Enigma of Borley Rectory

by Harry Ludlum

  She was born 'Zoe Laboure' in 1806, in Fain les Moutiers, France, and after a lengthy sequence of events she became a nun with the Sisters of Charity at Châtillon in April 1830. During her life as a nun, she saw three visions of the Virgin Mary. Sister Catherine, as she then became, died in December 1876 and in May of 1933, under the auspices of Pope Pius XI, she was beatified.

  As part of this ceremony, her body was exhumed and showed no sign of decomposition. Two elderly women who had, as little children, been under her care recognised the body immediately as that of Catherine Laboure.

  We should also consider another medallion, which came to light in the Rectory during the first year of Price's investigation, 1929. Price reported finding two medals at the Rectory, but that illustrated in The Haunting of Borley Rectory was a St Ignatius Medal, given to children on their confirmation. It appears to have originated in Paris in 1799, five years after the French Revolution finally caught up with all the English convents in France, resulting in their being sacked or the nuns expelled.

  Curious that this medallion should have been struck at such an unfortunate period for the Catholic Church in France. Was the mystery of the nun something to do with the French Revolution, and not with 1667?

  In his second book on Borley, Harry Price suggested that both the medallions found in the ruins in 1943 could well have been the property of an immigrant Italian workman possibly employed by the company that built the Rectory in 1862/63 who lost them while digging the foundations. Italian workmen were quite commonplace in England during the mid to late 19th century, and of course, one at least, if not both of the curious marble fireplaces in the Rectory is thought to have come from Italy, via the Great Exhibition of 1851. One cannot help but wonder whether an Italian worker at the Rectory site was involved in some unfortunate emotional incident or an accident, which left a disturbed atmosphere about the place, thus contributing to the psychic disturbances.

  Certainly to a devout Catholic, the loss of either or both religious tokens could have proved to be greatly upsetting. They were, after all, physical signs of his committed acceptance in the spiritual faith. Similar losses have been accepted as traumatic for some, and as such, form the basis for poltergeist phenomena and events closely aligned to those experienced at the Rectory.

  We now turn to the post-war digging on the Rectory site, which revealed another curiosity, the tunnel under the road, popular in local folklore for years. In fact, part of a tunnel had been found during Harry Bull's time by a local man, Mr Farrance, when he broke through brickwork in the grounds of Borley Place, but his impromptu exploration of the tunnel was terminated when his candle guttered in the stale air. Looking back, it is lucky that Farrance didn't set off a pocket of methane gas with his candle.

  One popular tale was that a tunnel once stretched from Borley to Bures, indeed Price tells us that traces of a tunnel or tunnels had been found along a line between the two places, though in civil engineering terms such a long tunnel does seem a tall order.

  Before giving a summary of the post-war excavations, the present writer would remind readers that some details can be found in The Ghosts of Borley.

  Selective digging was carried out in the grounds of the Rectory during 1946/47 on behalf of the Rev. Henning, who had hopes of finding the lost church plate, but he was not successful. It was James Turner who was one of the first to re-excavate the old well, previously examined in 1943 by Harry Price. With the help of some friends, he cleared out a mountain of junk from the remains of the cellars and opened up both the main wells but failed to find any tunnel or drain leading off therefrom. The deep well was in a dangerous state, but Turner got down inside and confirmed that there was no opening leading from it.

  The next Borley investigator was Philip Paul who dug extensively during 1954/56. At one stage, he even unleashed a mechanical excavator on the site and during this period an interesting find was a number of pre-18th-century bricks. It was during these excavations that more was found of much older foundations, which lends more weight to the suspected existence of a much older building on the site, older than the Herringham rectory that stood there before the Bull pile was built, and possibly even older than Borley Place.

  The existence of the Herringham rectory is now well established by the Chelmsford tithe map of 1841, which was unearthed by Mr L. Sewell of Long Melford, who also carried out some excavations at Borley at this time.

  A story arose about a pair of iron gates alleged to have been discovered in the cellar, and which were said to have opened out into a blank area, but nothing has ever come to light to confirm or refute this tale.

  However, it was in September 1957 that the legendary tunnel was found by accident, providing an answer as to why the lane between the two Rectory gates sounded hollow when heavy vehicles passed over it. It was discovered that the roof of the tunnel was only 12 inches below the road surface at one point.

  One wonders what might have happened if, during the war, the Army had routed heavy tanks through Borley. Examination showed the tunnel, of very small dimensions internally, to be lined with old-fashioned Tudor-style bricks of the ancient two-inch pattern. At one point the tunnel dipped in a very curious fashion and, in all, it stretched from inside the grounds of Borley Place to the area of the old Rectory farm. To this day, the full extent of the tunnel has yet to be discovered for the excavations of 1957 could get only just so far, due to sections of the tunnel having collapsed.

  Readers might wonder about any possible connection between the elusive crypt of the church and the tunnel, more particularly in connection with the various stories about the past history of the site. For example, we know now that in the time of Henry VIII the Waldegraves were responsible for the maintenance of a rectory at Borley and also that old bricks, possibly Tudor, were found in the cellar remains, in the fabric of the remnants of a building older than Borley Rectory and possibly older than the Herringham rectory (not Borley Place, which Herringham also used).

