Custom survived: The Boar’s Head procession, London

“Before the last civil wars, in gentlemen’s houses at Christmas, the first diet that was brought to table was a boar’s head with a lemon in his mouth.”
John Aubrey, MS. dated 1678

The Boar’s head is a tradition associated with Christmas particularly in wealthy and high status families and there are a number of such processions recorded, some surviving and others demised. The Boar head was so pivotal to Christmas that it even gained its own carol sung when it was processed.

A bit of a boar

The tradition is associated with a parcel of land which was given to the company in 1343 to clean and dispose of any beast entrails by the then city’s Lord Mayor John Hammond a grocer after complaints were made by the monks at the Greyfriars as they had been discarding their “offal and ordure” into the streets.

Thus on 12th March 1343, the City granted them:

“…a parcel of land in Secollane adjoining the Flete, for the purposes of cleansing the entrails of beasts in the said water”

So they could:

“dispose of the offal in the Flete Ditch.”

To pay for this:

“…for which said butchers to repair and maintain a certain wharf, they and their successors, for ever, rendering yearly to the Mayor of London, at Christmas, a boar’s head.”

The cost to the Butchers according to early accounts stating

“Pd. For a boar to my Lord Mayor £1.4.0d.”

The land apparently has long gone and the practice no longer happens but the fee – a boars head continues to be asked for and delivered to the Lord Mayor apparently every year since although evidence of this is not that forth coming.

Not very boaring!

As I arrived the members of the company were just finishing off their apparent sausage and mash lunch but soon appeared outside resplendent in their furs and hats. As soon as the band arrived they began to organise themselves into a procession. This procession was lead by a bagpipe band with the company being lead by a beadle with his silver staff. In the middle was the boar’s head or rather a rather splendid red papermache head surrounded by plastic fruit carried on a wooden platter by four members of the company. Soon a band had arrived, this time a bagpipe band, the lead this curious procession to the Mansion house to deliver the papermache head to the Lord Mayor…rather pointless but certainly colourful and tuneful!

The procession stopped the traffic and passes a number of London landmarks such as the Museum of London and St Paul’s cathedral on its way. Once it had arrived the Mayor came out to inspect the Boar’s head although apparently a real boars head which is still given to the Mayor and I was informed by one of the company it had already been delivered and eaten…which seemed a bit strange as you would have thought they would have eaten after the procession – albeit a token procession it may be! Overall an extremely colourful event and one which certainly caught the eye and the mobile phones of the public as it went by.

Custom demised: Letting the Lammas Letts, Chelsea, Middlesex

Many villages had specific areas which could be grazed on at specific times. In Sports, Pastimes, and Customs of London, 1847 Craddock et al it is recorded that:

“In the parish of St. Luke, Chelsea, were formerly ” The Letts,” Lammas land, for ages appurtenant to the manor of Chelsea, The lord of the manor possessed the right of letting the land on lease for the spring and summer quarters, beginning with March and ending in August, and the inhabitants at large enjoyed the privilege of turning in their cattle from August till February, being the autumn and winter quarters.”

The grazing time was more specific the 2004 Victoria County History of Middlesex chapter 12 V.C.H noting:

“The freeholders and tenants of the manor of Chelsea had the right to graze the open arable fields with any stock except temporary sheep flocks between Lammas day (1 August) and Candlemas (2 February).”

The V.C.H note that:

“Lammas rights became a source of conflict between landowners and parishioners by the late 16th century with the gradual enclosure of parts of the open fields, particularly Westfield.”

Over the years access was curtailed and people were prevented from grazing for example a 50 acre in Westfield belonging to the earl of Lincoln was lost when he inclosed it c. 1607. However, by 1619 Lincoln’s successor, Sir Arthur Gorges, made the land available again. V.C.H recorded that:

“The commoners maintained that the close had formerly had one side left open until the earl had inclosed it; after a suit in 1612 he had left a gate into the close open for the exercise of common rights, but the gate was kept closed after the earl’s death (in 1616).”

