Basildon Town Centre: 'Witch' Walk

How did the witch trials start?

Witchcraft was not made illegal until the first Witchcraft Act in this country was passed by Parliament in 1542. It defined witchcraft as a felony, a crime considered more serious than a misdemeanour. Before it there were few prosecutions. This Act, however, upped the ante and made such offences punishable by death, along with the forfeiture of goods and possessions. Subsequent Witchcraft Acts came in with increasingly harsh punishments.  The last person to be imprisoned under one of them was Helen Duncan in 1944.

There were an astonishing amount of witchcraft accusations in Essex. More in fact than Kent, Hertfordshire Surrey, Sussex and Middlesex put together. Indeed at one point Essex was referred to as ‘Witch County’. Witchcraft accusations flew around all over our country between 1560 and 1680. The borough of Basildon, as this stretch of land is known now, was no exception.

The first woman prosecuted, here that we can find a record of was, Anne Brewer from Dunton Wayletts, a hamlet to the Northwest of Basildon. In 1574 she was brought before the Ecclesiastical Court of the Archdeacons of Essex. She had been accused of being a witch. Her accusers are unknown but the accused were often brought before court by ministers and churchwardens, who ‘detected’  their crimes. This was usually by investigating the 'witch's' 'common fame' or, to put it more frankly, rumours about them. So, how you got on with your neighbours was of huge significance.

In court Anne denied that she was a witch. It was decided there however that she needed to ‘purge’ herself with four people.  This meant that she would have had to ask a number of ‘honest neighbours’ to swear that her denial of witchcraft was true. If she managed this then her good reputation would be restored. However, if she was unable to persuade people to stand by her, she would be ordered to undertake public penance. Before the gathered parish, usually in church on a Sunday, she would be dressed in a white sheet and be made to carry, rather ironically, a white wand.

It seems strange now to think that you would look a bit like a white witch while denying witchcraft but that’s how we rolled back then. The accused would then have to confess, ask for the mercy of God but also ask forgiveness of her neighbours for making them think she was a witch. Then she would swear to mend her evil ways. A notable example of this happened in 1441 when the Duchess of Gloucester was found guilty of witchcraft. In fact, Shakespeare wrote about it in his play, Henry VI Part Two. The Duchess was forced to do this public penance and to divorce her husband. She was also condemned to life imprisonment. Her alleged accomplice Margery Jourdemayne- a woman of ‘low birth’ - wasn’t quite as lucky and was burned as a witch at the stake in Smithfield in London.

Returning to Basildon – if Anne was successful in her penance then she would have to pay fees and fines. Given that many of the women accused were peasants-class without estate this would sometimes not be possible or mean she would need to borrow money (and probably further irk family and neighbours). Eventually once all of this was completed, the ‘witch’ would be given a certificate and her good name would be restored. However, we know, with witchcraft accusations, mud sticks, many women were accused several times.

Anne’s fate lay in the hands of her neighbours. What would yours say of you?

She had a face that would….

Launch a thousand ships,

Stop clocks,

Strip paint,

Turn milk sour.

We’ve all heard these phrases from time to time. They are used to describe female expressions. Sometimes flattering, oftentimes not.

Agnes Bryant, a spinster, was blamed for souring ’20 brewings of Gabriel Bec’s beer in Billericay on October 22nd 1580. He testified that the liquid would not ‘worke and sponge’. However Agnes wasn’t caught contaminating the beer, but did it through witchcraft.  Perhaps she asked the brewer for some beer, didn’t get it, and gave him a rebuke or dirty look. It was likely enough to make Bec think that she had maliciously spoiled his beer.

This might seem absurd now but at the time people really did believe (and in some places still do) that a look or a glance could harm objects, things, people. The Malleus Malificarum (also known as The Hammer of the Witches) was widely in circulation then. It was published in 1487, only 37  years after the first printing press invented, so spread all over Europe.  The book was basically a ‘How To’ guide for wannabe witchfinders. And spectacularly misogynistic. In it the authors Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, explained that if someone directed their glance upon a certain object their spirit could pass through their eyes into it. They added that if a woman in her ‘monthly periods’ did this then she would pass on her ’impurity’. Similarly, ‘if anybody’s spirit be inflamed with malice or rage, as is often the case with old women, then their disturbed spirit looks through their eyes.’ These evil looks were of course inspired by the devil, with whom they said ‘old witches have made some secret contract.’

