Tudor Cotswold
- lindaglamour
- Feb 11, 2019
- 6 min read
While I was getting cosy in my little Burford Cottage, I was keen to also explore the small town I was spending five nights in and familiarise myself with its ambiance. The best way to explore is of course, by foot. So I rug up with layers of thermals and woollens and with sturdy boots on, I head out down the main street. Small roads and laneways run off in every direction and it was easy to wander aimlessly, taking this turn then that as I walked. Even with snow still lying on the streets, it made for a rewarding and invigorating walk. The architecture was endlessly fascinating and I stopped innumerable times to admire this ancient window, that ancient archway or perhaps a pretty doorway into a delightful cottage or grand estate.
Turning down one such road, I saw at the bend in the road which took away the view, a sign set out on the curb. Coffee shop I thought? My explorer's instinct kicked in along with a longing for caffeine as I walked the narrow road lined with cotswold cream stone cottages. It seemed like every door was painted a different shade of pastel green. At the intersection I realised that to my left, I had come upon St John the Baptist Church, and the signage was indeed for caffeine though supplied by the Church's hall. The Church itself however entranced me instantly and thoughts of coffee disappeared.
The tall spire of the Church can be seen from almost every viewpoint in Burford and it is set back from the main street buffered by both housing and its graveyard. I enter through the black wrought iron gateway and wander down a pathway lined with tombstones and flowers. The Church is a Grade 1 listed building and work began in 1175. It was completed by 1500, probably on the site of an earlier church. The early Church construction is most evident around the West Door, which has been dated to 1175 however most of the Church was completed in the 15th Century including the wonderful spire.
Inside the church I delight in one chapel to the right hand side which has its medieval frescos still visible though much worn and faded. No doubt during the Civil War they were white washed over. There are two additional chapels which interest me. One is small and set near the centre of the church itself. The small statues of the Saints are brightly painted and the wall behind and ceiling canopy is of beautiful embroidered cloth. Still rich in red and gold I can only catch my breath and contemplate what it must have originally looked like. I have not been able to find out any information on this small chapel however the embroidery looks extremely fine and the design medieval to my eye.
One wall of the Church interior is a mausoleum and it is here the years fall away and I stand in the company of one who was very close to Henry VIII; his name is Edmund Harman and he was Henry's barber and personal servant. A very responsible position indeed given he went near Henry's throat with a razor on a daily basis! As the King's barber and in such a trusted position, he was sought out by many of the great and the good of the land, all hoping that he would whisper a word in the royal ear about them and their numerous business schemes, angling for Royal approval and custom. Edmund was also a member of the Privy Chamber, a group of about 15 servants whose job it was to attend to the King's comfort. In 1538, he was in such high favour as to be included in a list of persons at court who were "to be had in the King's most benign remembrance" — and this translated itself into receiving a material reward in the shape of Burford Priory, which he was granted along with other Oxfordshire lands in Taynton, after the Reformation.
Edmund's tomb is extraordinary in that the memorial is dated to 1569 and is decorated with carvings of native Brazilians (who were cannibals and ate an early Portuguese Bishop). How Edmund came to having his tomb decorated in such a way is lost to us unfortunately. Additional panels show to the right, nine young men dressed as fashionable Tudors kneeling in prayer. To the left of the central mausoleum is a panel of young women, equally fashionably dressed Tudor style.
Over the years Burford Priory changed ownership and was acquired by Sir Lawrence Tanfield (c.1551-30 Apr 1625) Sir Lawrence was an English lawyer, politician and Lord Chief Baron of the Exchequer during the reign of Elizabeth I. He purchased Burford Priory in 1586 and he had built a more imposing Elizabethan house which incorporated remnants of the original Priory. James I stayed at the priory for three nights in 1603 and in the 17th century it was remodelled in Jacobean style, probably after 1634 when William Lenthall bought the estate from Tanfield's grandson, the 2nd Viscount Falkland. It is reported that there are three ghosts in residence at the Priory. Burford Priory is currently owned by Elizabeth Murdoch, daughter of media mogul Rupert Murdoch.
Lawrence Tanfield's tomb is significant in size and history suiting such an imposing Tudor gentleman. Though I use the word gentleman loosely - reports have it that he and his wife Elizabeth were much disliked in the community due to their harsh treatment of their tenants and he had a reputation for corruption. Relations with the townspeople were not good and in the 1620s he was involved in a series of acrimonious disputes with the corporation over town administration. His and his wife’s reputation for rapaciousness remain embedded in Burford folklore.
When Sir Lawrence died in 1625, his widow arranged for the tomb to be placed in the chapel one night, without the permission of the priests or town. One can perhaps assume that she felt permission would not be forthcoming! It has remained there ever since and become a notable feature of the Church. It is in Italianate style which was very popular in the early 17th Century. One reason for its notability is a particular feature of its design. Tanfield's daughter, Elizabeth kneels at the head and their grandson, Lucius Cary, is depicted at their feet. The effigies are fully painted and lifelike, their hands clasped in prayer and their heads lying upon tasseled black and gold cushions. Underneath the effigies of Tanfield and his wife, there is a space and what is there is what caught my attention! For there lies a life sized carved skeleton. One particular oddity and for reasons not known, one of the femurs of the skeleton under the tomb is of human origin; the rest of the skeleton is carved from stone.
The ghosts of Tanfield and his wife have been reportedly sighted racing around Burford in a fiery coach bringing death to all who see them! I'm not surprised.
The consecrated graveyard which surrounds the church is modest in size. As I explore the graveyard I walk down a pathway which still has snow on both sides though across the grassed area, it seemed to have melted but was very slushy underfoot. Vibrant green moss covers the stone slabs and most of the engravings have long worn away with the deceaseds information now lost. I am most taken by one tombstone though the engraving is nearly entirely indecipherable. It is of a skull set into a shell enclosure at the apex of the tomb. I wish I could tell who this was for. The graveyard is a peaceful and beautiful place. Established trees must in summer give shade and shadow. In winter, though the branches are barren but at ground level swathes of snowdrops have appeared; tiny little white blossoms. Poignantly, a child's ancient grave is covered in snowdrops. I stop and rest my hand on the tombstone, the name long disappeared, but I think of such a young life lost, long ago. Nearby a tributary into the Windrush river gurgles past as it has for centuries. The clear water reflects the sky and the lichen covered trees that line its banks. Walking further around the graveyard and heading out into the village I see even more snowdrops, literally a carpet of them lying afield amongst the graves. I am overwhelmed by such sweetness.
The church is a must for those who visit Burford to see but I can't help but think of the contrast it holds - such impressive tombs for some and yet also the unremarkable grave of a young child. I think of how I am walking in the footsteps of the Tudors once again on this adventure - Henry and Elizabeth and their acolytes yet today what touches me most about walking in history’s footsteps are those whose remains are covered not by grand effigies but snowdrops.
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