An Ancient Song of Bartholomew Fair.In fifty-five, may I never thrive,If I tell you any more than is true,To London che came, hearing of the fameOf a Fair they call Bartholomew.In houses of boards, men walk upon cords,As easie as squirrels crack filberds;But the cut-purses they do lite, and rub away,But those we suppose to be ill birds.For a penny you may zee a fine puppet play,And for two-pence a rare piece of art;And a penny a cann, I dare swear a man,May put zix of ’em into a quart.Their zights are so rich, is able to bewitchThe heart of a very fine man-a;Here’s patient Grizel here, and Fair Rosamond there,And the history of Susanna.At Pye-corner end, mark well, my good friend,’Tis a very fine dirty place;Where there’s more arrows and bows, the Lord above knows,Than was handl’d at Chivy Chase.Then at Smithfield Bars, betwixt the ground and the stars,There’s a place they call Shoemaker Row,Where that you may buy shoes every day,Or go barefoot all the year I tro’.[288]
An Ancient Song of Bartholomew Fair.
In fifty-five, may I never thrive,If I tell you any more than is true,To London che came, hearing of the fameOf a Fair they call Bartholomew.In houses of boards, men walk upon cords,As easie as squirrels crack filberds;But the cut-purses they do lite, and rub away,But those we suppose to be ill birds.For a penny you may zee a fine puppet play,And for two-pence a rare piece of art;And a penny a cann, I dare swear a man,May put zix of ’em into a quart.Their zights are so rich, is able to bewitchThe heart of a very fine man-a;Here’s patient Grizel here, and Fair Rosamond there,And the history of Susanna.At Pye-corner end, mark well, my good friend,’Tis a very fine dirty place;Where there’s more arrows and bows, the Lord above knows,Than was handl’d at Chivy Chase.Then at Smithfield Bars, betwixt the ground and the stars,There’s a place they call Shoemaker Row,Where that you may buy shoes every day,Or go barefoot all the year I tro’.[288]
In fifty-five, may I never thrive,If I tell you any more than is true,To London che came, hearing of the fameOf a Fair they call Bartholomew.
In houses of boards, men walk upon cords,As easie as squirrels crack filberds;But the cut-purses they do lite, and rub away,But those we suppose to be ill birds.
For a penny you may zee a fine puppet play,And for two-pence a rare piece of art;And a penny a cann, I dare swear a man,May put zix of ’em into a quart.
Their zights are so rich, is able to bewitchThe heart of a very fine man-a;Here’s patient Grizel here, and Fair Rosamond there,And the history of Susanna.
At Pye-corner end, mark well, my good friend,’Tis a very fine dirty place;Where there’s more arrows and bows, the Lord above knows,Than was handl’d at Chivy Chase.
Then at Smithfield Bars, betwixt the ground and the stars,There’s a place they call Shoemaker Row,Where that you may buy shoes every day,Or go barefoot all the year I tro’.[288]
In 1699, Ned Ward relates his visit to the Fair:—
“We ordered the coachman to set us down at the Hospital-gate, near which we went into a convenient house to smoke a pipe, and overlook the follies of the innumerable throng, whose impatient desires of seeing Merry Andrew’s grimaces, had led them ancle deep into filth and nastiness.—The first objects, when we were seated at the window that lay within our observation, were the quality of the Fair, strutting round their balconies in their tinsey robes, and golden leather buckskins, expressing such pride in their buffoonery stateliness, that I could but reasonably believe they were as much elevated with the thought of their fortnight’s pageantry, as ever Alexander was with the thought of a new conquest looking with great contempt from their slit deal thrones, upon the admiring mobility gazing in the dirt at our ostentatious heroes, and their most supercilious doxies, who looked as aukward and ungainly in their gorgeous accoutrements, as an alderman’s lady in her stiffen-bodied gown upon a lord mayor’s festival.”[289]
At the Fair of 1701, there was exhibited a tiger which had been taught to pluck a fowl’s feathers from its body.
In the reign of queen Anne the following curious bill relates part of the entertainment at one of the shows:—
“By her majesty’s permission, at Heatly’s booth, over against the Cross Daggers, next to Mr. Miller’s booth,during the time of Bartholomew Fair, will be presented a little opera, called The Old Creation of the World new Revived, with the addition of the glorious battle obtained over the French and Spaniards by his grace the duke of Marlborough. The contents are these, 1. The creation of Adam and Eve. 2. The intrigues of Lucifer in the garden of Eden. 3. Adam and Eve driven out of Paradise. 4. Cain going to plow; Abel driving sheep. 5. Cain killeth his brother Abel. 6. Abraham offereth up his son Isaac. 7. Three wise men of the east, guided by a star, come and worship Christ. 8. Joseph and Mary flee away by night upon an ass. 9. King Herod’s cruelty; his men’s spears laden with children. 10. Rich Dives invites his friends, and orders his porter to keep the beggars from his gate. 11. Poor Lazarus comes a begging at rich Dives’ gate, the dogs lick his sores. 12. The good angel and Death contend for Lazarus’s life. 13. Rich Dives is taken sick, and dieth; he is buried in great solemnity. 14. Rich Dives in hell, and Lazarus in Abraham’s bosom, seen in a most glorious object, all in machines descending in a throne, guarded with multitudes of angels; with the breaking of the clouds, discovering the palace of the sun, in double and treble prospects, to the admiration of all the spectators. Likewise several rich and large figures, which dance jiggs, sarabands, anticks, and country dances, between every act; compleated with the merry humours of Sir Jno. Spendall and Punchinello, with several other things never exposed. Performed by Matt. Heatly.Vivat Regina.”
