Chapter V: Part 5

Few sports in England have been more popular than bear-baiting. Other forms of amusement waned before its attractions. The Sovereign, in the days of old, had as a member of his Court a Bearward, as well as a Chancellor. In and about London the sport was largely patronised, but it was by no means confined to the Metropolis; in all parts of the country bear-baitings were held. Fitzstephen, a monk of Canterbury, who lived in the reign of Henry II., in his description of London, relates that in the forenoon of every holy day during the winter season, the youthful Londoners were amused with the baiting of bears and other animals. He says the bears were full grown.

Edward III., in his proclamation, includes bear-baiting amongst "dishonest, trivial, and useless games." The proclamation does not appear to have had any lasting effect on the public as regards bear-baiting. The diversion increased in popularity.

Southwark was a popular place for baiting animals, and Sunday the usual day for the amusement. Stow has several notes bearing on this theme. In respect to charges to witness the sport, he tells us "those who go to the Paris Garden, the Belle Sauvage, the Theatre, to behold bear-baiting, interludes, or fence-play, must not account (_i.e._, reckon on) any pleasant spectacle unless they first pay one penny at the gate, another at the entrie of the scaffold, and a third for quiet standing." We learn from Stow that at Southwark were two bear-gardens, the old and the new; places wherein were kept bears, bulls, and other beasts to be baited; as also mastiffs in their several kennels were there nourished to bait them. These bears and other beasts were baited in plots of ground scaffolded round for the beholders to stand safe. Stow condemns the foulness of these rude sights, and says the money idly thrown away upon them might have been given to the poor.

In the reign of Henry VIII., Erasmus visited England, and he relates that many herds of bears were maintained at the Court for the purpose of being baited. We are further told by him that the rich nobles had their bearwards, and the Royal establishment its Master of the King's Bears.

Men were not wanting to raise their voices against this brutal sport even at the time kings favoured it. Towards the close of the reign of Henry VIII., Crowley wrote some lines, which we have modernised, as follows:--

"What folly is this to keep with danger
A great mastiff dog, and foul, ugly bear,
And to this intent to see these two fight
With terrible tearing, a full ugly sight.
And methinks these men are most fools of all
Whose store of money is but very small,
And yet every Sunday they will surely spend
A penny or two, the bear-ward's living to mend.
At Paris Garden, each Sunday, a man shall not fail
To find two or three hundred for the bear-ward's vale;
One halfpenny a piece they use for to give
When some have not more in their purses, I believe.
Well, at the last day their conscience will declare
That the poor ought to have all that they may spare,
If you therefore go to witness a bear fight
Be sure that God His curse will upon you alight."

We may recognise the zeal of the writer, but we cannot commend the merits of his poetry.

When Princess Elizabeth was confined at Hatfield House, she was visited by her sister, Queen Mary. On the morning after her arrival, after mass was over, a grand entertainment of bear-baiting took place, much to their enjoyment.

Elizabeth, as a princess, took a delight in this sport, and when she occupied the throne she gave it her support. When the theatre, in the palmy days of Shakespeare and Burbage, was attracting a larger share of public patronage than the bear garden, she waxed indignant, and in 1591 an order was issued from the Privy Council, forbidding "plays to be performed on Thursdays because bear-baiting and such pastimes had usually been practised." The Lord Mayor followed the order with an injunction in which it was stated "that in divers places the players are not to recite their plays to the great hurt and destruction of the game of bear-baiting and suchlike pastimes, which are maintained for Her Majesty's pleasure."

During the famous visit in 1575, of Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Leicester, at Kenilworth Castle, baiting thirteen bears by ban dogs (a small kind of mastiff), was one of the entertainments provided for the royal guest.

History furnishes several instances of the Queen having animals baited for the diversion of Ambassadors. On May 25, 1559, the French Ambassadors dined with the Queen, and after dinner bulls and bears were baited by English dogs. She and her guests stood looking at the pastime until six o'clock. Next day the visitors went by water to the Paris Garden, where similar sports were held. In 1586, the Danish Ambassadors were received at Greenwich by Her Majesty, and bull and bear baiting were part of the amusements provided. Towards the close of her reign, the Queen entertained another set of Ambassadors with a bear-bait at the Cockpit near St. James's. Baiting animals appears to have been the chief form of amusement provided by the Queen for foreign visitors.

Edmund Alleyn, founder of Dulwich College, was for a long time part owner of the bear gardens at Southwark. Mr. Edward Walford thinks that he was obliged to become a proprietor to make good his position as a player, and to carry out his theatrical designs. He had to purchase the patent office of "Beare ward," or "Master of the King's Beares." Alleyn is reputed to have had a well stocked garden. On one occasion, when Queen Elizabeth wanted a grand display of bear-baiting, Sir John Dorrington, the chief master of Her Majesty's "Games of Bulls and Bears," applied and obtained animals from Alleyn.

The following advertisement written in a large hand was found amongst the Alleyn papers, and is supposed to be the original placard exhibited at the entrance of the bear-garden. It is believed to date back to the days of James I.:--

"Tomorrowe being Thursdaie shalbe seen at the Bear-gardin on the
banckside a greate mach plaid by the gamsters of Essex, who hath
chalenged all comers whatsoever to plaie v dogs at the single beare
for v pounds, and also to wearie a bull dead at the stake; and for
your better content shall have plasent sport with the horse and ape
and whiping of the blind beare. Vivat Rex!"

