* This ballad has been set to very beautiful music by Mr. N.I. Sporle. It is published by T. E. Purday, 50, St. Paul'sChurch Yard.
“A sad theme to a merry tune! But had not Mayanotherholiday maker? when the compassionate Mrs. Montague walked forth from her hall and bower to greet with a smile of welcome her grotesque visitor, the poor little sweep.”
Thy hand, Eugenio, for those gentle words!Eliawould have taken thee to his heart. Be the turf that lies lightly on his breast as verdant as the bank whereon we sit. On a cold, dark, wintry morning, he had too often been disturbed out of a peaceful slumber by his shrill, mournful cry; and contrasting his own warm bed of down with the hard pallet from which the sooty little chorister had been driven at that untimely hour, he vented his generous indignation; and when a heart so tender asElia'scould feel indignation, bitter must have been the provocation and the crime! But the sweep, with his brilliant white teeth, and Sunday washed face, is for the most part a cheerful, healthy-looking being. Not so the squalid, decrepitfactory lad, broken-spirited, overworked, and half-starved! The little sweep, in process of time, may become a master “chum-mie,” and have (without being obliged to sweep it,) a chimney of his own: but the factory lad sees no prospect of ever emerging from his heart-sickening toil and hopeless dependance; he feels the curse of Cain press heavily upon him. The little sweep has his merry May-day, with its jigs, rough music, gingling money-box, gilt-paper cocked-hat, and gay patchwork paraphernalia. All days are alike to the factory lad,—“E'en Sunday shines no Sabbath-day to him.”Hisrest will be the Sabbath of the tomb!
Nothing is better calculated to brace the nerves and diffuse a healthful glow over body and mind than outdoor recreations. What isennui?Fogs, and over-feeding, content grown plethoric, the lethargy of superabundance, the want of some rational pursuit, and the indisposition to seek one. What its cure?
“'Tis health, 'tis air, 'tis exercise—
Fling but a stone, the giant dies!”
The money-grub, pent up in a close city, eating the bread of carefulness, and with the fear of the shop always before his eyes, is not industrious. He is the droning, horse-in-a-mill creature of habit,—like a certain old lady of our acquaintance, who every morning was the first up in the house, and good-for-nothing afterwards. A century ago the advantages of early rising to the citizen were far more numerous than at present. A brisk walk of ten minutes brought him into the fields from almost any part of the town; and after luxuriating three or four miles amidst clover, sorrel, buttercups, aye, and corn to boot! the fresh breeze of morn, the fragrance of the flowers, and the pleasant prospect, would inspire happy thoughts: and, as nothing better sharpens the appetite than these delightful companions, what was wanting but a substantial breakfast to prepare him for the business of the day? For this certain frugal houses of entertainment were established in the rural outskirts of the Metropolis, *
* “This is to give notice to all Ladies and Gentlemen, atSpencer's original Breakfasting-Hut, between Sir HughMiddleton's Head and St. John Street Road, by the New Riverside, fronting Sadler's Wells, may be had every morning,except Sundays, fine tea, sugar, bread, butter, and milk, atfour-penee per head; coffee at threepence a dish. And in theafternoon, tea, sugar and milk, at threepence per head, withgood attendance. Coaches may come up to the farthest gar-den-door next to the bridge in St. John Street Road, nearSadler's Wells back gate.—Note. Ladies, &c. are desired totake notice that there is another person set up inopposition to me, the next door, which is a brick-house, andfaces the little gate by the Sir Hugh Middleton's, andtherefore mistaken for mine; but mine is thelittle boardedplaceby the river side, and my backdoor faces the same asusual; forI am not dead, I am not gone,Nor liquors do I sell;But, as at first, I still go on,Ladies, to use you well.No passage to my hut I have,The river runs before;Therefore your care I humbly crave,Pray don't mistake my door.“Yours to serve,Daily Advertiser, May 6, 1745. “S. Spencer.”
where every morning, “except Sundays, fine tea, sugar, bread, butter, and milk,” might be had at fourpence per head, and coffee “at three halfpence a dish.'” And as a walk in summer was an excellent recruit to the spirits after reasonable toil, the friendly hand that lifted the latch in the morning repeated the kind office at evening tide, and spread before him those refreshing elements that “cheer, but not inebriate;” with the harmless addition of music and dancing. Ale, wine, and punch, were subsequently included in the bill of fare, and dramatic representations. But of latter years the town has walked into the country, and the citizen can just espy at a considerable distance a patch of flowery turf, and a green hill, when his leisure and strength are exhausted, and it is time to turn homeward.