A writer in the “Secret Mercury,” of September 9, 1702, says, “Wednesday, September 3, having padlocked my pockets, and trimmed myself with Hudibras from head to foot, I set out about six for Bartholomew Fair; and having thrown away substantial silver for visionary theatrical entertainment, I made myself ready for the farce; but I had scarce composed myself, when bolts me into the pit a bully beau, &c. The curtain drew, and discovered a nation of beauish machines; their motions were so starched, that I began to question whether I had mistaken myself, and Dogget’s booth for a puppet-show. As I was debating the matter, they advanced towards the front of the stage, and making a halt, began a singing so miserably, that I was forced to tune my own whistle in romance ere my brains were set straight again. All the secret I could for my life discover in the whole grotesque, was the consistency of drift of the piece, which I could never demonstrate to this hour. At last, all the childish parade shrunk off the stage by matter and motion, and enter a hobletehoy of a dance, and Dogget, in old woman’s petticoats and red waistcoat, as like Progue Cock as ever man saw; it would have made a stoic split his lungs, if he had seen the temporary harlot sing and weep both at once; a true emblem of a woman’s tears. When these Christmas carols were over, enter a wooden horse; now I concluded we should have the ballad of Troy-town, but I was disappointed in the scene, for a dancing-master comes in, begins complimenting the horse, and fetching me three or four run-bars with his arm, (as if he would have mortified the ox at one blow,) takes a frolic upon the back of it, and translates himself into cavalry at one bound; all I could clap was the patience of the beast. However, having played upon him about half a quarter, the conqueror was pursued with such a clangor from the crusted clutches of the mob in the sixpenny place, that for five minutes together I was tossed on this dilemma, that either a man had not five senses, or I was no man. The stage was now overrun with nothing but merry-andrews and pickle-herrings. This mountebank scene was removed at last, and I was full of expectations that the successor would be pills, pots of balsam, and orvietan; but, alas, they were half empirics, and therefore exeunt omnes.”
We learn something of the excesses at the Fair from “The Observator,” of August 21, 1703:—“Does this market of lewdness tend to any thing else but the ruin of the bodies, souls, and estates of the young men and women of the city of London, who here meet with all the temptations to destruction? The lotteries, to ruin their estates; the drolls, comedies, interludes, and farces, to poison their minds, &c. and in the cloisters what strange medley of lewdness has that place not long since afforded! Lords and ladies, aldermen and their wives, ’squires and fiddlers, citizens and rope-dancers, jack-puddings and lawyers, mistresses and maids, masters and ’prentices! This is not an ark, like Noah’s which received the clean and unclean; only the unclean beasts enter this ark, and such as have the devil’s livery on their backs.”
An advertisement in “The Postman,” of August 19, 1703, by “Barnes and Finley,” invites the reader to “see my lady Mary perform such curious steps on the dancing-rope,” &c. &c. Lady Mary is noticed in “Heraclitus Ridens,” No. 7. “Look upon the old gentleman; his eyes are fixed upon my lady Mary: Cupid has shot him as dead as a robin. Poor Heraclitus! he has cried away all his moisture, and is such a dotard to entertain himself with a prospect of what is meat for his betters; wake him out of his lethargy, and tell him the young noblemen and senators will take it amiss if a man of his years makes pretensions to what is more than a match for their youth. Those roguish eyes have brought her more admirers than ever Jenny Bolton had.”
Lady Mary was the daughter of noble parents, inhabitants of Florence, who immured her in a nunnery; but she accidentally saw a merry-andrew, with whom she formed a clandestine intercourse; an elopement followed, and finally, he taught her his infamous tricks, which she exhibited for his profit, till vice had made her his own, as Heraclitus proves. The catastrophe of “the lady Mary” was dreadful: her husband, impatient of delays or impediments to profit, either permitted or commanded her to exhibit on the rope, when her situation required compassionate consideration; she fell never to rise again, nor to open her eyes on her untimely infant, which perished in a few minutes after her.
In 1715, Dawks’s “News Letter,” says, “on Wednesday, Bartholomew Fair began, to which we hear, the greatest number of black cattle was brought, that was ever known.—There is one great playhouse erected in the middle of Smithfield for the king’s players.—The booth is the largest that was ever built.” Actors of celebrity performed in the Fair at that time, and in many succeeding years.
