Eliza Meteyard’s “A Pottery Holiday”

Another important local text found. Eliza Meteyard’s account, with lots of local Stoke dialect, of “A Pottery Holiday” circa 1876.

meteyard_pottery_holiday_1876.pdf

Possibly she was not quite as deaf as some academics have claimed, given her ear for dialect. Either that, or she was an awesomely good lip-reader and could do so ‘in dialect’.

Given this text, and her novel Dora and her Papa, one suspects there’s more Stoke/Moorlands material in her body of work (other than the Wedgwood books). Apparently she knew William Woodall of Burslem, as well as Thomas Bateman.

Unused pictures from the Gawain book

Unused pictures from the Gawain book:

1260, Lomoges, France.


Burne-Jones, Gawain, 1893.

Hart Badge of Richard II.

Hans Burgkmair, boar hunter, 1517.

Pony track, Edale, the Peak district. Not on route, but indicative of the better upland tracks of the time. In the 1370s there probably wasn’t quite as much sheep-driven devastation of the upland vegetation, especially in the hunting areas.

New Book – Strange Country: Sir Gawain in the moorlands of North Staffordshire

New and available now, the book Strange Country: Sir Gawain in the moorlands of North Staffordshire.

Buy now in 6 x 9″ paperback. $35 U.S., with 40% introductory discount for a limited time

Preview PDF: Cover, table of contents, first page, and main index. In the purchased book there is also another index, for all the new discoveries.

Blurb: This book makes a clear case that one of the most famous works of English literature, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, belongs to North Staffordshire. Obvious new candidates for both the Gawain-poet’s patron and Bertilak’s castle are suggested, and these are found to fit naturally and almost exactly when compared with the expected dates of the poem, the features of the castle, the known dialect locations, and the patron’s likely social status and life-story. A wealth of surrounding detail is also explored, such as: the history and role of the King’s Champion at the royal coronation; English contacts with full-blooded paganism during the Prussian crusades; the two lavish medieval courts at Tutbury; and the rich history and poetry of the Manifold Valley and the Peak. This 220-page book is well illustrated and copiously referenced with footnotes. There is a bibliography and index. 60,000 words.

Bram Stoker Awards: new ‘Short Non-Fiction’ award

I’m not one to take notice of sci-fi / fantasy / horror “Awards” these days, as most seem to have been taken over by the far-left as political platforms. But I’ve heard nothing untoward yet about the Bram Stoker Awards, so it’s good to see that the Horror Writers Association (HWA) has announced the addition of a new “Short Non-Fiction” category to its Bram Stoker Awards…

“Works qualifying for the new award category include magazine articles, short essays, and academic papers, all of which must be at least 2,000 words but less than 40,000 words. The works must be published in a book (print or e-format), a magazine (print or online), or an academic monograph.”

Rather sniffily, they also say…

Under no circumstances will consideration be given to personal websites, newsletters, or blogs.

So if (like me) you’re in the habit of doing rough ‘thought-doodles’ for your forthcoming book, and posting them as blog posts, then presumably you’re not going to be eligible if those early posts stay online after the book is published?

Dora and her Papa

Another local tale, found, via a note in Notes and Queries, 10th February 1900…

“Eliza Meteyard, a short story titled “Dora and her Papa [: A Story for Children]” … “The story is written in Miss Meteyard’s most fascinating style, and brings before the young readers many antiquarian and historical subjects in such a way that they are easily understood and appreciated … some of the principal characters in the story are drawn largely from actual life from persons whom Miss Meteyard knew. Mr. Flaxdale (Dora’s ‘papa’) was taken from the late Mr. Thomas Bateman, of Lomberdale House, Derbyshire the well-known antiquary [and barrow-opener]; and the original Hornblower was Mr. Samuel Carrington, the village schoolmaster of Wetton, Staffordshire, a frequent contributor to the early numbers of the Reliquary, a self-taught, but learned geologist, who supplied more than one museum with rare geological specimens. The vivid description of the opening of a barrow [ancient tumulus] is a faithful account of one actually opened by Mr. Bateman, and I may add that a portion, probably a good portion, of the book was written during a visit of the authoress to Lomberdale House [near Bakewell, seat of Thomas Bateman].”

