attaining some useful end, are wanton and cowardly. Wild
boars, wolves, foxes, &c. may be hunted to extermination,
for they are public robbers; but to hunt the noble deer, for
the cruel pleasure of hunting him, is base.
With all our love of honest Izaak Walton, we feel a
shuddering when the “sentimental old savage” gives his
minute instructions to the tyro in angling how most
skilfully to transfix the writhing worm, (as though you
“loved him!”) and torture a poor fish. Piscator is a
cowardly rogue to sit upon a fair bank, the sun shining
above, and the pure stream rippling beneath, with his
instruments of death, playing pang against pang, and life
against life, for his contemplative recreation. What would
he say to a hook through his own gullet? Would it mitigate
his dying agonies to hear his dirge (even the milkmaid's
song!) chanted in harmonious concert with a brother of the
angle, who had played the like sinister trick on his
companion in the waters?
and would make a huge parade of his rod, line, and green-painted tin-can, sallying forth on a fine morning with malice prepense against the gudgeons and perch: but Dicky was a merciful angler: he was the gudgeon, for the too cunning fishes, spying his comical figure, stole his bait, and he hooked nothing but tin pots and old shoes. Here he sat in his accustomed chair and corner, dreaming of future quarterns, and dealing out odd sayings that would make the man in the moon hold his sides, and convulse the whole planet with laughter. His hypocrene was the cream of the valley; *
inordinate love for that vulgar fluid ycleped geneva; a
beverage which Dicky himself by no means held in abhorrence.
She would order her servant to procure supplies after the
following fashion:—“Betty, go and get a quartern loaf and
half a quartern of gin.” Off bolted Betty,—she was speedily
recalled: “Betty, make it half a quartern loaf and a
quartern of gin.” But Betty had never got fairly across the
threshold, ere the voice was again heard:—“Betty, on second
thoughts, you may as well make it all gin!”
he dug his grave with his bottle, and gave up the ghost amidst a troop of spirits. Peace to his manes! Cold is the cheerful hearth, where he familiarly stirred the embers and silent the walls that echoed to “Old Wigs!” chanted by Jeffery Dunstan when he danced hop-scotch on a table spread out with tumblers and tobacco-pipes! Hushed is the voice of song. At this moment, as if to give our last assertion what Touchstone calls “the lie direct,” some Corydon from Petty France, the Apollo of a select singing party in the first floor front room, thus musically apostrophised his Blouzellinda of Bloomsbury.
She's all that fancy painted her, she's rosy without rouge,
Her gingham gown a modest brown turned up with
bright gamboge;
She learns to jar the light guitar, and plays the harpsi-
chols,
Her fortune's five-and-twenty pounds in Three per Cent
Consols.
At Beulah Spa, where love is law, was my fond heart
beguiled;
I pour'd my passion in her ear—she whisper'd, “Draw
it mild!”
In Clerkenwell you bear the bell: what muffin-man does
not?
And since, my Paul, you've gain'd your p'int, perhaps
you 'll stand your pot.
The Charlie quite, I've, honour bright, sent packing for a
cheat;
A watchman's wife, he'd whack me well when he was
on his beat.
“Adieu!” he said, and shook his head, “my dolor be
your dow'r;
And while you laugh, I 'll take my staff, and go and cry
—the hour.”
Last Greenwich Fair we wedded were; she's won, and
we are one;
And Sally, since the honey-moon, has had a little son.
Of all the girls that are so smart, there's none than Sally
smarter;
I said it 'fore I married her, and now I say it arter.
Geo. II. R.
“This is to give notice to all gentlemen, ladies and others, that there is to be seen from eight in the morning till nine at night, at the end of the great booth on Blackheath, a west of England woman 38 years of age alive, with two heads, one above the other; having no hands, fingers, nor toes; yet can she dress and undress, knit, sew, read, sing,” Query—a duet with her two mouths? “She has had the honour to be seen by Sir Hans Sloane, and several of the Royal Society. * “N.B. Gentlemen and ladies may see her at their own houses, if they please.
no one will deny. Wilkes was so abominably ugly that he said
it always took him half an hour to talk away his face; and
Mirabeau, speaking of his own countenance, said, “Fancy a
tiger marked with the small-pox!” We have seen an Adonis
contemplate one of Cruikshank's whimsical figures, of which
his particular shanks were the bow-ideal, and rail at the
artist for libelling Dame Nature! How ill-favoured were Lord
Lovat, Magliabeeehi, Searron, and the wall-eyed, botde-nosed
Buekhorse the Bruiser! how deformed and frightful Sir Harry
Dimsdale and Sir Jeffrey Dunstan! What would have been said
of the painter of imaginary Siamese twins? Yet we have “The
true Description of two Monstrous Children, born in the
parish of Swanburne in Buekinghamshyre, the 4th of Aprill,
Anno Domini 1566; the two Children having both their belies
fast joyned together, and imbracing one another with their
armes: which Children were both alyve by the space of half
an hower, and wer baptised, and named the one John, and the
other Joan.”—A similar wonder was exhibited in Queen Anne's
reign, viz. “Two monstrous girls born in the Kingdom of
Hungary,” which were to be seen “from 8 o'clock in the
morning till 8 at night, up one pair of stairs, at Mr.
