Custom occasional: The Chertsey Curfew Bell

Lady Day is the last day for the ringing of the curfew bell at Chertsey. Manning and Bray’s “The History and Antiquities of Surrey” (c.1811) records that this curfew was rung, at 8pm on weekdays but also on Sunday mornings at 8am on the largest (tenor) bell. However, although the practice of the 8am ringing of the tenor curfew was discontinued, the 8pm week-night ringing is now done by a bell from 1856 rather than the Abbey bell as established obviously to protect this well. The curfew is not now rung on Saturday nights.

Curfew bells were established across the country as has been discussed before, and some counties such as Kent had a number. Often a story about their establishment is told but in this case this appears lost and is replaced by the story of Blanche Heriot.

For whom the bell tolls

The story is based around the time of the War of the Roses, when in 1471, Yorkist King Edward IV retook the throne such that Blanche’s suitor, a Lancastrian Knight, Neville Audrey, having fought against Edward, had now become a traitor. Thus, he sought sanctuary in the Abbey. However, the authorities did not regard this as sanctuary and he was captured and sentenced to death. The execution was by the chiming of the following day’s first toll of the town’s curfew bell.

However, a reprieve was on offer. For the knight remembered that he had saved the life of a Yorkist nobler who grateful for the sparing of his life, that he gave him his signet ring stating he was a moral and honourable character. So, with the ring him hand he sent a rider to reach the king in search of a pardon.

The King did give him a pardon but the distance between London and Chertsey would be a challenge to get the message to the knight’s potential executioners. Legend tells that the rider was a mile away when Blanche decided to climb the abbey’s bell tower and jumped to grab the clapper. The bell was about to ring, but Blanche holding fast muted the sound by preventing it hitting the bell, until the rider appeared with the pardon. Which indeed happened and he was saved.

In 1840, Albert Smith published the story, and it became very popular West End melodrama. The story also inspired American writer Rose Hartwick Thorpe write ‘The Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight’ which was one of Queen Victoria’s favourite poems. Today one can continue to hear the curfews and see a monument erected to re-remember it.

Custom revived: Carlin Peas on Carlin sunday

“The tradition of cooking carlins is relatively unheard of today. But we still mark the occasion at Beamish, usually by cooking peas, seasoned with either salt and vinegar or sugar! See carlin pea displays at Pockerley Old Hall and The 1900s Pit Village.”

Beamish Museum website

The fifth Sunday in Lent and is known as Carlin Sunday due to its association with Carlin peas, one of the few surviving localised dishes perhaps in England – I had never heard of them until I had visited the north and read more in books on folk customs – but despite what Beamish says above is still enacted and the peas can be seen for sale in northern soups and elsewhere. In the North a saying; developed to help people remember what days were what being derived from the psalms and hymns and names of the Sundays in Lent:

“Tid, Mid, Miseray, Carlin, Palm, Pace-Egg Day”

Tid was the second Sunday when Ye Deum Laudamus was sung, Mid was third Sunday when the Mi Deus Hymn was sung, Miseray – the fourth Sunday, was when the Misere Mei Psalmwould be chanted and then Carlin, the fifth Sunday, Palm the sixth and final and Pace Egg was Easter Sunday. As the communities became separated from the Catholic doctrine it would seem only the last three would be remembered.

Give peas a chance!

So what are Carlin peas? They are dried maple peas or pigeon peas often fed to bord and used for fish bait, but somehow became a Lenten staple. The were usually soaked in salt water overnight on Friday, then on Saturday boiled in bacon fat enabling them to be eaten cold or hot on the Sunday, often being served  with a sprinkling of salt and pepper, vinegar or rum.

Two peas in a pod

So why the North only? Well, there are two origins said to why the peas were restricted to the North-east as related in Chris Lloyd in his excellent 2021 Northern Echo article “Why the North-East traditionally spends today eating dried pigeon peas.:

“This tradition may have started in 1327 when Robert the Bruce and his Scots were besieging Newcastle. The starving Novacastrians were saved on Palm Sunday when a shipload of dried peas – perhaps sailed by Captain Karlin – arrived from Norway. Fortified by the carlins, the defenders fought off the Scots who went and attacked Durham instead.

Or it may have started during the Civil War in 1644 when, from February 3 to October 27, another army of Scots besieged the Royalist forces in Newcastle. This time, Captain Karlin arrived with a boatload of peas from France to save the day”

Versions of this later story have the ship of peas wrecked or stranded at Southshields a fortnight before Easter Day, which was also in time of famine and the peas washed ashore and were eaten, the salt adding to the flavour, which is still recommended to eating it. And equally say the shop came from Canada. Despite being a North -eastern tradition it soon spread to Yorkshire and Lancashire – my first experience was at a Good Friday fair just south of Manchester..

