The Lady of Lynn

CHAPTER XI

THE HUMOURS OF THE SPA

And now began that famous month – it lasted very little more – when the once godly town of Lynn was delivered over to the devil and all his crew. We who are natives of the place speak of that time and the misfortunes which followed with reluctance; we would fain forget that it ever fell upon us. To begin with, the place was full of people. They came from all the country round; not only did the gentlefolk crowd into the town and the clergy from the cathedral towns and the colleges, but there were also their servants, hulking footmen, pert lady's maids, with the people who flock after them, creatures more women than men; the hairdressers, barbers, milliners, dressmakers, and the creatures who deal in things which a fashionable woman cannot do without, those who provide the powder, patches, cosmetics, eau de Chypre, and washes for the complexion, the teeth, the hands, and the face; the jewellers and those who deal in gold and silver ornaments; the sellers of lace, ribbons, gloves, fans, and embroidery of all kinds. Our shops, humble enough to look upon from the outside, became treasure houses when one entered; and I verily believe that the ladies of the spa took greater pleasure in turning over the things hidden away behind the shop windows, and not exposed to the vulgar gaze, than in any of the entertainments offered them.

Every other house in Mercer Street and Chequer Row was converted into a shop for the sale of finery; at the door of each stood the shopman or the shopwoman, all civility and assurance, inviting an entrance. "Madam," said one, "I have this day received by the London waggon a consignment of silks which it would do you good only to see and to feel. Enter, madam; the mere sight is better for the vapours than all the waters of the pump room. Look at these silks before they are all sold. John, the newly arrived silks for their ladyships," and so on, all along the streets while the ladies walked slowly over the rough paving stones, followed by their footmen with their long sticks, and their insolent bearing. Indeed, I know not which more attracted the curiosity of the countrywomen – the fine ladies or the fine footmen. These gallant creatures, the footmen with their worsted epaulettes and their brave liveries, did not venture into the streets by the riverside – Pudding Lane, Common Stath Lane, or the like – the resort of the sailors, where the reception of those who did venture was warmer and less polite than they expected.

For the gentlemen there were the taverns; every house round the market-place became a tavern, where an ordinary was held at twelve.

And the gentlemen sat drinking all the afternoon. Nay, they began in the morning making breakfast of a pint of Canary with a pennyworth of bread, a slice of cheese, and after the meal a penny roll of tobacco. These were the gentlemen belonging to the country families. The attractions of the spa to them were the tavern, the cockpit, the field where they raced their horses, the badger baiting, and sport of all these kinds that can be obtained in the spring and summer, when there is no shooting of starlings in the reeds of marshland, and the decoy of ducks, for which this country is famous.

Rooms had to be found for the servants; a profligate and deboshed crew they were, of whose manners it may be said that they were insolent, and of their morals, that they had none. Two or three of them, however, getting a drubbing from our sailors, the rest went in some terror.

It was as if the birds of the air had carried the news of this great discovery north and south, east and west, so that not only was a great multitude attracted to the place in search of health and pleasure, but also another multitude of those who came to supply every kind of want, real or imaginary. A thousand wants were invented, especially for the ladies, so that whereas many of the damsels from quiet country houses had been content with homespun, linsey woolsey, or, at best, with sarcenet, a few ribbons for their straw hats, and thread for their gloves, now found themselves unable to appear abroad except with heads made up on wires and round rolls, their hair powdered and pinned to large puff caps, with gowns of silk, flounced sleeves, and a laced tippet. And when they went home they were no longer contented with the things of their own making, the cordials of ginger, cherries, and so forth, the distilled waters, the home-brewed ale, the small beer, the wines made with raspberries, currants and blackberries. They murmured after tea and coffee, the wine of Lisbon and Canary, the rosolio and the ratafia, the macaroons, the chocolate, the perfumes, and the many gauds of the dressing-table. And they scorned the honest red and brown of cheek and hands that cared nothing for the sun, as if they would be more beautiful in the eyes of their lovers by having cheeks of a pale white with a smudge of paint, and hands as white as if just out of bed and a long illness.

The way of the company was as follows:

They met at the pump room about ten; they called for the water; they exchanged the latest scandal; they talked about dress; they bemoaned their losses at cards; they then walked off to morning prayers, chiefly at St. Nicholas's, where, as you have heard, Mr. Benjamin Purdon read them with honeyed words and rolling voice. From the church they repaired to a confectioner's called Jonathan's – I know not why – where they all devoured a certain cake made expressly for them; from the confectioner's some went to the draper, the milliner, or the haberdasher; some to the long room, where there were generally public breakfasts of tea, chocolate, and coffee; a few, but these were mostly men, went to the bookseller's, where, for half-a-crown a month, they could read all day long and what they pleased. The bookseller came from Norwich, and when the season ended went back to Norwich. Dinner was served at twelve or one. At five o'clock or thereabouts the company began to arrive at the gardens and the long room, where, with music, cards, conversation, and walking among the coloured lamps, the evening was quickly spent. Twice a week there was an assembly for dancing, when refreshments were provided at the cost of the gentlemen.

