June 10.

Twilight.How fine to view the Sun’s departing rayFling back a lingering lovely after-day;The moon of summer glides serenely by,And sheds a light enchantment o’er the sky.These, sweetly mingling, pour upon the sightA pencilled shadowing, and a dewy light—A softened day, a half unconscious night.Alas! too finely pure on earth to stay,It faintly spots the hill, and dies away.Thatcham.J. W.

Twilight.

How fine to view the Sun’s departing rayFling back a lingering lovely after-day;The moon of summer glides serenely by,And sheds a light enchantment o’er the sky.These, sweetly mingling, pour upon the sightA pencilled shadowing, and a dewy light—A softened day, a half unconscious night.Alas! too finely pure on earth to stay,It faintly spots the hill, and dies away.

Thatcham.

J. W.

It seems seasonable to introduce anengravingof a very appropriate ornament of a shop window, which will not surprise any one so much as the proprietor, who, whatever may be thought to the contrary, is wholly unknown to the editor of this work.

As a summer decoration, there is scarcely any thing prettier than this little fountain. Gilt fish on the edgeof the lower basin spout jets of water into the upper one, which constantly overflows, and, washing the moss on its stand, falls into its first receiver. These vessels are of glass, and contain live fish; and on the surface of the larger, white waxen swans continue in gentle motion. Vases of flowers and other elegancies are its surrounding accompaniments.

Thisrepresentationexemplifies the rivalry of London tradesmen to attract attention. Their endeavours have not attained the height they are capable of reaching, but the beautiful forms and graceful displays continually submitted to the sight of passengers, evince a disposition which renders our shops the most elegant in Europe.

A Fountain in June, 1826.In the window of Mr. Farrel, Pastrycook, Lambs-Conduit-Street, London.

Mean Temperature 59·15.

[209]Mirror of the Months.

On the 10th of June, 1412, King Henry IV. granted his royal license to an hospital called theMaison de Dieu, or “House of God,” erected by Roger Thornton, on the Sandhill, Newcastle, for the purpose of providing certain persons with food and clothing. The building seems to have been completed in that year. Before it was pulled down in 1823, the “Merchant’s Court” was established over it, and at this time a new building for the company of Free Merchants, &c., is erected on its site.

The son of the founder of the oldhospital granted the use of its hall and kitchen “for a young couple when they were married to make their wedding dinner in, and receive the offerings and gifts of their friends, for at that time houses were not large.” Mr. Sykes, in his interesting volume of “Local Records,” remarks, that “this appears an ancient custom for the encouragement of matrimony.”

Mean Temperature 59·37.

Blessings of Instruction.Hast thou e’er seen a garden cladIn all the robes that Eden had;Or vale o’erspread with streams and trees,A paradise of mysteries;Plains with green hills adorning them,Like jewels in a diadem?These gardens, vales, and plains, and hills,Which beauty gilds and music fills,Were once but deserts. Culture’s handHas scattered verdure o’er the land,And smiles and fragrance rule serene,Where barren wild usurped the scene.And such is man—A soil which breedsOr sweetest flowers, or vilest weeds;Flowers lovely as the morning’s light,Weeds deadly as an aconite;Just as his heart is trained to bearThe poisonous weed, or flow’ret fair.Bowring.

Blessings of Instruction.

Hast thou e’er seen a garden cladIn all the robes that Eden had;Or vale o’erspread with streams and trees,A paradise of mysteries;Plains with green hills adorning them,Like jewels in a diadem?These gardens, vales, and plains, and hills,Which beauty gilds and music fills,Were once but deserts. Culture’s handHas scattered verdure o’er the land,And smiles and fragrance rule serene,Where barren wild usurped the scene.And such is man—A soil which breedsOr sweetest flowers, or vilest weeds;Flowers lovely as the morning’s light,Weeds deadly as an aconite;Just as his heart is trained to bearThe poisonous weed, or flow’ret fair.

Hast thou e’er seen a garden cladIn all the robes that Eden had;Or vale o’erspread with streams and trees,A paradise of mysteries;Plains with green hills adorning them,Like jewels in a diadem?

These gardens, vales, and plains, and hills,Which beauty gilds and music fills,Were once but deserts. Culture’s handHas scattered verdure o’er the land,And smiles and fragrance rule serene,Where barren wild usurped the scene.

