As late as 1825, twenty years after the death of Peter Woulfe, who was thought to be the last of the true believers in alchemy, Sir Richard Phillips visited an alchemist at Lilley, near Hitchin, named Kellerman, who was believed by some of his neighbours to have discovered the philosopher's stone, and the universal solvent! His room was a realization of Tenier's "Alchemist." The floor was strewed with retorts, crucibles, alembics, jars, and bottles of various shapes, inter-mingled with old books. This worthy had not only bettered all the work of his predecessors, but had, after repeated failures, at last made gold; and, what was more, he could make as much more as he pleased, even to the extent of paying off the National Debt! In justification of his singular pursuits, Kellerman quoted Roger and Francis Bacon, Paracelsus, Boyle, Boerhave, Woulfe, and others, and claimed that he had discovered the "blacker than black" of Appollonious Tyanus, which was the powder of projection for producing gold! It further appeared that Kellerman had lived in these premises at Lilley twenty-three years, during fourteen of which he had pursued his alchemical studies, keeping eight assistants to superintend his crucibles, two at a time relieving each other every six hours; that he had exposed some preparation to intense heat for many months at a time, but that all his crucibles had burst except one, which Kellerman said contained the "Blacker than Black." One of his assistants, however, protested that no gold had ever been found; and so, even persevering old Kellerman, the last of his race, who dared to speculate with the iron horse just behind him, disappears from the scene, discredited by the Phillistines, who calculate but never dream!



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CHAPTER X.

TRADE, AGRICULTURE AND MARKET ORDINARIES.

One of the most interesting, as well as significant things about old-time studies, is the evolution of industry, from the stage, when each domestic hearth was a factory of some sort, to vast cotton mills and iron foundries. Time was when the wool from the sheep's back was made into cloth in every house in Royston, then the finishing processes of fulling and dyeing were made a business of elsewhere, then with the introduction of machinery the hand-loom disappeared from our cottages to special centres; next the spinning disappeared; then the combing, and last of all the wool-sorting went too, leaving nothing but sheep shearing of what was a complete local industry, with as many centres as there were formerly houses to work in and families to work.

The only thing that is dimly visible in these Glimpses, of that universal woollen industry, is the picturesque figure of our great-grand-mother at the spinning wheel—not merely as a piece of domestic economy, but as a wage-earning tool employing children as well as adults, just as straw plaiting became in this and the adjoining Bedfordshire district when the spinning industry disappeared.

In 1768, the first year in which any disbursements are mentioned in the Royston parish books, the first item was the granting of a spinning wheel to Nan Dodkin by the Vestry. Weaving proper had ceased at this date, but a great deal of business was done in Royston towards the end of last century in the "hemp dressing, sack weaving and rope making branches," as I learn from an auctioneer's announcement of a property sale in 1773.

During the reign of George III. hand-spinning was an industry throughout this district, and at most cottage doors in the villages could be seen wheels busily turning, up to about 1825. The pay was not great, but the employment was more seemly than that of dragging mothers of families and young girls into the fields as one often sees {104} them at the present time. The evidence of the spinning industry is conclusive from the parish accounts alone in such entries as—

"Ordered that Thomas C—— and his family be permitted to leave the Workhouse, the Overseers to buy them a pair of old blankets and a new Wheel."

"Ordered that the Overseers of Herts. Buy and Lend to the widow S—— a wheel for the purpose of setting her boy to work."

L s. d. Spinning Wheles for the Widow D—— . . . 0 2 9 Paid for spinning 17 lb. of flax . . . . . 0 17 6 To mending a weel . . . . . . . . . . . . 0 0 8 14 new, Spendels and wool for G——'s family

The parish accounts in the villages show that wool for spinning was supplied in small quantities, apparently by small shop-keepers who took the yarn, which was again bought by the dealers and sent away for weaving to the newly established mills—pretty much in the same way as the straw plaiting industry was managed in after years.

Occasionally spinners were dishonest, and spun short measure, and associations were formed for punishing the offence.

In every better class house a wheel was found by which the mistress would spin the yarn, which was then sent away to be woven into the family linen, and a very necessary part of the preparation for married life was this spinning of a supply of yarn and sending it away to the weaver. A full chest of table linen was as precious to the farmers' wives as Mrs. Tulliver found hers, and home-spun linen was as much a matter of pride as the cheese-making itself; so much so that servants in farm houses were invariably placed at the wheel to fill up their spare time.

The earnings of the poor spinners could not have been very great, for in Essex in 1770 "a stout girl of fifteen or sixteen" was not able to earn above 6d. a day. When the industry disappeared as a wage-earning employment, parochial Workhouses turned their attention to teaching children straw plaiting, and plaiting schools were subsidised by overseers for this purpose.

Wool-combing, the next process of employment, was better paid, but later on this too disappeared from our town and neighbourhood, owing to the march of inventions, leaving the last stage of the industry, viz., the wool-sorter's occupation, which continued some time longer. This process of sorting was one which required an experienced eye to detect the different qualities of fibre, and nimble fingers to separate them. A fleece of wool was thrown open on a bench and an expert would, with surprising speed and dexterity, separate the fibre into about four different qualities and throw them into as many baskets standing by to receive them. After this, as in the combing days, it was sent off by the {105} Wakefield wagons to the mills in the North, and buyers continued to visit Royston, and wagons load up here, until about the middle of this century, the last of the wool-staplers being Mr. Henry Butler, whose warehouse was in Kneesworth Street, where Mr. Sanders' coachbuilder's yard now is. With the appearance of the railway our "spinning grandmothers" were a thing of the past.

Agriculture in the Georgian era differed somewhat in its appliances, but the philosophy of it was pretty much the same as it is now. Oxen were occasionally used for team labour and were shod like horses; wheat was universally reaped with a sickle, and as universally threshed with a flail, the bent figure of the wheat-barn tasker being a familiar object in the "big old barn with its gloomy bays and the moss upon the thatch." An honest pride he took in his work and has found a fit memorial in the delightful Sketches of Rural Life by Mr. Francis Lucas, of Hitchin, who says of the tasker and his work—

Then let our floors send up the sound, Of the swinjel's measured stroke, It makes the miller's wheel go round, And the cottage chimneys smoke.

One of the most interesting things about rural life was the common herding of the cattle, which, until the Enclosures Act came, had probably gone on from the time the Domesday Book was written, or longer. All through the ages there is the picturesque glimpse of the old herdsman with his horn, each morning and evening from May to October, making his procession to the common land of the village, past homesteads, from whose open gates the cow-kine, in obedience to the blast of the horn, walk out and join their fellows, and at evening the herd in returning dropped its ones, twos, and threes at every farmyard gate—like children going to and from school! The animation among the cattle in and about every farmyard in the village, when, after six months' silence, the herdman's horn was heard once more, was a sight to remember, and a remarkable instance of the sagacity of animals!

Farmers' wives were accustomed, up to the beginning of the present century, to attend the market to sell their cheese and butter, as in Derbyshire they do now, and the work connected with the accidental discovery of the Royston Cave, it will be remembered, was for the accommodation of these good dames.

Farmers at this time had few new notions or agricultural shows to set them thinking, but farmed according to "the good old ways," leaving to here and there a gentleman farmer, farming his own land, such hair-brained schemes as went contrary to them, their plea being that "farmers did not rear the worse turnips nor were longer fatting their oxen without book knowledge than they would be with it."

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But it is when we come to market prices for the farmer's produce that we get, I suspect, at the root and origin of the smooth-sounding phrase of the "Good old times when George the III. was King." Of the enormous influence of peace or war upon prices then, and the excitement which news of the one or the other stirred in the breasts of farmers and landlords as they gathered in groups in the yards of the Hull, or the Red Lion, on Royston market days, let the following picture testify—



Below are given a few years of average prices of farmers' produce in grain:—

AVERAGE PRICES.

Wheat. Barley. Oats. Year. s. d. s. d. s. d. 1785 43 1 24 9 17 8 1790 54 9 26 3 19 5 1795 75 2 37 5 24 5 1799 69 0 36 2 27 6 1800 113 10 59 10 39 4 1801 119 6 68 6 37 0 1802 69 10 33 4 20 4 1805 89 9 44 6 28 4 1809 97 4 47 0 31 5 1810 106 5 48 1 28 7 1812 126 6 66 9 44 6

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The year 1812 was a famine year, but, after this time, prices never rose so high, ranging for wheat from 75s. in 1814, and 96s. in 1817 to 44s. in 1822. Though the landlords took their share and nearly doubled rents between 1790 and 1804, the farmer had reason to remember the good old times if the following story of a Hertfordshire farmer in 1807 be true:—

"A wealthy Hertfordshire farmer not long ago made application to one of the clerks in the Bank of England for the loan of L800, and offered to deposit with him, as a security, a bank note of L10,000, which he then held in his hand! The clerk refused him, saying that such a thing was unusual, at the same time told him he would change it for lesser notes. This, however, did not satisfy the farmer, who still persevered. At his own request he was waited upon by one of the directors, who readily lent him the sum he required; and at the end of eight days he returned, according to his promise, and repaid the money. When he was asked why he had such an attachment to that particular note, he frankly replied, 'Because I have the fellow of it at home!'"

