Frances Uthwatt (1728-1800)
Frances Uthwatt is arguably one of the more tragic figures in the history of Great Linford Manor, having lost her husband Henry of just a few years and being cheated of a second chance at happiness when a subsequent suiter died. Add to this the immensely stressful arrival of the canal through the middle of her pleasure gardens, and we can only imagine that she must have had some considerable strength of character to endure all these slings and arrows. Henry had however at least made sure that Frances would be looked after, with his will stipulating that she was to be allowed to continue living at the manor for the rest of her life.
Frances was baptised on November 4th, 1728, the only daughter of John Chester and Frances Bagot of Chicheley Hall in Buckinghamshire. The Chesters owed the beginnings of their wealth to an ancestor who was a London merchant (another like Sir William Prichard who had made good) and though they had not climbed to the top echelons of society, John was nonetheless a Baronet (below a Baron but still a hereditary title) and thus entitled to be addressed as Sir John. The Bagots were another well-to-do family, Frances Bagot’s father Edward, also being a Baronet.
Family tensions
Sadly, it appears that Frances had a poor relationship with her mother, who thought her short, fat and ungraceful; her mother clearly had a high opinion of what made a suitable Chester, and Frances fell short in her opinion. Paintings of the Uthwatts are notable only by their complete absence from the record, so we have nothing to directly refute or confirm the unflattering description of Frances entertained by her mother, however, portraits of her mother and father did hang at Chicheley Hall, and on the possibility that she might have inherited some of their features, the following descriptions are to be found in volume 2 of the Genealogical memoirs of the extinct family of Chester, published in 1878.
There are portraits of Sir John and his wife at Chicheley Hall. They are both of three-quarter length, and were evidently taken soon after their marriage. Sir John has a handsome oval face with an aquiline nose, dark-blue eyes, and dark hair drawn back from the forehead, and worn in a pigtail. His coat and breeches of yellow satin are fastened with gold cord, and are set off by a blue-silk scarf over the right shoulder. His collar and cuffs are of point-lace, and a sword hangs at his left side from a belt of red and gold. The portrait of his wife Lady Chester justifies the tradition of her beauty. She has large blue eyes, with well-pencilled dark eye-brows, a straight nose, and small mouth. Her luxuriant fair hair is parted from the forehead, and falls in a large curl over the left shoulder. She is dressed in simple white satin, trimmed with blue and cut low at the neck and sleeves
A search for these portraits has so far proved fruitless. Chicheley Hall is now a hotel and wedding venue, but before this was owned by The Royal Society. There is some suggestion that some paintings were removed when the Royal Society vacated the premises, but there are three portraits still at Chicheley Hall. These are proported to be Frances's grandfather John Chester and his two wives, Anne Wollaston and Frances Noel.
A marriage between Frances and Henry Uthwatt might have been one that was arranged, ensuring that it conformed to the expectations of the time, principally that bride and groom were from the same social class; in other words, a good match, but there are strong hints that imply the marriage was unconventional. Suggestive of haste, the couple were married by license, thereby circumnavigating the requirement to post banns on three consecutive Sundays. The license was dated May 28th, 1750, and the couple tied the knot at Maids Morton on June 12th.
Why Maids Morton is also an interesting question, were the couple avoiding (or were they discouraged) from having the wedding at the bride’s parish church at Chicheley? Was this in fact a love match opposed by the family, and did the young Frances see the romantic overtures of Henry Uthwatt as a welcome opportunity to escape from under the thumb of her mother and a family that seemed to be in some chaos.
Frances had an older brother, Charles Bagot Chester, who had inherited the title but was the quintessential black sheep of the family, a gambler and drunk, who to the chagrin of the family had written an “unnatural will” that cut out the Chesters from their inheritance. On his death in 1755, having thrown himself out of a window, poor Frances, (who apparently retained much affection for her wayward brother) found herself bequeathed only a pair of her mother’s earrings.
Further tragedy was to befall Francis, when on December 22nd, 1757, Henry succumbed in London to consumption (pulmonary tuberculosis) at the very young age of 29. He was buried not at Great Linford, but at his mother’s ancestral home Lathbury, where his widow Frances erected a touching monument speaking volumes for her feelings toward her late husband.
A marriage between Frances and Henry Uthwatt might have been one that was arranged, ensuring that it conformed to the expectations of the time, principally that bride and groom were from the same social class; in other words, a good match, but there are strong hints that imply the marriage was unconventional. Suggestive of haste, the couple were married by license, thereby circumnavigating the requirement to post banns on three consecutive Sundays. The license was dated May 28th, 1750, and the couple tied the knot at Maids Morton on June 12th.
Why Maids Morton is also an interesting question, were the couple avoiding (or were they discouraged) from having the wedding at the bride’s parish church at Chicheley? Was this in fact a love match opposed by the family, and did the young Frances see the romantic overtures of Henry Uthwatt as a welcome opportunity to escape from under the thumb of her mother and a family that seemed to be in some chaos.
