December 30.
The following communication, though relating to an earlier period of the year, is now inserted, in order to include it, as its subject requires, in the present work.
Avingham Fair and Sports.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Sir,—As I have frequently derived much pleasure from the amusing descriptions of local customs in your Every-Day Book, I take the liberty of forwarding some reminiscences of customs which existed when I first drew halfpence from my breeches pockets, and which still remain in the north of England; I allude to a fair held at Avingham, a small hamlet situated on the banks of the Tyne, about twelve miles west of Newcastle.
Avingham fair is on the 26th of April and 26th of October. Formerly, an agricultural society awarded prizes to the successful candidates for the breed of horses, cows, sheep, &c. The April cattle show was entirely of the male kind, and in every respect calculated to afford pleasure and instruction to the naturalist, being replete with variety, form, colour, and as much beauty as could be found in that part of the animal creation; so much so, that in turning from the scene with reluctance, you might exclaim, “Accuse not nature, she hath done her part; man, do thou but thine.” Morland, Potter, Cooper, and Bewick[557] might all have found variety for the exercise of their several powers; and, indeed, the latter has given portraits of many of the specimens there exhibited, in his “History of Quadrupeds.” The October show was of the female kind, and inferior to the former. At this meeting, two additional prizes were given; one to the grower of the finest crop of turnips, which was decided by taking so many rows of a given number of yards in length, and weighing them; the other was the sum of ten pounds, to the person who could prove that he had reared the largest family without assistance from the parish. The privilege of contest was confined to hinds (husbandmen.)
The fair is principally for the sale of cattle, and the show is not greater than that of Smithfield on market-day, excepting pigs, which here and at Stainshaw (Stagshaw) bank fairs supply the principal stock to the Cumberland and Westmoreland pig feeders. In the morning a procession moves from the principal alehouse for the purpose of riding the fair, as they call it, headed by the two Northumberland pipers, called the duke of Northumberland’s pipers, in a light blue dress, a large cloak of the same colour with white cape, a silver half-moon on one arm as a cognizance, and white band and binding to the hat. Each is mounted on a rosinante, borrowed, without consent, by the busy hostler from some whiskey smuggler or cadger, reconciled to the liberty by long custom. Those who have noticed the miller and his horse in Stothard’s picture of the “Pilgrimage to Canterbury,” may form a tolerable notion of the manner in which this “Jemmy Allen” and son are mounted; the accompanying [sketch], from recollection, may more conveniently illustrate my description:
“Riding the Fair”—at Avingham.
And what have those troopers to do here to-day?
The duke of Northumberland’s pipers are they.
The pipers, followed by the duke’s agent, bailiff, constable, and a numerous body of farmers, principally the duke’s tenantry, proceed first through the fair, where the proclamation is read, that the fair shall last nine days, &c.;[558] and then, the duke being lord of the manor, they walk the boundary of all that is or has been common or waste land. That task completed, they return to the alehouse with the pipers playing before them, where they partake freely of store of punch at the duke’s expense. The farmers are so proud of being able to express their attachment to his grace “in public,” as they term it, that they mount their sons on cuddies, (asses,) rather than they should not join the procession, to drink with them “the health o’ his grace, and lang may he leeve ta pratect and study the interests o’ his tanentry.” Then there’s “Here’s te ye Tam, thank’s te ye Joke,” and so they separate for the fair, there to “settle how mickle per heed they con git for their nowte an swine.”
