And let the little tripod aid thy toil;
On this methinks I see the walking crew,
At thy request, support the miry shoe;
The foot grows black that was with dirt embrown'd,
And in thy pocket jingling halfpence sound."
_Gay's "Trivia."_]
"About thirty years before the cry of 'Clean your boots, sir!' became
familiar to the ears of the present generation of Londoners," Mr. Charles
Knight informs us that:--"In one of the many courts on the north side of
Fleet-street, might be seen, somewhere about the year 1820, 'The last of
the London shoe-blacks.' One would think that he deemed himself dedicated
to his profession by Nature, for he was a Negro. At the earliest dawn he
crept forth from his neighbouring lodging, and planted his tripod on the
quiet pavement, where he patiently stood till noon was past. He was a
short, large-headed son of Africa, subject, as it would appear, to
considerable variations of spirits, alternating between depression and
excitement, as the gains of the day presented to him the chance of having
a few pence to recreate himself beyond what he should carry home to his
wife and children. For he had a wife and children, this last
representative of a falling trade; and two or three little woolly-headed
_decrotteurs_ nestled around him when he was idle, or assisted in taking
off the roughest of the dirt when he had more than one client. He watched,
with a melancholy eye, the gradual improvement of the streets; for during
some twenty or thirty years he had beheld all the world combining to ruin
him. He saw the foot pavements widening; the large flag-stones carefully
laid down; the loose and broken piece, which discharged a slushy shower on
the unwary foot, and known to him and London chairmen as a
'_Beau-trap_'[11] instantly removed: he saw the kennels diligently
cleansed, and the drains widened: he saw experiment upon experiment made
in the repair of the carriage-way, and the holes, which were to him as the
'old familiar faces' which he loved, filled up with a haste that appeared
quite unnecessary, if not insulting. One solitary country shopkeeper, who
had come to London once a year during a long life, clung to our sable
friend; for he was the only one of the fraternity that he could find
remaining, in his walk from Charing-cross to Cheapside."
Hone, in "_The Table Book_," 1827, under an article on the Old London
cries has:--"A Shoeblack; A boy, with a small basket beside him, brushes a
shoe on a stone, and addresses himself to a wigged beau, who carries his
cocked hat under his left arm, with a crooked-headed walking stick in his
left hand, as was the fashion among the dandies of old times. I recollect
shoeblacks formerly at the corner of almost every street, especially in
great thoroughfares. There were several every morning on the steps of St.
Andrew's church, Holborn, till late in the forenoon. But the greatest
exhibition of these artists was on the site of Finsbury-square, when it
was an open field, and a depository for the stones used in paving and
street-masonry. There, a whole army of shoeblacks intercepted the citizens
and their clerks on their way from Islington and Hoxton to the
counting-houses and shops in the city, with 'Shoeblack, your honour! Black
your shoes, sir!'"
Each of them had a large, old tin-kettle, containing his apparatus,
viz:--a capacious pipkin, or other large earthen-pot, containing the
blacking, which was made of ivory-black, the coarsest moist sugar, and
pure water with a little vinegar--a knife, two or three brushes, and an
old wig. The old wig was an indispensable requisite to a shoeblack; it
whisked away the dust, or thoroughly wiped off the wet dirt, which his
knife and brushes could not entirely detach; a rag tied to the end of a
stick smeared his viscid blacking on the shoe, and if the blacking was
"real japan," it shone. The old experienced shoe-wearers preferred an
oleaginous, lustreless blacking. A more liquid blacking, which took a
polish from the brush, was of later use and invention. Nobody at that time
wore boots except on horseback; and everybody wore breeches and
stockings: pantaloons, or trousers, were unheard of. The old shoeblacks
operated on the shoes while they were on the feet, and so dexterously as
not to soil the fine white cotton stocking, which was at that time the
extreme of fashion, or to smear the buckles, which were universally worn.