The public had to be protected from the dogs employed in this sport. From the "Archives of Winchester," published 1856, a work compiled from the city records, we find it stated.--"By an Ordinance of the 4th of August, in the twenty-eighth year of the reign of Elizabeth, bull-dogs were prohibited roving throughout the city unmuzzled. Itm.--That noe person within this citie shall suffer or permit any of theire Mastife Doggs to goe unmusselled, uppon paine of everie defalte herein of 3s. 4d. to be levied by distresse, to the use of the Poore people of the citie."

James I. was a lover of hunting and other sports, and gave his patronage to bear-baiting. We learn from Nichols' "Progresses and Processions," that the King commanded that a bear which had killed a child which had negligently been left in the bear-house of the Tower, be baited to death upon a stage. The order was carried out in presence of a large gathering of spectators.

In a letter written on July 12th, 1623, by Mr. Chamberlain to Sir Dudley Carleton, the following passage occurs:--"The Spanish Ambassador is much delighted in bear-baiting. He was last week at Paris Garden, where they showed him all the pleasure they could both with bull, bear, and horse, besides jackanapes, and then turned a white bear into the Thames, where the dogs baited him swimming, which was the best sport of all."

Mr. William Kelly, in his work entitled "Notices Illustrative of the Drama and other Popular Amusements, Chiefly in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries," has some very curious information relating to bear-baiting. The Leicester town accounts contain entries of many payments given to the bear-wards of Edward VI., Queen Elizabeth, and members of the nobility. Leicester had its bear-garden, but we learn from Mr. Kelly that the local authorities were not content to see the sport there, "as it was introduced at the Mayor's feast, at the Town Hall, which was attended by many of the nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood." We may suppose that, taking the place usually occupied by the "interlude," the bear was baited in the Hall in the interval between the feast and the "banquet" or dessert, and the company, like the Spanish Ambassador, no doubt witnessed the exhibition "with great delight." Much might be said relating to Leicester, but we must be content with drawing upon Mr. Kelly for one more item. "In the summer of 1589 (probably at the invitation of the Mayor), the High Sheriff, Mr. Skeffington, and 'divers other gentlemen with him,' were present at 'a great beare-beating' in the town, and were entertained, at the public expense, with wine and sugar, and a present of 'ten shillings in gold' was also made."

A couplet concerning Congleton Church Bible being sold to purchase a bear to bait at the annual feast, has made the town known in all parts of the country. The popular rhyme says:--

"Congleton rare, Congleton rare,
Sold the Bible to pay for a bear."

The scandal has been related in prose and poetry by many pens. Natives of the ancient borough are known as "Congleton Bears"--by no means a pleasant epithet. The inhabitants make the best of the story, and tell how just before the wakes their only bear died, and it was feared that they would be unable to obtain another to enjoy their popular sport. The bear-ward was most diligent in collecting money to buy another animal, but after all his exertions he failed to obtain the required amount. He at last made application to the local authorities, and as they had a small sum in the "towne's boxe" put aside for the purchase of a Bible for the chapel, it was lent, and it is presumed that the sum of 16s. was duly returned, and the scriptures were obtained.

Egerton Leigh, in his "Cheshire Ballads," has an amusing poem bearing on this subject, and he concludes it as follows:--

"The townsmen, 'tis true, would explain it away,
In those days when Bibles were so dear they say,
That they th' old Bible swopped at the wakes for a bear,
Having first bought a new book.
Thus shrink they the sneer,
And taunts 'gainst their town thus endeavour to clear."

The town accounts show how popular must have been the sport at Congleton. The following are a few items:--

1589. Imprimis to Mr. Trafforde, his man, the bearewarde 0 4 4

That was given Sir John Hollecrofts bearewarde 0 2 0

1591. Payd yt was given Shelmerdyne ye bearewarde at wakes 0 2 0

1597. Payd that was given to Mr. Haughton, of Haughton,
towards his man that had beares here 0 5 0

1610. Kelsall bearward 0 5 0

To the players and bearewarde at the wakes 0 15 0

1611. Bullward and bearward at wakes 0 15 0

1612. William Hardern to fetch Shelmadene again with his
bears at Whitsuntide 0 1 3

He refused to come, and Bramt, the bearward, came
and was paid 0 6 8

Fetching the bears at the wakes 0 3 6

Fetching two more bears 1s., bearward 15s. 0 16 0

1613. Item payd to Willm. Statborne for fetching the
bearewarde (from Knutsford) at the wakes 0 1 0

1621. Given Raufe Shelmerdyne for sport made by him with
his beares at Congleton Wakes 0 10 0

Item paide to Brocke, the bearewarde, at Whitsuntide 0 5 8

Such are a few examples of the many entries which appear in the Congleton town accounts relating to bear-baiting.

Congleton is not the only place reproached for selling the church Bible for enabling the inhabitants to enjoy the pastime of bear-baiting. Two miles distant from Rugby is the village of Clifton, and, says a couplet,

"Clifton-upon-Dunsmore, in Warwickshire,
Sold the church Bible to buy a bear."

Another version of the old rhyme is as follows:--

"The People of Clifton-super-Dunsmore
Sold ye Church Byble to buy a bayre."

There is a tradition that in the days of old the Bible was removed from the Parish Church of Ecclesfield and pawned by the churchwardens to provide the means of a bear-baiting. Some accounts state this occurred at Bradfield, and not at Ecclesfield. The "bull-and-bear stake" at the latter Yorkshire village was near the churchyard.

Under the Commonwealth this pastime was not permitted, but when the Stuarts were once more on the throne bear-baiting and other sports became popular.

