WITH pubs open all night, Oxford became a haven for drunkenness in the mid-19th century.

The city had a few constables on duty during the day but apparently none at night, so drinkers ran little risk of being arrested.

However, some did end up in the stocks at Carfax and had missiles thrown at them by youngsters.

These are some of the memories of Henry Poulter (1825-1910), a former Freeman of the city, in a booklet he had printed in 1899 entitled Early Recollections of Oxford.

He wrote: “The population of the city was not much more than 20,000 between 1830-40 – no gas, only oil lamps for the streets and candles for the houses and shops.

“Public houses were open all hours of the night, consequently drunkenness and noise were prevalent.

“I have seen drunken men in the stocks and boys used to throw at the men in them.”

If drunken behaviour caused uproar in the city, so apparently did Parliamentary elections.

Mr Poulter, whose great grandson, Glyn Frewer, of Charlbury, has sent the booklet to Memory Lane, writes: “Both parties paraded the streets with bands playing, flags flying and cards in their hats.

“Each party formed into ranks, like regiments of soldiers, and marched through the streets. When they met, there would be a grand scrimmage, with much damage to the musical instruments.

“Some of the flags stretched across the streets and would take four to six men to carry.

“The excitement continued until polling was over and the result declared by the mayor. The ‘chairing’ of the successful candidate took place a few days after the election and was more exciting than anything that had passed before. Everyone wore their colours, bands played and flags flew in all directions.

“The successful candidate was seated in a hansom chair, with long handles at the sides, and carried three times round Carfax on the shoulders of several men.”

Mr Poulter also tells the story of a Christ Church bellringer who lost his job after visiting a pub and ringing the bells too early.

For centuries, the six-ton Great Tom had tolled 101 times at 9pm every evening to signify the closing of the gates to the original 101 scholars.

Mr Poulter wrote: “Walking up St Aldate’s, I heard the great bell of Christ Church being tolled at eight o’clock. I could hardly believe it.

“It appeared that the man whose duty it was to toll the bell was enjoying himself in a neighbouring tavern when one of his companions, for a lark, rushed into the taproom and told him that Tom had struck nine o’clock.

“He immediately made for the tower, locked himself in the belfry and tolled the 101 for the last time. His future services were dispensed with.”