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The Voices of Morebath: Reformation and Rebellion in an English Village
This delightful book offers a rare glimpse of life in a remote sixteenth-century English village during the dramatic changes of the Reformation. Through vividly detailed parish records kept from 1520 to 1574 by Sir Christopher Trychay, the garrulous priest of Morebath, we see how a tiny Catholic community rebelled, was punished, and reluctantly accepted Protestantism under the demands of the Elizabethan state."Significant and striking."-Peter Ackroyd, The Times (London); "A vivid piece of microhistory . . . a rich and often witty portrait."-Alexandra Walsham, History; "This book is a gem: small, colourful, many-faceted."-Lucy Wooding, Reviews in History; "Stories like the one Duffy skillfully tells here, for historian and general reader alike . . . bear remembering." -Paul Lewis, New York Times Book Review
Author Biography: Eamon Duffy is professor of the History of Christianity at the University of Cambridge and president of Magdalene College. His previous books include The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England 1400-1580, and Saints and Sinners: A History of the Popes, both published by Yale University Press.
Winner of the Hawthornden Prize for Literature.
Synopsis taken from the inside-front jacket:
In the fifty years between 1530 and 1580, England moved from being one of the most lavishly Catholic countries in Europe to being a Protestant nation, a land of whitewashed churches and anti-papal preaching. What was the impact of this religious change in the countryside? And how did country people feel about the revolutionary upheavals that transformed their mental and material worlds under Henry VIII and his three children.
In this book a reformation historian takes us inside the mind and heart of Morebath, a remote and tiny sheep farming village where thirty-three families worked the difficult land on the southern edge of Exmoor. The bulk of Morebath’s conventional archives have long since vanished. But from 1520 to 1574, through nearly all the drama of the English Reformation, Morebath’s only priest, Sir Christopher Trychay, kept the parish accounts on behalf of the churchwardens. Opinionated, eccentric, and talkative, Sir Christopher filled these vivid scripts for parish meetings with the names and doings of his parishioners. Through his eyes we catch a rare glimpse of the life and pre-reformation piety of a sixteenth-century English village.
The book offers a unique window into a rural word in crisis as the reformation progressed. Sir Christopher Trychay’s accounts provide direct evidence of the motives which drove hitherto law-abiding West-country communities to participate in the doomed Prayer Book Rebellion of 1549 – a siege that ended in bloody defeat and a wave of executions. Its church bells confiscated and silenced, Morebath shared in the punishment imposed on all the towns and villages of Devon and Cornwall. Sir Christopher documents the changes in the community reluctantly Protestant, no longer focussed on the religious life of the parish, and increasingly preoccupied with the secular demands of the Elizabethan state, the equipping of armies, and the payment of taxes. Morebath’s priest, garrulous to the end of his days, describes a rural world irrevocably altered, and enables us to hear the voices of his villagers after four hundred years of silence.”
232 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2001
60 people are currently reading
763 people want to read
About the author
Eamon Duffy
53 books87 followersEamon Duffy is Professor of the History of Christianity at the University of Cambridge, and former President of Magdalene College.
He describes himself as a "cradle Catholic" and specializes in 15th to 17th century religious history of Britain. His work has done much to overturn the popular image of late-medieval Catholicism in England as moribund, and instead presents it as a vibrant cultural force. On weekdays from 22nd October to 2nd November 2007, he presented the BBC Radio 4 series "10 Popes Who Shook the World" - those popes featured were Peter, Leo I, Gregory I, Gregory VII, Innocent III, Paul III, Pius IX, Pius XII, John XXIII, and John Paul II.
He describes himself as a "cradle Catholic" and specializes in 15th to 17th century religious history of Britain. His work has done much to overturn the popular image of late-medieval Catholicism in England as moribund, and instead presents it as a vibrant cultural force. On weekdays from 22nd October to 2nd November 2007, he presented the BBC Radio 4 series "10 Popes Who Shook the World" - those popes featured were Peter, Leo I, Gregory I, Gregory VII, Innocent III, Paul III, Pius IX, Pius XII, John XXIII, and John Paul II.
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January 28, 2016
This is a beautiful and *sad* book. It is really fascinating to me to read the account of 1520s and 1530s Morebath and its detailed exploration of the vivid life of this tiny little parish. It's dangerous for me because I know I'm tempted to read too much into it of my own thoughts about the need for everyone, down to the very poorest people, to have responsibility for their own lives, and conversely, for society to place demands on them that they can reasonably meet. You don't want to hear about that, so I'll shut up on that score.
Suffice it to say, the intricate details of the parish's many funds, the way that all the ordinary people of the parish were entrusted with that responsibility in turn, the details of the outfitting of the church and the testimony they bear of the nuances of the piety of the final generation of common English Catholics, and the stories about the many small craftsmen who worked in and on the church...I eat that stuff up with both hands.
That makes the Reformation's spoliation of the whole thing tremendously sad for me. A classic case of the false dichotomy: either one held to every last detail of the old order, or else one decided it all had to go; there was no room for moderate adjustments. The Reformation really is the pattern for every major political event since in Europe: the French Revolution, the Russian Revolution, postmodernism, most forms of feminism, and so forth. What is worse is how the thing was driven by, in the first place, Henry VIII's craven and ultimately futile search for a wife that would bear him a long-lived son to continue his Johnny-come-lately dynasty (that, in the event, no one ever credibly challenged, even when his daughters held the throne), and afterward by the whims of his children (and their advisors) which were inflicted on the whole nation regardless of what they themselves wanted. It leaves me to scratch my head and wonder, how did these self-reliant people take these diktats from London with so little complaint?
In any case, the author's conclusion is clear: with the entire Catholic life of the parish wiped out, politics (and crime) filled the void...and here we are today.
Suffice it to say, the intricate details of the parish's many funds, the way that all the ordinary people of the parish were entrusted with that responsibility in turn, the details of the outfitting of the church and the testimony they bear of the nuances of the piety of the final generation of common English Catholics, and the stories about the many small craftsmen who worked in and on the church...I eat that stuff up with both hands.
That makes the Reformation's spoliation of the whole thing tremendously sad for me. A classic case of the false dichotomy: either one held to every last detail of the old order, or else one decided it all had to go; there was no room for moderate adjustments. The Reformation really is the pattern for every major political event since in Europe: the French Revolution, the Russian Revolution, postmodernism, most forms of feminism, and so forth. What is worse is how the thing was driven by, in the first place, Henry VIII's craven and ultimately futile search for a wife that would bear him a long-lived son to continue his Johnny-come-lately dynasty (that, in the event, no one ever credibly challenged, even when his daughters held the throne), and afterward by the whims of his children (and their advisors) which were inflicted on the whole nation regardless of what they themselves wanted. It leaves me to scratch my head and wonder, how did these self-reliant people take these diktats from London with so little complaint?
In any case, the author's conclusion is clear: with the entire Catholic life of the parish wiped out, politics (and crime) filled the void...and here we are today.
November 5, 2021
There are many obscure, lesser known aspects of history just waiting to be written about. Even within the context of Reformation history, there are many topics that even thorough textbooks like Diarmaid MacCulloch’s The Reformation: A History could not possibly have time to cover. Eamon Duffy addresses one of these lesser-known topics in his (much shorter) book, The Voices of Morebath: Reformation and Rebellion in an English Village. The preface of Duffy’s book explains his purpose behind writing it. He recounted how, as a Reformation historian, one day he stumbled across the meticulous records of Sir Christopher Trychay, priest of Morebath, which were kept from 1520 until 1574. He was astounded at its content and what the information revealed about the running of a small Catholic parish. He wrote The Voices of Morebath to give readers a taste of Sir Christopher’s witty writing and his perspective on one of the most transformative moments in English history. Therefore, the fact that Sir Christopher kept such intricate and detailed accounts of Morebath’s events, and that we still have access to them today, makes this transitional period in history seem more tangible. This is because it can be examined and understood on a much more intimate level through Sir Christopher’s writings than other events of history can be.
England, unlike other countries during this time period, was thrust into the Protestant Reformation completely when King Henry VIII decided to throw away Catholicism almost overnight in order to achieve his personal pursuits. This meant villages like Morebath were not given much time to adjust or transition from being integrated into the dominant religion of the country to being cast aside as a minority religion. The fact that a village like Morebath underwent such drastic change in such a short period of time makes it all the more fascinating to study. Eamon Duffy’s main purpose in writing The Voices of Morebath is to share Sir Christopher’s accounts in modern English and explain the concrete facts of his records in a more abstract way. This allows us as readers to relate to Sir Christopher’s words to what was happening outside the village at the time. Duffy’s specific thesis is to answer the question of what happened in Morebath during the Protestant Reformation and why? As with any historian regarding his or her work, the purpose or thesis does not determine the results, only their intent. However, sometimes an author attempts to communicate something and does not succeed in doing so.
