A merry morning, Eugenio. Did not soft slumbers and pleasant dreams follow the heart-stirring lucubrations of Uncle Timothy? I am mistaken if you rose not lighter and happier, and in more perfect peace with yourself and the world.”
“My dreams were of ancient minstrelsy, Christmas gambols, May-day games, and merriments. Methought Uncle Timothy was a portly Apollo, Mr. Bosky a rosy Pan—”
“And you and I, Eugenio?”
“Foremost in the throng—”
“Of capering satyrs! Well, though our own dancing * days are over, we still retain a relish for that elegant accomplishment.
* There were rare dancing doings at The original dancing
room at the field-end of King-Street, Bloomsbury,.
in the year 1742
Hickford's great room, Panton-Street, Haymarket, 1743
Mitre Tavern, Charing-Cross,... 1743
Barber's Hall,.... 1745
Richmond Assembly,.... 1745
Lambeth Wells,.....1747
Duke's long room, Paternoster-Row,.. 1748
Large Assembly Room at the Two Green Lamps, near Exeter
Change, (at the particular desire of Jubilee Diekey!).... in
the year 1749 The large room next door to the Hand and
Slippers, Long-Lane, West Smithfield,... 1750 Lambeth Wells,
where a Penny Wedding, in the Scotch manner, was celebrated
for the benefit of a young couple,......1752 Old Queen's
Head, in Cock-Lane, Lambeth,. 1755 and at Mr. Bell's, at the
sign of the Ship, in the Strand, where, in 1755, a Scotch
Wedding was kept. The bride “to be dressed without any
linen; all in ribbons, and green flowers, with Scotch masks.
There will be three bag-pipes; a band of Scotch music, &c.
&c. To begin precisely at two o'clock. Admission, two
shillings and sixpence.”
As antiquaries, we have a reverence for dancing. Noah danced before the ark. The boar's head and the wine and wassail were crowned with a dance to the tune of 'The Black Almayne,' 'My Lorde Marques Galyarde,' and 'The firste Traces of due Passa.'
'Merrily danc'd the Quaker's wife,
And merrily danc'd the Quaker!'
Why not? Orpheus charmed the four-footed family with his fiddle: shall it have less effect on the two?
“The innocent and the happy, while the dews of youth are upon them, dance to the music of their own hearts. 'See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing!' The Irishman has his lilt; the Scotchman his reel, which he not unfrequently dances to his own particular fiddle! and the Englishman his country-dance.
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With dogs and bears, horses and geese, * game-cocks and monkeys exhibiting their caprioles, shall man be motionless and mute?
* There is an odd print of “Vestris teaching a goose to
dance.” The terms, for so fashionable a professor as he was
in his day, are extremely moderate; “Six guineas entrance,
and one guinea a lesson.” The following song is inscribed
underneath.
“Of all the fine accomplishments sure dancing far the best
is,
But if a doubt with you remains, behold the Goose and
Vestris;.
And a dancing we will go, will go, &c.
Let men of learning plead and preach; their toil 'tis all in
vain,
Sure, labour of the heels and hands is better than the
brain:
And a dancing, &c.
Then talk no more, ye men of arts, 'bout keeping light and
shade,
Good understanding in the heels is better than the head:
And a dancing, &c.
Great Whigs, and eke great Tories too, both in and out will
dance,
Join hands, change sides, and figure in, now sink, and now
advance.
And a dancing, &c.
Let Oxford boast of ancient lore, and Cam of classic rules,
Noverre might lay you ten to one his heels against your
schools!
And a dancing, &c.
Old Homer sung of gods and kings in most heroic strains,
Yet scarce could get, we have been told, a dinner for his
pains.
And a dancing, &c.
Poor Milton wrote the most sublime, 'gainst Satan, Death, and
Vice,
But very few would quit a dance to purchase Paradise.
And a dancing, &c.
The soldier risks health, life, and limbs, his fortune to
advance,
While Pique and Vestris fortunes make by one night's single
dance.
And a dancing, &c.
'Tis all in vain to sigh and grieve, or idly spend our
breath,
Some millions now, and those unborn, must join the dance of
death.
And a dancing, &c.
Yet while we live let's merry be, and make of care a jest,
Since we are taught what is, is right; and what is right is
best!
And a dancing, &c.
Sweetly singeth the tea-kettle; merrily danceth the parched pea on the fire-shovel! Even grim Death has his dance.”
“And music, Eugenio, in which I know you are an enthusiast. The Italians have a proverb,
'Whom God loves not, that man loves not music.' The soul is said to be music.
'But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.'
“Haydn used to say that without melody the most learned and singular combinations are but unmeaning, empty sound. What but the simplicity and tenderness of the Scotch and Irish airs constitutes their charm? This great composer was so extravagantly fond of Scotch, Irish, and Welsh melodies, that he harmonised many of them, and had them hung up in frames in his room. We remember to have heard somewhere of an officer in a Highland regiment, who was sent with a handful of brave soldiers to a penal settlement in charge of a number of convicts; the Highlanders grew sick at heart; the touching strains of 'Lochaber nae mair.' heard far from home, made them so melancholy, that the officer in command forbade its being played by the band.
So, likewise, with the national melody, the 'Rans-des-Vaches' among the Swiss mountaineers. When sold by their despotic chiefs, and torn from their dearest connexions, suicide and desertion were so frequent when this melody was played, that orders were issued in all their regiments, prohibiting any one from playing an air of that kind on pain of death. La maladie du pays,—that sickening after home! But Handel's music has received more lasting and general applause than that of any other composer. By Boyce and Battishall his memory was adored; Mozart was enthusiastic in his praise; Haydn could not listen (who can?) to his glorious Messiah * without weeping; and Beethoven has been heard to declare, that were he ever to come to England he should uncover his head, and kneel down at his tomb!
* Bishop Ken says,
“Sweet music with blest poesy began,
Congenial both to angels and to Man,
Song was the native language to rehearse
The elevations of the soul in verse:
And through succeeding ages, all along,
Saints praised the Godhead in devoted song.”
And he adds in plain prose, that the Garden of Eden was no
stranger to “singing and the voice of melody.” Jubal was the
“father of those who handled the harp and organ.” Long-
before the institution of the Jewish church, God received
praise both by the human voice and the “loud timbrel and
when that church was in her highest prosperity, King David
seems to have been the composer of her psalmody—both poetry
and music. He occupied the orchestra of the temple, and
accounted it a holy privilege “to play before the Lord” upon
“the harp with a solemn sound.” Luther said, “I verily think
that, next to divinity, no art is comparable to music.”