Hockley-in-the-Hole, near Clerkenwell, in the days of Addison, was a favourite place for the amusement. There is a reference to the subject in the _Spectator_ of August 11th, 1731, wherein it is suggested that those who go to the theatres for a laugh should "seek their diversion at the bear garden, where reason and good manners have no right to disturb them."

Gay, in his "Trivia," devotes some lines to this subject. He says:--

"Experienced men inured to city ways
Need not the calendar to count their days,
When through the town, with slow and solemn air,
Led by the nostril walks the muzzled bear;
Behind him moves, majestically dull,
The pride of Hockley Hole, the surly bull,
Learn hence the periods of the week to name--
Mondays and Thursdays are the days of game."

Towards the close of the last century the pastime, once the pleasure of king's and queens and the highest nobles in the land, was mainly upheld by the working classes. A bill, in 1802, was introduced into the House of Commons to abolish baiting animals. The measure received the support of Courtenay, Sheridan, and Wilberforce, men of power in Parliament, but Mr. Windham, who led the opposition, won the day. He pronounced it "as the first result of a conspiracy of the Jacobins and Methodists to render the people grave and serious, preparatory to obtaining their assistance in the furtherance of other anti-national schemes." The bill was lost by thirteen votes. In 1835, baiting animals was finally stopped by Act of Parliament.

Morris-Dancers.

Says Dr. Johnson: "the Morris-Dance, in which bells are jingled, or staves or swords clashed, was learned by the Moors, and was probably a kind of Pyrrhic, or military dance. "Morisco," says Blount (Span.), a Moor; also a dance, so called, wherein there were usually five men, and a boy dressed in a girl's habit, whom they called the Maid Marrion, or perhaps Morian, from the Italian Morione, a head-piece, because her head was wont to be gaily trimmed up. Common people called it a Morris-Dance." Such are the statements made at the commencement of a chapter on this subject in "Brand's Popular Antiquities."

It is generally agreed that the Morris-Dance was introduced into this country in the sixteenth century. In the earlier English allusions it is called _Morisco_, a Moor, and this indicates its origin from Spain. It was popular in France before it was appreciated amongst our countrymen; some antiquaries assert that it came to England from our Gallic neighbours, or even from the Flemings, while others state that when John of Gaunt returned from Spain he was the means of making it known here, but we think there is little truth in the statement.

Our countrymen soon united the Morris-Dance with the favourite pageant dance of Robin-hood. We discover many traces of the two dances in sacred as well as profane places. In old churchwarden's accounts we sometimes find items bearing on this theme. The following entries are drawn from the "Churchwardens' and Chamberlains' Books of Kingston-upon-Thames:"--

"1508. For paynting of the _Mores_ garments for
sarten gret leveres 0 2 4

" For plyts and 1/4 of laun for the _Mores_
garments 0 2 11

" For Orseden for the same 0 0 10

" For bellys for the daunsars 0 0 12

1509-10. For silver paper for the _Mores_-dawnsars 0 0 7

1519-20. Shoes for the _Mores_-daunsars, the frere,
and Mayde Maryan, at 7d. a peyre 0 5 4

1521-22. Eight yerds of fustyan for the
_Mores_-daunsars' coats 0 16 0

" A dosyn of gold skynnes for the Morres 0 0 10

1536-37. Five hats and 4 porses for the daunsars 0 0 4-1/2."

It is stated that in 1536-37, amongst other clothes belonging to the play of Robin Hood, left in the keeping of the churchwardens, were "a fryer's coat of russet, with a kyrtle of worsted welted with red cloth, a mowren's cote of buckram, and 4 Morres daunsars cote of white fustain spangelyed, and two gryne saten cotes, and a dysardd's cote of cotton, and 6 payre of garters with bells."

Some curious payments appear in the churchwardens' accounts of St. Mary's parish, Reading, and are quoted by Coates, the historian of the town. Under the year 1557, items as follow appear:--

"Item, payed to the Morrys-Daunsars and the
Mynstrelles, mete and drink at Whitsontide 0 3 4

Payed to them the Sonday after May Day 0 0 20

Pd. to the Painter for painting of their cotes 0 2 8

Pd. to the Painter for 2 doz. of Lyvereys 0 0 20."

The following is a curious note drawn from the original accounts of St. Giles', Cripplegate, London:--

"1571. Item, paide in charges by the appointment of the parisshoners,
for the settinge forth of a gyaunt morris-dainsers, with vj calyvers
and iij boies on horseback, to go in the watche befoore the Lade
Maiore uppon Midsomer even, as may appeare by particulars for the
furnishinge of same, vj. li. ixs. ixd."

We learn from the churchwardens' accounts of Great Marlow that dresses for the Morris-dance were lent out to the neighbouring parishes down to 1629. Some interesting pictures illustrating the usages of bygone ages include the Morris-dance, and gives us a good idea of the costumes of those taking part in it. A painted window at Betley, Staffordshire, has frequently formed the subject of an illustration, and we give one of it.

Here is shown in a spirited style a set of Morris-dancers. It is described in Steven's "Shakespeare" (_Henry IV._, Part I.) There are eleven pictures and a Maypole. The characters are as follow:--1, Robin Hood; 2, Maid Marion; 3, Friar Tuck; 4, 6, 7, 10, and 11, Morris-dancers; 5, the hobby-horse; 8, the Maypole; 9, the piper; and 12, the fool. Figures 10 and 11 have long streamers to the sleeves, and all the dancers have bells, either at the ankles, wrists, or knees. Tollett, the owner of the window, believed it dated back to the time of Henry VIII., _c._ 1535. Douce thinks it belongs to the reign of Edward IV., and other authorities share his opinion. It is thought that the figures of the English friar, Maypole, and hobby-horse have been added at a later period.