While the focus of The Voices of Morebath was supposed to be on the transformation of the village due to the Reformation, much of each chapter is dedicated to the minute details of financial transactions, tithing, lists surrounding the needs of the church or parish, etc. For whatever reason Duffy felt the need to describe several transactions in detail. While a generalized overview of these activities would have been interesting once or twice, paragraphs and paragraphs of descriptions of similar transactions taking the majority of each chapter was redundant and bogged down the pace and content of the book. Duffy had clearly pored hours and hours over these accounts and took the pains to translate many passages for readers as well as to support his evidence. As a reader who has no prior knowledge on this topic, however, it does not take more than three or four references or translated passages to convince me that he has done his research and knows what he is talking about. I would have preferred more exposition and definition of meaning behind the text rather than translation of the text itself while reading.
While there was not a lot of time dedicated to the actual rebellion Morebath experienced in The Voices of Morebath, the parts of the text that focused more on expositing were fascinating. For example, Duffy often referenced the fact that children did not often survive infancy, let alone childhood, during this time period. He emphasized that this reality drastically affected society and its view of religion. For many couples experiencing the loss of a child or children multiple times over, religion was all they had to help them cope. Duffy writes that according to historian Lawrence Stone, “men and women of early modern England were hardened to the loss of their children in infancy, held themselves back from bonding until the dangerous early years were passed, and did not grieve as we would grieve” (14). This thought suggests that somehow parents were emotionally different in the 1500s; that, because they were used to experiencing loss, they were able to separate their emotions from reality and not let trials affect them then how they would affect us today. Duffy scoffs at this notion, responding with: “[b]elieve it who can: Tudor hearts were as breakable as ours, and one can only speculate about the impact of such relentless misfortune on the sensibilities of the men and women of early modern Morebath” (14). This is not the only time throughout The Voices of Morebath that Duffy breaks the preconceived, and often ridiculous, notions we as contemporaries can have of those who lived before us. These moments helped me feel more connected to the parishioners of Morebath by adding a layer of relatability to what they experienced so differently from what we experience today.
This concept is furthered in another, more specific example a few chapters later when Duffy writes of a situation that Sir Christopher had to manage once during his priesthood in Morebath. There was a poor man named Marke whose wife had just given birth to a set of twins. The twins had died a few days after childbirth. The couple desired to hold a sort of memorial for their children before properly burying them as was the Catholic custom. However, due to a heated argument months before where certain parishioners refused to pay their dues which contributed to his income, Sir Christopher had been forced to let the church’s clerk go. The clerk was responsible for performing such ceremonies as weddings and funerals, locking and unlocking the church and keeping it tidy. When Marke and his wife took their dead children to the church one morning to perform the traditional ceremony, they were horrified to find it locked. No one was able to open it or perform the ceremony. Wracked with grief, Marke feverishly sought someone to open the church and perform the ceremony last minute.
Afterward, Marke sought out the few people he knew had refused to pay toward the clerk’s income and confronted them about it. In the end, Sir Christopher called a meeting and reestablished the clerk position, having known all along that his parishioners would realize the need for one in due time. As Duffy recounted the event, “the affair of the clerkship brings into sharp focus the extraordinary complexity of the concept of community in Morebath, and the interweaving of religious and secular considerations in the pursuit of peace” (63). Duffy uses this instance to give us a glimpse into what Sir Christopher had to manage and an example of how he would resolve these types of disputes in his parish. Duffy went on to say “[i]t discloses to us a small rural community in which the non-cooperation of a handful of poor men could paralyse the parish’s decision-making and smooth working, and in which consensus, however achieved, rather than majority rule, was felt to be the essential basis for collective action” (Duffy 63). This demonstrates how differently a Catholic parish was run compared to a larger town or city like London or Manchester. Sir Christopher knew that what mattered more was not how people felt about the clerk tax but what the clerk could provide for them. When Protestants changed the way English churches were conducted, this included Sir Christopher’s small church. One by one, Sir Christopher’s parish was picked apart. Relics, the parish’s sheep and many other religious items were taken away from his church. While Morebath resisted this change, their community was soon expected to give up their Catholicism, something that had been central to their identity for decades.
Overall, Eamon Duffy’s The Voices of Morebath is a fascinating look at village life during an extremely tumultuous time in English history. He attempts to give a glance into how a Catholic village was run by a witty and dedicated priest for several decades. Where Duffy fails is in execution. The pages of his chapters lag in a sort of odd laundry list of payments and transactions made in the parish. Where he succeeds is in those few passages where he helps make the parishioners feel real and their struggles relatable. Every once in a while, Duffy makes a truly remarkable comment on English society in a lower-class community experiencing a hard religious transition in their country. Yet, for a book about reform and rebellion, there is very little time in the book dedicated to that topic. I was disappointed not to learn more about the actual rebellion and how it affected people’s daily lives and what it means for us today. The meaning of the book as a whole is hard to discern unless one pays close attention while reading. However, it was still worth reading due to the tidbits I read here and there which brought his narrative to life.
England, unlike other countries during this time period, was thrust into the Protestant Reformation completely when King Henry VIII decided to throw away Catholicism almost overnight in order to achieve his personal pursuits. This meant villages like Morebath were not given much time to adjust or transition from being integrated into the dominant religion of the country to being cast aside as a minority religion. The fact that a village like Morebath underwent such drastic change in such a short period of time makes it all the more fascinating to study. Eamon Duffy’s main purpose in writing The Voices of Morebath is to share Sir Christopher’s accounts in modern English and explain the concrete facts of his records in a more abstract way. This allows us as readers to relate to Sir Christopher’s words to what was happening outside the village at the time. Duffy’s specific thesis is to answer the question of what happened in Morebath during the Protestant Reformation and why? As with any historian regarding his or her work, the purpose or thesis does not determine the results, only their intent. However, sometimes an author attempts to communicate something and does not succeed in doing so.
While the focus of The Voices of Morebath was supposed to be on the transformation of the village due to the Reformation, much of each chapter is dedicated to the minute details of financial transactions, tithing, lists surrounding the needs of the church or parish, etc. For whatever reason Duffy felt the need to describe several transactions in detail. While a generalized overview of these activities would have been interesting once or twice, paragraphs and paragraphs of descriptions of similar transactions taking the majority of each chapter was redundant and bogged down the pace and content of the book. Duffy had clearly pored hours and hours over these accounts and took the pains to translate many passages for readers as well as to support his evidence. As a reader who has no prior knowledge on this topic, however, it does not take more than three or four references or translated passages to convince me that he has done his research and knows what he is talking about. I would have preferred more exposition and definition of meaning behind the text rather than translation of the text itself while reading.
While there was not a lot of time dedicated to the actual rebellion Morebath experienced in The Voices of Morebath, the parts of the text that focused more on expositing were fascinating. For example, Duffy often referenced the fact that children did not often survive infancy, let alone childhood, during this time period. He emphasized that this reality drastically affected society and its view of religion. For many couples experiencing the loss of a child or children multiple times over, religion was all they had to help them cope. Duffy writes that according to historian Lawrence Stone, “men and women of early modern England were hardened to the loss of their children in infancy, held themselves back from bonding until the dangerous early years were passed, and did not grieve as we would grieve” (14). This thought suggests that somehow parents were emotionally different in the 1500s; that, because they were used to experiencing loss, they were able to separate their emotions from reality and not let trials affect them then how they would affect us today. Duffy scoffs at this notion, responding with: “[b]elieve it who can: Tudor hearts were as breakable as ours, and one can only speculate about the impact of such relentless misfortune on the sensibilities of the men and women of early modern Morebath” (14). This is not the only time throughout The Voices of Morebath that Duffy breaks the preconceived, and often ridiculous, notions we as contemporaries can have of those who lived before us. These moments helped me feel more connected to the parishioners of Morebath by adding a layer of relatability to what they experienced so differently from what we experience today.
This concept is furthered in another, more specific example a few chapters later when Duffy writes of a situation that Sir Christopher had to manage once during his priesthood in Morebath. There was a poor man named Marke whose wife had just given birth to a set of twins. The twins had died a few days after childbirth. The couple desired to hold a sort of memorial for their children before properly burying them as was the Catholic custom. However, due to a heated argument months before where certain parishioners refused to pay their dues which contributed to his income, Sir Christopher had been forced to let the church’s clerk go. The clerk was responsible for performing such ceremonies as weddings and funerals, locking and unlocking the church and keeping it tidy. When Marke and his wife took their dead children to the church one morning to perform the traditional ceremony, they were horrified to find it locked. No one was able to open it or perform the ceremony. Wracked with grief, Marke feverishly sought someone to open the church and perform the ceremony last minute.
Afterward, Marke sought out the few people he knew had refused to pay toward the clerk’s income and confronted them about it. In the end, Sir Christopher called a meeting and reestablished the clerk position, having known all along that his parishioners would realize the need for one in due time. As Duffy recounted the event, “the affair of the clerkship brings into sharp focus the extraordinary complexity of the concept of community in Morebath, and the interweaving of religious and secular considerations in the pursuit of peace” (63). Duffy uses this instance to give us a glimpse into what Sir Christopher had to manage and an example of how he would resolve these types of disputes in his parish. Duffy went on to say “[i]t discloses to us a small rural community in which the non-cooperation of a handful of poor men could paralyse the parish’s decision-making and smooth working, and in which consensus, however achieved, rather than majority rule, was felt to be the essential basis for collective action” (Duffy 63). This demonstrates how differently a Catholic parish was run compared to a larger town or city like London or Manchester. Sir Christopher knew that what mattered more was not how people felt about the clerk tax but what the clerk could provide for them. When Protestants changed the way English churches were conducted, this included Sir Christopher’s small church. One by one, Sir Christopher’s parish was picked apart. Relics, the parish’s sheep and many other religious items were taken away from his church. While Morebath resisted this change, their community was soon expected to give up their Catholicism, something that had been central to their identity for decades.