Seventeen months after Agnes spoiled the beer through witchcraft, another accusation was made – that she had bewitched a horse to death. The charges were becoming more serious- rumours were feeding off rumours, people were becoming alarmed at the misfortunes occurring and casting around for someone to blame.

They didn’t wait long.

On the 23rd of April one of Agnes’ neighbours, Daniel Fynch, fell ill. Twelve days later he died.  The village thought they knew what had happened  - Agnes was blamed for his death.

The spinster was hauled off to trial at the Chelmsford Summer Sessions in 1582. That was a big year for witch hunting, which can’t have helped.  Earlier, in the Spring, a group of women from St Osyth and its surrounding areas in northeast Essex were accused of witchcraft and taken to trial. Two of them, Ursula Kempe and Elizabeth Bennett, were found guilty, sentenced to death and hanged. A pamphlet, a bit like a modern-day tabloid newspaper, was written about it so the trial became famous throughout the land.

Maybe this swayed the judges for although Agnes pleaded with the court that she was innocent of all charges, that she had nothing to do with Bec’s beer, John Atkynsonne’s horse, or Daniel Fynch’s demise,  no-one believed her.

Agnes was found guilty.

She was taken from the court and hanged by the neck until she was dead.  

On the 24th of January, three years after Agnes Bryant had been executed, more accusations of witchcraft were levied at another woman - Lettice Tybbold of Maplestead. She was charged with bewitching Margery Sampson, the wife of William, a labourer. Margery apparently languished, that is – was ill - until the 8th of March. Lettice was another woman, a spinster, living on her own. Kramer and Sprenger were suspicious of such women, writing ‘Truly the most powerful cause which contributes to the increase of witches is the woeful rivalry between married folk and unmarried women and men. This is so, even among holy women, so what must it be among the others?’

The idea may have well taken hold in Maplestead for later that year another accusation was made against Lettice: that on the 20th of October she bewitched to death 7 heifers of Nicholas Martyn.  Yes, the cows had started acting strangely then died. Then, fifteen days later on the 4th of November, Margery Martyn, daughter of Nicholas Martyn, also sickened, right up to the 8th of  March. This is the same date cited in Margery Sampson’s case. I can’t say for certain whether both Margerys got better that day or died, but it's fair to assume that, as Lettice was taken to court by the families seeking justice, some tragedy probably befell them. Perhaps two deaths on the same day were too much of a coincidence for a community with little understanding about the nature of disease. Whatever, the misgivings of neighbouring families were spoken out loud, moving from whispered grumblings and conspiratorial murmurs to formal charges.

At the Essex Lent Sessions in Chelmsford the accusations against Lettice were found to be ‘Billa vera’ – ‘a true bill’, which means that the court found that there was enough evidence for these charges to be answered. Lettice pleaded ‘Po se non cul” – not guilty of the offences. As well she would. But what happened to her after that -we don’t know.

What can we make of this?

Well it was clear that Lettice was not popular in Maplestead. Her neighbours thought she was a witch and malevolent enough to kill seven female cows (heifers) and cause physical harm to two of the village women.  Before we shake our heads at the ignorance of the age, it’s worth putting the year in context. 1584 had been preceded by a number of peculiar events that had troubled the people of Essex. There had been an earthquake in the Dover Straits, which was felt in the county and of which the poet James Yates, wrote was ‘sudden motion, and shaking of the earth.’ He interpreted this as God’s disapproval and urged folk to ‘call to God, for never neede we more’ and crave mercy ‘for our misdeeds, our sinful lives’. Before the emergence of science strange events, misfortunes, death, earthquakes, and war, were often thought to be omens, signs of God’s anger or could be attributed to witches.

And there was religious upheaval too. An act of parliament banning the Catholic mass had come into force. As a result, many Catholics had to take their worship ‘underground’.  It is thought by some that the words ‘hocus pocus’ originate from this time: people saw shadowy figures meeting under cover of darkness in secret corners to whisper "this is my body,’ meaning the communion wafer that in mass becomes the body of Christ. In Latin the translation is ‘Hoc est corpus meum.’  Hocus Pocus.

The prosecution of Catholics went into overdrive. A Jesuit priest, Edmund Campion, was found preaching by priest hunters. He was then hung, drawn and quartered.

