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old gentleman,* in snow-white canonicals, and a cork-screw wig. The next morning two bailiffs arrested him for twenty pounds, just as the Bishop of Ely was riding by in his coach. Quoth Joe to the bailiffs, * Gentlemen, here is my cousin, the Bishop of Ely; let me but speak a word to him, and he will pay the debt and charges.' The Bishop ordered his carriage to stop, whilst Joe (close to his ear,) whispered,
My Lord, here are a couple of poor waverers who have such terrible scruples of conscience, that I fear they'll hang themselves.' — Very well, said the Bishop. So, calling to the bailiffs, he said, “ You two men, come to me to-morrow, and I'll satisfy you. The bailiffs bowed, and went their way; Joe (tickled in the midriff
, and hugging himself with his device) went his way too. In the morning the bailiffs repaired to the Bishop's house. Well, my good men,' said his reverence, 'what are your scruples of conscience ?' - Scruples!' replied the bailiffs, we have no scruples! We are bailiffs, my Lord, who yesterday arrested your cousin, Joe Haynes, for twenty pounds. Your Lordship promised to satisfy us to-day, and we hope you will be as good as your word.' The Bishop, to prevent any further scandal to his name, immediately paid the debt and charges.
The following theatrical adventure occurred during his pilgrimage to the well-known shrine,
• Which at Loretto dwelt in wax, stone, wood,
And in a fair white whig look'd wondrous fine.' It was St. John's day, and the devout people of the parish had built a stage in the body of the church, for the representation of a tragedy called the Decollation of the Baptist. Joe had the good luck to enter just as
row mes :
Catholicism, though it enjoined penance and mortification, was no enemy, at appointed seasons, to mirth. Hers were merry saints, for they always brought with them a holiday. A right jovial prelate was ihe Pope who first invented the Carnival! On that joyful festival racks and thumbscrews, fire and taggots, were put by; whips and hair-shirts exchanged for lutes and dominos; and music inspired equally their diversions and devotions.
+ The Chester Mysteries, written by Randle or Ralph Higden, a Benedictine of St. Werburg's Abbey in that city, were first performed during the Mayoralty of John Arneicay, who filled that office from 1268 to 1276, at the cost and charges of the different trading companies therein. They were acted in English (6 made into partes and pagiantes') instead of in Latin, and played on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday in Whitsun week. The companies began at the abbey gates, and when the first pageant was concluded, the moveable stage (“a high scaffolde with two
a higher and a lower, upon four wheels') was wheeled to the High Cross before the Mayor, and then onward to every street, so that each street had its pageant
• The Marrowing of Hell’ is one of the most ancient Miracle Plays in our language. It is as old as the reign of Edward the Third, if not older. The Prologue and Epilogue were delivered in his own person by the actor who had the part of the Saviour. In 1378, the Scholars of St. Paul's presented a petition to Richard the Second, praying him to prohibit some inespert people from presenting the History of the old Testament, lo the serious prejudice of their clergy, who had been at great expense in order to represent it at Christmas. On the 18th July, 1390, the Parish Cierks of London played Religions Interludes at the Skinners' Well, in Clerkenwell, which lasted three days. In 1409, they performed The Creation of the World, which continued eight days. On one side of the lowest platform of these primitive stages was a dark pitchy cavern, whence issued fire and flames, and the howlings of souls tormented by demons. The latter occasionally showed their grinning faces through the mouth of the cavern, to the terrible de. light of the spectators! The Passion of our Saviour was the first dramatic spec
the actors were leaving off their damnable faces,' and going to begin. They had pitched upon an ill-looking surly butcher for King Herod, upon whose chuckle head a gilt pasteboard crown glittered gloriously by the candle light; and, as soon as he had seated himself in a ricketty old wicker chair, radiant with faded finery, that served him for a throne, the orchestra (three fifes and a fiddle) struck up a merry tune, and a young damsel began so to shake her heels, that, with the help of a little imagination, our noble comedian might have fancied himself in his old quarters at St. Bartholomew or Sturbridge Fair.*
The dance over, King Herod, with a vast profusion of barn-door majesty, marched towards the damsel, and in very choice Italian' (which the parson of the parish composed for the occasion, and we have translated) thus complimented her:
* Bewitching maiden! dancing sprite !