Perhaps it was once a “short story”, but the Routledge book version apparently had 392 pages. The author of the Note appears to be confused himself, as he also refers to it as a “book”. Sadly it’s one of those baffling Victorian books by a noted author that are, for unknown reasons, available nowhere online. There’s not even a copy at Project Gutenberg Australia.

So this Victorian “Dora the Explorer” is unavailable. According to one short review the first chapters are local (perhaps the original short story?), but thereafter Dora and her antiquarian father see the great antiquarian sites of England (Uriconium, Hadrian’s Wall, Saxon Kent, etc). Possibly the most valuable bits today would be the descriptions of Thomas Bateman’s collection rooms, and the “vivid” account of the local barrow opening, and pen-portraits of Carrington and and Bateman.

“Samuel Carrington was Bateman’s lieutenant in Staffordshire. A village schoolmaster at Wetton, he was described by Roache Smith [in Retrospections, Vol. 1, 1883] as ‘a very intelligent man; a good geologist; and an enthusiastic excavator of tumuli’. Smith noted penetratingly: ‘Seldom are such men appreciated and I fear he was not an exception to the fate of the worthy unselfish poor.” “Carrington appears to have begun working with Bateman in the spring of 1845.” […] “Carrington appears to have been a most conscientious and worthy servant. He had a deep interest in archaeology and proved a scrupulous and enthusiastic antiquary.” […] “Judging from later articles in The Reliquary, and notes in Jewitt’s diary, Carrington continued to interest himself in archaeology for some years after Bateman’s death.” (Barry M. Marsden, The Early Barrow-Diggers, Noyes, 1974, pages 43-45).


Update: got it. Some ping-pong between Canada and a VPN proxy in Singapore unlocked what may be spurious copyright-blocks (on a book from the 1860s), and magicked up the PDF download. Sadly the text on several pages is “clipped off” down one side. One page is slightly slurred down half of one edge. But it’s otherwise quite readable.

An Oxford visit

I made an interesting and expenses-paid trip to Oxford today, for the Tolkien exhibition. On arrival I was glad to be able to thoroughly peruse the two new Tolkien books. The bookshop there had open inspection copies. The small £12 paperback, which I thought I wanted, proved only to be a cut-down of the full £25 ‘book of the exhibition’.

Thus I came away with the big £25 paperback version (above), and perused it on the train home to Stoke. I’m already very pleased with it, even on ‘a first flip’ and without the good reading-glasses. The book is almost as good as seeing the exhibition itself, I’d say, if you can’t get there. More so in many ways, because it’s fairly dark in the gallery for archival reasons, and no photography is allowed. Plus it was also very crowded (caused by people lingering, without being ushered out, and the next lot of people coming in behind). I dodged around and stayed in for about two hours. Excellent, though the religion is of course unmentionable.

Curiously Amazon UK only has the hardback of the £25 book. And they mis-state the page-count as 288 pages. It’s actually a hefty 416 pages, not including fold-out card covers. I’m assuming here that the Bodleian Library are not selling some super-sized special edition that’s only available in their shop.

Anyway for the edition I had… lovely paper, great design and printing, though I felt it was too often ‘padded’ in terms of the layout. I could have cut it down by 24 pages, with no loss of anything except pointless empty white space, and saved a few trees.

It was fascinating to see the size of certain things in the exhibition, including the “Book of Ishness”. I saw Tolkien’s painting “Eeriness” (January 1914) for the first time, showing ‘trees with reaching hands’ decades before the Old Forest and Ents. It was also good to finally see his painting “Beyond” (January 1914) in colour. The pyramids are blue and the star is red, not what you might expect of what (in black & white) appears to be a straight desert pyramids scene. Both are in the book in colour. “Beyond” may have been in the exhibition, but if so then I couldn’t find it.

The £25 book also has the first page (1913) of Tolkien’s ‘hours’ logging book’, by which he proved to Edith that he was working hard as promised.