A report was made for the Privy Council in 1631 after complaints about inclosure in Chelsea. V.C.H records:

“In Eastfield an inclosure near Stonebridge had been reversed, and c. 20 a. of Sir William Blake’s estate had been inclosed and partially hedged, but was still laid open at Lammas. The meadow in the detached part of Kensington by the Thames which was ditched and banked had also usually been commoned at Lammas over the bank. In Westfield, however, inclosures seem to have become permanent. The five acres on which Richard Stocke’s house and garden had been built by 1619, and 14 a. adjoining it behind the houses at Little Chelsea was inclosed, with another 31 a. in Westfield belonging to Lady Elizabeth Gorges, probably including the grounds of Stanley House, and 3 a. meadow of Lady Elizabeth’s in the open field had also been ditched and common rights prevented.   Prior to that Lady Elizabeth and her daughter Lady Lane had been allowed to inclose 4 acres in return for a payment to the parish poor.”

John Timbs in the 1856 Things Not Generally Known Popular Errors Explained & Illustrated records:

“This state of appropriation continued till the year 1825 or 1826, when the directors of the Kensington Canal Company took possession of them for their own use immediately upon the completion of the canal ; they have detained them ever since, and have let them successively to several persons, and received rent for the same. The Chelsea Lammas lands had hitherto been opened on the 12th of August, being the first of the month according to the old style.”

There appeared to be a custom like approach to the openings as:

“The graziers, butchers, and others with their cattle, used formerly to assemble in the lane leading to ” The Letts,” on the eve of Lammas, and when the clock had struck twelve they entered the meadow.”

The Victoria County History V.C.H of Middlesex notes that:

“Lammas rights presumably became less of an issue as Chelsea’s agriculture changed, but even in 1834 the parish officers and inhabitants repossessed the Lots meadow after the bankruptcy of the Kensington Canal Company on the grounds that it was Lammas lands on which they had a right to put their cattle, with Lord Cadogan having the right to let it for the other six months.”

However, finally the Lammas rights of common grazing were abolished on the “Lots” and thus according to V.C.H:

“the The Lots meadow was still called Lammas land in the Chelsea Improvement Act of 1845, when it was owned by Lord Cadogan, the West London Railway, the Kensington Canal Company, and Chelsea parishioners.”

Now it is remembered by Lots Lane but the chances of grazing in this high end real estate is virtually zero.

 

Custom demised: Hocktide Rope Monday and Binding Tuesday

The popular holidays of Hock-tide, mentioned by Matthew Paris and other early writers, were kept on the Monday and Tuesday following the second Sunday after Easter Day; and distinguished, according to John Rouse, the Warwickshire historian of the fifteenth century, by various sportive pastimes, in which the towns-people, divided into parties, were accustomed to draw each other with ropes. Spelman is more definite, and tells us,

“they consisted in the men and women binding each other, and especially the women the mem.”

and hence it was called Binding-Tuesday or as Plot in his work on Staffordshire notes on Monday, called Rope Monday. In Nottinghamshire it is noted:

“Hock-binding consisted to stretching a rope across highways and enclosing within its compass persons travelling on the Monday and Tuesday following the second Sunday after Easter. On the Monday, the custom was practiced by men of the village, and women had their turn on Hock Tuesday, impounding members of the other sex and relieving a contribution ostensibly devoted to the maintenance of the fabric funds of the parish church.  The custom is said to commemorate a massacre of the Danes by the exasperated Anglo-Saxon in England and although it had no legal sanction and was contrary to the freedom of passage of the King’s highway, it was indulged in as part of the merriment of the day, and fines for freedom to pass were modest and usually paid. As might be expected, the sums collected by women usually exceeded those gathered by men. The amounts paid over were sometimes appreciable, the local churchwardens receiving the equivalent of several pounds in modern currency, and on busy thoroughfares much more. The custom died out generally at the Reformation, but in some parts lingered in degraded from into the 19^th century.”

Cowel informs us that it was customary in several manors in Hampshire for:

“the men to hock the women on the Monday, and the women the men upon the Tuesday; that is, on that day the women in merriment stop the ways with ropes and pull the passengers to them, desiring something to be laid out in pious uses in order to obtain their freedom.”

