On Tuesday the 15th April Ian and I drove and parked up in Manningtree on The Walls where there is free parking.
GPX File here.
This short walk on the Stour Estuary between Essex and Suffolk is inspired by the 17th century East Anglian witch trials. During this dark period of English history, around 300 people were tried for witchcraft and close to 100 executed as ‘witches’.
We leave the car and walk up onto the High Street.
We couldn't locate the old White Hart Pub where the walk starts, but it turns out it was opposite the Library, So sadly no picture of the pub, sorry.
The run-down building opposite was once the White Hart Pub. It dates back to at least the 17th century and according to local legend is one of the inns where ‘witchfinders’ Matthew Hopkins and John Stearne met with local accusers to plan their persecutions. Though referred to as ‘witchfinders’, this wasn’t by any means an official role. The title ‘witchfinder general’, with its military associations, was created by Hopkins himself as an act of self-aggrandisement. It’s important to remember that witchcraft had been criminalised in England since 1563, and in order for a ‘crime’ to be investigated, a woman (or man), first had to be accused, usually by somebody in the local community. The accuser then contacted a local magistrate (or Justice of the Peace) to search for ‘proof’ and build up a picture of the ‘bewitching’. The following is an excerpt from an interview with Alison Rowlands, Professor of History at the University of Essex, who has written extensively on the European witch trials: “So what you do, if you want to bring an accusation against somebody, you would go to a Justice of the Peace (JP) and bring the charge and they would then start investigating it, and it’s at that point that first of all John Stearne is brought into the procedure, because the local people here, they ask John Stearne, who also lives in Manningtree, to take their complaints to the JPs. And then the JPs ask him to help some of the investigations and then Matthew Hopkins gets involved as well. Now, it’s almost certainly the case that Hopkins and Stearne and the accusers and the JPs met in pubs, because that’s where men of standing got together - in a meeting room in an inn. So I think any kind of local-ish pub that would have been around in the 17th century, you could probably make that case for.” There are very few places that historians can say with certainty which events happened where. In place of historical evidence, myths and legends will naturally emerge to fill the void. In the case of the East Anglian witch trials, local stories have long connected the White Hart Inn to the witchfinders’ plotting. This might, of course, have benefited the landlord, hoping to gain some ghoulish trade…
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| The Manningtree Ox |
The name Manningtree is thought to derive from 'many trees'. The town grew around the wool trade from the 15th century until its decline in the 18th century and also had a thriving shipping trade in corn, timber and coal until this declined with the coming of the railway. Manningtree is known as the centre of the activities of Matthew Hopkins, the self-appointed Witchfinder General, who claimed to have overheard local women discussing their meetings with the devil in 1644 with his accusations leading to their execution as witches.
Many of the buildings in the centre of the town have Georgian facades which obscure their earlier origins. Notable buildings include Manningtree Library, which was originally built as 'a public hall for the purposes of corn exchange' and was later used around 1900 for public entertainment, and the Methodist church located on South Street, completed in 1807.
The Ascension, by John Constable, which now hangs in Dedham church, was commissioned in 1821 for the altarpiece of the early seventeenth-century church on the High Street, demolished in 1967.
We walk up High Street turning right and up South Street to a green up top.
But before we did we looked at a building opposite that had the following plaques and a sculpture of an ox.
This sculpture pays homage to Shakespeare and his reference to a Manningtree tradition.
"There is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat man... that roasted Manningtree ox with a pudding in his belly."
This paraphrased passage was taken from Shakespeare's, Henry IV Part One, in which the future King Henry V (Prince Hal) jests with his companion, and mentions the small north Essex coastal town of Manningtree.
Manningtree is, by area, England's smallest town. At high tide, the town is only 20 hectares in its entirety. Despite its small size, Manningtree’s oxen were well known enough for the playwright to honour them with a mention.
