Labels

Thursday, August 7, 2025

A rose by any other name

1880--The Friary, Nottingham, England (T.W. Hammond)

What's in a name?  A rose is a rose, or so Shakespeare is said to have put it.   

Among other endeavors, I intend to embark on a family history.  It's time.  My ambition is to write down as much family history, including anecdotal evidence, and avoid a reinvention the wheel by those who may follow at whatever distant point in the future they may.  Roses notwithstanding, time rolls on.

As it happens, I stumbled upon a snippet of documentary material regarding the Whitley surname.  It is found in the Burgess Pleas documents (Nottingham, England) dating to the years 1392 - 1393.  More about that in a second.  But first, the University of Nottingham should be recognized as having done yeoman's work (in 2008) on translating (from Latin and Old English) these documents.  They have now been digitized, permitting public access to what can only be considered fairly obscure historical material.  Such is the haunt of historians.  Lonely work, but somebody's got to do it. 

Second, existing pleas records (dating 1378 - 1393) are not complete.  Or rather, some simply no longer existent.  Further, of what still exists, a significant portion is illegible having sustained decay and rodent as well as moisture damage (I know--England--go figure).  Thus, the digitized rolls contain many repetitive caveats--"Heavily stained and damaged roll throughout."  Or, "[Roll 2] Heavily stained on lh side and elsewhere. Most of roll missing."  "[Roll 5] Severely damaged roll. Most of it missing and most of it illegible through damp stains."  And so forth.

But all in all, given these rolls are nearly 650 years old, their condition should be expected.  Not too bad considering.  Which leads me to a certain Henry de Whitley, alive during King Richard II's reign.  [The ambitious Richard II was King of England from 1377 until being deposed in 1399 by his cousin Henry Bolingbroke (Henry IV) due to Richard II's increasingly arbitrary and factional rule.  (Sounds familiar).

At any rate, Henry de Whitley apparently was originally a tailor.  Back in the day, the bar at law was definitely loosely defined.  For the most part, it hinged on one's ability to read.  At least it assumed literacy.  On November 6, 1392, Whitley prepared to argue a debt before the court that he claimed was owed to him by Stephen de la Hide, another tailor.  Both tailors represented themselves.  But the jury was in default as it did not show up for court for whatever reason--likely prevailing winter conditions.  

So the case was pushed to the following court date.  At the next court, Henry de Whitley was successful.  "Jury comes and says that Stephen [owes Henry] 3s.8d. Damages: 4d. Adjudged that Henry should recover 3s.8d. [from Stephen] and 4d. damages. Stephen in mercy."  From humble beginnings a career--albeit a brief career--as an attorney opened.  

Of the cases de Whitley argued, the outcome was not always evident.  First of all, the pleas court language is arcane.  That and court cases were often pushed to the next subsequent date which, given the condition of the pleas rolls (with parts missing), it is often not possible to determine a particular case's outcome.

Henry de Whitley served as attorney mostly in money matters, or in civil court--before "civil" became a four letter word.  By way of example, de Whitley was attorney to Joan Peyntour versus John Fysshe regarding Fysshe's unlawful retention of her rosary and various silver rings.  Unfortunately, the translators note:  "MS [manuscript] preceded by an indeterminate number of illegible entries."

In other cases the outcome was known.  de Whitley represented a losing case in Richard Shadwell versus John Shepard.  Here, "losing" might should be in quotes.  Apparently Shadwell was a doctor.  Sort of.  (And medical practitioners, like attorneys in the day, were also fairly loosely defined).  Anyhow, in the plea, "Richard comes in his own person and says that John [owes him] 2s. for the curing of John’s body."  For his part, Shepard (represented by de Whitley) came before the court and "acknowledges the debt. Damages assessed at 4d. Adjudged that Richard should recover 2s. from him and 4d. damages. John in mercy."

Of course, the reverse might also be true.  de Whitley successfully represented one John Strelley versus Thomas Shether regarding calf skins (calfskynnes).  Strelley alleged 14s in damages.  Shether came before the court and admitted the debt.  "Thomas in his own person comes and acknowledges the debt.  Damages assessed at 6d.  Adjudged that John should recover 14s from Thomas."

Anyhow, I mentioned a brief career.  So it was.  On to the salubrious details.  Mid-October 1393, the Burgess pleas court noted an "Appraisal of the goods and chattels of Henry de Whitley well and faithfully appraised on Mon after the feast of St. Luke 17 Richard II [20 Oct 1393]."  The appraisal was made under oath by six of Nottingham's citizens.  

 

Now normally, one should expect an appraisal of an individual's estate to be associated with a will, a divvying up of property.  Who gets what.  But not so with Henry de Whitley. "The goods and chattels were taken on Sun after the feast of St Luke [19 Oct 1393] by the bailiffs for a death on the body of Alice, Henry’s wife, by Henry’s manslaughter (per occisione predicti Henrici) on Sun at night."  

 Manslaughter is only a small step away from murder...a half step or less.  The motive or circumstance of the killing is unknown.  But "Henry, after the felony, fled to the church of the Carmelite Friars and could not be taken."  

