On April 13th 1870, "a large number of persons assembled and asserted their right of way by breaking down the fences". 300-400 people armed with hatchets and pickaxes re-established a footpath enclosed by Mr Costeker at Plough Green (possibly opposite the Freemasons Tavern): "At each crashing of the fence there was a great hooting and hurrahing."
"Samuel Sullings, a sawyer, aged 21 years, was charged with wilfully damaging a wooden fence enclosing a kitchen garden belonging to Mr. John Costeker, of St. John's-hill, Wandsworth...
"[The magistrate] fined the prisoner 40s, in addition to £15, the amount of damage, and in default ordered him to be imprisoned for six months."
But this was not simple vandalism. It was politically motivated, part of great popular local movement against the imminent destruction of the Common.
Costeker had fenced off and planted his "kitchen garden" only 18 months earlier, and there had already been countless attempts to break down his fences (including several by Costeker's own butcher, a Mr Clark).
[The suit between John Costeker and [?] Clark went on for years. It only ended in [?]]
The Daily News continued:
"On Wednesday last about 300 men of the roughest kind came to the place and knocked down the gates and a considerable portion of the fence. Fruit trees were damaged, and an immense amount of injury was done to the property."
A police constable said he saw the prisoner:
"call upon the mob to assist him to break down the gates. He threw a heavy stone at the gates, and after he got them down he jumped upon them and broke the panels. He picked up a large stick and walked across the ground. He said, 'This is our place, boys, and we'll stick to it.' "
John Buckmaster takes up the story:
"A footpath which ran diagonally across a piece of the common was stopped at both ends, and the land added to the gardens of adjoining owners. This enclosure deprived the public of a convenient footpath, and stopping it created much ill-feeling and indignation. The enclosure was protected at both ends with a high closed fence of a most formidable character, lined inside and out with sheet-iron. The one boundary was the railway, and the other the gardens of the common-stealers.
Men would assemble in small detachments in the evening and look at the fence. The police were on the lookout. They expected a siege some evening, and they were not disappointed.
One evening about a dozen men came out of a near public-house [probably the nearby Plough Inn] and with heavy hammers and stones attacked the fence at both ends, broke it down, trampled down the fruit-trees, and went out at the other end amid the deafening cheers of a large crowd which had by this time come together.
Enter the unfortunate Samuel Sullings.
Buckmaster continues:
"One stupid young fellow, who had recently come up from the country to work in the gardens, took up a large stone and deliberately knocked down some palings. His companions saw the police and called him away, but he was deaf, and the police took him into custody, and he was locked up.
"I happened, fortunately for myself, to be away, but, unfortunately for the young man, the whole affair was so sudden and unexpected that no arrangements were made to defend him. The next morning he was brought before the magistrate, confessed his guilt, and expressed his sorrow. He was sentenced to a fortnight's imprisonment.
"The common-stealers pleaded damage and pressed for a heavy punishment as an example. If instead of pleading guilty he had pleaded a right, the magistrate must have dismissed the case.
Buckmaster, in characteristic fashion, swung into action, pulling all the levers available to him:
"On my return I called on his employer, who expressed his willingness to give the man work when he came out of prison.
"I at once prepared a memorial to the Home Secretary for his liberation.
"I first went to the parson of our district and asked him to sign it. [This was JS Jenkinson, vicar of St Mary's Battersea, appointed to the position by Earl Spencer himself.] Now this man, who had often expressed to me his full sympathy with our efforts, began to make all sorts of excuses. The common-stealers formed part of his congregation. They were wealthy and subscribed liberally to his church, and unless they first signed it he could not without giving offence. This was the representative of the Church of the poor man, which ought to have protected him against the greed and avarice of the rich...
"I placed a table in front of a shop where hundreds of persons passed daily to the railway, and in the course of two days obtained nearly a thousand signatures.
"I took the memorial at once to the House of Commons and sent for Mr. Fawcett [Henry Fawcett, the blind Liberal member for Brighton], who was out. I then sent for Sir Charles Dilke [Liberal member for Chelsea, a noted radical], who suggested I should leave it at the Home Office.