Overall, Eamon Duffy’s The Voices of Morebath is a fascinating look at village life during an extremely tumultuous time in English history. He attempts to give a glance into how a Catholic village was run by a witty and dedicated priest for several decades. Where Duffy fails is in execution. The pages of his chapters lag in a sort of odd laundry list of payments and transactions made in the parish. Where he succeeds is in those few passages where he helps make the parishioners feel real and their struggles relatable. Every once in a while, Duffy makes a truly remarkable comment on English society in a lower-class community experiencing a hard religious transition in their country. Yet, for a book about reform and rebellion, there is very little time in the book dedicated to that topic. I was disappointed not to learn more about the actual rebellion and how it affected people’s daily lives and what it means for us today. The meaning of the book as a whole is hard to discern unless one pays close attention while reading. However, it was still worth reading due to the tidbits I read here and there which brought his narrative to life.
February 14, 2025
What does it mean to be English? What defines Englishness? I had to read this book and write a report on it answering this exact question. This review is very different than the typical reviews I write, however, I wasnt going to write a second piece on this book, and so I give you an essay I wrote about this book rather than a typical review.
We approach this book with academic intentions, aiming to chart an ethnographic identity of Englishness. However, it profoundly impacts how I view ministry, community, and belonging. When national and global politics collide just beyond Sir Christopher’s door, this village priest turns his eyes to his local community. Trychay’s emphasis on localism, the steadfast, grounded work of caring for one’s neighbors, reminds us that the foundation of ministry, like English identity, lies in the small, often overlooked spaces where people are loved and known. This work, then, offers not just a lesson in history but a challenge for ministry, to be faithful in the parochial, to tend to the flock, and to cultivate a community where every member finds their place and purpose. In a time of profound change may I be like Sir Christopher Trychay. May my own ministry be defined by the quiet resistance of belonging, of caring for sheep that bite, and of faithful ministry when the mechanizations of society seek to subdue it. Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Amen.
The bells of Morebath ring with worship and echo a world in upheaval. In Eamon Duffy’s "Voices of Morebath Reformation and Rebellion in an English Village," the winds of Tudor reform sweep through a small Devonshire parish, altering not only faith's rites and rituals but also the very fabric of communal identity. At the heart of this tale stands Sir Christopher Trychay, a priest whose meticulous churchwarden accounts offer a window into the lives of a people caught between tradition and transformation. Through his words, we witness a world reluctant to yield to relentless change.
Morebath, a remote and deeply pious village, may not be a grand stage of history, yet its struggles reflect England’s larger battle for its soul. Duffy masterfully reconstructs the forced oscillations between Catholicism and Protestantism under successive Tudor monarchs. The Edwardian Reformation forces the villagers to dismantle their cherished Catholic traditions, their devotion to saints, their fundraising for church adornments, and the vibrant expressions of faith that define their community. The unrest culminates in the Prayer Book Rebellion as Morebath and other West Country communities resist the imposition of Protestant worship. With the Marian restoration, they fervently return to the old ways, only to be thrust again into Protestant conformity under the Elizabethan Reformation. This ceaseless cycle of change is not simply theological; it is an existential upheaval that forces the people of Morebath to redefine their spiritual and national identity.
Duffy’s narrative paints a gripping portrait of English identity in formation. The repeated imposition of religious change fosters a resilience and pragmatism that shape the English character. Morebath’s story is not one of eager reformers embracing a new order but of a people forced into reluctant compliance, struggling to reconcile their cherished traditions with an ever-shifting political landscape. Over time, this tension lays the foundation for a uniquely English religious identity, one that balances Catholic heritage with Protestant structure, culminating in the Anglo-Catholicism seen in the Church of England today.
English identity, as revealed through Morebath’s story, does not emerge naturally but is imposed. Throughout history, England absorbs and resists foreign influences. The Romans bring their Pax Romana and a new way of life, the Normans impose a Saxon French hybrid culture, and the Catholic Church, through its Carolingian and Avignon ties, weaves French and Roman identities into English Christianity. The War of the Roses begins to solidify a uniquely English consciousness, but the English Reformation cements it. "Voices of Morebath" captures this transition in action. Sir Christopher Trychay’s use of Latin, the lingering French influences in his English (the superfluous “e” at the end of words), and the slow yet inevitable adaptation to Protestant reforms all serve as linguistic and cultural markers of this transformation.
But "Voices of Morebath" is more than a study of religious transformation; it is a deeply human story, brought to life through the voice of Sir Christopher Trychay. He is no faceless cleric. His words reveal a devout yet practical man, deeply invested in his flock yet often exasperated by their struggles. His role extends far beyond that of a parish vicar. Like many medieval and Reformation era priests, he governs, mediates disputes, manages parish funds, and directs village projects. He even negotiates trade partnerships between Morebath and neighboring towns, ensuring his people’s economic survival in uncertain times. His presence proves as vital to the village’s stability as any lord or magistrate, highlighting the deeply entwined nature of church and civic life in premodern England.
Duffy challenges the simplistic notion that the Reformation is a swift and welcome shift, revealing instead a landscape of resistance, sorrow, and reluctant adaptation. Through Morebath’s struggles, we witness the slow, often painful birth of a national religious identity, not forged in grand theological debates, but in the quiet sacrifices and forced compromises of ordinary men and women.
Sir Christopher Trychay’s meticulously kept records highlight the rapid cultural shifts thrust upon a small English town. These records document not only religious change but also the resilience of a community navigating forces far beyond its control. Morebath’s story serves as a micro history of England’s struggle to define itself in the face of external pressures and political upheaval.
We turned to "Voices of Morebath" seeking insight into the formation of English identity through the Reformation, hoping to understand the broader shifts in faith, power, and society. Instead, we find a priest with a sweet tooth, an affection for his honeybees, and a fondness for his sixteen sheep. More than a figure in religious history, Sir Christopher Trychay is a man who cherishes his community, who cares deeply about belonging and being part of something greater than himself. His commitment to his congregants and his care for their spiritual and daily lives remind us that while history is shaped by grand events, it is the daily faithfulness of individuals in local communities that often defines a society’s character.
We approach this book with academic intentions, aiming to chart an ethnographic identity of Englishness. However, it profoundly impacts how I view ministry, community, and belonging. When national and global politics collide just beyond Sir Christopher’s door, this village priest turns his eyes to his local community. Trychay’s emphasis on localism, the steadfast, grounded work of caring for one’s neighbors, reminds us that the foundation of ministry, like English identity, lies in the small, often overlooked spaces where people are loved and known. This work, then, offers not just a lesson in history but a challenge for ministry, to be faithful in the parochial, to tend to the flock, and to cultivate a community where every member finds their place and purpose. In a time of profound change may I be like Sir Christopher Trychay. May my own ministry be defined by the quiet resistance of belonging, of caring for sheep that bite, and of faithful ministry when the mechanizations of society seek to subdue it. Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Amen.
January 5, 2024
Basically a 200 page reflection on 16th century vestry minutes. Worth every cent I paid (I got it for free in Columbia, SC with a dear friend) and would gladly recommend it to anyone interested in mundane details of a faraway place which (I am still unsure) probably exists.
Many reviewers seem to be romantic for the old times times: when the women would place their rings on the foot of St Sidwell in devotion to the imagined martyr. Anyone can do this in their own home and (at least in the US) have no fear of Tudor era rapscallions coming to dismantle their altar. Young Men also are free to host communal Ales if they like, while it may be difficult to convince the parish that it is mandatory to buy at least one pint. At the end of the day, all good Christian men long for the days when the parish priest would convince the old maids on their death bed to give their last few pennies toward his pet project (black vestments for vigils and such) which would finally be purchased only to be destroyed by the boy-king Edward and his cronies. Works of supererogation, while theologically dubious, certainly encourages sacrificial giving.
I believe I myself will do a good deed beyond what is expected of my blessed Lord Jesus Christ by giving this book to a poor cottager in Southwest Missouri for him to use as insulation in the cold months.
Many reviewers seem to be romantic for the old times times: when the women would place their rings on the foot of St Sidwell in devotion to the imagined martyr. Anyone can do this in their own home and (at least in the US) have no fear of Tudor era rapscallions coming to dismantle their altar. Young Men also are free to host communal Ales if they like, while it may be difficult to convince the parish that it is mandatory to buy at least one pint. At the end of the day, all good Christian men long for the days when the parish priest would convince the old maids on their death bed to give their last few pennies toward his pet project (black vestments for vigils and such) which would finally be purchased only to be destroyed by the boy-king Edward and his cronies. Works of supererogation, while theologically dubious, certainly encourages sacrificial giving.
I believe I myself will do a good deed beyond what is expected of my blessed Lord Jesus Christ by giving this book to a poor cottager in Southwest Missouri for him to use as insulation in the cold months.
