The History of the Catnach Press
by Charles Hindley · English · Gutenberg #43691 · 358,726 chars · public domain (US)
The Project Gutenberg eBook of The History of the Catnach Press
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: The History of the Catnach Press
Author: Charles Hindley
Release date: September 10, 2013 [eBook #43691]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/43691
Credits: Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HISTORY OF THE CATNACH PRESS ***
[Illustration: THE HISTORY OF THE CATNACH PRESS, AND THE TWO CATNACHS,
JOHN & JAMES, FATHER & SON, _Printers_, 1769-1841.]
THE HISTORY OF THE CATNACH PRESS.
LARGE PAPER COPY.
Only Two Hundred and Fifty Printed. Each Copy
numbered and Signed
[Signature: Charles Hindley.]
No. ________
_Purchased by_
____________________________________________________
_of_
____________________________________________________
_on the ___________ day of ____________ 18_____
THE HISTORY OF THE CATNACH PRESS,
AT BERWICK-UPON-TWEED,
ALNWICK AND NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE,
IN NORTHUMBERLAND, AND
SEVEN DIALS, LONDON.
BY CHARLES HINDLEY, ESQ.,
_Editor of "The Old Book Collector's Miscellany;
or, a Collection of Readable Reprints of Literary
Rarities," "Works of John Taylor--the Water Poet,"
"The Roxburghe Ballads," "The Catnach Press," "The
Curiosities of Street Literature," "The Book of
Ready Made Speeches," "Life and Times of James
Catnach, late of the Seven Dials, Ballad Monger,"
"Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings," "A History of the
Cries of London--Ancient and Modern," etc._
London:
CHARLES HINDLEY
[THE YOUNGER,]
BOOKSELLERS' ROW, ST. CLEMENT DANES,
STRAND, W.C.
1886.
TO
MR. GEORGE SKELLY,
of
THE MARKET PLACE,
and
MR. GEORGE H. THOMPSON,
of
BAILIFFGATE, ALNWICK,
_In the County of_
NORTHUMBERLAND,
THE
HISTORY OF THE CATNACH PRESS.
IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY
THE AUTHOR
[Signature: Charles Hindley.]
_St. James' Street, Brighton.
Lady Day, 1886._
[Illustration:
HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION
OR
A Pursuit of Knowledge
under Difficulties.]
[Illustration: THE CATNACH PRESS.]
"'Tis education forms the common mind;
Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined."--_Pope._
----There can be little doubt that Jemmy Catnach, the printer, justly
earned the distinction of being one of the great pioneers in the cause of
promoting cheap literature--he was for a long time the great Mæcenas and
Elzevir of the Seven Dials district. We do not pretend to say that the
productions which emanated from his establishment contained much that was
likely to enlighten the intellect, or sharpen the taste of the ordinary
reader; but, to a great extent, they served well in creating an impetus in
the minds of many to soar after things of a higher and more ennobling
character. Whilst for the little folk his store was like the conjuror's
bag--inexhaustible. He could cater to the taste and fancies of all, and it
is marvellous, even in these days of a cheap press, to look back upon the
time when this enterprising man was by a steady course of action, so
paving the way for that bright day in the annals of Britain's history,
when every child in the land should be educated.
[Illustration]
HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION OR A PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
----Knowledge is of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we know
where we can find information upon it.--BOSWELL, _Life of Johnson_.
That history repeats itself is fairly and fully exemplified by the
reproduction of "THE CATNACH PRESS," the _first_ edition of which was
published in 1869, and "GUARANTEED ONLY TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES
PRINTED."--Namely: 175 on fine, and 75 on extra-thick paper. _Each copy
numbered._ The outer and descriptive title set forth that the work
contained:--
"A COLLECTION of Books and Wood-cuts of James Catnach, late of Seven
Dials, Printer, consisting of Twenty Books of the Cock Robin-Class,
from, 'This is the House that Jack Built,' to 'Old Mother Hubbard,'
(printed with great care) _specialite_ at THE CATNACH PRESS, from the
old plates and woodcuts, prior to their final destruction, to which is
added a selection of Catnachian wood-cuts, many by Bewick, and many of
the most anti-Bewickian character it is possible to conceive."
The announcement of the publication of the work was first made known
through the medium of the metropolitan press, some few days prior to the
copies being delivered by the book-binders, and so great was the demand
of the London and American trade, that every copy was disposed of on the
day of issue.
The work is now eagerly sought after by book collectors who indulge in
literary rarities.
While engaged in collecting information for "The Catnach Press," and
interviewing the producers of ballads, broadsides and chap-books, we met
with a vast assemblage of street-papers and of a very varied character,
which we proposed to publish in quarto form under the title of "The
Curiosities of Street Literature," and when in London in 1869, still
seeking for information on the subject, met by mere chance in the Strand
with the street ballad singer of our youth, one Samuel Milnes, who used
between the years of 1835 and 1842 to visit Fetter Lane every Thursday
with the newest and most popular ballad of the day. We so often met with
him at other times and places in and about London in after years that a
peculiar kind of a friendly feeling grew up towards him in preference to
all other street ballad singers of the time, so much so that at our
meetings--and friendly greetings, we invariably purchased the ballad he
was singing, or, gave him a few halfpence as a fee for having detained him
from his calling--or shall we say bawling, for to tell the truth, Samuel
Milnes was but a very indifferent vocalist.
Time rolled on--"still on it creeps, each little moment at another's
heels"--and we continued to meet our old ballad singer either in London or
Brighton. The meeting with him on this particular occasion was most
opportune for we wanted him. First we obtained from him "Wait for the Turn
of the Tide," and "Call her back and kiss her," then the following
information:--
"Oh, yes, I remember you, remember you well; particularly when I see
you down at Brighton: when you treated me to that hot rum and water;
when I was so wet and cold, at a little snug public-house in one of
the streets that leads off the main street. I don't remember the name
on it now, but I remembers the rum and water well enough; it was good.
You said it would be, and so it was, and no mistake. How old am I now?
Why, 59. How long have I been at it? Why, hard on fifty years. I was
about nine or ten year old--no, perhaps I might have been 12 year old,
when I come to think on it. Yes, about 12 year old; my mother was a
widow with five children, and there was a boy in our street as used to
go out singing ballads, and his mother said to my mother, 'Why don't
you let your boy (that's me) go out and sing ballads like my boy.' And
I said I didn't mind, and I did go out, and I've been at it ever
since, so you see 'aint far short of 50 year. How many do I sell in a
day? Well, not so many as I used to do, by a long way. I've sold me
four and five quires a-day, but I don't sell above two and three dozen
a-day now. That's all the difference you see, sir--dozens against
quires. How do I live then? Why, you see I am so well-known in
different parts of London, that lots and lots of people comes up to me
like you always do--and say's--'How do you do, old fellow? I remember
you when I was a boy, if it's a man, and when I was a girl, if it's a
woman.' And says, 'So you are still selling songs, eh?' Then they give
me a few coppers; some more and some less than others, and says they
don't want the songs. Some days--very often--I've had more money given
me than I've took for the ballads. Yes, I have travelled all over
England--all over it I think--but the North's the best--Manchester,
Liverpool, and them towns; but down Bath and Cheltenham way I was
nearly starved. I was coming back from that way, I now remember, when
I met you, sir, at Brighton that time. I buy my ballads at various
places--but now mostly over the water, because I live there now and
it's handiest. Mr. Such, the printer, in Union-street in the Borough.
Oh! yes, some at Catnach's--leastways, it ain't Catnach's now, it's
Fortey's. Yes, I remember 'old Jemmy Catnach' very well; he wa'n't a
bad sort, as you say; leastways, I've heard so, but I never had
anything of him. I always paid for what I had, and did not say much to
him, or he to me--Writing the life of him, are you indeed? No, I can't
give you no more information about him than that, because, as I said
before, I bought my goods as I wanted them, and paid for them, then
away on my own account and business. Well he was a man something like
you--a little wider across the shoulders, perhaps, but about such a
man as you are. I did know a man as could have told you a lot about
"old Jemmy," but he's dead now; he was one of his authors, that is, he
wrote some of the street-ballads for him, and very good ones they
used to be, that is, for selling. Want some old 'Dying Speeches' and
'Cocks,' do you indeed; well, I a'nt got any--I don't often 'work'
them things, although I have done so sometimes, but I mostly keep to
the old game--'Ballads on a Subject.' You see them other things are no
use only just for the day, then they are no use at all, so we don't
keep them--I've often given them away. You'd give sixpence a piece for
them, would you, indeed, sir; then I wish I had some of them. Now I
come to think of it I know a man that did have a lot of them bye him,
and I know he'd be glad to sell them, I don't know where he lives, but
I sometimes see him. Oh! yes, a letter would find me. My name is
Samuel Milnes, and I live at No. 81, Mint-street, that's in the
Borough; you know, Guagar is the name at the house. Thank you, sir,
I'm much obliged. Good day sir."
Our next adventure--in pursuit of knowledge under difficulties--occured at
Brighton in the month of August, 1869, and when we were winding our way
through a maze of small streets lying between Richmond and Albion Hills,
in the Northern part of the town, our ears voluntarily "pricked up," on
hearing the old familiar sounds of a 'street, or running patterer' with
the stereotyped sentences of "Horrible."--"Dreadful."--"Remarkable letters
found on his person."--"Cut down by a labouring man."--"Quite
dead."--"Well-known in the town."--"Hanging."--"Coroner's
Inquest."--"Verdict."--"Full particulars."--"Most determined
suicide."--"Brutal conduct."--&c., &c., _Only a ha'penny!--Only a
ha'penny!_ Presently we saw the man turn into a wide court-like place,
which was designated by the high-sounded name of "SQUARE," and dedicated
to RICHMOND; hither we followed him, and heard him repeat the same
detached sentences, and became a purchaser for--'_only a ha'penny!_' when
to our astonishment we discovered a somewhat new phrase in cock or
catchpenny selling. Inasmuch as our purchase consisted of the current
number (253) of the _Brighton Daily News_--a very respectable looking and
well printed Halfpenny Local Newspaper, and of that day's publication, and
did in reality contain an account of a most determined suicide of an old
and highly respected inhabitant of Brighton and set forth under the
heading of:--
THE DETERMINED SUICIDE OF AN AGED ARTIST.
REMARKABLE LETTERS OF DECEASED.
Calling the man aside, we ventured upon a conversation with him in the
following form:--
----"Well, governor, _how does the cock fight?_" "Oh, pretty well,
sir; but it ain't a cock; its a genuine thing--the days for cocks,
sir, is gone bye--cheap newspapers 'as done 'em up." "Yes; we see this
is a Brighton Newspaper of to-day." "Oh, yes, that's right enough--but
its all true." "Yes; we are aware of that and knew the unfortunate man
and his family; but you are vending them after the old manner."
"That's all right enough, sir,--you see I can sell 'em better in that
form than as a newspaper--its more natural like for me: I've sold
between ten and twelve dozen of 'em to-day." "Yes; but how about
to-morrow?" "Oh, then it will be all bottled up--and I must look for a
new game, I'm on my way to London, but a hearing of this suicide job,
I thought I'd work 'em just to keep my hand in and make a bob or two."
To our question of "Have you got any real old 'cocks' by you?" He
replied, "No, not a bit of a one; I've worked 'em for a good many
years, but it 'aint much of a go now. Oh, yes, I know'd 'old Jemmy
Catnach' fast enough--bought many hundreds, if not thousands of quires
of him. Not old enough? Oh, 'aint I though; why I'm turned fifty, and
I've been a 'street-paper' seller all my life. I knows Muster Fortey
very well; him as is got the business now in the Dials--he knows his
way about, let him alone for that; and he's a rare good business man
let me tell you, and always been good and fair to me; that I will say
of him."
Having rewarded the man with a few half-pence to make him some recompense
for having detained him during his business progress, we parted company.
While still prosecuting our enquiries for information on the literature of
the streets, we often read of, and heard mention made of, a Mr. John
Morgan, as one of the "Seven Bards of the Seven Dials" and his being best
able to assist us in the matter we had in hand. The first glimpse we
obtained of the Poet! in print was in an article entitled "The Bards of
the Seven Dials and their Effusion" and published in "THE TOWN," of 1839,
a weekly journal, conducted by the late Mr. Renton Nicholson, better known
as "Baron Nicholson," of Judge and Jury notoriety:--
REVIEW.
_The Life and Death of John William Marchant_, who suffered the
extreme penalty of the law, in front of the Debtor's door, Newgate, on
Monday, July 8th, 1839, for the murder of Elizabeth Paynton, his
fellow servant, on the seventeenth of May last, in Cadogan Place,
Chelsea. By John Morgan. London: J. Catnach, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court,
7 Dials.
The work is a quarto page, surrounded with a handsome black border.
"Take no thought for to-morrow, what thou shalt eat, or what thou
shalt put on," says a certain writer, whose wisdom we all reverence,
and then he adds "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof"--a
remark particularly applicable to the bards of Seven Dials, whose pens
are kept in constant employment by the fires, rapes, robberies, and
murders, which, from one year's end to the other, present them with a
daily allowance of evil sufficient for their subsistence. But, at
present, it is only one of these poets, "John Morgan," as he modestly
signs himself, whom we are about to notice; and as some of our readers
may be curious to see a specimen of the poetry of Seven Dials, we
shall lay certain portions of John Morgan's last effusion before them,
pointing out the beauties and peculiarities of the compositions as we
go along. After almost lawyer-like particularity as to dates and
places, the poem begins with an invocation from the murderer in
_propria personæ_.
"Oh! give attention awhile to me,
All you good people of each degree;
In Newgate's dismal and dreary cell,
I bid all people on earth farewell."
Heaven forbid, say we, that _all_ the people on earth should ever get
in Newgate, to receive the farewell of such a blood-thirsty
miscreant.
"John William Marchant is my name,
I do confess I have _been to blame_."
And here we must observe that the poet makes his hero speak of his
offence rather too lightly, as if, indeed, it had been nothing more
than a common misdemeanour.
"I little thought, my dear parents kind,
I should leave this earth with a troubled mind."
Now this _is_ modest; he is actually surprised that his parents are at
all grieved at the idea of getting rid of such a scoundrel, and well
he might be.
"I lived as servant in Cadogan Place,
And never thought this would be my case,
To end my days on the fatal tree:
Good people, pray drop a tear for me."
There is a playfulness about the word "drop," introducing just here
after "the fatal tree," which, in our mind, somewhat diminishes the
plaintiveness of the entreaty; but we must not be hypocritical.
* * * * *
Then comes his trial and condemnation, the account of which is most
remarkable precise and pithy.
"At the Old Bailey I was tried and cast,
And the dreadful sentence on me was past
On a Monday morning, alas! to die,
And on the eight of this month of July."
A marvellous particularity as to dates, intended, doubtless, to show
the convicts anxiety that, although he died young, his name should
live long in the minds of posterity. Then follows his farewell to
father and mother, and an impudent expression of confidence that his
crime will be forgiven in heaven, an idea, by-the-by, which is
reported to have been confirmed by the Ordinary of Newgate, who told
him that the angels would receive him with great affection; and this
it was, perhaps, which induced our bard of Seven Dials to represent
his hero as coolly writing poetry up to the very last moment of his
existence; taking his farewell of the public in these words:--
"Adieu, good people of each degree,
And take a warning, I pray, by me;
The bell is tolling, and I must go,
And leave this world of misery and woe."
But we cannot exactly see what business the fellow--"a pampered
menial," had to speak ill of the world, when he was very comfortably
off in it, and might have lived long and happily if it had not been
for his own wickedness; a hint which we throw out for the benefit of
Mr. John Morgan, in his future effusions, trusting he will not make
his heroes die grumby, when poetic justices does not require it.
But we must now take our leave, with a hearty wish to the whole
fraternity of Seven Dials' bards, that they may never go without a
dinner for want of the means of earning it, or that, in other words,
though they seem somewhat contradictory, "Sufficient unto the day may
be the evil thereof."
Again, the writer of an article on "Street Ballads," in the "National
Review," for October, 1861, makes the following remarks:--
"This Ballad--'Little Lord John out of Service'--is one of the few
which bear a signature--it is signed 'John Morgan' in the copy which
we possess. For a long time we believed this name to be a mere
_nom-de-plume_; but the other day in Monmouth Court, we were informed,
in answer to a casual question that this is the real name of the
author of some of the best comic ballads. Our informant added that he
is an elderly, we may say old, gentleman, living somewhere in
Westminster; but the exact whereabouts we could not discover. Mr.
Morgan followed no particular visible calling, so far as our informant
knew, except writing ballads, by which he could not earn much of a
livelihood, as the price of an original ballad, in these buying-cheap
days, has been screwed down by the publishers to somewhere about a
shilling sterling. Something more like bread-and-butter might be made,
perhaps, by poets who were in the habit of singing their own ballads,
as some of them do, but not Mr. Morgan. Should this ever meet the eye
of that gentleman (a not very probable event, we fear), we beg to
apologise for the liberty we have taken in using his verses and name,
and hope he will excuse us, having regard to the subject in which we
are humble fellow-labourers. We could scarcely avoid naming him, the
fact being that he is the only living author of street-ballads whose
name we know. That self-denying mind, indifferent to worldly fame,
which characterised the architects of our cathedrals and abbeys, would
seem to have descended on our ballad-writers; and we must be thankful,
therefore, to be able to embalm and hand down to posterity a name here
and there, such as William of Wykeham, and John Morgan. In answer to
our inquiries in this matter, generally, we have been told, 'Oh,
anybody writes them,' and with that answer we have had to rest
satisfied. But in presence of that answer, we walk about the streets
with a new sense of wonder, peering into the faces of those of our
fellow-lieges who do not carry about with them the external evidence
of overflowing exchequers, and saying to ourselves, 'That man may be a
writer of ballads.'"
At every enquiry we made for information in regard to street-literature,
we still continued to be referred to Mr. John Morgan as the most likely
person living to supply what we needed on the subject.
But the grave question arose in our own minds of the How, When, and Where:
could we find out and interview this said Mr. John Morgan, Poet! First we
made enquiry at the office of Mr. Taylor, Printer of Ballads, &c., 92 and
93, Brick Lane, Spitalfields, but, they "had not the least idea where we
could find him. In fact they had only heard of him as a ballad-writer, and
knew nothing about where he lived, never having employed him: had perhaps
printed some of his ballads. Thought Mr. Such, of the Borough, might give
some information, but, sure to find out all about him in the Seven Dials
district."
Mr. H. Such, Machine Printer and Publisher, 177, Union Street, Borough,
S.E., on being applied to could give us no positive information as to the
whereabout of Mr. John Morgan--he knew him, but where he lived he could
not tell. Mr. Fortey or Mr. Disley, in the Dials-way, would be most likely
to know.
Mr. William S. Fortey, (late A. Ryle, successor to the late J. Catnach),
Printer, Publisher, and Wholesale Stationer, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court,
Seven Dials, London, W., on being applied to could not exactly tell where
Mr. John Morgan did live, it was somewhere Westminster-way: it was very
uncertain when he should next see him, because he did not sometimes call
in for weeks together, yet he might by chance see him to-morrow, or the
next day. Anyway, we felt that we had no right to press the question any
further, more particularly so because Mr. Fortey had been very civil and
obliging to us on other occasions--in fact we have been under great and
lasting obligations to him, so changed the conversation.
Mr. Henry Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles', London, who we
found to be a very genial sort of a man, and that he had formerly been in
the service of James Catnach; he was working in his front shop at a small
hand-press on some cards relative to a forthcoming FRIENDLY LEAD,[1] to be
held at a public-house in the immediate neighbourhood, while Mrs. Disley
was hard at work colouring some Christmas Carols, and which she did with a
rapidity that was somewhat astonishing. In answer to our inquiry whether
he knew of one John Morgan--who was--as we described him, "something of a
song writer." Well! both Mr. and Mrs. Disley together--"did know
him--should think they did." But when we came to enquire about his private
address they knew nothing about that. He (Mr. Morgan) wrote ballads for
them at times: often called on them--whenever he did it was always to sell
a _good_ ballad he had on hand, or to tell them what _bad_ times it was
with him: but as to where he lived, beyond that it was somewhere
Westminster-way, they did not know--in fact, had not the least idea. But,
most likely, Mr. Fortey, him in Monmouth Court, did. Yes! come to think of
it, he would be sure to know.