And what a glorious specimen of this divine art is his
transcendant “Hymn!” breathing the most awful grandeur, the
deepest pathos, the most majestic adoration! The Puritans—
devils and Puritans hate music—are piously economical in
their devotions, and eschew the principle “not to give unto
the Lord that which costs us nothing!” Their gift is
snuffled through the “vocal nose”—“O most sweet voices!”
“Blessings on the memory of the bard, * and 'Palms eternal flourish round his urn,' who first struck his lyre to celebrate the wooden walls of unconquered and unconquerable Merrie England! If earth hide him,
'May angels with their silver wings o'ershade
The ground, now sacred by his reliques made
if ocean cover him, calm be the green wave on its surface! May his spirit find rest where souls are blessed, and his body be shrined in the holiest cave of the deep and silent sea!”
“'Hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings.'”
“I was not unmindful of the merry chorister! But the lark has made a pause; and I have your promise of a song. Now is the time to fill up the one, and to fulfil the other.”
EUGENIO'S SONG.=
“Sweet is the breath of early morn
That o'er yon heath refreshing blows:
And sweet the blossom on the thorn,
The violet blue, the blushing rose.
When mounts the lark on rapid wing,
How sweet to sit and hear him sing!
No carols like the feathered choir,
Such happy, grateful thoughts inspire.
Here let the spirit, sore distress'd,
Its vanities and wishes close:
The weary world is not the rest
Where wounded hearts should seek repose.
But, hark! the lark his merry strain,
To heav'n high soaring, sings again.
Be hush'd, sweet songster! ev'ry voice
That warbles not like thee—Rejoice!”
“Short and sad! Eugenio. We must away from these bewitching solitudes, or thy note will belong more to the nightingale than to the lark! Let imagination carry thee back to the reign of Queen Anne, when the Spectator and Sir Roger de Coverley embarked at the Temple-Stairs on their voyage to Vauxhall. We pass over the good knight's religious horror at beholding what a few steeples rose on the west of Temple-Bar; and the waterman's wit, (a common thing in those days, * ) that made him almost wish himself a Middlesex magistrate!
* What a sledge-hammer reply was Doctor Johnson's to an
aquatic wag upon a similar occasion. “Fellow! your mother,
under the pretence (!!!) of keeping a —————— is a
receiver of stolen goods!”
'We were now arrived at Spring Garden says the Spectator, 'which is exquisitely pleasant at this time of the year. When I considered the fragrancy of the walks and bowers, with the choir of birds that sang upon the trees, and the loose tribe of people that walked under their shades, I could not but look upon the place as a kind of Mahometan paradise. Sir Roger told me it put him in mind of a little coppice by his house in the country, which his chaplain used to call an aviary of nightingales.' “And mark in what primitive fashion they concluded their walk, with a glass of Burton ale and a slice of hung-beef!
“Bonnel Thornton furnishes a ludicrous account of a stingy old citizen, loosening his purse-strings to treat his wife and family to Vauxhall; and 'Colin's * 'Description to his wife of Greenwood Hall, or the pleasures of Spring Gardens,' gives a lively picture of what this modern Arcadia was a century ago.
1 May 20, 1712.
* 'Mary! soft in feature,
I've been at dear Vauxhall;
No paradise is sweeter,
Not that they Eden call.
At night such new vagaries,
Such gay and harmless sport;
All look'd like giant fairies,
At this their monarch's court.
Methought when first I enter'd,
Such splendours round me shone,
Into a world I ventured
Where rose another sun:
Whilst music, never cloying,
As skylarks sweet I hear;
The sounds I'm still enjoying,
They 'll always soothe my ear.
Here paintings, sweetly glowing,
Where'er our glances fall,
Here colours, life bestowing,
Bedeck this green-wood hall!
The king there dubs a farmer,
There John his doxy loves;*
But my delight's the charmer
Who steals a pair of gloves!
As still amazed, I'm straying
O'er this enchanted grove;
I spy a harper playing
All in his proud alcove.
I doff my hat, desiring
He'd tune up Buxom Joan;
But what was I admiring?
Odzooks! a man of stone.
But now the tables spreading,
They all fall to with glee;
Not e'en at Squire's fine wedding
Such dainties did I see!
I long'd (poor starveling rover!)
But none heed country elves;
These folk, with lace daub'd over,
Love only dear themselves.
Thus whilst, 'mid joys abounding,
As grasshoppers they're gay;
At distance crowds surrounding
The Lady of the May.
The man i' th' moon tweer'd slily,
Soft twinkling through the trees,
As though 'twould please him highly
To taste delights like these.” **
But its days are numbered. The axe shall be laid to the roots of its beautiful trees; its green avenues turned into blind alleys;
* Alluding to the three pictures in the Pavilions,—viz. the
King and the Miller of Mansfield,—Sailors in a tippling
house in Wapping,—and the girl stealing a kiss from a
sleepy gentleman.
** The statue of Handel.
its variegated lamps give place to some solitary gas-burner, to light the groping inhabitants to their dingy homes; and the melodious strains of its once celebrated vocalists be drowned in the dismal ditty of some ballad-singing weaver, and the screeching responses of his itinerant family. What would the gallant Mr. Lowe and his sprightly Euphrosyne, Nan Catley, say, could they be told to what “base uses” their harmonious groves are condemned to be turned?
* Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales sitting under her
splendid Pavilion.
Truly their wonder would be on a par with Paganini's, should ever that musical magician encounter on the other side Styx “My Lord Skaggs and his Broomstick!” *
* This celebrated professor played on his musical broomstick
at the Haymarket Theatre, November 1751.
“Each buck and jolly fellow has heard of Skegginello
The famous Skegginello, that grunts so pretty
Upon his broomstieado, such music he has made, O,
'Twill spoil the fiddling trade, O,
And that's a pity!
But have you heard or seen, O, his phiz so pretty,
In picture shops so grin, O,
With comic nose and chin, O,
Who'd think a man could shine so At Eh, Eh, Eh, Eh?”
There is a curious Tobacco Paper of Skaggs playing on his
broomstick in full concert with a jovial party! One of the
principal performers is a good-humoured looking gentleman
beating harmony out of the salt-box.