A recent writer, evidently well acquainted with the manners of the period, introduces us to a character mentioned in a former sheet. “In the midst of all, the public attention was attracted to a tall, well-made, and handsome-looking man, who was dressed in a very fashionable suit of white, trimmed with gold lace, a laced ruffled shirt, rolled white silk stockings, a white apron, and a large cocked hat, formed of gingerbread, fringed and garnished with Dutch gold. He carried on his arm a basket filled with gingerbread cakes, one of which he held up in the air; while the other hand was stuck with an easy and fashionable manner into his bosom. For this singular vendor of confectionary every one made way, and numbers followed in his train, shouting after him, ‘there goes Tiddy Doll!’ the name by which that remarkable character was known. He himself did not pass silently through the crowd, but as he went along, he poured forth a multiplicity of praises of his ware, occasionally enlivened by that song which first procured him his name.” This was at the Fair of the year 1740 concerning which the same illustrator thus continues: “The multitude behind was impelled violently forwards, a broad blaze of red light, issuing from a score of flambeaux, streamed into the air; several voices were loudly shouting, ‘room there for prince George! make way for the prince!’ and there was that long sweep heard to pass over the ground, which indicates the approach of a grand and ceremonious train. Presently the pressure became much greater, the voices louder, the light stronger, and as the train came onward, it might be seen that it consisted, firstly, of a party of yeomen of the guards clearing the way; then several more of them bearing flambeaux, and flanking the procession; while in the midst of all appeared a tall, fair, and handsome young man, having something of a plump foreign visage, seemingly about four and thirty years of age, dressed in a ruby-coloured frock coat, very richly guarded with gold lace, and having his long flowing hair curiously curled over his forehead and at the sides, and finished with a very large bag and courtly queue behind. The air of dignity with which he walked, the blue ribbon, and star and garter with which he was decorated, the small three-cornered silk court hat which he wore, whilst all around him were uncovered; the numerous suite, as well of gentlemen as of guards, which marshalled him along, the obsequious attention of a short stout person, who by his flourishing manner seemed to be a player,—all these particulars indicated that the amiable Frederick, prince of Wales was visiting Bartholomew Fair by torchlight, and that manager Rich was introducing his royal guest to all the entertainments of the place. However strange this circumstance may appear to the present generation, yet it is nevertheless strictly true; for about 1740, when the drolls in Smithfield were extended tothree weeks and a month, it was not considered as derogatory to persons of the first rank and fashion, to partake in the broad humour and theatrical amusements of the place. It should also be remembered, that many an eminent performer of the last century, unfolded his abilities in a booth; and that it was once considered, as an important and excellent preparative to their treading the boards of a theatre-royal.” One of the players is thus represented as informing a spectator concerning the occupation of an itinerant actor:—“I will, as we say, take you behind the scenes. First then, a valuable actor must sleep in the pit, and wake early to sweep the theatre, and throw fresh sawdust into the boxes; he must shake out the dresses, and wind up and dust the motion-jacks; he must teach the dull ones how to act, rout up the idlers from the straw, and redeem those that happen to get into the watch-house. Then, sir, when the Fair begins, he should sometimes walk about the stage grandly, and show his dress: sometimes he should dance with his fellows; sometimes he should sing; sometimes he should blow the trumpet; sometimes he should laugh and joke with the crowd, and give them a kind of a touch-and-go speech, which keep them merry, and makes them come in. Then, sir, he should sometimes cover his state robe with a great coat, and go into the crowd, and shout opposite his own booth, like a stranger who is struck with its magnificence: by the way, sir, that’s a good trick, I never knew it fail to make an audience; and then he has only to steal away, mount his stage, and strut, and dance, and sing, and trumpet, and roar over again.”[290]
An advertisement in the “London Gazette” of April the 13th, 1682, shows under what authority showmen and similar persons “labour in their vocation:”—
“Whereas Mr. John Clarke, of London, bookseller, did rent of Charles Killigrew, Esq. the licensing of all ballad-singers for five years; which time is expired at Lady-day next. These are, therefore, to give notice to all ballad-singers, that they take out licences at the office of the revels, at Whitehall, for singing and selling of ballads, and small books, according to an ancient custom. And all persons concerned are hereby desired to take notice of, and to suppress all mountebanks, rope-dancers, prize-players, ballad-singers, and such as make show of motions and strange sights, that have not a licence in red and black letters, under the hand and seal of the said Charles Killigrew, Esq. master of the revels to his majesty;” and in particular it requires them to suppress two, one of them being “Thomas Teats mountebank,” who have no licence “that they may be proceeded against according to law.”