In the same year that Lettice was alleged to have carried out her malicious acts of maleficium, Francis Throckmorton, the father of the Countess of Essex, was executed. He had plotted to prepare England for a foreign invasion by French, Spanish or Italian forces who would overthrow Queen Elizabeth and replace her with Mary Queen of Scots, so that the country might become Catholic again.

Enemies were everywhere. England was full of fear, distrust and suspicion. The perfect breeding ground for both superstition and intolerance to flourish.

We might think that we are more enlightened these days, but the tendency to blame others for our hardships or problems has not gone away. At the beginning of the pandemic there was an explosion of abuse aimed at Asians living in the UK. Single mums are periodically blamed for the fall in societal standards. And let’s not forget that awful Essex Girl who brings disrepute on our good county merely by existing – if indeed, like the witches, she ever did at all.

It’s always easier to point the finger at others rather than examine the complexities of the issue or look at your own failings. It’s called scapegoating. 

Eight years after Agnes Bryant from Great Burstead was executed another woman who lived there, Agnes Berry, was accused of witchcraft. The village must have been quite a zealous community.

According to a plaque on the church wall of St Mary Magdalene, one of the parish, was Christopher Martin. He was the churchwarden in 1611 and held puritan views. In 1620 he was the passenger governor of the Speedwell, a ship bound for The New World (America). He did not make friends on it. Robert Cushman, an organiser of the voyage, wrote that ‘if I speak to him, he flies in my face, as mutinous and saith no complaints shall be heard,’ and that he insulted ‘our poor people with such scorn and contempt as if they were not good enough to wipe his shoes’. The crew were also offended by his ‘ignorant boldness, in meddling and controlling, in things he knows not what belongs to.’ Later that year he was the passenger governor on the pilgrim ship the Mayflower, though soon replaced by John Carver.

It's worth taking a moment to think about how Martin might have dealt with peasant class women accused of witchcraft, certainly if this is how he spoke to fellow noblemen and crew. His disdain for the poor was obvious to the other passengers. With attitudes such as his bearing down upon you, it must have been a frightening experience as an unprotected widow living in poverty to merely be labelled as a witch. In fact, another member of Agnes family had also become the subject of disrepute and scandal. According to the Archdeaconry of Essex records Agnes’ daughter was also accused of ‘incontinency’.

Before you start worrying that you can be prosecuted for loose bowels, let me reassure you - ‘incontinency’ doesn’t have the same meaning today as it did then. Though, to be honest, it’s not totally beyond the realms of possibility that some folk were accused of being witches for wetting themselves - everyone back then was pretty witchcraft-mad. Incontinency however meant ‘a lack of sexual self-control.’ When a woman married her husband her legal rights and obligations were subsumed by those of her husband.  He held ownership over her. Incidentally for those of you who think these ideas – coverture – are consigned to the past, let us not forget the Sex Discrimination Act was only passed in the UK in 1975. Its primary aim was to allow women to open a bank account without needing a man to act as a guarantor. It’s not so long ago, 1975.

But back in the 16th century husbands literally owned their wives and their bodies. So, if a woman was flirtatious or even just perceived to be flirtatious, she would be viewed as ‘incontinent’ - a possession acting disloyally and without restraint. And if the women were single? Well unless they were betrothed to a man, such behaviour as this would also be frowned upon. It was considered lewd and offensive to the values of those in control -  the very opposite of ‘chaste’ and ‘holy’, the behaviours aligned with God and godliness.

So, if such behaviour wasn’t associated with God, then it well might be inspired by his adversary - the Devil. Kramer and Sprenger stated that it was ‘adulterous drabs and whores’ who were the chief users of witchcraft (because of their ‘filthy lusts’) and certainly, in many accusations across Europe, we can see a link between female sexuality and alleged witchcraft. But more of that later when we come to Margaret Burgis.

Joan Bell was accused of not receiving communion. Possibly because of this, or because she did not go to church on that Sunday, someone, she claimed, "one Whaple" made a complaint that she was a witch.

During a time when women had little power it was quite a bold move for Joan to make this protest at court where those in charge were undoubtedly all men. It sounds to me that Joan was indignant at the accusation.  And good for her for speaking up about it to the Archdeacons of Essex.

This small act of rebellion made me smile when I read it. But when I visited the place where Joan lived, I felt a greater sense of place, and this put her into a broader context. For Fobbing was quite a hotbed of radicalism and revolution.

