June 23.

Sir William and Lady Blase’s Equipage,BETWEEN THE SPREAD EAGLE AND THE RAM AT WANDSWORTH, ON THE ROAD TO GARRETT.

Thisengravingis from another large unpublished drawing by Green, and is very curious. Being topographically correct, it represents the signs of the inns at Wandsworth as they then stood; the Spread Eagle carved on a pillar, and the Ram opposite painted and projecting. The opening, seen between the buildings on the Spread Eagle side, is the commencement of Garrett-lane, which runs from Wandsworth to Tooting, and includes the mock borough of Garrett.

This animated scene is full of character. The boat is drawn by horses, which could not be conspicuously represented here without omitting certain bipeds; it is in the act of turning up Garrett-lane. Its chief figure is “my lady Blase” dressed beyond the extreme, and into broad caricature of the fashion of the times. “I remember her very well,” says Mrs. ——, of Wandsworth, “and so I ought, for I had a good hand in the dressing of her. I helped to put together many a good poundof wool to make her hair up. I suppose it was more than three feet high at least: and as for her stays, I also helped to make them, down in Anderson’s barn: they were neither more nor less than a washing tub without the bottom, well covered, and bedizened outside to look like a stomacher. She was to be the lady of sir William Blase, one of the candidates, and, as she sat in his boat, she was one of the drollest creatures, for size and dress, that ever was seen. I was quite a girl at the time, and we made her as comical and as fine as possible.”

In Green’s drawing,hereengraven in miniature, there is an excellent group, which from reduction the original has rendered almost too small to be noticed without thus pointing it out. It consists of a fellow, who appears more fond of his dog than of his own offspring; for, to give the animal as good a sight of lady Blase as he had himself, he seats him on his own shoulders, and is insensible to the entreaty of one of his children to occupy the dog’s place. His wife, with another child by her side, carries a third with its arms thrust into the sleeves of her husband’s coat, which the fellow has pulled off, and given her to take care of, without the least regard to its increase of her living burthen. Before them are dancing dogs, which have the steady regard of a “most thinking” personage in a large wig. Another wigged, or, rather, an over-wigged character, is the little crippled “dealer and chapman,” who is in evident fear of a vociferous dog, which is encouraged to alarm him by a mischievous urchin. The one-legged veteran, with a crutch and a glass in his hand, seems mightily to enjoy the two horsemen of the mop and broom. We see that printed addresses were posted, by an elector giving his unmixed attention to one of them pasted on the Ram sign-post. The Pierrot-dressed character, with spectacles and a guitar, on an ass led by a woman, is full of life; and the celebrated “Sam House,” the bald-headed publican of Westminster, with a pot in his hand, is here enjoying the burlesque of an election, almost as much, perhaps, as he did the real one in his own “city and liberties” the year before, when he distinguished himself, by his activity, in behalf of Mr. Fox, whose cause he always zealously supported by voice and fist.

The last Westminster election, wherein Sam House engaged, was in 1784, when on voting, and being asked his trade by the poll-clerk, he answered, “I am a publican and republican.” This memorable contest is described by the well-known colonel Hanger. Hesays:—

“The year I came to England the contested election for Westminster, (Fox, Hood, and Wray, candidates,) took place. Thewalkingtravellers,SpillardandStewart; theAbyssinian Bruce, whofeasted on steakscut from therumpof alivingox; and various others, who, in their extensive travels, encounteredwild beasts,serpents, andcrocodiles;breakfastedandtoasted muffinson themouthof aVolcano; whom hunger compelled to banquet with joy on theleavingsof alionortiger, or on thecarcaseof a deadalligator; who boast of smoking the pipe of peace with thelittle carpenter, and themad dog; on having lived on terms of the strictest intimacy with theCherokees, theChickasaws, theChuctaws, and with all theawsandeesof that immense continent, who from the more temperate shore of the Mississippi, have extended their course to the burning soil of India, and to the banks of the Ganges; from the frozen ocean to the banks of the more genial Po;—may boasttheirexperience of the world, andtheirknowledge of human life: butno one, in my opinion, has seenreal life, or can know it, unless he has taken an active part in acontested election for Westminster!

“In no school can a man be taught a better lesson of human life;—there can he view human nature in her basest attire; riot, murder, and drunkenness, are the order of the day, andbriberyand perjury walk hand in hand:—for men who had no pretensions to vote, were to be found in the garden in as great plenty as turnips, and at a very moderate rate were induced to poll.

