The first Scouring, according to Judge Hughes, Q.C. (who is really the authority par excellence on the subject), about which there is any authentic information, was held in 1755, and the sports then appeared to be pretty much the same as those held about a century later. The chief prize for backsword play, or cudgel play, as it was sometimes called, was won by a stranger, who appeared in the garb of a gentleman, and who held his own against all the old "gamesters," as the backsword players who had won or shared a first prize at any revel, were then called. As soon as he had won the prize, he jumped on his horse, and rode off. There was some speculation as to who he might be, and presently it was whispered about that he was Tim Gibbons, of Lambourn, who had not been seen for some years, and about whom some strange stories had been afloat. A descendant of his, a native of Wodstone, a village which nestles at the foot of the White Horse, gave the following account of his ancestor:—"Timothy Gibbons, my great-grandvather, you see, sir, foller'd blacksmithing at Lambourn, till he took to highway robbin', but I can't give 'ee no account o' when or wher'. Arter he'd been out, maybe dree or vour year, he and two companions cum to Baydon; and whilst hiding theirselves and waiting their hopes in a barn, the constables got ropes round the barn-yard and lined 'em in. Then all dree drawed cuts[5] who was to go out fust and face the constables. It fell to Tim's two companions to go fust, but their hearts failed 'em, and they wouldn't go. So Tim cried out as 'he'd show 'em what a Englishman could do,' and mounted his hos and drawed his cutlash, and cut their lines a-two, and galloped off clean away; but I understood as t'other two was took. Arter that, maybe a year or two, he cum down to a pastime on White Hoss Hill, and won the prize at backswording; and when he took his money, fearing lest he should be knowed, he jumped on his hoss under the stage, and galloped right off, and I don't know as he ever cum again to these parts. Then I've understood as things thrve wi' 'un as 'um will at times, sir, wi' they sort o' chaps, and he and his companions built the inn called 'The Magpies' on Hounslow Heath; but I dwon't know as ever he kep' the house hisself, except it med ha' been for a short while. Howsomever, at last he was took drinking at a public house somewheres up Hounslow way, wi' a companion, who played a crop wi' 'un, and I b'liev' a' was hanged at Newgate. But I never understood as he killed anybody, sir, and a'd used to gie some o' the money as he took to the poor, if he know'd they was in want."
The next Scouring, of which there seems to be any record, took place in 1776, concerning which the following printed handbill was published:—
"White Horse Hill, Berks, 1776.
The scowering and cleansing of the White Horse is fixed for Monday, the 27th day of May; on which day a Silver Cup will be run for near White Horse Hill, by any horse, &c., that never run for anything, carrying 11 stone, the best of 3 two-mile heats, to start at 10 o'clock.
Between the heats will be run for by poneys a Saddle Bridle and Whip; the best of 3 two-mile heats, the winner of 2 heats will be entitled to the saddle, the second best the Bridle, and the third the Whip.
The same time a Thill Harness will be run for by cart horses, &c., in their harness and bells, the carters to ride in smock frocks without saddles, crossing and jostling, but no whipping allowed.
A Flitch of Bacon to be run for by asses.
A good Hat to be run for by men in sacks, every man to bring his own sack.
A Waistcoat, 10s. 6d. value, to be given to the person who shall take a bullet out of a tub of flour with his mouth in the shortest time.
A cheese to be run for down the White Horse Manger.
Smocks to be run for by ladies, the second best of each prize to be entitled to a Silk Hat.
Cudgel playing for a gold-laced Hat and a pair of buckskin Breeches, and Wrestling for a pair of silver Buckles and a pair of Pumps.
The horses to be on the White Horse Hill by nine o'clock.
No less than four horses, &c., or asses to start for any of the above prizes."