The north side of London was famous for suburban houses of entertainment. Midway down Gray's Inn Lane stands Town's End Lane (so called in the old maps), or Elm Street, which takes its name from some elms that once grew there. To the right is Mount Pleasant, and on its summit is planted a little hostelrie, which commanded a delightful prospect of fields, that are now annihilated; their site and our sight being profaned by the House of Correction and the Treadmill! Farther on, to the right, is Warner Street, which the lover of old English ballad poetry and music will never pass without a sigh; for there, while the town were applauding his dramatic drolleries,—and his beautiful songs charmed alike the humble and the refined,—their author, Henry Carey, in a fit of melancholy destroyed himself. *
* October 4, 1743.
Close by stood the old Bath House, which was built over aCold Springby one Walter Baynes, in 1697. * The house is razed to the ground, but the spring remains. A few paces forward is the Lord Cobham's Head, ** transmogrified into a modern temple for tippling; its shady gravel walks, handsome grove of trees, and green bowling alleys, are long since destroyed. Its opposite neighbourwas(for not a vestige of the ancient building remains) the Sir John Oldcastle, *** where the wayfarer was invited to regale upon moderate terms.
* According to tradition, this was once the bath of NellGwynn. In Baynes's Row, close by, lived for many years thecelebrated clown Joe Grimaldi.** “Sir,—Coming to my lodging in Islington, I called at theLord Cobham's Head, in Cold Bath Fields, to drink some oftheir beer, which I had often heard to be the finest,strongest, and most pleasant in London, where I found a veryhandsome house, good accommodation, and pleasantly situated.I afterwards walked in the garden, where I was greatlysurprised to find a very handsome grove of trees, withgravel walks, and finely illuminated, to please the companythat should honour them with drinking a tankard of beer,which is threepence. There will be good attendance, andmusic of all sorts, both vocal and instrumental, and willbegin this day, being the 10th of August.“I am yours,“Tom Freeman.”Daily Advertiser, 9th August 1742.*** “Sir,—A few days ago, invited by the serenity of theevening, I made a little excursion into the fields.Returning home, being in a gay humour, I stopt at a boothnear Sir John Oldcastle's, to hear the rhetoric of Mr.Andrew. He used so much eloquence to persuade his auditorsto walk in, that I (with many others) went to see hisentertainment; and I never was more agreeably amused thanwith the performances of the three Bath Morris Dancers. Theyshowed so many astonishing feats of strength and activity,so many amazing transformations, that it is impossible forthe most lively imagination to form an adequate ideathereof. As the Fairs are coming on, I presume theseadmirable artists will be engaged to entertain the town; andI assure your readers they can't spend an hour moreagreeably than in seeing the performances of these wonderfulmen.“I am, &c.Daily Advertiser, 27th July 1743.See a rare print, entituled “A new and exact prospect ofthe North side of the City of London, taken from the UpperPond near Islington. Printed and sold by Thomas Bake-well,Print and Map-seller, over against Birching Lane, Corn-hill,August 5, 1730.”