Frances had an older brother, Charles Bagot Chester, who had inherited the title but was the quintessential black sheep of the family, a gambler and drunk, who to the chagrin of the family had written an “unnatural will” that cut out the Chesters from their inheritance. On his death in 1755, having thrown himself out of a window, poor Frances, (who apparently retained much affection for her wayward brother) found herself bequeathed only a pair of her mother’s earrings.
Further tragedy was to befall Francis, when on December 22nd, 1757, Henry succumbed in London to consumption (pulmonary tuberculosis) at the very young age of 29. He was buried not at Great Linford, but at his mother’s ancestral home Lathbury, where his widow Frances erected a touching monument speaking volumes for her feelings toward her late husband.
Near this place, in the Vault of his Ancestors, lieth the Body of Henry Uthwatt of Great Linford in this county, Esq., who, by accession to an ample Patrimony, had an early opportunity of distinguishing himself in every instance of benevolence. The sincerity of his affection and the sweetness of his manners deservedly intitled him to the Love of his relations and acquaint-ance. By his extensive liberality he became the Patron of all in distress. Having a due sense of his Redeemer's merit, and a Conscience void of Reproach. He received his final summons with singular cheerfulness of mind, and departed this life in fall assurance of a better on ye 22 of December 1757, in the 30th year of his age.
He married Frances, daughter of John Chester Bart., who, in testimony of her affection and gratitude, caused this monument to be erected to his memory.
A life unfulfilled?
Frances’ loving tribute to her husband speaks volumes for the nature of their relationship, as does the fact that Henry made sure that his will stipulated that his wife could remain living at the manor for the rest of her days. We know little of her life at this time, but she may well have been something of a bird in a gilded cage. For one thing, waiting in the wings to inherit was one Henry Uthwatt Andrewes, and he was keeping a close and jealous eye on the assets he considered his by right. In 1757, with Frances doubtless still deep in mourning, he ordered an inventory of the manor after discovering that she had sold a coach, furniture and a pipe of wine (1008 pints or 126 gallons) that she believed she owned. Henry Andrewes took her to court to ensure his inheritance was safe from further depredations.
Further illustrating that Frances was not considered the owner of anything, (nailed down or not) at the manor, comes from the reported theft of 10 Geese in late September 1800, just a few months from her date of death; the newspaper report states that the purloined foul were stolen from, “the premises of Mr Uthwatt.”
Frances may then have enjoyed little control of her life, certainly as regards finances, and would have been further constrained by the executors that Henry had assigned in his will.
One of the mysteries yet to be solved is how much, if any, influence Frances had over the continuing development of what we now know as Great Linford Manor Park. Informed speculation suggests that much work was done on the landscape in the early 1760s, including the development of the cascading ponds that remain to this day a centrepiece of the park. It would be nice to think that Frances was involved or even instrumental in their creation. There was also work done on the house including a major re-fronting, but again we lack the records to say with certainty that she was the driving force behind this work, or if it was the administrators Sir Roger Newdigate and William Bagot. Sir Roger was not family, but William Bagot was a maternal 1st cousin to Frances, so we can perhaps speculate that he would have felt some familial loyalty and so allowed her some latitude in her spending.
In 1762 a new rector, Lawson Shan, was appointed to the living of Great Linford. Technically, Frances held the advowson, the legal instrument that gave her the right to appoint a Rector when the position became vacant, but the antiquarian the Reverend William Cole, does offer a note that there was some opposition, from a not unsurprising quarter. Cole observes that, “By reason of a doubt in the relation to the right of patronage between Mr Andrews of Buckingham, guardian to his son, who is in the Entail of the Estate after Mr Henry Uthwat’s widow, and the said Mrs Uthwat, who has the estate for life by the will of her late husband, and so claims the patronage for her time, whence Mr Andrews put in a caveat against her Presentation.”
Suffice to say matters were resolved, and Lawson Shan took up the post. Shan was the son of John Shan, vicar of Chicheley, the home parish of Frances, so clearly inferring that Frances was applying her personal preference in the matter, though perhaps there was something else motivating her, such that family lore tells us that the couple had plans to wed. Sadly this was not to be, as Shan died in January of 1770, before the wedding could proceed.
But despite all these setbacks, Frances was not entirely without some pleasures in life, as evidenced by a remarkable letter she wrote on June 17th, 1793. This reveals that she was a seasoned traveller, with friends and acquaintances to call upon, and at least on the basis of this charming note, a thriving social life. The letter was sent to Ansley Hall in Warwickshire, the seat of the Ludford family. The letter evokes Jane Austin, with its mention of unmarried daughters, and with the exception of a few indecipherable words, is reproduced in full below.
Further illustrating that Frances was not considered the owner of anything, (nailed down or not) at the manor, comes from the reported theft of 10 Geese in late September 1800, just a few months from her date of death; the newspaper report states that the purloined foul were stolen from, “the premises of Mr Uthwatt.”
Frances may then have enjoyed little control of her life, certainly as regards finances, and would have been further constrained by the executors that Henry had assigned in his will.
