made entirely of wood, and in many instances the backs were curiously
carved, either with figures, grotesque heads, or foliage. Most of the
early chairs had arms for supporting elbows, and which were also carved.
In the Archaeologia, published by the Society of Antiquaries, several
representations of ancient chairs are given.[14] Of the Royal thrones, the
reader will find a curious succession, from the time of Edward the
Confessor to that of James the First, exhibited in the great seals of
England, representations of most of which have been published by Speed in
his History of Great Britain, and in Sandford's Genealogical History of
England.
The cry of "Old Chairs to mend!" is frequently uttered with great
clearness, and occasionally with some degree of melody. Suett, the late
facetious Comedian, took the cry of "Old Chairs to mend," in an interlude,
entitled, the "Cries of London," performed some years since in the Little
Theatre in the Haymarket, and repeated the old lines of
"Old Chairs to mend! Old Chairs to mend!
If I had the money that I could spend,
I never would cry Old Chairs to mend."[15]
The late John Bannister, who performed in the same piece, took the cry of
"Come here's your scarlet ware, long and strong scarlet garters, twopence
a pair, twopence a pair, twopence a pair!" which was a close imitation of
a little fellow who made a picturesque appearance about the streets with
his long scarlet garters streaming from the end of a pole.
The late eccentric actor Baddeley, who left a sum of money to purchase a
cake to be eaten by his successors every Twelfth Night, in the Green-room
of Drury Lane Theatre, took the cry of "Come buy my shrimps, come buy my
shrimps, prawns, very large prawns, a wine-quart a penny periwinkles."
The late Dr. Owen informed the present writer that he had heard that the
author of "God save the King" caught the tones either from a man who cried
"Old Chairs to mend," or from another who cried "Come buy my door-mats;"
and it is well known that one of Storace's most favourite airs in "No Song
no Supper," was almost wholly constructed from a common beggar's chaunt.
[Illustration: _Prickle Maker_]
THE BASKET-MAKER.
PLATE XVII.
The man whose figure affords the subject of the next Plate is a journeyman
Prickle-maker, and works in a cellar on the western side of the Haymarket.
A prickle is a basket used by the wine-merchants for their empty bottles;
it is made of osiers unpeeled and in their natural state, and the basket
is made loose with open work, so that when it is filled with bottles it
may ride easy in the wine-merchant's caravan, and without the least risk
of breaking them. The maker of prickles begins the formation of the bottom
of the basket by placing the osier twigs in the form of a star flat upon
the ground; he then with another twig commences his weaving by twisting it
under and over the ends of the twigs which meet in the centre of the star,
and so he goes on to the extent of the circumference of the intended
prickle; he then bends up the surrounding twigs, which are in a moist
state, and binds them in the middle and the top, and thus the prickle is
finished. The formation of hampers for wine-merchants' sieves, and baskets
for the gardeners and fishmongers, and indeed that of all other basket
work, is begun in the same way as the prickle. The basket-maker is seated
upon a broad flat stage consisting of at least four boards clamped
together, touching the ground at one end, on which his feet are placed,
but elevated about six feet. Upon the end where he is seated free air
passes under him, and thus he takes less cold from the ground of the
cellar.
In Lapland large baskets are made by two persons, a man and a woman. Their
mode of forming their baskets in every particular is similar to that of
the English. On the banks of the Thames, from Fulham to Staines, there
were formerly numerous basket-makers' huts, but opulent persons, anxious
to have houses on those delightful spots, purchased the ground on the
expiration of the leases, and erected fashionable villas on their site.
The inducement for the basket-makers occupying the sides of the Thames,
was the great supply of osiers or young willows which grow on the aits,
particularly at Twickenham and Staines.
The usual price of each prickle is two shillings and three pence.
Notwithstanding the numbers of osiers grown in this country, the produce
is not sufficient, as an extensive importation of twigs is annually made
from Holland, where immense quantities of baskets of every description are
made. The Dutch are particularly neat and famous for their willow sieves,
which find a ready market in every country.
The reader may probably be amused with a list of those trades exercised in
Holland, which in their pronunciation and meaning resemble the same in
this country, beginning with the
Sieve Maker, which in Dutch is Zeevmaker.
Baker Bakker.
Scale Maker Balansmaker.
Book Binder Boekbinder.