In the 20th Century, the tradition began to die out, although it seems to have clung on in pubs. With all pubs now closed, perhaps the pandemic will kill off a North-East tradition that may be 700 years old and could have been started by Captain Karlin.

A correspondent of Notes & Queries (1st S. vol. iii. 449) tells us that on the north-east coast of England, where the custom of frying dry peas on this day is attended with much augury, some ascribe its origin to the loss of a ship freighted with peas on the coast of Northumberland. Carling is the foundation beam of a ship, or the beam on the keel.

So there is another explanation of the name. Yet another suggestion is made by Brand in his 1849 Popular. Antiquities:

“In the Roman Calendar, I find it observed on this day, that a dole is made of soft beans. I can hardly entertain a doubt but that our custom is derived from hence. It was usual among the Romanists to give away beans in the doles at funerals; it was also a rite in the funeral ceremonies of heathen Rome. Why we have substituted peas I know not, unless it was because they are a pulse somewhat fitter to be eaten at this season of the year.” Having observed from Erasmus that Plutarch held pulse (legumina) to be of the highest efficacy in invocation of the Manes, he adds: “Ridiculous and absurd as these superstitions may appear, it is quite certain that Carlings deduce their origin from thence.”

This explanation, however, is by no means regarded as satisfactory.

Pease offering

Chris Lloyd (2021) states:

“I remember when I lived in the Stokesley area, neighbours used to mention Carlin Sunday and it was something to do with eating peas on that day. I wondered if you would be able to find out more about it, please?”

He also states that they were commonly sold at fairgrounds and mobile food counters, being eaten with salt and vinegar as I had. Lloyd (2021) notes that:

“At fairgrounds, they were traditionally served in white porcelain mugs and eaten with a spoon. In more recent years, they have been served in thick white disposable cups”

And that in:

“ world famous Bury Market and in Preston, parched peas are sold ready-cooked and served in brown-paper bags or in plastic tubs.”

He also claims that:

“Consumption is limited to certain areas within the historical boundaries of  Lancashire, notably Oldham, Wigan, Bury, Rochdale, Prestob, Stalybridge, Leigh, Atherton, Tyldesley and Bolton.“

However it may have had a wider distribution. Thistleton-Dwyer’s 1836 Popular customs states:

“On this day, in the northern counties, and in Scotland, a custom obtains of eating Carlings, which are grey peas, steeped all night in water, and fried the next day with butter.”

It is indeed remembered in Ritson’s Scottish songs:

“There’ll be all the lads and lassies. Set down in the midst of the ha’, With sybows, and ryfarts, and carlings, That are bath sodden and raw.”

Whatever the truth despite a decline and apparent disappearance in the early 20^th century, carlin peas are now again sold in pubs and in food stores and carlin Sunday continues.

Custom survived: Snowdrop candlemas folklore

‘The snowdrop, in purest white arraie,

First rears her hedde on Candlemas daie.

While the Crocus hastens to the shrine
Of Primrose lone on St Valentine.’ 

Perennial Calendar and Companion to the Almanac (1824) Dr Thomas Forster

Nothing preludes the end of the cold winter months like the small white nodding heads of the snowdrop. Said to have been introduced to England by Italian monks in the 15^th century or as early as the Roman occupation.  it has forever more been associated with the celebration of Candlemas or Imbolc and thus called the ‘Fair Maid of February’, ‘Mary’s tapers’ their Latin name Galanthus nivalis translates as ‘Milkflower of the snow’ and in Welsh it is called ‘Eirlys’ the ‘Snow Lilly.’ The Scottish poet George Wilson in his poem ‘The Origin of the snowdrop’:

“And thus the snowdrop, like the bow
That spans the cloudy sky,
Becomes a symbol whence we know
That brighter days are nigh ;

Their blooming at Candlemas meant they were known as ‘Candlemas bells’.  One name Eve’s tear derives from a German folktale relating to Adam & Eve’s exile from the garden of Eden. Here they encounter the for the first time and here an Angel tells them that Eden is no longer and tearful they wander off. It is said that the Angel felt sorry for them and so taking snow into the hand and breathing upon it makes the first snowdrops and says

“Take these little flowers as a sign of hope. A sign for your kind and for the earth outside.”

Such begins the flowers tradition of being a harbinger of better days ahead. However, another piece of folklore associates them with doom and gloom. The association of snowdrops with graveyards meant they developed an association with death. It is thought that the Victorians actively planted snowdrops on graves. Vivian A Rich in their 1998), Cursing the Basil: And Other Folklore of the Garden  that it:

“was considered the epitome of good taste to edge the grave in blue scillars with snowdrops planted on the grave”

According to Roy Vickery’s 1984 Unlucky plants:

“it has been suggested that the association of snowdrops with death results from the flower’s resemblance to a shroud”

Rich continues to add that the resemblance to a shroud even meant just touching a snowdrop was bad luck; such that people will still never take snowdrops into houses or indeed hospitals. The Victorians believed that death will occur in the family within the year. As xx notes:

“Many cling to and practice this superstition still claiming resolutely that a plucked snowdrop brought upon their threshold was the reason they were widowed.”