Towards the close of the reign of James I., Vickenboom painted a picture, Richmond Palace, and in it a company of Morris-dancers form an attractive feature. The original painting includes seven figures, consisting of a fool, hobby-horse, piper, Maid Marion, and three dancers. We give an illustration of the first four characters and one of the dancers, from a drawing by Douce, produced from a tracing made by Grose. The bells on the dancer and the fool are clearly shown.

We also present a picture of a Whitsun Morris-dance. In the olden time, at Whitsuntide, this diversion was extremely popular.

Many allusions to the Morris-dancers occur in the writings of Elizabethan authors. Shakespeare, for example, in Henry V., refers to it thus:--

"And let us doit with no show of fear;
No! with no more than if we heard that England
Were busied with a Whitsun Morris-dance."

In _All's Well that Ends Well_, he speaks of the fitness of a "Morris-dance for May-day." We might cull many quotations from the poets, but we will only make one more and it is from Herrick's "Hesperides," describing the blessings of the country:--

"Thy _Wakes_, thy Quintals, here thou hast
Thy maypoles, too, with garlands grac'd
Thy _Morris-dance_, thy Whitsun-ale;
Thy shearing flat, which never fail."

In later times the Morris-dance was frequently introduced on the stage.

As might be expected, the Puritans strongly condemned this form of pleasure. Richard Baxter, in his "Divine Appointment of the Lord's Day," gives us a vivid picture of Sunday in a pleasure-loving time. "I have lived in my youth," says Baxter, "in many places where sometimes shows of uncouth spectacles have been their sports at certain seasons of the year, and sometimes _morrice-dancings_, and sometimes stage plays and sometimes wakes and revels.... And when the people by the book [of Sports] were allowed to play and dance out of public service-time, they could hardly break off their sports that many a time the reader was fain to stay till the piper and players would give over; and sometimes the _morrice-dancers_ would come into the church in all their linen, and scarfs, and antic dresses, with morrice-bells jingling at their legs. And as soon as common prayer was read did haste out presently to their play again." Stubbes, in his "Anatomie of Abuses" (1585), writes in a similar strain.

The pleasure-loving Stuarts encouraged Sunday sports, and James I., in his Declaration of May 24th 1618, directed that the people should not be debarred from having May-games, Whitsun-ales, and Morris-dances, and the setting up of May poles.

During the Commonwealth, dancing round the Maypole and many other popular amusements were stopped, but no sooner had Charles II. come to the throne of the country than the old sports were revived. For a fuller account of this subject the reader would do well to consult Brand's "Popular Antiquities," and the late Alfred Burton's book on "Rush-Bearing," from both works we have derived information for this chapter.

The Folk-Lore of Midsummer Eve.

The old superstitions and customs of Midsummer Eve form a curious chapter in English folk-lore. Formerly this was a period when the imagination ran riot. On Midsummer Day the Church holds its festival in commemoration of the birth of St. John the Baptist, and some of the old customs relate to this saint.

On the eve of Midsummer Day it was a common practice to light bonfires. This custom, which is a remnant of the old Pagan fire-worship, prevailed in various parts of the country, but perhaps lingered the longest in Cornwall. We gather from Borlase's "Antiquities of Cornwall," published in 1754, that at the Midsummer bonfires, the Cornish people attended with lighted torches, tarred and pitched at the end, and made their perambulations round the fires, afterwards going from village to village carrying their torches before them. He regarded the usage as a survival of Druidical superstitions. In the same county it was a practice on St. Stephen's Down, near Launceston, to erect a tall pole with a bush fixed at the top of it, and round the pole to heap fuel. After the fire was lit, parties of wrestlers contested for prizes specially provided for the festival. According to an old tradition, an evil spirit once appeared in the form of a black dog, and since that time the wrestlers have never been able to meet on Midsummer Eve without being seriously injured in the sport.

About Penzance, not only did the fisher-folk and their friends dance about the blazing fire, but sang songs composed for the joyous time. We give a couple of verses from one of these songs:--

"As I walked out to yonder green
One evening so fair,
All where the fair maids may be seen,
Playing at the bonfire.

Where larks and linnets sing so sweet,
To cheer each lively swain,
Let each prove true unto her lover,
And so farewell the plain."

Mr. William Bottrell, one of the most painstaking writers on Cornish folk-lore, in an article written in 1873, asserts that not a few old people living in remote and primitive districts, "believe that dancing in a ring over the embers, around a bonfire, or leaping (singly) through its flames, is calculated to insure good luck to the performers, and serve as a protection from witchcraft and other malign influences during the ensuing year." Mr. Bottrell laments the decay of these pleasing old Midsummer observances. He tells us that within "the memory of many who would not like to be called old, or even aged, on a Midsummer's eve, long before sunset, groups of girls--both gentle and simple--of from ten to twenty years of age, neatly dressed and decked with garlands, wreaths, or chaplets of flowers, would be seen dancing in the streets."

Some of the ancient Midsummer rites are still observed in Ireland. We have from an eyewitness some interesting items on the subject. People assemble and dance round fires, the children jump through the flames, and in former times coals were carried into corn fields to prevent blight. The peasants are not, of course, aware that the ceremony is a remnant of the worship of Baal. It is the opinion of not a few that the famous round towers of Ireland were intended for signal fires in connection with this worship.