And such is man—A soil which breedsOr sweetest flowers, or vilest weeds;Flowers lovely as the morning’s light,Weeds deadly as an aconite;Just as his heart is trained to bearThe poisonous weed, or flow’ret fair.

Bowring.

Mean Temperature 58·75.

Sheep-shearing, one of the great rural labours of this delightful month, if not so full of variety as the hay-harvest, and so creative of matter for those “in search of the picturesque” (though it is scarcely less so), is still more lively, animated, and spirit-stirring; and it besides retains something of the character of a rural holiday, which rural matters need, in this age and in this country, more than ever they did, since it became a civilized and happy one. The sheep-shearings are the onlystatedperiods of the year at which we hear of festivities, and gatherings together of the lovers and practisers of English husbandry; for even the harvest-home itself is fast sinking into disuse, as a scene of mirth and revelry, from the want of being duly encouraged and partaken in by the great ones of the earth; without whose countenance and example it is questionable whether eating, drinking, and sleeping, would not soon become vulgar practices, and be discontinued accordingly! In a state of things like this, the Holkham and Woburn sheep-shearings do more honour to their promoters than all their wealth can purchase and all their titles convey. But we are getting beyond our soundings: honours, titles, and “states of things,” are what we do not pretend to meddle with, especially when the pretty sights and sounds preparatory to and attendant on sheep-shearing, as a mere rural employment, are waiting to be noticed.

Now, then, on the first really summer’s day, the whole flock being collected on the higher bank of the pool formed at the abrupt winding of the nameless mill-stream, at the point, perhaps, where the little wooden bridge runs slantwise across it, and the attendants being stationed waist-deep in the midwater, the sheep are, after a silent but obstinate struggle or two, plunged headlong, one by one, from the precipitous bank; when, after a moment of confused splashing, their heavy fleeces float them along, and their feet, moving by an instinctive art which every creature but man possesses, guide them towards the opposite shallows, that steam and glitter in the sunshine. Midway, however, they are fain to submit to the rude grasp of the relentless washer, which they undergo with as ill a grace as preparatory schoolboys do the same operation. Then, gaining the opposite shore heavily, they stand for a moment till the weight of water leaves them, and, shaking their streaming sides, go bleating away towards their fellows on the adjacent green, wondering within themselves what has happened.

The shearing is no less lively and picturesque, and no less attended by all the idlers of the village as spectators. The shearers, seated in rows beside the crowded pens, with the seemingly inanimate load of fleece in their laps, and bending intently over their work; the occasional whetting and clapping of the shears; the neatly-attired housewives, waiting to receive the fleeces; the smoke from the tar-kettle, ascending through the clear air; the shorn sheep escaping,one by one, from their temporary bondage, and trotting away towards their distant brethren, bleating all the while for their lambs, that do not know them; all this, with its ground of universal green, and finished every-where by its leafy distances, except where the village spire intervenes, forms together a living picture, pleasanter to look upon than words can speak, but still pleasanter to think of, whenthatis the nearest approach you can make toit.[210]

On this day, in the year 1734, the duke of Berwick, while visiting the trenches at the siege of Philipsburgh, near Spire, in Germany, was killed, standing between his two sons by a cannon-ball. He was the illegitimate son of the duke of York, afterwards James II., whom he accompanied in his flight from England, in 1688. His mother was Arabella Churchill, maid of honour to the duchess of York, and sister to the renowned Marlborough.

The duke of Berwick on quitting the country, entered into the service of France, and was engaged in several battles against the English or their allies in Ireland, the Netherlands, Portugal, and Spain. At his death he was in the sixty-fourth year of his age. No general of his time excelled him in the art of war except his uncle, the duke ofMarlborough.[211]

Mean Temperature 58·40.

[210]Mirror of the Months.[211]Butler’s Chronological Exercises.

[210]Mirror of the Months.

[211]Butler’s Chronological Exercises.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Liverpool, 6th June, 1826.

Sir,—The pages ofThe Every-Day Book, notwithstanding a few exceptions, have afforded me unqualified pleasure, and having observed your frequent and reiterated requests for communications, I have been induced to send you the following doggrels.