Brewer Broonwer.
Glass-blower Glasblazer.
Glazier Glazemaker.
Goldsmith Goudsmit.
Musical Instrument Maker Instrumentmaker.
Lanthorn Maker Lantaarnmaker.
Paper Maker Papiermaker.
Perriwig Maker Paruikmaker.
Pump Maker Pompemaker.
Potter, Pottebaker.
Shoemaker Schoenmaker.
Smith Smit.
Schoolmaster Schoolmeester.
Waggon Maker Wagenmaker.
Weaver Weever.
Sail Maker Zailmaker.
THE POTTER.
PLATE XVIII.
At about a mile from the back of Jack Straw's Castle, Hampstead Heath,
through one of the prettiest lanes near London, the traveller will find
that beautifully rural spot called "Child's Hill." This was the favourite
walk of Gainsborough and Loutherburgh, both of whom occasionally had
lodgings near the Heath for the purpose of study; and perhaps no place
within one hundred miles of London affords better materials for the
landscape painter's purpose than Hampstead Heath and its vicinity,
particularly that most delightful spot above described, where the Pottery
stands, which afforded the subject of the ensuing Plate.
At this Pottery, which is placed in a sequestered dell, the moulds used by
the sugar bakers for casting their loaves of sugar in, are made. They are
of different sizes, turned by the moulder, with the assistance of a boy,
who is employed in keeping the lathe in motion. The clay is remarkably
good, and burns to a rich red colour.
[Illustration: _Sugar-Mould Pottery Child's Hill, Hendon_]
The following is a list of the places where sugar bakers' moulds are made,
for they are not to be had at the Potteries in general; viz. that
above-mentioned, at Child's Hill, near Hampstead Heath, in the parish of
Hendon; one at Brentford; one at Clapham; one at Greenwich; three at
Deptford; and two at Plumsted. Though the clay varies in texture, and
likewise in colour in some slight degree, when baked, on almost every spot
where a Pottery is erected, yet in no instance does it so peculiarly
differ as at the Pottery in High Street, Lambeth, leading to Vauxhall. The
clay principally used at that place is preferred by the sculptors for
their models of busts, figures, and monuments. It never stains the
fingers, and is of so beautiful a texture that all parts of the model may
be executed with it, in the most minute degree of sharpness and spirit;
and, when baked, it is not of that fiery red colour, like a tile, but
approaches nearer to the tone of flesh, has a beautiful bloom with it, and
is very similar, though not quite so dark, as those fine specimens of
Terracottas in the Towneley Gallery, in the British Museum. The great
sculptors Roubiliac and Rysbrach not only constantly preferred it, but
brought it into general use among the artists.
At the Lambeth Pottery, the first imitations of the Dutch square white
glazed tiles, decorated with figures of animals and other ornaments,
painted in blue, and sometimes purple, were made in England. The fashion
of thus decorating the backs of chimnies was introduced into this country
soon after the arrival of William the Third, and continued till about
fifty years ago. Chimnies thus ornamented are frequently to be met with in
country houses, particularly in bed-rooms; but in London, where almost
every body enters on a new fashion as soon as it appears, there are fewer
specimens left. The chimney of the room in Bolt Court, in which Dr.
Johnson died, was decorated with these tiles, most of the subjects of
which were taken from Barlow's etchings of AEsop's Fables. Dinner services
were produced of the same material, and painted blue or purple, like the
above tiles. Sir James Thornhill, the painter of the pictures which adorn
the dome of St. Paul's, and Paul Ferg, when young men, were employed at
the Chelsea China manufactory, and there are specimens of plates and
dishes painted by them now and then to be met with in the cabinets of the
curious. At Mrs. Hogarth's sale (Sir James Thornhill's daughter), Lord
Orford purchased twelve dinner plates painted by her father; the subjects
were the Signs of the Zodiac, and they are preserved at Strawberry Hill.
In common ware, jugs, handbasins, dinner services, &c. are not painted,
but printed, the mode of executing which is rather curious. Trees,
hay-makers, cows, farm-houses, windmills, &c. are engraved on
copper-plates, which are filled with blue colour (smalt). Impressions from
them are taken on common blotting paper, through the rolling press. These
impressions are immediately put on the earthen ware, and when the
blotting-paper is dry, it is washed off, and the blue colour remains upon
the dish, &c.