Alternatively, Margaret Baker in her 2011 Discovering the Folklore of Plants that people in Herefordshire and Shropshire did bring them in for cleanse the house although did note that if brought in when hen’s were laying would stop them. Similarly, it was also said the snowdrops in the house would spoil eggs and turn milk sour.

Katherine Briggs in her 1974 Folklore of the Cotswolds states that an exception was made for Candlemas itself when snowdrops could be brought inside being blessed by the virgin that day.

Custom demised: Shrovetide Football Derby

Shrove Tuesday in Derby was a hectic day for the city as Thistleton-Dwyer notes:

“Formerly the inhabitants of Derby had a foot-ball match between the parishes of All Saints and St. Peter’s; the conflicting parties being strengthened by volunteers from the other parishes, and from the surrounding country.”

Some significant culturally was the custom that the bells of the different churches in Derby would have rang their merry peals on the morning giving rise to a rhymn of the five parishes of All Saints’, St. Peter’s, St. Werburgh’s, St. Alkmund’s, and St. Michael’s:

“Pancakes and fritters, Say All Saints’ and St. Peter’s; When will the ball come, Say the bells of St. Alkmum; At two they will throw, Says Saint Werabo’;O! very well, Says little Michel.”

Like similar mob football company the goals were wide apart; the goal of All Saints’ was the water-wheel of the nun’s mill, and that of St. Peter’s, on the opposite side of the town, at the gallow’s balk, on the Normanton Road. The ball was also unique it was:

“of a very large size, was made of leather, and stuffed quite hard with shavings.”

It would be thrown in;

“about noon was thrown into the market-place, from the Town Hall, into the midst of an assembly of many thousand people, so closely wedged together, as scarcely to admit of locomotion. The moment the ball was thrown, the “war cries” of the rival parishes began, and thousands of arms were uplifted in the hope of catching it during its descent. The opposing parties endeavoured by every possible means, and by the exertion of their utmost strength, to carry the ball in the direction of their respective goals, and by this means the town was traversed and retraversed many times in the course of the day; indeed, to such an extent has the contest been carried, that some years ago the fortunate holder of the ball, having made his way into the river Derwent, was followed by the whole body, who took to the water in the most gallant style, and kept up the chase to near the village of Duffield, a distance of five miles, the whole course being against the rapid stream, and one or two weirs having to be passed; on another occasion, the possessor of the ball is said to have quietly dropped himself into the culvert or sewer which passes under the town, and to have been followed by several others of both parties, and, after fighting his way the whole distance under the town, to have come out victorious at the other side where, a considerable party having collected, the contest was renewed in the river.”

He continues that:

“On the conclusion of the day’s sport the man who had the honour of “goaling” the ball was the champion of the year; the bells of the victorious parish announced the conquest, and the victor was chaired through the town. So universal has been the feeling with regard to this game, that it is said a gentleman from Derby having met with a person in the backwoods of America, whom from his style and conversation he suspected to be from the Midland Counties of England, cried out when he saw him, “All Saints’ for ever;” to this the stranger instantly retorted, “Peter’s for ever;” and this satisfied them that they were fellow-townsmen.”

Sadly this would not be the case even though by 1846 it had become the biggest and most notorious football event in the UK and ‘that ran in the veins of every Derbeian’ Indeed the historian, William Hutton, states in his 1791 History of Derby that it was so popular the ‘the very infant learns to kick and then to walk’. 

The game was well supported and the fact that the locally influential, Joseph Strutt, would play dressed in a specially made buckskin suit, suggested its wide support.

However 1846 was a significant day for the custom when the army was called in to stop it. William Mousley, the city Mayor had been granted permission from the home secretary to it using the facility of two troops of dragoon guards.  

However, the players were not keen on following the ban and the ball was thrown up in the Morledge, it was Benjamin Fearn, one of Derby’s first policemen who was sent in to get it.  He is said to have dived into the throng of players emerging soon with the ball which was then cut to pieces. Yet the crowd were defiant, later the same day, another ball was thrown up; again the police and dragoons this time chased the players out into the countryside around Normanton. Fearn again gained the ball and although he had it for ten minutes so players from St Peters overpowered him and threw him over a hedge. Despite this 1846 marked the end of the custom and its long history.

