Passing Muster
The Militia in Leicestershire and Rutland on the
250th anniversary of the Militia Act of 1757.
bow and halberd) to a magnate worth in
excess of £1,000 who was charged with
providing a small army of his own (6
armoured demi-lances, 10 light horsemen,
40 corselets or suits of armour, 40
brigandines
or ‘studded’ jackets, 40
pikes, 30 longbows and sheaves of arrows,
30 steel caps, 20 bills or halberds, 20
haquebuts or simple firearms and 20
morion or sallet helmets).
The whole was under the supervision of
the Lord-Lieutenant of the shire – another
new creation, to represent the crown
locally. As a further refinement Parliament
then passed an Acte for the taking of
Musters; requiring the gathering of the
military force of a county, for training and
inspection. Henceforth, an efficient soldier
of the militia (and by extension - in years
to come – anyone or anything performing
satisfactorily) might be said to have
‘passed muster’.
The Trained Band
The militia took another step towards
efficiency in 1573, when Queen
Elizabeth’s government ordered that a
convenient and sufficient number of the
most able be selected at the muster, to be
tried, armed and weaponed, and so
conveniently taught and trained. This
militia élite became the ‘trained band’. In
Leicestershire, of 1,260 men considered
‘able’, 400 were chosen for training. While
the militia as a whole was mustered
annually (or even less often) the trained
men would gather more frequently – in
some places as often as once a week. In
1607, at a time of civil unrest over
enclosures, the Corporation paid to keep
Leicester’s 40 trained men under arms,
while the county soldiers remained ready
to move at 12 hours’ notice.
The militia (and its arms) proved vital in
the first few months of the Civil War; both
sides competing to array troops and control
History of the Militia
Although the word militia does not appear
before the late 16th century, the idea of a
citizen soldiery, as opposed to the regular
army, dates back to before the Norman
Conquest. At Hastings in 1066, for
example, King Harold’s army consisted of
a professional core – the house-carls –
supported by the local fyrd. This fyrd was a
citizen army, raised when needed from
amongst the free-men of each shire.
Usually the fyrd would be split in half, one
part serving for a couple of months before
being replaced by the other half – thereby
ensuring that vital work (such as the
harvest) was not neglected.
The notion of a pool of armed free-men, on
call in time of need, was maintained by the
Normans. The Assize of Arms (1181) and
Statutes of Winchester (1285) specified the
arms that would be required from each
man. Practice with the longbow was also
required (with few exceptions) of every
able bodied man. By the fifteenth century
however, after a century of conflict with
the French, war had become a matter for
professionals – who remained much longer
in the field and used a range of
sophisticated weapons.
Despite
his
interest
in
military
developments and involvement in foreign
wars, Henry VIII seems to have done little
to alter the ‘medieval’ system for raising
troops that he inherited. His successors
made use of mercenaries, at considerable
expense, but in 1558, the last year of the
reign of Philip and Mary, the old AngloSaxon idea was dusted off and revived.
Once again all men, from 16 to 60, were
liable to be called-up. Their arms and
equipment were specified according to
their income, everyone being slotted into
one of ten classes. These varied from those
with an income below £10 (who were to
provide one man, lightly armoured, with
1
stores of gunpowder and weapons. The
war was won however by professionals,
who formed the basis of England’s first
national army.
The restoration of Charles II in 1660
proved to be the great missed opportunity
for the militia. As might be expected, the
Commonwealth period had seen the militia
at a peak of efficiency. In 1655 a small
mounted militia had been formed, a tenth
the size of the old trained bands. Recruited
from paid volunteers and serving under
Cromwell’s Major Generals, the republic’s
militia was cheap, competent and fair. It
had not however been popular with the
gentry, who found themselves cut out from
local administration and the maintenance
of law and order. Worse, England’s brief
taste of puritan military rule had left a fear
of standing armies – against which the
obvious counter-balance was a strong
militia, commanded by the gentlemen of
each shire. Economy and efficiency were
to give way to political necessity.
Under Charles II the militia did not at first
perform too badly. Used as a police force,
the militia in Leicestershire busily
dispersed gatherings of Quakers and other
dissenters hostile to the new regime.
Searches were also made of Roman
Catholic houses for arms. Too close an
association with repression of civil
liberties often proved unpopular, both with
the public and amongst militiamen.
