common, enclosing parcels of land. The 1611 survey recorded that three houses or cottages were built in the last ten years, whilst the 1650 survey states that “several” were built in the last 50 years.[533]  The Duke of Norfolk, the Lord of the Manor and owner of the largest portion of the Common, would lease out parcels of land and they would then have to get the permission of the Burgesses, for by encroaching on the common they reduced in size the amount of land available to commonersl; so having an economic impact. This did not happen, much to the annoyance of the Burgesses who in the 1723 Court Leet survey recorded that:

“Present that several persons at many times unknown …have to the great prejudice of the Bailiffs and Burgesses erected many houses on the said heath and enclosed many parcels of it … We are of the opinion that the Duke as Lord of the same Manor hath not a power to let any leases on the said Common without the consent of the Bailiffs and Burgesses, nor the Bailiffs and Burgesses without the consent of the Duke”. [534]

The record is silent until the 1780s and 90s, which is interesting in that the 18^th century was one of interest in land improvement; yet the Duke almost ignores his Horsham estate. Why? The answer probably lies in politics. There were 52 burgesses who had the right to common pasture, the same who had the right to vote. With the splitting of the burgage plots the number of voters increased and, in turn, the number of burgesses who had common rights increased. If the Duke of Norfolk interfered with those who had the right to use the common, he would directly interfere with the right to vote and electoral practices, something he had vowed not to do (see above). Hence the lack of interest in the common until the battle over elections in the late 1780s.

The Irwins and the Eversfields were not bothered about this side issue; they just wanted the burgesses’ vote; not their rights to pasture. The 1723 note of censure on the Duke could be seen as a humbling experience: the Duke of Norfolk, being a Catholic, was under attack from the state for his religion; and now upstart bailiffs who had not criticised him before for leasing out parcels of land that he owned, were getting all high and mighty; or it could be seen as a note of burgesses’ power when they had lost their political freedom. The situation changed when the 11^th Duke took control in 1786 and he wanted his own MPs; as a corollary of that, he looked into the management of the common (See later).

There is also one simple reason why the Duke and other landowners did not improve the common land: if cattle and other livestock had pannage rights, then they had the right to eat the plants growing on the common. The Common could only be turned over to proper effective and economic farming use if either the commoners acted as a corporate body for the benefit of everybody, or commoners’ rights were made null and void. So whilst the agricultural revolution was occurring, large areas of Horsham’s farmland saw little or no improvement, unless it was in selective breeding of livestock; something which the records don’t tell us.

Before closing with the common, it should be noted that there was a bowling alley on the common in 1724, and one had previously been recorded in 1683.[535]  Often the records of social activities and pastimes are only captured in the documentary record when a law is broken as, for example, a hundred years earlier in 1572 a preacher, town clerk, a beer brewer, and a winer of Rye, were indicted as they “assembled riotously and illicitly to play an illegal game called bowles” in the Carfax[536], or it is recorded in the diary of an active participant, player or spectator. When the sport then formalizes itself and clubs and societies get formed with rules and matches, then the chance of more documents surviving increases. So what follows is a suggestion, not anything more than that.

If bowls, why not cricket? Was cricket being played in Horsham in the early 18^th century? Thanks to the survival of a diary kept by a Hurstpierpoint farmer, Thomas Marchant, between 1717 and 1727 we know that he followed his son, Will, who played for the parish team, and they went to Henfield, Cowfold and Steyning amongst other places to play cricket. He and one of his farm workers went to Henfield to watch a match in 1721, and three weeks later to Ifield Green, though the match was washed out[537]. From his diary, we can see how much cricket had become part of Sussex rural life. It is also clear from the diary that at matches other activities went on, so that at Henfield in May 1722 he paid someone 28s for a calf. Some six years later a French traveller, Cesar de Saussure, tried to describe cricket: “The English, are very fond of a game they call cricket …They go into a large open field, and knock a small ball about with a piece of wood. I will not attempt to describe this game to you, it is too complicated, but requires agility and skill, and everyone plays it, the common people and also men of rank.[538] Cricket had been played in Sussex since at least the 1620s, though mainly in the South, though it was mentioned at Midhurst in 1637, Horsted Keynes in 1624[539] and at Worth in 1662.[540] Whilst it is dangerous to argue that the absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, I think we are safe to say that cricket was probably played in Horsham from the early to middle part of the 18^th century and probably on the Common. Why? The common offered a large open expanse of ground; traders who came to Horsham markets came from the very areas cricket is mentioned; cricket was used as an excuse for social gatherings and trade and gambling to coexist; Horsham had its fairs where similar practices went on and, importantly, cricket was a great leveller, with Lords and the common farmer playing together.[541]  Though there is no proof, it is possible that cricket matches were played in Horsham. However, if we stick to actual proof then the first record of cricket in Horsham is recorded in 1768[542], but not the foundation of a team, which suggests that something existed before then. Just as the diary of Marchant records early matches, without that we would have no evidence of those matches, so the diary of John Baker mentioned below records matches in Horsham in the 1770s, with the first pitch being on the “artillery ground “ on the common.[543]

It is very easy to overreact to the condition of roads in Horsham at this time. The roads were poor, but Horsham folk did trade and were not cut off. Equally, roads in Horsham might be bad, but they were also just as bad elsewhere as a letter by Arthur 6th Viscount Irwin dated 17 September 1725 states[544]:

“I may really affirm that the ways betwixt Temple Newsam and Barraby are as bad as betwixt Hills and Horsham, no passing with a coach and pair”[545].

This has oft been quoted to emphasise how poor roads in Horsham were but, though not much comfort, the road out to Hills was not the main London road out of Horsham; it was the road to Broadbridge Heath, and on to Guilford, a road that one would not necessarily expect to be wide enough to take two coaches side by side; more a lane with passing places, for the letter does not state the road is bad in terms of maintenance; just bad in terms of being a country lane instead of “duel carriageway”. After all, it would have been this road that the contemporary commentator on Horsham travelled to Hills without comment on the roads.

If the roads in Horsham connecting to other towns were as bad as all that, then “The Complete Guide to all persons who have trade or concern with the City of London”, published in 1740, could not have promoted a twice-weekly service to Horsham: one on Wednesday and one on Thursday.[546] Nor would Bernard Lintot, mentioned above, have retired to Horsham, yet still run his business with his son if communications were that bad, as he apparently did for around seven years or so.

As well as communication with London, Horsham was also part of the wider British Empire; particularly the English colonies in America. Rather than the exportation of goods, it was of people, and the movement was in both directions. It could be argued that the pressure for religious reform preached by the Quakers and the Baptists that built up the 1650s to 70s mentioned above was released in part by the emigration to the colonies: William Penn, for example, sailed to form his new colony with over 100 people from Billingshurst.  In the new colony settled Samuel Carpenter of Horsham, where he rose to the position of state treasurer, and through trading made a great fortune. The township of Horsham, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania is named in his honour. The government of the day, though, must have been glad to see the back of what at the time were regarded as religious fanatics.

However, they were not the only people with connections with the colonies. As mentioned above, in 1721 Rich Ingram was made Governor of Barbados, St Lucia and Dominico Islands as a way of helping the family recoup some of their losses from the South Sea Bubble. Then there were the family ties with an apparent, but not provable, link between the Reverend John Eversfield of Maryland and Charles Eversfield of Denne, which led in 1735 to Charles sending a copy of his arms to John. John had been born in Ireland, educated at Oxford and ordained by Bishop Edmund Gibson, Bishop of London in 1727, and at the suggestion of his mentor he went to Maryland where he served St Paul’s County from May 1728. Around 1734/5 he became interested in genealogy and, in return for the copy of the family arms, he sent Charles a cask of Madeira wine through the merchant John Hyde of London. The few letters that survive show that Charles and he developed strong ties, with Charles being asked to help John out with difficulties over the London merchant who seems to have provided goods from London and sell his tobacco.[547] Another connection with the colonies can be seen with Bysshe Shelley, (the grandfather of the poet Percy Bysshe) and his brother who were born in Newark, in the USA.

In 1716 Timothy Shelley, the third son of five sons and four girls, had little chance of inheriting the family estate so trained in London as a haberdasher. In the 1720s he went to America to make his fortune. Unfortunately, owing to the War of Independence a great deal of documentary evidence has been destroyed, but we do know that he married a Joanna Plum, the sister of a judge, of Newark, some 20 miles south of New York, and had two sons, John Shelley born in 1729 and Bysshe in 1731. It was said that she was a widow of a miller and Timothy had become a quack doctor, though this unlikely and it is more likely that he was the miller[548], though he was not wealthy. He borrowed £100, possibly to pay for his and or his son’s travel back to England. According to an entry for 15 March 1774 in the diary of John Baker: “Mr Shelley told me that he and his brother Bysshe born at Newark 20 miles from New York, that his brother the younger came to England at four years old but himself not till fourteen.”[549] If Timothy had gone to England with his son Bysshe, he returned to America by 1739, only to return to England by 1740/41. By late 1743 early 1744 he had brought his wife and eldest son (John) over. What is interesting is that America was a way of, “garaging” relatives, in that they went to America to make money, but that home was still England, to go back to when circumstances improved, or family circumstances such as death. If death had not occurred then Timothy would have stayed in America, no longer a burden on the corporate family estate. For it should be remembered the maintenance of the family estate won through marriage and shrewd legal work was of paramount importance to families, not family feelings. If, however, in America they made money then that could be siphoned off back to England to improve family fortunes – that is what colonies were for. 

What we cannot determine is the effect that American birth had on Bysshe or John. The fact Bysshe moved back to England at the age of four would suggest not much, but John would have been bought up and educated in America, then seen as “England overseas”, rather than the country America, but he might have viewed himself as an outsider and viewed by others in the same light. In effect he might have been seen as being “exotic”. His education in America, according to his neighbours was poor, so even though he had been left chambers in Middle Temple he did not take advantage of it. In fact, after leaving school at 18 he boarded with the solicitor William White who was then living in Causeway house (present-day home of the museum) for four years gaining some legal knowledge, though he was not articled, to become a squire. The only apparent Americanisation was the creation of an American garden at Field Place. Bysshe on the other hand was educated as an English gentleman,[550] something that may have magnified the sense of difference and otherness between the brothers.

Another Horsham person to benefit in America, this time North America, is Henry Smith, who became the lover and husband of Sarah Hurst whose diaries have only recently been published[551]. Henry was commissioned in the Army, the Marines, thanks to the contacts with Henry Irwin. Henry Smith was born in 1723 and in 1752 started an affair with Sarah; she was 16, a daughter of a local tradesman and he was 29 years old and a son of a Horsham-based London merchant who had been appointed Quarter Master in the Army in 1715 thanks to Rich Irwin, probably for political favours.

Owing to Britain’s growing conflict with France in the mid 18^th century which led to the Seven Years War, Henry Smith ended up on military campaigns; in particular, the wars in Canada. Henry seems to have been one of the first marines, a newly formed military unit, and in 1755 becomes a Lieutenant. By the following year he became a Captain, then in 1757 he sailed to Canada and in 1758 saw action in the battle and capture for Louisburgh under Admiral Boscawen whom Sarah later described as Henry’s “best friend”. The diaries for the next four years, 1759 to 1762, recount the love affair, eventual marriage and rise in the military career of Henry. The importance of the diary in Horsham’s history is significant for two reasons: one as an actual account of real people with real emotions and lives; and in the context of Horsham’s corporate identity as an exemplar of what was happening nationally seen impacting on a local scale.

The middle part of the 18^th century was dominated by the debate about America, and this permeated down to Horsham. For example, in the Diary of John Baker he records that “December 17 (1775) Read pamphlet Mr Savage gave Mr Manning, printed at New York entitled “What think ye of the Congress now?”, against the Congress very severe.”[552]  Interestingly, for Baker to think the account is to severe shows that he had weighed up the arguments and compared it to what he himself thought just, based on his experience at home politically, and for colonial governance, which he had gained whilst working in the West Indies. The degree to which he gossiped and talked to other Horsham neighbours would suggest, but only suggest; as we have no absolute proof that America was a “hot” topic; as it would be, with War breaking out a year later.  In addition to these political debates, John Baker also had an American cook, as on “May 2 (1772) Eudosia the N. American cook goes down in stage today – Eliza Page to leave us on Monday…”.[553] The day before John had travelled to London which suggests, though the diary is cryptic, that he sent down from London Eudosia to replace his cook in Horsham – was their American cuisine being cooked in Park House? On 11 October of the same year he records that “Eudosia, the black cook, went away in the wagon this morning”.[554]

This raises a number of questions, the most immediate being: was she a slave? (The impact of slavery in Horsham will be covered later in this history) We don’t know, nor should we assume, that being black meant being a slave; she could be a freewoman, born free to liberated parents, or granted her freedom in America and travelled to England with John Baker; his diary is not complete. But it is a forgotten person in Horsham’s history, a black servant working in Park house. 

Another aspect of the wider world influencing Horsham can be seen in the military aggrandisement and wars that dominated the 18^th century and acted as a valve to release the build up of social pressure and as a way of giving financial boosts to families who supplied material, the logistics of war, and sons to wars as they received bounty money. Whilst Horsham families may have received some financial gain from supplying soldiers, there was a downside experienced in 1782. The demoralised 52^nd Regiment on return from fighting in the war indulged in housebreaking and highway robbery whilst camping in Horsham, probably on the Common. The town would have benefited from increased sales of ale, but the profit may have been outweighed by the cost of the destruction. It is, though, an interesting sidelight on the problems that wars can bring on a town thousands of miles from the action.

As discussed previously, Horsham can be seen as a corrupt place and perhaps the next tale in the story of Horsham, one of the town’s “claims to fame” signifies that more than anything else. Horsham is the last place in England where someone was pressed to death; on 11 August 1735.[555] The reason for pressing someone to death was to make them plea and to do that by peine forte et dure (the strong and hard pain) The sentence was as follows:

“That you be taken back to the prison whence you came, to a low dungeon into which no light can entre; that you be laid upon your back on the bare floor with a cloth round your loins but elswhere naked; that there be set upon your body a weight or iron as great as you can bear; and greater. that you have no sustenance save on the first day three morsels of the corsest barley (bread); on the second day three draughts of stagnent water; on the third day bread as before, next day water as before; until you die.”[556]

How does this signify Horsham’s, for want of a better expression, “moral turpitude”? The punishment should have taken place in a prison, out of public sight, but in Horsham it was carried out in full public view in the gaol yard where everyone could see it. [557] It could be argued that seeing this punishment would put people off from committing a crime – a deterrent. Yet although we may not like to admit to it, our ancestors were not squeamish, and in fact relished the sight. One of the most popular books of the 16^th, 17^th and 18^th centuries was Fox’s Book of Martyrs, which in both word and picture graphically showed the punishments and tortures inflicted.

William Hogarth, only 15 years later, showed up this cruel streak in English culture with his celebrated Four Stages of Cruelty prints. So why was it done in public? After all, Horsham gaol did have a “dungeon”, for mention is made in 1765 of “repairing between that ward and ye dungeon”.[558] The reason was for public entertainment, amusement and means of attracting people to the market. In what is now the Carfax where the bandstand now sits, John Weeks was pressed to death over three days. Did it attract people? William Albery in his Millennium quotes a Mr Fiest of Twineham describing the punishment, obviously a very successful event (no doubt many of the inns were full for the three days the punishment took, if the law was followed to the letter).

The Crime and the punishment of John Weeks

John Weekes of Fittleworth was charged at Lewes in August 1735 for the murder of Elizabeth Symonds, and with the robbery on 14 May 1735. He and three accomplices, including a boy, William Steere, who turned King’s evidence, entered the cottage of Elizabeth and her mother, a nurse, some three miles from Petworth. The boy was used to climb through the window and open the door. Elizabeth, who was alone at the time, on hearing the noise went to see what caused it and was murdered by the men. They then pillaged the cottage.

On being arrested the boy, Steere, would be the principal witness leading to two of the men being found guilty of murder and hanged at Horsham. Weekes, when he went to court, refused to plead even though he had spots of blood on his shirt. The trial changed its course, no longer a trial over murder; it became a trial between the State (the Court) and Weekes over pleading. Eight witnesses said Weekes could speak; the Judge warned Weekes what would happen if he refused to speak, but Weekes continued to keep silent. The Judge therefore found him “guilty of standing mute through malice”. He was sent back to Horsham from Lewes, where the trial took place to receive his punishment. A punishment not for murder but for being mute at a trial.

The punishment was carried out as described by Mr Feist, the eyewitness. First a board with one hundred weights was placed upon him, then one hundred weights more, then a third hundred weights, Fifty pounds more were added when he appeared to be in death throes, and the Gaoler, who weighed over 16 stone, laid on the board and killed him outright.

What Mr Fiest does not say is if the punishment took place over three days and was carried out as the letter of the law, or if it took place in the space on 11 August 1735.

Why did not Mr Weekes plead? By not pleading, the crown could not take all the goods from the thief – his family could keep the house and goods.

Horsham continued to see improvements to the look of the place, with householders seeking the modernisation of their homes; for example, around the 1730s Causeway House saw extensive rebuilding and remodelling.[559] Whilst over the other side of the Causeway, at the Hewells Manor House, a pleasure garden, or gardens, were laid out with a fountain. In 1742 the Bailiffs and Burgesses signed an indenture that “William and Resta Patching had undertaken to serve the Inhabitants of the Borough and Town with Water from and out of the River called Horsham River”. They also gave them permission to take up pavements and to lay water pipes for a term of 500 years at a rent of 6d per year. One condition of this indenture was that water should be supplied free of charge to the Manor house including water for the fountain in the “best” garden.[560]  Resta and William ran the Town Mill (see above) and also had the authority to “erect, set up or build any Engine or Engines for conveyance of Water in the said River to the inhabitants of the Town and Borough of Horsham with rights to lay pipes through the Church Field”.[561] The museum has a few fragments of these wooden pipes. If fresh water was supplied, what about sewage? In the accounts of Horsham gaol that were presented at the quarter sessions, there is an indication that sewage pipes were laid from the gaol if not elsewhere in the town. For January 1743 the following is recorded:

“Account taken by Thomas Barnard, Ralph Jones and Charles Jones of a Suer from the King’s Gaol at Horsham to the Crown, being a length of thirty rod, sixteen inches wide and twelve inches deep, finding all material viz, lime, sand and stones and all other things that shall be wanting and also making good the pitching and doing all in a workmanlike manner at eighteen shillings per rod ……£27.00.00”.[562] (Albery suggests that the Crown was the Crown Inn that originally stood at the South east corner of West Street). This raises a number of questions. Namely, why didn’t the sewer connect in to others that lay nearby? For example, two years later in 1745 an account was rendered at the Quarter sessions for “opening of the sewer that comes from the vault of the felons wards into the old house at the backside of the house”.[563] This clearly indicates a network of sewers around the gaol. When it reached the corner of the Carfax what happened to it; did it join West Street’s; why the Crown? It also tells us that the Carfax was relatively flat as they had to pitch it to cause the sewage to flow. I suspect, knowing Horsham, that the sewer from the gaol could have been connected to a more local sewer and perhaps taken east, or westwards (not north, as the ground rises to the north, masked today by the buildings) but by making the sewer go to West Street, it provided a new sewer for draining the Carfax at County’s expense not Horsham’s. A well-drained marketplace is more desirable for traders than one covered in pools of rainwater and excrement. The fact that the sewer was, from the description, uncovered, did not worry them, but the stone lining of it suggests that it was more than a “domestic” sewer; after all, the freshwater pipes were wooden, not stone. In October of the same year, 1745, “A contract for the supply of water by the proprietors of the water works at Horsham to the gaol at £10 per annum and laying of pipes for the same was approved”.[564] Why? For centuries the gaol had survived on locally-drawn well water; why now, all of a sudden?  Was there a concern about getting fresh water from the river for prisoners who died regularly from illnesses? After all, it was probably something other town folk could not afford to have; why should the prisoners? The prisoners would have had to pay for the water, and the local “tap” that provided ale for them would probably have objected to it as such payments were a way that the gaoler offset his fees he paid up front to manage the gaol. 

There was also no guarantee that the prisoner income could cover the cost, so it would become a burden on the County unless the amount prisoners paid for board increased, but there is no evidence of that. It in fact had nothing to do with prisoner welfare and everything to do with ensuring financial stability for the new owners of the waterworks. In May 1745 Resta Patching was declared bankrupt; the mill went to her brother William who then, later in 1745, mortgaged the mill and waterworks to James Andrews for £200 at 4% interest.[565] Four per cent interest on £200 is £8 a year; more than covered by the £10 a year income from the gaol; the £2 a year covering the true cost of the water supply and the rest covering the interest on the debt.  By 1745 it is safe to say that Horsham, as well as being refaced in brick, was also given the opportunity to have piped river water and mains drainage, with the Carfax drained of rainwater.

THE REBELLION OF 1745[566]

In 1745 the Jacobite Rebellion flared up.  Prince Charles Stewart, the Pretender, encouraged Scotland to rise in revolt against the English and invaded England, coming to within 140 miles of London.  Naturally, Viscount Irwin was involved with the military campaigns to protect his King and country (and his own estates).  In September 1745, the King granted Lord Irwin permission to form troops for the defence of the East Riding, giving him the authority to grant Commissions in the King’s name.

Some 13 days later, on 23 September 1745, Viscount Irwin and 32 other gentry held a meeting in York to discuss the rebellion, and they agreed to form an association to raise money for troops.  Later, it was agreed that the troops raised would act in unison rather than as separate bodies.  In November panic was in the air.  However, by April 1746, Viscount Irwin received details of the Battle of Culloden, which brutally put paid to the Jacobite cause.  In July the Archbishop of York wrote to Viscount Irwin:

“Indeed my lord without meaning to compliment you at all, tho’ I have never said it but under the seal of secrecy, I have wished a thousand times for last year that the sole administration of our county had been in your Lordship’s hands.”

The effect of the 1745 rebellion was important in reinforcing the political status quo, for anyone seen to be voting against the Government or promoting dissent was seen as a Jacobite supporter.  This is clearly expressed in a letter dated 11 June 1747 between Henry Ingram and Lord Newcastle, in which Henry writes:

“I had the honour of your Lordship’s letter and if I had not heard from you I fully intended to acquaint you with the state of affairs here.  Upon the best considerations it has been determined to call a new Parliament immediately after this sessions is ended;  the nation is now in good humour;  no incident has yet happened to make them otherwise since the happy extinction of  the rebellion and therefore I verily think we cannot now fail of getting a good Whig Parliament.  What might have been the consequence of putting it off for another year nobody can tell …”[567]

In Horsham, on Thursday 9 October 1746, the day set aside for public thanksgiving, Thomas Hutchinson gave a sermon in the Parish church. He used Psalm L. 15: “And call upon Me, in the time of trouble: so will I hear thee; and thou shalt praise Me.” as his text. We know this because the Sermon[568] was published in London, printed by Jeremiah Reason in Flower-de-Luce court, near Fetter-Lane, Fleet-Street. Unfortunately, we don’t know the publisher, and it might well have been Hutchinson himself who decided to take the financial risk, selling it for sixpence.

The sermon itself gives no evidence of the local situation, referring more to national feeling and sensibilities:

“Not many months are elaps’d since the whole nation experience’d a time of trouble. Our country was threaten’d with the most hideous forms of desolation and destruction; the constitution of the kingdom in general, together with the king and the royal family, together with the rights and properties of all loyal subjects, had our enemies already destroy’d in their sanguine hopes.” [569]

So who was the sermon aimed at; perhaps other vicars to use, perhaps those who wanted to feel comforted by the text which clearly links the crushing of the rebellion as God answering the nation’s call? Equally, the text goes on to argue that the Nation shouldn’t turn to God only in desperate times, but all the time. It could also be viewed as a means for Thomas Hutchinson to make his name more prominent in the public eye in London, rather than in Horsham.

At Hills, the Irwins were making their presence known on the national stage and locally; Eversfield, who had been a Tory, changed his party, becoming a Whig and so in the same camp as the Irwins. The assizes held in August 1740 at Horsham, a year before the election, were cause for “the greatest number of considerable gentlemen and persons of distinction than was ever known upon a like occasion” according to the Duke of Newcastle, one of the great party mongers along with the Duke of Richmond, who attended Hills to sort out candidature at the forthcoming election. Horsham, through the Irwins, was growing in political stature and importance and whilst the gathering was linked to the assizes, it does beg the question of how isolated really was Horsham? If the political and economic will was there, then both the great and the economically dependent would travel to the town.

One traveller to the town was Dr John Burton who, riding on horseback in 1751, describes Horsham as follows:

“Horsham itself now appeared to us the metropolis of all in the Weald of Anderida,[570] ancient and populous. The County Gaol and Assize Court are established there. The people of the country flock in at the yearly judicial assemblies, as also for the weekly market, where salesmen from London buy with ready money so many thousand of the chicken race. Nor should this be omitted (since, as wayfarers, we  enjoyed its great convenience), that around the town, in the muddy district itself, a certain rideable plain arises, about thirty furlongs in circumference, where a sort of treasure is found, precious from its rarity in the country. From the quarries of stone there, they work out split slabs and use them instead of tiles to roof their houses. The town is therefore especially famous for these. In the bottom, that most slow-flowing of rivers, the Arun, in which trout thrives, flows down from hence towards the south, and, becoming navigable about Arundel, falls lower down into the sea.”[571]

Dr Burton was obviously well-read: he went to Oxford at 17, becoming a tutor and Greek lecturer for 15 years, superintending the Clarendon press. This learning is apparent as he uses the old Saxon name for St Leonard’s forest, and for Horsham water he refers to it as the Arun. A year after his visit, Horsham attracted national press attention with the trial and burning at the stake of Anne Whale and Sara Pledge.

ANN WHALE – BURNT AT THE STAKE AND SARAH PLEDGE HANGED FOR MURDER 1752[572]

Ann Whale was born in 1731 and was the daughter of Willam Waterton, a butcher, who died whilst she was still young, leaving her to the care of her mother. Ann mixed with unsuitable company and soon ‘uprooted the tender virtuous growths imparted by her parents’, to quote a contemporary account. Her mother thought that married life would keep her on the ‘strait and narrow’. So, within ten days of meeting James Whale, a labourer, they were married.

After living in West Chiltington and then Pulborough, they moved back to Horsham with a child. Eventually they moved in with her much older cousin, Sarah Pledge, at Corsletts in Broadbridge Heath.

Ann had a legacy of about £80, which Sarah knew about. She also knew that James would stop her getting her hands on it. So Sarah persuaded Ann to kill her husband. Ann was frightened to buy poison, so Sarah obtained spiders, put them in a cup of beer, baked and then squeezed them. She then put them in a bottle of beer and offered it to James, who unbeknownst to her did not drink it. Sarah then got some rat poison and persuaded Ann to poison the dinner, some ‘hasty pudding’, and he died.

An inquisition into his death was held and the Jury found that he had died ‘…by the visitation of Almighty God and no otherwise’. However, some time later, after the burial in October 1751, Mr Agate, the landlord of Corsletts, visited Mr Harfey, the apothecary, who sold the rat poison to Sarah Pledge, and was asked if the rats had been killed. Mr Agate did not know of any rats but it did trigger in his mind the thought of the sudden death of James Whale. The two women were caught, tried and confessed to their crime.

Sarah hoped ‘to see the young bitch (her cousin Ann Whale) burnt before she herself was hanged’ and that she should be hanged naked so that the hangman did not get her clothes which he was entitled to. Ann however became a model prisoner.

On the day of their punishment, Friday 7 August, Sarah Pledge was taken by cart, and Ann on a sledge, according to the law, to Broadbridge Heath Common. At half past three, Jack Ketch the hangman ‘quickly deprived her (Sarah) of her life and her clothes’, and of the chance to see her cousin burnt. Two hours later ‘Ann Whale was led to the stake and her back chained thereto, she was strangled, the fire was kindled and in about five minutes the body was consumed to ashes’. The body of Sarah Pledge was taken to Doctor Dennet Junior of Storrington and dissected[573].     

Ann was burnt because she committed the crime of ‘petit treason’; that was the murder, by a wife, of her husband. A husband murdering his wife committed murder, not ‘small treason’. In law the only punishment for treason was burning at the stake.