The old style of farmer had the laugh on his side in the matter of balance sheets compared with the farmer of to-day. Here is one under date 1770 for a farm of 300 acres at a rental of L240 (the average rent in this district appears to have been about 12s. to 15s. an acre, but was more than doubled by the end of the century). It was stocked and worked with 10 cows, 150 sheep, 30 oxen, 12 horses, four servants and boys, eight labourers (average L20 a year each), and two maids. In the annual expenditure is put down the modest allowance of L100 for house-keeping of the farmer and his family (exclusive of servants), and the total then comes out at

Year's produce . . . . . . . . . . . L1,599 13 0 Expenditure . . . . . . . . . . . . L1,146 0 0 ——————- Profit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . L453 13 0

Trade was not so much an every day affair in those days as now, but persons obtained their supplies in large quantities and on special occasions. In harvest time therefore little was doing at the shops, and the tradesmen in the High Street were accustomed to form themselves into neighbouring groups of four or five, and, taking up their position outside their shops, smoked their pipes, while one of their number would read the news, nearly always coloured at that time by the doings of Napoleon, or the French. About the beginning of the century, Mr. William Henry Andrews, son of the astronomer, as a man having the most talent for reading, was in particular request at these quiet siestas between the intervals of trade.

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They discussed agriculture and the weather with a relish over their "sixpennyworth," and often laid wagers as to the result of the harvest. Here is an item in Royston—

"1795. Aug. 25—Mr. Bottomley lays S. Coxall sixpennyworth that the price of a quartern loaf will be as low as sevenpence the best sort in two months—24th Oct. paid."

Who had to pay there is little doubt, for the bet was a rash one in a season which had seen wheat at 113s. in that very August. The crop did not realize Mr. Bottomley's expectations, for the official average for the year was 75s. 2d. per quarter, from which we infer that Mr. Bottomley paid his "sixpennyworth."

Royston Market is spoken of in official announcements at the end of last century as "an exceedingly good market town." Though the market was open, the inns and inn yards were freely resorted to, especially in inclement weather, and the Green Man Yard was made to do duty to some extent as a Corn Exchange, for in 1785 when the house was to let, we find it stated that it had "large garden and stables and ten corn shops." Barley was the chief item of sales, and it is said as much as 4,000 quarters has been sold here in a single day.

I do not happen to have found any earlier official statistics of corn sales in Royston market, but for the year ending July, 1839, I find the following—

Total Per qr. amount. avge. price.

Quantity. L s. d. L s. d. Wheat—21,554 qrs. . . . . . 78,233 10 0 3 12 7 Barley—6l,556 qrs. . . . . . 122,402 13 0 1 19 9

Here then we get a sale of 1,200 quarters of barley a week and between 400 and 500 quarters of wheat per week.

Time was when the Royston market had commenced at a late hour, as it does now, but owing to the necessity of being late home, or the felt want of a jovial gathering at the market ordinary in times when the farmer himself worked and needed one day's relaxation, the fiat for change went forth on the 23rd October, 1782, and the hour was changed from 3 p.m. to 11 a.m.—an arrangement made possibly with a view to the pleasures of the market ordinary, and one under which, at any rate, that institution flourished most famously for fifty years or more.

At one time the grain was "pitched," that is brought to the town in bulk and stored at the various inns ready for sale in the market. The attendance of farmers, maltsters, and corn buyers was so large that the whole of the open space of the Market Hill was covered by crowds of buyers and sellers of farm produce, presenting a busy scene more worthy of the past traditions of the market than anything seen now. {109} The market beginning then in good time, by mid-day most of the business was finished, and, regularly at one o'clock there came out of an upper window of the Green Man, the well-known form and features of Mrs. Smith, the landlady, ringing a hell with all the energy and promptitude of one who had evidently been accustomed to have that summons respected and as promptly responded to! The bell from the Green Man is answered by that from the Bull and the Red Lion, and the trio goes on ding dong, ding dong! The current of business and bargain-making slackens; plump portly farmers in top boots, millers in grey suits almost flour-proof, maltsters carrying riding whips—all the busy assembly of men of shrewd common sense and well filled nankeen purses suddenly puts up its sample bags, drops its business air, and, like boys out of school, melts away in three different directions according to individual preferences. For behind that well understood signal of the bells is the typical institution then in its palmiest days—the "Market Ordinary." Leaving the market to the cheap jacks and ballad mongers, the solid element of the market day gives a jovial account of itself in the market rooms of the well-filled hostelries—now learning from the paper the news, so far as it concerned prices and the continuation of war—now discussing crops with a loyalty to the three-course system which no enclosures had yet upset—now with equal loyalty toasting "the King, God bless him," and generally disposing of enough liquid to make the ride home behind Dobbin a self-satisfied consummation, finding expression in snatches of the old chorus—

To plough and to sow, And to reap and to mow, And to be a Farmer's Boy!

Ah, me! who would not be jolly with a good market this week and the prospect of higher prices next?—with the guarantee of the State that the farmer should not have less than 70s. a quarter, and the certainty of higher prices if the war lasted! But these farmers in the leather breeches and top boots—these self-satisfied men are already in the fading glory of the "Good Old Times"—always applying those words, in so far as they have any meaning at all, chiefly to the farming and land-owning classes. Before the century is much older we shall see the same class harrassed, embarrassed, and eaten up by a rotten and immoral poor law system, about to be mended, and their prospect of high prices growing less and less, as sliding scales and all artificial props are removed out of the way of things finding their own level—down, down, down towards the present unsupportable level of prices when the consumer has as complete a monopoly of advantages as had the producer in the old days!

But it was not only of the results, but of the place itself also, that the farmer had a pleasant memory. So much attached were its habitues {110} to the old style of an open corn market that when, in later times, the Corn exchange came, many complained that they could not tell a good sample of corn in a building like that, so well as in the open air. Indeed, so wedded were they to the old custom of open market that when the Corn Exchange was erected by the then Lord Dacre, they showed such an obstinate preference for the open market and the convenience of the inns, that they refused for some time to use the new building provided for them! But they got used to it—those that were left to carry on the business of a market, whose traditions, nay, whose history, speaks to us of a former greatness and reputation for trade, in the centuries that are gone, which we can hardly now understand.



CHAPTER XI.

ROYSTON IN 1800-25.—ITS SURROUNDINGS, ITS STREETS, AND ITS PEOPLE.

The prospect of Royston from its surroundings was, at the beginning of the century, singularly bleak and uninviting in winter time. Of the many plantations which now beautify the vicinity of the town, and afford such pleasant walks, not one tree had got on end. The London Road, from the top of the town to the sylvan spot now known as the "Seven Rides," had not a single tree near it, and only one solitary bush standing out on the hill-top against the sky-line, on the summit of what was then a very steep hill through which the cutting has since been made. The hills on the Newmarket Road, which have also since been cut through, were equally bare and monotonous in colour, at least during most of the year; and the Heath was then destitute of those graceful patches of charming spring and autumn natural tints which the plantations of to-day give to the neighbourhood of the Church Hill, &c. Some of the trees along by the Ivy Farm on the Haldock Road had been planted, but that was about all there was towards that pretty setting of the old town in tree and foliage, which is such a pleasing view, especially when seen from the hills around the town. The plantations near the Heath were carried out by the late Mr. Henry Thurnall, by direction of the trustees of Mr. George Fordham, and those about the Green Walk by the Lord Dacre of those days, who also erected, at the summit of the hill, a kind of summer house which was so badly appreciated by the public that it was taken away. I trust we may at least write respecting these advantages—other days, other manners.

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The same open and exposed character, which left Royston in a semicircle of bare hills, was also common to the surrounding parishes where the land still lay in strips, with green baulks between, so that a 300 acre farm was not unfrequently in four or five hundred strips, scattered about the parish, one in this furlong or "shot," and one in that. The country surrounding Royston on the line of Icknield Street, was not only unenclosed, but much of it was heath country—extending from Whittlesford to Royston on the one hand, and from Royston to Odsey on the other, and it is a pleasure to add that this fine stretch of open country presented in the spring a perfect picture of golden yellow gorse blossom!