I like thy graceful motion:
It is at thy devotion.' The danseuse, after whispering to a saffron-complexioned crone, who played Herodias, fell down upon both knees, and pointing to the Baptist, a grave old farmer! exclaimed,
• If, sir, intending what you say,
Your Majesty don't flatter,
Were brought me in a platter.' The bluff butcher looked about him as sternly as one of Elkanah'st blustering heroes, and, after taking a fierce stride or two across the stage to vent his royal choler, vouchsafed this reply,
tacle acted in Sweden, in the reign of King John the Second. The actor's name was Lengis who was to pierce the side of the person on the cross. Heated by the enthusiasm of the scene, he plunged his lance into that person's body, and killed him. The King, shocked at the brutality of Lengis, slew him with his scimetar; when the audience, enraged at the death of their favourite actor, wound up this true tragedy by cutting off his Majesty's head!
Stourbridge, or Šturbridge Fair, originated in a grant from King Jobn to the hospital of lepers at that place. By a charter in the thirtieth year of Henry the Eighth, the fair was granted to the magistrates and corporation of Cambridge. In 1613 it became so popular, that hackney coaches attended it from London; and in after times, not less than sixty coaches plied there. In 1766 and 1767, the Lord of the Tap,' dressed in a red livery, with a string over his shoulders, from whence depended spigots and fossetts, entered all the booths where ale was sold, to determine whether it was fit heverage for the visitors. In 1788, Flockton exhibited at Sturbridge fair. The following lines were printed on his bills :
* To raise the soul by means of wood and wire,
Who hope their wooden aims will not be thrown away! + Elkanah Settle, the City Laureat, after the Revolution, kept a booth at Bartholomew Fair, where, in a droll called St. George for England, he acted in a dragon of green leather of his own intention. In reference to the sweet singer of annual tro phies’ and monthly wars' hissing in his own dragon, Pope uiters this charitable wish regarding Colley,
Avert it, heaven, that thou, my Cibber, e'er
* Fair cruel maid, recall thy wish,
The cranium of my prophet.'
Your royal word's not worth a fig,
If thus in flams you glory ;
The Baptist's upper story.' This satirical sally put the imperial butcher upon his mettle; he bit his thumbs, scratched his carroty pole, pausd; and, thinking he had lighted on a loop-hole, grumbled out with stiff-necked profundity,
"A wicked oath, like sixpence crack'd,
Or pie-crust, may be broken.' The damsel, however, was 'down upon him before he could articulate • Jack Robinson,' with
• But not the promise of a King,
Which is a royal token.' This polished off the rough edges of his Majesty's misgivings, and the decollation of John the Baptist followed; but the good people, resolving to make their martyr some small amends, permitted his representative to receive absolution from a portly priest who stood as a spectator at one corner of the stage; while the two soldiers who had decapitated bim in effigy, with looks full of contrition, threw themselves into the confessional, and implored the ghostly father to assign them a stiff penance to expiate their guilt
. Thus ended this tragedy of tragedies, which, with all due deference to Joe's veracity, we suspect to have had its origin in Bartholomew Fair.
Joe Haynes shuffled off his comical coil on Friday, the 4th of April, 1701. The Smithfield muses mourned his death in an elegy,* a rare broadside, with a black border, 'printed for J. B. near the Strand, 1701.
* An Elegy on the Death of Mr. Joseph Haines, the late Famous Actor in the King's Play-House,' &c. &c.
• Lament, you Beaus and Players every one,
Thomas Dogget, the last of our triumvirate, was a little lively sprat man. He dressed neat, and something fine, in a plain cloth coat and a brocaded waistcoat. He sang in company very agreeably, and in public very comically. He was the Will Kempe of his day. He danced the Cheshire Round full as well as the famous Captain George, but with more nature and nimbleness. A writer in the Secret Mercury of September 9, 1702, says, "At last all the childish parade shrunk off the stage by matter and motion, and cnter a hobbledehoy of a dance, and Dogget, in old woman's petticoats and red waistcoat, as like Progue Cock as ever man saw. It would have made a stoic split his lungs if he had seen the temporary harlot sing and weep both at once; a true emblem of a woman's tears!' He was a faithful, pleasant actor. He never deceived his audience; because, while they gazed at him, he was working up the joke, which broke out suddenly into involuntary acclamations and laughter. He was a capital face-player and gesticulator, and a thorough master of the several dialects, except the Scotch ; but was, for all that, an excellent Sawney. His great parts were Fondlewife, in the old Bachelor ; Ben, in Love for Love; Hob, in the Country Wake, &c. Colley Cibber's account of him is one glowing panegyric. Colley played Fondlewife so completely after the manner of Dogget, copying his voice, person, and dress with such scrupulous exactness, that the audience, mistaking him for the original, applauded vociferously. Of this Dogget himself was a witness, for he sat in the pit.