William Sutteliffe's, a Drugster's Shop, at the sign of the
Golden Anchor, in the Strand, near Charing-Cross.” The
Siamese twins of our own time are fresh in every one's
memory. Shakspere throws out a pleasant sarcasm at the
characteristic curiosity of the English nation. Trinculo,
upon first beholding Caliban, exclaims,—“A strange fish!
were I in England now (as I once was), and had but this fish
painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of
silver: there would this monster make a man: when they will
not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out
ten to see a dead Indian”
This great wonder never was shown in England before this, the 13th day of March, 1741. “Vivat Rex.” Peckham * and Blackheath Fairs are abolished;——
bears, monkeys, dancing-dogs, a learned pig, &c. Mr.
Flockton in his theatrical booth opposite the Kentish
Drovers, exhibited the Italian fantocini; the farce of the
Conjuror; and his “inimitable musical-clock.” Mr. Lane,
“first performer to the King,” played off his “snip-snap,
rip-rap, crick-crack, and thunder tricks, that the grown
babies stared like worried cats.” This extraordinary genius
“will drive about forty twelve-penny nails into any
gentleman's breech, place him in a loadstone chair, and draw
them out without the least pain! He is, in short, the most
wonderful of all wonderful creatures the world ever wondered
at.”
Sir Jeffrey Dunstan sported his handsome figure within his
booth; outside of which was displayed a likeness of the
elegant original in his pink satin smalls. His dress,
address, and oratory, fascinated the audience; in fact,
“Jeffy was quite tonish!”
In opposition to the “Monstrous Craws” at the Royal Grove,
were shown in a barn “four wonderful human creatures,
brought three thousand miles beyond China, from the
Kickashaw Mackabee country, viz.
“A man with a chin eleven inches Ions:.
“Another with as many M'ens and warts on his face as knots
on an old thornback.
“A third with two large teeth five inches long, strutting
beyond his upper lip, as if his father had been a man-tiger!
“And the fourth with a noble large fiery head, that looked
like the red-hot urn on the top of the monument!”
“These most wonderful wild-born human beings (the Monstrous
Craws), two females and a male, are of very small stature,
being little more than four feet high; each with a monstrous
craw under his throat. Their country, language, &c. are as
yet unknown to mankind. It is supposed they started in some
canoe from their native place (a remote quarter in South
America), and being wrecked were picked up by a Spanish
vessel. At that period they were each of a dark-olive
complexion, but which has astonishingly, by degrees, changed
to the colour of that of Europeans. They are tractable and
respectful towards strangers, and of lively and merry
disposition among themselves; singing and daneing in the
most extraordinary way, at the will and pleasure of the
company.”
and those of Camberwell * and Wandsworth ** are
on the 4th July, 1823, in order to put down Camberwell Fair,
which is as old as Domesday Book. Shakspere has truly
described these ill-conditioned, peddling, meddling
Dogberrys “You wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing
a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller; and then
rejourn the controversy of three-pence to a second day of
audience. When you speak best to the purpose, it is not
worth the wagging of your beards, and your beards deserve
not so honourable a grave, as to stuff a botcher's cushion,
or to be entombed in an ass's pack-saddle.”
** Wandsworth Fair exhibited sixty years ago Mount Vesuvius,
or the burning mountain by moonlight, rope, and hornpipe-
dancing; a forest, with the humours of lion-catching;
tumbling by the young Polander from Sadler's Wells; several
diverting comic songs; a humorous dialogue between Mr.
Swatehall and his wife; sparring matches; the Siege of
Belgrade, &c. all for three-penee!
On Whit-Monday, 1840, Messrs. Nelson and Lee sent down a
theatrical caravan to Wandsworth Fair, and were moderately
remunerated. But the “Grand Victoria Booth” was the rallying
point of attraction. Its refectory was worthy of the
ubiquitous Mr. Epps—of ham, beef, tongue, polony, portable
soup, and sheep's trotter memory!