In the pleasant pages of T. Crofton Croker's "Researches in the South of Ireland," are particulars of a custom, observed on the eve of St. John's Day, of dressing up a broomstick as a figure, and carrying it about in the twilight from one cabin to the other, and suddenly pushing it in at the door, a proceeding which causes both surprise and merriment. The figure is known as Bredogue.

The superstitious inhabitants of the Isle of Man formerly, on Midsummer Eve, lighted fires to the windward side of fields, so that the smoke might pass over the corn. The cattle were folded, and around the animals was carried blazing grass or furze, as a preventative against the influence of witches. Many other strange practices and beliefs prevailed.

In Wales, in the earlier years of the present century, it was customary to fix sprigs of the plant called St. John's wort over the doors of the cottages, and sometimes over the windows, in order to purify the houses and drive away all fiends and evil spirits. It was the common custom in England in the olden time for people to repair to the woods, break branches from the trees, and carry them to their homes with much delight, and place them over their doors. The ceremony, it is said, was to make good the Scripture prophecy respecting the Baptist, that many should rejoice at his birth.

Midsummer Eve has ever been famous as a time suitable for love divinations, and surely a few notes on love-lore cannot fail to find favour with our fair readers. In a popular story issued at the commencement of this century, from the polished pen of Hannah More, the heroine of the tale says that she would never go to bed on this night without first sticking up in her room the common plant called "Orpine," or, more generally, "Midsummer Men," as the bending of the leaves to the right or the left indicate to her if her lover was true or false. The following charming lines refer to the ceremony, and are translated from the German poet, and given in Chambers's "Book of Days," so we may infer that the same superstition prevails in that country:--

"The young maid stole through the cottage door,
And blushed as she sought the plant of power:
'Thou silver glow-worm, oh, lend me thy light,
I must gather the mystic St. John's wort to-night--
The wonderful herb, whose leaf will decide
If the coming year shall make me a bride.'
And the glow-worm came
With its silvery flame,
And sparkled and shone
Through the night of St. John.

"And soon as the young maid her love-knot tied,
With noiseless tread,
To her chamber she sped,
Where the sceptral moon her white beams shed:
'Bloom here, bloom here, thou plant of power,
To deck the young bride in her bridal hour!'
But it droop'd its head, that plant of power,
And died the mute death of the voiceless flower;
And a wither'd wreath on the ground it lay,
More meet for a burial than a bridal day.
And when a year was passed away,
All pale on her bier the young maid lay;
And the glow-worm came
With its silvery flame,
And sparkled and shone
Through the night of St. John,
And they closed the cold grave o'er the maid's cold clay."

We gather from Thorpe's "Northern Mythology," that in Sweden it was the practice to place under the head of a youth or maiden nine kinds of flowers, with a full belief that they would dream of their sweethearts.

In England, in past times, the moss-rose was plucked with considerable ceremony on this eve for love divinations. Says the writer of a poem entitled "The Cottage Girl":--

"The moss-rose that, at fall of dew,
Ere eve its duskier curtain drew,
Was freshly gathered from its stem,
She values as the ruby gem;
And, guarded from the piercing air,
With all an anxious lover's care,
She bids it, for her shepherd's sake,
Await the New Year's frolic wake:
When faded in its altered hue,
She reads--the rustic is untrue!
But if its leaves the crimson paint,
Her sick'ning hopes no longer faint;
The rose upon her bosom worn,
She meets him at the peep of morn,
And lo! her lips with kisses prest,
He plucks it from her panting breast."

"On the continent," says Dyer, in his "Folk-Lore of Plants," "the rose is still thought to possess mystic virtues in love matters, as in Thuringia, where the girls foretell their future by means of rose leaves." It appears from a contributor to Chambers's "Book of Days," that there was brought some time ago under the notice of the Society of Antiquarians a curious little ring, which had been found in a ploughed field near Cawood, Yorkshire. It was inferred from its style and inscription to belong to the fifteenth century. The device consisted of two orpine plants joined by a true-love knot, with this motto above: _Ma fiancee velt_, _i.e._, "My sweetheart is willing or desirous." We are told that the stalks of the plants were bent to each other, in token that the parties represented by them were to come together in marriage. The motto under the ring was _Joye l'amour feu_. It is supposed that it was originally made for some lover to give to his mistress on Midsummer Eve, as the orpine plant is connected with that time. The dumb cake is another item of Midsummer folk-lore:--

"Two make it,
Two bake it,
Two break it;"

a third put it under their pillows, and this was all done without a word being spoken. If this was faithfully carried out it was believed that the diviners would dream of the men they loved.

Sowing hempseed on this eve was once a general custom. We have noted particulars of the ceremony as carried out at Ashbourne, Derbyshire. At this village, when a young maiden wished to discover who would be her future husband, she repaired to the churchyard, and as the clock struck the witching hour of midnight, she commenced running round the church, continually repeating the following lines:--

"I sow hempseed, hempseed I sow;
He that loves me best
Come after me and mow."

After going round the church a dozen times without stopping, her lover was said to appear and follow her. The closing scene of this spell is well described in a poem by W. T. Moncrieff:--

"Ah! a step. Some one follows. Oh, dare I look back?
Should the omen be adverse, how would my heart writhe.
Love, brace up my sinews! Who treads on my track?
'Tis he, 'tis the loved one; he comes with the scythe,
He mows what I've sown; bound, my heart, and be blithe.
On Midsummer Eve the glad omen is won,
Then hail to thy mystical virgil, St. John."