The very unsatisfactory and evasive answers received in reference to the
address of Mr. John Morgan gave a zest to our zeal in the matter--so much
so, that we then determined "to work the oracle" out in our way.
At this time we had a near relative occupying chambers in Barnard's Inn,
which we held to be a good central and lawyer-like address--one that had
the "true ring," of business and substantiality about it. Yes! Barnard's
Inn, Holborn, London, E.C., looked to our mind to be likely to serve our
stratigical purpose to the point we desired. Having made all the
preparatory arrangements, we then procured from a neighbouring stationer's
shop a sheet of mourning note-paper and an envelope of large proportions,
each having the very blackest and broadest of black borders we could find
in stock. Then we wrote in a law-like hand:--
_No. 6, Barnard's Inn,
Holborn, London, E.C.,
February 26, 1870._
_THIS IS TO GIVE NOTICE:--If Mr. John Morgan, ballad-writer, &c., will
call at the above address on or after Wednesday next. He will hear
something greatly to his advantage._
_(Signed)_
[Signature: Charles Hindley.]
_Mr. John Morgan,
care of............
..............London._
The above document having been duly intrusted to Her Majesty's Post Master
General for delivery, we had to abide our time for the result. We had not
to wait long, for although we had appointed the next following Wednesday
to communicate "_something greatly to the advantage of Mr. John Morgan_,"
he turned up a little sooner than we expected, or desired, by reason of
his putting in an appearance at Barnard's Inn on Tuesday evening, where he
arrived "happy and glorious," and made earnest enquiries for "the
gentleman who had sent him a letter to say he had got a something to his
advantage--perhaps a fortune! For sometimes he thought somebody would die
and leave him one. Where was the gentleman who wrote him the letter? He
says that I am to call here. He sent it in a black-bordered envelope for
him. Where is the gentleman? See here is the letter, and all in
black--black as your hat--look for yourself, sir."
All the above was spoken to a friend of ours who lived on the ground-floor
at the particular house in Barnard's Inn, where Mr. John Morgan had been
requested to call on Wednesday. It was then only Tuesday, and that fact
had to be explained; also, that the gentleman in question was not at
present in his chambers on the third-floor, but would be in the morning up
to 10 o'clock. Our friend on the first-floor--who had received
instructions from us in the event of Mr. John Morgan turning-up while we
were not at home--informed us of all that had taken place when we arrived
a little later on in the evening.
On the next morning preparations were made for the reception of our
expectant friend--a good fire, a good breakfast, and a half-pint of "Old
Tom" from Carr's well-known Establishment, St. Clement Danes, Strand.
Very soon after the old clock of the ancient hall of Barnard's Inn, and
all the public clocks in the surrounding neighbourhood had proclaimed
aloud that the hour of 10 a.m. of that Wednesday morning had arrived,
there was heard a knock at the outer door of our chamber-rooms, and on the
same being opened, Mr. John Morgan announced himself as the party to whom
the gentleman had sent a black-bordered letter and envelope for him to say
there was a something to his advantage to be had. Then Mr. John Morgan,
full of bows and scrapes, was ushered into our presence.--He was the party
who had received the letter. Oh! yes, Mr. Morgan we added: take a seat
sir. Yes, sir, and thank you to, he replied, at the same time sitting down
and then very carefully despositing his somewhat delapidated hat
under--far under--the chair. We then enquired whether he would have
anything to eat, or have a cup of coffee. No! it was a little too early in
the morning for eating, and coffee did not always agree with him. Or, a
drop of good "Old Tom," we somewhat significantly suggested. Mr. John
Morgan would very much like to have a little drop of gin, for it was a
nasty raw cold morning: In answer to our enquiry whether he would prefer
hot or cold water, elected to have it neat if it made no difference to us.
Mr. John Morgan at our suggestion having "wet the other eye," _i.e._,
taken the second glass, the real business part of the question we had met
upon commenced thus:--"We have been informed that you were acquainted
with, and used to write for the late James Catnach, who formerly lived in
the Seven Dials, and that you can give us much of the information that we
require towards perfecting a work we have in hand treating on Street
Literature. If you are willing to do so, we are prepared to treat with you
in a liberal manner, and that, please to at once to understand is the
'_Something greatly to your advantage_ that is mentioned in the note we
addressed to you.'" Here Mr. John Morgan hinted that he thought it was--or
he had hoped it was, a little fortune some one had been kind enough to
leave him, he always expected that old Jemmy Catnach would--after what he
had done for him, have left him a bit, however small, but no such luck.
Mr. Morgan expressed his willingness to give all the information he could
on the subject and leave it to our generosity to pay him what we pleased,
and adding that he had no doubt that we should not fall out on that score.
And so we proceeded, we talked and took notes. Mr. Morgan talked and took
gin. Mr. Morgan got warm--warmer and warmer--and very entertaining, his
conversational powers increased wonderfully, he became very witty and
laughed _ha! hah!!_ he joked and made merry at some old reminiscences in
connection with old Jemmy Catnach--and admitted, that after all old Jemmy
wasn't a particular bad sort--that is, when you knew him, and could handle
him properly--then old Jemmy was as right as my leg! Still we continued to
talk and take notes, still Mr. Morgan talked and took gin, until he
emulated the little old woman who sold "Hot Codlings," for of her it is
related that--"the glass she filled and the bottle she shrunk and that
this little old woman in the end got----."
At length it became very manifest that we should not be able to get any
more information out of Mr. John Morgan on that day, so proposed for him
to call again on the morrow morning and at the same time and place to
pursue the thread of our narrative. Then having presented him with a
portrait of Her most gracious Majesty Queen Victoria, set in gold, we
volunteered to see him down stairs which we observed were very
crooked--Mr. Morgan thought they were very old and funny ones: up and down
like--in fact what old Charley Dibdin would have called regular "whopping
old stairs!" Being safely landed from the last stone step on to the
stone-paved way, we thought it advisable, for appearance sake, to conduct
our friend out of Barnard's Inn by a sideway leading into Fetter-lane.
After that it occurred to us that it would perhaps be better to see him to
the Fleet-street end of the lane and then to put him into a Westminster
omnibus, but we had reached Somerset House before one going that way came
in sight. Then it was Mr. John Morgan suddenly recollected that he could
not pass his old friend Short--who was Short? why surely you know
Short--old Short, him as sells the wine so good and so cheap, there over
the way--that's Short's--"WINES FROM THE WOOD," that's out of the cask you
know, you remind me to-morrow, sir, and I'll tell you a good tale about
old Short before he made such a lot of money as he has got now.--Capital
chap old Short, he knows me--it's all about a song I wrote--but I'll tell
you all about it to-morrow. Besides I must have change ye know for there's
no one got any at my home--my landlord--There's no change about him, Oh!
dear no--He's never got any change but he's always got an old account, do
you see? an old account--but no matter let's go in!
Respectfully, but firmly declining the kind and very pressing invitation
to have "only just one drop with old Short." We left Mr. John Morgan to
take care of himself for the day and to be sure to meet us on the next
morning in Barnard's Inn at 10 o'clock--sharp.
At length the wishful morrow came, also ten of the clock, but not so Mr.
John Morgan, nor did he call at any hour during the day. But soon after 11
o'clock the next day he made his appearance, but being so stupidly drunk
we gave him some money and told him to call again to-morrow. And he did,
but still so muddled that we could make nothing out of him, so we somewhat
curtly dismissed him and returned to Brighton.
The next day the letter--of which we give a _verbatim et literatim_
copy--was received and then forwarded on to us.
90 Great Peter Street
Westminister, S.W.
Saturday the 5th of March 1870.
My Dear and Kind Sir:--I return you my most sincere and heartfelt
thanks for the Kindness I received from you and deeply I regret if I
caused you any displeasure the fact is I have been greatly put about
And you having been so kind as to give me refreshments it overpowered
me I fell and hurt myself. And I am now destitute without a penny in
the world or a friend to help me. I feel as though I offended you I
hope not I think by the Little conversation we had I may be able to
please you I have been considering in my doleful moments matters of
importance if my kind and good friend you can favour me with a Line
this Saturday Evening I will be most grateful I shall not go out
waiting to hear from you I am placed in a most Sad position accept my
thanks write Me a Line in answer to this Befriend me if it is possible
And I will make all right and with gratitude,
Anxiously waiting your kind and I trust favourable reply.
[Signature: Your Hum{ble} Servt
John Morgan]
Charles Hindley, Esq
6 Barnard's Inn
Holborn
W.C.
Having no desire to incur the expense of another journey to London in the
matter, and believing that we had obtained sufficient information on the
subject, we published, in the year 1871, a limited number of copies of our
work under the title of:--
CURIOSITIES OF STREET LITERATURE:
COMPRISING "COCKS," OR "CATCHPENNIES,"
A Large and Curious Assortment of
STREET DROLLERIES, SQUIBS, HISTORIES, COMIC STORIES
IN PROSE AND VERSE,
BROADSIDES ON THE ROYAL FAMILY,
POLITICAL LITANIES, DIALOGUES, CATECHISMS, ACTS OF PARLIAMENT,
STREET POLITICAL PAPERS.
A VARIETY OF "BALLADS ON A SUBJECT,"
_DYING SPEECHES AND CONFESSIONS_,
TO WHICH IS ATTACHED THE ALL-IMPORTANT AND NECESSARY
AFFECTIONATE COPY OF VERSES, AS
"Come, all you feeling-hearted Christians, wherever you may be,
Attention give to these few lines, and listen unto me;
It's of this cruel murder, to you I will unfold,
The bare recital of the same will make your blood run cold."
"What hast here? ballads? I love a ballad in print, or a life; for then
we are sure they are true."--_Shakespeare._
"There's nothing beats a stunning good murder, after all."--_Experiences
of a Running Patterer._
LONDON:
REEVES AND TURNER
196, STRAND,
1871.
CURIOSITIES OF STREET LITERATURE.
Guaranteed only Four Hundred and Fifty Six Copies Printed,
NAMELY,--
£ s. d.
250 on Fine Toned Demy 4to Published at 1 1 0
100 on Large Post 4to, printed on one side of the
paper only " 1 5 0
100 on Fine French Linear Writing Paper, printed
on one side only,
and in imitation of the Catnachian tea-like
paper of old " 1 11 6
6 on Yellow Demy 4to paper " 2 2 0
---
456
[Symbol: Pointing hand] EACH COPY OF EACH EDITION NUMBERED.
Our work on the Curiosities of Street Literature soon ran out of print.
But we continued to gather from time to time fresh information on the
subject of the "Two Catnachs--John and James," and in the early part of
1876 we determined on publishing a work, to be entitled "The Life and
Times of James Catnach--late of Seven Dials--Ballad Monger." And for the
purpose of obtaining the verification, amendment, or denial to the several
scraps of information we had obtained, we wrote to our old friend, Mr.
John Morgan, on the subject, and from him we received the letters that
follow:--
No. 1, Model Cottages, Little St. Anne's Lane,
Great Peter Street, Westminster,
London, S.W.
_16th February, 1876._
Sir,
I received your Letter this Morning: I have removed to above address
two years and seven months, I have been in Bed seven weeks suffering
from Bronchitis; but am now recovering and shall get up to-day, but
the Doctor will not permit me to go out.
Whatever you may require I am ready and willing to do to the utmost of
my abilities, and be happy to serve you, and much regret I have not
the strength to venture to ---- Street. If anything can be done by
Letter or otherwise, I will willingly attend to your request, your
reply will greatly oblige,
[Signature: Your Hum{ble} Servt
John Morgan]
P.S.--Please excuse the illegible scribble as I write this in Bed.
Charles Hindley, Esq.,
76, Rose Hill Terrace, Brighton.
No. 1, Model Cottages, Little St. Ann's Lane,
Great Peter Street, Westminster, London, S.W.
_17th February, 1876._
Sir,
I have just received yours, 7 p.m., and in reply I beg to say that
when I came to London in 1818 Catnach's Father was not living.
Catnach, his Mother, and Sister Julia the youngest, resided at 2,
Monmouth Court, the old woman and Julia worked at a small hand
press--I joined him about 1818--his father died before.--I understood
Julia went astray--the Mother Died about 1826. Anne Ryle was the widow
of an Officer: a Waterloo man--with one child--had a pension.
Catnach had but little type, and no stock to speak of: he had a Sister
at Portsea the wife of a mate of a ship in harbour, and kept a
song-shop. His Mother lived with him 7 or 8 years.--I understand about
the "Horses-heads." Cox and Kean, I forget except the title and
chorus:--
COX _versus_ KEAN;
OR
LITTLE BREECHES.
"With his ginger tail he did assail, and did the prize obtain,
This Merry Little Wanton Bantam Cock of Drury Lane--
LITTLE BREECHES."
Ann Stanton was tried for cutting the Cock's Head off there was no
verses.
As regards the Sausages, Catnach printed a few lines on a
quarter-sheet, that caused a great uproar, he was taken to Bow Street.
Catnach had six months. There was no verses, it was quickly done. He
printed the life of Mother Cummins, of Dyot Street--now, George
Street, and that was knocked into "pye" in quick sticks. There was a
change after he went to Alnwick in Northumberland, where he carried a
small press and printed the state of the poll every day, while there
he took up his freedom.[2] He came home and printed "Cubitt's
Treadmill":--
"And we're all treading, tread, tread, treading,
And we're all treading at fam'd Brixton Mill."
and kept going forward--retired and went to Barnet, left the business
to James Paul and Ann Ryle. That is many years ago. I seldom go near
the Seven Dials, perhaps once in 3, 4, 5, or six months. I remember
many occurrances but 56 years is a long time, I have just entered my
77th year. Anything you require as far as I can I will send and
remain,
[Signature: Your Hum{ble} Servt
John Morgan]
Charles Hindley, Esq.,
76, Rose Hill Terrace, Brighton.
1 Model Cottages, Little Ann's Lane,
Great Peter Street, Westminster, London, S.W.
_29th February, 1876._
Dear Sir:--
If I was to go back and think of passing events it would fill a
volume. First in 1820--Catnach then being very poor--at the death of
George the third, and the Duke of Kent he printed an Elegy:
"Mourn, Britons mourn! Your sons deplore,
Our royal Sovereign is now no more."
Then comes the election for Westminster: Burdett, Hobhouse, and Lamb.
He had a song:--
"Oh, Cammy Hobby is the man,
And so is daddy Sir Franky, O;
The Hon. W. Lamb is going mad
And kicking like a donkey, O."
"Oh, the naughty Lamb--
The miserable sinner, O
We'll have him roast and boil'd
And cut him up for dinner, O."
During the whole time of the election party spirit ran very high. A
real lamb's head with a real rat in its mouth, was stuck upon the top
of a pole. From the rat's tail hung a cock's comb. On the lamb's head
was placed a lawyer's wig, surmounted with a fool's cap. On a board
immediately below the head, was inscribed in front--"Behold the
ratting lamb, with a cock's comb at his tail." On the other side, the
inscription was--
"If silly lambs will go ratting,
'Tis fit they get this sort of batting."[3]
Then came The Dog's Meat Man-Founded on fact:--
In Gray's Inn Lane, not long ago.
An old maid lived a life of woe;
She was fifty-three, with a face like tan,
When she fell in love with a dogs'-meat man.
Much she loved this dogs'-meat man,
He was a good-looking dogs'-meat man;
Her roses and lilies were turn'd to tan,
When she fell in love wi' the dogs'-meat man.
Every morning when he went by,
Whether the weather was wet or dry,
And right opposite her door he'd stand,
And cry "dogs'-meat," did this dogs'-meat man.
Then her cat would run out to the dogs'-meat man,
And rub against the barrow of the dogs'-meat man,
As right opposite to her door he'd stand,
And cry "Dogs' Meat," did this dogs'-meat man.
He said his customers, good lord!
Owed him a matter of two pound odd;
And she replied, it was quite scan-
Dalous to cheat such a dogs'-meat man.
"If I had but the money," says the dogs'-meat man,
"I'd open a tripe-shop," says the dogs'-meat man,
"And I'd marry you to-morrow."--She admired the plan,
And she lent a _five-pound note_ to the dogs'-meat man.
He pocketed the money and went away,
She waited for him all next day,
But he never com'd; and then she began
To think she was diddled by the dogs'-meat man;
She went to seek this dogs'-meat man,
But she couldn't find the dogs'-meat man;
Some friend gave her to understan'
He'd got a wife and seven children--this dogs'-meat man.
Mother Cummins lived and kept Brothels in Dyot Street, Bloomsbury
Square, after, and still called George Street, named after the Prince
Regent George 4th, at that time "Beggar's Opera" where the Prince and
nobles resorted was at the Rose and Crown, Church Lane, St. Giles.
Catnach printed her life. In the Beggar's Opera, were assembled
matchmakers, beggars, prigs and all the lowest of the low. There was
old black Billy Waters, with his wooden leg, dancing and playing his
fiddle, and singing:--
Polly will you marry me--Polly don't you cry,
Polly come to bed with me; and get a little boy.
some were dipping matches, some boiling potatoes and salt herrings,
some swearing, some dancing--all manners of fun, _&c._
Then comes Queen Caroline's trial; Catnach gets out a song:--
As I walked down the Greenwich-road one evening in June,
I never saw so fine a sight as on that afternoon.
I never saw so fine a sight, or, one half so good,
As for to see Queen Caroline supported by a Wood.
That Wood shall never be cut down, but stand for ever more;
And he'll protect our innocent Queen Sweet Caroline on our shore.
which was followed by a skit on George IVth called:--
"THE GREAT BABE IN A MESS."
then another on Queen Caroline's _crin con_ case with Bergami who
couldn't _remember_ nothing at all.
"BERGAMI, THE _Non mi recordo_."
[Illustration]
Who are you? "_Non mi recordo._"
What countryman are you--a foreigner or an Englishman? "_Non mi
recordo._"
There was something fresh everyday until the end of the Trial. Catnach
then prints some "papers" belonging to J. Pitts, Printer, Gt. Saint
Andrew-street, which causes a flare-up and a bother.
Then comes the sheet of "Horses Heads" which heads were like Eldon,
Peel, Canning, &c. Just before they were out Mr. Rockcliff, a Printer
in Old Gravel Lane, Radcliff-Highway sends for me--there was bottles
of whisky. Rockcliff had engaged with a man called Oliver Cromwell to
get him one of the first sheets printed off Catnach's press of the
"Horses Heads" and he would give him half-a-crown. Rockcliff then
requested me to bring him the first sheet of "Horses Heads" and get
the half-a-crown. I went and got the sheet and meets Oliver Cromwell
going into Catnach's as I came out, so I got the half-a-crown.
Rockcliff copies the sheet, then engaged with Lowe the Printer in
Compton-street to supply all the West-end. So it went on and made
plenty of bother between them.
Catnach got on like a house on fire printing Religious Sheets, then
came the murder of William Weare Esq. by John Thurtell, Hunt and
Probert. I remember all that affair well,--Then the execution of
Thurtell. A twelve-month after Probert was hanged for horsestealing.
Then came the trial of Henry Fauntleroy a banker in Berner's Street
Oxford Street executed for forgery. Then came Corder and Maria Marten
and the Red Barn, so that is the way Catnach got on from a poor man to
be a gentleman. There is many little things I may think of but close
for the present and remain:--
[Signature: Your Hum{ble} Servt
John Morgan]
1, Model Cottages, Little St. Ann's Lane,
Great Peter Street, Westminster,
London. _17th March, 1876._
Sir,
I received yours. My recollection is not so good as I would wish.