“A gentleman, to make himself of any considerable use to either party, must possess a number of engaging, familiar, and condescending qualities; he must help a porter up with his load, shake hands with a fisherman, pull his hat off to an oyster wench, kiss a ballad-singer, and be familiar with a beggar. If, in addition to these amiable qualities, he is a tolerable good boxer, can play a good stick, and in the evening drink a pailful of all sorts of liquors, in going the rounds to solicit voters at their various clubs, then, indeed, he is a most highly finished useful agent. In all the above accomplishmentsand sciences, except drinking, which I never was fond of, I have the vanity to believe that I arrived nearer to perfection than any of my rivals. I should be ungrateful, indeed, if I did not testify my thanks to those gallant troops of high rank and distinguished fame—the knights of the strap, and the black diamond knights, (the Irish chairmen and coal heavers,) who displayed such bravery and attachment to ourcause.”[223]

This was the cause to which Sam House was attached; and, perhaps, there was not greater difference between the scenes described by Hanger, and those at Garrett, than between the same scenes, and more recent ones, on similar occasions in the same city.

What has hitherto been related concerning the Garrett election, in 1781, is in consequence of the editor having had recourse to the remarkable drawings from whence the present engravings have been made. From that circumstance he was strongly induced to inquire concerning it, and, as a faithful historian, he has recorded only what he is able to authenticate. A few facts relating to the elections between that period and a much later one, are so blended as to defy positive appropriation to particular dates, from want of accurate recollection in the persons relating them; they are, therefore, annexed, as general traits of the usual mode of conducting these burlesques.

At one of the Garrett elections, after 1781, there was a sir Christopher Dash’em started as candidate. “Old John Jones” says he was a waterman, that his real name was Christopher Beachham, (perhaps Beauchamp,) that he was a fellow of “exceeding humour” and ready wit, and, as an instance of it, that being carried before a magistrate for cutting fences and posts, the justice was informed that the delinquent was no other than the celebrated sir Christopher Dash’em.—“Oh,” said the justice, “you are sir Christopher Dash’em, are you?”—“It’s what they please to style me,” observed sir Christopher.—“Oh! oh!” remarked the magistrate, “I haveheardof yourcharactera long while ago.”—“Then,” said sir Christopher, “I’ll be greatly obliged to your worship to tell me where it is, for Ilostit a long while ago.”

Sir Solomon Hiram, another Garrett candidate, was a shrewd, clever carpenter, of Battersea, named Thomas Solomon. It was his constant saying, that he “never bowed to wooden images,” by which he meant rank without talent. He succeeded in his election. The motto on his carriages was “Gin gratis! Porter for nothing!”

Our living chronicler, “John Jones,” says, that on the day of election, sir Solomon Hiram was “dressed like an old king, in a scarlet coat with gold lace, large sleeves with very large hanging cuffs; a wig such as George the Second wore, with large falling curls, and the tail in a silk bag: he held a roll of parchment in his hand, and looked for all the world—like a king.”

Nor must “old John Jones” himself be forgotten, for he rode as “master of the horse” at four elections in a marvellous proper dress. He was mounted on the largest dray horse that could be got, in the full regimentals of the Surrey yeomanry, grey, blue, and red: he had a cap on his head twenty-three inches high; and bore in his hand a sword seven feet long and four inches wide, like the sword of the “ancient and honourable Lumber Troop.” His boots were up to his hips, and he wore wooden spurs thirteen inches long, with steel rowels three inches in diameter. The mane of his horse was plaited with ears of corn, denoting a plentiful harvest and the coming cheapness of bread; and he had two pages to lead his horse.

The “Garrett cavalry” or troop of “horse guards,” of which “John Jones” was the commander, were forty boys of all ages and sizes, for whom flannel uniforms were purposely made, of the exact pattern of the Surrey yeomanry. They wore enormous cockades made of shavings, and were put a-straddle on horses of all sizes, and sorted thereto, as much as possible, by contraries. The smallest boys were on the largest horses, and the biggest boys on the least. It was their duty to join the candidates’ procession, and with the “master of the horse” at their head, proceed to the hustings in order “to preserve the freedom of election.”