The idea of a “roasted Manningtree ox with a pudding in his belly” is most likely a reference to the Manningtree Fair, a medieval festival where it was tradition to roast an entire ox. The pudding used would either be savory or of the sweet variety. It's likely that black pudding, a type of blood sausage, would have been used to stuff the ox.
According to local legends, Shakespeare, whilst a young actor in a troupe, passed through Manningtree during such a fair and witnessed the festivity. Another theory suggests that Shakespeare was not the man historians have come to believe, but was actually an alias for Earl and courtier, Edward De Vere who was born just 25 miles from Manningtree, in Hedingham Castle.
In honour of being one of the only local towns mentioned by Shakespeare, Manningtree’s old fire station was adorned with a bizarre bovine sculpture by Colin Wilkin.
Those walking through the small lanes of Manningtree will ultimately reach a square. One glance up, and visitors are met by the suspended bovine sculpture. It's mostly a metal, hollow outline of an ox. Within the belly of the sculpture hangs a large, golden orb representing the pudding. The orb is often lit during dusk.
We walk up South Street passing the Red Lion Public House.
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| Village Green, South Street |
Surrounded by large, well-kept Georgian houses and high up on a hill, today South Street is one of Manningtree’s most desirable streets. Yet it was here on July 18th 1645 that four local women were hanged for the crime of witchcraft. Their names were: Anne West of Lawford, Helen Clark of Manningtree, Marian Hocket from Ramsey and Anne Cooper from Great Clacton. According to historical records, 92 witnesses testified against these women and 15 others during their trial. This is worth thinking about for a moment. This means that nearly 100 people were prepared to travel to give evidence – a huge investment of their time, money and reputations - to make sure these women hung.
Here’s Professor Alison Rowlands: “...that’s something which usually gets missed out of the local story, because that’s very hard, isn’t it, to think that your community actually invested a lot of effort in trials. I think somehow it’s easier to say, oh it was Hopkins, he’s an easy villain and you see that in other parts of Europe where it’s nice to blame one villainous person, but actually you can’t have a trial unless there’s somebody willing to make an accusation. So every single person who was tried, somebody from their community has accused them of causing some sort of harm through witchcraft.” Without any legal representation, the women were arrested, interrogated and kept prisoner in the cells of Colchester Castle before being tried at the Assize courts in Chelmsford. Fifteen of them were executed in Chelmsford, but the four named above were brought to Manningtree to be hung here on the village green before a gathered crowd. Alison Rowlands: “…early modern hangings were fairly basic.
The 17th century hanging was slow strangulation. So you just needed a fairly rough frame and a ladder and rope, and then you put the rope around the person’s neck and they dangle there until they asphyxiate. Which is why family members would sometimes be allowed to go and pull on their legs. “ This desperate action is the origin of the phrase ‘hangers on’.
We walk back down South Street turning right back onto High Street and follow this along.
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| No. 42 High Street |
This old brick wall next to no 42 would be easy to miss. But look up and you’ll see a plaque fixed to the brickwork which reads: ‘Site of the church of St Michaels and All Angels 1616-1966’. The buttress wall is all that remains of Manningtree’s church; the same church where the local community: accusers and accused, watchers and searchers, witchfinders and prosecutors would have met for regular worship. It’s also where the self-styled ‘witchfinder general’ Matthew Hopkins’ stepfather, the rector of Mistley and Manningtree, preached his sermons to a largely pious crowd.
During the 16th century, the country had experienced the turmoil of the English Civil War and the English Reformation, which had turned the tide of religion from Catholicism to Protestantism. This was a time of insecurity, mistrust and religious disputes. According to some historians, this upheaval contributed to a climate of fear and blame. Malcolm Gaskill, author of Witchfinders – A Seventeenth Century English Tragedy, sums up the era’s uncertainty: “These were “days of shaking” – of rebellion and fighting, of uncertainty, fear and grief; the orderly world created and governed by heaven was being turned upside-down. Fair was foul and foul was fair. That year, brother had slain brother; Parliament had ruled without a king; harvests had spoiled in the fields while folk went hungry; and plagues and agues had touched high and low with a fickle hand. The devil reigned.”