Cold beef and ham, hot ribs of lamb, mock-turtle soup that's
portable,
Did blow, with stout, their jackets out, and made the folks
comfortable!
fast going the way of all fairs. Bow, Edmonton, * Highgate, ** Brook Green (Hammersmith,) and
Fair walked into the den of a lioness, and nursed her cubs.
He then paid his respects to the husband and father, a
magnificent Barbary Lion. After the usual complimentary
greetings between them, the man somewhat roughly thrust open
the monster's jaws, and put his head into its mouth, giving
at the same time a shout that made it tremble. This he did
with impunity. But in less than two months afterwards, when
repeating the same exhibition at a fair in the provinces, he
eried, like the starling, “I can't get out!—I can't get
out!” demanding at the same time if the lion wagged its
tail? The lion, thinking the joke had been played quite
often enough, did wag its tail, and roared “Heads!” The
keeper fell a victim to his temerity.
** “July 2,1744.—This is to give notice that Highgate Fair
will be kept on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday next, in a
pleasant shady walk in the middle of the town.
“On Wednesday a pig will be turned loose, and he that takes
it up by the tail and throws it over his head, shall have
it. To pay two-pence entrance, and no less than twelve to
enter.
“On Thursday a match will be run by two men, a hundred yards
in two sacks, for a large sum. And, to encourage the sport,
the landlord of the Mitre will give a pair of gloves, to be
run for by six men, the winner to have them.
“And on Friday a hat, value ten shillings, will be run for
by men twelve times round the Green; to pay one shilling
entrance: no less than four to start; as many as will may
enter, and the second man to have all the money above four.”
West-end (Hampstead * ), Fairs, with their swings, roundabouts, spiced gingerbread, penny-trumpets, and halfpenny rattles are passed away. The showmen and Merry Andrews of Moorfields ** are
To the tune of 'Brother Soldier dost hear of the News,'
London: Printed for J. Bland, near Holbourn, 1708.” A
curious broadside.
** Moorfields during the holiday seasons was an epitome of
Bartlemy Fair. Its booths and scaffolds had flags flying on
the top. A stage near the Windmill Tavern, opposite Old
Beth-lem, was famous for its grinning-matches. Moorfields
had one novel peculiarity, viz. that whilst the Merry Andrew
was practising his buffooneries and legerdemain tricks in
one quarter, the itinerant Methodist preacher was holding
forth in another. Foote makes his ranting parson exclaim,
“Near the mad mansions of Moorfields I 'll bawl,
Come fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, all,
Shut up your shops and listen to my call!”
The Act 12 of Queen Anne aimed at the suppression of the
Moorfields' merriments. The showmen asked Justice Fuller to
license them in April, 1717, but in vain. Fuller had a
battle-royal with Messrs. Saunders and Margaret, two
Middlesex justices, who sided with the conjurors, and
forbade the execution of his warrant. Justice Fuller,
however, having declared war against Moorfields'
mountebanking, was inexorable, and committed the insurgents
to the house of correction; from whence, after three hours'
durance vile, they were released by three other magistrates.
Kennington Common was also a favourite spot for this odd
variety of sports. It was here that Mr. Mawworm encountered
the brick-bats of his congregation, and had his “pious tail”
illuminated with the squibs and crackers of the unre-
generate.
This fair commenced in the New River pipe-fields, and
continued in a direct line as far as the top of Elm Street,
where it terminated. The equestrians always made a point of
galloping their donkeys furiously past the house of
correction!
no more; the Gooseberry Fairs * of Clerkenwell and Tottenham Court Road, (the minor Newmarket and Doncaster of Donkey-racing!) are come to a brick-and-mortary end.
Court, on Monday next (being Easter Monday), Mr. French,
designing to please all, in making his Country Wake complete
by doubling the prizes given to be played for, as well as
the sports, has engaged some of the best gamesters, Country
against London, to make sides. For Cudgelling, a laced hat,
value one pound five shillings, or one guinea in gold; for
Wrestling, one guinea; Money for Boxing, besides Stage-
money. And, to crown the diversion of the day, he gives a
fine Smock to be jigged for by Northern Lasses against the
Nymphs to the westward of St. Giles's Church—to be entered
at the Royal Oak, in High Street, by Hob, Clerk of the
Revels, or his deputy. The doors will be opened at eleven
o'clock; the sport to begin at two. Cudgelling as usual
before the prizes. Best seats, Two Shillings; Pit and First
Gallery, One Shilling; Upper Gallery, Sixpence.”