** Certain utilitarians affect to ridicule this ancient
civic festival, on the score of its parade, right-royally
ridiculous! and gross gluttony—as if the corporation of
London were the only gourmands who had offered sacrifices to
Apicius, and died martyrs to good living! We have been at
some pains to peep into the dining-parlours of the ancients,
and from innumerable examples of gastronomy have selected
the following, which prove that the epicures of the olden
time yielded not in taste and voracity to their brethren of
the new:—
The emperor Septimus Severus died of eating and drinking too
much. Valentinianus went off in a surfeit. Lucullus being
asked one day by his attendant, what company he had invited
to his feast, seeing so many dainties prepared, answered,
“Lucullus shall dine with Lucullus?” Vitellius Spinter was
so much given to gluttony, that at one supper he was served
with two thousand several kinds of fishes, and with seven
thousand flying fowl. Maximilian devoured, in one day, forty
pounds of solid meat, which he washed down with a hogshead
of wine. The emperor Geta continued his festival for three
days, and his dainties were introduced in alphabetical
order. Philoxenes wished he had a neck like a crane, that
the delicious morsels might be long in going down. Lucullus,
at a costly feast he gave to certain ambassadors of Asia,
among other trifles, took to his own cheek a griph (query
Griffin'!) boiled, and a fat goose in paste. Hercules and
Lepreas had a friendly contest, which could, in quickest
time, eat up a whole ox; Hercules won, and then challenged
his adversary to a drinking bout, and again beat him hollow.
If the Stoic held that the goal of life is death, and that
we live but to learn to die—if the Pythagorean believed in
the transmigration of souls, and scrupled to shoot a
woodcock lest he should dispossess the spirit of his
grandam—how much more rational was the doctrine of the
Epicurean, (after such a goodly catalogue of gormandizers!)
that there was no judgement to come.
Who has not heard of Guildhall on Lord Mayor's Day, ** and the Easter Ball at the Mansion-House? But we profane not the penetralia where even Common-Councilmen fear to tread! The City Marshals, and men in armour (HÉros malgrÉ eux!); the pensive-looking state-coachmen, in all the plumpness, pomp, and verdure of prime feeding, wig, and bouquet; the postilion, “a noticeable man,” with velvet cap and jockey boots; the high-bred and high-fed aristocracy of the Poultry and Cheapside, and their Banquet, which might tempt Diogenes to blow himself up to such a pitch of obesity, that, instead of living in a tub, a tub might be said to live in him, are subjects too lofty for plebeian handling. CÆsar was told to beware of the Ides of March; and are not November fogs equally ominous to the London citizen? If, then, by some culinary magic, he can be induced to cram his throat rather than to cut it,—to feast himself instead of the worms,—to prefer a minuet in the Council Chamber to the Dance Macabre in the shades below,—the gorgeous anniversaries of Gog and Magog have not been celebrated in vain. *
* “Search all chronicles, histories, and records, in what
language or letter soever,—let the inquisitive man waste
the deere treasures of his time and eye-sight,—he shall
conclude his life only in this certainty, that there is no
subject upon earth received into the place of his government
with the like state and magnificence as is the Lord Maior of
the Citty of London.” This was said by the author of the
“Triumphs of Truth” in 1613. The following list of City
Poets will show that the office was not an unimportant one
in the olden time: George Peele; Anthony Munday; Thomas
Dekker; Thomas Middleton; John Squire; John Webster; Thomas
Heywood; John Taylor (the Water-Poet, one of Ben Jonson's
adopted poetical sons, and a rare slang fellow); Edward G ay
ton, and T. B. (of the latter nothing is known), both
Commonwealth bards; John Tatham; Thomas Jordan; Matthew
Taubman, and Elkanah Settle, the last of the poetical
parsons who wedded Lord Mayors and Aldermen to immortal
verse. One of the most splendid of these anniversary
pageants was “London's Triumph; or, the Solemn and
Magnificent reception of that Honourable Gentleman, Robert
Titeliburn, Lord Maior, after his return from taking his
oath at Westminster, the morrow after Simon and Jude day,
being October 29, 1656. With the Speeches spoken at Foster-
lane-end and Soper-lane-end.”—“In the first place,” (says
the City Poet T. B.) “the loving members of the honourable
societie exercising arms in Cripplegate Ground being drawn
up together, march'd in a military order to the house of my
Lord Maior, where they attended on him, and from thence
march'd before him to the Three Crane Wharfe, where part of
them under the red colours embarqued themselves in three
severall barges; and another part took water at Stone
Staires, being under green colours, as enemies to the other;
and thence wafting to the other side of the water, there
began an encounter between each party, which continued all
the way to Westminster; a third body, consisting of pikes
and musquets, march'd to Bainard's Castle, and there from
the battlements of the castle gave thundering echoes to the
vollies of those that pass'd along the streame. Part before
and part behind went the severall barges, with drums
beating, and trumpets sounding, and varietie of other musiek
to take the eare, while the flags and silver pendents made a
pleasant sight delectable to the beholders.
“After these came severall gentlemen-ushers adorn'd with
gold eliaines; behind them certaine rich batelielours,
wearing gownes furr'd with foynes, and upon them sattin
hoods; and lastly after them, followed the Worshipfull
Company of Skinners itself, whereof the Lord Maior is a
member. Next these, the city officers passing on before,
rode the Lord Maior with the Sword, Mace, and Cap of
Maintenance before him, being attended by the Recorder, and
all the aldermen in scarlet gowns on horseback. (Aldermen on
horseback!!) Thus attended, he rode from Bainard's Castle
into
Cheapside, the Companies standing on both sides of the way
as far as the upper end of the Old Jury, ready to receive
him. When he was come right against the old Change, a
pageant seem'd to meet him. On the pageant stood two
leopards bestrid by two Moors, attir'd in the habit of their
country; at the foure corners sate foure virgins arraid in
cloth of silver, with their haire dishriveld, and coronets
on their heads. This seem'd to be the embleme of a city
pensive and forlorn, for want of a zealous governor: the
Moors and leopards, like evill customs tyrannizing over the
weak virginitie of undefended virtue; which made an aged
man, who sate at the fore part of the pageant, mantled in a
black garment, with a dejected countenance, seem to bewaile
the condition of his native city; but thus he remaind not
long: for at the approach of the Lord Maior, as if now he
had espy'd the safety of his country, he threw off his
mourning weeds, and with the following speech made known the
joy he had for the election of so happy and just a
magistrate.