We walk on and pass the Crown Pub and Hotel.
Back by the River Stour we walk along the called The Walls.
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| The Hopping Bridge |
This brick wall is what remains of the Hopping Bridge. The bridge itself wouldn’t have been here during the period of the witch trials as it wasn’t built until the 18th century, but bodies of water like this one were used to test the guilt or innocence of suspected witches by a process known as ‘swimming’. The theory was that the innocent would sink, but the guilty would float. This could be used as ‘proof’ of crimes. ‘Swimming’ may also have had religious connotations.
Those who had renounced God and were in league with the devil would be rejected by the purity of the water and so would float. Here’s Professor Alison Rowlands: “…the victim would be tied crossways; i.e. their opposite thumbs and big toes. And then they would put a rope under the suspect’s armpits and bob them in, but obviously, you’ve got quite a lot of control – it’s clearly not an objective test anyway – but if you’ve got a rope under their armpits to drag them in and out with, you’ve got some sort of leverage.
I think it’s really another form of quasi-torture...kind of almost like waterboarding in a way... So although it’s supposed to be a test of guilt or innocence, it’s in a very grey legal area. And that’s I think why parliament in 1645 says, you know, just stop doing it, because it is very problematic.”
Walking on we pass the Mistley Towers and the Mistley Village sign as we leave Manningtree.
Mistley Towers are the twin towers of the now demolished Church of St. Mary the Virgin at Mistley in Essex (sometimes known as Mistley Thorn(e) Church). The original Georgian parish church on the site had been built in classical style early in the 18th century following the death of Richard Rigby Esquire. Later in that century there was a grandiose plan by his son, the wealthy politician Richard Rigby, to transform Mistley Thorn into a spa town.
Rigby wished to see a church from the windows of his mansion and a suitably grand church was required for the affluent visitors expected to patronise the new spa. Thus in 1776, the renowned architect Robert Adam was commissioned to enhance the church. His design was in the neoclassical style, with a tower at both the east and the west ends of the church, and full height porticos to the north and south of the nave.
After just under a century in this form, the nave was demolished in circa 1870, when the new parish church of Church of St. Mary and St. Michael was built in New Road. Columns from the porticos were reused at the inner corners of the towers, and the towers are now all that now remain of the once magnificent structure.
The square symmetrical towers are in the neoclassical style, resembling tall pavilions rather than towers, with each façade pedimented and the whole surmounted by a cupola decorated with blind windows interspersed by Ionic columns. At ground floor level two unfluted ionic columns at each corner support a decorative cornice. The columns are decorative only, and appear to serve no structural purpose. The design of the towers creates the impression that the building was once more of a miniature cathedral than a parish church. However, the main body of the church was small and occupied the (now empty) site between the two towers. It was a single storey structure with a simple hipped roof and entrance porticos at its centre. This was the part of Adam's church which was demolished in 1870. The remaining towers are Grade I listed and a scheduled monument.
Mistley is a village and civil parish in the Tendring district of northeast Essex, England. It is around 11 miles northeast of Colchester and is east of, and almost contiguous with, Manningtree. The parish consists of Mistley and New Mistley, both lying beside the Stour Estuary, and Mistley Heath, about a mile to the south. The village is in the parliamentary constituency of Harwich and North Essex. The village has its own parish council.
Mistley railway station serves Mistley on the Mayflower line.
Mistley is the location of one of five Cold War control rooms in Essex. Built in 1951, it was opened as a museum called the Secret Bunker in 1996 but closed in 2002.
A Roman road leading from Mistley to the nearby provincial capital of Roman Britain at Camulodunum (modern Colchester) has led to the suggestion that there may have been a port in the vicinity of the modern village which served the town in the Roman period.
Mistley is the village where Matthew Hopkins, the Witchfinder General, was reputed to have lived, according to legend owning the Thorn Inn. He was buried a few hours after his death in the graveyard of the Church of St Mary. From 1920 to 1922, the Reverend Frank Buttle was rector of Mistley with Bradfield.