I also saw the frontage of Exeter College, and even stepped through an open gate-door and thus saw the lawned quadrangle for a minute before the security guard appeared. Sadly the around-the-corner doorway to the Fellows’ Garden was as close as I got to the garden, though one could just about see the trees.

The Museum of the History of Science was also visited, in terms of the ground floor and upper floor permanent exhibitions (the temporary political shows in the basement were skipped). I was pleased to see they allow non-flash photography (a policy nowhere stated on their website). I got a couple of nice macro pictures with my pocket digicam (stabilised by slightly resting the lens rim on the glass case, no flash)…

Astronomical Compendium, by Humfrey Cole, London, 1568 (Inventory Number: 36313, Museum of the History of Science, Oxford).

And they had a loan of the late Danish clogg almanac, which makes an interesting comparison with the Staffordshire Clogg Almanacs I’ve previously blogged about here

All three Oxford pictures in this particular blog post are placed under Creative Commons Attribution.

The Minstrel Court at Tutbury

There was once a large annual minstrel court at Tutbury in Staffordshire, between Uttoxeter and Burton-on-Trent.

James Lawson Stewart (1829-1911). “The main gateway, Tutbury Castle, Staffordshire”.

The Topographical History of Staffordshire has it that Tutbury: “came into the possession of John of Gaunt, who re-built it of hewn freestone, upon the ancient site” and used it to house his wife Constance from 1372. Under Constance (d. 1394), the minstrel court was either revived or established or enlarged. The translated wording of the Court charter (c. August 1381) is given by Oswald Mosley in his History of the Castle, Priory and Town of Tutbury (1832) and appears to suggest that Constance took over the patronage of a much older annual gathering…

“the King of the Minstrels, [elected by his peers] in our Honor of Tutbury, [is obliged] to apprehend and arrest all the minstrels in our said Honor and Franchises, that refuse to do the service and attendance which appertains to them to do from ancient times at Tutbury aforesaid, yearly on the days of the Assumption of our Lady, giving and granting to the said King of the Minstrels, for the time being, full power and commandment to make them reasonably to justify, and to constrain them to perform, their services and attendance, in manner as belongeth to them, and has been here used, and of ancient times accustomed.”

The statement “from ancient times” may be formulaic, but it may also suggest that the gathering still existed. Or had once existed as evidenced by some ancient documentation, at Tutbury.

Court bard engraved on ivory inlay, circa 1550s, possibly Nuremberg.

There may have been several reasons for the establishment of such a court under informal patronage:

i) Constance was from Castile in Spain, and may have been used to a higher level of courtly culture. We know she had singers from her own country at Tutbury, and it seems she also aspired to raise the ‘tone’ of the surrounding countryside too;

ii) the absolute need to relieve the local gloom and despair after the third Black Death plague of 1379-80, and perhaps a perceived need (within a ‘god was punishing us with the plague’ mindset) to make minstrelsy more Christian in tone and less bawdy than before;

iii) perhaps for a political reason, namely to prevent local minstrels from needing to travel into Wales to the Welsh bardic gatherings. From c. 1350 the Welsh had been more revolting and sullen than usual, and their resident overlords suspected a Welsh spy under every bed and that the Welsh might rise and march an army of rebels into England at any moment. The Welsh threat, and the threat of their linking with an army coming down the drove roads from Scotland, was probably why Stafford Castle was rebuilt from 1347. The imminence of the threat may have abated by the 1370s, but was still there — “before 1400 conditions in Wales were ripe for rebellion” (The Oxford Companion to British History);

iv) the three waves of the Black Death plague must have caused a sharp decline in available audiences, it having especially affected the young. Smaller paying audiences likely meant an increase in disputes and rivalries among minstrels. Plague may also have sent survivors out to earn their living as minstrels, leading to increased fines as ‘vagabonds’. In an ordered society these would require arbitration to prevent disputes and fines from getting out of hand.

v) what academics now call “the alliterative revival” in the Midlands, and the renewed interest in the making of local dialect poetry from c. 1350 onwards.

