Chapter I: FRY (10)

On the outside was inscribed, “_To be seen alive_! The Prodigies of Nature!--_The Wild Indian Woman and Child, with her Nurse from her own country._--_The Silver-haired Lady and Dwarf._ _Only a Penny._”--The showmaster made a speech: “Ladies and gentlemen, before I show you the wonderful prodigies of nature, let me introduce you to the wonderful works of art;” and then he drew a curtain, where some wax-work figures stood. “This,” said he, “ladies and gentlemen, is the famous old Mother Shipton; and here is the unfortunate Jane Shore, the beautiful mistress of king Edward the Second; next to her is his majesty king George the Fourth of most glorious memory; and this is queen Elizabeth in all her glory; then here you have the princess Amelia, the daughter of his late majesty, who is dead; this is Mary, queen of Scots, who had her head cut off; and this is O’Bryen, the famous Irish giant; this man, here, is Thornton, who was tried for the murder of Mary Ashford; and this is the exact resemblance of Othello, the moor of Venice, who was a jealous husband, and depend upon it every man who is jealous of his wife, will be as black as that negro. Now, ladies and gentlemen, the two next are a wonderful couple, John and Margaret Scott, natives of Dunkeld, in Scotland; they lived about ninety years ago; John Scott was a hundred and five years old when he died, and Margaret lived to be a hundred and twelve; and what is more remarkable, there is not a soul living can say he ever heard them quarrel.” Here he closed the curtain, and while undrawing another, continued thus: “Having shown you the dead, I have now to exhibit to you two of the most extraordinary wonders of the living; this,” said he, “is the widow of a New Zealand Chief, and this is the little old woman of Bagdad; she is thirty inches high, twenty-two years of age, and a native of Boston, in Lincolnshire.” Each of these living subjects was quite as wonderful as the waxen ones: the exhibition, which lasted about five minutes, was ended by courteous thanks for the “approbation of the ladies and gentlemen present,” and an evident desire to hurry them off, lest they might be more curious than his own curiosities.

SHOW XII.

“_Only a penny_” was the price of admission to “_The Black Wild Indian Woman.--The White Indian Youth--and the Welsh Dwarf.--All Alive!_” There was this further announcement on the outside, “_The Young American will Perform after the Manner of the French Jugglers at Vauxhall Gardens, with Balls, Rings, Daggers_,” &c. When the “Welsh dwarf” came on he was represented to be Mr. William Phillips, of Denbigh, fifteen years of age. The “white Indian youth” was an Esquimaux, and the exhibitor assured the visitors upon his veracity, that “the black wild Indian woman” was “a court lady of the island of Madagascar.” The exhibitor himself was “the young American,” an intelligent and clever youth in a loose striped jacket or frock tied round the middle. He commenced his performances by throwing up three balls, which he kept constantly in the air, as he afterwards did four, and then five, with great dexterity, using his hands, shoulders, and elbows, apparently with equal ease. He afterwards threw up three rings, each about four inches in diameter, and then four, which he kept in motion with similar success. To end his performance he produced three knives, which, by throwing up and down, he contrived to preserve in the air altogether. These feats forcibly reminded me of the Anglo-Saxon Glee-man, who “threw three balls and three knives alternately in the air, and caught them, one by one, as they fell; returning them again in regular rotation.”[274] The young American’s dress and knives were very similar to the Glee-man’s, as Strutt has figured them from a MS. in the Cotton collection. This youth’s was one of the best exhibitions in the Fair, perhaps the very best. The admission it will be remembered was “only a penny.”

SHOW XIII.

