The Hurdy Gurdy in England and Old Sarah.

    As stated, following it’s indoctrination into the lower class in France, through fairly quick cultural transmission the hurdy-gurdy spread out through Europe and into Russia. Though the instrument did achieve some presence in England, it’s use was by no means as frequent in the country, though use of it’s name was applied to many other things. Most commonly, the name hurdy-gurdy was applied to the barrel organ in this nation, where this instrument was used among rural and street musicians. Similar tones created by this instrument and the hurdy-gurdy’s cross-cultural reputation as a street musicians instrument certainly influenced this use of the word. In some instances things not even related to music where known as hurdy-gurdy’s, including the a hand held sowing device.
   The image shown below is a common illustration of what was known as a hurdy-gurdy in this region, again actually a barrel organ, which is played by a boy or older man accompanied by a small monkey with a tin cup (for donations). In more recent times, the artist Donovan used the term “hurdy-gurdy man” on his album of that title in the late 60‘s, another interpretation of the term used to describe a street musician who sings songs for his livelihood. Though not in reference to the actual instrument, the folk revival that Donovan helped begin would come to incorporate this instrument in part because of his use of the word, especially in the United States were the other uses of this word were not part of the cultural world view.
    

   A picture of a "hurdy gurdy man", in this case a small boy, complete with little monkey and tin cup for donations.
                                      

    The cover of Donovan's "The Hurdy Gurdy Man", which unintentionally contributed to the increase in use of the instrument.




     Below is the story of a street musician known as Old Sarah, a blind women who played a hurdy-gurdy on the streets of England for nearly forty years in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Blind people often took up busking as a profession as there was at the time little support for the condition, nor were there any social organizations or schools for the blind until later. We will learn more of the history of these blind musicians in a later post. The story of Old Sarah’s life, as recorded by her telling it, is provided below and offers a unique insight into the lives of these performers. Also, notice her use of the word “cymbal” instead of “hurdy-gurdy”, outside of this document I have been unable to find any other reference to the instrument by this name.

"I was born the 4th April, 1786 (it was Good Friday that year), at a small chandler's shop, facing the White Horse, Stuart's-rents, Drury-lane. Father was a hatter, and mother an artificial-flower maker and feather finisher. When I was but a day old, the nurse took me out of the warm bed and carried me to the window, to show some people how like I was to father. The cold flew to my eyes and I caught inflammation in them. Owing to mother being forced to be from home all day at her work, I was put out to dry-nurse when I was
three weeks old. My eyes were then very bad, by all accounts, and some neighbours told the woman I was with, that Turner's cerate would do them good. She got some and put it on my eyes, and when poor mother came to suckle me at her dinner-hour, my eyes was all 'a gore of blood.' From that time I never see afterwards. She did it, poor woman, for the best; it was no fault of her'n, and I'm sure I bears her no malice for it. I stayed at home with mother until I was thirteen, when I was put to the Blind-school, but I only kept there nine months; they turned me out because I was not clever with my hands, and I could not learn to spin or make sash-lines; my hands was ocker'd like. I had not been used at home to do anything for myself - not even to dress myself. Mother was always out at her work, so she could not learn me, and no one else would, so that's how it was I was turned out. I then went hack to my mother, and kept with her till her death. I well remember that; I heard her last. When she died I was just sixteen year old. I was sent to the Union - 'Pancridge' Union it was - and father with me (for he was ill at the time). He died too, and left me, in seven weeks after mother. When they was both gone, I felt I had lost my only friends, and that I was all alone in the world and blind. But, take it altogether, the world has been very good to me, and I have much to thank God for and the good woman I am with. I missed mother the most, she was so kind to me; there was no one like her; no, not even father. I was kept in the Union until I was twenty; the parish paid for my learning the 'cymbal:' God bless them for it, I say. A poor woman in the workhouse first asked me to learn music; she said it would always be a bit of bread for me; I did as she told me, and I thank her to this day for it. It took me just five months to learn the - cymbal, if you please - the hurdy-gurdy ain't it's right name. The first tune I ever played was 'God save the King,' the Queen as is now; then 'Harlequin Hamlet,' that took me a long time to get off; it was three weeks before they put me on a new one.
I then learnt 'Moll Brook;' then I did the 'Turnpike-gate' and 'Patrick's day in the morning:' all of them I learnt in the Union. I got a poor man to teach me the 'New-rigged ship' I soon learnt it, because it was an easy tune. Two-and-forty years ago I played 'The Gal I left behind me.' A woman learnt it me; she played my cymbal and I listened, and so got it. 'Oh, Susannah!' I learnt myself by hearing it on the horgan. I always try and listen to a new tune when I am in the street, and get it off if I can: it's my bread. I waited to hear one to-day, quite a new one, but I didn't like it, so I went on. 'Hasten to the Wedding' is my favourite; I played it years
ago, and play it still. I like 'Where have you been all the night?' it's a Scotch tune. The woman as persuaded me to learn the cymbal took me out of the Union with her; I lived with her, and she led me about the streets. When she died I took her daughter for my guide. She walked with me for more than five-and-twenty year, and she might have been with me to this day, but she took to drinking and killed herself with it. She behaved very bad to me at last, for as soon as we got a few halfpence she used to go into the public and
spend it all; and many a time I'm sure she's been too tipsy to take me home. One night I remember she rolled into the road at Ken-sington, and as near pulled me with her. We was both locked up in the station-house, for she couldn't stand for liquor, and I was obligated to wait till she could lead me home. It was very cruel of her to treat me so, but, poor creature, she's gone, and I forgive her I'm sure. I'd many-guides arter her, but none of them was honest like Liza is: I don't think she'd rob me of a farden. Would you, Liza?
Yes, I've my reg'lar rounds, and I've I've kept to 'em for near upon fifty year. All the children like to hear me coming along, for I always plays my cymbal as I goes. At Kentish-town they calls me Mrs. Tuesday, and at Kensington I'm Mrs. Friday, and so on. At some places they likes polkas, but at one house I plays at in Kensington they always ask me for 'Haste to the Wedding.' No, the cymbal isn't very hard to play; the only thing is, you must be very particular that the works is covered up, or the halfpence is apt to drop in. King David, they say, played on one of those here instruments. We're very tired by night-time; ain't we, Liza? but when I gets home the good woman I lodges with has always a bit of something for me to eat with my cup of tea. She's a good soul, and keeps me tidy and clean. I helps her all I can; when I come in, I carries her a pail of water up-stairs, and such-like, Many ladies as has known me since they was children allows me a trifle. One maiden lady near Brunswick-square has given me sixpence a week for many a year, and another allows
me eighteenpence a fortnight; so that, one way and another, I am very comfortable, and I've much to be thankful for." (http://www.altongate.co.uk/oldsarah/)

                                                     An illustration of Old Sarah.