Damn His Blood
Authors: Peter Moore
Contents
1. Rev. Mr Parker of Oddingley
8. The Man in the Long Blue Coat
11. A Dirty Job for Captain Evans
14. Extraordinary and Atrocious Circumstances
15. In the Words of Thomas Clewes
16. Marvel-Hunters and Wonder-Lovers
About the Book
‘Damn him!’ he swore. ‘There is no more harm in shooting him than a mad dog!’
The brutal murder of the Reverend George Parker in the rural village of Oddingley on Midsummer’s Day in 1806 – shot and beaten to death, his body set on fire and left smouldering in his own glebe field – gripped everyone from the Home Secretary in London to newspapermen across the country. It was a strange and stubborn case. The investigation lasted twenty-four years and involved inquests, judges and coroners, each more determined than the last to solve Oddingley’s most gruesome crime – or crimes, as it turned out.
Damn His Blood
is a fascinating glimpse into English rural life at the beginning of the nineteenth century, so often epitomised by the civilised drawing rooms of Jane Austen or the rural idylls of Constable. England was exhausted and nervous: dogged by Pitt’s war taxes, mounting inflation and the lingering threat of a French invasion, violence was rife, particularly in rural communities where outsiders were regarded with deep suspicion.
With a cast of characters straight out of Hardy,
Damn His Blood
is a nail-biting true story of brutality, greed and ruthlessness which brings an elusive society vividly back to life.
About the Author
Peter Moore is a writer and freelance journalist. Born in Staffordshire in 1983, he studied history and sociology at Durham University and then spent six years working in the media in Madrid and London, where he was head of publishing at an award-winning digital agency.
Illustrations
1
. Map of Worcestershire, Charles Smith, 1804
2
. Map of Oddingley village, c.1806
3
. Woodcut of the shooting of Reverend George Parker, W. Wright,
A Broadsheet on the Oddingley Murders
, 1830
4
. Reverend Parker’s handwriting, the Marriage Register of Oddingley. Reproduced by kind permission of Reverend Canon J. H. Green
5
. St James’ Church and Church Farm, Oddingley, 2011
6
. Etching of St James’ Church, E. Lees,
The Oddingley Murders
, 1830
7
. ‘A Birmingham Toast as given on the 14th July by the Revolution Society’, James Gillray, 1791 © NPG Images, London
8
. ‘The Friend of the People & his Petty-New-Tax-Gatherer, paying John Bull a visit,’ James Gillray, 1806 © NPG Images, London
9
. ‘Manning the Navy’, a press gang in action, S. Collings, 1790, © National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London
10
. Map of Worcester, Roper and Cole, 1808
11
. ‘Snipe Shooting’,
Ackermann’s Repository of Arts
, 1810
12
. Signatures of Reverend George Parker, Captain Samuel Evans, John Barnett, Thomas Clewes, Elizabeth Heming, Reginald Pyndar, Reverend Clifton and Judge Joseph Littledale. Reproduced by kind permission of the Estate of Dr Gael Turnbull
13
. Etching of Netherwood Farm, E. Lees,
The Oddingley Murders
, 1830
14
. The layout of Netherwood Farm, E. Lees,
The Oddingley Murders
, 1830
15
. Title page of E. Lees,
The Oddingley Murders
, 1830
16
. ‘The Worcestershire Murders’, W. Wright,
A Broadsheet on the Oddingley Murders
, 1830
17
. Etching of Worcester Guildhall in the early nineteenth century, J. Noake,
Worcestershire Relics, 1877
18
. Judge Joseph Littledale, William Beechey, c.1830. Reproduced by kind permission of the Masters of the Bench of the Honourable Society of Gray’s Inn
19
. Netherwood Farm, H.R. Hemsworth, c.1910. Reproduced by kind permission of the Estate of Miss B. M. Beer
20
. ‘James Taylor strikes the blow’, from W. Wright,
A Broadsheet on the Oddingley Murders
, 1830
21
. Woodcut of a devil at the left shoulder, E. Lees,
The Oddingley Murders
22
. Fir Tree Inn, Oddingley, 2011
23
. Pound Farm, Oddingley, Sterry-Cooper, 1930s. Reproduced by kind permission of the Estate of Reverend Sterry-Cooper
To my father
Tis a sad thing to die
1
and know before that they are damned. None knows the misery of commencing their hell upon earth.
Arian Elwood, wife of an excommunicated man
I fled, and cried out DEATH!
2
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh’d
From all her caves, and back resounded DEATH!
Paradise Lost
, John Milton
Introduction
At the beginning of the nineteenth century the village of Oddingley in Worcestershire was little different to any other of its type in the English Midlands. The problems it faced were typical ones. There was creeping migration as young parishioners drifted north to the industrial heartlands of Birmingham and the Black Country. There were anxieties over the harvest, the scarcity of food supplies and the speed of inflation. In the village there was a lingering dispute between the parish clergyman and local farmers over the tithe, and in the newspapers fears persisted of an imminent invasion, with Pitt the Younger, the prime minister, warning Britons to ‘expect the French every dark night’.
1
In a politically divided country, riven by war and taxation, there was little reason to notice Oddingley, with its sloping meadows, airy pear and apple orchards, tangled hedgerows and lonely farmhouses, until the dreadful murder that shook it in June 1806.
The case unravelled slowly over the days and many years that followed. What initially appeared to be a single vicious act transpired, in time, to be something far worse. The crime had been conceived, executed then concealed in such an extraordinary manner that it gained infamy, becoming one of the most compelling of its age. As facts were reported – chiefly through the newspapers – inquisitive Georgians became captivated by the unequalled colour, detail and the ever-twisting, ever-evolving narrative of the case. It was a story of moral corruption, of greed and ruthlessness. It began with a single shot, with the excitement of a chase and then the uneasy thrill of a manhunt. But this initial enthusiasm soon gave way to uncertainty. The magistrates who were sent to investigate were country gentlemen, thrust into duty because of their geographical proximity to the crime scene rather than for their ability to construct a case or pursue a felon. And there were many questions for them to answer. What should they make of the farmers’ curses? What of the clandestine meetings? What of the murder weapon? What of the suspects? It seemed that every little triumph or breakthrough led only to a new strange riddle or another dead end.
In time it became a newspaper sensation. Articles were published in titles as geographically distinct as the
Belfast News Letter
and
Ipswich Journal
. In Edinburgh the
Caledonian Mercury
labelled the crime a ‘mysterious conspiracy’,
2
while in London the
Examiner
and
Morning Chronicle
both agreed it was a ‘strange case’. Journalists detected elements of other crimes in the Oddingley affair: of Eugene Aram’s murder of Daniel Clark in Yorkshire, of Richard Patch’s killing of Isaac Blight in 1805, of the Red Barn Murder in 1827 and even the Cato Street Conspiracy of 1820. Details from these cases were present as echoes in articles filed by the handful of fortunate journalists who gained access to the Worcester courtrooms. A crime committed in an ill-considered instant left the village’s reputation blackened for generations, its name known throughout the land.