  The Waldegraves, and most particularly Sir Edward Waldegrave, were Catholics, and of some influence. King Henry VIII especially, and later Edward VI, and of course, Queen Elizabeth I, all rounded upon the Catholics with a vengeance and it is something of a miracle that Sir Edward lived to be released from his first sojourn to the Tower instead of having his head lopped off, though his second term of imprisonment there - at the pleasure, or more correctly the displeasure, of Queen Elizabeth - proved to be terminal!

  In the various documents from the Calendars of State Papers Domestic, relating to Waldegrave's arrest and imprisonment after being betrayed by John Cox, there are dark suggestions of various plots against the Queen. Did the Waldegraves construct the tunnel as a means of escape or concealment perhaps?

  It is a curious coincidence that they would have been about the only people in Borley in those days with the resources to construct such a passage. It was in such dangerous times that priestholes and escape routes were common in many a wealthy man's home.

  But to conclude this section, there are some other more minor excavations that ought to be mentioned. During 1937, Sidney Glanville and Mark Kerr-Pearse made a small exploratory dig in the cellar of the Rectory, which of course at that date was still intact if rather dilapidated. They dug out a spot beneath the area of the 'cold spot' that was found on the first-floor landing, but nothing of any value was found.

  More curious, however, was the discovery by Glanville that the cats' cemetery had been disturbed. It was found that an area of about five feet across had been turned over, and some of the little headboards flung into the undergrowth. Glanville redug the spot and found bones that were neither of man nor cat, but looked as though they might belong to farm animals. Somebody or something had seen fit to disturb and rake over a private pets' cemetery. Who and why has never been satisfactorily explained.

  Further digging could have provided a definite answer as to whether there was a plague pit on the site, as was believed, and as seems at least possible in connection wi
th the monastery story. Is it, however, too much to hope that one day some enterprising individual might seek to discover the full extent of the tunnel under the road?

  What does survive from the great Rectory? Not very much, sad to say. The big Rectory bell was presented to Harry Price by Captain Gregson during the excavations of 1943, and it is now in the care of Peter Underwood, who also has an inkstand made by the late Harry Bull. The huge oak gateposts from the lower drive gate also survive, now 120 years old, cracked and bleached, but otherwise more or less intact.

  As far as I can ascertain, the last substantial item from the Rectory, the huge pump, disappeared for scrap. The medallions found under the cellar passageway in 1943 were buried with the bone fragments at Liston in 1945, whilst of the silver cream jug which Harry Price painstakingly cleaned the writer can find no trace.

  At the time of demolition, particular care was taken to rescue the big dining room fireplace with its monks' heads, and it was duly laid aside - only to be smashed to pieces, by whom it has never been discovered.

  It was indeed a sad end to the 'Most Haunted House in England'. Even the writer cannot help but feel a sense of regret that of Henry Bull's massive Victorian rabbit warren not one brick survives, though, I understand, a roof tile is used by an adult tutor for psychometric tests.

  CHAPTER 17

  The Monastery Controversy

  At the root of many of the stories about the origins of the ghosts at Borley Rectory was a popular local belief that the site on which it was constructed had once been the location of a Benedictine monastery. Since the death of Harry Price, no evidence has been presented to prove or disprove the existence of a monastic establishment at Borley, or of a nunnery or convent at Bures, both of which form the background to the exciting, but fallacious, story of the 'Novice of Bures'. The general opinion these days is that there was no monastery at Borley.

  A fairly popular view locally is that the idea of a monastery at Borley most likely developed out of local gossip to explain the presence of the spectral nun in the Rectory grounds. As the monastery idea was popularly believed in the district for so long, the 'fiction from gossip' idea does seem, at least to the writer, as somewhat weak and lacking as a final and conclusive explanation of the truth about a monastic background to the story of Borley Rectory.

  In my opinion, in order to be really convincing, any such story has to contain some grain of truth. In the case of Harry Price, despite frequent attempts to discredit his work, his presentation of the Borley Rectory episode was, I think, on balance founded solidly on a good quantity of truth, originating from the experiences of many people.

  When one comes to examine more closely the facts about Borley's monastic associations, although one cannot say there was a 'Borley monastery' one couldn't be certain it was fiction.

  Several accounts of the Borley Rectory episode indicate that sometime between 1362 and 1364 King Edward III granted the Manor of Borley to an order of Benedictine monks who held it until the Dissolution, after which it was in the hands of the Waldegrave family for some 300 years.

  What those past chroniclers of Borley discovered now appears to have been a classic misinterpretation of one part of a very interesting chain of events concerning Borley's links with the monastic world. Before examining these, we do need to go back in time to discover what seems to have been the first documented involvement of monks in Borley's affairs, in fact back to the year 1248.

  At that time it would appear that part of the district of Borley was under the wing of the order of Benedictine nuns of the monastery at Barking, or to give it its old rendition 'Berkynge', and of which all trace has long since vanished.