I think to the best of my recollection in 1819 there were some old men
who had been forty-years in the streets at that time, their names were
old Jack Smith, Tom Caton, old Jack Rush, Tom Anderson and a few
others. When they wanted anything they made up fresh reports, and
things were done without the least hesitation. As respects Mr. Pizzy
the Pork Butcher, it was some of these men that went to Blackman
Street, Clare Market, and created an uproar about the sausages, crowds
assembled, and windows were broken, they were charged with rioting and
taken to Bow Street, before--as they told me, Sir Richard Burnie, and
I think Mr. Minshull. Catnach was sent to Clerkenwell for trial, and
was afterwards sentenced to six months, and he served the full time.
Then there was the trial of the four poor Irishmen for coining, in the
first year of the mayorality of the late Sir Matthew Wood, and a lot
of other things which I think would answer the purpose.
About twenty-six years ago Henry Mayhew sent for me, and he began a
work something like yours, but by some means it stopped. There is
matters that would help to fill up a Book without going to much
expense.
[Signature: Your Hum{ble} Servt
John Morgan]
Charles Hindley, Esq.,
76, Rose Hill Terrace, Brighton.
At this date we were through the instrumentality of Mrs. Paul, widow of
Mr. James Paul--formerly in the service of Catnach, introduced to Mrs.
Elizabeth Benton, the last surviving daughter of John and Mary Catnach.
Mr. Benton was assistant treasurer, and box-book keeper to Mr. Alfred
Bunn, of Covent Garden and Drury Lane Theatres, Mrs. Benton, at the time
being wardrobe-mistress and _costumier_. At one period Mr. and Mrs. Benton
lived with Mr. Bunn in St James' Place, St. James' Street, Mrs. Benton
acting in the capacity of housekeeper. During several seasons Mr. Benton
was also treasurer for the proprietors of Vauxhall Gardens, afterwards he
filled the same office for E. T. Smith--_Dazzle Smith!_ at Cremorne
Gardens. He died abroad in 1856. The interview we had with Mrs. Benton led
up to receiving the two letters that follow:--
5, Sonderburg Road,
Seven Sisters' Road, Holloway.
London. _November, 13th, 1876._
Dear Sir,
In reply to your letter, in which you ask if I know where my Father
and mother were married, I regret to say I do not know for certain if
it was in Edinburgh or Berwick-on-Tweed, but I am certain it was not
in Alnwick.
* * * * *
I shall feel obliged for the [Alnwick] Journal, and also for the
Register of Baptisms.
I always understood that my father was a descendant of Catnach, King
of the Picts.
[Signature: I remain yours &
E Benton]
P.S.--The paper has not arrived--shall be glad to hear from you by
return of Post.
Charles Hindley, Esq.,
76, Rose Hill Terrace, Brighton.
5, Sonderburg Road,
Seven Sisters' Road, Holloway,
London. _November 18, 1876._
Dear Sir,
I am sorry I have not answered your letter before, but I have been
very ill.
I am sorry I can give you no more information than I have already
given you, but about Mrs. Ryle and Mr. ---- I cannot exactly say, and
as my niece Mrs. Harding was but a girl when her uncle died I should
not like to apply to her as it would be painful.
My father was dead when the Battle of Waterloo was fought, but was in
Alnwick at the Battle of Trafalgar, and for some time after. My Father
had 3 residences in London. 1. (only a shop) in Wardour Street, Soho
Square, and ditto also Gerrard Street, and also in Charlotte Street,
Fitzroy Square (apartments).
My Father had a severe illness, also a fever of which he died. I
should feel very much obliged if you could find me a copy of the
Hermit of Warkworth, and I will willingly pay for it, and also Blair's
Grave.
I am very much obliged for the Registers, and if I can supply you with
further information I will do so with pleasure. I have not heard from
Mr. [Mark] Smith.
[Signature: I remain Yours &c.
E Benton]
P.S.--I received the Paper [Alnwick Journal] with thanks.
C. Hindley, Esq.,
76, Rose Hill Terrace, Brighton.
It was at this particular date of our history--1876--that we had the good
fortune to get acquainted with Mr. George Skelly, of Alnwick--who, like
ourselves, is possessed of the _cacoethes scribendi_, and was at the time
supplying, _con amore_, an article to the _Alnwick Journal_, entitled
"John and James Catnach," which we found to contain certain information
relative to the elder Catnach, and also of the earlier portion of the life
of James, of which we had no previous knowledge. At our solicitation to be
allowed to make a selection from the same, we received a most courteous
and gentlemanly letter, which, in addition to containing several pieces of
information and answers to many queries we had put to Mr. Skelly, he wound
up by saying:--"You have full liberty to make use of anything that I have
written, and it will afford me much pleasure if I can further your
intentions in any way."
From that date, Mr. George Skelly continued to correspond with us on the
subject of the "Two Catnachs," nearly up to the last moment of our going
to press with our own "Life and Times of James Catnach," and to him we are
greatly indebted for much of the information therein contained. And it was
at his suggestion that we wrote the following letter to the _Alnwick
Journal_--Mr. Skelly at the same time furnishing the local paragraph.
Letter to the Editor.
_To the Editor of the Alnwick Journal._
76, Rose Hill Terrace, Brighton,
June 16th, 1876.
SIR,--Your townsman, Mr. George Skelly, in the concluding chapter of
his excellent article of "John and James Catnach," makes mention of my
name as being engaged in preparing for publication "The Life and Times
of James Catnach, formerly of Seven Dials, printer of ballads, &c."
Such being the fact, I shall therefore be glad if you would allow me
sufficient space in the _Alnwick Journal_, to ask your readers and
correspondents who possess any additional facts, sayings, doings, or
letters of the two Catnachs--John and James--to supply me with the
same, when I shall have much pleasure in assigning to any such
contributions a proper chronological place in my work, and of
acknowledging the source of the same, while all documents or books
will be faithfully returned by yours, &c., &c.,
CHARLES HINDLEY.
* * * * *
JOHN AND JAMES CATNACH.--It will be seen by a correspondence in
another page that Mr. Charles Hindley, of Brighton, is preparing for
publication the "Life and Times of James Catnach," and he respectfully
solicits from our readers any facts and scraps they may be possessed
of, also the loan of any letters or books suitable for the extention
of the life of the celebrated and withal eccentric printer, who,
although a native of Alnwick, settled in London, and occupied a
peculiar position for upwards of a quarter of a century in the Seven
Dials district. We trust that our correspondent may be enabled to add
to his all ready large stock of material in hand a few more items, by
the publication of his letter in our columns. Mr. Hindley's work,
will, it is expected, be published by Messrs. Reeves and Turner, of
the Strand, London, during the coming autumn.
The above letter to the _Alnwick Journal_ was the means of obtaining
another valuable correspondent--Mr. George H. Thompson, also of Alnwick,
who volunteered his services to aid and assist, to the best of his time
and ability, in supplying all the information he possessed or could glean
from his friends and acquaintances in the good old borough of Alnwick, or
the county at large. And _inter alia_ copied out _verbatim_ from the
Parish Register of Baptisms in St. Michael's Church all the entries in
connection with the family of John and Mary Catnach and which will be
found _in extenso_ at pages 2-3 of this work.
Mr. George Skelly and Mr. G. H. Thompson are fortunate by their residence
in Alnwick in having had the acquaintance and friendship of the late Mr.
Mark Smith--James Catnach's fellow apprentice, Mr. Thomas Robertson, Mr.
Tate, the local historian, and several other _Alnwick-folk_. And they have
made the best possible use of the circumstance to supply us with
information on the subject of our enquiry.
Recently Mr. Geo. Skelly has forwarded to us an original trade invoice of
John Catnach of which we here append a _fac-simile_ copy:--
[Illustration] _ALNWICK_
_Mr. Smart_,
_Bought of_ J. CATNACH,
1807.
_July 29._ _£ s. d._
_Printing 500 Bills_ 8 ,, 6
----------
[Signature: Paid
J. Catnach]
We have now brought up the history of our pursuit of knowledge to the eve
of the publication of the Life and Times of James Catnach--late of Seven
Dials, Ballad-monger--which was first announced in 1878 in the manner
following.
YE LIFE OF JEMMY CATNACH.
[Illustration]
Now, my friends, you have here just printed and pub--lish--ed, the
Full, True, and Particular account of the Life, Trial, Character,
Confession, Condemnation, and Behaviour, together with an authentic
copy of the last Will and Testament: or DYING SPEECH, of that
eccentric individual "Old Jemmy Catnach," late of the _Seven Dials_,
printer, publisher, toy-book manufacturer, dying-speech merchant, and
ballad-monger. Here, you may read how he was bred and born the son of
a printer, in the ancient Borough of Alnwick, which is in
Northumberlandshire. How he came to London to seek his fortune. How he
obtained it by printing and publishing children's books, the
chronicling of doubtful scandals, fabulous duels between ladies of
fashion, "cooked" assassinations, and sudden deaths of eminent
individuals, apocryphal 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.
Yes, my customers, in this book you'll read how Jemmy Catnach made his
fortune in Monmouth Court, which is to this day in the Seven Dials,
which is in London. Not only will you read how he did make his
fortune, but also what he did and what he didn't do with it after he
had made it. You will also read how "Old Jemmy" set himself up as a
fine gentleman:--JAMES CATNACH ES--QUIRE.
And how he didn't like it when he had done it. And how he went back
again to dear old Monmouth Court, which is in the Seven Dials
aforesaid. And how he languished, and languishing, did die--leaving
all his old mouldy coppers behind him--and how being dead, he was
buried in Highgate Cemetery.
Furthermore, my ready-money customers, you are informed that there are
only 750 copies of the work print-ed and pub-lish-ed, viz., namely
that is to say;--500 copies on crown 8vo, at 12/6 each.
250 copies on demy 8vo., at 25/- each.
LONDON:
REEVES AND TURNER,
196, STRAND, W.C.
1878.
The Seven Dials!--Jemmy Catnach and Street Literature are, as it were, so
inseparably bound together that we now propose to give a short history of
the former to enable us to connect our own history with the later:--
The Seven Dials were built for wealthy tenants, and Evelyn, in his
_Diary_, 1694, notes: "I went to see the building near St. Giles's, where
Seven Dials make a star from a Doric pillar placed in the middle of a
circular area, in imitation of Venice." The attempt was not altogether in
vain. This part of the parish has ever since "worn its _dirt_ with a
difference." There is an air of shabby gentility about it. The air of the
footman or waiting-maid can be recognised through the tatters, which are
worn with more assumption than those of their unsophisticated neighbours.
"You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will;
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still."
The Seven Dials are thus described in Gay's Trivia:--
"Where famed St. Giles's ancient limits spread,
An in-railed column rears its lofty head;
Here to seven streets, seven dials count their day,
And from each other catch the circling ray;
Here oft the peasant, with inquiring face,
Bewildered, trudges on from place to place;
He dwells on every sign with stupid gaze--
Enters the narrow alley's doubtful maze--
Tries every winding court and street in vain,
And doubles o'er his weary steps again."
This column was removed in July, 1773, on the supposition that a
considerable sum of money was lodged at the base; but the search was
ineffectual.
Charles Knight, in his "London," writes thus of Seven Dials:--
"It is here that the literature of St. Giles's has fixed its abode;
and a literature the parish has of its own, and that, as times go, of
a very respectable standing in point of antiquity. In a letter from
Letitia Pilkington, to the demure author of 'Sir Charles Grandison,'
and published by the no less exemplary and irreproachable Mrs.
Barbauld, the lady informs her correspondent that she has taken
apartments in Great White Lion Street, and stuck up a bill intimating
that all who have not found 'reading and writing come by nature,' and
who had had no teacher to make up the defect by art, might have
'letters written here.' With the progress of education, printing
presses have found their way into St. Giles's, and what with
literature and a taste for flowers and birds, there is much of the
'sweet south' about the Seven Dials harmonising with the out-of-door
habits of its occupants. It was here--in Monmouth Court, a
thoroughfare connecting Monmouth Street with Little Earl Street--that
the late eminent Mr. Catnach developed the resources of his genius and
trade. It was he who first availed himself of greater mechanical skill
and a larger capital than had previously been employed in the
department of THE TRADE, to substitute--for the excrable tea-paper,
blotched with lamp-black and oil, which characterised the old
broadside and ballad printing--tolerably white paper and real
printer's ink. But more than that, it was he who first conceived and
carried into effect, the idea of publishing collections of songs by
the yard, and giving to purchasers, for the small sum of one penny (in
former days the cost of a single ballad), strings of poetry,
resembling in shape and length the list of Don Juan's mistresses,
which Leporello unrolls on the stage before Donna Anna. He was no
ordinary man, Catnach; he patronised original talents in many a bard
of St Giles's and is understood to have accumulated the largest store
of broadsides, last dying speeches, ballads and other stock-in-trade
of the flying stationer's upon record."
Douglas Jerrold in his article on the Ballad Singer, published in "Heads
of the People; or Portraits of the English"--1841, writes thus of Seven
Dials and its surroundings:--
"The public ear has become dainty, fastidious, hypercritical; hence
the Ballad-Singer languishes and dies. Only now and then, his pipings
are to be heard * * * With the fall of Napoleon, declined the English
Ballad-Singer. During the war, it was his peculiar province to vend
halfpenny historical abridgments to his country's glory; recommending
the short poetic chronicle by some familiar household air, that fixed
it in the memory of the purchaser, who thus easily got hatred of the
French by heart, with a new assurance of his own invulnerability. No
battle was fought, no vessel taken or sunken, that the triumph was not
published, proclaimed in the national gazette of our Ballad-Singer. If
he were not the clear silver trump of Fame, he was at least her tin
horn. It was he who bellowed music into news, which, made to jingle,
was thus, even to the weakest understanding, rendered portable. It was
his narrow strips of history that adorned the garrets of the poor; it
was he who made them yearn towards their country, albiet to them so
rough and niggard a mother.
Napoleon lost Waterloo, and the English Ballad-Singer not only lost
his greatest prerogative, but was almost immediately assailed by
foreign rivals, who had well-nigh played him dumb. Little thought the
Ballad-Singer, when he crowed forth the crowning triumphs of the war,
and in his sweetest possible modulations breathed the promised
blessings of a golden peace, that he was then, swan-like, singing his
own knell; that he did but herald the advent of his own provençal
destroyers.
Oh muse! descend and say, did no omen tell the coming of the fall? Did
no friendly god give warning to the native son of song? Burned the
stars clearly, tranquilly in heaven,--or shot they madly across
Primrose-hill, the Middlesex Parnassus?
* * * * *
Evening had gathered o'er Saint Giles's, and Seven Dials. So tranquil
was the season, even publishers were touched. Catnach and Pitts sat
silent in their shops; placing their hands in breeches-poke, with that
serenity which pockets best convey, they looked around their
walls--walls more richly decked than if hung with triumphs of Sidonian
looms, arrayed with Bayeux stitchings; walls, where ten thousand
thousand ballads--strips harmonious, yet silent as Apollo's unbraced
strings,--hung pendulous, or crisply curling, like John Braham's hair.
Catnach and Pitts, the tuneful masters of the gutter-choir, serenely
looked, yet with such comprehensive glance, that look did take their
stock. Suddenly, more suddenly than e'er the leaves in Hornsey wood
were stirred by instant blast, the thousand thousand ballads swung and
rustled on the walls; yet wind there was not, not the lightest breath.
Still like pendants fluttering in a northern breeze, the ballads
streamed towards Catnach, and towards Pitts! Amazing truth--yet more;
each ballad found a voice! 'Old Towler' faintly growled; 'Nancy
Dawson' sobbed and sighed; and, 'Bright Chanticleer' crowed weakly,
dolorously, as yet in chickenhood, and smitten with the pip. At the
same instant, the fiddle, the antique viol of Roger Scratch, fell from
its garret-peg, and lay shivered, even as glass.
A cloud fell upon Seven Dials; dread and terror chilled her many
minstrels: and why--and wherefore?
At that dread moment, a ministrel from the sunny south, with
barrel-organ, leapt on Dover beach! Seven Dials felt the shock: her
troubadours, poor native birds, were to be out-carrolled and
out-quavered, by Italian opera retailed by penn'orths to them, from
the barrel-organs: and prompt to follow their masters, they let the
English ballad singer sing unheard.
The Ballad-Singer has lost his occupation; yet should he not pass away
unthanked, unrecompensed. We have seen him a useful minister in rude
society; we have heard him a loud-mouthed advocate of party zeal, and
we have seen him almost ground into silence by the southern
troubadour. Yet was he the first music-seller in the land. Ye
well-stocked, flourishing vendors of fashionable scores, deign to cast
a look through plate glass at your poor, yet great original,
bare-footed and in rags, singing, unabashed, amidst London
wagon-wheels: behold the true decendant of the primative
music-seller."
Charles Dickens, as Boz, long since "sketched" the Seven Dials, and at the
same time and place given us his--"Meditations in Monmouth Street":--
"Seven Dials! the region of song and poetry--first effusions, and last
dying speechees: hallowed by the names of Catnach and Pitts--names
that will entwine themselves with costermongers, and barrel-organs,
when penny magazines shall have superseded penny yards of song, and
capital punishment be unknown."
Several years ago Mr. Albert Smith, who lived at Chertsey, discovered in
his neighbourhood part of the Seven Dials--the column doing duty as a
monument to a Royal Duchess--when he described the circumstance in a
pleasant paper, entitled "Some News of a famous Old Fellow," in his "Town
and Country Magazine." The communication is as follows:--
"Let us now quit the noisome mazes of St. Giles's and go out and away
into the pure leafy country. Seventeen or eighteen miles from town, in
the county of Surrey, is the little village of Weybridge.
One of the lions to be seen at Weybridge is Oatlands, with its large
artificial grotto and bath-room, which is said--but we cannot
comprehend the statement--to have cost the Duke of Newcastle, who had
it built, £40,000. The late Duchess of York died at Oatlands, and lies
in a small vault under Weybridge Church, wherein there is a monument,
by Chantrey, to her memory. She was an excellent lady, well-loved by
all the country people about her, and when she died they were anxious
to put up some sort of a tribute to her memory. But the village was
not able to offer a large some of money for this purpose. The good
folks did their best, but the amount was still very humble, so they
were obligated to dispense with the service of any eminent architect,
and build up only such a monument as their means could compass.
Someone told them that there was a column to be sold cheap in a
stonemason's yard, which might answer their purpose. It was
accordingly purchased; a coronet was placed upon its summit; and the
memorial was set up on Weybridge Green, in front of the Ship Inn, at
the junction of the roads leading to Oatlands, to Shepperton Lock, and
to Chertsey. This column turned out to be the original one from Seven
Dials.
The stone on which the dials were engraved or fixed, was sold with it.
The poet Gay, however, was wrong when he spoke of its seven faces. It
is hexagonal in its shape; this is accounted for by the fact that two
of the streets opened into one angle. It was not wanted to assist in
forming the monument, but was turned into a stepping stone, near the
adjoining inn, to assist the infirm in mounting their horses, and
there it now lies, having sunk by degrees into the earth; but its
original form can still be easily surmised. It may be about three feet
in diameter.
The column itself is about thirty feet high and two feet in diameter,
displaying no great architectural taste. It is surmounted by a
coronet, and the base is enclosed by a light iron railing. An
appropriate inscription on one side of the base indicates its erection
in the year 1822, on the others are some lines to the memory of the
Duchess.
Relics undergo strange transpositions. The obelisk from the mystic
solitudes of the Nile to the centre of the Place de la Concorde, in
bustling Paris--the monuments of Nineveh to the regions of Great
Russell Street--the frescoes from the long, dark, and silent Pompeii
to the bright and noisy Naples--all these are odd changes. But in
proportion to their importance, not much behind them is that old
column from the crowded dismal regions of St. Giles to the sunny
tranquil Green of Weybridge."
We are now approaching--"The beginning of the end"--of our history. We
were not taken by surprise as we know that "coming events cast their
shadows before," and that:--
Often do the spirits
Of great events stride on before the events,
And in to-day already walks to-morrow.