September 25, 2017
If you're looking for a more exciting read go find a discarded phone book and read the first 200 pages.
October 22, 2013
Cover via Amazon[/caption]Reformation and Rebellion in an English Village
Author: Eamon Duffy
2001 Religion
208 pp. 26 b/w + 16 color illus., 6 1/8 x 9 1/4
Cloth ISBN 0-300-09185-0 $22.50
[moreb.jpg]
Primary documents provide us the opportunity to hear the voices of people from the times in which they lived. By his meticulous deciphering of the parish accounts written by their vicar during a period stretching over fifty years, Eamon Duffy’s The Voices of Morebath affords us a fascinating glimpse into the lives of the inhabitants of a Tudor village – men and women living during the Henrician Reformation, the all or nothing Reformation of Edward, the about- face times of Catholic Mary and, finally, the adapted, made to measure Reformation of Elizabeth.
Duffy’s skilful examination of Morebath enables us step back into the communal fabric of this remote, sheep farming Tudor village. We see how, in their pre-reformation world, each adult person- male and female- had a role and that most were prepared to do their duties by the community - a community held together by religious rituals.
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This book provides evidence how the Reformation, especially that of the Tudors Edward and his sister Elizabeth, cut away some of the threads holding together the communal fabric of the village. In the first years of change, the villagers, supported by their priest, did what they could to keep the old ways alive – even to the extent of putting their futures on the line in the unsuccessful Prayer Book rebellion of 1549, but the passing of years brings acceptance and with it the thickening fog of apathy. Providing a lesson on how little human nature changes over time, Duffy tells how in 1560 a son asked his father:
"[W]hether he thought well of religious persons and the religion that was then used.
When he replied that he had indeed thought well of the monks, having had no occasion to think otherwise, his son asked ‘then how came it to pass you was so ready to destroy and spoil the thing you thought well of? What could I do, said He: might I not as well as others have some profit of the the Spoil of the Abbey? For I did see all would away, and therefore I did as others did' (Duffy 2001, p. 91).
Duffy describes how Morebath eventually comes to see the Elizabeth Reformation as being like ‘quite literally, part of the furniture” (Work cited, p. 177). Even the Saint Sidwell loving Trychan eventually slides comfortably into the England of Elizabeth, when his 'conformity was more than a grudging minimalism' (Work cited, p. 175).
One thing particularly drew my attention. Duffy's research points to the fact that Elizabeth’s successful reign may have had the effect of decreasing the status of women in the village. The women in the village were accepted by the men folk of the village as churchwardens and thus leaders in the past, but their leadership became less comfortable during Elizabeth’s reign. Could it be, I wonder, a counter-reaction by the men to a powerful woman ruler on England’s throne?
[caption id="" align="alignleft" width="300"]
English: Morebath. Morebath. The greenspace to the left is the site of (and soon for) the village hall (Photo credit: Wikipedia)[/caption]Duffy includes throughout the pages of his book humourous turns of phrase- for example, he describes the Henrician reformation of the late 1530’s as a tiger, but a “torpid tabby cat’ (Work cited, p. 111) by the death of Henry VIII, while 'Somerset's regime was prone to see traitorous popish priests under every bed' (Work cited, p. 131). He also gives an unmistakable sense of how the ordinary folk of the village must have felt like spinning heads- Roman Catholic one moment, Protestant the next, Roman Catholic again and then back on the reformation road in Elizabeth's times. With their churches whitewashed and beloved icons ear-marked for destruction, these times for the devoted Roman Catholic were heart-breaking.
Clearly liking Sir- a honour title given to catholic priests at the time- Christopher Trychan, Duffy makes his reader empathise with the priest too. Trychan cared not only for the spiritual well being for his parishioners, but also acted as the ‘voice’ for the one hundred and fifty souls coming under his care. Thanks to Duffy's book- beautifully produced by Yale University Press- it is a voice that vividly returns the Tudor village of Morebath back to the historical stage.
The Voices of Morebath
December 12, 2012
Eamon Duffy’s The Voices of Morebath: Reformation and Rebellion in an English Village is a micro history of the minutest degree. The book uses as its primary source a series of records kept over a roughly fifty-year period by a Sir Christopher Trychay, the vicar of the small village of Morebath in south-western England. To the untrained historian or untrained reader Trychay’s records would seem but a jumble of tediously kept and altogether meaningless accounts of bills and materials and taxes written in an almost unintelligible form of English. Indeed it would seem that before Duffy’s examination of Trychay’s accountings that that is how most of the world viewed the church logbook of sleepy Morebath. Duffy however takes a different approach, and uses Trychay’s extensive records as a case study in English early modern history. In some ways Duffy’s work can be considered a case study for a larger ethnography of early modern English life; especially life lived during the reign of Henry VIII and the Reformation.
Though at times Duffy over-utilizes his token primary source (Trychay’s accounts)—including overly long quotations taken directly from the source (making them difficult for the untrained eye to understand.) He succeeds however in what I think his purpose in writing the book was; to demonstrate that the changing of times during the early modern era in England, especially during the establishment of the Church of England under the Tudors, was not always without incident or drama; as can sometimes be assumed from the lack of primary sources of this period. Duffy’s expose of the Trychay writings gives the world a glimpse and paints a portrait of what life was like for the “common Englishman” as opposed to the nobility or royalty of the period. From the everyday hustle and bustle of a busy English village to the supporting and sending of several young men to join in the Prayer Book Rebellion against the king. Morebath’s experiences throughout this period cannot be so different from any other minor English town across the Anglo countryside or even very different from our modern time.
Where I think Duffy succeeds most however and consequently Trychay as well (though it was not Trychay’s actual intent), is together they have given voice to the millions of unsung common folk of the time. I believe this is what Duffy was trying to do with his book. To quote from the author: “All the voices of Tudor Morebath [and the rest of rural England] are one voice, caught between the pages of a single book” (pg. 17). I think that though here Duffy is saying that Trychay is the “one voice” of Morebath at this point, in reality he has given voice to the hundreds that lived and passed through his parish during the years of his service there. By doing this he is, in a way, giving voice to the countless unaccounted and forgotten masses of early modern England, such as the “young lad” that accidentally stabbed himself to death with his dagger and was buried in Morebath (pg. 13). In truth, Duffy’s work could really be called the “voices of early modern England.”
Though at times Duffy over-utilizes his token primary source (Trychay’s accounts)—including overly long quotations taken directly from the source (making them difficult for the untrained eye to understand.) He succeeds however in what I think his purpose in writing the book was; to demonstrate that the changing of times during the early modern era in England, especially during the establishment of the Church of England under the Tudors, was not always without incident or drama; as can sometimes be assumed from the lack of primary sources of this period. Duffy’s expose of the Trychay writings gives the world a glimpse and paints a portrait of what life was like for the “common Englishman” as opposed to the nobility or royalty of the period. From the everyday hustle and bustle of a busy English village to the supporting and sending of several young men to join in the Prayer Book Rebellion against the king. Morebath’s experiences throughout this period cannot be so different from any other minor English town across the Anglo countryside or even very different from our modern time.
Where I think Duffy succeeds most however and consequently Trychay as well (though it was not Trychay’s actual intent), is together they have given voice to the millions of unsung common folk of the time. I believe this is what Duffy was trying to do with his book. To quote from the author: “All the voices of Tudor Morebath [and the rest of rural England] are one voice, caught between the pages of a single book” (pg. 17). I think that though here Duffy is saying that Trychay is the “one voice” of Morebath at this point, in reality he has given voice to the hundreds that lived and passed through his parish during the years of his service there. By doing this he is, in a way, giving voice to the countless unaccounted and forgotten masses of early modern England, such as the “young lad” that accidentally stabbed himself to death with his dagger and was buried in Morebath (pg. 13). In truth, Duffy’s work could really be called the “voices of early modern England.”
August 8, 2024
Prior to the arrival of Christopher Haigh's "Tudor Lancashire" Reformation and Resistance in Tudor Lancashire in 1975, the history of the English Reformation had been, for the most part, told in a national context. In recent years, however, a number of regional studies of the progress of reformation have arisen, such as Peter Clark's work on the Reformation in Kent English provincial society from the Reformation to the Revolution: Religion, politics, and society in Kent, 1500-1640. Professor Duffy's "The Voices of Morebath" certainly falls in this category. But this work was the first 'regional' study of the Reformation that has led me to fully comprehend the progress of Reformation at an intimate level. While very commendable, previous regional studies have sought to whip up arguments about a wider region, rather than a single parish or small area. The sources these historians have used are, of course, insufficiently detailed to render the latter a feasible undertaking.
"Voices" is an outlier for two reasons. One, because of its staggeringly detailed and revealing primary source, the accounts of Morebath Church from 1520–1574. Two, because of the way the work is structured. Using the accounts, a product of the punctilious priest Sir Christopher Trychay, Duffy throws the reader into Morebath's community. But he does not abandon them, forcing them to fend for themselves in the dark. Instead, the reader can soak up the atmosphere of Morebath's communal past and simultaneously get a sense of the wider historical picture.
