Dublin Corporation, riding the Fringes (Franchises)

Chapter XXI.

Procession of the Trades

**Dublin Corporation anecdote - Splendid triennial procession of the Dublin Corporation, called Fringes (franchises), described.

Nothing** can better shew the high opinion entertained by the Irish of their own importance, 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 one day about the parochial watch, a subject which he 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!”**

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 great difficulty existing at that time with regard to travelling 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 of its own, 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 forn the boundary between him and Neptune.

The trade of Dublin is comprised of 25 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 he 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 arid 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.

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 and coloured streamers. In the phaeton sat the most beautiful girl they could possibly procure, in the character of 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 attired like pages, 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-a-pie *in coal-black armour, and flourishing an immense smith’s sledge-hammer! 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.

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 long towering horns, and rode along brandishing knives and cleavers! a most formidable looking corporation. The apothecaries made up and distributed pills and boluses on their platform, which was furnished with numerous pestles and mortars so contrived as to sound, in the grinding, like bells, and pounding out 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, *that on these peculiar occasions they managed to behave with great decorum and propriety.

1 never could guess the reason why, but the crowd seemed ever in the most anxious expectation to see *the tailors, *who were certainly the favourites. The master tailors usually borrowed the best horses from their customers; and as they were not accustomed to horseback, the scene was highly ludicrous. A tailor on a spirited horse has always been esteemed a curiosity, but a troop of 150 tailors, all decked with ribbons and lace and every species of finery, on horses equally smart, presented a spectacle outvying description!

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 special 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.

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