English & Other 105. The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington
[incomplete--I will be finishing English/British versions on my next proof]
CONTENTS:
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[Child A a from The Roxburghe Ballads, Volume 6, by William Chappell]
The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington.
"Oh Love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing delusion, witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all wealth,
Disease that has more joys than Health:
Tho' we blaspheme thee in our pain,
And of thy tyranny complain.
We all are better'a by thy reign." —Aphra Behn's Lucky Chance, iii. 4, 1687.
No mischief might befall if we left without settlement, before reaching a cosy corner in the Elysian Fields, an unsatisfactory dispute wherewith certain learned pundits have disquieted themselves regarding the precise locality indicated in the following ballad. The answer might be postponed; awaiting solution along with sundry riddles proposed in Hydriotaphia. The question is simply this: whether the 'Islington' here mentioned was some apocryphal microscopic agglomeration of wigwams, a "fortuitous congregation of atoms" (invisible on all save Ordnance maps), in Norfolk; or else the more pleasant suburban village-grown-town of Islington in Middlesex, "very dear to fancy." Thither on holidays the London 'Prentices joyfully escorted their sweethearts, to regale them with far-famed cheese-cakes, curds and cream, custards, or pudding-pyes; even on "the day that comes between the Saturday and Monday." Martin Parker's Medley (Roxb. Bds., i. 55), circa 1647, records "At Inlington there's pudding-pyes, hot custards."
Dr. Thomas Percy imagined that the Bailiff's Daughter had dwelt at Norfolk-Islington (and both J. 0. Halliwell-Phillipps and John Glyde, Junior, agree, they respectively including the ballad in The Norfolk Anthology, p. 53, and The Norfolk Garland, p. 241). We cling with orthodox belief to Islington in Middlesex.
Nota Bene.—Islington in Norfolk is so small that it was obliged to be conjoined with another village in order to become visible. It is Tilney-cumItlingUm, five miles W.S.W. from Lynn. It had feebly emerged from the ooze of the Wash before Queen Bess came to the throne; hence, in momentary ardour, it secured a parish-register, dating from 1559. The Vicarage was in 1874 granted to the Bev. W. B. Punsfer (not a Punster, as mis-reported); chiefly because no other Fellow than one belonging to the Boyal Geographical Society could possibly have found it. The combined population, by gigantic efforts, had, in 1881, reached the number of 275 souls, or bodies, including twins, all told. Two centuries ago Thomas Jordan or any other person would have scorned to write a ballad on one of its half-dozen inhabitants, or to fancy it a Bailiewicked place.
The Norfolkians of old were proverbially litigious, and discontented. "The Lass of Lynn " was an exception, who said, "Aye, marry, and thank you too!" From Tilney, following the pilgrim Mayflower across the Atlantic, some of them escaped to Massachusetts. They there founded another miniature Islington! Does it claim to have produced " The Bailiff's Daughter " as its very own? If not, then why not? We pause for a reply, by cable, from a clever Child.
We admit that the distance to be traversed by either of the lovers, botween the most northern estate in Middlesex township of Islington and the southernmost City warehouse, may appear insufficient to account for their being held asunder so long; being only two or three hours ramble across the pleasant intervening meadows of old time: and "The walks of Islington and Hogsdon" were celebrated by Thomas Jordan the ballad-writer, and his comedy licensed, so early as August 2nd, 1641. This short distance may inadequately meet the requirements of the story. There would appear to be less likelihood of the Esquire's Son being thus kept apart from reunion with his Lady-love, while he fulfilled his seven years of apprenticeship in London, and she remained dwelling so nigh, that half a day's journey would have brought them together, than if they were separated by nearly a hundred miles. But surely they were ruled by other considerations than distance! She may have been closely watched and guarded; moreover, maidenly modesty kept her from following him uninvited, until separation became insupportable any longer. If either of them had been resolute in will at earlier date, so short a journey as that between London and Norfolk would not have hindered them. But in such a case the maiden must have necessarily spent more than one day on the road, and we hear nothing whatever of any nightfall, or of Buch fears as nightfall would occasion. We regard this fact as utterly destructive of the Norfolk-Islington theory.
As to her disguising herself, and going to meet him, whom she knew at once, while she was unrecognized in face or voice, is there any great difficulty here? We are accustomed to the vagaries of true affection, and she had thought of him more constantly than he believed possible: "Many a tear have I shed for her sake, when she little thought of me!" So men flatter themselves as to their superior constancy; nevertheless, "Man's love is of man's life a thing apart; 'tis Woman's whole existence." She travelled only part of one day, but she was anxious and affrighted; no wonder that her face flushed rosy red, and at first seemed unfamiliar to him, although he had never forgotten how she used to look in girlhood. To us the directness of the narrative is perfect.