The late John Charles Crowle, Esq. who bequeathed his illustrated copy of “Pennant’s London” to the British Museum, which he valued at 5000l.was master of the revels. In that quality he claimed a seat in any part of the theatres, and being opposed by the manager of the little theatre in the Haymarket, maintained his right. He was also trumpet-major of England, to whom every one who blows a trumpet publicly (excepting those of the theatres-royal) must pay a certain sum, and therefore the office has jurisdiction of all the merry-andrews and jack-puddings of every Fair throughout England. The office of master of the revels was created under Henry VIII. in 1546. The identical seal of the office used under five sovereigns, was engraved on wood, and is in the possession of Francis Douce, Esq. F.S.A., who permitted impressions of it to be inserted first by Mr. Chalmers in his “Apology for the believers in the Shakspeare MSS.,” and next by Mr. J. T. Smith, of the British Museum, in his “Ancient Topography of London:” the legend on it is “Sigill: Offic: Jocor: Mascar: et Revell: Dnis. Reg.” Mr. Chalmers’s work also contains the “arms of the revels.”[291]
Mr. J. T. Smith was informed by Mr. Thomas Batrich, an ancient barber of Drury-lane, that Mr. Garrick shortly after his marriage conducted Mrs. Garrick to Yates and Shuter’s booth; Garrick being rudely pushed called upon his bill-sticker, old Palmer, who had been engaged to receive the money at the entrance of the booth, for protection. Palmer, though a very strong man, professed himself sorry he could not serve him in Smithfield; alleging that few people there knew Garrick off the stage. One of the merry-andrewswho attended on the quack doctors was so much superior to the rest of his profession for wit and gesture, that he was noticed by all ranks of people. Between the seasons he sold gingerbread nuts about Covent-garden, and was the most polite and quiet vendor of the article in London; for to keep up his value at fairs, where he had a guinea a day for his performance besides presents from the multitude, he would never laugh or notice a joke when a dealer in nuts.
Mr. Edward Oram, who died at Hampstead in his seventy-third year, and was buried at Hendon, was intimate with Hogarth in his youth, and introduced him, soon after he left his master, to the proprietors of Drury-lane theatre, where he and Oram painted scenes conjointly, for several years, and were employed by a famous woman, who kept a droll in Bartholomew Fair to paint a splendid set of scenes. The agreement particularly specified that the scenes were to be gilt; but instead of leaf gold being used, they were covered in the usual way with Dutch metal: the mistress of the drolls declared the contract to be broken, and refused to pay for the scenes.[292]
Without going into a history of Bartholomew Fair, it may be remarked that in 1778 it was attended by a foreigner, who exhibited serpents that danced on silk ropes to the sound of music. In 1782, the late Mrs. Baker, proprietor of the Rochester theatre, brought here her company of comedians as “show-folk.” In four successive years, from 1779 to 1780, Mr. Hall of the City-road, eminent for his skill in the preservation of deceased animals, exhibited at the Fair his fine collection of stuffed birds and beasts, which he exhibited for many years before and afterwards at his own house. To obtain notice to it in Smithfield, he engaged sir Jeffery Dunstan to give his imitations in crying “old wigs;” but the mob were no admirers of “still life:” at Hall’s last visit they drew his fine zebra round the Fair; from thenceforth sir Jeffery’s imitations ceased to draw, and Hall came no more.
The exhibitions of living animals at this Fair have been always attractive. Hither came the “illustrious” Pidcock, with his wild beasts, and to him succeeded the “not less illustrious” Polito.
Hither also came the formerly famous, and still well-remembered Astley, with his “equestrian troop,” and his learned horse. These feats were the admiration of never-ceasing audiences, and to him succeeded Saunders with like success.
Flockton was the last eminent “motion-master” at Bartholomew Fair. He was himself a good performer, and about 1790 his wooden puppets were in high vogue. He brought them every year till his death, which happened at Peckham, where he resided in a respectable way, upon a handsome competence realized by their exhibition at this and the principal fairs in the country. Flockton’s “Punch” was a very superior one to the present street show. He had trained a Newfoundland dog to fight his puppet, representing the devil, whom he always conquered in due time, and then ran away with him.
A puppet-show, or play performed by puppets, was anciently called a “motion;” and sometimes, in common talk, a single puppet was called “a motion.” These were very favourite spectacles. In the times of the papacy, the priests at Witney, in Oxfordshire, annually exhibited a show ofThe Resurrection, &c. by garnishing out certain small puppets representing the persons of Christ, Mary, and others. Amongst them, one in the character of a waking watchman, espying Christ to arise, made a continual noise, like the sound caused by the meeting of two sticks, and was therefore commonly calledJack Snacker of Wytney. Lambarde, when a child, saw a like puppet in St. Paul’s cathedral, London, at the feast of Whitsuntide; where the descent of the Holy Ghost was performed by a white pigeon being let fly out of a hole in the midst of the roof of the great aisle, with a long censer, which descending from the same place almost to the ground, was swung up and down at such a length, that it reached with one sweep almost to the west-gate of the church, and with the other to the choir stairs, breathing out over the whole church and the assembled multitude a most pleasant perfume, from the sweet things that burnt within it. Lambarde says, that they everywhere used the likedumb-shows, to furnish sundry parts of the church service with spectaclesof the nativity, passion, and ascension.