I ought to promise that they formed part of the sign of an alehouse, formerly standing in Chapel-street, near St. Nicholas church in this town, but which is now taken down to make room for a costly pile of warehouses since erected on the site.

The sign represented (elegantly, of course) a man standing in a cart laden with fish, and holding in his right hand what the artist intended to represent a salmon. The lines are to be supposed to be spoken by thedriver:—

This salmon has got a tailIt’s very like a whale,It’s a fish that’s very merry,They say it’s catch’d at Derry;It’s a fish that’s got a heart,It’s catch’d and put in Dugdale’s cart.

This truly classic production of the muse of Mersey continued for several years to adorn the host’s door, until a change in the occupant of the house induced a corresponding change of the sign, and the following lines graced the sign of “The FishingSmack:”—

The cart and salmon has stray’d away,And left the fishing-boat to stay.When boisterous winds do drive you back,Come in and drink at the Fishing Smack.

Whilst I am upon the subject of “signs,” I cannot omit mentioning a punning one in the adjoining county (Chester) on the opposite side of the Mersey, by the highway-side, leading from Liscard to Wallasea. The house is kept by a son of Crispin, and he, zealous of his trade, exhibits the representation of a last, and under it thiscouplet:—

All day long I have sought goodbeer,And atthe lastI have found it here.

I do not know, sir, whether the preceding nonsense may be deemed worthy of a niche in your miscellany; but I have sent it at a venture, knowing thatoriginals, however trifling, are sometimes valuable to a pains-taking (and, perhaps, wearied) collector.

I am, Sir, your obliged,Lector.

By publishing the letter of my obliging correspondent “Lector,” who transmits his real name, I am enabling England to say—he has done his duty.

Really if each of my readers would do like him I should be very grateful. While printing his belief that I am a “pains-taking” collector, I would interposeby observing that I am far, very far, from a “wearied” one: and I would fain direct the attention of every one who peruses these sheets to their collections, whether great or small, and express an earnest desire to be favoured with something from their stores; in truth, the best evidence of their receiving my sheets favourably will be their contributions towards them. While I am getting together and arranging materials for articles that will interest the public quite as much as any I have laid before them, I hope for the friendly aid of well-wishers to the work, and urgently solicit their communications.

Mean Temperature 59·75.

1826. Trinity Term ends.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Newark, May 17, 1826.

Sir,—The following singular circumstance may be relied on as a fact. The individual it relates to was well known upon the turf. I recollect him myself, and once saw the present venerable Earl of Fitzwilliam, on Stamford race-course, humorously inquire of him how he got his conveyance, in allusion to the undermentioned circumstance, and present him with a guinea.—I am, &c.

Benj. Johnson.

John Kilburn, a person well known on the turf as a list seller, &c., was at a town in Bedfordshire, and, as the turf phrase is, “quite broke down.” It was during harvest, and the week before Richmond races (Yorkshire), whither he was travelling, and near which place he was born: to arrive there in time he hit on the following expedient.—He applied to an acquaintance of his, a blacksmith, to stamp on a padlock the words ‘Richmond Gaol,’ with which, and a chain fixed to one of his legs, he composedly went into a corn-field to sleep. As he expected, he was soon apprehended and taken before a magistrate, who, after some deliberation, ordered two constables to guard him in a carriage to Richmond. No time was to be lost, for Kilburn said he had not been tried, and hoped they would not let him lay till another assize. The constables, on their arrival at the gaol, accosted the keeper with “Sir, do you know this man?” “Yes, very well, it is Kilburn; I have known him many years.” “We suppose he has broken out of your gaol, as he has a chain and padlock on with your mark. Is not he a prisoner?” “I never heard any harm of him in my life.” “Nor,” says Kilburn, “have these gentlemen: Sir, they have been so good as to bring me out of Bedfordshire, and I will not put them to further inconvenience. I have got the key of the padlock, and I will not trouble them to unlock it. I am obliged to them for their kind behaviour.” He travelled in this way about one hundred and seventy miles.

This anecdote has been seen before, perhaps, but it is now given on authority.

Mean Temperature 59·67.

To the Editor of the Every-day Book.