Avingham fair, like others, is attended by many a “gaberlunzie,” with different kinds of amusement for children, such as the “E and O, black-cock and grey;” and, above all, for the amusement of the pig drivers and “gadsmen,” Punch and Toby, (so called by them,) and a number of those gentlemen who vomit fire, as if they had swallowed the wicks of all the candles they had snuffed for Richardson. Many of those worthies I recollect having attended ever since I was able to see above the level of their stalls. At my last visit, I was much amused with one who seemed to have been just arrived from the sister kingdom; he was surrounded by ploughboys and their doxeys, their cheeks as red as their topknots. He had a large pan suspended from his neck, and, as the girls observed, a “skimmering” white apron and bib, and he bellowed as loud as he could, “Hearse a’ yer rale dandy candy, made ap wa’ sugar an brandy, an tha rale hoile a mint; it’s cood far young ar hold, cough or cold, a shortness a’ breath, ar a pain at tha stamach, it’s cood far hany camplaint whatsamever; A, fate! an yil try it:—noo leddies, hif ye try it, an yer sure ta buy it.” And sure enough this was the case, for whatever might be its qualities, it pleased the “leddies,” who purchased in such abundance, that they besmeared their faces so as to destroy that rosy red, love’s proper hue, which dwells upon the cheeks of our northern rustic beauties.
I must not forget to mention that the October fair is more numerously attended by those who go for pleasure. Unlike the southern holyday folks, they prefer autumn for this reason, that “hearst” is just ended, and they have then most money, which, with the “leddies,” is generally expended in dress suitable to this and similar occasions. After baking a sufficient number of barley bannocks for the following day, and the milk set up, they throw off their “linsey-woolsey petticoats,” and “hale made bed-goons” for a gown, a good specimen of their taste, in the two warmest colours, a red flower or stripe upon a yellow ground, and as much of a third colour round the waste, as would make them vie with Iris. In this butterfly state they hasten to the scene of mirth, and most of them dance till they have reason to suppose it is time to “gang hame, an git a’ ready be’ crowdie time.” The style of dancing is the same as in Scotland, country dances, reels, jigs, and hornpipes; the last mentioned is much admired. No merry-making is allowed to pass over without some rural “admirable Crichton” having shown his agility in this step. The hornpipe is introduced between each country dance, while “Love blinks, wit sleeps, an’ social mirth forgets their’s care upon the earth.” The following day is called by the inhabitants “gwonny Jokesane’s” day; why so is not known; all they know is, that it is and has been so called since the recollection of the oldest alive; and that is sufficient to induce them to continue a custom, which is peculiar to it, as follows. When a sufficient number have assembled, they elect what they are pleased to call a mayor, who they mount upon a platform, which is borne along by four men, headed by the musician that attended the preceding evening, and followed by a number of bailiffs with white “wans,” and all the men, wives, maids, and white-headed urchins in the village. Thus, all in arms, they proceed first to the minister’s house, and strike up a dance in front. His worship, “the mayor,” as a privileged person, sometimes evinces a little impatience, and if the minister has not made his appearance, demands to speak to him. On his advancing, “his worship” begins thus, “A yes! twa times a yes! an’ three times a yes! If ony man, or ony man’s man, lairds, loons, lubburdoons, dogs, skelpers, gabbrigate swingers, shall commit a parliament as a twarliament, we, in the township o’ Avingham, shall hea his legs, an heed, tied ta tha cagwheel, till he say yence, twice, thrice, prosper the fair o’ Avingham, an’ gwonny Jokesane’s day.” This harangue, however ridiculous, is always followed with cheering, in which their good-tempered pastor freely joins, with his hat above his head, and stepping forward, shakes “his worship” by the hand, giving him a cordial welcome, trusting he will not leave the manse till he takes a “drap a yel, a’ his ain brewin.” This is of course acceded to. The ale being handed round in plenty, and being found to be good, “an’ what is na guid that the minister hes,” they engage themselves for some time, “while news much older than their ale goes round.” The musicians meanwhile play such airs as “The Reel Rawe,” “The Bonny Bit,” “Laddie Wylam away,” &c. The dance goes round, “the young contending as the old survey,” until silence is called, when “his worship” gives as a toast, “Health, wealth, milk, and meal, the de’al tak ye a’ thot disent wish him (the minister) weal—hip! hip! huzza!” Raising “his worship” shoulder height again, they proceed round the village, repeating their gambols in front of every respectable house where they meet with a similar reception.
