What do you know about rushes? Probably that they are spikey green grass-like plants that grow on damp ground. You may have vague notions that in the past they were useful, but may struggle to pinpoint exactly to what purpose they were put. Fair?
In this blog I am going to focus on rush cultivation in the Tavistock landscape. We will learn, not just why rushes were important, but how they need to be considered alongside other more common parts of the managed landscape, like that managed for livestock, crops or timber. Of most surprise and significance, we will learn how these rushes were grown on seemingly ‘blessed’ ground near Lamerton, and how they probably formed part of the spiritual life of Tavistock, being used to celebrate the Feast of the Nativity of St John the Baptist.
Evidence of Ceremonial Rush Cultivation Near Lamerton
Recently I had been been scanning through a copy of the ‘Calendar of the Tavistock Parish Records’, published in 1887 by Richard Nicholls Worth. This book contains highlights, translated from Latin, of records kept by St Eustachius parish church, and includes churchwarden accounts dating back to 1385. Grabbing my attention, because of my recent blogging on St John’s in Tavistock, were numerous references to ‘gathering rushes for the feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist’ (p4) and the ‘strewing’ of the said rushes on the church floor.
It is because I had been looking at the medieval church records, with St John and rushes buzzing about my head, that my attention was then grabbed by a conjunction of place-names on a map. I wouldn’t normally have thought anything of it, but here, just south of Lamerton village, can be seen a place called St John’s, next to a place called Rushford. Coincidence? Perhaps not.
I wondered if the tithe map of the 1840s, and the field names it recorded, revealed anything more? I wasn’t disappointed. Two of the field names at this location are recorded as Holyland and Middle Holyland. An even earlier 18th century map revealed others – Great Holyland, Three-cornered Holyland, Higher Holyland, Wards Holyland, Marshy Holyland and Church Parks. There is also a record, in The Gentleman’s Magazine, of one of the fields near Lamerton by the Lumburn being called the ‘Maudlin Mead’ (Urban, 1830, p490). Boy, was this a sacred place!
Why, you might ask, does this obviously churchy-ground, link to Tavistock -it is in Lamerton Parish, which has its own church? Surely these holy fields belong to St Peter’s of Lamerton not St Eustachius in Tavistock?
When Tavistock Abbey was founded in 981 AD, it originally was a manor within the Hundred of Lifton. The northern boundary of this Tavistock manor, according to Finberg (1969), the historian of Tavistock Abbey, was complicated. It is thought to have extended almost as far as Lamerton, with its northerly boundary marked by the River Lumburn, as shown in the map below.
In the 12th C Tavistock was granted borough status, and the manor of Hurdwick was created out of the rural part of the earlier manor of Tavistock. Tavistock, at this time became a Hundred in its own right. Lamerton, however, remained in the Hundred of Lifton. It is therefore the case that, until the Hundreds were abolished in 1867 (when parish boundaries were re-organised) Lamerton Parish was within a different Hundred to Tavistock. What is important about this fact is that it is therefore clear that the ‘holy’ fields at Rushford were a Hurdwick possession and therefore sanctified in affiliation to Tavistock, not Lamerton, despite being geographically very close to Lamerton and its church.
From this evidence I therefore think it is reasonable to suggest that these fields at Rushford were consecrated as holy due to the rushes gathered yearly to strew in the parish church on the Feast of the Nativity of John the Baptist. For reason of the connection of the rush fields to St John, I suspect the nearby building, even though it lay in Lamerton Parish, gained the name of ‘St John’ by association.
The natural question that arises from all of this is why? Why were rushes being gathered? Why was rush-strewing only recorded in St Uestachius parish church on the feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist? Why was St John special to Tavistock? And what does religious rush strewing involve?
Let’s take a closer look at some of these questions and examine medieval and post-medieval use of the rush.
The Utility of the Rush
Soft Rush (Juncus effusus) was commonly used for all sorts of things up to the 19th C. Most commonly they would be peeled and soaked in a flammable substance like fat and used as a rushlight; the illumination technology of the poor, who could not afford candles (Mabey, 1996; Jeffree, 2023). Rushes, of different types, including the bulrush and sweet flag, would also be used for many purposes. These included thatching, weaving baskets and mats, and strewing on floors.