It was the test of war however that showed
the real weakness of the militia in the years
before 1757. From the 1680s the militia
was left to decay. Little money was
provided for arms and training and few
who could avoid it would serve in the
ranks. Invasions by the Dutch, the Duke of
Monmouth and Jacobites all showed the
importance of regular troops and the
weaknesses of the militia. In 1745, when
Prince Charles Edward’s Stuart’s clansmen
marched through England, as far south as
Swarkestone Bridge, how many counties’
militias were hapless observers of their
passing?
as a support, not a replacement for the
regular army. Politicians at last began to
explore how the militia might be made
efficient – to take on home defence (and
thereby free the Navy for a more
aggressive strategy) as well as providing a
pool of manpower – a reserve – for the
Army in time of need. The stage was set
for the great reforming act of 1757.
30 Georgii II Cap. XXV
“An Act for the better ordering of the
Militia Forces in the several Counties
of that Part of Great Britain called
England.”
(1757)
“WHEREAS a well-ordered and welldisciplined Militia is essentially necessary to
the Safety, Peace and Prosperity of this
Kingdom: And whereas the Laws now in
Being for the Regulation of the Militia are
defective
and
ineffectual;
Be
it
enacted…That from and after the first Day
of May one thousand seven hundred and
fifty-seven, his Majesty…shall issue forth
Commissions of Lieutenancy…and the
respective Lieutenants thereby appointed
shall have full Power and Authority to call
together all such Persons, and to arm and
array them at such Times and in such
Manner as is herein expressed…shall give
Commissions to a proper Number of
Colonels, Lieutenant Colonels, Majors and
other Officers…to train and discipline the
Persons so to be armed and arrayed…”
In their determination to achieve the “wellordered and well-disciplined Militia” that
would safeguard a kingdom once again at
war with France, the government passed not
only the Militia Act but within a year
another Act, “to explain, amend, and
enforce” it. The two Acts contained a
number of significant clauses:
 Militia Officers were to be appointed
according to their wealth: from an
ensign, worth at least £50 per annum,
to a Colonel, whose estate was to be
valued at £400 or more.
 The numbers of troops raised varied
according to the population of the
county. Leicestershire was to find
560 men, Rutland 120.
 Returns were to be made anew every
3 years, by parish officers, of all men
Reform
The lessons were at last learnt. It took a
professional army, brought home from
Flanders, to destroy the clansmen at
Culloden. The militia was thenceforth seen
2





aged between 18 and 50. The lists
should “distinguish each person”,
giving rank and occupation as well as
infirmities.
Peers,
clergymen,
officers of the armed forces,
members of universities, parish
officers, apprentices and seamen
were exempt.
Men were to be chosen from the lists
by lot; to serve for 3 years (or
provide a substitute, or pay £10).
They could be chosen again at the
end of the 3 years. Each parish would
be liable to find one or more men
according to population.
Training would be carried out from
Tuesday – Friday in Whitsun Week
every year (or at Easter if it hindered
the harvest). Training of smaller
units was at the discretion of the
lieutenants.
Fines were specified for indiscipline,
drunkenness, absence and for
pawning clothes and equipment.
The militia was to be embodied in
case of invasion or rebellion, for
service in any part of the kingdom.
One guinea would be paid on
beginning active service and pay
would be at the normal Army rate.
The (Lord) Lieutenant would
command, assisted by five or more
Deputy Lieutenants.
Embodiment
The Rutland Militia (120 strong) was
completed for service in 1759, and it is
likely that Leicestershire’s regiment was
first mustered at the same time. Certainly,
Leicestershire
militiamen
were
at
Winchester in 1760 (guarding French
prisoners) and in Romford, Essex, the
following year. Both regiments were again
embodied during the War for American
Independence, from about 1778-1783.
Muster rolls for the Leicestershire
Regiment survive at the National Archives
from Devon in 1781, Leicestershire and
Newcastle in 1782, and Scarborough,
Bridlington and Malton in February 1783.
The Rutland regiment served at Coxheath
Camp, Kent in 1781 and was at home in
February 1782 before a period at Warley
camp, Essex. The Rutland regiment,
perhaps because of its size, was briefly
converted to an artillery unit.
During the French Revolutionary War and
the conflict with Napoleonic France that
followed it, the militia was again
embodied. The Leicestershire Regiment
manned the defences of Norwich and Great
Yarmouth, Hull, Scarborough, Dover and
the Landguard Fort (Felixstowe). There
was overseas service too, a portion of the
regiment volunteering to go to Ireland,
where a French landing in 1798 had
sparked a major revolt. For a period of
eighteen months in 1798-99 the
Leicestershire Militia formed part of the
garrison at the depôt, or prisoner-of- war
camp, at Norman Cross.