Many will have heard of the Peasants Revolt, but did you know that Fobbing played a major part? On 30 May, 1381, John Bampton (sometimes referred to as Brampton), a sheriff of Essex and Justice of the Peace attempted to collect the poll tax in the village. (Similar marches were held in the same place back in the 1980s by the way). At that time England had experienced a great loss of life due to plague -  the Black Death. Businesses had gone bust and taxes were being hiked up, there was war in Europe. Sound familiar? 

The villagers, led by Thomas Baker, a local small holder, were having none of it telling Bampton that they had already paid and would give him nothing. They didn’t have much to work with but chased Bampton and the soldiers he had come with, out of the Fobbing, forcing him to leave empty handed. It was one of the sparks that ignited the Peasant's Revolt. Robert Belknap, the Chief Justice of common Pleas, was immediately dispatched to investigate the incident and to punish the offenders. But he was intercepted and attacked at Brentwood. At this point, word of what had happened had spread further afield, and the counties of Essex and Kent went into a full scale insurrection!

Viva la revolution!

Soon peasants moved on London as part of an armed uprising.

But the rebels leaders, however, were either captured or slain, many at the Battle of Billericay. Over 500 Essex men are thought to be buried in the churchyard of St Mary Magdalene in Great Burstead where Anne Brewer and Agnes Bryant lived. To quell any lurking rebellious ideas King Richard himself visited Essex to tell the people "rustics you were and rustics you are still. You will remain in bondage, not as before, but incomparably harsher.’

Charming.

Thomas Baker was executed by hanging and drawing on 4th July 1381 in Chelmsford. His land passed over to his wife, Avice, but was then confiscated.

The villagers of Fobbing clearly still feel the injustice of these events as there is memorial to the Peasants' Revolt in the recreation ground there. And also, more significantly, it’s commemorated at the local pub. Outside the White Lion, at the end of Fobbing Road, a plaque is nailed to the wall. It reads:

To commemorate the villagers of Fobbing who, in the year, 1381, stood for the freedom of the English people against oppression. ‘Oh what avail the plough and sail, or life, or land, if freedom fail’?

A fine and good sentiment. Though one we are still striving for.

That Joan Bell from Fobbing was a touch on the feisty side, is no great surprise. The only wonder is that she was a woman. And like many of the women of her time who were too loud, too mouthy or too feisty, she too was accused of being a witch.

At least she wasn’t hanged.

Joan’s punishment was to bring a certificate to be signed by honest neighbours to demonstrate she was good.  A purgation of sorts. Let’s hope her rebellious neighbours supported her in this, otherwise she’d be sent out into the churchyard in a white robe with a wand, just like Anne Brewer and the Duchess of Gloucester before her.

In 1605 The Commissary Court Correction Book recorded the case of Margaret Prentize. She was presented for being, and I quote, a 'rayler, curser and scoulder,’ and of course a witch – comes with the territory, doesn’t it? She was also noted to be ‘a rayler againste the marriage of ministers'.

I’ve got to say, I like the sound of Margaret, refusing to be only seen and not heard, railing against things that she thought were wrong, though evidently becoming unpopular in the process. You see, in doing this Margaret was acting outside of the conventions of how a ‘good’ woman should act. Society in the Seventeenth Century, and to a certain extent today, does not like generally approve of this behaviour – women who speak out and rail. Instead of getting backlash on Twitter, which can still be terribly scarring Early Modern judges had other ways of shutting up troublesome women. One of these was the Scold’s bridle.

The first official use of this punitive device was recorded in Scotland in 1567, so it was certainly around when Margaret was accused.

The Scold’s bridle, or Witches bridle as it is also called, was an iron muzzle in a frame that enclosed the head. It was wrapped around a woman’s face (see illustration). A bridle-bit, or ‘curb plate’, would then be moved into the woman’s mouth where it would pressed down on the tongue, sometimes these parts had spikes on them too. With this in your mouth you couldn’t speak, eat or drink. It was also very painful. Overwhelmingly the Scold’s or Witch’s Bridle was used on women. Sometimes in addition to wearing it the women would be lead around town. Some bridles had a bell attached to the bridle to attract the attention of anyone near and cause humiliation. The purpose of the bridle was to try and scare and frighten these women into submission.