“The speech being spoken, the first pageant past on before
the Lord Maior as far as Mercers' Chappel; a gyant being
twelve foot in height going before the pageant for the
delight of the people. Over against Soper-lane End stood
another pageant also; upon this were plac'd severall sorts
of beasts, as lyons, tygers, bears, leopards, foxes, apes,
monkeys, in a great wildernesse; at the forepart whereof
sate Pan with a pipe in his hand; in the middle was a
canopie, at the portal whereof sate Orpheus in an antique
attire, playing on his harp, while all the beasts seem'd to
dance at the sound of his melody. Under the canopie sate
four satyrs playing on pipes. The embleme of this pageant
seem'd proper to the Company out of which the Lord Maior was
elected; putting the spectators in mind how much they ought
to esteem such a calling, as clad the Judges in their
garments of honour, and Princes in their robes of majestic,
and makes the wealthy ladies covet winter, to appear clad in
their sable funs. A second signification of this emblem may
be this,—that as Orpheus tam'd the wild beasts by the
alluring sound of his melody, so doth a just and upright
governor tame and govern the wild affections of men, by good
and wholesome lawes, causing a general joy and peace in the
place where he commands. Which made Orpheus, being well
experienced in this truth, to address himself to the Lord
Maior in these following lines.
“The speech being ended, the Lord Maior rode forward to his
house in Silver Street, the military bands still going
before him. When he was in this house, they saluted him with
two volleys of shot, and so marching again to their ground
in Cripple-gate Churchyard, they lodg'd their colours; and
as they began, so concluded this dayes triumph.”
When the barges wherein the soldiers were, came right
against Whitehall, they saluted the Lord Protector and his
Council with several rounds of musketry, which the Lord
Protector answered with “signal testimonies of grace and
cour-tesie.” And returning to Whitehall, after the Lord
Mayor had taken the oath of office before the Barons of the
Exchequer, they saluted the Lord Protector with “another
volley” The City of London had been actively instrumental in
the deposition and death of King Charles the First, and
Cromwell could not do less than acknowledge, with some show
of respect, the blank cartridges of his old friends. The
furr'd gowns and gold chains, however, made the amende
honorable, when they “jumped Jim Crow,” and helped to
restore King Charles the Second.
But Easter-Monday was not made only for the city's dancing dignitaries. It draws up the curtain of our popular merriments; and Whit-Mon-day, * not a whit less merry, trumpets forth their joyous continuation.
* June 9, 1786. On Whit-Tuesday was celebrated at Hendon in
Middlesex, a burlesque imitation of the Olympic Games.
One prize was a gold-laced hat, to be grinned for by six
candidates, who were placed on a platform, with horses'
collars to exhibit through. Over their heads was printed in
capitals,
Detur Tetriori; or
The ugliest grinner
Shall be the winner.
Each party grinned five minutes solus, and then all united
in a grand chorus of distortion. This prize was carried by a
porter to a vinegar merchant, though he was accused by his
competitors of foul play, for rinsing his mouth with
verjuice. The whole was concluded by a hog, with his tail
shaved and soaped, being let loose among nine peasants; any
one of which that could seize him by the queue, and throw
him across his shoulders, was to have him for a reward. This
occasioned much sport: the animal, after running some miles,
so tired his hunters that they gave up the chase in despair.
A prodigious concourse of people attended, among whom were
the Tripoline Ambassador, and several other persons of
distinction.
We hail the return of these festive seasons when the busy inhabitants of Lud's town and its suburbs, in spite of hard times, tithes, and taxes, repair to the royal park of Queen Bess to divert their melancholy! We delight to contemplate the mirthful mourners in their endless variety of character and costume; to behold the forlorn holiday-makers hurrying to the jocund scene, to participate in those pleasures which the genius of wakes, kindly bounteous, prepares for her votaries. *
* On the Easter-Monday of 1840, the Regent's Park, Primrose
Hill, and the adjoining fields, presented one merry mass of
animated beings. At Chalk Farm there was a regular fair,—
with swings, roundabouts, ups-and-downs, gingerbread-stalls,
theatres, donkey-races, penny chaises, and puppet-shows,
representing the Islington murder, the Queen's marriage, the
arrival of Prince Albert, and the departure of the Chartist
rioters! Hampstead Heath, and the surrounding villages,
turned out their studs of Jerusalem ponies. Copenhagen
House, Hornsey Wood House and the White Conduit, echoed with
jollity; the holiday-makers amusing themselves with cricket,
fives, and archery. How sweetly has honest, merry Harry
Carey described the origin of “Sally in our Alley” which
touelied the heart of Addison with tender emotion, and
called forth his warmest praise. “A shoemaker's 'prentice,
making holiday with his sweetheart, treated her with a sight
of Bedlam, the puppet-shows, the flying-chairs, and all the
elegancies of Moorfields, from whence proceeding to the
Farthing Pye-house, he gave her a collation of buns,
cheese-cakes, gammon of bacon, stuffed beef, and bottled
ale; through all which scenes the author dodged them.
Charmed with the simplicity of their courtship, he drew from
what he had witnessed this little sketch of Nature.”
The gods assembled on Olympus presented not a more glorious sight than the laughing divinities of One-Tree-Hill!
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What an animated scene! Hark to the loud laugh of some youngsters that have had their roll and tumble. Yonder is a wedding party from the neighbouring village. See the jolly tar with his true blue jacket and trousers, checked shirt, radiant with a gilt brooch as big as a crown piece, yellow straw-hat, striped stockings, and pumps; and his pretty bride, with her rosy cheeks and white favours. How light are their heels and hearts! And the blythesome couples that follow in their train—noviciates in the temple of Hymen, but who ere long will be called upon to act as principals! All is congratulation, good wishes, and good humour. Scandal is dumb; envy dies for the day; disappointment gathers hope; and one wedding, like a fool, or an Irish wake, shall make many.
“O yes! O yes! O yes!
When the peripatetic pieman rings his bell
At morning, noon, or when you sit at eve;
Ladies and gentlemen, I guess
It needs no ghost to tell,
In song, recitative,
He warbles cakes and gingerbread to sell!
Tarts of gooseberry, raspberry, cranberry;
Rare bonne-bouches brought from Banbury;
Puffs and pie-ses
Of all sorts and sizes;
Ginger beer,
That won't make you queer,
Like the treble X ale of Taylor and Hanbury!”
“Here, good Christians, are five Reasons why you shouldn't go to a fair, published by the London Lachrymose Society for the suppression of fun.”
“And here, good Christians, are five-and-fifty why you should! published by my Lord Chancellor Cocke Lorel, President of the High Court of Mummery, and Conscience-keeper to his merry Majesty of Queerumania, for the promotion of jollity.”
One of the better order of mendicants, on whose smooth, pale brow, hung the blossoms of the grave, arrested our attention with the following madrigal which pleased us, inasmuch as it seemed to smack of the olden time.
“I love but only one
And thou art only she
That loves but only one—
Let me that only be!
Requite me with the like,
And say thou unto me
Thou lov'st but only one,
And I am only he!”