Show-booths were erected in this immediate neighbourhood for Merry-Andrews and mor-ris-dancers. Onward was the Ducking Pond; * (“Because I dwell at Hogsden,” saysMaster Stephen, in Every Man in his Humour, “I shall keep company with none but the archers of Finsbury or the citizens that come a ducking to Islington Ponds;”) and, proceeding in almost a straight line towards “Old Iseldon,” were the London Spa, originally built in 1206; Phillips's New Wells; *
0041m
* “By a company of English, French, and Germans, atPhillips's New Wells, near the London Spa, Clerkenwell, 20thAugust 1743.“This evening, and during the Summer Season, will beperformed several new exercises of Rope-dancing, Tumbling,Vaulting, Equilibres, Ladder-dancing, and Balancing, by Ma—dame Kerman, Sampson Rogetzi, Monsieur German, and MonsieurDominique; with a new Grand Dance, called Apollo and Daphne,by Mr. Phillips, Mrs. Lebrune, and others; singing by Mrs.Phillips and Mrs. Jackson; likewise the extraordinaryperformance of Herr Von Eeekenberg, who imitates the lark,thrush, blackbird, goldfinch, canary-bird, flageolet, andGerman flute; a Sailor's Dance by Mr. Phillips; and MonsieurDominique flies through a hogshead, and forces both headsout. To which will be added The Harlot's Progress. Harlequinby Mr. Phillips; Miss Kitty by Mrs. Phillips. Also, an exactrepresentation of the late glorious victory gained over theFrench by the English at the battle of Dettingen, with thetaking of the White Household Standard by the Scots Greys,and blowing up the bridge, and destroying and drowning mostpart of the French army. To begin every evening at fiveo'clock. Every one will be admitted for a pint of wine, asusual.”Mahommed Caratha, the Grand Turk, performed here his“Surprising Equilibres on the Slack Rope.”In after years, the imitations of Herr Von Eeekenberg wereemulated by James Boswell. (Bozzy!)“A great many years ago, when Dr. Blair and I (Boswell) weresitting together in the pit of Drury Lane Playhouse, in awild freak of youthful extravagance, I entertained theaudience prodigiously by imitating the lowings of a cow. Theuniversal cry of the galleries was, 'Encore the cow!' In thepride of my heart I attempted imitations of some otheranimals, but with very inferior effect. My revered friend,anxious for my fame, with an air of the utmost gravity andearnestness, addressed me thus, My dear sir, I would confinemyself to the cow!'”
the New Red Lion Cockpit; * the Mulberry Gardens; **
* “At the New Red Lion Cockpit, near the Old London Spaw,Clerkenwell, this present Monday, being the 12th July 1731,will be seen the Royal Sport of Cock-fighting, for twoguineas a-battle. To-morrow begins the match for fourguineas a-battle, and twenty guineas the old battle, andcontinues all the week, beginning at four o'clock.”** “Mulberry Gardens, Clerkenwell.—The gloomy clouds thatobscured the season, it is to be hoped, are vanished, andnature once more shines with a benign and cheerfulinfluence. Come, then, ye honest sons of trade and industry,after the fatigues of a well-spent day, and taste of ourrural pleasures! Ye sons of care, here throw aside yourburden! Ye jolly Bacchanalians, here regale, and toast yourrosy god beneath the verdant branches! Ye gentle lovers,here, to soft sounds of harmony, breathe out your sighs,till the cruel fair one listens to the voice of love! Ye whodelight in feats of war, and are anxious for our heroesabroad, in mimic fires here see their ardour displayed!“Note.—The proprietor being informed that it is a generalcomplaint against others who offer the like entertainments,that if the gentle zephyrs blow ever so little, the companyare in danger of having their viands fanned away, throughthe thinness of their consistence, promises that his shallbe of such a solidity as to resist, the air!”—DailyAdvertiser, July 8, 1745.The latter part of this picturesque and poeticaladvertisement is a sly hit at what, par excellence, arecalled, “Vauxhall slices.”
the Shakspeare's Head Tavern and Jubilee Gardens; * the New Tunbridge Wells, **
* In 1742, the public were entertained at the “Shakspeare'sHead, near the New Wells, Clerkenwell,', with refreshmentsof all sorts, and music; “the harpsichord being placed in sojudicious a situation, that the whole company cannot fail ofequally receiving the benefit.” In 1770, Mr. Tonas exhibited“a great and pleasing variety of performances, in acommodious apartment,” up one pair.** These once beautiful tea-gardens (we remember them assuch) were formerly in high repute. In 1733, their RoyalHighnesses the Princesses Amelia and Caroline frequentedthem in the summer time, for the purpose of drinking thewaters. They have furnished a subject for pamphlets, poems,plays, songs, and medical treatises, by Ned Ward, GeorgeCol-man the elder, Bickham, Dr. Hugh Smith, &c. Nothing nowremains of them but the original chalybeate spring, which isstill preserved in an obscure nook, amidst a poverty-stricken and squalid rookery of misery and vice.
