what manner of wife they shall choose, not one trickt up with ribbens and knots like a Bartholomew baby, for such an one will prove a holyday wife, all play and no work: And he who with such kind of wife is sped, Better to have one made of ginger-bread." In Nabbes' Comedy called Totenham Court, 1638, p. 47, is the following: "I have packed her up in't like a Bartholomew babie in a boxe. I warrant you for hurting her." Gayton, in his Art of Longevity, 1659, p. 3, says: "(As if there were not pigg enough) Ibid. p. 79, speaking of plums, he says: "If eaten, as we use at Barthol'mew tide, Hand over head, that's without care or guide, I have a tract entitled, "Reasons formerly published for the punctual limiting of Bartholomew Faire to those three days to which it is determined by the royal grant of it to the city of London now reprinted with additions to prevent a design set on foot to procure an establishment of the said fair for fourteen dayes; addressed to the Lord Mayor, Court of Aldermen, and Common Council"-8vo. Lond. 1711, pp. 32. : [Oh! St. Bartlemy, St. Bartlemy, how has thy greatness fallen, thy strength wasted away! Where now are the high priests of thy temples (Luperci, or rather, perhaps, the Sain, who "about the streets a mad procession led"), the vestals, the sacrificial fires, and holy noises? Lucretius his description of other orgies once did for thine-alas! that things have changed. "Amidst the pomp fierce drums and cymbals beat, The cothurnus and the soccus were donned in thy honour. though "rude were the actors and a cart the scene," fire was eaten, parchment beaten, dwarfs rang tiny bells from their miniature domiciles, and Northumberland giants twelve feet high, stood comfortably in caravans little more than seven. Men and women, to propitiate thee, suffered themselves gladly to be swung violently into the air for the hour together, or astride a wooden image, to be whirled wildly round till the brain swam and they knew not "where was the world;" while others poured libations into their frames in utter fury of devotion to thy cause! "The victim ox," described by Virgil: "That was for altars pressed, Trimm'd with white ribbons and with garlands dress'd," no longer steams from out a thousand pans, enclosed in skins of shape oblong and round, fit holocaust for thee. The very savour has departed, and is now but a memory. "To seek for Rome, vain stranger, art thou come, And find'st no mark, within Rome's walls, of Rome." How would that good man rejoice could he now look into thy empty halls, who several hundred years ago, wrote a tract for Richard Harper, at the Bible and Harp, Smithfield, entitled, "Bartholomew Faire, or Varieties of Fancies, where you may find a faire of wares; and all to please your mind, with the several enormityes and misdemeanours, which are there seen and heard." Verily, he would say, the evil has come unto you. Malcolm writes of the fair in 1802: "The visitor will here find all uproar. Shouts, drums, trumpets, organs, the roaring of beasts, assailing the ear! While the blaze of torches and glare of candles confuse the sight, and present as well the horror of executions and burning of martyrs, as the humours of a fair." Later still, Hone, in one of his miscellanies, gives a detailed description of all he found there, including numerous shows, fun, vice, and phenomena. Its end was even then visible: it may now be said to be come. A menagerie of wild beasts; a caravan containing two "real live boa-constrictor serpents, a learned pig, and an ourangoutang what understands nearly every word that's spoken;' two travelling auctioneers selling knives, scissors, brushes, and such like, at the rate of about three for sixpence; a score of booths for gingerbread nuts, a mechanical exhibition and a conjurer in Hosier Lane, form at this present writing the "sum tottle of the whole." Richardson's booth-birthplace of heroes-he himself the real descendant of Thespis, "who taught men how to speak and how to act," no longer takes its place or money from the people. The last time we entered the age-honoured tent, redolent of size, saw-dust, and soft soap, a storm of rain led to percolations from the "flapping canvass," and a cry arose of "umbrellas down in front," put up to defend their fortunate owners. Loud roared the unfortunate actors to be heard above the hubbub; and all was going wrong, when a "cool hand," inquiring quietly of the chief villain (who was at the moment straining every nerve, distending every vein, with shouting) whether he could not speak a little louder, raised a unanimous laugh, and turned the tragedy into a farce. The play was got through in ten minutes, and then the manager announced that the performances "would be repeated again (aye! and again) in two minutes and a half." Truly, as the owner of the boa-constrictor serpents before mentioned, said every time his caravan disgorged its occupants, “I can confidently appeal to every hindiwidual possessing humane intellects, to say whether this was not a sight at once hinteresting and amusing, destructive and delightful." But let that pass; and return for one instant to the fair as