The four entrances to the town by the four ancient roads were also very different seventy years ago from their present appearance, with regard to habitations. On the London Road on the east side was the Rabbit Warren, and not a single house from the present Vicarage site to Gatward's Pond, excepting the old Workhouse where Godfrey Terrace now is, and the Old Pest House just beyond Mr. Whitehead's stone works. For the rest, the Rabbit Warren sloped away into the valley (now gardens), where school-boys met and fought out their differences! Here was the old claypit, a curious geological feature embosomed in the chalk. Paupers and rabbits were the only inhabitants of this end of the town on the cast, and on the west the first house was, as now, the old "Horse Shoes," on the bank. The last house on the Melbourn Road was the turnpike near the Institute. In Baldock Street there was nothing on the south side beyond Messrs. Phillips' brewery, and on the north side nothing beyond the Fleet, then a private road-way to the lime kiln and clunch pit, in the occupation of Mr. S. Eversden, now forming the picturesque dell in the grounds of the Rookery (Mr. Henry Fordham's). Royston, in Cambridgeshire, consisted only of a few houses beyond the old Palace, the house now occupied by Dr. Archer, then a boarding school kept by Mrs. Raynes, being the last house in Royston, Cambs. Now almost a town has sprung up beyond this spot, upon what were then open fields. This house occupies part of an old burial site around which centres a little mystery and a solid part of the history of our old town. It must suffice here to say that what was in the early years of the century a school for teaching the young idea how to shout, has twice been the residence of a doctor, while beneath its foundations have rested for centuries the ancestors of those who were being tutored and physicked, and that a few years ago upon the removal of earth for enlarging Dr. Archer's house, so many human remains were disturbed that on the wall of the old cellar (then being enlarged) was a skull of some poor Yorick of the Middle Ages in which a live bat had taken up its abode!

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A few old sites and buildings may be here mentioned. The County Court occupies what was then a tinker's shop and a farm-yard behind; the pedal stone of the ancient Cross, now in the Institute garden, was then at the back entrance to the Bull Yard, near Mr. Innes' shop, having been removed from the Cross a few years before; the market place could only be approached from the High Street, through the inn yards. Of the ponds of Royston, Gatward's Pond, on the Barkway Road, was open and unenclosed. It was not a very savoury bath, but in its turbid depths so many boys used to disport themselves, that it was commonly remarked in the district that Royston had no water, and yet more boys learned to swim here than anywhere else in the district.

The other more notable ponds were those in Kneesworth Street, the first where the piece of waste ground now is at the boundary between Kneesworth and Royston (Cambs.) parishes, and one lower down the same street. The pond which gave the most rural aspect to the north end of the town was that in front of the White Bear public-house, at the top of the present Gas Road; a genuine country pond, with a rail around by that part of it next the road—which was then narrowed to half its present width—and on the north side a long baulk or mound about four feet high upon which was a group of trees.

The overturning of one of Lord Hardwicke's carts, laden with boxes, into the pond, and sundry immersions of customers from the White Bear in the night time, led to its abolition by the Turnpike Trust about 1830.

The Old Vicarage House stood in the Churchyard, with a public footpath through the churchyard in front of it, and the present Church Lane at the back. The old malting in Kneesworth Street, now Mr. Francis John Fordham's coach-house and stables, played an interesting part in the town life—a place of worship, an academy, and a reformer's trysting place. At one end of the old barn-like structure the "Ranters" or Methodists met for worship, at the other, later on, the late Mr. John Baker conducted a school, and in this room, reached by a ladder, the first Free Trade meeting was held in Royston, when, it goes without saying, the Manchester men, coming within the smell of malt and near a market which had flourished like a green bay tree under the aegis of Protection, had a warm reception in this, the only room they could get in the town!

But what would a town be without its Town Hall as the heart and centre of its official life? Such a building Royston has for many years possessed in the modest red-brick building known as the Parish Room, on the Fish Hill. In this case, however, it was not the original purpose for which the building was erected. It was built about the year 1716 for the purposes of a school house, and by the contributions {113} of gentlemen of the town and country round. It thus became something of a public institution from the first, but when apparently its uses as a school-house became less beneficial to the town it was applied to general parochial purposes. The traditions of the pedagogue were, however, not easily got rid of, for even when the parish had evidently got into the regular custom of using it for meetings, there was at least one person they had to reckon with who stood out stoutly for whatever privilege the original foundation gave him for continuing to teach the young idea how to shoot! The result was that a conflict of a semi-legal character arose over the use of the building as to the right of Henry Watson who was then using the room under a rather uncertain tenure, but in harmony with the traditions of the place.

The outcome was that the Vestry triumphed, and the room was put in a proper state of repair for the use of the parish.

The streets of the town were the natural drains feeding the stagnant ponds. Not only was the Church Lane an open drain, but the piece of Back Street, between the Cross and Kneesworth Street, was an open ditch, across which was a plank bridge into the back way of the "Coach and Horses." The High Street had no paving, but only a rough raised path running along next the shops. The condition of the street was such that ladies generally wore pattens and clogs, which were home-made at Mr. Goode's, and it was no uncommon thing to see gentlemen wearing them also; indeed, this was a much more common sight than to see a gentleman wearing a moustache, which was viewed as a curiosity then. The only person in the town and district then keeping a carriage was Squire Wortham, in Melbourn Street.

But very little was done in the way of cleaning the streets and the drainage was simple, natural, and unaided by art. A few years later, however, about 1824, a beginning was made towards an improved state of things, and a man was employed to sweep the streets periodically with a besom at the munificent salary of 36s. 4d. a year! Over the seventy years that have intervened, this pioneer of our town improvements stands out clear and notable with his four-penny besom and basket. That he did good honest work with his birch there is credible testimony in the parochial balance sheets of the period, wherein appear frequent entries, at first of 4d. and then of 5d. each, for new besoms, as the value of that commodity advanced with the greater enlightenment and more sweeping reforms of the times!

To the same period, the latter part of it, we owe the beginning of that general system of the "petrified kidney" style of pavement which still lingers in places. Twopence-half-penny a bushel the material cost our forefathers! but what, in trials of patience and of temper, have they not cost the unlucky Roystonians who were destined to walk upon {114} them for so long and with so little hope of change? It was a cheap way of serving posterity, but assuredly not a kind one, for the evil of it is that they never wear out! Farmers and others paid their highway rates in kind, that is by carting materials, &c., and of this "composition" according to scale, there were seven farmers in Royston availing themselves. The first piece of stone paving in our streets was commenced near the Cross in 1836.

During the earlier years of the century there were no street lamps in our town of any kind, but people were commonly met in the streets on their way to Church, Chapel, or to the shops, carrying a lantern and, in dirty weather, "clicketting along in pattens."

The shop windows were lighted with candles, if at all, and candles were placed upon the counters, with, of course, the necessity of a pause in the casting up of an account or serving a customer, to snuff the candle! Later, when gas came—in July of the year 1836—there was here, as elsewhere, some prejudice against its adoption, and some observations on the practical advantages of the employment of coal gas, were addressed to the inhabitants of Royston by Mr. W. H. Nash, secretary to the committee of the Royston Gas Company, and printed and circulated. The price charged for gas was at first 12s. 6d. per 1,000 feet, and consequently it was an uphill work to supersede the tallow candle and snuffers of our grandfathers!

Water was hawked round the streets at so much a pailful, though a few wells were open to use on payment, such as that at the White Lion, and especially the Hoops. The subject of allotments for the labourer is no new thing, for across the space of sixty years come the stentorian tones of the Royston Bellman to which we may listen with advantage and perhaps derive a lesson from what followed upon his message—

"Oyez, Oyez, Notice is hereby given that the industrious poor, both single and married of this parish, who are desirous of hiring a small piece of land, are desired to apply at the Vestry Room on the Fish Hill, to have their names entered to ascertain what each person would like to have."

The result was that Mr. Valentine Beldam let 11 acres of land near Larman's, or Lawman's Way, at the upper end of the town, to the Overseers at 30s. an acre, and it was re-let in roods, half-acres and acres at the same price to labourers.

For a time the scheme answered well and the state of each man's allotment was reported upon to the Vestry; but in 1835 it was found that "in consequence of the land hired of Mr. Valentine Beldam, and others, being so badly farmed and the rents generally so far in arrear, that the said land should be given up to the proprietors."

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As to the trade of country towns, there were many more actual makers of things than now, such as tailors and bootmakers, patten makers, maltsters; and there were several academies, as the schools for the middle class were called. Thus in Royston there were the following:—Rev. Samuel Cautherley, and also Mr. Yorke, Melbourn Street; John Kent, (gentlemen's boarding,) Back Street (now Mr. A. Gosling's); Mrs. Towne, wife of the minister at the New Meeting in Kneesworth Street (1804); Mrs. G. H. Raines, Ladies' School, Melbourn Street (and also at one time in the house now Dr. Archer's in Kneesworth Street); Henry Watson, Day School, Fish Hill, (under the Vestry Room).

The old Post Office at the time of the Battle of Waterloo, was at a cottage on the London Road, opposite White Hall, and was kept by Mrs. Daintry and her daughter. The number of letters was very small and one delivery and collecting of the money for them about ten o'clock in the morning was sufficient.

Though mail bags were despatched at different hours of the night according to the arrival of the mail coaches, it was thought unnecessary for anyone to be on night duty, but the postmaster, or postmistress, would appear at an upper window in a night cap and let down the mail bag by a stout cord with a hook at the end, from which the coachman would take it. The old rope and hook with which this used to be performed through a small window at the old Buntingford Post Office (late Mr. Charles Nicholls) are, I believe, still in existence.

Just before the introduction of the Penny Post we find the Post Office in Melbourn Street (master, Mr. Thomas Daintry) closed at ten o'clock, but letters were received "between that hour and eleven on payment of sixpence each"! At that time, however, there was an arrangement known as the "Royston Penny Post," comprising the parishes of Barrington, Fowlmere, Foxton, Melbourn, Meldreth, Shepreth and Thriplow.

