Amerry 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 dancingroom at the field-end of King-Street, Bloomsbury,.in the year 1742Hickford's great room, Panton-Street, Haymarket, 1743Mitre Tavern, Charing-Cross,... 1743Barber's Hall,.... 1745Richmond Assembly,.... 1745Lambeth Wells,.....1747Duke's long room, Paternoster-Row,.. 1748Large Assembly Room at the Two Green Lamps, near ExeterChange, (at the particular desire of Jubilee Diekey!).... inthe year 1749 The large room next door to the Hand andSlippers, Long-Lane, West Smithfield,... 1750 Lambeth Wells,where a Penny Wedding, in the Scotch manner, was celebratedfor the benefit of a young couple,......1752 Old Queen'sHead, in Cock-Lane, Lambeth,. 1755 and at Mr. Bell's, at thesign of the Ship, in the Strand, where, in 1755, a ScotchWedding was kept. The bride “to be dressed without anylinen; 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, twoshillings 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 ownparticular 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 todance.” The terms, for so fashionable a professor as he wasin his day, are extremely moderate; “Six guineas entrance,and one guinea a lesson.” The following song is inscribedunderneath.“Of all the fine accomplishments sure dancing far the bestis,But if a doubt with you remains, behold the Goose andVestris;.And a dancing we will go, will go, &c.Let men of learning plead and preach; their toil 'tis all invain,Sure, labour of the heels and hands is better than thebrain:And a dancing, &c.Then talk no more, ye men of arts, 'bout keeping light andshade,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 willdance,Join hands, change sides, and figure in, now sink, and nowadvance.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 yourschools!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 hispains.And a dancing, &c.Poor Milton wrote the most sublime, 'gainst Satan, Death, andVice,But very few would quit a dance to purchase Paradise.And a dancing, &c.The soldier risks health, life, and limbs, his fortune toadvance,While Pique and Vestris fortunes make by one night's singledance.And a dancing, &c.'Tis all in vain to sigh and grieve, or idly spend ourbreath,Some millions now, and those unborn, must join the dance ofdeath.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 isbest!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 rehearseThe 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 nostranger 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 receivedpraise both by the human voice and the “loud timbrel andwhen that church was in her highest prosperity, King Davidseems to have been the composer of her psalmody—both poetryand music. He occupied the orchestra of the temple, andaccounted it a holy privilege “to play before the Lord” upon“the harp with a solemn sound.” Luther said, “I verily thinkthat, next to divinity, no art is comparable to music.”And what a glorious specimen of this divine art is histranscendant “Hymn!” breathing the most awful grandeur, thedeepest pathos, the most majestic adoration! The Puritans—devils and Puritans hate music—are piously economical intheir devotions, and eschew the principle “not to give untothe Lord that which costs us nothing!” Their gift issnuffled 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!”
* A few old amateurs of music and mirth may possiblyremember Collins's Evening Brush, that rubbed off the rustof dull care from the generation of 1790. His bill comprised“Actors of the old school and actors of the new; tragedytailors, and butchers in heroics; bell-wethers in buskins,wooden actors, petticoat caricatures, lullaby jinglers,bogglers and blunderers, buffoons in blank-verse, &c. &c.”The first of the three Dibdins opened a shop of merriment atthe Sans Souci, where he introduced many of his beautifulballads, and sang them to his own tunes. The navy of Englandowe lasting obligations to this harmonious Three. Itrequired not the aid of poetry and music (and howexquisitely has Shield set the one to the other!) tostimulate our gallant seamen; but it needed much to awakenand keep alive enthusiasm on shore, and elevate their moralcharacter—for landsmen “who live at home at ease/' werewont to consider the sailor as a mere tar-barrel, a sea-monster. How many young bosoms have been inspired by thelyrics of the three Dibdins! What can surpass the homelypathos of “I thought my heart would break when I sang, Yo!heave O!”“The Last Whistle” and “Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor TomBowling!” stirring the manly heart like the sound of atrumpet! It is wise to infuse the amorpatriæ into popularamusements; national songs work wonders among the million.In Little Russia, no sooner are the postilions mounted for ajourney, than they begin to hum a patriotic air, which oftencontinues for hours without intermission. The soldiers singduring a long and fatiguing march; the peasant lightens hislabour in the same manner; and in a still evening the airvibrates with the cheerful songs of the surroundingvillages.
“'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.”
“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 anaquatic wag upon a similar occasion. “Fellow! your mother,under thepretence(!!!) of keeping a —————— is areceiver of stolen goods!”