Custom contrived: No Trouser Day on the London Underground

It was completely pouring down put that did not appear to put off the volunteers for what could be described as Britain’s weirdest custom as a large number of individuals had gathered at the appointed meeting point. A man with a loud hailer then called the people to order but as soon as he spoke another man with a loud hailer started saying ‘do not follow him he’s not the official person…if you go with him you won’t be insured.”

Insured? What was going to happen?

Despite the protestations, a sizeable group did depart with the rogue ‘no trouser’ person. The official organising tutting and disapprovingly saying ‘ I don’t know what he’s problem is…he came last year and decided to do it himself….he’s dangerous.”

Dangerous!? I did wonder why….was he the pied piper of pantlessness (as our US partners would say)?

Standing in the rain, the rules were explained to us and the need to wear underwear which covered the necessary bits, (although I did think this might be a bit late of a warning) and that we all had to enter the tube and in the first train remove one’s trousers and then from this point the aim was to travel to the Elizabeth line which had not been ridden trouser less before!

A load of pants

Beginning in 2002 in New York as No Pants Subway Ride by 2013 it had spread event to sixty cities. Organized by Improv Everywhere, it has slowly but surely becoming part of the rich tapestry, very British in its eccentricity and so beloved of the photographers and the press.

Down the steps, over the turnstiles and into our first carriage at which the organiser, keen to stress that we had to keep in sight of him….well we wouldn’t want to wander trouserless alone! He then said ‘right remove your trousers now’…easier said then done as it was short trip on the train. Then we were off, up and down escalators to the considerable dismay of the other users and smirks of many of the underground staff who probably had been prewarned! Although the juxtaposition between the top half, many were wearing thick coats and the lack of warmer clothing underneath made it even odder! Once we had entered the next train carriage we were encouraged to act normally such as reading a book, newspaper or searching on our phones and mingle with the troused..as the organiser said ‘there’s more impact if we split up’.

Pants to that!

I asked why people did it. One group of young city types – dressed in full smart suits and umbrellas, blamed one of their number saying ‘he always picks something to do unusual once a year for his birthday…this year this was it.’ Having said that they were not shy of the cameras, happy to pose in the usual watercooler moments for the photographers. A much older gentlemen said that it was a sort of response to a rather oppressive past relationship ‘she’d frown at this’ so that’s why I do it. Quite a few said this was a repeat appearance and that it had become some sort of strange addiction. There were also many oversea tourists who had seen it ‘on Facebook’ and one who just happened to be walking through China town asked what it was about and just went along with the flow! One dressed splendidly as Captain America (top only of course) clearly was keen on photo ops. However, the commonest response was ‘why not…it’s fun!’

Baring in all at Paddington

The group then arrived at Paddington where the well known other ‘bear’ (bare get it) statue was the source of some great poses from the press and a group photo facing and read ending was done for the patient press. And then a record was broken as the group entered the Elizabeth line. Although I laughed as a voice came over telling a photographer not to take photos ignoring the lack of clothing of the people. I soon left them and returned to normality.

On reflection the no trousers day on the tube is a rare sort of custom; completely pointless, unless raising a smile or shocking others is really the point, but one which brings together all ages, all backgrounds, all ethnicities, all genders and all sexualities.  A real camaraderie being developed. A welcome addition to the wacky subgenre of British customs in the ‘pointless fun’ category.

Custom demised: New Year Day gift giving

New Year’s Day is generally a day now of recovery from celebrating the night before. Some families may have a New Year’s day meal but for many years it was New Year’s day not Christmas that was the day for gift giving.

Fosbroke, in his Encyclopædia of Antiquities, notices the continuation of the Roman practice of interchanging gifts during the middle and later ages; a custom which prevailed especially amongst our kings, queens, and the nobility. According to Matthew Paris, Henry III., following the discreditable example of some of the Roman emperors, even extorted them from his subjects.

In Rymer’s Fœdera a list is given of the gifts received by Henry VI. between Christmas Day and February 4th, 1428, consisting of sums of 40s., 20s., 13s. 4d., 10s., 6s. 8d., and 3s. 4d.

In the reign of Henry VII. the reception of the New Year’s gifts presented by the king and queen to each other and by their household and courtiers, was reduced to a solemn formula.

Agnes Strickland, in her Lives of the Queens of England (1864), quotes the following extract from a MS. of Henry VII.’s Norroy herald, in possession of Peter Le Neve, Esq.:

“On the day of the New Year, when the king came to his foot-sheet, his usher of his chamber-door said to him, ‘Sire, here is a New Year’s gift coming from the queen;’ then the king replied, ‘Let it come in.’ Then the king’s usher let the queen’s messenger come within the yate” (meaning the gate of the railing which surrounded the royal bed, instances of which are familiar to the public in the state bedrooms at Hampton Court to this day, and it is probable that the scene was very similar), “Henry VII. sitting at the foot of the bed in his dressing-gown, the officers of his bed-chamber having turned the top sheet smoothly down to the foot of the bed when the royal personage rose. The queen, in like manner, sat at her foot-sheet, and received the king’s New Year’s gift within the gate of her bed-railing. When this formal exchange of presents had taken place between the king and his consort, they received, seated in the same manner, the New Year’s gifts of their nobles. ‘And,’ adds the herald, assuming the first person, ‘I shall report to the queen’s grace and them that be about her, what rewards are to be given to them that bring her grace New Year’s gifts, for I trow they are not so good as those of the king.’”

