A History of the Cries of London Part 1

A History of the Cries of London.

by Charles Hindley.

HISTORY OF THE CRIES OF LONDON.

"Let none despise the merry, merry cries Of famous London Town":--_Rex. Ballad._

The cries of London have ever been very popular, whether as broadsides, books, ballads, or engravings. Artists of all countries and times have delighted to represent those peculiarities of costume and character which belong to the history of street-cries, and the criers thereof. Annibale Carracci--1560-1609--has immortalized the cries of Bologna; and from the time of Elizabeth to that of Queen Victoria, authors, artists and printers combined, have presented the Cries and Itinerant Trades of London, in almost numberless forms, and in various degrees of quality, from the roughest and rudest wood-cut-blocks to the finest of copper and steel plate engravings, or skilfully wrought etchings. While many of the early English dramatists often introduced the subject, eminent composers were wont to "set to music" as catch, glee, or roundelaye, all the London Cries then most in vogue,--"They were, I ween, ryght merrye songs, and the musick well engraved."

The earliest mention of London trade-cries is by Dan John Lydgate (1370-1450), a Monk of the Benedictine Abbey of Bury St. Edmund's, the friend and immediate follower of Geoffrey Chaucer, and one of the most prolific writers of his age this country has produced. To enumerate Lydgate's pieces would be to write out the catalogue of a small library.

No poet seems to have possessed a greater versatility of talents. He moves with equal ease in every mode of composition; and among his minor pieces he has left us a very curious poem ent.i.tled "London Lyckpeny," _i.e._, _London Lackpenny_: this has been frequently printed; by Strutt, Pugh, Nicolas, and partly by John Stow in "A Survey of London," 1598. There are two copies in the British Museum, Harl. MSS., 367 and 542. We somewhat modernize the text of the former and best of these copies, which differ considerably from each other.

"O Mayster Lydgate! the most dulcet sprynge Of famous rethoryke, with balade ryall The chefe orygynal."

_"The Pastyme of Plasure," by Stephen Hawes, 1509._

In "London Lackpenny" we have a most interesting and graphic picture of the hero coming to Westminster, in term time, to obtain legal redress for the wrong he had sustained, and explain to a man of law his case--"_How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood_," but being without the means to pay even the preliminary fee, he was sent--"from pillar to post," that is from one Law-court to another, but although he "_crouched, kneeled, prayed for G.o.d's sake, and Mary's love_, he could not get from one the--_mum of his mouth_." So leaving the City of Westminster--minus his hood, he walked on to the City of London, which he tells us was crowded with peripatetic traders, but tempting as all their goods and offers were, his _lack-of-money_ prevented him from indulging in any of them--But, however, let _Lackpenny_, through the ballad, speak for himself:--

[Ill.u.s.tration: London Lackpenny.]

To London once my steps I bent, Where truth in no wise should be faint, To Westminster-ward I forthwith went, To a man of law to make complaint, I said, "for Mary's love, that Holy saint!

Pity the poor that would proceed,"

But, for lack of money, I could not speed.

And as I thrust the _prese_ among, [crowd]

By froward chance my hood was gone, Yet for all that I stayed not long, Till to the King's Bench I was come, Before the Judge I kneeled anon, And prayed him for G.o.d's sake to take heed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed.

Beneath them sat Clerks a great rout, Which fast did write by one a.s.sent, There stood up one and cryed about, Richard, Robert, and John of Kent.

I wist not well what this man meant, He cried so thick there indeed, But he that lacked money, might not speed.

Unto the Common-place _I yode thoo_, [I went then]

Where sat one with a silken hood; I did him reverence, for I ought to do so, And told him my case as well as I could, How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood.

I gat not a mum of his mouth for my meed, And, for lack of money, I might not speed.

Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence, Before the clerks of the Chancery, Where many I found earning of pence, But none at all once regarded me, I gave them my plaint upon my knee; They liked it well, when they had it read: But, lacking money, I could not speed.

In Westminster Hall I found out one, Which went in a long gown of _ray_; [velvet]

I crouched and kneeled before him anon, For Mary's love, of help I him pray.