Domestic Rush Strewing
In the days before tiling and floorboards, when buildings had earth floors, it was common for rushes to be scattered on the floor (Woodbury, 2016). For example there are records of payments for rushes to be strewn in the chamber of King Edward II (1307-27) (Burton, 1891). In the reign of Edward IV (1461-1470) his groom was to daily lay rushes in the King’s chamber. In fact, many of the wealthiest houses employed a ‘rush-strewer’ to conduct this daily activity (Bridges, 1996, p17). Daily strewing was probably confined only to the best-off in society, and it was more normal for households to strew less frequently, perhaps only once a year, meaning the rushy floor covering itself became filthy and fetid.
Church Rush Strewing
Because many churches have records, the practice of rush strewing is particularly well-attested in these places. Unlike in a domestic context, rush strewing in church not only made the floors nicer and more fragrant, but it was also linked to important religious ceremony. Documented practice demonstrates that, certainly for some churches such as St Eustachius, that rushes would be strewn once a year.
Rush-Bearing
It wasn’t just that rushes were taken to church for strewing as a practical act. The rush-strewing could also be a ceremonial and festive act. Seventeenth Century documents, for example, emphasise that this was done as a community activity, with fines issued against those not taking part (Bridges, 1996, p 19). It is also evident from some 16th C documents that church bells were rung to accompany the ceremony, and that cake and ale for the rush-bearers was paid for by the parish, but that all this might end up in ‘indecent’ and boisterous behaviour.
A wonderful record of rush-bearing festivities is recorded in ‘The Book of Sports’, issued in 1618 by James I to counteract the puritan movement that was attempting to stop any form of recreation on a Sunday. Rush-bearing featured in this book as it was a popular entertainment, particularly in the north. So, in this context we get a cited a description of rush-bearing at Cawthorn in Yorkshire from 1596 in which the revellers:
“did arme & disguyse themselves some of them putting on womens apparel, other some of them puttinge on longe haire & visardes, & others arminge them with the furnyture of Souldiers, & beinge there thus armed, & disguised, did that day goe from the Churche, & so wente vp & downe the towne showing themselves”
in Dutton et al 2003, p249 from The Book of Sport.
Rush Carts
From the 18th Century onwards, rush-bearing ceremonies frequently include the ‘rush-cart’ – a cart piled high in a sculptural mass of rushes, decorated with flowers and possibly effigies and accompanied by rush-bearers (Mabey, 1996). Perhaps the incidence of rush carts increased at this time, in step with turnpike road improvements? Before decent roads – and this is particularly true for steep-hilled Devon – rushes would probably need to be taken to church either carried, ceremonially, in the arms of people (see the image below), or using a pack animal.
Rush-carts formed the focus of a procession to the church which might perambulate, stopping at the grander houses. All of this would be accompanied, as we have already seen, by an air of celebration, with dancing, guising and miming, and in many cases, suggestions of boozy revelry and feasting (see Bridges, 1996).
Rush-cart customs have a hot-spot of incidence in Lancashire and surrounding counties (Bridges, 1996). This might be a consequence of the area’s resistance to Protestantism (Dutton et al 2003, p249), allowing ‘popish practice’ to persist. A particularly detailed account, unexpectedly, turns up in the trial of the famous Peterloo massacre in Manchester, recorded as part of the testimony of the defence:
“It is customary at our wakes and rush-carts in Lancashire to have banners and music; the rush-carts are held on a Saturday, and on the following Monday the men walk in procession, but they do not keep the step. Justice Bayley asked for an explanation of the term ‘rush cart’. Mr Bamford said, that it is an annual custom to have a cart in which rushes are neatly placed; this cart is drawn by young men decorated with ribbons, and preceded by young women, music, etc.”
Poole, 2006
When Did Rush Bearing Occur?