In the 4^th series of Notes and queries it is recorded that:

“there is in the possession of the Marquis of Bath, Longleat, a manuscript, which contains a list of moneys given to King Henry VIII. in the twenty-fourth year of his reign, as New Year’s gifts. They are from archbishops, bishops, noblemen, doctors, gentlemen, &c. The amount which the king’s grace complacently pocketed on this occasion was 792l. 10s. 10d.”

Honest old Latimer, however, says Hone in his 1836 Every Day Book states that instead of presenting Henry VIII. with a purse of gold, put into the king’s hand a New Testament, with a leaf conspicuously doubled down at Hebrews xiii. 4, which, on reference, will be found to have been worthy of all acceptation, though not, perhaps, well accepted.

A manuscript roll of the public revenue of the fifth year of Edward VI. has an entry of rewards given on New Year’s Day to the king, officers, and servants, amounting to 155l. 5s., and also of sums given to the servants of those who presented New Year’s gifts to the king.

Thistleton-Dwyer in his 1836 Popular customs states that:

“During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the custom of presenting New Year’s gifts to the sovereign was carried to an extravagant height. Indeed, Dr. Drake is of opinion that the wardrobe and jewelry of Queen Elizabeth were principally supported by these annual contributions on New Year’s Day. He cites lists of New Year’s gifts presented to her from the original rolls published in her “progresses” by Mr. Nichols; and from these it appears that the presents were made by the great officers of state, peers and peeresses, bishops, knights and their ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen, physicians and apothecaries, and others of lower grade, down to her Majesty’s dustman. The presents consisted of sums of money, costly articles of ornament for the queen’s person or apartments, caskets studded with precious stones, valuable necklaces, bracelets, gowns, embroidered mantles, smocks, petticoats, looking-glasses, fans, silk stockings, and a great variety of other articles. The largest sum given by any of the temporal lords was 20l.; but the Archbishop of Canterbury gave 40l., the Archbishop of York 30l., and the other spiritual lords, 20l. and 10l. Dr. Drake says, that although Elizabeth made returns to the New Year’s gifts, in plate and other articles, yet she nevertheless took sufficient care that the balance should be in her own favour.”

And that:

“In the reign of James I. the money gifts seem to have been continued for some time, but the ornamental articles presented seem to have been few and of small value. No rolls, nor, indeed, any notices of New Year’s gifts presented to Charles I. seem to have been preserved, though probably there were such. The custom, no doubt, ceased entirely during the Commonwealth, and was never afterwards revived, at least, to any extent worthy of notice. Mr. Nichols mentions that the last remains of the custom at court consisted in placing a crown-piece under the plate of each of the chaplains in waiting on New Year’s Day, and that this custom had ceased early in the nineteenth century.”

The New Year’s gifts, says Chambers in his Book of Days presented by individuals to each other were suited to sex, rank, situation, and circumstances. From Bishop Hall’s Satires (1598), it appears that the usual gift of tenantry in the country to their landlords was a capon; and Cowley, addressing the same class of society says:

“Ye used in the former days to fall Prostrate to your landlord in his hall,When with low legs, and in an humble guise,Ye offer’d up a capon sacrificeUnto his worship, at a New Year’s tide.”

Ben Jonson, in his Christmas Masque, among other characters introduces:

“New Year’s gift in a blue coat, serving-man like, with an orange, and a sprig of rosemary on his head, his hat full of brooches, with a collar of gingerbread, his torch-bearer carrying a marchpane, with a bottle of wine on either arm.”

An orange stuck with cloves was a common present, and is explained by Lupton, who says that the flavour of the wine is improved, and the wine itself preserved from mouldiness, by an orange or lemon stuck with cloves being hung within the vessel, so as not to touch the liquor.

Thistleton-Dwyer also adds that:

“When pins were first invented, and brought into use about the beginning of the sixteenth century, they were a New Year’s gift very acceptable to ladies, instead of the wooden skewers which they had hitherto used. Sometimes, however, in lieu of pins, they received a composition in money, called pin money, an expression which has been extended to a sum of money secured by a husband on his marriage for the private expenses of his wife.

Gloves, too, were customary New Year’s gifts. They were far more expensive than nowadays, and occasionally a sum of money was given instead, which was called glove money.”

