Above photo kindly sent by Andrew Campbell who says this picture was taken by Colin Bennett.

From the leaflet issued on the opening of the Hooden Horse, 21 July 1957.

PROGRAMME. 21st July, 1956.

7.00 p.m.

Arrival of Morris Men & Hooden Horse.

(East kent Morris men)

(Ravensbourne Morris men.)

7.25. p.m.

Traditional Airs on Handbells.

(Folkestone National Folk Dance Group.)

7.30 p.m.

Unveiling Ceremony by Sir Stephen Tallents. K.G.M.G., C.B., C.B.E.

7.45 p.m.

Community Dancing.

(English Folk Dance and Song Society.)

By ANNE ROPER. M.B.E., J.P., F.S.A.

The "HOODEN HORSE" is one of the oldest, the moot interesting and most remarkable survivals of the pagan past in Kent. Although its origin seems lost in antiquity, the custom is one associated with our Scandinavian ancestors and their worship of Odin the Saxon form is "Woden" - the chief god of northern mythology.

Woden was the ruler of heaven and earth, and in far-off winters, rode fast through the night sky over the cold plains of Northern Europe, on his famous horse, Sleipner, which was eight footed.

At the annual festival of Jul. which celebrated the returning light and warmth of the sun, at the winter solstice, the old Teutonic tribes sacrificed their horses as offerings to Odin, and round their fires they consumed the animals' flesh.

After the Roman occupation of Britain, hordes of Jutes, under Hengist and Horsa invaded the shores of Thanet in 449 A.D, and overran that corner of Kent. They were worshippers of Woden and the traditions of the pagan customs survive to the present day. To them we owe the Kentish name Woodnesborough, and our midweek day. Wednesday.

In successive centuries, with the gradual spread of Christianity, animal sacrifices and the eating of horse flesh were condemned, specifically by Archbishop Theodore, but it is to these pagan practices that we trace the Hooden Horse that has persisted even until today, in the place where in England it probably began, this corner of East Kent.

On Christmas Eve, it was the custom, in almost every village and hamlet in the Isle of Thanet, and a great deal of the district around, to go "a-hoodening". The party consisted usually of farm hands, those who were engaged with horses, waggoners and their mates, and originally the farmer would send his best horse, but as time went on, a full-sired horse’s head, fashioned of wood, was substituted. The Hoodeners were fantastically dressed, and among them was often one dressed in female clothes, who earned a birch broom, and was called "The Old Woman" or just "Mollie". Details of the horse’s head differed in various neighbourhoods. Occasionally large holes were hollowed out for eyes, and black glass bottoms of bottles were inserted. In Thanet, great hobnails were driven into the jaws to form teeth, the lower jaw was hung on hinges, and made to open or shut by means of a string, and it could be made to snap quite ferociously. This head was fixed to a pole about four feet in length, and earned by the stoutest "hand", who was called the Horse. He walked with a stooping gait to make as good a "back” as possible and was covered with a large horse cloth or sacking. Reins, ribbons and a bridle were attached to the head and at times one of the smaller "hands" mounted the Horse to ride like a jockey. The men carried sheep-bells or handbells, and perhaps one was able to play the fiddle.

The assembled party set out and visited the various farms and houses, making plenty of noise to announce their arrival. accompanied by the "clap clapping" of the Horse's jaws. As soon as the door was flung open, the Waggoner cracked his whip, and led in the Horse prancing, snorting, gnashing his teeth, kicking, and rearing very spiritedly, while Mollie began energetically to sweep the feet of the first person to appear.

When the fun and laughter had subsided, the Hoodeners rang their handbells, and sang some carols, and were regaled with some brewed ale, cider and cakes, or on more fortunate occasions with contributions of money.

But countrymen in their enthusiasm do not always deal kindly with ancient customs. "Hob Nob" at Salisbury had to be locked in the City Museum. At Broadstairs after a woman was alleged to have been frightened to death in meeting a party of Hoodeners, the Magistrates suppressed the custom in that town, but it continued further down the coast as far as Deal, and as far inland as Canterbury. One Hooden Horse at Lower Hardres in 1859 caused a crippled woman to jump from her chair and run. This Horse was so respected by her German husband that he bought it and took it with him to Germany.