There may be added to the particulars of a former exhibition, a puppet-showman’s bill at the British Museum, which announces scriptural subjects in the reign of Anne, as follows: “At Crawley’s booth, over against the Crown Tavern, in Smithfield, during the time ofBartholomew Fair, will be presented a little opera, calledthe Old Creation of the World, yet newly revived; with the addition ofNoah’s Flood; also several fountains playing water during the time of the play. The last scene does present Noah and his family coming out of the ark, with all the beasts two by two, and all the fowls of the air seen in a prospect sitting upon trees; likewise over the ark is seen the sun rising in a glorious manner: moreover a multitude of angels will be seen in a double rank which presents a double prospect, one for the sun, the other for a palace, where will be seensix angels ringing of bells. Likewise machines descend from above, double and treble, withDives rising out of hell, and Lazarus seen in Abraham’s bosom, besides several figures dancing jigs, sarabands, and country dances, to the admiration of the spectators; with the merry conceits ofSquire Punch, and Sir John Spendall.”
These “motions” or puppet-shows were fashionable at this period in other places, and among fashionable people.
In the “Tatler” of May 14, 1709, there is an account of a puppet-show in a letter from Bath, describing the rivalry of Prudentia and Florimel, two ladies at that watering-place. Florimel bespoke the play of “Alexander the Great,” to be acted by the company of strollers on Thursday evening, and the letter-writer accepted the lady’s invitation to be of her party; but he says, “Prudentia had counterplotted us, and had bespoke on the same evening, the puppet-show of theCreation of the World. She had engaged every body to be there; and to turn our leader into ridicule, had secretly let them know that the puppetEvewas made the most like Florimel that ever was seen. On Thursday morning the puppet-drummer, with Adam and Eve, and several others that lived before the flood, passed through the streets on horseback to invite us all to the pastime; and Mr. Mayor was so wise as to prefer these innocent people, the puppets, who he said were to represent christians, before the wicked players who were to show Alexander an heathen philosopher. When we came toNoah’sflood in the show,Punchand his wife were introduced dancing in the ark. Old Mrs. Petulant desired both her daughters to mind the moral; then whispered to Mrs. Mayoress, ’this is very proper for young people to see,’ Punch at the end of the play made Madame Prudentia a bow, and was very civil to the whole company, making bows till his buttons touched the ground.” Sir Richard Steele in the “Spectator” of March 16, 1711, intimates that Powell, the puppet-showman, exhibited religious subjects with his puppets, under the little piazza in Covent-garden; and talks of “his next opera ofSusannah, orInnocence Betrayed, which will be exhibited next week with a pair of newelders.”
It is observed in a small pamphlet,[293]that “music forms one of the grand attractions of the Fair, and a number of itinerant musicians meet with constant employment at this time.” A band at the west-end of the town, well known for playing on winter evenings before the Spring-garden coffee-house, and opposite Wigley’s great exhibition-room, consisted of a double drum, a Dutch organ, the tambourine, violin pipes, and the Turkish jingle, used in the army. This band was generally hired at one of the first booths in the Fair; but the universal noise arising from so many other discordant instruments, with the cry of “show them in! just going to begin!” prevented their being attended to.
The pamphlet referred to mentions the performances by a family of tumblers, who went about with a large caravan, and attended all the Fairs near town; and that at the beginning of the last century, Clarke and Higgins made themselves famous for their wonderful exertions in this way. They would extend the body into all deformed shapes, stand upon one leg, and extend the other in a perpendicular line, half a yard above the head. The tumblers of the present day do not attempt such wonderful exploits, but they put their bodies into a variety of singular postures, and leap with remarkable facility.
Lane was a celebrated performer at this Fair, and had several pupils who succeeded him in practising the grand and sublime art of legerdemain, and varioustricks with cards and balls. The secrets of fortune were disclosed; unmarried damsels were told when and to whom they were to be married; and the widow when she should strip herself of her weeds, and enter anew into matrimony; knives were run through the hand without producing blood; knives and forks swallowed as of easy digestion; and fire and sparks proceeded out of a man’s mouth as from a blacksmith’s forge.
During Bartholomew Fair there were swings without number, besides round-abouts and up-and-downs. In the latter, the “young gentleman,” with his fair partner, were elated by the undulating motion, or rather vertical rotation of the machine; and while thus in motion, could survey the busy scene around, and hear its roar. The effect cannot be described which a stranger experienced upon entering Smithfield, and beholding the immense number of these vehicles, which appeared as if soaring into the clouds.
Then too, about the year 1815, a well-known eccentric character might be seen with plum-pudding on a board, which he sold in slices. He possessed as much drollery as any mountebank in the Fair, and had as various characteristic traits of oddity. He always walked without his hat, and his hair powdered and tieda la queue, in a neat dress, with a clean apron: his voice, strong and forcible, made many a humorous appeal in behalf of his pudding, large quantities of which he dealt out for “ready money,” and provoked a deal of mirth by his pleasantry.
