Folklore of Northamptonshire

by Peter Hill

  Wilbarston was one county village that stood no nonsense when its way of life was disrupted in any way. It was involved in at least four riotous incidents, the most inflammatory being when Parliamentary enclosure threatened their traditonal way of life. This form of enclosure involved the partitioning of plots of land with hedges. Leading local landowners had the financial resources to enclose land, after successfully petitioning Parliament for an enclosure award by paying an appropiate fee. This worked against the smaller landholder, as had been the case with medieval and Tudor enclosure, resulting in the loss of, or changes to, traditional rights of common (like grazing) in open fields – as well as the loss of livelihood and the disappearance of a communal meeting place for customary games and festivities.

  In the summer of 1799, about 300 people gathered on the village hill – in olden times known as Cookstool Hill, now School Lane – and lit a large bonfire on the road to prevent a wagon, which was bringing a load of rails and posts for fencing off a small piece of land which had been allocated to them as compensation, from coming through. The local militia were called out and the Riot Act read to the crowd, after which a period of waiting ensued. Some of the more demonstrative rebels were taken into custody and, ironically, made to assist in putting up the fencing! Eventually the crowd dispersed and the work was completed. However, the matter did not end there, for another – less eventful – enclosure riot took place four years later. Nevertheless, all over the country, the familiar field patterns we see today were taking shape and were here to stay.

  A similar situation had occurred at Brigstock in 1603 when Sir Robert Cecil, the Earl of Salisbury, decided to sell off parts of his newly acquired land in the deer parks that covered a vast area stretching as far as Drayton Park near Lowick and bordering Geddington, Boughton Wood and Grafton Park Wood. He sent workmen to the site to begin work on clearance and fencing off certain areas.

  The villagers, understandably incensed at the loss of their traditional rights of common – and perhaps the opportunity of illegally obtaining venison as a tasty substitute for their monotonous diets – sent ‘a troop of lewd women’ to distract the workmen in their labours. It is not recorded what this ‘lewdness’ was but its occurrence was noteworthy enough to be recorded at the time. Whatever happened, the work was duly completed without violence or further interruption, after alms had been distributed to the women.

  Kettering has frequently been seen as a hotbed of rebellion and independence in county history, from its role in the roots of early Nonconformism to its involvement in a variety of clandestine activities. An interesting case of the latter occurred in 1638 when royal suspicions were aroused about illegal hunting in the area, resulting in a search of every dwelling and building, large or small, within a five-mile radius of the town, for nets, crossbows and even dogs. Obviously the locals could not be trusted. More serious, however, were the Bread Riots that took place there on 11 August 1795. At 10 a.m. a cartload of flour was passing through the town centre but was blocked temporarily by an angry crowd. Three hours later, another load came through, this time accompanied by eight soldiers, causing the crowd to throw stones and drive the cart back, chasing and overturning it in the process, and to attack the soldiers. As the afternoon wore on, a larger group of soldiers were brought in to face the increasingly hostile mob. It was reported in the Northampton Mercury:

  Mr Maunsell came, reassembled the soldiers, and blew the trumpet to arms. He then rode at the head and read the Riot Act; swords were drawn. The crowd was unmoved. The soldiers loaded their weapons and the wagon moved on, the mob shouting and pelting. Swords were drawn once again, and the soldiers turned on the mob, one of whom attempted to cut down one of the mob, and was thrown from his horse. A pistol was fired.

  In the evening, the scene got uglier as the mob grew more aggressive, breaking windows around the town. Despite this, no one was wounded and few were hurt by the time the crowd had dispersed.

  Some villages even squabbled among themselves – something probably not unfamiliar to today’s residents! Such a case was Stoke Albany in 1796, when the church bells were inspected to see if any recasting was necessary. The results were not conclusive, however, and the village became strongly divided as to whether all or some of the bells should be recast. Members of the ‘all’ faction are said to have surreptitiously entered the belfry and caused the perfectly sound tenor bell to drop from its frame to the floor below, where it lay unharmed from its fall. They tried again to do damage a little later, using a sledgehammer. Vandalism is not new! In the end, the ‘all’ faction won and five bells were recast.