“Cold comfort this, broiling and frying under a burning hot sun!” soliloquized a blind ballad-singer. And, having two strings to his bow, and one to his fiddle, he put a favourite old tune to the rack, and enforced us to own the soft impeachment of
THE BALLAD SINGER'S APOLOGY FOR GREENWICH FAIR.=
Up hill and down hill, 'tis always the same;
Mankind ever grumbling, and fortune to blame!
To fortune, 'tis uphill, ambition and strife;
And fortune obtain'd—then the downhill of life!
We toil up the hill till we reach to the top;
But are not permitted one moment to stop!
O how much more quick we descend than we climb!
There's no locking fast the swift wheels of Old Time.
Gay Greenwich! thy happy young holiday train
Here roll down the hill, and then mount it again.
The ups and downs life has bring sorrow and care;
But frolic and mirth attend those at the fair.
My Lord May'r of London, of high city lineage,
His show makes us glad with, and why shouldn't
Greenwich?
His gingerbread coach a crack figure it cuts!
And why shouldn't we crack our gingerbread nuts?
Of fashion and fame, ye grandiloquent powers,
Pray take your full swing—only let us take ours!
If you have grown graver and wiser, messieurs,
The grinning be ours, and the gravity yours!
To keep one bright spark of good humour alive,
Old holiday pastimes and sports we revive.
Be merry, my masters, for now is your time—
Come, who'll buy my ballads? they're reason and
rhyme.”
Peckham and Blackheath fairs were celebrated places of resort in former times, and had their modicum of strange monsters.
“Geo. I. R.
“To the lovers of living curiosities. To be seen during the time of Peckham Fair, a Grand Collection of Living Wild Beasts and Birds, lately arrived from the remotest parts of the World.
“1. The Pellican that suckles her young with her heart's, blood, from Egypt.
“2. The Noble Vultur Cock, brought from Archangell, having the finest talions of any bird that seeks his prey; the fore part of his head is covered with hair, the second part resembles the wool of a Black; below that is a white ring, having a Ruff, that he cloaks his head with at night.
“3. An Eagle of the Sun, that takes the loftiest flight of any bird that flies. There is no bird but this that can fly to the face of the Sun with a naked eye.
“4. A curious Beast, bred from a Lioness, like a foreign Wild Cat.
“5. The He-Panther, from Turkey, allowed by the curious to be one of the greatest rarities ever seen in England, on which are thousands of spots, and not two of a likeness.
“6 & 7. The two fierce and surprising Hyaenas, Male and female, from the River Gambia. These Creatures imitate the human voice, and so decoy the Negroes out of their huts and plantations to devour them. They have a mane like a horse, and two joints in their hinder leg more than any other creature. It is remarkable that all other beasts are to be tamed, but Hyaenas they are not.
“8. An Ethiopian Toho Savage, having all the actions of the human species, which (when at its full growth) will be upwards of five feet high.
“Also several other surprising Creatures of different sorts. To be seen from 9 in the morning till 9 at night, till they are sold. Also, all manner of curiosities of different sorts, are bought and sold at the above place by John Bennett.”
The grand focus of attraction was in the immediate vicinity of the “Kentish Drovers.” This-once merry hostelrie was a favourite suburban retreat of Dicky Suett. Cherub Dicky! who when (to use his own peculiar phrase) his “copper required cooling,” mounted the steady, old-fashioned, three mile an hour Peckham stage, and journeyed hither to allay his thirst, and qualify his alcohol with a refreshing draught of Derbyshire ale. The landlord (who was quite a character) and he were old cronies; and, in the snug little parlour behind the bar, of which Dicky had the entrÉe, their hob-and-nobbings struck out sparks of humour that, had they exhaled before the lamps, would have set the theatre in a roar. Suett was a great frequenter of fairs. He stood treat to the conjurors, feasted the tragedy kings and queens, and many a mountebank did he make muzzy. Once in a frolic he changed clothes with a Jack Pudding, and played Barker and Mr. Merriman to a precocious giantess; when he threw her lord and master into such an ecstacy of mirth, that the fellow vowed hysterically that it was either the devil, or (for his fame had travelled before him) Dicky Suett. He was a piscator, *
* All sports that inflict pain on any living thing, without
attaining some useful end, are wanton and cowardly. Wild
boars, wolves, foxes, &c. may be hunted to extermination,
for they are public robbers; but to hunt the noble deer, for
the cruel pleasure of hunting him, is base.
With all our love of honest Izaak Walton, we feel a
shuddering when the “sentimental old savage” gives his
minute instructions to the tyro in angling how most
skilfully to transfix the writhing worm, (as though you
“loved him!”) and torture a poor fish. Piscator is a
cowardly rogue to sit upon a fair bank, the sun shining
above, and the pure stream rippling beneath, with his
instruments of death, playing pang against pang, and life
against life, for his contemplative recreation. What would
he say to a hook through his own gullet? Would it mitigate
his dying agonies to hear his dirge (even the milkmaid's
song!) chanted in harmonious concert with a brother of the
angle, who had played the like sinister trick on his
companion in the waters?
and would make a huge parade of his rod, line, and green-painted tin-can, sallying forth on a fine morning with malice prepense against the gudgeons and perch: but Dicky was a merciful angler: he was the gudgeon, for the too cunning fishes, spying his comical figure, stole his bait, and he hooked nothing but tin pots and old shoes. Here he sat in his accustomed chair and corner, dreaming of future quarterns, and dealing out odd sayings that would make the man in the moon hold his sides, and convulse the whole planet with laughter. His hypocrene was the cream of the valley; *
* Suett had at one time a landlady who exhibited an
inordinate love for that vulgar fluid ycleped geneva; a
beverage which Dicky himself by no means held in abhorrence.
She would order her servant to procure supplies after the
following fashion:—“Betty, go and get a quartern loaf and
half a quartern of gin.” Off bolted Betty,—she was speedily
recalled: “Betty, make it half a quartern loaf and a
quartern of gin.” But Betty had never got fairly across the
threshold, ere the voice was again heard:—“Betty, on second
thoughts, you may as well make it all gin!”
he dug his grave with his bottle, and gave up the ghost amidst a troop of spirits. Peace to his manes! Cold is the cheerful hearth, where he familiarly stirred the embers and silent the walls that echoed to “Old Wigs!” chanted by Jeffery Dunstan when he danced hop-scotch on a table spread out with tumblers and tobacco-pipes! Hushed is the voice of song. At this moment, as if to give our last assertion what Touchstone calls “the lie direct,” some Corydon from Petty France, the Apollo of a select singing party in the first floor front room, thus musically apostrophised his Blouzellinda of Bloomsbury.