• Whoever would see him pictured,f may view him in the character of Sawney, at the Duke's head in Lynn-Regis, Norfolk.
Will the jovial spirit of Tony Aston revisit the “pale glimpses of the moon,' and point out where this interesting memento hides its head? • Go on, I'll follow thee.' He died at Eltham in Kent, 22d September, 1721.
How small an act of kindness will embalm a man's memory! Baddeley's Twelfth Cakef shall be eaten, and Dogget's coat and badges rowed for,
While Christmas frolics, and while Thanes shall flow.
* And shall not a bumper flow to the memory of our big-wigged merry satellites of St. Bartlemy, in spite of the “ Sin of drinking
Dogget had a sable rival. In Bartholomew Fair, at the Coach House on the Pav'd Stones at Hosier-Lane-End, you shall see a Black that dances the Cheshire Rounds, to the admiration of all spectators. Temp. William Third.
Here, too, is Dogget's own bill! · At Parker's and Dogget's Booth, near HosierLane-End, during the time of Bartholomeu Fair, will be presented a New Droll, called Fryar Bacon, or the Country Justice; with the Humours of Tollfree the Miller and his son Ralph, Acted by Mr. Dogget. With variety of Scenes, Machines, Songs, and Dances. Vivat Rex, 1691.'
+ The only portrait of Dogget known is a small print, representing him dancing the Cheshire Round, with the motto · Ne sutor ultra crepidam.'
1 Baddeley, the comedian, bequeathed a yearly sum for ever, to be laid out in the purchase of a Twelfth-cake and wine, for the entertainment of the ladies and gendemen of Drury Lane theatre.
Ø . This day the Coat and Badge given by Mr. Dogget, will be rowed for by six young watermen, out of their apprenticeship this year, from the Old Swan at Chelsea,' - Daily Adtertiser, July 31, 1753. VOL. VII.
healths," the Unloveliness of Love-locks," and the Loathsomeness of Long Haire' of Praise-God-Barebones and Fear-the-Lord Barbottle ?'
And Mr. Bosky answered his own question by a brimming libation of London particular, calling upon us to follow my leader,' and take up the chorus of
Three merry men, three merry men,
Three merry men they be!
That he got at Tyburn Tree!
Three merry men are we!
Under the green-wood tree!
And the flowers are fair to see;
No second spring has he!
Let the world still wag as it will,
Three merry wags are we!
Hang'd Care at Tyburn Tree.
It would require a poetical imagination to paint the times when a gallant train of England's chivalry rode from the Tower Royal through Knight-rider Street and Giltspur Street (how significant are the names of these interesting localities, bearing record of their former glory!) to their splendid tournaments in Smithfield, -or proceeding down Long Lane, crossing the Barbican (the Specula or Watch-tower of Romanum Londinium), and skirting that far-famed street* where, in ancient times, dwelt the Fletchers and Bowyers, but which has since become synonymous with poetry and poverty • lulled by soft zephyrs through the broken pane, –ambled gaily through daisy-dappled meads to Finsbury Fields,Ť 10 enjoy a more
• In Grub Street resided John Fox, the Martyrologist, and Henry Welby, the English hermit, who, instigated by the ingratitude of a younger brother, shut himself up in bis house for forty-four years, without being seen by any human being. Though an unsociable recluse, he was a man of the most exemplary charity.
+ In the days of Fitzstephen, Finsbury or Fensbury was one vast lake, and the citizens practised every variety of amusement on the ice. • Some will make a large cake of ice, and, seating one of their companions upon it, they take hold of one's hand, and draw him along. Others place the leg-bones of animals under the soles of their feel, by tying them round their ancles, and then, taking a pole shod with iron into their hands, they push themselves forward with a velocity equal to a bolt discharged from a crossbow.'
We learn from an old ballad called. The Life and Death of the Two Ladies of Finsbury that gave Moorfields to the city, for the maidens of London to dry their cloaths,