Part 102
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.