Mr. French advertises, May 12, 1748, at his booth at
Tottenham Court, six men sewed up in sacks to run six times
the length of the stage backwards and forwards for a prize,—
a prize for wrestling and dancing to the pipe and tabor,—
and the gladiator's dance. He also kept the race-course in
Tothill-Fields, August 4, 1749.
“August 8, 1730.—At Reynold's Great Theatrical Booth, in
Tottenham Court, during the time of the Fair, will be
presented a Comical, Tragical, Farcical Droll, called The
Rum Duke and the Queer Duke, or a Medley of Mirth and
Sorrow. To which will be added a celebrated Operatical
Puppet-Show, called Punch's Oratory, or the Pleasures of the
Town; containing several diverting passages, particularly a
very elegant dispute between Punch and another great Orator
(Henley?); Punch's Family Lecture, or Joan's Chimes on her
tongue to some tune. No Wires—all alive! With
entertainments of Daneing by Monsieur St. Luce, and others.”
High-smoking chimneys and acres of tiles shut out the once pleasant prospect, and their Geffray Gambados (now grey-headed jockeys!) sigh, amidst macadamisation and dust, for the green sward where, in their hey-day of life, they witched the fair with noble donkeyship!—Croydon (famous for roast-pork, and new walnuts ), Harley-Bush, and Barnet fairs, are as yet unsuppressed; but the demons of mischief—[the English populace (their Majesty the Many!) are notorious for this barbarity]—have
the Welsh Fair, will be the usual entertainment of Roast
Pork, with the fam'd soft-flavor'd Spaw Ale, and every other
liquor of the neatest and best kinds, agreeable
entertainments, and inviting usage from the Publick's most
obedient servant, George Dowdell.”
In the year 1795 a Dutch Fair was held at Frogmore, when a
grand fête was given by King George the Third, in
celebration of his Queen's birth-day, and the recent arrival
of the Princess of Wales. A number of dancers were dressed
as haymakers; Mr. Byrne and his company danced the Morris-
dance; and Savoyards, in character, assisted at the
merriments. Feats of horsemanship were exhibited by
professors from the Circus; and booths erected for good
eating and drinking, and the sale of toys, work-bags,
pocket-books, and fancy articles. Munden, Rock, and Incledon
diverted the company with their mirth and music; and Majesty
participated in the general joy. The Royal Dutch Fair lasted
two days, and was under the tasteful direction of the
Princess Elizabeth.
totally destroyed the magnificent oak that made Fairlop Fair * a favourite rendezvous with those who could afford a tandem, tax-cart, or Tim-whisky. How often have we sat, and pirouetted too, under its venerable shade.
May Fair (which began on May-day), during the early part of the last century, was much patronised by the nobility and gentry. It had nevertheless its Ducking Pond for the ruder class of holiday makers. **
Fair!) it was rendered unlawful to hold Fairlop Fair beyond
the first Friday (“Friday's a dry day!”) in July. This was
the handy work of the Barking Magistrates.
“And when I walk abroad let no dog bark!”
** “June 25, 1748.—At May Fair Ducking Pond, on Monday
next, the 27th inst., Mr. Hooton's Dog Nero (ten years old,
with hardly a tooth in his head to hold a duck, but well
known for his goodness to all that have seen him hunt) hunts
six ducks for a guinea, against the bitch called the Flying
Spaniel, from the Ducking Pond on the other side of the
water, who has beat all she has hunted against, excepting
Mr. Hooton's Good-Blood. To begin at two o'clock.
“Mr. Hooton begs his customers won't take it amiss to pay
Twopence admittance at the gate, and take a ticket, which
will be allowed as Cash in their reckoning. No person
admitted without a tickct, that such as are not liked may be
kept out.
“Note. Right Lincoln Ale.”
Apropos of other mirthful rendezvous.
“A new Ducking Pond to be opened on Monday next at
Lirneiouse Cause, being the 11th August, where four dogs
are to play for Four Pounds, and a lamb to be roasted whole,
to be given away to all gentlemen sportsmen. To begin at Ten
o'clock in the forenoon.”—Postman, 7th August 1707.
“Erith Diversion, 24th May 1790.—This is to acquaint the
publick, that on Whit-Monday, and during the holidays, the
undermentioned diversions will take place. First, a new Hat
to be run for by men; a fine Ham to be played for at Trap-
ball; a pair of new Pumps to be jumped for in a sack; a
large Plumb-pudding to be sung for; a Guinea to be cudgelled
for,—with smoking, grinning through a collar, with many
other diversions too tedious to mention.
“N.B. A Ball in the evening as usual.”
But what are the hopes of man! A press-gang (this is the
freedom of the press with a vengeance! this the boasted
monarchy of the middle classes!) interrupted and put an end
to these water-side sports.