"I knew what would become of it if it found its way to the Home Office. It would probably be referred to every person, from the messenger to the Assistant Secretary, who would refer it from one to the other, whose business would be to initial it, write on, "Seen — refer to Brown — look up precedents," "Refer to Asst. Sec. for instructions," "Refer to committing magistrate"; and before all was finished the young man would have done his time.
"I pressed Sir Charles Dilke to take it direct to the Home Secretary, who was in the House, and explain the circumstances of the case and its urgency. I called next day at the Office and found that the matter had been referred to the committing magistrate, who offered no objection to the prisoner's release, and I expected in a day or two the governor of the prison would receive an order accordingly.
"But no order came.
"I called again at the Home Office, and was informed that the papers had been forwarded to Balmoral. I waited two or three days, when I was informed there had been some mistake, and the papers would be returned to Balmoral at once.
"After the young man had served his term of imprisonment all but two days, the governor received an order for his release."
Buckmaster's frustration with the whole rotten, creaking, crushing machinery of state is tangible.
"A few days after his imprisonment his poor mother came up from Suffolk in great sorrow and went direct to the police-station, where she was informed by somebody, which everybody denied, that I was the cause of her son's imprisonment. I was deeply grieved when she came to my house, and her sorrow was the sorrow of a mother. I gave her some tea, made her comfortable, and lodged her for the night.
"I sent for the treasurer of the Common Fund, and we sent her home with the assurance that her son would not suffer or lose his character. She was much hurt when she applied at the prison to see her son. The door was slammed in her face, and she was rudely told to be off about her business. A person in distress is more sensible of kindness than those who have never tasted the waters of deep sorrow through the errors of their children."
But eventually Samuel Sullings was released, and given a delirious reception by the people of Battersea and Wandsworth:
"When his companions heard of his release they procured a van and decorated it with ribbons, laurels, evergreens, and flowers. An armchair was placed in the centre for the prisoner. A band of music arrived at the prison gates, and the prisoner was received with hearty expressions of sympathy and goodwill.
"The band, with van and procession, moved slowly to the scene of the late battle, for which the young man had suffered ten days' imprisonment. The procession stopped as long as the police permitted it in front of the houses of the common-stealers and played, almost to the bursting of their instruments, 'See the conquering hero comes,' with occasional yells of 'Who stole the common?'
"The procession moved through the parish to the schoolroom, where I presented the prisoner with a new suit of clothes and five pounds, provided by the committee. I persuaded the audience to go quietly home. I sent two men with the prisoner to his lodgings.
"Some of the men had been drinking and were getting noisy and troublesome, and when they are in that state you may as well try to persuade a milestone to go home. I did all I could, and as the young man was safe I left the others, and the next morning two or three of them were fined five shillings each."
London Daily News — Friday 15 April 1870
April 15 1870?
WANDSWORTH.
Samuel Sullings, a sawyer, aged 21 years, was charged with being concerned, with other persons not in custody, in wilfully damaging a wooden fence enclosing a kitchen garden belonging to Mr. John Costeker, of St. John's-hill, Wandsworth.
Mr. Charles Costeker, solicitor [PB: the "victim's" brother], conducted the case.
He said the complainant was lessee of a piece of ground running by the side of the railway, and facing the Wandsworth-road. It was enclosed by him in December, 1868, and since then put into cultivation. Persons had the liberty to wander over it for a number of years, and erroneously supposed that they had a right of way across it.
In September last Mr. Clark was found injuring the fence by hacking the gates at night, muffled up, which would be in the recollection of the magistrate, who fined him forty shillings in addition to the damage of ten shillings. Since then he had trespassed upon the land, and the complainant commenced an action in the Court of Queen's Bench, in which the question of the right of way was raised. Certain pleas were entered, but the defendant in the case suffered judgment to go by default with costs.
The complainant had remained in possession of the land ever since, but on Wednesday last about 300 men of the roughest kind came to the place and knocked down the gates fronting the Wandsworth-road, and a considerable portion of the fence. Fruit trees were damaged, and an immense amount of injury was done to the property. He submitted that even if there was a right of way it did not extend to more than a path of four feet wide, and that the parties had no right to act in the way they had done.
Police-constable West said that on Wednesday afternoon he was on duty at New Wandsworth, where he saw the prisoner, who called upon the mob to assist him to break down the gates. He threw a heavy stone at the gates, and after he got them down he jumped upon them and broke the panels. He picked up a large stick and walked across the ground. He said, "This is our place, boys, and we'll stick to it." Witness went after him and took him into custody.