The church was a friary belonging to the "Whitefriars".  A History of the County of Nottingham, Volume Two notes:  "Henry de Whitley of Nottingham in October 1393 killed his wife Alice in the night-time and fled to the church of the Friars Carmelite for sanctuary, and could not be taken as he kept to the church. Whereupon the town authorities seized his goods as those of a felon; they were valued at 11s. 2½d." 

No other record exists concerning Henry de Whitley--beyond that he "kept to the church".  Evidently, Henry grew devout, as they say.  It is unknown whether he faced justice, though it is hard to imagine that he stayed forever after in the friary's church building.  And, as no children were mentioned between him and his wife Alice, there's no way to know nearly 650 years later whether he was an ancestor...or not.  Probably not, since Henry de Whitley of Nottingham isn't from the Cumbria-Northumberland-Borders heartland from which our Whitley line is said to have originated.  But you never know.  

Incidentally, Nottingham's Whitefriars was founded at some point before 1271.  Nothing remains of their friary today, unfortunately.  It long ago was removed and the site developed.  It should also be noted that regulations on sanctuary varied in different places, even though the privilege was granted from the very earliest of times.  It continued, with certain modifications made during the reign of Henry VIII.  In 1623, sanctuary was finally abolished by King James VI/I.  

White Friar's plan, Nottingham, England

 

Wednesday, August 6, 2025

2026--new excursion in the planning stage

This post pertains to genealogy, a somewhat out-of-the-ordinary subject for this blog.  Genealogy is prickly; mostly of interest to a limited few close (more or less) relatives.  What brings me to broach the subject is that we are again considering a trip this Easter.  This time to Ireland and an overnight or two to Scotland...if only as a matter of principle.

Kilwaughter Castle, Antrim, Ireland

While in Ireland, among other things, we'd like to take in the ruins of Kilwaughter Castle.  Located in County Antrim, North Ireland about three miles from the end of the rail line in Larne, Kilwaughter is allegedly the starting place (prior to immigration to America) of some of Darla's line.  Specifically, the Gingles family (under various spellings) who are said to have worked there.  It's a matter of family stories being chipped away by realities, in a sense.  It's made its way from the halcyon days of "Our family had a castle." to "Well, they worked at one."  Is what it is.

Kilwaughter Castle, Antrim, Ireland

The castle, incidentally, is not quite so old as it seems.  Kilwaughter's ruin (okay, almost the whole of it) was built by architect John Nash for the Agnew family from 1803 to 1807.  So, not so old.  It was, however, constructed on the site of an older 17th century tower, said to date to 1622 and which was partially incorporated into the new design.  So, it's age is perhaps a matter of how one looks at it.  

Nash, an English architect of the Georgian and Regency eras, had a rather significant role in changing Britain's landscape.  He also had some curious domestic troubles...inexplicable.  First of all, his wife Jane was living beyond their means.  Not the first time in mankind's history.  The Garden of Eden comes to mind.  And ultimately Nash would be driven into bankruptcy; again not the first time that's happened either.  But Jane had certain issues worth mentioning, if only because they seem so fantastical.  Apparently, she faked two pregnancies with Mr. Nash and imposed two "spurious" children upon him as being their own.  Assuming they were doing so, how you could cohabitate and not know is a valid question.  We'll just say it was a different age. 

Kilwaughter Castle room, Antrim, Ireland

Nash sent wife Jane away for reformation, first to Aberavon, Wales to stay with a cousin, Ann Morgan.  Jane then came back to London, continued to live luxuriously and...her affairs led to an illegitimate child with a Mr. Charles Charles.  In a subsequent lawsuit, Charles admitted the child, but alas.  He died in prison unable to pay the damages.  A divorce from Jane upon adultery was finalized in January 1787, after some 12-years of fooling with her.  After that, Nash came into his own as an British architect.         

Kilwaughter Castle room, Antrim, Ireland

Anyhow, Kilwaughter now stands in ruin (since 1951).  It's ignominious fate resulted from the passage of time and various inheritances and marriages to ever more distant relatives.  By the time World War Two broke out, the property was in the hands of an Italian noble family.  Since Italians were (temporarily) enemies, the UK government requisitioned (seized) the property as enemy assets.  Eventually Kilwaughter castle saw the stationing of the US 644th Tank Destroyer Battalion in the build up prior to D-Day.  After the war, Kilwaughter was put at auction.  A scrap dealer won the bid, and set about stripping the property bare--staircases, chandeliers, furniture, windows, paneling...but he did leave the husk which remains in precarious condition. 

Kilwaughter Castle staircase, Antrim, Ireland

Today, the Kilwaughter ruin is privately owned, only recently changing hands.  Unfortunately unlike Scotland's right-to-roam, one cannot simply traipse over fences in Ireland.  Wish it were otherwise, but landowners frown on that we are told.  So, we'll see if we can brush up permission to visit Kilwaughter.  I took some liberty in snipping a few photos from Archiseek.com.  Archiseek, by the by, is dedicated to chronicling "lost" buildings in Antrim.  Here's their site:  https://www.archiseek.com/kilwaughter-castle-co-antrim

Kilwaughter Castle, Antrim, Ireland