At Richmond theatre, about thirty years ago, Foote’s “Mayor of Garratt” was performed for the benefit of Follett, a celebrated comedian and clown, and hewas so happy as to secure sir Solomon Hiram, with every person who figured at Garratt, to represent the election as it had been really held just before. Sir Solomon came on the stage “just like a King,” with “old John Jones” on his right, as “master of the horse,” and “Robert Bates,” another great officer, on his left, all in their full election uniforms. The house was crowded to excess. Sir Solomon delivered all his speeches, “old John Jones” commanded and manœuvred his troop of horse, and every thing was performed that had been exhibited at Wandsworth, or on the hustings, by the real characters in the election. There was so great an audience, that the audience crowded on the stage, and it was with difficulty that the scenes were shifted.

In the year 1785, sir John Harper, who had succeeded to the representation of Garrett, by the unbiassed choice of the electors, vacated his seat by death, and sir Jeffery Dunstan again became a candidate for their suffrages.

This distinguished individual was a child of chance—a foundling. He was picked up in the year 1759 at a churchwarden’s door in St. Dunstan’s in the East, and not being owned, was reared in the workhouse so as ultimately to attain about two-thirds the usual height of manhood, with knock-knees, and a disproportionately large head. At twelve years old, he was bound apprentice for nine years to the art, trade, mystery, and occupation of a green grocer; this was a long time to serve, and Jeffery, soaring to independence, adopted as a principle that “time was made for slaves, and not for freemen;” he therefore broke through time and servitude, and ran away to Birmingham. It was his pride that, though the hard labour in the factories of the “workshop of Europe” increased the malformation of his person, it added strength to his mind; and in 1776, he returned to London with his knees and ideas knocking together much more than before. He soon afterwards formed a matrimonial connection, and had two daughters, whom he called “Miss Nancy” and “Miss Dinah,” and who testified their filial politeness by uniformly calling him “papa.”

From the earliest period of sir Jeffery’s life, he was a friend to “good measures”—especially those for “spirituous liquors;” and he never saw the inside of a pot without going to the bottom of it. This determination of character created difficulties to him: for his freedom was not always regulated by the doctrines of the great Blackstone “on the rights of persons,” and consequences ensued that were occasionally injurious to sir Jeffery’s face and eyes. The same enlightened judge’s views of “the rights of things” do not seem to have been comprehended by sir Jeffery: he had long made free with the porter of manifold pots, and at length he made free with a few of the pots. For this he was “questioned,” in the high commission court of oyer and terminer, and suffered an imprisonment, which, according to his manner of life, and his notions of the liberty of the subject, was frivolous and vexatious. On his liberation, he returned to an occupation he had long followed, the dealing in “old wigs,” and some circumstances developed in the course of the preceding inquiry seem to favour a supposition, that the bag he carried had enabled him to conceal his previous “free trade” in pots. But, be that as it might, it is certain that to his armorial bearings of four wigs, he added a quart pot for a crest.

From the period that he obtained a “glorious minority” by his opposition to sir John Harper for Garrett, he looked for the first opening in the representation of that borough with a view to fill it himself. On the death of sir John, he issued an address to the electors, committees were formed, and an active canvass was commenced at every public-house to which the constituent body resorted for refreshment and solace. On the day of election, sir Jeffery left London in a splendid phaeton, with a body of friends in every possible description of vehicle, from a coal-waggon to a wheel-barrow drawn by dogs; the procession extended a mile in length, and sir Jeffery Dunstan was elected by an immense majority. At successive elections he was successively successful, and maintained his seat for Garrett until his death.

One of the answers to the editor’s request for particulars concerning the Garrett election, is the followingletter:—

To the Editor of the Every-Day Book.

Sir,—After frequently promising to do something for theEvery-Day Book, Iyesterday threw hastily together a few particulars regarding “sir Jeffery Dunstan:” they are authentic and at your service. Sir Jeffery, towards the latter part of his life, had a hoarse rough voice and bad utterance, from having lost the whole of his front teeth. The manner of his losing them is curious enough, and worth relating. He was one evening reciting his speeches at the “London Hospital” public-house, Whitechapel, where some young students were amusing themselves, who, seeing “sir Jeffery” in “merry mood,” hit upon a plan to have the teeth out of his head. A bargain was soon struck, ten shillings were clubbed among them, a pint of “Hodges’s best” was brought in—sir Jeffery sat down in the chair, and out came tooth the first—in the same manner out came another—and so, time after time, the wicked wags proceeded till they got them all.