However, in the history of Horsham, whilst the crime and punishment appealed to the popular literature of the day, it had little effect on Horsham’s history, other than providing a startling anecdote and gory tale to tell. But three years later there was a major event that had ramifications for the next half century or more. Horsham’s first turnpiked road. However, six years before the first Turnpike Act for Horsham was passed in 1755, possibly the leading intellectual, and probably the only intellectual, in Horsham seemed to offer the Parish a way of getting some of its roads repaired for free, or at little cost to the parish. The Rev. Dr. Thomas Hutchinson became vicar of Horsham in 1742. In 1727 he had published his translation of Xenophon’s Cyropaedia, followed by Anabasis in 1735. Both went into many editions throughout the century, both in England and America; remarkable, as they were not Greek to English, but Greek to Latin. 

The Vicar, probably looking at various parish documents, came across a copy of Richard Collyer’s will and, whilst not being a lawyer, was skilful enough to interpret it. A representative from the Mercer’s Company visited Horsham in 1749 to look at the school which, by then, had lost its direction and had fallen into decay. The school was no longer taking 60 pupils “at noe charge for their schooling”.[574]  This attack caused the Vicar to look at the Parish copy of the will and he argued that the surplus profits from “The Key” should go not to the Company, but to the Parish for the upkeep of the local roads. The Key had burnt down in the Great Fire and had until recently been producing only marginal monies through rent, but with London booming the rents were rising, and The Key was now a valuable property.

Two years later, probably as a direct response to road improvements occurring through turnpiking elsewhere in Sussex, which had been started in earnest in 1749[575], Horsham parish looked afresh at its roads and realized they were wanting.  The Vicar, recalling his “spat” with the company two years earlier, where they had said the Company was too poor at present, but would be better off in a few years’ time, thus implying that the profits from The Key should go on the parish roads, decided to seek legal advice. The Attorney General was asked for his view, and his view was that the parish of Horsham had a good case but that this could only have been argued for by Dr Hutchinson as “the inhabitants of this present age were before ignorant of it and has been the cause of this long neglect of enquiring into it”. The Attorney estimated that “if”, which plainly was not the case, “the rents have been as much from this since time of the Fire as they now are, they never having paid One shilling towards the maintenance of such Highways” then a total of £20,000 should have gone to the Parish since 1666, which, if paid in one sum, should transform the roads. The company pleaded poverty and delayed payment till 1755 when the Vicar decided to re-open proceedings.

There seems to have been a double-pronged attack. Perhaps the parish knew the Vicar was reading the will in a certain way that would not stand up under further legal scrutiny, for on January 11 1755, “A Petition of the JPs, Clergy, Gentlemen, freeholders and other inhabitants of the Borough of Horsham in the County of Sussex” was read in the House of Commons asking that the main road from the marketplace at Horsham “through Warnham, Capel, Dorking and Leatherhead to the Watch House in the town of Ebbisham (Epsom) be repaired. A Bill was presented to Parliament and read for the first time on 10 February 1755, by the Horsham MP Sir Lionel Pilkington. Yet it was in February that the Vicar raised again the issue of the money, and this time pursued it with a full court action to try to get the money, but probably not the £20,000 mentioned above, that the company owed the Parish for repair of the roads. By 20 March, the Act had passed its stages and had become law. Yet the Parish continued to fight its legal case against the Company, possibly in hope that they would receive the monies due. However, three years later the legal case had run out of steam and in 1758  the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal gave his verdict, which was the Parish had to abandon all hope of receiving the money and, in return, each would pay their own legal costs.[576]

However, by 1758 the town had faced a far greater threat than not having a good road, and that was having one, the new turnpiked road[577], and what effect that would have on the market of Horsham, Horsham’s lifeblood. This threat had been foreseen in 1756, when some 17 months after the Act to turnpike the road had been passed, a handbill was circulated around the town proposing the drawing up of a market deed. The Market deed, a long and legally worded document signed by 80 townsfolk in the Town Hall on 15 November 1756, basically said that those who signed the deed would only buy produce in the market and not from traders who tried to sell goods before the market bell was wrung, or sell to people who came to the farm gate, or buy from the farm gate, as this would then bypass Horsham Market. They as a group would also pay for the prosecution of such offenders and pay £5 to those who give evidence that result in conviction. Buried in the mass of legal terms, beloved of lawyers who rightly argue that it makes the meaning concise, but loathed by historians as it buries the core elements of the document under a web of verbiage, are the following words: “Considering the Great good that may and in all Probability will accrue to this Town from the Act of Parliament for Erecting a Turnpike from this Town to the Towns of Dorking and Epsom in the County of Surrey when the Road shall be finished.” [578] The Market deed also notes that the cattle market, established by Wicker in 1705, had ceased to operate, and now dealers traded with London rather with Horsham, so that the “Town also is and has been served with a great Deal of poor and Very indifferent Meat to the Great Disappointment of the Gentlemen and Tradesmen who are able and willing to pay for good Meat if the same could be had in the same Markets and to the Great Oppression of the poorer sort of People who were obliged to buy such Poor and Indifferent Meat and High prices”.[579]

The Turnpiked road had not been completed by the signing of the deed, but those present could see its impact. The town had petitioned for the turnpiked road and probably there was a correlation between the signatories of the turnpike petition and the signatories of this document; hence they could not argue in the deed that the turnpike road would be disastrous for Horsham, and yet the comment about meat traders selling direct to London therefore giving Horsham folk second-best meat at high prices clearly shows the expression of fear that they thought would happen over other produce. (Meat was during this period eaten in far greater amount than it is today; it was the lifeblood of the nation.)

It is possible that the signatories of this market deed were different signatories of the turnpike petition and trustees of the turnpike, splitting the town into two camps with this deed written to restrict turnpike trade (the farmer would pay less taking the goods to Horsham than on to London on the turnpike), but whilst some may have signed it for that reason; almost chagrin, for not getting in on the turnpike, it is unlikely that all signatories felt this way.  In all probability what happened was there was a rush of blood to Horsham’s collective head, to get a turnpike as quickly as possible, then over 17 months wiser council started to question the economics of it all, perhaps some merchants having heard through trading contacts what effect turnpikes had on markets close to London. This caused reflection and the drawing up of this deed, couched in terms not of protectionism but mutual help, though in effect it was protectionism. There was after all nothing in the deed to say that the sellers of goods would charge less for selling in Horsham; the vendor could charge Horsham a premium and those signatories of the document were almost obliged to buy it.

Interestingly, one signatory is absent from the deed, that of the Vicar Hutchinson who was still pursuing the town’s legal case for road improvements. It could be, as someone who received income from the tithes, that he felt he had a conflict of interest; he after all wanted the highest price he could get for his corn, so why should he not sell in London, hence his desire to see road improvements. Or, if he was as bright as is apparent from previous comments, he could see the folly of a market town creating a protectionist contract; markets thrive in a free trade environment, and if every town and village followed Horsham then the booming economy of  the country would implode, as everyone would only buy and sell from their neighbour.

As the turnpike act had become law it is puzzling to know why the town still pursued at some legal cost the court case against the Merchant Company. The answer might lie in the nature of turnpikes. The turnpike, established by an Act of Parliament, enabled borrowing by a trust on future income collected from tolls collected for using the road. This may not seem that unusual today when large-,scale capital projects are often funded on the basis of expected income, but at a time when there was not the financial infrastructure available (Horsham did not have a bank, for example, till the late 18^th century), it was revolutionary. Naturally enough, the roads that were turnpiked depended on individuals who promoted the turnpike project to come up with the actual cash; in effect the roads were mortgaged. Those individuals would want to see the greatest return. This in effect neutered the Parish authority over road provision.

From 1555 road repair had been a parish responsibility; now the new “super highways of the transport revolution” were not decided by the Parish but by a few individuals who had the clout to get an Act through Parliament and spare capital to lend to build a road. (One such person was the Rev. Osgood, who was schoolmaster of Collyers as well as Vicar of Horsham, in tandem with the Rev. Hutchinson. According to his will he appears to have been one of the clergy petitioning for the 1755 turnpike, for he had “shares in the Dorking turnpike” and a £50 share in the Steyning turnpike. The former he passed on, the latter he suggested should be sold, which suggests that it was not a money-making investment[580]). 

The money from the Mercer’s Company would have gone directly to the Parish authorities who could have spent it on the roads they wanted to improve, for the town good. The Vicar, Rev. Hutchinson. may have been acting in the Parish good to see the roads in a six-mile radius of the parish be repaired. (Collyer’s will specifically mentions these roads “on the mayntennce of high wayes abowte the said towne and p’ishe of Horsham where as it shalbe nedefull soo that it be not passing vi myles from the said p’ishe”.[581]) The very roads in the immediate vicinity, unlikely to be turnpiked. So was he in this case representing the best for the actual people of Horsham; all the people, not just the traders, in effect looking after his “flock” as a good shepherd should be.

Whilst the Market deed has been examined in terms of local history, there is another view of the document: as a document which represents economic policy and theory. Today in 2006 the World Trade Organisation has just called a halt to five years of negotiations to liberalise trade, to create free trade. At the time the Market deed was written, the notion of Free trade did not exist. The economic philosophy and policy was mercantilism. “Mercantilism was the economic theory that trade generates wealth and is stimulated by the accumulation of profitable balances, which a government should encourage by means of protectionism[582]” Some twenty years later, in 1776, Adam Smith would publish “An Inquiry into the nature and causes of the wealth of Nations” A book that would demolish the economic argument for protectionism. As he would write: “It is a maxim of every prudent master of a family never to attempt to make at home what it would cost him more to make than to buy. And so, what is prudence in the conduct of every family can scarcely be folly in that of a great Kingdom”. 

Mercantilism worked on a basis of win and lose; the seller won because he made a profit, the buyer lost because he sold the goods, hence there is the notion of a balance of trade. Smith would write in his account the following, which destroys the idea of Horsham market deed: “The statesmen (Horsham market traders) who would attempt to direct private people in what manner they ought to employ their capital, would no only load himself with a most unnecessary attention, but assume an authority which could safely be trusted, not only to no single person, but to no council or senate whatsoever, and which nowhere would be so dangerous as in the hands of a man who had folly and presumption enough to fancy himself fit to exercise it”. [583] Adam Smith’s book helped change the economic theory and landscape of Britain and the world. That, though, is more than twenty years ahead of our story. Back in the 1750s Horsham market deed made economic sense and can be seen in that generation as “cutting edge” economic policy; one that economists would have backed. Interestingly, the debate over free trade would rear up again with the introduction of the Corn Laws and their repeal. Then in Horsham a brewer, entrepreneur Henry Michell, would argue for free trade, but that is some 100 years later.

Whilst the vicar was involved with Parish matters, he seems to have left the school, in which he had joint responsibility, to decay; educationally if not structurally. Why? The 18th century saw a great decline in educational standards across the establishment, from the Universities where Gibbon, the historian and author of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire could write: “the months I spent at Magdalene proved the most idle and unprofitable of my life”[584],  through to the Grammar schools, of which Collyer’s was one of many. Education was not seen as a pre-requisite for living: it was something which, if obtained, would enable you to better yourself, but you could survive without being able to read or write. In a time when money was being made through trade; through improving farm land; through making things with your hands and readily selling them on in a growing market, the niceties of being able to converse in Latin, Greek or even non-Sussex English became less and less important. The 17^th century, through its great religious and civil upheavals, saw a need for people to express themselves in the written word – there was a passion for proselytising.  By the 18^th century, this passion had to a large extent been spent, and preaching was now oral rather than written, with the number of sermons emanating from Horsham diminishing considerably. No longer did the poor field-hand read the words of the Baptist or Quaker preacher. In other words, the need to be educated was no longer there, and reading was learnt when the reader felt the need to do so (to which many a modern-day educationalist will relate).

That does not mean that education died in Horsham, that Horsham became a backwater – just that the educated community, which was quite large, evolved from non- standard/establishment means. The educated culture was created outside the school room (this did not just happen in Horsham). For convenience, this will be termed a Polite society; how did Horsham create a polite society, which was happening throughout Georgian England? For a start, people could and did move between “polite society” and everyday society on a daily, even hourly, basis – from the coarseness of the tavern to the taking of tea; from using a sleeve for the nose to using a handkerchief, from bedding a prostitute to returning to your wife.[585] (Boswell’s diaries reveal the full fluidity of his mixing, and he was not alone.)

EDUCATION IN HORSHAM

A full account of all the schools in Horsham can be found in Cafyn’s Sussex Schools in the Eighteenth Century,[586] from which the basic details have been taken. Schools had been an important factor in Horsham’s culture since the earliest of days, as explored above. The need to have a pool of literate; and by that I mean the ability to read and write, people was necessary if any market and civic centre was to flourish. Whilst the professions could be bought in, there was still a need for basic administrative tasks undertaken in a shop and on a farm to be taken care of. With the foundation of Collyer’s, there would on an annual basis be around ten educated youngsters entering the workforce, some would seek higher academic placement – university and the Mercer Company assisted with grants where they could, but the majority would either move to London or work locally.

However, the 18^th century saw a decline in Collyer’s; the grammar school standard – the “gold standard” – was not just tarnished but, like alchemists in reverse, they had managed to change gold into base metal. Why? In 1733 it was reported that there were about 50 boys “Taught ye Grammar, writing and Accompts”[587];  the master was one Rev. Osgood who ran the school for 51 years, dying in 1773. Whilst the town had one of the foremost classical scholars of the day as its Vicar, Dr Hutchinson, it was Osgood who ran the school, even though the Vicar, according to the original foundation document, should have been in charge. By the time that Hutchinson was involved in the conflict with the Mercer company over the roads, the school was “entirely deserted by scholars, the Master and the Usher remaining”[588], as a later account put it. Why did the Mercer Company let it happen; why did Osgood and Hutchinson; and importantly, why did the Parish? Why, in effect, did the Borough of Horsham allow its school to fail? A school it needed, if it were to compete successfully as a thriving market town; and what effect did this failure have on the town?

Unfortunately, there is little in the way of written documentation, so what follows is a summarising; however, there are a number of interwoven arguments that provide a number of clues.

In 1733 the school was still a functioning school with scholars – a scholar being taught Grammar. Some twenty years later, the school was virtually non-functioning. Osgood had been in post since 1722, so when Dr Hutchinson arrived in 1744 it would have been difficult to remove him from the post. Was Dr Hutchinson given the post at Horsham in an attempt to re-invigorate the school to stimulate intellectual rigour and knowledge of the classics, and to act as a model to which the pupils could aspire? We know from Sarah Hurst’s Diary that she thought highly of his sermons which he gave regularly on Sunday[589], so whilst plurality was common; that is, Vicars and reverends being given more than one ministry in order to make up salaries to a standard befitting sons of gentry (one of Lady Irwins son’s was a Vicar), whilst giving the chore of preaching to some underpaid junior, Dr Hutchinson actually did take his duties in Horsham seriously.

Did he battle with Osgood behind closed doors trying to reform the school, or did he just let sleeping dogs lie? I suspect that he did want to see reform; after all, it was he who looked over the agreement with the Mercer Company and argued that surplus funds from property rented in London should be spent on Horsham roads. Perhaps he thought that the money should have been spent on the school, but as that was not forthcoming from the Mercers then the money should go on road improvements; perhaps he knew that under Osgood the school would never become what it should be, so it was best to get something for Horsham out of the Mercer Company if the town couldn’t get a decent school. That may be why he pursued it with such passion. For I do not think that such a brilliant scholar, one who obviously crafted his sermons with intellectual rigour, would have stood by and let the one opportunity slip for poor pupils to better themselves and follow his path.

There is another possibility: the townsfolk did not want their pupils taught the old curriculum; they did not want their children construing Latin phrases, they wanted pupils who could do the “three R”s, but no more. The Mercer Company had told the town at the beginning of the century that the town had to take more interest in the school, but the town’s apathy meant that did not happen. Why should the town invest in a school that taught a curriculum that was out of kilter with what was necessary in the 18^th century commercial world? The town in effect voted with its feet. Osgood, who married the Master’s daughter, may have initially wanted to pursue a proper curriculum in the best traditions of a Grammar school; after all, 11 years after he took control the school was still churning out 50 scholars. Between the school and the Church was the Poor House for the town’s paupers, and that had a school for the very poor,[590] so Collyer’s did not take the pauper children; it took those above that: the sons of minor tradesmen. The town folk were investing their faith in the school then, though their money through the poor rate was being spent on the really poor children.

Osgood himself died “in harness”, at the age of 77, so to speak, giving Latin lessons in Steyning the morning of his death[591], so he obviously still valued education, either as a way of making money or for its own sake. If he still taught, then it is unlikely that he was less passionate in his youth. Perhaps the town’s lack of involvement or desire to fund the school and increase his wages led to disillusionment. In other words he read what the agreement drawn up in the 16^th century said; Osgood was paid £30 a year as Master of Collyer’s, a sum that did not alter no matter how many “poor children of Horsham” he took in to teach. The agreement was not based on performance. 

So what effect did this have on the town? Today we talk of “knowledge-based economies”; manufacturing is no longer important; knowledge is; the implication being that in the past, knowledge was less important than the skill and craft of making and manufacturing things. So for Horsham, did it matter that for at least 20 years there was no longer a ready pool of educated workforce to draw on? I would argue that yes, it did, and its effect was widespread.  It mattered enough for the private sector to step in and fill the void in 1764 with the establishment of Thornton’s Academy (see below).

The difficulty of arguing a “what if” proposition in history is that the “what if” never happened; it is pure supposition. But what if there were an intelligent group of people, or tradesmen whose sons had been taught the same education as their lords and masters? Would the Court Barons and electoral contests have been so corrupt, would the town folk have been so passive in allowing others, outsiders, to dominate? Would Thomas Charles Medwin have had such an easy ride as Steward for the Norfolks; would the burgesses have allowed the dubious practices to go on? Would they have allowed the school to decay; did the lack of an educated workforce mean that Horsham suffered economic decay in the 1750s?

The degree to which the decay in the educated body politic took place can be seen when Sarah Hurst, a twenty-year-old girl, was asked to write the address congratulating King George.  As she recorded:

“Monday 8 December (1760) Doctor Smith calls & desires I wou’d draw up an address to the Kin, which the Bailiffs & Burgesses intend to send “Nor sir” I reply “I will not interfere with the business that belongs to men of Learning and genius”

“Tuesday, 9 December Doctor Smith & Mr White quarrel about the address which was compos’d by the latter, & neither English nor grammar”

This is not to disparage Sarah’s undoubted literary skill, though Dr Smith did, on a number of occasions[592], but even she felt unqualified for the job; but it illustrates that the town had to appeal to a young woman to write it, rather than draw from the pool of educated men who would have existed in the town if the school were still teaching its young scholars.

The failure of Collyer’s was a serious blow to the town, and perhaps Dr Hutchinson was the only one to see it.  Others did not realise it until it was too late, and by then those who wanted their sons educated opted out of Parish provision by sending them to private schools, something that was occurring nationally. As a parent of a young boy, you had the choice of sending him to Thornton’s Academy, or out of the town altogether.

Richard Thornton was one of the most entrepreneurial educators in Sussex, introducing schemes adopted by other schools. In an advertisement of 1786 he reported that his school had “flourished above Twenty years”,[593]so it is likely that it was set up in Horsham around 1764/5.  As Cafyn points out, his school made extensive use of advertisements in The Sussex Weekly Advertiser or Lewes Journal, where he actively promoted his school to tradesmen.  He established a fee structure for different ages, and he was the first to offer accommodation to pupils during the holidays, which Thornton increased from two weeks to three in 1783 for Christmas and Whitsuntide, and then in 1790 to a month at Christmas and, like, other schools at midsummer. His school was the first to promote the use of a library where the newspapers could be read, and also the first boy’s school to offer tea as an extra at breakfast.

Interestingly, it was in this advertisement for 1783 that he promoted his school as “very large, commodious and elegant, and the Situation is in the most part open and pleasant Part of the Town of HORSHAM commanding an extensive, pleasing Prospect, and is allowed to be one of the healthiest Places in the Kingdom”[594] (though some five years later he was prosecuted for depositing filth, night soil, onto the Gaol Green outside his school).[595]

Thorton’s academy was the first school to appoint a French teacher who was French, as well as offering fencing, music and dancing. Interestingly, as well as the usual subjects, the school taught Latin, French and Greek in 1786; the provision of which indicates the demand for the old fashioned “Grammar school” curriculum was still strong. The argument made: that Grammar schools failed because they did not offer the right curriculum for the 18^th century industrialists, is only part of the story, for if that was the case, why would Thornton, the most commercial and entrepreneurial school master of Sussex, offer Greek as well as Latin?

Around 1790 Thornton’s academy put on a school play and farce – a tradition that was still going strong in 1800 when it was reported in the paper, though by then Thornton’s Academy had become the Horsham academy. Interestingly, the play performed in 1800 raised nearly £20 with tickets selling for a shilling each, with the money going to local charities, including prison welfare. (20 shillings to a pound meant that around 400 people bought tickets). The school was a boarding school and, by 1795, took 60 pupils charging 14 guineas per year; two more than in the early days. The boarders would have attended the school with a school chest, one of which, owned by Dendy Napper who attended the Horsham academy in June 1791 according to the writing sheet pasted on the inside lid, is on display in the Museum.

What is particularly interesting about the school is that, whilst it had an ambitious curriculum; one that could be described as “cutting edge”, he had space for only 60 pupils.  In order to attract them he had to advertise throughout the County and, according to Caffyn, his charges were “reasonable”.  Sixty was the number of pupils Collyer’s should have taken, and they were to be drawn from Horsham, not the county; the implication being that, whilst Horsham had the Academy, it did not mean that Horsham was getting an educated workforce, for if Horsham could provide 60 pupils then he would not have advertised.  

Whilst Thornton dealt with boys, Horsham had a girls’ boarding school run by Mrs Waller, and in 1781 she announced that at her school young ladies “will be taught Embroidery, Point and every Kind of Needle Work, Netting &c and to read English with Propriety”, whilst writing and arithmetic were also included, with dancing an optional extra (at a cost).[596]  She would later advertise the teaching of French. The school was still advertising in 1795. Mrs Waller was almost certainly the wife of George Waller, who was an inn holder, at his marriage in 1770, and the same person declared bankrupt in 1778. Did the wife set up a school to provide a living? George probably helped his wife out, and they ran the school together from around 1793-5. The school was mentioned in a court case when wet linen was stolen from the house in 1800, the thief eventually being caught and transported for seven years.

There were other girls’ schools in Horsham: Mrs Jones boarding school, which ran for four years from 1782-4, and Mrs Dubbins (1786 to early 19^th century). Like Waller, her husband would later join the school but, unlike Waller, Edward Dubbins was not bankrupt, for he trained under John Burry as an apothecary surgeon.  In the bills of Thomas Medwin there are accounts for dancing, as well as medical bills. They advertised for day and boarders and, interestingly, had a schoolhouse especially built for the purpose. As well as these, a Mrs Hunt’s school mentioned in Baker’s Diary took a girl named Nancy Taylor, who was the daughter of the workhouse governor. Whether it was a mixed or single sexed school is not known. There were also several school masters in the town mentioned in various documents.

It is interesting to note that Caffyn’s extensive research showed that there was a preponderance of girls’ schools in Horsham, rather than boys. Why? After all it would go against all previously known models of education.  Families mainly invested in their sons’ education whilst the girls dutifully stayed at home learning how to be good housewives. However, that model might actually apply in Horsham: the sons did have money spent on their education; just not in Horsham schools, whilst the daughters were sent to the poorer schools in the town.

Thornton might have been cutting edge, his prices may have been lower, but his 44-line advertisement was full of bluff and bluster, in effect over-compensating for the poor education they actually received.  After all, Thornton’s school was in part housed in the old gaol when it was sold (see separate account); a building so poor in quality that a new gaol had to be built as it was a constant drain on county finances. The one pupil we know of, Dendy Napper, who attended the Horsham academy, is probably the same Dendy Napper who appeared in court in 1805 charged with assault, of whom the prosecutor said that he was a man of substance but was a drunkard and quarrelsome.  Not a glittering alumni.

The girls could have received enough education to help out in the shops, or to attract the sons of the gentry, but that is all. Sue Djabri has argued that it is likely that Sarah Hurst received her education not in Horsham but elsewhere.[597]  We also know that the son of Thomas Medwin was sent away from Horsham, along with his cousin the future poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, to be educated. (Equally, so were Shelley’s sisters.) We also know from a letter written in 1762 that Mr Tredcroft’s son was sent to Eton.[598] Perhaps the reality of the situation was that Horsham did not have a good school to its name and so the pool of educated workforce was small.  This explains why any new stewards or servants of the local lords were either uneducated, as in Meredew the local Gardner, or in Medwin who was an outsider.[599] It may also explain why Charles Osborne, the promoter of theatrical performances, wrote in 1785 that “I intended to have…the Town Hall as a Theatre tomorrow, but the arbitrary oppressive manner, as well as the violent threats that have been made…induced me to decline my intentions instead, I propose to open an Histrionic Academy for three nights only…”,[600] which suggests that there was not a market in Horsham for actual theatre; more for “burlesque”. 

If we look at the space that the polite society existed in, then the slow but noticeable creation of the grand home in Horsham reveals its existence. In the 17^th century there was Hills, Denne and a scaled-down Chesworth. In the 18^th century both Denne and Hills were modernised; Hewells Manor house was built in 1704, followed soon after by the rebuilding of Park House. Then around 1750, after the marriage of Samuel Blunt to Sarah Gale, the daughter of a wealthy ironmaster, you had the building of Springfield Place.[601] Later in the 1770s, another large house would be built in West Street, only to be pulled down: the home of the Shelleys.  These houses had separate rooms where politeness would rule. Politeness was more than just manners – it was where conduct, conversation and learning mixed, and was put on show. You were judged just as you were judging others in a space deliberately established for full viewing to take place, i.e. in large, light, airy rooms with little in the way to obscure your behaviour. Around you would be portraits or images of art that harked back to the Classical or known to be cultured world. The portraits could be of your ancestors, so they literally would be staring down at you (they were invariably hung above eye level), watching your every move.[602]

Then, down the social chain, homes were being modernised to create open spaces. In 1720s a couple of large houses were built: one in West Street belonging to Dr Norman, an eminent surgeon, the other belonging to a “miner” (minor)[603],  whilst at Causeway House the Tudor main hall was converted into a parlour or dining room in the 1730s, along with other alterations.[604] The owners of the house were solicitors. The creation of the dining room is an important part of the creation of a polite society, for dining in and having friends round for dinner parties was, as the diaries of Sarah Hurst and Baker[605] show,  one of the great social bonding processes where being on show was paramount. Interestingly, there was a very broad range of guests invited to these dinners and the diners were social equals.  The dinner table became a stage in the creation of politeness where the guests acted out, and gradually codified, what was considered respectable or behaviour of equal status. So whilst, in the early to mid 18^th century, pouring tea into the saucer to drink from was considered the norm, by late 18^th century it was a social “no no”, and people from London visiting the country would comment on the coarseness of the behaviour for doing such a thing.

Interestingly, in the Museum/Causeway House the main dining room, (we can tell its function because of the serving hatch in one wall) also had the largest amount of glass and windows. So people could look in at the behaviour going on. This also enabled the room to ape the grander rooms in the larger houses. By in effect making one wall a wall of glass, it makes the outside, the public space, part of the room’s space, so increasing the size of the room for the spectacle of social interaction to take place, just as the larger houses had larger rooms for such events. Did it occur in other houses? Yes, the bay window deliberately cut into the public space making a private space public. The opening-up of rooms with windows (until taxed) facing the street; for example, those along the Causeway that faced the Causeway, did not get light streaming in; only those that were side-on caught the light. The windows were enlarged so people could see in.

The notion of being on show – and deliberately so – may seem an anathema to us today, unless we crave the cult of celebrity. Today, net curtains, blinds and curtains; not for excluding the draught, which with double-glazed windows is non-existent, but to exclude the gaze, is the norm. Yet 200 years ago being on show counted. If you had wealth you flaunted it; subtlety was not in vogue. Wall paints were bright garish and “in your face”; textiles made full use of dyes, the stronger the colour, the more expensive the dye. In Horsham this becomes apparent from the paint samples removed from door frames revealing the colour of lead paint (Causeway House for example). The plastered facades allow for large canvases of vivid colour backdrops, far more than the infilling panels between Tudor and Jacobean timbers. The main street between the market house and the church was planted with lime trees, giving the Causeway a fashionable promenade air. The map of 1780 shows such trees, suggesting that they had been in existence sometime before the map was drawn.