The militia was always seen as a source of
trained men for the regular army. On one
occasion alone, at Dover Castle in 1805,
230 men of the Leicestershires volunteered
for regular service. Shortages of manpower
led to the creation, in 1808, of another
force – the Local Militia. This raised
300,000 men voluntarily and by strict
ballot (which did not permit substitution).
In 1814 volunteers were taken directly
from militia regiments for active service.
Some 420 of the Leicesters volunteered,
forming part of a Militia Brigade. They did
not however arrive in France before
Napoleon’s surrender.
In 1852 the militia was again reformed by
Act of Parliament. A force of 80,000 was
to be raised from volunteers (aged between

3
18 and 35 and at least 5 feet 4 inches in
height). Parishes were still required to
supply any deficiency by ballot, preparing
lists of all men from 18-30 years. Their
training would be from 21 to 56 days as
required.
Shortage of troops led to the embodiment
of the Militia again during the Crimean
War. The Leicestershire Militia was moved
to Aldershot for training in December
1855, having volunteered for active
service. By April 1856 the war was over
however and the Militia was disembodied
on 12 June. Shortages of troops caused by
the Indian Mutiny in 1857 led to
embodiment again on 3 November 1857
and deployment in Ireland “in aid of the
Civil Power.” After a few months in Cork
and the odd election riot in Limerick, the
regiment was transferred to the Curragh
and disembodiment in May 1858.
published as The Leicestershire Militia in
South Africa (Leicester, 1902). It was the
creation of the Territorial Army in 1908
that really saw the end of the militia,
though the name was briefly revived for
the first drafts of conscripts under the
Compulsory Training Act of May 1939.
My ancestor was a militiaman…
Potentially, there is a great deal that you
can find out about a militiaman though,
like all research – there is a considerable
element of luck!
The first factor to consider is the date at
which he served. For the period before the
1757 Act, there are a few surviving militia
lists. The lists for both Leicestershire and
Rutland survive from c. 1640 (see
DG5/895-911
and
DE3214/270/10
respectively) while Leicester’s Borough
Records contain many references to the
trained band and its equipment. The best
starting place for the militiamen of
Leicester (from the 16th century onwards)
is the printed series of Records of the
Borough of Leicester, which has many
indexed references (under ‘soldiers,
trained…’ The Borough records include
several lists of residents, by ward, with
their weapons and armour.
Reform (1881)
In 1881 the British Army was radically
reformed. A ‘territorial’ system was
adopted, firmly linking all foot regiments
with a home county. In theory, a county
regiment would have two regular
battalions (one abroad and other at its
home depot). The old militia became the
3rd (and sometimes 4th) battalion. The 17th
Foot therefore became the Leicestershire
Regiment, with a depot at Glen Parva, and
the Leicestershire Militia became the 3rd
Battalion, Leicestershire Regiment. The
old Rutlandshire Regiment, the 58th,
became the 2nd Battalion of the
Northamptonshire Regiment, the Rutland
Militia being absorbed into its 3rd battalion.
Though the name largely disappeared, the
‘militia’ lived on. The Leicestershire
Militia was embodied briefly in 1900 and
for active service in South Africa in 1902,
an account of its experiences being
A complete muster roll of the
Leicestershire Militia survives for 1715 in
the Order Book (LM2/4). There are also
rolls of militiamen (and substitutes) for
1772 (LM4/1) 1792-1794 (LM4/2) and c.
1860 (LM4/4). Lists of officers, noncommissioned officers and drummers, of
4
promotions, changes of men between
companies, deserters and new recruits
may also be found in the Militia Order
Books, which survive for Leicestershire
from 1797-1798 (2D33); 1798-1821
(LM3/1-5); 1852-1854 (14D41/38); 18581860 (LM3/6) and 1865-1872 (LM3/7).
The museum of the Royal Leicestershire
Regiment in the Newarke Houses
Museum, Leicester, has a number of
items relating to the Leicestershire Militia,
including a volume listing officers,
militiamen, their wives and children and
pensioners from 1812-1858.
Many records relating to the militia and to
individual militiamen are to be found at
The National Archives. The Militia
Muster and Pay lists, which record the
names of men actually serving, are
available as WO13. The deployments of
militia regiments once embodied are also
recorded as Marching Orders in WO5
and in the Monthly Returns (WO68). Pay
books survive in WO13 and WO68.