Latterly, you were accommodated with an old pair of shoes to stand in, and
the yesterday's paper to read, while your shoes were cleaning and
polishing, and your buckles were whitened and brushed. When shoestrings
first came into vogue, the Prince of Wales (Geo. IV.) appeared with them
in his shoes, when immediately a deputation from the buckle-makers of
Birmingham presented a petition to his Royal Highness to resume the
wearing of buckles, which was good-naturedly complied with. Yet, in a
short time, shoestrings entirely superseded buckles. The first incursion
on the shoeblacks was by the makers of "Patent Cake Blacking" on sticks
formed with a handle, like a small battledoor; they suffered a more
fearful invasion from the makers of liquid blacking in bottles. Soon
afterwards, when "Day and Martin" manufactured the _ne plus ultra_ of
blacking, private shoeblacking became general, public shoeblacks rapidly
disappeared, and in [1827] they became extinct. The last shoeblack that I
remember in London sat under the covered entrance of Red Lion-court,
Fleet-street within the last six years. This unfortunate, "The Last of the
London Shoeblacks"--was probably the "short, large headed son of Africa"
alluded to by Charles Knight, under the heading of "Clean your honour's
shoes," in his "History of London."
In 1851, some gentlemen connected with the Ragged Schools determined to
revive the brotherhood of boot cleaners for the convenience of the foreign
visitors to the Exhibition, and commenced the experiment by sending out
five boys in the now well-known red uniform. The scheme succeeded beyond
expection; the boys were patronized by natives as well as aliens, and the
Shoeblack Society and its brigade were regularly organized. During the
exhibition season, about twenty-five boys were constantly employed, and
cleaned no less than 100,000 pairs of boots. The receipts of the brigade
during its first year amounted to L656. Since that time, thanks to the
combination of discipline and liberality, the Shoeblack Society has gone
on and prospered, and proved the Parent of other Societies. Every district
in London now has its corps of shoeblacks, in every variety of uniform,
and while the number of boys has increased from tens to hundreds, their
earnings have increased from hundreds to thousands. Numbers of London
waifs and strays have been rescued from idleness and crime. The Ragged
School Union, and Shoeblack Brigades, therefore hold a prominent place
among the indirectly preventive agencies for the suppression of crime: for
since ignorance is generally the parent of vice, any means of securing the
benefits of education to those who are hopelessly deprived of it, must
operate in favour of the well-being of society.
[Illustration:
"'Tis education forms the common mind;
Just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined."]
[Illustration: THE HEARTH-STONE MERCHANT.]
"Hearth-stones! Do you want any hearth-stones? Now, my maids, here's your
right sort--reg'lar good'uns, and no mistake--vorth two o'your shop
harticles, and at half the price. Now my pretty von, lay out a _tanner_,
and charge your missus a _bob_--and no cheating neither! the cook has
always a right to make her market penny and to assist a poor cove like me
in the bargain.
"They're good uns, you vill find--
Choose any, marm, as you prefer.
You look so handsome and so kind,
I'm sure you'll be a customer.
Three halfpence, marm, for this here pair--
I only vish as you vould try 'em;
I'm sure you'll say the price is fair--
Come marm, a penny if you'll buy 'em."
[Illustration: THE FLYING STATIONER, OTHERWISE PATTERER.]
"Here's tidings sad, for owld and young,
Of von who liv'd for years by macing;
And vos this werry morning hung,
The Debtor's Door at Newgate facing.
"Here's his confession upon hoath,
The vords he spoke ven he vos dying,
His birth and eddycation both--
The whole pertic'lers--vell vorth the buying.
"Here's an account of robberies sad.
In vich he alus vos a hactor;
You must to read the life be glad--
Of such a famous malefactor!
"How to the mob he spinn'd a yarn,
And varn'd them from a course unproper,
You may, vith all his history, larn--
For the small valley of a copper!"
"Now my kind-hearted, haffectionated and wery ready-money
Christian-hearted, pious and hinfidel customers, here you have the last
speech and dying vords, life, character, and behaviour of the hunfortunate
malefactor that vas hexecuted this morning hopposit the Debtor's door in
the Hold Bailey! together with a full confession of the hoffence vherevith
he vos found guilty before a hupright Judge and a wery himpartial Jury!
Here you have likewise a copy of a most affecting letter, written by the
criminal in the condemned cell the night afore hexecution to his hinnocent
vife and hunoffending babbies, vith a copy of werses consarning the
same--all for the small charge of von halfpenny. Yes, my friends, von
halfpenny buys the werses as follows--von arter the 'tother:--
"Come, all you blessed Christians dear,
That's a-tender, kind, and free,
While I a story do relate
Of a dreadful tragedy,
Which happened in London town,
As you shall all be told;
But when you hear the horrid deed
'Twill make your blood run cold.--
_For the small charge of a ha'penny!_
"'Twas in the merry month of May,
When my true love I did meet;
She look'd all like an angel bright,
So beautiful and sweet.
