Little Man.
Little Man.
I took my leave of this show pondering on “the different ends our fates assign,” but the jostling of a crowd in Smithfield, and the clash of instruments, were not favourable to musing, and I walked into the next.
BROWN’S GRAND TROOP, FROM PARIS.
This was “only a penny” exhibition, notwithstanding that it elevated the king’s arms, and bore a fine-sounding name. The performance began by a clown going round and whipping a ring; that is, making a circular space amongst the spectators with a whip in his hand to force the refractory. This being effected, a conjurer walked up to a table and executed several tricks with cups and balls; giving a boy beer to drink out of a funnel, making him blow through it to show that it was empty, and afterwards applying it to each of the boy’s ears, from whence, through the funnel, the beer appeared to reflow, and poured on the ground. Afterwards girls danced on the single and double slack wire, and a melancholy looking clown, among other things, said they were “as clever as the barber and blacksmith who shaved magpies at twopence a dozen.” The show concluded with a learned horse.
Another, and a very good menagerie—the admission “only a penny!” It was “George Ballard’sCaravan,” with “The Lioness that attacked the Exeter mail.—The great Lion.—Royal Tiger.—Large White Bear.—Tiger Owls,” with monkies, and other animals, the usual accessories to the interior of a menagerie.
The chief attraction was “the Lioness.”Her attack on the Exeter Mailwas on a Sunday evening, in the year 1816. The coach had arrived at Winterslow-hut, seven miles on the London side of Salisbury. In a most extraordinary manner, at the moment when the coachman pulled up to deliver his bags, one of the leaders was suddenly seized by some ferocious animal. This produced a great confusion and alarm; two passengers who were inside the mail got out, ran into the house, and locked themselves up in a room above stairs; the horses kicked and plunged violently, and it was with difficulty the coachman could prevent the carriage from being overturned. It was soon perceived by the coachman and guard, by the light of the lamps, that the animal which had seized the horse was a huge lioness. A large mastiff dog came up and attacked her fiercely, on which she quitted the horse and turned upon him. The dog fled, but was pursued and killed by the lioness, within forty yards of the place. It appears that the beast had escaped from its caravan which was standing on the road side with others belonging to the proprietors of the menagerie, on their way to Salisbury Fair. An alarm being given, the keepers pursued and hunted the lioness into a hovel under a granary, which served for keeping agricultural implements. About half-past eight they had secured her so effectually, by barricading the place, as to prevent her escape. The horse, when first attacked, fought with great spirit, and if at liberty, would probably have beaten down his antagonist with his fore feet, but in plunging he embarrassed himself in the harness. The lioness attacked him in the front, and springing at his throat, fastened the talons of her fore feet on each side of his neck, close to the head, while the talons of her hind feet were forced into his chest. In this situation she hung, while the blood was seen flowing as if a vein had been opened by a fleam. He was a capital horse, the off-leader, the best in the set. The expressions of agony in his tears and moans were most pitious and affecting. A fresh horse having been procured, the mail drove on, after having been detained three quarters of an hour. As the mail drew up it stood exactly abreast of the caravan from which the lioness made the assault. The coachman at first proposed to alight and stab the lioness with a knife, but was prevented by the remonstrance of the guard; who observed, that he would expose himself to certain destruction, as the animal if attacked would naturally turn upon him and tear him to pieces. The prudence of the advice was clearly proved by the fate of the dog. It was the engagement between him and the lioness that afforded time for the keepers to rally. After she had disengaged herself from the horse, she did not seem to be in any immediate hurry to move; for, whether she had carried off with her, as prey, the dog she had killed, or from some other cause, she continued growling and howling in so loud a tone, as to be heard for nearly half a mile. All had called out loudly to the guard to despatch her with his blunderbuss, which he appeared disposed to do, but the owner cried out to him, “For God’s sake do not kill her—she cost me 500l., and she will be as quiet as a lamb if not irritated.” This arrested his hand, and he did not fire. She was afterwards easily enticed by the keepers, and placed in her usual confinement.
The collection of animals in Ballard’s menagerie is altogether highly interesting, but it seems impossible that the proprietor could exhibit them for “only a penny” in any other place than “Bartholomew Fair,” where the people assemble in great multitudes, and the shows are thronged the whole day.
“Exhibition of Real Wonders.”
This announcement, designed to astonish, was inscribed over the show with the usual notice, “Only a Penny!”—the “Wonders of the Deep!” the “Prodigies of the Age!” and “the Learned Pig!” in large letters. The printed bill is a curiosity:—
To be Seen in a Commodious Pavilion inthis Place.REAL WONDERS!SEE AND BELIEVE.mermaidHave you seenTHE BEAUTIFUL DOLPHIN,The Performing Pig & the Mermaid?If not, pray do! as the exhibition contains more variety than any other in England. Those ladies and gentlemen who may be pleased to honour it with a visit will be truly gratified.TOBY,The Swinish Philosopher, and Ladies’ FortuneTeller.That beautiful animal appears to be endowed with the natural sense of the human being. He is in colour the most beautiful of his race; in symmetry the most perfect; in temper the most docile; and far exceeds any thing yet seen for his intelligent performances. He is beyond all conception: he has a perfect knowledge of the alphabet, understands arithmetic, and will spell and cast accounts, tell the points of the globe, the dice-box, the hour by any person’s watch, &c.The Real Head ofMAHOWRA,THE CANNIBAL CHIEF.At the same time, the public will have an opportunity of seeing what was exhibited so long in London, under the title ofTHE MERMAID:The wonder of the deep! not a fac-simileor copy, but the same curiosity.Admission Moderate.⁂Open from Eleven in the Morning tillNine in the Evening.
To be Seen in a Commodious Pavilion inthis Place.
REAL WONDERS!SEE AND BELIEVE.
mermaid
Have you seenTHE BEAUTIFUL DOLPHIN,The Performing Pig & the Mermaid?
If not, pray do! as the exhibition contains more variety than any other in England. Those ladies and gentlemen who may be pleased to honour it with a visit will be truly gratified.