a fashionable morning lounge of the nobility and gentry during the early part of the eighteenth century; the Sir Hugh Middleton's Head; the Farthing Pie House; * and Sadler's Music House and “Sweet Wells.” ** A little to the left were Merlin's Cave,
* Farthing Pie Houses were common in the outskirts of Londona century ago. Their fragrance caught the sharp set citizenby the nose, and led him in by that prominent member tofeast on their savoury fare. One solitary Farthing Pie House(the Green Man) still stands near Portland Road, on the wayto Paddington.** Originally a chalybeate spring, then a music-house, andafterwards a “theatre-royal!” Cheesecakes, pipes, wine, andpunch, were formerly part of the entertainment.“If at Sadler's sweet Wells the wine should be thick,The cheesecakes be sour, or Miss Wilkinson sick,If the fume of the pipe should prove pow'rful in June,Or the tumblers be lame, or the bells out of tune,We hope you will call at our warehouse at Drury,—We've acurious assortment of goods, I assure you.” Foote's Prologueto All in the Wrong, 1761.Its rural vicinity made it a great favourite with the play-going and punch-drinking citizens. See Hogarth's print of“Evening.”“A New Song on Sadler's Wells, set by Mr. Brett, 1740.'At eve, when Sylvan's shady sceneIs clad with spreading branches green,And varied sweets all round display'd,To grace the pleasant flow'ry meads,For those who're willing joys to taste,Where pleasures flow and blessings last,And God of Health with transport dwells,Must all repair to Sadler's Wells.The pleasant streams of MiddletonIn gentle murmurs glide along,In which the sporting fishes play,To close each weary summer's day;And music's charm, in lulling sounds,With mirth and harmony abounds;While nymphs and swains, with beaus and belles,All praise the joys of Sadler's Wells.'”
Bagnigge Wells, * the English Grotto (which stood near the New River Water-works in the fields), and, farther in advance, White Conduit House. **
* Once the reputed residence of Nell Gwynn, which makes thetradition of her visiting the “Old Bath House” more thanprobable. F or. upwards of a century it has been a notedplace of entertainment.'Tis now almost a ruin! Pass we toits brighter days, as sung in the “Sunday Ramble,” 1778:—“Salubrious waters, tea, and wine,Here you may have, and also dine;But as ye through the gardens rove,Beware, fond youths, the darts of love!”** So called after an ancient conduit that once stood hardby. Goldsmith, in the “Citizen of the World,” celebrates the“hot rolls and butter' of White Conduit House. Thitherhimself and a few friends would repair to tea, after havingdined at Highbury Barn. A supper at the Grecian, or TempleExchange Coffeehouses, closed the “Shoemaker's Holiday” ofthis exquisite English Classic,—this gentle and benignantspirit!
Passing by the Old Red Lion, bearing the date of 1415, and since brightened up with some regard to the taste of ancient times; and the Angel,—now afallenone!—a huge structure, the architecture of which is anything but angelic, having risen on its ruins, we enter Islington, described by Goldsmith as “a pretty and neat town.” In ancient times it was not unknown to fame.
“What village can boast like fair Islington town
Such time-honour'd worthies, such ancient renown?
Here jolly Queen Bess, after flirting with Leicester,
'Undumpish'd''herself with Dick Tarleton her jester.
Here gallant gay Essex, and burly Lord Burleigh,
Sat late at their revels, and came to them early;
Here honest Sir John took his ease at his inn—
Bardolph's proboscis, and Jack's double chin!
Here Finsbury archers disported and quaff'd,
Here Raleigh the brave took his pipe and his draught;
Here the Knight of St. John pledged the Highbury Monk,
Till both to their pallets reel'd piously drunk.” *
In “The Walks of Islington and Hogsdon, with the Humours of Wood Street Compter,” a comedy, by Thomas Jordan, 1641, the scene is laid at the Saracen's Head, Islington; and the prologue celebrates its “bottle-beer, cream, and (gooseberry) fools and the “Merry Milkmaid of Islington,
* “The Islington Garland.”
or the Rambling Gallant defeated,” a comedy, 1680, is another proof of its popularity. Poor Robin, in his almanac, 1676, says,
“At Islington
A Fair they hold,
Where cakes and ale
Are to be sold.
At Highgate and
At Holloway
The like is kept
Here every day.
At Totnam Court
And Kentish Town,
And all those places
Up and down.”
Drunken Barnaby notices some of its inns. Sir William d'Avenant, describing the amusements of the citizens during the long vacation, makes a “husband gray” ask,
“Where's Dame? (quoth he.) Quoth son of shop
She's gone her cake in milk to sop—
Ho! Ho!—toIslington—enough!”