"I wot not what thou meanest" gan he say: To get me thence he did me bede, For lack of money, I could not speed.

Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor Would do for me ought, although I should die: Which seeing, I gat me out of the door, Where Flemings began on me for to cry: "Master, what will you _copen or buy_? [chap or exchange]

Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read?

Lay down your silver, and here you may speed."

Spectacles to read before printing was invented must have had a rather limited market; but we must bear in mind where they were sold. In Westminster Hall there were lawyers and rich suitors congregated,--worshipful men, who had a written law to study and expound, and learned treatises diligently to peruse, and t.i.tles to hunt after through the labyrinths of fine and recovery. The dealer in spectacles was a dealer in hats, as we see; and the articles were no doubt both of foreign manufacture. But lawyers and suitors had also to feed, as well as to read with spectacles; and on the Thames side, instead of the coffee-houses of modern date, were tables in the open air, where men every day ate of "_bread, ribs of beef, both fat and full fine_," and drank jollily of "_ale and wine_," as they do now at a horse-race:--

Then to Westminster Gate I presently went, When the sun was at high prime: Cooks to me, they took good intent, And proffered me bread, with ale and wine, Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine; A fair cloth they gan for to spread, But, wanting money, I might not there speed.

Pa.s.sing from the City of Westminster, through the village of Charing and along Strand-side, to the City of London, the cries of food and feeding were first especially addressed to those who preferred a vegetable diet, with dessert and "_spice, pepper, and saffron_" to follow. "_Hot peascod one began to cry_," Peascod being the sh.e.l.l of peas; the _cod_ what we now call the _pod_:--

"Were women as little as they are good, A peascod would make them a gown and hood."

"_Strawberry ripe, and cherries in the rise._" Rise--branch, twig, either a natural branch, or tied on sticks as we still see them.

Then unto London I did me hie, Of all the land it beareth the prize; Hot peascods! one began to cry; Strawberry ripe, and Cherries in the rise!

One bade me come near and buy some spice; Pepper and saffron they gan me _bede_; [offer to me]

But, for lack of money, I might not speed.

In Chepe (Cheapside) he saw "_much people_" standing, who proclaimed the merits of their "_velvets, silk, lawn, and Paris thread_." These, however, were shopkeepers; but their shops were not after the modern fashion of plate-gla.s.s windows, and carpeted floors, and l.u.s.tres blazing at night with a splendour that would put to shame the glories of an eastern palace.

They were rude booths, the owners of which bawled as loudly as the itinerants; and they went on bawling for several centuries, like butchers in a market, so that, in 1628, Alexander Gell, a bachelor of divinity, was sentenced to lose his ears and to be degraded from the ministry, for giving his opinion of Charles I., that he was fitter to stand in a Cheapside shop with an ap.r.o.n before him, and say "What do ye lack, what do ye lack? What lack ye?" than to govern a kingdom.

Then to the Chepe I began me drawn, Where much people I saw for to stand; One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn; Another he taketh me by the hand, "Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land."

I never was used to such things indeed; And, wanting money, I might not speed.

Then went I forth by London Stone, Throughout all Canwyke Street: Drapers much cloth me offered anon; Then comes in one crying "Hot sheep's feet;"

One cried mackerel, rushes green, another gan greet; One bade me buy a hood to cover my head; But, for want of money, I might not speed.

The London Stone, the _lapis milliaris_ (mile stone) of the Romans, has never failed to arrest the attention of the "Countryman in Lunnun." The Canwyke Street of the days of John Lydgate, is the Cannon Street of the present. "_Hot sheep's feet_," which were cried in the streets in the time of Henry V., are now sold _cold_ as "sheep's trotters," and vended at the doors of the lower-priced theatres, music-halls, and public-houses. Henry Mayhew in his "London Labour and the London Poor," estimates that there are sold weekly 20,000 sets, or 80,000 feet. The wholesale price at the "trotter yard" is five a penny, which gives an outlay by the street sellers of 3,033 6s. 8d. yearly. The cry which is still heard and tolerated by law, that of _Mackerel_ rang through every street. The cry of _Rushes-green_ tells us of by-gone customs. In ages long before the luxury of carpets was known in England, the floors of houses were covered with rushes. The strewing of rushes in the way where processions were to pa.s.s is attributed by our poets to all times and countries. Thus at the coronation of Henry V., when the procession is coming, the grooms cry--

"More rushes, more rushes."