  The village of Little Oakley is arguably the quietest village in the county, basking in an aura of timelessness and solitude. That was not the case in 1585, when the tranquillity of the village was shattered by the events that took place at the church of St Peter. Fifteen men from Boughton, Brigstock and Weekley, armed with swords and staves and with the aid of a blacksmith, broke into the church ‘in a very ryotous manner and cawsed the churchdore to be picked open.’ In the ensuing fracas, one of the congregation, Thomas Smith (a milner) was violently assaulted; they ‘broke his head and rent his Dublet of his back’, and another, Richard Popplewell (yeoman) was injured: ‘thrown over the seats of the saide church.’ They also began ‘threatninge dyvers to the greate disturbance of the whole perish [sic]’.

  The incident was brought to court at Rothwell, where it transpired that the reason for the attack was a dispute by a new lord of the manor, William Montagu, over a new priest, Robert Norbury, whom the Crown had appointed. His own choice was Richard Baldocke, the ringleader of the attack on the church! The problem had arisen because the previous lord of the manor had not appointed a new incumbent to replace the last one, William Carter. Nine witnesses were called to the hearing, with three commissioners presiding: Edward Watson of Rockingham, Thomas Tresham of Rushton and John Reade, Esq. – the latter adding another problem to the proceedings, having taken an active part himself in the incident! The result was that the Crown choice of priest was reinstated. He continued, peacefully, to minister until 1618. What happened to the miscreants is not recorded.

  County characters

  Many a colourful personality has graced the pages of the county’s history and given rise to a vast body of folklore, which itself would need a book in order to do the subject justice. The whole range covers carriers, a sandman, a lamplighter, a famed long-distance walker, rogues, tradesmen, adventurers, adulterers and vagrants.

  Adeline, Countess of Cardigan, was a great Society beauty who married the fifth Earl of Cardigan – of Battle of Balaclava fame – who was twenty-eight years her senior. At Deene Park, the family seat, he had a portrait painted depicting him being presented to Queen Victoria, with his wife in the background. When the Queen heard, she requested that the Countess be painted out – such had been the scandal at the couple living together before their marriage in 1858. Also in the home was the head of the Earl’s favourite horse, Ronald, which can be seen gazing from the wall of one of the rooms today. The Countess was a remarkable woman in many ways. As she grew older, she attempted to maintain her beauty with thick, gaudy make-up and would ride around on horseback in such a manner. Perhaps more bizarre, however, was a made-to-measure coffin she had ordered for herself long before her death in 1915, aged ninety-one. It was kept on a trestle table in the ballroom, where visitors were usually asked to try it for size and comfort.

  Scandal had also occurred in the family in the seventeenth century, when Anna Maria Brudenell, a daughter of Robert Brudenell, married Francis, Earl of Salisbury, who was twenty years older. In her early days at the court of Charles II, she proved to be the centre of attention and received flattery from admirers, and several duels were fought for her favours. After she had married, the affairs continued, eventually leading to a fatal duel that took place at Barn Elms in Towcester between a lover, the Duke of Buckingham, and her husband, who could no longer tolerate the gossip and scandal about the long-runn
ing affair. The Earl died two months later after being ‘run through the right breast to the right shoulder’. The duel was recorded by both Samuel Pepys and Horace Walpole, the latter adding (incorrectly) that the Countess had held her lover’s horse during the duel, dressed as a page boy! A later lover boasted about his intimacy with her, which led to her hiring a gang of ruffians to waylay him and teach him a lesson at Hammersmith. Her beauty was later captured on canvas in the guise of Minerva by the painter Lely, the painting being later bought by Sir Robert Peel.

