The Oddingley Murders

On 24th June 1806, George Parker, Rector of Oddingley, was found in the village of Oddingley lying in a field and dying from a gunshot wound to the abdomen. He was discovered after a shot and the cry of "Murder, Murder!" had been heard by two men travelling along a nearby lane. They saw someone running away and, from their description, Richard Heming, a local odd-job man, was wanted. He could not be found and rumours abounded he had left for America. In 1830 a skeleton was found in a barn near to where George Parker had been shot. From his clothes he was identified as Richard Heming. Both men were deemed to have died in 1806, and neither had yet resulted in a conviction.

The barn was owned by one Thomas Clewes. He was promptly arrested and, while in gaol, he confessed to having witnessed the murder of Heming, and even named the killers. Three local farmers, all substantial landowners, were in dispute with Parker about the tithes they were required to pay. They paid £50 to Heming to murder the rector, and then bludgeoned their own man to death. Clewes, John Barnett, and George Banks were arrested and charged, and the case made national headlines. (The third farmer had since died.) Everyone expected a triple hanging - and, in 1830, who did not enjoy a good hanging (well EastEnders had yet to reach the public and yes, I know it seems like it's been around that long).

First the law did not allow for the charge of murdering Parker to be levelled at any of them. They may have been accessories, but the law in 1806 (when the murder took place) did not allow them to be charged. It had been changed by 1830, but the law was not changed to work retroactively. Yet they could have been charged with Parker's murder, if Heming had been charged, which he could not be as he was already dead. But, it was these three who had had a hand in killing the killer, so where is the justice here?

Further complications meant Clewes was only charged with aiding and abetting the murder of Heming. His two surviving accomplices, Barnett and Banks, were then charged as his accomplices. Now it gets even more frustrating, for there was little evidence remaining, any witnesses called to give evidence were uncertain when giving details and many contradicted statements they had made earlier. Well it was 24 years afterwards and the ringleader, Captain Evans, and the third man, James Taylor, were deceased. To add further confusion, Clewes counsel argued that his confession could not be used to implicate others, as he had had no foreknowledge of, nor participated in, the murder of Heming. All three, despite clearly being guilty, were set free and lived out thier lives in relative peace. The locals, who were rather relieved that nobody was held to account for two murders (showing how unpopular the tithes were), broke into the church and rang the bells in celebration (much to the indignation of the press).

For a clergyman to be murdered was rare in Georgian England, but for his death to result from a conspiracy between a magistrate and yeomen farmers was unique. Although a clash of strong personalities contributed at Oddingley, the dysfunctional tithe system was the root of the conflict. Parker's income as rector came from his 'tithe', his right to a one-tenth share in everything the parish produced. At Oddingley as in most parishes farmers had switched to paying money annually rather than giving actual produce, but by 1800 there was often a mismatch between whatever long-agreed sum they gave as tithe, and the real value of a tenth of their crops. Parker's annual income from his tithes was £135, then a respectable amount; but one which had not altered for decades, while years of war had caused rampant inflation. After Parker tried to renegotiate his payment and the farmers refused, for several years he collected his tithes in kind. This procedure caused smouldering resentment and sometimes violence: when it did, Parker simply took the recalcitrant farmer to court. His stubborn refusal to be intimidated exasperated them and his success in gathering a tenth of their produce cost them money. After five years of attrition they were ready to yield the increase he had asked - but at this point Parker demanded a further sum of £150 compensation for costs incurred in collecting his tithes. With the resentful farmers under the sway of Captain Evans, an ex-military man already familiar with the process of delegating violence, a fairly commonplace quarrel over tithes ended in double murder.

Walking the Malvern Hills

A recent drive to one of my favourite parts of England coincided with a delightfully warm day, if a little muggy. Not that the hills are by any means the highest in the country, simply the countryside both east and west is predominantly flat and offers a perfect view of the quintessential patchwork farmland. .I was reminded of a passage from one of my earliest books, Worcestershire Place Names, and this story of one of the most respected individuals to live in the area. As we shall see this lady’s early life was hardly an easy time for her.

Lady Lyttleton was born Apphia Witts in 1743, the second daughter of one Broome Witts. At the age of 24 she became engaged to her cousin Richard Witts, he spending much of his time away working for the East India Company. In 1769 she embarked for India, where the couple would marry on her arrival and yet she arrived only to discover her husband-to-be had died during her voyage.

Grief-stricken and penniless he met Colonel James Peach, an army veteran and governor of Calcutta. A whirlwind romance saw the couple marry the following January. Whilst she had managed to marry this one they had hardly had time to get to know watch other for six months later he was also dead. He had contracted a fever and within ten days of falling ill had made her a widow.

Mrs Peach, as she now was, returned to England and went to live at Shenstone where she met the Honourable Thomas Lyttleton – a man who was ‘honourable’ only in title - a notorious rake of his day and clearly only interested in the considerable wealth she had inherited from Colonel Peach. Somehow he managed to convince her his reputation was an exaggeration, the impetuosity of youth and he was a reformed character. Hence he became her second husband in 1772. However with the ink barely dry on the marriage certificate he was already showing his true colours. With his mind clearly on the money he made his way back to the wedding carriage without his bride and, when he apologised for his oversight, managed to refer to the new Lady Lyttleton as ‘Mrs Peach’! A few short months later and she was alone again and now living with her father-in-law, George Lyttleton, at Hagley Hall. She came to Malvern around the end of the eighteenth century, eventually settling in the home she had had built which she named Peachfield Lodge in memory of her beloved first husband.