Sir,—You have inserted in vol. i. p. 559, an interesting account of theMorris Dancein the “olden times,” and I was rather disappointed on a perusal of your extensive Index, by not finding a “few more words” respecting the Morris Dancers of our day and generation. I think this custom is of Moorish origin, and might have been introduced into this country in the middle ages. Bailey says, “the Morris Dance is an antic dance performed by five men and a boy, dressed in girl’s clothes.” The girlish part of it is, however, more honoured in “the breach than the observance.”

In June, 1826, I observed a company of these “bold peasantry, the country’s pride,” in Rosoman-street, Clerkenwell. They consisted of eight young men, six of whom were dancers; the seventh played the pipe and tabor; and the eighth, the head of them, collected the pence in his hat, and put the precious metal into the slit of a tin painted box, under lock and key, suspended before him. The tune the little rural-noted pipe played to the gentle pulsations of the tabor, is called

“Moll in the wad and I fell out,And what d’ye think it was about”

This may be remembered as one of the once popular street songs of the late Charles Dibdin’s composition. The dancers wore party-coloured ribands round their hats, arms, and knees, to which a row of small latten bells were appended, somewhat like those which are given to amuse infants in teeth-cutting, that tinkled with the motion of the wearers. These rustic adventurers “upon the many-headed town,” came from a village in Hertfordshire. Truly natural and simple in appearance, their features, complexion, dress, and attitude, perfectly corresponded. Here was no disguise, no blandishment, no superhuman effort. Their shape was not compressed by fashion, nor did their hearts flutter in an artificial prison. Nature represented them about twenty-five years of age, as her seasoned sons, handing down to posterity, by their exercises before the present race, the enjoyment of their forefathers, and the tradition of happy tenantry “ere power grew high, and times grew bad.” The “set-to,” as they termed it, expressed a vis-à-vis address; they then turned, returned, clapped their hands before and behind, and made a jerk with the knee and foot alternately,

“Till toe and heel no longer moved.”

Though the streets were dirty and the rain fell reluctantly, yet they heeded not the elemental warfare, but

“Danced and smiled, and danced and smiled again:”

hence their ornaments, like themselves, looked weather-beaten. Crowds collected round them. At 12 o’clock at noon, this was a rare opportunity for the schoolboys let out of their seats of learning and confinement. The occasional huzza, like Handel’s “Occasional Overture,” so pleasing to the ear of liberty, almost drowned the “Morris.” But at intervals the little pretty pipe drew the fancy, as it were, piping to a flock in the valley by the shade of sweet trees and the bosom of the silver brook. O! methought, what difference is here by comparison with the agile-limbed aërials of St. James’s and these untutored clowns! Yet something delightful comes home to the breast, and speaks to the memory of a rural-born creature, and recals a thousand dear recollections of hours gone down the voyage of life into eternity! To a Londoner, too, the novelty does not weary by its voluntary offering to their taste, and apposition to the season.

Lubin Brown, the piper, was an arch dark-featured person; his ear was alive to Doric melody; and he merrily played and tickled the time to his note. When he stopped to take breath, his provincial dialect scattered his wit among the gapers, and his companions were well pleased with their sprightly leader. Spagnioletti, nor Cramer, could do no more by sound nor Liston, nor Yates, by grimace. I observed his eye ever alert to the movement and weariness of his six choice youths. He was a chivalrous fellow: he had won the prize for “grinning through a horse collar” at the revel, thrown his antagonist in the “wrestling ring,” and “jumped twenty yards in a sack” to the mortification of his rivals, who lay vanquished on the green. The box-keeper, though less dignified than Mr. Spring, of Drury-lane, informed me that “he and his companions in sport” had charmed the village lasses round the maypole, and they intended sojourning in town a week or two, after which the box would be opened, and an equitable division take place, previously to the commencement of mowing and hay-harvest. He said it was the third year of their pilgrimage; that they had never disputed on the road, and were welcomed home by their sweethearts and friends, to whom they never omit the carrying a seasonable gift in a very humble “Forget me not!” or “Friendship’s Offering.”

Mr. Editor, I subscribe myself,Yours, very sincerely.J. R. P.

Mean Temperature 58·55.