Muster Rolls from the National Archives
listing every militiaman in both the
Leicestershire and Rutland regiments,
from 1781-1782, are available at the
Record Office on microfiche.
Parish Records remain the greatest,
largely untapped resource of material held
locally relating to the militia. It was upon
the parish that the bureaucratic (as well as
financial) burden of the militia fell. From
the initial instruction to compile a list of
men eligible for the ballot to the appeals
from destitute wives (the girls they left
behind them) when the regiment was
embodied and posted away, it was the
parish officers who made and kept the
records. It is therefore always worth
consulting lists of parish records,
especially the records of the constables
and overseers of the poor. Some parishes,
such as Snarestone (DE189) and Belgrave
(17D64) are particularly rich in material
relating to the militia. Others have
interesting one-off survivals, such as
Leire’s list of militiamen (DE1425/71)
Lutterworth’s
arrangements
for
substitution from as early as 1764
(DE2559/10) and the vestry book from
Market Harborough (DE1212/6) with lists
of militiamen, and a subscription list to
hire a substitute where necessary.
Family and estate collections are fertile
ground too for the Leicestershire and
Rutland as well as other counties’ Militias.
The Finch, Noel, Boothby and Fowke
families all provided committed militia
officers and, fortunately, have preserved
their papers. There are useful collections
from a lowlier stratum of society too –
such as the papers and photographs of
Sergeants Lester (DE3329) and Clark
(DE7174) both of whom ended their long
army careers on the Leicestershire
Militia’s Permanent Staff.
Finding out more…
There is no published history of the
Leicestershire Militia (apart from The
Leicestershire Militia in South Africa of
1902) though the Rutland Militia is dealt
with in two works relating to the
Northamptonshire regiment: Records of
the services of the Northamptonshire and
Rutland Militia from 1756 to 1889 and
Major C A Markham’s The History of the
Northamptonshire & Rutland Militia
printed by subscription in 1924. A Rutland
Militia Ballot roll of 1779-1783 (in private
hands) appeared in the proceedings of a
Leicester University genealogical club and
a more scholarly analysis of a Leicester
muster roll from 1608, by Allen Chinnery,
appeared
in
the
Leicestershire
Archaeological and Historical Society
Transactions LX for 1986.
For those wishing to research the
background to the 1757 Militia Act, J R
Western’s The English Militia in the
Eighteenth Century (London, 1965) cannot
be bettered. Western’s account is political
history however and he does not attempt to
tackle the military or social history of the
subject.
Lindsay
Boynton’s
The
Elizabethan Militia 1558-1638 (Newton
Abbot, 1971) is also a good and clear
account. The only general history of the
militia, is Colonel George Jackson Hay’s
Epitomized History of the Militia (London,
1905?) which is useful – if not entirely
readable.
The Record Office, of course, is always
pleased to add to its holdings of militia
records. If your ancestor was a militiaman,
have you anything relating to him?
5
did allow an escape. It seems unlikely that
the Militia Bill would have become Law,
had it required everyone picked to serve.
There were exclusions from the start, of
course. Peers, clergymen, parish officers,
soldiers, sailors, and apprentices were all
exempt. Not to mention the infirm,
imprisoned
and
freemen
of
the
Watermen’s Company.
The Act also allowed a great escape route
for the well-off: substitution. Anyone
chosen by the militia ballot, who could
afford to pay someone else to serve in his
stead, need never don a red-coat. It
occasionally happened that one of
society’s better-off was chosen. The ballot
was blind after all and every eligible name
had to be entered into the draw. Sir Gerard
Noel for example, was balloted to serve in
the Middlesex Militia (for his London
residence) but I don’t suppose he allowed
the matter to go any further.
The fact was that if a parish could satisfy
its quota with volunteers there was no need
to go to a ballot. Many parishes therefore
agreed to a subscription fund so as to hire a
substitute or two –the Leicester Journal of
8 April contains a string of adverts
enjoining would-be substitutes (“SIX or
SEVEN likely YOUNG MEN” in the case
of Kegworth) to apply to the constables of
Edmondthorpe, Thorpe Arnold, Quorndon
and the Churchwardens and Overseers of
Loughborough. A list of those subscribing
half a crown (with which to hire a
substitute) survives in the Market
Harborough parish records. Individuals
could hire their own substitutes and groups
of men subject to the vagaries of the ballot
seem also to have clubbed together for
mutual protection or ‘insurance’ against
selection. There were agents for substitutes
and, once the demand for men had driven
the ‘bounty’ (the money paid to new
recruits) high enough, even adverts from
those willing to serve, offering themselves
at a price.