George Alexander Stevens be-rhymes the Fair in his day thus:—
Here were, first of all, crowds against other crowds drivingLike wind and tide meeting, each contrary striving;Shrill fiddling, sharp fighting, and shouting and shrieking,Fifes, trumpets, drums, bagpipes, and barrow girls squeaking—“Come my rare round and sound, here’s choice of fine ware!”Though all was not sound sold at Bartelmew Fair.Here were drolls, hornpipe-dancing, and showing of postures,With frying black puddings, and opening of oysters;With salt-boxes, solos, and galley folks squalling,The tap-house guests roaring, and mouth-pieces bawling.Here’s “Punch’s whole play of the gunpowder plot,”“Wild beasts all alive,” and “peas pudding all hot.”“Fine sausages” fried, and “the Black on the wire,”“The whole court of France,” and “nice pig at the fire.”Here’s the up-and-downs, “who’ll take a seat in the chair?”Tho’ there’s more up-and-downs than at Bartelmew Fair.Here’s “Whittington’s cat,” and “the tall dromedary,”“The chaise without horses,” and “queen of Hungary.”Here’s the merry-go-rounds, “Come who rides, come who rides, sir,”Wine, beer, ale, and cakes, fire eating besides, sir,The fam’d “learned dog,” that can tell all his letters,And somemen, asscholars, are not much his betters.
Here were, first of all, crowds against other crowds drivingLike wind and tide meeting, each contrary striving;Shrill fiddling, sharp fighting, and shouting and shrieking,Fifes, trumpets, drums, bagpipes, and barrow girls squeaking—“Come my rare round and sound, here’s choice of fine ware!”Though all was not sound sold at Bartelmew Fair.Here were drolls, hornpipe-dancing, and showing of postures,With frying black puddings, and opening of oysters;With salt-boxes, solos, and galley folks squalling,The tap-house guests roaring, and mouth-pieces bawling.Here’s “Punch’s whole play of the gunpowder plot,”“Wild beasts all alive,” and “peas pudding all hot.”“Fine sausages” fried, and “the Black on the wire,”“The whole court of France,” and “nice pig at the fire.”Here’s the up-and-downs, “who’ll take a seat in the chair?”Tho’ there’s more up-and-downs than at Bartelmew Fair.Here’s “Whittington’s cat,” and “the tall dromedary,”“The chaise without horses,” and “queen of Hungary.”Here’s the merry-go-rounds, “Come who rides, come who rides, sir,”Wine, beer, ale, and cakes, fire eating besides, sir,The fam’d “learned dog,” that can tell all his letters,And somemen, asscholars, are not much his betters.
Here were, first of all, crowds against other crowds drivingLike wind and tide meeting, each contrary striving;Shrill fiddling, sharp fighting, and shouting and shrieking,Fifes, trumpets, drums, bagpipes, and barrow girls squeaking—“Come my rare round and sound, here’s choice of fine ware!”Though all was not sound sold at Bartelmew Fair.Here were drolls, hornpipe-dancing, and showing of postures,With frying black puddings, and opening of oysters;With salt-boxes, solos, and galley folks squalling,The tap-house guests roaring, and mouth-pieces bawling.Here’s “Punch’s whole play of the gunpowder plot,”“Wild beasts all alive,” and “peas pudding all hot.”“Fine sausages” fried, and “the Black on the wire,”“The whole court of France,” and “nice pig at the fire.”Here’s the up-and-downs, “who’ll take a seat in the chair?”Tho’ there’s more up-and-downs than at Bartelmew Fair.Here’s “Whittington’s cat,” and “the tall dromedary,”“The chaise without horses,” and “queen of Hungary.”Here’s the merry-go-rounds, “Come who rides, come who rides, sir,”Wine, beer, ale, and cakes, fire eating besides, sir,The fam’d “learned dog,” that can tell all his letters,And somemen, asscholars, are not much his betters.
Before the commencement of the last century, Bartholomew Fair had become an intolerable nuisance, and the lord mayor and aldermen, to abate its depravity, issued a prohibition on the 25th of June, 1700, against its lotteries and interludes. Subsequent feints of resistance were made to its shows, music, and other exhibitions, without further advantage than occasional cessation of gross violations against the public peace.