However, just as the “middling sort” were exposing themselves to public gaze, so the upper echelons of society were withdrawing themselves, making themselves visible when they wanted to be, and on their terms. For example, at Horsham the road that passed the front of Denne Park was in 1764, (see above) legally closed and a new turnpiked road created a few hundred meters away. At Hills the roadway that passed the front of the house was obscured by planting and moving of local lanes by Capability Brown in 1768-72,[606] whilst the House seems to have been walled, if the map of the estate is to go by, and the creation of an avenue of trees encouraged people away from the entrance.

It is as if the next stage in the evolution of polite society was occurring, with the leaders separating themselves, defining themselves as being different. However, they did not cut themselves off from society; more controlled their interaction with society. So, for example, the garden at Hills designed by Brown was made more open, more expressive, to remove the barriers for being seen, but that only occurred once you were inside the grounds.[607]  It is possible that similar designs were planned for Park House when John Baker in his diary records the following: “September 6 (1776) …A lusty gentleman here with Mr Ellis to look at house and gardens in forenoon. Charles says he heard since from Mr Ellis’s boy it was Browne Capability who came at Sir Tho: Broughton’s request” [608] though nothing happened. (Thomas Broughton owned Park House and leased it to John Baker). The garden became part of the social setting, not just for growing foodstuffs, as is evident from the number of times John Baker ate outside, dined in various gardens including the Manor House, and went for walks though people’s gardens, shrubberies etc.

Another way of controlling their interaction with society was through sport and the game of cricket. John Baker’s diary covering his stay in Horsham is full of references to watching, playing or recording cricket matches. At these occasions the widening social classes were joined together, with master and servant playing on the same side, or being given support by the local gentry.[609] The diary records, amongst many incidents involving cricket, that on 5 June 1772 “a post directed to Horsham, which being through Henfield, we recollected Cricket Match today between Dorking and Henfield. (Went to watch the cricket match) Dined on cold beef in Booth at Cricket Match with Mr Woodward, Mr Swinbourne and Mr Tredcroft who were there.”[610] If the ritual of dining was part of the development of polite society, seeing your social superiors eating and their manners could have influenced behaviour. The key thing is that they did not separate themselves from society but were part of the crowd, and observing yourself in relation to the crowd is important, as shown in another diary entry:

July 23^rd 1772 At a cricket match at Guilford “Buller of “White Hart” had a very good stand with benches above one another over his booth below…The booth below had so many ladies and gentlemen we could not get seats. Saw Mr Cole…Mr Woodward, young Mr Peachy, son of Miss Molly Court that was, a young gentleman, a student at New College Oxon, and I found out a small booth where we had a good cold dinner and good cider and ale.” [611]

Another incident is recorded on 3 May 1775 “(Went to cricket match) on Broadbridge Heath, between Slinfold and Rudgwick** Mr Shelley, Mr Hutchinson, Mr Kendal Capt. Spearing and I, and after young Rawlinson joining us, sitting at a booth. Mr Shelley and I walked chez lui to his house and drank coffee and tea (never in his house before)…”[612] , which suggests that cricket was a means of socialisation and entry into private domains, whilst the taking of tea and coffee was not always done at the cricket match. 

The development of rules, regulations and the gentrification of cricket which is explored fully in Underwood’s book mentioned above is all part of polite society. Interestingly, cricket was not the only sport noted by Baker. For 31 May 1773 he records the following: “Uxor (wife) and Mrs Swinburne to Mr Blunt’s** I walked over against Wm Wisdom’s, ou men and maids at (what they call) Tennis – a foolish play with a ball and a battledore”[613].

Obviously, unlike cricket, tennis did not, unless it was “real tennis” (as shown by Thomas Medwin some 35 years later)[614], appeal to the mixture of classes, bringing the disparaging comment of it being a foolish game; something which John Baker did not apply to bowls when some 15 days later, on 15 June, he sees “the young gentlemen at Bowles” after walking round the meadow;[615] in fact, next to cricket, bowls is the game most often mentioned in the diary. 

Part of this process of social differentiation and distinguishing classes came though the material goods that they could buy and use.[616] The greatest exploiter of this was Wedgwood. The fear expressed in the early part of the 18^th century was: how could you judge your neighbour if everyone could buy the same object? If everyone could afford to buy the same piece of earthenware, then the peasant and the lord were equals. Wedgwood realised this fear by marketing his goods to different social and economic groups. Today this is so commonplace that it does not occur to us that there was a time when it had to be “invented”, but invented it was, in the middle of the 18^th century. The effect of this on Horsham was significant. Either the town traders had to buy in luxury goods, for example, the London (Spitalfield) silks for the local dignitaries, or the local dignitaries would go to London to get them. (Sarah Hurst in her diaries travelled to London to do just that: buy goods for her shop, on 5 May–9 May 1760.)[617]  This gave rise to trading opportunities.

Then there was “arts” and culture. Previously I have looked at the intellectual background of Horsham. By the middle of the 18^th century, reading also helped to define polite society.  Until 1774 books were expensive as this was still the high monopoly period.  The cost of the books enabled Catherine Lintot to retire from publishing a very wealthy woman; particularly as she published new authors and new subjects.  With the mass readership; i.e., those who could afford to pay a penny for the cheap books were reading literature written some 200 years earlier.[618] But that does not mean that people in Horsham were not avid readers. In fact it seems as if the passion for reading cut across social boundaries with the lending out of books (Sarah Hurst, a cloth merchants daughter, for example, is lent by Sir Charles Eversfield from Denne Park two books: The Trial of Lord Ferrers and the History of Tristam Shandy, by Stern on 25^th May 1760)[619], or the ability to converse on literature or plays. Another family who built up a large collection of books were the Ingrams at Hills Place. Interestingly, in the letter dated 6October 1764, there is clear indication that the books were not housed in a library but scattered throughout the house in bookcases.[620] This reflects that reading was part of a full social activity and not contained within one proscribed space, something which also comes across in Sarah Hurst’s diary. Another reader or owner of books was the Apothecary-Surgeon John Burry (see below for a fuller account of this unmarried man). His books which were listed when he died reveal a very catholic taste in literature: the belle letters, history, theology as well as physic. He was known as a convivial host from the John Baker Diary[621], so it is not surprising that he should have an Apology for the Conduct of Mrs T.C. Phillips” a scandalous book of blackmail where Mrs Phillips reveals all; a very early “kiss and tell”. [622]

The reading of books broadened the mind and encouraged reflection, notably by Sarah Hurst who throughout her diaries refers to her views on the literature she had read. With the rise of subscription publication, where subscribers would pay up front for a book and in return see their name in print at the front of the book, it was possible to be part of the “in crowd”, where your money was just as good as the Lord or Lady who also subscribed. For example, the Ingram family subscribed to Thomas Newton’s celebrated edition of Milton that had Hayman’s engravings[623]. As mentioned above, Pope was a great proponent of this style of publication.  All of this made for the creation of society judging each other on what they read, what they looked like, their social etiquette and conversational skill, taking place within architectural surroundings, forcing people to be on show.   And Horsham was no different.

If everyday life became a stage on which you could display or show off your manners, your culture, your “politeness”, then the theatre or playhouse was a place that in today’s academic jargon would be described as “hyper reality”, more real than real, where through the watching of actors you could learn how to display all manner of attitudes and artificiality. Today’s theatre manifests the “reality”: it aims to be real life, the “kitchen sink dramas”, whereas theatre in the 18^th century was full of over-exaggerated movements, looking very theatrical.

Until the donation to Horsham museum of Sarah Hurst’s Diaries and their publication in 2003, the earliest evidence we would have for theatrical performances in the town would have been legal notices for theatrical performances in the 1790s and a letter written in 1785,[624] and the supposition that folk drama, the mummer plays etc., would have been performed at religious festivals or at fairs. However, Sarah’s diary records five plays she saw in Horsham in 1759; six in 1761 and two in 1762, as well as plays she saw when visiting London including two performed by the greatest actor of his age, Garrick. The interesting thing about Sarah’s comments is the fact that seeing plays in Horsham was not regarded as a novelty, but as though it was part of everyday life, which in turn suggests theatrical performances must have been performed in the town before 1759.  On Monday 30 April 1759 the diary records: “The players act The Fair Penitents, have a tolerable house & they say did it pretty well & glad on’t, t’s a sad thing not to succeed.”[625]  Not only is there no excitement in the diary, no effusiveness of the players arrival in the town, but when on the 26 June she records “go & see The Busy Body, last time of our players performing”[626], there is ever expectation of their return; no comment at the loss. Equally, the reference to “our Players” –  was that because they were resident in the town for so long as to be seen as being part of Horsham society, or were they Horsham players, based in Horsham, who then toured other towns in the summer season?

Interestingly, the Diary of John Baker records a mention of seeing a play on 10 July 1772  that included “Some rope dancing, singing and “Midas”  and Harlequin Skeleton”[627] What makes the account interesting is that Mr Baker records in the diary in French a comment about Mr Shelley and his “duchess”; thus making the spectators the spectated, so highlighting the role the playhouse had as a space in which to watch and be watched.  

The effect that seeing plays in Horsham had on Horsham society might be recorded in an aside by Sarah. The day after seeing the Fair Penitents she records that she goes to a social event where “we play (my italic) at Matrimony, are excessive merry & then dance…”.[628] How much did the influence of a theatre in town allow a masking of courtship rituals or flirtatious behaviour, and if here, why not elsewhere in society? If the actors and actresses were living in Horsham for two or three months in the 1750s, how much of their behaviour, their theatricality, seeps out into everyday society –  is this aside just one example of it?

The effect of this change in society probably fed its way into the actual look of Horsham. The following is subjective and may have more to do with our sensibilities than 18^th century, but there are one or two hints that such views may have been held. The early 18^th century saw a significant change in what was considered cultured architecture, with Italian taste or Palladianism coming in. Hogarth, in one of his earliest engravings, Masquerades and Operas (1724), rails against this taste and what he saw as foreign taste over English taste.[629] Foreign taste was the new, and the new was compared with traditional English. This anti-new found its way into the poetry of Gay and others who attacked the Taste of the Town

“New Artists, new Machines, new Dances rise

(‘Tis Pity Novelty can’t make ye wise,)” [630]

English taste could be seen as old-fashioned; the solid dependability, unsophisticated timber framing that was so common throughout Horsham. Then Horsham started to ape the taste for the new, which included thin glazing bars, stuccoed plaster, bay windows, painted exterior; the facades of good taste that covered the medieval and Jacobean timber framing. Just as the coarseness of buildings was being transformed into gentility and sophistication, so people’s manners changed.  The architecture mirrored the change in social custom – politeness was the expected mode of behaviour in these new creations. The corollary of that is the timber-framed drinking taverns that retained their old-fashioned look and behaviour patterns of coarseness. The coaching inn that would entertain travellers mixed the two. Horsham’s 18^th century transformation, one that even today hides its 16^th and 17^th century past, reflected the change in Horsham society. A society that was dutifully recorded in the diaries of Sarah Hurst, a young woman who wanted desperately to be seen as genteel and a member of polite society; hence the constant self-affirmation throughout the diary – if you say it long enough and often enough, even you will believe it. In one comment in the diary for 28 May 1759, she writes: “T’is quite diverting to observe the different behaviour of the Country people, uncultivated by education, how are such generally despised & for what, their misfortune not fault”.[631]  The only problem for Horsham (and in reality much of 18^th century society) was that every time there was a hang fair, or market day, or election, or even chance to buy smuggled goods, Horsham’s coarser, corrupt underbelly and past would resurface.

“March 1 1774 …2 Brothers, Mr. Hutchinson and Mr Cha Goring, who had all been at water by the mill when a wager about Anchor black cat #’s getting out of the river he was thrown into with a pound weight about his neck, which he did, and some wagers on it” [632], recorded John Baker in his diary, an account that draws to mind the mistreatment of animals in Hogarth’s First Stage of Cruelty.  Mr Hutchinson was a Vicar and the son of the Horsham Vicar.

The first turnpike road connected Horsham with London, via various other market towns. It was, in effect, defining an inland trade route; the most profitable one. Traders from London could buy produce from Epsom, Leatherhead and Dorking markets before buying goods from Horsham market, so Horsham market had to work hard at capturing the trade. Why should a London trader travel some 10 miles or further south to trade; why not stay in Dorking, well known for its poultry? The only way for Horsham to pull people down to its market was for its market to attract people to sell to it. In the medieval period Horsham acted as a funnel, drawing in goods from the south up to London. It had to do that again. Encourage the farmers to go to Horsham and no further. It is possibly for that reason the second Turnpike Act was passed. It did not connect market towns but acted more as a web capturing farmers’ produce and directing it to Horsham.

The 1764 Turnpike Act was for “Repairing and widening the Roads from Horsham in the County of Sussex through the Parishes of Shipley, West Grinstead, Ashurst, Steyning, Bramber and Beeding” The assumption has been made that it was the Market deed that reinvigorated Horsham market, but in reality only 80 people signed the document; 80 out of a population of around 3,000 (if the 17^th century figure is to be believed, and the 1801 census, though it may have included other areas)[633]. It is more likely that it was the creation of this turnpike that did it. Interestingly the turnpike did not connect this hinterland to the coast; they would not be connected till after 1800,[634 so the coastal route up to London was not promoted, nor was the provision of foodstuffs for the developing seaside resorts.

Interestingly, Shoreham harbour, the descendent of Bramber and Steyning port and a town that had electoral and political connections with Horsham, saw its harbour improved through an Act of Parliament in 1763,[635] yet they did not seem to have had the foresight to improve the roads to get the goods to the port side. Horsham may have foreseen the possibility of losing even more trade, so jumped in with this Act, thus attracting trade northward. This turnpike was created to draw foodstuffs to Horsham and for no other purpose. It can also be seen as a response to the failure of the court case to get the local roads repaired, mentioned above. Horsham now saw a period of sustainable growth and development. Although the political affairs impinged on very few people in the town, the letter written by the Ingram gardener and political agent, Meredew[636] is revealing. In it [637] he lists the repairs that could be carried out to buildings in Horsham, perhaps to ensure the voting went the right way. What is interesting is that so many of the houses were in need of repair. Horsham’s medieval housing stock was in a very poor state and whilst the town might be on the up, the quality of many of the houses “may be mended”. Or in one case: “The Hight House Cald ye Late George” …“not worth Repering but toi be taken down and some of the materials may help men others”, whilst another building “now ready to fall”, and another “would brek his (an old man who lived there) hart to pul any down”. (Sue Djabri has identified the latter as Bishops at the corner of East Street, and the former as the Talbot and Wonder.)  Whilst artistically the gothic and the images of ancient ruins were flooding the art and literature of the 1760s onwards, and whilst it gave an appearance of, for want of a better expression, genteel decay (just as we have today the fashion for the “distressed look”), it actually masked chronic decay of the actual fabric of Horsham. In a sense it masked historic slums by covering them up with a veneer of culture and good taste.  Money could be found to cover up the faults, but that is all it did, as found out in 1999/2000 at Horsham museum when the removal of 18^th century plaster revealed a building that had to have 13 props inserted just to make it safe, and windows only held in by plaster, old bottles pushed in to the fabric, Tudor timbers cut in half removing them from supporting the building.[638] Horsham had corruption in the body politic, corruption in society and corruption as in the rotting fabric of Horsham. 

If the buildings, the society and the politics of Horsham were corrupt or rotten, how about the individuals; were the people of Horsham healthy? Unless we go into vast statistical data and comparisons over burial records with other places, it is not an easy question to answer. What we can look at though is medicinal services in the town.[639] Before we do that, what other evidence is available? From what has already been mentioned, we know that Horsham people had access to piped water from the river which was also the main sewer for the neighbourhood and district. The Market Deed suggests that good quality foodstuffs were not always available. The creation of the pest house and hospital ward in the poor house suggests that diseases were common. From evidence elsewhere we know that Gaol Fever was feared and at least twice a year prisoners from the gaol would walk through the town to the Court House, and at a time when the town’s population increased to watch the hanging and punishments.[640]  Gaol Fever was an acute form of typhoid. In Horsham, the House of Correction was run by a widow whose husband died of Gaol Fever. Some Doctors did attend prisoners, and one Widow Briggs was praised by the prisoners for her help in 1719. “We the poor unhappy Prisoners in your County Gaol of Horsham have laboured under our calamities of sickness and lameness but by the assistance of the Widow Briggs, Surgeones by her dayly attendiance with God’s Blessings hath restored us to our former health by Her Medicines and other necessarys.”[641]

One illness that seems to have been prevalent was smallpox. Sarah Hurst’s diary mentions its occurrence or inoculation on a number of occasions. Both spread fear, as recorded on 19 March 1759: “My sister & brother are Inoculated, Mama in teers & grief on the occasion…”  Then two days later on 21^st March “Ride with Doctor Smith to his inoculating house & see my brother& sister….”[642] Whilst a letter from the housekeeper at Hills to Isabella Dowager Viscountess Irwin in October 1752 records that “There are several gone out of Horsham to be innoclilated and are like to do very well. We have not had the smallpox here for some years”[643]. Smallpox was a scourge of 18^th century society, and had a major impact on Horsham in that it killed Edward 4^th Viscount Irwin in 1714 aged 27 before he had time to marry and have children. Thus, it led the way for Rich to inherit both Temple Newsam and Hills, so inextricably linking the two estates[644].  Dr John Burry, who is mentioned below, had a well-stocked library of medical and other books, and amongst his medical books were those that dealt with inoculation. As it would break up the narrative flow, the section on Smallpox and on medicine in 18^th century Horsham is covered in the Elaboration section at the end of this chapter.

Owing to the artistry and savagery of the wit, two of the most powerful scenes in the pictorial imagery of the 18^th century are those prints by William Hogarth that illustrate medical scenes: Bedlam and the final stage of Cruelty, the Medical dissection. Whilst in no way comparable in their setting both images have echoes in Horsham in the 18^th century.

Bedlam was a home for the lunatics, those who were classed by society as mad. In order to fund its upkeep, visitors would pay to view the insane, and we view the scene through the eyes of a visitor in Hogarth’s print.[645] There is a reference, an “off the cuff” remark in John Baker’s diary that suggests that Horsham had its own “bedlam”, for John Baker records that on October 16“Wednesday morning about 2 died Smart who kept the Dog and Bacon on Horsham Common of Dropsy – left a widow and only child, Mrs Sheppard, the butcher’s wife. Same day, or day or 2 before, died the wife Dr Waggell, who keeps sort of madhouse by the Lamb. Smart’s mother lives at the house and is exceedingly old”.[646] This comment, which by its very nature is almost an aside, reveals something about Horsham that is not recorded elsewhere. Horsham had a private “madhouse” where it would appear Mrs Smart, who may have had Alzheimer’s, was sent. Was madness a problem in Horsham?  The simple answer is, we don’t know; for a mad person to be mentioned as such there would have to be some legal reason for a record to be made, some incident in which they came to the notice of the criminal justice system, or some mention in a letter or personal diary. The other reason is that the 18^th century saw no reason, except where they were a danger to life or limb, to actually segregate the mad from society.

The Georgian public authorities had no brief to systematically police the mad and there was no public asylum in the whole country except for Bedlam.[647] There were two pieces of legislation passed: one in 1714[648] which enabled, on the say-so of two justices, any person “furiously mad and dangerous” to be locked up in a secure place as long as the madness should last. Interestingly, the act stipulated specifically that the lunatic should not be whipped; unlike the paupers/vagabonds. As with paupers, the parish would foot the bill, or the family’s estate.  The other Act, in 1744, stopped lunatics going abroad. There was no legislation concerning the setting up of mad houses.  For Horsham we do have accounts of some madness, but only the odd one; not a large database to go on with which to build a comprehensive picture. What is likely, though, is that a society undergoing rapid change would have put stress on individuals. Sarah Hurst’s diary, for example, is full of self-doubt, stress and worry that made her ill. Was this madness or mental illness, or just depression?

If we deal with cases that we know of because by chance they were recorded, the most significant, because it affected the Shelley family, was John Shelley; mad Shelley.[649] With John, the Court would have decided if he was mad; not on medical, but on practical grounds – did he know his name; could he count to twenty? The chancery was petitioned by relatives, the Lord chancellor would issue a writ and the case would be heard before a jury. If the person was found non compos, (from where we get the expression nincompoop), his estates would pass under Crown protection to be administered by a committee. The family would seek to declare someone mad in order to protect family wealth, as in John’s case. For that reason, the law put in safeguards: the next heir could not go on the committee; but the next of kin could, because they would want to see the family estate increase.[650]

Another person, though not a Horsham resident, who is mentioned in a legal context, is Ann Cruttenden, the last woman burnt at the stake in Horsham. John Baker refers to the incident in his diary for August 1776. On 6 August she was found guilty of the murder of her husband who was some 30 years younger than she; she was, according to the newspapers and other accounts of the day, either 73 or 80 years old whilst her husband was a 40- or 45-year-old butcher from Brightling.

After cutting his neck, she then “exposed him a prey to her half-starved and voracious cats, whose nose and cheeks they had entirely devoured and left him a most horrible spectacle”. “She was generally supposed to be insane, but from the clear, artful answers she gave and the defence she made Lord Mansfield was clearly of a contrary opinion”.[651]  She was taken to the common and burnt, after being hanged. Interestingly, John Baker had heard of the stories of her insanity, for he mentions that “Widow Cruttenden was tried, seeming in her senses, before dinner.”[652]  

Was she genuinely insane, or was it an act playing insanity, or was it temporary insanity? We do not know, and cannot tell from the evidence that remains. The fact that the Court found her guilty suggests that she was thought sane. Blackstone, the celebrated legal authority, noted three legal categories: mens rea, or “defect of understanding”, locus classicus or the actions of children, or deficiency of will; i.e. the idiot or lunatic. The final one was “voluntary contracted madness”; being drunk. In this case drunkenness was an aggravation, not an excuse. The Georgian courts did take madness into account: for example, Margaret Nicholson[653], who lunged at George III with a table knife, was shown to be mad, no trial took place and she was conveyed to Bedlam.

However, one other criminal act that today would have received an insanity plea is one that also highlights Hogarth’s Fourth Stage of Cruelty engraving: a medical dissection, that of Richard Grazemark; a particularly gruesome affair.

From reading the account and the very criminal act, it is clear that passion for his daughter was so strong as to make him insane, for no sane man would do what he did and attempted. In some respects, this case also shows how local decisions overruled what was general practice, for Richard was hanged for his crimes.

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RICHARD GRAZEMARK PUBLICLY DISSECTED 1790

The Sussex Weekly Advertiser for late March, early April carries a particularly gruesome case, which was transcribed by William Albery[654], but did not appear in his ‘Millennium’. The case concerns one Richard Grazemark who was executed for various crimes.

He was about 50 years old,  ‘had many children by his daughter and so violent was his unnatural passion for her, that he could not bear the thought of another possessing her. . .’

The daughter married, and on that day Richard burnt down his own house at Ferring. Later he confessed to murdering his own daughter and ‘sat six hours on the body of the deceased and horrid to relate, in that situation, cut his own throat’ He recovered and was sent to Horsham for trial for incest, murder and attempted suicide. He was found guilty and hanged at Horsham where he cried out to the crowd: ‘Ladies and Gentlemen I wish you all well. I meant no harm.  Kicked off his slippers among thecrowd and left the world. . .’ It was further reported that his daughter had nine children by him. 

The body was given to Messrs Price and Sopay, Surgeons, for public dissection. The newspapers reports that ‘…his skin which in some parts was a quarter of an inch thick was given to a tanner of that place for the purpose of manufacturing into leather, and several persons of Horsham have bespoken portions of it for soles to their shoes’. Grazemark, when he was last committed to gaol,‘…was lank and spare but had grown lusty on the miserable diet of the prison, and with the load of accumulated guilt on his mind as appeared manifested on opening of the body, which proved remarkably fat’.

‘We do not hear that the young surgeons attempted to give lectures on the body but every one who chose to be present at the dissection was admitted whether led by curiosity or by the love of anatomy. In short the whole process was performed in public from the first incision to the boiling of the bones’.

In 1910, the grandson of Mr Mills, aged about eighty, told Albery ‘…at one period (circa 1790) one Mills was engaged to boil the hanged men. He cut off the fleshy parts and put them in baskets and buried them (I think in S.W. part of Churchyard), and afterwards boiled the bones for the doctor’.

Richard was not the first or the last person to be dissected for medical science in Horsham, but he appears to have been the only person to be dissected as a theatrical entertainment, part of the spectacle of punishment that Horsham folk seemed to love and crave. There is one other remarkable occurrence recorded in John’s diary that reflects well on the level of belief in medical men, but also in the naivety of Horsham folk.

On 30 August 1773, John records the hanging of one Cannon, a smuggler, for the murder of Cole, a dragoon. Baker had visited Cannon in Horsham Gaol on 26 August: “Went to jail; talked with Ambrose Cannon, condemned to be hanged for being accessory (as one of the smugglers) to murder of Cole, a dragoon, at Elmer, near Arundel.” That day Mrs Ellis had proposed a petition asking for clemency and he, with Mr Blunt, came to Mr Baker’s with the petition. The diary gives a long account identifying six reasons why the petition should be dropped, (which have been set down below in the footnote[655]) The dropping of the petition did not seem to assuage the guilt felt by some in Horsham, for in the diary under 31 August the following account is given:

“After Cannon had hung half an hour he and the 2 others were cut down when Mr Reid the older Dr Smith and 3 others of the Faculty bled him and carried him to Mr Reid’s, and tried by blowing and other means to recover him, but all ineffectual”[656]

The attempt to revive the hanged was quite common, though usually soon after the hanging rather than half an hour. On occasion a wooden tube was inserted below the rope line, as the rope would have crushed the windpipe, and this might be what was referred to as “blowing”. What this does reveal though is that the person was not hanged by quickly removing a footstall so the person dropped, thus breaking the neck, but was hanged involving strangulation.

Before closing the account of 18^th century medicine, the Diary of John Baker reveals a contemporary fascination and concern: obesity. The diary records the weight of various people, but does not unfortunately record whether the people were aware of its medical impact.  Sarah Hurst’s diary records no such issue, yet the number of times and the degree to which John Baker records his weight; nearly as much as he records his financial concerns, it must for him a least have been a concern, though one not matched by the rest of society if all the prints and recipe books of the period are to go by.

March 14 1772 …. “All weigh’d as follows- Mr Aldridge …14 stone 11 pounds; Mrs Aldridge, 11 stone 3 pounds; Mr Swinbourne, 11 stone 3 pounds; Mrs Swinbourne 11 stone 9 pounds, Mrs Tredcroft, 14 stone 4 pounds; Miss (Molly) Treadcroft, 8 stone 9 pounds; Mary Baker (mon Uxor – wife -) 12 stone 9 pounds; Myself 11 stone 13 pounds. N.B. the 25^th Oct 1764 I weighed at Tortola 12st.-7-0 vide 23 Aug.1773”[657].

