Thomas Uthwatt (1693-1754)
As related in the biography of his father Richard Uthwatt (1658-1719), we discovered the rather surprising fact that Thomas Uthwatt was born in Antwerp, Belgium, though a precise date eludes us. Of his formative years we know nothing, but we can presume he resided in London, as he married Catherine Dalton there on March 5th, 1715, at the church of Saint Katherine by the Tower. Catherine was the daughter of Richard Dalton of Walesby in the county of Lincoln, though no record has come to light as to the name of her mother, or the profession of her father.
Though several records state unequivocally that the marriage produced only a single child, a daughter named Catherine, there is a record of a Richard Uthwatt, born September 24th, 1720 at Westminster to a Thomas and Catherine Uthwatt. An infant of the same name (also ascribed to parents Thomas and Catherine) was buried at Great Linford on October 19th, 1720, so it seems entirely certain that they had two children. Perhaps the grief was such and the child with them so briefly, that husband and wife blanked out the tragedy and the child has otherwise been excised from history, but happily their daughter Catherine (born February 19th, 1725, at Westminster, London) survived into adulthood. She married the Lord of the Manor at Little Linford, Matthew Knapp.
On January 13th, 1725, Thomas was appointed Sheriff of Buckinghamshire, a post that incumbents typically occupied for a year, partly because the unpaid role came burdened with some significant personal expenses. By the time Thomas assumed office, many of the traditional responsibilities of the office had been rescinded, but it was still an important and prestigious ceremonial role.
There is some uncertainty as to exactly when Thomas inherited the manor, but it seems likely that it was upon the death of his brother Richard, which is thought to have occurred in 1731. As explored in the biography of Richard, exactly when and how the succession occurred is a matter of some speculation, but without doubt Thomas did duly inherit the Lordship.
A patron of the arts and church
Thomas appears to have been a man of some learning as he is recorded as having subscribed to numerous academic books; this means he was contributing to the cost of publication. For instance, in 1742 he subscribed to a collection of the state papers of John Thurloe, a confident of Oliver Cromwell who became his spymaster, and in 1743 we find him subscribing to a book on the Anglo Saxon language by Francis Juniusone.
These are just two of at least a dozen books that we know Thomas subscribed too, an eclectic range of subject matter that speaks volumes for his wide-ranging tastes. It is easy to imagine the Manor House being stuffed to the gills with books, or perhaps it was one of the impressive Pavilions in the manor park grounds that housed his collection? We can surmise this because we have another example of an estate with two pavilions, in this case at Stoke Bruerne in Northamptonshire; one of these was used as a chapel, the other as a library. Might we then surmise that Thomas used one of the Pavilions for this purpose? Several of the book subscriptions paid for in the early 1740s place him at Great Linford.
The Bucks Herald newspaper of May 27th, 1922, makes the assertion that Thomas was a friend of the famous antiquarian author Brown Willis and had helped in his researches. Willis lived in Fenny Stratford at around the time that the tradition of the Fenny Poppers was begun, this being the firing of six small canon on special occasions.
Writing in his history of Milton Keynes, Cows before concrete, John Taylor comments that Thomas had donated two fine silver ewers (a large jug with a wide mouth) to St. Andrews church. These are now held in trust by the Victoria and Albert museum.
These are just two of at least a dozen books that we know Thomas subscribed too, an eclectic range of subject matter that speaks volumes for his wide-ranging tastes. It is easy to imagine the Manor House being stuffed to the gills with books, or perhaps it was one of the impressive Pavilions in the manor park grounds that housed his collection? We can surmise this because we have another example of an estate with two pavilions, in this case at Stoke Bruerne in Northamptonshire; one of these was used as a chapel, the other as a library. Might we then surmise that Thomas used one of the Pavilions for this purpose? Several of the book subscriptions paid for in the early 1740s place him at Great Linford.
The Bucks Herald newspaper of May 27th, 1922, makes the assertion that Thomas was a friend of the famous antiquarian author Brown Willis and had helped in his researches. Willis lived in Fenny Stratford at around the time that the tradition of the Fenny Poppers was begun, this being the firing of six small canon on special occasions.
Writing in his history of Milton Keynes, Cows before concrete, John Taylor comments that Thomas had donated two fine silver ewers (a large jug with a wide mouth) to St. Andrews church. These are now held in trust by the Victoria and Albert museum.
Dark clouds on the horizon
Thomas was also not limiting his ambitions to Great Linford, having purchased a part of the Manor at Linslade. The impression then is that affairs were thriving under Thomas, but things were not perhaps as rosy as they seemed. There is an unsourced account (printed on an old information board in the park) that cannot at present be substantiated, that Thomas lived behind heavily bolted doors, and that he had devised a “string mechanism” that would allow him to operate one of the doors. That he was a man prone to dark moods seems certain, a situation that came to a nadir in 1754. The entry in the parish records of St. Andrew’s Church for August 8th provides the grisly detail of a tragedy.
This polite and accomplished Gent, who had travelled through France and Italy, and had been High Sheriff for this county, having been at times disordered in his mind, cut his own throat, and died a few hours after, at his home in this parish. He left a daughter only, behind him, the wife of Mathew Knapp of Little Linford, Esquire.
The suicide of Thomas, which had occurred at the manor house on August 2nd, would have presented the Rector of St. Andrew’s church with a dilemma, as to take one’s own life was considered a mortal sin. Had the church elected to apply a strict interpretation of the rules, Thomas would have been denied a Christian burial, but clearly money and position counted even after death, and though the above-mentioned entry in the parish record makes no bones about the cause of death, Thomas was none-the-less buried in consecrated ground and a substantial monument erected to his memory within St. Andrew’s church itself.