Therefore we were well prepared to read in the newspapers of October,
1883, the following paragraph:--
The old-established printing and publishing house formerly occupied by
James Catnach, 2, Monmouth-court, Seven Dials, will soon be amongst
the lost landmarks of London. The Metropolitan Board of Works have
purchased the house, and it is to be pulled down to make the new
street from Leicester-square to New Oxford-street. The business of the
literature of the street was founded by James Catnach in 1813, who
retired in 1840. The ballads and broadsides he printed, many of them
illustrated with cuts by Bewick, helped to furnish the people with
news and political and social ballads for generations.
All that is fortold in the above has since taken place, Monmouth-court and
the house and shop wherein old Jemmy Catnach established the "Catnach
Press" in the year 1813 has disappeared to make way for the "New
Thoroughfare" from Leicester-square to New Oxford street, and:--
THE CATNACH PRESS
removed by Mr. W. S. Fortey--Catnach's successor--to Great St.
Andrew-street, Bloomsbury, W.C.
_O tempora! O mores!_
[Illustration: THE HISTORY OF THE CATNACH PRESS, AND THE TWO CATNACHS,
JOHN & JAMES, FATHER & SON, _Printers_, 1769-1841.]
[Illustration]
THOMAS BEWICK,
Thomas Bewick died at his house on the Windmill-Hills, Gateshead, November
the 8th, 1828, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, and on the 13th he
was buried in the family burial-place at Ovingham, where his parents,
wife, and brother were interred.
[Illustration]
THE CATNACH PRESS.
In addition to the full title of our work--"The History of the Catnach
Press"--the two Catnachs--John and James--father and son, we deem it
necessary to incidentally introduce into our pages some notice of Alnwick,
an ancient borough, market-town and parish of Northumberland, also a few
passing remarks on the life and doings of Mr. William Davison, who, in
conjunction with the elder Catnach as a business partner and subsequent
successor, employed Thomas Bewick--an English artist, who imparted the
first impulse to the art of wood-engraving--for many of their
publications.
Of the early life of John Catnach, (_Kat-nak_), the father, we have little
information. He was born in 1769, at Burntisland, a royal burgh and parish
of Fifeshire, Scotland, where his father was possessed of some
powder-mills. The family afterwards removed to Edinburgh, when their son
John was bound apprentice to his uncle, Sandy Robinson, the printer. After
having duly served out his indentures, he worked for some short time in
Edinburgh, as a journeyman, then started in a small business of his own in
Berwick-upon-Tweed, where he married Mary Hutchinson, who was a native of
Dundee, a seaport-town in Scotland. While at Berwick a son and heir, John,
was born. In 1790 they removed their business to Alnwick, and during their
residence there seven children were born to them and from the Register of
Baptisms in St. Michael's Church we glean that four of them were baptised
at one time, viz., September 24, 1797, and there described as "of John
Catnach, printer, and Mary his wife: Dissenter."[?] John Catnach had been
brought up in the Roman Catholic faith, and his wife as a Presbyterian.
The following is taken _verbatim_ from the Parish Register:--
Sep{t.} 24, 1797.
Margaret, Daug{r.} of John Catnach, printer, and Mary his Wife. Born
Dec{r.} 26{th}, 1790. Dissenter.
James, son of John Catnach, printer, and Mary his Wife. Born August
18{th}, 1792. Dissenter.
Mary, Daug{r.} of John Catnach, printer, and Mary his Wife. Born
February 26{th}, 1794. Dissenter.
Nancy, Daug{r.} of John Catnach, printer, and Mary his Wife. Born
Sep{r.} 2{nd}, 1795. Dissenter.
May 23, 1798.
Elizabeth Catnach. Born March 21, 1797, 4{th} Daughter of John
Catnach, printer, native of Burnt Island, Shire of Fife, by his wife
Mary Hutchinson, Native of Dundee, Angus Shire, Scotland.
Dec{r.} 14, 1798.
Isabella Catnach. Born Nov{r.} 2, 1798. 5th Daughter of Jn{o.}
Catnach, Stationer, Nat. of Scotland, by his wife, Mary Hutchinson,
Nat. of Dundee, Angus Shire, Scotland.
March 28, 1800.
Jane Catnach, 6{th} Daughter of John Catnach, printer, Native of
Edinburgh (_sic_) by his wife Mary Hutchinson, Native of Dundee,
Scotland.
To the above we have to add that there were two sons--John, born to John
and Mary Catnach. John I. who was born at Berwick-upon-Tweed, died August
27, 1794, aged 5 years and 7 months, and we find him duly recorded in the
Register of Deaths. John II., whose name appears at the end of the
inscription on a tombstone in Alnwick churchyard, and of which further
mention will be made in another portion of our work, died, presumably
unbaptized, March 5, 1803, aged 4 months.
John Catnach was not long a resident in the borough of Alnwick before he
became acquainted with many of the principal tradesmen in the place.
Naturally he was of a free-and-easy disposition, and, like many of his
kinsman on the Borders, was particularly fond of the social glass. The
latter practice he allowed to grow upon him in such a way that it
ultimately interfered very much with his business prospects, and finally
hastened his death.
The shop that he commenced business in, was situated in Narrowgate-street,
and adjoining the old Half-Moon hostelry. In gaining access to the place
one had to ascend a flight of steps. Whilst in this shop he secured a fair
amount of patronage, and the specimens of printing that emanated from his
press are of such a character as to testify to his qualifications and
abilities in the trade which he adopted as his calling. He possessed a
fond regard for the traditions and customs which for centuries had been so
closely associated with the Border country.
When the printing press was first introduced into Alnwick is not exactly
known; but that it was considerably before the time of Catnach is certain.
John Vint, the bookseller and author of the "Burradon Ghost," for several
years used a press for printing purposes in the town, and Thomas Lindsay
carried on a similar business at a still earlier period.
John Catnach had a great relish for printing such works as would admit of
expensive embellishments, which, at the time he commenced business, were
exceedingly rare. The taste he displayed in the execution of his work will
be best exemplified in examining some of the printed editions of the
standard works which emanated from his press; and in no instance is this
more characteristically set forth than in those finely printed books which
are so beautifully illustrated by the masterly hand of Thomas Bewick and
his accomplished and talented pupil, Luke Clennell. Notably among which
are:--
1.--"The Beauties of Natural History. Selected from Buffon's History of
Quadrupeds, &c. Alnwick: J. Catnach, [n. d.] _Circa_ 1790, 12mo., pp. 92.
With 67 cuts by Bewick."--Another edition. Published and Sold by the
Booksellers. By Wilson and Spence, York, and J. Catnach, printer, Alnwick.
(Price 1_s._ 6_d._ sewed, or 2_s._ half-bound.) [n. d.] _Circa_ 1795.
The embellishments of "The Beauties of Natural History" form an unique and
valuable collection. They are very small and were done at an exceedingly
low price, yet every bird and animal is exquisitely brought out in the
minutest detail; whilst many of the illustrations which served as "tail
pieces" are gems of art.
2.--"Poems by Percival Stockdale. With cuts by Thomas Bewick. Alnwick:
printed by J. Catnach. 1800."
3.--"The Hermit of Warkworth. A Northumberland Ballad. In three Fits. By
Dr. Thos. Percy, Bishop of Dromore. With Designs by Mr. Craig; and
Engraved on Wood by Mr. Bewick. Alnwick: Printed and Sold by J. Catnach.
Sold by Lackington, Allen, and Co., London; Constable and Co., Edinburgh;
and Hodgson, Newcastle. 1806." The Arms of the Duke of Northumberland
precedes the Dedication, thus:--
[Illustration]
TO HER GRACE FRANCES JULIA,
DUCHESS OF NORTHUMBERLAND,
_This Edition of_
THE HERMIT OF WARKWORTH,
Is respectfully Inscribed
By Her Grace's Obliged and Humble Servant,
J. CATNACH
ALNWICK, _October, 1805_.
4.--A Second Edition; of which a few copies were printed on extra thick
paper, royal 8vo., to match with some of his other works, illustrated by
Bewick, pp. xiv., 182, with 13 cuts. At the end of the Poem are a
Postcript, a Description of the Hermitage of Warkworth, Warkworth Castle,
Alnwick Castle, Alnwick Abbey, and A Descriptive Ride in Hulne Park,
Alnwick: Printed and Sold by J. Catnach. Sold by Wilson and Spence, York.
1807.
THE HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
[Illustration]
"And now, attended by their host,
The hermitage they view'd."
[Illustration]
With hospitable haste he rose,
And wak'd his sleeping fire:
And snatching up a lighted brand,
Forth hied the reverend sire.
* * * *
[Illustration]
He fought till more assistance came;
The Scots were overthrown;
Thus freed me, captive, from their bands,
To make me more his own.
The illustrations of "The Hermit of Warkworth" are, upon the whole, very
creditable, and are well calculated to enhance the value of the book, but
as works of art some few of them fall far short of many of Craig or
Bewick's other productions.
John Catnach also printed and published a series of Juvenile Works, as
"The Royal Play Book: or, Children's Friend. A Present for Little Masters
and Misses." "The Death and Burial of Cock Robin, &c. ADORNED WITH
CUTS.--Which in many cases were the early productions of Thomas
Bewick.--Alnwick: Sold Wholesale and Retail by J. Catnach, at his Toy-Book
Manufactory."
[Illustration]
In the year 1807, John Catnach took an apprentice--a lad named Mark Smith,
of whom more anon; a few months afterwards he entered into partnership
with a Mr. William Davison, who was a native of Ponteland, in the county
of Northumberland, but he duly served his apprenticeship as a chemist and
druggist to Mr. Hind, of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and for whom he ever
cherished a fond regard. The union was not of long duration--certainly
under two years--but it is very remarkable that two such men should have
been brought together, for experience has shown that they were both
morally and socially, the very opposite of each other.
During the partnership: Mr. Davison held his business of chemist, &c., in
Bondgate-street; while the printing and publishing continued at
Narrowgate-street, and among the works published by the firm of CATNACH
and DAVISON we may record:--
"The Minstrel; or, The Progress of Genuis. In Two Parts. With some other
Poems. By James Beattie, LL.D. With sixteen Cuts from Designs by Mr.
Thurston; and engraved on Wood by Mr. Clennel, Alnwick. Printed by Catnach
and Davison. Sold by the Booksellers in England and Scotland. 1807. 12mo.
and Royal 8vo., pp. 142."
"The Grave. A Poem. By Robert Blair. To which is added Gray's Elegy. In a
Country Church Yard. With Notes Moral and Explanatory. Alnwick: Printed by
Catnach and Davison. Sold by the Booksellers in England, Scotland, and
Ireland. 1808. 12mo., pp. xiv., 72. With a frontispiece and other cuts by
Thomas Bewick."
[Illustration: _T. Bewick._]
THE GRAVE.
"Prone, on the lowly grave of the dear man
She drops; whilst busy meddling Memory,
In barbarous succession, musters up
The past endearments of their softer hours
Tenacious of its theme."
After the dissolution of the strange partnership, Mr. Davison still
prosecuted with vigour the several departments of the business; for
although reared to the prescribing of physics, he had a fine taste and
relish for the book trade, and the short time that he was with Catnach
enabled him to acquire a good amount of valuable information on this
subject. Be this as it may, he soon laid the basis of a large and
lucrative business. About the first work Mr. Davison issued on his own
account was:--
[Illustration]
THE REPOSITORY OF SELECT LITERATURE.
Being an Elegant Assemblage of Curious, Scarce, Entertaining and
Instructive Pieces in Prose and Verse. Adorned with beautiful Engravings
by Bewick, &c. Alnwick: Printed by W. Davison. Sold by the Booksellers in
England and Scotland. 1808.
This work is a fine specimen of provincial book-printing; its pages are
adorned with some of Bewick's excellent cuts. There is one that we would
particularly refer to, and that is "Shepherd Lubin." In size it is very
small, but, like most of Bewick's pieces, sufficiently large to show the
inimitable skill of the artist. The picture tells its own tale:--
"Young Lubin was a shepherd's boy,
Who watched a rigid master's sheep,
And many a night was heard to sigh,
And may a day was seen to weep."
[Illustration: _And for whole days would wander in those places she had
been used to walk with Henry._]
"The History of Crazy Jane, by Sarah Wilkinson, with a frontispiece by
Bewick: Alnwick. Printed by W. Davison; _and Sold by all the Principal
Booksellers in England and Scotland_. 1813."
[Illustration: "WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O'MAUT."]
"The Poetical Works of Robert Burns. Engravings on Wood by Bewick, from
designs by Thurston. Alnwick: Printed by Catnach and Davison, 1808." And
London: Printed for T. Cadell and Davis, Strand, 1814. With cuts
previously used in Davison's publications.
[Illustration]
"Many of the engravings produced for Burns' Poems, are of a very superior
class, and cannot be too highly commended."--_Hugo._
[Illustration: "SANDIE AND WILLIE."]
"The Poetical Works of Robert Ferguson, with his Life. Engravings on Wood
by Bewick. ALNWICK: Printed by W. Davison."
Mr. Davison, following up the actions of his former partner, had a great
regard for the standard poets. Previous to the issuing of the poems of
Ferguson they had tried to imbue a better taste into the minds of the
general reader, by means of publishing nothing but what was of an
elevating character. And this will be seen by examining such works as
Buffon, Beattie, Percy, Burns, &c. Almost simultaneously with the poems of
Burns appeared those of Ferguson. Both works are uniform in size and
price--_viz_: 2 vols., Foolscap 8vo.--12s. in boards; they contain some of
Bewick's choicest and most exquisite wood-engravings.
"The Northumberland Minstrel: A Choice Selection of Songs. Alnwick:
Printed by W. Davison."
There were only three numbers of this work published,[4] each of which
contained 48 pages. The object of this undertaking was for the carrying
out a project which at that time was becoming very popular, and consisted
in bringing together in a collected form some of the best and most admired
of our ballad-poetry. In fact, the object Mr. Davison had in view was only
to extend what had been so successfully accomplished by Herd, Ramsay,
Motherwell, Ritson, and others.
Mr. Davison continued in business at Alnwick up to the time of his death,
in 1858, at the ripe age of 77. He was by far the most enterprising
printer that had settled in the North of England. His collection of wood
blocks was very large, and it is hardly possible to form an adequate
conception of the many hundreds of beautiful specimens which he possessed.
He stated that he had paid Thomas Bewick upwards of five hundred pounds
for various woodcut blocks. With a view of disposing of some of his
surplus stock, he printed and published in 4to., a catalogue:--"NEW
SPECIMENS OF CAST-METAL ORNAMENTS AND WOOD TYPES, SOLD BY W. DAVISON.
ALNWICK. With impressions of 1,100 Cast Ornaments and Wood Blocks, many of
the latter executed by Thomas Bewick." This Catalogue--now exceedingly
rare--is of the greatest interest and utility, as it embraces a series of
cuts dispersed, as Mr. Hugo plainly shows, among a considerable number of
publications, and enables those who collect Bewick's pieces to detect the
hand of the Artist in many of his less elaborated productions.
Those of our readers who desire more information as to the many books
printed by W. Davison, the Alnwick publisher, are referred to "The Bewick
Collector," and the Supplement thereto, by the Rev. Thomas Hugo, M.A., &c.
London: 1866-68. These volumes, illustrated by upwards of two hundred and
ninety cuts, comprise an elaborate descriptive list of the most complete
collection yet formed of the works of the renowned wood-engravers of
Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Not only to Bewick collectors, but to all persons
interested in the progress of Art, and especially of wood-engraving, these
volumes, exhibiting chronologically the works of the Fathers of that Art
in England, cannot fail to be of the highest interest.
Mr. Davison printed and published a series of Halfpenny Books; they are
not only well printed, but in addition to this it is not unusual to see
them illustrated by some of Thomas Bewick's choicest engravings. Mr. Hugo
possessed twenty-seven in number, the titles of which he enumerates in his
"Bewick Collector" and the Supplement thereto: adding the remarks that
follow:--
"The cuts in these little publications are for the most part the same
which were used by Davison in the other and more important works which
issued from his press. The volumes are in 32mo, and in typographical
excellence are far in advance of all other children's books of the
period of their publication with which I am acquainted."
Herewith we publish one of the series from our own private collection. The
justness of Mr. Hugo's opinion will be at once seen.
THE GUESS BOOK,
A COLLECTION OF
_INGENIOUS PUZZLES_.
[Illustration]
ALNWICK:
Published and Sold by W. Davison.
_Price One Halfpenny_,
2
a b c d e
f g h i j k
l m n o p
q r s t u v
w x y z &
3
THE
GUESS BOOK.
[Illustration]
THE MOON.
There was a thing a full month old,
When Adam was no more;
But ere that thing was five weeks old,
Adam was years five score.
4
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
A CAT.
In almost every house I'm seen,
(No wonder then I'm common),
I'm neither man, nor maid, nor child,
Nor yet a married woman.
5
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
A CANNON.
I am the terror of mankind,
My breath is flame, and by its power
I urge my messenger to find
A way into the strongest tower.
6
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
AN OWL.
My patron is Wisdom--if Wisdom you prize,
In me put your confidence, borrow my eyes,
Who into a mill-stone can see quite as far
As the best of you all, by the light of a star.
7
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
A TOP.
I ne'er offend thee,
Yet thou dost me whip,
Which don't amend me,
Though I dance and skip;
When I'm upright,
Me you always like best,
And barbarously whip me
When I want rest.
8
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
BOOKS.
With words unnumber'd I abound;
In me mankind do take delight;
In me much learning's to be found;
Yet I can neither read nor write.
9
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
A DRUM.
My sides are firmly
Lac'd about,
Yet nothing is within:
You'll think my head
Is strange indeed,
Being nothing else but skin.
10
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
A SAND-GLASS.
Made of two bodies join'd,
Without foot or hand;
And yet you will find
I can both run and stand.
11
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
TIME.
Ever eating, never cloying,
All devouring, all destroying,
Never finding full repast
Till I eat the world at last.
12
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
DEATH.
The gate of life, the cause of strife,
The fruit of sin,
When I appear, you drop a tear,
And stay within.
13
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
A PAIR OF SHOES.
To rich and poor
We useful are;
And yet for our reward,
By both at last
We're thrown away,
Without the least regard.
14
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
A SQUIRREL.
I am a busy active creature,
Fashion'd for the sport of nature,
Nimbly skip from tree to tree,
Under a well-wrought canopy;
Bid Chloe then to Mira tell
What's my name and where I dwell.
15
_Guess Book._
[Illustration]
A FISH.
Though it be cold I wear no clothes,
The frost and snow I never fear;
I value neither shoes nor hose,
And yet I wander far and near.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Signature: John Catnach]
AT NEWCASTLE.
"There is no fooling with Life, when it is once turned forty: the
seeking of a Fortune then is but a desperate after-game: it is a
hundred to one if a man fling three sixes, and recover all; if his
hand be no luckier than mine."--_Cowley._
In or about the latter part of the year 1808, John Catnach, with his wife
and family, left Alnwick for Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and commenced business
in a small shop in Newgate-street, and among other Works which he printed
there, mention may be made of "The Battle of Chevy Chase," a selection
from the works of "Dr. Samuel Johnson, in two volumes," and "The Life of
John Thompson, Mariner. Written by Himself: Also, his Divine Selections,
in Prose and Verse. _From esteemed Authors._ Embellished with steel
Engravings. Newcastle: _Printed for the Author_. By J. Catnach,
Newgate-street. 1810. 12mo., pp. lxxvi., 214. With two tail-pieces by
Thomas Bewick."