The diary entry for 1 March goes into a discussion about weights of various people, but as they do not appear in the Horsham story the discussion will not be repeated here, except for John Baker’s comments about himself:

March 15 “Sometime in 1756 or 1757 …I was then extremely fat and weighed above 15 stone, I think 10 pounds. …the 28^th April 1764 (weighed again with others) …13 stone 13 pounds. I came to the West Indies in July 1764 and fell away very much before October following when ….25^th of that month… I then weighed only 175 Pounds, which is 12 stone 7 pounds viz. 20l, less than I weighed 6 months before….Finding myself remarkably fallen away in the course of the following year, on Oct. 1, 1765 I weighed 11 stone 3lbs ** This I lost from 1756 ….to 1^st Oct. 1765 ….53 pounds. [658]

August 23 (1773) Mrs Swinburne’s weight, 10 stone 12lbs; Mr Aldridge 15 stone ½ lbs.; J Baker 12 stone 2lbs; Miss Charlotte Tredcroft, 8 stone 10lbs; Mrs Blunt 6 stone 4lbs….But on Aug 24 Mrs Swinburne only weighed 10 stone 8lbs, the difference being caused by the thickness of her gown on the first occasion.[659]”

Later in 1774, John records a scientific experiment conducted concerning weight gain which shows a growing awareness of the influence of diet in putting weight on. Unfortunately, the record is incomplete as no mention is made of what was actually eaten. On 14 July 1774 a group of friends dined in Mr Treadcroft’s garden, the garden of what would be known as The Manor House, as the diary records:

“Before dinner weighed – Mr. Woodward 14st 2lbs.; Mr Thos White 13st 5 ½ lbs,; Cousin Jo Baker, 9st 3lbs.; John Baker 11st 8lbs.; Mr Blunt 12st 5 1/2lbs., Mr Ned Treadcroft, 10st 9 1/2lbs.; Mr Ed. Tredcroft 11st. 5lbs.; Mrs Woodward 11st.51/2lbs.. It has been a mad notion that people by eating ever so hearty a meal gain no weight, but this seems (as they affirmed to be) not true, and accordingly on trial of the gentlemen (who had before) about 2 hours after dinner we found they had generally gained as follows – Mr Woodward, 4 pounds; Mr Thos White 4 pounds,; John Baker 2 pounds; Mr Blunt 31/2 pounds; Jos Baker, 2 pounds; Mr N Tredcroft, 41/2 pounds; Mr Ed. Tredcroft, 3 pounds.” [660](York 291)

John Baker’s diary is full of accounts of eating out, which would be one of the key ways that polite society created itself, around the function of dining. Not only did it create conformity: it also created a social diet; people of certain social groups ate together and ate the same sort of food and drink. The diary records eating turtle, hare pheasant, venison etc. as well as fruit from the kitchen garden, some apricots for example.

Much of the above account of Horsham around 1760-75 has been based on two diaries: that of Sarah Hurst and the other of John Baker, both of which have been published so are accessible. The problem with diaries is that they are abnormalities in the historical record. Whilst they make for fascinating and often revelatory reading, as shown below, we don’t really know why they were written and for what purpose their retention was intended. A letter to someone can be deconstructed to find out its purpose and context because it involves someone else: the person receiving it; and therefore the message has to be clear to two people: the sender and the receiver; but a diary, unless it was written with the intention of publication, is a self-contained message understandable only to the writer who is also the only intended audience. In that way the diary becomes a mnemonic, a series of memory triggers.

It also becomes a tool in which the writer can define their idealised self, containing the projected image of how they wish to see themselves. So the love that Sarah records in her diary for Capt. Smith is both a projection of her idealised love and the degree to which it was questioned by Capt. Smith’s family, a bulwark against that criticism, making her out to be something she was not (for if she was, would she need to say it at all?) The diary itself also changes its function over time and when sometime in the future it was decided to keep it, it then became a document intended for others to read. So both diaries, although possibly written as a self contained document, became an open one and the diarists agreed that history could judge them on what they had written. In other words, the image projected in the diary was an image they were pleased for history to see.

What does all this mean for this history of Horsham? Well, the following snippets from the diary are included here because they are fascinating and entertaining, but to what extent we can build a narrative of Horsham’s history around them is open to question. In the end they become the “so what” of history, and until a context in which they can sit can be found, they are just historical asides. The following are taken from John Baker’s diary transcribed by Blunt and Yorke. Many more such comments and asides could be noted; whilst from Sarah’s diary it is possible to draw comments about her work in the shop, visits to the British museum, reading books, seeing plays etc.              

• “April 10^th 1776 – a race by women on Common for a shift.”
• “January 6^th 1772 – An earthquake about 10am.”
• 23^rd June 1772 – Put a goldfinch’s nest with five young one’s into cage in Cypress treeover gainst hall door where they hatched.”
• January 15^th 1776 Mrs Martin made some ice cream as fine as ever I tasted.”
• January 11^th 1776 For the first time I wore thither and back the things made at Bath to ware in the snow and wore the umbrella thither but not back.
• January 27^th 1776 he mentions how cold the winter is ending with the comment “Our people washed today, having deferred it for a fortnight or 3 weeks, looking for the weather to soften, and now wash’d, the coldest day we have had.”
• May 14^th 1774 “…played draughts. After into hot bath in bathing tub in my chamber.”
• Sunday 8^th August 1773 … “After dinner walked down churchyard ou boys bathing near bridge just beyond…”
• February 5^th 1772 Came a cheval a man sent by Kirkman to tune harpsichord.
•  July1 1773 …Mrs Swinburne and Mrs Blunt last night on harpsichord – Miss Scawen plays not much but knows Italian and sings prettily, tho heard but very little.”

Against these accounts recorded in diaries the town is also fortunate to have a number of letters written to or by the Ingram family. Some of them deal with politics and others with a social life. Rather than reprint the entire series of letters which have been published in full in “A Little News From Horsham”, edited by Susan Djabri[661], some of the more entertaining extracts are set out below. They very much complement the accounts written in the diaries.

The first letter deals with the actions of Edward Tredcroft, the local magistrate who lived at the Manor House during the election proceedings. It graphically brings to mind Hogarth’s prints of the Middlesex Election. From the letter it would appear that he was deliberately late in voting and “this arose from the consciousness of his own great importance as being the only justice thereabouts and that he intended to make us wait for him” The election, however, went ahead without him “and so being disapointed he came sneaking in at the latter end, and was low enough to please himself with snearing at us and putting out his toungue out to the mob.” [662] Dated 20 December 1748 from Edward Dickinson to Henry 7th Viscount Irwin .

Another letter a year later describes the activities in St Mary’s Church:

“I Had the pleasure of seeing Captain Draper’s Bride on Sunday at Church…She is a very smart pretty girl and seemed to become her new clothes very well….They say she is learning to dance, and the Captain intends to try her Genius for Music, as soon as they can get a proper Master…she is about 17, and some say the Capt Is 50….There was another sight at church not so agreeable, it might be called a Spectacle. The six smugglers that are to be executed in a few days, they come to Church every time there is service; their Melancholy looks- for they seem to behave very suitably to their condition – and the clanking of their chains, make it so disagreeable, that I wonder people can bear it: for they stand in the middle isle. Where it is almost impossible to avoid looking at them” Dated 17 August 1749 Edward Dickenson to Isabella, Dowager Viscountess Irwin.

Another records political corruption:

“At present there is nothing new in the metropolis of Horsham. We have had butchers, chandlers, coopers and carpenters to dine with us, all of them as political as myself and equally wise. There is no end of the presents these good people send, pheasants, hares, patridges, mullets, come pouring in daily….I am a much greater personage here than ever I was in my life…” Letter dated 28 September Isabella Ingram to Mrs Charles Ingram at Temple Newsam.

This letter refers to Leechpool, obviously a local beauty spot:

“I congratulate you upon your gravel Walk being almost Completed. We have a forest near us that is Beautiful without the help of Art, & where we go a airing thro’ rides of two or three Miles. Mr Wicker has sent us a key of a part of the forest call’d Leech Poole that is beyond description preety & full of Stately oaks, & Ponds with the Large & Noble Carp: & where every year he gives a Collation at the fishing of it.” (17 October? Letter from Elizabeth Ingram to unknown sister or sister in law).

One of the key differences between the Sarah Hurst Diary and John Baker’s is that John records time all the time, whilst Sarah hardly refers to its passing. Was John, who wrote his diary 20 years after Sarah, more aware of time spent because being a trained lawyer he worked by the hour (or is that only a modern-day legal practice) or was it that John Baker had more time pieces, watches and clocks in his house than Sarah? To give one example of this measurement of time, and this picked at random on 14 June 1773: “Went to Lord Irwin’s – Mr capability Brown gone about ½ hour before. My Lord gone out to a field, sat chatting a quarter of an hour with my Lady (tho’ first almost as long by myself) – My Lord came in and I stayed near 20 min. longer and then came away …”[663] or 2 August 1773: “After about 6 walked down to Mr Treadcroft’s …[664]” Whereas Sarah’s day is broken up into morning, afternoon and evening.  John’s diary makes at least two specific references to clocks. The first is in 1773; John records: “June21 The sun set at night in a remarkably fine manner and the evening most beautifully red all about it tho’ still raining here – N.B. We found by the sun setting, the clock here about 20 min too forward.”[665]  As he refers to the clock singular, is John referring to the Town clock or the clock in his house, though in the later extract he refers to a little hall clock, suggesting that he had a big hall clock as well – perhaps one carriage and one long case? “April 7^th 1774 Murrell brought home the little hall clock mended, after having had it two or three months, a little before 3 this afternoon”[666]  Later the diary refers to Murrell as a glazier, though Murrell was a Horsham clockmaker.

How, though, did John know that the clock was twenty minutes fast? To know that he would have to know the time the sun should have set. To do that he would have had an almanac which, like our modern-day diaries, recorded the time the sun should set. Almanacs were among the most popular books printed in the 18^th century and earlier, selling in vast numbers and full of prognostications etc. Time though, in the 18^th century and early 19^th century, was not set; it was a movable event, towns had their own time, and it was the coming of the railway that created a standard time. Interestingly, John Baker’s diary records that even the time of year was not always followed in Horsham or the villages.

“May12 1774 …At Cock[667] a maypole with garlands on it, and several couple of country men and women dancing by roadside before the door”[668]. As Baker goes on to record, 12 May was the old May Day. In 1752 the country changed the calendar from Gregorian to Julian and in doing so “lost 12 days”; much to the consternation of labourers who wanted to make sure they did not lose 12 days’ pay, for the old 1^st of May became the 12^th May. 

An account of Horsham Clockmakers can be found in the Elaboration section at the end of the chapter.

Before we leave the telling of time there is one remarkable document Housed in Horsham Museum that deals with time in action rather than the telling, and that is Horsham Peal Book. This is the earliest Peal Book in the County and one of the earliest in the country. To ring bells you have to count time to ensure you ring at the right time to create the right peal – the “ding dong ding dong” element. (no doubt peal ringers are grinding at this bit). The first peal ever rung in Sussex was the Granshire Triples at Horsham on 11 April 1766; the peal consisted of 5040 different changes, i.e. 5040 different combinations of 1234567, the maximum number that can be rung on seven bells without repeating a sequence. The peal took just over three hours to ring without a stop or error. Every successful peal was then recorded in the book with the name of the ringers. It is a remarkable feat and suggests that, whilst Horsham may not have had a formally educated workforce, it did have some people who had a good grasp of numeracy and timekeeping.

Clocks were probably the most common scientific instruments freely available in Horsham and, as such, were not classed as scientific by most people of the day, though they could be marvelled at for their accuracy. The diary of John Baker also records the harpsichord mentioned above and, interestingly, a reflecting telescope

“August 13^th 1772 Dined and spent day with Mr and Mrs Blunt – played bowls, sent for telescope and looked at the moon.” Whilst on 27 August “Mr Blunt and I with reflecting telescope from Uxor’s (wife’s) chamber looked at Leith Hill House and Tnhurst.” Then again 1 October 1775 Walked to Mr Blunt’s and met there Issac brining home reflecting telescope which they sent for last night. …I viewd with telescope the star Mrs Blunt so much talked about, and found it Jupiter just as appeared some time ago.”[669]  The discoveries of Newton in the late 17^th and early part of the 18^th century had given science a boost in Britain. There was undoubted pride and association between Newton and Britain summed up by Popes famous epithet:

Nature and Nature’s laws

Lay hid in night

God said, Let Newton be!

And all was light

This seems to have encouraged what we would refer to as the “democratisation” of science, and astronomy in particular, which in turn led to a large number of discoveries and experiments being made outside the academies and universities. Gradually this interest trickled down so that, for example, Baker had a telescope and astronomy was taught in Horsham schools both male and female (Thorntons and Dubbins). From the account in the diary, again as an aside rather than marking anything of significance, both Mrs Baker and Mrs Blunt had telescopes, and Mrs Blunt avidly looked at the stars and planets. Astronomy was not a male preserve. Science became a polite subject suitable for discussion over the dinner table.

The impact of the turnpiked roads on Horsham seems to have been considerable as the town tapped into the rising economy of the nation. Following the 1764 Act mentioned above, which created a new route out of Horsham to the coast, other Turnpike Acts followed. In 1771 there were two Acts passed by Parliament: one for widening the road from Cuckfield and Crawley to Horsham, and another for repairing and widening the roads from Horsham to Steyning.[670]  Note that all the Turnpike Acts were for widening and repairing the roads enabling travellers and coaches to pass each other, an important necessity if Horsham was to cash in on the rise in coach travel. Both John Baker and Sarah Hurst’s diaries record travelling to London by coaches or wagons, and travelling not for a long break but for one or two nights’ break.

By 1740 there had been a twice weekly carrier service to London; by 1765 it had increased to four a week.[671] The growing popularity of the seaside promoted initially by Dr Russell’s book on sea bathing and soon by other medical men, saw the Sussex coast develop as an area of medical retreat. In an era when you were in charge of your own health, when unlike today, medical men were not seen as being able to cure all, then, if going to the seaside would cure what ever illness you had, going to the seaside is what you did if you could afford it, and Horsham was on that route from London to the coast.

If turnpikes could be seen as the motorways of their era, then Horsham can be seen as a service station, lying halfway, an ideal stopover for changing horses, a break from travel etc. Today we think of Brighton as the resort of destination, that everyone in the 18^th century went to Brighton, but Worthing and Littlehampton as well as Eastbourne were also attracting the ill and the dying. Travellers from London to Littlehampton and Worthing had to go through Horsham to these resorts until a new turnpike road was built after 1804. That is why guidebooks published at the turn of the century to Worthing and Littlehampton record Horsham.

In this respect Horsham was harnessing some of the wealth rising from the popularity of the seaside. Horsham was “piggy-backing” on the marketing and promotional campaigns of the Sussex seaside resorts. The impact of this can be seen in the development of the traditional coaching inn. The Anchor Inn had Post chaises and saddle horses for hire in 1768 and later, whilst the Kings Head was another notable inn that held turnpike trustees’ meetings as well as dances and assembles.  Horsham also benefited in the growth of Brighton as it was seen as an alternative route from London,[672] a route that was formalised with the creation of the turnpike in 1792, which went from Horsham via Manning’s Heath to Crabb Tree in Lower Beeding, to the rapidly-growing resort[673].

It is easy to forget that whilst Horsham was developing and growing there was still the continued corruption of the body politic. Not that it worried the townsfolk of Horsham or, for that matter, the nation at large. The Viscountess Irwin controlled the town and its voting, though acting in the name of the son, whoever that son should be. The correspondence concerning the elections makes for fascinating political reading; for example, the degree to which the voters could be bought as mentioned above concerning the state of various houses. In that case the letter revealed the degree to which houses needed to be repaired due to the poor quality of the housing stock.

In another letter written on 13 June 1770 by John Meredew to Charles 9^th Viscount Irwin, there is insight into what were the chief concerns in the town, and concerns which are rather surprising.

“…but the Greatis cri id for an organ. Mr Hurst says they cannot have a man to play under forty or fifty pounds a year, and there is a man at Tarring has offered for ten pounds a year, and Collins hant (aunt) has promised to put one of Collin’s boys to lern as soon as there is Likely to be an organ here. Mr Treadcroft said it would be chargeable. Mr George Waller said he should not be for brining in carges (Charges) to the Parish. I told Mr White as he was town Clark. I thought he should sumons all the Burgesses together and aheard what they would a Gread upon …. I see Mr Somerset and he said that an engin was a very Good thing for the town, but since he had hard that there was a Good engine only wanting to be put in Repear, but he thought it would be very proper for the members to put the Comon shares in ye Town in good order. I told him I did not know any in town but what old Mr Treadcroft has made for his owne advantits …” [674](HMS 796.1)

The letter is in effect a begging letter, Mr Meredew having canvassed the town for their concerns; the town replied with a new church organ, and one person suggested a fire engine.

A number of houses in the Causeway and in the town have the old Fire insurance marks, suggesting that within Horsham there must have been a fire engine linked to the insurance companies that could be called upon to put out the fires in those homes, with the lead numbered plaques and the number relating to the policy; and then there was the need for a town fire engine for the use of everyone. For in timber-framed buildings, whilst the timber framing might be fire-resistant due to the age of the wood, the wattle and daub panels that lay hidden under the veneer of plaster or cloath were suitable for combustion. With terraced houses, if one caught fire it could easily spread, so just to protect your house against fire by investing in a fire insurance policy was not the best policy. A corporate response to fire had to be taken. As mentioned above, Horsham received its first fire engine through political dealing in the 1720s and this was probably the one referred to in the letter as “old Mr Treadcrofts”. Now Horsham wanted a new one and expected, or wanted, the Irwins to buy it, which they did, later.

Whilst talking of correspondence, it should also be remembered the story of how the post was delivered. Fortunately for Horsham, the Horsham and District Philatelic Society has such an interest, and the following is a brief account of the development of Horsham’s postal service[675]:

The 18^th Century

In the 18^th century, post generally had to travel to London before being forwarded to its destination. From 1874, postal town stamps would include the mileage from London. So that the Horsham Postal Stamp had 41 miles, this enabled the London Receiving Clerk to add the distance for an ongoing journey.

A letter from Brighton to Horsham had to go via London, for example. In 1810, the mileage to Horsham was reduced from 41 to 36, as the post was re-routed via Pease Pottage in 1829, and all Postmasters were instructed to check the mileage figures in all hand stamps and to cut them out if they were incorrect. This, and other measures, led to the phasing out of the postal mileage marks by the 1850s.[676]

---

Penny posts and Receiving Offices

Up to 1764 the Post Office carried post to the town only; not to the house or even the villages. In 1765 an Act of Parliament allowed the setting up of Penny Post within the limits of any city or town, and in 1794 it was extended to within ten miles of the town in which it was set up. However, such a postal service only really existed in a few large cities or towns[677].

Horsham’s first penny post was probably established in 1808 to West Grinstead through Nuthurst Lodge (Sedgwick Park), Nuthurst, St Leonard’s Lodge, and Cowfold. It initially worked by a network of Receiving Houses being set up in the villages, with inns or grocers acting as agents, and the local delivery being carried out by a post boy on foot or horseback. Horsham’s No. 1 Receiving Office was Cowfold. In 1810, the ride from Horsham to London altered to connect with the new London-Brighton Royal Mail coach at Pease Pottage where a Receiving House was established. Certain people, MPs and nobility had free post but still had to pay the penny postal rate which would generally be paid on receipt of the letter.

The 19^th century post

Through the work of Rowland Hill and others, postal rates were radically reduced on 10 January 1840. From now on letters were charged according to weight (1d per half ounce), instead of distance and the number of sheets written. It was not compulsory to pre-pay postage, but if it was not, the recipient paid double. Nor was it compulsory, till 1853, to use the new adhesive stamps, the penny black and two penny blue, which became available from 6^t May 1840; instead, a hand stamp could be used.

At the time the adhesive stamps were issued, other stationery was printed: the Mulready covers and envelopes, pre-paid, 1 and 2d; the 1d carried a letter up to ½ oz, and the 2d up to 1oz; anything weighing more than this had to attach adhesive stamps.

One such cover was used in sending a letter to Miss Beauclerk of St Leonard’s.  However, it was not popular, and by February 1841 it was withdrawn by the Post offices and destroyed. It was replaced with the Penny Pink, an embossed design by William Wyon.  In 1844 the General Post Office was allocated a number, 381, which appears on envelopes after this date. With the use of the railways to deliver the post, Sorting Offices were established at the larger railway stations, as at Horsham. The railways also delivered parcels, with the Parcels Post coming into effect from 1August 1883, the railways taking 55% of the charge paid. 

The electoral corruption going on at Horsham was not seen as anything but normal practice and was to a large degree accepted. However, the practices going on in Shoreham were far from acceptable. There was established in Shoreham a club called the “Christian Club”, not because of Christian views, but because they divided the money in common. The club consisted of voters who sold their seat in Parliament to the highest bidder and then split the proceeds amongst themselves. A General Smith offered £3,000 cash and undertook to build, or cause to be built, 600 tons of shipping at Shoreham. His offer was rejected as the club was offered even more money. This split the club and, in doing so, the whole shady goings on were revealed to Parliament.  So in 1771 an Act was passed that gave the right to vote in a Shoreham election to all 40 shilling Freeholders in the Rape of Bramber. By this Act, Freeholders in Horsham who were not Burgesses could elect four MPs (two county and two Shoreham MPs) and Burgesses in Horsham to six, (two Horsham, two Shoreham and two County) making the ownership of the Horsham burgage even more desirable. No other constituency in the kingdom had such voting power.[678]

One visitor to Horsham in 1774 came with a distinctly odd purpose: he wanted to examine the County Gaol and the Bridewell. His name was John Howard, who as High Sheriff of Bedfordshire had inspected the County Gaol there in 1773 and was horrified at what he saw. He decided to visit all the gaols and so came to Horsham, which he described in his book “State of the Prisons”. This forced the issue of the poor state of repair of the County Gaol in Horsham and so led to a brand-new gaol being built on open land just along East Street leading out of the town, rather in the town centre. A full account of the gaol and its history has been published by Albery. In the Elaboration at the end of this chapter is a brief outline of the gaol’s history, but as the actual mechanics of its construction, design etc had little effect on the history of Horsham, its details have been separated from this account in a box.

What follows is a look at the impact of the new gaol on Horsham. The greatest impact was economic. If the County Gaol had moved elsewhere in the County, then Horsham would have lost the very popular hang fairs that attracted thousands of people, for justice had to be seen to be done. One reason, if not the main one, for Horsham being an Assize town was that the roads to the rest of Sussex were poor so the circuit judges would not travel further south. Now, with rapid turnpiking, such arguments did not hold true. If the town lost the county gaol it could have lost its Assize function; though they were not mutually dependent, just convenient. If the town lost its Assize courts then that would have implications in terms of status, social and political (there are extensive references in Baker’s diary of the Judges dining in the town along with the local gentry).

One of the key points to remember is that the late 18^th century saw marked changes in the geographical centres of power and patronage. Horsham could, with its Assize function and County gaol, could be seen as the apex, with Lewes dominating the eastern side of Sussex and Chichester the west, and with Horsham at the top. Towns and boroughs such as Steyning, Petworth, Midhurst, East Grinstead, Hastings, Battle and Rye were all jostling for position and status. Then along came the explosion in seaside resorts: Brighton, Eastbourne and Worthing, and the ports were seeing rises in cargo of around 2% a year as the economy of the country improved (16,000 tons in 1701 to 100,000 tons in 1789/90)[679] ; this increase did not include the growth in smuggling, the black economy. The status of the seaside towns would grow as the traditional “county towns” would decline markedly in the late 18^th and early 19^th century. Horsham may have become a Steyning or a Petworth without the County Gaol. In addition to maintaining the town’s status, the new gaol, located on the outskirts of the town, had a marked impact on the town. Gaol fever, mentioned above, could be better controlled if the prisoners did not walk through the most densely populated area of the town on market days, but walked along a less populous route. Having said that, the real threat was the contagion from the gaol itself, the festering, foetid air and soil that seeped out of the building along the open sewer that drained the Carfax, thus spreading diseases throughout the market.

The New Horsham County Gaol gave the town a new lease of life, and made the town a healthier prospect.    

It was into this Horsham that a young man, trained in law and articled at Chichester, came. Thomas Charles Medwin is a dominating figure in the town’s history. But the drawback to what follows below is that history favours those that have left written records. Due to circumstances of fate, the history of Horsham between 1775 and 1865 has been dominated by the personal, financial, legal and business papers of this family, father and son, Thomas Charles Medwin and Pilfold Medwin. The question this history has to ask is: would Medwin be important in the town’s history if these documents hadn’t survived? In the 1990s the reappearance of the Hurst family papers and their deposit in the West Sussex Record Office has provided historians of Horsham a wealth of documents, but their story fits into the narrative formed by the Medwin papers, not the other way round. Why? Because Medwin dealt with so many Horsham people and aspects of Horsham society he was, to use modern jargon, “hardwired” into the very fabric of the society.

The Hursts, the Norfolks and the Irwins were important in the town’s history, but they never crossed all aspects. Medwins, and in particular Medwin Snr, were the technicians in Horsham’s society; they may not have created policy or the direction of the town; that was down to the more powerful families, but they implemented the changes and made sure what was intended happened. But – and an important but – we often only know of these things because of Medwin’s involvement, not through any other source, and because of that we cannot objectively assess their role; all we can do is give the following, biased account, though the account is rich and fascinating.

Thomas Charles Medwin[680] was born in 1753 and, fortunately for him, his mother’s sister married James Butler of Warminghurst Park, the former home of William Penn, the Quaker. They also owned substantial estates throughout Sussex, too much for one person to manage. So James Butler asked his brother in law, Thomas’s father Luke, a woollen draper, to manage his Warminghurst estates. It could be that James Butler thought that his nephew could learn law and thus look after the estates.  If this were the case, then it would be sensible for Medwin to become well-versed in estate law and manorial law as well.

It may seem strange today that an 18^th century lawyer would need to know about laws passed 600 years earlier relating to the laws, customs and obligations of manors. This, though, is one of the attractions of the 18^th century: on the surface a whole matrix of sophistication, enlightenment, polite society, of growing commercialisation industrial and agricultural changes; yet underneath, a system of laws and medieval society that had not developed at the same pace. Medieval law was based around obligations, property and, more importantly, land. Land, through the changes in 18^th century farming practices, was becoming more valuable an asset; therefore, medieval laws relating to land were becoming even more important, and those that owned land or acquired land wanted to maintain and increase its value through the use of law.

The 17^th century, through the act of Regicide, had fractured the medieval legal world, thus creating a world where trade and commercial law started to develop; the creation of banks, companies etc., but the re-establishment of the monarchy, even a monarchy whose powers were limited by Parliament, started to heal this fracturing.  Then in the 18^th century the value of land increased, leading to a reinstatement of laws that had lapsed or were thought to be defunct.  In Horsham, this reinstatement could be seen in the calling of the Manorial Courts and fines for encroachments on the Common. Medwin realised this and put this knowledge to good use. In the business papers, Medwin is rarely involved in the commercial world of agreements between trading partners, or raising mortgages for commercial ventures: his papers relate to land, property (theft of) and services owed.

Why did a trained lawyer move from a city to Horsham? Warminghurst is about equidistant between Chichester and Horsham, so he could have practiced there. James Butler died in 1775, his wife, Martha a year later in 1776. Martha had asked Luke, Medwin’s father, to be an executor of the estate. In all probability Martha knew that Luke was not up to the job, due to his age and lack of experience, knowing full well that the duties would fall on to his newly trained legally minded son, as the correspondence shows Luke asking Thomas for advice. Thomas may have travelled to Horsham on the odd occasion, perhaps attending to business or a fair. He may have met Mary Pilfold, the daughter of John who lived in the Church Causeway. John, like Luke, was a mercer, a tradesman. Or, and possibly the more likely, he saw that a new county gaol was being built in the town. It therefore followed that the town would retain its Assize function even with the improved roads, and if the judges came to the town then a new criminal law practice could do very well in Horsham.

Another advantage was that the newly turnpiked roads that connected Horsham to its hinterland provided easy access for a lawyer versed in estate management and criminal law to see clients or clients to see him. By Michaelmas 1777 the Gaol was completed and Medwin had moved to Horsham, as the first legal papers we have relate to manorial law and criminal cases.[681] Halfway through the following year, Medwin married Mary Pilfold, a “very amiable young lady possessed of a handsome fortune”[682]. Through this marriage he would be linked to other notable Horsham families: the Shelleys, Michells and Whites.

It should also be remembered that by now Britain was at war again; this time almost a civil war, for instead of fighting father against son, it was uncle against uncle as The American War of Independence saw families, split by the Atlantic Ocean, now become split on political and sovereignty grounds. Britain was in the throes of losing its First Empire, the Americas, and so instead of looking west for expansion it had to now look east as never before. Britain was fortunate that it had the perfect vehicle to do this in The East India Company.  The loss in America saw that company’s status rise, and with it the Directors, one of whom was married to the Horsham heiress Catherine Lintot.  The impact of this war on Horsham is hard to tell. Obviously those who traded with America were affected in the short term, the soldiers who fought etc., but for some in Horsham the effect may have been more troubling on a personal rather than business level, for there were close family ties, particularly with the religious groups from the area who settled in Pennsylvania. America was Britain abroad; now it was to become a separate nation and the inhabitants Americans.

