The Jubilee at Stanford Rivers

On the 1st January 1900, the celebration of the new century in London was muted. The Boer War was not going well. Ladysmith was under siege. British Army equipment was being out performed by the enemy’s. Combat deficiencies were to be put right by compulsory army training; even ‘voluntary conscription’ was being proposed. Money had to be raised to support the war through both lottery and public subscription. Perhaps as a distraction, there was a familiar debate in the letters page of The Times about whether the new century did actually start on the 1st January 1900 or would follow in 1901, (surprisingly one letter referred to correspondence echoed in the same pages in 1800!).

Seeking similarities with recent events, it is not easy to find expressions of any widespread celebration either in London or locally. However, maybe this was fortunate. Memories of the 1897 Jubilee of the Queen's Accession were still fresh in the memory. In Stanford Rivers, a public meeting was held to decide how the Jubilee should be commemorated. In March 1898, a local paper reported discontent.

"Bright-eyed, ruddy-faced and genial Mr. MUGLESTON of Littlebury Hall, Stanford Rivers, has given us a call to tell us of the woes of that parish. The tornado of the QUEEN'S Jubilee, it seems, is still blowing over it. When the Jubilee was in prospect a public meeting was held to consider what should be done. Plans were proposed in goodly variety. One wanted a hospital; another, a parish nurse; a third, a reading-room; a fourth, a bell to call the school children; a fifth, a fountain in the school yard, and so on.

When all these bewildering subjects had been threshed out, it was resolved on the motion of Mr. MUGLESTON, that the school bell should be provided, and that a tea should be given both to the adults and the children of the parish. Everything then promised to flourish like a field of goodly wheat; but some enemy went about and sowed tares .... "

A separate private meeting was then organised which reversed the decision, replacing the bell with a fountain and distribution of meat to the elderly. The local paper, perhaps tongue in cheek, proceeded:

"The news, we gathered from Mr. MUGlESTON, fell upon Stanford Rivers like a shower of sleet. Discontent reigned supreme, and on Jubilee-Day, when the rest of the world was merry with music and dancing, three black flags were exhibited - not out of any sort of disloyalty to our beloved Queen, but in disapproval to the exiguous nature of the local rejoicings."

It was claimed by Mr. Mugleston that the splinter group, now in the course of building the fountain, had run short of money, despite, apparently, "availing that the supply of water to the school was quite satisfactory. Mr. Mugleston now' refused to pay his share of the voluntary rate in aid of the schools. The paper concluded:

"We can only hope that order will soon prevail at Stanford Rivers as at Warsaw". Warsaw?

Old Nat Wilson replied by letter. Old Nat pointed out that the water supply to the school was inadequate. 200 "thirsty little souls" having to drink water from the ditch just as he himself had 40 years before. He further claimed that after three inconclusive public meetings, Mr. Mugleston had asked him to form a committee and carry out his own plans. A fountain or monument of York stone was suggested. Furthermore, a "substantial" tea was to be provided for the women and children of the parish, a medal for each child over 15, enhanced prizes for the school sports, and beef to the cottagers over 60. Old Nat, while on the one hand acknowledging the necessity to "cut our coat according to the cloth", clearly believed he had an 'unfettered social mission in "sowing milk and honey for the dear little children" rather than erecting a bell "ting-tangling" in their ears.

Mr. Mugleston disagreed. The Government grant to the school was £150 and 15s for each child with any deficiency taken up by a rate. He observed that this rate was not paid by Old Nat, it being contributed by his landlord, Old Nat's house being assessed at £4 p.a. It was not right for the money for the fountain to be taken from these funds. "Will it be passed by the auditor?" Mr. Mugleston queried.
The correspondence became precise but embittered. The sower of the tares was not Old Nat but Mr. Mugleston who had sought to disrupt the meeting himself. Old Nat surmised that Mr. Mugleston "has been among the aristocrats since last May, and so has greatly refined the word feed into high tea". Mr. Mugleston was accused of only paying half his rate, about 30s a year, towards "our beautiful commodious school". Old Nat, a ratepayer, stuck to his guns.

The fountain was opened by Lady Cunliffe Smith in front of the Stanford Rivers parishioners, assembled en masse, in September. Through the tap, water from the terra cotta fountain gushed forth ‘bright and clear’. Two gun metal cups inscribed ‘VR’ were attached. The fountain was built by Messrs F.N. Noble and Sons, the architect being a Mr. F. Rowntree of Glasgow. The cost was £90 in all.

The school has gone, but the fountain remains today. In recent years, local residents have successfully opposed the removal of the fountain by the local authorities.