John Thompson, _alias_ Godfried Thomas Leschinsky, born at Riga, 1782, was
a seaman. He sailed with Nelson's fleet to Copenhagen, 1801. Continuing at
sea he endured many hardships from severe accidents and ill health, and
was at length discharged as not being fit for his Majesty's service. In
1806, while in the Infirmary at Newcastle, one of his legs--from old
injuries, rapidly mortified and had to be amputated. Subsequently, in
consequence of the bones and joints of his right hand decaying, his arm
was taken off below the elbow. He for years made a living out of his
misfortunes and assumed piety. Catnach was induced, by specious reasoning,
to undertake the printing of the book, but the eleemosynary author dying
just as it was all worked off but not bound, he had the whole of the stock
thrown on his hands to do the best he could with. There were between fifty
and sixty claims set up by persons who averred that they had in part, or
whole, paid for a copy each to the author on signing his subscription
list, and most of these claims were allowed on the payment of sixpence
extra: the work was subscribed for at 3s. 6d., but being extended to 20
pages more than was expected, the price was advanced to 4s.
John Catnach, at Newcastle, worked attentively for awhile, but without
finding his expectations realised. Alas! time and the change of scene and
companions had not improved the man. He contrived to get into a great
amount of debt, without the least possible chance, from his irregular mode
of living, of being able to pay it off. Eventually, he made up his mind
for the worst, and the downward course would seem to have been the only
way open to him. From bad to worse, and from one extreme to the other, he
rapidly drifted. The loose and irregular manner in which he had existed
was beginning to tell upon his constitution. His business had been
neglected, and his adventures were nearly at a climax. The wreck came,
with a terrific blow; but it was not unlooked for. Poor Catnach was a
bankrupt, and as such sent to the debtor's gaol. But just before, he had
managed to send his wife and daughters to London, together with a wooden
printing press, some small quantity of type, and other articles of his
trade that could be hurriedly and clandestinely got together.
During the five years' residence of John and Mary Catnach in Newcastle,
they had one child, Isabella, burned to death, and another, Julia Dalton,
born to them.
Mr. Mark Smith, who had been bound apprentice to John Catnach, but by
reason of whose removal from the Borough of Alnwick, the indentures had
been rendered void, was then in London, serving out his time as a turnover
and improver with Mr. John Walker, of Paternoster Row, and on being made
acquainted with the arrival of Mrs. Catnach and her family, paid them a
visit at their lodgings in a court leading off Drury-lane, and assisted in
putting up the press and arranging the other few matters and utensils in
connection with their tiny printing office, there to await John Catnach's
release from prison and arrival in the metropolis.
London life to John Catnach proved very disastrous, matters never went
smoothly with him. It was evident to all his friends that he had made a
great mistake in leaving the North of England. Mr. Mark Smith continued to
visit the family as opportunities presented themselves. On one occasion he
found them in extremely distressed circumstances, so much so, that he had
to afford them some temporary relief from his slender earnings and then
left the northern sojourners for the night, promising that he would return
to see them at an early date. Anxious to learn how they were succeeding in
the crowded metropolis, it was not many days before he again visited them,
but this time he found them in a sorry plight; the landlady had distrained
upon their all for arrears of rent. This was an awkward predicament; but
the indomitable young Northumbrian, like the more burly Dr. Johnson of
old, when his friend Oliver Goldsmith was similarly situated, resolved to
do all he could to rescue him from the peril in which he was placed. Not
being prepared for a case of such pressing emergency, the full debt and
costs being demanded, he was compelled to borrow the required amount of
Mr. Matthew Willoughby, a native and freeman of the Borough of Alnwick,
then residing in London, and once more his old master was free.
John Catnach then removed his business to a front shop in Soho, when, in
the absence of work of a higher class, he had to resort to printing
quarter-sheet ballads, here is the title and imprint of one example:--
[Illustration]
TOM STARBOARD AND FAITHFUL NANCY.
Tom Starboard was a lover true,
As brave a tar as ever sail'd;
The duties ablest seamen do
Tom did, and never had fail'd.
LONDON.--Printed by J. Catnach, and Sold Wholesale and Retail at No. 60,
Wardour-street, Soho-square.
For his wife and family he took apartments in Charlotte Street,
Fitzroy-square. Again he shortly removed his business to Gerrard-street,
where he had hardly got his plant into working order, when on returning
home on the evening of the 29th of August, 1813, he had the misfortune to
fall down and injure his leg. He was immediately taken to St. George's
Hospital, Hyde-park Corner, when rheumatic fever supervened, and although
placed under the skilful treatment of Dr. Young, he never rallied, his
constitution being completely broken, but by means of superior medical
treatment and good nursing he lingered until the 4th of December in the
same year, on which day he died.
Such is a brief _résumé_ of the latter years of John Catnach's life. It is
apparent that, by a little application and self-denial, this man might
have made for himself a name and position in the world. He possessed all
the necessary talents for bringing success within his reach. The ground
which he took is the same which in after years proved to be of inestimable
value to hundreds of publishers who never possessed half the amount of
ability and good taste in printing and embellishing books that was centred
in him.
After his death, and just at the time when his widow and daughters were
sunk in the greatest poverty, his son James, who in after years became so
noted in street literature publications, made his way to the metropolis.
It appears that this extraordinary man at one time contemplated devoting
his life to rural pursuits; in fact, when a youth he served for some time
as a shepherd boy, quite contrary to the wish and desire of his parents.
Every opportunity he could get he would run away, far across the moors and
over the Northumbrian mountains, and, always accompanied with his
favourite dog Venus, and a common-place book, in which he jotted down in
rhymes and chymes his notions of a pastoral life.[5] Thus he would stay
away from home for days and nights together.
This project, however, was abandoned, and he commenced to serve as a
printer in the employment of his father. It is rather remarkable that he
and Mr. Mark Smith
[Signature: Mr. Smith.]
were both bound on the same day as apprentices to Mr. John Catnach, and
that they afterwards worked together as "improvers" in their trade with:--
[Illustration: _Joseph Graham, Printer, Alnwick._]
Mr. Hugo, in the Supplement to his "Bewick Collector," pp. 256 (5137),
says:--"This very beautiful Cut was done by Thomas Bewick, sometime about
the year 1794, for a well-known Alnwick printer."
[Signature: James Catnach]
"Death made no conquest of this man,
For now he lives in fame, though not in life."
At the time James--or, as he afterwards was popularly called "_Jemmy_,"
or, "_Old 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,[6] 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," and many other opprobrious terms which were
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_ up 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 own counsel
they avoided detection, as each printer accused the other of obtaining an
early sold copy, and then reprinting it with the utmost speed, 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! words!! 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 Pitt's 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."
But however, in spite of all the opposition and trade rivalry, Catnach
persevered; he worked hard, and lived hard, and was fitted to the
stirring times. The Peninsular wars had just concluded, politics and party
strife ran high, squibs, lampoons, and political ballads were the order of
the day, and he made money. But he had weighty pecuniary family matters to
bear up with, as thus early in his career, his father's sister also joined
them, and they all lived and huddled together in the shop and parlour of
No. 2, Monmouth-court. He did a small and very humble trade as a jobbing
master, printing and publishing penny histories, street-papers, and
halfpenny songs, relying for their composition on one or two out of the
known "Seven Bards of the Seven Dials," and when they were on the drink,
or otherwise not inclined to work, being driven to write and invent them
himself.
The customers who frequented his place of business were for the most part
of the lowest grades of society:--those who by folly, intemperance, and
crime, had been reduced to the greatest penury. Anyone with a few coppers
in his pockets could easily knock out an existence, especially when
anything sensational was in the wind.
The great excitement throughout the country caused by the melancholy death
of the Princess Charlotte, on the sixth day of November, 1817, was an
event of no ordinary description. It was, indeed, a most unexpected blow,
the shining virtues, as well as the youth and beauty of the deceased,
excited an amount of affectionate commiseration, such as probably had
never before attended the death of any royal personage in England.
The Seven Dials Press was busily engaged in working off "papers"
descriptive of every fact that could be gleaned from the newspapers, and
that was suitable for street sale. Catnach was not behind his compeers, as
he published several statements in respect to the Princess's death, and
_made_ the following lines _out of his own head_! And had, continued our
informant--a professional street-ballad writer--"_wood_ enough left for as
many more":--
"She is gone! sweet Charlotte's gone!
Gone to the silent bourne;
She is gone, She's gone, for evermore,--
She never can return.
She is gone with her joy--her darling Boy,
The son of Leopold, blythe and keen;
She Died the sixth of November,
Eighteen hundred and seventeen."
The year 1818, proved a disastrous one to Catnach, as in addition to the
extra burden entailed on him in family matters, he had, in the way of his
trade, printed a street-paper reflecting on the private character and on
the materials used in the manufacture of the sausages as sold by the pork
butchers of the Drury-lane quarter in general, and particularly by Mr.
Pizzey, a tradesman carrying on business in Blackmore-street,
Clare-market, who caused him to be summoned to the Bow-street Police Court
to answer the charge of malicious libel, when he was committed to take his
trial at the next Clerkenwell Sessions, by Sir Richard Burnie, where he
was sentenced to six months' imprisonment in the House of Correction, at
Clerkenwell, in the County of Middlesex.
[Signature: John Morgan]
During Catnach's incarceration his mother and sisters, aided by one of the
Seven Dials bards, carried on the business, writing and printing off all
the squibs and street ballads that were required. In the meanwhile the
Johnny Pitts' crew printed several lampoons on "Jemmy Catnach." Subjoined
is a portion of one of them that has reached us, _vivâ voce_, of the
aforesaid--John Morgan--professional street-ballad writer:--
"Jemmy Catnach printed a quarter sheet--
It was called in lanes and passages,
That Pizzy the butcher, had dead bodies chopped,
And made them into sausages.
"Poor Pizzey was in an awful mess,
And looked the colour of cinders--
A crowd assembled from far and near,
And they smashed in all his windows.
"Now Jemmy Catnach's gone to prison,
And what's he gone to prison for?
For printing a libel against Mr. Pizzey,
Which was sung from door to door.
"Six months in quod old Jemmy's got,
Because he a shocking tale had started,
About Mr. Pizzey who dealt in sausages
In Blackmore-street, Clare-market."
Misfortunes are said never to come singly, and so it proved to the Catnach
family, for while Jemmy was _doing_ his six months in the House of
Correction at Clerkenwell, we find in the pages of the _Weekly Dispatch_
for January 3, 1819, and under POLICE INTELLIGENCE, as follows:--
CIRCULATING FALSE NEWS.--At Bow-street, on Wednesday, Thomas Love and
Thomas Howlett, were brought to the office by one of the patrole,
charged with making a disturbance in Chelsea, in the morning, by
blowing of horns, with a tremendous noise, and each of them after
blowing his horn, was heard to announce with all the vociferation the
strength of his lungs would admit of:--"The full, true, and particular
account of the most cruel and barbarous murder of Mr. Ellis, of
Sloane-street, which took place, last night, in the Five Fields,
Chelsea." The patrole, knowing that no such horrid event had taken
place, had them taken up. The papers in their possession, which they
had been selling at a halfpenny each, were seized and brought to the
office with the prisoners. But what is most extraordinary, the
contents of the papers had no reference whatever to Mr. Ellis! They
were headed in large letters, "A HORRID MURDER," and the murder was
stated to have been committed at South-green, near Dartford, on the
bodies of Thomas Lane, his wife, three children, and his mother. The
murderer's conduct was stated very particularly, although, in fact, no
such event occurred. The magistrate severely censured the conduct of
the whole parties. He ordered the prisoners to be detained, and
considered them to be very proper subjects to be made an example of.
On Thursday these parties were again brought before the magistrate,
together with Mrs. Catnach [the mother] the printer of the bills,
which gave a fictitious statement of the horrid murder said to be
committed at Dartford. She was severely reprimanded. The two
hornblowers were also reprimanded and then discharged.
The busy year of 1820 was a very important one to Catnach, in fact the
turning point in his life. The Duke of Kent, fourth son of George III.,
and father to Queen Victoria, died on the 23rd of January--the event was
of sufficient consequence to produce several "Full Particulars," for
street sale. Just six days after his death, viz., on the 29th of January,
1820, George III. died, and that event set the "Catnach Press" going night
and day to supply the street papers, containing "Latest particulars," &c.
"Mourn, Britons mourn! Your sons deplore,
Our Royal Sovereign is now no more,"
was the commencement of a ballad written, printed, and published by J.
Catnach, 2, Monmouth-court, 7 Dials. Battledores, Lotteries, and Primers
sold cheap. Sold by Marshall, Bristol, and Hook, Brighton.
The royal body was committed to the family vault in St. George's Chapel at
Windsor, on the 16th of February, amidst a concourse of the great and the
noble of the land. The usual ceremony of proclamation and salutation
announced the accession of George IV. and another important era commenced.
Immediately following these events came the Cato-street conspiracy. On the
24th of February the newspapers contained the startling intelligence
that, on the previous evening, a party of eleven men, headed by Arthur
Thistlewood, who was already known as a political agitator, had been
apprehended at a stable in Cato-street, an obscure place in the locality
of Grosvenor-square, on the charge of being the parties to a conspiracy to
assassinate the greater part of the King's Ministers. The truth of the
intelligence was soon confirmed by the proceedings which took place before
the magisterial authorities; and in due course all the parties were put on
their trial at the Old Bailey, on a charge of high treason, Arthur
Thistlewood, the leader, being the first tried on the 17th of April; the
Lord Chief Justice Abbott presiding. The names of the other prisoners
were--William Davidson, a man of colour; James Ings, John Thomas Brunt,
Richard Tidd, James William Wilson, John Harrison, Richard Bradburn, James
Shaw Strange, and Charles Cooper, of whom the first four, together with
Thistlewood, were executed as traitors on May 1st.
The Cato-street conspiracy proved a rich harvest to all concerned in the
production of street literature. Catnach came in for a fair share of the
work, and he found himself with plenty of cash in hand, and in good time
to increase his trade-plant to meet the great demand for the street-papers
that were in a few months to be published daily, and in reference to the
ever-memorable trial of Queen Caroline; then it was that his business so
enormously increased as at times to require three or four presses going
night and day to keep pace with the great demand for papers, which
contained a very much abridged account of the previous day's evidence, and
taken without the least acknowledgment from an early procured copy of one
of the daily newspapers.
Great as was the demand, the printers of street literature were equal to
the occasion, and all were actively engaged in getting out "papers,"
squibs, lists of various trade deputations to the Queen's levées, lampoons
and songs, that were almost hourly published, on the subject of the
Queen's trial. The following is a selection from one which emanated from
the "Catnach Press," and was supplied to us by John Morgan, the Seven
Dials bard, and who added that he had the good luck--the times being
prosperous--to screw out half-a-crown from Old Jemmy for the writing of
it. "Ah! sir," he continued, "it was always a hard matter to get much out
of Jemmy Catnach, I can tell you, sir. He was, at most times, a
hard-fisted one, and no mistake about it. Yet, sir, somehow or another, he
warn't such a bad sort, just where he took. A little bit rough and ready,
like, you know, sir. But yet still a 'nipper.' That's just about the size
of Jemmy Catnach, sir. I wish I could recollect more of the song, but
you've got the marrow of it, sir:--
'And when the Queen arrived in town,
The people called her good, sirs;
She had a Brougham by her side,
A Denman, and a Wood, sirs.
'The people all protected her,
They ran from far and near, sirs,
Till they reached the house of Squire Byng,
Which was in St. James's-square, sirs.
'And there my blooming Caroline,
About her made a fuss, man,
And told how she had been deceived
By a cruel, barbarous, husband.'"
Street papers continued to be printed and sold in connection with Queen
Caroline's trial up to the date of her death, in the month of August,
1821.
[Illustration]
A COPY OF VERSES IN PRAISE OF QUEEN CAROLINE.
"Ye Britons all, both great and small,
Come listen to my ditty,
Your noble Queen, fair Caroline,
Does well deserve your pity.
Like harmless lamb that sucks its dam,
Amongst the flowery thyme,
Or turtle dove that's given to love:
And that's her only crime.
Wedlock I ween, to her has been
A life of grief and woe;
Thirteen years past she's had no rest,
As Britons surely know.
To blast her fame, men without shame,
Have done all they could do;
'Gainst her to swear they did prepare
A motley, perjured crew.
Europe they seek for Turk or Greek,
To swear her life away,
But she will triumph yet o'er all,
And innocence display.
Ye powers above, who virtue love,
Protect her from despair,
And soon her free from calumny,
Is every true man's prayer."
J. Catnach, Printer, 2, Monmouth Court, 7 Dials.
[Illustration]
Immediately following the Queen's death, there were published a whole host
of monodies, elegies, and ballads in her praise. Catnach made a great hit
with one entitled--"Oh! Britons Remember your Queen's Happy Days,"
together with a large broadside, entitled "An Attempt to Exhibit the
Leading Events in the Queen's Life, in Cuts and Verse. Adorned with Twelve
splendid Illustrations. Interspersed with Verses of Descriptive Poetry.
Entered at Stationers' Hall. By Jas. Catnach, Printer, 7 Dials. Price 2d."
A copy is preserved in the British Museum. Press Mark. _Tab._ 597, _a_,
1-67, and arranged under CATNACH, from which we select two pieces as a
fair sample of Jemmy's "poetry-making!"--Which please to read carefully,
and "Mind Your Stops!" quoth John Berkshire.
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN.
Curs'd be the hour when on the British shore,
She set her foot--whose loss we now deplore;
For, from that hour she pass'd a life of woe,
And underwent what few could undergo:
And lest she should a tranquil hour know,
Against her peace was struck a deadly blow;
A separation hardly to be borne,--
Her only daughter from her arms was torn!
And next discarded--driven from her home,
An unprotected Wanderer to roam!
Oh, how each heart with indignation fills,
When memory glances o'er the train of ills,
Which through her travels followed everywhere
In quick succession till this fatal year!
Here let us stop--for mem'ry serves too well,
To bear the woes which Caroline befel,
Each art was tried--at last to crush her down,
The Queen of England was refus'd a crown!
Too much to bear--Thus robb'd of all her state
She fell a victim to their hate!
"They have destroy'd me,"--with her parting breath,
She died--and calmly yielded unto death.
Forgiving all, she parted with this life,
A Queen, and no Queen--wife, and not a wife!
To Heaven her soul is borne on Seraph's wings,
To wait the Judgment of the KING of Kings;
Trusting to find a better world than this,
And meet her Daughter in the realms of bliss.
CAROLINE THE INJURED QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
Beneath this cold marble the "Wanderer" lies,
Here shall she rest 'till "the Heavens be no more,"
'Till the trumpet shall sound, and the Dead shall arise,
Then the perjurer unmask'd will his sentence deplore.
Ah! what will avail then? Pomp, Titles, and Birth,
Those empty distinctions all levell'd will be,
For the King shall be judg'd with the poor of the earth,
And perhaps, the poor man will be greater than he.
Until that day we leave Caroline's wrongs,
Meantime, may "Repentance" her foes overtake;
O grant it, kind POWER, to whom alone it belongs.
AMEN. Here an end of this Hist'ry we make.
_Quod._ JAS. C-T-N-H, Dec. 10th, 1821.
[Illustration]
In the early part of the year 1821, the British public were informed
through the then existing usual advertising mediums that there was about
to be published, in monthly parts, "Pierce Egan's Life in London; or, the
Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., and his elegant friend
Corinthian Tom, accompanied by Bob Logic, the Oxonian, in their Rambles
and Sprees through the Metropolis. Embellished with Scenes from Real Life,
designed and etched by I. R. and G. Cruikshank, and enriched with numerous
original designs on wood by the same Artists."
And on the 15th of July, the first number, price one shilling, was
published by Messrs. Sherwood, Neely, and Jones, of Paternoster Row. This
sample, or first instalment, of the entire work was quite enough for
society to judge by. It took both town and country by storm. It was found
to be the exact thing in literature that the readers of those days wanted.
Edition after edition was called for--and supplied, as fast as the
illustrations could be got away from the small army of women and children
who were colouring them. With the appearance of numbers two and three, the
demand increased, and a revolution in our literature, in our drama, and
even in our nomenclature began to develope itself. All the announcements
from Paternoster Row were of books, great and small, depicting life in
London; dramatists at once turned their attention to the same subject, and
tailors, bootmakers, and hatters, recommended nothing but Corinthian
shapes, and Tom and Jerry patterns.[7]
[Illustration]
TOM AND JERRY.