At this house sir Jeffery was near losing his life, in addition to his teeth. He was “in the chair,” as usual, which was placed on the table, and he was supported by his friends “Ray the tinker,” who now lies in the same grave with him, and a “sir Charles Hartis,” a deformed fidler, and an unsuccessful candidate for Garratt honours. Such atriowas scarcely ever seen, and very attractive. The sixpences collected from visiters, on entering, lay in a plate on the table, and “sir Jeffery” was on his legs giving them “old wigs,” in his best style, when, being top-heavy with liquor, he suddenly lost his balance, and over he went. “Ray the tinker” was upset, and the fiddle of “sir Charles” knocked into the fire; in a moment the candles were put out, and all was darkness and confusion; when a light was brought, sir Jeffery and the money were both missing, and he was considered the purloiner: but the fact was, some knaves who had an eye to the cash, took advantage of sir Jeffery’s fall, blew out the lights, stole the money, and picking up “sir Jeff” at the same moment, dragged him out of the house to fix the fraud on him. The poor fellow was found the next morning by some workmen almost frozen to death and pennyless, in a miserable hole, into which they had dropped him!

Sir Jeffery wore his shirt open, and the collar turned down. This was in him a sort of pride; for he would frequently in an exulting manner sayto inferiors, “I’ve got acollarto my shirt, sir.” In life his face was dark and dirty, but when coffined, says Mr. Thomas Michael, his skin was remarkably fair and clear.

Sir Jeffery once kept an ass that had but one ear, the other being close cropped off; with this poor creature, who carried the “wigs, &c.” he for many years collected a crowd but a few paces from the writer’s habitation. His wit and smart sayings flew about. Now the joke fell on himself, and now on his one-eared ass. Then he varied the cry of “old wigs,” by mimicking another’s singing-cry of, “lilly, lilly, lilly, lilly white—sand oh!” After the pence had well tumbled in, he would retire to his favourite retreat, the “Horse and Leaping Bar,” to dine on “duck and green peas,” or “roast goose and apple sauce,” &c.

At this house, which is on the south side of the high street, “sir Jeff,” in a “regular” manner, got “regularly drunk.” Here he sung the “London cries;” recited his mock speeches on the corruptions of parliament; and, placed in an arm chair on the table, nightly afforded sport to a merry company.

No sooner had sir Jeffery ceased to breathe, than the resurrection men were on the alert to obtain his body. They had nearly succeeded prior to interment, by drawing him through the window of the room in which he lay.

The surgeons of the day were eager to obtain a prize, but their hopes were disappointed by the late John Liptrap, esq. who had the body removed to a place of safety. This gentleman paid all the expences of sir Jeffery’s funeral; a grave ten feet deep was dug close to the north wall of the watchhouse of St. Mary, Whitechapel, where he now lies. The head of the coffin somewhat undermines the church-rail, and the public footway. His wife lies at his feet, and his daughter Dinah, sleeps the “sleep of death” at his side.

“Miss Nancy,”—sir Jeffery used to say, “Miss Nancy, make the gentlemen a curtsey,”—“Miss Nancy” survived them all; she married a costermonger, or to speak a little more politely, a knight of the “whip and hamper,” who is said to have added to his avocations that of snatching bodies for the surgeons, till death, the final snatcher, snatched him. Miss Nancy still survives.

Respecting sir Jeffery Dunstan’s death, his grave digger, Thomas Michael, relates this story. Sir Jeffery had called in atthe sign of the Red Lion, opposite the London Hospital, a house where low company resorted. It was then kept by one George Float (who afterwards met a premature death himself) who supplied sir Jeffery with liquor at the expense of others, till he was completely “non compos.” He was then carried to the door of his house on the north side of the “Ducking pond,” and there left to perish, for he was found a corpse on the same spot the next morning.

It was strongly suspected that sir Jeffery’s death was purposely caused by resurrection men, for the liquor he was made to swallow was drugged. One of this fraternity endeavoured to stop the burial of the body, by pretending a relation from Ireland was on his way to claim it. The fellow disguised himself, and endeavoured to personate a native of that country, but the fraud was detected.

I am, &c.T. W. L.

June 19, 1823.

This obliging correspondent, who knew so much respecting sir Jeffery Dunstan, was likely to furnish more; particular inquiries were therefore addressed to him by letter, and he has since obligingly communicated asfollows:—

For the Every-Day Book.