Binding day made Hock-day a day which authorities had wanted to supress it. It is reported that hokking as it was called was forbade between 1406 and 1419. However it was successful for in 1446 hokking was again banned to improve public behaviour before a visit by Queen Margaret. Similarly in Essex, reports in Maldon’s court rolls mention a Rope Monday in 1403, 1463, and 1468Indeed the over-exuberance of the people taking part was probably the reason for its disappearance for example Ipswich curate Samuel Byrd called it cruel and abusive. Calling it noxious corruption in a letter to the almoner of Worcester cathedral, John Carpenter, Bishop of Worcester, soundly condemned the holiday. He noted that

“one set day usually, alas, when the solemn feast of Easter has ended women feign to bind men, and on another (or the next) day men feign to bind women, and to do other things-would that they were not dishonorable or worse!-in full view of passers-by, even pretending to increase church profit but earning loss (literally damnation) for the soul under false pretenses. Many scandals arise from the occasion of these activities, and adulteries and other outrageous crimes are committed as a clear offence to God, a very serious danger to the souls of those committing them, and a pernicious example to other.”

The bishop demanded that all parishioners:

“cease and desist from these bindings and unsuitable pastimes on the hitherto usual days, commonly called hock days.”

Anyone caught still participating in the holiday was to be brought before the bishop’s consistory court. These predations clearly had their effect as Hock tide bindings have long ceased and even the name Hock tide is forgot all but in Hungerford of course.

Custom revived: Chestnut Sunday Bushy Park

One of the great joys of Maytime is the blossom that abounds. Hedgerow, fields and parks. The simple desire to appreciate and experience such natural beauty was behind the most curious of London customs; Chestnut Sunday

In a sort of homage to the tradition concept behind the northern Spa Sunday perhaps, London developed the custom soon after Queen Victoria opened the Royal Park to the public. Soon people recognised the grandeur of the chestnut trees that lined the drive in.

Bushy plants

It was during the reign of William and Mary that the mile long avenue lined by horse chestnut trees was planted by Sir Christopher Wren (not personally of course). These trees reached their zenith in the Victorian period and people, including members of the Royal family, would descend on the park on the Sunday nearest to the 11^th of May when the blossom was said to be at its greatest. Thousands attended, records show that one Chestnut Sunday in 1894 over 3500 tickets were collected at Hampton Court railway station alone. Over the time it was so popular that even bus companies would organise special excursions. Although it World War I suspended any formal organisation to see the chestnuts, advertising went overboard once peace had returned. The Transport for London museum has a number of evocative posters made during the hey day of the custom – the 1930s showing people picnicking, promenading and playing amongst the trees.

Load of old chestnuts

The coming of World War II and the use of the park as a military headquarters curtailed Chestnut Sunday and it slowly disappeared. However it was not completely forgotten for a revival was coming. In 1977. Colin and Mu Pain, Hampton Wick residents came across details of the custom doing research about the suburb. The year was a good one for a revival being the Silver Jubilee of the Queen and so together with the Hampton Wick Association a one off celebration again on the Sunday closest to the 11^th of May was planned. From this it grew and grew.

From tiny chestnut…

That initial revival has developed and developed that it has become a festival. I visited in 2008 to be greeted by thousands of people lining the avenue to see a parade which went from Teddington Gate to the Diana Fountain. The procession was the usual mix of vintage cars, marching bands and cavaliers…but no Morris…except from Morris Minor that is. A nice distraction although the smell of the vehicles did rather overpower the natural beauty of the avenue. Indeed Roy Vickery in his excellent Plant Lore blog notes:

“Today, and one assumes throughout most of the event’s recent history, very little, if any attention is paid to the trees, a small number of local charities have stalls, there are a small number of food stalls, and a small funfair, the main attraction being a parade which starts at 12.30 p.m.  But the event is very popular with families, many of whom bring picnics.  In 2019 the parade consisted mainly of veteran vehicles – military vehicles, cars, bicycles, scooters and motorbikes.”

With a fun fair, local stalls and re-enactments, there is plenty to entertain the Londoners who attend…although one wonders how many spend time to admire its principle asset!

Custom contrived: Kew Gardens Clog and Apron Race

Kew is a delightful retreat in west London. Its splendid glasshouses, incrediable arrays of perrenials and peaceful vistas. That is unless you happen to be there when the Clog and Apron race is on. For a few minutes only one of the main paths in the gardens thunders to the sound of wooden clogs and cheering!