From the charms of love let us briefly turn to a superstition relating to death. At one time it was believed, and in some country districts the superstition may yet linger, that anyone fasting during the evening, and then sitting at midnight in the church porch, would see the spirits of those destined to die that year come and knock at the church door. The ghosts were supposed to come in the same succession as the persons were doomed to pass away.

A pleasing old custom long survived in Craven, Yorkshire, and other parts of the North of England, of new settlers in the town or village, on the first Midsummer Eve after their arrival, to set out before their doors a plentiful repast of cold beef, bread, cheese, and ale. We are told that neighbours who wished to cultivate their acquaintance sat down and partook of their hospitality, and thus "eat and drunk themselves into intimacy." Hone's "Every Day Book" has a note of this custom being observed at Ripon. "It was a popular superstition," wrote Grose, "that if any unmarried woman fasted on Midsummer Eve, and at midnight laid a clean cloth with bread, cheese, and ale, and then sat down as if going to eat, the street door being left open, the person whom she was afterwards to marry would come into the room and drink to her, bowing; and after filling a glass would leave the table, and, making another bow, retire."

Harvest Home.

Among the old-world customs connected with the times and seasons, that of celebrating the ingathering of the harvest with a rustic festival has survived many which have either passed away, and almost out of memory, or have come to have only a partial and precarious hold upon the minds of the present generation. The rush-cart maintains a feeble struggle for existence in a few northern localities, but each year shows diminished vigour; the May-day festival of the chimney-sweepers has become obsolete, and the dance round the May-pole an open-air ballet; and many old observances connected with the Christmas season which were formerly common to all England are now kept up only in these northern counties, where the flavour of antiquity seems to be much more highly appreciated than in the south. But the harvest home festival holds its ground with equal persistency in both portions of the kingdom, and has of late years been invested with additional glories, sometimes with a superabundance of them which threatens a reaction. There were some features of the older celebrations of the ingathering of the fruits of the earth, however, which, from various causes, have fallen into disuse, and which many of us would gladly, if it were possible, see restored.

We could welcome, for instance, the songs into which the joyous feelings of the harvesters broke forth in the old times as the last load of grain was carried off the field, and when the lads and lasses, with the older rustics, had partaken of a good supper in the farmer's kitchen, and afterwards danced to the music of the fiddle or pipes in the barn. There are many references to the feasting and singing and dancing customs of this season in the poetry of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Tusser tells us that:--

"In harvest time, harvest folk, servants and all,
Should make all together, good cheer in the hall,
And fill the black bowl, so blithe to their song,
And let them be merry, all harvest time long."

Peele, in his "Old Wives' Tales," makes his harvesters sing:--

"Lo, here we come a-reaping, a-reaping,
To reap our harvest fruit;
And thus we pass the year so long,
And never be we mute."

Stevenson, in his "Twelve Months," says, "In August the furmety pot welcomes home the harvest cart, and the garland of flowers crowns the captain of the reapers. The battle of the field is now stoutly fought. The pipe and the tabor are now busily set a-work, and the lad and the lass will have no lead in their heels. Oh, 'tis a merry time, wherein honest neighbours make good cheer, and God is glorified in his blessings on the earth." Tusser's verse reminds us of another feature of these old celebrations of which little trace remains at the present day, that is, the temporary suspension of all social inequality between employer and employed. There would be less reason to regret this change, however, if, in place of the temporary obliviousness of class distinctions, we could see more genial intercourse all through the year.

The clergy seem to have been less in evidence at the harvest rejoicings of those days than at present. There was a tithe question even two centuries ago, for Dryden, in his _King Arthur_, makes his festive rustics sing:--

"We've cheated the parson, we'll cheat him again,
For why should the blockhead have one in ten?
One in ten! one in ten!
For staying while dinner is cold and hot,
And pudding and dumpling are burnt to the pot!
Burnt to pot! burnt to pot!
We'll drink off our liquor while we can stand.
And hey for the honour of England!
Old England! Old England!"

There is some comfort for the loss of the singing and dancing customs of the old times in that the fact the heavy drinking of the period has also become a thing of the past, and perhaps also in the reflections arising from the misuse of music of which some curious illustrations have been preserved by Mr. Surtees. The historian mentions, in his "History of Durham," having read a report of the trial of one Spearman, for having made a forcible entry into a field at Birtley, and mowed and carried away the crop, a piper playing on the top of the loaded waggon for the purpose of making the predatory harvesters work the faster, so as to get away before their roguish industry could be interrupted. It may be noted in passing that a similar use of music is shown in the following entry in the parish accounts of Gateshead, under the date of 1633:--"To workmen for making the streets even at the King's coming, 18s. 4d.: and paid to the piper for playing to the menders of the highway, five several days, 3s. 4d."

Many local variations exist in the customs associated with the harvest home festivities observed in different parts of the country, especially in the north, where all old customs and observances, like the provincial dialects, have lingered longest, and still linger when they have died out and been forgotten in the south. In Cleveland, it is, or used to be, the custom, on forking the last sheaf on the wagon, for the harvesters to shout in chorus:--

"Weel bun and better shorn,
Is Master ----'s corn;
We hev her, we hev her,
As fast as a feather.
Hip, hip, hurrah!"

A similar custom exists in Northumberland, where it is called "shouting a kirn." It consists in a simultaneous shout from the whole of the people present. In some localities the shout is preceded by a rhyme suitable to the occasion, recited by the clearest-voiced persons among those assembled. Mr. James Hardy gives the following as a specimen:--

"Blessed be the day our Saviour was born,
For Master ----'s corn's all well shorn;
And we will have a good supper to-night,
And a drinking of ale, and a kirn! a kirn!"