One result, inevitably, was the absence
from the ranks of the militia of anyone
who could absent himself! An inspecting
officer therefore would pass along the
ranks and gaze into the eyes of eager
youths, scamps who’d joined for the
money and (by far the majority) the poor.
It isn’t hard to see why the militia came in
Appendix I:
“Shamefull Behaviour”
Discipline and indiscipline in the
Leicestershire Militia
The Duke of Wellington’s description of
British troops as the “scum of the earth” is
well known. He made the remark, or
something like it, during the war with
France and later, in 1831, during a military
debate in Parliament. Wellington was, alas,
something of a snob – there is ample
evidence of his favouring the high-born at
the expense of the lowly. However, as
visitors to the Record Office’s Passing
Muster exhibition (from 8 October) will
see, some of the redcoats of the
Leicestershire Militia were ill-placed to
defend themselves from the accusation.
While the regular army was recruited
entirely from volunteers, the militia was, in
part at least, conscripted. A recruit to, say,
the 17th (Leicestershire) Regiment of Foot
– a regular unit – might join for the bounty
money he’d receive. He might enlist for
the thrill of army life, preferring to see the
world rather than polish the seat of a
knitting frame with the seat of his
breeches. He might be bullied into it,
cajoled or drunk into enlistment but, when
all is said and done, he had only himself to
blame. The militiaman was picked from a
list and had to go.
Well, that isn’t quite true. It might have
been the original idea and it might have
been better that way; closer to the
conscription of National Service, from
which there was (almost) no escape.
Undoubtedly the militia would have been
better for having a true cross-section of the
population in it.
However, the 1757 Act which established
the form of the militia for the next century,
6
for a pillorying from satirists or, from
Wellington’s exalted height, seemed the
dregs of society.
Some of the militiamen of course were
rogues. In November 1798 a detachment
was sent from Norman Cross Depôt, up the
road to Leicester, to “receive from the
County Gaol 22 men belonging to the
Leicester Regiment of Militia”. In the
1850s James Hawker, the Oadby poacher,
enlisted in the Leicestershire Militia (under
an assumed name) to buy a gun. Fed up
with the misfiring of his old flintlock, the
diehard poacher wanted the bounty money
for a decent percussion rifle. At least
Hawker proved a useful soldier; some
militiamen had no intention of doing so.
They took the bounty money and ran. The
Leicester Journal is full of them:
“DESERTED
From His Majesty’s
LEICESTERSHIRE
REGIMENT
Of MILITIA, on the 24th of
May, 1793, at Norwich,
WILLIAM STACEY
Born at
Coleorton, in
the County of
Leicester,
by Occupation a Labourer,
26 years of
Age, 5 Feet 10 Inches high,
Hazle Eyes, fresh
Complexion
Long brown Hair, and very
large Whiskers:
…When he deserted, had on
a Smock Frock, Corduroy
Waistcoat with sleeves, Leather
Breeches, Round hat bound, and
a Silk Handkerchief round his
neck; and is now
supposed to be in some
Coal Pits in Leicestershire.”
soldiers Guilty of such Low and
Scandalous Practices may be Detected
and Punished for a Crime that brings
Disgrace and a reflection on the whole…”
Much of the indiscipline amongst the
militia seems to have been occasioned by
drink. In a country largely devoid of
barracks, the militia (even in garrison
towns) was all too often billeted on innkeepers. Some publicans complained;
others seem to have found the lodging
allowances and captive customers
compensation enough. At Hull in 1797, it
appears to have been necessary to impose
an early night – the Order Book recording
that “complaint having been made to the
Commanding officer that some of the
soldiers sit up very late at night in their
Quarters, the consequence of which is
drunkenness & riot – it is ordered that a
non-commissioned officer
of
each
company shall visit every evening the
quarters of their respective companies, to
see that the men retire to rest at ten
o’clock…” [2D33]
In 1797 the non-commissioned officers
were warned that they would be held
responsible for any man “found to be
drunk on the General Parade” and in the
1850s several sergeants of the Militia’s
permanent staff were dismissed for
conduct that more than likely was caused
by intemperance.
In 1797 the same names crop up again and
again. On 1 August the colonel discharged
“from their confinement” Samuel Arnold,
John Gilmore, John Mason, James Welch,
Hector Musson, Joseph Allsop, William
Herbert and John Haddon; taking “this
opportunity of informing the soldiers that
being drunk upon Parade or absent will no
longer be looked over and hopes this
forgiveness will have a proper effect”.