Clogged up

But why clogs and aprons? Well clogs were traditionally the footwear of all gardens long before crocs and wellies appeared.They were better than leather boots to keep one’s feet dry Aprons being used for holding garden tools. Each year first year horticultural students are given a pair of wooden soled leather clogs and an apron in a ceremonial way as symbols of their profession. Whilst the aprons may be worn by these students, the clogs are purely symbolic most preferring those rubber shoes.

Runners (but not beans or strawberry)

The exact origins of the race are unclear as records have only been kept since the 1950s but it is thought to have started in the 1920s. It was one of a whole range of running events such as one which was between rival RHS Wisley and all around the garden race – must be all that propogating demanding some serious leg stretching.

The clog and apron race was a way of the older students to welcome the newer ones without any form of reward but glory.; more recently the Student Union has provided medals for first, second and third place.

One of the earliest records in is the 1952 version of the Kew Journal where the extracts below are taken, which was the first after the interregnum that the second world war had enforced. The Clog and Apron Race was again held this year after a long interval, as the last race was run in 1939. Interesting it was held in the early summer:

“The race was held in fine weather on Friday, May 25^th and the number of runners was so large that the field had to be divided into two heats. The first hear was run in the time of 59 seconds, being won by Mr P. Nutt ( -pixyledpublications honestly that was his name!) whilst the second heat, which like the first consisted of thirteen runners, was won by Mr. G Fuller. The first four from each heat lined up for the final and in this a very exciting race resulted. The ultimate winner, Mr Nutt, went into the lead very early, and despite all the efforts of the other runners, continued to gain until he ran hime an easy winner in a remarkable time of 49 seconds. Having regard to the fact that the course was from the Circle in the Broad Walk to No 3 Museum, measuring 375 yards and in view of the handicap of clogs and apron, the time is one which will be very difficult to beat in any future race.”

59 seconds seemed to be the model average. Nine runners in 1951 with a D. Hubbard gaining that time. It seems a few years later this Hubbard, becoming Dr Hubbard who in 1955:

“who started the race, gave a bottle of sherry and also cider to the winners. It was an exciting finish. J Eaton just beating A Keevil in 57 secs with D. Coleman third. J. Eaton also received the Pearce Cup, presented for the first year by Mr Pearce for the winner of the Race. Cynthia Warner also received a bottle of cider for being the only girl brave enough to challeng the lads. Mr Pearce provided cider to revive all the competitors. “

Then in 1976, the race then being held in October recorded that:

“The race started in failing light and finished up in almost total darkness. A record time was established by a second year student, Miss Sally Vernon, who became the first female to win the face but also claims the honour of breaking P. Nutt’s record time which was 49.0 seconds in 1951, by a clear 4 seconds. Sally with the speed of a 8.30 Trident, zoomed in at 45.9 seconds. “

However there were some recriminations

“Paul Potter, who came second in 55.0 seconds a clear 10 seconds behind speedy Sall, says that the girls should have been given only two little bins start, instead of the four they were allowed this year. I think that Paul knows that Sally would have still burnt him out if she had not been given any start at all. “

In 1979 the race for the first time was organised so that members of the public could experience it. The Press release read:

“The Clog and Apron Race Thursday 27^th September 1979 for the first time ever, the annual Clog and Apron Race wil be staged whilst the Gardens are opens so that those members of the public who wish can witness the special occasion. The race is held on Thursday 27^th September and will start at approximately 5.00 pm and the activities should be finished by 5.45pm”

It adds;

“The event recaptures some of the ancient apprenticeship traditions and colour of the former days. The Race competitors, all dressed in horticultural aprons and heavy clogs, pound the full length of Broadwalk a wide 375 yard long avenue (running from the Palm House Pond and Orangery)….Lady students are given a 50 yard start.”

Alan Titchmarsh in his Knave of Spades notes the event, failing to mention this was perhaps his sole sporting success:

“The clogs were used competitively each autumn in the Clog and Apron Race, which took place o the Broad Walk that runs from Kew’s Orangery to Palm House Pond, a distance of perhaps a hundred and fifty yards. Clad in this traditional apparel (both still worn by Kew students in the late 1960s) those who were rash enough to enter would clatter their way down he wide Tarmac path, sparks flying from their footwear and their denim aprons billowing like kites. The prize was a crate of beer, which was shared round anyway, so it mattered not who won or lost, but how they clattered down.”