All unite in a simultaneous shout at the close, and he who does not participate in the ringing cheer is liable to have his ears pulled. In Glendale, an abbreviated version of the rhyme is used, with a variation, as follows:--

"The master's corn is ripe and shorn,
We bless the day that he was born,
Shouting a kirn! a kirn!"

Are these customs observed at the present day? This is an age of change. We have used the present tense in the foregoing references, but it is in the past tense that we read in Chambers's "Book of Days," that, "In the North of England, the reapers were accustomed to leave a good handful of grain uncut; they laid it down flat, and covered it over; when the field was done, the bonniest lass was entrusted with the pleasing duty of cutting the final handful, which was presently dressed up with various sewings, tyings, and trimmings like a doll, and hailed as a Corn Baby or Kirn Dolly. It was carried home in triumph with music of fiddles and bagpipes, set up conspicuously at night during supper, and usually preserved in the farmer's parlour for the remainder of the year. The fair maiden who cut this handful of grain was called the Har'st Queen." A similar custom prevailed, with local variations, in Shropshire, Gloucestershire, Hertfordshire, Devonshire, and other parts of England. In Lincolnshire, and some other counties, handbells were rung by those riding on the last load, and the following rhyme sung:--

"The boughs do shake and the bells do ring,
So merrily comes in our harvest in,
Our harvest in, our harvest in!
Hurrah!"

Writers on local customs formerly observed in different parts of the country, have preserved the memory of a curious one connected with the last handful of wheat. In some parts the reapers threw their sickles at the reserved handful, and he who succeeded in cutting it down shouted, "I have her!" "What have you?" the others cried out. "A mare!" he replied. "What will you do with her?" was then asked. "Send her to ----," naming some neighbouring farmer whose harvest work was not completed. This rustic pleasantry was called "crying the mare." The rejoicings attendant on the bringing in of the last load of corn are thus described in the "Book of Days":--"The waggon containing it was called the hock cart; it was surmounted by a figure formed out of a sheaf, with gay dressings, intended to represent the goddess Ceres. In front men played merry tunes on the pipe and tabor, and the reapers tripped around in a hand-in-hand ring, singing appropriate songs, or simply by shouts and cries giving vent to the excitement of the day. In some districts they sang or shouted as follows:--

"Harvest home, harvest home!
We ploughed, we have sowed,
We have reaped, we have moved,
We have brought home every load.
Hip, hip, hip, harvest home!"

In some parts the figure on the waggon, instead of an effigy, was the prettiest of the girl-reapers, decked with summer flowers, and hailed as the Harvest Queen. Bloomfield, in one of his Suffolk ballads, thus preserves the memory of this custom:--

"Home came the jovial Hockey load,
Last of the whole year's crop;
And Grace among the green boughs rode,
Right plump upon the top."

These and many other harvest-home customs undoubtedly had their origin in heathen times, in common with those associated with the New Year, the Epiphany, May Day, and many other festivals.

Not the least important part of the harvest home observances was the supper which closed them, and which took place in the kitchen of the farmhouse or in the barn, the master and mistress presiding. The fare on these occasions was substantial and plentiful, and good home-brewed ale was poured out abundantly--we are afraid too much so. The harvest home supper of the sixteenth century, as graphically portrayed by Herrick, included:--

"Foundation of your feast, fat beef,
With upper stories, mutton, veal,
And bacon, which makes full the meal;
With several dishes standing by,
As here a custard, there a pie,
And here all-tempting frumentie.
And for to make the merry cheer,
If smirking wine be wanting here,
There's that which drowns all care, stout beer."

Instead of a formal vote of thanks to the givers of the feast, the prevailing feeling was expressed in a song, one version of which runs as follows:--

"Here's health to our master,
The load of the feast;
God bless his endeavours,
And send him increase.
May prosper his crops, boys,
And we reap next year;
Here's our master's good health, boys,
Come, drink off your beer!

Now harvest is ended,
And supper is past;
Here's to our mistress's health, boys,
Come, drink a full glass.
For she's a good woman,
Provides us good cheer;
Here's our mistress's good health, boys.
Come, drink off your beer!"

Over the greater part of England a harvest-thanksgivings service has, at the present day, taken the place of the festive observances of former times. It would be useless to regret the passing away of the old customs, even if there was much more reason for such a feeling; for change is an inevitable condition of existence, and we can no more recall the old things which have passed away than we can replace last year's snow on the wolds. Even the harvest-thanksgiving service, with its accompanying cereal and horticultural decorations of church and chapel, seems destined to a change. The decorations are too often overdone. We have seen in some churches piles of fruit and vegetables that would furnish a shop, in addition to sheaves of corn and stacks of quartern loaves. In some instances, a more deplorable display has been made in the shape of a model of a farmyard, thus turning the place of worship into a show. Sometimes, too, the sermon has no reference to the harvest. Sometimes, again, the service is held before the harvest has been gathered in; or thanks are offered for an abundant harvest when it has notoriously been deficient. Perhaps the need of a collection at this particular time may account for these discrepancies. Such mistakes are easily avoided, however, and no fault can reasonably be found with these celebrations when religious zeal is kept within the bounds of discretion.

Curious Charities.

We obtain some interesting side-lights on the condition of the people in the past from old-time charities. Several of the prison charities founded in bygone times are extremely quaint and full of historic interest. One Frances Thornhill appears to have had a desire to make the prison beds comfortable. She left the sum of L30 for the Corporation of the city of York to provide straw for the beds of the prisoners confined in York Castle. The local authorities in these later years appear to have received the interest on the capital without carrying out the conditions of the charity.