"Of Life in London, Tom, Jerry and Logic I sing."
To the Strand then I toddled--the mob was great--
My watch I found gone--pockets undone:
I fretted at first, and rail'd against fate,
For I paid well to see "LIFE IN LONDON."
As may be readily conceived; the stage soon claimed "Tom and Jerry." The
first drama founded upon the work was from the pen of Mr. Barrymore, and
produced--"in hot haste," at the Royal Amphitheatre, on Monday, Sept. 17,
1821. The second dramatic version was written for the Olympic Theatre, by
Charles Dibden, and first played on Monday, Nov. 12, 1821.
Mr. Moncrieff appeared as the third on the list of dramatists, and it was
announced at the Adelphi Theatre in the following style:--"On Monday, Nov.
26th, 1821, will be presented for the first time, on a scale of
unprecedented extent (having been many weeks in preparation under the
superintendence of several of the most celebrated Artists, both in the
_Ups and Downs_ of Life, who have all kindly come forward to assist the
Proprietors in their endeavours to render the Piece a complete
out-and-outer), an entirely new Classic, Comic, Operatic, Didactic,
Aristophanic, Localic, Analytic, Panoramic, Camera-Obscura-ic
Extravaganza-Burletta of Fun, Frolic, Fashion and Flash, in three acts,
called 'TOM and JERRY; or LIFE in LONDON.' Replete with Prime Chaunts, Rum
Glees, and Kiddy Catches, founded on Pierce Egan's well-known and highly
popular work of the same name, by a celebrated extravagant erratic Author.
The music selected and modified by him from the most eminent composers,
ancient and modern, and every Air furnished with an attendant train of
Graces. The costumes and scenery superintended by Mr. I. R. Cruikshank,
from the Drawings by himself and his brother, Mr. George Cruikshank, the
celebrated Artists of the original Work.
"Corinthian Tom, Mr. Wrench; Jerry Hawthorn, Mr. John Reeve; Logic, Mr.
Wilkinson; Jemmy Green, Mr. Keeley; Dusty Bob, Mr. Walbourn; African Sal,
Mr. Sanders; Billy Waters, Mr. Paulo; Kate, Mrs. Baker; Sue, Mrs. Waylett,
&c., &c.
[Illustration: BLACK SAL AND DUSTY BOB.]
Besides the authors already mentioned, Tom Dibden, Farrell, and Douglas
Jerrold, each produced dramas upon the popular theme, and during the
seasons of 1821-2, "Life in London" was performed with _éclat_, at ten
theatres in and around the metropolis, to overflowing houses. But Pierce
Egan at length became tired of the successes of the playwrights in using
his book, and resolved to try his own hand at a dramatic version--or, as
he termed it, to "take a leaf out of his own book,"--and the AUTHOR'S
PIECE was "got up" and performed for the first time at Sadler's Wells,
under the management of Mr. Egerton, on Monday, April 8, 1822, with most
decided success.
It was thus announced by Mrs. Egerton, in the address written for the
occasion by T. Greenwood, Esq.:--
"To-night my friends, this modern taste to meet,
We show you JERRY at his country seat:
Then up to town transport the rustic beau,
And show him 'Life in London,' HIGH and LOW."
At length TOM and JERRY had been repeated so often in the Metropolis, that
the performers, notwithstanding the great applause they nightly received
in the above piece, absolutely became tired and worn-out with the
repetition of their characters, when the following piece of satire,
written by T. Greenwood, Esq., was published, entitled, "The Tears of
Pierce Egan, Esq., for the Death of 'Life in London;' or, the Funeral of
Tom and Jerry, dedicated to Robert and George Cruikshank, Esqs. Price Two
Shillings, with an engraving by George Cruikshank."
"Beat out of the Pit and thrown over the Ropes,
TOM and JERRY resign'd their last breath,
With them, too, expired the Managers' hopes,
Who are left to deplore their sad death!
"Odd and various reports of the cause are about,
But the real one was _this_, I opine:
They were run to a _standstill_, and, therefore, no doubt,
That the cause was a rapid _decline_.
"When Death showed his _Nob_, out of _Time_ they were beat,
And neither would come to the _scratch_;
They hung down their heads and gave up the last heat,
Not prepared with the Spectre to _match_.
"All wept at the FUNERAL! the FANCY and all--
Some new, but a great many mended:
And EGAN, while CRUIKSHANK and _Bob_ held the pall,
As _Chief-Mourner_ in person attended!!!
"Their _Sprees_ and their _Rambles_ no more shall amuse,
Farewell to all nocturnal parleys:
The Town felt regret as the bell tolled the news,
And no one rejoiced--but the _Charleys_!
"A monument, too, their kind Patrons will raise,
Inscribed on--'Here lies TOM and JERRY,
Who, departing the _stage_ to their immortal praise,
ONE THOUSAND NIGHTS made the _Town Merry_!!!'
"May their souls rest in peace, since they've chosen to flit,
Like other great heroes departed;
May no mischief arise from the _sudden_ exit,
Nor PIERCE EGAN die--_broken-hearted_!"
In reference to the above, Pierce Egan states in "The Finish to the
Adventures of Tom, Jerry, and Logic," that Catnach, in less than twelve
hours after the publication, produced a pirated edition for street sale,
for twopence.
Mr. Pierce Egan, in his "_Finish_," states that he reckoned no less than
sixty-five separate publications, which he enumerates _in extenso_, all
derived from his own work, and adds, with his usual amount of large and
small CAPITALS and _italics_--"We have been _pirated_, COPIED,
_traduced_; but unfortunately, not ENRICHED by our indefatigable
exertions; therefore NOTORIETY must satisfy us, instead of the smiles of
FORTUNE."
Jemmy Catnach, true to his line of life, soon joined what Pierce Egan
designates as the "Mob of Literary Pirates," and brought out a "whole
sheet" for street-sale, entitled "Life in London," with twelve woodcuts,
which are reduced and very roughly executed copies of the centre figures
of the original plates by the Brothers Cruikshank--but all in reverse. The
letter-press matter consists of a poetical epitome of the plot and design
of the original work of "Life in London." And taking it as it stands, and
from whence it emanated, rather a creditable performance, particularly
when we take into consideration--as duly announced by the street-patterer,
that it was "Just printed and pub--lish--ed, all for the low charge of
twopence."
On the rarity of this Catnachian and pirated edition of "Life in London"
it is superfluous to enlarge, and it is easy to account for this
circumstance, if we reflect that the broadside form of publication is by
no means calculated for preservation; hundreds of similar pieces printed
for street-sale must have perished. The more generally acceptable a
broadside or street ballad became, and was handed about for perusal, the
more it was exposed to the danger of destruction. No copy of Catnach's
version is preserved in the British Museum, therefore, and for the reason
above stated, it must be considered as a great "Literary Rarity."[8]
CUT I.--JERRY IN TRAINING FOR A SWELL.
[Illustration]
Now Jerry must needs be a swell,
His coat must have a swallow-tail,
And Mr. Snip, so handy, O,
Soon rigg'd him out a Dandy, O.
CUT II.--TOM AND JERRY AMONG THE LADIES.
[Illustration]
Ladies, your most humble servants,
Tom and Jerry stand before you.
Our blood is thrilling, you're so killing;
At once we love you and adore you.
CUT III.--JERRY LOSES AT PLAY.
[Illustration]
At St. James's they dine, when, flushed with new wine,
To the Gaming Tables they reel,
Where blacklegs and sharps, often gammon the flats,
As their pockets do presently feel.
CUT IV.--JERRY LEARNING TO SPAR.
[Illustration]
Now Jerry's become a Fancy blade,
To Jackson's he often goes,
And to shew his skill in the milling trade,
He crack'd poor Logick's nose.
CUT V.--TOM AND JERRY AT A FORTUNE-TELLER'S.
[Illustration]
Here lives a Fortune-Telling Gipsy,
Wrinkled, crabbed, grim and old;
And Tom and Jerry's fancy ladies
Are gone to get their Fortunes told.
CUT VI.--BEGGAR'S OPERA. TOM, JERRY, AND LOGICK AMONG THE CADGERS IN THE
HOLY LAND.
[Illustration]
Now to keep up the spree, Tom, Jerry and Logick,
Went disguis'd to the Slums in the Holy Land;
Through each crib and each court, they hunted for sport,
Till they came to the BEGGAR'S OPERA so named.
CUT VII.--NIGHT SCENE.--TOM AND JERRY UPSETTING THE CHARLEYS.
[Illustration]
Hark! the watchman springs his rattle,
Now the midnight lark's begun;
Boxes crashing, lanthorns smashing,
Mill the Charleys--oh! what fun.
CUT VIII.--BROUGHT BEFORE THE MAGISTRATES.
[Illustration]
An' please your Worship here's three fellows
Been hammering of us all about;
Broke our boxes, lanthorns, smellers,
And almost clos'd our peepers up.
CUT IX.--TOM, JERRY, AND LOGICK IN A ROW.
[Illustration]
Mercy! what a din and clatter
Breaks the stillness of the night,
Lamps do rattle--'tis a battle,
Quick, and let us see the sight.
CUT X.--SCENE IN A GIN-SHOP.
[Illustration]
Here some are tumbling and jumping in,
And some are staggering out;
One's pawn'd her smock for a quartern of gin,
Another, her husband's coat.
CUT XI.--POOR LOGICK IN THE FLEET.
[Illustration]
All in the Fleet poor Logick's moor'd
His swaggering's now at an end!
CUT XII.--JERRY GOING BACK TO THE COUNTRY.
[Illustration]
Three merry boys were Logick, Tom and Jerry,
And many funny larks they have seen;
Farewell, gay London, the country calls me home again,
The coach moves on--the play is done--Goodbye, Goodbye.
_Quod._ JAS. C-N-H, March 23, 1822.
How delightful Pierce Egan's book was to the youths of England, and how
eagerly all its promised feasts of pleasure were devoured by them,
Thackeray has told us in his "Roundabout Papers--DE JUVENTUTE" in the
"Cornhill Magazine" for October, 1860.
* * * * *
Mr., afterwards Sir William Cubitt, of Ipswich, erected a treadmill at
Brixton Gaol, and soon afterwards in other large prisons. A street ballad
on the subject was issued from the "Catnach Press" and had a most
unprecedented sale, keeping the pressmen and boys working for weeks--
"And we're all treading at fam'd Brixton Mill."
The treadmill--that "terror to evil doers"--excited much attention, and
the inventor's name gave rise to many jokes on the subject among such of
the prisoners as could laugh at their own crimes, who said they were
punished by the _cubit_!.
THE TREADMILL.
This Brixton Mill's a fearful ill,
And he who brought the Bill in,
Is threat'n'd by the _cribbing_ coves,
That he shall have a _milling_.
They say he shew'd a simple pate,
To think of felons mending;
As every _step_ which here they take
They're still in crime _ascending_.
Tom, Jerry, Logic, three prime sprigs,
Find here they cannot _come_ it,
For though their _fancy_ soars aloft,
They ne'er will reach the _summit_.
Corinthian Kate and buxom Sue
Must change their _warm_ direction,
For if they make one _false step_ more
They'll have _Cold Bath Correction_.
[Illustration: "The gallows does well: But how does it well? it does well
to those that do ill."--_Hamlet_, Act v., sc. i.]
There can be little doubt that Jemmy Catnach, the great publisher of the
Seven Dials, 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 account of murders, impossible robberies,
delusive suicides, dark deeds, and--though last, not least, in _his_
love--public executions, _vulgo_ "Hanging Matches," 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:--
[Illustration]
THE FLYING STATIONER, OTHERWISE PATTERER.
"All you that have got feeling, 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."
"Mercy on earth I'll not implore, to crave it would be vain,
My hands are dyed with human gore, none can wash off the stain,
But the merits of a Saviour, whose mercy alone I crave;
Good Christians pray, as thus I die, I may His pardon have."
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 pretence
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 knees 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,
Aä! 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 Assizes 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.
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.
I see the hangman before me stand,
Ready to seize me by the law's command;
When my life is ended on the fatal tree,
Then will be clear'd up all mystery."
Occasionally the Last Sorrowful Lamentation 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. The _block!_ opposite, to our own knowledge, served as the
_counterfeit_ presentment of all popular murderers for upwards of forty
years.
[Illustration: LIKENESS OF THE MURDERER.]
"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 £500 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
tympans with sheep-skins. But by working day and night for a week they
managed to get off about 250,000 copies with the four presses, each
working two formes at a time.
[Illustration: THURTELL MURDERING MR. WEARE.]
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."
The circumstances immediately attending the murder are so fully and so
well detailed in the proper channels that we need not here say more than
that the trial took place at Hertford on the 5th January, 1824.
The prisoners who stood indicted were John Thurtell and Joseph Hunt. The
latter was at the time well known as a public singer and was somewhat
celebrated for the talent which he possessed. Both prisoners were found
guilty, but Hunt was reprieved and subsequently ordered to be transported
for life. Thurtell, who fully confessed to the crime, was executed in
front of Hertford gaol on Friday, the 9th of January, 1824.
As before observed, Catnach cleared over £500 by this event, and was so
loth to leave it, that when a wag put him up to a joke, and showed him how
he might set the thing a-going again, he could not withstand it; and so,
about a fortnight after Thurtell had been hanged, Jemmy brought out a
startling broad-sheet, headed, "WE ARE ALIVE AGAIN!" He put so little
space between the words "WE" and "ARE" that it looked at first sight like
"WEARE." Many thousands were bought by the ignorant and gullible public,
but those who did not like the trick called it a "catch penny," and this
gave rise to this peculiar term, which ever afterwards stuck to the issues
of the "Seven Dials' Press," though they sold as well as ever.
Probert, who had been mixed up in the affair, was admitted as King's
evidence and discharged at the rising of the Court. He subsequently met
the fate he so richly deserved, for, having been found guilty at the Old
Bailey of horse stealing, he was executed there on the 20th of June, 1825.
[Illustration]
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.
The executioner next proceeded to adjust the noose by which Thurtell
was to be attached to the scaffold. After he had fastened it in such a
manner as to satisfy his own mind, Thurtell looked up at it, and
examined it with great attention. He then desired the executioner to
let him have fall enough. The rope at this moment seemed as if it
would only give a fall of two or three feet The executioner assured
him that the fall was quite sufficient. The principal turnkey then
went up to Thurtell, shook hands with him, and turned away in tears.
Mr Wilson, the governor of the gaol, next approached him. Thurtell
laid to him, "Do you think, Mr Wilson, I have got enough fall?" Mr
Wilson replied, "I think you have, Sir. Yes, quite enough." Mr Wilson
then took hold of his hand, shook it, and said, "Good bye, Mr
Thurtell, may God Almighty bless you." Thurtell instantly replied,
"God bless _you_, Mr Wilson, God bless _you_." Mr Wilson next asked
him whether he considered that the laws of his country had been dealt
to him justly and fairly, upon which he said, "I admit that justice
has been done me--I am perfectly satisfied."
A few seconds then elapsed, during which every person seemed to be
engaged in examining narrowly Thurtell's deportment His features, as
well as they could be discerned, appeared to remain unmoved, and his
hands, which were extremely prominent, continued perfectly steady, and
were not affected by the slightest tremulous motion.
Exactly at two minutes past twelve the Under-Sheriff, with his wand,
gave the dreadful signal--the drop suddenly and silently fell--and
JOHN THURTELL WAS LAUNCHED INTO ETERNITY.
On the 10th of September, 1824, Henry Fauntleroy, of the firm of Marsh,
Stracey, Fauntleroy, and Graham, bankers, in Berners-street, was
apprehended in consequence of its being discovered that in September,
1820, £10,000 3 per cent stock, standing in the names of himself, J. D.
Hume, and John Goodchild, as trustees of Francis William Bellis, had been
sold out under a power of attorney, to which the names of his co-trustees
and some of the subscribing witnesses were forged. It was soon ascertained
that the extent to which this practice had been carried was enormous, no
less than £170,000 stock having been sold out in 1814 and 1815 by the same
fraudulent means.
Every exertion was used by Mr. Fauntleroy's counsel, his case being twice
argued before the Judges, but both decisions were against him; and on the
30th of November, 1824, his execution took place. The number of persons
assembled was estimated at nearly 100,000.
The station in society of this unfortunate man, and the long-established
respectability of the banking-house, in which he was the most active
partner, with the vast extent of the forgeries committed, gave to his case
an intensity of interest which has scarcely ever been equalled, and during
the whole time it was pending afforded plenty of work for the printers and
vendors of street literature. Catnach's advanced position, which was now
far beyond all his compeers, caused him to get the lion's share. Every
incident in the man's character, history, and actions was taken advantage
of. The sheets, almost wet from the press, were read by high and low; by
those who lived and revelled in marble halls and gilded saloons, as well
as by those who thronged our large towns and centres of industry.
The parliamentary election of 1826, for the county of Northumberland, the
principal seat of which was at Alnwick, gave early promise of being
severely contested. There were four candidates in the field, namely, Henry
Thomas Liddell, afterwards first Earl of Ravensworth, of Ravensworth
Castle, county Durham; Mr. Matthew Bell, of Woolsingham, Northumberland;
Mr. Thomas Wentworth Beaumont, and Lord Howick, afterwards Henry the third
Earl Grey, K.G. The nomination of the candidates took place on Tuesday,
June 20th, 1826, and the polling continued till July 6th, when the result
was as follows:--
Liddell 1562
Bell 1380
Beaumont 1335
Howick 997
This contest was the greatest political event in the history of the
county. It is estimated that it cost the candidates little short of
£250,000.
Now, as we have before observed, Mr. Mark Smith--who till the time of his
death, on the 18th of May, 1881, aged 87--carried on the business of
printer and bookseller at Alnwick--and James Catnach, were fellow
apprentices, both being bound to learn the art of printing to the elder
Catnach on the same day. This early-formed acquaintanceship continued
throughout the remaining portion of Catnach's life, and whenever Mr. Mark
Smith came to London in after years, he always visited Jemmy's house.
It was in consequence of the continued friendship existing between Mr.
Mark Smith and Jemmy Catnach that the latter had often expressed a desire
to serve his fellow-apprentice, should circumstances occur to render it
necessary. The Alnwick election of 1826 promised to be a good one as
regarded printing, and Mr. Smith anticipating a difficulty in getting
through his work, applied to Catnach to know if he could render him any
assistance. The result was that Jemmy at once proffered to go to Alnwick
and take with him a small hand-press. After his arrival he seldom went out
of the house, as all hands worked early and late, for, besides addresses,
squibs, &c., they had to get out the state of the poll every afternoon,
shortly after four o'clock. The number of addresses and squibs, in prose
and verse, during this memorable election was enormous. The whole, when
collected together, forms four good-sized volumes. The principal printers
in Alnwick at this time, and who were engaged by the candidates, were
Smith, Davison, and Graham. But there was a great deal of printing done at
Newcastle, Gateshead, North Shields, Morpeth, and other towns.
There can be but little doubt that all who were professionally engaged at
this election made a good thing out of it. The money spent upon printing
alone must have been very great. And nearly all the public-houses in
Alnwick were made "open houses," as well as most of those in the principal
towns throughout the county. Old people talk to this day, with a degree of
pride of "those good old times" that existed at the Parliamentary
elections previous to the passing of the Reform Bill of 1832. As far as
Catnach was concerned, he merely went to help to pay off a deep debt of
gratitude owing by him to the Smith family for many past favours to his
own family when they were in dire distress in _auld lang syne_. Besides,
Jemmy was now getting towards that state known as being "comfortably
well-to-do," and the trip was a change of air--a bit of a holiday, and a
visit to the town of his birth. And as he had buried his mother in London
during the early part of the year, he took the opportunity to erect in the
parish churchyard, that which at once stands as a cenotaph and a
tombstone, bearing the following inscription:--
"JOHN, Son of JOHN CATNACH,
Printer, died August 27th,
1794, Aged 5 years & 7 months.
