The Rector's Round from The Half Moon

 

In December 1885, PC Frank Scarterfield of the Surrey Constabulary spent a long cold night - and morning - in the remote village of Charlwood. "Embosomed in the woods," reached only by occasionally impassable lanes, Charlwood was normally a quiet place. The beautiful 11th Century church of St. Nicholas stood in the center of the village with a large rectory, then occupied by the Rev. Edward McFarlane Gibson. Right over The Street was the old public house, The Half Moon.

With much to do on a Sabbath morning, the Rev. Mr Gibson retired at 11 p.m. on Saturday, 12 December. Just about that time, last calls having been served, The Half Moon emptied out into the darkness. There had been a proper "knees up" that night, indeed. The raucous crowd stumbled about, mostly merry, but there were a few scuffles. PC Scarterfield, who policed these bosky lanes with his faithful collie, tried to shepherd the legless lot home. Without success and the PC heard enough backtalk that eventually 8 men were summonsed for being drunk and disorderly, including the publican, Fred Brown.

Even in 1885, there was a lot of paperwork when eight men were nicked. The sun was up by the time the constable thought he might get to his own bed. Then, just past 8:00, on a Sunday morning, he saw a young maid from The Half Moon scuttling over the road to the rectory lugging a large sack, in which the sharp-eared PC heard the unmistakable clink of bottles. He ordered the lass to stop and open her pack - a quick look inside revealed six of the familiar red triangles of Bass Ale. She said the rector had ordered a case of ale but she would have to make two trips. Brown, the hungover publican, was awakened and handed a new summons: selling liquor at unauthorised hours other than to bonafide travelers.

At the Surrey Petty Sessions in Reigate, the Rev. Mr. Gibson appeared in defense of Mr. Brown. The rector said he had ordered the beer and paid for it on Saturday. But it was a boisterous day in the pub and they had forgotten to deliver the case. Mrs. Brown, up early Sunday to get the inn back in order, saw the case behind the bar and sent the girl over with it straightaway. The magistrates, to their great credit, took the word of a clerk in holy orders and the charge was dismissed. They even scolded PC Scarterfield for his "injudiciousness" in bringing such a charge.

Two weeks later, in the same courtroom, the Rev. Gibson was back on the stand. He testified that on that Saturday night he'd been in bed just over the road from The Half Moon and did not really hear the drunken disturbance for which the eight Charlwood men were in the dock. Questioned by the PC, the rector admitted that some of the hedges in the churchyard had been damaged. There was a red spill, probably wine, on the footpath. He had no idea how any of it happened and again he'd slept through most of it anyway. It was another disappointing day for the constable; it wasn't quite as bad as he'd portrayed it. "The Charlwood Eight" were fined 10s apiece. 

Geograph.Org.UK

Charlwood isn't such a quiet place today, not a mile or two from the runways at Gatwick. (Some of the ancient Gatwycks still live in the area.) The Half Moon remains, a "hidden gem" according to one of the pub guides. The Rev Gibson was rector at St. Nicholas until his death in 1913. Surely, he enjoyed a Bass or two at the local. 

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