The posting and delivery of a letter was a different affair then from now. Envelopes and postage stamps had not been invented. The postage was paid by the person receiving the letter, and it did not depend upon the weight of the letter at all, but upon how many sheets it contained. Two very small sheets or small pieces of paper would count as two letters and double postage, but an immense sheet of foolscap, or even folio size, containing many times the writing of the other two, would only count as one, and letters were as a consequence often curious looking documents.

As to the cost of postage of a letter the following were the rates prevailing between Royston and the places named:—Cambridge 4d., London 7d., Norwich 8d., Huntingdon 6d., Newport 10d., Brandon 8d., Cheshunt 7d., Bedford 6d., Buntingford 4d. In the few cases {116} where persons had friends in America, a letter to them cost 2s. 2d.; to Gibraltar the cost was 2s. 10d., Malta and the Mediterranean 3s. 2d., postage in these cases being prepaid. The charge was based upon a scale according to the distance, commencing with 4d. not exceeding 15 miles. The transmission of money was "by wagon," and instead of a creditor asking for a remittance by return of post it was "by return of wagon."

Of the old Inns in Royston it may be of interest to add that the Red Lion ball-room continued to be a centre of fashionable gatherings until, with the decay of the posting and coaching business for which the Red Lion had been chiefly famous, the Bull Hotel (the same owners) became the leading house. The Red Lion was afterwards given up, the ball-room, with its associations going back to the Old Royston Club, was removed and re-erected as the present ball-room or billiard-room of the Bull Hotel, while its rampant lion which had presented a bold face to the High Street for more than a century, was removed to a higher position on the top of Reed Hill, where it now does duty, and has given a sign to the house standing there. Here, for the sake of auld lang syne, it gets a bright new coat of paint now and again, and worthily holds its own as the last relic of a famous old inn, around which so much of the public life of the town and neighbourhood had revolved for some generations!

The Bull was originally the "Black Bull," and the Boar's Head the "Blue Boar's Head." The Bull had stabling for a hundred horses. The Green Man was a sign that explained itself when, at the beginning of the century and for some years afterwards, upon an angular sign on the front of the inn, with faces two ways, was the painted figure of a man in the green habit of the archer and forester. The "Jolly Butchers" or "Ye three Butchers," on the Market Hill, and the "Catherine Wheel," in Melbourn Street, have ceased to be inns.

Such was the outward shell of Royston in the hectic flush of the "good old times." The taking of the census recently suggests a word with regard to the population of the town and how it was ascertained in times gone by. At least, at one decade (1821) the Overseers were paid a penny per head for taking the population. In 1801 the population was only 1484, and in 1831 it was 2008. Further particulars of the population of the town and of the villages in the neighbourhood will be found in an appendix at the end of this book.



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CHAPTER XII.

PUBLIC WORSHIP AND EDUCATION—MORALS AND MUSIC.

When the reforming spirit which brooded over the two centuries touched the subject of education, its advocates became enthusiastic! Here is what an old writer said in 1806 about a proposal to establish evening schools for the instruction of farm servants:—

"We should hear the humble countryman talk of the heroes of old, catch the patriotic inspiration from the action of his great forefathers, while wisdom would extend her protecting hand and claim the nation for her own"!

However much we may be inclined to smile at this grandiloquent prophecy of the fruits of an evening school, in the light of present difficulties of instilling four standards into the bulk of the childhood of the nation, it is impossible to move a step among the footprints of the common people of sixty years ago without finding how enormously the progress of education has transformed the face of society, though not quite on the classic lines of the old writer just quoted.

Of education for children in the villages there was none at the beginning of the century. Over and over again the answers to the Bishop of Ely's questions in 1791, show that there was no school in the parish, and, as Sunday Schools were not generally established till many years afterwards, it may safely be said that during the first few years of the present century, not one person in ten of the labouring population could read, much less write.

The Sunday School movement, the real beginning of the education of the people, both secular and religious, commenced at a very early date in several parts of Hertfordshire, but in the beginning these schools were very different from what is now understood by that term. So far as Royston is concerned I believe the Nonconformists generally claim that they were the first to start a Sunday School in the town—that the first Sunday School was established in connection with the Old Meeting, now John Street Chapel. If by a Sunday School is meant what it now means—the voluntary service of lay workers in teaching the children, this may be true, but taking the word in its more general sense of teaching children on Sundays, the first step of which I can find any {118} record would be that taken by the Church people. In July, 1808, there occurs this entry in the Royston vestry minute book—

"At this Vestry it is considered that the Churchwardens Do put the Galary in proper Order for the Reception of the Children belonging to a Sunday School."

From the wording of this minute it is evident that the Sunday School in question had just been established, and this is confirmed by what follows in the same book—

"Boys to be admitted at the age of 6 years and continue to 12, girls to be admitted at the age of 6 years and continue to 14."

"The Masters to receive the scholars at 9 o'clock in the morning and to go with them to Church at 11. The scholars are to return to school at 2 and go to Church at 3 and return from Church to school, and continue there till between five and six o'clock"!

"The master, H. Watson, jun., to be paid six guineas a year for his trouble."

This Sunday School was established during the incumbency of the Rev. Samuel Cautherley, a name still honourably connected with Sunday School work in the town.

Henry Watson, who was appointed master of the Sunday School, had also the picturesque duty to perform of wielding his ten-foot wand over the heads of the scholars during divine service at Church, and for this purpose would walk up and down the aisles, and if any unfortunate youngster did anything wrong, down came the wand, whack, upon the—no, not upon the boy's head but upon the back of the seat, for the boys generally could dodge it!

One of the earliest Sunday Schools established in Hertfordshire was at Hoddesdon (1790) of which the following rules will perhaps be read with interest by some youthful readers who think an hour in school a trial of patience—

"The Children are to appear in the School-room at Eight o'clock in the Morning during the Summer Months, and at nine in the Winter, and again both Summer and Winter at Half-past Two o'clock in the Afternoon, with clean Face and Hands, Hair combed, and decently clothed according to the Abilities of their Parents; to proceed to Church, and from thence to School, there to remain receiving Instruction till Six o'Clock in the Evening!

"The Teachers shall receive One Shilling per Score; and have an Assistant when the Number requires it."

"Children not coming to School in time, are to wear a Mark inscribed Idle Boy or Girl, in large Letters, during Church, and the whole or part of the School Time.

"Children behaving ill to wear a Mark of Naughty Boy or Girl."

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The Old Meeting Sunday School, established in 1813, appears to have been brought into the shape of an institution by the earlier efforts of the Misses Nash, daughters of Mr. Wm. Nash, a noted lawyer, whose name is mentioned elsewhere. These ladies first conducted a class for girls in their own house. The school at the Old Meeting was started with the following Committee of Management:—Rev. John Pendered (their minister), James Pigott, William Clack, William Smith, William Field Butler and Henry Butler, and the first Sunday scholar on the old register I notice was the late Mr. John Norman, the naturalist; Mr. James Jacklin being also among the earliest scholars.

The Sunday School at the New Meeting (Kneesworth Street Chapel) was established later by the efforts of Mr. Stallabrass, a wool stapler, living in Melbourn Street. The distinction of paid Church school teachers and voluntary teachers at the Chapels appears to have been kept up for at least 20 years after the schools were established, for in 1831 a return was required to be made by the Overseers to the House of Commons of all schools in their parishes, and from the return made on that occasion by Thomas A. Butterfield and Philip Craft (overseers), I give the following:—

"Three Sunday Schools—one Church School with 55 scholars, and two Dissenters' Schools with 204 scholars. A lending library attached to both Dissenting Schools. In the two Dissenting Sunday Schools the children are taught by gratuitous teachers. Church Sunday School supported by voluntary contributions; master's salary seven guineas per annum."

The above return enables us to compare the growth of Sunday Schools in the town, and the most striking fact is that while at first the Chapel Schools were by far the larger, the later figures show a great increase in the Church Sunday School in particular, and of Sunday scholars in general. In 1831 we see that the Church had only 55 scholars; in 1890 it had 405; in 1831, the two Independent Schools had 204 between them, now they have about 420. In 1831, the total scholars in Sunday Schools in Royston was 259, now, including Wesleyan School, the number is about 900. To get an exact comparison about two-thirds of the present figures should be taken, as the population of the town in 1831 was very nearly (not quite) two-thirds of what it is at present. This basis would give us 600 scholars now against 259 sixty years ago. Those who think we may be losing our hold upon the children must remember that we have all this advantage plus the elementary education of the day schools, as compared with sixty years ago, and a comparison with eighty years ago would of course be even more in favour of the present.

By the year 1840 the relative position of the Sunday Schools as to scholars was, Church School 92, the three Dissenting Schools {120} 264—viz., New Meeting 154, Old Meeting 85, and Unitarian 25. By 1831, out of a population of 2,258, there were 1,313 who could read and write.