'We were now arrived atSpring Gardensays 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 ofGreenwood Hall, or the pleasures ofSpring 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 venturedWhere 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 charmerWho steals a pair of gloves!As still amazed, I'm strayingO'er this enchanted grove;I spy a harper playingAll in his proud alcove.I doff my hat, desiringHe'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 weddingSuch 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 surroundingThe Lady of the May.The man i' th' moon tweer'd slily,Soft twinkling through the trees,As though 'twould please him highlyTo 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. theKing and the Miller of Mansfield,—Sailors in a tipplinghouse in Wapping,—and the girl stealing a kiss from asleepy 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 hersplendid 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 broomstickat the Haymarket Theatre, November 1751.“Each buck and jolly fellow has heard of SkegginelloThe famous Skegginello, that grunts so prettyUpon 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 hisbroomstick in full concert with a jovial party! One of theprincipal performers is a good-humoured looking gentlemanbeating harmony out of the salt-box.** Certain utilitarians affect to ridicule this ancientcivic festival, on the score of its parade, right-royallyridiculous! and gross gluttony—as if the corporation ofLondon were the only gourmands who had offered sacrifices toApicius, and died martyrs to good living! We have been atsome pains to peep into the dining-parlours of the ancients,and from innumerable examples of gastronomy have selectedthe following, which prove that the epicures of the oldentime yielded not in taste and voracity to their brethren ofthe new:—The emperor Septimus Severus died of eating and drinking toomuch. Valentinianus went off in a surfeit. Lucullus beingasked one day by his attendant, what company he had invitedto his feast, seeing so many dainties prepared, answered,“Lucullus shall dine with Lucullus?” Vitellius Spinter wasso much given to gluttony, that at one supper he was servedwith two thousand several kinds of fishes, and with seventhousand flying fowl. Maximilian devoured, in one day, fortypounds of solid meat, which he washed down with a hogsheadof wine. The emperor Geta continued his festival for threedays, and his dainties were introduced in alphabeticalorder. Philoxenes wished he had a neck like a crane, thatthe 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 (queryGriffin'!) boiled, and a fat goose in paste. Hercules andLepreas had a friendly contest, which could, in quickesttime, eat up a whole ox; Hercules won, and then challengedhis adversary to a drinking bout, and again beat him hollow.If the Stoic held that the goal of life is death, and thatwe live but to learn to die—if the Pythagorean believed inthe transmigration of souls, and scrupled to shoot awoodcock lest he should dispossess the spirit of hisgrandam—how much more rational was the doctrine of theEpicurean, (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 whatlanguage or letter soever,—let the inquisitive man wastethe deere treasures of his time and eye-sight,—he shallconclude his life only in this certainty, that there is nosubject upon earth received into the place of his governmentwith the like state and magnificence as is the Lord Maior ofthe Citty of London.” This was said by the author of the“Triumphs of Truth” in 1613. The following list of CityPoets will show that the office was not an unimportant onein the olden time: George Peele; Anthony Munday; ThomasDekker; Thomas Middleton; John Squire; John Webster; ThomasHeywood; John Taylor (the Water-Poet, one of Ben Jonson'sadopted poetical sons, and a rare slang fellow); Edward G ayton, and T. B. (of the latter nothing is known), bothCommonwealth bards; John Tatham; Thomas Jordan; MatthewTaubman, and Elkanah Settle, the last of the poeticalparsons who wedded Lord Mayors and Aldermen to immortalverse. One of the most splendid of these anniversarypageants was “London's Triumph; or, the Solemn andMagnificent reception of that Honourable Gentleman, RobertTiteliburn, Lord Maior, after his return from taking hisoath 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,” (saysthe City Poet T. B.) “the loving members of the honourablesocietie exercising arms in Cripplegate Ground being drawnup together, march'd in a military order to the house of myLord Maior, where they attended on him, and from thencemarch'd before him to the Three Crane Wharfe, where part ofthem under the red colours embarqued themselves in threeseverall barges; and another part took water at StoneStaires, being under green colours, as enemies to the other;and thence wafting to the other side of the water, therebegan an encounter between each party, which continued allthe way to Westminster; a third body, consisting of pikesand musquets, march'd to Bainard's Castle, and there fromthe battlements of the castle gave thundering echoes to thevollies of those that pass'd along the streame. Part beforeand part behind went the severall barges, with drumsbeating, and trumpets sounding, and varietie of other musiekto take the eare, while the flags and silver pendents made apleasant sight delectable to the beholders.“After these came severall gentlemen-ushers adorn'd withgold eliaines; behind them certaine rich batelielours,wearing gownes furr'd with foynes, and upon them sattinhoods; and lastly after them, followed the WorshipfullCompany of Skinners itself, whereof the Lord Maior is amember. Next these, the city officers passing on before,rode the Lord Maior with the Sword, Mace, and Cap ofMaintenance before him, being attended by the Recorder, andall the aldermen in scarlet gowns on horseback. (Aldermen onhorseback!!) Thus attended, he rode from Bainard's CastleintoCheapside, the Companies standing on both sides of the wayas far as the upper end of the Old Jury, ready to receivehim. When he was come right against the old Change, apageant seem'd to meet him. On the pageant stood twoleopards bestrid by two Moors, attir'd in the habit of theircountry; at the foure corners sate foure virgins arraid incloth of silver, with their haire dishriveld, and coronetson their heads. This seem'd to be the embleme of a citypensive and forlorn, for want of a zealous governor: theMoors and leopards, like evill customs tyrannizing over theweak virginitie of undefended virtue; which made an agedman, who sate at the fore part of the pageant, mantled in ablack garment, with a dejected countenance, seem to bewailethe condition of his native city; but thus he remaind notlong: for at the approach of the Lord Maior, as if now hehad espy'd the safety of his country, he threw off hismourning weeds, and with the following speech made known thejoy he had for the election of so happy and just amagistrate.