"_Go to Bath_" (Vol. ix., p. 421.).--I have little doubt but that this phrase is connected with the fact of Bath's being proverbially the resort of beggars; and what more natural, to one acquainted with this fact, than to bid an importunate applicant betake himself thither to join his fellows? See also Fuller's _Worthies_ (co. Somerset).
I transcribe the passage for the benefit of those who have not the book at hand:
"_Beggars of Bath._--Many in that place; some natives there, others repairing thither from all parts of the land; the poor for alms, the pained for ease. Whither should fowl flock in a hard frost, but to the barn-door? Here, all the two seasons, being the general confluence of gentry. Indeed laws are daily made to restrain beggars, and daily broken by the connivance of those who make them; it being impossible when the hungry belly barks, and bowels sound, to keep the tongue silent. And although oil of whip { 578} be the proper plaister for the cramp of laziness, yet some pity is due to impotent persons. In a word, seeing there is the Lazar's-bath in this city, I doubt not but many a good Lazarus, the true object of charity, may beg therein."
R. R. inquires the origin of the above saying, but has forgotten the context, viz. "and get your head shaved." I have often heard it explained as an allusion to the fact, that, in former days, persons who showed symptoms of insanity were sent to Bath to drink the medicinal waters; the process of shaving the head being previously resorted to. The saying is applied to those who either relate "crack-brained" stories, or propose undertakings that raise a doubt as to their sanity.
_Ridings and Chaffings_ (Vol. ix., p. 370.).--Though unable to give MR. THOMAS RUSSELL POTTER any information respecting the "Ridings and Chaffings" of Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire, I send the following note of a somewhat similar custom prevalent in Oxfordshire (I never heard of it elsewhere), thinking it may perhaps interest him and others of your correspondents.
I remember once, about three years ago, I was walking in Blenheim Park, with a friend then resident at Woodstock, when suddenly the stillness of a summer evening was broken by strange and inharmonious sounds, coming to us across the water from the old town. The sounds grew louder and louder, and in great surprise I appealed to my friend for an explanation; when I learned that it was a custom in that part of the country, whenever it was discovered that a man had been beating his wife, for the neighbours to provide themselves with all sorts of instruments, fire-irons, kettles, and pots, in fine, anything capable of making a noise, and proceed _en masse_ to the house of the offender, before whose door they performed in concert, till their indignation subsided or their arms grew weary; and that the noise we then heard was the distant sound of such music.