June 16, 1722, the great duke of Marlborough died. (See vol. i., p. 798.) Among the “Original Papers,” published by Macpherson, is a letter of the duke’s to king James II., whom he “deserted in his utmost need” for the service of king William, wherein he betrays to his old master the design of his new one against Brest in 1694. This communication, if intercepted, might have terminatedthe duke’s career, and we should have heard nothing of his “wars in Flanders.” It appears, further, that the duke’s intrigues were suspected by king William, and were the real grounds of his imprisonment in the Tower two years before.

Mean Temperature 59·12.

This English saint, whose festival is on this day, with his brother Adulph, another saint, travelled into Belgic Gaul, where Adulph became bishop of Maestricht, and Botolph returned home with news of the religious houses he had seen abroad, and recommendations from the two sisters of Ethelmund, king of the south Saxons, who resided in France, to their brother in England. Ethelmund gave him a piece of land near Lincoln, called Icanhoe, “a forsaken uninhabited desert, where nothing but devills and goblins were thought to dwell: but St. Botolphe, with the virtue and sygne of the holy crosse, freed it from the possession of those hellish inhabitants, and by the means and help of Ethelmund, built a monasterie therein.” Of this establishment of the order of St. Benedict, St. Botolph became abbot. He died on this day in June, 680, and was buried in his monastery, which is presumed by some to have been at Botolph’s bridge, now called Bottle-bridge, in Huntingdonshire; by others, at Botolph’s town, now corruptly called Boston in Lincolnshire; and again, its situation is said to have been towards Sussex. Boston seems, most probably, to have been the site of his edifice.

St. Botolph’s monastery having been destroyed by the Danes, his relics were in part carried to the monastery of Ely, and part to that of Thorney. Alban Butler, who affirms this, afterwards observes that Thorney Abbey, situated in Cambridgeshire, founded in 972, in honour of St. Mary and St. Botolph, was one of those whose abbots sat in parliament, that St. Botolph was interred there, and that Thorney was anciently called Ancarig, that is, the Isle of Anchorets. It may here be remarked, however, that Westminster was anciently called Thorney, from its having been covered by briars; and that the last-written “History of Boston” refers to Capgrave, as saying, “that in the book of the church of St. Botolph, near Aldersgate, London, there is mention how a part of the body of St. Botolph was, by king Edward of happy memory, conferred on the church of St. Peter inWestminster.” Father Porter, in his “Flowers of the Saincts,” says, “it hath been found written in the booke of St. Botolphe’s church, near Aldersgate, in London, that part of his holy bodie was by king Edward given to the abbey ofWinchester.” The editor of theEvery-Day Bookpossessed “the register book of the church of St. Botolph, near Aldersgate,” when he wrote on “Ancient Mysteries,” in which work the manuscript is described: it wanted some leaves, and neither contained the entry mentioned by Capgrave, nor mentioned the disposition of the relics of St. Botolph. Besides the places already noticed, various others throughout the country are named after St. Botolph, and particularly four parishes of the city of London, namely, in Aldersgate before mentioned, Aldgate, Billingsgate, and Bishopsgate. Butler says nothing of his miracles, but Father Porter mentions him as having been “famous for miracles both in this life and after his death.”

The gentleman whose museum furnished the Biddenden cake, obligingly transmits an extract from some papers in his collection, relative to a wedding on this day.

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,—Perhaps the following account of the dresses of a lady in olden time may be interesting to yourreaders:—

The wedding-clothes of Miss Eliz. Draper, 1550, a present from her husband, John Bowyer, Esq. of Lincoln’s-inn:—

The wedding-ring is described as weighing “two angels and a duckett,” graven with these words, “Deus nos junxit, J.E.B.Y.R.” The date of the marriage is inserted by Mr. B. with great minuteness (at the hour of eight, the dominical letter F. the moon being in Leo), with due regard to the aspects of the heavens, which at that time regulated every affair of importance.

I am, &c.J. I. A. F.

June 5, 1826.

Mean Temperature 59·55.