Modern rush-bearing customs frequently link to celebrations of the patron saint of the church, or on the date of the church foundation. On the eve of the saint’s day this would take the form of a night time vigil and might include festivities. This is a custom termed a ‘church wake’ (linked in similar traditional ways to personal wakes for the departed, particularly in Ireland, in which the remembrance and celebration goes through the night). Little practiced in southern England, wakes have persisted to a greater degree in northern England, as evidenced by their rushcart celebrations. The Oxford English dictionary cites a number of early examples of wakes that testify to them being far from sombre affairs such as this hearty account describing: ‘At wrestelyng, at wake, rengd haf i and folud wit lust all luchery‘ (1300).
For this Tavistock example, this raises the question, why was it that the Feast of the Nativity of St John’s Eve being used for rush strewing in the church, and not that of the patron saint of the church, St Eustachius, whose saint’s day is the 20th September? Perhaps, because Tavistock also possessed a St John’s Chapel, and St John’s Eve is Midsummer’s Eve, this was a very popular celebration, it drew the focus?
Rushes and Ceremonial Rush Use in Tavistock – A Summary
A combination of 14th century entries in the ‘Calendar of the Tavistock Parish Records’, place-names and field-names, has shown that the northern extremity of the manor of Hurdwick was likely being ‘farmed’ for rushes in the medieval period. This extends our understanding of Tavistock’s medieval land management beyond the usual suspects of livestock, edible crops and timber/coppice. We don’t normally think of agricultural land being actively managed for rushes.
Whilst there may have been an annual rush-bearing celebration, rushes would have been required all year round for flooring, thatching, lighting and weaving. This is evident by the number of fields at Rushford with ‘holyland’ or ‘church’ in the name – clearly this ground was needed for more than just the annual stewing of the church floor.Whilst farms could probably provide their own rushes, the urban centre of Tavistock would need to be able to bring rushes in from outside the town. We might therefore conceive of Rushford as a possible main place of supply of rushes for the parish.
It would appear that the cultivation and harvesting of rushes at Rushford have a special link to the Nativity of the Feast of St John’s Eve. If traditional practice from elsewhere is anything to go by, then this may have formed part of rush-bearing festivities rather than just ‘delivery’ of rushes to the church. We might therefore allow ourselves to imagine medieval Tavistock parishioners processing, dancing, singing, dressing up, and feasting on cakes and ale on St John’s Eve.
Presumably such rush-bearing antics and midsummer celebrations were prevalent until protestantism swept away the catholic practice. However, there is a little glimmer that Midsummer lingered as an important ritual time of year. In 1830, in The Gentleman’s Magazine the Rev. E. A. Bray in noted as mentioning that there is a local ‘ballad on the superstitious custom of looking through the key hole of the church – door on Midsummer eve‘ (Anonymous, p157) .
Descriptions of rush-bearing appear to have many parallels to modern day carnivals, held annually in many towns. This also raises the question as to whether carnivals, as we know them now, arose out of a former rush-bearing traditions? I am not clear on the history of the Tavistock Carnival and if anything is known of its roots. In the light of this history I would be interested to understand more of its origin story. When did the Tavistock Carnival start and did it morph out of earlier traditions?
The fact that the fields at Rushford have been given the name ‘holy’ suggests that, in order for the rushes to be brought into the church and used as part of a religious ceremony, it was important that they were grown on sanctified ground. This, I feel, is a particularly important contribution, because writings about rush-strewing and rush-bearing emphasise the journey, the focal ‘place’ of the ceremony, and the tradition/folklore involved. None of the writings I have seen include analysis of where the rushes grow, their procurement and the fact that they had to come from blessed ground.
Today the fields of Rushford, whilst damp like all Devon fields, are seemingly free of rushes. Drainage pipes, soil manuring, fertilization, and grazing have turned the fields into the archetypal improved pasture. Today Rushford, apart from in a few patches beside the Lumburn, is a rush-free zone, but in medieval times, it seems, if you wanted rushes, this was where it was at!