She's all that fancy painted her, she's rosy without rouge,
Her gingham gown a modest brown turned up with
bright gamboge;
She learns to jar the light guitar, and plays the harpsi-
chols,
Her fortune's five-and-twenty pounds in Three per Cent
Consols.
At Beulah Spa, where love is law, was my fond heart
beguiled;
I pour'd my passion in her ear—she whisper'd, “Draw
it mild!”
In Clerkenwell you bear the bell: what muffin-man does
not?
And since, my Paul, you've gain'd your p'int, perhaps
you 'll stand your pot.
The Charlie quite, I've, honour bright, sent packing for a
cheat;
A watchman's wife, he'd whack me well when he was
on his beat.
“Adieu!” he said, and shook his head, “my dolor be
your dow'r;
And while you laugh, I 'll take my staff, and go and cry
—the hour.”
Last Greenwich Fair we wedded were; she's won, and
we are one;
And Sally, since the honey-moon, has had a little son.
Of all the girls that are so smart, there's none than Sally
smarter;
I said it 'fore I married her, and now I say it arter.
Geo. II. R.
“This is to give notice to all gentlemen, ladies and others, that there is to be seen from eight in the morning till nine at night, at the end of the great booth on Blackheath, a west of England woman 38 years of age alive, with two heads, one above the other; having no hands, fingers, nor toes; yet can she dress and undress, knit, sew, read, sing,” Query—a duet with her two mouths? “She has had the honour to be seen by Sir Hans Sloane, and several of the Royal Society. * “N.B. Gentlemen and ladies may see her at their own houses, if they please.
* That the caricaturist has been out-caricatured by Nature
no one will deny. Wilkes was so abominably ugly that he said
it always took him half an hour to talk away his face; and
Mirabeau, speaking of his own countenance, said, “Fancy a
tiger marked with the small-pox!” We have seen an Adonis
contemplate one of Cruikshank's whimsical figures, of which
his particular shanks were the bow-ideal, and rail at the
artist for libelling Dame Nature! How ill-favoured were Lord
Lovat, Magliabeeehi, Searron, and the wall-eyed, botde-nosed
Buekhorse the Bruiser! how deformed and frightful Sir Harry
Dimsdale and Sir Jeffrey Dunstan! What would have been said
of the painter of imaginary Siamese twins? Yet we have “The
true Description of two Monstrous Children, born in the
parish of Swanburne in Buekinghamshyre, the 4th of Aprill,
Anno Domini 1566; the two Children having both their belies
fast joyned together, and imbracing one another with their
armes: which Children were both alyve by the space of half
an hower, and wer baptised, and named the one John, and the
other Joan.”—A similar wonder was exhibited in Queen Anne's
reign, viz. “Two monstrous girls born in the Kingdom of
Hungary,” which were to be seen “from 8 o'clock in the
morning till 8 at night, up one pair of stairs, at Mr.
William Sutteliffe's, a Drugster's Shop, at the sign of the
Golden Anchor, in the Strand, near Charing-Cross.” The
Siamese twins of our own time are fresh in every one's
memory. Shakspere throws out a pleasant sarcasm at the
characteristic curiosity of the English nation. Trinculo,
upon first beholding Caliban, exclaims,—“A strange fish!
were I in England now (as I once was), and had but this fish
painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of
silver: there would this monster make a man: when they will
not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out
ten to see a dead Indian”
This great wonder never was shown in England before this, the 13th day of March, 1741. “Vivat Rex.” Peckham * and Blackheath Fairs are abolished;——
* Peckham Fair, August 1787.—Of the four-footed race were
bears, monkeys, dancing-dogs, a learned pig, &c. Mr.
Flockton in his theatrical booth opposite the Kentish
Drovers, exhibited the Italian fantocini; the farce of the
Conjuror; and his “inimitable musical-clock.” Mr. Lane,
“first performer to the King,” played off his “snip-snap,
rip-rap, crick-crack, and thunder tricks, that the grown
babies stared like worried cats.” This extraordinary genius
“will drive about forty twelve-penny nails into any
gentleman's breech, place him in a loadstone chair, and draw
them out without the least pain! He is, in short, the most
wonderful of all wonderful creatures the world ever wondered
at.”
Sir Jeffrey Dunstan sported his handsome figure within his
booth; outside of which was displayed a likeness of the
elegant original in his pink satin smalls. His dress,
address, and oratory, fascinated the audience; in fact,
“Jeffy was quite tonish!”
In opposition to the “Monstrous Craws” at the Royal Grove,
were shown in a barn “four wonderful human creatures,
brought three thousand miles beyond China, from the
Kickashaw Mackabee country, viz.
“A man with a chin eleven inches Ions:.
“Another with as many M'ens and warts on his face as knots
on an old thornback.
“A third with two large teeth five inches long, strutting
beyond his upper lip, as if his father had been a man-tiger!
“And the fourth with a noble large fiery head, that looked
like the red-hot urn on the top of the monument!”
“These most wonderful wild-born human beings (the Monstrous
Craws), two females and a male, are of very small stature,
being little more than four feet high; each with a monstrous
craw under his throat. Their country, language, &c. are as
yet unknown to mankind. It is supposed they started in some
canoe from their native place (a remote quarter in South
America), and being wrecked were picked up by a Spanish
vessel. At that period they were each of a dark-olive
complexion, but which has astonishingly, by degrees, changed
to the colour of that of Europeans. They are tractable and
respectful towards strangers, and of lively and merry
disposition among themselves; singing and daneing in the
most extraordinary way, at the will and pleasure of the
company.”
and those of Camberwell * and Wandsworth ** are
fast going the way of all fairs. Bow, Edmonton, * Highgate, ** Brook Green (Hammersmith,) and
* In the year 1820, the keeper of a menagerie at Edmonton
Fair walked into the den of a lioness, and nursed her cubs.
He then paid his respects to the husband and father, a
magnificent Barbary Lion. After the usual complimentary
greetings between them, the man somewhat roughly thrust open
the monster's jaws, and put his head into its mouth, giving
at the same time a shout that made it tremble. This he did
with impunity. But in less than two months afterwards, when
repeating the same exhibition at a fair in the provinces, he
eried, like the starling, “I can't get out!—I can't get
out!” demanding at the same time if the lion wagged its
tail? The lion, thinking the joke had been played quite
often enough, did wag its tail, and roared “Heads!” The
keeper fell a victim to his temerity.
** “July 2,1744.—This is to give notice that Highgate Fair
will be kept on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday next, in a
pleasant shady walk in the middle of the town.