For the gentlemen there were also the coffee houses, of which two at least sprang into existence. One laid down twopence on entering, and could call for a dish of tea, a cup of coffee, or one of chocolate. In one of them were found the clergy, the lawyers, and the justices of the peace; they settled the affairs of the nation and decided the characters of the ministers. In the other were those who affected to be beaux and wits. Among the latter set one found Sam Semple, now a person of great authority, as the secretary of Lord Fylingdale and the author of a book of verse. He pretended to be an arbiter. "Sir," he would say, "by your leave. The case is quite otherwise. The matter was lately discussed at Will's. A certain distinguished poet, who shall be nameless, whose opinion carries weight even in that august assemblage, was of opinion that…" And so forth, with an air of profound wisdom. As regards wit in conversation, it consists, I believe, in finding different ways, all unexpected, of saying: "You are a fool. You are an ass. You are a jackanapes. You are an ignorant clown. You are a low-born upstart." This kind of wit was cultivated with some success at first, but as it was not always relished by those to whom it was directed, it led to the pulling of noses and the discharge of coffee or tea in the face of the ingenious author of the unexpected epigram. So that its practice languished and presently died out altogether.

The most astonishing change, however, was in the market-place. Here, instead of one market day in the week, there was a market day all the week long. The stalls were never removed; every day the country people crowded into the town – some riding, some walking, some in boats, some in barges, bringing poultry, ducks, eggs, butter, cream, milk, cheese, honey, lettuce for sallet, and everything that a farm, a dairy, and a stillroom can provide. Some sat on upturned baskets, their wares spread out before them; some stood at stalls with white hangings to keep off the sun; the fine ladies went about among them chaffering and bargaining, their maids following with baskets. It was a pretty sight, and to my mind the rustic damsels, for good looks, got the better of the fine ladies and their maids. Many of the beaux and young bloods were of the same opinion, apparently, for they, too, went round among the stalls, with compliments not doubtful, and talk more free than polite, chucking the girls under the chin and pinching their cheeks. To be sure these freedoms do a body no harm, and I believe our Norfolk girls can look after themselves as well as any.

And every day outside the stalls there assembled such a motley crowd as had never before been seen in Lynn. It was a perpetual fair, at which you could buy anything. Gipsies went about leading horses for sale, the cheap Jack stood on the footboard of his cart and bawled his wares; the rogue stood up, with voice and cheeks of brass, and offered his caps, knives, scissors, cups and saucers, frying pans, saucepans, kettles, every morning. His store could never be exhausted; he took a quarter of what he asked; and he went on day after day. Nor must we forget the travelling quack, the learned doctor in a huge wig and black velvet; as like to Dr. Worship himself as one pea is like another. He had his stage and his tumbling clown, who twisted himself upon the tight-rope, turned somersaults, walked on his head, grinned and made mouths and was as merry a rogue as his master was grave. After the Tom Fool had collected a crowd and made them merry, the doctor advanced, his face full of wisdom, and explained that he came among them newly arrived from Persia, that land famous for its learned physicians; that he was not an ordinary physician, seeking to make money by his science; that, on the other hand, what he offered was given, rather than sold, the charge made being barely sufficient to pay for the costly ingredients used in the making of these sovereign remedies. He had his pills and his draughts; his balsams and his electuary; he had his plaster against rheumatism; his famous Pulvis Catharticus against fever; his Carduus Benedictus against ague; and, in a word, his infallible remedies against all the ills to which flesh is liable. So he played his part, not every day, but often, for the crowd in the market-place changed continually, and every change brought him new patients.

Or there was the tooth drawer. You knew him by the string of teeth which hung round his neck like a string of pearls over the neck of a lady or a collar of SS. round the neck of the worshipful the mayor. He pulled teeth at half a crown each, and if that was too much, at a shilling. Not only did he bawl his calling among the crowd, but he went through the streets from house to house asking if his services were wanted.

The town crier added to the noise and the animation of the scene. Almost every day he had something to bawl. He was known by his dress and his bell. He wore a green coat with brass buttons; a broad laced hat, he had a broad badge with the arms of the town upon his arm; in one hand he carried a staff and in the other his big bell. And being by nature endowed with a loud voice, and a good opinion of himself, he magnified his office by ringing more loudly and longer than was necessary, by repeating his "O yes! O yes! O yes!" at the end as well as the beginning of his announcement, and by proclaiming this twice over.

Towards the hour of noon, when every tavern had its ordinary, and the sausages and black puddings were hissing in the cooks' stalls, there arose a fragrance – call it an incense of gratitude – which pleasantly engaged the senses. It was a hogo of frying fish, chops, steaks, sausages, bacon, ham and onions; it included the smell of gosling and duckling and chicken, roasted rabbit fricasseed; of roast pork, lamb, mutton, and beef; of baked pies – all kinds of pies – custards, cheese cakes, dumplings, hasty pudding. Then the feet of those who could afford it turned to the tavern; those who could not pay the ordinary at two shillings, or that at one shilling, dived into the cellar, where they could dine for sixpence, or stood about the stalls where they fried the sausages; those who brought their dinner with them sat on their baskets and devoured their food, or bought of the street criers who now went up and down ringing bells and crying:

or,

It pleased me to recall the humours of the town at that time. Except for the rows of booths, one would have thought it Stourbridge Fair at Cambridge, which once I saw. The weather was fine and clear, the cold east winds gone. There was so much money flying about that everybody was buying as well as selling; in spite of all that was brought into the town by the visitors, nothing was left when they went away, because all had been spent. We thought that the harvest would last forever. We looked to a season like that of Bath, which goes on all the year round. If our people took more money in one day than they had before taken in a whole month, they thought that it would go on day after day, and they spent it all without restraint. Nay, the wives and daughters of those who had kept humble shops and been content with fat bacon and hot milk for breakfast, and more bacon for dinner; who had been clad in homespun, now drank tea with bread and butter for breakfast like the Lady Anastasia herself; dined off ducks and goslings; drank fine ale and even Canary and Lisbon; and ventured to attend the assembly where they stood up to the country dance in silk like any gentlewoman.