Visitations and Churchwardens’ Accounts
Following the Reformation, church authorities took a renewed interest in safeguarding ecclesiastical property. To this end, they compiled glebe terriers—meticulous inventories of land, endowments, and church goods. These documents not only protected against theft and mismanagement but also provided a lasting record of church holdings.
Oversight came chiefly through visitations, formal inspections carried out every three years by the bishop, with archdeacons covering the intervening periods. These were designed to root out disorder and neglect in the parishes.
One such visitation, in 1706, was conducted by Bishop William Wake of Lincoln. In his report on Biddenham, he noted that Mrs Elizabeth Boteler—widow of William Boteler Esq and patron of the parish—was required to pay the Curate, Mr John Towersy, an annual stipend of £8. The parish then comprised around 40 families and stretched roughly two miles. There was no endowed school, almshouse, or hospital, and the ancient Boteler family line, once dominant here, was nearing extinction.
By 1709, John Teap, the new Curate, was living a mile away in Stagsden, as there was no residence provided for him in Biddenham. Services were held once each Sunday. Attendance was modest, catechism was biweekly, and Easter communion drew about 20 congregants. There were no Papists and few dissenters—an improvement over earlier times. In 1578, an archdeaconal report had noted glumly, “We doe present that we had no Communion but once this year.”
Though records on church fabric between the 17th and early 19th centuries are scant, some glimpses survive. One is the handwritten history by Rev Henry Tattam, Rector of St Cuthbert’s in Bedford. He described biblical inscriptions and religious texts painted on the church walls—commandments, creeds, even the Royal Arms. All these were later whitewashed, though in 1847, Mr Wing was still being paid to repaint the commandments—£4 8s for his efforts.
More consistent records resume with Archdeacon Bonney, a fastidious inspector who visited Biddenham six times between 1823 and 1839. His first report called for major refurbishment: the font was to be repaired with Parker’s Cement, the pulpit and reading desk oak-grained, and the pews repainted to match. By his final visit, only new vestments remained on the to-do list.
Still, by 1847, criticism lingered. A pseudonymous writer, “WA”—in fact John Martin, librarian to the Duke of Bedford—wrote damningly in the Northampton Mercury. Though he admired the “fine old open sittings,” he lambasted the chancel, crudely divided by curtain and rod into a robing area. The pulpit and reading desk were “very indifferent,” the paving “wretched,” and part of the north aisle taken up by a “preposterously large” enclosure. Even the locked churchyard drew his ire. Martin was not one to mince words.
Yet time softened these edges. When Sir Stephen Glynne visited in 1866, he praised the church as “in very good condition and well cared for.” Ivy cloaked the chancel walls—a romantic image later tidied away in 1936.
Churchwarden John Lavender, serving from 1836 to 1853, provides a more everyday perspective through his meticulous account books. His entries are a patchwork of the sacred and the mundane: bread and wine for communion, coal for heating, fees for ringing the bell. One year, 5s was paid to Hutchins to keep boys quiet in the gallery; another saw sparrow bounties totalling £4 2s—evidence of their status as vermin. Gravel was hauled for repairs, poor families were given coal and coins, and in 1852, the bell was tolled in honour of the Duke of Wellington.
Through such records—both lofty and lowly—we glimpse a church at work: correcting its course, mending its stones, and caring, in its fashion, for the souls within its walls.
Huge thanks to Katherine Fricker, Mary McKeown and Diana Toyn for the exquisitely written “The Village of Biddenham through the Ages” book and to Mary for granting permission to use fragments in the writing of this section.
Next: The Church Yard