How can they achieve this simultaneity? The answer lies in Duffy's three well-organised thematic chapters at the beginning of the book. The first chapter elaborates on Morebath's relatively isolated position in rural Devon, and, consequently, its tight-knitted community of some 150 (approx.) individuals. A crucial point, here, is made: that “At Morebath, no rigid distinction was drawn between the community at prayer, and the community as it went about its business.” (5). The various 'stores' of the church, informal institutions to maintain a candle before an image of a saint, are cases in point. The Our Lady store, for example, maintained its income by giving the church's sheep to divers parishioners (29 in 1529) across Morebath. They were expected to give the wool such sheep produced to the store, so that wax and other items could be purchased to spark further devotion to the Virgin.
These acts of piety were not solely due to the volition of individual parishioner, however. Sir Christopher, committed as he was, invariably ensured that these payments were made to maintain the unity and harmony of the parish. Insightfully, Duffy observes how Sir Christopher uses the words "our" and "we" and "content[ment]" in relation to parishioners' expected payments. One is left with the impression that this was a community united in their piety, actions, and general well-being. The entire parish certainly did not blindly accept the edict of Sir Christopher, however. Indeed, the community could not agree upon the wages of the clerk for such a long duration that, in 1537, the betrothal of Margaret Timewell witnessed the parish being "a most by the eris [ears] for the same causse" (61). A ferocious row had emerged out of this minor dispute.
This kind of parochial involvement which so pervaded Morebath is best observed in the realm of piety and devotion. Sir Christopher, of course, introduced the cult of Saint Sidwell, a local Anglo-Saxon saint from Exeter, to the parish from 1520 onwards by way of an image of her in the almatory. Yet, much of the parish community took the development of this cult into their own hands. From rosaries to flowers, the women of Morebath allowed the altar previously known as Jesus' altar to become Saint Sidwell's altar. This embracing of Saint Sidwell was so strong that, when her shoe and the chalice were stolen in 1534, the community “dru themselffe to getters and with there geftis and provyssyon the bofth yn a mother challis” (82).
At other times, though, this desire to maintain order and unity led to obedience to higher authority. I was quite surprised to learn that adhered to the various religious reforms imposed by Tudor monarchs during the Reformation. During the early Henrician Reformation, after Cromwell's pro-iconoclasm Injunctions in 1538, Morebath promptly shredded away much of its previous devotional arrangements: no money was spent on wax for candles before St Anthony's image in 1538, the Great Bible in English was purchased "a cordying to the kynggis injunctions", and the rood veil was removed. Likewise, under Edward's more markedly Protestant regime, it conformed: largely to raise money, the high warden, Lucy Scely, sold the church's Easter Sepulchre cloths, the Lent cloths, and the silk stream – some of its most fundamental devotional items. That such a steeply traditionalist community would conform so vehemently is certainly rather baffling. Duffy's highlighting this account, then, questions some of the assumptions about the reception of reformation in the West Country –– most notably that it was seldom successful.
And yet, Duffy also illustrates that there is some truth to this assumption. In a display of outstanding historiography, Duffy successfully proves that Morebath sent five men to participate in a county-wide rebellion of 1549. It is known as the 'Prayer Book rebellion' due to its anti-Edwardine Reformation stances. Prior to Duffy's re-assessment, historians had overlooked a decisive sentence in one of the accounts: payment "at their [the five men's] goyng forthe to sent davys down ys camppe". Saint David's Down camp was a rebel camp in Exeter during the summer of 1549. The Victorian transcriber of the accounts, J. Erskine Binney, had not only mistranscribed 'sent davys down' as 'sent Denys down', but also had taken a blind eye to the word "camppe", which Sir Christopher had crossed out at a later date to mask his complicity. Refuting these errors, Duffy consulted the original manuscript, peered beneath the ink and, lo and behold, found the word "camppe" hiding beneath it. Here, one is left with the impression that the historian, in the words of Diarmaid McCulloch, has "rolled his sleeves up".
This sleeve-rolling does not only occur here, however. Ever mindful of allowing the sources to 'speak for themselves', Duffy highlights how – during Mary I's restoration of Catholicism – Sir Christopher remained, at heart, a religious conservative. On the eve of the Queen's death, Trychay wrote "by tyme of Kyng Edward the VI the church ever dekeyd and then deyd the Kyng and Quyne Maris grace dyd succed and how the church was restoryd a gayn by her tyme here" (165). The stark opposition between the 'dekeyd' Edwardine Protestant church and the 'restoryd' Marian Catholic Church is sufficient information for assessing the (probably) true mentalité of Sir Christopher.
But for all this protestation, Morebath nevertheless returned to conformity during the Protestant reforms of Queen Elizabeth I. In demonstrating this conformity, Duffy touches upon a fundamental (I would argue) reason for the eventual triumph of Protestantism in England: the expansion and improvement of local and national political structures. That Elizabeth I reformed the county militia system, expanded the influence of parliament, founded and strengthened regional councils (like the Council of the North), and employed more JPs and sheriffs, contributing to a more effective enforcement of religious and non-religious policy, is well known. This argument has been developed by such historians as Geoffrey Elton (see his classic "Reform and Reformation" Reform & Reformation: England, 1509-1558 of 1977 for further details), but as for how this worked at an intimate level, we have been unaware. Duffy, however, is adamant about the role of "the extension of strong government, and the multiplication of responsibility with local community, [rather than solely] any ideological shift" in causing Morebath to become a 'reformed place of worship' (182). In the 1560s, for example, there was a whole host of strengthened politico-governmental structures that contributed towards its conformity with the reformist legislation of the early Elizabethan regime: there were frequent visitations from the archdeacon and local officials in the 1560s, and there were strong Protestants around their community, like Harry Wallop, their landlord.
It is in this sense, then, that the work not only provides a unique local insight into the turbulent world of 16th century England during the Reformation, but also an indication of the sheer extent to which the Protestant Tudor state pierced even the most remote communities in the Kingdom of England. Rather than leaving bequests of rosaries, the parishioners became more accustomed to paying the Crown to support its wars in France, Spain, Ireland, and the Netherlands by the 1570s and 1580s. I enjoyed this book a great deal, therefore, because I was not only granted access to feel the very fabric of a long-gone community, but also to watch that fabric being woven and worn by the ever-expanding English state.
"Voices" is an outlier for two reasons. One, because of its staggeringly detailed and revealing primary source, the accounts of Morebath Church from 1520–1574. Two, because of the way the work is structured. Using the accounts, a product of the punctilious priest Sir Christopher Trychay, Duffy throws the reader into Morebath's community. But he does not abandon them, forcing them to fend for themselves in the dark. Instead, the reader can soak up the atmosphere of Morebath's communal past and simultaneously get a sense of the wider historical picture.
How can they achieve this simultaneity? The answer lies in Duffy's three well-organised thematic chapters at the beginning of the book. The first chapter elaborates on Morebath's relatively isolated position in rural Devon, and, consequently, its tight-knitted community of some 150 (approx.) individuals. A crucial point, here, is made: that “At Morebath, no rigid distinction was drawn between the community at prayer, and the community as it went about its business.” (5). The various 'stores' of the church, informal institutions to maintain a candle before an image of a saint, are cases in point. The Our Lady store, for example, maintained its income by giving the church's sheep to divers parishioners (29 in 1529) across Morebath. They were expected to give the wool such sheep produced to the store, so that wax and other items could be purchased to spark further devotion to the Virgin.
These acts of piety were not solely due to the volition of individual parishioner, however. Sir Christopher, committed as he was, invariably ensured that these payments were made to maintain the unity and harmony of the parish. Insightfully, Duffy observes how Sir Christopher uses the words "our" and "we" and "content[ment]" in relation to parishioners' expected payments. One is left with the impression that this was a community united in their piety, actions, and general well-being. The entire parish certainly did not blindly accept the edict of Sir Christopher, however. Indeed, the community could not agree upon the wages of the clerk for such a long duration that, in 1537, the betrothal of Margaret Timewell witnessed the parish being "a most by the eris [ears] for the same causse" (61). A ferocious row had emerged out of this minor dispute.
This kind of parochial involvement which so pervaded Morebath is best observed in the realm of piety and devotion. Sir Christopher, of course, introduced the cult of Saint Sidwell, a local Anglo-Saxon saint from Exeter, to the parish from 1520 onwards by way of an image of her in the almatory. Yet, much of the parish community took the development of this cult into their own hands. From rosaries to flowers, the women of Morebath allowed the altar previously known as Jesus' altar to become Saint Sidwell's altar. This embracing of Saint Sidwell was so strong that, when her shoe and the chalice were stolen in 1534, the community “dru themselffe to getters and with there geftis and provyssyon the bofth yn a mother challis” (82).
At other times, though, this desire to maintain order and unity led to obedience to higher authority. I was quite surprised to learn that adhered to the various religious reforms imposed by Tudor monarchs during the Reformation. During the early Henrician Reformation, after Cromwell's pro-iconoclasm Injunctions in 1538, Morebath promptly shredded away much of its previous devotional arrangements: no money was spent on wax for candles before St Anthony's image in 1538, the Great Bible in English was purchased "a cordying to the kynggis injunctions", and the rood veil was removed. Likewise, under Edward's more markedly Protestant regime, it conformed: largely to raise money, the high warden, Lucy Scely, sold the church's Easter Sepulchre cloths, the Lent cloths, and the silk stream – some of its most fundamental devotional items. That such a steeply traditionalist community would conform so vehemently is certainly rather baffling. Duffy's highlighting this account, then, questions some of the assumptions about the reception of reformation in the West Country –– most notably that it was seldom successful.