On the political front there were problems. George III, who came to the throne in 1760, had brought into government Tories who had experienced 50 years in the political wilderness whilst the Whigs ruled. Now, with George’s patronage, the Tories were in ascendancy and the Irwin family, being fully in tune with this shift, changed political persuasion becoming Tory not Whig. In 1770 George appointed Lord North as Prime Minister and in the 1770 election Mr Wallace K.C. was elected MP for Horsham.  In 1778 he was made Solicitor-General and in 1780 Attorney-General in the Tory administrations.[683] Under Henry Irwin, Horsham was in the Whig camp; under Charles Irwin it was in the Tory camp with Lord North. Unfortunately, Lord North suffered politically from the war in America. Although not fully explored, the loss of America may have had a beneficial effect. “The loss of the American Colonies also precipitated a rise in enthusiasm for parliamentary reform, for imperial reform, for religious liberalisation, for the reform of gaols and lunatic asylums: for virtually any change, in fact, that might prevent a similar national humiliation in the future”.[684]

Whilst these changes would take time to work their way through the political and social structure of society, from virtually immediate proposal to “closure” (Parliamentary reform only took 50 years to see through, for example), some changes were already taking place. The Tories, in the political wilderness years, had invested heavily in the development of their estates; the regaining of power saw a move away from estate management to political management, but the loss of the American colonies meant that a vast area of natural wealth was no longer there to freely exploit, so investment had to be made inward rather than outward. The home estates therefore retained their interest and improvements through transport and breeding, and crop development continued which, for Horsham, was necessary as a market town.    

In 1777 Medwin was involved in the case for the prosecution of one William Evans of Horsham for disturbing the peace. However, this was not the first disturbance caused by the reaction of the public to the Methodists, as John Baker’s diary recounts. In 1776 a Methodist preacher from London obtained a licence to preach in Horsham.

“February 7 1776 “Charles last night went to hear one Woodgate, a Methodist from London, preach at a sort of barn near Mr Dawson’s. It seems, when Tasker the tallow chandler died by the market house three or four years ago, one Mann from Petworth came and took the house and trade and introduced Methodism, and made some converts preaching at his own house. But now they have got a licence from the Sessions to preach at his house and begun last night. They have hymns too sung. ** Young Sowton asked to act as clerk.** Sowton was one of the top hands among our singers; he and his wife and her mother ** John Pavey and wife ** and others are made Methodists.”[685]. On Sunday 21 April of the same year John Baker and a party from the Blunt household went to the common to hear the Methodist preacher. Baker’s diary also recounts an altercation between the Methodists and the Roman Catholic priest Mr Flint. According to the diary: “Mrs Martin told me of a fracas between Mr Flint (Fleet) and Mann, the Methodist preacher, and others, last Sunday night,(1st.  September) at Methodists meeting and their going to Sir Charles Eversfield and others for a warrant…Our Charles Lewis was with him at the Methodist’s  Meeting on Sunday evening when the thing happened” [686].

In Sussex it was not the Wesleys, John and Charles, whose hymns would be incorporated into the hymn book of the Church of England, that caused the spread of Methodism, but “the Calvinist Methodism of George Whitefield which was expounded most successfully by George Gilbert of Heathfield and Selina, Countess of Huntingdon … The Countess of Huntingdon first came to Brighton in 1755 searching for a cure for her ailing younger son. Following his death she was converted to Methodism and in 1760 invited Whitfield to preach in Brighton and a chapel opened in 1761. This was the first of a number of churches of “Lady Huntingdon’s Connexion” built around the country, In Sussex others followed at…Petworth.”[687] The Horsham preacher Mann probably learnt his Methodism from the Petworth chapel, a Methodism that was more Calvinistic than that of the Wesley’s.  The diary account is interesting because it also shows opposition from the Roman Catholic church. It may well be that there was genuine religious curiosity, as Baker and the Blunts attended a meeting and the Roman Catholic priest also went along to see what all the talk was about.

The Court case that Medwin was involved in was for the prosecution of William Evans for swearing and causing a nuisance in a house near the Town Hall where services with hymn-singing were taking place. It may seem strange today for such anger to be felt over the Methodists, but Methodists like Quakers and Baptists before were seen as evangelicals; different from, and seen as viewing themselves as better than, the population. It is the sense of being “other”, an outsider, even though they were of the society and as such causing disquiet, even though the state had accepted them. Methodism was never as strong in eighteenth century Sussex as it was in many counties. The Sussex Circuit in 1767 boasted only 176 members, in contrast with that of Cornwall which had over two thousand. It has been argued that this can be explained by the ‘unbroken front of open hostility or cold indifference’ presented by the Anglican clergy in Sussex which sharply contrasted with many other areas of England.”[688]  In Horsham the popularity of the Church and its vicars, as shown by the Sarah Hurst diary, might have discouraged dissent, whilst the open hostility of the population at large tested the Methodists’ resolve. However, the Methodist church continued in Horsham and within 60 years a Wesleyan Methodist Chapel[689] would be built in London Road in 1832.[690]  

In 1781 a Swiss artist arrived in the town on Saturday 2 June and spent the day sketching five views of the church. Born in 1733, Samuel Hieronymus Grimm, after a successful artistic career in Europe, moved to London in 1768 where he was actively involved in producing book illustrations (including illustrations for Gilbert White’s celebrated Natural History and antiquities of Selborne.1789). In 1788 William Burrell, one of the County’s most important antiquaries owner of Knepp Castle, employed Grimm to undertake drawings of the county to illustrate his historical researches. From 1780 to 1791, for a “fortnight or so from Whitsun”[691], Grimm would tour the county. It was on these tours that Grimm would visit Horsham and record the various buildings. In the tour that visited Horsham in 1781, he drew 84 drawings over 13 working days. On his return to London he would rework the field sketches making fair copies later: “without the opportunity to check details on site, he can be expected to make mistakes…Grimm produced pictures of some 200 country houses or large village houses, many of them belonging to middling landowners and professional gentlemen, of fairly recent build and aesthetically or architecturally of no particular distinction”[692] It is because of this approach that we now have one of the best (and only) selection of views of Horsham, from Springfield House to Shelley’s house that was built, then pulled down. Grimm visited Horsham again, from the dates on his drawings, in 1788 and 89. He died “of mortification of the bowls on 14^th April 1794”[693]. William Burrell, the commissioner of the drawings, two years later in January 1796.[694]  In May his town library was sold at auction, and it is assumed it was then that the 42 volumes bequeathed to the British Museum, including the Grimm drawings, were deposited.[695] Later they moved to the British Library where they can be seen today on request.

In 1782 the solicitor and writer Anthony Highmore travelled from London to Brighton and wrote an interesting travelogue in the style of Sterne’s then highly popular and recently published A Sentimental Journey in France and Italy. The account was never published and lay unread till Charles Hindley found it and published it. That published account was also unread, or rather unaccounted for, by Horsham historians, possibly because its title “A Ramble on the Coast of Sussex” did not draw attention to a Horsham connection. However, when browsing through a Brighton bookshop I came across the account which I acquired for Horsham museum; Sue Djabri re-published it with extensive notes.[696] The main part of the text deals with a visit to a Horsham bookshop and a discussion on the literature of the day that the shop stocked, before discussing the nature of romance and marriage. It is a fascinating account because of what it reveals about society in Horsham.

“Having returned our chaise, I looked in at the Bookseller’s – not more to see the books, that the smart female figure, which traversed the floor in very quick paces. She was dressed in a white gown tied with pink ribbons – could not boast much height, and what she wanted in beauty she made up with taste, fashion and manner.

I found by her mode of speech she was not unused to lively conversation…”[697]

As mentioned above for the late 17^th century, various mercer shops sold books, and on an imprint of  Rev. Charles Bettesworth’s “Sermon preach’d at Petworth…Wednesday, September 3^rd 1712” a “W. Browne in Horsham, 1712” is mentioned suggesting a bookseller, or someone selling books as a sideline, but this is the first account we have of a Horsham bookshop. What is interesting is that it is “the” Booksellers, which suggests that it was the only one in Horsham, for if there were more he would perhaps have mentioned them by name, for he was a collector of books having bought a mutilated copy of Froissart’s Chronicle (printed in 1524/5) in Brighton. The bookshop could have had small, glazed windowpanes, or he may have leaned over a half door looking in at the stock, before entering.

The comment about her conversation suggests that he had expected a level of ignorance in her speech, perhaps not expecting the level of “politeness”, though, as shown by Sarah Hurst’s Diary; that would have been a mistake. However, as becomes apparent, this air of learning is not something she was born with, or arrived at by reading, but through listening; by aping her betters, for she later reveals that there is a culture of ignorance in Horsham, even amongst her clientele, or perhaps she feels that she could not talk to her well-read local customers, something of a class distinction that has not been borne out by other writers in Horsham at this time. She may speak well, possibly without the coarseness of the Sussex dialect/burr, but whilst innately intelligent, she lacked reading:

“You have some well chosen books here, Madam”

“Yes, Sir, but I never read- I perceive you are a reader, and I have long wished to meet with a person of judgement, who could put me into a course of reading, instructive and entertaining”

“I should have supposed, Madam, from your choice of Language, that you already seen the best Authors in the lines you mention”.

“No, I never met with a Man of Taste yet, Sir, – and as to the Women, you know”

I spoke of Miss Seward, Mr Haley, and our modern Writers;- she was unacquainted with them all.

I mentioned Swift, and Sterne – she had heard their names, but knew nothing of their works. I recommended to her the “Sentimental Journey” – she readily took it down from the shelf. I observed she would find not only amusement but much use in reading Mr Sterne.

She desired I would explain the word use – this at once proved she was not unacquainted with him

I added that the chief use of all such writers is” (He then describes the purpose of such literature ending by saying that it “tells us what we are and what we feel”. He then goes on to say:

“In the same class you may take Shenstone – Gay – and Cunningham – in Poetry – all these have their peculiar line of excellence, and should be preceded by the native warblings of Thomson

At this moment we were interrupted by the entrance of an officer, who came to return the first volume of “Cecilia”[698]  

This account reveals a great deal about how literature was viewed by the cultured and of how the bookshop in Horsham ran. Today we might read factual books for knowledge and fiction for amusement. But here the author clearly feels that the poetry of these authors is a window onto our, and nature’s, being; through reading we will gain greater self-awareness, an awareness not borne out of scripture, but poetry, which was often one stage removed from scripture.  Recent work by St Clair has shown that, due to the cartel and highly restrictive practices of booksellers and stationers; practices that enabled the Lintots to amass a fortune, books were very expensive. This had two effects: it drastically reduced the amount of literature available for the cheap books, the cheap reading material that chapmen would sell: reprinted stories not issued by the cartel.  In effect, the poor but literate had more chance of reading stories read by their great-great-grandfathers than the literature written the year before.

The restrictive practices enjoyed by the trade meant that popular literature was frozen in time, to the Elizabethan period; the fables and myths, tall stories and tales of giants, knights and dragons rather than discoveries in Africa or America. The other effect was that, as literature was expensive, books were rented or sold, bought back by the shop and sold again, a proto- circulating library. This is what seems to have been happening with the officer. The return of Cecilia by Fanny Burney is interesting, in that it had just been published, so the bookshop had current literature in stock. The officer was probably a soldier linked to Customs and Excise who had use of military officers in their “war” on smuggling.

This account therefore suggests the following: the shop lady could read but had probably only read the Bible and or the penny chapbooks of Elizabethan tales. She had not had anyone to talk to about how she could improve her education, and the best authors (even though those selected by Highmore had been in print for forty years or more and were the backbone of any 18^th century library). Highmore approves of the stock in the shop, though it is apparent that the lady did not select them because she had no knowledge of the authors, so perhaps her father or mother did the selection and, if so, from what source: customer requests, reviews in the London press, or from reciprocal arrangements between London agents?

In 1774, what St Clair has called the High monopoly period of publishing was crushed under the weight of legal opinion and piracies from the Scottish and Irish press.  (In 1759 the London cartel of which Lintot was a member was demanding Scottish books for sale in English shops be sent to London for inspection and destruction, to be replaced by the more expensive London books.[699] The English publishers tried to get Scottish law courts to enforce their English law courts’ decisions on copyright. By the Act of Union, the law of Copyright should be the same in both countries. This little-known court case revolutionised reading in England  (“The most decisive event in the history of reading in England since the arrival of printing 300 years before”). In 1773 the English publishers tried to stop the flood of books from Scotland and Ireland, quoting perpetual copyright. “The English law was based on property, precedent and custom,…The Scottish judges, by contrast, operating a legal system derived from Roman law, attempted to judge cases in accordance with general legal and moral principles, and by their willingness to consider the likely economic, social and cultural effects of their decisions.”[700] When the first case came before the Scottish courts the judges interpreted the law as written down; copyright for fourteen years “and no longer”. The judges were advised in this by Adam Smith. The judges voted eleven to one that perpetual copyright was unlawful in Scotland. The case, then, the following February, went to the judges in the House of Lords, who seem to have prevaricated before the whole chamber declared that the law of perpetual copyright was unlawful in England.

So what? What effect did this have on Horsham? It created a new market, that of the reader and the bookshop, and with it the local printer. In 1774 Adam Smith gave a theoretical answer to its effect:

“The price of monopoly is upon every occasion the highest which can be got. The natural price, or the price of free competition, on the contrary, is the lowest which can be taken….The one is upon every occasion the highest which can be squeezed out of the buyers, or which, it is supposed, they will consent to give: The other is the lowest which sellers can commonly afford to take, and at the same time, continue in business.”[701]

The decision allowed the Scottish press to print and undercut the English publishers. They fought back by undercutting their prices. A huge suppressed demand for reading was met with a huge surge in the supply of books. Books that had been printed before 1774 were now reprinted in cheaper formats, the size of books changed to meet the popularity.  Lackington, a remainder bookseller, wrote in 1791 that: “According to the best estimation I have been able to make, I suppose that more than four times the number of books are sold now than were sold twenty years since ….In short all ranks and degrees now READ”. [702]

You can see in Highmore’s account of the Horsham bookshop a direct response to this change in the supply of books. For now Horsham had a bookshop, it stocked what became known as the old cannon books, those out of copyright authors who were now cheap enough to buy off the shelf, whilst authors who were recently or newly published and in copyright were too expensive to buy and were “rented”.  The end of the perpetual Copyright saw, during the Romantic period, those years that Thomas Charles Medwin operated in Horsham, “the minimum price of out-of –copyright books halved, halved again, and went on falling, and the print runs and sales soared and went on soaring. Over the same period, the price of newly published copyrighted books rose and went on rising, most vividly seen in the price of new novels whose prices doubled and then trebled”. [703]

On a social side the high-priced monopoly that existed for 60 years had a major impact on England; likewise, Horsham. Apart from restriction of trade it saw “less literature of all kinds being written and published, less reprinting, less reading, a slow-down in the pace of the diffusion of new ideas, less access to the discoveries of science and medicine by those at the lower tranches of the book market, less education, more obsolete education, more illiteracy, moiré ignorance, more unwanted children”[704], all aspects of which can be seen in Horsham society.

There we must leave Anthony Highmore in the bookshop as he then enters a conversation with the lady over the art of love, matrimony.  The account of the conversation, if true, and not a fiction placed within a context of a real journey, is a fascinating account of how a young lady in Horsham, a shop worker, thought about romance. The very order of subjects discussed – the way men always recommend, for women, romances to read – “Women are supposed to know nothing else but the foolishness of Love” as she said, his reply that women “are generally more versed in the Arts of Love”, which she took as an insult. The author tries to extricate himself by describing what he meant by Art, only to end up mentioning the word “Fortune”, to which she replies “Women do not marry for fortune. Sir”. By now the shop lady is perplexed as to whether Anthony is “an advocate for the belle passion as it is called, or not- for my own part I assure you, that if people love from sincerity, then it is by no means to be laughed at- if they love from necessity, they deserve it”. To this, Anthony agrees. The shop girl being on a “roll”, then asks him (in an echo of conversations held in shops and pubs today):

“what are your sentiments about attachments at first sight”. Anthony’s reply, a model one, is that passion is sudden and will not last, but “that affection becomes more lasting”, but for that to happen they must get to know each other, which causes problems “Because a woman must not be seen too often in the company of the same man, lest she should lose her character”, a Catch 22. She then points out how men “are all so apt to catch a chance expression a woman may drop in conversation, and make use of them ….for the purposes of Human Nature”

This interplay of words, of ideas of romance and love is also revealing a battle ground between the sexes. There is a distinct modernity over the conversation held; it surprises because its underlying messages are taking place today, and the 1960s-80s battleground was taking place in the 1780s.[705] However, much further work needs to be done in this area, work that cannot be explored fully here due to lack of space, but in the 18^th century alone the woman’s voice is not always silent. For example, on romance, comparing the language of Sarah Hurst, another shop girl, to the language of the unknown bookseller, and looking at Directories to see how many woman ran businesses, from shops to medical women, (Mrs Briggs) to schools,(Mrs Dubbins) to publishing houses, (Catherine Lintot, Elizabeth Griffith bookseller,[706] Phillips[707] to murderesses (Crutteden, Pledge and Whale see above); wills,[708] to see who was left what, marriage records[709] and parish records to see at what age women married and why a delay, if any, occurred, and age of giving birth to children.[710] (John Caffyn has looked at Baptists in Horsham for this period and found a fascinating insight into the social practices.)

Then there are the legal papers held by Medwin for court cases that deal with women ensnaring young men[711] whilst other cases deal with rape [712] and bastardy cases,[713]  and other documents deal with family disputes between brothers and sisters.[714] Horsham women were lucky: they had two women who dominated the political and social scene – the Irwins,[715]  and the house servant Elizabeth Taylour.[716]

Is the Horsham story different from other Sussex towns because of that, or, as the wealth of 18^th century documents are interrogated by historians asking questions about gender issues, is a new historical framework evolving; one that is more true to the reality of the life as lived, than to the model of 19^th and early 20^th century historians.

By now, Medwin had become more involved with Horsham society, probably gaining entrance through his marriage. In 1784 William Bailey and Co. wrote and asked for a list of all tradesmen in the town. He published the first nationwide directory in this year, so the list drawn up by Medwin in November 1784 was probably for the second revised edition published the following year.[717]

The draft reveals the following trades in Horsham at that time: Tanner(2), Surgeon (2) Linen Draper (1), Attorney (3) Tanner & Currier (1),  Mercer(1), Brandy Merchant (1), Cutler (1), Builder (1), Grocer (1), Stationer (1), Timber Merchant (1), Malster (1), Common Carriers (1) Currier (1), Sack Manufacturer (1), Hat Manufacturer (1), Draper and Grocer (1)  amongst other trades. Medwin concludes this draft with the following note: “Horsham is a  ? market in Sussex  for Grain & poultry The only manufactories here are Leather Hats Sacks & Brooms.”

Of particular note is Arthur Lee stationer (Was it his shop that Anthony Highmore entered?), for it was in this year that he printed the first book in Horsham, a book whose subject matter is at variance with the notion of a rural market town. The book was A Journal kept on a Journey from Bassora to Bagdad over the little Desert to Aleppo, Cyprus, Rhodes, Zante, Corfu and Otranto in Italy in the year 1779. By a Gentleman late an Officer in the Service of the Honourable East India Company”. The author was Samuel Evers who, on leaving the East India Company, became clerk to Thomas Medwin. The book was printed by Arthur Lee and sold by J.F. and C. Rivington in London.   

Previous historians have assumed that Arthur Lee was the publisher of the book; i.e. he took the commercial risk, just as the Lintots had done for their books. But the title page does not say that at all: it says that Arthur Lee printed it, but it was sold by the Rivingtons, and they took the commercial risk. This would explain why it was at least another 50 years before another book was printed in Horsham.[718]  What now follows is a look at the publication of the book and what it can tell us about Horsham and local businesses.

The story begins on 4 December 1781 when Samuel Evers is articled as a clerk to Thomas Medwin. The following year Medwin starts to buy stationery from Arthur Lee, suggesting that Arthur had moved to Horsham and set up shop there. I suspect, but cannot prove, that Samuel passed round in manuscript a copy of his journal for Medwin and others locally to read. (There is a large amount of literature recently published on scribal publications showing that manuscript copies of books circulated widely well into the 19^th century). Perhaps a copy was given to Lee to read. Arthur Lee knew that he could not break into the London cartel, publish the book and face financial ruin.

Although the reprinting of old cannon writers had flourished after the 1774 Court case, the publication of new authors was still very much restricted to the London trade. Arthur may have been the one who spoke to the Rivingtons, a publishing house willing to break conventions, as St Clair notes: “Instances of all the main types of challenge and response observable in modern monopolistic industries can be found in the eighteenth-century London book industry. Rivington, who broke ranks on a wide range of practices…was driven into bankruptcy by predatory pricing”.[719] By 1792, when John Rivington died, he left his sons Francis and Charles a well established business – not as booksellers, but as publishers.  They were the “first firm which can truly be described by that word”.[720] 

It is suggested that Lee and the Rivingtons came to an arrangement, because Lee found the unpublished author could print the book at Horsham and thus gain the printing profits. He would also publicise the forthcoming book to his customers and attract a range of local subscribers who would minimise the financial risk to the Rivingtons. The Rivingtons would then distribute the book through their chain of booksellers who had arrangements with them to take their stock. Once published, the manuscript of the book was cut up and used as scrap paper by Samuel in Medwin’s office.[721]

The book is seen as a Horsham book because it has a Horsham imprint, but the author, although resident in Horsham, was not a Horsham-born person; the printer Arthur Lee was not a Horsham printer but came from Lewes, and the subject matter would have had wide appeal outside the confines of Horsham. Literature of the day was fascinated with the near east and the orient, and whilst it had local subscribers they may have subscribed because of knowledge of the author, and perhaps even civic pride in owning a book with a Horsham imprint, just as local collectors do today.

The final question to ask was: the book printed in Horsham? False imprints were common enough. It is 153 pages long with a print run of between 750 and 1,000 copies, unless it was vanity publishing; whilst print shops could and did print sale notices for timber or auctions, the scraps and ephemera, no printing of this magnitude took place in Horsham for decades to come. The book uses six font sizes on the title page, and two italic fonts as well; the printer would have to buy in and keep a large amount of type, which was expensive. Are we looking at a Horsham imprint as a sales ploy; the book printed in Lewes, given the Horsham imprint to attract local subscribers? It is dangerous to argue a negative when the imprint clearly states Horsham, but Horsham saw no other book being published here until the 19^th century.

The following year, 1785, saw Medwin involved with the establishment of a Prosecuting Society. This might be seen as a vigilante movement, but in an era when there was no police force it was one way that like-minded people could get together to provide additional security, or rather, the sense that they were doing something to make themselves safer;  as we are told in the 21^st century, the fear of crime is just as threatening as the crime itself. The “Horsham Society for Prosecuting Thieves and Felons”, to give its full name, organised the printing of handbills and posters offering rewards for information leading to the arrest of persons who committed crimes against members of the society. It did not offer rewards for crimes against non- members, as there was no idea at that time of “the good of society”; society as such didn’t exist. Groups of like-minded individuals could form a society, but the notion that all society had common concerns was alien to 18^th century.

In 1786 the 10^th Duke of Norfolk died, of drink, at Norfolk House, London. He was “one of the highest rank of men – the least significant of Dukes”.  He was, however, responsible for two significant acts: in 1778, along with other leading English Catholic,s he signed a petition to George III that resulted in the first measure of religious relief and made the construction of Catholic places of worship legal. (Though it was not until 1820 that a building on the east side of Springfield Road belonging to the Duke of Norfolk was converted to a Roman Catholic Chapel and priest house.[722]) Secondly, in 1783, he secured an Act of Parliament to use the revenues from the renewal of the leases of the Strand estate in London to restore Arundel Castle, thus making the Castle and Sussex their principal home. His death saw the 11^th Duke take over the running of the extensive estates, including Horsham.[723]

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THE ELEVENTH DUKE OF NORFOLK [724

He was a character who was larger than life. Contemporary accounts of him provide a vivid picture of the man who would dominate Horsham. “Nature which cast him in her coarsest mould, had not bestowed on him any of the external insignia of high descent. His person large, muscular, and clumsy, was destitute of grace or dignity…He might indeed have been mistaken for a grazier or butcher”

“I cannot be a good Catholic; I cannot go to Heaven; and if a man is to go to the devil, he may as well go thither from the House of lords as from any other place on Earth”[725]

Whilst he appeared coarse, he invested his private income in supporting artists and scholars and writers. It was he who financed Dallaway’s History of the Western Division of Sussex, who lent the author and politician Sheridan his estate Deepdene, and tried to intervene in the squabbles between Timothy and his son Percy Bysshe Shelley.

The Duke was a keen amateur architect and spent the last twenty-five years of his life working on Arundel Castle.  He used leading experts of the day for advice, including Wyatt, who was then restoring Windsor Castle for George III, and recommended to him by Horace Walpole in 1794. Though “After having long resolved in his own mind the idea of such a building, and resolved its various plans, he entrusted them for execution, solely to his ingenious master mason, and consulted none of the modern architects who have undertaken to revive the style and commanding effect of ancient English Castles” (Dallaway quoted in Robinson). The mason was John Teasdale and his son John; and James, another Teasdale,  drew the plans.  He started work in 1791.

“The architectural style of the new parts of the castle was determined by the Dukes Whig principles; it was a hybrid of Perpendicular Gothic and Norman (then called Saxon) which were associated in the Dukes eyes with ancient liberty, and the whole building was in one sense intended to be a temple of liberty, a fact made clear (in Latin) on the foundation stone. …Much of the sculpture was executed in Coade stone, a modern material which the Duke, as president of the Royal Society of Arts, adopted with enthusiastic relish” [726]

The Duke had a keen interest in history and in the Magna Charta. In 1815, just before the Battle of Waterloo, he held a magnificent dinner at Arundel to celebrate the 600^th anniversary of the signing of the Charter.[727]  It is not that surprising that he looked at the manorial customs in his estates. In the year he became Duke, 1786, the former Steward, Mr Penfold, died, leaving a place for Medwin to succeed. It has been assumed that Medwin was the person with the knowledge of manorial law; it was he that suggested the tightening up of manorial practice, but with his keen interest in history and medieval practices, it may well have been the meeting of two minds, the Duke wanting someone who knew the law inside out, and Medwin knowing just that. In 1787 Medwin acquired the Red Lion burgage, the house on the corner of West Street and the Carfax. He was now a burgess and could be present at the Duke’s Court Barron, a medieval court that had sunk into obscurity and neglect.

There now began a skilful campaign for the Duke, as Lord Paramount, to regain his rightful control of Horsham, to wrest power away from the Irwins, the northern interlopers who had manipulated and controlled Horsham through the indifference of the previous Duke of Norfolk. Of course, today we would view the practice of the Duke of Norfolk as being just as corrupt, but whilst there was some public disquiet (Charles James Fox for example, and even Norfolk proclaimed himself for “Sovereignty of the people”), for the large majority it was the natural order of things, almost as if God, and God was an English Protestant rather than Papist Foreigner, had intended it. As for the apparent contradiction in the Duke’s policy and practice, the policy of English liberty and the practice of political corruption, it must always be borne in mind that the Duke saw “Saxon” architecture as pure, and English liberty based on the purity of the Magna Charta, and when that was written, it was the Barons who made sure every Englishman had his natural God-given right to be freeborn; not some new Lord who came along fewer than 100 years earlier.

The first thing that Medwin did for the Duke was a private survey of the borough, in the mould of the survey carried out 23 years earlier by Lady Irwin’s gardener, Meredew. This had little direct effect on the townsfolk. However, what did have an effect was the management of the common. The true “commoners”: those who had rights to use the common, were burgage holders of those properties laid out around 1206 who also had the right to vote in Parliamentary elections. The decision by the Duke of Norfolk to reassert his manorial rights meant that he decided to in effect micro-manage the common to ensure all breaches in those rights were paid for. Often the fines looked negligible, but again using modern jargon, though in this aspect it gives its flavour of the impact, by adopting “zero tolerance” to breaches, the Duke was reinstating in the most forcible way his ownership of the common and duty to maintain obligations to him and not the Irwins. The museum holds a large number of fines and legal notices issued by Medwin from 1787 onwards. It was a time-consuming and costly business for the Duke and, in fact, it has been suggested by one authority that the reason for common enclosures was the sheer cost in time and legal fees of managing common land, dealing with all those flea bites; far better to enclose it and then deal with any encroachments as trespass and the full weight of civil rather than manorial law.[728]

# The Duke must also have realized that, although he could control the use by the Burgesses of the Common land, he could not control their political vote. However, the holding of the Court Leet to present the infringements on the common was the first stage in setting in motion the rejection of Burgess holders as false ones. There then occurred a battle royal between the Irwins and the Norfolks, a contest that attracted the attention of the press who noted the bribery, the lavish feasts and drinks with the comment: “Who would not be a Burgess of Horsham, where Coblers are treated like kings”.[729] Whilst this is all exciting and has justifiably attracted widespread attention by historians, it is easy to forget what the press obviously did not: it was only the Burgesses who were treated like kings; Horsham consisted of more than the 76 Burgesses (Medwin’s estimate[730]). All those people who lived on the outskirts of Horsham in the new houses being built along the newly turnpiked roads (Worthing Road being an example), and all those who lived on the property islands in the Marketplace and elsewhere in the town, were mere spectators on the scenes of bribery.