After this, foot-racing commences, for hats, handkerchiefs, and (as Mathews calls them) she-shirts. The several races run and prizes distributed, they return to the last and gayest of their mirthful scenes, not without bestowing some little pains in selecting colours calculated to give the finishing touches to the picture.
“Wi’ merry sangs, an’ friendly cracks,
I wat they did na weary;
An’ unco tales, an’ funny jokes,
Their sports were cheap an’ cheary.
****
Syne, wi’ a social glass o’ strunt,
They parted aff careerin,
Fu’ blythe that night.”
So ends the fair of Avingham and its sports, which was to me, “in my youthful days,” a source of great amusement, but whether it is in comparing the present with the past, from a consciousness of having
“Dealt with life, as children with their play,
Who first misuse, then cast their toys away,”
that we do not derive the same pleasure from what passes before us in maturer age; or whether, in boyhood, the impressions of such trifles as I have related are deeper rooted in the memory; yet, certain it is, whatever be our situation in life, we all come to the conclusion, that our early days were our happiest.
I am, &c.
J—n J—k—n.
Bath Anecdotes.
A Member for the City, 1645.
In December 1645, the following letter was sent by the mayor and first alderman of Bath, to sir John Harrington, announcing their design of electing him one of their representatives, entreating him to accept the trouble thereof. The bold eagerness with which a seat in parliament is solicited now, and the modest coyness that marked the conduct of those who were called to that honour in the early part of the seventeenth century, strikingly contrast. The person chosen at that period to represent a county or city, was generally allowed a gratuity by his constituents in consideration of his trouble.
Copy.
To our muche honoured and worthie Friend, John Harrington, Esq. at his house at Kelstone, near Bathe.
Worthie Sir,
Out of the long experience we have had of your approved worth and sincerity, our citie of Bathe have determined and settled their resolutions to elect you for a burgess for the House of Commons in this present parliament, for our said citie, and do hope you will accept the trouble thereof; which if you do, our desire is, you will not fail to be with us at Bathe on Monday next, the eighth of this instant, by eight of the morning, at the furthest, for then we proceed to our election: and of your determination we entreat you to certify us by a word or two in writing, and send it by the bearer to
Your assured loving friends,
John Bigg, the maior,
William Chapman.
Bathe, Dec. 6, 1645.
Sir John’s Account of his Proceedings.
A Note of my Bathe businesse aboute the Parliament.
Saturday, Dec. 26th 1646 went to Bathe, and dined with the maior and citizens, conferred about my election to serve in parliament, as my father was helpless, and ill able to go any more; went to the George inn at night, met the bailiffs, and desired to be dismissed from serving, drank strong beer and metheglin, expended about iijs, went home late, but could not get excused, as they entertained a good opinion of my father.
Monday, Dec. 28th went to Bathe, met sir John Horner, we were chosen by the citizens to serve for the city. The maior and citizens conferred about parliament busines. The maior promised sir John Horner and myself a horse apiece, when we went to London to the parliament, which we accepted of, and we talked about the synod and ecclesiastical dismissions. I am to go again on Thursday, and meet the citizens about all such matters, and take advice therein.
Thursday 31st, went to Bathe, Mr. Ashe preached. Dined at the George inn with the maior and four citizens, spent at dinner vjs in wine.
Laid out in victuals at the George inn xjs 4d.
Laid out in drinking vijs ijd.
Laid out in tobacco and drinking vessels, iiijs 4d.
Jan. 1st, My father gave me £4 to pay my expenses at Bathe.
Mr. Chapman the maior came to Kelston, and returned thanks for my being chosen to serve in parliament, to my father, in name of all the citizens. My father gave me good advice, touching my speaking in parliament as the city should direct me. Came home late at night from Bathe, much troubled hereat, concerning my proceeding truly, for men’s good report and mine own safety.
Note. I gave the city messengers ijs for bearing the maior’s letters to me. Laid out in all £3 vijs for victuals, drink and horse hire, together with divers gifts.
Suffering a Recovery.
In December, 1822, a poor man made application to the Bath forum magistrates, and stated that six months prior, he had bought the goods and chattels of a neighbour, together with his wife, for the sum of four pounds ten shillings, for which he produced a regular stamped receipt.