JOHN CATNACH died in
LONDON, 1813, Aged 44.
MARY, his wife died Jany.
24th, 1826, Aged 60 years,
Also John, Margaret, and
Jane Catnach, lie here."[9]
During Catnach's absence from London on the Alnwick election, his old
rivals--the Pitts family--were, as usual, concocting false reports, and
exhibiting lampoons, after the following manner:--
"Poor Jemmy with the son of Old Nick,
Down to Northumberland he's gone;
To take up his freedom at Alnwick,
The why or the wherefore's known to none.
"Before he went, he washed in soap and sud,
The Alnwick folks they found the fiddle;
Then they dragged poor Jemmy through the mud,
Two foot above his middle.
The above was in allusion to the old ceremony of being dragged through the
dirty pool to be made a Freeman of the town of Alnwick. But, as far as
Catnach was concerned, there is no truth whatever in the matter, it was
simply "a weak invention of the enemy." It was in the latter part of June
and the beginning of July in the same year, that Catnach was at Alnwick,
and the ceremony of making freemen always took place on St. Mark's Day,
April 25th, or at least two months earlier.
Thus the statement of the Pitts' party was--
"As false
As air, as water, as wind, as sandy earth,
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,
Pard to the hind, or step-dame to her son."
Catnach, as the high priest of the literature of the streets, surrounded
by trade rivals, "stood like a man at a mark with a whole army shooting at
him," but he was as firm as a rock and with the strength of a giant, and,
as Hyperion to a Satyr, defied them all.
The destruction of the Royal Brunswick Theatre, Well-street,
Wellclose-square, East London, on the 29th of February, 1828, by the
falling in of the walls, in consequence of too much weight being attached
to the heavy cast-iron roof, made a rare nine-day's wonder for the workers
of street-papers. Fortunately the catastrophe happened in the day-time,
during the rehearsal of "Guy Mannering," and only fifteen persons
perished, viz:--
Mr. D. S. Maurice, a master printer, of Fenchurch-street, one of the
Proprietors,
Mr. J. Evans _Bristol Observer_
Miss Mary A. Feron _Actress_,
Miss Freeman _Corps de ballet_,
Mr. E. Gilbert _Comedian_,
Mr. J. Blamire _Property Man_,
Mr. G. Penfold _Doorkeeper_,
Miss Jane Wall _Visitor_,
Mr. J. Purdy _Blacksmith_,
Messrs. J. Miles, W. Leader,
A. W. Davidson, M. Miles,
and J. Abbott _Carpenters_,
J. Levy, _A Clothesman_ (accidentally passing).
"Oh yes, sir! I remember well the falling of the Brunswick Theatre, out
Whitechapel way. It was a rare good thing for all the running and standing
patterers in and about ten miles of London. Every day we all killed more
and more people--in our "Latest Particulars." One day there was twenty
persons killed, the next day thirty or forty, until it got at last to be
worked up to about a hundred, and all killed. Then we killed all sorts of
people, Duke of Wellington, and all the Dukes and Duchesses, Bishops,
swell nobs and snobs we could think of at the moment."
[Illustration: ATROCIOUS MURDER OF A YOUNG WOMAN IN SUFFOLK.
SINGULAR DISCOVERY OF THE BODY FROM A DREAM.
THE RED BARN.
THE SCENE OF THE MURDER, AND WHERE THE BODY OF MARIA
MARTEN WAS FOUND CONCEALED.]
Four years after the Thurtell and Weare affair, namely, in the month of
April, 1828, another "sensational" murder was discovered--that of Maria
Marten, by William Corder, in the Red Barn, at Polstead, in the county of
Suffolk. The circumstances that led to the discovery of this most
atrocious murder, were of an extraordinary and romantic nature, and
manifest an almost special interposition of Providence in marking out the
offender. As the mother of the girl had on three several nights dreamt
that her daughter was murdered and buried in Corder's Red Barn, and as
this proved to be the case, an additional "charm" was given to the
circumstance. The "Catnach Press" was again set working both day and
night, to meet the great demand for the "Full Particulars." In due course
came the gratifying announcement of the apprehension of the murderer! and
the sale continued unabatingly in both town and country, every "Flying
Stationer" making great profits by the sale.
[Illustration: LIKENESS OF WILLIAM CORDER.]
The trial of Corder took place at Bury St. Edmonds, on the 7th of August,
1828, before the Lord Chief Baron (Anderson). The prisoner pleaded "_Not
Guilty_," and the trial proceeded. On being called on for his defence,
Corder read a manuscript paper. He declared that he deeply deplored the
death of the unfortunate deceased, and he urged the jury to dismiss from
their minds all that prejudice which must necessarily have been excited
against him by the public press, &c. Having concluded his address, the
Lord Chief Baron summed up, and a verdict of "_Guilty_" was returned. The
Last Dying Speech and Confession had an enormous sale--estimated at
1,166,000, a _fac-simile_ copy of which with the "Lamentable Verses," said
to have been written by Old Jemmy Catnach will be found on the next page.
CONFESSION AND EXECUTION OF WILLIAM CORDER, THE MURDERER OF MARIA
MARTEN.
Since the tragical affair between Thurtell and Weare, no event has
occurred connected with the criminal annals of our country which has
excited so much interest as the trial of Corder, who was justly
convicted of the murder of Maria Marten on Friday last.
THE CONFESSION.
"Bury Gaol, August 10th, 1828.--Condemned cell.
"Sunday evening, half-past Eleven.
"I acknowledge being guilty of the death of poor Maria Marten, by
shooting her with a pistol. The particulars are as follows:--When we
left her father's house, we began quarrelling about the burial of the
child: she apprehended the place wherein it was deposited would be
found out. The quarrel continued about three quarters of an hour upon
this sad and about other subjects. A scuffle ensued, and during the
scuffle, and at the time I think that she had hold of me, I took the
pistol from the side pocket of my velveteen jacket and fired. She
fell, and died in an instant. I never saw her even struggle. I was
overwhelmed with agitation and dismay:--the body fell near the front
doors on the floor of the barn. A vast quantity of blood issued from
the wound, and ran on to the floor and through the crevices. Having
determined to bury the body in the barn (about two hours after she was
dead). I went and borrowed a spade of Mrs Stow, but before I went
there I dragged the body from the barn into the chaff-house, and
locked the barn. I returned again to the barn, and began to dig a
hole, but the spade being a bad one, and the earth firm and hard, I
was obliged to go home for a pickaxe and a better spade, with which I
dug the hole, and then buried the body. I think I dragged the body by
the handkerchief that was tied round her neck. It was dark when I
finished covering up the body. I went the next day, and washed the
blood from off the barn-floor. I declare to Almighty God I had no
sharp instrument about me, and no other wound but the one made by the
pistol was inflicted by me. I have been guilty of great idleness, and
at times led a dissolute life, but I hope through the mercy of God to
be forgiven. WILLIAM CORDER."
Witness to the signing by the said William Corder,
JOHN ORRIDGE.
Condemned cell, Eleven o'clock, Monday morning,
August 11th, 1828.
The above confession was read over carefully to the prisoner in our
presence, who stated most solemnly it was true, and that he had
nothing to add to or retract from it--W. STOCKING, chaplain; TIMOTHY
R. HOLMES, Under-Sheriff.
THE EXECUTION.
At ten minutes before twelve o'clock the prisoner was brought from his
cell and pinioned by the hangman, who was brought from London for the
purpose. He appeared resigned, but was so weak as to be unable to
stand without support; when his cravat was removed he groaned heavily,
and appeared to be labouring under great mental agony. When his wrists
and arms were made fast, he was led round towards the scaffold, and
as he passed the different yards in which the prisoners were confined,
he shook hands with them, and speaking to two of them by name, he
said, "Good bye, God bless you." They appeared considerably affected
by the wretched appearance which he made, and "God bless you!" "May
God receive your soul!" were frequently uttered as he passed along.
The chaplain walked before the prisoner, reading the usual Burial
Service, and the Governor and Officers walking immediately after him.
Tho prisoner was supported to the steps which led to the scaffold; he
looked somewhat wildly around, and a constable was obliged to support
him while the hangman was adjusting the fatal cord. There was a
barrier to keep off the crowd, amounting to upwards of 7,000 persons,
who at this time had stationed themselves in the adjoining fields, on
the hedges, the tops of houses, and at every point from which a view
of the execution could be best obtained. The prisoner, a few moments
before the drop fell, groaned heavily, and would have fallen, had not
a second constable caught hold of him. Everything having been made
ready, the signal was given, the fatal drop fell, and the unfortunate
man was launched into eternity. Just before he was turned off, he said
in a feeble tone, "I am justly sentenced, and may God forgive me."
The Murder of Maria Marten.
BY W. CORDER.
Come all you thoughtless young men, a warning take by me,
And think upon my unhappy fate to be hanged upon a tree;
My name is William Corder, to you I do declare,
I courted Maria Marten, most beautiful and fair.
I promised I would marry her upon a certain day,
Instead of that, I was resolved to take her life away.
I went into her father's house the 18th day of May,
Saying, my dear Maria, we will fix the wedding day.
If you will meet me at the Red-barn, as sure as I have life,
I will take you to Ipswich town, and there make you my wife;
I then went home and fetched my gun, my pickaxe and my spade,
I went into the Red-barn, and there I dug her grave.
With heart so light, she thought no harm, to meet him she did go
He murdered her all in the barn, and laid her body low;
After the horrible deed was done, she lay weltering in her gore,
Her bleeding mangled body he buried beneath the Red-barn floor.
Now all things being silent, her spirit could not rest,
She appeared onto her mother, who suckled her at her breast,
For many a long month or more, her mind being sore oppress'd,
Neither night or day she could not take any rest.
Her mother's mind being so disturbed, she dreamt three nights o'er,
Her daughter she lay murdered beneath the Red-barn floor;
She sent the father to the barn, when he the ground did thrust,
And there he found his daughter mingling with the dust.
My trial is hard, I could not stand, most woeful was the sight,
When her jaw-bone was brought to prove, which pierced my heart quite;
Her aged father standing by, likewise his loving wife,
And in her grief her hair she tore, she scarcely could keep life.
Adieu, adieu, my loving friends, my glass is almost run,
On Monday next will be my last, when I am to be hang'd,
So you, young men, who do pass by; with pity look on me,
For murdering Maria Marten, I was hang'd upon the tree.
Printed by J Catnach, 2 and 3, Monmouth Court.--Cards, &c., Printed
Cheap
[Illustration]
"Oh, she lives snug in the Holy Land,
Right, tight, and merry in the Holy Land,
Search the globe round, none can be found
So _accommodating!_ as Old Mother Cummins--of the Holy Land."
Catnach, like many others connected with the getting up of news broadsides
and fly-sheets, did not always keep clear of the law. The golden rule is a
very fine one, but, unfortunately, it is not always read aright; in some
cases injured innocence flies at extremes. Jemmy Catnach for a long time
had been living upon unfriendly terms with a party connected with the
management of one of Mother Cummins's lodging-house establishments in the
immediate neighbourhood, so out of spite printed a pamphlet, purporting to
be the "Life and Adventures of Old Mother Cummins." Here Catnach had
reckoned without his host, by reason of his not taking into consideration
the extensive aristocratic and legal connection Mother Cummins had for her
friends and patrons. The moment she was made acquainted with the "_dirty
parjury_" that Jemmy Catnach had printed and caused to be publicly
circulated, she immediately gave instructions to _her_ Attorney General to
prosecute the _varmint_, when a warrant was applied for and obtained to
search the premises of the Seven Dials printer. But Catnach got the news
of the intended visit of the Bow Street Runners, and naturally became
alarmed from having a vivid recollection of the punishment and costs in
the case of the Drury-lane sausage makers, so the forme containing the
libellous matter was at once broken up--"pied," that is, the type was
jumbled together and left to be properly distributed on a future occasion.
What stock of the pamphlets remained were hastily packed up and carried
off to the "other side of the water" by John Morgan, one of Catnach's
poets! while another forme, consisting of a Christmas-sheet, entitled "The
Sun of Righteousness," was hurriedly got to press, and all hands were
working away full of assumed innocence when the officers from Bow Street
arrived at Monmouth-court, when, after a diligent search, they had very
reluctantly to come to the conclusion that they were "a day behind the
fair," and that the printer had been a little too sharp for them this
time. But Mother Cummins did not mean to be so checkmated by Catnach and
Co., and vowed to pursue him and his dirty blackguards to the end of the
world and back again, and instructed her lawyers to serve him with several
notices of action for libel, defamation of character, and, more
particular, as she expressed it, for "_parjury_." Then Catnach became
somewhat alarmed by her known vindictive disposition and long purse, that
he consulted his own solicitor in the matter, who took "counsel's opinion"
when an instant compromise at all costs, together with an ample apology,
was recommended as the only safe way out of the dilemma; a course which
was ultimately agreed to by both sides. An apology was drawn up and
approved of, with the understanding that Catnach was, after paying all
costs incurred to print the apology and publish the same on three several
places in front of his business premises in Monmouth Court for fourteen
clear days. All this--and more--Jemmy promised steadfastly to observe. Yet
in effect, he evaded the conditions by printing the apology in small pica
type and sticking the three copies so high up on the premises, that it
would have required Sam Weller's "pair of double million magnifying gas
microscopes of hextra power" to have been able to read the same.
Immediately after Mother Cummins's death and funeral, March, 1828, the
following announcement appeared:--
_Published this Day, Price Sixpence, embellished with a humorous
Coloured Plate._
THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF MOTHER CUMMINS,
The celebrated Lady Abbess of St. Giles's; with a curious Description,
Regulations, &c., of her singular Establishment. An account of her
Funeral, &c. Interspersed with numerous Anecdotes of Living
Characters, Visitors of Mother Cummins's Nunnery,--Capt. Shiels and
the Forty-four Nuns--Poll Hankey and Sir Charles Stanton,--Jane Sealey
and an Illustrous Person, &c.--With an Account of some of the
principal Nuns of the Establishment; particularly Mrs. Throgmorton and
Lord Al...n..y--Bell Chambers and the D... of Y...,--Miss Wilkinson
and Captain Featherstone--Marianne Hempstead, the Scotch Beauty--Miss
Weltern Davis and the Rev. Mr. H...l..y Be..rs..d--Mary Thomas, the
Female Chimney-Sweep, and Captain T...t...s, &c.
THE TRIAL, SENTENCE, FULL CONFESSION, AND EXECUTION OF BISHOP &
WILLIAMS, THE BURKERS.
[Illustration]
BURKING AND BURKERS.
The month of November, 1831, will be recorded in the annals of crimes
and cruelties as particularly pre-eminent, for it will prove to
posterity that other wretches could be found base enough to follow the
horrid example of Burke and his accomplice Hare, to entice the
unprotected and friendless to the den of death for sordid gain.
The horrible crime of "Burking," or murdering the unwary with the
intention of selling their bodies at a high price to the anatomical
schools, for the purpose of dissection, has unfortunately obtained a
notoriety which will not be soon or easily forgotten. It took its
horrifying appellation from the circumstances which were disclosed on
the trial of the inhuman wretch Burke, who was executed at Edinburgh
in 1829, for having wilfully and deliberately murdered several persons
for the sole purpose of profiting by the sale of their dead bodies.
APPREHENSION OF THE BURKERS.
On Tuesday, November 8th, four persons vis., John Bishop, Thomas
Williams, James May, and Michael Shield, were examined at Bow Street
Police Office on the charge of being concerned in the wilful murder of
an unknown Italian boy. From the evidence adduced, it appeared that
May, _alias_ Jack Stirabout, a known resurrection-man, and Bishop, a
body-snatcher, offered at King's College a subject for sale, Shield
and Williams having charge of the body in a hamper, for which they
demanded twelve guineas. Mr Partridge, demonstrator of anatomy, who,
although not in absolute want of a subject, offered nine guineas, but
being struck with its freshness sent a messenger to the police
station, and the fellows were then taken into custody, examined before
the magistrates, when Shield was discharged and the others ultimately
committed for trial
THE TRIAL.
Friday, December 2nd, having been fixed for the trial of the prisoners
charged with the murder of the Italian boy, the Court was crowded to
excess so early as eight o'clock in the morning.
At nine o'clock the Deputy Recorder, Mr Serjeant Arabin, came into
the court, when the prisoners severally pleaded "Not Guilty."
The Jury were then sworn, and at ten o'clock Chief Justice Tindal, Mr
Baron Vaughan, and Mr Justice Littledale entered the Court, with the
Lord Mayor and Sheriffs.
The Bench was crowded with persons of rank, amongst whom was the Duke
of Sussex.
Mr Bodkin having opened the case, Mr Adolphus proceeded to state to
the Jury the leading facts, as they were afterwards stated in the
evidence produced. The case for the prosecution having closed, the
prisoners were called upon for their defence.
The prisoner Bishop in his defence stated that he was thirty-three
years of age, and had followed the occupation of carrier till the last
five years, during which he had occasionally obtained a livelihood by
supplying surgeons with subjects. He most solemnly declared that he
had never disposed of any body that had not died a natural death.
Williams' defence briefly stated that he had never been engaged in the
calling of a resurrectionist, but had only by accident accompanied
Bishop on the sale of the Italian boy's body.
May, in his defence, admitted that for the last six years he had
followed the occupation of supplying the medical schools with
anatomical subjects, but disclaimed ever having had anything to do
with the sale of bodies which had not died a natural death. That he
had accidentally met with Bishop at the Fortune of War public house on
the Friday on which the body was taken for sale to Guy's Hospital.
At eight o'clock the jury retired to consider their verdict and on
their return they found the prisoners were Guilty of Murder.
The Recorder then passed the awful sentence upon them. "That each of
them be hanged on Monday morning, and their bodies be delivered over
for dissection and anatomization."
The prisoners heard the sentence as they had the verdict, without any
visible alteration. May raised his voice, and in a firm tone said, "I
am a murdered man, gentlemen."
THE FULL CONFESSION OF BISHOP AND WILLIAMS.
On Saturday morning Williams addressed a note to Mr Wontner, stating
that he and Bishop wanted particularly to see him and Dr. Cotton, the
Ordinary. In the course of the interview which immediately followed,
both prisoners made a full confession of their guilt, both exculpating
May altogether from being party to any of the murders. Having received
the confessions, Mr Wontner immediately waited upon Mr Justice
Littledale and Baron Vaughan, and upon communicating to them the
statements, they said they would at once see the Home Secretary on the
subject.
On Sunday morning the Sheriffs visited all three of the prisoners in
succession, and with the Under-Sheriffs were engaged between three and
four hours in taking down the statements of the convicts. The result
of all these investigations was that the same afternoon a respite
during his Majesty's pleasure arrived at Newgate for May, and his
sentence will be commuted to transportation for life.
THE EXECUTION.
During the whole of Sunday crowds of persons congregated in the Old
Bailey, and the spot on which the scaffold was to be erected was
covered with individuals conversing on the horrid crimes of the
convicts, and in the course of the day strong posts were erected in
the Old Bailey and at the ends of Newgate street Giltspur street, and
Skinner street, for the purpose of forming barriers to break the
pressure of the crowd.
At half-past twelve o'clock the gallows was brought out from the yard,
and drawn to its usual station opposite the Debtor's door. The crowd,
as early as one o'clock amounting to several thousand persons,
continued rapidly increasing.
By some oversight three chains had been suspended from the fatal beam,
and this led the crowd to suppose that May had not been respited. Mr.
Wontnor, on hearing of the mistake, directed that one of the chains
should be removed. The moment this was done an exclamation of "May is
respited," ran through the crowd, and, contrary to the expected tokens
of indignation, distinct cheers were heard amongst the crowd on
witnessing this token that mercy had been shown to May.