To oblige Mr. Hone I set out in pursuit of “Miss Nancy,” who is now called “lady Ann,” thinking she might be able to furnish me with particulars regarding her father, “sir Jeffery,” and the “Garrett election.” Near the sign of the “Grave Maurice,” in the “road side” of Whitechapel, I addressed myself to a clean, elderly looking woman, whose brow bespoke the cares of three score years at least, and asked her if she could inform me whether sir Jeffery’s daughter, “Miss Nancy” was living or not? “Lord bless you, sir!” said she, “living! aye; I saw her pass with her cats-meat barrow not five minutes ago; and just now I saw running by, a little girl, the fourth generation from sir Jeffery.” I soon ascertained that “lady Ann” lived with her son and his wife, at No. 7, North-street, opposite the Jews’ burying ground, where I knocked boldly, and, to my surprise, was answered by a fine dark little girl of eleven, that her grandmother could not be seen, because she was “very drunk.”

At seven in the evening, by appointment I called, and saw the same little girl again, and was told her father was “drunk also,” and that her mother had instructed her to say, that many similar applications had been made, and “a deal of money offered,” for the information I sought; which spoke in plain terms they had nothing to communicate, or if they had, a good price must be paid for it.

Recollecting that I had been informed that a good likeness of “sir Jeffery” was to be seen at the “Blind Beggar,” near the turnpike, and supposing it not unlikely, from that circumstance, that the landlord of that house might know more of the man than I did myself, I resorted thither. The bar was crowded with applicants for “full proof,” and “the best cordials.” I took my station at the lower end, and calling for a glass of ale, it was served me by Mr. Porter himself, when I took the opportunity of asking him if he had not a portrait of sir Jeffery Dunstan in his parlour; he said there had been one there till lately, but that during the alterations it was removed. On my right hand was a man with a pint of ale and a glass in his hand, and a woman with him, seated on the top of a barrel. At this juncture the man called out to the landlord, “is it not somebody that ‘I knows,’ that you are talking about?” An answer was given in the affirmative. I looked at the man, and perceiving that he was about my own age, observed that his years, like mine, did not warrant much personal knowledge of the person of whom we had been speaking. “Why,” said Mr. Porter, smiling, “that is his grandson; that is sir Jeffery’s grandson.” I, too, could not help smiling on calling to mind that this was the very man that was “also drunk,” and that this, his money-loving wife, who had denied me an interview, I was addressing. I told them the nature of my visit to their house. She said her daughter had informed her of every thing. I then, to use a nautical phrase, “boxed all points of the compass,” without effect. They evidently knew nothing, or did not care to know; the wife, however, told me that her sister, who was either dead, or “abroad,” knew “all sir Jeffery’s speeches from the beginning to end;” and the husband recounted ’squire Liptrap’s kindness inmany times escorting and protecting, by a file of soldiers, his grandfather to his home; and said, moreover, thathehimself was blamed for not claiming thegoold(gold) picked up with the foundling which is now accumulating in the funds of St. Dunstan’s parish.

I urged, “that none of us had any thing to boast of in point of ancestry, and that were I sir Jeffery’s grandson, mygreatgrandfather’sgreatnatural talent and ready flow of wit would induce me to acknowledge him as mygreatancestor under any circumstances.” This produced nothing more than that his grandfather, “though he could neither read nor write, could speak many languages.” I left them—the husband, as we say, “top heavy,” the wife expostulating to get him home, and at the same time observing they must be up by three o’clock in the morning “to be off with the cart.”

On my road homewards, I turned up Court-street to “Ducking-pond side,” to take a view of “sir Jeffery’s hut;” it is adjoining his late patron’s distillery, who permitted him to live there rent free. The door is bricked up, and it now forms part of a chandler’s shop. The thick black volumes of smoke from the immense chimnies were rolling above my head to the west, while beneath, in the same direction, came the pestiferous stench from those deadly slaughtering places for horses, that lie huddled together, on the right. It brought to my mind Mr. Martin’s story in the “House,” of the poor starving condemned “animals” and the “truss of hay.” I turned hastily away from the scene, and I conjure thee, reader, go not near it, for it breathes

“Pestilence, rottenness, and death.”

In my preceding notice of “sir Jeffery and his ass,” perhaps I have not been sufficiently explicit. In the “season,” he would sometimes carry the best of fruit in his hampers for sale, as well as his “bag of wigs.” The allusion to the “duck and green peas,” &c. was a sort of joke, which sir Jeffery used constantly, in his witty way, to put off to “standers-by” when “lady Ann,” or “Miss Dinah,” came from their “lady mother” to inform him that his dinner was ready.