Addendum
In this addendum I have shared the details of the midsummer references that Elizabeth Anna Bray makes in some of her books. She was the wife of the Rev Edward Atkins Bray, vicar of Tavistock in the early 19th C
In her book on the customs, legends and superstitions of Devonshire (1838), Eliza Bray recounts:
“We have here many vestiges of ancient superstitions. That respecting Midsummer Eve I have before noticed. And the very old custom of going into the church at night whilst the chimes are playing twelve o’clock, in order to creep three times under the communion table to be cured of fits, is still held in repute. The present sexton, Mr. James Cole, has been applied to in such cases to unlock the church door.“
1838, p291
She also mentions another Midsummer folkloric practice which is also magical and disturbing:
“About forty years ago, a melancholy instance of the effects of superstitious credulity happened here. ‘Two brothers of the name of Luggar sat up one Midsummer-eve, in the church porch, from an idea (founded on ancient custom) that if at twelve o’clock at night they looked through the key-hole of the door, they would see all those who were to die that year walk into the church from the opposite doorway. ‘Their imagination was so worked up that they fancied they saw themselves in this funereal procession. Certain it is that they both died within a very short space of time afterwards ; were both buried in the same grave; and the inhabitants, by having the bells muffled at their funeral, testified a more than ordinary commiseration of their awful fate.“
1838, p 128
She wove this tradition into her novel ‘Fitz of Fitzford’ (1830, p253) in which she included a verse, composed by her husband, that re-told this tale. A warning, – it is not short!
MIDSUMMER EVE
Scarce sheds the moon, through rolling clouds,
A faint and flickering light;
Long has the wearied villager
Shared the ” deep sleep” of night.
Slow o’er the church-yard’s lonely path
Young Edward bends his way,
Where bodies, from life’s cares and toils,
Rest till the Judgment-day.
Yews, drear as death, in lengthening rows,
Spread a chill gloom around;
Beneath the verdant vault, his steps
In startling echoes sound.
The bat, in circles o’er his head.
On leathern pinion flits.
What time, ’tis said, the wailing ghost
His narrow mansion quits.
With heart undaunted he proceeds
To where, amid the skies.
The spire uplifts his haughty head.
And wind and storm defies.
He enters now the frowning porch
That guards the hallowed door;
And, seated on its smooth-worn bench,
Thus cons his purpose o’er.
” Here, till the hour of midnight sound,
” With patient heed I stay ;
” Such is my Emma’s fond command,
” And gladly I obey.
” Long though so coy, the yielding maid
” Has smiled on my request ;
” To-morrow quits a mother’s care,
” And seeks a husband’s breast.
” What joys were mine, when thus she cried,
” ‘ I know my Edward’s true :
” ‘ My mother and my home I’ll leave,
” ‘To live, and die with you !
” ‘ By arts, which now I blush to own,
” ‘ I oft your love have tried ;
” ‘ And if your courage be as strong,
” ‘ Yourself shall now decide.
” ‘ Midsummer’s awful eve is near,
” ‘ When they whose hearts are bold
” ‘ May, at the great church-door, ’tis said,
” ‘ The train of death behold.
” ‘ There, through the key-hole (such the tale)
” ‘ At midnight hour, the eye
” ‘ Sees those slow pacing through the aisle
” ‘ Who in the year shall die.
” ‘ Learn whether, then, the virgin train,
” ‘ (If you the sight can brave)
” Shall lead me to the nuptial bovver,
” ‘ Or bear me to the grave.
“ ‘ For why, short joy to either heart.
“ ‘ Should wedlock join our hands;
“ ‘ If death, to pierce each heart the more,
“ ‘ So soon shall break the bands?’ “
Now through the sacred pile resounds
The long, last hour of night;
To the broad key-hole bends the youth,
And through it darts his sight.
Bright through the windows bursts the moon.
And pours her beams around;
He hears, re-echoing through the aisles.
Slow footsteps tread the ground.
Instant he sees a numerous train
Approach in solemn pace;
A sable shroud surrounds each limb.
And pale is every face !
He watch’d; and, ere to aisles remote,
The spectres slow withdrew.
Most, if not all the ghastly train.
The youth, with horror, knew.
Some doom’d in manhood’s prime to fall ;
Some in the pride of charms ;
And mothers, with their new-born babes
Reposing in their arms !
The feeble forms of hoary age
Pass on with tott’ring knees :
A cold sweat bathes his shiidd’ring limbs
When, last, himself he sees !
Another Edward meets his eye.
And ends the horrid train !
His breath is stopp’d, his eyes are fix’d.
His bosom throbs with pain.
His locks are stifFen’d with affright.
