October 2003

Parish History Episode 30

Defining the Border

As we learned from the Boldon Book, life in Houghton-le-Spring carried on after the retreat of the Scots, as people ploughed their fields, harvested their crops, and rebuilt their homes and their lives. A number of craftsmen served the community, and Henry the Reeve saw, to the best of his ability, that everyone behaved as they should. The church may still have been in ruins, but it would soon be rebuilt, apparently at the Bishop's expense. It is unlikely that Rogerus the Priest was still alive (our only knowledge of him comes from a document he signed in 1147), but presumably some other man, whose name has not come down to us, would be serving as parish priest. The Lordship Manor and Farm, in which the Le Spring family had dwelt, had probably been destroyed in the wars, and, as no new family of landlords are known at Houghton in the Twelfth Century, it would appear that Henry the Reeve was directly accountable to the Bishop of Durham.

In 1239 however, we learn from a document that a man called Roland Bellasis of Morton was describing himself as "Lord of Houghton". Roland's surname is obviously of Norman origin (Bel Assis, Beautiful Seat, i.e. a manor or castle in a fine location), but it is not clear where his family had come from, or what they had been doing during the two centuries or so since the Norman Conquest. He had either built himself a house at Morton, a couple of miles to the West of Houghton, or acquired that house from its previous owner. Morton House lies in the district now known as Fencehouses, and it is to be found a short distance down a track leading back from the War Memorial. The present house dates from the early Eighteenth Century, but probably stands on the site of the mediaeval house.

It is not clear by what right Roland Bellasis had come to call himself "Lord of Houghton", but his house was probably the grandest in Houghton parish. He was probably aware that there were some who questioned his title, and therefore, to make himself more acceptable to the local peasantry, he sought out and married a lady called Mary le Spring, said to be the grand-daughter of Henry le Spring, the last of the Le Springs to hold possession in the village which had given them their name. Henry had apparently fled to Scotland, along with other collaborators, when King David I abandoned his English conquests and returned to his homeland. If Mary had lived all her life in Scotland, it would seem that Roland had travelled far to do his wooing.

But now, after many an adventure, she had returned to her ancestral home (or at any rate to Morton, a couple of miles from Houghton), and she and her husband soon got down to the task of behaving in a manner expected of a lord and lady of the manor. They were not patrons of Houghton Church (patronage had remained with the Bishops of Durham: after all, the place had been rebuilt at Bishop Hugh's expense), but they wished to be seen as benefactors of "their" parish church, and they spent good money in improving and extending the building. The task they had set themselves was to increase the size of the church by adding side-aisles to the nave.

The existing nave had to be almost entirely rebuilt, and a double row of pillars was added to support the increased weight of the roof. With this work done, the church interior had come to take on an appearance very similar to the present aspect.

This does not mean that all or most of the stonework that you can now see dates back to the time of Roland and Mary. Many stones have been replaced in relatively modern times, particularly those in the walls of the nave. The whole of the stonework in the North wall, together with most of that in the South wall and the porch, and some of that in the West wall, was replaced by modem stones in the mid Nineteenth Century, in the restoration work undertaken by John Dobson, at that time the leading architect in North-East England, in a commission given him by Rector Grey. Moreover, much of the stonework in the chancel and transepts is older than the time of Roland and Mary. Perhaps the main features remaining from their restoration are the double row of sandstone pillars which still hold up the roof of the nave.

Roland and Mary no doubt intended to be buried in "their" church, and probably were, but no memorials remain, Though we will in next month's article remark on the memorial to their son, Sir Roland Bellasis. Mary was probably not, however, the only Le Spring to have drifted back to County Durham, and we hear of a knight called Sir John le Spring, who was unhappily murdered in 1313.

Sir John apparently had had a quarrel with a man called Robert Lascelles. This Robert, apparently in concert with a friend of his, Ralph Neville, the Third Lord Neville of Raby (the father of that other Ralph Neville, the Fourth Lord of Raby, who was to win the Battle of Neville's Cross), attacked Sir John, apparently in his own home, killed him and stripped him, and robbed him of his armour. For this they were to be excommunicated by the Bishop of Durham (though Ralph, the Fourth Lord, would of course later have praise and blessings showered upon him by a later Bishop of Durham, for saving that city from the Scots).

The murder of Sir John seems to be the definitive end of the Le Spring family. A ballad was however written about his sad end, and this was printed in the "Signpost" of September, 1991. It was meant to be sung by the choir on St. Barnabas' Eve, but the music has not survived, so it is no longer inflicted on the congregation.

Pray for the soul of Sir John le Spring,
When the black monks sing,
And the vesper bells ring.
Pray for the soul of a murdered knight,
Pray for the soul of Sir John le Spring.

He fell not on the battlefield,
Beneath St. George's banner bright,
When the pealing cry of victory
Might cheer the soul of a dying knight.

But at dead of night, in soft moonlight,
In his garden bower he lay,
And the dew of sleep did his eyelids steep,
In the arms of his mistress gay.

And by murderous hand, and by bloody brand,
In that guilty bower,
With his paramour,
Did his soul from his body fleet,
And through mist and murk, and moonlight grey,
Was forced away, from the bleeding clay,
To the dreadful Judgment Seat.

In the Southernmost aisle his coat of mail
Hangs o'er the marble shrine;
And his jousting spear is rusting there,
His helm and his gaberdine.

And aye the mass-priest sings his song,
And patters many a prayer;
And the chanting bell tolls loud and long,
And aye the lamp burns there.

And still when that guilty night returns,
On the eve of Saint Barnaby bright.
The dying taper faintly burns,
With a wan and wavering light.

And the clammy midnight dew breaks forth
Like drops of agony,
From the marble dank, whilst the armour's clank
Affrights the priest on his knee.

And high overhead, with heavy tread,
Unearthly footsteps pass,
For the spirits of air are gathering there,
And mock the Holy Mass.

Lordlings, mind how your vows you keep,
And love no mistress gay,
Foe he that sinks in sin to sleep
May never wake to pray.

Dick Toy

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