Kent has long been renowned for strong muscles and strong
stomachs!
“Bromley in Kent, July 14, 1726.—A strange eating worthy is
to perform a Tryal of Skill on St. James's Day, which is
the day of our Fair for a wager of Five Guineas,—viz.: he
is to eat four pounds of bacon, a bushel of French beans,
with two pounds of butter, a quartern loaf, and to drink a
gallon of strong beer.”
The old proverb of “buttering bacon” here receives
farinaceous illustration!
“In a fore one-pair room, on the west side of Sun-court,” a Frenchman exhibited, during the time of May Fair, the “astonishing strength of the 'Strong Woman,' * his wife.”
“She first let down her hair, of a length descending to her knees, which she twisted round the projecting part of a blacksmith's anvil, and then lifted the ponderous weight from the floor. She also put her bare feet on a red-hot salamander, without receiving the least injury.” May Fair is now become the site of aristocratical dwellings, where a strong purse is required to procure a standing. At Horn Fair, a party of humorists of both sexes, counted in all the variety of Bull-Feather fashion, after perambulating round Cuckold Point, startled the little quiet village of Charlton on St. Luke's day, shouting their emulation, and blowing voluntaries on rams' horns, in honour of their patron saint. Ned Ward gives a curious picture of this odd ceremony,—and the press of Stonecutter Street (the worthy successor of Aldermary Churchyard) has consigned it to immortality in two Broadsides ** inspired by the Helicon of the Fleet,
Strong Woman” and died in Drury Lane in 1817, at a very
advanced age. Madame also performed at Bartholomew Fair in
1752.
** “A New Summons to all the Merry (Wagtail) Jades to attend
at Horn Fair”—“A New Summons to Horn Fair” both without a
date.
“Around whose brink
Bards rush in droves, like cart-horses to drink,
Dip their dark beards among its streams so clear,
And while they gulp it, wish it ale or beer,”
and illustrated by the Cruikshank of his day. Mile-end Green, in ancient times, had its popular exhibitions;—
“Lord Pomp, let nothing that's magnificall,
Or that may tend to London's graceful state,
Be unperformed—as showes and solemne feastes,
Watches in armour, triumphes, cresset-lightes,
Bonefiers, belles, and peales of ordinance.
And, Pleasure, see that plaies be published,
Maie-games and maskes, with mirth and minstrelsie;
Pageants and School-feastes, beares and puppit-plaies:
Myselfe will muster upon Mile-end-greene,
As though we saw, and feared not to be seene.”
And the royal town of Windsor, * and the racecourse in Tothill-Fields ** were not without their merriments.
** “On Wednesday the 13th, at Windsor, a piece of plate is
to be fought for at cudgels by ten men on a side, from,
Berkshire and Middlesex. The next day a hat and feather to
be fought for by ten men on a side, from the counties
aforesaid. Ten Bargemen are to eat ten quarts of hasty-
pudding, well buttered, but d——d hot! He that has done
first to have a silver spoon of ten shillings value; and the
second five shillings. And as they have anciently had the
title of The Merry Wives of Windsor, six old women belonging
to Windsor town challenge any six old women in the universe,
(we need not, however, go farther than our own country) to
out-scold them. The best in three heats to have a suit of
head-cloths, and, (what old women generally want!) a pair of
nut-crackers.”—Read's Journal, September 9, 1721.
“According to Law. September 22, 1749.—On Wednesday next,
the 27th inst., will be run for by Asses (I!) in Tothill
Fields, a purse of gold, not exceeding the value of Fifty
Pounds. The first will be entitled to the gold; the second
to two pads; the third to thirteen pence halfpenny; the last
to a halter fit for the neck of any ass in Europe. Each ass
must be subject to the following articles
“No person will be allowed to ride but Taylors and Chimney-
sweepers; the former to have a cabbage-leaf fixed in his
hat, the latter a plumage of white feathers; the one to use
nothing but his yard-wand, and the other a brush.
“No jockey-tricks will be allowed upon any consideration.
“No one to strike an ass but the rider, lest he thereby
cause a retrograde motion, under a penalty of being ducked
three times in the river.
“No ass will be allowed to start above thirty years old, or
under ten months, nor any that has won above the value of
fifty pounds.
“No ass to run that has been six months in training,
particularly above stairs, lest the same accident happen to
it that did to one nigh a town ten miles from London, and
that for reasons well known to that place.
“Each ass to pay sixpence entrance, three farthings of which
are to be given to the old clerk of the race, for his due
care and attendance.
“Every ass to carry weight for inches, if thought proper.”