That the rules were applied at Great Linford is entirely certain, as we have a coroners record of 1804 into the sad case of a farm labourer named Daniel Haynes, who hung himself in his master’s barn. The jury judged his death as a suicide, and the coroner issued an order that the body should, “be buried in the highway.”
One presumes there was a coroner’s jury convened for Thomas and you would have expected this to be the talk of the county, but we have no report of a verdict.
For a man of his status and presumed wealth, Thomas left an unusually sparse will, barely a page long. Wills for men like Thomas might easily run to well over a dozen or more complex pages, often longer, but perhaps the brevity of the document reflects a fragile state of mind? The will is also notable for the relatively parsimonious nature of its legacies, which do not strike one as particular generous (in the region of 50 to 100 Guineas each for a few nephews and nieces); was he not so well off or was he simply stingy with his money? However, one of his bequests notably crossed the social divide, with 20 Guineas going to his servant John Chubb, who also received all his master’s wearing apparel. In another curious aspect of the will, the witnesses are drawn from social classes clearly beneath him, Benjamin Hindes the Schoolmaster of Great Linford at the time, and John Wood and Thomas Penell, his footman and coachman. Is this an indication that Thomas had become isolated from his friends and family?
One presumes there was a coroner’s jury convened for Thomas and you would have expected this to be the talk of the county, but we have no report of a verdict.
For a man of his status and presumed wealth, Thomas left an unusually sparse will, barely a page long. Wills for men like Thomas might easily run to well over a dozen or more complex pages, often longer, but perhaps the brevity of the document reflects a fragile state of mind? The will is also notable for the relatively parsimonious nature of its legacies, which do not strike one as particular generous (in the region of 50 to 100 Guineas each for a few nephews and nieces); was he not so well off or was he simply stingy with his money? However, one of his bequests notably crossed the social divide, with 20 Guineas going to his servant John Chubb, who also received all his master’s wearing apparel. In another curious aspect of the will, the witnesses are drawn from social classes clearly beneath him, Benjamin Hindes the Schoolmaster of Great Linford at the time, and John Wood and Thomas Penell, his footman and coachman. Is this an indication that Thomas had become isolated from his friends and family?
A well-dressed servant
There is a curious postscript to the story of Chubb’s inheritance of his master’s clothes. The Reverend William Cole (1714-1782) of Cambridge (and briefly Bletchley), was well known as an antiquarian, publishing widely on the history of the counties he lived in. Found amongst his writings is a rather striking barb directed at Chubb and his late master. The passage in question pertains to a seemingly long festering dispute over the fate of Filgrave Church in Buckinghamshire, which had fallen into terrible disrepair. A proposal by a Mrs Backwell of Tryringham House circa 1758 to demolish the tower was causing further vexation, and Cole in recounting his attendance of a dinner on June 25th 1768 with the Rector of Filgrave, records the following in his diary.
Mr. Chubb, Valet de Chambre to Mr. Thomas Uthwat, of Great Linford, and who inherited his master's loose principles, as well as his old clothes, being Steward to Mrs. Backwell, was thought to advise the pulling down the Tower. Mr. Chubb is an old bachelor, came out of the north, lives at Sherington, and is worth 3,000 Pounds.
The term “loose principles” is a tricky one to define, but is clearly not complimentary, of either Thomas or his servant. What on earth was Cole trying to imply?
Thomas was survived by his wife Catherine, who passed away on July 22nd, 1769, at Great George Street, in the parish of St. George Hanover Square in London. However, her will (much more extensive and detailed than her husbands) specified that she should be buried in her vault at Great Linford, “as privately and as at little expense as possible.” That being said, she too is commemorated within St. Andrew’s church, the shared monument to her and her husband having the appearance of being installed upon Catherine’s passing.
A rather sweet story has been passed down over the years concerning Catherine and her daughter Catherine, who had married into the Knapp family of Little Linford. This centres on the Doric Seat located in the Wilderness area of Great Linford Manor Park, and suggests that mother and daughter would silently commune while seated in their respective gardens at Great and Little Linford, with the mother gazing wistfully down into the Ouse valley, hoping that her daughter might be looking back at her. You can read more about Catherine Uthwatt, her daughter and the Doric seat here.
William Prichard’s will barred Thomas and Catherine’s daughter from inheriting, and it has been suggested that she was of “unsound mind” like her father, her affairs left in the hands of her daughters upon the passing of her husband. The manor of Great Linford now passed to a nephew named Henry, the son of the Richard Uthwatt who is believed to have passed away in 1731.
Thomas was survived by his wife Catherine, who passed away on July 22nd, 1769, at Great George Street, in the parish of St. George Hanover Square in London. However, her will (much more extensive and detailed than her husbands) specified that she should be buried in her vault at Great Linford, “as privately and as at little expense as possible.” That being said, she too is commemorated within St. Andrew’s church, the shared monument to her and her husband having the appearance of being installed upon Catherine’s passing.
A rather sweet story has been passed down over the years concerning Catherine and her daughter Catherine, who had married into the Knapp family of Little Linford. This centres on the Doric Seat located in the Wilderness area of Great Linford Manor Park, and suggests that mother and daughter would silently commune while seated in their respective gardens at Great and Little Linford, with the mother gazing wistfully down into the Ouse valley, hoping that her daughter might be looking back at her. You can read more about Catherine Uthwatt, her daughter and the Doric seat here.
William Prichard’s will barred Thomas and Catherine’s daughter from inheriting, and it has been suggested that she was of “unsound mind” like her father, her affairs left in the hands of her daughters upon the passing of her husband. The manor of Great Linford now passed to a nephew named Henry, the son of the Richard Uthwatt who is believed to have passed away in 1731.
|
|
