Mr. Jesse, a popular writer on rural subjects, was a keen observer of
old-time customs and institutions, and the best account of the turnspit
that has come under our notice is from his pen. "How well do I remember,
in the days of my youth," says Mr. Jesse, "watching the operations of a
turnspit at the house of a worthy old Welsh clergyman in Worcestershire,
who taught me to read. He was a good man, wore a bushy wig, black worsted
stockings, and large plaited buckles in his shoes. As he had several
boarders as well as day scholars, his two turnspits had plenty to do. They
were long-bodied, crook-legged, and ugly dogs, with a suspicious, unhappy
look about them, as if they were weary of the task they had to do, and
expected every moment to be seized upon to do it. Cooks in those days, as
they are said to be at present, were very cross, and if the poor animal,
wearied with having a larger joint than usual to turn, stopped for a
moment, the voice of the cook might be heard rating him in no very gentle
terms. When we consider that a large, solid piece of beef would take at
least three hours before it was properly roasted, we may form some idea of
the task a dog had to perform in turning a wheel during that time. A
pointer has pleasure in finding game, the terrior worries rats with
eagerness and delight, and the bull-dog even attacks bulls with the
greatest energy, while the poor turnspit performs his task with
compulsion, like a culprit on a treadmill, subject to scolding or beating
if he stops a moment to rest his weary limbs, and is then kicked about the
kitchen when the task is over."
The mode of teaching the dog its duties is described in a book of
anecdotes published at Newcastle-on-Tyne, 1809. It was more summary than
humane. The dog was put in the wheel, and a burning coal with him; he
could not stop without burning his legs, and so was kept upon the full
gallop. These dogs were by no means fond of their profession. It was
indeed hard work to run in a wheel for two or three hours, turning a piece
of meat twice their own weight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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