Barwick-in-Elmet Historical Society 

Village Scenes

by Edward Burlend


Barwicker No. 32
Dec. 1993
Back to the Main Historical Society page
Back to the Barwicker Contents page

The writer of these verses, Edward Burlend, was born in Horsforth in 1813 but the family moved to live in Barwick in 1817 and Edward spent his boyhood here. Some details of his life and his writings are contained in 'The Barwicker' Nos.6, 19, 22 and 24. In 1868 he published a second edition of his book of poetry called 'Village Rhymes', in which a long poem called 'Barwick-in-Elmet' appears. In it he describes the Barwick of his boyhood. The following extract indicates that the old Cross was the social centre of the village in the early nineteenth century just as it was when Tony Shinn described it in the 1930s (see 'The Barwicker' No.30).


The Cross in the late 19th. Century

The old Cross-hill before had never seen
Such happy crowds nor sung with mirth so loud.
Even sanctity herself looked kindly on,.
And merry bells proclaimed the general joy..
Oh! honoured village, scenes like these provoke.
The hopeless whisper; give me back my youth..
This trampled hill, whose cross in ages gone,.
Has oft decayed and been again restored.
Once since I knew it, is no common site..
On its worn steps have sat our elders gray,.
And told the stories of their earlier days..
When their grandsires beheld them, boys at play..
For here it is all parties congregate;.
This is the village rendezvous at eve,.
The young with eager zest to fillip taws,.
To spin their tops, or toss the bouncing ball;.
The old to rest, to smoke their evening pipe,.
Narrate and re-narrate trite village tales.
In which Tradition holds at least her own.
The celebration of Guy Fawkes Day was a well remembered occasion as the following extract shows. We do not know how accurate is Burlend's assertion that there was a maypole in Barwick before the Gunpowder Plot in 1605. The preparations for the yearly celebration of the death of this famous (or infamous) Yorkshireman indicate how enthusiastic the boys of the village were in their quest to achieve a spectacular blaze, even down to stealing a few coals. Fireworks formed a memorable part of the show and they seemed to the young Burlend just as bright and loud as anything produced by the modern manufacturer.

On this famed hill, where stood a cross and pole,.
Ages before Guy's treason was unmasked,.
A yearly bon-fire marks November's tide. .
The village youngsters know the season well,
And, well prepared with faggots hoarded long,.
And ponderous coals, the gift of generous dames,.
Or from some tempting coal-heap cheaply snatched.
Kindle a fire despotic in its glare..
Then gathering round, their flame-illumined forms.
To distant eyes like merry Cyclops seem..
Now pyrotechnic feats in course ensue,.
And mimic cannons, uttering smoke and flame,.
Cause loud reports, with louder cheers received.
The next extract takes us to the 1860s when the poem was written. It is clear that there was a movement afoot at that time to abolish the Bon-fire Night celebration, perhaps because of a more enlightened attitude in England to the Roman Catholic Church for whom Guy Fawkes was a martyr. Edward Burlend appeals to the unidentified 'sages' to discontinue their objections as the celebration had no longer any religious significance and was solely an occasion for all to enjoy, just as it had been when he was a boy in Barwick in the 1820s.

Oh! hinder not, ye sages, hinder not
This yearly sport: let "bon-fire night" return
As heretofore. Those whom it pleases best
In no sectarian spirit bid it hail.
To them it means not malice but delight.
Think how when you were young what joyous haste
It fostered; how impatient you became
To join your merry comrades on the hill.
While wisdom strives life's troubles to prevent,
Oh! let her not prevent its pleasures too. .
Burlend, in his novel 'Amy Thornton or the Curate's Daughter' (see 'The Barwicker' No. 6) describes the appearance, character and life of Elmwood (Barwick) in the 1820s. His account of the situation of Amy's parents' house and garden, as the following extract shows, clearly identifies it as No. 1
March 19864, The Boyle, which has recently been destroyed to make way for a new housing development.

"The village of Elmwood has two short branches separated from the main street at the cross hill. In one of these, about 60 yards from the said junction, stands a small detached house, with one end to the road, and a small garden at the front. The house has only one entrance, and to this you have to go through the garden, which is fenced from the road by a high wall and a neat little green gate. The garden is too small for kitchen produce; but although it is nearly to the north side of the house and door, it is well adapted for a few small shrubs and flowers.
Here there is a beautiful merezeon, that, clad in early spring with clustered blossoms of pale crimson, gives the garden the appearance of life and warmth, very grateful at a time when the cold winds of surviving winter still assure the traveller that he must await many weeks longer before his thick winter garments will feel a cumbrance to him. There is likewise a fine dark green lilac tree, which when covered with its thick bunches of flowers, is an interesting object; and in the far corner stands a solitary apple tree, between which and the said lilac, a curious seat has been constructed of oak branches, fastened together in such a manner as to give the impression that it is something of nature's own workmanship.
A very small rockery is in front of the seat, and among the rough and stalactic blocks of stone of which the rockery is formed, many cheerful plants have gained a settlement. The bright blue periwinkle, and the hardy saxifrage, together with various specimens of stonecrop and yellow moss, thrive abundantly. Along the front of the house, in two beds specially devoted to flowers of rarer kinds may be noticed, as the seasons go round, fine specimens of gorgeous plants, from the time when the golden crocus ventures forth to see whether the snows have melted to the dull and sober December day, when all but the vigorous crysanthemum have sickened before the icy blast, and collecting the remains of their vitality about their roots, are quietly waiting until another spring shall infuse new warmth into their structure, and may call them forth to blossom and to decline as their constitutional destiny may determine."
EDWARD BURLEND
Back to the Main Historical Society page
Back to the Barwicker Contents page