And yet, Duffy also illustrates that there is some truth to this assumption. In a display of outstanding historiography, Duffy successfully proves that Morebath sent five men to participate in a county-wide rebellion of 1549. It is known as the 'Prayer Book rebellion' due to its anti-Edwardine Reformation stances. Prior to Duffy's re-assessment, historians had overlooked a decisive sentence in one of the accounts: payment "at their [the five men's] goyng forthe to sent davys down ys camppe". Saint David's Down camp was a rebel camp in Exeter during the summer of 1549. The Victorian transcriber of the accounts, J. Erskine Binney, had not only mistranscribed 'sent davys down' as 'sent Denys down', but also had taken a blind eye to the word "camppe", which Sir Christopher had crossed out at a later date to mask his complicity. Refuting these errors, Duffy consulted the original manuscript, peered beneath the ink and, lo and behold, found the word "camppe" hiding beneath it. Here, one is left with the impression that the historian, in the words of Diarmaid McCulloch, has "rolled his sleeves up".
This sleeve-rolling does not only occur here, however. Ever mindful of allowing the sources to 'speak for themselves', Duffy highlights how – during Mary I's restoration of Catholicism – Sir Christopher remained, at heart, a religious conservative. On the eve of the Queen's death, Trychay wrote "by tyme of Kyng Edward the VI the church ever dekeyd and then deyd the Kyng and Quyne Maris grace dyd succed and how the church was restoryd a gayn by her tyme here" (165). The stark opposition between the 'dekeyd' Edwardine Protestant church and the 'restoryd' Marian Catholic Church is sufficient information for assessing the (probably) true mentalité of Sir Christopher.
But for all this protestation, Morebath nevertheless returned to conformity during the Protestant reforms of Queen Elizabeth I. In demonstrating this conformity, Duffy touches upon a fundamental (I would argue) reason for the eventual triumph of Protestantism in England: the expansion and improvement of local and national political structures. That Elizabeth I reformed the county militia system, expanded the influence of parliament, founded and strengthened regional councils (like the Council of the North), and employed more JPs and sheriffs, contributing to a more effective enforcement of religious and non-religious policy, is well known. This argument has been developed by such historians as Geoffrey Elton (see his classic "Reform and Reformation" Reform & Reformation: England, 1509-1558 of 1977 for further details), but as for how this worked at an intimate level, we have been unaware. Duffy, however, is adamant about the role of "the extension of strong government, and the multiplication of responsibility with local community, [rather than solely] any ideological shift" in causing Morebath to become a 'reformed place of worship' (182). In the 1560s, for example, there was a whole host of strengthened politico-governmental structures that contributed towards its conformity with the reformist legislation of the early Elizabethan regime: there were frequent visitations from the archdeacon and local officials in the 1560s, and there were strong Protestants around their community, like Harry Wallop, their landlord.
It is in this sense, then, that the work not only provides a unique local insight into the turbulent world of 16th century England during the Reformation, but also an indication of the sheer extent to which the Protestant Tudor state pierced even the most remote communities in the Kingdom of England. Rather than leaving bequests of rosaries, the parishioners became more accustomed to paying the Crown to support its wars in France, Spain, Ireland, and the Netherlands by the 1570s and 1580s. I enjoyed this book a great deal, therefore, because I was not only granted access to feel the very fabric of a long-gone community, but also to watch that fabric being woven and worn by the ever-expanding English state.
September 25, 2014
This is truly a fascinating book. Morebath is a small village in Devonshire with a population of about 350. In 1520, a recently ordained priest, Christopher Trychay is named pastor of the church at Morebath. He remains in that post for 54 years. Trychay is a very detailed person and records every transaction and event in the record book of the parish. It is one of the few Parish Journals that survive to this day. The author, Eamon Duffy was captivated by the Journal and has studied it for years. "Voices" is his narrative, based on the Journal, of this parish through the traumatic years of the English Reformation.
When Trychay first comes to the parish, he is concerned about the lack of piety of the congregation. He begins the process of teaching about the lives of the saints and encourages the people to develop devotion to them and to model their lives. After 15 years, he has obtained a remarkable degree of success and the parish is flourishing - both spiritually and financially. Then, under the reign of Henry VIII, the Reformation starts. The people of the parish are scandalized that Henry claims to be the head of the church instead of the Pope. But, kings don't live forever and they assume this is a temporary situation. After Henry dies, his son Edward (about 10 years old) becomes king. His regent is thoroughly Protestant and their are a series of injunctions issued by the king requiring the churches to no longer burn candles in front of statues (disrupting the finances of the church because many people gave to the parish for this very purpose. The parishes were required to cease having an ale house (the source of half the annual budget and the only social gathering place in the village). Then the statues had to be removed as will as the altar and the priest's vestments. Traveling commissions appointed by the king visited each parish and took inventory. If any banned items were found, the parish had to pay a fine to the crown. In Morebath the people remained hopeful that this too would pass and hide items from the church in their barns and attics. There was an armed rebellion against some of these injunctions in Western England. The church at Morebath actually equipped 5 young men to fight against the forces of the king. The rebellion was crushed and, it appears than none of the 5 young men survived.
When Edward dies, Mary Queen of the Scots becomes Queen of England. Catholicism is re-established and all the hidden items are returned to the church. Mary's reign is only a few years and Elizabeth I is Queen. Her reign proves to be the death-kneel of Catholicism in England. All pastors are required by law to use the BCP for worship, have only a simple table for communion, and pray once a month for the end of Catholic activity in the country. Pastor Trychay, whose church is now bankrupt and the people has lost any desire for piety, continues to faithfully minister to the flock even though some of the things he is required to do violates his personal beliefs.
Walking through this turbulent 50+ years with the people of Morebath is a sad journey but the faithfulness of Trychay to his people is a wonderful example.
When Trychay first comes to the parish, he is concerned about the lack of piety of the congregation. He begins the process of teaching about the lives of the saints and encourages the people to develop devotion to them and to model their lives. After 15 years, he has obtained a remarkable degree of success and the parish is flourishing - both spiritually and financially. Then, under the reign of Henry VIII, the Reformation starts. The people of the parish are scandalized that Henry claims to be the head of the church instead of the Pope. But, kings don't live forever and they assume this is a temporary situation. After Henry dies, his son Edward (about 10 years old) becomes king. His regent is thoroughly Protestant and their are a series of injunctions issued by the king requiring the churches to no longer burn candles in front of statues (disrupting the finances of the church because many people gave to the parish for this very purpose. The parishes were required to cease having an ale house (the source of half the annual budget and the only social gathering place in the village). Then the statues had to be removed as will as the altar and the priest's vestments. Traveling commissions appointed by the king visited each parish and took inventory. If any banned items were found, the parish had to pay a fine to the crown. In Morebath the people remained hopeful that this too would pass and hide items from the church in their barns and attics. There was an armed rebellion against some of these injunctions in Western England. The church at Morebath actually equipped 5 young men to fight against the forces of the king. The rebellion was crushed and, it appears than none of the 5 young men survived.
When Edward dies, Mary Queen of the Scots becomes Queen of England. Catholicism is re-established and all the hidden items are returned to the church. Mary's reign is only a few years and Elizabeth I is Queen. Her reign proves to be the death-kneel of Catholicism in England. All pastors are required by law to use the BCP for worship, have only a simple table for communion, and pray once a month for the end of Catholic activity in the country. Pastor Trychay, whose church is now bankrupt and the people has lost any desire for piety, continues to faithfully minister to the flock even though some of the things he is required to do violates his personal beliefs.
Walking through this turbulent 50+ years with the people of Morebath is a sad journey but the faithfulness of Trychay to his people is a wonderful example.
November 6, 2013
I remember reading this and thinking, "God being part of the Protestant Reformation was a pain in the ass." Duffy takes a page from the French Annales School and looks at the longue duree of a specific village in Devonshire. It is quite telling what the everyday folks went through during the great English upheaval that was their version of the Reformation. Starting with an examination of pre-Henrician reforms to the final settlement under Elizabeth, the people of Morebath had to do their best to roll with the whims of those in power. Especially during the time of Henry it must have ranged between an inconvenience and a serious moral and financial dilema.
Duffy doesn't find an England hungry for reform, quite the contrary. From his examinations of the parish of Morebath, the citizens there were quite pious and supportive of their local church and were willing to spend a great deal of the towns resources toward decorating and caring for the church. The reforms of Henry didn't seem to disturb much and when Henry had his change of heart and basically wanted to return to Catholicism, without the interference from Rome, Morebath seemed to roll along.
It was during the time of the Edwardian Reformation that things get crazy in Devonshire. Under the leadership of Cramner, the English Church turns almost 180 and the results lead to rebellion of the more conservative counties and parishes, including Morebath. The rebellion is systematically crushed, all vestiges of popery removed.