We walk on towards the Quay.
The first quay was built around 1720, and trade went on from that quay up to Sudbury. Around 1770, the quay was enlarged by Richard Rigby and was known as Port of Mistley. Small-scale shipbuilding took place here, and a number of smaller warships were built for the Royal Navy at Mistleythorn during the 18th century.
At that time, the village of Mistley, then known as Mistleythorn, consisted of warehouses, a granary, a large malting office and new quays. There was also a medieval church, only the porch of which survives, and a new church that Rigby's father had built to the north of the village in 1735. When Rigby hatched a scheme to turn Mistley into a fashionable spa this plain, rectangular brick building was not in keeping with his grand plans. Rigby originally called in Robert Adam to design a saltwater bath by the river, but this plan was never carried out and instead the architect was put to work on the church in around 1776.
Adam's scheme was unusual in that it avoided the standard form of 18th-century parish church design, which consisted typically of a rectangle with a western tower or portico (or both) and perhaps an eastern chancel. Instead, by adding towers at the east and west ends and semi-circular porticoes on the north and south sides, Adam created a design that was symmetrical along both the long and short axes. This unusual arrangement was possibly influenced by the design of Roman tombs and the result was most unconventional. Mistley would certainly have stood out from other 18th-century churches.
Sadly for Rigby, his grand plans for the spa were unsuccessful. The main body of the church was demolished in 1870 when a new and larger church in the then fashionable Gothic Revival style was built nearby.
When the young French aristocrat Francois de La Rochefoucauld visited Mistley in 1784, he remarked[7] on the trade of the port which he said was 'created entirely by Mr Rigby'. His tutor and companion, Maximilien de Lazowski, was more precise in his comments,[8] saying that 'Newcastle ships bring coal which is either distributed by cart into Essex or Suffolk or carried on upriver by barge to Sudbury. The whole neighbourhood brings its corn here to be embarked or stored for the London markets and all the coastal ports. There are six ships at the quay – a fine sight.'.
We cross the road to take the path pass the Maltings.
On the south side of Mistley High Street, east of the Post Office, is a brick wall with a section composed entirely of rounded cobbles. Here can be seen numerous ‘exotic’ rock types such as granite, dolerite and gneiss. There are even several cobbles of rhombporphyry, a rock type from the Oslo region of Norway. These rock types are typical of those found in local glacial deposits but the high number of exotic rocks in such a small section of wall is extremely unusual.
It was originally thought that the stones in the Mistley Wall might have been gathered locally. This is because 'exotic' rocks do occur in Essex, having been brought here during the Ice age by the Anglian Ice Sheet, some even from Norway. However, the great variety of rock types in this wall made this unlikely. The answer was found following extensive research by geologist Ian Mercer who established from various written records and oral testimonies beyond any doubt that these rocks were brought to Mistley from Norway in ballast in trading ships in the early 19th century. In the wall there are 280 million year old lavas from Larvik, near Oslo, with their distinctively-shaped crystals. These have provided a rock-solid link between Mistley’s maritime past and this surviving, historic wall. A valuable display of geology as well as history lesson, the Mistley wall is a treasure of the Essex coast. It has considerable local historical conservation value.
We take the path through the Crisp Malt Maltings that follows the Essex Way Path.
I wish I could post the smell that this place had as we walked through, reminding me of cousre brewing but then also hot Weetabix or Horlicks.
We follow the Essex Way signs over a railway bridge. Follow the footpath across a field and at the second T-junction of footpaths turn left towards the woods.
We approach the woods and as we enter there were several paths, we take the wrong one of course and end up walking back on ourselves to correct this.
The path climbs up and we meet Old Knobbley.