With the coming of the petrol engine, there are fewer horses, fewer waggoners; stables, alas, have become tractor sheds, and the old Hooden Horse has been taken down from the walls and burned in the stackyard. Yet the tradition remained, and the Hooden Horse, modelled on the one formerly at Deal, re-appeared at Folkestone at the Coronation festivities of Queen Elizabeth II, resurrected appropriately by the Folkestone National Folk Dance Group. Each successive Christmas, while cold winds streak across Kent from Scandinavia, the party may be seen, with their handbells, and the gallant Horse prancing as grotesquely as ever, making the rounds to give pleasure and to collect and swallow money, now, for some thoroughly deserving cause.

At Whitsuntide the Hoodeners set out from Charing, with the Horse and the East Kent Morris Men, bringing tidings of Spring fertility to the countryside and coast.

In this modern mechanical age, there is still room for these curious old customs, and how immeasurably poorer we should be without them. They arc not simply cherished fancies of the "good old days", but precious links with the past to be safeguarded and handed down for future generations. The Hooden Horse is now depicted on the sign of an inn at Wickhambreaux, and as long as it hangs there, in the heart of the Hooden Horse country, this popular Kentish custom, though pagan in origin, will be perpetuated in the minds and memory of all who pass that way.

Anne Roper.

From the Kent Messenger, 27 July 1956.

The Hooden Horse comes 'prancing' in.

AND THE WHITE SWAN EXITS AT WICKHAMBREAUX.

A FEARSOME clacking horse has ousted the "Swan" from its quiet abode in the charming old picture postcard village of Wickhambreaux, near Canterbury.

The arrival of the horse — a hooden horse — was feted in the village on Saturday evening with traditional old English ceremony.

Beneath the elms and chestnuts Morris men, ribbons crossed on their white clothes and tiny silver bells jangling from their legs as they danced, performed the quaint dances of a bygone rural England.

Although everyone celebrated the return or the hooden horse there was no one to mourn the passing of the white swan that had for many years gazed down from a hanging inn sign.

“I HATE SWANS"

Even Sir Stephen Tallents, who unveiled the new sign, had not a good word to say for the bird. "I hate swans," he said.

The reason for this prejudice, he explained, was that one day he was clearing out a moat when a swan "went for him." In trying to beat it off ho fell backwards into the water!

Sir Stephen, an authority on folk-lore, welcomed the change of inn signs, In that it restored a quaint village custom to the very heart of the hooden horse country.

As for the swan, he said it had inspired many artists to create many beautiful inn signs all over the country. There was no danger of its extinction.

Miss Anne Roper, the historian, of Romney Marsh, says the hooden horse is one of the oldest, most interesting and most remarkable survivals of the pagan past in Kent.

The custom was associated with the Scandinavians in their worship of Odin — or Woden according to the Saxons — who was the chief god of northern mythology.

EIGHT-FOOTED HORSE

She says, "Woden was the ruler of heaven and earth, and in far-off winters, rode fast through the night sky over the cold plains of Northern Europe, on his famous horse. Sleipner which was eight-footed.

"At the annual festival of Jul, which celebrated the returning light and warmth of the sun, at the winter solstice the old Teutonic tribes sacrificed their horses as offerings to Odin, and round their fires they consumed the animals’ flesh."

When hordes of Jutes, under their leaders Hengest and Horsa, swarmed into Thanet in 449 A.D. these pagan customs were practised, for they were worshippers of Woden.

In 672 A.D. Archbishop Theodore condemned the custom as "daemoniacum.”

A hooden horse, which is a crudely carved horse's head mounted on a long pole, which has clacking jaws operated by pulling a string, was to be found on nearly every farm in East Kent in the 19th century.

Farm labourers would form an incongruous band on Christmas Eve and visit the neighbouring country houses, performing strange antics in the hope of a return of home-brewed ale, cakes and possibly money, the latter being placed in the horse’s mouth.

The company slowly formed itself into a tradition, and no hodening party was complete without a hooden horse, squire, fool, bagman, hodeners, fiddlers and waggoner.

AMONG THE DANCERS

On Saturday, the village green at Wickhambreaux had two hooden horses cavorting among the dancers.

They were part of the entourages of the East Kent Morris men and the Ravensbourne Morris men.

The Folkestone National folk dance group performed traditional airs on handbells outside the "Hooden Horse" before the Union flags were removed from the decorative new inn sign.

From a local paper July 1956.

Unique Name For Kent Pub The ‘Hooden Horse’

PAGAN CUSTOM PERPETUATED.

AFTER 1,500 years in Kent, the pagan custom of the Hooden Horse has found a new and permanent home at Wickhambreaux, a few miles from Canterbury, the cradle of Christianity which overcame the form of worship it symbolised.