Almost as soon as the Edwardian reforms are put in place, Mary takes the throne and it's back to Catholicism. Elizabeth finally brings some measure of stability but the pious, devoted community that thrived before and during Henry's reign had been replace by a much more secular and cynical population, probably not the goal of any of the reformers.
Ultimately, what we see in Morebath is a population that seemed content with their religious life. The political motivations for the reformation in England were not the concerns of the people living in the countryside. As the church moved through its reform spasms, we also get an idea of how far people are willing to go with changes to what they know. The Henrician reforms, and later his pulling back most of those reforms, allowed most people to continue in their faith practices almost unmolested. It was when Cramner and his great overhaul occurred that people resisted, even resorting to violence to protect their lifestyle. By the time of the two sisters, one definitely gets the feeling that the people of Morebath were finished with reformation and restoration and when Elizabeth allowed a certain measure of tolerance, everyone was happy to make that the status quo.
Duffy doesn't find an England hungry for reform, quite the contrary. From his examinations of the parish of Morebath, the citizens there were quite pious and supportive of their local church and were willing to spend a great deal of the towns resources toward decorating and caring for the church. The reforms of Henry didn't seem to disturb much and when Henry had his change of heart and basically wanted to return to Catholicism, without the interference from Rome, Morebath seemed to roll along.
It was during the time of the Edwardian Reformation that things get crazy in Devonshire. Under the leadership of Cramner, the English Church turns almost 180 and the results lead to rebellion of the more conservative counties and parishes, including Morebath. The rebellion is systematically crushed, all vestiges of popery removed.
Almost as soon as the Edwardian reforms are put in place, Mary takes the throne and it's back to Catholicism. Elizabeth finally brings some measure of stability but the pious, devoted community that thrived before and during Henry's reign had been replace by a much more secular and cynical population, probably not the goal of any of the reformers.
Ultimately, what we see in Morebath is a population that seemed content with their religious life. The political motivations for the reformation in England were not the concerns of the people living in the countryside. As the church moved through its reform spasms, we also get an idea of how far people are willing to go with changes to what they know. The Henrician reforms, and later his pulling back most of those reforms, allowed most people to continue in their faith practices almost unmolested. It was when Cramner and his great overhaul occurred that people resisted, even resorting to violence to protect their lifestyle. By the time of the two sisters, one definitely gets the feeling that the people of Morebath were finished with reformation and restoration and when Elizabeth allowed a certain measure of tolerance, everyone was happy to make that the status quo.
February 4, 2015
Fascinating, humbling, and frightening. As an awe-ful reminder of the horrific differences between the simple exercise of a prescribed faith, and the corrupting influence of ecclesiastical power and wealth, I don’t think this book can be bettered..
It feels truly bizarre to think that a similar book could be published today (2011), chronicling the widespread and destructive actions of the Church of England to impose alternative services where anything-goes, in place of the services and doctrinal standards enshrined within The Book of Common Prayer (1662) and authorised by the British Parliament (at Westminster).
This detailed and very moving book should be required supervised reading, study, and discussion for every ordinand within the Anglican Communion, whether that be to the office of deacon, priest, or bishop.
It feels truly bizarre to think that a similar book could be published today (2011), chronicling the widespread and destructive actions of the Church of England to impose alternative services where anything-goes, in place of the services and doctrinal standards enshrined within The Book of Common Prayer (1662) and authorised by the British Parliament (at Westminster).
This detailed and very moving book should be required supervised reading, study, and discussion for every ordinand within the Anglican Communion, whether that be to the office of deacon, priest, or bishop.
March 20, 2014
The idea is a good one; it allows the reader to see the reformation from the small town villagers perspective. The use of a 1st hand source is smart, but as far as entertainment, it's not that good at all. If someone is very interested in this topic then they should read this, but this isn't for the average reader beginning to take an interest in the reformation. Duffy uses data type census document to tell the story; it can be very dry for the majority of the book with a vast amount of names and positions that can be confusing to someone not familiar to this topic.
September 8, 2024
This is a widely acclaimed book (so the publisher tells us) by a leading academic in the field of religious history. Duffy delves deep into the detail of the parish accounts of the village priest, Christopher Trychay in Tudor times. This is no mean feat to squeeze so much out of the goings on of a tiny remote sheep-farming hamlet of 33 households on the edge of Exmoor where nothing much happens. In the first half of the book the most interesting events are the annual sheep count (which person was allocated which sheep to look after for the next year), and the 'peer pressure' exerted by the priest at the AGM to denounce those not performing their tasks, or not paying their dues.
This book is cleverly crafted but could have been half the size. The story only begins to warm up in its last third when action is taken to respond to crushing external pressures on the parish finances and top down, heavy handed imposition of major changes in religious observance radically change the community cohesion and Morebath plays a minor part in the Western rebellion of 1549.
Overall, an interesting book but oh so slow.
This book is cleverly crafted but could have been half the size. The story only begins to warm up in its last third when action is taken to respond to crushing external pressures on the parish finances and top down, heavy handed imposition of major changes in religious observance radically change the community cohesion and Morebath plays a minor part in the Western rebellion of 1549.
Overall, an interesting book but oh so slow.
December 23, 2017
I had to read this for my history of Christianity class. Admittingly, the beginning is horrendously slow, but it provides a necessary background to village life, and, if you can get through the first two, two-and-a-half chapters, it really is an interesting little microhistory.
****
In The Voices of Morebath, Eamon Duffy tells the story of a small sheep farming community in rural England whose only claim to fame is that they lived through the English reformation and had a series of well-documented church accounts kept by the village priest, Sir Christopher Trychay. The book “deals with ordinary people in an unimportant place” who happened to have a priest “who wrote everything down” (Duffy XIII). From 1520 to his death in 1574, Sir Trychay maintained and commented on the village financial accounts. Duffy documents the daily life of the priest and parishioners and the struggles they faced during a time of great religious change.
Morebath was a small mixed farming community of no more than 150 people in the southern corner of Exmoor where wool dominated the economy. The gap between the wealthy and poorest of the community was narrow. Despite the shortage of ready coin, the men and women of Morebath spent amiably on images as well as the restoration and upkeep of the parish church. The “stream of devotional investment by the parishioners and priest” made the church a constant site of construction (6). There was little distinction between the “community at prayer and the community as it when about its business” (5). It was often difficult to disconnect the sacred from the profane. The parishioners expressed a communal sense of morality. Religion was deeply embedded in their social structure.
Despite the firm Catholic convictions of the village, Morebath accepted the religious reforms of Henry VIII. After the break from Rome in 1534, Sir Christopher Trychay accepted and preached the Act of Supremacy, which effectively divorced England and all her territories from the Roman See and placed the King and all his heirs as the head of the church in England. However, many of the villagers were distressed by the reform efforts of Thomas Cromwell, a protestant sympathizer and chief minister to the King. The royal injunctions of 1538 ordered the removal of all images, including those of St. Sidwell, the parish saint. Her image had resided in a place of honor next to the image of Jesus on the cross. However, despite such reforms, England remained essentially Catholic in practice.
The changes made under Edward VI would prove to be more detrimental to parish life. Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, and the Lord Protector, the Duke of Somerset, introduced a series of religious reforms that would change the English church to a church that was institutionally Protestant, influenced heavily by the Swiss and German Reformed churches. Catholic paraphernalia was stripped from the churches, alters were replaced by communion tables, and the ringing of bells was banned. In 1549, Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer, containing the theology of Protestant England, was introduced. The book was highly unpopular in parts of southern England, and in that same year Morebath’s financial records show that support was given a small group of young men who set off to join the Prayer Book Rebellion in Exeter. The result was disastrous with over 5,500 killed in the fighting including three of the five men sent. As a result, religious observance became even more tightly controlled, and Sir Christopher had no choice but to hide his crucifix and vestments.
Following Edward's death in 1553, his Catholic half-sister, Mary, took the throne and English Protestantism was replaced, once again, with Catholicism. The priest and his parishioners rejoiced at the return to “devotion.” However, the Catholic revival was short-lived, and Protestantism once again flourished under the rule of Queen Elizabeth.
Begrudgingly, Sir Christopher accepted the Elizabethan reforms. Duffy describes how Morebath comes to see in time that the reformation is “part of the furniture” (177). He notes that as the people of Morebath begin to accept Protestantism, they become “less focused on the religious life of their parish church, but increasingly preoccupied with the secular demand of the Elizabethan state” (XIV). By the time Sir Christopher dies, there is a new generation of parishioners that do not remember a time when England was purely Catholic.
The Voices of Morebath is a detailed study of a small village in Devonshire through the eyes of the parish priest. Duffy shows extent of the community’s involvement in the church and its affairs. He finds significance in the minute details of everyday life as he tries to reconstruct the religious life of a sheep-farming community in rural sixteenth century England.
Duffy’s sympathies are clearly with the Morebath inhabitants. Sir Christopher’s records have been cited before by other historians, but Duffy takes a different approach. He argues that Morebath did not simply conform to the changes in religious policy, as it has been so often assumed, but that they came to accept the changes reluctantly while doing what they could to keep their Catholic faith and traditions alive. Sir Christopher did what he had to in order to protect his parish in the rapidly changing days of the English reformation.