Now no one gives gifts it seems on New Year’s Day least of all to the monarch

Custom survived: Laxton Court Day

After the rather tense discussion at the Jury Day there was a bit of a tense feeling in the village hall. Traditionally, the Court Leet meet in the Dovecote but during the Covid pandemic, social distancing led to the village hall being adopted and as such it has continued. It certainly led to it being easier to observe and photograph. As mentioned in the fine village journal The Open Field:

“Until last year the venue was The Dovecote, but the small rooms do not lend themselves to either the larger numbers attending in recent years or providing enough space for current health recommendations. Last year the move was made to the Village Hall, which looks like being the venue of choice from now on.”

The Jury sat among the audience ready to interject and facing them at the main table were the Court’s three officers, with some members of the estate and parish council sat on the sides. The three court officials were:

The Steward, who is a solicitor appointed by the Lord of the Manor. The current incumbent has filled this role of ensuring any legal requirements are undertaken, for 15 years.

The Bailiff, a local farmer who presented the Presentation paper from the previous week and would be the source of information of the cases

The Clerk to the Gaits & Commons, a local farmer, whose role combines the duties of Secretary and Treasurer. managing funds from various sources made available to the Open Fields and those who farm them.

Court in the act

Each of the three Open Fields has a Foreman who holds a permanent appointment. And the current incumbents are all are Laxton farmers descended from at least one previous generation who farmed here such is the tradition in the village.

The Court was opened by a welcome and the traditional proclamation. The Steward then called up the members of the Jury

Who then arm outstretched upon the bible, would be sworn in. At the end of each swearing each member would kiss the bible ceremonially. This is then the Jury sworn in the following year and the foreman who would oversee next years homage or jury day.

Then the Steward began to call the names on the Manor Suit Roll, these were list of people living within the manor boundaries all of which are eligible for the Jury and are obliged to attend. Understandably as this court was held on a Thursday in a working week many were not and so times have to change. However, if they were absent the bailiff called out ‘ absent’ and still a 2p essoign, a type of fine, was rather ceremoniously placed on the table. A one point the call was ‘very absent’ to which the Steward stopped and enquired what he meant by this and the bailiff said the person was dead. This called for a quick analysis of whether the Roll was up to date, after this it was decided that was anomaly and they continued.

See you in court

Once this happened the Court moved onto the details arising from last Court to see if they had been addressed; most had but there were still some overdue issues it seemed and then on the details of this year’s presentation paper. The discussion was the made up of the various transgressions which had been discussed in the pub the week before and the suggested fines; which in most cases the Steward agreed and in some cases, the bailiff would then delve into his book to see if there was any historical precedent for it – on one matter the Steward admitting that it was an unusual case and in this matter, the book and the knowledge of the Bailiff was invaluable. The issues were generally small matters, not keeping boundaries and sykes clear. Or in the words of the court  ‘ploughed too far’, which would be ploughing beyond the end of a strip into the adjoining roadway and therefore reducing the width of the roadway and potentially making access to the strips difficult, and ‘not shovelling in’, which means, in effect, not clearing up behind them when they have been ploughing Certainly they were less varied then those which can be read in the archives.  For example, the 4d ‘for not ringing her swine’, 3s 4d in 1661 ‘for scolding a disturbance to the neighbours’, and the 1s ‘for not suffering the water to have passage out of the Hall Lane through the Hall wood accordingly as hath been formerly’ also indicating how the powers have also changed no doubt in what was enforceable. Perhaps showing the power in the village that of 1681 Laxton tenants made allowed Augustine Hynde and his father before him to graze animals in ‘Rongsicke feilde’, not because he had a right to do, but ‘because he was an eminent man and we could not dispute it with him’. What again was interested in that there no real appeals from those fined until the contentious issue from the previous week was raised. This appeared to again get quite heated with members of the Jury interjecting their opinions and views. At one point it being argued that the issue was beyond the aspects of the Court. I shall not embarrass the individual involved but it was evident that this was still a court with power and where views were considered and discussed like in any court.

Settled out of court?

Indeed, Laxton’s Court Leet still has powers were other Court Leets have become simple pantomimes as such. When in 1977, the Administration of Justice Act these powers were at risk, the then Steward who was representative of Tallents Solicitors in Newark, prevented this and as such the village would be the only place to retain this.  I was not sure to be honest that the issue was fully resolved, it certainly lead to some anger and heated discussion. Once all the matters from the Court had been addressed again the Bailiff rose to their feet to give the final proclamation and the court closed. As this was also a good opportunity to discuss wider issues the meeting more to local matters which lay outside the limits of the court. Afterall, why miss the opportunity for a quorate meeting!

To be able to see one of the only remaining medieval Court leets in power was a real privilege and one hopes that this microcosm of ancient farming life continues and weathers the threats that modern agriculture has.