On Saturday this unspoiled village was thronged with people, and some had come many miles to see the old style of country dancing and entertainment by the Ravensbourne and East Kent Morris Men with their squires, fools and hooden horses performed by the quiet green. All were amused hy the antics of the East Kent hooden horse, which went round collecting for charity, led hy 8-year-old John Field, of Hythe.

They followed the dancers along the narrow street to the "Swan Inn" of Messrs. Whitbreads to watch the ceremony of renaming it the "Hooden Horse" - the only one in Britain.

There to see Sir Stephen Tallents, one of Kent's foremost authorities on folklore, unveil this unique inn sign, were the Mayor and Mayoress of Sandwich (Ald. and Mrs. J. J. Thomas), the Mayor and Mayoress of Hythe (Cr. and Mrs. C. T. Sanford), Cmdr. N. C. M. Findlay, managing director of Mackesons Brewery, and Lady Mary Findlay. Mr. J. Marchant, chairman of the Kent Brewers' Union, and Mrs. Marchant, Miss Anne Roper, the historian who has written the most informative pamphlet on the origin of the custom and Mr. A. Gosby.

After handbell ringing of old English airs outside the inn by the women of the Folkestone National Folk Dance Group, Cmdr. Findlay said that The Swan wan in no danger of extinction and that was one of the reasons why it had been decided that the name should be changed. They had for many years made their signs vehicles for expressing local traditions of the village in which the inn was situated.

Mr. John Marchant had been to many libraries, museums and Government institutions whore old customs were to be found, but inspiration had come from the Morris Men they had seen on the green. So in the geographical centre of the country in which the ancient custom was perpetuated they were making certain it was not entirely forgotten.

NEW EXPERIENCE.

Sir Stephen said he readily accepted to unveil the sign because he liked collecting new experiences and did not particularly like swans. The word horse also brought an unpleasant thought to mind — the careering of the length of Wellington barracks during a parade hanging on to an animal — but he wished this one long life, and prosperity to the tenants and customers.

Later villagers enjoyed an evening of country dancing in the school playground.

Showing the renaming of the Hooden Horse at Wickhambreaux on 21st July 1956.

Left to right:- Mr. A. Gosby, Lady Mary Findlay, the Mayor and Mayores of Sandwich, the Mayoress and Mayor of Hythe, lady handbell ringers, John Field and the Hooden Horse, Sir Stephen Tallents and Cmdr. N. C. M. Findlay, with the Ravensbourne Morris Men standing, with black hats and trousers, and kneeling, the East Kent Morris Men.

From "The Westminster Review ” (Journal of the Westminster Chamber of Commerce), December 1956.

A PIP INTO HISTORY.

Sir Stephen Tallents, K.C.M.G.

I HAVE taken part in two ceremonies in recent months — both in Kent, both novel and each likely to remain a unique experience for me. One was the unveiling of a sign outside a village inn, the other a lecture in aid of a windmill.

The inn at Wickhambreaux near Canterbury had hitherto borne the name and sign, not uncommon among hostelries of the "Swan." But its fastidious owners evidently felt that it merited a more distinctive and distinguished title. They decided, therefore, to promote it from the sponsorship of a bird to the patronage of a god. Steeped, much to their credit, in the local history of its surroundings, they were aware that the neighbourhood had been successfully invaded in the year 449 a.d. by Hengist and Horsa. Those conquerors attributed their success to the support of the god Odin, alias Wooden, and his eight-footed steed, Sleipner; and their followers thereafter, once a year at the winter solstice, killed and ceremoniously devoured their favourite horses. In later centuries this unappetising feast came to be recalled by the inclusion in carol parties on Christmas Eve of a man wearing the effigy of a horse's head, with hinged jaws and the bottoms of black bottles for eyes. So the sign which I unveiled that evening to a chorus of handbell ringers from Folkestone and a lively performance by Morris Dancers from Ravensbourne, bore the portrait and the name of the "Hooden Horse."

The proceedings, let me add, were applauded by an enthusiastic clacking of their wooden jaws by more than one hooden horseman in the capering company. I wished the inn then, I renew my wishes here, good custom under its new colours.

From the http://hoodening.org.uk/hooden-horses.html accessed 7 July 2019.

The namesake of the Hooden Horse pub in Wickhambreaux (now a private house) was bought in around 1977, having been made for 'a teacher of folk dancing in Dover' (Barnett Field?). It is not old. I believe the photo above shows this horse, which is now used in Ravensbourne. The pub itself apparently used to have a modern wooden horse's head (only), mounted next to the bar; it is now in another village pub.