I told her I loved her much,
And she could not say nay;
'Twas then I stung her tender heart,
And led her all astray.--
_Only a ha'penny!_"
JAMES--or as he was popularly called, "_Jemmy_," or, "_Old Jemmy_"
Catnach, (_Kat-nak_,) late of the Seven Dials, London, printer and
publisher of ballads, battledores, lotteries, primers, &c., and whose name
is ever associated with the literature of the streets, was the son of John
Catnach, a printer, of Alnwick, an ancient borough, market town, and
parish of Northumberland, where he was born on August 18th, 1792.
At the time Jemmy Catnach commenced business in Seven Dials it took all
the prudence and tact which he could command to maintain his position, as
at that time "Johnny" Pitts,[12] of the Toy and Marble Warehouse, No. 6,
Great St. Andrew-street, was the acknowledged and established printer of
street literature for the "Dials" district; therefore, as may be easily
imagined, a powerful rivalry and vindictive jealousy soon arose between
these "two of a trade"--most especially on the part of "Old Mother" Pitts,
who is described as being a coarse and vulgar-minded personage, and as
having originally followed the trade of a bumboat woman at Portsmouth: she
"wowed wengeance" against the young fellow in the court for daring to set
up in their business, and also spoke of him as a young "Catsnatch,"
"Catblock," "Cut-throat;" many other opprobrious terms being also freely
given to the new comer. Pitts' staff of "bards" were duly cautioned of the
consequences which would inevitably follow should they dare to write a
line for Catnach--the new _cove_ in the court. The injunction was for a
time obeyed, but the "Seven Bards of the Seven Dials" soon found it not
only convenient, but also more profitable to sell copies of their
effusions to both sides at the same time, and by keeping their council
they avoided detection, as each printer accused the other of buying an
early sold copy, and then reprinting it off with the utmost speed, and
which was in reality often the case, as "Both Houses" had emissaries on
the constant look-out for any new production suitable for street-sale.
Now, although this style of "double dealing" and competition tended much
to lessen the cost price to the "middle-man," or vendor, the public in
this case did not get any of the reduction, as a penny broadside was still
a penny, and a quarter-sheet still a halfpenny to them, the
"street-patterer" obtaining the whole of the reduction as extra profit.
The feud existing between these rival publishers, who have been somewhat
aptly designated as the Colburn and Bentley of the "paper" trade, never
abated, but, on the contrary, increased in acrimony of temper until at
last not being content to vilify each other by words alone, they resorted
to printing off virulent lampoons, in which Catnach never failed to let
the world know that "Old Mother Pitts" had been formerly a bumboat woman,
while the Pitts' party announced that--
"All the boys and girls around,
Who go out prigging rags and phials,
Know Jemmy _Catsnatch_!!! well,
Who lives in a back slum in the Dials.
He hangs out in Monmouth Court,
And wears a pair of blue-black breeches,
Where all the 'Polly Cox's crew' do resort
To chop their swag for badly printed Dying Speeches."
A mournful and affecting COPY OF VERSES on the death of
ANN WILLIAMS,
Who was barbarously and cruelly murdered by her sweetheart,
W. JONES, near Wirksworth, in Derbyshire, July, 1823.
William Jones, a young man aged 20, has been fully committed to Derby
gaol for the murder of his sweetheart, under circumstances of unheard
of barbarity. The poor victim was a servant girl, whom under pretense
of marriage he seduced. On her proving with child the villain formed
the horrid design of murdering her, and carried his diabolical plan
into execution on Monday evening last. The following verses are
written upon the occasion, giving a complete detail of this shocking
affair:--
Come all false hearted young men
And listen to my song,
'Tis of a cruel murder,
That lately has been done
On the body of a maiden fair
The truth I will unfold,
The bare relation of this deed
Will make your blood run cold.
Near Wirksworth town in Derbyshire,
Ann Williams she did dwell,
In service she long time had lived,
Till this to her befel.
Her cheeks were like the blushing rose
All in the month of May,
Which made this wicked young man
Thus unto her did say:
Nancy, my charming creature,
You have my heart ensnared,
My love is such I am resolved
To wed you I declare.