On the 18th of June, 1805, died Arthur Murphy, Esq., barrister at law, and bencher of Lincoln’s-inn; a dramatic and miscellaneous writer of considerable celebrity. He was born at Cork, in 1727, and educated in the college of St. Omers, till his 18th year, and was at the head of the Latin class when he quitted the school. He was likewise well acquainted with the Greek language. On his return to Ireland he was sent to London, and placed under the protection of a mercantile relation; but literature and the stage soon drew his attention, and wholly absorbed his mind. The success of his first tragedy, “The Orphan of China,” enabled him to discharge some pecuniary obligations he had incurred, and he made several attempts to acquire reputation as an actor; but, though he displayed judgment, he wanted powers, and was brutally attacked by Churchill, from motives of party prejudice. Mr. Murphy in a very humorous ode to the naiads of Fleet-ditch, intituled “Expostulation,” vindicated his literary character. He withdrew from the stage, studied the law, made two attempts to become a member of the Temple and of Gray’s-inn, and was rejected, on the illiberal plea that he had been upon the stage. More elevated sentiments in the members of Lincoln’s-inn admitted him to the bar, but the dramatic muse so much engaged his attention, that the law was a secondary consideration. He wrote twenty-two pieces for the stage, most of which were successful, and several are stock pieces. He first started into the literary world with a series of essays, intituled “The Gray’s-inn Journal.” At one period he was a political writer, though without putting his name to his productions. He produced a Latin version of “The Temple of Fame,” and of Gray’s “Elegy,” and a well-known translation of the works of Tacitus. He was the intimate of Foote and Garrick, whose life he wrote. He had many squabbles with contemporary wits, particularly the late George Steevens, Esq.; but, though he never quietly received a blow, he was never the first to give one. Steevens’s attack he returned with abundant interest. His friend Mr. Jesse Foot, whom he appointed his executor, and to whom he entrusted all his manuscripts, says, “He lived in the closest friendship with the most polished authors and greatest lawyers of his time; his knowledge of the classics was profound; his translations of the Roman historians enlarged his fame; his dramatic productions were inferior to none of the time in which he flourished. The pen of the poet was particularly adorned by the refined taste of the critic. He was author of ‘The Orphan of China,’ ‘The Grecian Daughter,’ ‘All in the Wrong,’ ‘The Way to keep Him,’ ‘Know your own Mind,’ ‘Three Weeks after Marriage,’ ‘The Apprentice,’ ‘The Citizen,’ and many other esteemed dramatic productions.” He had a pension of 200l.a year from governmentduring the last three years of his life; and was a commissioner of bankrupts. His manners were urbane, and if he sometimes showed warmth of temper, his heart was equally warm towards his friends.

Mean Temperature 60·17.

The united kingdom may be said to be in uproar, wherever the electors are solicited for their “sweet voices.” One place latterly seems to be without a candidate; viz. “the ancient and honorable borough of Garrett,” situate near the Leather Bottle in Garrett Lane, in the parish of Wandsworth, in the county of Surrey. Information to the Editor respecting former elections for Garrett, and especially any of the printed addresses, advertisements, or hand bills, if communicated to the Editor of theEvery-Day Bookimmediately, will enable him to complete a curiousarticlein the next sheet. Particulars respecting Sir Jeffery Dunstan, Sir Harry Dimsdale, Sir George Cook, Sir John Horn Conch, baronets, or other “public characters” who at any time had the honour to represent Garrett, will be very acceptable, but every thing of the sort should be forwarded without an hour’s delay.

Mean Temperature 59·77.

Custom at Dunmow, in Essex.

On this day, in the year 1751, a flitch of bacon was claimed at Dunmow, in Essex, by a man and his wife, who had the same delivered to them as of right, according to ancient custom, on the ground that they had not quarrelled, nor had either repented, nor had one offended the other, from the day of their marriage.—The aboveEngravingis after a large print by C. Mosley, “from an original painting taken on the spot by David Ogborne,” which print represents the procession of the last-mentioned claimants on their return from Dunmow church with the flitch.

Ogborne’s print, from whence the precedingengravingis taken, bears thisinscription:—

“An exact Perspective View ofDunmow, late the Priory in the county of Essex, with a Representation of the Ceremony & Procession in that Mannor, on Thursday the 20 of June 1751 whenThomas Shakeshaftof the Parish of Weathersfield in the county aforesaid, Weaver, &Annhis Wife came to demand and did actually receive a Gammon of Bacon, having first kneelt down upon two bare stones within the Church door, and taken the said Oath pursuant to the ancient custom in manner & form prescribed as aforesaid.” A short account of this custom precedes the above inscription.