“On Wednesday a pig will be turned loose, and he that takes
it up by the tail and throws it over his head, shall have
it. To pay two-pence entrance, and no less than twelve to
enter.
“On Thursday a match will be run by two men, a hundred yards
in two sacks, for a large sum. And, to encourage the sport,
the landlord of the Mitre will give a pair of gloves, to be
run for by six men, the winner to have them.
“And on Friday a hat, value ten shillings, will be run for
by men twelve times round the Green; to pay one shilling
entrance: no less than four to start; as many as will may
enter, and the second man to have all the money above four.”
West-end (Hampstead * ), Fairs, with their swings, roundabouts, spiced gingerbread, penny-trumpets, and halfpenny rattles are passed away. The showmen and Merry Andrews of Moorfields ** are
* “The Hampstead Fair Ramble; or, The World going quite Mad.
To the tune of 'Brother Soldier dost hear of the News,'
London: Printed for J. Bland, near Holbourn, 1708.” A
curious broadside.
** Moorfields during the holiday seasons was an epitome of
Bartlemy Fair. Its booths and scaffolds had flags flying on
the top. A stage near the Windmill Tavern, opposite Old
Beth-lem, was famous for its grinning-matches. Moorfields
had one novel peculiarity, viz. that whilst the Merry Andrew
was practising his buffooneries and legerdemain tricks in
one quarter, the itinerant Methodist preacher was holding
forth in another. Foote makes his ranting parson exclaim,
“Near the mad mansions of Moorfields I 'll bawl,
Come fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, all,
Shut up your shops and listen to my call!”
The Act 12 of Queen Anne aimed at the suppression of the
Moorfields' merriments. The showmen asked Justice Fuller to
license them in April, 1717, but in vain. Fuller had a
battle-royal with Messrs. Saunders and Margaret, two
Middlesex justices, who sided with the conjurors, and
forbade the execution of his warrant. Justice Fuller,
however, having declared war against Moorfields'
mountebanking, was inexorable, and committed the insurgents
to the house of correction; from whence, after three hours'
durance vile, they were released by three other magistrates.
Kennington Common was also a favourite spot for this odd
variety of sports. It was here that Mr. Mawworm encountered
the brick-bats of his congregation, and had his “pious tail”
illuminated with the squibs and crackers of the unre-
generate.
This fair commenced in the New River pipe-fields, and
continued in a direct line as far as the top of Elm Street,
where it terminated. The equestrians always made a point of
galloping their donkeys furiously past the house of
correction!
no more; the Gooseberry Fairs * of Clerkenwell and Tottenham Court Road, (the minor Newmarket and Doncaster of Donkey-racing!) are come to a brick-and-mortary end.
* “April 9, 1748.—At the Amphitheatrical Booth at Tottenham
Court, on Monday next (being Easter Monday), Mr. French,
designing to please all, in making his Country Wake complete
by doubling the prizes given to be played for, as well as
the sports, has engaged some of the best gamesters, Country
against London, to make sides. For Cudgelling, a laced hat,
value one pound five shillings, or one guinea in gold; for
Wrestling, one guinea; Money for Boxing, besides Stage-
money. And, to crown the diversion of the day, he gives a
fine Smock to be jigged for by Northern Lasses against the
Nymphs to the westward of St. Giles's Church—to be entered
at the Royal Oak, in High Street, by Hob, Clerk of the
Revels, or his deputy. The doors will be opened at eleven
o'clock; the sport to begin at two. Cudgelling as usual
before the prizes. Best seats, Two Shillings; Pit and First
Gallery, One Shilling; Upper Gallery, Sixpence.”
Mr. French advertises, May 12, 1748, at his booth at
Tottenham Court, six men sewed up in sacks to run six times
the length of the stage backwards and forwards for a prize,—
a prize for wrestling and dancing to the pipe and tabor,—
and the gladiator's dance. He also kept the race-course in
Tothill-Fields, August 4, 1749.
“August 8, 1730.—At Reynold's Great Theatrical Booth, in
Tottenham Court, during the time of the Fair, will be
presented a Comical, Tragical, Farcical Droll, called The
Rum Duke and the Queer Duke, or a Medley of Mirth and
Sorrow. To which will be added a celebrated Operatical
Puppet-Show, called Punch's Oratory, or the Pleasures of the
Town; containing several diverting passages, particularly a
very elegant dispute between Punch and another great Orator
(Henley?); Punch's Family Lecture, or Joan's Chimes on her
tongue to some tune. No Wires—all alive! With
entertainments of Daneing by Monsieur St. Luce, and others.”
High-smoking chimneys and acres of tiles shut out the once pleasant prospect, and their Geffray Gambados (now grey-headed jockeys!) sigh, amidst macadamisation and dust, for the green sward where, in their hey-day of life, they witched the fair with noble donkeyship!—Croydon (famous for roast-pork, and new walnuts ), Harley-Bush, and Barnet fairs, are as yet unsuppressed; but the demons of mischief—[the English populace (their Majesty the Many!) are notorious for this barbarity]—have
* “At the London Spaw (1754), during the accustomed time of
the Welsh Fair, will be the usual entertainment of Roast
Pork, with the fam'd soft-flavor'd Spaw Ale, and every other
liquor of the neatest and best kinds, agreeable
entertainments, and inviting usage from the Publick's most
obedient servant, George Dowdell.”
In the year 1795 a Dutch Fair was held at Frogmore, when a
grand fÊte was given by King George the Third, in
celebration of his Queen's birth-day, and the recent arrival
of the Princess of Wales. A number of dancers were dressed
as haymakers; Mr. Byrne and his company danced the Morris-
dance; and Savoyards, in character, assisted at the
merriments. Feats of horsemanship were exhibited by
professors from the Circus; and booths erected for good
eating and drinking, and the sale of toys, work-bags,
pocket-books, and fancy articles. Munden, Rock, and Incledon
diverted the company with their mirth and music; and Majesty
participated in the general joy. The Royal Dutch Fair lasted
two days, and was under the tasteful direction of the
Princess Elizabeth.
totally destroyed the magnificent oak that made Fairlop Fair * a favourite rendezvous with those who could afford a tandem, tax-cart, or Tim-whisky. How often have we sat, and pirouetted too, under its venerable shade.
May Fair (which began on May-day), during the early part of the last century, was much patronised by the nobility and gentry. It had nevertheless its Ducking Pond for the ruder class of holiday makers. **
* By an act passed 3rd of 2nd Victoria (not Victoria for the
Fair!) it was rendered unlawful to hold Fairlop Fair beyond
the first Friday (“Friday's a dry day!”) in July. This was
the handy work of the Barking Magistrates.
