Little Jim

The cottage was a thatched one
The outside old and mean
Yet everything within that cot
Was wondrous neat and clean

The night was cold and stormy
The wind was howling wild
A patient mother knelt beside
The death bed of her child

The dying child was Little Jim and the whole ( much longer ) poem was a hit in Victorian England. The author Ned Farmer based it upon real events as he visited Polesworth in north Warwickshire. He was passing through in the course of his railway work when he sought succour on a wild night at a cottage with a lighted window.

The poem recounts in mawkish detail the death of Little Jim, the only child of a collier and his wife. This pandered to Victorian sensibilities which tended to the morbid and sentimental. I had never heard the full story until I read of it in the local paper. Little Jim’s cottage was later bought by someone who tended both cottage and wonderful garden.

When I was a boy my father took me on a bicycle ride to see the cottage. At the time it didn’t mean a lot to me although he told me a little about the background. Sadly the cottage suffered a major fire in 1971 which led to its demolition. My father was nearly a Victorian himself being born the year after Victoria died.

Although he wasn’t a morbid man my father also took me a bicycle ride to visit a gibbet post. This was in north Leicestershire not too far from Twycross and near Bilstone village. A gibbet post was where a hanged man was displayed. The internet tells me it was erected in 1800 after a murder nearby although it had disappeared by 1988.The post was totally unremarkable just by the side of a country lane. Thinking it a local curiosity likely to interest young boys he later took me again with my friend Anthony. I recall Anthony was more interested in his new bike, of which he was very proud so that on our return journey he raced ahead.

Curiously Ned Farmer and his poem were a question in a quiz I attended recently. The quiz was directed to questions appertaining to the north Warwickshire/south Staffordshire area. I think I slightly surprised others in my quiz team by being able to answer.

The countryside is full of strange and macabre stories. One I remember refers to Hangmans Corner near Shuttington. I’m not sure if this is in south Staffordshire or north Warwickshire. The story is that a thief stole two sheep which he slung together by rope over his shoulder. Stopping at the corner to rest by a gate he strangled himself by the rope after putting the bound sheep over the gate top. This all seems unlikely but I suppose there must be some reason for the name.

Features in the landscape often have a shrouded history. One which I visited as a boy was the motte ( or mound ) of a castle at Seckington in north Warwickshire. This is known locally as Rose Hill. Lying very near the village this commanded extensive views to the north, east and west. Apparently it dates from the 11^th century. At primary school nearby we made an expedition to the mound although frankly at the time I didn’t really understand why.

I find now that the mound was part of a motte and bailey castle thought to date from late 11^th century and built by a de Beaumont, either Roger or his son Robert. One may presume that they were part of William the Conqueror’s retinue and the fortification was designed to assert Norman rule. A more substantial fortification exists at nearby Tamworth where the rivers Anker and Tame form a natural moat around part of the castle. The building on the mound is of later date.

There is a fable in my family that originally they came to England as part of the Norman Conquest. It is suggested they were in the retinue of Earl Ferrers We have researched our family history which we can document back to the 1500’s. This is mainly because our ancestors farmed at a hamlet in north Staffordshire for several hundred years so research is relatively easy. There is a very tenuous link then back to 1066 which it is impossible to substantiate.

Annette used to give talks on family history entitled “Skeletons in the cupboard”. We found plenty of examples but nothing too dire.

To come full circle we inherited a lot of books from my great grandparents. I’ve always found these Victorian works of fiction to be extremely downbeat, morbid and sad. There were times as a teenager when I would dip into them but I usually recoiled quite soon.