The comment in the press of cobblers being treated like kings suggests that burgess holders were “the common man”, but in reality, whilst two burgesses were cordwainers (up-market cobblers) and other burgesses were wig makers etc., they were not poor; they were the skilled artisans and semi- or professional men; men like Shelley, Hurst, Medwin etc. Originally, burgage holders would have been the wealthy men of medieval society. Now, by the late 18^th century, the ownership of the burgage had migrated down the social scale, from mercer to artisans. Why? The reason is simple: the splitting of the burgage plot in the 18^th century to increase the number of votes meant that the property was subdivided and was now more affordable.

What effect the sight of such rampant, out in the open, bribery or rather extravagant favours, had on the people of Horsham can only be surmised.  Was it a “good on them” for getting what they could from the competing families, or was it “how could they have the nerve to sit on judgement on us”? (Some of the burgesses were local magistrates). We do not know but we cannot use our value systems on 18^th century society.

In 1788 Norfolk, Hurst and Medwin met at Norfolk’s Surrey home, Deepdeene, near Dorking. Robert Hurst was a barrister by training and, like Medwin, steward of manorial rents, but this time for Norfolk in Norfolk and Suffolk,[731] was also, like Medwin, aware of manorial law and procedure.  He came up with a master plan to wrest political control of Horsham from the Irwins. The campaign was plotted out in a document known as the Deepdeene memorandum[732],  a document that was secret and, if made public at the time, would have been illegal. Fortunately, Medwin kept all his papers and the document survives to this day in Horsham Museum archives, one of the documents in the Medwin papers. Set out below is the campaign strategy which makes for fascinating reading. But because it is not part of the “Horsham” story, in that its effect on the town was in the end minimal, it is treated as a self- contained story at the end of this chapter.

Whilst the political scheming has caught all the attention, a couple of aspects of it which could have affected Horsham have been ignored. In the previous elections the Burgesses went to the Irwin family with begging bowls, not just for themselves but for the town. As previously indicated, one such request was for a new organ in the Church and another fire engine. In this election, no such electoral gain is identified. Neither Norfolk nor Irwin gave the town any gift. They may have spent lavishly on feasts for the burgesses but for the town, nothing; and interestingly, the town, or the bailiffs on behalf of the town, didn’t ask. Or if they did, nothing went through Medwin’s hands and the Irwin papers don’t record it.

The year after the Deepdene memorandum was drawn up the French revolution started. The revolution had a profound effect on Horsham, and the rest of the country,  because it led to 20 years of constant war, a war that had to be paid for; a war that affected trade, a war that dealt with ideas and notions of political sovereignty.

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ELABORATIONS

HORSHAM – LONDON

The Coffee House connection[733]

The mention of a coffee house in Horsham by 1703 opens up a new vista on Horsham’s cultural history. Although it is only one, others may have existed but the records simply did not survive. However, the fact there was one is very revealing.  Coffee houses were a relatively new concept in drinking; a space that was not an ale house, did not make you drunk and that was a male preserve.[734] Introduced into London in 1652 at the height of the puritanical Commonwealth which attacked licentious behaviour, the hot bitter black drink from Turkey proved a hit, spreading quickly through urban merchant areas. As a contemporary anonymous satirist wrote

Coffee and Commonwealth begin

With one letter, both came in

Together for a Reformation,

To make’s a free and sober Nation.[735]

As with anything new, it is through the copying of others that people learn. In this case the coffee shop in Horsham would have mimicked the coffee shops in London and other towns and cities where merchants and men circulated. The drinking of coffee, the coffee house and the creation of a male space were creating a brand and a culture[736] that was unique. The experience was such that it led to satires being written about the culture, satires which help explore how the space functioned and how people responded to it, both men and women. (As a caveat, it is impossible with the documentary material we have available to know for certain if Horsham viewed the coffee shop in the same cultural way as London, but London was not alien to Horsham, Horsham was not parochial, as will be shown below; Horsham was seen as a modern town and, as such, I would argue that the following does throw light on Horsham).

Before we explore the culture of the coffee shop, the matter of sex needs to be explored. Originally, in the 16^th century and earlier, the coffee houses of Istanbul employed young attractive boys to serve clients coffee and sexual favours. It was reported on by travellers and explorers.  It could therefore be questioned whether the male preserve of the coffee house led to a similar culture developing in London, and by extension, Horsham. The answer has to be ‘no’. All references in the late 17^th and 18^th century satires and descriptions of coffee houses are of men being enticed in by a flirtatious woman, or linking the coffee house to female prostitutes, though young “coffee-boys” were present. However, the coffee boy was seen as an apprentice performing the function, more akin to a “butler”, doing errands, collecting newspapers, serving coffee etc. The very male preserve of the coffee house led to some serious concerns about the effects of coffee on men’s sexual performance, though such concerns were expressed in satire and the occasional medical survey. The most well-known satire being “The Women’s Petition Against Coffee. Representing to public Consideration the Grand Inconveniences accruing to their Sex from the Excessive Use of that Drying Enfeebling Liquor. Presented to the Right Honourable Keepers of the Liberty of Venus” (1674). The satire was full of double entendres attacking coffee for making Englishmen feeble, and that social man, the man who entered the coffee house with his endless chat and talk was impotent. “The satirist accuses coffee-house habitués of being ‘effeminate’ because they spend their time talking, reading and pursuing their business, rather than carousing, drinking and whoring”[737]  that men will soon out-talk women”. This attack was riposted with “The Mens Answer to the Womens Petition Against Coffee…”, published in the same year, 1674, which argued that the modern man, the coffee shop man, bent over backward to please women: “never was an Age or Nation more Indulgent to your Sex; have we not condescended to all the Methods of Debauchery?”[738]; going on the argue that coffee in fact makes men vigorous. A contemporary coffee seller advertised that “Coffee’s no Foe to their obliging Trade[739], By it Men rather are more Active made…” [740] The importance being that the Coffee house was a male heterosexual space.

 The following year the Coffee house was described as:

“The Sanctuary of Health

The Nursery of Temperance

The Delight of Frugality

An Academy of Civility,

    AND

Free-School of Ingenuity[741]

It was in so many ways a new space and a transforming space, enabling new ideas to circulate and develop. Where else could men go to discuss, debate and read, if not the tavern or the gentleman’s home? It also allowed into the discussion those who could afford a cup of coffee, 1d, thus allowing a democratisation of discussion and debate. With this new transforming space we see the introduction of the insurance market, the Bank of England, the stock market, new forms of finance enabling the wealth of Britain to circulate, as well as the democratisation of science and the development of a literary culture. As Greenwood, a coffee seller and shop owner, parodies in The RULES and Orders of the Coffee House, there was developing a distinct coffee house culture, one that could be satirised and understood by the public at large:

Enter Sirs freely, But first if you please

Peruse our Civil-Orders, which are these.

First, Gentry, Tradesmen, all are welcome hither,

And may without Affront sit down Together:

Pre-eminence of Place, none here should Mind,

But take the next fit Seat that he can find:

Nor need any, if Finer Persons come,

Rise up for to assigne to him his Room

To limit Mens Expence, we think not fair,

But let him forfeit Twelve-pence that shall Swear:

He that shall any Quarrel here begin,

Shall give each Man a Dish t’ atone the Sin;

And so shall He, whose Complements extend

So far to drink in COFFEE to his friend;

Let Noise of loud Disputes be quiet forborn,

No Maudlin Lovers here in Corners Mourn,

But all be Brisk, and Talk, but not too much

On Sacred things, Let none Presume to touch,

Nor Profane Scripture, or sawcily wrong,

Affairs of State with an Irreverent Tongue:

Let Mirth be Innocent, and each Man see,

That all his Jests without Reflection be,

To keep the House more Quiet, and from Blame,

We Banish hence Cards, Dice, and every Game:

Nor can allow of Wagers, that Exceed

Five shillings, which oft-times much Troubled Breede;

Let all that’s lost, or forfeited, be spent

In such Good Liquour as the House does Vent,

And Customers endeavour to their Powers,

For to observe still seasonable Howers.

Lastly let each Man what he calls for Pay,

And so you’re welcome to come every day.[742]

To what extent people in Horsham followed this behaviour and culture cannot be known for certain. But Horsham was not isolated from London; the Coffee shop owner did have a share in a merchant ship, the classic stockholder. Such a stereotypical picture suggests that he was imbibed by that culture.   

CORN MILLS OF HORSHAM[743]

(For a full account of the Corn Mills of Horsham see Coomber: the following gives a very brief resumé).

Early History

We know that the rector of the church in Horsham owned a watermill before 1231 as it was given along with part of a garden to the Rusper Priory as part of the endowment of Horsham Parish Church. The exact location is not known, though it may have been in the field now adjoining the Remembrance Garden as the stream flowing through there is the original course for the river.  In 1326 a mill is mentioned at Chesworth, though it may have been for fuelling rather than corn as a fuelling mill is recorded there from 1427 to 1608. In the manor of Tarring cum Marlpost on the western side of Horsham, mention is made in 1427 of Broad Field land being “at the windmill”. 

In the Churchwarden’s accounts for 1635 it is recorded that “Will ye Millar” paid a penny. Whilst in 1621 a legal dispute occurred over the “new mill” at Birchenbridge involving the owner Richard Constable and Sir John Carryl of Chesworth. The papers relating to the dispute record the names of two other Horsham millers, that Constable had erected the new mill two years previously, and that he had previously operated the windmill that stood nearby. Interestingly, Horsham had its own millwright by the late 16^th early 17^th Century.

Horsham borough and manor had windmills built on the common on the higher ground to the north of the town. This land was leased from the Lords of the Manors of Horsham and Roffey. Whilst its watermills were in the neighbouring manors, the Town Mill was in the manor of Hewells and Asley’s mill lay in Chesworth. What impact this had on the custom and practice of where farmers went to get their corn milled is for another study, but what can be certain is that it did have an impact, as manorial custom was not something the Lords of the Manors gave up lightly.

The technological advances introduced by the Wealden iron industry with its creation of dams and waterways probably had an effect on the watermills. Horsham Town mill, for example, was built on a diverted river that formed a pond and new stream. Elsewhere, hammer ponds were made into mill ponds when the iron industry closed; for example at Warnham in the late 17^th century.

18^th Century Mills in Horsham

From the documentary evidence it would appear that the main mills in Horsham were water mills, with Ashley and the Town Mill in operation at the beginning of the century. Then, around the 1720s, two mills were erected on the Common now known as Wimblehurst, which it is suggested is a corruption for windmill post. These mills might have been speculatively built as one of them failed, but the record does not say when. What is certain is that around the middle of the 18^th century three more windmills were erected on the common. Did this reflect improving agricultural yields from the farms, did it reflect the growing demand for corn from London, or did it reflect a willingness to expand the economic horizons of individuals; people buying mills as an investment? All three are possible. What follow are brief accounts of the individual mills in the 18^th century; the 19^th century history is recounted later.

Watermills

The most important mill to the town was The Town Mill, important because of location and because of its prominent role. The mill probably replaced the one owned by Rusper Priory, though its history until 1734 is virtually non-existent. In that year the mill was drawn on the estate map of Edward Treadcroft (see elsewhere); in 1742 it was leased for 31 years plus a further term of 1,000 years for £27 per year. The lease describes the mill in some detail but what is particularly interesting, though not relating to the milling of corn, is that the lease gave “Full Power, liberty and authority to erect set up or build any Engine or Engines for conveyance of Water out of the River to the Inhabitants of the Town and Borough of Horsham with rights to lay pipes through the Church Field… Also free enjoyment of the three Horseways leading to the said Mills. Two of the said ways leading out of the Kings Highway that leads from Picts Hill to Horsham to the said Mills on the East and the other way leading from Cobbetts Bridge to the Mills on the West”. Thus, the mill not only milled corn but provided water to the town, which is explored later on in this history. The mill had a chequered history of ownership but continued in operation throughout the 18^th century.

The other Horsham watermill is Ashley’s or Amies’ Mill, mentioned above. It certainly existed by 1404, and its history during the 17^th century is in the records as it became part of the Royal estates and was accounted for by the Parliamentary report on Chesworth. By 1705 the Sedgewick estate was purchased by Sir John Bennett from the Crown, and with it came Ashley’s mill. In 1707 he leased it to William Greenfield. The mill appears on various maps from 1724 onwards, but it does not appear in any of the records.

Windmills

The only Horsham windmill shown on Richard Budgen’s 1723 map of Sussex is the post mill at Wimblehurst, then part of Horsham Common. In 1725 the Duke of Norfolk leased two plots of land on Horsham Common: one to Thomas Dale of Horsham, miller; the other to another Horsham miller, Thomas Tidy, both for 99 years. By 1775 one of the windmills had disappeared, as land referred to “the piece of ground whereon a windmill formerly stood situate and being on the north-west part of Horsham Common” was leased. This land eventually acquired the name Windmill Post Meadow, possibly to distinguish it from the other plot of land known as Wind Mill Plot, which would have a windmill on it for at least another 100 years. The name Wimblehurst is thought to be a spoken contraction of Windmill Post (wimll post). In 1854 a plot of land identified as Windmill Post Meadow was sold as part of the Warnham Court Estate, whilst in 1856 the sale of North Heath Farm included a “Windmill Post Field”, on the opposite side of the road, suggesting that it was originally one large plot that was split in to two when North Heath Lane was formalised.

300 yards south west of Windmill Post Field stood what became known as Wimblehurst Mill. In 1755 the land was leased to William Blake for 21 years. Blake was a signatory on The Market Deed which suggests that he saw his future very much tied to the success or otherwise of Horsham market  The lack of success of the market, or poor harvests, perhaps competition (see below) or just poor financial management meant that in 1769 William Blake was put in gaol for debt.  At some time he had extended his land at the windmill site by enclosing a piece of the common without permission by 40 Rods.  His successor Thomas Griffith was fined 10 shillings and a further 10s a month if he did not remove the “Ditch, Bank and Hedge”. (Interestingly, later in the same year 1789 a formal lease was drawn up whereby the Duke of Norfolk received half the 2s 6d rent a year and the Bailiffs of the Borough of Horsham got the other half, for the plot of land described as “late Blakes, now called the Wind Mill Plot”).    

Another post windmill on the common was Champions Mill named after John Champion who was leased a “parcel of land containing by estimation half an acre (more or less) on which a windmill hath lately been erected and set up by the said John Champion situate lying and being on Horsham Heath or Common” by the Duke of Norfolk in 1765. The rent was 10 shillings a year.

(Was it this new windmill that caused Blake financial ruin some four years later?)

In many respects Champion seems to have been more in tune with developing business practices of the 18^th century. For his trade initially was not milling, but bakery, for in 1754 he bought from John Napper a bakery in the Carfax. Then some ten years later he set up a windmill, possibly to guarantee his supply of corn. The agricultural revolution was taking place which might suggest that there was increased production of corn in the area, therefore sufficient demand for a new windmill on the common.  Perhaps the erection of this windmill saw the first windmill at Wimblehurst cease (see above), perhaps Blake provided Champion the baker with corn, but there was a falling out resulting in Champion building a new mill to guarantee his corn supply, for the profit was not to be found in milling, but in bread, the “added value”. Interestingly, when the lease was to be renewed in March 1789 the rent was still fixed at 10 shillings a year, which also suggests money was not to be made in milling, though as the account for Comptons Lane Smock mill will show, mills were not cheap items of machinery.

In 1756 the Lady of the Manor of Roughey leased to John Reed of Nuthurst “half an acre of ground on Horsham Common immediately surrounding the mill lately erected by him”; the lease was to run for 93 years from Michaelmas 1755 at a rent of 5 shillings per year. On 24 February 1762, John Reed sold the mill to Judith Humphrey, widow, and her son by a previous marriage, Guilford Vinall, as tenants in common for £250. In 1773 Judith sold her half share to Guilford for £125. Some five years later, in 1778, Guilford sold it to the carpenter John  Evans of Horsham for £135; the mill at that time was being used by Guilford’s younger brother James Vinall. The question to ask is: why so cheap: in effect, selling the mill for half the price; was it that the market had fallen out of corn milling? Certainly it would tie in with the Duke of Norfolk charging the same rent to Champion a year later, as he did 21 years earlier. Equally, the mill itself was worth more than £135, for two weeks after buying the mill he then mortgaged it for £150 to William White Gent (steward of Lord Irwin’s Hills Place). Evans failed to keep payments, so in August 1779 it was seized by the Sheriff of Sussex who valued it at £101.12s5d and transferred ownership to White. This must have been a knock- down “bankrupt price”, as three years later it was valued at £195 when it was sold by White in 1782, the vendor selling it a year later for the same price to Elizabeth Nash, widow, of West Chiltington, who then leased it out, obviously viewing it as rental income.  Eleven years later it was offered for sale at the Queens Head hotel, but did not fetch the reserve price for it was mentioned in Mrs Nash’s will in 1798 and, following her death, passed to her son in 1807.

There are other mills around Horsham see Comber for more details.

A HORSHAM BORN ENTREPENEUR IN THE PRINT WORLD – LINTOT

In 1715, whilst Horsham was undergoing one of its contested electoral bouts, a business contest of sorts was being conducted in London that would have significant influence on the fortunes of one Horsham family and, in turn, on land ownership in the later quarter of the 18^th century. This part of the Horsham story starts in 1688 when, in London, a Catholic poet, Alexander Pope,[744] who would be seen as one of the greatest writers of the 18^th century, of equal standing, in his way, to Johnson, was born. At the end of the 17^th century and early 18^th century Jacob Tonson, known as Prince of Publishers, would publish all the great literary works including Dryden and, later, the early work of Pope. Tonson’s name on the title page of a book as publisher would give confidence to book buyers that the work they were buying was one of quality, that the words printed were the words written by the author, and not literary forgeries[745] intended to dupe the unsuspecting purchaser in a time when copyright as we know it did not really exist.[746] At the height of Tonsons career a young lad, just as Richard Collyer had done some 300 years earlier, one Barnaby Bernard Lintott, son of John Lintott of Horsham, was sent to London to be apprenticed with Thomas Lingard; the indenture was dated 4 December 1690. Instead of learning the trade of merchant, he learned the trade of stationer at Lingard and at John Harding before being made free nine years later, on 18March 1699. In that brief period of training the world of publishing was turned upside down.

In 1695 the Licensing Act ended which meant that the pre-censorship of books reintroduced by the Stuarts ended.[747] There then followed 15 years of print freedom where anything could get published.[748] So Lintott entered a world of a free press and took advantage of it, publishing his first book in 1702. Note, though, he did not print it, but published it; the work was printed by someone else, un-named on the title page and sold by a bookseller John Chantry. The explosion of print caused the Stationers Company, that 16^th century guild set up with support from the state, at arm’s length, to control print, to encourage publishers to join them, to become part of a self regulatory business.  So in 1708 Lintot, for he dropped the second ‘t’, took their Livery.

In 1710 a new copyright act was introduced, as a means to curb the explosion in print, though under the guise of “for the Encouragement of learned Men to compose and write useful Books”. In 1583 the Privy Council decided that the first printer of a work had exclusive rights over it, using the Stationers Company to enforce it, thus creating a monopoly. Plays written by Shakespeare, for example, were published by a number of printers, then in 1623 they were gathered together in one volume and so were now restricted, moving from the cheap playhouse copy to the expensive library book. What happened to Shakespeare happened to most other authors; that is why the popular books of the 17^th century were often 16^th century stories, not 17^th century tales. Now, with the new Copyright Act, it was the author of the work not yet published who had sole right for 14 years from first date of publication, and 21 years that had already been printed. The London print trade, which had wanted to see the introduction of perpetual copyright, now saw a time limited one. It was a blow. Against this background Lintot carried on publishing works gaining a reputation for the quality of his publications, but still nowhere near as high as that of the Tonson publishing house.

However, the Copyright Act of 1710 did not work as was intended; for the law courts, the court of Chancery, ignored what it said and continued to grant injunctions to the original printers against competitors who had allegedly infringed their now non-existent copyrights. This state of affairs went on till 1774. What does this have to do with Lintot? It enabled Lintot and his heirs to restrict access to authors work, force the price of books up and thus generate greater profits. Not only that, the publishers worked as a cartel restricting access to those who wanted to enter this lucrative trade. Those who had the audacity to publish works that were part of this monopoly were vilified, such as the “Unspeakable Mr Curll” who was attacked by both Swift and Pope. Books published in Scotland and Ireland were outside the English courts’ jurisdiction, so they could enter the markets.

The Stationers Company controlled the printed word; they did not control the word spread through manuscript, or what is now referred to as “scribal publications”. For a publisher to publish, it had to have authors.  An author working in the country would seek to get their name known, so would send out copies of poems to various people to read and comment on. If the poem was returned, the author could make amendments and so the literary work would evolve. However, it was not unknown for a recipient to sell the poem to a publisher. 

In October 1711 Lintot advertised in the General Post seeking “excellent Copies by Pope, Butler, and Mr Smith for inclusion in a planned miscellany.”[749] This could cause problems with publishers printing unfinished works, as happened with ‘The Rape of Lock’, the poem suggested by Caryll of West Grinstead. As Pope wrote in his dedication: “ An imperfect copy having been offer’d to a Bookseller, you had the Good-nature for my Sake to consent to the Publication of one more correct: This I was forc’d to before I had executed half of my Design, for the Machinery was entirely wanting to compleat it”[750].  This culture of manuscripts circulating amongst friends and colleagues continued throughout the 18^th century, including in Horsham where a young lady diarist, Sarah Hurst, would mention in her diary sending poems out and receiving comments back, though only a couple of her poems would be published[751]. As Ezzell writes: “Many of these short pieces that ended up in print anonymously in miscellanies or newspapers such as the St James Chronicle or the Weekly Packet were originally written in letters or formed parts of verse exchange.”[752] It was through such networks that authors would get published.

So, by 1713, Lintot had with his other publishing colleagues entered a world of monopolies. The London literary scene had been dazzled by the work of the young Catholic poet Pope, published by Tonson. Lintot decided to poach him from that publishing house, or Pope, who was probably Lintot’s intellectual superior, ensnared him. The following anecdote told by Pope in a letter shows he was a skilled businessman. It deals with a customer who was critical of Popes work:I can silence the most formidable of them (customers/critics); the rich ones for a sheet a-piece of the blotted manuscript, which costs me nothing; they’ll go about to their acquaintance and pretend they had it from the author, who submitted to their correction: this has given some of them such an air, that in time they come to be consulted with, and dictated to as the top critic of town. As for the poor critics, I’ll give you one instance of my management, by which you may guess at the rest. A lean man, that looks like a very good scholar, came to me t’other day; he turned over your (Pope) Homer, shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and pished at every line of it. One would wonder, says he, at the strange presumption of some men; Homer is no such easy task, that every stripling, every versifier–He was going on, when my wife called to dinner. ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘will you please to eat a piece of beef with me?’ ‘Mr. Lintot,’ said he, ‘I am sorry you should be at the expense of this great book; I am really concerned on your account.’ ‘Sir, I am much obliged to you; if you can dine upon a piece of beef, together with a slice of pudding.’ ‘Mr. Lintot, I do not say but Mr. Pope, if he would condescend to advise with men of learning–‘ ‘Sir, the pudding is on the table, if you please to go in.’ My critic compiles, he comes to a taste of your poetry, and tells me in the same breath that the book is commendable and the pudding excellent[753].  

The great plan was to translate the Iliad; some 16,000 lines of Greek. Lintot had already published one translation: Mr Ozell’s, which cost him £10 8s 6d for the copyright, paid in two instalments in 1711 and 12[754], so either the book sold well and a new translation was required; though Lintot could, as owner, continue publishing the work, or the translation was not deemed good enough, or – and probably more likely – it was Pope who suggested that he would translate the Iliad and present it in a new way that would look different from other books on the market. Unfortunately, we don’t know; we do know the publishing contract, and we do know from letters that Pope and his friends wrote that getting subscribers for Pope’s new translation was very time-consuming and difficult. We do know that it was Pope who in effect designed his book, and with his designs he changed the face of 18^th century books. We do know how much the book cost to produce and the profits made by both Pope and Lintot, but what we do not know is who came up with the plan[755].

In the annals of British book publishing, the contract drawn up between Pope and Lintot is one of the great documents; a classic. But why did Pope choose Lintot? Perhaps it was through the agency of Pope’s Catholic friend Caryll, of West Grinstead Park where Pope would retire to write and compose, including the celebrated work ‘The Rape of Lock’ a poem published in 1714 selling 3,000 copies in four days, a phenomenal number. John Caryll is a much-neglected figure in the early 18^th century, seen as a friend of Pope, but no more than that. However, a manuscript volume of 16^th, 17^th and early 18^th century verse that was discovered in the family papers suggests that Caryll, who had been in correspondence with literary acquaintances that included at various times Dryden, Wycherley and the actor Thomas Betterton, “or some member of his family was also participating with Pope in manuscript exchanges in the early years of 1700 in the same fashion as we saw other Catholic provincial families such as the Astons and the Carylls earlier in the 1650s”.[756]

Lintot had been publishing some of Pope’s work since 1712 and it should be remembered that publishers were in charge; not authors, but the success of Pope altered that power structure and Pope was now flexing his muscles. Perhaps Pope could sense how keen Lintot was to become the premier publisher or, if not, to sit on the top table, and so entered into an agreement. An indication of this can be seen in a comment made in the “Books printed for Bernard Lintott” at the end of  Pope’s “The Temple of Fame A Vision” second edition,  where it is mentioned that Geoffrey Chaucer’s works were “Begun by John Urry late Student of Christ-Church, and completed by the Care of the Students of Christ-Church. Proposals are now Printed, and Subscriptions taken in for the Benefit of the Executor, and for the carrying on the Building of Peckwater Quadrangle; by the Undertaker Bernard Lintott” (un-numbered HM No.) The Peckwater Quadrangle is part of Christ Church college in Oxford; it was begun in 1706 and completed in 1714, which suggests that Lintott was either hoping to attract the Christ-Church/Oxford fraternity, and or attracting some of the kudos from the building onto his own name, illustrious by association. As an aside, it is interesting to note that Lintott here was still using double TT for his name, even though in other publications he had dropped it by now.

You might be wondering why all this matters to a History of Horsham; after all, the events happening in the world of publishing and literature in London have little to do with a Wealden Market Town. But Lintot is the first Horsham person to make a big impact in any cultural sphere; his successes in publishing took his family out of the ranks of nonentity to a status of being made High Sheriff of Sussex, a rank also given to his son, an important civic and legal position within society.  He and his heirs would, through the world of publishing, amass a fortune enabling them to buy land in Horsham and surrounding area. Lintot would have a poem written by Swift about him (see below).

They also represent 18^th century economic expansion where families could, if they took the risk and opportunity, make fortunes. So whilst nationally students might learn of Wedgwood as an innovator and successful pottery manufacturer,  Lintot was Horsham’s own version – a true entrepreneur and innovator, taking a gamble, and he should be remembered; instead he tends to be forgotten[757], except by collectors of 18^th century books.