However, there are limits to the primary source Duffy uses. Most of Duffy’s information is based on financial records, which are limited in information and leave large gaps in the story. Also, the Morebath accounts are written through the eyes of one parish priest. While Sir Trychay offers his thoughts and feelings, it is difficult to tell if the entire parish shared his views.
Regardless, Duffy writes an intriguing, very detailed book that highlights the day-to-day life of medieval England. It offers a rare glimpse into the past at the effects the reformation had on the everyday man and woman, and offers the only evidence of the motives that would force a small obedient community to rebellion.
****
In The Voices of Morebath, Eamon Duffy tells the story of a small sheep farming community in rural England whose only claim to fame is that they lived through the English reformation and had a series of well-documented church accounts kept by the village priest, Sir Christopher Trychay. The book “deals with ordinary people in an unimportant place” who happened to have a priest “who wrote everything down” (Duffy XIII). From 1520 to his death in 1574, Sir Trychay maintained and commented on the village financial accounts. Duffy documents the daily life of the priest and parishioners and the struggles they faced during a time of great religious change.
Morebath was a small mixed farming community of no more than 150 people in the southern corner of Exmoor where wool dominated the economy. The gap between the wealthy and poorest of the community was narrow. Despite the shortage of ready coin, the men and women of Morebath spent amiably on images as well as the restoration and upkeep of the parish church. The “stream of devotional investment by the parishioners and priest” made the church a constant site of construction (6). There was little distinction between the “community at prayer and the community as it when about its business” (5). It was often difficult to disconnect the sacred from the profane. The parishioners expressed a communal sense of morality. Religion was deeply embedded in their social structure.
Despite the firm Catholic convictions of the village, Morebath accepted the religious reforms of Henry VIII. After the break from Rome in 1534, Sir Christopher Trychay accepted and preached the Act of Supremacy, which effectively divorced England and all her territories from the Roman See and placed the King and all his heirs as the head of the church in England. However, many of the villagers were distressed by the reform efforts of Thomas Cromwell, a protestant sympathizer and chief minister to the King. The royal injunctions of 1538 ordered the removal of all images, including those of St. Sidwell, the parish saint. Her image had resided in a place of honor next to the image of Jesus on the cross. However, despite such reforms, England remained essentially Catholic in practice.
The changes made under Edward VI would prove to be more detrimental to parish life. Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, and the Lord Protector, the Duke of Somerset, introduced a series of religious reforms that would change the English church to a church that was institutionally Protestant, influenced heavily by the Swiss and German Reformed churches. Catholic paraphernalia was stripped from the churches, alters were replaced by communion tables, and the ringing of bells was banned. In 1549, Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer, containing the theology of Protestant England, was introduced. The book was highly unpopular in parts of southern England, and in that same year Morebath’s financial records show that support was given a small group of young men who set off to join the Prayer Book Rebellion in Exeter. The result was disastrous with over 5,500 killed in the fighting including three of the five men sent. As a result, religious observance became even more tightly controlled, and Sir Christopher had no choice but to hide his crucifix and vestments.
Following Edward's death in 1553, his Catholic half-sister, Mary, took the throne and English Protestantism was replaced, once again, with Catholicism. The priest and his parishioners rejoiced at the return to “devotion.” However, the Catholic revival was short-lived, and Protestantism once again flourished under the rule of Queen Elizabeth.
Begrudgingly, Sir Christopher accepted the Elizabethan reforms. Duffy describes how Morebath comes to see in time that the reformation is “part of the furniture” (177). He notes that as the people of Morebath begin to accept Protestantism, they become “less focused on the religious life of their parish church, but increasingly preoccupied with the secular demand of the Elizabethan state” (XIV). By the time Sir Christopher dies, there is a new generation of parishioners that do not remember a time when England was purely Catholic.
The Voices of Morebath is a detailed study of a small village in Devonshire through the eyes of the parish priest. Duffy shows extent of the community’s involvement in the church and its affairs. He finds significance in the minute details of everyday life as he tries to reconstruct the religious life of a sheep-farming community in rural sixteenth century England.
Duffy’s sympathies are clearly with the Morebath inhabitants. Sir Christopher’s records have been cited before by other historians, but Duffy takes a different approach. He argues that Morebath did not simply conform to the changes in religious policy, as it has been so often assumed, but that they came to accept the changes reluctantly while doing what they could to keep their Catholic faith and traditions alive. Sir Christopher did what he had to in order to protect his parish in the rapidly changing days of the English reformation.
However, there are limits to the primary source Duffy uses. Most of Duffy’s information is based on financial records, which are limited in information and leave large gaps in the story. Also, the Morebath accounts are written through the eyes of one parish priest. While Sir Trychay offers his thoughts and feelings, it is difficult to tell if the entire parish shared his views.
Regardless, Duffy writes an intriguing, very detailed book that highlights the day-to-day life of medieval England. It offers a rare glimpse into the past at the effects the reformation had on the everyday man and woman, and offers the only evidence of the motives that would force a small obedient community to rebellion.
May 9, 2025
I didn't give this 5 stars for captivating writing, though it's written well enough. I had to take notes and make myself a timeline to really wrap my mind around these events. By the middle of the book, I was furiously making notes as I discovered all the gaps in my understanding and knowledge of what happened to people and communities through the Reformation, found my sympathies pulled by each side, but got to the end muttering, "Wow" to myself. I've had to ruminate on this history and how it changes my understanding of myself, my family background, my country's history, and most especially my faith.
February 10, 2025
I need to see this book made into an arthouse film, Devon dialect and all. A phenomenal example of history writing as storytelling, without giving up scholarly rigor. It's incredible how much we glimpse into a community's traditions and social structure, especially impressive considering that 16th century Morebath had the population of my apartment building! What I most take away from it, though, is the close description of conformity and resistance to destructive social change—all the more grim considering the current moment.
May 11, 2025
A fascinating history of the village of Morebath from the accounts of the local church. The only downside is that Duffy insists the old English language is worth retaining, with longer passages translated - however, at times even the short versions are difficult to follow for a non linguist and I’m not sure what I gained for having the old English wording. Otherwise Duffy does well to explain the impact of the reformation and the complexities of the switch between Henry-Edward-Mary-Elizabeth solely from the snatches of conversation in the church accounts.
February 21, 2021
I had to read this for my Tudor and Stuart England class.
I think it's incredibly important information, but the book is incredibly dull. Duffy failed to add much except a little historical context, and I felt like at this point I might as well just go read the primary source itself since half of the book was untranslated quotes from it anyway. It was terribly difficult to read h less you're trained in old english
I think it's incredibly important information, but the book is incredibly dull. Duffy failed to add much except a little historical context, and I felt like at this point I might as well just go read the primary source itself since half of the book was untranslated quotes from it anyway. It was terribly difficult to read h less you're trained in old english
December 30, 2019
A bit of a slog at times but very interesting too - I couldn't get through all of it - but fascinating to see the daily life goings (vividly detailed parish records) on in a Catholic English village at such a pivotal time in history. Great reference resource for those interested in this time period from 1520 to 1574 (Protestant reformation).
April 9, 2023
This account of a rural Devon parish in the 16th century, told through the account books of their priest, takes you through the troubles and turbulences of the English Reformation as it impacted on ordinary people. The whole book is intertwined with a strong sense of loss and tragedy, and really allows you to feel the destruction of a millennium of religious tradition and observance.
February 17, 2025
The first 90 pages are so painfully tedious and boring that it becomes mind-numbing. BUT, the rest of the book is actually really good, and my heart grew very attached the main historical figure, Sir Christopher. The last chapter especially pulled at my heart for him. If you're a fan of history and Tudor Era England, it's worth reading!
April 6, 2020
An in-depth account of the impact of the English Reformation on a remote English village based on the financial records kept by the vicar for 60 years. I found this book a real insight into this interesting period of history in the lives of people who are not often considered.
February 10, 2022
Really insightful and well-researched look at how the English Reformation affected one rural village. A bit dense at times and not as linear as I'm comfortable with, but understandable given the source material/how it had been transcribed up until the author had a go at it.
June 28, 2022
Duffy’s detailed analysis of Morebath’s church accounts allow him to explain the changing parish life before, during and after the reformation. The small details, set in the context of a broader history, are telling and illuminating.
April 15, 2024
Overall, it’s interesting to see what a small village went through during the reformation of the the Tudor era. However, at time this book felt dry and/or there was too much information to retain. Also, for me it hard to keep track of who was who. The chapters also felt a little long.
March 24, 2018
This is an important work for the field that all too often gets lost in the weeds of the details of its primary source. It’s like reading a work with all of the footnotes as part of the text.
November 5, 2019
Summer reading for Stephen's AP world history class. Ugh. Can't imagine how someone could make more boring and don't understand why his teacher thinks this is a good book.
April 7, 2021
Great to see how people actually lived in a small village as their world changed around them and was forced upon them!
Read
October 20, 2021read for tudor/stuart britain, no rating
November 18, 2021
Fascinating insight into Reformation England through the account book of one small parish in Devon.
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