For John Mason, at least, it didn’t. On 13
August he (with Samuel Dexter and
Joseph Wesson) was sentenced to a
month’s extra drill “for appearing drunk
on the Parade.” Almost as though John
Mason had handed on the baton of
misbehaviour, it was Joseph Wesson who
next stepped over the line. On 6 September
(perhaps encouraged by the password of
the day - “Joyfully”) Wesson was hauled
off to a Court Martial for “appearing dirty
Some were worse than rogues. In February
1799 the commander of the garrison at
Norman Cross prisoner-of-war camp
issued an order condemning “the
shamefull Behaviour of some of the men in
the garrison Robbing one of the Prisoners
of war of the Trifling remains of what he
had Earned by Cooking for the other
Prisoners…it is to be hoped that the
7
on the Parade this Morning & Spoiling his
Regimental Clothes”.
Other crimes seem to have been almost
inevitable. A basic lack of understanding
about hygiene and sanitation was at the
root of some problems (as described in last
quarter’s Dustsheet). For some recruits,
criminal activity was ingrained as much as
the dirt. There is something quite pitiful
about the futile attempts by the
commander of the garrison at Norman
Cross to stop his men poaching: “Any
soldier that may be detected in snareing or
in any respect in pursuit of game or found
in any field or inclosure and not in the
public thoroughfare will be punished…”
[LM3/1 31 October 1798]
Discipline could be lenient, perhaps
bearing in mind the lack of ‘vocation’ of
the troops. In October 1797 a Samuel
Pearson “late a Deserter from this
Regiment”
was
pardoned,
having
voluntarily surrendered himself to the
commanding officer. At other times, the
discipline was as harsh as in the regular
army. On 19 October 1798 Corporal
Nathaniel Pick, of the Leicestershire
Militia, was sentenced to receive three
hundred lashes “in the usual manner” for
absenting himself from a detachment of
the regiment.
The ‘usual manner’ is more closely
defined in the record of the court martial at
Norman Cross of Robert Weldon, a
private of the Leicestershire Militia, who
had not only “Quitted his post when on
Guard” but aggravated the offence by
being “Employed in Conveying Spirits to
the Prisoners of War” when absent. The
sentence was 200 lashes in the Usual
manner…to be carried into execution to
morrow at 11 O’Clock, in the presence of
the whole Garrison Who are to assemble
on the West Parade for that purpose. The
Surgeon of the Leicester to Attend and 2
Drummers of each of the Leicester and
West Suffolk with Cats to inflict the
Punishment.” [LM3/1 26 December 1798]
The indiscipline of the militia enters a new
league however, with the case of Captain
Joseph
Farmer,
adjutant
of
the
Leicestershires. On Saturday 16 August
1794 the regiment, at Danbury Camp,
Essex, was on the exercise ground, having
a field day. The troops were deployed in
line, firing blank cartridges by divisions.
In front, on his horse, sat Captain Farmer,
as befitted the adjutant – the officer
responsible, under the colonel, for the
administration and training of the
regiment.
Suddenly, Farmer fell from his horse,
struck apparently by a musket ball in the
neck. It was, of course, relatively easy to
take aim at an officer in front of his men.
It wouldn’t be so easy to hit him but
clearly it was believed that Farmer was the
victim of an assassination attempt. The
officers of the regiments at Danbury (the
Cambridgeshire, Nottinghamshire, West
Norfolk and Leicestershire militias)
offered no less than 100 guineas reward to
“any person [who] will come forward, and
give such evidence as will convict the man
who wounded Captain Farmer…” A sum
doubled by the government.
No adequate motive appears to have been
established. The Leicester Journal, not a
’paper to sympathise with a rebel anyway,
couldn’t understand the crime: few men
stood higher in the opinion of all
descriptions than Captain Farmer:
esteemed by his Officers, a very able
soldier, and what makes the circumstance
appear more mysterious, beloved by the
men.”