His breast distends with sighs.
Scarce can his limbs support him home,
He enters — falls — and dies !
Added 17 June 2024
References
Anonymous. 1830. Review – Mrs . Bray’s Fitz of Fitz – Ford. The Gentleman’s Magazine. Volume 147pp 156-157.
Bray, A.E.,1830. Fitz of Fitzford: A Legend of Devon. Smith, Elder and Co, Cornhill, Lomdon.
Bray, A.E., 1838. Traditions, Legends, Superstitions, and Sketches of Devonshire: On the Borders of the Tamar and the Tavy, Illustrative of Its Manners, Customs, History, Antiquities, Scenery, and Natural History, in a Series of Letters to Robert Southey, Esq (Vol. 2). J. Murray.
Bridges, D. 1996. Rushbearing: A Forgotten British Custom. In Johnston, A.F. and Hüsken, W.N. (Eds.), English Parish Drama (Vol. 1). Rodopi.
Burton, A. 1891. Rush-bearing: an account of the old custom of strewing rushes; carrying rushes to church; the rush-cart; garlands in churches; morris-dancers; the wakes; the rush. Manchester, Brook & Chrystal
Dutton, R., Findlay, A.G. and Wilson, R. eds., 2003. Region, religion and patronage: Lancastrian Shakespeare. Manchester University Press.
Finberg. H.P.R. 1969. Tavistock Abbey: a study in the social and economic history of Devon. Cambrudge University Press.
Jeffree, C. 2023. Plants of the Week, 10th July 2023 – Four Native Rushes (Juncus). Botany in Scotland. https://botsocscot.wordpress.com/
Mabey, R. 1996. Flora Britannica. Sinclair – Stevenson.
Poole, R., 2006. The march to Peterloo: politics and festivity in late Georgian England. Past and Present, 192(1), pp.109-153.
Urban, Mr. 1830. Notices of Tavistock. The Gentleman’s Magazine. Volume 147.
Woodbury, S. 2016. Rushes on the Floor. Journey to Medieval Wales blog. www.sarahwoodbury.com
Fascinating as always, I lived at Rushford in 1980 and had no idea of this connection 👍
Fascinating and original research about use of rushes in chnurches. Thank you
Thanks Terry. So glad you feel I have added something original to an understanding of our landscape. I am not a religious person but after doing this research I am tempted, next midsummer, to gather some Lamerton rushes, and walk them to the church. Then maybe follow it up with some cake and ale 🤔
This is wonderful reading, we have lived in Lamerton for 25 years and very much into the history of Lamerton, we belong to the metal detectors group and have metal detected a field opposite the the old village hall but nothing was found.
I really appreciate you commenting Patricia. I am pleased it enriches your love of the history of your landscape. I have only metal detected once, on my partner’s farm, so it is not something I know a great deal about. However, we both clearly get a kick out of detection!
What a fascinating read. Have lived in Lamerton for 18 years and love hearing about the history of the Village. Now know why Rushford got its name. What a story. Thanks.
Thanks Elaine. So glad you enjoyed it. It was a real chance discovery for me. I had never paid any attention to there being a Rushford right next to Lamerton. I am seriously thinking, next Midsummer, of coming to Rushford, gathering a bundle, and strewing a (discrete) pile of rushes in the church. Then I may raise a glass to ‘St John’. I see there is a recipe for ‘Midsummer Muddle Cocktail’. I reckon that would be appropriate!
Fascinated to see read all of this, after finding the bush of rushes and note left in St Eustachius where I am currently Churchwarden . I will pass the information on to the stewards and those interested in the history of the church.
So glad you got in touch about this Pam. I felt compelled, once I had made the connection between the medieval Parish Churchwarden accounts, the history of St John’s, medieval St John’s Eve celebrations, and our Tavistock landscape, to mark this event. I love imagining what a special day of celebrations would have taken place in the town. Later on, the same day I placed the rushes, I went to St John’s by the river, had a nip of Benedictine, and read about St John’s Eve traditions. I didn’t stay up until midnight, but at 10pm, I sat in the churchyard and read our the poem by Rev Bray about the story of looking through the church door keyhole at midnight to see the future. I, left the keyhole well alone!