I’m no expert but lordly castle use appears to me to have been seasonal, with full occupation especially likely during the Christmas season. Judging by biographies, Tutbury Castle appears to have become the full-time home to Gaunt’s wife Constance, Duchess of Lancaster, winter and summer alike. She eventually disassociated herself from Gaunt and from the Lancastrians, but even after she had outlived her political usefulness to Gaunt she was allowed to live on in comfort at Tutbury. By all accounts she was someone who not only patronised musicians but also made a study of the science of music.

Mosley’s History of the Castle, Priory and Town of Tutbury (1832) is unreliable, but not so when quoting older documents. He usefully gives an extract from Plot’s The Natural History of Stafford-shire (1686) without the long-s typography. Plot was an eye-witness to the annual minstrel court at Tutbury…

“All the minstrels within the honor, came early on that day [noted elsewhere: the court was on ‘the morrow after the Assumption’, meaning the 16th August] to the house of the bailiff of the manor of Tutbury, and from thence to the parish church in procession ; the king of the minstrels for the year past, walking between the steward and bailiff of the manor, attended by the four stewards of the king of the minstrels, each with a white wand in their hands, and the rest of the company following in ranks of two and two together, with the music playing before them.

After [the church] service was ended, they proceeded in the same order from the church to the castle hall, where the said steward and bailiff took their seats, placing the king of the minstrels between them, whose duty it is to cause every minstrel dwelling within the honour, who makes default, to be presented and amerced [i.e. a fine would be ordered if the minstrel was found to be absent]. The court of the minstrels is then opened in the usual way, and proclamation made, that every minstrel dwelling within the honour of Tutbury, in any of the counties of Stafford, Derby, Nottingham, Leicester, or Warwick, should draw near, and give his attendance; and that if any man would be assigned of suit or plea [i.e. have a grievance], he should come in and be heard.

Then all the musicians being called over by a court roll, two juries are impanelled, one for Staffordshire, and one for the other counties, whose names being delivered in to the steward, and called over, and appearing to be full juries, the foremen of each is sworn, and then the rest of them in the manner usual in other courts. The steward then proceeds to charge them, first commending to their consideration the antiquity and excellence of all music, both on wind and stringed instruments; and the effect it has upon the passions, proving the same by various examples; how the use of it has always been allowed in praising and glorifying God; and skill in it esteemed so highly, that it has always been ranked amongst the liberal arts, and admired in all civilized states ; exhorting them, upon this account, to be very careful to make choice of such men to be officers amongst them as fear God, are of good life and conversation, and have knowledge and skill in the practice of their art.

When the charge is ended, the jurors proceed to the election of the officers for the next year, the king being chosen out of the four stewards, two of them out of Staffordshire, and two out of Derbyshire, three being chosen by the jurors, and the fourth by him who keeps the court, and the deputy steward, or clerk.

The jurors then depart out of the court; and the steward with his assistants, and the king of the minstrels, in the meantime partake of a banquet, during which the other musicians play upon their several instruments; but as soon as the jurors return, they present, in the first place, the new king whom they have chosen, upon which the old king, rising from his seat, delivers to him his wand of office, and then drinks a cup of wine to his health and prosperity; in like manner the old stewards salute the new, and resign their offices to their successors.

The election being thus concluded, the court rises, and all repair to another large room within the castle, where a plentiful dinner is prepared for them; after which the minstrels went anciently to the priory gate, but after the dissolution [of the monasteries], to a barn near the town, in expectation of the bull being turned loose for them. […]

If the bull escapes, he remains the property of the person who gave it; but if any of the minstrels can take and lay hold of him [without use of any weapons or hooks], so as to cut off a small portion of hair, and bring the same to the market-cross, in proof of their having taken him, the bull is [theirs to be cooked and eaten, or given away].

Mosley’s History of the Castle, Priory and Town of Tutbury, also notes that…

“A separate chair was placed for him [the annual elected King of the Minstrels?] at the upper end of the hall [at Tutbury?], which he never failed to occupy upon all public occasions; from hence he excited the feelings of his guests by the rehearsal of some mysterious legend, the warlike exploits of their ancestors, or some pathetic [‘tragic, sad’] ballad of general interest.”