At half-past seven the Sheriffs arrived in their carriage, and in a
short time the press-yard was thronged with gentlemen. The unhappy
convicts were now led from their cells. Bishop cams out first, and
after he was pinioned he was conducted to a seat, and the Rev. Mr.
Williams sat alongside of him, and they conversed together in a low
tone of voice.
Williams was next introduced, and the wonderful alteration two days
had effected in his appearance astonished everyone who was present at
the trial. All the bold confidence he exhibited then had completely
forsaken him, and he looked the most miserable wretch it is possible
to conceive. He entered the room with a very faltering step, and when
the ceremony of pinioning him commenced, he was so weak as to be
scarcely able to stand.
Everything being ready, the melancholy procession moved forward.
Bishop was then conducted to the scaffold, and the moment he made his
appearance the most dreadful yells and hootings were heard among the
crowd. The executioner proceeded at once to the performance of his
duty, and having put the rope round his neck and affixed it to a
chain, placed him under the fatal beam. Williams was then taken out,
and the groans and hisses were renewed. The dreadful preparations were
soon completed, and in less than five minutes after the wretched men
appeared on the scaffold the usual signal was given, the drop fell,
and they were launched into eternity. Bishop appeared to die very
soon, but Williams struggled hard. Thus died
THE DREADFUL BURKERS OF 1831
Printed in London for the Venders.
It may be remarked, _en passant_, that Mr. Corder, with Paragalli and
Colla, the two Italian witnesses, who gave evidence as to the identity of
the body, said to be that of the Italian boy, at the trial of Bishop,
Williams, and May, appeared at Bow Street, in consequence of doubts being
entertained by a portion of the public as to the body being that of Carlo
Ferrari, to re-assert their former evidence. Mr. Corder afterwards
published a statement in the "Times" newspaper, which gave scarcely the
possibility of doubt that the body offered at King's College _must have
been_ that of Ferrari notwithstanding the murderer's assertion to the
contrary. On December the 10th, a _Post-obit_ prosecution of Williams, the
Burkite murderer, took place in the Court of Excise, where he was charged,
on information, with having carried on an illicit factory for making glass
at No. 2, Nova Scotia Gardens, Bethnal Green. An officer proved the
seizure of goods used in the manufacture of glass, at the house of the
person charged, and that Bishop was at the time in company. The Court
condemned the goods seized.
A drama on the subject of the "Burkers" was produced at an unlicensed
theatre, designated THE SHAKESPEARE, in the Kingsland Road, and not far
from Shoreditch Church, and for a time was specially attractive. In the
young actor, who played Carlo Ferrari, the Italian boy, might now be
recognised an eminent tragedian.[10]
[Illustration]
Street-ballads on political subjects, though not regarded as of great
interest by the whole body of the people, are still eventful among certain
classes, and for such the street author and ballad singer cater. The
measure of Reform by Earl Grey's administration, was proposed in the House
of Commons by Lord John Russell, 1st March, 1831. On the first division,
_second_ reading 22nd March, there stood for it, 302; against it, 301.
Ultimately, the Bill for that session was abandoned, and Parliament
dissolved. The Reform Bill of 1832 was read for the _third_ time on the
23rd of March, when the numbers stood thus:--for the Bill, 355; against
it, 239--majority for it, 116. In the Lords, the Bill was carried through
the Committee on the 30th of May, and read a _third_ time on the 4th of
June. For the Bill, 106; against, 22--majority, 84.
During the whole of the time the Reform Bills of 1831-2 were before the
Houses of Parliament, the "Catnach Press," in common with other printing
offices that produced street-literature, was very busy in publishing,
almost daily, songs and papers in ridicule of borough-mongering and of the
various rotten boroughs then in existence, but which were entirely swept
away by the passing of this Bill; fifty-six boroughs in England being
disfranchised, while thirty were reduced to one member only; twenty-two
new boroughs were created to send two members, and twenty to send one
member; other important changes were also made. Songs upon the subject
were sung at every corner of the streets, to the great delight of the
multitude.
THE REFORM BILL.
As William and _Bill_ are the same,
Our King, if he "weathers the storm,"
Shall be called in the annals of fame,
The _Glorious_ BILL _of Reform_!
[Illustration]
ATTACK ON KING WILLIAM IV. AT ASCOT HEATH,
ON TUESDAY, THE 19TH OF JUNE, 1832.
The Ascot Races for 1832 will be rendered memorable in the history of this
country by reason of a stone thrown at his Majesty while on the grand
stand at Ascot Races, which hit him on the forehead. The man by whom it
was thrown was immediately secured, and proved to be Dennis Collins, a
seaman with only one leg, formerly a pensioner of Greenwich Hospital, from
whence he had been dismissed for ill-conduct. On his examination he
confessed he committed the outrage in revenge because no notice had been
taken of petitions which he had sent to the Lords of the Admiralty and the
King. He was committed to Reading gaol to take his trial, which took place
at Abingdon, on August 22nd. The jury returned a verdict of guilty on the
fifth count, that of intending some bodily harm to his Majesty, but not
guilty of the intent to kill.
Mr. Baron Gurney passed sentence on the prisoner, that he _be drawn on a
hurdle to the place of execution_, and being hung by his _neck_ until
dead, his _head_ be afterwards _severed from his body_, and his body
_divided into four pieces_, and disposed of as his Majesty should think
fit. His sentence was afterwards respited.
Nothing better than the above circumstance could have suited the producers
and workers of street-literature. King William and Queen Adelaide were
very popular at the time. "Yes, sir, we all did well out of that job of
the wooden-legged sailor and old King Billy. It lasted out for months. We
had something fresh nearly every day. We killed old Billy five or six
times; then we made out that the sailor-chap was a love-child of the
Sailor King and Madame Vestris; then that he was an old sweetheart of
Queen Adelaide's, and that he was jealous and annoyed at her a jilting of
him and a-marrying of old King Billy, and so on. But it was an awful sell,
and a robbery to us all, because they didn't hang and cut the chap up into
four quarters--that would have been a regular Godsend to us chaps, sir.
But I think old Jemmy Catnach, as it was, must have cleared pretty nigh or
quite fifty pounds for himself out of the job. A-talking about Madame
Vestris, sir, reminds me that once we had a song about her, and the chorus
was:--
"'A hundred pounds reward
For the man that cut the legs above the knees
Belonging to Madame Vestris.'"
[Illustration]
The year 1837 produced two sensational murders and executions. The first
case--that of Pegsworth--made a great stir, particularly in the east part
of London. It was on the evening of the 9th of January, 1837, that a most
atrocious and cold-blooded murder was committed in Ratcliff Highway. The
individual who suffered was Mr. John Holliday Ready, who for some time
carried on the trade of a tailor, draper, and milliner. John Pegsworth,
was a messenger in the tea department of St. Katherine's Docks, he had
formerly kept a small tobacconist's shop in the same street, and had
contracted a debt of £1 with Mr. Ready, who being unable to obtain
payment, took out a summons against him in the Court of Requests,
Osborne-street, Whitechapel. The court gave judgement against Pegsworth
for the full amount and costs, which he was ordered to pay by instalments.
On the evening of the same day Pegsworth proceeded to a cutler's shop in
Shadwell, where he bought a large pig-knife, armed with which he
immediately repaired to the house of Mr. Ready for the purpose of
executing his diabolical intention. He entered the shop, and having spoken
to Mrs. Ready, passed on to the parlour and got into conversation with Mr.
Ready. Pegsworth, although pressingly asked to do so, declined taking a
seat, and after he had been talking about ten minutes in a calm and
collected manner on the subject of the debt and the misfortunes he had met
with in business, he pointedly asked Mr. Ready if he intended to enforce
the payment of the debt? Ready said he should be compelled to issue an
execution against his goods if the money was not paid. The words had
scarcely left the lips of the unfortunate man than Pegsworth uttered some
exclamation which is supposed to have been "Take that!" and plunged the
knife with great force into his breast up to the hilt. Ready called out to
his wife, "O, I am stabbed!" fell back in his chair, and almost
immediately expired. Mrs. Ready, who saw Pegsworth move his arm, but was
not aware her husband was stabbed until she saw him fall back, screamed
aloud for assistance, and several of her neighbours rushed into the shop
for the purpose of securing the murderer, who did not make the least
attempt to escape, but having completed his purpose, withdrew the knife
from the body of his victim, laid it on the table, and calmly awaited the
arrival of the police.
Pegsworth was tried at the Central Criminal Court of London on the 12th of
February, and found guilty of wilful murder, and was executed in front of
the debtor's door in the Old Bailey on the 9th of March following.
* * * * *
During the whole of the time that was occupied in the trial and execution
of Pegsworth, a circumstance took place which excited an extraordinary
sensation throughout the metropolis and its neighbourhood--namely, the
discovery near the Pine Apple Gate, Edgware Road, of the trunk of a human
being, tied up in a sack, dismembered of the arms, legs, and head.
The utmost vigilance was exercised to trace out the murderer, but for
several days no light was thrown upon the transaction. At length, on the
6th of January, as a barge was passing down the Regent's Canal, near
Stepney, one of the eastern environs of London, the bargeman, to his
unspeakable horror, fished up what proved to be a human head. Proper
notice of this circumstance was forwarded to the police. It was now very
generally supposed the head would prove to belong to the body found in the
Edgware road, although at a distance of nearly five miles, and this
conjecture proved to be correct.
On the second of February the remaining portions of the human being was
discovered in a sack in an osier bed, near Cold Harbour Lane, Camberwell.
These mutilated remains were carefully matched together, and at length
recognised as those of a Mrs. Brown, and suspicion fell, and justly so,
upon James Greenacre and his paramour Sarah Gale.
In respect to the last two murders we have cited, Mr. Henry Mayhew
received from an old "running patterer" the following
statement--"Pegsworth was an out-and-out lot. I did tremendous with him,
because it happened in London, down Ratcliff Highway--that's a splendid
quarter for working--there's plenty of feeling--but, bless you, some
places you go to you can't move nohow, they've hearts like paving stones.
They wouldn't have 'the papers' if you'd give them to 'em--especially when
they knows you. Greenacre didn't sell so well as might have been expected,
for such a diabolical out-and-out crime as he committed; but you see he
came close after Pegsworth, and that took the beauty off him. Two
murderers together is no good to nobody."
In the Greenacre tragedy Catnach did a great amount of business, and as it
was about the last "popular murder" in which he had any trade concern, we
give a statement in respect to the sale of "Execution Papers," of the
chief modern '_popular_' murders, thus:--
Of Rush murder 2,500,000 copies.
Of the Mannings 2,500,000 "
Of Courvoisier 1,666,000 "
Of Greenacre 1,650,000 "
Of Corder (Maria Marten) 1,166,000 "
Of the Five Pirates (Flowery Land) 290,000 "
Of Müller 280,000 "
So that the printers and publishers of "Gallows" Literature in general,
and "The Catnach Press" in particular must have reaped a golden harvest
for many a long day, even when sold to the street patterers at the low
rate of 3d. per _long_ dozen.
[Illustration]
LIFE, TRIAL, CONFESSION, & EXECUTION OF JAMES GREENACRE, FOR THE
EDGEWARE ROAD MURDER.
[Illustration]
On the 22nd of April, James Greenacre was found guilty of the wilful
murder of Hannah Brown, and Sarah Gale with being accessary after the
fact. A long and connected chain of evidence was produced, which
showed, that the sack in which the body was found was the property of
Mr. Ward; that it was usually deposited in a part of the premises
which led to the workshop, and could without observation have been
carried away by him; that the said sack contained several fragments
of shavings of mahogeny, such as were made in the course of business
by Ward; and that it contained some pieces of linen cloth, which had
been patched with nankeen; that this linen cloth matched exactly with
a frock which was found on Greenacre's premises, and which belonged to
the female prisoner. Feltham, a police-officer, deposed, that on the
25th of March he apprehended the prisoners at the lodgings of
Greenacre; that on searching the trowsers pockets of that person, he
took therefrom a pawnbroker's duplicate for two silk gowns, and from
the fingers of the female prisoner two rings, and also a similar
duplicate for two veils, and an old-fashioned silver watch, which she
was endeavouring to conceal; and it was further proved that these
articles were pledged by the prisoners, and that they had been the
property of the deceased woman.--Two surgeons were examined, whose
evidence was most important, and whose depositions were of the
greatest consequence in throwing a clear light on the manner in which
the female, Hannah Brown, met with her death. Mr. Birtwhistle deposed,
that he had carefully examined the head; that the right eye had been
knocked out by a blow inflicted while the person was living; there was
also a cut on the cheek, and the jaw was fractured, these two last
wounds were, in his opinion, produced after death; there was also a
bruise on the head, which had occurred after death; the head had been
separated by cutting, and the _bone sawed nearly through_, and then
broken off; then were the marks of a saw, which fitted with a saw
which was found in Greenacre's box. Mr. Girdwood, a surgeon, very
minutely and skilfully described the appearances presented on the
head, and showed incontestibly, that the head had been severed from
the body _while the person was yet alive_; that this was proved by the
retraction, or drawing back, of the muscles at the parts where they
were separated by the knife, and further, by the blood-vessels being
empty, the body was drained of blood. This part of the evidence
produced a thrill of horror throughout the court, but Greenacre
remained quite unmoved.
After a most impressive and impartial summing up by the learned Judge,
the jury retired, and, after the absence of a quarter of an hour,
returned into court, and pronounced a verdict of "Guilty" against both
the prisoners.
The prisoners heard the verdict without evincing the least emotion, or
the slightest change of countenance. After an awful silence of a few
minutes, the Lord Chief Justice said they might retire, as they would
be remanded until the end of the session.
They were then conducted from the bar, and on going down the steps,
the unfortunate female prisoner kissed Greenacre with every mark of
tenderness and affection.
The crowd outside the court on this day was even greater than on
either of the preceding; and when the result of the trial was made
known in the street, a sudden and general shout succeeded, ans
continued huzzas were heard for several minutes.
THE EXECUTION.
At half past seven the sheriff arrived in his carriage, and in a short
time the press-yard was thronged with gentlemen who had been admitted
by tickets. The unhappy convict was now led from his cell. When he
arrived in the press-yard, his whole appearance pourtrayed the utmost
misery and spirit-broken dejection; his countenance haggard, and his
whole frame agitated; all that self-possesion and fortitude which he
displayed in the early part of his imprisonment, had utterly forsaken
him, and had left him a victim of hopelessness and despair. He
requested the executioner to give him as little pain as possible in
the process of pinioning his arms and wrists; he uttered not a word in
allusion to his crime; neither did he make any dying request, except
that his spectacles might be given to Sarah Gale; he exhibited no sign
of hope; he showed no symptom of reconciliation with his offended God!
When the venerable ordinary preceded him in the solemn procession
through the vaulted passage to the fatal drop, he was so overcome and
unmanned, that he could not support himself without the aid of the
assistant executioner. At the moment he ascended the faithless floor,
from which he was to be launched into eternity, the most terrific
yells, groans, and cheers were vociferated by the immense multitude
surrounding the place of execution. Greenacre bowed to the sheriff,
and begged he might not be allowed to remain long in the concourse;
and almost immediately the fatal bolt was withdrawn, and, without a
struggle he became a lifeless corse.--Thus ended the days of
Greenacre, a man endowed with more than ordinary talents, respectably
connected, and desirably placed in society; but a want of probity, an
absolute dearth of principle, led him on from one crime to another,
until at length he perpetrated the sanguinary deed which brought his
career to an awful and disgraceful period, and which has enrolled his
name among the most notorious of those who have expiated their crime
on the gallows.
On hearing the death-bell toll, Gale became dreadfully agitated; and
when she heard the brutal shouts of the crowd of spectators, she
fainted, and remained in a state of alternate mental agony and
insensibility throughout the whole day.
After having been suspended the usual time, his body was cut down, and
buried in a hole dug in one of the passages of the prison, near the
spot where Thistlewood and his associate were deposited.
Catnach received a very indifferent education, and that little at the
establishment of Mr. Goldie, in Alnwick, where his attendance was very
irregular, and this drawback assisted very much in blunting his relish for
the higher walks of literature. The father had not carried out the
heavenly injunction so much practised in Scotland, by giving to his son
the best of blessings--"a good education."
Jemmy had a tenacious love of money, and this propensity he retained
throughout life. As a man of business he was rough and brusque in his
manners, but this mattered little, as his trade lay amongst a class who
were low and insensitive in their habits and modes of living.
The productions issued at the "Catnach Press" were not destined to rank
high in the annals of literature; and they bear a sorry appearance when
placed alongside of several works of a similar kind, which were printed at
the same period in many parts of the kingdom. In this respect Jemmy
Catnach was very unlike his father, for, whilst the former had a niggardly
turn in all his dealings, the latter was naturally inclined to the
reverse.
One class of literature which Jemmy Catnach made--by reason of greater
mechanical skill and a larger capital than his rivals--almost his own, was
children's farthing, halfpenny, and penny books. Among the great many that
he published we select from our own private collection, those that follow
as a fair sample.
Many other nursery books of a similar kind might be mentioned as some of
the chief attractions that emanated from the "Catnach Press," and which,
to the juvenile population, were more eagerly welcomed than the great
sensational three-volume novels are by many in our day.
"THE CATNACH PRESS."
[Illustration]
A COLLECTION
OF JUVENILE BOOKS.
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY
JAMES CATNACH,
LATE OF
MONMOUTH COURT,
SEVEN DIALS,
LONDON.
[Illustration: JAMES CATNACH TO HIS JUVENILE READERS.
Little Boys and Girls will find
At CATNACH'S something to their mind,
From great variety may choose,
What will instruct them and amuse;
The prettiest plates that you can find,
To please at once the eye and mind,
In all his little books appear,
In natural beauty, shining clear,
Instruction unto youth when given,
Points the path from earth to heaven.
He sells by Wholesale and Retail.
To suit all moral tastes can't fail.]
Nurse Love-Child's LEGACY
[Illustration]
LONDON:
Printed by J. Catnach, 2, Monmouth
Court, 7 Dials.
2
[Illustration]
The Lion and the unicorn,
Were fighting for the crown,
The lion beat the unicorn,
All round about the town,
Some gave them white bread
And some gave them brown,
Some gave them plum cake
And sent them out of town.
3
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
What is the news of the day,
Good neighbour I pray,
They say the balloon,
Is gone up to the moon.
4
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
The little mouse
Doth skip and play,
He runs by night,
And sleeps by day.
5
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
This is the Cat
That killed the Cock,
For waking her
At five o'clock.
6
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
And this is the Dog
That bit the thief,
For stealing all
His master's beef.
7
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
Who comes here
A Grenadier,
What do you want
A pot of beer,
Where's your money
I've forgot.
Get you gone
You drunken sot.
8
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
Be not a glutton when you eat,
But spare some for the needy,
Or people will, when filled with meat,
Say, like a wolf, you are greedy.
9
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead,
He shot John Sprig
Thro' the middle of his wig,
And knock'd it off his head.
10
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
Now what do you think
Of little Jack Jingle,
Before he was married,
He used to live single.
But after he married,
To alter his life,
He left off living single
And lived with his wife.
11
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
Tom Trueby was a good and sensible boy, who neither played the truant
nor kept company with naughty children. He did not like tossing up nor
chuck up farthing, because he thought it might lead him to love
gaming, when he was grown up; but he liked very well to play at ball
or top, and most particularly at marbles, at which he was very clever,
never cheated, and played so well that he used to teach the
neighbouring children.
12
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
[Illustration]
And here you see him instructing Master Manly, a Baronet's son in the
place, as he did in matters of more consequence, and behaved so well
towards him, that he was his friend all his lifetime.
13
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
Fire-Works and Crackers.
[Illustration]
Fire-Works are things that look very pretty when they are properly
managed by those who understand them, but children ought to take care
how they meddle with gunpowder lest they should hurt themselves or
other people.
14
NURSE LOVECHILD'S LEGACY.
Tom Hazard for example was always fond of playing with ser
Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/43691