TOBY,The Swinish Philosopher, and Ladies’ FortuneTeller.
That beautiful animal appears to be endowed with the natural sense of the human being. He is in colour the most beautiful of his race; in symmetry the most perfect; in temper the most docile; and far exceeds any thing yet seen for his intelligent performances. He is beyond all conception: he has a perfect knowledge of the alphabet, understands arithmetic, and will spell and cast accounts, tell the points of the globe, the dice-box, the hour by any person’s watch, &c.
The Real Head ofMAHOWRA,THE CANNIBAL CHIEF.
At the same time, the public will have an opportunity of seeing what was exhibited so long in London, under the title of
THE MERMAID:The wonder of the deep! not a fac-simileor copy, but the same curiosity.Admission Moderate.
⁂Open from Eleven in the Morning tillNine in the Evening.
The great “prodigies” of this show were the “performing pig,” and the performing show-woman. She drew forth the learning of the “swinish philosopher” admirably. He told his letters, and “got into spelling” with his nose; and could do a sum of two figures “in addition.” Then, at her desire, he routed out those of the company who were in love, or addicted to indulgence; and peremptorily grunted, that a “round, fat, oily”-faced personage at my elbow, “loved good eating, and a pipe, and a jug of good ale, better than the sight of the Living Skeleton!” Thebeautiful dolphinwas a fish-skin stuffed. Themermaidwas the last manufactured imposture of that name, exhibited for half-a-crown in Piccadilly, about a year before. Thereal head of Mahowra, the cannibal chief, was a skull that might have been some English clod-pole’s, with a dried skin over it, and bewigged; but it looked sufficiently terrific, when the lady show-woman put the candle in at the neck, and the flame illuminated the yellow integument over the holes where eyes, nose, and a tongue had been. There was enough for “a penny!”
Another “Only a penny!” with pictures “large as life” on the show-cloths outside of the “living wonders within,” and the following inscription:—
ALL ALIVE!No False Paintings!THE WILD INDIAN,THEGIANT BOY,And theDWARF FAMILY,Never here before,TO BE SEEN ALIVE!
Mr. Thomas Day was the reputed father of the dwarf family, and exhibited himself as small enough for a great wonder; as he was. He was also proprietor of the show; and said he was thirty-five years of age, and only thirty-five inches high. He fittingly descanted on the living personages in whom he had a vested interest. There was a boy six years old, only twenty-seven inches high. TheWild Indianwas a civil-looking man of colour. TheGiant Boy, William Wilkinson Whitehead, was fourteen years of age on the 26th of March last, stood five feet two inches high, measured five feet round the body, twenty-seven inches across theshoulders, twenty inches round the arm, twenty-four inches round the calf, thirty-one inches round the thigh, and weighed twenty-two stone. His father and mother were “travelling merchants” of Manchester; he was born at Glasgow during one of their journies, and was as fine a youth as I ever saw, handsomely formed, of fair complexion, an intelligent countenance, active in motion, and of sensible speech. He was lightly dressed in plaid to show his limbs, with a bonnet of the same. The artist with me sketched his appearance exactly as we saw him, and as the presentengravingnow represents him; it is a good likeness of his features, as well as of his form.
The Giant Boy.
The Giant Boy.
“Holden’s Glass Working and Blowing.”
This was the last show on the east-side of Smithfield. It was limited to a single caravan; having seen exhibitions of the same kind, and the evening getting late, I declined entering, though “Only a penny!”
This was the first show on the south-side of Smithfield. It stood, therefore, with its side towards Cloth-fair, and the back towards the corner of Duke-street.The admission was “Only a penny!” and the paintings flared on the show-cloths with this inscription, “They’re all Alive Inside! Be assured They’re All Alive!—The Yorkshire Giantess.—Waterloo Giant.—Indian Chief.—Only a Penny!”
An overgrown girl was theYorkshire Giantess. A large man with a tail, and his hair frizzed and powdered, aided by a sort of uniform coat and a plaid rocquelaire, made theWaterloo Giant. The abdication of such anIndian Chiefas this, in favour of Bartholomew Fair, was probably forced upon him by his tribe.
The “Greatest of all Wonders!—Giantess and Two Dwarfs.—Only a Penny!” They were painted on the show-cloths quite as little, and quite as large, as life. The dwarfs inside were dwarfish, and the “Somerset girl, taller than any man in England,” (for so said the show-cloth,) arose from a chair, wherein she was seated, to the height of six feet nine inches and three quarters, with, “ladies and gentlemen, your most obedient.” She was good looking and affable, and obliged the “ladies and gentlemen” by taking off her tight fitting slipper and handing it round. It was of such dimension, that the largest man present could have put his booted foot into it. She said that her name was Elizabeth Stock, and that she was only sixteen years old.
CHAPPELL—PIKE.
This was a very large show, without any show-cloths or other announcement outside to intimate the performances, except a clown and several male and female performers, who strutted the platform in their exhibiting dresses, and in dignified silence; but the clown grimaced, and, assisted by others, bawled “Only a penny,” till the place filled, and then the show commenced. There was slack-rope dancing, tumbling, and other representations as at Ball’s theatre, but better executed.
WOMBWELL.
The back of this man’s menagerie abutted on the side of the last show, and ran the remaining length of the north-side of Smithfield, with the front looking towards Giltspur-street; at that entrance into the Fair it was the first show. This front was entirely covered by painted show-cloths representing the animals, with the proprietor’s name in immense letters above, and the words “The Conquering Lion” very conspicuous. There were other show-cloths along the whole length of the side, surmounted by this inscription, stretching out in one line of large capital letters, “Nero and Wallace; the same Lions that fought at Warwick.” One of the front show-cloths represented one of the fights; a lion stood up with a dog in his mouth, cranched between his grinders; the blood ran from his jaws; his left leg stood upon another dog squelched by his weight. A third dog was in the act of flying at him ferociously, and one, wounded and bleeding, was fearfully retreating. There were seven other show-cloths on this front, with the words “Nero and Wallace” between them. One of these show-cloths, whereon the monarch of the forest was painted, was inscribed, “Nero, the Great Lion, from Caffraria!”
