PROCESSION OF THE TRADES.
Dublin corporation anecdote—Splendid triennial procession of the Dublin corporation, called Fringes (franchises), described.
Nothing can better show the high opinion formerly entertained by the Irish of their own notoriety, and particularly by that celebrated body called the “Corporation of Dublin,” than the following incident. Mr. Willis, a leather-breeches-maker in Dame-street, and a famous orator at the corporation meetings, holding forth on a debate about the parochial watch (a subject which was considered as of the utmost general importance), discoursed as follows:—“This, my friends, is a subject neither trifling nor obscure; the character of our corporation is at stake on your decision!—recollect,” continued he, “recollect, brother freemen, that the eyes of all Europe are upon us!”—The volunteers were certainly of some celebrity, and it was supposed they would not be unheard of in foreign countries.[[46]]
[46]. At the breaking out of the American war Colonel Brown, in derision of the colonists, declared, that he would march through all America with St. Andrew’s watchmen!—This declaration being made in the House of Commons, was thought to be in earnest by several members of the Dublin corporation. It was therefore suggested by one of the body to address his Majesty with a tender of the watchmen of St. Andrew’s, St. Ann’s, and St. Peter’s parishes, for American service. This serious offer drew down on the poor colonel such a volley of ridicule, that he never after mentioned America in Parliament. But such was the general contempt of the Americans at the commencement of the contest.
Colonel Brown was brother to old Lord Altamont.
One of the customs of Dublin which prevailed in my early days made such a strong impression upon my mind, that it never could be obliterated. The most magnificent and showy procession, I really believe, except those of Rome, then took place in the Irish metropolis every third year, and attracted a number of English quite surprising, if we take into account the difficulty and hazard of a passage at that time from London to Dublin.
The corporation of the latter city were, by the terms of their charter, bound, once in three years, to perambulate the limits of the lord mayor’s jurisdiction, to make stands or stations at various points, and to skirt the Earl of Meath’s liberties—a part of the city at that era in great prosperity, but forming a local jurisdiction under the earl (in the nature of a manor) totally distinct from that of Dublin.
This procession being in fact partly intended to mark and to designate the extreme boundaries of his lordship’s jurisdiction, at those points where they touch the Earl of Meath’s liberty, the lord mayor thrust his sword through the wall of a certain house;—and then concluded the ceremony by approaching the sea at low water, and hurling a javelin as far upon the sands as his strength admitted, which was understood to form the boundary between him and Neptune.
The trade of Dublin is comprised of twenty-five corporations, or guilds, each independent of the other, and represented, as in London, by a common council. Every one of these comprised its masters, journeymen, and apprentices;—and each guild had a patron saint, or protector, whose image or emblem was on all great occasions dressed up in appropriate habiliments.
For this procession every member of the twenty-five corporations prepared as for a jubilee. Small funds only were collected, and each individual gladly bore his extra charges—the masters and journeymen being desirous of outvying one another, and conceiving that the gayer they appeared on that great day, the more consideration would they be entitled to throughout the ensuing three years! Of course, therefore, such as could afford it spared no expense: they borrowed the finest horses and trappings which could be procured; the masters rode—the journeymen walked, and were succeeded by the apprentices.
Every corporation had an immense carriage, with a great platform and high canopy,—the whole radiant with gilding, ribbons, and draperies, and drawn by six or eight horses equally decked and caparisoned—their colours and flags flying in all directions. On these platforms, which were fitted up as workshops, were the implements of the respective trades; and expert hands were actually at work during the entire perambulation, which generally lasted eight or nine hours!—The procession indeed took two hours to pass. The narrow-weavers wove ribbons which they threw to the spectators:—the others tossed into the air small patterns of the fabric they worked upon: the printers were employed in striking off innumerable hand-bills, with songs, and odes to the lord mayor, the lady mayoress, &c.