Coming to Day Schools we find from the same Parliamentary return for a date somewhat beyond that assigned me, viz., 1831, the following particulars, as questions and answers, are given—

What number of Infant Schools, if any? One public Lancastrian School, 53 in attendance, 70 on the list; children may enter at a year-and-a-half and remain till 6 or 7—mistress L30 a year.

What number of Daily Schools? One Lancastrian, 53 in attendance, 90 on the list; enter at 6 years of age and remain as long as their parents please to let them—mistress 12s. a week.

Total number of schools of all kinds, 16. Three Boarding Schools and for day pupils; one for males 30 scholars, one 25 scholars (7 males, 18 females); one 15 scholars, (3 males, 12 females); one 27 scholars (4 males, 23 females); one 26 (male) scholars; six schools for both sexes, 3 to 8 or 10 years of age.

What number of schools confined nominally or virtually to the Established Church? Only one Sunday School as above.

What number of schools confined nominally or virtually to any other Religious Denominations? Four—Infant, Lancastrian and two Sunday Schools (Independents).

Of the sixteen schools in the town, of which details of fourteen are given above, none had many pupils; some were virtually dame schools, where the teaching was not often a very elevating process; and too often appealed to the motive of fear, either of a black dog in the cellar or of the assurance that Buonaparte was coming! Education of the well-to-do was much more local than now, owing to the expense and inconvenience of travel, hence the large number of private schools.

Of the first Day Schools where any considerable number of children attended before the present series of public schools was established, the evidence goes to show that they were of the dame school order, remembered best in after years, not by the amount of erudition acquired, but by some of the elder boys who went little errands over the way to the "Fox and Duck" (now the house occupied by Mr. H. Clark, Market Hill), and from the facts that the article they returned with having, by special injunction, to be placed behind the door, that the worthy dame soon afterwards repaired to that corner of the room, the more knowing of the scholars were apt to draw certain conclusions as to the somnulent condition of their instructress and the easy terms upon which a truant boy could get off by going that little errand! But the limited means placed at the disposal of those engaged in the education of children then, compared with our millions of Government grant of to-day, do not allow us to judge too harshly of results.

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Even where there was some endowment it was generally on too small a scale to do much for a general system of education. At Melbourn the first school of this kind assembled in a quaint room at the top of the Church porch!

At Barkway, where the Duchess of Richmond's endowment led to a free school, this was of so limited a character that in the Commissioners' report as late as 1838, the endowment was only L10 0s. 4d., to which was added L5 from the town lands, L5 from the rent of the town house, besides which the tolls of the annual fair, varying from 3s. to 5s., were also applied to education, and together seven boys and five girls were being educated at the Free School out of a population of a thousand souls, and this was only one year before the National Schools were started in 1839!

The germ of public elementary education in Royston is associated with the present Infants' School and with the honoured name of Miss Martha Nash. The present Infants' School was established in 1832. The land upon which it was built was given by Lord Dacre, and funds for the building were obtained chiefly from a very successful bazaar under the patronage of the then Lord and Lady Dacre.

The original trustees of the School were:—Edward King Fordham (Royston), Wedd William Nash, John Phillips, John Edward Fordham, John George Fordham, Valentine Beldam, John Beldam, John Butler, Thomas Butterfield, William Hollick Nash, Joseph Pattison Wedd, William Field Butler, James Piggot and Thomas Pickering.

The British School was established in 1840, and the building erected on land the gift of Lord Dacre; the National School was commenced in the same year and the school building also erected on land given by Lord Dacre. The following is a list of the first trustees of the British School:—Wedd William Nash, John Phillips, John George Fordham, John Butler, Joseph Pattison Wedd, John Medway, S. S. England, F. Neller, W. F. Butler, John Pendered, Henry Butler, William Hollick Nash, T. S. Maling, James Piggot, James Richardson, William Simmons and Thomas A. Butterfield.

I am unable to give the corresponding list of the first trustees of the National Schools, but the following names occur as being present at a meeting soon after the school was founded, and several of them were no doubt trustees, viz., Rev. J. Whiting (vicar), John Phillips, William Nunn, Henry Thurnall, G. Smith, —— Brown, sen., R. Brown, and D. Britten.

Whatever weight may be attached to the circumstance itself, or to the oft-repeated complaints that religious worship and religious beliefs have not so strong a hold upon the minds of men now as in the past, all the evidence available points unmistakably to the fact of an enormous increase in the habit of attending public worship at the {122} present time compared with a hundred years ago, even when the constable went his rounds in our streets to look up defaulters about the town, and "particularly at the Cross."

There was a marvellous difference in the state of the Established Church at the end of the last Century and to-day. It is a very rare thing now to see a parish without a resident clergyman, but then, clergymen often held two or more parishes without residing in either. In 1791, for instance, the Vicar of the two parishes of Great and Little Abington lived in a house of his own at Thriplow. The truth is, says an old writer under date, 1789, "that most of the Churches within ten miles of Cambridge were served by Fellowes of Colleges." In some cases the Curates hastened back to dine in hall. In this way the Curates would come out to the parish to a service, to a wedding, a funeral, or a day's shooting, and often served two or three parishes in this free and easy fashion, and it became necessary to limit the service in each parish to alternate Sundays.

Upon this subject and upon the character of the services in many village Churches of the time, I am indebted to a very good authority—MS. reminiscences by the late Mr. Henry Thurnall—for the following: "Neither Whittlesford, Sawston, Great Shelford, Newton, Hauxton, Barrington, or Chishill, had a resident minister." As to the character of the Psalmody practised in the Churches, the same authority says:—At Duxford, John and Thomas H—— performed on two bassoons anything but heavenly music; at Shelford old John M——, the clerk, used to climb up a ladder into a high gallery and there seating himself, often quite alone, and saying "let us sing to the praise and glory of God by singin' the fust four vusses of the 100th psalm, old vusshun';" and he put on his spectacles and read and sung each verse, frequently as a solo accompanying himself on a bass-viol, said to have been made by himself! At W—— old V—— set the tune with a cracked flute, and on one occasion, when reading the 26th verse of the grand 104th Psalm, he said:—"There goes the Ships, and there is that Lufftenant [Leviathan] whom thou hast made to take his pastime therein."

In an extremely interesting book of reminiscences, which may be cordially recommended to the notice of the reader,—"What I Remember," by Adolphus Trollope, brother of the famous novelist, Anthony Trollope—there are some interesting glimpses of a Parish Church and its services in one of the villages in this district at the beginning of this century. The Trollopes were related to the Meetkerkes, of Julians, Rushden, and the entertaining author of "What I remember," was, at the time of Waterloo, the expected heir to Julians, and of Adolphus Meetkerke, Esq., the then head of the family. Young Trollope visited Rushden as a boy and gives us a graphic picture of family life, Church services, and the squire of the village {123} playing the part of Sir Roger de Coverley. The house-keeping at Julians, we are told, was in the hands of "Mrs. Anne," an old maiden sister of the squire, who, though a prim, precise little woman, sometimes came down to breakfast a little late, "to find her brother standing on the hearth-rug, with his prayer-book open in his hand, waiting for her arrival to begin prayers to the assembled household. He had a wonderfully strong rasping voice, the tones of which were rarely modulated under any circumstances. I can hear now his reverberating, 'Five minutes too late again, Mrs. Anne' 'Dearly beloved brethren,' etc.; the change of person addressed, and of subject having been marked by no pause or break whatever, save the sudden kneeling at the head of the breakfast table; while at the conclusion of the short, but never missed prayers, the transition from 'Amen,' to 'William, bring round the brown mare after breakfast,' was equally unmarked by pause for change of voice or manner."

To this is added a glimpse of the villagers assembled in Church under the ministry of the Rev. Mr. Skinner. "Whether there was any clerk or not I do not remember," says Mr. Trollope, "but if any such official existed, the performance of his office in Church was not only overlaid but extinguished by the great rough 'view-holloa' sort of voice of my uncle. He never missed going to Church, and never missed a word of the responses, which were given in far louder tones than those of the Vicar. Something of a hymn was always attempted, I remember, by the rustic congregation; with what sort of musical effect may be imagined. * * * * But the singers were so well pleased with the exercise that they were apt to prolong it, as my uncle thought, somewhat unduly, and on such occasions he would cut the performance short with a rasping 'That's enough!' which effectually brought it to an abrupt conclusion. The very short sermon * * * having been brought to an end, my uncle would sing out to the Vicar, as he was descending the pulpit stairs, 'Come up to dinner, Skinner!' and then we all marched out while the rustics, still retaining their places till we were fairly out of the door, made their obeisances as we passed."

In this glimpse we miss the genial face of Sir Roger, but there is nothing in it inconsistent with the village squire of the Spectator, Indeed, Mr. Trollope says of the old squire, "He was a good man too, was old Adolphus Meetkerke; a good landlord, a kindly natured man, a good sportsman, an active magistrate, and a good husband."

He was evidently a regular attendant to his magisterial duties on the Royston Bench, for his clean, linear, and well-written signature turns up frequently in the Royston parish books. The Meetkerkes descended from a famous Dutchman, Sir Adolphus Meetkerke, who was at one time ambassador to England.