Bequests of fuel suggest to the mind the time when persons not only suffered from imprisonment but also from cold. At Bury St. Edmund's, L10 was left by Margaret Odiam for a minister to say mass to the inmates of the jail, and for providing faggots to warm the long ward in which the poor prisoners were lodged. In 1787, Elizabeth Dean, of Reading, left L156 17s. 5d., the interest of which she directed to be spent in buying firewood for the county jail.

At Norwich, a worthy man named John Norris left Consols to the value of L300 for buying beef and books for the felons confined in the jail. The prison food is now regulated by law and the charity beef is banished, but we believe the interest is spent in supplying the prisoners with literature. Even as late as 1821, John Hall left Consols to the value of L127 16s. for providing a Christmas dinner of the good old English fare of roast beef and plum pudding for the criminals in the Northampton county prison. In 1556, Thomas Cattell left a rent charge of L35 a year for buying beef and oatmeal for the poor prisoners of Newgate and other London prisons.

A singular bequest was made in the year 1556, by Griffith Ameridith, of Exeter, and it amounted to L524 4s. 11d. in Consols, "for providing shrouds for prisoners executed at Kingswell, and for the maintenance of a wall round the burial ground." "But," says a writer on this theme, "probably for want of subjects for shrouds, the income is now, without any authority, applied to a distribution of serge petticoats to old women." One advantage of the change is that the new recipients can at least express their gratitude. In the olden time it was by no means an uncommon practice for criminals about to be executed to proceed to the gallows in shrouds. On July 30th, 1766, two men were hanged at Nottingham for robbery. "On the morning of their execution," says a local record, "they were taken to St. Mary's Church, where they heard 'the condemned sermon,' and then to their graves, in which they were permitted to lie down to see if they would fit. They walked to the place of execution in their shrouds." At an execution in the same town in 1784, we read in a local newspaper report that the unfortunate men were attired in their shrouds. To add to the impressiveness of the condemned sermon, the coffins in which the condemned criminals were to be buried, were exhibited during the service.

Charities and collections in churches were formerly very common in this country for freeing British subjects from slavery in foreign lands. In 1655, Alicia, Duchess of Dudley, by a deed poll, directed L100 per annum to be drawn from the rents of certain lands situated in the parish of Bidford, Warwickshire, for redeeming poor English Christian slaves or captives from the Turks. Thomas Betson, of Hoxton Square, London, by will dated 15th February, 1723, left a considerable fortune for the redemption of British slaves in Turkey and Barbary. He died in 1725, and five years later the property was estimated to be worth about L22,000, and the interest on half the amount was to be devoted to ransoming his countrymen from slavery. In the year 1734, it is stated that 135 men were freed by this charity. Between the years 1734 and 1826, the large sum of L21,088 8s. 2-1/2d. was expended in the admirable cause of freeing the captive. Many of the old church books contain entries respecting collections for this object. In the books of Holy Cross, Westgate, Canterbury, is a long list of the names of persons in the parish in March, 1670, contributing L02 07s. 04d., for "Redeeming the Captives in Turkye."

Sir John Gayer, was in his time a leading London merchant, an Alderman for the ward of Aldgate, and a popular Lord Mayor. He lived in the reigns of James I. and Charles I., and was a man of great enterprise, ready to encounter perils in foreign lands to forward his commercial projects. On one memorable occasion he was travelling with a caravan of merchants across the desert of Arabia, and by some accidental means managed to separate himself from his friends, and at night-fall was alone. His position was one of great peril: he heard the roaring of wild animals, but failed to find any place of refuge. We gather from the story of his life that:--"He knelt down and prayed fervently, and devoutly promised, that if God would rescue him from his impending danger the whole produce of his merchandise should be given as an offering in benefactions to the poor, on his return to his native country. At this extremity a lion of an unusually large size was approaching him. Death appeared inevitable, but the prayer of the good man had ascended to heaven, and he was delivered. The lion came up close to him. After prowling round him, smelling him, bristling his shaggy hair, and eyeing him fiercely, he stopped short, turned round, and trotted quietly away, without doing the slightest injury. It is said that Sir John Gayer remained in the same suppliant posture till the morning dawned, when he pursued his journey, and happily came up with his friends, who had given up all hope of again seeing him." The journey was concluded without further misadventure, a ready market found for the goods, and old England reached in safety with increased wealth. Sir John did not forget his vow, and many were the deeds of charity he performed, more especially to the poor of his own parish of St. Katharine Cree. One of bequests amounting to L200 was left to the needy of that parish on condition that a "sermon should be occasionally preached in the church to commemorate his deliverance from the jaws of the lion." The sermon is known as the "Lion Sermon."

In the church of St. Katharine Cree within the altar rails is a carved head of Gayer. On the right hand side is a text, as follows:--"The eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and his ears are open unto their prayers--Ps. 34, v. 15;" on the left hand side this text appears:--"The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much--James V., xvi.;" and under the figure this motto:--"Super Astra Spero." There is a brass bearing the following inscription:--

In Memory of
SIR JOHN GAYER, KNT.,
Founder of the "Lion Sermon" who was descended from
the Old West Country Family of Gayer,
and was born at Plymouth,
and became Sheriff of this City of London in 1635,
and Lord Mayor of London in 1647.

He was a member of the Levant or Turkey Company, and of the Worshipful
Company of Fishmongers, London, and President of Christ's Hospital,
London, and a liberal donor to and pious founder of Charities.