In sir Samuel Fludyer’s mayoralty, interludes were prohibited by a resolution of the court of aldermen. This resolution has been annually put forth, and annually broken by the court itself. When alderman Bull filled the civic chair, he determined to carry the resolution into effect, and so far accomplished his purpose as not to allow any booths to be erected; but want of firmness in his predecessors had inspirited the mob, and they broke the windows of the houses in Smithfield. Alderman Sawbridge in his mayoralty was equally determined against shows, and the mob was equally determined for them; he persisted, and they committed similar excesses. Yet we find that in the year 1743, the resolution had been complied with. The city would not permit booths to be erected, and “the Fair terminated in a more peaceable mannerthan it had done in the memory of man.”[294]This quiet, however, was only temporary, for on the 23rd of August, 1749, a gallery in Phillips’s booth broke down, and four persons were killed; a silversmith, a plasterer, a woman, and a child, and many others were dangerously bruised; one of the maimed had his leg cut off the next morning.[295]This accident seems to have aroused the citizens: on the 10th of July, 1750, a petition was presented to the lord mayor and court of aldermen, signed by above one hundred graziers, salesmen, and inhabitants in and near Smithfield, against erecting booths for exhibiting shows and entertainments there, during Bartholomew Fair, as not only annoying to them in their callings, but as giving the profligate and abandoned opportunity to debauch the innocent, defraud the unwary, and endanger the public peace.[296]
On the 17th of July, 1798, the court of common council referred it to the committee of city lands, to consider the necessity and expediency of abolishing Bartholomew Fair: in the course of the previous debate it was proposed to shorten the period to one day, but this was objected to on the ground that the immense crowd from all parts of the metropolis would endanger life.[297]
In September, 1825, Mr. Alderman Joshua Jonathan Smith, previous to entering on an examination of forty-five prisoners charged with felonies, misdemeanours, assaults, &c. committed in Smithfield during the Fair of that year, stated, that its ancient limits had been extended into several adjoining streets beyond Smithfield; he said he had particularly noticed this infringement in St. John-street, Clerkenwell on the north side, and nearly half-way down the Old Bailey, on the south; and he was determined, with the aid of his coadjutors, to take such further steps as would in future “lessen the criminal extension which had arisen, if not abolish the degrading scene altogether.”[298]
At other periods besides these, there were loud complaints against Bartholomew Fair; and as in 1825, the corporation of London appears seriously to have been engaged in considering the nuisance, its end may be contemplated as near at hand. It is to the credit of the civic authorities, that though shows and interludes were permitted, the Fair of that year was more orderly than any other within memory. Yet even these regulations are inefficient to the maintenance of the reputation the city ought to hold in the estimation of other corporations. The Fair was instituted for the sale of cloth, cattle, and other necessary commodities: as these have, for many years past, wholly disappeared from it, theuseof the Fair has wholly ceased; itsabusealone remains, and that abuse can only be destroyed by the utter extinction of the Fair. To do this is not to “interfere with the amusements of the people,” for the people of the metropolis do not require such amusements; they are beyond the power of deriving recreation from them. The well-being of their apprentices and servants, and the young and the illiterate, require protection from the vicious contamination of an annual scene of debauchery, which contributes nothing to the city funds, and nothing to the city’s character but a shameful stain.
Bartholomew Fair must and will be put down. It is for this reason that so much has been said of its former and present state. No person of respectability now visits it, but as a curious spectator of an annual congregation of ignorance and depravity.
Mushroom.Agaricus Campestris.Dedicated toSt. Laurence Justinian.
[273]Stowe.[274]Strutt.[275]Mr. Nares’s Glossary.[276]Fosbroke Dict. Antiq.[277]Smith’s Anc. Top. of London.[278]Maitland.[279]Stow.[280]Fitz Stephen.[281]Cotton MS.[282]Harl. MS. Strutt.[283]Stow.[284]Ibid.[285]Maitland.[286]Nares.[287]Hentzner.[288]Old Ballads.[289]Ward’s London Spy.[290]New European Magazine, 1822-3.[291]Smith’s Anc. Topog. Lond.[292]Ibid.[293]12mo., “published by John Arliss, No. 87, Bartholomew Close,” about 1810.[294]Gentleman’s Magazine.[295]Ibid.[296]Ibid.[297]Ibid.[298]Ibid.
[273]Stowe.
[274]Strutt.
[275]Mr. Nares’s Glossary.
[276]Fosbroke Dict. Antiq.
[277]Smith’s Anc. Top. of London.
[278]Maitland.
[279]Stow.
[280]Fitz Stephen.
[281]Cotton MS.
[282]Harl. MS. Strutt.
[283]Stow.
[284]Ibid.
[285]Maitland.
[286]Nares.
[287]Hentzner.
[288]Old Ballads.
[289]Ward’s London Spy.
[290]New European Magazine, 1822-3.
[291]Smith’s Anc. Topog. Lond.
[292]Ibid.
[293]12mo., “published by John Arliss, No. 87, Bartholomew Close,” about 1810.
[294]Gentleman’s Magazine.
[295]Ibid.
[296]Ibid.
[297]Ibid.
[298]Ibid.
St. Pamboof Nitria,A. D.385.St. Eleutherius, Abbot.St. Bega, orBees, 7th Cent.
St. Pamboof Nitria,A. D.385.St. Eleutherius, Abbot.St. Bega, orBees, 7th Cent.
Alban Butler boldly says, that this saint raised a dead man to life. He died at Rome, in St. Andrew’s monastery, about the year 585.
Autumnal Dandelion.Apargia Autumnalis.Dedicated toSt. Pambo.