[Illustration: _Staffordshire Ware_]
STAFFORDSHIRE WARE.
PLATE XIX.
Of all the tradesmen who supply the domestic table, there are none more
frequently called upon than the earthen-ware man. In great families, where
constant cooking is going on, the dust-bin seldom passes a day without
receiving the accidents to which a scullery is liable, nor is there, upon
an average, a private family in England that passes a week without some
misfortune to their crockery. Many householders set down at least ten
pounds a year for culinary restorations; so that the itinerant
Staffordshire Ware vendor, exhibited in the following plate, is sure to
sell something in every street he enters, particularly since that ware has
been brought by water to Paddington, whence he and many others, who go all
over the town to dispose of their stock in baskets, are regularly
supplied; and in consequence of the safety and cheapness of the passage,
they are enabled to dispose of their goods at so moderate a rate that they
can undersell the regular shopkeeper.
Staffordshire is the principal place in England for the produce of earthen
ware; the manufactories cover miles of land, and the minds of the people
appear to be solely absorbed in their business. Coals cost them little but
the labour of fetching; they work from twelve to fourteen hours a day, and
those who choose to perform what they call over-time, are employed sixteen
hours in each day. The men have for twelve hours in each day, being common
time, seven shillings per week; the women four shillings, and the
children, who turn the lathes, two shillings and sixpence. These people
are so constantly at work and perpetually calling out "turn," when they
wish it to go faster, to the boy who gives motion to the lathe, that it is
said that those who fall into intoxication are sure, however drunk they
may be, to call to the boy to turn, whether at work or not. There are men
who make plates, others who make basins, &c.; and those who make jugs, tea
and milkpots, have what they call handle-men, persons whose sole business
it is to prepare the handles and stick them on. Their divisions of land,
similar to banks or hedges, as well as their roads, for miles, are wholly
constructed of their broken earthen-ware.
They have their regular packers, who pique themselves on getting in a
dozen of plates more than usual in an immense basket.
When they meet with a clay that differs in colour from that they have been
using, they will apply themselves most readily to make up a batch of
plates, basins, or tea-cups, well knowing the public are pleased with a
new colour; and it is a curious fact that there are hundreds of varieties
of tints produced from the different pits used by these Staffordshire
manufactories. There are men whose business it is to glaze the articles,
and others who pencil and put on the brown or white enamel with which the
common yellow jug is streaked or ornamented. In the brown or yellow baking
dishes used by the common people, the dabs of colour of brown and yellow
are laid on by children, with sticks, in the quickest way imaginable. The
profits of earthen-ware in general are very great, as indeed they ought to
be, considering the brittleness of the article, and the number of
accidents they are continually meeting with, as is demonstrated by their
hedge-rows and roads.
An article that is sold for fourpence in London, costs but one penny at
the manufactory.
[Illustration: _Hard Metal Spoons_]
HARD METAL SPOONS TO SELL OR CHANGE.
PLATE XX.
William Conway, of Crab Tree Row, Bethnall Green, is the person from whom
the following etching was made. He was born in 1752, in Worship Street,
which spot was called Windmill Hill, and first started with or rather
followed his father as an itinerant trader, forty-seven years ago. This
man has walked on an average twenty-five miles a day six days in the week,
never knew a day's illness, nor has he once slept out of his own bed. His
shoes are made from the upper leather of old boots, and a pair will last
him six weeks. He has eleven walks, which he takes in turn, and these are
all confined to the environs of London; no weather keeps him within, and
he has been wet and dry three times in a day without taking the least
cold.
His spoons are made of hard metal, which he sells, or exchanges for the
old ones he had already sold; the bag in which he carries them is of the
thickest leather, and he has never passed a day without taking some money.
His eyes are generally directed to the ground, and the greatest treasure
he ever found was a one pound note; when quarters of guineas were in
currency, he once had the good fortune to pick up one of them.
He never holds conversation with any other itinerant, nor does he drink
but at his dinner; and it is pleasant to record, that Conway in his walks,
by his great regularity, has acquired friends, several of whom employ him
in small commissions.