Bonnel Thornton, in “The Connoisseur,” speaks of the citizens smoking their pipes and drinking their ale at Islington; and Sir William Wealthy exclaims to his money-getting brother, “What, old boy, times are changed since the date of thy indentures, when the sleek crop-eared 'prentice used to dangle after his mistress, with the great Bible under his arm, to St. Bride's on a Sunday, bring home the text, repeat the divisions of the discourse, dine at twelve, and regale upon a gaudy day with buns and beer atIslingtonor Mile-end.” *
Among its many by-gone houses of entertainment, theThree Hatshas a double claim upon our notice. It was the arena where those celebrated masters, Johnson, ** Price, Sampson, *** and Coningham exhibited their feats of horsemanship, and the scene of Mr. Mawworm's early back-slidings. “I used to go,” (says that regenerated ranter to old Lady Lambert,) “every Sunday evening to the Three Hats at Islington; it's a public house; mayhap your Ladyship may know it.
* “The Minor,” Act I.** Johnson exhibited in 1758, and Price, at about the sametime,—Coningham in 1772. Price amassed upwards of fourteenthousand pounds by his engagements at home and abroad.*** “Horsemanship, April 29, 1767.Mr. Sampson will begin his famous feats of horsemanship nextMonday, at a commodious place built for that purpose in afield adjoining the Three Hats at Islington, where heintends to continue his performance during the summerseason. The doors to be opened at four, and Mr. Sampson willmount at five. Admittance, one shilling each. A proper bandof music is engaged for the entertainment of those ladiesand gentlemen who are pleased to honour him with theircompany.”
I was a great lover of skittles, too; but now I can't bear them.” At Dobney's Jubilee Gardens (now entirely covered with mean hovels), Daniel Wildman * performed equestrian exercises; and, that no lack of entertainment might be found in this once merry village, “a new booth, near Islington Turnpike,” for tricks and mummery, was erected in September 1767; “an insignificant erection, calculated totally for the lowest classes, inferior artisans, superb apprentices, and journeymen.”
Fields,
* “The Bees on Horseback!” At the Jubilee Gardens, Dobney's,1772. “Daniel Wildman rides, standing upright, one foot onthe saddle, and the other on the horse's neck, with acurious mask of bees on his face. He also rides, standingupright on the saddle, with the bridle in his mouth, and, byfiring a pistol, makes one part of the bees march over atable, and the other part swarm in the air, and return totheir proper places again.”** Animadvertor's letter to the Printer of the DailyAdvertiser, 21st September 1767.*** August 22nd, 1770, Mr. Craven stated in anadvertisement, that he had “established rules for thestrictest maintenance of order” at the Pantheon. How farthis was true, the following letter “To the Printer of theSt. James's Chronicle” will show:—“Sir,—Happening to dine last Sunday with a friend in thecity, after coming from church, the weather being veryinviting, we took a walk as far as Islington. In our returnhome towards Cold Bath Fields, we stepped in to view thePantheon there; but such a scene of disorder, riot, andconfusion, presented itself to me on my entrance, that I wasjust turning on my heel in order to quit it, when my friendobserving that we might as well have something for our money(for the doorkeeper obliged each of us to deposit a testerbefore he granted us admittance), I acquiesced in hisproposal, and became one of the giddy multitude. I soon,however, repented of my choice; for, besides having oursides almost squeezed together, we were in danger everyminute of being scalded by the boiling water which theofficious Mercuries were circulating with the utmostexpedition through their respective districts. We thereforebegan to look out for some place to sit down in, which withthe greatest difficulty we at length procured, and producingour tickets, were served with twelve-penny worth of punch.Being seated towards the front of one of the galleries, Ihad now a better opportunity of viewing this dissipatedscene. The male part of the company seemed to consistchiefly of city apprentices and the lower class oftradesmen. The ladies, who constituted by far the greaterpart of the assembly, seemed most of them to be pupils ofthe Cyprian goddess, and I was sometimes accosted with,'Pray, sir, will you treat me with a dish of tea?' Of allthe tea-houses in the environs of London, the mostexceptionable that I have had occasion to be in is thePantheon.“I am sir, your constant reader,“Speculator.”“Chiswick, May 5, 1772.”
near Islington,” * was opened in 1770 for the sale of tea, coffee, wine, punch, &c., a “tester” being the price of admission to the promenade and galleries. It was eventually turned to a very different use, and converted into a lay chapel by the late Countess of Huntingdon.