In reply to the magistrate the complainant said Earl Spencer was Lord of the Manor. The land was formerly part of Wandsworth-common, but the Lord of the Manor sold his right over it in 1836.
Dr. Dayman said he was bound by the decision in the action. It was very desirable, no doubt, that open spaces in crowded localities should not be enclosed, but he doubted whether the public could claim to keep open Wandsworth-common without an Act of Parliament.
He fined the prisoner 40s., in addition to £15, the amount of damage, and in default ordered him to be imprisoned for six months.
[Sources include: http://www.chargeof the lightbrigade.com/wandsworth_common/years/1870.html]
THREE CHEERS FOR MR BUCKMASTER
Woolwich Gazette — Saturday 16 July 1870
WANDSWORTH COMMON
Samuel Sullings, who was imprisoned with hard labour for breaking down fences Wandsworth Common, and subsequently released on a memorial presented to the Home Secretary Sir C. W. Dilke, MP, was entertained by a number of his fellow-workmen at the Infant School, Battersea, on Saturday.
Sullings appeared in a new suit clothes, hat, and boots, which were paid for by a few friends. Mr. Churchwarden Buckmaster occupied the chair, and made a speech in which he endeavoured to show that those who had erected the fences were more guilty than Sullings; and the idea of saying to poor men, when their rights and enjoyment were taken away by rich that if they felt aggrieved they could proceed by action at law or indictment, was simply adding insult to injustice.
Three cheers for Mr. Buckmaster, three groans for those who had enclosed the common, and a vote of thanks to the vicar for allowing the use of the School Room, concluded the proceedings.
- BNA: Link.
As Buckmaster recalled, "Our first battle began and ended in a police court. But there was a still more formidable battle preparing."
April ?: The Committee fights an unsuccessful legal battle that April to preserve Plough Green (around modern Strathblaine Road and Vardens Road, off St Johns Hill).
ADD INFO ABOUT THE CASE INVOLVING THE 33 OLD PEOPLE, BROUGHT WITH DIFFICULTY TO COURT TO TELL OF THEIR MEMORIES — in Milne section
JCB devotes a lot of space to a story in which he personally does not come out very well. He is persuaded to seek a Commoner who would be willing to go to court to — funded and supported by the Commons Preservation Society. He finds one in the colourful half-witted "Mr Wrigsby", but things do not go to plan.
JCB seduces him with gin and the prospect of a memorable day out in London.
[PB: Using Ancestry, I have not been able to find a "Wrigsby" living in Wandsworth at this time. This is not surprising. Presumably JCB has disguised his name. Yes, it was Digby — see Shirley Passmore.]
[PB: Clearly JCB et al hoped to find in Wandsworth another Thomas Willingale — the old Commoner in Loughton, Essex, who was central to the struggle to save Epping Forest. See e.g.
We were advised unless we could secure a copyholder, of which there were not more than six left, or an Act of Parliament, the common must go. I managed to obtain a list of copyholders, and there was only one at all likely to become a plaintiff. He was a poor, ignorant old man, either a bachelor or a widower, living in a dirty, tumble-down, pantiled old copyhold, and obtained a miserable living by selling potatoes, brickdust, and treacle. I had often seen him, but had never spoken to him.
I mentioned these qualifications to the lawyer, who said, "He is the very man!"
I made some private inquiries, and found he had a weakness for gin and water. I passed his shop almost every morning about the time he was watering his greens and sorting his potatoes. The next
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time I said, "Good morning, Mr. Wrigsby." He returned the compliment. I praised his potatoes and at once ordered half a bushel. I allowed a few mornings to pass by, simply wishing him good morning. I said, "If you will call on me in the evening and bring up another half-bushel of potatoes I will pay you." He came up. I sent my wife into another room and asked Mr. Wrigsby to have a pipe. He sat down. I ordered some hot gin and water. We talked about the rates and taxes, and we agreed that the parish was going to the bad. I asked, "Who is your landlord?" He replied, "Nobody; it's copyhold. One gentleman endeavoured to purchase a copyhold, but he would not have been admitted by the Court Leet."