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Before the Tithe Commutation Act was passed, a very curious piece of work in the harvest field was the paying of the parson by the tithe man going round among the shocks of corn and placing a green bough in every tenth shock, &c., for then the tithe was collected in kind—the tenth shock, hay-cock, calf, lamb, pig, fowl, pigeon, duck, egg, the tenth pound of butter, cheese, and so on through all the products of the land. The inconvenience of this clumsy system was often greatly felt, when a farmer was compelled to delay the carting of his corn simply because the tithe man had not been round to set out the tithe corn, while on the other hand it was obviously impossible for the clergyman to get the work all done at once to suit all parties, and thus when a Commutation Act came it was a great relief alike to the clergyman and the farmers and landowners, and did away with a longstanding cause of strife and litigation, especially in a town like Royston, where a farmer might have tithable produce in several parishes.

Sometimes the tithe owner found an attempt to impose upon him some of the lean kine, and that the tenth of its kind had a way of differing somewhat from the other nine! When, for instance, in the last century, Canon Weston was away in Durham, his curate, at Therfield, on going to Brandish to tithe the ringe-wood, found the woodman over anxious for him to begin counting at a certain spot, where the cutting commenced, but suspecting that the ringes had been cooked a little, the wily curate examined them and found every tenth, from the woodman's way of counting fell upon a very thin ringe! Remonstrances followed and the "tenths" were made up to the same condition of plumpness as the rest, and the curate received the commendation of his superior for so well looking after his affairs!

Since the date to which the foregoing state of things refers, the Established Church has had an awakening which has taken a real hold upon and has been influenced by the laity, and has recognised that it has a mission to the people rather than an official routine, facts which are not without significance in their bearing upon what follows with regard to the town of Royston, and the relative positions of the Church and Dissenting bodies.

A hundred years ago the Nonconformists included most of the wealthy families in the town and neighbourhood. The pulpit at the Old Meeting (Independents) erected in the narrow part of Kneesworth Street in 1706 was occupied at least once a year by Robert Hall, the great Baptist preacher then at Cambridge, who was a not unfrequent visitor at the houses of Edward King Fordham, the banker, and William Nash, the lawyer.

One of the principal events in the religious life of the town at the end of last century was the division of the congregation of Independents at the Old Meeting.

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The origin of the New Meeting, as it was called, was a very small one, and does not look at first like a very serious split in the old congregation. An old paper, still in existence, written apparently and read at the opening of the New Meeting, states that "in the year 1791 a few of us met at a friend's house a few weeks for prayer and the reading of the Word of God; our numbers soon increased and then we met in a barn for a considerable time. We went on till the year 1792, and our numbers still increasing we erected this meeting." At this time the Rev. Mr. Atkinson was the minister. It is evident, however, that the new movement grew apace, and some interest began to be taken in it in the town, for on 24th February, 1791, we find J. Butler laying J. Beldam a bottle of wine "that the New Meeting House will be begun in six months at Royston." Evidently Mr. Butler won his bottle of wine, for on the 2nd of May, in the same year, the contract for the new building, to be afterwards known as the "New Meeting" (Kneesworth Street) was signed.

It is interesting to note the plain, inexpensive kind of building which suited persons assembling for public worship compared with to-day, for the amount of the contract for erecting the building "in a workman-like manner" was only L320. This contract was between John Stamford, carpenter and builder, on the one part, and on the other part the following gentlemen who were the first trustees:—Samuel Luke, of Royston, Cambs., maltster; William Stamford, Royston, Herts., maltster; George Fordham, the elder, and George Fordham, the younger, both of Kelshall, gentlemen; Robert Hankin, Royston, Cambs., draper; Thomas Wells, Royston, Herts., grocer; Thomas Trigg, Bassingbourn, yeoman; Samuel Walbey, Royston, Cambs., maltster; William Coxall, Bassingbourn, gentleman; John Abbott, Royston, Herts., breeches-maker; Abraham Luke, Royston, Cambs., yeoman; and John Goode, Royston, Herts., carpenter.

It was for a lath and plaster structure without galleries, and was opened apparently in 1792.

The Old and New Independents continued to work side by side, the new overtaking the old, till 1841, when a serious fire happening on the premises of Mr. Warren, builder, near the site of the present John Street Chapel, advantage was taken of the opening thus made, and the site was purchased for a new Chapel from Mr. John Phillips, who, at the same time, by pulling down part of the premises facing High Street, threw open the present thoroughfare, which henceforth obtained the name of John Street, after Mr. Phillips. The new Chapel, erected on the north side, was built by Mr. Warren, at a cost of between three and four thousand pounds, and re-placed the old chapel in Kneesworth Street, which afterwards became converted into dwelling-houses (Mr. Higgins' shop and houses adjoining). The new Chapel, opened in {126} 1843 by the Rev. Dr. Binney, as preacher on the first Sunday, and Edward Miall, who afterwards became the Liberationist M.P., on the next, has an imposing front elevation which it may be of interest to state is taken from the celebrated Ionic Temple on the south bank of the Ilissus at Athens.

The last meeting house of the Society of Friends in Royston was in Royston, Cambs., on the East side of Kneesworth Street, the burial ground of which still remains, with tombstones to the memory of Quaker families of former days. The old meeting house stood back from the street, reached by a narrow passage between the cottages, with the small burial ground and a row of lime trees in front.

During the first quarter of the century a house in the yard behind Mr. Hinkins' shop was registered "for preaching in the Calvinistic persuasion of Dissenters in Royston, Hertfordshire"; for so runs the written application to the magistrates for the place to be registered as a preaching place.

Something of the old Puritanic feeling still prevailed in the town among the Dissenters against amusements as late as the end of the first quarter of the present century. Whether it was from the recollection of what popular amusements had been, or against worldliness in general, I know not, but there is a curious instance on record, where, in 1825, a townsman named Johnson, had his membership at the New Meeting called in question for having joined a cricket club in the town! The offending member defended himself from what he considered the injustice of expulsion, by stating that he saw no evil in cricket, and that the members of the club were "moral men," and that ministers and others had been known to join cricket clubs. The general body of members in meeting assembled, however, refused to relax their view of it, and decided upon his expulsion, but afterwards relented so far as to allow Brother Johnson to resign, which he did.

Political meetings belonged more to large centres than they do now—chiefly to the county town—but lest there should be any doubt about what was the prevailing political bias in the town during the first quarter of the century, it has been placed on record that Royston was called "Radical Royston." This soubriquet was probably earned by the large amount of "reforming" spirit which we have seen was thrown into the discussion of abstract questions by Roystonians of the time. They probably earned it by their protests rather than by their policy. Politics in public meeting were in fact in a bad way at the end of the reign of George III., when it was made unlawful for anyone to call a public meeting exceeding fifty persons, for the purpose of deliberating upon any public question excepting such meetings were called by the Lord Lieutenant, Sheriff, Mayor, or other officials responsible for good order.

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When George IV. came to the throne and divided the opinion of the country upon the subject of his treatment of Queen Caroline, the boys shared the prevailing differences of sentiment and became "Kingites" or "Queenites," and occasionally settled their differences in pitched battles after the manner of boys in all ages, in some cases actually wearing their colours—purple for the King and white for the Queen. The prevailing sentiment was, however, in Royston so much for the Queen, that "the first gentleman in Europe," notwithstanding his patronage of and comrades in the prize-fighting ring, could hardly find enough champions for a fight, even among the boys.

In later years Chartism reached Royston and caused a flutter in the breasts of those concerned with the status quo, for it appears that one Joseph Peat had "held forth" by permission of the landlord at the "Coach and Horses." The Magistrates had a meeting to prevent the spread of Chartism in consequence of this event, and the landlord was sent for and cautioned that if he allowed such a thing again he would lose his licence.

The beginning of all positive work set about by negative process is slow, and this, I suppose, would apply to keeping outside a public-house, for the Teetotal folk in Royston—handicapped, as in other places, by a name that has ever prejudiced and hampered a public movement—found out this to their cost.

They did not lack stimulants when they first began to hold meetings, for the opposition camp came to the meeting, took care to come provided, and, fortifying themselves with bottles of beer, raised so much clamour that the recently enrolled policeman had to try his hand at checking intemperance and some broken heads rewarded his exertions. The publicans generally attended the meetings in good force and between the rival parties, instead of applause there was sometimes breaking of windows if nothing worse. The British School was one of the first public rooms used for these meetings.

Of popular entertainments, as we now understand them, there were very few, not one where we now have a score, and until the erection of the British School no suitable building. It must not, however, be supposed that the town was entirely without the means of occasional recreation. The Assembly Room at the Red Lion was still a place of importance for public assemblies, and, for some years before Queen Victoria came to the throne, this room was the scene of some creditable displays of local talent. This talent took the thespian form, and the tradesmen of the town, banded together as the Royston Theatrical Amateur Society, were accustomed to draw the elite of the town and neighbourhood into 3s. and 2s. 6d. seats (nothing less!) while they placed on the boards a rattling good version of Bombastes Furioso and other pieces in popular favour at the time.