Then follow a variety of sports, with “an ordinary of proper
victuals, particularly for the riders, if desired.”
“Run, lads, run! there is rare sport in Tothill Fields!”
CHAPTER V.
Southwark Fair ranked next to St. Bartholomew, and comprehended all the attractions for which its rival on the other side of the water was so famous. On the 13th day of September 1660, John Evelyn visited it. “I saw,” said this entertaining sight-seer, “in Southwark, at St. Margaret's Faire, monkies and apes daunce, and do other feates of activity on ye high rope: they were gallantly clad à la mode, went upright, saluted the company, bowing and pulling off their hats; they saluted one another with as good a grace as if instructed by a dauncing-master; they turned heels over head with a basket having eggs in it, without breaking any; also with lighted candles in their hands, and on their heads, without extinguishing them, and with vessels of water, without spilling a drop. I also saw an Italian wench daunce and performe all the tricks of ye tight rope to admiration. All the Court went to see her. Likewise here was a man who tooke up a piece of iron cannon, of about 400 lbs weight, with the haire of his head onely.” September 15, 1698, the curious old narrator paid it another visit. “The dreadful earthquake in Jamaica this summer” (says he) “was prophanely and ludicrously represented in a puppet-play, or some such lewd pastime in the fair of Southwark, wch caused the Queane to put downe that idle and vicious mock shew.” The fair, however, revived, and outlived her Majesty many merry years. How slept the authorities some seasons ago, when Messrs. Mathews and Yates dramatised an “Earthquake” at the Adelphi!
The Bowling Green in Southwark was the high 'Change of the Fair. Mr. Fawkes, the conjuror, exhibited at his booth, over against the Crown Tavern, near St. George's Church. Dramatic representations, music and dancing, the humours of Punch and Harlequin, a glass of “good wine, and other liquors,” were to be had at the several booths held at the “Golden Horse-shoe,” * the “Half-Moon Inn,” ** and other well-known houses of entertainment. Thither resorted Lee and Harper to delight the denizens of Kent Street, Guy's Hospital, and St. Thomas's, with Guy of Warwick, Robin Hood, the comical adventures of Little John and the Pindar's wife, and the Fall of Phaëton! In July 1753, the Tennis Court and booths that were on the Bowling Green, with some other buildings where the fair used to be held, were pulled down; and shortly after, that pleasant Bowling Green was converted into a potato and cabbage market!
and Bacon, during Southwark Fair, are at the Golden Horse-
Shoe, next to the King's Bench, where you may be entertained
with a variety of musick and dancing after the Scotch,
Italian, and English ways. A Girl dances with sharp swords,
the like not in England.”—Temp. W. 3.
“There is to be seen at Mr. Hocknes, at the Maremaid, near
the King's Bench, in Southwark, during the time of the Fair,
A Changeling Child, being A Living Skeleton, Taken by a
Venetian Galley from a Turkish Vessel in the Archipelago.
This was a fairy child, supposed to be born of Hungarian
parents, but changed in the nursery; aged 9 years and more,
not exceeding a foot and a half high. The legs and arms so
very small, that they scarcely exceed the bigness of a man's
thumb; and the face no bigger than the palm of one's hand.
She is likewise a mere anatomy.”—Temp. W. 3.
** “Sept. 12, 1729.—At Reynold's Great Theatrical Booth, in
the Half-Moon Inn, near the Bowling-Green, Southwark, during
the Fair will be presented the Beggar's Wedding,—Southwark
Fair, or the Sheep-Shearing,—an opera called Flora,—and
The Humours of Harlequin.”
Southwark, or Lady Fair, has long since been suppressed. Thanks, however, to the “great painter of mankind,” that we can hold it as often as we please in our own breakfast-parlours and drawing-rooms! The works of Hogarth are medicines for melancholy. If the mood be of Jacques's quality, “a most humorous sadness,” it will revel in the master's whim; if of a deeper tinge, there is the dark side of the picture for mournful reflection. Though an unsparing satirist, probing vice and folly to the quick, he has compassion for human frailty and sorrow. He is no vulgar caricaturist, making merry with personal deformity; he paints wickedness in its true colours, and if the semblance be hideous, the original, not the copy, is to blame. His scenes are faithful transcripts of life, high and low. He conducts us into the splendid saloons of fashion;—we pass with him into the direst cells of want and misery. He reads a lesson to idleness, extravagance, and debauchery, such as never was read before. He is equally master of the pathetic and the ludicrous. He exhibits the terrible passions, and their consequences, with almost superhuman power. Every stroke of his pencil points a moral; every object, however insignificant, has its meaning. His detail is marvellous, and bespeaks a mind pregnant with illustration, an eye that nothing could escape. Bysshe's Art of Poetry, the well-chalked tally, the map of the gold mines, and the starved cur making off with the day's lean provision, are in perfect keeping with the distressed poet's ragged finery, his half-mended breeches, and all the exquisite minutiae of his garret. His very wig, most picturesquely awry, is a happy symbol of poetical and pecuniary perplexity. Of the same marking character are the cow's horns, rising just above the little citizen's head, in the print of “Evening,” telling a sly tale; while the dramatis personae of the Strollers' Barn, the flags, paint-pots, pageants, clouds, waves, puppets, dark-lanterns, thunder, lightning, daggers, periwigs, crowns, sceptres, salt-boxes, ghosts, devils, and tragedy queens exhibit such an unique miscellany of wonders, that none but an Hogarth ever thought of bringing together. Turn, by way of contrast, to “Gin Lane,” and its frightful accompaniments!
