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Thomas Britton, the "Musical Smallcoal-Man" Paragon of Englishness     Arno Löffler (Erlangen)     Engraved by R. Page. Thomas Britton. The Musical Small Coal-man. Henry Wilson, Wonderful Characters: Comprising Memoirs and Anecdotes of the Most Remarkable Persons of Every Age and Nation, 3 vols., London 1826, vol. 1, opposite p. 39.

http://www.rushdenheritage.co.uk/commerce/thomasbritton.html

Thomas Britton – The ‘famous Musical Small-Coal-Man’

Thomas Britton is a somewhat strange figure to modern eyes. A charcoal seller in London, he became an intimate of the highest musical, literary and antiquarian society and nobility, and the creator of the public musical concert in England. The little we know of him is primarily down to the writings of Edward Ward, a neighbour and publican. Britton was born in Rushden on the 14th of January 1644. He moved to London as an apprentice small-coal-man, or charcoal seller in St. John’s Street Clerkenwell at about the time of the Restoration. At that time the majority of fuel for heating and cooking in large towns and cities was charcoal, known as small-coal as opposed to what we now call coal, then referred to as sea-coal. It was a grubby occupation, and small-coal was sold (like many products in the capital) by street traders who sang out the names and descriptions of their wares as the walked the streets. In the portrait by his friend John Wollaston he is shown wearing his blue smock and carrying his small-coal measure. Having completed his apprenticeship, his master gave him a small sum of money not to set up in opposition. After returning to Northamptonshire for a short while he reneged on the arrangement  and returned, set up his own business in a stable in Aylesbury Street, Clerkenwell which he converted into his storerooms and house. The period from the Restoration to the death of Queen Anne was one in which interest in science, art, music and history flourished, and when rank or title were not the social divisions they became later in the 18th and 19th centuries. Furthermore, Clerkenwell was an area where many notable writers, printers, scientists, historians lived, and one where Britton soon made his mark. He studied and gained a through an practical knowledge of chemistry under a neighbour, Theophilus Garencieres, a Doctor and member of the Royal College of Physicians who also produced the first English translation of Nostradamus. He had also acquired an extensive practical and theoretical knowledge of music, and by 1678 had converted the loft about his storehouse into a concert hall. It is thought that these musical gatherings were the idea of Sir Roger L’Estrange, who controlled the Press in Restoration England. Britton gathered a group of talented amateurs and professionals to perform every Thursday night in his loft, up a flight of outside stairs so rickety that they featured in doggerel poems of the time.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Britton

http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=45104

An  interesting resident in Aylesbury Street was Thomas Britton, the "musical smallcoal man," who, though a mere itinerant vendor of small coal, cultivated the highest branches of music, and drew round him for years all the great musicians of the day, including even the giant Handel. This singular and most meritorious person, born in Northamptonshire, brought up to the coal trade, and coming to London, took a small stable at the south-east corner of Jerusalem Passage, on the site now occupied by the "Bull's Head" public-house, and commenced his humble business. His coal he kept below, and he lived in a single room above, which was ascended by an external ladder. From Dr. Garenciers, his neighbour, this active-minded man obtained a thorough knowledge of practical chemistry, and in his spare time he acquired an extensive practical and theoretical knowledge of music. This simpleminded man founded a musical club, which met at his house for nearly forty years, and at first gave gratuitous concerts, afterwards paid for by an annual subscription of ten shillings, coffee being sold to his distinguished visitors at a penny a cup. The idea of the club is said to have been first suggested by Sir Roger l'Estrange. Dr. Pepusch, or the great Handel, played the harpsichord; Bannister, or Medler, the first violin. Hughes, a poet, and Woolaston, a painter, were also members, while Britton himself played excellently on the viol di gamba. The musical invitation to these concerts ran thus:—
"Upon Thursdays repair to my palace, and there
Hobble up stair by stair, but I pray you take care
That you break not your shins by a stumble;
And without e'er a souse, paid to me or my spouse,
Sit still as a mouse at the top of the house,
And there you shall hear how we fumble."

Britton's friend, Ned Ward, describes these pleasant Thursday evening concerts, which, he says, were as popular as the evenings of the Kit-Cat Club, and that Britton, in his blue frock, with a measure twisted into the mouth of his sack, was as much respected as if he had been a nobleman in disguise.
"Britton," says our Clerkenwell historian, "besides being a musician, was a bibliomaniac, and collector of rare old books and manuscripts, from which fact we may infer that he had cultivated some acquaintance with literature. It often happened that, on Saturdays, when some of these literati were accustomed to meet at the shop of one Christopher Bateman, a bookseller, at the corner of Ave Maria Lane, Paternoster Row, Britton, who had usually completed his morning round by twelve o'clock at noon, would, despite his smutty appearance and blue smock, after pitching his sack of small coal on the bulk of Bateman's shop, join the literary conclave, and take part in the conversation, which generally lasted an hour. Often as he walked the streets some one who knew him would point him out, and exclaim, 'There goes the small-coal man, who is a lover of learning, a performer of music, and a companion for gentlemen.' The circumstances of Britton's death are as remarkable as those of his life; he was literally frightened out of his life by a practical joke which was played on him by one Robe, a justice of the peace, and a frequenter of his concerts, who one day introduced as his friend a man who had the sobriquet of the 'Talking Smith,' but whose real name was Honeyman. This man possessed the power of ventriloquism, and when he saw Britton he, by a preconcerted arrangement, announced in a solemn voice, which seemed to come from a long distance, the death of Britton in a few hours, unless he immediately fell upon his knees and repeated the Lord's Prayer. Britton, in the terror of his soul, instinctively obeyed; but the chord of his life was unstrung by this sudden shock. A brief illness supervened, and in a few days he died. His death occurred in September, 1714, when he was upwards of sixty years of age. On the 1st of October his remains were followed to the grave by a great concourse of people, and interred in St. James's churchyard." Though Britton was honest and upright, ill-natured people, says Walpole, called him a Jesuit and an atheist, and said that the people attended his meetings to talk sedition and practise magic. At his death the worthy smallcoal man left 1,400 books, twenty-seven fine musical instruments, and some valuable music. From: 'Clerkenwell: (part 2 of 2)', Old and New London: Volume 2 (1878), pp. 328-338. URL: http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=45104 Date accessed: 04 February 2009