Mr. Brand speaks of his possessing Ogborne’s print, and of its having become “exceedingly rare;” he further cites it as being inscribed “Taken on the spot and engraved by David Ogborne.” Herein he mistakes; for, as regards Ogborne, both old and modern impressions are inscribed as alreadyquotedin the preceding column: in the old impression “C. Mosley sculpt.” stands below “the oath” in verse, at the right hand corner of theplate; and in the modern one it is erased from that part and placed at the same corner above “the oath,” and immediately under the engraving; the space it occupied is supplied by the words “Republish’d Octr28th. 1826 by R. Cribb, 288 Holborn”: its original note of publication remains, viz. “Publish’d according to Act of Parliament Janry. 1752.” The print is now common.

Mr. Brand, or his printer, further mistakes the name of the claimant on the print, for, in the “Popular Antiquities” he quotes it “Shapeshaft” instead of “Shakeshaft;” and he omits to mention a larger print, of greater rarity in his time, “sold by John Bowles Map & Printseller in Cornhill,” entitled “The Manner of claiming the Gamon of Bacon &c. by Thos. Shakeshaft, and Anne his wife” which it thusrepresents:—

The last taking of the Oath at Dunmow,FOR THE GAMMON OF BACON.

FORM OF THE OATH.You shall swear by Custom of Confession,If ever you made nuptial trangression:Be you either married man or wife,By household brawles or contentious strife,Or otherwise in bed, or at boord,Offend each other in deed, or word;Or since the parishClerksaidAmen,You wish’t yourselves unmarried agen:Or in a twelve moneths time and a dayRepented not in thought any way:But continued true and just in desireAs when you joyned hands in the holy quireIf to these conditions without all feare,Of your own accord you will freely sweare,A wholeGammon of Baconyou shall receive,And bear it henceforth with love and good leave.For this is ourCustomeatDunmowwell known,Though the pleasure be ours, theBacon’syour own.

FORM OF THE OATH.

You shall swear by Custom of Confession,If ever you made nuptial trangression:Be you either married man or wife,By household brawles or contentious strife,Or otherwise in bed, or at boord,Offend each other in deed, or word;Or since the parishClerksaidAmen,You wish’t yourselves unmarried agen:Or in a twelve moneths time and a dayRepented not in thought any way:But continued true and just in desireAs when you joyned hands in the holy quireIf to these conditions without all feare,Of your own accord you will freely sweare,A wholeGammon of Baconyou shall receive,And bear it henceforth with love and good leave.For this is ourCustomeatDunmowwell known,Though the pleasure be ours, theBacon’syour own.

On the taking of this oath, which is cited by an old countyhistorian,[212]and somewhat varies from the verses beneath the before-mentioned prints, the swearers were entitled to the flitch, or gammon.

The “Gentleman’s Magazine,” of 1751, mentions that on this day “John Shakeshanks, woolcomber, and Anne his wife, of the parish of Weathersfield, in Essex, appeared at the customary court at Dunmow-parva, and claim’d the bacon according to the custom of that manor.” This is all the notice of the last claim in that miscellany, but the old “London Magazine,” of the same year, adds, that “the bacon was delivered to them with the usual formalities.” It is remarkable that in both these magazines the parties are named “Shakeshanks.” On reference to the court-roll, the real name appears to be Shakeshaft.

Ogborne’s print affirms that this custom was instituted in or about the year 1111, by Robert, son of Richard Fitz Gilbert, Earl of Clare: but as regards the date, which is in the time of Henry I., the statement is inaccurate; for if it originated with Robert Fitzwalter, as hereafter related, he did not live till the time of “King Henry, son of King John,” who commenced his reign in 1199, and was Henry III.

Concerning the ceremony, the print goes on to describe, that after delivering the bacon, “the happy pair are taken upon men’s shoulders, in a chair kept for that purpose, and carried round the scite of the priory, from the church to the house, with drums, minstrells, and other musick playing, and the gammon of bacon borne on a high pole before them, attended by the steward, gentlemen, and officers of the manor, with the several inferior tenants, carrying wands, &c., and a jury of bachelors and maidens (being six of each sex) walking two and two, with a great multitude of other people, young and old, from all the neighbouring towns and villages thereabouts, and several more that came from very great distances (to the amount of many thousands in the whole), with shouts and acclamations,following.”[213]

The chair in which the successful candidates for “the bacon” were seated, after obtaining the honourable testimony of their connubial happiness, is made of oak, and though large, seems hardly big enough for any pair, but such as had given proofs of their mutual good-nature and affection. It is still preserved in Dunmow Church, and makes part of theadmirandaof that place. It is undoubtedly of great antiquity, probably the official chair of the prior, or that of the lord of the manor, in which he held the usual courts, and received the suit and service of his tenants. There is an engraving of the chair in the “Antiquarian Repertory,” from whence this notice of it is extracted: it in no way differs from the chief chairs of ancient halls.