“The speech being spoken, the first pageant past on beforethe Lord Maior as far as Mercers' Chappel; a gyant beingtwelve foot in height going before the pageant for thedelight of the people. Over against Soper-lane End stoodanother pageant also; upon this were plac'd severall sortsof beasts, as lyons, tygers, bears, leopards, foxes, apes,monkeys, in a great wildernesse; at the forepart whereofsate Pan with a pipe in his hand; in the middle was acanopie, at the portal whereof sate Orpheus in an antiqueattire, playing on his harp, while all the beasts seem'd todance at the sound of his melody. Under the canopie satefour satyrs playing on pipes. The embleme of this pageantseem'd proper to the Company out of which the Lord Maior waselected; putting the spectators in mind how much they oughtto esteem such a calling, as clad the Judges in theirgarments of honour, and Princes in their robes of majestic,and makes the wealthy ladies covet winter, to appear clad intheir sable funs. A second signification of this emblem maybe this,—that as Orpheus tam'd the wild beasts by thealluring sound of his melody, so doth a just and uprightgovernor tame and govern the wild affections of men, by goodand wholesome lawes, causing a general joy and peace in theplace where he commands. Which made Orpheus, being wellexperienced in this truth, to address himself to the LordMaior in these following lines.“The speech being ended, the Lord Maior rode forward to hishouse in Silver Street, the military bands still goingbefore him. When he was in this house, they saluted him withtwo volleys of shot, and so marching again to their groundin Cripple-gate Churchyard, they lodg'd their colours; andas they began, so concluded this dayes triumph.”When the barges wherein the soldiers were, came rightagainst Whitehall, they saluted the Lord Protector and hisCouncil with several rounds of musketry, which the LordProtector answered with “signal testimonies of grace andcour-tesie.” And returning to Whitehall, after the LordMayor had taken the oath of office before the Barons of theExchequer, they saluted the Lord Protector with “anothervolley” The City of London had been actively instrumental inthe deposition and death of King Charles the First, andCromwell could not do less than acknowledge, with some showof respect, the blank cartridges of his old friends. Thefurr'd gowns and gold chains, however, made the amendehonorable, when they “jumped Jim Crow,” and helped torestore 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 inMiddlesex, a burlesque imitation of the Olympic Games.One prize was a gold-laced hat, to be grinned for by sixcandidates, who were placed on a platform, with horses'collars to exhibit through. Over their heads was printed incapitals,Detur Tetriori; orThe ugliest grinnerShall be the winner.Each party grinned five minutes solus, and then all unitedin a grand chorus of distortion. This prize was carried by aporter to a vinegar merchant, though he was accused by hiscompetitors of foul play, for rinsing his mouth withverjuice. The whole was concluded by a hog, with his tailshaved and soaped, being let loose among nine peasants; anyone of which that could seize him by the queue, and throwhim across his shoulders, was to have him for a reward. Thisoccasioned 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 werethe Tripoline Ambassador, and several other persons ofdistinction.
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, PrimroseHill, and the adjoining fields, presented one merry mass ofanimated 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, thearrival of Prince Albert, and the departure of the Chartistrioters! Hampstead Heath, and the surrounding villages,turned out their studs of Jerusalem ponies. CopenhagenHouse, Hornsey Wood House and the White Conduit, echoed withjollity; the holiday-makers amusing themselves with cricket,fives, and archery. How sweetly has honest, merry HarryCarey described the origin of “Sally in our Alley” whichtouelied the heart of Addison with tender emotion, andcalled forth his warmest praise. “A shoemaker's 'prentice,making holiday with his sweetheart, treated her with a sightof Bedlam, the puppet-shows, the flying-chairs, and all theelegancies of Moorfields, from whence proceeding to theFarthing Pye-house, he gave her a collation of buns,cheese-cakes, gammon of bacon, stuffed beef, and bottledale; through all which scenes the author dodged them.Charmed with the simplicity of their courtship, he drew fromwhat 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 youshouldn'tgo to a fair, published by the London Lachrymose Society for the suppression of fun.”
“And here, good Christians, are five-and-fifty why youshould!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
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 ofPeckham Fair, a Grand Collection of Living Wild Beasts and Birds, lately arrived from the remotest parts of the World.
“1. ThePellicanthat suckles her young with her heart's, blood, from Egypt.
“2. The NobleVultur Cock, brought fromArchangell, 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. AnEagle 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 aLioness, like a foreignWild Cat.
“5. The He-Panther, from Turkey, allowed by the curious to be one of the greatest rarities ever seen inEngland, on which are thousands of spots, and not two of a likeness.
“6 & 7. The two fierce and surprisingHyaenas, Male and female, from the RiverGambia. 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. AnEthiopian 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 playedBarkerandMr. Merrimanto 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 thedevil, or (for his fame had travelled before him)Dicky Suett. He was a piscator, *