The printed bill described the whole collection to be in “fine order.” Sixpence was the entrance money demanded, which having paid, I entered the show early in the afternoon, although it is now mentioned last, in conformity to its position in the Fair. I had experienced some inconvenience, and witnessed some irregularities incident to a mixed multitude filling so large a space as Smithfield; yet no disorder without, was equal to the disorder within Wombwell’s. There was no passage at the end, through which persons might make their way out: perhaps this was part of the proprietor’s policy, for he might imagine that the universal disgust that prevailed in London, while he was manifesting his brutal cupidity at Warwick, had not subsided; and that it was necessary his show-place here should appear to fill well on the first day of the Fair, lest a report of general indifference to it, should induce many persons to forego the gratification of their curiosity, in accommodation to the natural and right feeling that induced a determination not to enter the exhibition of a man who had freely submitted his animals to be tortured. Be that as it may, his show, when I saw it, was a shameful scene. There was no person in attendance to exhibit or point out the animals. They were arranged on one side only, andI made my way with difficulty towards the end, where a loutish fellow with a broomstick, stood against one of the dens, from whom I could only obtain this information, that it was not his business to show the beasts, and that the showman would begin at a proper time. I patiently waited, expecting some announcement of this person’s arrival; but no intimation of it was given; at length I discovered over the heads of the unconscious crowd around, that the showman, who was evidently under the influence of drink, had already made his way one third along the show. With great difficulty I forced myself through the sweltering press somewhat nearer to him, and managed to get opposite Nero’s den, which he had by that time reached and clambered into, and into which he invited any of the spectators who chose to pay him sixpence each, as many of them did, for the sake of saying that they had been in the den with the noble animal, that Wombwell, his master, had exposed to be baited by bull-dogs. The man was as greedy of gain as his master, and therefore without the least regard to those who wished for general information concerning the different animals, he maintained his post as long as there was a prospect of getting the sixpences. Pressure and heat were now so excessive, that I was compelled to struggle my way, as many others did, towards the door at the front end, for the sake of getting into the air. Unquestionably I should not have entered Wombwell’s, but for the purpose of describing his exhibition in common with others. As I had failed in obtaining the information I sought, and could not get a printed bill when I entered, I re-ascended to endeavour for one again; here I saw Wombwell, to whom I civilly stated the great inconvenience within, which a little alteration would have obviated; he affected to know nothing about it, refused to be convinced, and exhibited himself, to my judgment of him, with an understanding and feelings perverted by avarice. He is undersized in mind as well as form, “a weazen, sharp-faced man,” with a skin reddened by more than natural spirits, and he speaks in a voice and language that accord with his feelings and propensities. His bill mentions, “A remarkably fine tigress in the same den with a noble British lion!!” I looked for this companionship in his menagerie, without being able to discover it.
Here ends my account of the various shows in the Fair. In passing the stalls, the following bill was slipped into my hand, by a man stationed to give them away.
SERIOUS NOTICE,IN PERFECT CONFIDENCE.The following extraordinary comic performances atSadler’s Wells,Can only be given during the present week; the proprietors, therefore, most respectfully inform that fascinating sex, so properly distinguished by the appropriate appellation ofTHE FAIR!And all those well inclined gentlemen who are happy enough to protect them, that the amusements will consist of a romantic tale, of mysterious horror and broad grin, never acted, called theENCHANTEDGIRDLES;OR,WINKI THE WITCH,And the Ladies of Samarcand.A most whimsical burletta, which sends people home perfectly exhausted from uninterrupted risibility, calledTHE LAWYER, THE JEW,ANDTHE YORKSHIREMAN.With, by request of 75 distinguished families, and a party of 5, that never-to-be-sufficiently-praised pantomime, calledMagic in Two Colours;OR,FAIRY BLUE & FAIRY RED:Or, Harlequin and the Marble Rock.It would be perfectly superfluous for any man in his senses to attempt any thing more than the mere announcement in recommendation of the above unparalleled representations, so attractive in themselves as to threaten a complete monopoly of the qualities of the magnet; and though the proprietors were to talk nonsense for an hour, they could not assert a moreimportant truththan that they possessThe only Wells from which you may drawWINE,THREE SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCEA full Quart.Those whose important avocations prevent their coming at the commencement,will be admitted forHALF-PRICE, AT HALF-PAST EIGHTLadies and gentlemen who are not judges of the superior entertainments announced, are respectfully requested to bring as many as possible with them who are.N.B. A full Moon during the Week.
SERIOUS NOTICE,IN PERFECT CONFIDENCE.
The following extraordinary comic performances atSadler’s Wells,
Can only be given during the present week; the proprietors, therefore, most respectfully inform that fascinating sex, so properly distinguished by the appropriate appellation of
THE FAIR!
And all those well inclined gentlemen who are happy enough to protect them, that the amusements will consist of a romantic tale, of mysterious horror and broad grin, never acted, called the
ENCHANTEDGIRDLES;OR,WINKI THE WITCH,And the Ladies of Samarcand.
A most whimsical burletta, which sends people home perfectly exhausted from uninterrupted risibility, called
THE LAWYER, THE JEW,ANDTHE YORKSHIREMAN.
With, by request of 75 distinguished families, and a party of 5, that never-to-be-sufficiently-praised pantomime, called
Magic in Two Colours;OR,FAIRY BLUE & FAIRY RED:Or, Harlequin and the Marble Rock.
It would be perfectly superfluous for any man in his senses to attempt any thing more than the mere announcement in recommendation of the above unparalleled representations, so attractive in themselves as to threaten a complete monopoly of the qualities of the magnet; and though the proprietors were to talk nonsense for an hour, they could not assert a moreimportant truththan that they possess
The only Wells from which you may drawWINE,THREE SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCEA full Quart.