Thus by his false deluding tongue
Poor Nancy was beguil'd,
And soon to her misfortune,
By him she proved with child.
Some days ago this damsel fair
Did write to him with speed.
Such tenderness she did express
Would make a heart to bleed.
She said, my dearest William,
I am with child by thee;
Therefore, my dear, pray let me know
When you will marry me.
The following day at evening,
This young man did repair,
Unto the town of Wirksworth,
To meet his Nancy there.
Saying, Nancy dear, come let us walk,
Among the flowery fields,
And then the secrets of my heart
To you I will reveal.
O then this wicked young man
A knife he did provide,
And all unknown to his true love
Concealed it by his side.
When to the fatal spot they came,
These words to her did say:
All on this very night I will
Your precious life betray.
On bended knee she then did fall,
In sorrow and despair,
Aloud for mercy she did call,
Her cries did rend the air;
With clasped hands and uplift eyes
She cried, Oh spare my life,
I never more will ask you
To make me your wedded wife.
O then this wicked young man said,
No mercy will I show;
He took the knife all from his side,
And pierced her body through.
But still she smiling said to him,
While trembling with fear,
Aae! William, William, spare my life,
Think on your baby dear.
Twice more then with the bloody knife
He ran her body through,
Her throat was cut from ear to ear,
Most dreadful for to view;
Her hands and arms and beauteous face
He cut and mangled sore,
While down upon her milk white breast
The crimson blood did pour.
He took the shawl from off her neck,
And round her body tied,
With pebble stones he did it fill,
Thinking the crime to hide.
O then into the silver stream
He plunged her straightway,
But with her precious blood was stained,
Which soon did him betray.
O then this young man taken was,
And into prison sent,
In ratling chains he is confin'd
His crime for to lament,
Until the Asizes do come on
When trembling he must stand,
Reflecting on the deed he's done;
Waiting the dread command.
Now all you thoughtless young men
A timely warning take;
Likewise ye fair young maidens,
For this poor damsel's sake.
And Oh beware of flattering tongues,
For they'll your ruin prove;
So may you crown your future day,
In comfort, joy, and love.
Printed at J. Pitts, Wholesale Toy and Marble Warehouse, 6, Great St.
Andrew Street, Seven Dials.
There can be little doubt that Catnach, the great publisher of the Seven
Dials, next to children's books, had his mind mostly centred upon the
chronicling of doubtful scandals, fabulous duels between ladies of
fashion, "cooked" assassinations, and sudden deaths of eminent
individuals, apochryphal elopements, real or catch-penny accounts of
murders, impossible robberies, delusive suicides, dark deeds and public
executions, to which was usually attached the all-important and necessary
"Sorrowful Lamentations," or "Copy of Affectionate Verses," which,
according to the established custom, the criminal composed in the
condemned cell the night before his execution, after this manner:--
"All you that have got feeling hearts, I pray you now attend
To these few lines so sad and true, a solemn silence lend;
It is of a cruel murder, to you I will unfold----
The bare recital of the tale must make your blood run cold."
Or take another and stereotyped example, which from time to time has
served equally well for the verses _written by_ the culprit--Brown, Jones,
Robinson, or Smith:
"Those deeds I mournfully repent,
But now it is too late,
The day is past, the die is cast,
And fixed is my fate.
Occasionally the Last Sorrowful Lamentations contained a "Love
Letter"--the criminal being unable, in some instances, to read or write,
being no obstacle to the composition--written according to the street
patterer's statement: "from the depths of the condemned cell, with the
condemned pen, ink, and paper." This mode of procedure in "gallows"
literature, and this style of composition having prevailed for from sixty
to seventy years.
Then they would say: "Here you have also an exact likeness of the
murderer, taken at the bar of the Old Bailey by an eminent artist!" when
all the time it was an old woodcut that had been used for every criminal
for many years.
"There's nothing beats a stunning good murder after all," said a "running
patterer" to Mr. Henry Mayhew, the author of "London Labour and London
Poor." It is only fair to assume that Mr. James Catnach shared in the
sentiment, for it is said that he made over L500 by the publication of:--
"The Full, True and Particular Account of the Murder of Mr. Weare by John
Thurtell and his Companions, which took place on the 24th of October,
1823, in Gill's Hill-lane, near Elstree, in Hertfordshire:--Only One
Penny." There were eight formes set up, for old Jemmy had no notion of
stereotyping in those days, and pressmen had to re-cover their own
sheep-skins. But by working night and day for a week they managed to get
off about 250,000 copies with the four presses, each working two formes at
a time.