An elderly friend of mine perfectly well recollects sir Jeffery’s “one-eared ass,” his hamper of russetings, and sir Jeffery himself, with his back placed against the side of the stone obelisk which then stood at the corner of the road, opposite Whitechapel church rails. There he kept the boys and girls at bay with the ready use of his hands; while his ready tongue kept the elder folks constantly laughing. But where is the stone obelisk. Gone—like sir Jeffery. The spirit of destruction, miscalled improvement, wantonly threw it down. It fell in the pride of its age and glory, before Time’s effacing hand had marked it. Away with destroyers, I say! They may have bettered the condition of the pathway by substituting an iron railway for one of wood, but have they done so by removing that excellent unoffending barrier, the “pillar of stone,” and placing in its stead a paltry old cannon choaked with a ball?

I recollect in my boyish days I never passed that “obelisk” without looking up, and reading on its sculptured sides, “twelve miles to Romford,” “seventeen to Epping.” Then it told the traveller westward, the exact distance to the Royal Exchange and Hyde Park-corner. All beyond it, in an easterly direction, to my youthful fancy, was fairy land; it spoke of pure air, green fields, and trees; of gentle shepherdesses, and arcadian swains. Delightful feelings, which only those who are born and bred in towns can fully enter into! It had originally a tongue of another description, for it seemed to say, in legible characters, “this is the east-end corner of the metropolis,”—at least it marked it as strongly as ever Hyde Park-corner did the west. Pardon the digression, reader, and I will conclude.

When sir Jeffery raised the cry of “old wigs,” the collecting of which formed his chief occupation, he had a peculiarly droll way of clapping his hand to his mouth, and he called “old wigs, wigs, wigs!” in every doorway. Some he disposed of privately, the rest he sold to the dealers in “Rag-fair.” In those days, “full bottoms” were worn by almost every person, and it was no uncommon thing to hear sea-faring persons, or others exposed to the cold, exclaim, “Well, winter’s at hand, and I must e’en go to Rosemary-lane, and have ‘a dipfor a wig.’” This “dipping for wigs” was nothing more than putting your hand into a large barrel and pulling one up; if you liked it you paid your shilling, if not, you dipped again, and paid sixpence more, and so on. Then, also, the curriers used them for cleaning the waste, &c. off the leather, and I have no doubt would use them now if they could get them.

Sir Jeffery’s ideas of “quality” ran very high at all times, and were never higher than when his daughter Nancy, “beautiful Miss Nancy,” was married to “lord Thompson,” a dustman.—“Twenty coaches,” said sir Jeffery, “to lady Ann’s wedding, madam, and all filled with the first nobility.” A dustman on his wedding-day, in our days, is content with a seat in a far different vehicle, and being carried on his brethren’s shoulders to collect a little of the “needful” to get drunk with at night. To the honour of “lord Thompson” be it said, after such a noble alliance, he soon “cut” the fraternity, and, as I have before observed, became a knight of the “whip and hamper,”vulgo“a costermonger.”

June 23, 1826.

T. W. L.

The last representative of Garrett was sir Jeffery Dunstan’s successor, the renowned sir Harry Dimsdale. From the death of sir Harry the seat remained vacant.

It must be added, however, that for this borough sir George Cook demanded to sit. No committee determined on the claims of the “rival candidates;” but the friends of sir George, an eminent dealer in apples and small vegetables near Stangate, maintained that he was the rightful member in spite of sir Harry Dimsdale’s majority, which was alleged to have been obtained by “bribery and corruption.”

Whatever distaste refinement may conceive to such scenes, it must not be forgotten that they constitute a remarkable feature in the manners of the times. It is the object of this work to record “manners,” and the editor cannot help expressing somewhat of the disappointment he feels, on his entreaties for information, respecting the elections for Garrett, having failed to elicit much information, which it is still in the power of many persons to communicate. He has original facts, of a very interesting nature, ready to lay before the public on this topic; but he omits to do it, in order to afford a few days longer to those who have the means of enabling him to add to his reserved collection. To that end he once more solicits the loan of hand-bills, advertisements, addresses, scraps, or any thing any way connected with the subject. He begs, and hopes, to be favoured with such matters with all possible speed. It is his wish to dispose of this election in the following sheet, and therefore “not a moment is to be lost.”