  In 1248, the Abbess of Barking was Maud, a daughter of King John, who held the post until 1252, when she was succeeded by the Lady Christina de Boseham. During the period in question, a legal dispute arose between the then Rector of Foxearth, and the Barking establishment, concerning tithes due for the estate of Little Borley from one Humphrey, son of Walter.

  In the British Museum's Department of Manuscripts, where several items that relate to Borley, Bures and the Waldegraves can be found, there has survived a document concerning this episode. In it, judgement was given in the dispute by the masters Gilbertus Perdris and Fulco of Dovoria, acting on behalf of Father Fulconis Bassett, Lord Bishop of London.

  As far as the writer has been able to ascertain, Little Borley is believed to have occupied the area now known as Brook Hall, so of course there is not necessarily any involvement in the history of the site of Borley Rectory, though if Barking Monastery held title to land in Little Borley, it may well have held land elsewhere in the parish.

  The major monastic involvement in the affairs of Borley came in 1301, and has caused much misinterpretation since.

  In that year, King Edward I granted to the Prior and Convent of Christ Church, Canterbury, title to the Manor of Borley in exchange for lands that they had previously held at Westcliffe in Kent. The Prior and Convent were then required to render to the Exchequer the sum of £10 per annum, being the stated difference in value between Westcliffe and Borley. Westcliffe was valued at £30 per annum, Borley at £40, hence the difference to the Exchequer.

  As recorded in the Canterbury charter, the payments fell into arrears and as a consequence, in the year 1364, the Prior and Convent made over to King Edward III lands held in the Isle of Sheppey in Kent, and thereafter the Manor of Borley was charged with an annual pension to the Exchequer of £4 5s, and that state of affairs continued until the Dissolution. Ownership of Borley Manor by the Priory is also evident from returns of 1303 and 1346. The Prior at Canterbury in 1303 was Henry of Eastry.

  The patronage of the church at Borley as given in the Canterbury charter is in some doubt, stating the Lord of the Manor to be the patron of the Church, while according to Repertorium Vol.2, p.75, the patronage remained with the King.

  However, the Canterbury document tallies with the British Museum copy in this respect. Morant's History of Essex, Vol. II (London 1768) p.317 states that the advowson of the church was vested in the Crown until 1364, when King Edward III gave it to the Prior and Convent of Christ Church, at Canterbury. It is from here, it seems, that the inaccurate recording of the alleged monastery of 1362 could very well have arisen, or at least partly.

  On March 20, 1539, the Prior and Convent's holding seems to have lapsed and on May 21, 1541 King Henry VIII granted the estate of Borley to the Dean and Chapter, who being unable to finance its upkeep, reassigned it to the King on November 23, 1545. Not long afterwards it was apparently given to Sir Edward Waldegrave of Bures, the ill-fated Sir Edward who was later to perish in the Tower of London.

  It is generally held that in the administration of the Borley estate during Canterbury's ownership, the only time monks would have been involved directly with the place would have been during the initial period of ownership, when a report on the state of the place would have been needed by the Priory at Canterbury. For all main practical purposes, day-to-day running of the manor would have been in the hands of a land steward or tenant manager.

  Now, however, we come to something more interesting than even the time of the Canterbury Priory ownership of Borley. It has been fairly well established that there was not a monastery as such on or close to the site later occupied by Borley Rectory. Why, then, did this supposed community persist for so long in local folklore and folk history?

  One possibility is that while there was no monastery at Borley itself there was supposedly a Priory on the opposite side of the River Stour, on land that butted on to Borley's parish boundaries. What is more, according to a local historian, Georgina Dawson, this Priory was of a Benedictine order. It was suggested that this Priory had access to land, or 'free warren' in Borley. If this was indeed the case, then one very obvious source of the stories about an old monastery in Borley reveals itself. Further to this, one should add that if this monastery did in fact exist, two questions arise:

  1. Is there any documentary ev
idence of such an establishment?

  2. If it did exist, to exactly which order did it belong?

  It would, for example, be rather interesting to discover whether the place was of an English or an alien order. If this last point about an alien priory establishment was found to be admissible, this would be of obvious interest in connection with the story of Borley Rectory, for alien orders that once existed here were, almost always, French. An example would be Boxley Abbey in Kent, which was run originally by monks from Clairvaux in France.

  It is worth remembering that Harry Price was convinced at the time of writing his second book on Borley that the nun which so bemused those interested in the story was, if she lived at all, a French girl.

  The reader will discover later that there have been many candidates for the identity of the elusive Catholic sister, but for the present it is the supposed Stour Valley priory that must occupy our attention.

  Historical archives do indeed suggest that Georgina Dawson's findings were sound because there were not one but two monastic orders no great distance from Borley. On the basis of available evidence, however, neither of them appears to have housed any nuns, though one of these two orders is of considerable interest.

  One of these monastic communities was in Sudbury, by the Stour, close to the present-day Sudbury Cricket Ground. Part of the remains is built into premises now occupied by a Masonic lodge. It was dedicated to St Saviour and was founded in about 1248, it is believed by Baldwin of Shipling, and was of the Dominican order. Sudbury Friary, which was its official title, lasted until 1538 and was chiefly known for its theological studies.