by Harry Ludlum
From the foregoing remarks, it is hoped that is has been made clear to the reader that the prolonged and often vociferous criticism of Price's work, both at Borley and elsewhere, has been duly noted and acknowledged. However, having looked at both sides of the coin, the writer feels that much of the criticism has been found wanting in so many ways, to the extent that really very little of it seems capable of standing up to really searching analysis. That successive attempts to discredit the story of the haunting have, by and large, failed to come up with any really hard evidence has been soundly demonstrated by the late Dr Paul Tabori, Peter Underwood and Robert J. Hastings in their own writings upon the subject.
In recognition of this long-standing controversy about Price, particularly in respect of Borley Rectory, and also in recognition of the esteem in which he is still held to this day by a number of his fans, and more particularly for those of the younger generation, many of whom would not be conversant with his life and work, the writer sets out Price's contribution to the story of Borley Rectory in detail later on.
Aside from the important links between Harry Price and Borley, the main purpose of this book is to probe into the possible historic origins of the various ghost figures recorded as having been seen in or near the Rectory, together with some of the legends and stories attached to the Rectory and its occupants, both physical and spectral.
There can be little doubt, in this more enlightened scientific age that those whose work centres upon the scientific and psychic side of hauntings and poltergeist activity will in due course be able to quantify once and for all the scientific causes of events at Borley.
To begin this account, I have attempted to bring together as much as possible of the relevant material dealing with the strange occurrences at Borley set out by Harry Price, his literary executor Dr Paul Tabori and that of Peter Underwood. Reference has also been made to work by a number of other writers and researchers such as Dennis Bardens and David C. Knight together with the report by Professor Dingwall, Mrs K. Goldney and Trevor Hall who in 1956 produced what was felt by them to be evidence conflicting with the authenticity of the phenomena. It was this latter view that was itself destined to be subsequently called into question by the late Robert J. Hastings, whose own enquiry into Borley Rectory is also referred to at various points in this book. Detail has also been collated from the quantity of correspondence sent to Price and Paul Tabori by several people, concerning not only Price's own work at Borley Rectory, but also curious events and experiences related by people who visited or stayed at the Rectory long before Harry Price became involved in its history.
It is recommended that any serious student of the haunting of Borley Rectory really needs to study all this material, mainly because the correspondence in the files tells quite plainly, I believe, what actually happened and what was said.
Owing to much of the literature on the hauntings at Borley Rectory not always being available, even from libraries, and the details therefore being unknown to many young readers, information of the disturbances and the various investigations into them have been set out from existing or previous accounts as a prelude to the writer's own research. Therefore the first part of this book is founded upon existing material because in my opinion this material has not had the accusations against it proved to any substantial degree.
The details that follow have been the source of prolonged and often acid controversy, especially since the death of Harry Price. The ranks of those who side for or against the hauntings are, it seems, fairly equal in number and almost equally vociferous. Whilst it should be quite clearly understood that the author openly sides more with the pros than the antis and consequently accepts the risk of being accused of bias as a result, wherever possible the views of those who are not satisfied with the story of Borley Rectory have been noted and, where it seems to be appropriate, one will find my views of those opinions.
The writer has devoted the first part of this work to describing the Rectory and its surroundings and relating the strange things that happened there. The next section has been set aside for a look at the occupants of the Rectory over the years, in as much detail as surviving records would permit. The third section is given over to an examination of the truth or otherwise of many of the legends attached to the history of the Rectory and the site on which it was built. The reader will be able to share in questions about Sir Edward Waldegrave, the links with the monastic world, the still (at this stage) unresolved mystery of the nun and much else besides about Borley Rectory, things that continue to bemuse the enthusiasts to this day.
But now, the famous and evergreen story, and mystery, of Borley Rectory and its ghosts awaits.
CHAPTER 1
Borley and its Surroundings
The tiny village of Borley lies on the Essex and Suffolk county boundary, roughly two and a half miles from Sudbury, one-time home of the famous painter, Thomas Gainsborough. A little nearer to Borley lies Long Melford, with its splendid church, its maltings and the impressive timbered Bull Hotel.
Until a few years ago, the railway between Sudbury and Long Melford ran past the foot of the long shallow hill leading to Borley, passing Borley Hall, which until the end of the last century was the home of successive generations of the Waldegrave family, including the unfortunate Sir Edward Waldegrave, of whom more later.
From about 1890 onwards, Borley Hall belonged to the Payne family, and until May of 1983 it was occupied by Patrick Payne, a man much liked in the village, but who has, unfortunately, since died.
The easiest way of approaching the village is by way of Rodbridge, once known as Rad Bridge, and where once stood Borley's gallows, a sobering thought!
The River Stour, having meandered its way across pleasant meadows, passes to one side of Borley Hall and its mill, last used as such in 1947, when the terrible winter of that year caused the wheel shaft to split.
On top of the rather windswept ridge which rises from the river valley is the belt of trees within which, from 1863 to 1944 (according to numerous sources) stood Borley Rectory.