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Reference has been made to the reluctance of the Parish Authorities—once bitten, twice shy—to let the Parish Room again as a School after the legal difficulty about getting rid of the tenant, but to their credit be it said they made an exception in favour of music—with a proviso. The late Mr. James Richardson, when a young man, it is on record, applied to the Parish Authorities "on behalf of several persons forming a Musical Band of this Town, that they may be allowed the use of the Vestry Room to meet and practise in." "Allowed providing they pay the constable to attend and see that everything is left secure and to prevent the boys annoying them or doing mischief to the premises."

Music, though confined to a few choice spirits beneath fustian and smock frocks in village as well as town, played a much more important part with our grandfathers than is commonly supposed. It may seem a rash statement to make that in some respects we may have degenerated. If we play or sing with better tune or finish it is because we have better appliances, not better brains nor more devoted hearts for music. I am afraid that some of our extensive cultivation of music is a sacrifice of fond parents on the altar of the proprieties, whereas our grandfathers had a soul in their work, and the man with his heart in his work—whether scraping a fiddle, ploughing a furrow, writing an epic, or fighting a battle—must, by all honest men, be awarded the palm. In this over-riding of music as a hobby there is a danger that the salt may lose its savour, for if there is any individual more to be pitied than another it is the so-called musician standing up to play according to the rules of art with no response from the inmost soul of him.

I do not think, at any rate, that those of our grandfathers who directed their attention to the fiddle, bass-viol, flute, clarionet, or trombone, could be fairly considered to lay under such reproach, for though their music may have been sometimes flat and sometimes sharp, it was always natural and congenial in the highest degree.

These old fellows took down such instruments as they had, not as so many do now, because it was "the thing" to learn music, but because music had found them out for having a love of it, and of the pleasure derived from meeting in a homely circle of kindred spirits. Their instruments were often most dissimilar, but their spirit was one!

There was a good deal of free masonry and companionable relations existing between these old handlers of musical instruments, and as we hear them in imagination, rattling away round the old spirited fugues which had been carefully "picked out" with quill pen and ink into their old cheque-book shaped "tune books"; or, as we see the picturesque group, now with countenances beaming with delight over some well turned corner which brought up the rear, now mopping their {129} brows with a bright red handkerchief, or touching up the old fiddle, after a smart finish, as a man pats a favourite horse, it is not difficult to discover how it was that here and there, and in many places, music took care of itself so well when other things were at a low ebb!

Saxhorn, trombone, flute, cornopean, clarionet, bassoon, fiddle, bass-viol, and others as various as the dress, trades, and characters of the individuals, made up the old chords of long ago; so well hit off by a writer (J. W. Riley) in the Century Magazine:—

I make no doubt yer new band now's a competenter band, And plays their music more by note than what they play by hand, And stylisher, and grander tunes; but somehow—any way I want to hear the old band play!

These old players on instruments were nearly always found in the Church or Chapel Choirs. Thus in the early years of the century John Warren performed the double duty of bass-viol player and parish clerk at the Royston Church, and later on a rather full band of instruments led the service. A similar, but less organized state of things was found in some village Churches. It was the time when the wooden pitch-pipe was in its full glory. This was a square wooden implement, with a scale on one of its sides, upon which the leader blew the key-note, and then running up the octave with his voice—off they went to the tune of some old Calcutta, Cardiff, or other piece of arduous fugal work!

The disappearance of these old village choirs, in which the village blacksmith, the baker, the tailor, and other natives played on the clarionet, bass-viol, bassoon, flute, trombone, and all kinds of instruments, while other grown-up men took their "parts" in those wonderful old fugues that seemed to make the song of praise without end—the absence of all this means a certain loss of that passion for music which has never been thoroughly recovered!

We have many more players and singers now than in the past, but not, perhaps, the same proportion of lovers of music for its own sake.



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CHAPTER XIII.

SPORTS AND PASTIMES—CRICKET, HUNTING, RACING, AND PRIZE-FIGHTING—THE BUTCHER AND THE BARONET, AND OTHER CHAMPIONS.

Among winter recreations skating was hardly known, and not at all as an amusement for ladies, but then what a glorious pastime was that of sliding! Very few young people can slide on the ice now as the boy in 1800-20 could do. In summer cricket was played, but, as in all the multiplied facilities for acquiring skill and knowledge, to-day the youthful cricketers have the best of tools, while their grandfathers had a home-made bat, or even a pale, and as for stumps, they generally grew in the neighbouring hedge till wanted, and the scoring book, in the form of a notched stick, came from the same quarter! But even at that time some "grand matches" sometimes came off, and nearly always for high stakes, as the following notice will show.

The earliest announcement of a grand match in this district, I have met with, is the following for the year 1771—

"Tuesday, se'n night, a match at Cricket was played between the gentlemen of Saffron Walden and Stanstead Abbots, for 44 guineas, when the latter were bungle beat, that is, 51 notches in one innings."

What is the precise meaning which the old chronicler meant to attach to the phrase "bungle beat" in this instance, I must leave to lovers of the game to determine for themselves. But it was customary to play for much higher stakes than the above. Thus, in the memorable year of scarcity of 1801 when people were longing for the deliverance of harvest—

"A cricket match was played at Stanstead Marsh, Herts., between 11 gentlemen of Homerton and 11 of Stanstead, for 500 guineas. The Homerton side won by 15 runs."

Another thing these old cricketers did which may be commended to the modern clubs—they set about the game as if they meant to finish it. "Stumps to be pitched at nine o'clock" says the announcement of a fifty-guinea match between Hertford and Hoddesdon in 1812. I have found no record of a match of this description for high stakes on Royston Heath, but cricket was undoubtedly played there, especially a few years later than the above dates.

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Of other forms of sport, the meets of Squire Wortham's harriers were notable events, and especially on such occasions as "The Little Fair Day"—the second day of Royston Fair—when they were taken to the top of the "One Hill" on the Heath, where the meet attracted not only a large number of the regular followers of the hounds, but a great many irregular ones as well; and, under the management of "Old Matt," the huntsman, with the stentorian voice, whose holloa could be heard at Therfield by persons in Royston, the chase excited no little interest and excitement. Thriplow Heath was also a favourite place of meeting for Squire Wortham's harriers, and, among the many horsemen who followed the pack, a notable figure was that of Sir Peter Soame, of Heydon.



Sir Peter was a dark, handsome man, of great muscular power and activity. It was commonly said that he could plant a dozen hurdles only a yard apart and clear them one at a time. As a horseman he had few equals, and was famous for the condition of his horses, which were the best turned out in the hunting field, and Sir Peter himself made a notable figure in his skin-fit leather breeches. It was the fashion then {132} to wear the hunting breeches so tight that it would have been impossible to get into them but for the expedient of hanging them in the cellar or some damp place overnight! Even then, to put them on was no child's play, and Sir Peter, it is said, used to put his on by sliding down the bannister! In this way he got into garments which fitted him like a second skin, and, regardless of the dampness of them, rode out in the pink of condition, on the best horse in the district! Unless reports did him injustice, the sporting baronet was devotedly attached to the bottle, and more than once came to grief when driving his pony home from Cambridge, when he would be picked up by one of the "fly" wagons and given a lift to the Black Horse at Fowlmere. Of Sir Peter in other sporting aspects more will be said presently.

The Heath appears to have been associated with other forms of sport, from the following lines taken from a local poet, to whose picturesque descriptions and facile handling of the heroic measure, I must be indebted in this chapter. I refer to a book entitled "Visions of Childhood," by W. Warren Butler, of Barkway, printed and published by John Warren in 1843. Of one questionable form of sport on the Heath, he writes—

Here on this very spot, here have I seen Such bloody deeds performed upon the ground; And men have search'd the secret coverts round, Where ev'ry harmless rabbit could be found. * * * * * * The innocent collection in a sack, Are carelessly slung round their murd'rer's back And one by one let loose with joy they fly; This moment they are free—the next they die, The savage hound set on amidst the fray, Seizes and tears their little lives away, While laughter from all sides his valour draws, And even fair ones pat him with applause.

As to other kinds of sport, it may be mentioned that sportsmen then not only managed with flint guns, but were often mounted on ponies; for, while the open field system enabled them to mark and follow the birds in any direction, it often meant a longer journey for a bag than under more modern conditions of sport, while dogs played a much more important part in sport than to-day.

Then, it was no uncommon thing for the inhabitants of this, as of other districts, to go a long distance to be present at some sporting event. As late as 1831, every available horse, cob or donkey, that could be mounted was ridden to Newmarket, where about 20,000 persons assembled to witness Osbaldiston's astonishing feat of riding two hundred miles in ten hours, or twenty miles an hour on horseback for ten successive hours, for one thousand guineas! He was allowed {133} eight horses for changes, standing constantly saddled for him to jump off one on to the other, and on again in his flying career at each time round the "Beacon" course of four miles. The feat was accomplished in a little less than the ten hours.

To come back once more to sport on Royston Heath in the years immediately following George III.'s reign, I find the following with reference to the revival of the Royston Races, which had flourished so famously during the last century under the name of the Odsey Races.