Cloud,A. D.560.St. Regina, orSt. Reine,A. D.251.St. Evurtius,A. D.340.St. Grimonia, orGermana.St. Madelberte,A. D.705.Sts. AlchmundandTilberht, Bps. of Hexham,A. D.780 and 789.St. Eunan, first Bp. of Raphoe.
Cloud,A. D.560.St. Regina, orSt. Reine,A. D.251.St. Evurtius,A. D.340.St. Grimonia, orGermana.St. Madelberte,A. D.705.Sts. AlchmundandTilberht, Bps. of Hexham,A. D.780 and 789.St. Eunan, first Bp. of Raphoe.
This saint is in the church of England calendar, and therefore in the English almanacs, but on what ground it is difficult to conjecture; for Butler himself merely mentions him as a bishop of Orleans, who lived in the reign of Constantine, and died about 340:—he adds, that “his name is famous, but his history of no authority.”
The subjoined letter, dated the 7th of September, 1825, appears inThe Timesnewspaper of the following day:—
To the Editor of the Times.
Sir,—I consider it necessary to inform the public, through your paper, that there is a fellow going about the town, (dressed like a painter,) imposing upon the unwary, by selling them painted birds, for foreign ones. He entered my house on Monday last, and after some simple conversation with the customers in the room, he introduced the topic of his birds, which he had in a paper bag, stating that he had been at work in a gentleman’s family at the west end of the town, and the gentleman being on the point of leaving England for a foreign country, he made him a present of them; “but,” says he, “I’m as bad as himself, for I’m going down to Canterbury to-morrow morning myself, to work, and they being of no use to me, I shall take them down to Whitechapel and sell them for what I can get.” Taking one out of the bag, he described it as a Virginia nightingale, which sung four distinct notes or voices: the colour certainly was most beautiful; its head and neck was a bright vermilion, the back betwixt the wings a blue, the lower part to the tail a bright yellow, the wings red and yellow; the tail itself was a compound mixture of the above colours, the belly a clear green—he said it was well worth a sovereign to any gentleman. However, after a good deal of lying, bidding, and argument, one of the party offered five shillings, which he at last took; and disposing of the others much in the same way, he quickly decamped. In the course of an hour after, a barber, a knowing hand in the bird way, who lives in the neighbourhood, came in, and taking a little water, with his white apron he transferred the variegated colours of the nightingale to the white flag of his profession. The deception was visible—the swindler had fled—and the poor hedge-sparrow had his unfortunate head severed from his body, for being forced to personate a nightingale.
A Licensed Victualler.
Upper Thames-street.
By the preceding letter inThe Times, a great number of persons were first acquainted with a fraud frequently practised. As a useful and amusing communication it has a place here. It may, however, be as well to correct an error which the intelligent “Licensed Victualler” falls into by venturing beyond a plain account, to indulge in figurative expression. It is not doubted that his “barber, a knowing hand in the bird way,” wore “a white apron;” but when the “Licensed Victualler” calls the barber’s white apron “thewhiteflag of his profession,” he errs; awhiteapron may be the “flag” of the “Licensed Victualler’s profession,” but it is not the barber’s “flag.”
The Barber.
The Barber.
Randle Holme, an indisputable authority, in his great work on “Heraldry,” figures a barber as above. “He bearethargent,” says Holme; “a barber bare-headed with a pair of cisers in his right hand, and a comb in his left, clothed inrusset, his apronchecqueof the first, andazure; a barber is always known by his checque party-coloured apron, therefore it needs not mentioning.” Holme emphatically adds, “neither can he be termed a barber, (or poler, or shaver,) as anciently they were called, till his apron be about him;” that is to say, “his checque party-coloured apron.” This, and this only, is the “flag of his profession.”
Holme derives the denomination barber frombarba, a beard, and describes him as a cutter of hair; he was also anciently termed apoller, because in former times topollwas to cut the hair: totrimwas to cut the beard, after shaving, into form and order.
The instrument-case of a barber, and the instruments in their several divisions, are particularly described by Holme. It contained his looking-glass, a set of horn combs with teeth on one side and wide, “for the combing and readying of long, thick, and stony heads of hair, and such like perriwigs;” a set of box combs, a set of ivory combs with fine teeth on both sides, an ivory beard-comb, a beard-iron called the forceps, being a curling iron for the beard, a set of razors, tweezers with an earpick, a rasp to file the point of a tooth, a hone for his razors, a bottle of sweet oil for his hone, a powder box with sweet powder, a puff to powder the hair, a four square bottle with a screwed head for sweet water, wash balls and sweet balls, caps for the head to keep the hair up, trimming cloths to put before a man, and napkins to put about his neck, and dry his hands and face with. After he was shaved and barbed, the barber was to hold him the glass, that he might see “his new-made face,” and instruct the barber where it was amiss: the barber was then to “take off the linens, brush his clothes, present him with his hat, and, according to his hire, make a bow, with ‘your humble servant, sir.’”
The same author thus figures