Custom contrived: The Battle of Wakefield memorial walk

The 30th of December is an auspicious day in the War of the Roses and an auspicious day for Wakefield so it seems fitting that the city have established a memorial walk which deserves to be better known. I attended the Cathedral bathed in winter sunshine and here was a small band of re-enactors some dressed as a band who appeared to be awaiting others and sure enough some knights appeared carrying standards. A small crowd of onlookers had assembled in the shadow of the cathedral and soon the Bishop of Wakefield arrived and as the great clock struck the group organised themselves for the attending press and then we were off following the sound of a drum band behind some well dressed knights and the Bishop; an odd sight no doubt for Wakefield.

Remember the fallen

This is a relatively new custom that has arisen and been enlarged upon a simpler affair. Ever since 2005, the battle has been commemorated only by an informal wreath laying ceremony and a minutes silence by the statue of Richard of York near Sandal Castle. The original custom appears to have stopped at some point as in 2017, as in 2018 a Dr Keith Souter, chairman of the Friends of Sandal Castle, said:

“It is the first time that there has been a memorial march on the anniversary and it seems a very apt thing to do.“

Thus I believe the memorial walk has been organised by the Friends of Sandal castle, stopping at key points to remember those lost. Accompanied by drumming the group processed down on their route to Sandal Castle. The site of the Bishop, knights and medieval minstrels is always an odd one when it processes down modern street and here more than much with its conglomeration of concrete an outcome of a more recent conflict. Our first point of pilgrimage was the delightful bridge chapel and here we crammed in to witness one of its members laid a wreath of white flowers in memory of Richard of York’s second son, Edmund, who was also slain at Wakefield aged only 17. It was a very poignant wreath laying. Well, I say poignant the first time was but the assembled scrum of professional photographers did not get it the first time and thus asked for rather staged photos! The press person’s desire to get a good shot meaning once the wreath was laid it repeatedly laid to achieve that all in important shot. It rather ruined the moment I felt but had a rather Two Ronnies feel to it. Here we also stopped for a well-received cup of tea and biscuit. Suitably refreshed we made our way.

The next stopping point was a small piece of green, the supposed last piece of a larger area where the battle took place. Here a large memorial could be found and it was clear this time others had left their respects beforehand. Indeed, before the memorial walk, the Richard III society had always marked the day with wreath laying at this moment and indeed there was evidence of their presence. Here we paused and the Bishop paid his respects and off we went to our final destination – Sandal Castle, an imposing ruin on the edge of the city, Here a large crowd had assembled and the procession snaked its way around the mound to reach to the top where the Bishop again led prayers and thoughts for those slain. Afterwards, the knights posed for some very atmospheric photos around the ruins and the re-enactors entertained the crowds. where Bishop Tony said prayers and laid a posy of white roses at the plaque of Edmond, Earl of Rutland. It then continued along Barnsley Road to Manygates to lay a wreath of white roses and say prayers at the site of the memorial to Richard III, Duke of York. It ended at Sandal Castle where the Re-enactors marched up the hill and down again – before the Bishop laid a wreath of red and white roses and led a short service of remembrance, where 557 years ago on this day, the Battle of Wakefield made the history books for its role in the English Civil War.

The Bishop of Wakefield, the Rt Revd Tony Robinson had been reported in local press that:

“Battle of Wakefield was a key moment in the War of the Roses and this is an opportunity to commemorate that event but also to think and pray for all those involved in conflict on the world stage today….It is important that we remember the people who lived and died for the causes they believed in. If we can learn from them, then so much the better.”

And one thing equally could be learned by the local tourist board who appeared oblivious to the existence of what was both a moving and evocative event and one which could surely pull in visitors.

Custom demised: Great Yarmouth Christmas breakfast

Many of us have a large Christmas meal but in Yarmouth a custom was established to provide a Christmas breakfast. According to Charles Parkin’s 1776 History of Great Yarmouth:

“At Yarmouth before the Reformation it was a custom for the prior and monks, and afterwards for the dean and chapter, or the farmer of their parsonage, to provide a breakfast for the inhabitants of the town every year on Christmas Day, which custom continued till the 21st of Elizabeth”

It is started that it was established: 

“on account of a grievous plague which carried off two thousand of the inhabitants in one year, and on consideration of the ruinous condition of the parsonage-house, it was agreed that Thomas Osborne, who was then farmer of the parsonage, should pay 5l. a year to the churchwardens for the use of the town in lieu of the said breakfast.”

However, after the plague had ceased, the breakfast resumed and continued as usual, till the reign of James I. This was when according to Parkin:

“William Gostlynge, then farmer, absolutely refused to provide it or to pay an equivalent composition, upon which the town preferred a complaint to the dean and chapter, who promised not to countenance him in such a non-conformity to the terms of the lease by which he held of them. Finally, Mr. Gostlynge was obliged to sign an agreement, whereby he engaged to pay yearly to the town in lieu of the breakfast, 10l., which was distributed to poor fishermen, &c., and 5l. for his default, in before refusing to provide the breakfast.”