I said, "You are a copyholder?"
He replied: "Yes, but I never go to the Court. My father was a copyholder, and he kept two cows and a pony on the common, but I have no cows, and I am my own pony, and think it would be a good thing if the common was built over; it would bring a little more business into the parish."
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"Have a little more gin and water, Mr. Wrigsby. I think as you don't get any benefit from the common the least they could have done would have been to give you compensation, or a piece of the common. You are a poor, hard-working man, and I think they have behaved very badly to you. All the rich people round the common have been helping themselves pretty freely, and I daresay you know I have been doing what I can to stop any further stealing."
"Everybody in the parish knows what you have done, but you don't seem to have prevented it. I hear that fellow Dobs, who owes me a bill I can't get, is taking in a bit near the lane."
"Mr. Wrigsby, Dobs is a land-stealer, and you are the only man in the parish that can stop his stealing."
"How can I stop it? I have no money to go to law."
"Mr. Wrigsby, you would be the greatest benefactor this parish ever had if you would only enter your protest against this robbery of your rights. I will guarantee that you shall
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not be sixpence the poorer, and if we win you may be richer."
"Do you want me to go before the magistrate and complain? "
"No. I want you to sign a paper that you object to these enclosures."
"Well, as it's to oblige you, I don't mind, if you will promise to stand by me, but I can't afford any expense, and I depends on you. If the common was built over it might not do me much good. I daresay they would build shops as sells the same as I do."
"When shall we meet to sign this paper? Will you come to my house, or shall I come to yours?"
"Just as you like."
"Then, if you don't mind, perhaps you will come to me next Thursday evening at halfpast six. You need not mention to any one our conversation, because it only concerns the copyholders, and you are almost the only one left. Will you have a little more refreshment before you go home?"
"No, thank you."
As soon as I saw Mr. Wrigsby's back I ran
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off to the lawyer and reported our interview. He was highly delighted. He said, "At seven my clerk shall be there with the plaint; it has been prepared a long time. You and my clerk must witness the signature."
On Thursday Mr. Wrigsby was in good time. I had ready the long clay and tobacco and gin and water. We talked about parish — matters, and just as the first glass was finished I heard a knock at the door. I said, "I daresay this is the man with the paper." It was important that Wrigsby should have his wits about him. The clerk began reading the plaint, and I kept Mr. Wrigsby occupied in conversation while the rights of estuary and turbary were gone over. Mr. Wrigsby paid little attention to it. He made no remarks, except asking if all that writing was about the common. It was rather a long business, but at last we came to the end, "whereof the memory of man faileth not," and Mr. Wrigsby signed it in the presence of two witnesses. I shall never forget the expression of joy on the clerk's countenance as he watched Mr. Wrigsby put on his spectacles and sign his
[PB: "the rights of estuary and turbary". Turbary is the ancient right to cut turf, or peat, for fuel on a particular area of bog. Is "estuary" the same as "estover" — the right to collect and cut firewood?]
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name. He took a little piece of blotting out of his pocket and placed it carefully over the signatures, put the plaint in his black bag, said ' Good-night, Mr. Wrigsby," and was out of the house in an instant.