His memory is good, and among other things he recollects Old Vinegar, a
surly fellow so called from his brutal habits. This man provided sticks
for the cudgel players, whose sports commenced on Easter Monday, and were
much frequented by the Bridewell-boys. He was the maker of the rings for
the boxers in Moorfields, and would cry out, after he had arranged the
spectators by beating their shins, "Mind your pockets all round." The name
of Vinegar has been frequently given to crabbed ringmakers and boxers.
Ward, in his "London Spy," thus introduces a Vinegar champion:
"Bred up i' th' fields of Lincoln's Inn,
Where _Vinegar_ reigns master;
The forward youth doth thence begin
A broken head to loose or win,
For shouts, or for a plaister."
It is to be hoped that this industrious man has saved some little to
support him when his sinews are unable to do their duty; for it would be
extremely hard, that a man who has conducted himself with such honesty,
punctuality, and rigid perseverance, should be dependent on the parish,
particularly as he declares, and Conway may be believed, that he never got
drunk in his life. The present writer was much obliged to this man for a
deliverance from a mob. He had when at Bow commenced a drawing of a
Lascar, and before he had completed it, he found himself surrounded by
several of their leaders, who were much enraged, conceiving that he was
taking a description of the man's person in order to complain of him.
Conway happened to come up at the moment, and immediately exclaimed, "Dear
heart, no, this gentleman took my picture off the other day, he only does
it for his amusement; I know where he lives; he don't want to hurt the
man;" on hearing which speech, a publican kindly took upon him to appease
the Lascars.
[Illustration: _Dancing Dolls_]
DANCING DOLLS.
PLATE XXI.
By all the aged persons with whom the author has conversed, it is agreed
that from the time of Hogarth to the present day the street strollers with
their Dancing Dolls on a board have not appeared.
The above artist, whose eye glanced at every description of nature, and
whose mind was perpetually alive to those scenes which would in any way
illustrate his various subjects, has introduced, in his inimitable print
of Southwark Fair, the figure of a little man, at that time extremely well
known in London, who performed various tricks with two dancing dolls
strung to a flat board; his music was the bagpipes, on which he played
quick or slow tunes, according to the expression he wished to give his
puppets. These dolls were fastened to a board, and moved by a string
attached to his knee, as appears in the figure of the boy represented in
the present Plate. Since the late Peace, London has been infested with ten
or twelve of these lads, natives of Lucca, whose importunities were at
first made with all their native impudence and effrontery, for they
attempted to thrash the English boys that stood between their puppets and
the spectators, but in this they so frequently were mistaken that they
behave now with a little more propriety.
The sounds they produce from their drums during the action of their dolls
are full of noise and discord, nor are they masters of three notes of
their flute. Lucca is also the birth place of most of those people who
visit England to play the street organ, carry images, or attend dancing
bears or dolls. In Italy there are many places which retain their
peculiar trades and occupations; as for example, one village is inhabited
by none but shoemakers, whose ancestors resided in the same place and
followed a similar employment.
[Illustration: _The Dancing Ballad-Singer with his Sprig of Sillelah and
Shamrock so green_]
SPRIG OF SHILLELAH AND SHAMROCK SO GREEN.
PLATE XXII.
The annexed etching was taken from Thomas M'Conwick, an Irishman, who
traverses the western streets of London, as a vendor of matches, and, like
most of his good-tempered countrymen, has his joke or repartee at almost
every question put to him, duly attempered with native wit and humour.
M'Conwick sings many of the old Irish songs with excellent effect, but
more particularly that of the "Sprig of Shillelah and Shamrock so green,"
dances to the tunes, and seldom fails of affording amusement to a crowded
auditory.
The throne at St. James's was first used on the Birth Day of Queen
Charlotte, after the union of the Kingdoms of Great Britain and Ireland,
and the Shamrock, the badge of the Irish nation, is introduced among the
decorations upon it.
M'Conwick assured me, when he came to London, that the English populace
were taken with novelty, and that by either moving his feet, snapping his
fingers, or passing a joke upon some one of the surrounding crowd, he was
sure of gaining money. He carries matches as an article of sale, and
thereby does not come under the denomination of a pauper. Now and then, to
please his benefactors, he will sport a bull or two, and when the laugh is
increasing a little too much against him, will, in a low tone, remind them
that bulls are not confined to the lower orders of Irish. The truth of
this assertion may be seen in Miss Edgworth's Essay on Irish bulls,
published 1803, from which the following is an extract:
"When Sir Richard Steele was asked how it happened that his countrymen
made so many bulls, he replied, 'It is the effect of climate, sir; if an
Englishman were born in Ireland, he would make as many.'" However, great
mistakes are sometimes made by the wisest of the English; for it is
reported of Sir Isaac Newton, that after he had caused a great hole to be
made in his study door for his cat to creep through, he had a small one
for the kitten.