Weirdly, the use of the Scold’s Bridle was only legally abolished in… 1967.

Another punishment for scolds was the cucking stool or ducking stool - a chair fastened to long wooden beams which were then fixed into a seesaw sort of structure. The chair was wheeled to the edge of a pond or river where it would be hung by a chain from the end of a beam. The chair or stool, with the scold fastened in, would be ducked into the water and submerged. 

A ballad, which dates from around Margaret’s time describes the punishment.

‘Then was the Scold herself,
 In a wheelbarrow brought,
 Stripped naked to the smock,
 As in that case she ought:
 Neats tongues about her neck
 Were hung in open show;
 And thus unto the cucking stool
 This famous scold did go.’ 

The Commissary Court Correction Book tells us that Margaret was ordered to ‘attend Mr Bockmand’ in order that she was 'taught her dutie'. Goodness knows how he chose to do that. But there is a pond at Little Burstead…

Was Margaret, the scolding witch, ducked, cucked or forced into the Bridle?

Such cruel punishments. 

Just outside of the Borough, Catherine was accused of, yep – you’ve got it - being a witch. Catherine denied this and her case was dismissed. Thank goodness. But now is probably a good point to ask why it was that women were more often accused of witchcraft than men? 

Some of the reasons for this go back to the publication of that book, the Malleus Malificarum (Hammer of the Witches). Remember what it said about women their dirty looks which I spoke about when we looked at Anne Brewer?  Well this is how Kramer and Sprenger explained why they pointed the finger at more women than men:

Women get angry.

Quotes:

There is no wrath above the wrath of a woman. 

What else is woman but a foe to friendship, an unescapable punishment, a necessary evil, a natural temptation, a desirable calamity, a domestic danger, a delectable detriment, an evil of nature, painted with fair colours! 

A woman either loves or hates; there is no third grade.

Women have sexual feelings. Fancy that? Oh you do? Well of course.

Quotes: 

The many lusts of men lead them into one sin, but the lust of women leads them into all sins; for the root of all woman's vices is avarice. 

Women are more bitter than death, and good woman subject to carnal lust.

Women are weak mentally and physically.

Quotes:

They are more credulous; and since the chief aim of the devil is to corrupt faith, he rather attacks them.

Women are naturally more impressionable, and ready to receive the influence of a disembodied spirit; when they use this quality well they are very good, but when they use it ill they are very evil.

As regards to intellect, or the understanding of spiritual things, they seem to be of a different nature from men.

Women are intellectually like children.

No woman understood philosophy except Temeste, (whoever she is).

They are feebler both in mind and body, so it is not surprising that they should come more under the spell of witchcraft.

They talk. Sometimes they even talk to each other

Quotes:

They have slippery tongues, and are unable to conceal from the fellow-women those things which by evil arts they know; and, since they are weak, they find an easy and secret manner of vindicating themselves by witchcraft.

They’re a bit shady.

Quotes:

The tears of woman are a deception.

When a woman thinks alone, she thinks evil.

Er…Eve, she who Satan persuaded to eat of the apple of knowledge.

Quotes:

Because she was made from Adam’s rib there was ‘a defect in the formation of the first woman, since she was formed from a bent rib, that is, a rib of the breast, which is bent as it were in a contrary direction to a man.  This means she is an ‘imperfect animal’ and ‘always deceives’

And it is clear in the case of the first woman that she had little faith; for when the serpent asked why they did not eat of every tree in Paradise, she answered: Of every tree, etc. - lest perchance we die. Thereby she showed that she doubted, and had little in the word of God

They can get jealous.

Quote:

There is always jealousy, that is, envy, in a wicked woman. And if women behave thus to each other, how much more will they do so to men.

Basically:

‘a wicked woman is by her nature quicker to waver in her faith, and consequently quicker to abjure the faith, which is the root of witchcraft.’

‘All wickedness is but little to the wickedness of a woman.’

It’s a wonder any women got through this period in history. And though it seems incredible, ridiculous, even funny now, we must remember many of our fellow Essexians lost their lives because of these ideas.

And belief in witchcraft still persists. Witch hunts are not a thing of the past but carry on today in many countries around the world.

So now we have arrived at Margaret Burgis’ story. Six miles out of Basildon as the crow flies she lived in Horndon on the Hill and was accused by three men of bewitching another man.