The threat of arrest by the King of the Minstrels, together with the opportunity to air one’s pent-up grievance in public, surely brought every reputable minstrel to the annual court.

Mosley’s History of the Castle, Priory and Town of Tutbury (1832) also gives another document, from a little before Dr. Plot’s time. By the time of King Charles the First it was obviously felt that there was need for better governance of the Court and an order (c. 1630) was issued “for the better ordering and governing” of the Court. A system of seven year apprenticeship was also then in force locally…

“that no person shall use or exercise the art and science of music within the said counties as a common musician or minstrel for benefit and gains, except he have served and been brought up in the same art and science by the space of seven years, and be allowed and admitted so to do at the said court by the jury thereof and by the consent of the steward of the said court for the time being, on pain of forfeiting for every month that he shall so offend, three shillings and fourpence. And that no such musician or minstrel, shall take into his service, to teach and instruct any one in the said art and science, for any shorter time than for the space of seven years, under the pain of forfeiting for every such offence forty shillings. And that all the musicians and minstrels above mentioned shall appear yearly at the court called The Minstrels Court, on pain of forfeiting for every default according to old custom three shillings and fourpence.”

Minstrel on a fabric book-cover, London, 1636.

The Court appears to have been formally abolished by the Duke of Devonshire in 1778, who deemed it too unruly. At least, he issued an order to stop it at Tutbury. But the bull-running seems to have continued in the district into the early 1800s, as was vividly recalled at Uttoxeter in Mary Howitt’s My own Story, or the Autobiography of a Child (1845). If there were no minstrels, there would likely have been no bull-running (since a bull was a costly animal). Thus it seems likely that the summer minstrel gathering and bull-running had simply been transferred (c. 1779) by the locals from Tutbury to Uttoxeter, and the Duke’s patronage was dispensed with and the cost of ‘a feast and bull’ found from some other source. One would then expect such an event to attract at least some singers and entertainers, but if they were still present in large numbers as late as the early 1800s at Uttoxeter must be debatable. Yet the crowds for the bull-running at Uttoxeter might have still attracted lesser figures, like “Singing Sam of Derbyshire”…

a Derbyshire ballad-singer of the last century, “Singing Sam of Derbyshire” as he was called, which I copy from the curious plate etched by W. Williams in 1760, which appeared in the “Topographer” thirty years after that time. The man was a singular character—a wandering minstrel who got his living by singing ballads in the Peak villages, and accompanying himself on his rude single-stringed instrument. … His instrument was as quaint and curious as himself. It consisted of a straight staff nearly as tall as himself, with a single string tied fast around it at each end. This he tightened with a fully inflated cow’s bladder, which assisted very materially the tone of the rude instrument. His bow was a rough stick of hazel or briar, with a single string; and with this, with the lower end of his staff resting on the ground, and the upper grasped by his right hand, which he passed up and down to tighten or slacken the string as he played, he scraped away, and produced sounds which, though not so musical as those of Paganini and his single string, would no doubt harmonize with Sam’s rude ballad, and ruder voice. [he was one of the older illiterate type who] who sang his ballads from memory, and probably composed many of them as he went on, so as to suit the localities and the tastes and habits of his hearers, [and he was in stark competition with the newer type who sang] from a printed broad-sheet, of which he carries an armful with him to dispose of to such as cared to purchase them. [The new type of singer wa]s literally a “running stationer,” “such as use to sing ballads and cry malignant pamphlets in the streets,” and indulged their hearers in town and country with “fond bookes, ballads, rhimes, and other lewd treatises in the English tongue.” — from ‘The ballads & songs of Derbyshire’, 1867.

Having divested the bull-running to Uttoxeter, it may be that the later lords of Tutbury quietly re-established the tradition of the Court alone, and with a better class of bard and piper. Because Dugdale remarked in 1819 (The New British Traveller, Vol 4) that… “An annual court, called the Minstrel’s, continues to be held at the steward’s house” at Tutbury.

One can note that the Tutbury Court tradition continues today with the annual Acoustic Festival of Britain, which takes place on Uttoxeter Racecourse each summer.