Although his life was despaired of, Farmer
survived. After three weeks he was
conveyed to Cambridge, where his
brother, Richard, was Master of
Emmanuel College. Having suffered
considerable pain, Captain Farmer was
greatly eased when those portions of his
coat collar, stock and shirt, which had
been carried into the wound by the missile,
were removed. This had enabled Farmer’s
removal to Cambridge, where (the
Leicester Journal reported) “he will have
every further possible assistance from the
Faculty…the ball is not yet extracted,
indeed, it is lodged so deep in the neck, as
at present to have baffled the most eminent
surgeons…”
Captain Farmer carried the ‘ball’ in his
neck for a further five years, until 24
October 1799, when Mr Peake, a surgeon
from Leicester managed to extract a bulletsized stone from the wound. The
extraction solved one mystery but left
another. Clearly someone in the militia
8
that day in 1794 had deliberately added a
stone to his blank cartridge (there was no
longer any possibility that a ball cartridge
had somehow accidentally been introduced
to the store of blanks) but was Farmer the
target?
The militia of Leicestershire and Rutland
will be the subject of an exhibition at the
Record Office from 8 October to 16
November this year. Visitors will see that
failings of discipline, or want of hard work
and effort, were not typical of regiments
that were, in general, a credit to their
respective counties. From earliest times
ordinary men stood ready to defend their
communities with their lives – and
occasionally were called upon to make that
sacrifice. Militiamen regularly transferred
to the regular army, where they proved
reliable and well trained. You cannot
judge the orchard by its windfalls.
We
began
with
Wellington’s
disparagement of his raw material. It is as
well to recollect his conclusion; his men
may have been ‘scum’ enlisted for all the
wrong reasons but ‘it really is wonderful
that we should have made them the fine
fellows they are’.
anything, or records of anyone, relating to
the militia, then I should be pleased to
know of it. For now though, let me offer an
aperitif and tell you about our own
Leicestershire Militia at Norman Cross….
Norman
Cross,
well
known
to
connoisseurs of the Great North Road, is a
junction on the A1 just north of Stilton
(where the cheese was loaded onto coaches
for London) and no more than five or six
miles south-east from Peterborough. It is
also pretty flat and bleak. An ideal spot, in
fact, for a prisoner-of-war camp; handy by
road and not far from King’s Lynn and
Great Yarmouth, where large numbers of
captured Dutch sailors were disembarked.
In 1796 the depôt (always the depôt, never
the p-o-w camp) was built there to house
captured French and Dutchmen, for whom
there was no longer room aboard the hulks,
at Portchester Castle, or on Dartmoor. To
guard them came battalions of militia,
including the Leicesters, who marched
down from Scarborough and into the
barracks at Norman Cross on the first day
of 1798.
The routine of life at Norman Cross (for
the guards at least) can be gathered from
the regimental order books, two of which
survive in the Record Office (refs. 2D33
and LM3/1) from the Leicestershire
Militia’s time there. It was a period not
without incident but which might fairly be
characterised as generally tiresome, even
irksome, for the average militiaman.
There were duties to be performed and
almost daily parades. Guards had to be
found for the blockhouse, which sat at the
centre of the vast camp, its cannon
covering the prisoners’ quarters and
exercise ground, and for the gates at the
centre of each of the four long walls. At
night sentinels occupied sentry boxes
placed at regular intervals. There were
tailors too, fully employed altering
uniforms, and of course cooks – excused
parades (according to the Order Book) one
day but back on the next! There was also a
band, which must have played and (we
hope) practised.
There were also consolations. For the
married men there was at least the
possibility of home comforts; Garrison
Orders on 5 January 1798 requiring a
Appendix II:
Turnips and toilets: on guard with the
Leicestershire Militia
This year marks the 250th anniversary of
the Militia Act of 1757; the act that
moulded the militia into the form we all
know from television adaptations of Jane
Austen (those red-coated officers at
seemingly endless balls) and in which
many of our ancestors must have served –
whether they wished to or not!
It is my intention to commemorate this
anniversary, and the service of the militia
(from Elizabethan trained bands to the
‘militiamen’ called up in 1939-40), with an
exhibition from 8 October. I have,
moreover, made an uncharacteristic effort
to be prepared well in advance. I have
therefore been trawling, in odd moments,
for any evidence we might have here of the
militias, both of Leicestershire and
Rutland, as well as any other county (and
you’d be surprised what turns up!). I hope
I need hardly add that if you have
9
return of “those men whose wives have
hutts.” A few days later the Order book
makes clear that this was a rare privilege:
“one sergeant only per company will be
permitted to sleep out of the barracks, - no
soldier will be permitted top sleep either at
Yaxley or Stilton, each place being above a
mile from the Barracks, & no more than
three men per company will have leave to
sleep in the Hutts…” Elsewhere there is a
threat to drum women out of the Garrison
(so they must have been there) if they do
not cease to “carry Liquor, & other
improper articles to the Prisoners.”