Mr. Wrigsby wondered he should be in such a hurry. He thought he had come to talk about the common. Poor Mr. Wrigsby little thought that he had commenced proceedings against the lord of the manor, the Brighton and South Coast Railway Company, the West London Extension, the South-Western, and six others. It may be said that I ought not to have taken advantage of Mr. Wrigsby's weakness, but it was our last extremity, and Aristotle would have defended it. Whatever came of it, Mr. Wrigsby could not suffer; he had nothing to suffer with. The lawyer asked me to accompany him to a Q.C. in Lincoln's Inn, who was the best authority on real property. A few minutes after ten he came into his chambers, and the lawyer laid on his table the plaint. After some general remarks about commons he turned over page after page, then turned it back again, then looked at the signatures,
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and appeared to me not very sanguine about the matter. Anyhow, we were now going to law, and there was some satisfaction in knowing it. I ventured in the most respectful way to say, "I think, sir, I ought to tell you that the plaintiff in this case is a very illiterate man." "I should think he is a damned idiot, or he would never be a plaintiff in a case of this kind. There is no law on the subject — the law has to be made. I will attend to it, but God only knows where it will end." We left, and for a few weeks everything was quiet. I occasionally called on Mr. Wrigsby, whom the lawyer had never seen, and what astonished me was that he had told this eminent Q.C. that he didn't want to see him. As soon as the other side knew Wrigsby was plaintiff, off they went to him, and told him that he would be sent to prison for signing an affidavit. He came to me in great trouble, and told me the enemy had been to him. I gave him a pipe and something to drink, and as we parted he said pathetically, "You will stand by me, won't you?" I replied, "To the very last." I frequently called on him
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with words of comfort and encouragement. At last he was cited to appear on his affidavit before the court, and immediately after he had an attack of gout, which I hoped would continue long enough for the case to stand over. I called on his doctor, and said, "I have seen Wrigsby. I don't think he is well enough to appear." He replied, "Don't you want him to appear? I can give you a certificate for the usual fee," which I paid, and Wrigsby did not appear. The Long Vacation was coming on, and Wrigsby still had the gout. The defendants were very anxious to force on the case, but were rather late. I hoped, and the committee hoped, something would happen. We continued at convenient intervals our meetings, and public feeling and most of the newspapers were with us, but they could not stop the lawsuit or say much about it. One paper praised the public spirit and intelligence of the plaintiff.
As soon as the courts opened Wrigsby had to appear. The doctor's certificate had lost its virtue. I saw him, and explained to him that, no matter what they asked, he was to
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say that he was a copyholder, and meant to protect his rights. He repeated this over tome. I begged of him not to say anything more. I said, "If they ask you your age say you are a copyholder." I called with a cab for the great plaintiff, but I had my fears. I felt as if we were going to an execution, but Wrigsby knew he was going into society, and dressed accordingiy. He had on a pair of primrose-coloured breeches and gaiters, which hung on his body in graceful fulness; a yellow plush waistcoat, with large glass buttons, which gleamed like cat's eyes; a blue coat, far too small, with a few brass buttons; and a large white choker twisted round his neck like a tablecloth. The appearance of the plaintiff in court was a sensation. Six defendants were each separately represented by counsel, supported by a strong detachment of lawyers. Where the carcase is there will the eagles be gathered together. As Mr. Wrigsby stood up the Vice-Chancellor looked at him, as well he might, for he was a natural curiosity. Counsel for the Railway Company began by a few loving remarks about Mr. Wrigsby's health,
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and in less than twenty minutes Wrigsby told the whole story of his signing the affidavit — what I had told him to say, that I would stick to him to the last, that he should not be sixpence the poorer for the lawsuit, perhaps better, that the common was no good to him and never had been, and it was to oblige me that he signed the paper. He didn't know exactly what it was about, but I told him it was all right. If an earthquake had swallowed up me and the others I should not have objected.
After all my work this was a terrible blow. The lawyer leaned over to me and said, "It is all up." The counsel and lawyers for the defendants sniggered at each other, waiting for the magic words, "Judgment for defen The thieves who had stolen the common laughed outright, and as I came out of court jeered at me. The Vice-Chancellor, a pious, good old man — may he rest in peace ! — said, "I shall reserve judgment." Then the counsel and lawyers stared at each other and leisurely packed up a cartload of papers and books and left. I never spoke to Wrigsby again, and I felt
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counsel's opinion of him at our first joyful interview was correct. What was to be done? Another mass-meeting where we could pour out our sorrows and find comfort in the frantic hurrahs of the demos, who wanted to go at the fences! In a few days we heard rumours of an armistice. I never knew for certain; but I believe the good Vice-Chancellor had an interview with the lord of the manor, who consented to a friendly Act of Parliament by which all that was left of the common — about one hundred and fifty acres — should remain open and unenclosed for ever on payment of two hundred pounds a-year, or twenty years' purchase, secured on the rates of the parishes adjoining the common, which was about a farthing in the pound. The parishes cheerfully assented, and after five years the fighting ended.
The Metropolitan Board of Works employed counsel to oppose the Bill, and we were put to great expense by the opposition. We had to find the money for this struggle as best we could. But the Board of Works spent the ratepayers' money in resisting the Bill. A
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more unprincipled and unjustifiable act could only be explained by the rottenness and corruption of the body that promoted the opposition. Happily they failed.