Mean Temperature 58·85.

[218]The Times, June 20, 1826.[219]Manning and Bray’s History of Surrey.[220]Sir Richard Phillips’ Walk to Kew.[221]Lord George Gordon, who rendered himself so conspicuous during the riots in 1780, adopted in his latter days the habit and manners of a Jew. He died November 1, 1793, in Newgate where he had been confined two years, for a libel on the moral and political conduct of the Queen of France; three years more for a libel on the Empress of Russia, and ten months longer for not procuring the necessary security for enlargement. His last moments are said to have been imbittered by the knowledge that he could not be buried among the Jews, to whose religion he was warmly attached.[222]It was at the Haymarket theatre.Editor.[223]Hanger’s Life.

[218]The Times, June 20, 1826.

[219]Manning and Bray’s History of Surrey.

[220]Sir Richard Phillips’ Walk to Kew.

[221]Lord George Gordon, who rendered himself so conspicuous during the riots in 1780, adopted in his latter days the habit and manners of a Jew. He died November 1, 1793, in Newgate where he had been confined two years, for a libel on the moral and political conduct of the Queen of France; three years more for a libel on the Empress of Russia, and ten months longer for not procuring the necessary security for enlargement. His last moments are said to have been imbittered by the knowledge that he could not be buried among the Jews, to whose religion he was warmly attached.

[222]It was at the Haymarket theatre.Editor.

[223]Hanger’s Life.

An ancient custom is still maintained by the inhabitants of Ripon, in Yorkshire. On midsummer-eve, every housekeeper, who, in the course of the year, has changed his residence into a new neighbourhood, spreads a table before his door in the street, with bread, cheese, and ale, for those who choose to resort to it. The guests, after staying awhile, if the master is of ability, are invited to supper, and the evening is concluded with mirth and good humour. The origin of this usage is unknown, but it probably was instituted for the purpose of introducing new comers to an early acquaintance with their neighbours; or, with the more laudable design of settling differences, by the meeting and mediation of friends.

The late rev. Donald M‘Queen, of Kilmuir, in the Isle of Sky, in certain reflections on ancient customs preserved in that island, mentions what he observed at this season in Ireland, where he conceives the catholic religion to have accommodated itself to the ancient superstitions of the natives, and grafted Christianity on pagan rites. He remarks, that “the Irish have ever been worshippers of fire and of Baal, and are so to this day. The chief festival in honour of the sun and fire is upon the 21st of June (23d?) when the sun arrives at the summer solstice, or rather begins its retrograde motion.”

Mr. M‘Queen says, “I was so fortunate in the summer of 1782 as to have my curiosity gratified. At the house where I was entertained, it was told me that we should see at midnight the most singular sight in Ireland, which wasthe lighting of firesin honour of the sun. Accordingly, exactly at midnight, thefiresbegan to appear; and going up to the leads of the house, which had a widely extended view, I saw, on a radius of thirty miles, all around, the fires burning on everyeminence which the country afforded. I had a farther satisfaction in learning, from undoubted authority, that the peopledanced round the fires, and at the close went through these fires, and made their sons and daughters, together with their cattle, pass through the fire, and the whole was concluded with religioussolemnity.”[224]

The eve of the summer solstice was a season of divinations in early times, and with one of these, described by a living bard, the day may conclude.