Pictures above show the front and back of a black and white photo business card from the public house. This recently was placed on Ebay and eventually sold for £174. (30 November 2009).

Hooden Horse sign date unknown.

Above with thanks from Brian Curtis www.innsignsociety.com

Above photo April 2019, kindly taken and sent by Rory Kehoe.

From a local paper July 1956

Unique Name For Kent Pub The "Hooden Horse"

PAGAN CUSTOM PERPETUATED

After 1,500 years in Kent, the pagan custom of the Hooden Horse has found a new and permanent home at Wickhambreaux, a few miles from Canterbury, the cradle of Christianity which overcame the form of worship it symbolised.

On Saturday this unspoiled village was thronged with people, and some had come many miles to see the old style of country dancing and entertainment by the Ravensbourne and East Kent Morris Men with their squires, fools and hooden horses performed by the quiet green. All were amused by the antics of the East Kent hooden horse, which went round collecting for charity, led by 8-year-old John Field, of Hythe.

They followed the dancers along the narrow street, to the Swan Inn of Messrs. Whitbread to watch the ceremony of renaming it the "Hooden Horse" - the only one in Britain.

There to see Sir Stephen Tallents, one of Kent's foremost authorities on folk-law, unveil this unique inn sign, were the Mayor and Mayoress of Sandwich (Ald. and Mrs. J. J. Thomas), the Mayor and Mayoress of Hythe (Cr. and Mrs. C. T. Sandford), Cmdr. N. C. M. Findlay, managing director of Mackeson's brewery, and Lady Mary Findlay. Mr. J. Marchant, chairman of the Kent Brewers' Union, and Mrs. Marchant, Miss Anne Roper, the historian who has written the most informative pamphlet on the origin of the custom and Mr. A. Gosby, the artist and Mrs. Gosby.

After handbell ringing of old English airs outside the inn by the women of the Folkestone National Folk Dance Group, Cmdr. Findlay said that The Swan was in no danger of extinction and that was one of the reasons why it had been decided that the name should be changed. They had for many years made their signs vehicles for expressing local traditions of the village in which the inn was situated.

Mr. John Marchant had been to many libraries, museums and Government institutions where old customs were to be found, but inspiration had come from the Morris Men they had seen on the green. So in the geographical centre of the country in which the ancient custom was perpetuated they were making certain it was not entirely forgotten.

NEW EXPERIENCE

Sir Stephen said he readily accepted to unveil the sign because he liked collecting new experiences and did not particularly like swans. The word horse also brought an unpleasant thought to mind - the careering of the length of Wellington barracks during a parade hanging on to an animal - but he wished this one long life, and prosperity to the tenants and customers.

Later villagers enjoyed an evening of country dancing in the school playground.

From "The Westminster Review" journal of the Westminster Chamber of Commerce) December 1956.

A DIP INTO HISTORY by Sir Stephen Tallents, K.C.M.G.

I have taken part in two ceremonies in recent months - both in Kent, both novel and each likely to remain a unique experience for me. One was the unveiling of a sign outside a village inn, the other a lecture in aid of a windmill.

The inn at Wickhambreaux near Canterbury had hitherto borne the name and sign, not uncommon among hostelries, of The Swan. But its fastidious owners evidently felt that it merited a more distinctive and distinguished title. They decided, therefore, to promote it from the sponsorship of a bird to the patronage of a god. Steeped, much to their credit, in the local history of its surroundings, they were aware that the neighbourhood had been successfully invaded in the year 449 A.D. by Hengist and Horsa. Those conquerors attributed their success to the support of the god Odin, alias Wooden, and his eight-footed steed, Sleipner; and their followers thereafter, once a year at the winter solstice, killed and ceremoniously devoured their favourite horses. In later centuries this unappetising feast came to be recalled by the inclusion in carol parties on Christmas Eve of a man wearing the effigy of a horse's head, with hinged jaws and the bottoms of black bottles for eyes. So the sign which I unveiled that evening to a chorus of handbells ringers from Folkestone and a lively performance by Morris Dancers from Ravensbourne, bore the portrait and the name of The Hooden horse. The proceedings, let me add, were applauded by an enthusiastic clacking of their wooden jaws by more than one hooden horseman in the capering company. I wished the inn then, I renew my wishes here, good custom under its new colours.

The Hooden Horse of East Kent

by ANNE ROPER, M.B.E., J.P., F.S.A.

The HOODEN HORSE is one of the oldest, the most interesting and most remarkable survivals of the pagan past in Kent. Although its origin seems lost in antiquity, the custom is one associated with our Scandinavian ancestors and their worship of Odin - the Saxon form is "Woden" - the chief god of northern mythology.