Known as Old Knobbley, this ancient, gnarled oak tree is thought to be around 800 years old. Over the centuries it has born witness to wars, famines, even a mini Ice Age as well, of course, as the 17th century witch hunts. Though today, with the 18th century development of Mistley Quay nearby, we’re not far from urban development, three hundred years ago, this would have been a much wilder area, a feral forest outside the confines of the town. It’s not hard to imagine this as a place to hide and seek sanctuary from the fear and loathing, accusation and uncertainty happening in the streets.
Trees like these hold a double meaning in our story of the witch trials, they represent both sanctuary for those fleeing their accusers and persecution; as the branch of a sturdy tree was sometimes used for hanging those found guilty. Old Knobbley was one of 270 sites nominated by the public for New Geographies, a three year project remapping the East of England through a series of artist commissions reflecting on local stories of unexplored or overlooked places.
Artist Susan Pui San Lok was one of the artists selected and she chose to recreate Old Knobbley in her work A COVEN A GROVE A STAND, which explores ideas of history, myth, collective witnessing and resistance. The following is excerpted from Fear and Loathing;
“I was interested in 7 of the sites that were nominated by the public, 7 out of 270, and all of the sites were somehow associated with the folklore around witchcraft or referenced the witch persecutions across the East of England over a 200 year period including a very concentrated period between 1645 and 1647.
I was interested in the fact that Old Knobbley was nominated as an imagined sanctuary for those accused of witchcraft…I was struck by the recurring image of the tree as both power and sanctuary and quite early on I wanted to bring it in to the gallery in some way and make that presence disturbing and awe inspiring and to explore through that the relationship to place and history and myth.”
For those of you who don’t know him, Old Knobbley is a huge and ancient oak tree. His immense trunk is scarred and riven, testament to the long ages of his life. Through drought and flood, famine, freeze and thaw Old Knobbley has withstood the worst of the elements. For some 800 years he has stood in Furze Wood, just outside Mistley, but the years have not been kind. Every injury inflicted over the centuries has healed over as a bizarre, lumpy carbuncle (called a burr in the timber trade), giving him the pocked and gnarled appearance that led to his affectionate nickname.
His striking appearance, great size and age have meant that Old Knobbley is a local landmark. Being so recognisable he has long been a popular meeting place, but also somewhere to flee to… it was during the English Civil War that another of East Anglia’s most famous sons’ lives intersected with the great old oak’s and it is here that the macabre part of Old Knobbley’s story begins.
As the self-styled Witch Finder General, Matthew Hopkins presented himself as a parliamentary official tasked by the government with hunting down witches across East Anglia. In reality he was nothing more than a huckster, taking advantage of the ignorance and superstition of rural communities and extorting huge fees from them to sniff out the “witches” that plagued them. He had no authority from the government or crown, but instead used the chaos of the Civil War to his advantage.
Well-educated, intelligent and ruthless enough to take advantage of the confusion and terror of this most divisive period of history, Hopkins made a pretty penny out of the untold misery and suffering of some 300 women who were summarily executed on his orders between 1644 and 1646. Historians now estimate that Hopkins and his assistant John Stearne were responsible for more than 60% of all the executions for witchcraft ever to take place in England, killing more in 14 months than in the rest of our recorded history.
It was widely believed at the time that witches would have a wart or pimple from which they suckled their familiar with their own blood. This “witch’s tit” (yes, seriously) was believed to be cold and unfeeling, so Hopkins employed 4 women as “prickers” to jab and cut at the accused’s tenderest parts to see if they hurt or bled. Naturally they used blunted knives.
Suspected witches could also be thrown in ponds to see if they drowned. If the water rejected them then clearly they had made an unholy compact with the devil, if they drowned… well, no harm done…
In terror of Hopkins and his bloodcurdling methods, local legend has it that suspected witches fled to the relative safety of the woods and the shelter of Old Knobbley’s branches. Some even go so far as to say that the ghosts of the witches, wrongly accused and horribly murdered, haunt Furze Wood still.