During the whole of this agitation I was busily engaged in teaching. My domestic life was not improved by the constant service of writs at the instigation of common-stealers and speculating builders. At one time I had seven writs in the house, which were handed over to the solicitor for the committee. It was thought by some that I should have more weight if I had some official position in the parish, and I was elected parish-warden.
I then had a little unpleasant business with persons who claimed a right to freehold pews in the parish church. On the appointment of a new vicar these, with other abuses, were swept away. The living, returned at £400 a year, was in the gift of the lord of the manor; but as the Crown made former vicars into bishops, the patron had not for upwards of a century been able to exercise his patronage. He was most anxious to appoint a good man — broad, generous, and charitable, and a strong temperance reformer. As churchwarden I was present at his induction by Bishop Wilberforce, and my colleague said to me, "This is the
This was "Soapy Sam" Wilberforce, son of the more famous father. Ridiculed by Thomas Henry Huxley for his facetiousness about Charles Darwin at the "Oxford Debates".
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beginning of a new church history in the parish."
A few Sundays after I was standing under the portico of the church looking on the Thames, when a cab drove up with the lord of the manor. He asked, "Is the vicar here?" I replied, "No, my lord, he is preaching this morning at the little iron church on the common." He inquired the way, and how far it was. "I shall be pleased to accompany your lordship." We talked about his appointment of the vicar, which had so far given great satisfaction.
I took the opportunity of saying, "During the unpleasantness about the common I was not actuated by any ill-feeling towards your lordship, and if I said anything which in calmer moments I should not have said, I hope your lordship will accept my humble apology. I believe your agent often misrepresented me to your lordship."
He replied, "I can quite understand your action in the matter, it is now all over. I am satisfied, and I hope the parishes concerned are satisfied. The best thing for all of us is to forget the past. Here we are."
His lordship looked round on cinder heaps and
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coal-heaps, and inquired, "Is this the common there has been so much trouble about?" "A part of it, my lord." He shook hands, entered the little iron church, and I returned to the parish church in time to hold the plate.
[PB: The "lord of the manor" was 5th Earl, John Poyntz Spencer. The new vicar was forename? Erskine Clarke, who took over from the deeply reactionary ? [find and add from my notes]. The church with the portico must have been St Mary's at Battersea. The cinder and coal heaps were probably those behind "New Wandsworth Station", rather than behind today's Wandsworth Common station (opened 1869?).
But the "iron church"? At first I thought this was St Mary Magdalene or St Michael's, but Sue Demont has persuasively argued that it was St Mark's. [FIND AND ADD HER EMAILS.] SMM was first an iron church (brought from Leigham Court Rd in Streatham) before it was built in brick 1887-88. Also St Michael's on Bolingbroke Grove — was it iron at this time? (constructed 1872?). It was built in brick in 1881. ]
"To show this reconciliation was not a mere formality, a few years after, when my eldest son left Oxford, he gave him an appointment; and so ended an agitation which originated in weakness but ended in victory.
"If, when the two gravel diggers came to complain about their potatoes, I could have foreseen what was before me, I should never have written a letter to the newspapers.
13 February 1871: A petition arrives at Parliament, followed swiftly by legislation "brought by Mr. Cowper-Temple and Mr. Peek." After some to-ing and fro-ing between the two Houses, on 26th July 1871 the Wandsworth Common Act is passed.
Hoorah!
WC was transferred to a group of "Conservators" elected by inhabitants of Battersea and Wandsworth for a £250 annuity paid to Earl Spencer (down from the £500 he originally demanded). This annuity and maintenance costs were raised by a special rate levied of the inhabitants. [Is it still being paid? Wimbledon Common Conservators reavhed an agreement to pay their levy off in a lump sum in the 1970s. Did WBC? I have asked Sarah McPherson to try to find out.]
But money remained exceedingly tight — not least because about half went straight to Earl Spencer — so little could be done to restore the Common.
There was no let up in debates about the parlous state of the Common — e.g. to keep it wild, or to "parkify" it? (A discussion that continues today, of course.)
CHECK for Buckmaster and Wandsworth Common in earlier years and those years I have nothing for him. There may be other refs. He appears to vanish in relayion to WC after 1871 — or does he?