The contract with Pope was drawn up on “this three and twentieth day of March in the Thirteenth yeare of the Reign of our Soveraigne Lady Anne of Great Britain France and Ireland…One Thousand Seven Hundred and thirteen.”[758] The printer of the work was to be Bowyer (for Lintot was a publisher not printer), a noted printer of quality works. The contract goes on to state that 750 copies were to be printed on paper of the quality attached to the contract, and printed “with a new Letter of such kind and Size as the said Alexander Pope shall chuse or direct and that the said Seven hundred and Fifty Printed Copies of each Volume shall have head pieces and tail pieces and initiall letters at the beginning and ens of each Book and the Notes engraven on Copper in such manner and by such Graver as the said Alexander Pope shall direct and appoint…” [759]. The contract goes on to spell out the obligations on Pope and on Lintot, tying up all loose ends. As Mack in his monumental life of Pope writes:

“It was to be a subscription book, issued one volume per year over six years at a guinea a volume.” (Obviously Pope saw Lintot as having a long-term future in publishing.)” The initial down-payment was set at two guineas to defray the translator’s out of pocket expenses in collecting “the several Editions, Critics and Commentators, which are very numerous upon this Author”; after which one guinea was due on delivery of each successive volume except the last, which would be free…Subscription editions had appeared before – Dryden’s translation of Virgil, for instance in 1697 – but never like this. Instead of a single large volume folio, there were to be six of a more manageable size. Instead of one payment, wholly in advance with no recourse, five payments spread over five years, offering the opportunity (from the purchaser’s point of view) of cancelling later editions if the first displeased and (from the translator’s) of fixing a larger total charge. These were not the only innovations there was also quality of paper and design of type … By a further revolutionary step taken in the work itself, Pope transformed the engraved printer’s headpiece, traditional ornaments of quality books, into illustrations of the Homeric text, thus gathering letterpress and ornament toward a tighter unity of effect.”[760] He also, probably in following Tonson’s celebrated editions of the Latin classics, decided on typographical simplicity, with capital letters at the start of each sentence, and for a name, and no italic letters; something we take for granted but was quite revolutionary as any perusal of English 17^th century books will show. “Pope changed the face of printed English”[761].

What did this work cost Lintot? There is a certain amount of confusion, for whilst the contract is very specific, the actual running of it seems to have caused problems. The contract gave Pope 200 guineas per volume, and in addition he would receive free (though in reality part of the fee) the 750 subscription copies printed in the manner set out in the contract. Lintot, in return, would own the copyright and could publish in whatever format he liked, except for Quarto, the subscription copy size, but not on royal paper with engravings, and not sooner than a month after the quarto had appeared. What happens on paper and what happens in reality are two different things. For a start, Pope could not find 750 subscribers even though he spent a couple of years trying, so only 660 subscribers copies were printed with, it would appear, some being printed on even finer paper to make up the difference.[762]

Lintot, who had hoped to sell folio copies of the Iliad and make his money in that way, discovered that the subscribers to Pope’s edition were the same people who would buy his folio copies. By entering the contract, Lintot did not have to find a capital outlay of over £3,000 (£1,800 for printing and 1,200 guineas for the translation) up-front, but could budget it, and with the subscription coming in yearly then that would pay for the next volume to be printed.[763] It should be noted that the agreement was amended in 1716 in light of the publication of volume one, for now it was Lintot who would get the subscription money for his own use, and in return pay Pope 400 guineas per volume in addition to the 200 guineas per volume for the translation.  This would relieve Pope of the problem of collecting subscription money and delivering the books which had caused friction between the two of them over some of the wording in the contract.

Pope also insisted in the new contract that 120 copies would be printed on better paper for a separate list of subscribers. Whether this was a list of new subscribers, or part of the original subscription list, we cannot be sure, nor if the subscription money from these 120 copies went to Pope or to Lintot. If it did, then Lintot would only receive 455 guineas in return for paying Pope 400. However, from printing the folio, Lintot, who initially printed 1,750 copies of volume one, failed to sell that number so scaled back to 1,000 copies for volumes 11-V1[764]. It has been estimated that in the end Lintot made between £600 and £700 profit and Pope made up to £4,000 from publishing.[765] (If Lintot had sold the 1,750 copies he would have made £2,166 profit or £361 per volume, compared to £666 or £111 per volume by only selling 1,000 copies)[766].  “As Lady Mary Wortley Montagu wrote, Pope “outwitted Lintot in his very trade.”[767]

Lintot, however, soon published a very cheap copy of the Iliad, a smaller size called duodecimo, the equivalent of our paperback editions, and it was through that that he made his fortune. “The duodecimo sets sold well, the first edition of 2,500 copies was followed within six months by a second edition of 5,000” (advertised in the Daily Courant of 8 December 1720). This was over-optimistic, since a third edition was not needed for another twelve years; it was then reprinted at about six-year intervals until the Lintot copyright was sold in 1759”)[768]. Foxon has estimated that the total profit from the first and second edition was £2,250, so maybe Lintot was not outwitted by Pope. As an aside to the publication, it could appear that the wet spring of 1715 caused a delay in printing the book, for in a letter by Mr Gay to Congreve dated 7 April 1715 he writes: “Mr Pope’s Homer is retarded by the great rains that have fallen of late, which causes the sheets to be long a-drying. This gives Mr. Lintot great uneasiness: who is now endeavouring to engage the curate of the Parish to pray for fair Weather, that his work may go on.”[769] 

Back in London around this time, 1724 the next great publishing exercise that Lintot would hope to make his financial success was eventually underway. Lintot may have delayed publication of the translation of the Odyssey due to the scandal of the South Sea Bubble and the resultant anti-Catholic drive by Walpole and others.  Pope, being a prominent Catholic writer, had faced a number of complications over some of his written work, some of which could only be published after severe editing (Mack 392-406). Therefore, the Odyssey, the second part of the publication of Homers work and a natural continuation of the success of the Iliad in both style, format and production methods, was put on hold, obviously affecting Lintot’s “business plan”.

However, in January 1725 the proposals for the publication of the Odyssey were issued, calling for subscribers, only 3.5 months before the first three volumes were issued. Lintot was obviously keen to get things underway, having in effect delayed publication for nearly five years. The Translation this time was not all Pope’s work but also the work of two friends. This did not go down well in the press as the London Journal commented a few months after the first three volumes were issued “yet to have one or more Authors obtruded upon us, without our Knowledge or Consent, under the Name and Character of another to whom we have subscribed, is Quackery and C—-licism in the greatest perfection.”[770]

Such attacks did not stop its success, and Lintot, who was now more “savvy” in his business dealings, drove a harder bargain with Pope. Lintot announced his own subscription to Pope’s translation a few days after Pope announced his, but Lintot’s would be one guinea cheaper on the large folio than Pope’s quarto and £2-11 cheaper on the small folios and, according to Lintot’s advert, he printed 250 large folios and 1,000 small.[771]  Although he had agreed not to print a Quarto size for 10 years, nor use the same paper as the Quarto or the same engravings Pope used, he was free to use others; it was unlikely to bother the general public. This earned Lintot Pope’s enmity and a breakdown of their business relationship which would lead Pope to attack Lintot in satirical verse; it was business, as it would seem that Lintot would not be duped. Pope, though did not lose out he; got his fee for the translation, some £600 for the 12 books he translated, and received the money from his subscription copies; 1000 in all, with 34 subscribers taking 240 sets in total. The publication was completed in 1726. Whilst it was successful, Lintot had overestimated the sales of his copies and they were offered at half price in 1739 by Osborn.[772] When the copyright was sold in 1759 to Homer, the Lintots received a £1,000 for it, a substantial sum.[773]

In the same year that the Odyssey came out (1725) Lintot decided, possibly to cash in on the “buzz” that Pope’s translation of one of the great classics would create, to republish a New Miscellany, a collection of poems and translations. Lintot had issued a volume as early as 1712, and it has been argued that Pope was the editor of all five of Lintot’s miscellany.[774]  In the first 1712 volume, Gay writes some lines to Lintot in the 1726/7 miscellany it is Swift who writes the lines comparing Lintot to the famous publishers of the past.

Swift on Lintot

Verses designed to be prefixed before BERNARD LINTOT’S New Miscellany 1725:

“Some Colinaeus praise, some Bleau;

Others account them but so;

Some Plantin to the rest prefer,

And some esteem old Elzevir;

Others with Aldus would besot us;

I, for my part, admire Lintottus.=

His character’s beyond compare,

Like his own person, large and fair.

They print their names in letters small,

But LINTOT stands in capital:

Author and he with equal grace

Appear, and stare you in the face.

Stephens prints Heathen Greek,’tis said,

Which some can’t construe, some can’t read.

But all that comes from Lintot’s hand

Ev’n Rawlinson might understand.

Oft in an Aldus or a Plantin

A page is blotted, or leaf wanting:

Of Lintot’s books this can’t be said,

All fair, and not so much as read.

Their copy cost them not a penny

To Homer, Virgil, or to any;

They ne’er gave sixpence for two lines

To them, their heirs, or their assigns:

But Lintot is at vast expense,

And pays prodigious dear for – sense.

Their books are useful but to few,

A scholar, or a wit or two:

Lintot’s for general use are fit;

For some folks read, but all folks – ”[775]

Although announced in 1725, it was not published till 1727, and the reason for the delay in publication was that Pope continued to make alterations in the text[776], so whilst later Pope would make remarks to friends and in print that Lintot was using his name to promote something he had very little to do with, apart from his verses in the work, it was, as the ledger shows, stretching the truth.

The rise in status of Lintot led him to see if he could trace his family origin and so have a set of arms. He consulted in early 1726 Humphrey Wanley the librarian in charge of the Earl of Oxford’s manuscripts (who incidentally also owned the pamphlet about St Leonard’s dragon – see above), which included heraldic documents. In his Diary, Wanley recounts the following: “Young, Mr. Lintot the Bookseller came enquiring after Arms, as belonging to his father, mother, and other relations, who now, it seems, want to turn gentlefolks. I could find none of their names.”[777]

As well as showing that the family were seeking to join the status of gentlemen, it also shows that Bernard’s son, Henry, had also joined the business, for Bernard could not be classed as “young”, as he was recorded dying in 1735/6 at the age of 61, making him around 52 years old, unless the ‘young’ was patronising. Henry would have been young, though, being born in 1709, making him 16 years old (he was born in August).  However, the lack of family arms did not stop Bernard being made High Sheriff of Sussex in November 1735. This suggests that, whilst “trade” was looked down on by later generations, one trade, bookselling, had a certain status, especially bookselling of the rank of Lintot, was seen as of being above that of humble nature, or that the creation of wealth outside land that was occurring at this time led to a fluidity in social status that did not settle down till later when the wealthy merchants bought into the landed class by buying estates. Interestingly, Nichols suggests that Bernard had been buying land in Horsham, for he reports that he “made some additions to his paternal inheritance in Sussex”[778].

After the rebuff from the search of family papers, there was another slight to the family name: Pope wrote anonymously, and had published the satire “Dunciad” in 1728 which took literary London by storm. It was savage in its criticism of publishers and what Pope saw as the rise of dunces, or what today we would refer to as the cult of celebrity and dumbing down. Whilst the actual words Pope uses to describe Lintot are not savage, they mock his size, that he was not a scholar and he filled his shop with rubric posts.[779] Rubric posts had, stuck to them, adverts printed in red with the titles to the latest books to be published. 

The context of the description makes it even more damning as Mack describes “First the publishers strive in a footrace to seize a fleeing poet’s likeness – this is Pope’s comment on the inclination of the trade to whip up a market for hackwork by assigning it on the title page to an author of note. The chief contestants are Lintot and Curll, the former vastly outstripped by the latter until, like Ajax in Homer and Nisus in Virgil, Curl slips on some ordure deposited by one of his own authors.” [780] This is a direct attack on Lintot, saying not that he was as bad as Curll who was notorious (the notoriety being enforced by Swift and Pope) for publishing obscene and smear publications, but that Lintot still published books with false authors on the title page to gain sales. This probably refers back to the Miscellany published a year before in which in a letter to the author Mr Pitt, Pope attacked Lintot for using his name, “But as to my being the publisher, or any way concerned in reviewing or recommending of “Lintot’s Miscellany” it is what I never did in my life, though he (like the rest of his tribe) makes a very free use of my name”[781], though as the ledger accounts show the delay in publication of the Miscellany was down to Popes constant revisions mentioned above.

Before we leave the Dunciad, which is known for its satire on publishers, it also reveals a number of points about the mechanics of the trade that show that Lintot was noted for his methods of publicity.

“Hence springs each weekly Muse, the living boast

Of Curl’s chaste press, and Lintot’s rubric post,

Hence Hymning Tyburn’s elegiac lay,

Hence the soft sing-song, on Cecilia’s day,

Sepulchral lyes our holy walls to grace,

And New-year Odes, and all the Grubstreet race.”

                             Dunciade Variorum (1729) Book 1, lines 37-42

“Pope’s description of eighteenth-century publishing…ridicules a number of contemporary marketing strategies, including …. The posting of title pages as advertisements.”[782] Pope explains, as mentioned above in his own gloss to the poem, that this refers to a bookseller who “adorned his shop with Titles in red letters”. Curll however, goes further in his Key to the Poem by stating “Mr. LINTOT, in Fleet –street, is so fond of red Letter Title-Pages to the Books he prints, that his Show-Boards and Posts before his Door are generally bedaubed with them”[783] This was a tradition going back to the 16^th century, though it did not have to be just red and black title pages, but any title page. In fact, it does suggest that the Title Pages were seen as advertisements, rather than text of the work, but also that “Both Pope’s lines and Curll’s gloss give evidence that Lintot’s fetish for crimson made his “bedaubed” “rubric post” stand out (as it was doubtless designed to) from the rest of such advertising space in Fleet Street, which continued to display a sea of modern titles in monochrome.” [784]

Either just before, or soon after, the Dunciad came out, Bernard retired to Horsham and left the business to his son to run, according to Nichols. (In 1730 John, his nephew, died leaving him the Lintot burgages in Horsham, which may have made the decision for him.[785]) His son Henry was admitted to the Company of Stationers by patrimony on 1 September 1730, obtaining the livery the same day, though the business was carried on in joint names and shown as such on title pages. Following Bernard’s death on 3 February 1735, Henry was made High Sheriff on the 5^th where his residence was given as Southwater. Pope continued to write poetry, and in one unpublished poem written on and off between 1730 and 1734 in which he sets out “my Motives of Writing, the Objections to them, & my answers”, he writes the following lines:

“your Int’rest, Sir, with Lintot.”

“Lintot, dull rogue! Will think your price too much”

“Not Sir, if you revise it, and retouch.”[786]

However, on the death of Bernard, Horsham lost its first significant cultural character whose influence was felt further than just Horsham. We have five bills in the Museum’s collections that show the Irwin family were buying books from Lintot, though whether they knew or cared for the association with Horsham the documents don’t reveal.

Political corruption was still rife in Horsham in the mid-18^th century, as can be revealed from a letter sent by the gardener, Mr John Meredew to Lord Irwin in 1764. The letter also contained a list of all those who had a right to vote as a burgess in the forthcoming election and who actually owned the vote. The document has been published on a number of occasions[787] and, whilst making fascinating reading, if nothing else than the orthography, it does not add much to Horsham’s story, except for the mention of the following:

“I come back to the old Jeal (Gaol: the South –west corner of North Street)…

38 Mrs Cheneall tenant voat and House Mr Flacher Late Mrs Lintots

39 Late Mr Wickers now Sir Thomas Broughtons (Park House)

These are all that are numbered in the North Street but what Mr Fletcher has Backwards in ye fields I am more to seek about there voat than any. I goe by what I have hard formarly. I am prity sure I am Right where the four lies which I have marked it was say’d that Mr Linttot had 5 voats. Ye paddock I hear Mr Flacher has had his Ground marked out in that Mr linttot Let to Mr Wicker a pon a Long lease by some of his old work men that Leved with Mr Linttot it all laid in ye Paddock”

This statement reveals something of the Lintot family history and, importantly for Horsham, how the Fletcher family, one of the town’s largest landowners, came to Horsham. In 1730 Bernard Lintot, the publisher mentioned above, inherited some land in Horsham from his nephew enabling him to retire to the town, not to Southwater but to Horsham as mentioned by John Nichols. [788] Some five years later, on 3 Feb 1735-6, he died aged 61 and was referred to in the paper as: “Bernard Lintot, esq. of the Middle Temple, late an eminent Bookseller in Fleet-Street”[789]. His son Henry continued the business, and two days after the death was appointed High Sheriff of Sussex, like his father, but his residence was Southwater, according to Nichols, though his London residence was Broom Houses in Fulham, known as Little Sussex.[790]

Henry was a successful publisher but not in the same league as his father. However, he married well: Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Aubrey, with whom they had a daughter Catherine. Henry’s wife died later of smallpox[791],  and he then married Philadelphia. Henry died in 1758, and Catherine took over running the publishing business. (It was not that unusual for women to be booksellers at this time). She was very successful.  In 1758 either she or Henry republished The Iliad, then the following year after Henry’s death she sold in shares of one eighths the copyrights of Homer, netting nearly £1,000.[792] At some time the Lintots had obtained the monopoly on printing law books; they had the “patent of Law-printer”. In 1760, a year later, Catherine sold a share in it to Samuel Richardson, author of Pamela and Clarissa, who was also a printer, and aged 71 at the time with a second wife.[793] Catherine was obviously realising the assets in ready cash.  Richardson died in 1762, and Catherine carried on publishing with his widow. On 31 January 1763, Philadelphia Lintot, Henry’s second wife, died[794] (Nichols 203). According to Nichols, the printer, publisher and great gossip of 18^th century publishing, Catherine married on 20 October 1768 one Capt. Henry Fletcher, at that time Director of the East India Company. She was said to have a fortune of £45,000. Yet, according to Meredew, Fletcher was already living in Horsham in possession of the Lintot land and therefore had already married Catherine. The difficulty is that the marriage between Fletcher and Lintot is definitely recorded as 68, not 63.

Reading Meredew and Nichols, it is likely that the following occurred: Catherine married Fletcher not in 68 but 63, the 8 being a mis-transcription. They married after the death of Philadelphia when Catherine became sole possessor of the family estate. Catherine may have been raising cash to look after, or pay money set aside in Henry’s will for, Philadelphia, or Philadelphia had a life interest in the property. The mention in Meredew’s list that No. 38 was owned by “Mr Flacher Late Mrs Lintots” suggests this, because Catherine would not have been referred to as Mrs Lintot; rather, Miss Lintot, or it is a misreading of a squiggle and it is Miss Lintot? Either way, by 1764 Mr Fletcher was settled in Horsham in possession with his wife of the Lintot lands that stretched back beyond the Carfax up North Street. It is also likely that Catherine retired around 1762-3. The Fletchers were now the third largest landowners in Horsham, owning some 750 acres of land. However, the ownership of the land did not buy him a seat in Parliament, which is what he may have sought, for in 1768 he stood for Cumberland, his native County, only to lose out due to the rampant corruption.  Horsham was not alone in the levels of corruption. Fletcher was successful and sat as MP till 1802 for the County, though his home was Horsham.

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THE DINNER TABLE – THE CREATOR OF A POLITE SOCIETY[795]

Eating together at a table was, and still is, a way to create a polite ordered society, with table manners and display being highly-valued. In the past, communal eating was common, using fingers to grab and tear food from the main plate, sharing knives, glasses etc. A 17^th century writer, Courtin wrote a book entitled ‘Rules of Civility’ in which he describes the use of the spoon: ‘having serv’d yourself with your Spoon, you must remember to wipe it, and indeed as oft as you use it; for some are so nice, they will not eat Pottage, or anything of that nature, in which you have put your Spoon unwip’d, after you have put it into your own mouth’. This book was still in print in the 18^th century, having been translated into English, clearly showing a need and desire for altering table manners.

Such rulebooks were written for those who wanted to better themselves but who were not invited to court to see how polite society acted at the table. In the 18^th century, writers would comment on the manners of those who lived in polite Bath compared to those who lived in Bristol.

It was in the 18^th century that many aspects of table manners were popularised. The head of the household would ensure correct manners and rules were followed. This created what was known as ‘polite’ society. Some of the changes included:

1. From wiping your mouth on the tablecloth to having your own napkin.
2. Using a fork instead of holding the food with your fingers.
3. Having your own glass instead of sharing a goblet.
4. The host providing individual place settings.

All of this showed how you could control yourself and how you should be concerned about other people. You did not want to ‘show yourself up’ by being uncouth or offending other diners. Dining became a special event. In the past, meals would be served with theatrical entertainments (jesters, etc). Now the actual serving and eating of meals became the entertainment; you were an actor and a spectator. As the spectacle of mealtimes became more and more important so did the wealth spent, not only on the food, but also on the objects used in the eating and serving of food.

THE DINING ROOM – THE THEATRE FOR THE SPECTACLE

For centuries, people ate at the kitchen table. However, in the 18^th century, with the meal becoming the battleground for aspiring classes where the show of wealth, social status and the knowledge of the rituals of eating became more important, a new room was created as a ‘theatre’ in which to perform the spectacle – the dining room, with its anteroom, the withdrawing room (now shortened to drawing room) – a place for guests to gather before entering the room, and for the ladies to retire to after dinner, later to be joined by the men.

The dining room, as this one has, may have had a serving hatch from which food was magically produced from the blood, cuts, debris and decay of the kitchen with all its sights and smells. Food was now ‘dressed’ like actors and the table became a set to be stage-managed by the ‘director and producer’ – the ‘lady of the house’. In the 18^th century, housewifery books were full of table layouts showing where to place the dishes, having given instructions on how to cook them. The product was a theatrical event for the head of the household who, sitting either ‘centre stage’ or at the head of the table, could survey the drama unfolding. Rules slowly evolved to emphasise the performance – no talking with the mouth full, so savouring and concentrating on the act of eating, for example. Cutlery was used to ‘dissect’ the performance, each object having a role to play. By the 19^th century ‘dressing for dinner’, like getting dressing for the theatre, further enhanced the role.

TEA DRINKING AND CHINA

In the 1650s, three drinks arrived in Britain for the first time: coffee, tea and chocolate.  Coffee arrived first and became the drink, with coffee houses springing up all over London. (By 1714 there were over 500). Although tea was served, it was up to 50 times more expensive than coffee or chocolate – tea became a drink of the conspicuously wealthy.  Tea drinking in wealthy homes became a series of rituals and the use of special objects reinforced the message of how rich they were.  The objects were known as tea ‘equipage’ and families would have their portraits painted whilst using these items. These paintings, called ‘conversation pieces’, became known, thereby reinforcing the message of how rich they were.  The ‘equipage’ consisted of a tea table, a teapot made of porcelain (the only ‘clay’ that could stand boiling water without cracking), tea bowls, later tea cups (bowls with a handle), saucers, tea plates and of course the tea caddy. 

The tealeaf came from China, as did the porcelain, which became known as china, although the term was used to cover most types of ceramics.  In 1708, European porcelain was made for the first time at Meissen in Germany and in 1768 at Plymouth. Chinese porcelain continued to be popular because it was fine, good quality and inexpensive. The popularity of Chinese ware was such that British manufacturers copied Chinese styles. Later, English copies of the Chinese style were exported back to China for the Chinese potters to copy, creating a very odd view of China and the Chinese people.

HOW TO DRINK TEA

Today we are taught about teacups and saucers from early childhood, but when they were first introduced into Britain in the 18^th century, they caused confusion. Was the tea to be poured from a cup into a saucer to cool down and then drunk from the saucer? Was the saucer to hold the tea slops? It was not until the end of the 18^th century that teacups and saucers had their now traditional role.

Why were tea bowls used and not cups?

The tea bowl was a traditional Chinese shaped vessel for drinking tea. When china was imported from the east, tea bowls could be packed more tightly and there were no handles to break off in transit; making the bowl an ideal shape. Obviously, British potters wanted to copy the china used by the wealthy, so they made tea bowls instead of teacups.  How did people drink tea from tea bowls, as they had no handles? The answer was to use one finger and the thumb; the thumb under the bowl to support the cup, the finger to tip the bowl.

MEDICINE IN 18^TH CENTURY HORSHAM

“The apothecary, who was formerly only a druggist, had become a physician… the druggist took possession of his vacant stool and thus excited the same jealousy in the new physician as the encroachment of the apothecary had done in the mind of the old physician … the apothecaries were certainly wrong for becoming grand and shutting up their own shops, because they hastened the sad catastrophe: but we believe that nothing would have prevented it” George Man Burrows “Letters to the President of the associated Apothecaries and Surgeon Apothecaries…1820.”

In the 18^th century the General Practitioner, or Doctor, as we know them, was still far off. If you were ill you went to see a Doctor, but, whilst Sarah Hurst might refer to John Burry as a Doctor in her diaries, he was in fact an Apothecary-Surgeon[796]. This might seem a moot point and to many people in Horsham it probably was, but in the world of medical status it meant everything.

By the 1590s, the apothecary, who originally was linked to the Mercer Company (see above), was seen as someone who sold drugs and groceries, but by 1617 James I had granted them separate Worshipful Companies status. The apothecary became a medical man who had undergone seven years of training.  By the late 17^th century he was, however, now leaving his shop and visiting the sick – something that only Doctors could do. Why? Probably because of a chronic shortage of physicians. The sick did not care who cured them as long as someone did, so the person who gave out drugs could visit them in their home, on their sick bed, prescribe drugs and sell them – a “one-stop shop”, to use modern-day parlance. The Doctors were annoyed by this, but for the Government/Crown commonsense prevailed and, in 1704, the Apothecary won the right to visit, advise and prescribe for patients, but only charge for the medicine. Beneath them was the druggist, untrained and holding no legal status.  

The trouble with any history is that the historian has to rely on what survives, rather than the actual real past as lived. This means that whilst the following account of Horsham medical men goes into some detail about John Burry, that is simply because he appears in the surviving documents, not because he was the most important medical person in Horsham. It could be argued that documents of the unimportant would not survive; only those of importance would. Yet in John Burry’s case the reason for the wealth of material is that he owed large debts at his death. The solicitor Thomas Medwin looked after his affairs and it is through the retention of Medwin legal papers that the survival has taken place; it has nothing to do with his medical faculties. John Burry does appear in the Sarah Hurst Diaries, twice, and he seems to have chatted a lot with John Baker who kept a diary some 10 years later, but other doctors are mentioned and they may well have been the physicians of repute rather than John Burry.  Having said that, the surviving papers make for fascinating reading.

John Burry was an apothecary surgeon who worked at St Barts in London and in Horsham. As a surgeon he trained three apprentices: Edwin Dubbins in 1759, who was apprenticed for seven years, John Grome in 1767 (probably after Dubbins became free), and James Walker in 1777 who was contracted for 4 years[797]. The fact that he had an apprentice in 1759 shows that he must have been in practice in Horsham for some time, though Sarah Hurst only sought his medical advice twice and on one occasion he was not in. He was not a Doctor as we know the term today; he could prescribe drugs and visit patients, though not charge for that advice. Though some of the bills mention visits, and these might be for hiring horses to visit the patient rather than offering of advice.

In 1767 he bought a house in West Street, opposite the Swan Inn (so opposite the entrance to Swan Walk). When he died in 1795, Thomas Charles Medwin, acting as executor, made an inventory of his house and library, and it is his library that proves to be most interesting. A number of books dealt with the Popish matter (a burning issue of the 18^th century), a number deal with biblical history, theological questions and church practice. It may well be that at some time in his life he had thought of becoming a curate/priest, and then changed to medicine. One suspects, from some of his book titles, that he thought long and hard about the moral and ethical questions relating to his work, or he needed an arsenal of religious arguments to persuade others of the validity of the medical practice, (Sarah Hurst’s maternal concern over letting her children be inoculated, mentioned below, would be a good example of the hostility towards it.)  For example, on inoculation, he owned a copy of “Sermon on Inoculation”.  He also had copy of “Sermon preached in 1745 before the Governors of the London Infirmary”,and, “Sermons on the Resignation to the Will of God”, whilst the “Conference concerning Infant Baptism” might be connected to the stillbirths that occurred. His medical books were very practical in nature, rather than the rarified world of Greek and Latin that a Doctor would be expected to know.  It was not academic debate that he practised, but hard medicine and surgery, so his medical books included those that dealt with surgery, drugs, midwifery, depression, bone setting, blood letting and inoculations. Whilst he had little on travel, he did have a collection of books relating to the spreading fashion of taking the waters, including Dr Russell’s famous account of sea bathing that led to the development of Brighton as a resort, as well as books on Cheltenham, a book on Malvern Waters, and on Scarborough, all spa towns.