Clogging on

It was a very fine evening with the warmth of the fading sun on my face, I awaited on the grass verge the runners. Running in clogs must be a strange experience. The weight of the wooden shoes suggesting the need for some strength in those gardening muscles. I don’t think it would be an event you would want to do every day. Fortunately it was quick for them for in less than a minute the first runner appeared. One could hear them approaching before seeing him or rather them as there was he was closely followed behind by the rest. The winner made a respectable timing and looks very happy to hold aloft the prize. Then it was back to the hard work of horticulture.

 

Custom demised: Shooting the silver arrow, Harrow School

Our historic independent school are a rich source for calendar customs and indeed many still survive. Formerly Harrow schools Silver Arrow competition was annually held, to be shot for by the scholars of the Free School at Harrow. The following extract is taken from the Gentlemen Magasine 1731, vol. i., p. 351 :

“Thursday, August 5th, according to an ancient custom, a silver arrow, value £3, was shot for at the butts on Harrow on-the-Hill, by six youths of the Free School, in archery habits, and won by a son of Captain Brown, commander of an East Indiaman. This diversion was the gift of John Lyon, Esq., founder of the said school.”

The origins of the custom are described by Paul Goldman, in Sporting Life’ BM 1983 cat.2 who states that:

“In 1684 Sir Gilbert Talbot presented a silver arrow worth three pounds to Harrow School as a prize for shooting. The contest eventually became a regular fixture and although interrupted by the reign of James II, lasted until 1771. The tradition lives on, at least in name, in a rifle match called the Silver Arrow Competition, and as part of the crest of the school which bears two crossed arrows.”

It was abolished by a headmaster called Heath for unknown reasons but it is not forgotten. For such a relatively short lived custom, just over a 100 years, its impact on the school psyche is considerable. It is immortalised in its emblem, a Harrow song and remembered as a trophy in an annual sailing, but the competition did not survive, part of the reason no doubt being that the school is closed now over August; being the school holidays.

 

 

Custom demised: Shrove Tuesday Cockshying

“1622 Received for cocks at Shrovetide 12s Od

1628 Received for cocks in towne 19s 10d

Out of towne 0 6d”

Pinner public receipts

Often the folklorist wistfully looks upon lost customs hoping one day they would be revived. This one is not one of them. Alternatively called Cock shying it lasted until the late 18^th century being popular with all cases and all ages, Sir Thomas More referred to his skill at ‘casting a cokstele’ when a boy. William Hone 1892 The Year Book notes as shown above that the custom was a parochial one as seen above in the hamlet Pinner at Harrow on the Hill and the money collected at this sport was in aid of the poor rates. John Brand in his 1791 Popular antiquities work notes

“The of throwing at cocks on Shrove is still retained at Heston in Middlesex in a field near the church have been often directed to attend on occasion in order to put a stop to barbarous a custom but hitherto have attended in vain”

He continued to describe the method:

“the sport owner of the cock trains his bird for time before Shrove Tuesday and a stick at him himself in order to him for the fatal day by accustoming to watch the threatened danger and springing aside avoid the fatal blow lie holds the poor victim on the marked out by a cord fixed to his leg the distance of nine or ten yards so as be out of the way of the stick himself Another spot is marked at the distance twenty two yards for the person throws to stand upon He has says or throws for two pence wins the cock if he can knock him down and run up and catch him before the recovers his legs.”

It is recorded that even if the cock broken his kegs he would be supported by sticks, in some cases he was put into a jar and in Sussex a version similar to the procedure of bull baiting saw it tied to a 5 foot rope.

The end of the custom

As early as the Commonwealth period, there was already attempts to supress it. It is recorded that in 1660’s Bristol it was banned on Shrove Tuesday a move which apparently resulted in rioting! However the writing was on the wall for the custom, animal welfare interests had developed. Popular culture begun to demonise the sport, in 1751’s The Four Stages of Cruelty, William Hogarth identified it as a first stage. The church too became involved with Josiah Tucker in his 1753 ‘Earnest and Affectionate Address to the Common People of England Concerning their Usual Recreations on Shrove Tuesday’ described it as the:

“most cruel and barbarous diversion,”

Public order fines started to be given out by local magistrates and its popularity waned and in some areas it was banned so by the early 19^th century it was confined to the folklore books! And long may it reside there!