But the smiths’ part of the spectacle was the most gaudy: they had their forge in full work, and were attended by a very high phaeton adorned in every way they could think of—the horses covered with flowers, gilt stars, and coloured streamers. In this phaeton sat the most beautiful woman they could possibly procure, as wife to their patron, Vulcan. It is unnecessary to describe her dress: suffice it to say, it approached that of a Venus as nearly as decency would permit: a blue scarf, covered with silver doves, was used at her discretion, and four or five little Cupids, apparently naked, with goose wings stuck to their shoulders, (aiming with bows and arrows at the ladies in the windows,) played at her feet.—On one side rode, on the largest horse which could be provided, a huge fellow, representing Vulcan, dressed cap-à-pie in coal-black armour, and flourishing an immense smith’s sledge-hammer as if it had been a light toy!—On the other side pranced his rival, Mars, on a tawdry-caparisoned charger, in shining armour (with an immensity of feathers and horse-hair), and brandishing a two-edged glittering sword six or eight feet long—Venus meantime seeming to pay much more attention to her gallant than to her husband. Behind the phaeton rode Argus, with an immense peacock’s tail; whilst numerous other gods and goddesses, saints, devils, satyrs, &c. were distributed in the procession, on carriages painted with clouds for the gods, and blue flames for the devil!
The skinners and tanners seemed to undergo no slight penance—a considerable number of these artisans being dressed up close in sheep and goat skins of different colours. The representatives of the butchers were enveloped in hides, with towering horns, and rode along brandishing knives, marrowbones, and cleavers!—a most formidable-looking corporation! The apothecaries made up and distributed pills and boluses on their platform, which was furnished with numerous metal pestles and mortars, so contrived and tuned as to sound, in the grinding, like bells ringing some popular air.—Each corporation had its appropriate band and colours; perfect order was maintained; and so proud was the Dublin mob of what they called their fringes,[[47]] that on this peculiar occasion they managed to behave with great decorum and propriety.
[47]. Franchises.
But the crowd seemed always in the most anxious expectation to see the tailors, who were certainly the favourites. The master-tailors usually borrowed the best horses from their gentlemen customers; and as they were not accustomed to horseback, the scene was certainly highly ludicrous. A tailor on a spirited horse has ever been esteemed a curiosity; but a troop of a hundred and fifty or two hundred tailors, all decked with ribbons and lace and every species of finery, on horses equally adorned, presented a spectacle outvying description! Their great difficulty in keeping their seats was extremely amusing.—But when the beast was too obstreperous, a couple of tawdry apprentices led him:—this precaution, however, did not prevent occasional misadventures. The journeymen and apprentices walked—except that number of workmen on the platform. St. Crispin with his last, St. Andrew with his cross, and St. Luke with his gridiron, were all included in the show; as were the city officers in their full robes and paraphernalia. The guild of merchants, being under the especial patronage of the Holy Trinity, could not, with all their ingenuity, find out any unprofane emblem, except a shamrock, of huge dimensions! the three distinct leaves whereof are on one stalk. This, by the way, offered St. Patrick means of explaining the Trinity, and thereby of converting the Irish to Christianity; and hence the shamrock became the national emblem of Ireland. The merchants had also a large ship on wheels, drawn and manned by real sailors.
This singular procession I twice witnessed: it has since been abolished, after having worked well, and done no harm, from the days of the very first lord mayor of Dublin. The city authorities, however, began at length to think venison and claret would be better things for the same expense; and so it was decided that the money should remain in the purse of the corporation, and a wretched substitute for the old ceremony was arranged. The lord mayor and sheriffs, with some dozen of dirty constables, now perambulate these bounds in privacy and silence;—thus defeating, in my mind, the very intention of their charter, and taking away a triennial prospective object of great attraction and pride to the inhabitants of the metropolis of Ireland, for the sole purpose of gratifying the sensual appetites of a city aristocracy, who court satiety and indigestion at the expense of their humbler brethren.
The unnecessary abolition of all ancient ceremonies is impolitic. Such as that of which I speak, tended to keep up an honest feeling of national pride, and to mark epochas in time: gratifying the humbler classes by giving them the prospect, although a distant one, of an attractive object adapted to their taste, their habits, and their station. The fringes were a spur to industry, and the poor people took great pride therein.