There was also furlough, though such
leave of absence was similarly limited to
three men from each company at any one
time. Moreover, upon his return the
(doubtless miserable) soldier had to report
to his Commanding Officer, “who will
judge whether he has exceeded his time or
not”.
Even the officers, at times, felt the weight
of authority bearing down upon them.
They are ticked off for laxity in dress. On
15 January 1798 the General had cause to
note that “some officers of this Regiment
have been at Peterborough in coloured
cloaths…” despite a standing order “that
no officer appear at Head Quarters without
their Regimentals.” They are reminded, a
month later, that “the round Hat is an
Indulgence but they are not to be worn
upon Parades, Guards, or when the
Regiment is Under Arms.” Doubtless the
round hat was more comfortable than the
cocked hat required by regulations.
On 9 February 1798 the General issued a
more surprising order. A prisoner had been
detected “at the Rails” and sent by the
Officer in charge to “the Black Hole” (the
equivalent at Norman Cross of the barbed
wire fences and ‘the cooler’ that are such a
feature of p-o-w camps in modern war
films). Though “very glad to find the
Sentry was so alert”, the General also
made it clear “that Officers are not to take
upon themselves to punish Prisoners at
their Discretion, and that when Prisoners
are Discovered in similar situations or
acting in any manner Improperly they are
to be reported and Delivered up to the
Officer of the Civil Department…”
It was also made clear that “no Turnkey or
any other Person belonging to the Prison is
to be Insulted or Interrupted in the
Execution of his Duty.” This was not the
first time that a lack of respect for the
turnkeys had appeared in Orders. After
only eleven days at Norman Cross it was
made clear that the Superintendent of the
Prisoners, Captain Woodriff RN, was to
have the respect due his rank (when in
uniform) and free access to any part of the
camp. His staff too was to be treated
properly, the General twice referring to
reports that turnkeys had been obstructed
and abused: “some of the under Officers
belonging to the Prison have met with
insulting and abusive language…this being
repugnant to His Majesty’s service…”
Perhaps cheeking turnkeys and keeping a
gate shut in their faces when they’d
forgotten the ‘parole’, or password, was
one of the few pleasures of service at
Norman Cross.
Of all the issues raised in the Order Books
however, that of cleanliness must have
used up the most ink. It suggests a wise (if
apparently impotent) concern on the part of
the General - and a distressing laxness
elsewhere! The men are occasionally
scruffy or careless in use of their
equipment or clothing (for example cutting
the skirts of the watch-coats short) but it is
in matters of the latrine where we see a
constant battle waged.
On 19 January 1798 Major General
Stewart notes that “the soldiers do not
make use of the necessaries, erected for
them, to the great annoyance of the
Barrack & prejudice of health…” On 7
February it is the guard at the Block-house
who are at fault. Their isolation at the
centre of the camp is presumably taken
into account but even so they are to use the
“South Guard Necessary” during the day
and only at night to have resort to “the
Ditches towards the north…but on no
account to ease themselves near any
Common Road.”
The bee still clearly in his bonnet, the
General let off another volley two days
later, ordering “an Orderly Serjeant or
Corporal & Two Privates from Each
Barrack rooms to be warned Daily, they
are to keep the Barracks Clean & be
Answerable that No Filth are suffered to be
put on the outside of their Barracks, any
man that is detected in Making Water
10
against the barracks or Commiting any
Uncleanliness in or about the Barracks or
Guards will be brought to a Court
Martial…”
Mind you, our militiaman was sometimes
the victim rather than the villain. That very
day a cart “containing the soil from the
Prisoners Necessary” (and there were in
excess of 6,000 prisoners) broke down at
the North Guard [gate]. “Which of course”
as the general sagely observed, “must be
highly Offensive to that Guard”. In future
the Superintendent should be informed
immediately, “whom the Major General
has no doubt will give Directions for the
Immediate Removal of the Inconvenience
without further Trouble.” So that’s all right
then.
Oh, and the turnips? It was 28 January
1798. The Barrack Master had carried out
his usual inspection and, as usual, found
several Barrack- rooms “dirty, & the
furniture in very bad order”. One in
particular carried off the prize however:
“In number four the bedding was taken off
one of the births & plac’d under the Stairs,
& the birth fill’d with Turnips.”
[Appendices
reprinted
from
The
Dustsheet (no.s 35 & 36) Spring &
Summer 2007.]
Robin P Jenkins
Keeper of Archives
Record Office for Leicestershire, Leicester
& Rutland.
August 2007
11