GIFT FROM DOMINION REVIVES AN ANCIENT CUSTOM IN BRITAIN

Otago Daily Times, Issue 27212, 15 October 1949, Page 9

GIFT FROM DOMINION REVIVES AN ANCIENT CUSTOM IN BRITAIN

Resident Correspondent LONDON, Oct. 4. You shall swear by Custom of confession, That you ne’er made nuptial transgression; Nor since you were married man and wife By household brawls or contentious strife, Or otherwise at bed or at board Offended each other in deed or word. Or in a Twelve-month and a Day

Repented not in thought any way, Or since the parish clerk said Amen Wished yourselves unmarried again; But continued true and in desire As when you joined hands in holy Quire.

This was the strange oath which four married couples took last Saturday as they kneit on stones in the market place of the village of Dunmow, 45 miles north-east of London. Then they rose, and with wide smiles, each accepted a gammon of bacon. Thus culminated the trials of the four claimants for the Dunmow Flitch, a custom revived after a lapse of six years thanks to a gift of bacon from N&w Zealand.

According to uncertain legend, the custom of awarding a flitch of bacon at Dunmow to the couples who can prove they have lived together in perfect amity for a year, and a day started in the twelfth century with the romantic activities of Sir Reginald

Fitzwalter. This knight is supposed to have courted a village maiden for a whole year in the guise of a peasant before he revealed his identity.

Timely Blessing

He then applied to the Prior of the Dunmow Priory for his blessing on the match, at the same time swearing that for 12 months and a day they had lived in perfect harmony without a look or word or deed that might have bred dissension between them. As the blessing was being given a convent cook passed by carrying a great flitch (side) of bacon.

“Take ye that flitch,” cried the Prior grandly; “and so feast your friends and think upon the /Convent of Dunmow.” So it started. Chaucer mentions the custom, and it seems that in. the fourteenth cetnury the Dunmow Flitch was as popular as the Derby is to-day. However, in the following centuries the award was made at most irregular intervals. Indeed, in 1772 it is even recorded that the Lord of the Manor nailed fast his gates and refused to give a flitch to a happy couple who had applied for-, it. Not until 1851 did the custom become firmly established, and since that date gammons or flitches have been claimed on more than 40 occasions. The last was in 1843, but that was a war-time ceremony, §ay the natives, and a very poor show compared with the 1938 trials. This year 30 couples applied from as far afield as Aberdeen and Plymouth. Four couples were selected from these, applicants, and at 2 p.m. they appeared before the fully-gowned and bewigged court ready to prove their case

The judge was Kingsley Martin, editor of the New Statesman and wellknown BBC broadcaster. The counsel were local barristers, and the jury was composed of six bachelors and six maidens, the cream of Dunmow beauty. The first couple, Mr and Mrs Shelley, had been married 34 years. In the wit-

ness box each said they would marry each other again if the clock were turned back. Only once had Mrs Shelley deceived her husband —when she put gravy in ordinary tea to make him believe it was herbal tea. Cheerful Mr Shelley admitted he was a conjurer and a “ bit of wizard.” but denied he annoyed his wife by always listening to the 'news broadcasts. They were awarded the bacon. Next came the very popular proprietor of the “ Star ” Inn. Mr Laws, and his buxom wife. No, it had not been love at first sight, Mr Laws told the court. The romance had started when a friend had asked: “Bill, how do you fancy Miss Brooks? ” and he had replied: “ Well, quite truthfully, there are some things one can fancy.” Mrs Laws said her first impression was that he “was a horrible little twerp.” But he had turned out to be a wonderful man. On one occasion, after working for three weeks on a drawing, he had spilt a bottle of ink over it and only said, “ Well. well, well.”

The judge was at pains to impress the jury that they must not be swayed by thirst or by anv thoughts of what they might receive if they voted to award the bacon. Nevertheless, they did. Mr Cocker told the court he was a fitter. “ Fitter for what? ” demanded counsel. “ Fitter for my wife’s dresses,” he replied. A keen cricket

fan, he said, he knew what a short leg was, but denied having ever bowled a maiden over.

The only time he had struck his wife was when demonstrating a boxing match and she had “ walked into a punch.” He gave her flowers every wedding anniversary and a present on her birthday.

Mrs Cocker said she did not like cricket and would never allow her husband to bowl a maiden over. She had never noticed undue interest in short legs. Although she said she had been a shift worker, the judge decided she hhd not been shiftless and the jury obeyed his instructions and awarded them the bacon. White-haired Mrs Hunt said she married 43 years ago and kept goldfish. Her husband kept bees and was a wonderful help in the house and garden. They met just before the Boer War, when Mr Hunt’s spurs got entangled in her friend’s skirt. Yes, he had won first prize for jam when his wife was prevented by an accident from exhibiting, said Mr Hunt, and he also admitted winning second prize for a cake. They were awarded the bacon, too. Village Band’s Big Moment The trials concluded, the court adjourned to the market place, the gammons tied to poles and the couples carried shoulder high by smocked agricultural labourers. It was a great day for the village band as they proudly led the way blaring “ Here the Conquering Hero Comes.”

The four hams were given for the trials after consultation between the Commonwealth Gift Centre and New Zealand House. They were part of the world record litter of 15 pigs bred by Messrs H. W. Montgomerie and H. G. Bell, of Papakura, and given by them to the Food, for Britain campaign.