Henry VIII by Hans Holbein |
Sir
Anthony Browne of the House of Cowdray supported King Henry VIII. He
was so mean to the abused monks that one put a terrible curse on the
Cowdray line. Cowdray Castle, now a ruin, is in Midhurst in West
Sussex.
You have to do something
dreadful to be cursed by a monk for your sins. Such a person was Sir
Anthony Browne, who inherited The House of Cowdray (later Cowdray
Castle) from his half-brother, Sir William Fitzwilliam on the
latter’s death in 1543.
The
turbulent times of the Dissolution of the Monasteries from 1536 to
1541 enabled Sir Anthony to seize his opportunity. This was a time
when King Henry VIII’s soldiers, drunk with power, went on the
rampage, sacking and looting, destroying great properties and
murdering the King’s detractors. In medieval times, opportunities
could be uncertain, but Sir Anthony was already feeling pretty
secure. For a start, he was ‘Master of the Horse’ and ‘Chief
Standard Bearer of England’.
With
due regard for his own advancement, he supported the King in his
campaign against the Catholics. Henry needed to establish the
Protestant church and himself as Supreme Head of the Church of
England and to overcome Papal authority and his dissenters so he
could marry his mistress, Anne Boleyn. He was a ruthless King, used
to getting what he wanted and getting it now – and Ann was equally
single-minded and had no qualms about displacing Henry’s existing
Queen, the pious Catherine.
An
Angry Monk Curses the Family Name
The
beautiful Battle Abbey became another victim of the King’s command,
and after it was dissolved with the help of Sir Anthony, the
presumptuous Lord promptly moved in with his family, servants,
furniture, hangings, animals and other lordly possessions. He began
to alter the Abbey to suit his needs, knocking down this and changing
that, much to the distress of the former occupants. The helpless,
displaced monks watched the sacrilege carried out on their beautiful
home and place of worship. But, not content with that, Sir Anthony
then held a great, celebratory feast, a sort of Tudor Abbey-warming.
This really got up the monks’ noses.
During
the grand banquet, one monk, livid with anger, approached the noble
Lord. Unafraid, he went right up to him, thrust his face forward and,
with great vehemence, cursed the family name of the usurpers. "Doom,"
he said, "would fall upon the descendants of the family - until
it ceased to exist." In some sources the monk is quoted as
crying: "By fire and water thy line shall come to an end."
It
did – but it took some time. Sir Anthony Browne and King Henry were
close friends – so close that Sir Anthony would, some time later,
actually be picked as Henry’s proxy for the bulky sovereign’s
marriage to Anne of Cleves. Sir Anthony’s son also became a
prominent man. He stayed true to his Catholic faith and was even
esteemed by Protestant Queen Elizabeth I, daughter of Henry, despite
being necessarily excluded from her list of Privy Councillors.
Then
things started going downhill. The grandson of Sir Anthony proved an
extravagant rake and impoverished himself, subsequently suffering
several humiliations, including a period in the Tower as a Gunpowder Plot suspect. Still, the Castle remained in the hands
of the family until 1793 through eight successions.
The
Curse of Fire and Water is Visited on the Family
An
adventure holiday in Germany seemed a great idea for the twenty-four-
year old eighth Viscount. The family seat was being renovated at the
time and the Lady Montague and her daughter had taken off to Brighton
to escape the dust and noise. So, on Tuesday 24 September 1793, young
George Samuel Browne, together with Charles Sedley Burdett, tried to
‘shoot the falls’ along the Rhine at Laufenberg in a small boat.
Tragically, both young men were drowned. Almost simultaneously, word
came from England that Cowdray had been destroyed in a fire. This
event had happened around ten days previously, but by the time the
word reached Germany, the young Viscount was dead. His body was never
found.
The
fire was a result of carelessness. During the renovations, in a
carpenter’s workshop on the north side, some smouldering charcoals
fell into wood shavings and caught light. In no time at all, flames
started shooting out of the windows. To make matter worse, no one
could find the key to the front door, so it had to be battered down,
losing valuable time. The housekeeper and servants did what they
could. A few pictures, originally obtained from Battle Abbey, were
saved and some pieces of furniture, but the fine building was now a
blackened ruin.
The
few relatives that remained produced no male children to continue the
family line. The male line was extinguished in the year 1797. It took
250 years for the Curse to reach its conclusion and many argue the
whole thing was a coincidence. Even so, both fire and water combined
to destroy the family line, and almost at the same time.
Background
notes: The origin of the castle’s name was Codreye which is a
Norman word for the hazel tree or shrub. Codreye was built in 1284 by
Sir John Bohun and at the end of the 1400s, an uncle of Henry VII,
Sir David Owen, owned it. He built a much larger house on the site.
It was this house that was sold to Sir William Fitzwilliam, who set
masons to work to bring this fine building to its full potential –
only to be destroyed by the monk’s curse.
Sources:
This
Sceptred Isle, Christopher Lee, Penguin Books, 1997.
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