“And when I walk abroad let no dog bark!”
** “June 25, 1748.—At May Fair Ducking Pond, on Monday
next, the 27th inst., Mr. Hooton's Dog Nero (ten years old,
with hardly a tooth in his head to hold a duck, but well
known for his goodness to all that have seen him hunt) hunts
six ducks for a guinea, against the bitch called the Flying
Spaniel, from the Ducking Pond on the other side of the
water, who has beat all she has hunted against, excepting
Mr. Hooton's Good-Blood. To begin at two o'clock.
“Mr. Hooton begs his customers won't take it amiss to pay
Twopence admittance at the gate, and take a ticket, which
will be allowed as Cash in their reckoning. No person
admitted without a tickct, that such as are not liked may be
kept out.
“Note. Right Lincoln Ale.”
Apropos of other mirthful rendezvous.
“A new Ducking Pond to be opened on Monday next at
Lirneiouse Cause, being the 11th August, where four dogs
are to play for Four Pounds, and a lamb to be roasted whole,
to be given away to all gentlemen sportsmen. To begin at Ten
o'clock in the forenoon.”—Postman, 7th August 1707.
“Erith Diversion, 24th May 1790.—This is to acquaint the
publick, that on Whit-Monday, and during the holidays, the
undermentioned diversions will take place. First, a new Hat
to be run for by men; a fine Ham to be played for at Trap-
ball; a pair of new Pumps to be jumped for in a sack; a
large Plumb-pudding to be sung for; a Guinea to be cudgelled
for,—with smoking, grinning through a collar, with many
other diversions too tedious to mention.
“N.B. A Ball in the evening as usual.”
But what are the hopes of man! A press-gang (this is the
freedom of the press with a vengeance! this the boasted
monarchy of the middle classes!) interrupted and put an end
to these water-side sports.
Kent has long been renowned for strong muscles and strong
stomachs!
“Bromley in Kent, July 14, 1726.—A strange eating worthy is
to perform a Tryal of Skill on St. James's Day, which is
the day of our Fair for a wager of Five Guineas,—viz.: he
is to eat four pounds of bacon, a bushel of French beans,
with two pounds of butter, a quartern loaf, and to drink a
gallon of strong beer.”
The old proverb of “buttering bacon” here receives
farinaceous illustration!
“In a fore one-pair room, on the west side of Sun-court,” a Frenchman exhibited, during the time of May Fair, the “astonishing strength of the 'Strong Woman,' * his wife.”
“She first let down her hair, of a length descending to her knees, which she twisted round the projecting part of a blacksmith's anvil, and then lifted the ponderous weight from the floor. She also put her bare feet on a red-hot salamander, without receiving the least injury.” May Fair is now become the site of aristocratical dwellings, where a strong purse is required to procure a standing. At Horn Fair, a party of humorists of both sexes, counted in all the variety of Bull-Feather fashion, after perambulating round Cuckold Point, startled the little quiet village of Charlton on St. Luke's day, shouting their emulation, and blowing voluntaries on rams' horns, in honour of their patron saint. Ned Ward gives a curious picture of this odd ceremony,—and the press of Stonecutter Street (the worthy successor of Aldermary Churchyard) has consigned it to immortality in two Broadsides ** inspired by the Helicon of the Fleet,
* This was probably Mrs. Alchorne, “who had exhibited as the
Strong Woman” and died in Drury Lane in 1817, at a very
advanced age. Madame also performed at Bartholomew Fair in
1752.
** “A New Summons to all the Merry (Wagtail) Jades to attend
at Horn Fair”—“A New Summons to Horn Fair” both without a
date.
“Around whose brink
Bards rush in droves, like cart-horses to drink,
Dip their dark beards among its streams so clear,
And while they gulp it, wish it ale or beer,”
and illustrated by the Cruikshank of his day. Mile-end Green, in ancient times, had its popular exhibitions;—
“Lord Pomp, let nothing that's magnificall,
Or that may tend to London's graceful state,
Be unperformed—as showes and solemne feastes,
Watches in armour, triumphes, cresset-lightes,
Bonefiers, belles, and peales of ordinance.
And, Pleasure, see that plaies be published,
Maie-games and maskes, with mirth and minstrelsie;
Pageants and School-feastes, beares and puppit-plaies:
Myselfe will muster upon Mile-end-greene,
As though we saw, and feared not to be seene.”
And the royal town of Windsor, * and the racecourse in Tothill-Fields ** were not without their merriments.
* “The Three Lordes and Three Ladies of London,” 1590.
** “On Wednesday the 13th, at Windsor, a piece of plate is
to be fought for at cudgels by ten men on a side, from,
Berkshire and Middlesex. The next day a hat and feather to
be fought for by ten men on a side, from the counties
aforesaid. Ten Bargemen are to eat ten quarts of hasty-
pudding, well buttered, but d——d hot! He that has done
first to have a silver spoon of ten shillings value; and the
second five shillings. And as they have anciently had the
title of The Merry Wives of Windsor, six old women belonging
to Windsor town challenge any six old women in the universe,
(we need not, however, go farther than our own country) to
out-scold them. The best in three heats to have a suit of
head-cloths, and, (what old women generally want!) a pair of
nut-crackers.”—Read's Journal, September 9, 1721.
“According to Law. September 22, 1749.—On Wednesday next,
the 27th inst., will be run for by Asses (I!) in Tothill
Fields, a purse of gold, not exceeding the value of Fifty
Pounds. The first will be entitled to the gold; the second
to two pads; the third to thirteen pence halfpenny; the last
to a halter fit for the neck of any ass in Europe. Each ass
must be subject to the following articles
“No person will be allowed to ride but Taylors and Chimney-
sweepers; the former to have a cabbage-leaf fixed in his
hat, the latter a plumage of white feathers; the one to use
nothing but his yard-wand, and the other a brush.
“No jockey-tricks will be allowed upon any consideration.
“No one to strike an ass but the rider, lest he thereby
cause a retrograde motion, under a penalty of being ducked
three times in the river.
“No ass will be allowed to start above thirty years old, or
under ten months, nor any that has won above the value of
fifty pounds.
“No ass to run that has been six months in training,
particularly above stairs, lest the same accident happen to
it that did to one nigh a town ten miles from London, and
that for reasons well known to that place.
“Each ass to pay sixpence entrance, three farthings of which
are to be given to the old clerk of the race, for his due
care and attendance.
“Every ass to carry weight for inches, if thought proper.”
Then follow a variety of sports, with “an ordinary of proper
victuals, particularly for the riders, if desired.”
“Run, lads, run! there is rare sport in Tothill Fields!”