Of “the bacon,” it is stated, on Ogborne’s print, that “before the dissolution of monasteries, it does not appear, by searching the most ancient records, to have been demanded above three times, and, including this (demand of Shakeshaft’s) just as often since.” These demands are particularized by Dugdale, from a manuscript in the College ofArms,[214]to the followingeffect:—

“Robt. Fitzwalter, living long beloved of king Henry, son of king John, as alsoof all the realme, betook himself in his latter dayes to prayer and deeds of charity, gave great and bountifull alms to the poor, kept great hospitality, and re-edified the decayed prison (priory) of Dunmow, which one Juga (Baynard), a most devout and religious woman, being in her kinde his ancestor, had builded; in which prison (priory) arose a custome, begun and instituted, eyther by him, or some other of his successours, which is verified by a common proverb or saying, viz.—That he which repents him not of his marriage, either sleeping or waking, in a year and a day, may lawfully go to Dunmow and fetch a gammon of bacon. It is most assured that such a custome there was, and that this bacon was delivered with such solemnity and triumphs as they of the priory and the townsmen could make. I have enquired of the manner of it, and can learne no more but that it continued untill the dissolution of that house, as also the abbies. And that the party or pilgrim for bacon was to take his oath before prior and convent, and the whole town, humblykneeling in the church-yard upon two hard pointed stones, which stones, some say, are there yet to be seen in the prior’s church-yard; his oath was ministered with such long process, and such solemne singing over him, that doubtless must make his pilgrimage (as I may term it) painfull: after, he was taken up upon men’s shoulders, and carried, first about the priory church-yard, and after, through the town with all the fryers and brethren, and all the town’s-folke, young and old, following him with shouts and acclamations, with his bacon borne before him, and in such manner (as I have heard) was sent home with his bacon; of which I find that some had a gammon, and others a flecke, or a flitch; for proof whereof I have, from the records of the house, found the names of three several persons that at several times had it.”

Anno 23. Henry VI. 1445, one Richard Wright of Badbury, near the city of Norwich in the county of Norfolk, labourer (Plebeius) came to Dunmow and required the bacon, to wit, on the 27th of April, in the 23d year of the reign of King Henry VI. and according to the form of the charter was sworn before John Cannon, prior of the place and the convent, and very many other neighbours, and there was delivered to him, the said Richard a side or flitch of bacon.

Anno 7 Edw. IV. 1467, one Stephen Samuel of Ayston-Parva, in the county of Essex, husbandman, on the day of the Blessed Virgin in Lent (25th March) in the 7th year of king Edward IV. came to the priory of Dunmow, and required a gammon of bacon; and he was sworn before Roger Bulcott, then prior of the place and the convent, and also before a multitude of other neighbours, and there was delivered to him a gammon of bacon.

Anno 2 Hen. VIII. 1510, Thomas le Fuller of Cogshall, in the county of Essex, came to the priory of Dunmow, and on the 8th day of September, being Sunday, in the 2d year of king Henry VIII. according to the form of the charter, was sworn before John Tils, then Prior of the house and the convent, and also before a multitude of neighbours, and there was delivered to him, the said Thomas, a gammon of bacon.

“Hereby it appeareth,” Dugdale says, “that it was according to a charter, or donation, given by some conceited benefactor to the house; and it is not to be doubted, but that at such a time, the bordering towns and villages resorted, and were partakers of their pastimes, and laughed to scorne the poore man’spains[215].”

In a letter from F. D. to “Mr. Urban,” Shakeshaft,aliasShakeshank, is called theancientwoolcomber of Weathersfield, and a copy of the register of the form and ceremony, observed fifty years before, is communicated asfollows:—

Extract from the Court Roll.

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