In the spring of 1827 it is recorded that the Heath "was much crowded to witness a match between a mare, the property of Sir Peter Soame, of Heydon, and a horse, the property of Mr. T. Berry, of Hertingfordbury. Other matches were run by hunters belonging to those present; and, at a subsequent meeting in July, arrangements were made for a regular programme, and a cup for competition the following year; and from that time the races continued for many years."

The revived Races were held every year on the 14th May, whereas the old Odsey Race meeting was in September. Among the stewards appear the names of Lord Hardwicke, Mr. Brand, Mr. Delme Radcliffe and Mr. Barnett, while Mr. George Smith was the treasurer and clerk of the course.

In 1836, when Lord Hardwicke and Mr. Brand were stewards, it is stated that there were from five to six thousand persons present, and as to the character of the gathering, we are told that—

"The usual attendants at all amusements of this kind were there, and succeeded in victimizing a few who were green enough to fancy they had a chance of increasing their funds on the race-course."

Genteel at first, with a grand-stand erected on the course and numerous booths for refreshments, these Races became in less repute as time went on and were associated with many disagreeable incidents. Of the general characteristics of the scene of these Races in their best days during the present century, Mr. Butler's poem gives us a vivid picture. The preparations for the event are shown, where

Many a pole stripp'd of its native rind, Bears a pink flag, that rattles in the wind; And all the rustic villagers around Behold with wond'rous eyes the hallow'd ground, And often pause to view the massive roll, Bear down the turf, and level round the goal.

Of the morning of the Races and the concourse of people coming in from all points of the compass, we get a glimpse

For ten miles round, each village yields Its bumpkin swains, and labour quits the fields. * * * * * * {134} Full many a smock shines white as driven snow, With pea-green smalls, whose polished buttons glow. * * * * * * Nor they alone the glorious sight to share, Their master's family will sure be there. Lo! the old wagon, lumb'ring on the road, Bears on its pond'rous sides the noisy load. Lopp'd is the vig'rous tree, its spreading boughs Cling to the sides, and shade their vacant brows.

Other characters, too, of the dandy type are coming in

For many a sprightly Cantab springs to view, Borne swiftly on upon his licens'd steed, That all the day ne'er knows what 'tis to feed; Cantabs and bumpkins, blacklegs wend along, And squires and country nobles join the throng! * * * * * * Loud sounds the knotty thong upon the backs Of poor half-starv'd and kennel-smelling hacks.

In this fashion the noisy streams feed the growing crowd, as it nears the "painted landmark," where

With what delight they view, the colours fly, That flap and flutter 'neath a windy sky.

Then we get a glimpse of the gentleman jockey as he "quits the just machine"—

Strutting along equipp'd in vest of silk. * * * * * * Full many a hat is doff'd as he draws near, For gentlemen themselves turn jockeys here.

We see him sitting there on his mount "impatient for the start, while by his side, with equal pomp his lofty rivals ride," and anon the signal is given, and they are off! "Bending thousands raise a rending cry," and the incidents which accompany the exciting event are well described in the following lines—

And while all eyes are fixed upon the goal, The skilful lads from town are on the prowl, Swift fly the steeds along the even green, Bored by the bloody spur, and quickly seen The champion full in front, and as he goes He wins by half a head, or half a nose; Then betting fair ones fumble for their purse, Eager the trifling wager to disburse. Alas! they've nothing hanging by their side, Save but the string by which the bag was tied, For through the silken dress a gash is seen, Where the pick-pocket's impious knife hath been!

But others besides the fair sex were sufferers from the same cause, while the "thimble-player" plied his trade and secured the attention of some countryman with "cash in his fob and forward with his prate."

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But old balances of this sort had a way of getting righted, and many will remember the scene here depicted—

Thinking all safe, the sharper wends his way, But soon his foolish dupes get up a fray. * * * * * * So the poor mortal, by the raging pack, Receives the heavy throng upon his back, Until he sinks, exhausted by their rage, And finds, perchance, a lodging in the cage!

Such were the Royston Races during the present century. Their abolition some twenty years ago, and the scenes of disorder and of shop robberies in the town, which had marked the moribund stage of their course, are too familiar to most Roystonians to need further notice here.

From Royalty, down to the smallest stable or errand boy in the land, prize-fighting, or "the noble art of self-defence," as it was grandiloquently styled, was really looked up to as a manly and worthy spectacle during the first quarter of the present century, and a little later. When the Prince Regent, afterwards George IV., did not think it beneath his royal dignity to pet and encourage professional "bruisers," to attend the prize-ring, shake hands with Tom Cribb, the champion, or drive through the streets with a celebrated boxer in his carriage; and, when Gully, the champion, could be returned as a member of Parliament for Pontefract, it is not surprising to find the craze descending through all ranks of society. I am obliged to introduce into these Sketches something of this "seedy" side of the early years of the century, because, for good or evil, the neighbourhood of Royston was frequently the scene of some of the more notable contests in the prize-ring.

Farther back, about the middle of the reign of George III., these contests appear to have been almost entirely free, not only from any interruptions from the magistracy and the constable, but also from any risk of it. The result was that most elaborate arrangements were made not merely for the convenience of the combatants, but more especially with a view to make it a spectacle not unworthy of an arena of a Roman amphitheatre of old. Thus, in 1789, on February 11th, when Johnson and Ryan gave their patrons at Rickmansworth, Herts., a set-to which, we are told, "was prodigiously fine," it was found that four thousand persons had subscribed their guineas, half-guineas, and crowns, and so, as it was impossible for the event to come off in the yard of the Bell Inn, a stage was erected round the sides of a gravel pit in the bottom of which the fight took place. The "door money" was divided equally between the combatants, and amounted to 512 pounds.

In later years it was usual to select some spot where the combatants and their friends could, if interrupted by any Justice of the Peace more courageous than his fellows, speedily cross over into {136} another county and another jurisdiction. For this purpose few parts of the country offered better facilities than the neighbourhood of Royston; especially such spots as Noon's Folly, near the borders of three counties—Herts., Cambs., and Essex—or Royston Heath, from which it was easy to cross over from Herts. into Cambs. This precaution was not often really needed, for the magistrate and the constable either did not appear or were themselves passive spectators of the exciting scene. One exception may, however, be made, for I believe Mr. John George Fordham (father of Mr. Henry Fordham) had the courage to go and interfere with a fight on the Heath, and when they adopted the tactics of crossing over into Cambridgeshire, thinking he was not a magistrate for that county, he crossed over after them.

Sir Peter Soame, of Heydon Grange—whose father, Sir Peter Soame, was a gentleman of the Privy Chamber in the Royal household of George III. (in 1798)—has been mentioned as a prominent figure in the hunting and racing world in this chapter. He was also often the chief promoter of encounters in the prize-ring in this district. His residence at Heydon was the scene of many a roistering gathering of the sporting fraternity, and the baronet was such a practised hand himself, that in the event of the fighting men not turning up according to appointment he would himself step into the ring and challenge anyone present if need be, rather than allow the spectators to go away disappointed.

There is a story of Sir Peter told by Mr. Cross in his Autobiography of a Stage Coachman, which, being, on both sides, of a local character, may be worth repeating here. On one occasion a local butcher, named Mumford, who had the reputation of "the fighting butcher," went to Sir Peter's house, just as he had some guests to dinner, to demand payment of a small sum of money. The sporting baronet was equal to the occasion; asking his guests to excuse him a few minutes, he went down into the kitchen, saw the butcher, and asked him if he was not the "fighting butcher." The applicant acknowledged that they did call him by that name. "Well then," replied the baronet "that is the amount you say I owe you, and we will see who is to have it," depositing the money to be handed over. The terms were agreed to, sawdust was brought into the kitchen, and the butcher and baronet stripped and set to, with one or two of the servants to see fair-play. The fight was furious at the outset, but the butcher was soon defeated by the superior science of the baronet, and he had to depart without his money, after which Sir Peter joined his guests in the dining room, as if nothing had occurred!

Perhaps the most memorable event in the prize-ring that ever happened in this neighbourhood was the contest between Jem Ward and Peter Crawley, for the championship, on Royston Heath, on the 2nd {137} January, 1827. The event was the occasion of tremendous excitement, and the concourse of people was enormous. Of the popular aspect of the event on the morning of the fight, the following graphic reminiscence is taken from some autobiographical notes by the late Mr. John Warren, who, however, was too young to know anything further of the event.

"I remember when I was a little boy that the neighbourhood of Royston was the scene of many prize-fights. That between Ward and Crawley for the championship took place when I was a youngster. Early in the morning our High Street was so full of people that you could walk on their heads. My father would not allow me to go on the Heath to witness the prize-fight; so I went to the top of our garden, where I could hear the roar of voices and fancied I could hear the blows!"

This famous "milling" came off on the Heath at the lower end of the cricket ground somewhere near the spot selected for the Jubilee tea in 1887. Cambridge and neighbouring towns sent their thousands of visitors, coaches were loaded and over-loaded, while the villages were nearly emptied.