New Scans Reveal The Architectural Ingenuity Of England’s Persecuted Catholics

An interesting news item about using new technology to uncover a relic of England’s past caught my eye this morning.

Coughton Court is a grand country house in Warwickshire, England, built by the Throckmorton family over the course of several centuries, and whose descendants still live in it today. In one of the turrets of the primary entrance to the home, the Throckmortons constructed what is known as a “priest hole”, an architectural term with which you may not be familiar. Now, thanks to 3D scans, we can get a better sense of how this unusual space functioned, and how cleverly it was concealed within the building – but first, let’s have a bit of background.

Beginning in the latter half of the 16th century, it became an act of high treason for a Catholic priest to even set foot in England. Henry VIII had already closed all of the monasteries and seminaries, appropriating much of their property for himself. His daughter Elizabeth I furthered her father’s madness by having Catholic priests declared traitors under English law, while those who harbored them or attended Catholic religious services were de facto guilty of committing a felony. As a result, a number of Catholic families who refused to convert to Protestantism decided to build secret hiding places inside their homes, where Catholic priests could escape detection by the authorities.

Some of these spaces were just large enough for a single individual to hide in for a short period of time. Others were of more substantial size, including living quarters and even tiny chapels. In the case of the priest hole at Coughton Court, the occupant of the secret chamber had enough room for a bed and a portable altar, where he could celebrate the Mass in secrecy if needed.

In addition to operating a kind of Stasi police force aided by local informants, England employed special bounty hunters popularly known as “priest hunters”, in order to combat the phenomenon of priest holes. These men traveled the countryside looking for Catholic hiding places, often accompanied by builders, stonemasons, and carpenters, in the hopes of bringing back a Catholic priest in chains. However some of the priest holes were built so successfully, that they were only discovered centuries later. Even today, previously unknown hiding places are still being stumbled across during renovations and restorations of historic homes.

Perhaps one of the largest concentrations of these hiding places can be found at Harvington Hall in Worcestershire, where a total of seven priest holes were concealed throughout the house by the Pakington family. These rooms are believed to be the work of St. Nicholas Owen, a builder and carpenter who constructed many such holes (or “hides”, as they are sometimes called) over the course of several decades. As his experience in designing these spaces increased, his work became more and more clever, and difficult for the priest hunters to detect. Nevertheless, he was eventually captured and executed in 1606, and was canonized a saint by Pope Paul VI in 1970.

While we don’t know who built the priest hole in the tower at Coughton Court, being able to see how this ingenious structure fits into the building is a fascinating use of technology. Whoever designed this hiding place was particularly clever, in that he created a stacked structure to avoid detection. Even if the authorities managed to discover the first priest hole, which would be empty other than for some bedding and other materials, they would be unlikely to realize that this space was just a decoy: the real priest hole was lying just underneath it, as the scans clearly show. Given the narrow and cramped location of the hiding place inside the house, these new 3D scans give the public a much better picture of how this concealment would have worked, than might be appreciated by simply viewing the structure from the outside.

In our present age, it sometimes seems as though we may need to return to the construction of priest holes at any moment. For the clergy, places like Coughton Court are reminders that Holy Orders can often be accompanied by great suffering. And for the laity, the courage of families like the Throckmortons to build these places, even at the risk of losing everything, ought to inspire us to bravely face whatever the future holds.

The Courtier – En Español

Today being Spain’s National Day, it seems appropriate to share with my readers the first translation of a published piece of mine into Spanish.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my recent post on the Infant Jesus of Prague, written for Aleteia’s English language portal, had been translated and posted on Aleteia’s Spanish language portal. Fortunately the translation was not mine, since it would have taken me ages to churn it out. Despite being fluent in conversational Spanish, and being able to read a newspaper or engage in social media in Spanish with little difficulty, I don’t have the depth of grammar necessary to be able to write something the length of a blog post in that language.

The original image of the Infant of Prague hails from Spain, of course, and its origins are often associated with St. Teresa of Ávila and the Carmelite Order. This devotion is widespread throughout the Spain and its former colonies in Latin America, Africa, and the Philippines, but has touched other communities as well. In the comments left on both the English and Spanish versions of the post, it was touching to read personal stories of what He has meant to different people around the world.

While I can’t say that this is the first of many pieces in Spanish that you will see with my name on it, I’m very grateful to Aleteia for thinking it worth translating to reach an even wider audience.

The Courtier In Aleteia: On The Infant Jesus Of Prague

My latest piece for Aleteia is a reflection on the Infant Jesus of Prague, the famous devotional object from Spain that ended up in Bohemia during the Renaissance. I had never been particularly interested in this representation of the Christ Child until several years ago, when I turned to Him at a very difficult moment in my life. As always, my thanks to Elizabeth Scalia and her staff at Aleteia for publishing my scribblings.