As the trial progressed, and the case became more fully developed, the
public mind became almost insatiable. Every night and morning large
bundles were despatched to the principal towns in the three kingdoms.
One of the many street-ballads on the subject informed the British public
that:--
"Thurtell, Hunt, and Probert, too, for trial must now prepare,
For that horrid murder of Mr. William Weare."
[Illustration: THURTELL MURDERING MR. WEARE.]
In connection with the murder of Mr. Weare by Thurtell and Co., Sir Walter
Scott, collected the printed trials with great assiduity, and took care
always to have to hand the contemporary ballads and prints bound up with
them. He admired particularly this verse of Theodore Hook's[13]
broadside:--
"They cut his throat from ear to ear,
His brains they battered in;
His name was Mr. William Weare,
He dwelt in Lyon's Inn."
THE CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OF JOHN THURTELL
AT HERTFORD GAOL, On Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.
THE EXECUTION.
_Hertford, half-past twelve o'clock._
This morning, at ten minutes before twelve, a bustle among the
javelin-men stationed within the boarded enclosure on which the drop
was erected, announced to the multitude without that the preparations
for the execution were nearly concluded. The javelin-men proceeded to
arrange themselves in the order usually observed upon these melancholy
but necessary occurrences. They had scarcely finished their
arrangements, when the opening of the gate of the prison gave an
additional impulse to public anxiety.
When the clock was on the stroke of twelve, Mr Nicholson, the
Under-Sheriff, and the executioner ascended the platform, followed on
to it by Thurtell, who mounted the stairs with a slow but steady step.
The principal turnkey of the gaol came next, and was followed by Mr
Wilson and two officers. On the approach of the prisoner being
intimated by those persons who, being in an elevated situation,
obtained the first view of him, all the immense multitude present took
off their hats.
Thurtell immediately placed himself under the fatal beam, and at that
moment the chimes of a neighbouring clock began to strike twelve. The
executioner then came forward with the rope, which he threw across it.
Thurtell first lifted his eyes up to the drop, gazed at it for a few
moments, and then took a calm but hurried survey of the multitude
around him. He next fixed his eyes on a young gentleman in the crowd,
whom he had frequently seen as a spectator at the commencement of the
proceedings against him. Seeing that the individual was affected by
the circumstance, he removed them to another quarter, and in so doing
recognised an individual well known in the sporting circles, to whom
he made a slight bow.
The prisoner was attired in a dark brown great coat, with a black
velvet collar, white corduroy breeches, drab gaiters and shoes. His
hands were confined with handcuffs, instead of being tied with cord,
as is usually the case on such occasions, and, at his own request, his
arms were not pinioned. He wore a pair of black kid gloves, and the
wrists of his shirt were visible below the cuffs of his coat. As on
the last day of his trial, he wore a white cravat. The irons, which
were very heavy, and consisted of a succession of chain links, were
still on his legs, and were held up in the middle by a Belcher
handkerchief tied round his waist.
The executioner commenced his mournful duties by taking from the
unhappy prisoner his cravat and collar. To obviate all difficulty in
this stage of the proceedings, Thurtell flung back his head and neck,
and so gave the executioner an opportunity of immediately divesting
him of that part of his dress. After tying the rope round Thurtell's
neck, the executioner drew a white cotton cap over his countenance,
which did not, however, conceal the contour of his face, or deprive
him entirely of the view of surrounding objects.
At that moment the clock sounded the last stroke of twelve. During the
whole of this appalling ceremony, there was not the slightest symptom
of emotion discernible in his features; his demeanour was perfectly
calm and tranquil, and he behaved like a man acquainted with the
dreadful ordeal he was about to pass, but not unprepared to meet it.
Though his fortitude was thus conspicuous, it was evident from his
appearance that in the interval between his conviction and his
execution he must have suffered much. He looked careworn; his
countenance had assumed a cadaverous hue, and there was a haggardness
and lankness about his cheeks and mouth, which could not fail to
attract the notice of every spectator.