On the opposite side of the road, and set well back from the corner, stands the Parish Church, which is of unknown dedication and partly of 12th-century origin, with 15th-century additions. Among various interesting features, it possesses a rather unusual brick porch and perhaps best known, at least locally, an avenue of clipped and rather decorative yew trees, which are most unusual in their visual effect.
However, by far the most extraordinary feature within this quite unique and delightful little church, which has become almost as famous as some of our great cathedrals though for the oddest reasons, is the Waldegrave tomb, with its hefty columns, family crest and the effigies of Sir Edward and Lady Frances Waldegrave laid upon the main plinth.
Alongside the church stands Borley Place, used by at least two rectors prior to the building of the new Rectory in 1863.
Across the road again, almost on the Rectory corner, stands the only substantial surviving appendage of Borley Rectory, namely the stable cottage.
Behind this cottage stands the farm, also long associated with the Bull family and subsequently the Payne family. The former garden of Borley Rectory is now occupied by modern bungalows and is, as a consequence, somewhat fragmented.
The name of the village itself can be traced back into Anglo Saxon times and indeed its name is a relatively modern development of the word Barlea, which variously translates as Boar pasture, or Place of the Pig.
At various times throughout its history it has also been known as Borlee, Burley, and even Boreghley.
Part of Borley once belonged to Barking Monastery, an order of Benedictine nuns, whilst the Manor of Borley as such was the property of the Prior and Convent of Christchurch, Canterbury, from 1301 until it was requisitioned under the auspices of Henry VIII and, according to most records, handed over to Sir Edward Waldegrave of Bures.
In front of Borley Place is Borley Place cottage. A large pond is further west. There's a couple of big mode
rn bungalows and then about half a mile of open fields, a turn-off to Ballingdon and a farm road to Brook Hill.
Not far off lies Borley Green with its ancient thatched cottages intermixed with some more modern houses.
Borley Rectory itself has now gone. The fire of February 1939 caused so much structural damage that the shell of the building became unsafe and in the end, there was little option but to pull down the remains, themselves in an advanced state of collapse.
Had the fire occurred some years earlier, or even after the war, then it is possible that the building might have been salvaged, but in wartime with no materials or spare labour available there really wasn't a hope.
Visitors to Borley should therefore realise that the Rectory no longer exists.
There are still several items associated with the story of the Rectory which the visitor can look at but it should be borne in mind that all remaining properties associated with the story, with the one exception of the church, are private; to which the public do not have right of access and on which they must not go without the express permission of the owners.
Probably the main building of direct interest is the former stable cottage or coach house. It was built in 1863, of the same bricks as those used for the former rectory, although there appears to have been an earlier property on the site, which appears on an old tithe map of 1841 in the Essex County Records Office at Chelmsford.
This cottage is the easiest relic to view as it stands right on the roadside. It is privately owned and remains occupied.
Next to the church, there is Borley Place, which was used both by the late Rev Herringham and by the Bull family for many years.
Down the hill towards Rodbridge, on what was once part of the Rectory garden, there are remnants of an old stone gateway.
At the foot of the hill, down by the River Stour, stands Borley Hall, for long the residence of various members of the Waldegrave family, whom many think were at the root of some of the Rectory's mysteries.
Away from Borley, two places of interest linked to the Borley story still exist. About two miles away, near Long Melford, stands the parish church of Liston, in the grounds of which lay buried remains, long believed to be those of Marie Lairre, the ghost nun of Borley Rectory, of whom the reader will learn much in the pages that follow.
About four miles distant, and deep in rural surroundings, there still stands Pentlow Rectory, a massive and extraordinary-looking place, in which Borley's then Rector-to-be, Henry Dawson Bull, was born in 1833.
Now called Pentlow Tower, it cannot be seen readily from the road, being well hidden by trees down a long, curving driveway.
In the garden stands a tall and rather weird brick folly, from which the place takes its present name, and which was erected by Edward Bull, Rector of Pentlow, and from which it is said that some 40 churches could be seen on a clear day.
CHAPTER 2
The Building of Borley Rectory
From the details that follow, it is hoped to be able to make it apparent as to just why, what would in other circumstances have been merely a rather remote country rectory, has become over the years, a house with the most singular, and extraordinary history. In due course, it is also hoped to be able to show that much of the strange pageant of the haunting of Borley Rectory has, as its roots, something way back in the annals of history.
To begin with, it is perhaps best to enter upon the strange story of Borley Rectory during the middle years of the nineteenth century, a time when rural England and the English way of life still revealed some stark contrasts, displaying side by side in many instances great wealth and appalling poverty, industrialisation cheek by jowl with unchanging rural remoteness.
It was still a time of rather rigid and set religious beliefs, and perhaps most significantly of all, in terms of this present study, a time of great spiritual interest in life after death and in ghosts and spirits in general.
But strangely enough, at a time when the world of scientific discovery was beginning to gather momentum, ideas that there might be a serious scientific background to ghosts and hauntings was often treated with a mixture of contempt and even outrage, to the extent that some even considered such ideas as heresy, like many other theories which surfaced at that time.