  Another interesting person connected with the county was William Hope Williams, the son of a wealthy Cornish financier who had started the banking house of Hope and Co. in Amsterdam. When his father died, he inherited a fortune and acquired Rushton Hall in 1828, becoming Sheriff of Northamptonshire. He made significant changes to the Hall, such as diverting the main road away from the property with a new bridge and extending and renovating his residence, pulling down the fine pendant ceilings inside the Hall in order to have the French style with which he was acquainted from his lengthy stays in Paris. During the building work, a stone lintel was removed and documents, bills and twenty Catholic books from the time of Thomas Tresham were discovered behind it. In December 1835, a fire – believed to be the result of an over-enthusiastic celebration – caused considerable damage to the north wing, with a long art gallery destroyed. In Paris, Williams had a large house built to a strange design with gold pillars, where he held lavish parties. He would walk around wearing diamonds all over his clothes and flashing his wealth at all and sundry. He never saw visitors before one o’clock and absolutely detested male company, preferring to have a bevy of eighteen young ladies around him, all with musical or artistic talents of some kind, who would come to the county with him on his visits. He died in his bed, apparently with his female companions in attendance.

  ‘Planter John’ was the name given to John Montagu, who had succeeded his father, Ralph, a former ambassador to France, at Boughton House. In 1708 he continued the work he had begun with his father in planting trees in the grounds of the great house, which had been modelled on Versailles. Having completed the work, he proceeded to expand the area of woodland around his estates, subsequently acquiring the nickname ‘Planter John’, for the avenues of elm, lime and beech which began to dominate the local landscape in years to come. After his death, a somewhat implausible tradition held that his intention had been to plant an avenue of trees all the way down to London to another home of the family in London! The total aggregate length at the time of his death was estimated at seventy miles, with one avenue stretching for three miles! Though now much depleted, some avenues can still be seen today, particularly in the vicinity of Warkton.

  From a more humble background came ‘Old Simon’ from Woodford. A cooper by trade, his life was transformed after being spurned by his lover, and after leaving the village, ended up in London, where he fell on hard times, becoming a vagrant. He did return and was hardly recognisable. A description of him at the time appeared much later in Northampton Notes and Queries in 1888:

  A thick-set man wearing his hair very long and allowing his beard to grow, which together, gave him a venerable appearance. Upon his head was placed a hat in the shape of one of the earthenware pancheons in common use; other portions of his costume consisted of rags and shreds of books and papers, cut out much in the shape of a beaver’s tail, around each other in a continual series, forming a kind of apron in front. Over his left shoulder was thrown a sort of loose cloak, much tattered.

  A native of Kingscliffe, William Dakin, had a similar appearance, though the reasons are not clear as to why he chose to be so conspicuous. Also known as ‘the lunatic settled’, he was frequently seen in the area, and was described in 1800, as:

  being no more than 45 years old, though the coarse dirty habit which he constantly wears, and the enormous length of his beard which he suffers to grow (only now and then does he clip it with scissors) give him a much older appearance. He later believed he was Jesus Christ.

  One of the most astounding characters to be associated with the county was John Baker, born in Eye, near Peterborough in 1733. He was apprenticed to a shoemaker, but went to London in 1757, where he joined the navy for ten years, during which time he had been involved in many battles. In 1774 he sailed to America where he became an officer’s servant, but was captured by a tribe of native Indians who saw him as something unique. He had been born without any gums or teeth – a situation that remained with him throughout his life. This gave him the ability to perform facial contortions, such as pushing his nose into his mouth, so that the bottom lip came almost up to his forehead. The Indians fascinated by what he could do, bore a hole through his nasal cartilage as a mark of distinction, and threaded a gold chain through it. He liked what had happened, and thought up the idea of placing the stem of a pipe through the hole, by means of which he could pick up a small glass containing a drink with his nose and chin. Eventually released, he made his way back to England and for a while stayed in his native county, marrying twice and becoming the father of thirteen children. He fell on hard times however, and in his old age ended up in a workhouse in Covent Garden, making ends meet by performing some of his facial tricks for the crowds. He was later described by one source as ‘the greatest curiosity ever seen’.