* Spa-Fields (like “Jack Plackett's Common” the site ofDalby Terrace, Islington) was famous for duck-hunting, bull-baiting, and other low sports. “On Wednesday last, two womenfought for a new shift valued at half-a-guinea, in the Spaw-Fields near Islington. The battle was won by a woman calledBruising Peg, who beat her antagonist in a terriblemanner.”—22nd June 1768.
But by far the most interesting ancient hostelrie that has submitted to the demolishing mania for improvement is theOld Queen's Head, formerly situate in the Lower Street, Islington. This stately edifice was one of the most perfect specimens of ancient domestic architecture in England. Under its venerable roof Sir Walter Raleigh, it is said, “puffed his pipe;” and might not Jack Falstaff have taken his ease there, when he journeyed to string a bow with the Finsbury archers? For many years it was a pleasant retreat for retired citizens, who quaffed their nut-brown beneath its primitive porch, and indulged in reminiscences of the olden time. Thither would little Quick, King George the Third's favourite actor, resort to drink cold punch, and “babble” of his theatrical contemporaries. Plays * were formerly acted there.
* The following curious “Old Queen's Head” play-bill, temp.George the Second, is presumed to be unique:—G. II. R.By a Company of Comedians, at the Queen's Head, in the LowerStreet, Islington,This present evening will be acted a Tragedy, called theFair Penitent.Sciolto, Mr. Malone.—Horatio, Mr. Johnson.Altamont, Mr. Jones.—Lothario, Mr. Dunn.Rosano, Mr. Harris.—Calista, Mrs. Harman.Lavinia, Mrs. Malone.—Lucilla, Miss Platt.To which will be added, a Farce called The Lying Valet.Prices—Pit, 2s.; Gallery, Is. To begin at 7 o'clock.”
On Monday, October 19, 1829, it was razed to the ground, to make room for a misshapen mass of modern masonry. The oak parlour has been preserved from the wreck, and is well worth a visit from the antiquary. Canonbury Tavern and Highbury Barn still maintain their festive honours. Farther a-field are the Sluice, or Eel-pie House; Copenhagen House; Hornsey-wood House, formerly the hunting seat of Queen Elizabeth; Chalk Farm; Jack Straw's Castle; the Spaniards, &c. as yet undefiled by pitiful prettinesses of bricks and mortar, and affording a delightful opportunity of enjoying pure air and pastime. The canonised Bishop of Lichfield and Mademoiselle St. Agnes have each their wells. What perambulator of the suburbs but knows St. Chad, in Gray's Inn Lane, and St. Agnes le Clair, * at Hoxton? Paneras **
* Whit, in Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, promises to treat hiscompany with a clean glass, washed with the water of Agnesle Clare.** “At Edward Martin's, at the Hornes at Pancrass, is thatexcellent water, highly approved of by the most eminent phy-sitians, and found by long experience to be a powerfulantidote against rising of the vapours, also against thestone and gravel. It likewise cleanses the body, purifiesand sweetens the blood, and is a general and sovereign helpto nature. I shall open on Whitson-Monday, the 24th of May1697; and there will be likewise dancing every Tuesday andThursday all the summer season at the place aforesaid. Thepoor may drink the waters gratis.” Then follow sixteen linesof rhyme in praise of “this noble water,” and invitingladies and gentlemen to drink of it. Of this rare hand-billno other copy is known.“And although this place (Paneras) be as it were forsaken ofall, and true men seldome frequent the same but upon de-vyneoccasions, yet is it visyted and usually haunted of roages,vagabondes, harlettes and theeves, who assemble not ther topray, but to wayte for praye, and manie fall into theirhands clothed, that are glad when they are escaped naked.Walke not ther too late.”—Speculi Britannio Pars, by JohnNorden, MS. 1594.
and Hampstead Wells, renowned for their salubrious waters, are dried up. Though the two latter were professed marts foraqua pura, liquids more exhilarating were provided for those who relished stronger stimulants. We may therefore fairly assume that John Bull anciently travelled northward ho! when he rambled abroad for recreation.