Old Knobbley isn’t the only such tree in the world, in fact a small number of all trees will develop the cankerous growths so prized by furniture makers and wood fans as burr. For a frighteningly good example of what a monstrous slab of burr oak can look like, you could always come and have a look in our slab gallery where we have a pair of enormous pieces for sale right now.
We walked on downhill and finally reached the Gameskeeper Pond.
The ghost of Matthew Hopkins, in full 17th century costume, is said to haunt Mistley Pond. This could very well be
more colourful, local legend, but ghosts are sometimes said to haunt lakes, pools and rivers, suggesting that water
acts as a portal between the living and the dead.
Like the Hopping Bridge, this pond is another likely site for witch ‘swimming’. ‘Swimming’ was one of several euphemisms used for the witchfinders’ practices of extracting confessions or finding ‘proof’ through semi-legal means. Suspected witches were also ‘watched’ and ‘searched’ in the belief they would call on their familiars (often 04 03 05 cats, dogs, toads, even ferrets) for help. ‘Watching’ actually involved walking the suspect back and forth for days and nights on end until they broke down.
Alison Rowlands explains: “The idea being that that would give you proof, proof very much in inverted commas, that they were witches. But it amounted obviously to torture, because watching was effectively sleep deprivation. I don’t know if you’ve seen the image on the front of the pamphlet, the Hopkins publication in 1647, it shows him and two women on chairs and they would have been watched. They’d often be tied to the chairs with the familiars. But you could only do that in somebody’s home, because that could often go on for two or three days and nights and you’d have local people helping, acting as, they were called watchers, they would actually watch to see what would happen.
So again, there’s a massive communal investment of effort in the witch finding.” ‘Searching’ included probing the bodies of the accused for physical evidence, specifically teats, which were used to suckle their familiars. This would amount to ‘proof’ that could be used against them. “...the women who were accused, their bodies were searched in really humiliating and painful, probing ways and they’d have blemishes and marks pricked with needles to see if they bled. So ‘searching’ is very euphemistic. In classic witch finding euphemisms, searching actually is very horrible.”
We walk on and pass the pond on the other side and out on a footpath.
The path back to Manningtree is part of the Essex Way and this section is an ancient trackway connecting the village to nearby Mistley. It passes the site of St Mary’s Church at Mistley Heath, where Matthew Hopkins is buried. It’s hard to imagine now as nothing remains of the church or its graveyard today, its flint and rubble ruins totally overgrown We can however imagine that this path was regularly walked by some of the accused women like Anne Leech who lived at Mistley and her daughter Helen Clark from Manningtree. They would have been familiar with this way; in good times treading it between the villages to visit each other, and later during the dark days of the witch trials, perhaps fleeing along it for their lives.
As we follow this ancient path back towards Manningtree this is a chance to reimagine the landscape. Today we think of this area as a tranquil place, it’s where people walk dogs and children play, but a few generations ago it bore witness to one of the most tragic episodes in English history. As we walk back to the town, we’ll bear witness to the women (and some men) who were persecuted here by remembering some of their names…
Joan Haddon, Witham, 1560
John Samond, Danbury, 1560
Elizabeth Lowys, Great Waltham, 1564
Elizabeth Francis, Chelmsford, 1566
Joan Osborne, Chelmsford, 1566
Agnes Waterhouse, Chelmsford, 1566,
Joan Waterhouse, Chelmsford, 1566
Lora Winchester, Chelmsford, 1566
We walk through Dairy Farm on a footpath, very nice place too!
We are now back walking through Manningtree.
An Easter display on a pretty cottage on Barnfields.
We walk back along South Street back towards the car and the end of the walk.
Manningtree is a very pretty place indeed!
We pass the Grade II listed Methodist Church.
Back pass the Village Green again.
A quick nose in the Red Lion, still closed so no beer and we walk on.
We are back on The Walls, we have a tea from the burger van here and sit and watch the river. A swan became very interested in our sandwiches and hissed and squared up to us. I had just finished mine but it chased Ian around the bench ha ha!
We are back at the car after a 4 mile walk. Very nice and gentle walk it was too!