This seemed a convenient arrangement and again Parkin continues to note:

“This continued till the making of a new agreement, between the corporation and Mr. Gostlynge, of a grant of nomination and appointment of preachers and ministers in the town, since which it seems that both breakfast and composition shared the fate of all human institutions and sank into oblivion.”

Understandably despite the sentiment it has never been revived!

Custom survived: Jury Day at Laxton

This year I was fortunate enough to be invited to witness the Laxton Jury Day and Court Day; the later I shall discuss in December, which I have been fascinated by many years. I had tried unsuccessfully before to attend but this year I was invited to attend. Much has been written about the unique survival that is Laxton and I can only briefly discuss it here. Of course, it is the calendared events which interest us here. And every final Thursday in November twelve local farmers who compromise the Jury, who are also called the Homage, who then come and inspect the fields and particularly the sykes and drains. These stakes mark where each strip should join the bordering sykes and gaits which remain uncultivated to secure access. Any transgressions, including ploughing too far or not far enough, are recorded and presented at the Court Leet the following week. With each transgression is a suggested fine agreed by the Jury, and the Court has the legal power to enforce them. A particularly unique situation at Laxton is the retention of the three fields which undertake crop rotation – a fascinating survival as every GCSE Geography student will tell you!

Field study

The land has been part of a landed estate as far back as records survive being first recorded in map form for the then landowner, Sir William Courten, in 1635 and despite a consolidation and reduction on the strips between about 1906 and 1913, the overall layout remains the same today. I have never come across a village with so many houses called ‘farms’ although the number of actual farms has diminished and despite about 50% of the village being now in private hands, the farms are still owned by the landlord and worked by tenant farmers. It is worth noting the key points about the farming system are that any farm tenancy includes the strips designated for that farm and although occasionally the landowner may make minor adjustments, generally, the strips worked now, were the same worked by his father and grandfather and by someone else before him. Hence the affection and significance they have in the community.

Jury service

I turned up at the local pub, the Dovecote Inn, which has been central to the tradition for many years. Here I was warmly welcomed by the members of the Jury and some local curious people. The Jury overseen by an appointed bailiff has a different elected foreman for each of the three fields. Also, part of the group is the Steward who represents the Estate which was until recently the Crown but now nearby Thoresby, passing to them in 2020. These roles are life roles and indeed the fields themselves pass through the families and rarely pass into ‘outsiders’ hands. After warming with some teas, coffees and some early mince pies a large tractor with a trailer set up with straw bales for seating backed into the car park and we ascended the trailer to sit down. It was certainly a hold on to your hats situation as the trailer hurtled along the lanes and into the field which was being surveyed.

Field study

Soon we arrived at the field and here there was some confusion as to where the foreman was sending the team but soon grasping hammers and buckets full of posts two groups jumped out and soon disappeared down a lane. I jumped out to witness the action but soon realised a better experience might be following the steward who had his book ready to write down any transgressions firmly in hand. Therefore, I quickly rushed up to catch up with this group. Here the foreman was observing the previous post locations and guiding the insertion of new ones to mark the boundaries. At one point he observed some encroachment of the boundary, and this was duly noted in the book for future fining. The owners assembled took the potential of a fine very well I felt; particularly well when after some complaints from the foreman of the activity; the same offence was noticed at his strips! Too much hilarity I might add. Soon the different groups started to head to the central point where the tractor lay and after some brief discussion with the land agent and concerns over the survival of a tradition ill fitted to modern technology. After watching some evident pride from the Jurymen’s ability to find a suitable point for the boundary posts; I am not sure how well the observation from the Thoresby estate representative when he observed how well GPS would be to mark the exact location of the boundaries. Rather missing the point that the marking of these boundaries by posts probably has not changed in a 1000 years!

Working lunch

We got back on the tractor trailer and rather happy to have the job done the Jury returned back to the pub to eat a hearty meal and discuss the matters pressing from the Steward’s little book! Here the Bailiff convened a rather informal meeting of the Jury as they awaited the meal. With a weighty tone as reference, he asked for field back on what the jury had seen. Thus, a rather unusual discuss started about how much the transgressions should be fined with ostensibly those responsible. The discussion on how much to pay or whether the transgression should be let off with a warning was couched with injections such as ‘well you charged me £10 last time’ ‘it’s his second offence so it should be £20’ whilst these were perhaps trivial amounts of money, there were serious points to make. Despite some heated debate, the issues were put to bed for the week and we would await next month’s court’s thoughts on the matter.