Hogarth went quite as much to see Southwark Fair and its fun (for which he had a high relish) as to transfer them to his canvass. 'Tis a holiday with the mountebanks, and he has caught them in all their grimacerie and glory. A troop of strollers, belonging to Messrs. Cibber and Bullock, attitudinising and making mouths, as a prologue to the “Fall of Bajazet,” are suddenly surprised into the centre of gravity by the breaking down of their scaffold, and Kings, Queens, Turks, tumblers, monkeys, and Merry Andrews descend topsy-turvy into a china-shop below! At Lee and Harper's grand booth are the celebrated Wooden Horse of Troy, the Temptation of Adam and Eve, and Punch's Opera. A fire-eater is devouring his red-hot element, and his periwigged Jack-Pud-ding is distributing his quack nostrums. A tragedy hero has a brace of bailiffs in his train; and a prize-fighter, with his hare sconce dotted with sable patches, and a nose that might successfully bob for black-beetles against a brick wall, mounted on a blind bone-setter, perambulates the fair, challenging the wide world to mortal combat!
These, with a pretty female drummer of amazonian proportions; an equilibrist swinging on the slack rope; a juggler with his cups and balls; a pickpocket and a couple of country boobies; a bag-piper; a dancing dog; a dwarf drummer, and a music-grinder, make up a dramatis jiersono only to be equalled by the Strolling Players * and the March to Finchley.
Fontaine of Vaudeville, has written some verses admirably
descriptive of an opera behind the scenes.
“J'ai vu le soleil et la lune
Qui tenoient des discours en l'air:
J'ai vu le terrible Neptune
Sortir tout frisé de la mer.
“J'ai vu l'aimable Cythéré
Au doux regard, au teint fleuri,
Dans un machine entourée
D'amours natifs de Chambérie.”
And, after having seen a great number of other things
equally curious, he concludes with,—
“J'ai vu des ombres très-palpables Se trémousser aux bords
du Styx;
J'ai vu l'enfer et tous les diables A quinze pieds du
Paradis,”
Some years ago, a strolling company at Ludlow, in
Shropshire, printed a playbill nearly as large as their
drop-scene. It announced “The Doleful History of King Lear
and his Three Daughters, with the Merry Conceits of his
Majesty's Fool, and the valorous exploits of the Duke of
Gloucester's Bastard; all written by one William
Shakespeare, a mighty great poet, who was born in
Warwickshire, and held horses for gentlemen at the sign of
the Red Bull in St. John's Street, where was just such
another playhouse as this (I!!), at which we hope the
company of all friends round the Wrekin.
“All you who would wish to cry or laugh,
Had better spend your money here than in the alehouse by
half;
And if you wish more about these things to know,
Come at six o'clock to the barn in the High Street, Ludlow,
Where, presented by live actors, the whole may be seen,
So Vivat Rex, God save the King, not forgetting the Queen.”
