The New Sheriff In Town

On a day spent with George Jessel, the High Sheriff of Kent, Clive Aslet almost goes to prison to find out exactly what this historic and unpaid role entails

We got the stained-glass windows put back in the chapel of the prison,’ declares George Jessel. We’re in Maidstone, county town of Kent, where Mr Jessel is High Sheriff. High Sheriffs— the Shrievalty, as they’re collectively known —may be survivors of Britain’s medieval past, but they still have a role to play. Only, as I soon discovered, the job is largely what each office holder makes it.

Mr Jessel has focused his attention on law and order. It was during a tour of Maidstone Prison, partly built by the engineer Daniel Alexander in 1811–19, that the stained-glass window was found in a packing case, having been taken out during the Second World War. Its return was a small victory for human values in a bureaucratic world.

Mr Jessel has made justice his theme because it fitted the office. Originally, he explains, the High Sheriff was ‘a one-stop shop, which combined the functions of policeman, judge and jury—with a direct line to the executioner where necessary’

The office originated in the Saxon period, when the ‘shire reeve’ supervised a patch of England on the king’s behalf, which could involve raising armies, collecting taxes and managing estates. Under William I, the Sheriff became a feudal appointment.

No less than 27 of the 63 clauses of Magna Carta deal with the role of the Sheriff: an indication of his importance, as well as the contentious use to which these mighty individuals could put their powers. Although Gilbert of Surrey had a ‘happy and joyful mien’, when William de l’Isle of Northamptonshire brought his well-kept accounts to Henry I’s exchequer, he was thrown into the Fleet Prison, lucky to escape with his life. The mythical Sheriff of Nottingham was a recognisable type.