As population increased, houses of entertainment multiplied to meet the demand. South, east, and west they rose at convenient distances, within the reach of a short stage, and a long pair of legs. Apollo Gardens, St. George's Fields; Bohemia's Head; Turnham Green; Cuper's Gardens, Lambeth; China Hall, Rotherhithe; Dog and Duck, St. George's Fields; Cherry Gardens Bowling-green, Rotherhithe; Cumberland Gardens, Vaux-hall; Spa Gardens, Bermondsey; Finch's Grotto Garden's, St. George's Fields; Smith's Tea Gardens, Vauxhall; Kendal House, Isleworth; New Wells, Goodman's Fields; Marble Hall, Vaux-hall; Staton's Tea-House, opposite Mary-le-bone Gardens; the Queen's Head and Artichoke, Mary-le-bone Fields; Ruckholt House, in Essex, of which facetious Jemmy Worsdale was the Apollo; Old Chelsea Bun-house; Queen Elizabeth's Cheesecake House, in Hyde Park; the Star and Garter Tavern, * and Don Saltero's coffeehouse, **
* “Star and Garter Tavern, Chelsea, 1763. Mr. Lowe willdisplay his uncommon abilities with watches, letters, rings,swords, cards, and enchanted clock, which absolutely tellsthe thoughts of any person in the company. The astonishingLittle Man, only four inches high, pays his respects to thecompany, and vanishes in a flash of fire. Mr. Lowe commandsnine lighted candles to fly from the table to the top of theceiling! Added, a grand entertainment, with musick anddancing, &c. &c.”** The great attraction of Don Saltero's Coffeehouse was itscollection of rarities, a catalogue of which was publishedas a guide to the visitors. It comprehends almost everydescription of curiosity, natural and artificial. “Tigers'tusks; the Pope's candle; the skeleton of a Guinea-pig; afly-cap monkey; a piece of the true Cross; the FourEvangelists' heads cut on a cherry-stone; the King ofMorocco's tobacco-pipe;Mary Queen of Scot's pincushion; Queen Elizabeth's prayer-book; a pair of Nun's stockings; Job's ears, which grew on atree; a frog in a tobacco stopper,” and five hundred moreodd relies! The Don had a rival, as appears by “A Catalogueof the Rarities to be seen at Adams's, at the Royal Swan, inKingsland Road, leading from Shoreditch Church, 1756.” Mr.Adams exhibited, for the entertainment of the curious, “MissJenny Cameron's shoes; Adam's eldest daughter's hat; theheart of the famous Bess Adams, that was hanged at Tyburnwith Lawyer Carr, January 18, 1736-7; Sir Walter Raleigh'stobacco-pipe; Vicar of Bray's clogs; engine to shell greenpease with; teeth that grew in a fish's belly; Black Jack'sribs; the very comb that Abraham combed his son Isaac andJacob's head with; Wat Tyler's spurs; rope that curedCaptain Lowry of the head-ach, ear-ach, tooth-ach and belly-ach; Adam's key of the fore and back door of the Garden ofEden, &e. &e.” These are only a few out of five hundredothers equally marvellous. Is this strange catalogue a quizon Don Saltero?
Chelsea; Mary-le-bone and Ranelagh Gardens; *
* The Rotunda was first opened on the 5th of April, 1742,with a public breakfast. At Ranelagh House (Gentleman'sMagazine for 1767) on the 12th of May, were performed themuch-admired catches and glees, selected from the curiouscollection of the Catch Club; being the first of the kindpublickly exhibited in this or any other kingdom. Theentertainment consisted of the favourite catches and glees,composed by the most eminent masters of the last and presentage, by a considerable number of the best vocal andinstrumental performers. The choral and instrumental partswere added, to give the catches and glees their propereffect in so large an amphitheatre; being composed for thatpurpose by Dr. Arne. The Masquerades at Ranelagh arerepresented in Fielding's “Amelia” as dangerous to morals,and the “Connoisseur” satirises their Eve-like beauties withcaustic humour.
and the illuminated saloons and groves of Vauxhall. * These, and many others, bear testimony to the growing spirit of national jollity during a considerable part of the eighteenth century. How few now remain, “the sad historians of the pensive tale,” of their bygone merriments!