Just as a strolling actor at Newcastle had advertised his
benefit, a remarkable stranger, no less than the Prince
Annamaboo arrived, and placarded the town that he granted
audiences at a shilling a-head. The stroller, without delay,
waited on the proprietor of the Prince, and for a good round
sum prevailed on him to command his Serene Highness to
exhibit his august person on his benefit night. The bills of
the day announced, that between the acts of the comedy
Prince Annumaboo would give a lively representation of the
scalping operation* sound the Indian war-whoop in all its
melodious tones, practise the tomahawk exercise, and dine à
la cannibal. An intelligent mob were collected to witness
these interesting exploits. At the conclusion of the third
act, his Highness marched forward flourishing his tomahawk,
and shouting, “Ha, ha!—ho, ho!” Next entered a man Avith
his face blacked, and a piece of bladder fastened to his
head with gum; the Prince, with an enormous carving-knife,
began the scalping part of the entertainment, which he
performed in a truly imperial style, holding up the piece of
bladder as a token of triumph. Next came the war-whoop, an
unearthly combination of discordant sounds; and lastly, the
banquet, consisting of raw beef-steaks, which he rolled up
into rouleaus, and devoured with right royal avidity. Having
finished his delicate repast, he wielded his tomahawk in an
exulting manner, bellowed “Ha, ha!—ho, ho!” and made his
exit. The beneficiare strolling through the marketplace the
following day, spied the most puissant Prince Annama-boo
selling pen-knives, scissors, and quills, in the character
of a Jew pedlar. “What!” said the astonished Lord Townley,
“my Prince, is it you? Are you not a pretty circumcised
little scoundrel to impose upon us in this manner?” Moses
turned round, and with an arch look, replied, “Princh be d—d!
I vash no Princh; I vash acting, like you. Your troop
vash Lords and Ladies last night; and to-night dey vil be
Kings, Prinches, and Emperors! I vash hum pugs, you vash
humpugs, all vash humpugs!”
There is a fair,—an extraordinary one,—the holding of which depends not on the caprice of magisterial wiggery. Jack Frost—a bold fellow! for he has taken Marlborough and Wellington by the nose—twice or thrice in a century proclaims his fair. No sooner is the joyful tidings bruited abroad, than the dutiful sons and daughters of Old Father Thames flock to his paternal bosom, which, being icy cold, they warm by roasting an ox upon it, and then transfer to its glassy surface the turmoil, traffic, and monstrosities of dry land.
Evelyn has given an interesting description of Frost Fair in 1683-4. This amusing chronicler of passing events possessed more than Athenian curiosity. He entered the penetralia of the court of King Charles the Second; and while he whispered in his closet pathetic Jeremiads over its immorality, he shocked his averted vision day after day with its impurities—still peeping! still praying! For all and sundry of the merry Monarch's “misses,” and for poor Nelly (by far the best of them) in particular, he expressed a becoming horror in his private meditations; yet his outward bearing towards them indicated no such compunctious visitings. He was an excellent tactician. He crept into the privy councils of the regicides, and, mirabile dictu! retired from the enemy's camp in a whole skin; and while fortunes were being confiscated, and heads were falling on all sides, he kept his own snug in his pocket, and erect on his shoulders. Monarchy, Anarchy, High Church, Low Church, No Church, Catholicism, Anything-ism, Every-thing-ism.! plain John (he declined a baronetcy) passed over the red-hot ploughshares of political and religious persecution unsinged. And we rejoice at his good luck; for whether he treat of London's great Plague or Fire, the liaisons of his “kind master” King Charles the Second, the naughtiness of Nelly and her nymphs, or the ludicrous outbreaks of Southwark, St. Bartholomew, and Frost Fairs, he is a delightful, gentlemanly old gossiper!
On the 1st of January 1683-4, the cold was so intense, that booths (a novel spectacle) were erected on the Thames, and Jack Frost proclaimed his earliest recorded fair.
“I went crosse the Thames,” says Evelyn, January 9, 1683-4, “on the ice, which now became so thick as to bear not only streetes of boothes, in which they roasted meate, and had divers shops of wares, quite acrosse as in a towne, but coaches, carts, and horses passed over. So I went from Westminster Stay res to Lambeth, and din'd with the Archbishop. I walked over the ice (after dinner) from Lambeth Stayres to the Horseferry.”
“The Thames (Jany 16) was filled with people and tents, selling all sorts of wares as in a citty. The frost (Jany 24) continuing more and more severe, the Thames before London was still planned with boothes in formal streetes, all sorts of trades and shops furnished and full of commodities, even to a printing-presse, where the people and ladyes tooke a fancy to have their names printed on the Thames. This humour tooke so universally, that 'twas estimated the printer gain'd 51. a-day, for printing a line only, at sixpence a name, besides what he got by ballads, &c. Coaches plied from Westminster to the Temple, and from several other staires to and fro, as in the streetes, sleds, sliding with skeates, a bull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet playes and interludes, cookes, tipling, and other lewd places, so that it seem'd to be a bacchanalian triumph, or carnival on the water.”
“It began to thaw (Feb. 5), but froze againe. My coach crossed from Lambeth to the Horseferry at Millbank, Westminster. The booths were almost all taken downe; but there was first a map, or landskip, * cut in copper, representing all the manner of the camp, and the several actions, sports, and pastimes thereon, in memory of so signal a frost.”