Those whose important avocations prevent their coming at the commencement,
will be admitted forHALF-PRICE, AT HALF-PAST EIGHT
Ladies and gentlemen who are not judges of the superior entertainments announced, are respectfully requested to bring as many as possible with them who are.
N.B. A full Moon during the Week.
This bill is here inserted as a curious specimen of the method adopted to draw an audience to the superior entertainments of a pleasant little summer theatre, which, to its credit, discourages the nuisances that annoy every parent who takes his family to the boxes at the other theatres.
Before mentioning other particulars concerning the Fair here described, I present a lively representation of it in former times.
“O, rare Ben Jonson!” To him we are indebted for the only picture of Smithfield at “Barthol’me’-tide” in his time.
In his play of “Bartholomew Fair,” we have John Littlewit, a proctor “o’ the Archdeacon’s-court,” and “one of the pretty wits o’ Paul’s” persuading his wife, Win-the-fight, to go to the Fair. He says “I have an affair i’ the Fair, Win, a puppet-play of mine own making.—I writ for themotion-man.” She tells him that her mother, dame Purecraft, will never consent; whereupon he says, “Tut, we’ll have a device, a dainty one: long to eat of a pig, sweet Win, i’ the Fair; do you see? i’ the heart o’ the Fair; not at Pye-corner. Your mother will do any thing to satisfie your longing.” Upon this hint, Win prevails with her mother, to consult Zeal-of-the-land Busy, a Banbury man “of a most lunatick conscience and spleen;” who is of opinion that pig “is a meat, and a meat that is nourishing, and may be eaten; very exceeding well eaten; but in the Fair, and as aBartholmewpig, it cannot be eaten; for the very calling it aBartholmewpig, and to eat it so, is a spice of idolatry.” After much deliberation, however, he allows that so that the offence “beshadowed, as it were, it may be eaten, and in the Fair, I take it—in abooth.” He says “there may be a good use made of it too, now I think on’t, by the public eating of swine’s flesh, to profess our hate and loathing of Judaism;” and therefore he goes with them.
In the Fair a quarrel falls out between Lanthorn Leatherhead, “a hobby-horse seller,” and Joan Trash, “a gingerbread woman.”
“Leatherhead.Do you hear, sister Trash, lady o’ the basket? sit farther with your gingerbread progeny there, and hinder not the prospect of my shop, or I’ll ha’ it proclaimed i’ the Fair, what stuff they are made on.
“Trash.Why, what stuff are they made on, brother Leatherhead? nothing but what’s wholesome, I assure you.
“Leatherhead.Yes; stale bread, rotten eggs, musty ginger, and dead honey, you know.
“Trash.Thou too proud pedlar, do thy worst: I defy thee, I, and thy stable of hobby-horses. I pay for my ground, as well as thou dost, and thou wrongs’t me, for all thou art parcel-poet, and an ingineer. I’ll find a friend shall right me, and make a ballad of thee, and thy cattle all over. Are you puft up with the pride of your wares? your arsedine?
“Leatherhead.Go too, old Joan, I’ll talk with you anon; and take you down too—I’ll ha’ you i’ thePie-pouldres.”
They drop their abuse and pursue their vocation. Leatherhead calls, “What do you lack? what is’t you buy? what do you lack? rattles, drums, halberts, horses, babies o’ the best? fiddles o’ the finest?” Trash cries, “Buy my gingerbread, gilt gingerbread!” A “costard-monger” bawls out, “Buy any pears, pears! fine, very fine pears!” Nightingale, another character, sings,
“Hey, now the Fair’s a fillingO, for a tune to startleThe birds o’ the booths, here billingYearly with old SaintBarthle!The drunkards they are wading,The punks and chapmen trading,Who’ld see the Fair without his lading?Buy my ballads! new ballads!”
“Hey, now the Fair’s a fillingO, for a tune to startleThe birds o’ the booths, here billingYearly with old SaintBarthle!The drunkards they are wading,The punks and chapmen trading,Who’ld see the Fair without his lading?Buy my ballads! new ballads!”
“Hey, now the Fair’s a fillingO, for a tune to startleThe birds o’ the booths, here billingYearly with old SaintBarthle!
The drunkards they are wading,The punks and chapmen trading,Who’ld see the Fair without his lading?Buy my ballads! new ballads!”