_Not worth a rush_ became a common comparison for anything worthless; the rush being of so little value as to be trodden under foot. _Rush-lights_, or candles with rush wicks, are of the greatest antiquity.

Then I hied me into East-chepe, One cries ribs of beef, and many a pie; Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; There was harp, pipe, and minstrelsy; "Yea by c.o.c.k! Nay by c.o.c.k!" some began cry; Some sung of Jenkin and Julian for their meed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed.

Eastcheap, this ancient thoroughfare, originally extended from Tower-street westward to the south end of Clement's-lane, where Cannon-street begins. It was the Eastern Cheap or Market, as distinguished from Westcheap, now Cheapside. The site of the Boar's Head Tavern, first mentioned _temp._ Richard II., the scene of the revels of Falstaff and Henry V., when Prince of Wales, is very nearly that of the statue of King William IV. _Lackpenny_ had presented to him several of the real Signs of the Times and of Life in London with "_ribs of beef_--_many a pie_--_pewter pots_--_music and singing_"--_strange oaths_, "_Yea by c.o.c.k_" being a vulgar corruption for a profane oath. Our own taverns still supply us with ballad-singers--"_Buskers_"--who will sing of "_Jenkin and Julian_"--Ben Block; or, She Wore a Wreath of Roses, "_for their meed_."

Then into Cornhill anon I _yode_, [went]

Where was much stolen gear among; I saw where hung mine own hood That I had lost among the throng; To buy my own hood I thought it wrong; I knew it well, as I did my creed; But, for lack of money, I could not speed.

The manners and customs of the dwellers in Cornhill in the time of John Lydgate, when a stranger could have his hood stolen at one end of the town and see it exposed for sale at the other, forcibly reminds us of Field-lane and the Jew f.a.gin, so faithfully sketched in pen and ink by Charles d.i.c.kens of our day. Where "a young man from the country" would run the risk of meeting with an Artful Dodger, to pick his pocket of his silk handkerchief at the entrance of the Lane, and it would be offered him for sale by a Jew fence at the end, not only "Once a Week" but "All the Year Round." However, when Charles d.i.c.kens and Oliver Twist came in, Field-lane and f.a.gin went out.

At length the Kentish man being wearied, falls a prey to the invitation of a taverner, who with a cringing bow, and taking him by the sleeve:--"_Sir_," saith he, "_will you our wine a.s.say?_" Whereupon _Lackpenny_, coming to the safe conclusion that "_a penny can do no more than it may_," enters the tempting and hospitable house of entertainment, and there spends his only penny, for which he is supplied with a pint of wine:--

The taverner took me by the sleeve, "Sir," saith he, "will you our wine a.s.say?"

I answered "That cannot be much grieve, A penny can do no more than it may;"

I drank a pint, and for it did pay; Yet, sore a-hungered from hence I _yode_, [went]

And, wanting money, I could not speed.

Worthy old John Stow supposes this interesting incident to have happened at the Pope's Head, in Cornhill, and bids us enjoy the knowledge of the fact, that:--"Wine one pint for a pennie, and bread to drink it was given free in every taverne." Yet Lydgate's hero went away "_Sore a-hungered_,"

for there was no eating at taverns at this time beyond a crust to relish the wine, and he who wished to dine before he drank had to go to the cook's.

Wanting money, _Lackpenny_ has now no choice but to return to the country, and applies to the watermen at Billingsgate:--

Then hied I me to Billingsgate, And one cried "Hoo! go we hence!"

I prayed a bargeman, for G.o.d's sake, That he would spare me my expense, "Thou scap'st not here, quod he, under two-pence, I list not yet bestow any almes deed."

Thus, lacking money, I could not speed.