  It was a long-standing custom among piemen to add a little variety to the task of selling their products by frequently tossing a coin to determine whether a customer got a penny pie for nothing, or twopence – a kind of ‘double or quits’ situation. At Northampton in the early 1800s, there lived a pieman named ‘Fletcher’ who was a well-known trader, always immaculately dressed in a scrupulously clean apron, a frock coat, knee breeches and blue worsted stockings, carrying his cloth-covered basket of wares, with pride of place given to his speciality black puddings. On one occasion at the Northampton Races, it is said that during a conversation with a stranger, he decided to be more adventurous than usual, and offered him as many puddings as he could eat for a shilling. He began to doubt his wisdom as the stranger managed to eat his way through sixteen of them. Becoming alarmed at such an extraordinary feat, he gave the man back his shilling and hastily left the scene!

  seven

  THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT: GHOSTS, WITCHES ET AL

  What is a ghost? We might say an event recording itself on the surrounding area, replayed if the circumstances and situation are suitable, like a video/ DVD, to those in the right time and place. A glimpse of energy from the past reenacted. A life cut tragically short by murder, execution, illness, accident or suicide, before its allotted time. A sense of wrong to be put right, whether by revenge or justice. Perhaps unable to leave a place much attached to in life, it can either be seen as a vague white shape shimmering and fluttering over a field or road, or clothed in a darker transparent garb. It can be felt as a chill current of air, or as a weight sinking on a bed. It can be heard as a whisper, shriek, or sob. Of all the beliefs that our ancestors had, this is one that has survived and intrigues us just as much today, and the winding, isolated country lanes and pockets of woodland of the county are ideal places for the imagination to wander – or is it imagination?

  During the Second World War, Gordon Garth, a serviceman stationed at Spanhoe Airfield (between Harringworth and Laxton), was cycling back alone to his base after an evening in Kettering with local friends. It was a beautiful moonlit night, and he felt a sense of exhilaration as he pedalled towards Deene. It was a little after midnight as he reached the outskirts, a dip in the road inexplicably full of mist. Reaching the other side, he saw a figure on the left side of the road:

  The Ship Inn at Oundle, which is supposedly haunted.

  It was wearing a very full length light grey coat with something like a hood, and as I approached, I began to sense something very unreal. The upright figure had no normal walking gait, but seemed to float along the edge of the road! I was suddenly struck with a sense of fear I had never experienced, either before
or since. Although sweating heavily from my ride, I immediately felt very cold and clammy. What should I do? I thought of the long detour if I turned back – but too late – I was almost upon the figure! I swerved the bike across the road to the right, to give myself maximum clearance. The whole atmosphere seemed most unreal and although I was extremely scared, as I went past, I could not resist taking a look, which gave me a clear and long-remembered picture. The figure was probably 5’6” but looked taller with the hood, with slim to medium build, and around the neck was something like a scarf in near white; between this and the hood I could see no clear features. Male or female I know not. Then I noticed that from the bottom of the long grey coat to the hard road there appeared to be nothing!

  Giving a wide berth to the apparition, he cycled on furiously until he reached his destination, waking all his comrades in the process, who told him he looked like he had seen a ghost! Similar sightings have been made over the years by local folk, further on up the road at Wakerley, near the site of the former Augustinian Priory of Fineshade.

  More sensational is the sight of a ghostly monk at Barford Bridge on the A6003 Kettering to Corby road. Numerous sightings have been reported by people from all walks of life, on one occasion a car inexplicably catching fire late at night – not by vandals – but with the driver at the wheel. It is usually seen shimmering across the road in front of motorists or occasionally appearing in the back seat of the car, reflected in the driving mirror. The apparition may well have been connected with nearby Pipewell Abbey whose monks would walk across the fields to take services in the churches at Barford, Great Newton and Great Oakley, all of whom did not have a resident priest. In an unconnected incident, a Romano-British burial mound was disturbed during the building of a dual carriageway close to the bridge in the 1960s. For some unknown reason, sightings of the monk increased in frequency and still occur today.