The following is reproduced from an article found in a copy of the Church Times dated November 19, 1948. We would be interested to hear if anyone has any further information about the author & artist, Leslie Nicholson

 

 

HERE AND THERE WITH A PENCIL

OLD CUSTOMS IN BUCKINGHAMSHIRE

By LESLIE NICHOLSON

 

Shortly after my arrival in Wingrave, a small village in Buckinghamshire, the pupils began to leave the tiny school at mid-day, and very soon I had an interested but somewhat boisterous audience discussing the merits and demerits of my sketch.

An argument between two of the boys was soon well under way.

“My uncle can draw like that,” said the first one.
“Not so good as that, I bet,” retorted the second.
“He can but he don’t draw churches – only dogs and cats,” went on number one.
“Coo!  They’re easy.  I could draw dogs as good as your uncle any day,” boasted his opponent.
“Bet you couldn’t,” said number one.

This battle of words seemed as though it might get fiercer if it went on any longer, so I reminded the gathering in general that their dinners would be getting cold if they did not soon depart.  Thereupon, all but one little boy left me.  He told me, in a confidential whisper, that his meal would not be ready for some time and, in a rather condescending manner, informed me that he might as well stay to watch me for a few more minutes, as sit at home doing nothing.  Hunger must have gained a speedy victory over art, however, for I was soon left in peace to finish the drawing alone.  By the time the children were due to return I was enjoying a quiet half-hour inside the old church.

 

Yearly Alms

Painted on the wall of the North aisle I found the following rhyme:-

    As day doth pass from houre to houre
    Man’s life doth fade awaye
    Let every man relieve the poore
    Whilst he on Earth doth staye.
    Sir Richard Goddard who is dead
    And laid within the ground
    Unto the Poore of Wingrave
    Hath given twenty pound.
    The yearly profit of which stocke
    The poore must have full sure
    And eke the same from time to time
    For ever to endure.

Upon making enquiries in the village I found that Sir Richard’s twenty pounds still provides “proffit” for the poor people of the district and that the charity is now administered by the parish council.

My informant in this case went to great pains to prove to me how much better was Sir Richard Goddard’s method of ensuring that his name be well remembered and honoured by his leaving this fund for the poor than by merely wasting his money on an elaborate marble monument which people would get so used to seeing that they would pass it by with little more than a cursory glance.  When I left her, I was convinced that I would follow Sir Richard’s example should I ever be in a position of having to make such a decision.

The real reason for my going to Wingrave, however, was to find out if the old custom of spreading hay on the floor of the church was still continued, and also to see if I could trace the origin of that ancient practice.  Here, again, I was fortunate in getting my questions answered.  It appears that many years ago an elderly lady lost her way one wintry night.  After some hours of wandering in the bleak, unfriendly countryside, she heard the bells of Wingrave church ringing.  She was guided home safely, and as a means of showing her gratitude she gave a meadow to the church authorities to provide hay which was to be scattered on the church floor each year on the first Sunday after St. Peter’s Day.  This old custom has been faithfully continued, but now, alas! the field has to provide something more useful to mankind than hay.  Not to be outdone by an unsympathetic agricultural committee, the villagers now gather the hay from the churchyard itself.

 

Bewitched

These parts of the country  seem to have been greatly troubled in the past by witches, for we hear that the reason why Wendover church is so far from the town is that when the townsfolk deposited the material for building the church on the chosen site, it was carried away by night to the spot it now occupies by witches.  About two hundred years ago the vicar of Wingrave was famous as a witch-hunter, and we find that a harmless old woman of the parish was accused of bewitching the spinning-wheel of one of her neighbours so that it would not work.  A rather strange test was arranged by the vicar, who had a large pair of scales placed on the village green, and the woman placed on the one side with the church Bible on the other.  Happily, we are told that she outweighed the Bible, and was thereupon exonerated from any blame.