The man had spent all the money and wanted to have his wife back again, but he refused to part with her. The magistrates told him he had no claim to her, and advised him to deliver her up to her husband, which he at last reluctantly did. The following is a true copy of the stamped receipt.
“Received of Edward Gale, the sum of four pounds ten shillings, for good and chattels; and also the black mare and Mrs. Naish, as parting man and wife. As agreed before witnesses this 8th December, 1822.
“Witness, the mark of Edward Pulling X Mary Gale, George Lansdowne, and Edward Gale.
“Settled the whole concern,
By me John Naish.”
Nine Men’s Morris.
To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.
Ludgate-hill, 10th Nov. 1826.
Dear Sir,—I was much pleased on reading and being reminded of an ancient game in your book, called [Ninepenny-marl]; a game I had scarcely heard of during the last twenty years, although perfectly familiar to me in my boyish days, and played exactly the same as described by your correspondent P.[559]
I have since visited my native county, Norfolk, and find the game is still played by the rustics, and called, as it always has been there, “the game of Morris,” or “Nine Men’s Morris.” The scheme is frequently chalked on the ground or barn floors, and the game played with different coloured stones or beans. I think the name is more appropriate than “Ninepenny-marl;” and moreover, we of Norfolk have the authority of our immortal bard in his “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” where the queen of the fairies, speaking to Oberon, says, “The Nine Men’s Morris is filled up with mud.”
There are some men who are not a little proud at being proficients at this game. I heard an anecdote at North Walsham of a man named Mayes, still living in that neighbourhood, who is so great a lover of the pastime, that a wager was laid by some wags, that they would prevent his going to church, by tempting him to play; and, in order to accomplish their purpose, they got into a house, building by the road side, where Mayes was sure to pass. Being a great psalm-singer, he had a large book under his arm; they called him in to settle some disputed point about the game, and he was very soon tempted to play, and continued to do so till church time was over, and got a good scolding from his wife for being too late for dinner.
I have been led to make these remarks from the pleasure I have derived from your publication; and you may excuse me, perhaps, if I add, with a smile, that I have found some amusement in the game of Morris, by playing it with my chess men: it requires more art to play it well, than you would imagine at first sight.
I am, dear sir,
Yours sincerely,
T. B.
With almost the same pleasure that room has been made for this letter, from a well-remembered kind neighbour, will his communication be read in Norfolk by his fellow-countrymen.
He graces it from charmed metre, but
I (spoil’d of Shakspeare’s line) take prose from Strutt.
The erudite historian of the “Sports and Pastimes of the People of England,” says, that “Merelles, or, as it was formerly called in England, Nine Men’s Morris, and also Fivepenny Morris, is a game of some antiquity.” He gives a figure of the “Merelle-table,” as it appeared in the fourteenth century, the lines of which are similar to those in the scheme of “Ninepenny Marl,” engraved with the account of the game communicated by *, *, P., with only this difference, that at each corner, formed by the angles and intersections, are black spots.
The game is played in France with pawns or men, made on purpose, termed merelles: hence the pastime derived that denomination. The manner of playing is briefly thus: two persons, each having nine men, different in colour and form, for distinction sake, place them alternately one by one upon the spots; and the business of either party is to prevent his antagonist from placing three of his pieces so as to form a row of three, without the intervention of an opponent piece. If he forms a row he takes one of his antagonist’s pieces from any part, except from a row, which must not be touched if he have another piece on the board. When all the pieces are laid down, they are played backwards and forwards in any direction that the lines run, but they can only move from one spot to another at one time. He that takes all his opponent’s pieces is the conqueror.
The rustic players of “Nine Men’s Morris,” in England, who draw their lines on the ground, make a small hole for every dot, and play in them with stones of different forms or colours. The pastime is supposed to have derived the appellation of “Nine Men’s Morris,” from the different coloured men being moved backwards or forwards as though they were dancing a morris.[560]