Nowadays, we can look with some degree of amusement upon the storm that erupted over Darwin's theory of evolution, but to the Victorians it was no laughing matter. Much the same tended to happen when people tried to link ghosts and hauntings with science. Nowadays, a much wider cross-section of society takes a far more open-minded view of these unusual events.
In the countryside, life continued to centre upon the small village with its squire, blacksmith and the tenant farmers, and of course the long-established routine of the parish church. Many of the smaller rural parishes were very isolated and some were to remain so until well after the Second World War.
It was in just such a quiet corner of rural England that a rather peculiar story was soon to unfold, though few outside the district were to hear of it until many years later.
Upon the death of the Rev. John Phillip Herringham in 1862, the Rev. Henry Dawson Ellis Bull succeeded to the living of Borley. For some little while, Herringham had resided in the cosy little 17th-century house called Borley Place, once thought to have been known as Borley Manor, which survives to this day, together with its tithe barn, on a plot beside the church.
To begin with, the Rev. Henry Bull followed suit and, over the succeeding years, various members of the Bull family continued to make use of Borley Place.
Following his induction, however, Henry Bull decided to have built a new Rectory to house himself and his growing family. In due course, work commenced on the new house, and was completed during the following year, 1863. Oddly enough, there had already been a Rectory house on the chosen site, on the corner across the road opposite the church, and one might just ponder on the reasons why it was not used and adapted to suit the needs of the new Rector, especially as during Herringham's time it had been described as a fairly commodious place.
There are those who think that this old Rectory was a replacement for a much older one still, for such a building often figures in stories about past happenings on the site, possibly involving members of the Waldegrave family. As Herringham had been living at Borley Place for some time prior to his death, one cannot help wondering whether he simply preferred Borley Place, or whether he disliked the old house, or whether the old Rectory had fallen into a state of dereliction, a view held by some that for a very long time the old Rectory was locked and disused.
It is just possible that the old Rectory was possessed of some of the very same features that were to make Henry Bull's new home a less-than-welcoming abode to so many people in later years?
Whatever the truth, the old Rectory was removed and was replaced by the new and impressive structure that was to become so familiar in later years. This was completed in 1863 and stood on the opposite corner to the church, in a huge garden hemmed in by the Cedars of Lebanon under which so many were later to watch and wait.
Borley Rectory, summer 1890
Until about this time, according to a tithe map of 1841 and a list of 1839, both now in the Essex County Archives at Chelmsford, the Rectory site had been divided off a little below the site of the former Rectory itself, with the latter house and some of the grounds belonging to Herringham. This surely indicates that he must have had a living and income independent of that gifted by the Waldegraves, for they were responsible for the appointment of Borley's rectors from the time of Henry VIII until the death of Henry Bull in 1892, after which the living and the gift passed respectively to his son Harry and the Bull family.
The 1839 tithe list also tells us that the remainder of what later was to become the great rambling garden of Borley Rectory belonged to John James Henry Waldegrave, a descendant of this large, rich and influential feudal family, whose connections with Borley seem to have finally come to an end at the close of the 1890s, when Borley Ha
ll, the old Waldegrave home in Borley, passed to the Payne family, Mr Patrick Payne being its most recent owner. However, it has now passed out of local hands.
By the time the new Rectory had been completed, the whole plot had been combined into a single very large garden, and it was to remain as such until the end of the Second World War.
The dining room, Borley Rectory, c.1890
Architecturally, the new house could be said to have been something of a monstrosity. Like many Victorian rectories, it was large, exceptionally so in its final form, but it was very much in line with ideas of large houses then in fashion.
Notwithstanding this last point, Borley Rectory was in many ways an oddity in the context of Borley and its surroundings. For one thing, its particular style and appearance, whilst certainly contemporary Victorian, seemed to belong not to rural Essex but rather to such places as the developing wealthy areas of London or Manchester. In short, it was rather an architectural square peg in a round hole.
Its general appearance could perhaps best be described as massively sullen-looking, with an air of impressive though somewhat clumsy grandeur. It was by no means a thing of beauty and in fact Sir William Crocker, who was to figure much later in its history, said in his memoirs entitled Far From Humdrum - A Lawyer's Life that it was an example of the worst that the bad taste of 1863 could produce. In terms of weird and incongruous design, however, Pentlow Rectory where Henry Bull was born could show Borley a thing or two.
The Rectory at Borley cost some £3,000 to build, which gives an idea of the state of well-being enjoyed by the Bull family, long established in the district and very comfortably off, to put it mildly.
The new building was of two storeys of red brick and in its initial form was L-shaped. Entry to the grounds was by way of a carriage drive from the lane outside, a drive which ran alongside the house behind trees and bushes that screened it almost completely, to emerge at an upper gateway between the Rectory and the associated stable-cum-coach house that stood behind it on the corner of the road. It is this building that remains today.