Then came a Scouring on Whit Monday, May 15th, 1780, and of the doings on that occasion there is the following notice in the Reading Mercury, of May 22nd, 1780:—"The ceremony of scowering and cleansing that noble monument of Saxon antiquity, the White Horse, was celebrated on Whit Monday, with great joyous festivity. Besides the customary diversions of horse racing, foot races, etc., many uncommon rural diversions and feats of activity were exhibited to a greater number of spectators than ever assembled on any former occasion. Upwards of thirty thousand persons were present, and amongst them most of the nobility and gentry of this and the neighbouring counties; and the whole was concluded without any material accident. The origin of this remarkable piece of antiquity is variously related; but most authors describe it as a monument to perpetuate some signal victory, gained near the spot, by some of our most ancient Saxon princes. The space occupied by this figure is more than an acre of ground."
There was also a list of the games, which was the same as that in 1776, excepting that in addition there was "a jingling-match by eleven blind-folded men, and one unmasked and hung with bells, for a pair of buckskin breeches."
An old man, William Townsend by name, whose father, one Warman Townsend, had run down the manger after the fore-wheel of a waggon, and won the cheese at this scouring, told the story, as his father had told it to him, how that "eleven on 'em started, and amongst 'em a sweep chimley and a millurd; and the millurd tripped up the sweep chimley and made the soot flee a good 'un;" and how "the wheel ran pretty nigh down to the springs that time."
WHITE HORSE HILL.
The next Scouring seems to have been held in 1785, concerning which one William Ayres of Uffington, aged about 84 years, in 1857 made the following statements:—"When I were a buoy about ten years old I remembers I went up White Hoss Hill wi' my vather to a pastime. Vather'd brewed a barrel o' beer to sell on the Hill—a deal better times than now—Augh! bless 'ee, a man medn't brew and sell his own beer now: and oftentimes he can't get nothin' fit to drink at thaay little beer-houses as is licensed, nor at some of the public-houses too for that matter. But 'twur not only for that as the times wur better then—But I be gandering shure enough,—well now, there wur Varmer Mifflin's mare run for and won a new cart-saddle and thill-tugs—the mare's name wur Duke. As many as a dozen or moor horses run, and they started from Idle's bush, which were a vine owld tharnin'-tree in thay days—a very nice bush. They started from Idle's bush, as I tell 'ee, and raced up to the Rudge-waay; and Varmer Mifflin's mare had it all one way, and beeat all the t'other on 'um holler. The pastime then wur a good 'un a wonderful sight o' folk of all sorts, rich and poor. John Morse of Uffington, a queerish sort of a man, grinned agin another chap droo' hos collars, but John got beeat—a fine bit o' spwoort to be shure, and meead the volks laaf. Another geeam wur to bowl a cheese down the Mainger, and the first as could catch 'un had 'un. The cheese was a tough 'un and held together, a did I assure 'ee, but thaay as tasted 'un said a warn't very capital arter all. Then were running for a peg too, and they as could ketch 'un and hang 'un up by the tayl had 'un. The girls, too run races for smocks—a deal of pastime to be sure. Then wur climmin' a grasy pole for a leg of mutton, too: and backsoordin', and wrastlin', and all that, ye knows. A man by the name of Blackford, from the low countries, Zummersetshire, or that waay someweres, he won the prize, and wur counted the best hand for years arter, and no man couldn't break his yead; but at last, nigh on about twenty years arter, I'll warn 'twer—at Shrin'um Revel, Harry Stanley, the landlord o' the Blawin Stwun, broke his yead, and the low-country men seemed afeard o' Harry round about here for long arter that. Varmer Smallbwones, of Sparsholt, a mazin' stout man, and one as scarce no one, go where 'a would, could drow down, beeat all the low-country chaps at wrastlin', and none could stan' agean 'un. And so he got the neam o' Varmer Great-Bwones. 'Twur only when he got a drap o' beer a leetle too zoon, as he were drowed at wrastlin', but they never drowed 'un twice, and he had the best men come agean 'un for miles. This wur the first pastime as I well remembers, but there med ha' been some afore, for all as I knows. I ha' got a good memorandum, and minds things well when I wur a buoy, that I does. I ha' helped to dress the White Hoss myself, and a deal o' work 'tis to do 't, as should be, I can assure 'ee. About Claay Hill, 'twixt Fairford and Ziziter, I've many a time looked back at 'un, and a' looks as nat'ral as a pictur'."