it is. The keepers of neighbouring hostels willing, of course, to preserve so interesting a remnant of antiquity, endeavour by balls and harmonic meetings to revive defunct joviality. Strive however, never so hardly, Bartholomew fair cannot be revived; recreation is now sought in other ways. St. Bartlemy, to make the fair personal, has had his day, and must speedily say farewell! "I have touched the highest point of all my greatness, and from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting. I shall fall like a bright exhalation in the evening, and no man see me more.' The following allusion to the roast pig is from Poor Robin's Almanack for 1740: "If women that with child are big, Gay, in his fable of the two monkeys, thus describes Southwark fair: "The tumbler whirles the flip-flap round, With clapping hands applaud the sight." I have before me a printed resolution of the parliament, dated Thursday the 17th of July, 1651: "That the fair usually held and kept yearly at St. James's, within the liberty of the city of Westminster, on or about the 25th day of July, be forborn this year; and that no fair be kept or held there by any person or persons whatsoever, until the parliament shall take further order. HEN. SCOBELL, Cleric. Parliamenti." A scarce tract is also in my possession entitled, Reasons for suppressing the yearly Fair in Brook-field, Westminster, commonly called May-Fair, recommended to the consideration of all persons of Honour and Virtue, 8vo. Lond. 1709, 43 pages. P. 4: "Multitudes of the booths erected in this fair are not for trade and merchandice, but for musick, showes, drinking, gaming, raffling, lotteries, stage-plays, and drolls." P. 8: "It is a very unhappy circumstance of this fair that it begins with the prime beauty of the year; in which many innocent persons incline to walk into the fields and out-parts of the city to divert themselves, as they very lawfully may." This fair was granted by King James II. in the fourth year of his reign, to commence on the 1st of May, and continue fifteen days after it, yearly, for ever. Shaw, in his History of Staffordshire, ii. part 1, p. 165, speaking of Wolverhampton and the processioners there, says: "Another custom (now likewise discontinued) was the annual procession, on the 9th of July (the eve of the great fair), of men in antique armour, preceded by musicians playing the fair-tune, and followed by the steward of the Deanry manor, the peace-officers, and many of the principal inhabitants. Tradition says the ceremony originated at the time when Wolverhampton was a great emporium of wool, and resorted to by merchants of the staple from all parts of England. The necessity of an armed force to keep peace and order during the fair (which is said to have lasted fourteen days, but the charter says only eight) is not improbable. This custom of walking the fair (as it was called) with the armed procession, &c., was first omitted about the year 1789." Courts were granted at fairs, to take notice of all manner of causes and disorders committed upon the place, called piepowder, because justice was done to any injured person before the dust of the fair was off his feet.' It is customary at all fairs to present fairings, or gifts bought at fairs. This custom prevailed in the days of Chaucer, as appears by the subsequent passage in the Wife of Bathe's prologue, where she boasts of having managed her several husbands so well: "I governed hem so well after my lawe That eche of hem full blissful was, and fawe (i. e. glad): They were ful glade, &c.2 In regard to sports at fairs, Grose mentions one called "Mumble a sparrow-a cruel sport practised at wakes and fairs in the following manner: a cock-sparrow, whose wings are clipped, is put into the crown of a hat; a man, having his arms tied behind him, attempts to bite off the sparrow's head, but is generally obliged to desist, by the many pecks and pinches he receives from the enraged bird." Or rather, perhaps, the court of pie-powder means the court of pedlers. See the subsequent evidences: "Gif ane stranger merchand travelland throw the realme, havand na land, nor residence, nor dwelling within the schirefdome, bot vaigand fra ane place to ane other, quha therefore is called pied puldreux or dustifute," &c. Regiam Majestatem, 4to. Edinb. 1774, p. 261. So, chap. cxl. p. 265, ibid.: "Anend ane fairand-man or dustifute." So again, in the table, p. 432, ibid. : "Dustiefute, ane pedder, or cremar, quha hes na certaine dwelling-place, quhere he may dicht the dust from his feet," &c. Barrington, on the Ancient Statutes, p. 423, observes that, "In the Burrow Laws of Scotland an alien merchant is called pied-puldreaux, and likewise ane farand-man, or a man who frequents fairs." The court of pie-powder is, therefore, to determine disputes between those who resort to fairs and these kind of pedlers who generally attend them. Pied-pulderaux, in old French, signifies a pedler, who gets his livelihood by vending his goods where he can, without any certain or fixed residence. 2 "Ad sua quisque redit; festivis Daphnen Amyntas See Rusticæ Nundina, Woodward's Poems, 1730, p. 232. |