Post by dreamy on May 8, 2006 3:28:03 GMT 10
Jethart Ba’
DIANE MACLEAN
THE TOWN of Jedburgh stands temptingly close to the English border. For most of the Scottish wars of independence it was too tempting by half for the neighbouring English, who invaded time and time again, fighting with fire and sword to bring the town under their control.
They were brutal times, which explains why most things prefaced with the word Jedburgh (or Jethart) tend towards the bloody. First there is the Jethart Axe, which is a very large axe. Then there's the Jethart Staff, which is a big, pointy spear. And then there was Jethart justice, whereby an accused was hanged first and tried afterwards.
The final legacy of the town's rather violent history is the well-loved Jethart Han' ba' game, which is played every year in February on Candlemas day.
This ancient ball game has no rules, no referees, no officials and consists of two opposing teams, the "uppies" and the "downies", running amok in the streets of Jedburgh. In the game, a ball with streamers attached is "thrown, run away with, smuggled from hand to hand, but never kicked" through the streets. The ball is hurled round the town with great gusto until it - and invariably the teams - end up in the River Jed.
Which all seems rather quaint, like a rough game of rugby on a bracing February afternoon. Except, what it is remembering is altogether less wholesome and requires a trip down history's murky by-ways to explain.
Ferniehirst Castle sits close to the town and frequently changed hands between the Scots and English. In 1548 it was taken by the good folks of Jedburgh, who were given a helping hand by a French task force. The English governor and his men had committed unspeakable acts against the townsfolk, and were quite understandably wary of falling into Scots hands. In desperation they surrendered en masse to the French, who, seeing a quick payoff, sold the prisoners back to the Border people.
And, oh, how the Scots exacted revenge on their southern neighbours. The town swayed to the chorus of Jethart Axes, hacking heads from bodies - the air heavy with blood and sword. When there was no Englishman left alive the Jethart men swung home, carrying the heads of their enemies in triumph. In their joy and exuberance, an impromptu game of "street football" took place using the freshly severed heads as "balls". Much was their enjoyment as they kicked the head up and down the town, until they landed with a whumph into the river.
Today, they no longer use heads (they haven’t for quite a long time!). A football now represents the poor Englishman’s head, and the streamers his hair. The lack of a real head, however, has not meant an end to bloodshed. The game can become rough. People have been hurt. Homeowners and shopkeepers sensibly barricade their windows and doors before the game.
Things got so bad that in 1849 the local magistrate tried to have the annual event banned. Once again the fighting spirit of the Jethart people, long dormant, rose again. They fought for their game and their right to play. But this time they left their axes and their staffs at home and did battle in the High Court. "Jethart Justice" triumphed; the locals won the day, and the game has been played with as much high spirit ever since.
This article: heritage.scotsman.com/diagrams.cfm?cid=2&id=41602005
DIANE MACLEAN
THE TOWN of Jedburgh stands temptingly close to the English border. For most of the Scottish wars of independence it was too tempting by half for the neighbouring English, who invaded time and time again, fighting with fire and sword to bring the town under their control.
They were brutal times, which explains why most things prefaced with the word Jedburgh (or Jethart) tend towards the bloody. First there is the Jethart Axe, which is a very large axe. Then there's the Jethart Staff, which is a big, pointy spear. And then there was Jethart justice, whereby an accused was hanged first and tried afterwards.
The final legacy of the town's rather violent history is the well-loved Jethart Han' ba' game, which is played every year in February on Candlemas day.
This ancient ball game has no rules, no referees, no officials and consists of two opposing teams, the "uppies" and the "downies", running amok in the streets of Jedburgh. In the game, a ball with streamers attached is "thrown, run away with, smuggled from hand to hand, but never kicked" through the streets. The ball is hurled round the town with great gusto until it - and invariably the teams - end up in the River Jed.
Which all seems rather quaint, like a rough game of rugby on a bracing February afternoon. Except, what it is remembering is altogether less wholesome and requires a trip down history's murky by-ways to explain.
Ferniehirst Castle sits close to the town and frequently changed hands between the Scots and English. In 1548 it was taken by the good folks of Jedburgh, who were given a helping hand by a French task force. The English governor and his men had committed unspeakable acts against the townsfolk, and were quite understandably wary of falling into Scots hands. In desperation they surrendered en masse to the French, who, seeing a quick payoff, sold the prisoners back to the Border people.
And, oh, how the Scots exacted revenge on their southern neighbours. The town swayed to the chorus of Jethart Axes, hacking heads from bodies - the air heavy with blood and sword. When there was no Englishman left alive the Jethart men swung home, carrying the heads of their enemies in triumph. In their joy and exuberance, an impromptu game of "street football" took place using the freshly severed heads as "balls". Much was their enjoyment as they kicked the head up and down the town, until they landed with a whumph into the river.
Today, they no longer use heads (they haven’t for quite a long time!). A football now represents the poor Englishman’s head, and the streamers his hair. The lack of a real head, however, has not meant an end to bloodshed. The game can become rough. People have been hurt. Homeowners and shopkeepers sensibly barricade their windows and doors before the game.
Things got so bad that in 1849 the local magistrate tried to have the annual event banned. Once again the fighting spirit of the Jethart people, long dormant, rose again. They fought for their game and their right to play. But this time they left their axes and their staffs at home and did battle in the High Court. "Jethart Justice" triumphed; the locals won the day, and the game has been played with as much high spirit ever since.
This article: heritage.scotsman.com/diagrams.cfm?cid=2&id=41602005