Ursula, “a pig-woman,” laments her vocation:—“Who would wear out their youth and prime thus, in roasting of pigs, that had any cooler occupation? I am all fire and fat; I shall e’en melt away—a poor vex’d thing I am; I feel myself dropping already as fast as I can: two stone of sewet a-day is my proportion: I can but hold life and soul together.” Then she soliloquizes concerning Mooncalf, her tapster, and her other vocations: “How can I hope that ever he’ll discharge his place of trust, tapster, a man of reckoning under me, that remembers nothing I say to him? but look to’t, sirrah, you were best; threepence a pipe-full I will ha’ made of all my whole half pound of tobacco, and a quarter of a pound of colts-foot, mixt with it too, to eech it out. Then six-and-twenty shillings a barrel I will advance o’ my beer, and fifty shillings a hundred o’ my bottle ale; I ha’ told you the ways how to raise it. (a knock.) Look who’s there, sirrah! five shillings a pig is my price at least; if it be a sow-pig sixpence more.” Jordan Knockhum, “a horse-courser and a ranger of Turnbull,” calls for “a fresh bottle of ale, and a pipe of tobacco.” Passengers enter, and Leatherhead says, “What do you lack, gentlemen? Maid, see a fine hobby-horse for your young master.” A corn-cutter cries, “Ha’ you any corns i’ your feet and toes?” Then “a tinder-box man” calls, “Buy a mouse-trap, a mouse-trap, or a tormentor for a flea!” Trash cries, “Buy some gingerbread!” Nightingale bawls, “Ballads, ballads, fine new ballads!” Leatherhead repeats, “What do you lack, gentlemen, what is’t you lack? a fine horse? a lion? a bull? a bear? a dog? or a cat? an excellent fine Bartholmew bird? or an instrument? what is’t you lack?” The pig-woman quarrels with her guests and falls foul on her tapster: “In, you rogue, and wipe the pigs, and mend the fire, that they fall not; or I’ll both baste and wast you till your eyes drop out, like ’em.” Knockhum says to the female passengers, “Gentlewomen, the weather’s hot! whither walk you? Have a care o’ your fine velvet caps, the Fair is dusty. Take a sweet delicate booth, with boughs, here, i’ the way, and cool yourselves i’ the shade; you and your friends. The best pig and bottle ale i’ the Fair, sir, old Urs’la is cook; there, you may read; the pig’s head speaks it.” Knockhum adds, that she roasted her pigs “with fire o’ juniper, and rosemary branches.” Littlewit, the proctor, and his wife, Win-the-fight, with her mother, dame Purecroft, and Zeal-of-the-land enter. Busy Knockhum suggests to Ursula that they are customers of the right sort, “In, and set a couple o’ pigs o’ the board, and half a dozen of the bygist bottles afore ’em—two to a pig, away!” In another scene Leatherhead cries, “Fine purses, pouches, pincases, pipes; what is’t you lack? a pair o’ smiths to wake you i’ the morning? or a fine whistling bird?” Bartholomew Cokes, a silly “esquire of Harrow,” stops at Leatherhead’s to purchase: “Those six horses, friend, I’ll have; and the three Jews trumps; and a half a dozen o’ birds; and that drum; and your smiths (I like that device o’ your smiths,)—and four halberts; and, let me see, that fine painted great lady, and her three women for state, I’ll have. A set of those violins I would buy too, for a delicate young noise I have i’ the country, that are every one a size less than another, just like your fiddles.” Trash invites him to buy her gingerbread, and he turns to her basket, whereupon Leatherhead says, “Is this well, Goody Joan, to interrupt my market in the midst, and call away my customers? Can you answer this at thePie-pouldres?” whereto Trash replies, “Why, if his master-ship have a mind to buy, I hope my ware lies as open as anothers; I may shew my ware as well as you yours.” Nightingale begins to sing,
“My masters and friends, and good people draw near.”
“My masters and friends, and good people draw near.”
“My masters and friends, and good people draw near.”
Cokes hears this, and says, “Ballads! hark, hark! pray thee, fellow, stay a little! What ballads hast thou? let me see, let me see myself—How dost thou call it? ‘A Caveat against Cut-purses!’—a good jest, i’ faith; I would fain see that demon, your cut-purse, you talk of.” He then shows his purse boastingly, and inquires, “Ballad-man, do any cut-purses haunt hereabout? pray thee raise me one or two: begin and shew me one.” Nightingale answers, “Sir, this is a spell against ’em, spick and span new: and ’tis made as ’twere in mine own person, and I sing it in mine own defence. But ’twill cost a penny alone if you buy it.”Cokes replies, “No matter for the price; thou dost not know me I see, I am an oddBartholmew.” The ballad has “pictures,” and Nightingale tells him, “It was intended, sir, as if a purse should chance to be cut in my presence, now; I may be blameless though; as by the sequel will more plainly appear.” He adds, it is “to the tune of ‘Paggington’s Pound,’ sir,” and he finally sings—
A Caveat against Cut-purses.My masters, and friends, and good people draw near,And look to your purses, for that I do say;And though little money, in them you do bear,It cost more to get, than to lose in a day,You oft’ have been told,Both the young and the old,And bidden beware of the cut-purse so bold.Then if you take heed not, free me from the curse,Who both give you warning, for, and the cut-purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.It hath been upbraided to men of my trade,That oftentimes we are the cause of this crime:Alack, and for pity, why should it be said?As if they regarded or places, or time.Examples have beenOf some that were seenIn Westminster-hall, yea, the pleaders between;Then why should the judges be free from this curseMore than my poor self, for cutting the purse?Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.At Worc’ter ’tis known well, and even i’ the jail,A knight of good worship did there shew his faceAgainst the foul sinners in zeal for to rail,And lost,ipso facto, his purse in the place.Nay, once from the seatOf judgment so great,A judge there did lose a fair pouch of velvet;O, Lord for thy mercy, how wicked, or worse,Are those that so venture their necks for a purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for stealing a purse.At plays, and at sermons, and at the sessions,’Tis daily their practice such booty to make;Yea, under the gallows, at executions,They stick not the stare-abouts’ purses to take.Nay, one without grace,At a better place,At court, and in Christmas, before the king’s face.Alack! then, for pity, must I bear the curse,That only belongs to the cunning cut-purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for stealing a purse.But O, you vile nation of cut-purses all,Relent, and repent, and amend, and be sound,And know that you ought not by honest men’s fall,Advance your own fortunes to die above ground.And though you go gayIn silks as you may,It is not the highway to heaven (as they say.)Repent then, repent you, for better, for worse;And kiss not the gallows for cutting a purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.
A Caveat against Cut-purses.
My masters, and friends, and good people draw near,And look to your purses, for that I do say;And though little money, in them you do bear,It cost more to get, than to lose in a day,You oft’ have been told,Both the young and the old,And bidden beware of the cut-purse so bold.Then if you take heed not, free me from the curse,Who both give you warning, for, and the cut-purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.It hath been upbraided to men of my trade,That oftentimes we are the cause of this crime:Alack, and for pity, why should it be said?As if they regarded or places, or time.Examples have beenOf some that were seenIn Westminster-hall, yea, the pleaders between;Then why should the judges be free from this curseMore than my poor self, for cutting the purse?Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.At Worc’ter ’tis known well, and even i’ the jail,A knight of good worship did there shew his faceAgainst the foul sinners in zeal for to rail,And lost,ipso facto, his purse in the place.Nay, once from the seatOf judgment so great,A judge there did lose a fair pouch of velvet;O, Lord for thy mercy, how wicked, or worse,Are those that so venture their necks for a purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for stealing a purse.At plays, and at sermons, and at the sessions,’Tis daily their practice such booty to make;Yea, under the gallows, at executions,They stick not the stare-abouts’ purses to take.Nay, one without grace,At a better place,At court, and in Christmas, before the king’s face.Alack! then, for pity, must I bear the curse,That only belongs to the cunning cut-purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for stealing a purse.But O, you vile nation of cut-purses all,Relent, and repent, and amend, and be sound,And know that you ought not by honest men’s fall,Advance your own fortunes to die above ground.And though you go gayIn silks as you may,It is not the highway to heaven (as they say.)Repent then, repent you, for better, for worse;And kiss not the gallows for cutting a purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.