The influence these books had on 18^th century view of health can be seen when Sarah Hurst, for 22 August 1761, records the following: “Not well at night, go in the Cold Bathe, which makes me worse, a very bad sore throat & pain in my limbs …. Oblig’d to go to bed quite ill.”  Whilst on 4 September 1762 she “walk down to the Sea & Bathe I believe for the last time”. His other books show that John Burry had little interest in the scientific technical discoveries of the day, or in exploration. He liked light literature, short essays and anthologies such as Spectator, Guardian, Connoisseur, Idler, The Rambler, The World, The Turkish Spy, all books that go under the French title of Belle letters. His other books had strong moral overtones, such as Death of Abel, England Worthies, History of England in Letters from a Nobleman to his Son. He did have a couple of medical history books showing a crossover interest[798].

John Burry, whilst hardly mentioned in the Sarah Hurst’s diary, appears in Baker’s diary as a convivial and gossipy character. His financial difficulties may have come about through the setting up of a new practice by Edward Dubbins, his one-time apprentice, or because druggists were now taking over the supply of cheaper medicines. Though there is also clear evidence that he did not charge realistic prices, possibly not being aware of inflation.[799] 

Edward Dubbins also had two apprentices: William Rickwood in 1775, and John Maiben in 1804[800]. In amongst the family accounts of the Medwin’s are sixteen bills relating to Dubbins, who seems to have been a surgeon apothecary and a dancing master. The bills themselves make interesting reading; most relate to “draughts”, “a mixture” “six doses of powder”, almost suggesting quack medicines, whilst others do reveal a medical training; for example, 5 December 1795, an account for 7d for “Bleeding and Fillet”; 1796 has accounts for bleeding and “blister”. In 1799 he charged £2 2s for “reducing a dislocated elbow.” By 1801 a Mr Dendy had joined the firm, but that takes us into 19^th century medicine, to be covered later.

In her diary, Sarah Hurst goes to other doctors: mainly Dr Smith, who in 1758 was living in part of the old Red Lion, the former inn on the corner of West Street and Carfax; Dr Smith, like John Bury, was an apothecary surgeon; and also a Dr Read, who is mentioned in the diary with reference to curing Sarah’s brother. Sarah’s diary makes for interesting reading regarding the usual aches and pains suffered by a young lady. Some of which appear to be more down to “stress” (she had a lover in the Marines, ran a busy dress shop and helped out numerous people) than actual physical illnesses. Something which may be alluded to by Sarah who writes on 5 January 1761: “Spend the afternoon & evening at Mr treadcroft’s Doctor Smith there, who tells me all my trubles will soon be at an end, for he thinks Peace is very near, I wish his prognostications may prove true” However, in May 1760 Sarah has a cough, and on 22May, “Doctor Smith bleeds me for my cough, says my blood is very much enflam’d “ Then from 29 May to 11 June, Sarah was “Taken very ill with a violent feaver”, though soon recovered.  Interestingly, Dr Smith thought he could diagnose illnesses through the colour of blood. It was still common practice to look at, smell and taste urine, something that 13^th century Doctors did; and to look at bowel movements. In an age where thermometers were unknown and the human body little understood, it is not that surprising.

Dr Griffith and Dr Smith both appear frequently in the Diary of Sarah, with Dr Smith apparently having an inoculation house where Sarah’s brother and sister went in March 1759[801]. Another medical man who undertook inoculations was a Mr Reid. He was referred to as ‘Mr’ in the Diary of John Baker; but so was John Burry, though both had the same status: ‘Surgeon’, suggesting that to Sarah the title ‘Dr’ was the more common parlance, whereas John Baker, a man who dealt with “professional men”, used the correct title of address: ‘Mr’, because they were not technically ‘Drs’; though, as the account given for smallpox shows, when the patients come back recovered Baker records him as ‘Dr Reid,’ possibly in gratitude. The inoculation house was run by Dr Lindfield, perhaps a genuine ‘Dr’.

SMALLPOX – A FAMILY ACCOUNT

The effect of the smallpox and the fear it created can be judged from the Diary of Sarah Hurst and the account of her father catching the near-fatal disease. Only the extracts relating to the diseases are entered below; for a full flavour, the diary should be read in its entirety.

“1760

• Wednesday 29^th October: Papa comes home from the Fair very ill.
• Thursday 30^th October. My father quite ill all night, good Heaven, sure he has not taken the Smallpox when last in London.
• Friday 31 October My father extremely ill. Mama & I are frighten to Death almost. Oh Providence how unsearchable are they dispensations & who shall murmur at thy decrees, but Oh Almighty Father, supreme governor of the Universe, preserve the Life of this dear Parent.
• Saturday 1 November  Doctor Smith thinks my father’s disorder is the Smallpox. Mama in dreadful agonies; it is too much for me to bear my own sorrows, how little capable then of comforting her. He sends for Mr Powell & gives orders for the making his Will, oh what a Heart rending stroke is this.
• Sunday 2 November Pass a most melancholy day in attendance on my poor father, various consultations about moving him, he desires to go to Mrs Wicker’s. She reluctantly consents, fearing the neighbours will be displeas’d.
• Monday 3 November My father is carried away to Mrs Wicker’s Bet goes to help attend him….my poor mother is almost inconsolable.
• Tuesday 4 November We are in great perplexity because we cannot have the Nurse my father depended upon, she was to come from Doctor Smith’s House but the patients will not part with her.
• Wednesday, 5 November I ride over to the inoculating House, & beseech them to part with their Nurse, they reluctantly consent. I ride home quiet rejoic’d & send my Horse back for her. Write again to my Uncle Bob, the Doctor assures us my father is like to do well.
• Friday 7 November A letter from my Uncle Bob promising he & my Uncle George will come down & assuring  me that, if my father does otherwise than well, he will be a father to us.
• Sunday 9 November My two Uncles arriv’d late last night, the Doctor George thinks there is no danger in my father, so they set off again this morning. Go down Mrs Wicker’s garden & enquire how my father does. Doctor Smith calls to me & says he is tolerably well.
• Monday 10 November The Doctor pronounces my father out of danger, I thank thee Allmighty for this blessing.
• Sunday 16 November Go & see my father through the windows, he is a most shocking figure, sure the Smallpox is the most dreadful distemper that ever Human nature was afflicted with.
• Monday 17 November Mrs Wicker throws herself into hysterick fits for fear any of her neighbours shou’d take the Smallpox of my father, sure it wou’d be time enough to give herself so much uneasiness when such an event has happen’d but, as tho’ present evils were not sufficient, we are generally fond of anticipating future ones.
• Tuesday 24 November Ride over to Home Bush to see my father. We have a vast deal of conversation, he is quiet hearty. His having the Smallpox will I hope be a future advantage to him.
• Tuesday 2 December My father comes down Town & into the shop, a great many people welcomed him home.” [802]

This account graphically shows how people viewed smallpox, from the fear of death expressed by Sarah, her mother and her uncles, to the hysteria of a neighbour. Equally, it reveals the medical framework available: two doctors; Smith, and George Hurst, who was an apothecary; and the nurse who worked at the inoculation house. Some 14 years later, in 1774, the Diary of John Baker refers to another series of inoculations. Interestingly, it appears as if the inoculations occurred at home and the sick were taken the to an inoculation house; perhaps because they were less frightening, though when a second inoculation occurred the patient was very frightened, as recounted below – and with some cause, it would appear.

It is April 1774 and John Baker was living in what became Park House.

• April 7^th “Between 9 and 10 tonight Mr Reid and inoculated in Servants Hall William  Wisdom and his daughter Jenny, Becky, Betty Laundry, Betty Dairy, Nanny Peters and the boy Ned Clarke **”
• April 11^th “Betty Charman inoculated a second time today by Mr Reid. The cook very ill ** violent hysteric fits.”
• April 12^th “This afternoon Jenny Wisdom, Becky, Betty, laundry, Betty, Kitchen, Nancy went to Dr Lindfierld’s.    
• April 15^th “About 6 went out in chaise with Fanny and Molly Maul Broadbridge Heath turned back over against Dr. Lindfield’s house beyond Champions Windmill Chaise stood about 30yds from house but and saw all our 7 small pox folks. Becky came near chariot.**”
• April 19 After dinner Charles went over to Dr Lindfield’s said Ned had about 30 pustules small pox, his daughter Jenny nine or ten, all came out.
• April 20^th A little before 7, all the seven small pox people came to outside pales where this morning gave them warm punch and jelly.
• April 21– Walked to Dr Lindfield’s and saw all the small pox folks, save Betty laundry. Sent them at night two bottles of Punch with the jellies, Charles gave it to William Windsom in at the window (they would not let him come in), for them to eat and drink going to bed.
• April 26 Dr Lindfield called, paid him seven guineas on account. Walked over at 1 to his house, Betty kitchen four in face, and said about twenty more, Betty laundry, about thirty in face and said in all above a hundred, many on both arms, William Wisdom and Ned some hundreds; Nancy about a dozen in face and Becky as many
• April 27** Soir (evening) came Dr. Reid – agreed to take home all the inoculates next Tuesday, inoculate other 5 next Sunday evening, which will be 48 hours before the first 7 come home, when no danger, if even among ever so many who had it; nay, he said, if they caught it first in the natural way and were inoculated 3 or 4 days after, the latter would defeat the former and take place entirely.
• May 8^th …Molly Mant, Jem Kinsett, Mrs Wisdom and 2 younger children went this afternoon (having been inoculated this day sennight) to Dr Lindfields.**
• May 13 “Mrs Wisdom so bad hier that thought she would have died under it – she twice fainted away but better today **
• May 14^th Our people went today to be churched after the smallpox.[803]

Being Churched was the name of the ecclesiastical ritual normally used when woman gave thanks for their safe delivery at childbirth; they were now undergoing the same ritual for recovery from smallpox inoculation.

HORSHAM CLOCKMAKERS

The following notes are based on the research of Brian Edwards from Bognor.  A copy of his notes can be consulted on request, as can a copy of The Clockmakers of Sussex by E. J. Tyler which lists all the known clockmakers of Sussex.  There is a short article by Dr Mogford in Horsham Heritage Issue two on Horsham Clocks and Clockmakers.

JOHN HARMAN

There are two Harman clockmakers, father and son, both named John. Tyler notes that Harman was apprenticed to Thomas Jenkins of London in 1681. Yet the Horsham churchwardens’ accounts show John was paid 5 shillings for mending the church clock in the year 1680–1. (This either means he was self-taught and took up the formal apprenticeship, which took 7 years to gain a qualification, or he undertook work in Horsham on his visits from London).  By 1682 he was recorded as a locksmith when his son John was born.  In 1685, Henfield parish church wardens ‘Paid to John Harman for mending and cleaning the clock £00.10.00’.  Harman worked on the Billingshurst clock as well as St. Mary’s in Horsham.  John Harman’s shop was Grandfords in the Carfax (now King and Chasemore).  He died in 1712.  His inventory mentions a shop with ‘A clock and case, an old clock, two guns, two old watches and various tools’.

John Harman jnr. died a few months after his father in 1713 aged 31.  His inventory totalled £39.00.

JOHN INKPEN C. 1730 – 40

• Born in 1690, the other side of Lewes, he married Mary Sumptar in Warnham church in 1716.  He and his wife had three children: Mary (1717), Elizabeth (1718) and John (1720); he also took on an apprentice, John Newnham, son of Horsham mercer Abraham in 1726.  The apprenticeship was for 7 years at a cost of £8.00.
• In 1729 John’s business was carried out in West Street.
• In 1732 he took another apprentice, Thomas Chelsham of Rudgwick.  By 1734 he was at 7 and 9 West Street.
• In 1735 he married Elizabeth MUZZLE of Bolney. Some three years later, they acquired the property of Gillhams in what is now Denne Road.
• In the Market deed of 1756, encouraging trade in the town, John, now Bailiff, is at the head of a list of names.  John was buried on 29 August 1759.

MUZZELL c. 1800

The Muzzell family originally came from Horsham, though the family moved to Bolney, near Crawley.  Cornelius, a gunsmith by trade, was born around 1690; he married Elizabeth Towner in 1720 and had various children.  On his death, his widow three months later married John INKPEN, and through this marriage the family took up clock making.

CORNELIUS I, born in 1724, who took up clock making, signing one clock, at least, Muzzel, Bolney. He died and was buried in 1762[804].

JOHN, born around 1730 (baptised 12^th January 1730), made the Tavern clock in the Museum as well as other clocks and watches.  He married Mary Heasman in 1759 one month after his stepfather died.  He was 29 years old.  In 1762 and 1763 he had a business at no. 2 West Street.  He had four children: two sons, John and Cornelius and two daughters, Mary and Elizabeth.  He was buried on 11 September 1789 in Horsham.

Although it is thought Cornelius I married, it is through John and Mary that the clockmaking tradition continued with their sons:

JOHN, born in 1764[805], must have learned the trade from his father for he is recorded as a clockmaker in the Parliamentary election of 1790 when he was 26 years old.  No clock is identified as his.

CORNELIUS II, baptised in 1766[806], married Elizabeth Leppard in April 1792 at Cowfold aged 25.  They had a son, Cornelius, in 1794.  The painted dial (false plate) for the Muzzell clock in the Museum library was made by Osborne’s Manufactory, Birmingham, and dates to 1790–95.  He worked at 2 or 3 West Street.

CORNELIUS III – the only son of Cornelius II, was baptised in 1794.  In directories of 1828 he is listed at nos. 3 and 4 West Street.  Burstow, in his Reminiscences of Horsham, mentions his shop being two doors up from the Swan on the north side of West Street.  In an 1839 Directory he had moved to East Street. On his death in 1841 his widow MARY MUZZELL continued the business until the 1850s when, by 1858, it is no longer recorded. 

BROMLEY

JOHN BROMLEY was baptised at East Grinstead on 28 May 1779.  By 1804 he had moved to Horsham and set up shop in West Street.  Michael, his first son, was baptised on 5 June 1811, John Roger in 1814 and Susan in 1816.  John never married, living with Ann Godson.  It was at Bromley’s shop that John Brown would later record that soldiers bought silver watches and then cooked them in frying pans during the Napoleonic wars (1802–1815).  In 1828 his shop was located at 39 West Street.  It was also at this shop that ‘the largest’ jewel robbery took place in 1837, with thieves stealing £300 worth of stock.  By 1851 he was a widower.  In 1855 a Directory records the Business as ‘Bromley and Son’, with the son being in charge by 1858 until 1878.  In 1881 Michael Bromley is listed at 17 West Street.  Michael’s descendants went on to join Russell to form the shoe company ‘Russell and Bromley’.

CANTONI c. 1834 -5

Little is known about this Italian clock maker.  He was born at Como, Italy around 1800, and he is recorded in East Street in 1834 and in the Carfax in 1839.  Cecil Cramp records that his wife was born around 1807 at Abinger, Surrey and they had a son born in England around 1828.

WILLIAM DAVID BAKER

Born in Billingshurst in 1829 son of David, a watch maker and builder, worked in Horsham from the 1850s to 1870s.  In 1858 he recorded working in Middle Street, then from 1867 – 78 at Magnetic Clock in West Street.

A William Baker, born in Horsham in 1856 is recorded as a journeyman.

What connection Hubert Baker and Robert Baker to William D Baker is not known.

HORSHAM NEW GAOL- A REVOLUTIONARY CONCEPT

JOHN HOWARD (1726 ? – 1790)

In 1773 as High Sheriff of Bedfordshire John Howard inspected the County Gaol. He was horrified by what he saw and through acts of parliament abolished gaoler’s fees and improved the sanitation. In November 1773 and throughout 1774 he visited prisons in Scotland, Ireland, France, Holland, Germany and Switzerland as well as British prisons, including Horsham’s. This resulted in the ground breaking book “State of the Prisons”, published in March 1777 (which gave an account of each prison he visited (Horsham’s is given below) and made suggestions on how to improve conditions. Throughout the 1780s The State of the Prisons was supplemented by further information gathered upon further tours (he visited Denmark, Sweden and Russia in 1781, Spain and Portugal in 1783, lazarettos – prison hospitals – in France, Italy and Turkey and undergoing quarantine in Venice 1785-6, an account of which he published in 1789), the results of which were published in revised editions in 1780, 1784, and 1792.

In order to get his ideas across, he aimed at a wide circulation of his books by subsidising and fixing prices at a low level and distributing free copies to “all the principal persons in the kingdom, and all his particular friends.” This, though, was not his only act of generosity. In 1774 Parliament passed the Discharged Prisoners Act – this Act paid for some of the fees gaolers charged but did not cover supplies, lodgings, heating and so on; and the Health of Prisoners Act – enabling justices to become involved in the management of the prison rather than setting the standards. John Howard decided to ensure all gaols in the country knew of these Acts, rather than leave it to chance, by printing and sending to each gaol a copy of the two Acts. On his tours he found that only 15 out of the 130 gaols obeyed them.

John, who had been imprisoned in a French gaol in 1756, died of either camp or gaol fever in 1790 whilst with the Russian army in the Crimea

John Howard’s key points of prison reform

In 1779, Howard advised reformers over a bill to establish a national prison service. The Act included his four main principles:

1. secure, roomy and sanitary buildings
2. salaried gaolers
3. preventative objectives and regime (note; not reform of character)
4. systematic inspection by outside public body

All of which can be seen in Horsham’s New Gaol.

Why were John Howard’s ideas taken up so quickly?

The prisons were a breeding ground for diseases and, although not fully understood, people knew by experience that those who were in contact with prisoners often caught the fatal disease. This not only meant the other prisoners, but also the gaoler and his family, witnesses at the trial, court officials and the judges. Towns and villages that had gaols dreaded the disease. John Howard’s new way of running a gaol and his new designs reduced the occurrence of the illness and directly appealed to the towns. Also, by drawing parallels between disease and moral decay and the effect of prisons on both had a profound effect. In effect, people, although arguing that misery and appalling living conditions acted as a deterrent, now started to argue that such conditions harmed society as a whole.

HORSHAM NEW COUNTY GAOL – VITAL STATISTICS

The Gaol was built in three phases:

Phase One: October 1775 – Christmas 1777

• Architect: Mr Ride
• Builder: Thomas Griffeth and Edward Griffeth, carpenters of Horsham
• Purchase price of land: a field of about two acres known as Causey Croft -£350 from Samuel Blunt + 5 guineas to the tenant for immediate possession
• Total Cost: £3,560 under a bond of £7,000

The gaol foundations were “three feet deep of hard Horsham stone”, with the “building itself built entirely from burnt stock bricks and all bricks to be embedded in mortar made from the best lyme from the North Downs not grouted. All timber to be of hart oak, tyled roof on heart oak laths.”

The prison was 126ft long and 32ft wide, with two floors over arcades above the ground floor, with a stone staircase with iron rails. On each floor, both on the debtors’ and the felons’ side were ten rooms: five on each side of a passage 5ft wide. There was also a day room 28ft by 12ft 3ins and a lodging room for the turnkey. Each prisoner had a separate cell (10ft 8in x 7ft) with a vaulted brick ceiling 9ft high at the centre of the arch. There were two doors to each cell, one of them latticed.

Surrounding the prison and the two courts, each with water, was a 20ft high, 18ins thick wall with strengthening piers all round outside one rod apart. The wall enclosed one acre of land.

PHASE TWO – February 1778 to Ladytide 1779

• Architect?
• Builder: Ralph Jones bricklayer of Horsham
• Cost £1,070

To build a gaoler’s house, chapel, and infirmary of brick and stone. In 1807 James Neild described the Chapel as having “a gallery for the gaoler and his family. The pulpit is on the same level. The area below is 17ft by 15ft. and has parallel benches for the prisoners; debtors and felons of both sexes sit opposite each other.”

The gaol was not finished on time, but by April 1779 it was reported that the contracts had been completed, and in August of that year it was handed over to the Sheriff.

NOTE: one of the first inmates of the Prison was one of the Griffeth builders who went into debt building the gaol.

PHASE THREE August 1819 – before 1822

• Architect?
• Builder?
• Cost £2540

The construction of 16 more cells and the large yard on the felons’ side divided into three.

---

THE NEW PRISON REGIME

With a new prison came a new way of managing the prisoners. There were some 32 regulations, some of which are given below.

• “That the gaoler be paid a salary of £100 per annum together with the house and garden.”
• “That he is not to be directly or indirectly concerned in selling beer, wines or spirits to the   prisoners or debtors.”
• “That the gaoler shall constantly have two turnkeys and a third when criminals exceed the number ten.”
• “That the turnkeys shall not be concerned in selling any articles whatsoever to the prisoners or debtors”
• “That there shall be also provided for each male prisoner a coat, a waistcoat, a pair of breeches, two shirts, two pairs of stockings, one hatt, one woollen night-cap, the cloathing to be made of the cheapest sort of woollen without plaits or pockets, and to be mixed in pieces of green and yellow.”

The regulations go on to say that, on arrival, each prisoner was to be bathed and the clothes baked and then stored for when they leave. The prisoners could buy meat, greens, bedding etc. but not liquor. Each prisoner had to wash hands and face twice a day at the pump. If they were not clean, then they could have reduced food rations, or be chained down or put in chains. Debtors were to be confined to their cell. Debtors could buy any provision from the town, “But in respect of liquor only one pint of wine, or one quart of strong beer” per day. There was no mention of prison work or of reforming the character.

Regulations regarding the cell

That there shall be provided and kept by the County for each cell a stone pot, a mop, a broom, a leather bucket, a canvas straw bed, two blankets. The cells were to be inspected every morning to ensure they were clean.

Solitary confinement

In 1780, Lord Mansfield, who was a judge at the Sussex Summer assizes, was astonished to find that the place was less than one quarter full, saying: “How can your Lord Lieutenant satisfy the County of Sussex that there has not been prodigality and waste of the County money in rearing so stately an edifice three-fourths of which appear to be uninhabited”. The reason, he was told, was solitary confinement; only one prisoner had returned in the last 12 years.  Horsham Gaol was the first prison in the world to give each prisoner their own cell.

Howard’s reasoning for single cells was given in the third edition of The State of the Prisons

“I wish to have so many small rooms or cabins that each criminal may sleep alone. . . If it be difficult to prevent their being together in the day–time; they should by all means be separated at night. Solitude and silence are favourable to reflection; and may possibly lead to repentance. . . He went on to argue that separation at night would stop plans for escape being hatched, criminals robbing each other and provide safety to those who are about to give evidence.”

Interestingly, Howard did not want solitary confinement, as the son of one of his friends, Samuel Whitbread, reported to Parliament: that Howard “Distinctly and without reserve expressed his abhorrence of solitary confinement . . . I have heard him say that such a punishment was too sever for human reason to bear . . . “

The idea that solitary confinement might reform the prisoner had been publicly discussed some thirty years before Howard, who was an excellent publicist, who took it up.

THE NEW COUNTY GAOL IN HORSHAM – WHY IS IT SO SPECIAL?

It is the first Gaol in the world that gave each prisoner his or her own cell. The prison was built and based on the ideas of John Howard the celebrated 18^th century prison reformer.

THE DEEPDENE MEMORANDUM[807]

The election of 1790

The Irwin family, having ruled and manipulated Horsham’s political scene for so long, seem to have become complacent.  The Duke of Norfolk, for various reasons, decided to take an interest in the town.  His agent, the up and coming solicitor, Thomas Charles Medwin, discovered that the Court Baron was rigged in the Irwins’ favour.  At the Court Baron an individual’s right to be on the Burgage Roll was assessed – if you were on the Roll, you had the right to vote.  No Court Baron had been held from 1774 to 1787.  Lady Irwin claimed she had 36 Burgesses whose names had never been entered onto the Roll.  Medwin, who had recently purchased the Red Lion burgage plot, was elected a Burgess.  Medwin could not also act as a Steward, but his assistant could. 

When Lady Irwin’s agent presented nineteen voters to be admitted to the Burgess Roll, every one of the nineteen was examined in detail by the Deputy Steward, resulting in seven being thrown out.  (One of the seven was one of the false Burgage plots drawn up by John Wicker for Rich in 1713.) This was the first shock to Lady Irwin.  The Duke of Norfolk smelled the chase.  As Medwin wrote on 30 September 1787:

“I cannot help observing to your Grace that from looking into the papers of the Borough as well as from other circumstances which have in the course of this business transpired, I clearly see that Lady Irwin’s Interest in the Borough is by no means so decided as your Grace may have been led to believe, for instead of 16 there are near 30 independent Burgesses out of the 76 and I verily think that there are many of Lady Irwin’s votes which from inattention and want of information by her agents cannot now be made out.”

It was the following year that Medwin, the Duke of Norfolk, and Robert Hurst drew up a plan to wrest control from Lady Irwin by standing against her candidate, Timothy Shelley (father of the poet) and another candidate.  The plan was relatively straightforward: they would buy up as many independent Burgesses as possible and take control of the Court Baron.  In 1789, Lady Irwin’s solicitor, Mr Ellis, tried to prove that the Burgage plot bought by Mr Shelley was not a true Burgage plot and that Mr Shelley had no right to the claim of being a Burgess.  Just as today’s court trials can reveal a great deal about behind the scenes politics, this trial did the same.

The corruption at Horsham

The court case concerning the right of Timothy Shelley to be a Burgess took place at The King’s Bench.  One of the tactics revealed in the trial was the ‘nobbling’ of the Court Leet.

‘Nobbling’ the Court Leet

Horsham had various manorial courts: the Court Baron, mentioned above, and the Court Leet.  At the Court Leet the town’s Bailiff was selected, who played an important role in the election.  Mr Ellis claimed that Medwin acted unfairly at the Court Leet by accepting Timothy Shelley as juror in preference to others, in order to influence the choice of Bailiff.  Mr Ellis also complained that Medwin had not given him access to the Burgess Roll to investigate the Shelleys’ claim.  In response, Medwin provided copious extracts from the Rolls to prove that the property was a Burgage plot.  He also showed that the very plot in dispute had previously been claimed by Lady Irwin to be a Burgage plot!

To ensure success at the election, Medwin played a skilful hand which revealed the depth of the corruption.  There were four or five stages, or ploys, used to ensure complete control of the proceedings.  The events took place over a five-day period leading up to the election itself in 1790.

The Court Baron

When the election was called, Mr Ellis demanded that a Court Baron took place within five days to decide who was on the Burgage Roll and could therefore vote.  Medwin knew that he had the right to say when a Court Baron should take place – and five days was not enough time for all the Duke of Norfolk’s men to be in Horsham to present themselves at court.  Medwin went to London and, with Robert Hurst, decided that it would take place in eight days’ time, as normal, and would run with the Election.  Both Court Baron and Election were to take place on the same day.  It became obvious to all that Lady Irwin would have no chance of getting her voters admitted on to the Burgage Roll before voting began.

‘Nobbling’ the Burgage Roll

Yet another ploy was adopted. The day before the Election, the Burgage Roll was deemed closed. If, at the Court Baron (held at 9.00 am, the election taking place at 11.00 am), no Lady Irwin voter turned up to claim their place on the Burgage Roll, the court would close. If someone did turn up, Lady Irwin would have to prove how she had inherited the burgages from Henry, 7th Viscount Irwin. This would take up to 11.00 am to sort out, by which time the court would be closed and the election would take place. The court would then re-sit in three weeks’ time.

The coup de grâce

A final ploy was that only voters entered on the Burgage Roll would be accepted, no matter if voters turned up on the day with proof of ownership of a burgage plot. The coup de grâce was that Mr Medwin and his own clerk would be recorders!

Election Day

Election day dawned and at 9.00 am, Mr Ellis and Lady Irwin’s voters were at the Town Hall.  At 9.30 am Medwin turned up, late.  Mr Hurst acted as foreman of the Court Baron.  Having been sworn in, Mr Medwin adjourned the court to the Anchor Inn (the political base of the Norfolk voters).  Mr Ellis objected, but this was over-ridden by Medwin. Mr Hurst made a long speech proposing a vote, to which Mr Ellis successfully objected. By now, time was running out and Medwin passed some time looking out of the window and ignoring the people in the room.  Eventually, just before 11.00 am the court was closed and the election commenced.

Within two years the result was overturned by the House of Commons. The case for the judgement is set out in the book Fraser’s Controverted Elections.  A diagram of the borough with its burgage plots was drawn up with Medwin’s help.

This was the last time that the Duke of Norfolk would plan such a skilful operation in trying to take over Hills. 

The year after the Deepdene memorandum was drawn up the French revolution began. The revolution had a profound effect on Horsham, and the rest of the country, because it led to 20 years of constant war. A war that had to be paid for, a war that affected trade, a war that dealt with ideas and notions of political sovereignty. Yet it was not like the first or second world war of the 20^th century; though the conflict was global, it was different, as the next chapter will show.