When the present writer gave this Irishman a shilling for standing for his
portrait, he exclaimed, "Thanks to your honour, an acre of performance is
worth the whole land of promise."
[Illustration: _"Ginger Bread Nuts"_]
GINGERBREAD NUTS, OR JACK'S LAST SHIFT.
PLATE XXIII.
The etching in front of the present Plate, was taken from Daniel Clarey,
an industrious Irishman, well known to the London schoolboy as a
gingerbread-nut lottery office keeper. Dan had fought for his country as a
seaman, and though from some unlucky circumstance he is not entitled to
the comforts of Greenwich Hospital, still he boasts of the honour of
losing his leg in an engagement on the "Salt Seas." Rendered almost
destitute by the loss of his limb, he was nevertheless not wanting in wit
to gain a livelihood, and became a vendor of gingerbread-nuts, which he
disposed of by way of lottery, and humourously calls this employment,
"Jack's last Shift." Though Dan is inferior in some respects to his lively
countryman McConwick, who has afforded theme for the preceding pages, yet
he is blessed with a sufficient memory to recollect what he has heard, and
has persuasive eloquence enough to assure the boys that his lottery is no
"South Sea Bubble," where, as he tells them, "not even saw-dust was
produced, when deal boards were promised; but that every adventurer in his
scheme is sure of having a prize from seven to one hundred nuts, there
being no blanks to damp the courage of any enterprizing youth; that some
of his gingerbread shot are so highly seasoned that they are as hot as the
noble Nelson's balls when he last peppered the jackets of England's foes."
The manner of obtaining these gingerbread prizes is as follows:--The
hollow box held by Clarey has twenty-seven holes variously numbered, and
any one of the strings at the bottom of the box being pulled, causes a
doll's head to appear at the hole, which decides, according to its number,
the good or ill fortune of the halfpenny adventurer. He acknowledges to
his surrounding visitors that he "knows nothing of the lingo of his
predecessors, the famed Tiddy Dolls of their day, but that he is quite
certain that if _their_ gingerbread rolled down the throat like a
wheel-barrow, _his_ nuts are far superior, for that, should any one of his
noble friends prove so fortunate as to draw a prize of one hundred of
them, he would be entitled to those of half the usual size, so delicately
small that they would be no bigger than the quack doctor's pills, who
chalks his name on the walls far and near about London; and as for the
innocency of these little pills, he had been assured by a leading member
of the Society for the Suppression of Vice, who was very fond of tasting
them, that they would do no harm to an _infant babe_, no, not even if they
were given it on a Sunday within church time." This mode of gulling the
boys with nuts of half the size, if they won a double prize, was equalled
by a well-known churchwarden, within these few years, who, upon his coming
into office, ordered threepenny loaves to be made instead of sixpenny, so
that he might be respectfully saluted by as many more poor people as he
passed through the church-yard on a Sunday after his distribution, and
thereby obtain popularity. Nor is the device in question very dissimilar
to the mode adopted in some modern private lotteries, where there are no
blanks to chagrin the purchasers.
The simpleton who attempts to sell gingerbread-nuts gains but little
custom compared with the man of dashing wit; and there have been many of
the latter description on the town within memory, particularly, about
thirty-five years ago, a short red-nosed fellow in a black bushy wig, who
trundled a wheel-barrow through St. Martin's Court, Cranbourn Alley, and
the adjacent passages. This man, who was attended by a drab of a wife to
take the money, was master of much drollery; he would contrast the heated
polities of the day with the mildness of his gingerbread, to the no small
amusement of Mr. Sheridan, who, when on his way to the election meetings
held at the Shakspeare tavern, in favour of his friend Mr. Fox, was once
seen to smile and pouch this fellow a shilling; that distinguished mark of
approbation from the author of the "School for Scandal" being gained by
this gingerbread man by means of the following couplet:
"May Curtis, with his "Speedy Peace, and soon,"
Send gingerbread up to the man in the moon."