Women threw down banks and works, and burned instruments and tools

The Star Chamber (from a drawing taken in 1836) from Old and New London Vol. II (1881) by Edward Walford

"that diverse were set on work by Sir Cornelius Vermuyden to make trenches for the draining, that 300 persons came to the workmen, and Harrison, Gibson and Moody threatened to kill the workmen: and Brown, Stockwell, and William Scott told them if they would leave their work that would appease the multitude; or else they might go on at their peril: that labourers were hurt; 8 wheelbarrows, 180 deal boards, planks, many shovels, spades, pickaxes, and other materials and instruments were burnt. That one Mr Hawthorne was thrown into the river, and kept in with poles a great while; that they cried out, "Drown him! Kill him! Break his arms of legs!" That James Moody, Harrison, Henry Scott, and Edward Gibson did cry out, "Throw him into the river! Break his arms and legs!" Others were beaten with dry blows, Hawthorne's face was hoodwinked with a cloak or coat, and so cast into the river, and Richard Scott and others laid hands on him, and struck and beat him; but bid them not to duck him over head least he should be drowned, but rather to break his arms or his legs, and so let him go; and some of the rioters poured water in at the necks of some of the workmen; and one run at the deponent with a drawn knife and cut his clothes, and some cried out, "Cut his throat! Break his legs!" and made them swear never to come there again. They set up a gallows and threaten to hang such of Sir Cornelius Vermuyden's men as would come thither again. The women assembled themselves to the number of 200 in 1629 diverse days and times, and threw down banks and works, and burned instruments and tools."

from Reports of Cases in the Courts of Star Chamber and High Commission (1886) edited by S. R . Gardiner

Soe many washings still the specks remaine

Landscape with a double rainbow (1812) John Constable

   The skies give succour or they withhold it; and whatever their whim, for the countryman the eternal promise is still vivid in the soft rainbow that spans the fields. For the rainbow over the battered ark, like Adam's expulsion from the Garden of Eden, is one of the several Bible stories that come very near the heart of things for him. He it is who still actually bears the burden of Adam's fall from grace, and for him the rainbow is still knit with the hues of god's mercy.
   I remember coming upon a memorial tablet in a Fenland church commemorating the floods that had devastated the district in the years 1613, 1614, and again in 1670. Surely, complained the author of the quaint rhyme:

'Surely our sins were tinctured in grainne.
May we not say the labour was in vaine,
Soe many washings still the specks remaine.'

In teh face of such continued punishment out of the relentless skies the rainbow itself seemed little better than mockery. But not for long. The countryman know better than that.

'Heavens face is clear, though the Bowe appeare
Reader nere fear: there is no arrow neare.'

from Miles from Anywhere (1944) by C. Henry Warren

Fenland at Full Moon

Fenland at Full Moon (c.1947) - Artist Unknown

A Fenland superstition is that public dinners should always be held at the full moon, or tragedy will follow. Knowing the Fenland roads, with the wide ditches on each side and the total absence of lights, the authors can well believe it. Driving along these roads in the dim light of a waning or waxing moon is an operation fraught with considerable peril-especially after a public dinner, at which the wine has flowed with the generosity of Fenland people.

from Encyclopedia of Superstitions (1949) by Edwin Radford and Mona A. Radford

Oh let the frogs and miry bogs destroy where they do enter

A Map of the East & West Fenne (1661) by Wenceslas Hollar, from William Dugdale's The History of Imbanking and Draining of Divers Fens and Marshes

Come, Brethren of the water, and let us all assemble,
To treat upon this matter, which makes us quake and tremble;
For we shall rue it, if''t be true, that Fens be undertaken
And where we feed in Fen and Reed, they'll feed both Beef and Bacon.

They'll sow both beans and oats, where never man yet thought it,
Where men did row in boats, ere undertakers brought it:
But, Ceres, thou, behold us now, let wild oats be their venture,
Oh let the frogs and miry bogs destroy where they do enter!

Behold the great design, which they do now determine,
Will make our bodies pine, a prey to crows and vermine:
For they do mean all Fens to drain, and waters overmaster,
All will be dry, and we must die, 'cause Essex calves want pasture.

Away with boats and rudder, farewell both boots and skatches,
No need of one nor th'other, men now make better matches;
Stilt-makers all and tanners, shall complain of this disaster,
For they will make each muddy lake for Essex calves a pasture.

The feather'd fowls have wings, to fly to to other nations;
But we have no such things, to help our transportations;
We must give place (oh grievous case) to horned beasts and cattle,
Except that we can all agree to drive them out by battle.

Powte's Complaint (c.1611) by an anonymous author and sometimes attributed to the "Fenland Tigers", this ballad was included by William Dugdale in his History of Imbanking and Draining (1662). Another version: