First in order were to go the horses and wagons conveying those persons who were unable to remove themselves; then (2nd) cattle; and (3rd) sheep, and all other live-stock; intelligent and active persons to be set apart to superintend these measures.

With regard to the unarmed inhabitants, generally, the arrangement was that they were to "form themselves into companies of not less than 25 or more than 50, the men to come provided, if possible, with pickaxes, spades, and shovels, billhooks and felling axes, each 25 men to have a leader, and for every 50 men a captain in addition." For the purposes of transport, the nobility, gentry, and farmers, were requested to sign statements showing how many wagons, horses, and carts, they could place at the disposal of the nation in an emergency. Similar returns were required from millers and bakers as to how much flour and bread they could supply.

Turning once more from documentary evidence, to the recollections handed down from parents to children, I am reminded that the inhabitants of Bassingbourn and other villages were farmers first and soldiers afterwards; for, having settled the momentous issue of providing for the safety of their families and herds, these village yeomen joined with others in seeking means for thwarting the too ready advance of "Boney's" legions. It is said that as a last resort it was intended to cut down the trees standing by the sides of the North Road, felling them across the road, so as to impede the march of Napoleon's artillery! For how long these efforts could have withstood the march of the legions who crossed Alpine heights, or for how long that great caravan of non-combatants and live-stock could have {66} out-distanced the invaders, could not have been very re-assuring questions, nor have I been able to find out what was to be the destination of the live-stock.

It is true that if the worst fears were realized our great-grandfathers in this district would have had some little warning, for did not the old coach road to the North pass through our town and district? and did not the old semaphore stand there on the summit above Royston Heath, waiting to lift its clumsy wooden arms to spell out the signal of the coming woe by day? By night was the pile for the beacon fire, towards which, before going to bed, the inhabitants of every village and hamlet in the valley turned their eyes, expecting to see the beacon-light flash forth the dread intelligence to answering hills in the distance! Only the simple act of striking a flint and steel by night, or lifting of the arm of the newly invented semaphore telegraph by day, seemed to separate the issues of peaceful rural life and the ruthless invasion of War! The dread was a real and oppressive one, such as we cannot possibly realize to-day!

But, amidst the fearful presages of War and Invasion, the affair had its lighter side, and provoked not a little of comedy and burlesque. In the Library of the British Museum there is an extremely interesting collection of squibs! satirical ballads, mock play-bills, &c., upon the expected appearance of Buonaparte, with caricatures by Gillray and others. In searching through such a collection, it is difficult to stay the hand in making extracts, but a few must suffice. In one the First Consul is styled "the new Moses," and there is a list of his Ten Commandments; in another there is a Catechism as to who is Buonaparte, with not very flattering answers. In others there are sketches of the imaginary entry of Napoleon with graphic scenes of pillage, &c., and again adaptations of theatrical language, such as—

"In rehearsal, Theatre Royal of the United Kingdom. Some dark, foggy night, about November next, will be attempted by a Strolling Company of French Vagrants, an Old Pantomimic Farce, called Harlequin's Invasion, or the Disappointed Banditti."

In others, M. Buonaparte was announced as Principal Buffo, "being his first (and most likely his last) appearance on the Stage!" Perhaps the best of this ephemeral literature were lines which found their way in lighter moments into the songs on our village greens; and, sung to the fine old air of the "Blue Bells of Scotland," helped for the moment to banish anxiety over some alehouse bench!

When, and O when, does this little Boney come? Perhaps he'll come in August! Perhaps he'll stay at home; But it's O in my heart, how I'll hide him should he come!

and so on through a number of stanzas.

{67}

But though there was a light side, out of which the humorists of the period made a market, the Napoleonic scare was no laughing matter for the poor people, who had nothing to gain and everything to lose, by even the possibility of the thing. We, who, in these peaceful times, are apt to swagger about Britannia ruling the waves, cannot perhaps realize what it meant to have this great military genius sitting down with his legions of three hundred thousand opposite our shores, keenly watching for and calculating our weakest point of defence! What should we think if, in every cottage home in this district, it was necessary, on going to bed at night, to be prepared for a sudden alarm and departure from all that was dear to us in old associations; if our little children, before retiring to rest at night, took a last look in fear and trembling to the hills above Royston Heath, where the beacon was ready to flash out the portentious news to all the country round, and asked "is it alight?"—if each little one had to be taught as regularly as, if not more regularly than, saying its prayers, to pack up its little bundle of clothes in readiness for the dread news that Boney had indeed come! Yet all this is only what really happened to our great-grandfathers in that terrible time of 1803!

It may be of interest to glance at the means taken for repelling the invader should he make his appearance. This was no mere machinery of conscription, such as under other circumstances might have been necessary, for a spirit of intense patriotism was suddenly aroused, fanned into flame by stirring ballads, such as the following, to the tune of "Hearts of Oak"——

Shall French men rule o'er us? King Edward said No! And No said King Harry, and Queen Bess she said No! And No said old England—and No she says still! They will never rule o'er Us—let them try if they will!

In all parts of the country, where Volunteers and Loyal Associations had not already been formed, these sprung up with one common purpose so finely expressed by Wordsworth—

No parleying now! in Britain is one breath, We all are with you now from shore to shore. Ye men of Kent, 'tis Victory or death!

Even little boys in the streets, as Cruikshank has told us, formed regiments, with their drums and colours "presented by their mammas and sisters," and made gun stocks with polished broom-sticks for barrels! It is a singular circumstance and comment upon the much smaller extent to which our food supply depended upon foreign countries then than now, that, in the midst of all this perturbation and impending evil, wheat was selling in Royston market as low as 32s. per load!

Even before the eighteenth century had closed Napoleon had been suspected of designs upon England, and among the local Volunteers {68} enrolled for service against a possible invasion, according to their numbers none were more conspicuous for public spirit than the Royston and Barkway men, enrolled under the command of the militant clergyman, Captain Shield, vicar of Royston. The following notice of the temper and disposition of the Corps and their Commander is characteristic:—

"The Royston and Barkway Loyal Volunteers, commanded by Captain Shield, have unanimously agreed to extend their services to any part of the military district in case of invasion."

The Rev. Thomas Shield, vicar of Royston, 1793 to 1808, was evidently both a courageous and patriotic townsman, for among the characteristics of him which come down to us is the statement that he would ascend the pulpit wearing his surplice over his uniform, and having finished his sermon would descend from the pulpit, slip off his surplice, and march to the Heath at the head of his company of Volunteers for drill on a Sunday afternoon! "A gallant band of natives headed by their military Vicar, the Rev. Thomas Shield, in full regimentals, and accompanied by good old John Warren, the parish clerk and music-master, as leader of the Band, marched through the streets on Sunday afternoons to the sound of the fife and the drum, and all the little boys in the place learned to play soldiers." I have been unable to verify this to the letter, but something approaching it, though not on a Sunday, took place on one memorable occasion, when the ceremony of the presentation of colours was performed in 1799, of which I give some particulars below:—

Thursday, 1st August, 1799, was a memorable day in the history of this Corps and a great day for Royston; the event being the presentation of colours to the Corps by the Honourable Mrs. Peachey, in the presence of a very respectable company. At 11 o'clock the Corps, attended by Captain Hale's troop of Hertfordshire Yeomanry, were drawn up on the Market Place, where Mrs. Peachey was accompanied by Lady Hardwicke, Lord Royston, and other noble ladies and gentlemen. Mrs. Peachey, in an elegant speech, referred to the day as the anniversary of Nelson's great Victory, and feeling sure that the Captain of the Corps would receive the colours with the elevated zeal and Christian spirit best suited to the solemnity of their consecration. Captain Shield was equal to the occasion, and in a strain of oratory in keeping with his patriotic spirit, accepted the colours in suitable terms, and, addressing the men, said:—"At a most important crisis you have stood forth against an implacable enemy in defence of everything that is dear to us as men, as members of society, and as Christians! With a reliance therefore on your zeal, with a confidence in your virtuous endeavours, I commit this standard to your care, and may the Lord of Hosts, and the God of Battles, make you firm and collected {69} under every trial, and securely under it to bid defiance to the desperate enterprises of those who may rise up against us"!

After the ceremony of presentation the company marched to Church, where the Colours were consecrated by prayers, read by the Rev. Mr. Bargus, vicar of Barkway, and the Prebendary of Carlisle preached a powerful sermon. The local choir of fiddles and clarionets, &c., was not equal to so great an occasion, and a choir of singers from Cambridge attended, and chanted the Psalms and sang the Coronation Anthem. A cold colation given by the Rev. Captain followed, and the Volunteers marched to the Heath, where "they performed their manoeuvres and firing with great exactness." At five o'clock a company of 200 ladies and gentlemen, exclusive of the Corps, sat down to a "handsome dinner" on the Bowling Green [at the Green Man] in a pavilion erected for the purpose. Here we are told that "loyal and appropriate toasts kept the gentlemen together till eight o'clock, soon after which they joined the ladies at the Red Lion, where the evening was concluded with a very genteel ball." The old chronicle adds a curious complimentary note upon the moral and spectacular aspects of the day. "So much conviviality, accompanied with so much regularity and decorum, was perhaps never before experienced in so large a party." Two bands of music, the Cambridge Loyal Association Band, and the Royston Band, were present, and we further learn that "the number of people that were assembled in Royston on this day is supposed to be greater than is remembered on any former occasion."

The identical colours presented by Mrs. Peachey are still in existence, and are in the possession of Mr. Rivers R. Smith, whose father was a member of the band.

The above was not the only occasion upon which Captain Shield and his soldiers kept the town to the front, for, on the anniversary of the day of the presentation of colours in 1800, they wound up the century with another note of patriotic defiance of Buonaparte, by holding a field day on Royston Heath, and then, after dining together upon the Bowling Green as before, spent the evening with their guests, and wound up with "an elegant ball" at the Red Lion.

Having thus foreseen the evil day, and got together a well disciplined body of men, the Rev. Thomas Shield kept up an esprit de corps, and had frequent field days with his men on the Heath. This universal soldiering and heralding and closing the day with bugle, fife, and drum, naturally had a great effect in stirring the life of the people, but such an institution could not, any more than its modern example, exist long upon patriotism and applause.

Mr. Thomas Wortham, the treasurer to the Corps, found that the Royston people came out well with their money and equipment for {70} repelling the invader. E. K. Fordham's name appears in the list for L25; the Rev. Thomas Shield for L10 10s., and "personal service"; William Nash L10 10s.; John and James Butler for L5 5s. each; Waresley and Fordham L5 5s.; Thomas Cockett "two stands of arms and accoutrements complete" [what kind, not specified], and others followed suit.

Royal reviews and grand hospitalities were common in the Metropolitan district, such as the Grand Review in Hyde Park, but perhaps the most memorable in which the Hertfordshire Volunteers took a part was the Grand Review of the Militia, Yeomanry, and Volunteers in Hatfield Park, on the 14th June, 1800, in the presence of the King and Queen and other members of the Royal Family, Cabinet Ministers, and a host of distinguished people, whom the Marquis of Salisbury entertained at Hatfield House with such splendid hospitality that the entertainment cost L3,000. Forty beds were made up at Hatfield House for the accommodation of visitors. The general company must have been immense, for carriages and wagons, gaily decorated, "extended in a line for three miles in length," and the scene was brightened "by the presence of the ladies wearing white dresses." The hospitality for the men under arms was on the most generous and famous scale. About seventeen hundred men sat down at 17 tables, laid out on the Western side of the House. The following is a list of the good things placed upon the tables upon that memorable occasion:—80 hams, 8 rounds of beef, 100 joints of veal, 100 legs of lamb, 100 tongues, 100 meat pies, 25 edge-bones of beef, 100 joints of mutton, 25 rumps of beef roasted, 25 briskets, 71 dishes of other roast beef, 100 gooseberry tarts, &c., &c.

The commissariat appears to have been at the "Salisbury Arms," for this part of the hospitality, where we learn that there were killed for the occasion:—3 bullocks, 16 sheep, 25 lambs.

Inside the historic building of Hatfield House the scene was worthy of the occasion too, for here, in King James' Room, King George and the Royal Family sat down to a sumptuous dinner, while the banquet for the Cabinet Ministers and others extended to 38 covers, and the whole affair engaged the services of 60 regular servants, and 60 extra waiters were employed for the occasion besides. Such a gathering inside and outside the home of the Cecils as that of 1800 has scarcely been equalled since, excepting perhaps by that of royalty in the Jubilee year of Queen Victoria in 1887.

The following was the muster of Volunteers with their captains assembled at this memorable review:—

Royston and Barkway, captain, Rev. Thomas Shield, 70 men; Hertford, Captain Dimsdale, 103; Hatfield, Captain Penrose, 77; Ware, Captain Dickinson, 76; St. Albans, Captain Kinder, 74; {71} Hitchin, Captain Wilshere, 70; Bishop Stortford, Captain Winter, 58; Cheshunt, Captain Newdick, 48; Hunsdon, Captain Calvert, 39; and Wormley, Captain Leach, 29.

In accordance with the plan of drafting the Volunteers out for permanent duty in other districts, we find in 1804 the Royston and Barkway Corps, under command of Captain Shield, doing 23 days permanent duty at Baldock, concluded by the firing of three excellent volleys in the Market Place. Having completed this patriotic duty, they were reviewed by Colonel Cotton, and afterwards dined together on the Bowling Green, and "the day was concluded with the utmost conviviality and harmony." The Bassingbourn Corps (afterwards incorporated with Chesterton) in like manner went on permanent duty at Newmarket; an event which was followed by a review on Foxton Common by General Stewart, when, "at the end of the town they all mounted in wagons stationed there to receive them, and drew together a great part of the beauty of the town to witness the scene," and were afterwards hospitably entertained by Mr. Hurrell.

The efficiency of the men got together in defence of their homes and kindred was generally spoken highly of in the records of the times, but I am sorry to add that in one case a drummer belonging to the Royston Volunteers was tried by Court Martial and sentenced to receive 50 lashes for absenting himself without leave, but the rev. captain, though a stern disciplinarian, had a tender heart and fatherly interest in his men, for we further learn that "when the proceedings of the Court had been read to the Corps, and everything prepared for the execution of the sentence, Captain Shield the commandant, after an impressive address to the Corps and the prisoner, was pleased to remit the punishment."

Upon the subject of Volunteer marksmanship a little piece of statistical information in the British Museum, referring to the Boston Volunteers, shows the capacity of the men for hitting the target (no question of Bullseyes!) The total number of men firing was 108 and, after several rounds each, the number of men who had actually hit the target was 37, the number of those who did not hit the target 71—not quite Wimbledon or Bisley form!

Though the immediate danger of an invasion passed away by Boney having other work on his hands, the French were afterwards in evidence in a different capacity, for as many as 23,600 French prisoners were at one time maintained in different parts of England, a famous centre for them being Norman Cross, between Huntingdon and Caxton. They lingered here, now amusing their hosts with representations of Moliere's plays; now making fancy articles in straw, &c., some of which are still to be found in many houses in Cambridgeshire. {72} Companies of them were even so far indulged as to be shown over the University buildings at Cambridge previous to resuming their march through Royston, en route for Chatham and Tilbury, to be returned home to France!

At last, Buonaparte's reign of fighting seemed over, and with his retirement to Elba there was such a peace-rejoicing as comes only once or twice in a century.

Come forth ye old men, now in peaceful show, And greet your sons! drums beat and trumpets blow! Make merry, wives! ye little children stun Your grandames ears with pleasure of your noise!

At Cambridge, Marshall Blucher was lionized, and here, as elsewhere, the celebrations were on a grand scale. At Royston it was one of the social land-marks of the first quarter of the century. The peace rejoicings took place here on June 29th and 30th, 1814. On Wednesday, about 12 o'clock, the Under Sheriff of the county, preceded by a band of music—and such a band of music! made up of some thirty or forty players on instruments—followed by a numerous cavalcade, proceeded first from the Bull Hotel to the Cross, and there the proclamation was first read. The procession then returned to the Market Hill, where it was read a second time, and from thence to the top of the High Street, where it was read for the last time. In the evening, "brilliant illuminations" took place with transparencies and variegated lamps. On the following day (Thursday) the bells rang merry peals, and at one o'clock about nine hundred of the inhabitants sat down to a good dinner on the Market Hill. At four o'clock the gentlemen and tradesmen sat down to an excellent luncheon on the Bowling Green at the Green Man Inn, after which many appropriate toasts were given by the chairman, Hale Wortham, Esq. At intervals the Royston Band, "who very politely offered their services," played some popular pieces. To conclude the day's festivities, a ball was given at the Assembly Room at the Red Lion. I believe the only person now living who remembers sitting down to that famous dinner on the Market Hill is Mr. James Jacklin, who was then a very little boy with his parents.

The rejoicings were unbounded and images of "Boney" were carried about in almost every village on donkeys or men's shoulders, and afterwards burned on the village green. No one dreamed that Waterloo was still in store, but alas it soon appeared as if all this patriotic eloquence, and peace rejoicing, would have to be unsaid, for in a short time there came the alarming news that Napoleon had escaped from Elba and was returning to France! He did return, and so did Wellington! Waterloo was fought and won, but, the English people having, as the Americans say, been a little too previous with {73} their rejoicings over Elba, made less of the greatest battle of the century than they might otherwise have done.

So passed away a figure which had troubled the peace and conscience of Europe for a generation, the tradition of whose expected advent on our shores did for many a year after discolour the pages of our country life, like some old stain through the leaves of a book, and the old Bogie which frightened children in dame schools only disappeared with the Russian scare which set up the Russian for the Frenchman in Crimean days.



CHAPTER VII.

DOMESTIC LIFE AND THE TAX-GATHERER—THE DOCTOR AND THE BODY-SNATCHER.

By the fireside, in health and disease, and in the separations and contingencies of family life, we must look for the drawbacks which our great-grandfathers had to put up with during that remarkable period which closed and opened the two centuries, when great changes ever seemed on the eve of being born, yet ever eluded the grasp of the reformer. What a sluggish, silent, nerveless world, it must have been as we now think! On the other side of the cloud, which shut out the future, were most of the contributories to the noisy current of our modern life—from express trains and steam hammers to lucifer matches and tram cars! Steel pens, photographs, postage stamps, and even envelopes, umbrellas, telegrams, pianofortes, ready-made clothes, public opinion, gas lamps, vaccination, and a host of other things which now form a part of our daily life, were all unknown or belonged to the future. But there were a few other things which found a place in the home which are not often met with now—the weather-house (man for foul weather and woman for fine)—bellows, child's pole from ceiling to floor with swing, candlestick stands, chimney pot-hook, spinning wheel, bottle of leeches, flint gun, pillow and bobbins for lace, rush-lights, leather breeches, and a host of other things now nearly obsolete. In the better class houses there was a grandfather's clock, and possibly a "windmill" clock, but in many villages if you could not fix the time by the sun "you might have to run half over the village to find a clock."

One of the primal fountains of our grandfathers' domestic comforts was the tinder-box and flint and steel. Without this he could neither have basked in the warmth of the Yule-log nor satisfied the baby in {74} the night time. But even this was not sufficient without matches, and, as Bryant and May had not been heard of, this article was made on the spot. In Royston, as in other places, matches were made and sold from door to door by the paupers from the Workhouse, by pedlars driving dog carts, or by gipsies, and the trade of match-makers obtained the dignified title of "Carvers and Gilders." At by-ways where a tramp, a pedlar, or a pauper, did not reach, paterfamilias, or materfamilias, became "carver and gilder" to the household, and made their own matches. In one case I find the Royston Parish Authorities setting up one of the paupers with a supply of wood "to make skewers and matches to sell."



The tinder-box, like other household requisites in all ages, was sometimes very homely, sometimes of "superior" make. The above illustration is of one rather out of the common, and the artist has brought the different parts together rather than showing the process, for the lid would have to be removed before the tinder beneath could be fired. The most common form of tinder-box was an oblong wooden box, of two compartments, one for the tinder and the other for flint and {75} steel. At Elbrook House, Ashwell, is one, in the possession of Edward Snow Fordham, Esq., said to be two hundred years old. The process of getting a light by means of the tinder-box involved a little manual dexterity and mental philosophy—if the fugitive spark from the striking of the flint and steel set alight to the tinder, well; you then had simply to light your clumsy sulphur-tipped skewer-like "match," and there you were! If the tinder happened to be damp, as it sometimes was, and the spark wouldn't lay hold, you were not one bit nearer quieting the baby, or meeting whatever might be the demand for a light in the night time, than was an ancient Briton ages ago! When the modern match was first introduced as the "Congreve" the cost was 2s. 6d. for fifty, or about 1/2d. each, and when, a few years later, the lucifer match was introduced, they were sold at four a penny! Now you can get more than four well-filled boxes for a penny!

In the first quarter of the century the supply of fuel was very different from now. By slow and difficult means did coal arrive. Cambridge was the nearest centre for this district, and thence the coal used in Royston was obtained. Tedious and troublesome was the process of dragging it along bad roads, and between Cambridge and Royston this made a difference of about 7s. per ton in the price. Farm labourers, when agreeing for their harvest month, generally obtained, either by bargain or by custom, the right of the use of one of their master's horses and carts after harvest for a day to fetch coals from Cambridge. Another concession made by the farmer to the men was that each man was allowed after harvest a load of "haulm," or wheat stubble, left in the field from reaping time. This "haulm" was useful not only for lighting fires with, but, like the bean stubs, for heating those capacious brick ovens in the old chimney corners, in which most of the cottagers then baked their own bread. Sometimes the stage wagoners brought a "mixed" cargo, and put coals into their wagons to fill up, and undersold the dealers (at less than 13d. a bushel), and the practice was complained of at Cambridge, more especially respecting Royston and Buntingford districts.

It may seem strange now to speak of persons, even at a hospitable board, having taken too much salt, carefully replacing some of it, upon economical grounds; but, considering that there was then a duty of a guinea a bushel upon this necessary article, it is not surprising. Our grandfathers paid about 6d. a pound for their salt; the commonest calico was 10d. a yard, and printed calicoes 2s. 2d. per yard. In 1793 the average price of sugar, wholesale, was 66s. 7 1/2d. per cwt., exclusive of duty. Between 1810 and the Battle of Waterloo were many times of scarcity, with wheat varying from 100s. to 126s. a quarter, and some in Royston market reached 20s. a bushel. As to clothing, there were very few ready-made clothes, and the village tailor was a man of importance {76} when leather breeches and smock frocks were in general demand. A smock frock, washed till it was quite white, was as common a sight then as was the scarlet cloak worn by our great-grandmothers, but both these familiar sights have disappeared as completely as the yellow leather top boots, to be seen on Sundays up till fifty years ago in the Churchyards of rural England.



The vagaries of fashion at the beginning of the century were of almost inconceivable variety and extravagance; not only the ladies, but dandies of the opposite sex wore stays for the improvement of the figure, and curled their hair with curling irons! Though wigs had almost gone out of fashion, hair powder had not. In a former sketch a figure of a lady in the earlier years of the reign of George III. was given. The above is another specimen of head gear at a later period of the same reign.

{77}

Trades necessarily followed fashions, and, when snuff-taking was almost universal, the manufacture of gold, silver, and baser metal snuff-boxes, was a thriving trade. A hair dresser's shop up to the end of last century was also different in appearance from one to-day, and was furnished with perukes, or wigs for all sorts of heads. At Upwell, in the Fen, in 1791, a wig caught fire in such a shop and "before the fire could be put out thirty-six wigs were destroyed."

Luxuries were much more limited than now, and many things then regarded as such have since got placed in a different category. At the end of the last century a pianoforte had not figured in any Royston household, but it came at the beginning of this century when Lady Wortham as she was always styled—as the daughter of Sir Thomas Hatton, Bart., and wife of Hale Wortham, Esq.—became the owner of the first piano at their house in Melbourn Street (now Mr. J. E. Phillips').

Newspapers were among the luxuries of the household, and their circulation was of a very limited character. When, for a town of the size of Royston, two or three copies did arrive by a London coach the subscribers were generally the principal innkeepers—the Red Lion, the Crown, and the Bull—and to these inns tradesmen and the leading inhabitants were wont to repair. The only alternative of getting a sight of the paper was that they could, on ordinary occasions, have it away with them at their own homes upon paying a penny an hour for its use. On special occasions when any great foreign event became known—for papers contained but little home news—the competition for the paper was an exciting event, the above arrangement was hardly elastic enough to meet requirements, and crowds gathered about in the inn yards on the arrival of a coach to learn some momentous piece of intelligence with more or less accuracy from post-boys and others, who in their turn had heard it from somebody else whose friend had been able to communicate it with the authority of having actually "seen it in the paper." The essence of the news required was generally victory or defeat in battle, or trials at Assizes, and could soon be told. The supply of papers was limited pretty much to the Times and Morning Chronicle from London, while the Cambridge Chronicle was then the principal local newspaper.

As the Chancellor of the Exchequer derived a revenue from the stamp required for each newspaper (as well as upon advertisements) the lending of a newspaper was looked upon in the light of smuggling, and an Act was passed providing that "any person who lends out a newspaper for hire is subject to a penalty of L10 for every offence." But I fear that with even this terrible inducement to buy your own paper, and the natural zeal for the spread of knowledge of a man like Henry Andrews, the astronomer, as agent for the sale of newspapers in our {78} town, very few copies were actually bought, and that most of the "news" which could not be obtained from the coaches was obtained by the Royston tradesmen in that illicit manner of lending and hiring, though forbidden by law!

Work and wages, closely connected with the condition of home life, did not present a very cheerful picture. The labourer, and all engaged in husbandry, had much longer hours than now. An old writer on husbandry says, "the dairymaid should always be up in the morning between three or four o'clock." The young fellows living "in service" on the farm had never done till it was time to go to bed, and, having but very little if any money to spend and nowhere to go, a short interval for supper by the kitchen fire was about the only recreation they enjoyed to vary their lot.

It was a time when there was little room for squeamishness as to the conditions under which men laboured—when little boys, instead of brooms, were sent up ill-constructed chimneys, with no sense of remorse from their employers, who in their turn had probably commenced business by going up themselves and saw no reason against the practice. At a later date, however, there was a great stir made about this practice, which led to its coming before a Committee of the House of Lords. One of the Payment family—who then, as now, carried on the business of chimney sweeps in Royston and its neighbourhood—was called as a witness to give evidence before the Committee of the House of Lords. I am credibly informed that the member of the Royston firm was at first rather alarmed at the prospect, thinking no doubt that he was about to be called to account as a "climbing boy," but when he found what was the nature of his errand, that his evidence was considered of so much value by the House of Lords, and that it meant a few days' holiday in the great city provided for him free of expense, the incident was one to be remembered with pride. A few courageous spirits set to work raising subscriptions to provide "machines," as now used, instead of "climbing boys," but, incredible as it may seem, met with a good deal of opposition at first, both from householders and master sweeps. Among those who took up the question was Mr. Henry Fordham, then a young man at Hertford.

Let me conclude this reference to sweeps with a story from this district, vouched for by the old newspapers at the time, viz., that in one of the villages in the district was a chimney sweep who had sixteen sons all following the same occupation!

Among outside agencies which broke in upon the old domestic life of the period none was more potent or omnipresent than the tax-gatherer. You could not be born, married, or buried, without the consent of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, so to speak; for there was at the end of the last century a 3d. tax upon births, marriages, and burials, and it {79} appears that the clergy were allowed a commission of 2s. in the L, for the collection of the tax. Among the objections to it was that the poor man could not sometimes pay it without borrowing the money, and yet was made equal with the rich in regard to the amount. Even occupiers of cottages had to pay the window tax, unless exempt by the receipt of parish relief, but, by many thoughtful men of the time, its application to agricultural labourers was looked upon with disfavour.

About the end of the last century there was hardly anything that a man could see, taste, handle, or use, that was not taxed—windows, candles, tobacco pipes, almanacs, soap, newspapers, hats, bricks, domestic servants, watches, clocks, hair powder, besides nearly every article of food! All these in turn came under the hands of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, till, as Sydney Smith said, "the school-boy had to whip a taxed top, the youth drove a taxed horse with taxed bridle along a taxed road; the old man poured medicine, which had paid 7 per cent., into a spoon that had paid 15; fell back upon a chintz bed which had paid 22 per cent., and expired in the arms of an apothecary who had paid a licence of L100 for the privilege of putting him to death; and immediately his property paid 2 to 10 per cent., and his virtues were handed down to posterity on taxed marble."

The extravagant vagaries in the fashions of dressing the hair formed a tempting point for the Chancellor of the Exchequer to come down upon, and the tax in the form of "hair-powder certificates," at the rate of a guinea a head, occasioned perhaps more commotion in fashionable circles than any other tax. It was a profitable source of revenue owing to the great use of hair-powder, and at the same time its disuse would mean a gain in the supply of flour, of which it was largely made, for consumption. Short hair, or "crops," soon came into fashion as a means of evading the tax and "dishing" the Chancellor of the Exchequer, a re-action which was responsible for the following parody of Hamlet:—

To crop, or not to crop, that is the question:— Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer The plague of powder and loquacious barbers; Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And, by the scissors, end them?

From the old Royston Book Club debates of last century it will be remembered that I quoted the result of a vote upon—which of the three professions, of divinity, law and physic, was most beneficial to mankind, and that the doctors could only get one vote, against a respectable number for law and divinity. I ventured to suggest that the bleeding, blistering and purging at certain seasons was probably responsible for {80} the low estimate of the medical profession, and of this may be given the following example—

In 1799, the parish doctor's bill for the Therfield paupers contained twelve items for "blisters," eight for bleeding (at 6d. each!), and in another, eight for "leeches."

There was a much more detailed account given in the old doctors' bills of a century ago than in the curt missives which are now usually limited to the "professional attendance" with which the old bills began, and the "total" with which they finished; "bleeding, blistering, leeches, vomits, julep, boluses," &c., were all duly accounted for. The following is a bona fide doctor's bill of 1788, delivered to and paid by a resident in one of the villages of this district:—

s. d. Bleeding——Daughter . . . . . . . 1 0 A febrifuge Mixture . . . . . . . 2 4 Bleeding——Self . . . . . . . . . 1 0 A Cordial Mixture . . . . . . . . 2 4 A Diuretic Tincture . . . . . . . 1 6 Two Opening Draughts . . . . . . . 2 0 The Mixture repd . . . . . . . . . 2 4 Bleeding——Daughter . . . . . . . 1 0 Two Opening Draughts . . . . . . . 2 0 ———— L0 15 6

The item "Bleeding——self" is a trifle ambiguous, but probably it was the parent and not the doctor upon whom the operation was performed!

Inoculation has already been referred to, but I may here state that the first account I have seen of professional inoculation for the smallpox in Royston is the announcement in the year 1773 of—"George Hatton, surgeon, apothecary and man-mid-wife in Royston, who, with the advice of his friends and the many patients whom he has inoculated, begs leave to acquaint the public that he will wait upon any person or family within 6 or 7 miles from Royston, and inoculate them for half-a-guinea each person, medicines and attendances included, and, that the poor may have the benefit of his practice, a proper allowance will be made them and diligent attendance given."

Bills of the same period show that the charge for this species of inoculation "when a quantity was taken," as in the parish bills, was 2s. or 2s. 6d. each person. The advantage claimed for spreading the disease of small-pox out of the rates by means of inoculation was that if you had it as the result of inoculation only one person in 300 died, but if you had small-pox by infection, eight out of every hundred died. It may be of interest to add as a general fact upon health and diseases, that in 1792, out of 20,000 burials the following were the proportions of deaths from the leading diseases:—Consumption 5,255, convulsions {81} 4,646, dropsy 3,018, fevers 2,203, small-pox 1,568, measles 450, "teeth" 419. The deaths under two years of age were 6,542, or one-third of the whole! The classification was not so exact in those days as it would be now, but the race has improved a little in regard to infantile mortality and consumption.

In coupling the doctor and the body-snatcher, at the head of this chapter, I did not really mean to convey more than the general association of human experience in the periods of sickness and the close of life. If there was a closer association of these two characters in the later Georgian era, it is, at least, a satisfaction to be able to write of such things entirely in the past tense. At a time when even to maintain the decencies and comforts of domestic life was often a struggle with untoward surroundings, it may seem to show a desire to load the past times with more than their share of trials and misfortunes, to suggest that the most painful of all experiences of the times was reserved for the end of life; that the ordeal of the separation from friends by death was embittered, and intensified, beyond anything in more modern experience, yet it is certain that the revolting business of the "body-snatcher" did, for some years, between 1815 and 1830, brood over many a village in this district like a cruel night-mare!

The reception of bodies, or "subjects," from country or town burying grounds for the dissecting rooms of London and other hospitals, became almost a trade, not altogether beyond the commercial principle of supply and demand. Generally about two guineas was the price, and students would club together their five shillings each for a "subject." In the face of such facts it would be idle to suggest that the tradition of that mysterious cart, moving silently through the darkness of night on muffled wheels towards our village churchyards, was merely a creature of the imagination. The tradition of that phantom cart which lingered for years had a substantial origin as certain as the memory of many persons still living can make it! In many of the villages around Royston, as indeed in other districts, the terror of it became such that not a burial took place in the parish graveyards, but the grave had to be watched night after night till the state of the corpse was supposed to make it unlikely that it would then be disturbed! The watch was generally kept by two or three men taking it in turns, generally sitting in the church porch, through the silent hours of the night armed with a gun! The well-to-do were able to secure this protection by paying for it, but many a poor family had to trust to the human sympathy and help of neighbours. Under a stress of this kind probably some brave Antigone watched over the remains of a dead brother, and certainly it was not uncommon for husband and wife to face the ordeal of sitting out the night till the grey light of morning, in some lone church porch, or the vestry of some small meeting-house—watching lest the robbers of {82} the dead should come for a lost son or daughter! Over the grave of some poor widow's son, or of that of a fellow workman, volunteers were generally forthcoming to perform this painful office.

Though the law was seldom invoked, there must have been numberless cases in which bodies were stolen, cases in which the modest mound of earth placed over the dead had mysteriously dropped in, and the outraged parents or relatives, not unnaturally perhaps, turned with bitter revengeful thoughts to the London and other hospitals of that day—whether justly or unjustly God knows! Around the parish churchyards of Bassingbourn, Melbourn, and especially Therfield and Kelshall, the memory of unpleasant associations lingered for many years after the supposed transactions had passed away; nor was it merely an experience peculiar to isolated village churchyards. On the contrary it was customary, even in the Royston church-yard, surrounded as it is and was then by houses—with the Vicarage house then actually in the church-yard, in fact—it was customary for relatives to sit in the Church porch at night and watch the graves of departed friends!

Of actual occurrences of robbing the graves there is the story of a woman living in one of the villages on the hills not far from Royston, when on her way home, accepting a ride with a neighbour, only to find to her horror that the driver had a dead body in his cart! As to the allegations that stolen bodies did find their way to hospitals for dissecting purposes, there is a well authenticated story of a case in which a Roystonian was recognised in the dissecting room of a London hospital! A doctor, whose name would, I daresay, be remembered by some if mentioned, and who was in the habit of visiting a family in Royston, and knew many Royston people, upon entering the dissecting room of one of the London hospitals, at once recognised a "subject" about to be operated upon, as a person he had frequently seen in Royston, a peculiar deformity leaving no possible doubt as to her identity!

Excepting when the natural dread of it came home to bereaved families, there was no very strong public opinion on the subject; the law, which came down with a fell swoop upon many classes of small offenders, was too big an affair for dealing with questions of sentiment, and as there were no little laws of local application readily available, the practice was too often connived at where examples might have been made. In some things our grandfathers may have had the advantage over this hurrying age, but the reverent regard for the dead, and the outward aspect of their resting place, is assuredly not one of them.



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CHAPTER VIII.

OLD PAINS AND PENALTIES—FROM THE STOCKS TO THE GALLOWS.

All the old punishments, from the Ducking Stool to the Stocks, proceeded upon the appeal to the moral sense of the community, and up to the middle, or probably nearer to the end of last century, the summary punishment of offenders took place, both in village and town, in the most public manner possible. Near the Old Prison House, standing a little eastward of the summit of the Cave, in Melbourn Street, which did duty for both civil parishes of Herts. and Cambs., stood the Royston pillory and also the stocks, but towards the end of the century the pillory disappeared, and stocks had to be set up in each parish. I can find no record of any actual punishments by the Melbourn Street pillory, but one of the last cases of punishment by pillory took place at Hertford, and was witnessed by Mr. Henry Fordham. Closely connected with, and as a part of the stocks was the whipping post, and this was very freely used until about 1800. In 1804 a prisoner was sentenced at Ely to be publicly whipped, besides imprisonment. In 1786, I find that George Rose was brought from Cambridge to Royston and whipped at the stocks. What his offence was is not stated, but that whipping was no trifle may be inferred from the following laconic entry in the Royston parish books:—-

"Relieved William C——, his back being sore after whipping him."

The offender had his wrists put through the rings on the upright posts of the stocks, which formed the whipping posts, and in this position he was flogged on his naked back "till his body was bloody." Vagrants had no small share of this kind of punishment. The following entry occurs in the Barkway parish papers:—

Hertfordshire to Witt.

To the Keeper of the House of correction at Buntingford. This is to require you to Whip Elizabeth Matthewson upon her naked Body, and for so doing this shall be your warrant.

G. Jennings.

In 1798 an item in the accounts for the same parish is charged for "the new iron for the whipping post."

{84} The stocks for Royston, Cambs., stood in the middle of the broad part of Kneesworth Street, nearly opposite the yard entrance of King James' Palace, and just in front of some dilapidated cottages then occupying the site of Mr. J. R. Farrow's shop. Here they remained as a warning to evil doers till about 1830 or 1840. In Royston, Herts., after the abolition of the central prison-house in Melbourn Street, a cage was erected with stocks attached on the Market Hill, on the east side nearly opposite the Green Man, but they were removed at a later date to the Fish-hill, when an addition was made to the west side of the Parish-room, for the purpose, where the fire engines are now placed. An estimate in the parish books for the erection of a cage and stocks in Royston, Herts., at a cost of L10, in the year 1793, may perhaps fix the date at which each parish provided its own means of punishment of wrong-doers.

Though drunkenness was a vice infinitely more prevalent than it is to-day, it was not because local authorities did not at least show the form of their authority, but simply because they had no very efficient police system to back it up. It was customary for instance for the publican to have a table of penalties against "tippling" actually posted up in his licensed house, so that both he and his customers might see what might be the consequences, but as they often could not read they were probably not much the wiser, except for a common idea that the Parish Stocks stood outside on the village green, or in the town street. The common penalty for tipplers continuing to drink in an alehouse, was that such persons should forfeit 3s. 4d. for the use of the Poor, and if not paid to be committed to the stocks for the space of four hours; for being found drunk 5s., or six hours in the stocks. As to swearing, a labourer was liable to be fined 1s. for every oath, a person under the degree of a gentleman 2s., and for a gentleman 5s.

In times of disturbance, as at village feasts, it was no uncommon thing to see the stocks full of disorderly persons—that is, with two or three at once—and occasionally the constable's zeal in the use of this simple remedy outran his discretion. At the Herts. Assizes in 1779, before Sir Wm. Blackstone, a Baldock shoemaker, named Daniel Dunton, obtained a verdict and L10 damages against the chief and petty constable of Baldock for illegally putting him in the stocks.

There was, of course, an odd and comic side about the stocks as an instrument of punishment, which cannot belong to modern methods. An instance of this was brought home to the writer in the necessary efforts at ransacking old men's memories for the purpose of some parts of these Glimpses of the past. I was, for instance, inquiring of an old resident of one of our villages as to what he remembered, and ventured to ask him, in the presence of one or two other inhabitants, the innocent question—"I suppose you have seen men put in the stocks in your {85} time!" but before the old man could well answer, a younger man present interposed, with a merry twinkle of the eye—"Yes, I'll be bound he has, he's been in hi'self!" I am bound to say that, from the frank manner in which my informant proceeded to speak of persons who had been in the stocks, the younger man's interruption was only a joke, but it taught me to be cautious in framing questions about the past to be addressed to the living, lest I should tread upon some old corns!

There was this virtue about the Parish Stocks, that it was a wholesome correction always ready. It was not necessary to caution a man as to what he might say, before clapping him in the stocks. Nor was much formality needed—he was drunk, quarrelling, fighting, or brawling, it was enough; and the man who could not stand was provided with a seat at the expense of the parish. Indeed, I am told that in one parish, near Royston, a farmer, who was himself generally in the same condition, finding one of his men drunk, would remark that one drunken man was enough on a farm, and would bundle the other drunkard off to the stocks without the least respect for, or care about, informing a magistrate thereof!

The Parish Stocks were, as may be supposed, sometimes tampered with, and became the medium of practical jokes, of which, perhaps, the best story on record is that of a Chief Justice in the stocks. The story is as follows:—

Lord Camden, when Chief Justice, was on a visit to Lord Dacre, his brother-in-law, at Alely in Essex, and had walked out with a gentleman to the hill where, on the summit by the roadside, were the Parish Stocks. He sat down upon them, and asked his companion to open them, as he had an inclination to know what the punishment was. This being done the gentleman took a book from his pocket and sauntered on until he forgot the Judge and his situation, and returned to Lord Dacre. The learned Judge was soon tired of his situation, but found himself unequal to open the stocks! He asked a countryman passing by to assist him in obtaining his liberty, who said "No, old gentleman, you were not placed there for nothing"—and left him until he was released by some of the servants who were accidentally going that way! Not long after he presided at a trial in which a charge was brought against a magistrate for false imprisonment and setting the plaintiff in the stocks. The counsel for the defendant made light of the charge and particularly of setting in the stocks, which, he said, everybody knew, was no punishment at all! The Lord Chief Justice rose, and, leaning over the Bench, said, in a half whisper—"Brother, were you ever in the stocks?" The Barrister replied, "Really, my Lord, never."—"Then, I have been," rejoined his Lordship, "and I do assure you, brother, it is not such a trifle as you represent!"

{86}

One cannot refrain from expressing a lingering sense of regret over the last of its kind, whether of the last of the Mohicans, or the last minstrel. The parish of Meldreth, I relieve, stands alone in the Cambridgeshire side of the Royston district as still possessing the visible framework of its old Parish Stocks, thanks to the commendable interest taken in the preservation of old time memorials by Mr. George Sandys, of Royston, by whom the Meldreth Stocks were some time ago "restored," or, rather, the original pieces were brought more securely together into one visible whole. The parish of Meldreth, too, affords, I believe, one of the latest, if not the latest, instances of placing a person in the stocks, when, some forty or fifty years ago, a man was "stocked" for brawling in Church or some such misbehaviour. These stocks, when they were renovated by Mr. Sandys, had lost the upper part which completed the process of fastening an offender in them, but such as they then were will be seen in the illustration on the opposite page, which is reproduced from an excellent photograph taken by Mr. F. R. Hinkins, of Royston. The original upper part has since been found and placed in position by Mr. A. Jarman, of Meldreth.



Some other things deserve to be mentioned as old penalties besides actual punishment for crimes. One of these was the penalty for felo de se, so well described by Hood in his punning verses on Faithless Nelly Gray and Ben Battle, the soldier bold, who hung himself, and—

A dozen men sat on his corpse, To find out how he died; And they buried Ben at four cross-roads, With a stake in his inside.

In 1779, John Stanford, who hung himself at the Red Lion, Kneesworth, was found to be a felo de se, and was "ordered to be buried in a cross-road."

In 1765, the coroner's inquest who sat upon the body of one, Howard, a schoolmaster of Litlington, who, "after shooting Mr. Whedd, of Fowlmere, cut his own throat," found a verdict of felo de se, upon which he was ordered to be buried in the high cross-way, but whether a stake was placed through the body, either in this or the Kneesworth case, is not stated. The custom of burying a felo de se at four cross-roads continued long after the barbarous and senseless indignity of driving a stake through the body was discontinued, and persons still living remember burials at such spots as the entrance to Melbourn, and at similar spots in other villages. Another penal order was for the body to be "anatomised" after execution, as in the case of a man named Stickwood for murdering Andrew Nunn, at Fowlmere, in 1775.

Sometimes as an alternative penalty for crimes was the system of enlistment for the Army and Navy, with which may be coupled the high-handed proceedings of the "Press-gang." The Press-gang {88} was practically a recognised part of the machinery of the State. The law, as to recruiting, sanctioned what would now be considered most tyrannical proceedings; justices of the peace were directed to make "a speedy and effectual levy of such able-bodied men as are not younger than seventeen nor more than forty-five, nor Papists." The means for enforcing this, not only along river-sides, but often in inland country villages, was often brutal, and led to determined resistance and sometimes loss of life. There is a story in Cornwall of a bevy of girls dressing themselves up as sailors, and acting the part of the Press-gang so well that they actually put their own sweethearts to flight from the quarries in which they were working!

The dread of compulsory service was so great that the lot might fall upon men to whom the name of war was a terror. One case of this kind occurred in a village near Royston in which two men were drawn to proceed to Ireland for service, and one of them actually died of the shock and fright and sudden wrench from old associations, after reaching Liverpool on his way to Ireland!

On the subject of pressing for the services, the following characteristic entry occurs in the Royston parish books for the year 1790:—

"Ordered that the Wife of March Brown be permitted to leave the House as she says her husband is Pressed and gone to sea, and that she came to the parish for a few clothes only, as she can get her living in London by earning two shillings a Day by making Breeches for Rag fair."

Though the stocks and the gallows may seem a long way apart, yet they were really very near in the degrees of crime which linked them, and what now would appear a minor offence, had inevitably linked with it the "awful sentence of the law."

At the Bury St. Edmunds Assizes, in 1790, 14 persons received sentence of death. The extraordinary number of persons who were hung as the Assizes came round will be best understood by some figures of death sentences for the March Assizes, 1792:—Hertford 2, Cambs. 4, Bedford 4, Northampton 5, Chelmsford 4, Oxford 2, Thetford 2, Bury 6, York 17, Exeter 16, East Grinstead 3, Derby 2, Nottingham 2, Leicester 2, Gloucester 6, Taunton 3, Kingston 12. At one only of the above Assizes the number of prisoners of all kinds for trial was 85. In June, 1785, twenty-five persons were sentenced to death at the Old Bailey, and 15 of them were hung together the next week. In 1788 there were 81 capital convicts awaiting execution in Newgate, and in 1792 thirteen prisoners were sentenced to death for horse-stealing and lesser offences at a single sessions in London!

At the Herts. Assizes in 1802, John Wood, a carpenter, of Royston, was ordered to be transported for fourteen years for having some forged bank notes concealed in his workshop. In the same year, {89} at the Cambs. Assizes, William Wright, a native of Foxton, was sentenced to death and executed at Cambridge, for uttering forged Bank of England notes. At the Hertford Assizes, in 1801, William Cox, for getting fire to a hovel of wheat at Walkern, was sentenced to death. Among other oddly sounding capital offences, I find that a man named Horn was sentenced to death at the Hertfordshire Assizes in 1791 for stealing some money from the breeches pocket of a man with whom he had slept. At the Cambs. Assizes, in 1812, Daniel Dawson was tried for an offence of poisoning a mare the property of William Adams, of Royston, and was sentenced to death, and executed at Cambridge about a fortnight afterwards.

Sheep-stealing, horse-stealing and highway robberies, were the chief offences with which capital punishment was connected, and associations were formed to prosecute offenders. The parishes of North Herts. were especially notable for sheep-stealing cases. In 1825, at the Herts. Spring Assizes, a man named Hollingsworth was indicted for stealing 55 sheep and 17 lambs, the property of William Lilley, at Therfield. The jury found the prisoner guilty and "the awful sentence of the law was pronounced upon him," so says the Chronicle—and at the July Assizes in the same year, Francis Anderson, for stealing one ewe lamb, the properly of Edward Logsden, at Therfield, was found guilty and "sentence of death was recorded." At the Cambs. Assizes in 1827, George Parry was indicted for sheep-stealing at Hauxton, and the judge "passed the awful sentence of death," remarking that the crime of sheep-stealing had so increased that it was necessary to make a severe example.

One of the most remarkable adventures of the pursuit of horse-stealers in this district occurred in 1822, and actually formed the subject of a small book [now before me] bearing the following curious title:—

"The Narrative of the persevering labours and exertions of the late Mr. Owen Cambridge, of Bassingbourn, Cambs., during his search for two horses, stolen from his stable in October and November, 1822; during which search he very unexpectedly found a pony which had been stolen from the stable of his neighbour, Mr. Elbourne; Printed by particular request. The Royston Press: Printed, published, and sold by J. Warren."

If the reader is inclined to smile at a book with the strangest title that perhaps was ever put upon a title page, it should be said that the adventure recorded in this little book of thirty-two pages is really a most remarkable one, than which no "Bow Street Runner" of those days, to say nothing of the modern police officer with the advantages of railways and telegraphs, had a stiffer task of detective work, or ever more distinguished himself for perseverance, energy and resource, than did Mr. Owen Cambridge in this memorable affair with its innumerable {90} journeys by coach to London, and to almost all the fairs in the home counties, at a cost of upwards of L200. The result was that many other crimes were brought to light, and a gang of horse-stealers was broken up; two of them were sentenced to death at the Beds. Assizes, and the one who stole Mr. Cambridge's horses was sentenced to death at Cambridge, but, upon Mr. Cambridge's plea for mercy for the prisoner, sentence was commuted. It is perhaps worth placing on record that after the extraordinary searches, covering several weeks in London and elsewhere, Mr. Cambridge found the thief at home in his garden in Oxfordshire, passing as a respectable horse-dealer.

Perhaps the most interesting case of a local character of capital punishment for highway robbery with violence and sheep-stealing combined, was one which occurred to a Royston gentleman, for which it is necessary to travel a dozen years beyond the reign of George III.

At the Cambridge Summer Assizes in 1832 was tried a case of highway robbery and sheep-stealing, which was one of the last cases of sentence of death being inflicted for these offences. The accused were John Nunn, Simeon Nunn, the younger, and Ephraim Litchfield, labourers, of Whittlesford. The facts as deposed to at the Assizes were briefly these:—The late Mr. Henry Thurnall, of Royston, was in that year an articled clerk to Messrs. Nash and Wedd, solicitors, Royston, and was frequently in the habit of going from Royston to his then home at Whittlesford, to spend the Sunday. On this occasion business in the office had detained him later than usual, and he started from Royston to drive home in a gig about 11 p.m. on the Saturday night. Near the plantation between Thriplow and Whittlesford parish two men rushed out, seized the reins and said, "We want all you have," and just as he jumped out of the gig to defend himself a third man struck him and knocked him down and stunned him. A further struggle, however, and more blows ensued, and he was able in the struggle to identify the three men, who did not leave him till they had made him stand up with his arms extended, rifled his pockets, and then, left him covered with blood and fainting on the road, not knowing who it was that they had been robbing. Mr. Thurnall was able to walk home, though bleeding very much, and after dressing his wounds, he, his father and others, watched for the accused, and seeing them returning at dawn to their homes, the men dropped sacks they were carrying, and these sacks were found to contain each a fresh-killed sheep from the fold of Mr. Faircloth. At the next Cambs. Assizes, as stated above, all three were found guilty and sentenced to be hung. Mr. Thurnall pleaded for the lives of the men, who belonged to his own parish, but the Home Secretary, Lord Melbourne, wrote that their case was too bad to admit of any mitigation of the punishment, and the day was appointed for their execution. The poor fellows were desirous {91} of seeing Mr. Thurnall, and he went to Cambridge gaol to take leave of them, and they thanked him for his exertions on their behalf, and assured him that had they known him on the night of the robbery nothing would have induced them to attack him! Shortly afterwards their sentence was commuted to that of penal servitude for life. The counsel for the prosecution in this painful case was Mr. Gunning, a well-known name in Cambridgeshire, and it may be of interest to add that I have gleaned the above facts from the brief used by counsel on that occasion, which has been kindly placed at my disposal by Mr. H. J. Thurnall.

One of the most painful cases of capital punishment for small offences occurred in Royston about 1812-14, when quite a young girl from Therfield, living in service in a house now let as an office in the High Street, Royston, robbed her employer of some articles in the house, and was sentenced to death at Hertford, and hung. This case created a profound impression in the town, and for many years afterwards the case "of the poor girl who was hung" was remembered as an instance of the severity of the law.

The time came when this wholesale sentence of death for various offences became more a question of the letter of the law than a satisfaction of the public sense of justice, and out of a batch of prisoners receiving sentence of death the Judge often reprieved the majority, and some of them before leaving the Assize town. The result was that though in many cases there was hope when under sentence of death, there was a large number of persons, often young people, placed under dreadful suspense. The most striking case of the kind in this district was that of the fate of a Melbourn gang of lawless young men. About 1820, several desperate young fellows linked themselves together and became so bold in terrorising the inhabitants as to openly express their intention to provide themselves with fire-arms and use them rather than be taken. Eventually their time came, when they broke into the house of a man named Tom Thurley, a higgler, living near the mill stream. The properly they stole was nothing of great value—chiefly some articles of clothing, &c.—and they were disturbed at their game and had to bolt. In order to get rid of the evidence against them they hid the stolen things in the spinney which then grew where the gas-house now stands, just by the mill stream bridge. They were arrested, and at the Cambridge Assizes five or six of them were sentenced to death! The result of the trial produced a deep impression in the village. The sentence was afterwards respited and they were transported for life; their last appearance in the village being when they rode through on the coach bound for London, and thence to the convict settlement. One or two others were transported for other offences soon after, and the gang was completely broken up. {92} Of the convicts, two sons were out of one house—one of the old parish houses which then stood in the churchyard.

Forgery was an offence punished with death, and one of the latest cases was that of a young man from Meldreth parish, who went up in 1824 as clerk in Mr. Mortlock's warehouse in Oxford Street, forged his master's signature to a cheque, was sentenced to death and hung at Newgate, despite the exertions of his employer to save his life.

We sometimes hear, in these days of advanced education, that we are educating young people beyond the station they can possibly attain, and that we may find the cleverness expend itself in forging other people's names and signatures to obtain money without that honest labour by which their parents were content to earn a livelihood. The evidence, however, is altogether the other way. The number of forgeries committed before national education began, notwithstanding the fear of being hung for the offence, was incalculably greater than it has ever been since. In the matter of bank notes alone, the number of forged motes presented at the Bank of England in 1817 was no less than 31,180. By 1836, the number of forged notes presented had dwindled down to 267. The number of executions for the whole country for the three years, ending 1820, were 312; for the same period, ending 1830, only 176; and by 1840 they had decreased to 62. Many of these sentences were the results of crimes committed in the revolt against the introduction of machinery.



CHAPTER IX.

OLD MANNERS AND CUSTOMS—SOLDIERS, ELECTIONS AND VOTERS—"STATTIES," MAGIC AND SPELLS.

In glancing at the manners and customs which prevailed during the later Georgian era, I find several matters arising out of what has gone before, waiting for notice.

Prison discipline was evidently very different from our notion of it, for in 1803 we find prisoners in the Cambridge County Gaol stating that they "beg leave to express their gratitude to the Right Hon. Charles Yorke for a donation of five guineas."

If these little indulgences could be obtained in a county gaol it may be imagined that the parochial cage sometimes lent itself to stratagems for the benefit of the prisoner. At the old cage on the west side of the present Parish-room in Royston, Herts., many persons living remember some curious expedients of this kind. While the prisoner was waiting {93} for removal to the Buntingford Bridewell (situate in the Wyddial Lane not far from the river bridge) to undergo his fortnight of such hard labour as the rules of that curious establishment exacted—while waiting in the Cage the prisoner's friends would help him in this way. Above the door of the Cage were some narrow upright openings, and through this a saucer was inserted edgewise, the prisoner took it and held it, while, by means of a teapot and the thrusting the spout through the openings, a good "drink" could be administered, according to the appetite of the prisoner!

In a former chapter, reference was made to the penal side of obtaining men for the Army, and I may here mention that an instance of the all-powerful operations of the Press-gang was actually brought home to an old Roystonian, who, while crossing London Bridge, was seized and made to serve his seven years! Though the regular mode of enlistment had less of this arbitrary character it was, nevertheless, often very burdensome in our rural districts and led to some curious expedients for meeting its demands. The Chief Constable of the hundred served a notice upon the Overseers, and sometimes the number required was not one for each parish, but a demand was made upon two parishes. As in 1796 the Chief Constable served an order upon Barkway and Little Hormead acquainting them that one man was to be raised between them, and that the Overseers were to call a meeting of the principal inhabitants to consider "the most speedy and effectual means of raising the said man."

This system of allowing discretion as to how the said man, or men, were to be provided, sometimes did not answer, for in 1796 the parishes of Little Hormead and Barkway are jointly credited with paying "the sum of L31 0s. 0d., being the average bounty and fine for their default in not providing their quota of men for His Majesty's Army."

The following, under date 1796, will show how the parish generally set about raising the said "man."

"TWENTY-FIVE GUINEAS BOUNTY.

Wanted immediately, one man for the parish of W——, Cambridgeshire, to serve either in the Army or the Navy. Apply to the Overseers of the parish."

In some cases twenty-five pounds and a silver watch were offered. Under more urgent circumstances when men had to be drawn by lot, the hardship which must often be occasioned was got over by men joining a sort of insurance society against compulsory service. With head-quarters in London and agents in the provinces, this society, upon the payment of 5s. 6d., gave a receipt guaranteeing to provide the requisite bounty to purchase a substitute in case the men so insuring should be drawn for the Army or Navy, and a large number paid into it.

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In 1812 a Ware notice reads: "A bounty of 16 guineas for men and L12 1s. 6d. for boys, offered for completing His Majesty's Royal marines."

Two entries in the Royston parish books show that in 1795 the sum of L43 18s. 1d. was paid to defray expenses in providing two men for the Navy; and in 1806, a further sum of L18 "for not providing a man for the Army."

Sometimes cavalry were drawn for, but the system of drawing for men by lot chiefly applied to the Militia, for which purpose the parish constable was to present to the justices "a true list in writing of all men between the ages of 18 and 45 years, distinguishing their ranks and occupations, and such as laboured under any infirmities, in order that the truth of such infirmity might be inquired into [for they frequently did feign infirmities!] and the list amended." The drawing took place at Arrington (at the "Tiger"), and at Buntingford, and the old constable's accounts show frequent entries of "caring the list of the milshe" (militia) to Buntingford or Arrington.

Accommodating soldiers on the march was more burdensome to the civil population than now, because they were not only billeted in the town but their baggage had to be conveyed from place to place by farmers' wagons, &c., requisitioned by the chief constable, through the petty constables, who frequently went as far as Wallington and outlying parishes to "press a waggon" for this purpose, a system which was responsible for such curious entries as these:

Paid the cunspel for hiern of the bagges wagon for 82 Rigt. to Hunting [Huntingdon] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 5 0

Other entries were such as

Going to Wallington to Press a Waggon to Carry the Baggage from Royston to Stotfold, a part of the 14th Redgment . . 0 5 0

Going to Bygrave to Press a Cart to Carry three Deserters from Royston to Weare, Belonginge to the Gards . . . . . . 0 5 0

It was customary not merely for soldiers to be billeted in our old town en route, but they were quartered here for much longer periods. Thus in 1779 we learn that Regiments from Warley Camp were ordered into winter quarters—the West Suffolk at Hitchin, Stevenage and Baldock, and the West Kent at Royston, Stotfold and Walden, and in 1780 the Cambridgeshire Militia were ordered into winter quarters at Royston and Baldock.

Coming to matters more affecting the civil population, elections, voters and voting afforded as great a contrast compared with the present as in anything that has gone before. Possibly the ripest stage of the old wine of political life was during the last ten years of the old pre-Reform era, just before the new wine began to crack the old {95} bottles; but though the best glimpses of actual election work should be deferred to a later chapter, there are some incidents belonging to the early years of the century which cannot be well passed over.

At the first glimpse of the old order one is struck with the intensely personal end of political life, if such a word may be used. What therefore by courtesy was called an election of a member of Parliament, was more a question of who a man was than of what opinion he held, if any.

This was how an election was often managed in the old time, when a man needed a large fortune to face a contested election:—

"At a very respectable and numerous meeting of the freeholders of the county [Cambridge] at the Shirehall on Monday last, in pursuance of advertisement, for the High Sheriff to consider the proper persons to represent them in Parliament, Sir John Hynde Cotton proposed Charles Yorke, Esq., brother of the Earl of Hardwicke, and was seconded in a very elegant speech by William Vachell, Esq. General Adeane was next nominated by Jeremy Pemberton, Esq., who was seconded by the Rev. Mr. Jenyns, of Bottisham, and both nominations were carried unanimously."

The address returning thanks for the election was inserted in the same paper as the above account of the meeting, and the affair was ended!

If a candidate had thoughts of contesting an election he had to consider not merely whether he held political opinions likely to command a greater support from the electors than his opponent's, but whether he could afford to spend as much money upon the contest! It was not customary to hold meetings in every place as now. County meetings were the order of the day, but Roystonians were not shut out of the fray which attended elections. The candidates, or their friends, came round to secure the vote and interest of the voter; at the same time giving the latter a ticket for himself and several for his friends. On going to Cambridge or Hertford, as the case might be, the holders of the tickets found any of the public-houses of their colour open to them, and the Royston voter and his friends, or the village voter, often did not return till after several days' jollification, and other accompaniments of an election in the good old times, when beer and wine flowed like a fountain!

The old style of election address was a very different thing from the political catechism which the unfortunate candidate has to put himself through in these days.

"If I should be so happy as to succeed in this the highest object of my ambition, I will faithfully discharge the important duties of the great trust reposed in me, by promoting to the utmost of my power your Welfare and Prosperity. I am, &c."

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Such was the sum and substance of nearly all the election addresses in the pre-Reform Bill period. As easy as applying for a situation as a butler or confidential clerk was obtaining a seat in Parliament, given plenty of money and a few backers.

It is possible to read through whole columns of these addresses without finding expressions of opinion upon political questions, or any reflection of what was taking place in public life at the time! Happy candidates! whose political capital was all sugar and plums; and who, haunted by no dread of that old scarecrow of a printed address with a long string of opinions bound to come home to roost, looking out in judgment upon you in faded but still terribly legible printer's ink from every dead wall—at least, had only to get past that rough batch of compliments, "the tempest of rotten eggs, cabbages, onions, and occasional dead cats," at the hustings, and you were a legislator pledged simply to "vote straight!"

Fortunately for the candidate the freeholders, who were entitled to vote and could at a pinch put their own price upon their votes, and get it, were not numerous. The poll for the county of Cambridge would, at a General Election, now, I suppose, be about 25,000, but in 1802, at a very warm contest, the poll was only 2,624. In the General Election that year, which was contested in Cambridgeshire, the parish of Great Abington, out of 47 inhabited houses, sent three freeholders to record their votes at Cambridge, and Little Abington, out of 34 inhabited houses, polled four freeholders at the same election.

In the old days of "vote and interest" the canvass was regarded as a much more certain criterion than to-day. Thus in 1796 a Hertfordshire candidate issued an address in which he candidly stated, "After a success upon my first Day's Canvass equal to my most sanguine Expectations, I had determined to stand the Poll, but finding myself yesterday less fortunate, I have resolved to decline," &c., &c.

One advantage about an old fourteen days' contest was therefore that if a candidate found that he could not secure enough votes he could retire from the contest and "needn't buy any."

Before the passing of the Reform Bill, Elections were not only protracted and attended with open bribery, revelry, rowdyism, and popular excitement, but the machinery for arriving at the wish of the constituency was also of a very rough and ready kind. If, for instance, a voter was objected to, the sheriff's assessor, a barrister, was found sitting in a room adjoining the hustings for the pin-rose of hearing and deciding the claim, the objecting and affirming party being allowed to appear before such assessor by counsel. The following incident is, I imagine, almost, if not quite, unique in electioneering annals, and could only have been possible under the protracted contests, and the system of revision of claims which has just been mentioned. It occurred in {97} the Cambs. contested election for 1802, and is thus recorded in the Cambridge Chronicle for that year.

"At the late election for this county a very singular circumstance happened. A voter died immediately after his return home, and his son came the third day [of the Election] and voted for the same freehold, which was allowed by both parties."

The condition of the rural peasantry a hundred years ago fell immeasurably short of the opportunities for recreation afforded at the present time, but there were not a few bright spots in the year, which, whatever we may think of the manner of the enjoyment, did afford very pleasant anticipations and memories to even the peasant folk in the villages. By custom these periodical feasts, for they generally resolved themselves into that, became associated with certain seasons, and of these none held a more important place than the annual Michaelmas "Statty," that is, the annual statute fair, of some central village or town where, to quote an old Hertfordshire ballad,

There's dancing and singing And fiddling and ringing, With good beef and pudding, And plenty of beer.

Hither came the lads and lasses just free from a year's hiring and—the lads with whip-cord or horse-hair banding round their hats to indicate their accomplishments with horses, &c.—ready to enter upon a fresh engagement with the old or with a new master for the coming twelve months. Sturbitch fair is not the only place which has been proclaimed by dignified officials, for in the old time many country fairs, which had no Mayor and Corporation to fall back upon, were thought of sufficient importance to engage the services of the Town Crier or Beadle, and in some places this was the kind of proclamation that ushered in the fair:—

O yez! O yez! the fair is begun, There shall be no arrest, till the fair is done.

Arrest for debt should, I suppose, be understood, for the Stocks invariably received as much company as they could hold on such occasions.

In some cases the "Statty," or fair, was proclaimed by printed notice issued by the chief constable of the hundred, and others even by those responsible for obtaining situations for pauper children, to whose interest it was that such a convenient means of bringing people together should be kept up. In the year 1788 I find the Royston Parish Committee passing this resolution:—

"Ordered that for the future such Boys and Girls as are in the Workhouse and fit for service be taken to the Neighbouring Statutes for the purpose of letting them for service."

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Generally each printed announcement by the Chief Constable of a statute fair for hiring within his hundred concluded with the intimation—"Dinner on Table at two o'clock, price 2s. 6d. each." From the last named item I conclude that the dinner on the table was intended for employers who could afford the 2s. 6d., and also, I believe, for the parish constables of the hundred whose "2s. 6d. for the constabel's fest" so frequently occurs in parish accounts. A number of these announcements before me all end in a similar strain, but I give one specimen below—

PUCKERIDGE STATUTE FOR HIRING SERVANTS, will be held at the BELL INN, On FRIDAY, the 23RD of SEPTEMBER, 1796, THOMAS PRIOR, Chief Constable. Dinner on the Table at Two o'clock.

May-day observances may perhaps appear a too hackneyed topic for a place in these Glimpses, and yet they were very different from present day observances. The "May-dolling" by children in the streets of Royston as every first of May comes round is clearly a survival of the more picturesque mummeries of the past. There is this in common, in all the procession of Mayers through the ages, that their outward equipment has always sought some little bit of promise of greenery from nature's springtide, and rather a large piece of the human nature which runs to seed in the oriental "backsheesh"—a picturesque combination of blessing and begging. The "Mayers' song," and its setting in this district, was something like the following:—At an early hour in the morning a part of the townspeople would parade the town singing the Mayers' song, carrying large branches of may or other greenery, a piece of which was affixed to the door of the most likely houses to return the compliment. Sometimes delicate compliments or otherwise were paid to the servants of the house, and, if not in favour with the Mayers, the former would find on opening the door in the morning, not the greeting of a branch of "may" but a spiteful bunch of stinging nettles!—a circumstance which caused servants to take a special interest in what they would find at their door as an omen of good fortune.

During the day the Mayers' procession went on in a more business-like form, with sundry masked figures, men with painted faces—one wearing an artificial hump on his back, with a birch broom in his hand, and the other in a woman's dress in tatters and carrying a ladle—acting the parts of "mad Moll and her husband." Two other men, one gaudily dressed up in ribbons and swathed in coloured bandages and {99} carrying a sword, and another attired as a lady in a white dress and ribbons, played the part of the "Lord and Lady." Other attendants upon these followed in similar, but less imposing, attire. With fiddle, clarionet, fife and drum, a substantial contribution from the townspeople was acknowledged with music and dancing, and a variety of clownish tricks of Mad Moll and her Husband.

We thus see that the chubby-fisted little fellows who, not possessing even a doll, rig out a little stump of an old sailor or soldier, or even a bunch of greenery on a stick, as well as the girls who now promenade their dolls of varying degrees of respectability, have an historical background of some dignity, when, on the morning of the first of May, they line our streets and reflect the glories of the past to an unsentimental generation which knows nothing of "Mad Moll and her husband."

The following are some verses of the Mayers' song—

Remember us poor Mayers all, And thus we do begin, To lead our lives in righteousness, Or else we die in sin. * * * * A branch of May we have brought you, And at your door it stands, It is but a sprout, But it's well budded out. by the work of our Lord's hands. * * * * The moon shines bright and the stars give light, A little before it is day; So God bless you all, both great and small, And send you a joyful May!

Plough Monday and its interesting connection with the return of the season for field work of the husbandman, and its modern relic of perambulating the streets with a plough for largess, has practically passed away as a custom and has long since lost its sentiment. Another curious observance connected with the harvest was in full swing at the time of which I am writing; viz., the "hockey" load, or harvest home. Many persons living remember the intense excitement which centred around the precincts of the farmhouse and its approaches, when it was known that the last load of corn was coming home! Generally a small portion, enough to fill the body of the cart, was left for the last load. Upon this the men rode home, shouting "merry, merry, harvest home," which was a well understood challenge to all and sundry to bring out their water! Through the village the light load rattled along at a great pace, while from behind every wall, tree, or gatepost along the route, men, women and even children, armed with such utensils as came ready to hand, sent after the flying rustics a shower of water {100} which continually increased in volume as the hockey load reached the farm-yard, where capacious buckets and pails charged from the horse pond brought up a climax of indescribable fun and merriment!

The next in order of the seasons, manners, and customs are the summer and autumn feasts and fairs. Of the fair held at Anstey, the following is an announcement of seventy years ago—

ANSTEY FAIR, ON THURSDAY, JULY 15TH, 1817. A Tea Kettle to be Bowled for by Women. A Gown to be Smoked for by Women. A Shift to be Run for by Women. A Share to be Ploughed for by Men, at Mr. Hoy's at the Bell, at Anstey.

How far smoking by women was a habit, or how far it was a device to contribute to the fun of the fair, cannot very well be determined—probably there was in it a little of both. The following poetical announcement is another type—

A Muslin Gown-piece, with needle work in, For Girls to run for; for the first that comes in: To Sing for Ribbons, and Bowl for a Cheese; To Smoke for Tobacco, and Shoot—if you please; For a Waistcoat or Bridle, there's Asses to run; And a Hog to be Hunted, to make up the fun!

The regulation of licensed houses was not quite so strictly attended to under the Dogberry regime as we have it to-day. On the occasion of the Royston fairs, more particularly Ash Wednesday, and I think Michaelmas, a tippler could obtain beer at almost any house around the bottom of the Warren, and even when the supervision became less lax, within the memory of many persons living, the private residents had got so much accustomed to the practice, that they kept it up by a colourable deference to the law which led them to sell a person a piece of straw for the price of a pint of beer and then give them the beer! So rooted had this habit become under the laxity of the old system that many persons, I believe, deluded themselves with the belief that somehow or other they were only exercising their birthright conferred by charter in ages that are gone! Charters did sometimes grant some curious things, but I believe I am right in saying that the charters conferred upon the monks, who were the original governors of Royston, contain no such easy way of evading the licensing laws of the 19th century! This kind of thing happened at other "feasts" and looks a little more like barter than charter.

In some other respects, however, the old Dogberry regime was more strict than the present. Thus for the Fifth of November in {101} the first quarter of this century we find the following for Royston—

"Ordered that notice be given that the law will be enforced against all persons detected in letting off squibs, crackers, or other fireworks in the street or any other part of this town, and that the constable be ordered to inform against any person so offending."

Stage plays were not unknown, and whether by strolling players or some local thespians "She stoops to Conquer" was a favourite among ambitious flights, with a lively tail end of such tit-bits as "Bombastes Furioso," "The Devil to pay," and "The transformations of Mad Moll," &c.

Intimately bound up with manners and customs was, of course, the lingering belief in witches, fairies, brownies, drolls, and all the uncanny beings which George Stephenson's "puffing billy" has frightened away into the dark corners of the earth! The subject is too broad for general reference here, but there are a few local remnants of the "black arts" which stamped their devotees as being in league with the evil one.

During the last century, when such large numbers of felons for various crimes found their way to the gallows, there appears to have been an idea prevalent that if any woman would agree to marry a man under the gallows he would be entitled to pardon, and under the influence of this curious notion, a man executed at Cambridge in 1787, just before the fatal moment arrived, seeing a woman in the crowd whom he knew, called out to her "Won't you save my life?" This tragic fashion of popping the question was not effectual in this case, for the man was hung!

The use of charms for curing diseases was of course in operation. Perhaps the most unique of these was the plan apparently adopted by the "celebrated skilful woman at Shepreth." Who the skilful woman of Shepreth was I am unable to say, but we may perhaps infer the nature of her fame and skill from the fact on record that a man, who was said to be one of her descendants, did in 1774, when called in to see a butcher who had run a meat hook into his hand, carefully dress the offending hook from day to day with healing ointment, &c., and left the man's hand alone till it got so bad that a surgeon was called in and had to perform an operation!

There were later examples of the remarkably skilful woman of Shepreth—the "wise woman" at Fulbourn; "The wise woman in the Falcon Yard," at Cambridge; and I have no doubt almost every village had at least by repute its wise woman who could, for a consideration, unravel all mysteries about stolen property, malicious injuries, and a host of things amenable to the black art often vulgarly called witchcraft, in the name of which perfectly innocent creatures had in a previous age got a ducking in a horse pond, if nothing worse!

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When pretenders of this stamp, and more innocent and less designing individuals, who were guilty of nothing worse than an imperfect use of herbal medicine, were suspected of evil influences, it is not surprising that the studious who ventured to investigate the mysteries lying beyond the common run of information should get a share of that peculiar homage which ignorance paid to knowledge. There were, here and there, individuals, the record of whose eccentricity opens up for us vistas into the marvellous domain of magic and mystery which cast its glamour of romance over the old world of the alchemist in pursuit of the philosopher's stone. One of the most remarkable of latter-day disciples of Peter Woulfe, of whom some interesting particulars are given in Timbs' Modern Eccentrics, has a peculiar claim to notice here, if only for having for many years pursued his studies and experiments in the neighbourhood of Hitchin.