My masters, and friends, and good people draw near,And look to your purses, for that I do say;And though little money, in them you do bear,It cost more to get, than to lose in a day,You oft’ have been told,Both the young and the old,And bidden beware of the cut-purse so bold.Then if you take heed not, free me from the curse,Who both give you warning, for, and the cut-purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.
It hath been upbraided to men of my trade,That oftentimes we are the cause of this crime:Alack, and for pity, why should it be said?As if they regarded or places, or time.Examples have beenOf some that were seenIn Westminster-hall, yea, the pleaders between;Then why should the judges be free from this curseMore than my poor self, for cutting the purse?Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.
At Worc’ter ’tis known well, and even i’ the jail,A knight of good worship did there shew his faceAgainst the foul sinners in zeal for to rail,And lost,ipso facto, his purse in the place.Nay, once from the seatOf judgment so great,A judge there did lose a fair pouch of velvet;O, Lord for thy mercy, how wicked, or worse,Are those that so venture their necks for a purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for stealing a purse.
At plays, and at sermons, and at the sessions,’Tis daily their practice such booty to make;Yea, under the gallows, at executions,They stick not the stare-abouts’ purses to take.Nay, one without grace,At a better place,At court, and in Christmas, before the king’s face.Alack! then, for pity, must I bear the curse,That only belongs to the cunning cut-purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for stealing a purse.
But O, you vile nation of cut-purses all,Relent, and repent, and amend, and be sound,And know that you ought not by honest men’s fall,Advance your own fortunes to die above ground.And though you go gayIn silks as you may,It is not the highway to heaven (as they say.)Repent then, repent you, for better, for worse;And kiss not the gallows for cutting a purse.Youth, youth, thou hadst better been starved by thy nurse,Than live to be hanged for cutting a purse.
While Nightingale sings this ballad, a fellow tickles Cokes’s ear with a straw, to make him withdraw his hand from his pocket, and privately robs him of his purse, which, at the end of the song, he secretly conveys to the ballad-singer; who, notwithstanding his “Caveat against Cut-purses,” is their principal confederate, and, in that quality, becomes the unsuspected depository of the plunder.
Littlewit tells his wife, Win, of the great hog, and of a bull with five legs, in the Fair. Zeal-of-the-land loudly declaims against the Fair, and against Trash’s commodities:—“Hence with thy basket of popery, thy nest of images, and whole legend of ginger-work.” He rails against “the prophane pipes, the tinkling timbrels;” and Adam Overdoo, a reforming justice of peace, one of “the court ofPie-powders,” who wears a disguise for the better observation of disorder, gets into the stocks himself. Then “a western man, that’s come to wrestle before my lord mayor anon,” gets drunk, and is cried by “the clerk o’ the market all the Fair over here, for my lord’s service.” Zeal-of-the-land Busy, too, is put with others into the stocks, and being asked, “what are you, sir?” he answers, “One that rejoiceth in his affliction, and sitteth here to prophesy the destruction of fairs and may-games, wakes and whitsun-ales, and doth sigh and groan for the reformation of these abuses.” During a scuffle, the keepers of the stocks leave them open, and those who are confined withdraw their legs and walk away.
From a speech by Leatherhead, preparatory to exhibiting his “motion,” or puppet-show, we become acquainted with the subjects, and the manner of the performance. He says, “Out with the sign of our invention, in the name of wit; all the fowl i’ the Fair, I mean all the dirt in Smithfield, will be thrown at our banner to-day, if the matter does not please the people. O! themotionsthat I, Lanthorn Leatherhead, have given light to, i’ my time, since my master, Pod, died!Jerusalemwas a stately thing; and so wasNinevehandThe City of Norwich, andSodom and Gomorrah; with theRising o’ the Prentices, and pulling down the houses there upon Shrove-Tuesday; butthe Gunpowder Plot, there was a get-penny! I have presented that to an eighteen or twenty pence audience nine times in an afternoon. Look to your gathering there, good master Filcher—and when there come any gentlefolks take twopence a-piece.” He has a bill of hismotionwhich reads thus: “The Ancient Modern History ofHero and Leander, otherwise called, theTouchstone of True Love, with as true a Trial of Friendship betweenDamon and Pythias, two faithful Friends o’ the Bank-side.” This was the motion written by Littlewit. Cokes arrives, and inquires, “What do we pay for coming in, fellow?” Filcher answers, “Twopence, sir.”
“Cokes.What manner of matter is this, Mr. Littlewit? What kind of actors ha’ you? are they good actors?
“Littlewit.Pretty youths, sir, all children both old and young, here’s the master of ’em, Master Lantern, that gives light to the business.
“Cokes.In good time, sir, I would fain see ’em; I would be glad to drink with the young company; which is the tiring-house?
“Leatherhead.Troth, sir, our tiring-house is somewhat little; we are but beginners yet, pray pardon us; you cannot go upright in’t.
“Cokes.No? not now my hat is off? what would you have done with me, if you had had me feather and all, as I was once to-day? Ha’ you none of your pretty impudent boys now, to bring stools, fill tobacco, fetch ale, and beg money, as they have at other houses? let me see some o’ your actors.
“Littlewit.Shew him ’em, shew him ’em. Master Lantern; this is a gentleman that is a favourer of the quality.
[Leatherhead brings the puppets out in a basket.]
“Cokes.What! do they live in baskets?