Woden was the ruler of heaven and earth, and in far-off winters, rode fast through the night sky over the cold plains of Northern Europe, on his famous horse, Sleipner, which was eight-footed.

At the annual festival of Jul, which celebrated the returning light and warmth of the sun, at the winter solstice, the old Teutonic tribes sacrificed their horses as offerings to Odin, and round their fires they consumed the animals' flesh.

After the Roman occupation of Britain, hordes of Jutes under Hengist and Horsa invaded the shores of Thanet in 449 A.D. and overran that corner of Kent. Hey were worshippers of Woden and the traditions of the pagan customs survive to the present day. To them we owe the Kentish name Woodnesborough, and our midweek day, Wednesday.

In successive centuries, with the gradual spread of Christianity, animal sacrifices and the eating of horse flesh were condemned, specifically by Archbishop Theodore, but it is to these pagan practices that we trace the Hooden Horse that has persisted even until today, in the place where in England it probably began, this corner of East Kent.

On Christmas Eve, it was the custom, in almost every village and hamlet in the Isle of Thanet, and a great deal of the district around, to go "a-hoodening". The party consisted usually of farm hands, those who were engaged with horses, Waggoner's and their mates, and originally the farmer would send his best horse, but as time went on, a full-sized horse's head, fashioned of wood, was substituted. The Hoodeners were fantastically dressed, and among them was often one dressed in female clothes, who carried a birch broom, and was called "The Old Woman" or just "Mollie". Details of the horse's head differed in various neighbourhoods. Occasionally large holes were hollowed out for eyes, and black glass bottoms of bottles were inserted. In Thanet, great hobnails were driven into the jaws to form teeth, the lower jaw was hung on hinges, and made to open and shut by means of a string, and it could be made to snap quite ferociously. The head was fixed to a pole about four feet in length, and carried by the stoutest "hand", who was called the Horse. He walked with a stooping gait to make as good a "back" as possible and was covered with a large horse cloth or sacking. Reins, ribbons and a bridle were attached to the head and at times one of the smallest "hands" mounted the Horse to ride like a jockey. The men carried sheep-bells or handbells, and perhaps one was able to play the fiddle.

The assembled party set out and visited the various farms and houses, making plenty of noise to announce their arrival, accompanied by the "clap clapping" of the Horse's jaws. As soon as the door was flung open, the Waggoner cracked his whip, and led in the Horse prancing, snorting, gnashing his teeth, kicking, and rearing very spirited, while Mollie began energetically to sweep the feet of the first person to appear.

When the faun and laughter had subsided, the Hoodeners rang their handbells, and sang some carols, and were regales with home brewed ale, cider and cakes, or on more fortunate occasions with contributions of money.

But countrymen in their enthusiasm do not always deal kindly with ancient customs. "Hob Nob" at Salisbury had to be locked in the City Museum. At Broadstairs, after a woman was alleged to have been frightened to death in meeting a party of Hoodeners, the Magistrate suppressed the custom in that town, but it continued further down the coast as far as Deal, and as far inland as Canterbury. One Hooden Horse at Lower Hardres in 1859 caused a crippled woman to jump from her chair and run. This Horse was so respected by her German husband that he bought it and took it with him to Germany.
With te coming of the petrol engine, there are fewer horses, fewer Waggoner's; stables, alas, have become tractor sheds, and the old Hooden Horse has been taken down from the walls and burned in the stackyard. Yet the tradition remained, and the Hooden Horse, modelled on the one formerly at Deal, re-appeared at Folkestone at the Coronation festivals of Queen Elizabeth II, resurrected appropriately by the Folkestone National Folk Dance Group. Each successive Christmas, while cold winds streak across Kent from Scandinavia, the party may be seen, with their handbells, and the gallant Horse prancing as grotesquely as ever, making the rounds to give pleasure and to collect and swallow money, now, for some thoroughly deserving cause.

At Whitsuntide, the Hoodeners set out from Charing, with the Horse and the East Kent Morris Men, bringing tidings of Spring fertility to the countryside and coast.

In this modern mechanical age, there is still room for these curious old customs, and how immeasurably poorer we should be without them. They are not simply cherished fancies of the "good old days", for future generations. The Hooden Horse is now depicted on the sign of an inn at Wickhambreaux, and as long as it hangs there, in the heart of the Hooden Horse country, this popular Kentish custom, though pagan in origin, will be perpetuated in the minds and memory of all who pass that way.

ANNE ROPER.