For the purpose of the ballad-singer, we maintain that our nowsuburban Islington was to all useful intents far enough distant; and we feel sure that London 'Prentices or their sweethearts would not have loved and sang this charming ballad, if they had not habitually associated the name of it with their own favourite haunt. Who cared a Brummagem-button about Norfolk? It is a far cry to Loch Awe! Our own northern heights of Middlesex lent sufficient romance to the story, and ensured its popularity. Esto perpetua.
[Roxburghe Coll., II. 457; III. 690; IV. 56. Pepys, III. 258. Douce, II. 239; III. 94.]
Trut Love Requited:
Or, The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington.
The Young-man's Friends the Maid did scorn,
'Cause she was poor and left forlorn;
They sent the Esquire to London fair,
To be an Apprentice seven year:
And when he out on's time was come,
He met his Love a going home,
And then, to end all farther strife,
He took the Maid to be his Wife.
THere was a youth, and a well-belov'd youth,
and he was a 'Squire's Son; [" Esquire's."
He loved the Bayliff's daughter dear,
that lived in Islington. 4
[But] she was coy, and she would not believe
that he did love her so;
No, nor at any time she would
any countenance to him shew. 8
But when his friends did understand
his fond and foolish mind,
They sent him up to fair London,
an Apprentice for to bind. 12
And when he had been seven long years,
and his Love he did not see; [a.l. "had not seen"
"Many a tear have I shed for her sake,
when she little thought of me!" 16
All the Maids of Islington
went forth to sport and play;
All but the Bayliff's Daughter dear,
she secretly stole away. 20
[Then] she put off her gown of gray,
and put on her puggish attire;[1]
She is up to fair London gone,
her true Love to require. 21
[Now] as she went along the Road,
the weather being hot and dry,
There was she aware of her true Love,
at length came riding by. 28
She stept to him, as red as any Rose,
and took him by the bridle-ring;
"I pray you, kind Sir, give me one penny,
to ease my weary limb." 32
"I prithee, Sweet-heart, can'st thou tell me
where that thou wast born?"
"At Islington, kind Sir," said she,
"where I have had many a scorn." 36
"I prithee, Sweet-heart, can'st thou tell me,
whether thou dost know
The Bayliff's Daughter of Islington?"
"She is dead, Sir, long ago!" 40
"Then will I sell my goodly Steed,
my saddle, and my bow;
I will into some far country,
where no man doth me know." 44
"0 stay! 0 stay, thou goodly Youth!
here she standeth by thy side;
She is alive, she is not dead;
and is ready to be thy Bride." 48
"0 farewell grief, and welcome joy,
ten thousand times and more:
For now I have seen ray own true Love,
that I thought I should have seen no more."
1 "Doth set my pugging tooth on edge," Winter'» Tale,iv. 2. Ideal, tramper's garb: puggish is thievish. A modernized reading (Percy's) is "ragged attire."
52 Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pye- Corner. [Black-letter. Two woodcuts, vary. Brooksby's issue, between 1672 and 1680.]
On our p. 236 we furnished details identifying the borrowed tune. It is sometimes cited as / have a good old Mother at home; sometimes as / have a good old Father at home (i.e. the Sequel, on p. 248); otherwise, / have a good old Wife at home, and / have a good old Woman at home (see Douce Coll., III. 94, II. 229). From a burden, on p. 246, it is known as What shall I do, shall I die for Love!
The tune commonly appropriated to " The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington" is giYen in Mr. William Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time, p. 263, and in Eimbault's Musical Illustrations of Percy's Reliques, p. 100. Seeing that both " I have a good old Mother at home," and the similar assertion about a father, are lines in " The Good Fellow: a Song," we give it here, without delay.
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Child A c. is the Pepys broadside
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, Volume 3
By Thomas Percy.
VIII. The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington.
From an ancient black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, with some improvements communicated by a lady as she had heard the same recited in her youth. The full title is, "True love requited: or, the Bailiff's daughter of Islington."
Islington in Norfolk is probably the place here meant.
THERE was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,
And he was a squires son;
He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,
That lived in Islington.
Yet she was coye, and would not believe
That he did love her soe,
Noe nor at any time would she
Any countenance to him showe.
But when his friendes did understand
His fond and foolish minde,
They sent him up to faire London
An apprentice for to binde.
And when he had been seven long yeares,
And never his love could see,--
"Many a teare have I shed for her sake,
When she little thought of mee."
Then all the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and playe,
All but the bayliffes daughter deare;
She secretly stole awaye.
She pulled off her gowne of greene,
And put on ragged attire,
And to faire London she would goe
Her true love to enquire.
And as she went along the high road,
The weather being hot and drye,
She sat her downe upon a green bank,
And her true love came riding bye.
She started up, with a colour soe redd,
Catching hold of his bridle-reine;
"One penny, one penny, kind Sir," she sayd,
"Will ease me of much paine."
"Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,
Praye tell me where you were borne:"
"At Islington, kind Sir," sayd shee,
"Where I have had many a scorne."
"I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,
O tell me, whether you knowe
The bayliffes daughter of Islington."
"She is dead, Sir, long agoe."
"If she be dead, then take my horse,
My saddle and bridle also;
For I will into some farr countrye,
Where noe man shall me knowe."
"O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,
She standeth by thy side;
She is here alive, she is not dead,
And readye to be thy bride."
"O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,
Ten thousand times therefore;
For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,
Whom I thought I should never see more."
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[Mentioned by Kittredge]
XVIII. THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.
Dispersed through Shakspeare's plays are innumerable little fragments of ancient ballads, the entire copies of which could not be recovered. Many of these being of the most beautiful and pathetic simplicity, the Editor was tempted to select some of them, and. with a few supplemental stanzas to connect them together, and form them into a little tale, which is here submitted to the reader's candour.
One small fragment was taken from Beaumont and Fletcher.
IT was a friar of orders gray
Walkt forth to tell his beades;
And he met with a lady faire,
Clad in a pilgrime's weedes.
"Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar,
I pray thee tell to me,
If ever at yon holy shrine
My true love thou didst see."
"And how should I know your true love
From many another one?"
"O by his cockle hat, and staff,
And by his sandal shoone.[l]
"But chiefly by his face and mien,
That were so fair to view;
His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd,
And eyne of lovely blue."
"O lady, he is dead and gone
Lady, he's dead and gone!
And at his head a green grass turfe,
And at his heels a stone.
"Within these holy cloysters long
He languisht, and he dyed,
Lamenting of a ladyes Iove,
And 'playning of her pride.
"Here bore him barefac'd on his bier
Six proper youths and tall,
And many a tear bedew'd his grave
Within yon kirk-yard wall."
"And art thou dead, thou gentle youth
And art thou dead and gone!
And didst thou die for love of me!
Break, cruel heart of stone."
"O weep not, lady, weep not soe;
Some ghostly comfort seek:
Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart,
Ne teares bedew thy cheek."
"O do not, do not, holy friar,
My sorrow now reprove;
For I have lost the sweetest youth,
That e'er won ladyes love.
"And nowe, alas! for thy sad losse,
I'll evermore weep and sigh;
For thee I only wisht to live,
For thee I wish to dye."
"Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrowe is in vaine:
For violets pluckt the sweetest showers
Will ne'er make grow againe.
"Our joys as winged dreams doe flye,
Why then should sorrow last?
Since grief but aggravates thy losse,
Grieve not for what is past."
"O say not soe, thou holy friar;
I pray thee, say not soe:
For since my true-love dyed for mee,
'Tis meet my tears should flow.
"And will he ne'er come again?
Will he ne'er come again?"
"Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave,
For ever to remain."
"His cheek was redder than the rose;
The comliest youth was he!
But he is dead and laid in his grave:
Alas, and woe is me!"
"Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever:
One foot on sea and one on land,
To one thing constant never.
"Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,
And left thee sad and heavy;
For young men ever were fickle found,
Since summer trees were leafy."
"Now say not so, thou holy friar,
I pray thee say not soe;
My love he had the truest heart:
O he was ever true!
"And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth,
And didst thou dye for mee?
Then farewell home; for ever-more
A pilgrim I will bee.
"But first upon my true-love's grave
My weary limbs I'll lay,
And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf,
That wraps his breathless clay."
"Yet stay, fair lady; rest awhile
Beneath this cloyster wall:
See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,
And drizzly rain doth fall."
"O stay me not, thou holy friar;
O stay me not, I pray;
No drizzly rain that falls on me,
Can wash my fault away."
"Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry those pearly tears;
For see beneath this gown of gray
Thy own true-love appears.
"Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love,
These holy weeds I sought;
And here amid these lonely walls
To end my days I thought.
"But haply for my year of grace[ 2]
Is not yet past away,
Might I still hope to win thy love,
No longer would I stay."
"Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart;
For since I have found thee, lovely youth,
We never more will part."
*** As the foregoing song has been thought to have suggested to our late excellent poet, Dr. Goldsmith, the plan of his beautiful ballad of Edwin and Emma (first printed in his Vicar of Wakefield), it is but justice to his memory to declare, that his poem was written first, and that if there is any imitation in the case, they will be found both to be indebted to the beautiful old ballad Gentle Herdsman, &c. printed in Series II. Book i. No. 14, of this work, which the Doctor had much admired in manuscript, and has finely improved.
NOTES
1. These are the distinguishing marks of a pilgrim. The chief places of devotion being beyond sea, the pilgrims were wont to put cockle-shells in their hats to denote the intention or performance of their devotion. Warb. Shaksp. vol. viii. p. 224.
2. The year of probation, or noviciate.