Lady Lyttleton was soon a leading personality around Malvern as it grew from a village to a town. She rarely left her home, where her role as a hostess was legendary, although she did venture out to Madresfield Court when in her eighties where she charmed the Duchess of Kent and a young Princess Victoria to such a degree they wrote and thanked her personally for their ‘unforgettable summer’.

Despite a number of heart-breaking setbacks in her early life, Lady Lyttleton overcame them to see her ninety-sixth year. Reports seem to indicate most of the town turned out to her funeral, shops were closed, the crowds spilled out into the churchyard and many others watched the funeral procession from windows, doorways and even rooftops to witness the end of an era in Malvern’s history.

Unlike Lady Lyttleton we parked at the British Camp car park where, on returning to the car, had time to cross to the small café on the Worcestershire/Herefordshire border for a well-deserved ice cream from a local dairy. Highly recommended.

As always I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Haunted Worcestershire

With the interest shown in the excerpts from my other ghostly books I decided to pull this story from my Haunted Worcestershire. This was a particular favourite of mine and, even if you are unconvinced, it still makes for a good tale.

Hagley Hall is one of the loveliest stately homes in the land. Set in a varied and rolling landscape, new wonders are revealed at every turn. A delightful mix of flowerbeds, winding paths, woodland and water provided artists with inspirational views. Within the house itself more delights are found in every room. Architecture and decoration are among the finest in the land, the thousands of visitors each and every year are adequate testimony to the work done by the inhabitants since the Lyttelton's built the first house and laid out the original gardens.

The Lyttelton's have been around Worcestershire since the twelfth century and possibly longer. However our story starts on 30th January 1744 and the birth of Thomas, destined to be the second Lord Lyttelton. He was only in his third year when his mother died, his childhood overseen by a succession of tutors and distant family members. Reaching his adulthood he was a source of great displeasure to his father. He lived a wild life, given over to questionable conduct which, while not illegal, was not that befitting a man of his birth. However it was common among the young men of his age and he was by no means the worst of his generation. On the death of his father in 1773 the title passed to him, although his erratic behaviour in his early life led to him being more commonly referred to as 'The Bad Lyttelton' or even 'The Wicked Lyttelton'.

On his return from office in Ireland he was already suffering ill health, fits, headaches, and chronic indigestion which was more likely heart disease. His life was made bearable through medicines and regular bed rest, particularly following an attack. It was on one such occasion in 1779 that he retired early to bed on the night of November 24th. A servant brought him the medicine and left him when ordered to do so. Thomas was not alone for long when he was disturbed by the fluttering of wings within the room. He listened and heard footsteps approaching his bed whereupon he sat up and was stunned to see the loveliest woman he had ever seen alongside his bed. Clad all in white she had a small bird perched on her hand and she spoke to him. He was speechless as he heard her tell he was to prepare himself for death. When he enquired how long he had she replied by midnight on the third day.

Next morning his discomfort was evident and, over breakfast, he told his guests of the events of the previous night. He dismissed it as a dream, saying of how he had forgotten to release a robin trapped in the greenhouse a few days before which was clearly still playing on his mind. Any chance of convincing everyone else the matter was but a trivial one was made impossible by his evident stress and low spirits. Reports of two quite superb speeches in the House of Lords later that day suggested his mood was much improved. The second and third days also saw him in fine spirits, both in mind and body. Yet by the time they were seated for dinner the gloom was again descending.

His friends and colleagues, concerned that the woman in white's prophecy may lead to tragedy, contrived to get every clock and watch in the place put forward by thirty minutes. Thus when Lord Lyttelton retired at half past eleven, feeling drawn and exhausted, it was only eleven o'clock. As the appointed hour approached Lyttelton repeatedly checked watches to ensure they were still working. Eventually both watches read fifteen minutes after midnight and, confident that he was now safe, summoned his valet to bring him his medicine. From the next room the servant heard the unmistakeable sounds of laboured breathing, he returned to find the life ebbing from his master. Summoning help Lyttelton's cousins, including Lord Fortescue, ran to the bedside. They arrived just in time to see the death of Thomas Lyttelton at the moment the clocks all said half past twelve, in reality midnight - exactly as foretold by the ghost in white.

Meanwhile at that very same moment of his death Lyttelton appeared at the side of the bed of a Mr Andrews, one of his closest friends. Andrews thought it some sort of prank and rang for a servant to prepare a room immediately. By the time the servant arrived Andrews was alone. He dressed and organised a thorough search. However the only news of Thomas Lyttelton came in the form of a messenger, telling of the passing of the peer at the age of thirty-five.

It has been suggested that the woman in white was Lyttelton's mother. Yet although he could not have had any recollection of her as she died when he was very young, he would certainly have seen her portrait hanging around his home. Since that time there has not been any similar reports of hauntings at Hagley, so her identity remains a mystery.

I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.