One of the mysteries yet to be solved is how much, if any, influence Frances had over the continuing development of what we now know as Great Linford Manor Park. Informed speculation suggests that much work was done on the landscape in the early 1760s, including the development of the cascading ponds that remain to this day a centrepiece of the park. It would be nice to think that Frances was involved or even instrumental in their creation. There was also work done on the house including a major re-fronting, but again we lack the records to say with certainty that she was the driving force behind this work, or if it was the administrators Sir Roger Newdigate and William Bagot. Sir Roger was not family, but William Bagot was a maternal 1st cousin to Frances, so we can perhaps speculate that he would have felt some familial loyalty and so allowed her some latitude in her spending.
In 1762 a new rector, Lawson Shan, was appointed to the living of Great Linford. Technically, Frances held the advowson, the legal instrument that gave her the right to appoint a Rector when the position became vacant, but the antiquarian the Reverend William Cole, does offer a note that there was some opposition, from a not unsurprising quarter. Cole observes that, “By reason of a doubt in the relation to the right of patronage between Mr Andrews of Buckingham, guardian to his son, who is in the Entail of the Estate after Mr Henry Uthwat’s widow, and the said Mrs Uthwat, who has the estate for life by the will of her late husband, and so claims the patronage for her time, whence Mr Andrews put in a caveat against her Presentation.”
Suffice to say matters were resolved, and Lawson Shan took up the post. Shan was the son of John Shan, vicar of Chicheley, the home parish of Frances, so clearly inferring that Frances was applying her personal preference in the matter, though perhaps there was something else motivating her, such that family lore tells us that the couple had plans to wed. Sadly this was not to be, as Shan died in January of 1770, before the wedding could proceed.
But despite all these setbacks, Frances was not entirely without some pleasures in life, as evidenced by a remarkable letter she wrote on June 17th, 1793. This reveals that she was a seasoned traveller, with friends and acquaintances to call upon, and at least on the basis of this charming note, a thriving social life. The letter was sent to Ansley Hall in Warwickshire, the seat of the Ludford family. The letter evokes Jane Austin, with its mention of unmarried daughters, and with the exception of a few indecipherable words, is reproduced in full below.
Did I not make my sincere acknowledgements to Dear Mrs Ludford as soon as I could should feel myself a most ungrateful creature for no one ever received more kinships & civilities than I have always done at Ansley Hall both from yourself & Mr Ludford. I Beg that both he & you will accept of everything that is grateful from me & be assur’d my dear Madam that nothing can give me a greater pleasure than returning in some measure the obligationsI owe in receiving you at Linford as soon as it is in my power & when most convenient to yourselves.I arrived here very safe about nine o’clock the rain had laid the dust which made the road very pleasant Met with good horses at all the stages, but the Atherstone driver whose motions were slow at Anstey was very much so in driving for I was three hours & a half getting to Litchfield , found Mr & Mrs?Sneyd? well & their three unmarried daughters & one son with them. The morning after I came to my great surprise two ??????? in my ?pocket? am shock’d to think of the theft but as I acknowledge it as soon as I could flatter myself Mrs Ludford ?will? not ?commit? me; it must I think belong either to you or your daughters: it as like my own that was the cause of my taking it, will take care
& return it to the owner when I have an opportunity When you see Mrs Juliana Ludford beg the favour of you to tell her I will write soon, am happy that I can tell you I did not suffer the least inconvenience from my journey & continue going on I think very well which I know you will be glad to hear My kind love & compliments wait on Mr Ludford & your three dear amiable daughters that every blessing may attend all at Anstey Hall is the ardent wish of Dear Mrs Ludfords most grateful & ever affectionate.
F Uthwatt
You know I do not expect an answer knowing how much your time is taken up & when I hear from ?Camp Hill? depend on hearing of you which will always give me pleasure.
The name Juliana Ludford mentioned in the letter is an interesting one, being the daughter of Sir Richard Newdigate, whose son Roger Newdigate was one of the executors of Henry Uthwatt's will.
Before her passing, Frances had one more cross to bear, with the unwanted arrival of the Grand Junction Canal through the manor park in 1800, the same year she died at the age of 72. Trapped between a furious Henry Uthwatt Andrewes and the canal company, it is not hard to imagine that the strain was too much for her. You can read more about Frances and Henry on the page about the Grand Junction Canal.
Frances did not die at the Manor House, but in the early hours of Friday 28th November, while visiting a Mr. Locock in the village. The name is associated with the village in the early 1800s, but at present the precise particulars of the family Frances was visiting are unknown. She was buried December 2nd, at Lathbury.
Before her passing, Frances had one more cross to bear, with the unwanted arrival of the Grand Junction Canal through the manor park in 1800, the same year she died at the age of 72. Trapped between a furious Henry Uthwatt Andrewes and the canal company, it is not hard to imagine that the strain was too much for her. You can read more about Frances and Henry on the page about the Grand Junction Canal.
Frances did not die at the Manor House, but in the early hours of Friday 28th November, while visiting a Mr. Locock in the village. The name is associated with the village in the early 1800s, but at present the precise particulars of the family Frances was visiting are unknown. She was buried December 2nd, at Lathbury.
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