* “The extreme beauty and elegance of this place is wellknown to almost every one of my readers; and happy is it forme that it is so, since to give an adequate idea of it wouldexceed my power of description. To delineate the particularbeauties of these gardens would indeed require as muchpains, and as much paper too, as to rehearse all the goodactions of their master; whose life proves the truth of anobservation which I have read in some other writer, that atruly elegant taste is generally accompanied with anexcellency of heart; or in other words, that true virtue isindeed nothing else but true taste.” Amelia, b. ix. c. ix.
The Genius of Mirth never hit upon a happier subject than the humours of Cockneyland. “Man made the town and a pretty sample it is of the maker! Behind or before the counter, at home and abroad, the man of business or the beau, the Cockney is the same whimsical original, baffling imitation, and keeping description in full cry. See him sally forth on a fine Sunday to inhale his weekly mouthful of fresh air, * the world all before him, where to choose occupying his meditations, till he finds himself elevated on High-gate Hill or Hampstead Heath. From those magnificent summits he beholds in panorama, woods, valleys, lofty trees, and stately turrets, not forgetting that glorious cupola dedicated to the metropolitan saint, which points out the locality where, six days out of the seven, his orisons are paid to a deity not contemplated by the apostle.
* Moorfields, Pimlico Path, and the Exchange, were thefashionable parades of the citizens in the days of Elizabethand James I.
He lays himself out for enjoyment, and seeks good entertainment for man and (if mounted, or in his cruelty-van) for horse. Having taken possession of a window that commands the best prospect, the waiter is summoned, the larder called over, the ceremony of lunch commenced, and, with that habitual foresight which marks his character, the all-important meal that is to follow, duly catered for. The interval for rural adventure arrives; he takes a stroll; the modest heath-bell and the violet turn up their dark blue eyes to him; and he finds blackberries enough (as Falstaff's men didlinen!) on every hedge. Dinner served up, and to his mind, he warms and waxes cosey, jokes with the waiter, talks anything, and to anybody,
Drinks a glass
To his favourite lass!”
pleased with himself, and willing to please. If his phraseology provoke a laugh, he puts it to the account of his smart sayings, and is loudest in the chorus; for when the ball of ridicule is flying about, he ups with his racket and strikes it off to his neighbour.
He is the worst mortal in the world to be put out of his way. The slightest inconvenience, the most trifling departure from his wonted habits, he magnifies into a serious evil. His well-stocked larder and cheerful fireside are ever present to his view: beef and pudding have taken fast hold of him; and, in default of these, his spirits flag; he is hipped and melancholy. Foreign travel exhibits him in his natural light; his peculiarities break forth with whimsical effect, which, though not always the most amiable, are nevertheless entertaining. He longs to see the world; and having with due ceremony arranged his wardrobe, put money in his purse, and procured his passport to strange lands, he sets forward, buttoned up in his native consequence, to the capital of the grand monarque, to rattle dice, and drink champagne. His expectations are not the most reasonable. Without considering the different manners and customs of foreign parts, he bends to nobody, yet takes it as an affront if everybody bend not to him! His baggage is subjected to rigorous search. The infernalparlez-vous!—nothing likethisever happens in old England! His passport is inspected, and his person identified. The inquisitors!—to take the length and breadth of a man, his complexion and calling! The barriers are closed, and he mustbivouacin the Diligence the live-long night. Monstrous tyranny! Every rogue enjoys free ingress and egress in a land of liberty! He calls for the bill of fare, the “carte,” and in his selection puts the cart before the horse! Of course there is a horrible conspiracy to poison him! The wines, too, are sophisticated. The champagne is gooseberry; the Burgundy, Pontac; and thevin ordinaireneither better nor worse than a dose of “Braithwait's Intermediate.” The houses are dirty and dark; the streets muddy and gay; the madames and mademoiselles pretty well, I thank'e; and the Mounseers a pack of chattering mountebanks, stuck over with little bits of red ribbon, and blinded with snuff and whiskers! Even the air is too thin: he misses his London smoke! And but one drunken dog has he encountered (andhewas his countryman!) to bring to fond remembrance the land we live in! * What wonder, then, if he sigh for luxurious bachelorship in a Brighton boarding-house? Beds made, dinner provided, the cook scolded by proxy, and all the agreeable etceteras incidental to good living set before him, without the annoyance of idle servants, and the trouble of ordering, leaving him to the delightful abandonment of every care, save that of feasting and pleasure-taking!