The inscriptions and paintings on the outside of this show were, “_The White Negro, who was rescued from her Black Parents by the bravery of a British Officer--the only White Negro Girl Alive.--The Great Giantess and Dwarf.--Six Curiosities Alive!--only a Penny to see them All Alive!_” While waiting a few minutes till the place filled, I had leisure to observe that one side of the place was covered by a criminal attempt to represent a tread-mill, in oil colours, and the operators at work upon it, superintended by gaolers, &c. On the other side were live monkies in cages; an old bear in a jacket, and sundry other animals. Underneath the wheels of the machine, other living creatures were moving about, and these turned out to be the poor neglected children of the showman and his wife. The miserable condition of these infants, who were puddling in the mud, while their parents outside were turning a bit of music, and squalling and bawling with all their might, “walk in--only a penny,” to get spectators of the objects that were as yet concealed on their “proud eminence,” the caravan, by a thin curtain, raised a gloom in the mind. I was in a reverie concerning these beings when the curtain was withdrawn, and there stood confessed to sight, she whom the showman called “the tall lady,” and “the white negro, the greatest curiosity ever seen--the first that has been exhibited since the reign of George the Second--look at her head and hair, ladies and gentlemen, and feel it; there’s no deception, it’s like ropes of wool.” There certainly was not any deception. The girl herself, who had the flat nose, thick lips, and peculiarly shaped scull of the negro, stooped to have her head examined, and being close to her I felt it. Her hair, if it could be called hair, was of a dirtyish flaxen hue; it hung in ropes, of a clothy texture, the thickness of a quill, and from four to six inches in length. Her skin was the colour of an European’s. Afterwards stepped forth a little personage about three feet high, in a military dress, with top boots, who strutted his tiny legs, and held his head aloft with not less importance than the proudest general officer could assume upon his promotion to the rank of field-martial. Mr. Samuel Williams, whose versatile and able pencil has frequently enriched this work, visited the Fair after me, and was equally struck by his appearance. He favours me with the subjoined engraving of this

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.

SHOW XIV.

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.

SHOW XV.

Another, and a very good menagerie--the admission “only a penny!” It was “GEORGE BALLARD’s _Caravan_,” 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 Mail_ was 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 500_l._, 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.

SHOW XVI.

“_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 in
this Place.

REAL WONDERS!

SEE AND BELIEVE.

Have you seen
THE 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’ Fortune
Teller._

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 of
MAHOWRA,
=_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-simile
or copy, but the same curiosity.

=Admission Moderate.=

⁂ _Open from Eleven in the Morning till
Nine 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!” The _beautiful dolphin_ was a fish-skin stuffed. The _mermaid_ was the last manufactured imposture of that name, exhibited for half-a-crown in Piccadilly, about a year before. The _real 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!”

SHOW XVII.

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,
THE
GIANT BOY,
And the
DWARF 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. The _Wild Indian_ was a civil-looking man of colour. The _Giant 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 the shoulders, 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 present engraving now represents him; it is a good likeness of his features, as well as of his form.

SHOW XVIII.

“_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!”

SHOW XIX.

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 the _Yorkshire 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 the _Waterloo Giant_. The abdication of such an _Indian Chief_ as this, in favour of Bartholomew Fair, was probably forced upon him by his tribe.

SHOW XX.

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.

SHOW XXI.

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.

SHOW XXII.

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, and I 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
at
~Sadler’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

ENCHANTED
GIRDLES;
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,
AND
=THE 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 more _important truth_ than that they possess

_The only Wells from which you may draw_
WINE,
THREE SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE
_A full Quart._

Those whose important avocations prevent their coming at the
commencement, will be admitted for

HALF-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.

~Bartholomew Fair in 1614.~

“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 the _motion_-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 a _Bartholmew_ pig, it cannot be eaten; for the very calling it a _Bartholmew_ pig, and to eat it so, is a spice of idolatry.” After much deliberation, however, he allows that so that the offence “be _shadowed_, as it were, it may be eaten, and in the Fair, I take it--in a _booth_.” 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’ the _Pie-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 filling
O, for a tune to startle
The birds o’ the booths, here billing
Yearly with old Saint _Barthle_!

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 the _Pie-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.”

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 odd _Bartholmew_.” 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 been
Of some that were seen
In Westminster-hall, yea, the pleaders between;
Then why should the judges be free from this curse
More 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 face
Against the foul sinners in zeal for to rail,
And lost, _ipso facto_, his purse in the place.
Nay, once from the seat
Of 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 gay
In 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 of _Pie-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! the _motions_ that I, Lanthorn Leatherhead, have given light to, i’ my time, since my master, Pod, died! _Jerusalem_ was a stately thing; and so was _Nineveh_ and _The City of Norwich_, and _Sodom and Gomorrah_; with the _Rising o’ the Prentices_, and pulling down the houses there upon Shrove-Tuesday; but _the 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 his _motion_ which reads thus: “The Ancient Modern History of _Hero and Leander_, otherwise called, the _Touchstone of True Love_, with as true a Trial of Friendship between _Damon 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; _that_ is too learned and poetical for our audience: what do they know what _Hellespont_ is? _guilty of true love’s blood_? or what _Abydos_ is? or the other _Sestos_ height?--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 excellent _motion_.” Other visitors enter and take their seats, and Cokes, while waiting with some of his acquaintance, employs the time at the “game of _vapours_, 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 tedious _vapours_; when begin you?” Filcher, Leatherhead’s man, with the other doorkeepers, continue to bawl, “Twopence a-piece, sir; the best _motion_ in 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 following representation of 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.