Let’s think about that word. ‘Bewitching’ – it’s odd isn’t it? Sometimes it’s thought to mean charming, enchanting or glamourous. These days it suggests that you have a certain attractive allure or unfathomable magnetism. But these words – bewitching, charming, enchanting, glamourous - all go back to the witch trials. Glamour, in fact, was thought to be a fairy magic. Tradition holds that it was like a spell which made you look better than you actually were in reality. Kramer and Sprenger, yes those men again, suggested that witches used a ‘glamour’ to turn men into beasts (ie. If they behaved badly it’s wasn’t their fault – it was the witch’s). It could also be used to make men believe that they had ‘lost their virile member’ i.e. penis.  Luckily our two authors added, for all those poor men that ‘such members are never actually taken away from the body, but are only hidden by a glamour from the senses of sight and touch.’

If you boil it down their message seems to be - blame the women for your behaviour – whether your penis makes you wild or disappears.

Again, it might seem a thing of the past but note this overheard conversation in a pub recently:

(Pub sounds play in the background)

Man 1: Do you know what’s a bit weird - I haven’t seen Ben been down the Feathers lately?

Man 2: Got a new girlfriend. She's not letting him out, is she? Or she’s doing something to keep him in…

Man 3: Who is it, then?

Man 2: That Maggie.

Man 1: Maggie who?

Man 2: Margaret Burgis.

Man 3: Not that odd girl who lives down the lane. Long black hair, a bit witchy looking.

Man 2: One and the same.

Man 1: What’s he doing with her instead of coming out with his mates for Gawd's sake? She ain’t no oil painting.

Man 2: Sounds like she’s got him under her thumb.

Man 3: Under a spell more like, the witch.

All three: Oh no! My penis has disappeared!

Actually I may have embroidered this a little but you get the drift. Women were and still are blamed for men's behaviour whether they've exerted any influence or not.

And finally we come to Mary Hurst of Nevenden. In 1653 poor Mary was accused of being a witch (of course) and was alleged through witchcraft to have ‘hurt’ a yeoman, Isaak Hodge. Another man, William Hodge, also announced he had been bewitched on 24th of May that year. These claims were endorsed by Mary’s neighbours:  John Crosse, Thomas Austen, Sarah Allen, Richard Landell, Hester Rymes.

The court, when they listened to the testimonies, found the charges to be true. Mary pleaded not guilty. In this case she was reprieved before Judgement, which must have been a great relief. Though we don’t know what happened to her once she left court. The taint of witchcraft was difficult to erase once you had been accused, especially in formal proceedings at court. And history, as we know, has always been written and re-shaped by the winners, not those who were executed, punished and scorned.

It is more than likely that Mary was a peasant, like so many of those accused of witchcraft. When folk like her were taken to court they were often required to have a man speak for them, as women lacked power or organisational support, held very low status and few rights. On their own, they  were legally ‘dumb’. Similarly, like many of the other women we have encountered here on this walk, Mary was on her own, described as a ‘spinster’. She would have been considered a ‘loose’ woman, as in - not under the protection or shelter of a man.

Now, if you put all these characteristics together and consider another stereotype prevalent in our county – the Essex Girl – you can see there are some similarities: they are both at the low end of the social scale, ‘loose’ and ‘dumb’. I wonder if it’s possible that today’s stereotype was born out of the witch hunts all those centuries ago? Afterall, Essex was once called ‘Witch County’ – there was scarcely a village untouched by the witch trials.

Could it be that, although the witch hunts ended and people forgot about the panic that had raged through our county, there still persisted an idea that there was something ‘dodgy’ about the women of Essex? So when the stereotype reared her blonde flossy head in the 80s people thought, ‘That’s it. I knew there was something funny about those women,’ and the Essex Girl was decisively driven into the national (and international consciousness). It can’t be proven but it’s worth thinking about, surely?

And if that idea makes you pause a moment, answer this – if we agree that both these stereotypes – the witch and the Girl - are unjust and born of ignorance, isn’t it time to put them aside? And maybe even dig out an apology too?

History, as we can see from these stories, tends to repeat itself. It’s vitally important to acknowledge what has happened so that we can learn lessons and move on to create a better world for ALL of us to live in. I’m sure Mary, the two Margarets, the two Agnes’s, Catherine, Joan, Lettice and Anne would agree:

'Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.' Syd Moore