“Leatherhead.They do lie in a basket, sir: they are o’ the small players.
“Cokes.These be players minor indeed. Do you call these players?
“Leatherhead.They are actors, sir, and as good as any, none dispraised, for dumb shows: Indeed I am the mouth of ’em all.—This is he that acts young Leander, sir; and this is lovely Hero; this, with the beard, Damon; and this, pretty Pythias: this is the ghost of king Dionysius, in the habit of a scrivener: as you shall see anon, at large.
“Cokes.But do you play it according to the printed book? I have read that.
“Leatherhead.By no means, sir.
“Cokes.No? How then?
“Leatherhead.A better way, sir;thatis too learned and poetical for our audience: what do they know whatHellespontis?guilty of true love’s blood? or whatAbydosis? or the otherSestosheight?—No; I have entreated master Littlewit to take a little pains to reduce it to a more familiar strain for our people.
“Littlewit.I have only made it a little easy and modern for the times, sir, that’s all: as for the Hellespont, I imagine our Thames here; and then Leander, I make a dyer’s son about Puddle-wharf; and Hero, a wench o’ the Bank-side, who going over one morning to Old Fish-street, Leander spies her land at Trig’s-stairs, and falls in love with her: now do I introduce Cupid, having metamorphosed himself into a drawer, and he strikes Hero in love with a pint of sherry.”
While “Cokes is handling the puppets” the doorkeepers call out “Twopence a-piece, gentlemen; an excellentmotion.” Other visitors enter and take their seats, and Cokes, while waiting with some of his acquaintance, employs the time at the “game ofvapours, which is nonsense; every man to oppose the last man that spoke, whether it concerned him or no.” The audience become impatient, and one calls out, “Do you hear puppet-master, these are tediousvapours; when begin you?” Filcher, Leatherhead’s man, with the other doorkeepers, continue to bawl, “Twopence a-piece, sir; the bestmotionin the Fair.” Meanwhile the company talk, and one relates that he has already seen in the Fair, the eagle; the black wolf; the bull with five legs, which “was a calf at Uxbridge Fair two years agone;” the dogs that dance the morrice; and “the hare o’ the taber.”
Ben Jonson’s mention of the hare that beat the tabor at Bartholomew Fair in his time, is noticed by the indefatigable and accurate Strutt; who gives the followingrepresentationof the feat itself, which he affirms, when he copied it from a drawing in the Harleian collection, (6563,) to have been upwards of four hundred years old.
Hare and Tabor.
Hare and Tabor.
For an idea of Leatherhead’smotiontake as follows: it commences thus:—
Leatherhead.Gentiles, that no longer your expectations may wander,Behold our chief actor, amorous Leander;With a great deal of cloth, lapp’d about him like a scarf,For he yet serves his father, a dyer at Puddle-wharf.Which place we’ll make bold with to call it ourAbidus,As the Bank-side is ourSestos; and let it not be denied usNow as he is beating, to make the dye take the fuller,Who chances to come by, but fair Hero in a sculler;And seeing Leander’s naked leg, and goodly calf,Cast at him from the boat a sheep’s eye and an half,Now she is landed, and the sculler come back,By and by you shall see what Leander doth lack.Puppet Leander.Cole, Cole, old Cole.Leatherhead.That is the sculler’s name without controul.Pup. Leander.Cole, Cole, I say, Cole.Leatherhead.We do hear you.Pup. Leander.Old Cole.Leatherhead.Old Cole? is the dyer turn’d collier?—Pup. Leander.Why Cole, I say, Cole.Leatherhead.It’s the sculler you need.Pup. Leander.Aye, and be hang’d.Leatherhead.Be hang’d! look you yonder,Old Cole, you must go hang with master Leander.Puppet Cole.Where is he?Puppet Leander.Here Cole. What fairest of fairsWas that fare that thou landest but now at Trig’s-stairs?Puppet Cole.It is lovely Hero.Puppet Leander.Nero?Puppet Cole.No, Hero.Leatherhead.It is HeroOf the Bank-side, he saith, to tell you truth, without erring,Is come over into Fish-street to eat some fresh herring.Leander says no more but as fast as he can,Gets on all his best clothes, and will after to the swan.
Leatherhead.Gentiles, that no longer your expectations may wander,Behold our chief actor, amorous Leander;With a great deal of cloth, lapp’d about him like a scarf,For he yet serves his father, a dyer at Puddle-wharf.Which place we’ll make bold with to call it ourAbidus,As the Bank-side is ourSestos; and let it not be denied usNow as he is beating, to make the dye take the fuller,Who chances to come by, but fair Hero in a sculler;And seeing Leander’s naked leg, and goodly calf,Cast at him from the boat a sheep’s eye and an half,Now she is landed, and the sculler come back,By and by you shall see what Leander doth lack.Puppet Leander.Cole, Cole, old Cole.Leatherhead.That is the sculler’s name without controul.Pup. Leander.Cole, Cole, I say, Cole.Leatherhead.We do hear you.Pup. Leander.Old Cole.Leatherhead.Old Cole? is the dyer turn’d collier?—Pup. Leander.Why Cole, I say, Cole.Leatherhead.It’s the sculler you need.Pup. Leander.Aye, and be hang’d.Leatherhead.Be hang’d! look you yonder,Old Cole, you must go hang with master Leander.Puppet Cole.Where is he?Puppet Leander.Here Cole. What fairest of fairsWas that fare that thou landest but now at Trig’s-stairs?Puppet Cole.It is lovely Hero.Puppet Leander.Nero?Puppet Cole.No, Hero.Leatherhead.It is HeroOf the Bank-side, he saith, to tell you truth, without erring,Is come over into Fish-street to eat some fresh herring.Leander says no more but as fast as he can,Gets on all his best clothes, and will after to the swan.