* * * * *

For an idea of Leatherhead’s _motion_ take 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 our _Abidus_,
As the Bank-side is our _Sestos_; and let it not be denied
us
Now 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 fairs
Was 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 Hero
Of 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 his _motion_; 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 performs _Damon_ and _Pythias_ in the same way, and renders the “gallimaufry” more ridiculous, by a battle between the puppets in _Hero_ and _Leander_, and those of _Damon_ and _Pythias_. 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 harm
Hath 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 the _players_; but it will not hold against the _puppets_: 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, the _cause_ hath 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 term _arsedine_, used by Trash to Leatherhead in Jonson’s play; the denomination _costermonger_; the tune _Paggington’s-pound_; and the _Pie-pouldres_, or _Pie Powder Court_.

_Arsedine._

This is also called _arsadine_, and sometimes _orsden_, 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 means _orpiment_ or _yellow_ arsenic. The archdeacon in giving these two authorities, calls the word a “vulgar corruption” of “arsenic:” but arsenic yields _red_, as well as _yellow_ orpiment, 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: the _ore_ oꞃe or oꞃa is pure Saxon, and pluralizes _ores_; to _die_ in the sense of _dying_, 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.

_Costermonger._

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 only _pears_.” That gentleman rightly defines a _costard_-monger, or _coster_-monger, to be “a seller of _apples_;” he adds, “one generally who kept a stall.” He says of _costard_, 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, “_generally_ kept 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

Holme, in his heraldic language, says of this representation, “He beareth _gules_ a man _passant_, his shirt or shift turned up to his shoulder, breeches and hose _azure_, cap and shoes _sable_, bearing on his back a bread basket full of fruits and herbs, and a staff in his left hand, _or_. This may be termed either a _huxter_ or a _gardiner_, having his fruits and herbs on his back from the market. This was a fit crest for the company of _Fruiterers_ or _Huxters_.” This man is a _costard-monger_ in Mr. Archdeacon Nares’s view of the term; for doubtless the huckster pitched his load in the market and sold it there; yet Holme does not give him that denomination, as he would have done if he had so regarded him; he merely calls him “the _hutler_ or _huxter_.”

_Packington’s Pound._

Concerning the air of this old song, “Hawkins’s History of Music” may be consulted. The tune may also be found in the “Beggar’s Opera,” adapted to the words--“The gamesters united in friendship are found.”[275]

_Court of Pie Powder._

This is the lowest, and at the same time the most expeditious, court of justice known to the law of England. It is a court of record incident to every fair and market; its jurisdiction extends to administer justice for all commercial injuries done in that very fair or market, and not in any preceding one; and to every fair and market, the steward of him who owns the toll is the judge. The injury, therefore, must be done, complained of, and redressed, within the compass of one and the same day, unless the fair continues longer. It has cognizance of all matters of contract that can possibly arise within the precinct of that fair or market; and the plaintiff must make oath that the cause of an action arose there. This court seems to have arisen from the necessity of doing justice expeditiously, among persons resorting from distant places to a fair or market, without leaving them to the remedy of an inferior court, which might not be able to serve its process, or execute its judgments on both, or perhaps either of the parties; and therefore without such a court as this, the complaint must necessarily have resorted to, in the first instance, some superior judicature. It is said to be called the court of _pie-poudre_, _curia pedis pulverizati_, from the dusty feet of the suitors; or, as sir Edward Coke says, because justice is there done as speedily as dust can fall from the feet: but Blackstone, who says thus much of this court, inclines to the opinion of Daines Barrington, who derives it from _pied puldreaux_, (a pedlar, in old French,) and says, it signifies, therefore, the court of such petty chapmen as resort to fairs or markets.

Courts similar to pie-powder courts were usual both with Greeks and Romans, who introduced fairs into Germany and the north.[276]