Leatherhead.Gentiles, that no longer your expectations may wander,Behold our chief actor, amorous Leander;With a great deal of cloth, lapp’d about him like a scarf,For he yet serves his father, a dyer at Puddle-wharf.Which place we’ll make bold with to call it ourAbidus,As the Bank-side is ourSestos; and let it not be denied usNow as he is beating, to make the dye take the fuller,Who chances to come by, but fair Hero in a sculler;And seeing Leander’s naked leg, and goodly calf,Cast at him from the boat a sheep’s eye and an half,Now she is landed, and the sculler come back,By and by you shall see what Leander doth lack.Puppet Leander.Cole, Cole, old Cole.Leatherhead.That is the sculler’s name without controul.Pup. Leander.Cole, Cole, I say, Cole.Leatherhead.We do hear you.Pup. Leander.Old Cole.Leatherhead.Old Cole? is the dyer turn’d collier?—Pup. Leander.Why Cole, I say, Cole.Leatherhead.It’s the sculler you need.Pup. Leander.Aye, and be hang’d.Leatherhead.Be hang’d! look you yonder,Old Cole, you must go hang with master Leander.Puppet Cole.Where is he?Puppet Leander.Here Cole. What fairest of fairsWas that fare that thou landest but now at Trig’s-stairs?Puppet Cole.It is lovely Hero.Puppet Leander.Nero?Puppet Cole.No, Hero.Leatherhead.It is HeroOf the Bank-side, he saith, to tell you truth, without erring,Is come over into Fish-street to eat some fresh herring.Leander says no more but as fast as he can,Gets on all his best clothes, and will after to the swan.
In this way Leatherhead proceeds with hismotion; he relates part of the story himself, in a ribald manner, and making the puppets quarrel, “the puppet Cole strikes him over the pate.” He performsDamonandPythiasin the same way, and renders the “gallimaufry” more ridiculous, by a battle between the puppets inHeroandLeander, and those ofDamonandPythias. Zeal-of-the-land Busy interferes with the puppet Dionysius, who had been raised up by Leatherhead—
“Not like a monarch but the master of a school,In a scrivener’s furr’d gown which shows he is no fool;For, therein he hath wit enough to keep himself warm:O Damon! he cries, and Pythias what harmHath poor Dionysius done you in his grave,That after his death, you should fall out thus and rave,” &c.
“Not like a monarch but the master of a school,In a scrivener’s furr’d gown which shows he is no fool;For, therein he hath wit enough to keep himself warm:O Damon! he cries, and Pythias what harmHath poor Dionysius done you in his grave,That after his death, you should fall out thus and rave,” &c.
“Not like a monarch but the master of a school,In a scrivener’s furr’d gown which shows he is no fool;For, therein he hath wit enough to keep himself warm:O Damon! he cries, and Pythias what harmHath poor Dionysius done you in his grave,That after his death, you should fall out thus and rave,” &c.
Zeal-of-the-land contends that Dionysius hath not a “lawful calling.” That puppet retorts by saying he hath; and inquires—“What say you to the feather makers i’ the Fryers, with their peruques and their puffs, their fans and their huffs? what say you? Is a bugle-maker a lawful calling? or the confect-makers? such as you have there? or your French fashioner? Is a puppet worse than these?”—Whereto Zeal-of-the-land answers—“Yes, and my main argument against you is, that you are an abomination; for the male among you putteth on the apparel of the female, and the female of the male.” The puppet Dionysius triumphantly replies, “You lie, you lie, you lie abominably. It’s your old stale argument against theplayers; but it will not hold against thepuppets: for we have neither male nor female amongst us.” Upon this point, which persons versed in dramatic history are familiar with, Zeal-of-the-land says, “I am confuted, thecausehath failed me—I am changed, and will become a beholder.”
These selections which are here carefully brought together may, so far as they extend, be regarded as a picture of Bartholomew Fair in 1614, when Jonson wrote his comedy for representation before king James I. We learn too from this play that there was a tooth-drawer, and “a jugler with a well educated ape, to come over the chain for the king of England, and back again for the prince, and to sit still on his hind quarters for the pope and the king of Spain;” that there was a whipping-post in the Fair, and that Smithfield was dirty and stinking. Beside particulars, which a mere historiographer of the scene would have recorded, there are some that are essentially illustrative of popular manners, which no other than an imaginative mind would have seized, and only a poet penned.
A little digression may be requisite in explanation of the termarsedine, used by Trash to Leatherhead in Jonson’s play; the denominationcostermonger;the tunePaggington’s-pound; and thePie-pouldres, orPie Powder Court.
This is also calledarsadine, and sometimesorsden, and is said to be a colour. Mr. Archdeacon Nares says, that according to Mr. Lysons, in his “Environs of London,” and Mr. Gifford in his note on this passage, it meansorpimentoryellowarsenic. The archdeacon in giving these two authorities, calls the word a “vulgar corruption” of “arsenic:” but arsenic yieldsred, as well asyelloworpiment, and both these colours are used in the getting up of shows. Possibly it is an Anglo-Saxon word for certain pigments, obtained from minerals and metals: theoreoꞃe or oꞃa is pure Saxon, and pluralizesores; todiein the sense ofdying, or colouring, is derived from the Saxon ðeaᵹ or ðeah. The conjecture may be worth a thought perhaps, for dramatic exhibitions were in use when the Anglo-Saxon was used.
This is a corruption of costard-monger; Ben Jonson uses it both ways, and it is noticed of his costermonger by Mr. Archdeacon Nares, that “he cries onlypears.” That gentleman rightly defines acostard-monger, orcoster-monger, to be “a seller ofapples;” he adds, “one generally who kept a stall.” He says ofcostard, that, “as a species of apple, it is enumerated with others, but it must have been a very common sort, as it gave a name to the dealers in apples.” In this supposition Mr. Nares is correct; for it was not only a very common sort, but perhaps, after the crab, it was our oldest sort: there were three kinds of it, the white, red, and grey costard. That the costard-monger, according to Mr. Nares, “generallykept a stall;” “and that they were general fruit-sellers,” he unluckily has not corroborated by an authority; although from his constant desire to be accurate, and his general accuracy, the assertions are to be regarded with respect. Randle Holme gives this figure of