St. John’s Eve.St. John the Baptist’s eve, how clear and brightSinks the broad sun upon the waveless sea!Above, below, around him, shedding light,All glorious and beautiful to see:Garish as day, with night’s tranquillityReposing on all things.—“Then bid farewellTo household duties and its drudgery—Come, one and all, and this fair maid shall tellWho shall be wise henceforth, from this our festival.”At this fair summons men and women wereWont to assemble to decide their fate:The first begotten child with rose-deck’d hairClad as a bride—her features all sedate,Like one of holy calling—walk’d in state,Before a bacchanal procession, loudIn their mirth—dancing with glee elate—And shouting as they went—a motley crowdSpreading along the shore, like shadow from a cloud.And when arrived where they were summoned, theyWith water from the ocean, to the brimFill a small vessel as the first essayTowards making intoonethe future—(dimAnd dark as ’tis)—perceptible—to himAlone this boon.—When a young virgin, fair,With knocking heart that maketh her head swimLest she, her hopes, have wither’d—from her hairTaketh a rose (her emblem) she had braided there;And in the vessel drops it: Then the next,Lovely as Hebe, from her faery zone,Loosens the band that clasps it—somewhat vextThat like the rose it floats not—as ’tis known,Or so imagined, that the charm hath flownFrom what’s beneath the surface—so she deem’dE’en when the next a diamond had thrownInto the vessel, which, though sunken, seemedA star upon the surface—it so upward gleamed.After the fair ones, one and all, have castThe bauble that each prized as somewhat dear,The youths o’eranxious lest they be surpass’dBy maidens in their zealous acts sincere,(Who crowd about them as they hover nearThe sacred vase, observing them the while;)Drop gold, and gems, and crystals for the ear,Adorn’d with quaint devices, to beguileWith love, the heart that’s languishing, and free from guile.Now all are gathered round in silence deep,Heart throbbing maids, (like knots of flowers fair,That bow unto the moon, whose soft rays sleepUpon their beauty,) and youths flush’d with careAnd keen anxiety, press forward there:Meanwhile, the little cherub-bride draws nigh,And from the vessel with her small hand fair,Brings forth the gem that gladdens some one’s eye,That grants to him or her the gift of prophecy.Barton Wilford.

St. John’s Eve.

St. John the Baptist’s eve, how clear and brightSinks the broad sun upon the waveless sea!Above, below, around him, shedding light,All glorious and beautiful to see:Garish as day, with night’s tranquillityReposing on all things.—“Then bid farewellTo household duties and its drudgery—Come, one and all, and this fair maid shall tellWho shall be wise henceforth, from this our festival.”At this fair summons men and women wereWont to assemble to decide their fate:The first begotten child with rose-deck’d hairClad as a bride—her features all sedate,Like one of holy calling—walk’d in state,Before a bacchanal procession, loudIn their mirth—dancing with glee elate—And shouting as they went—a motley crowdSpreading along the shore, like shadow from a cloud.And when arrived where they were summoned, theyWith water from the ocean, to the brimFill a small vessel as the first essayTowards making intoonethe future—(dimAnd dark as ’tis)—perceptible—to himAlone this boon.—When a young virgin, fair,With knocking heart that maketh her head swimLest she, her hopes, have wither’d—from her hairTaketh a rose (her emblem) she had braided there;And in the vessel drops it: Then the next,Lovely as Hebe, from her faery zone,Loosens the band that clasps it—somewhat vextThat like the rose it floats not—as ’tis known,Or so imagined, that the charm hath flownFrom what’s beneath the surface—so she deem’dE’en when the next a diamond had thrownInto the vessel, which, though sunken, seemedA star upon the surface—it so upward gleamed.After the fair ones, one and all, have castThe bauble that each prized as somewhat dear,The youths o’eranxious lest they be surpass’dBy maidens in their zealous acts sincere,(Who crowd about them as they hover nearThe sacred vase, observing them the while;)Drop gold, and gems, and crystals for the ear,Adorn’d with quaint devices, to beguileWith love, the heart that’s languishing, and free from guile.Now all are gathered round in silence deep,Heart throbbing maids, (like knots of flowers fair,That bow unto the moon, whose soft rays sleepUpon their beauty,) and youths flush’d with careAnd keen anxiety, press forward there:Meanwhile, the little cherub-bride draws nigh,And from the vessel with her small hand fair,Brings forth the gem that gladdens some one’s eye,That grants to him or her the gift of prophecy.

At this fair summons men and women wereWont to assemble to decide their fate:The first begotten child with rose-deck’d hairClad as a bride—her features all sedate,Like one of holy calling—walk’d in state,Before a bacchanal procession, loudIn their mirth—dancing with glee elate—And shouting as they went—a motley crowdSpreading along the shore, like shadow from a cloud.

And when arrived where they were summoned, theyWith water from the ocean, to the brimFill a small vessel as the first essayTowards making intoonethe future—(dimAnd dark as ’tis)—perceptible—to himAlone this boon.—When a young virgin, fair,With knocking heart that maketh her head swimLest she, her hopes, have wither’d—from her hairTaketh a rose (her emblem) she had braided there;

And in the vessel drops it: Then the next,Lovely as Hebe, from her faery zone,Loosens the band that clasps it—somewhat vextThat like the rose it floats not—as ’tis known,Or so imagined, that the charm hath flownFrom what’s beneath the surface—so she deem’dE’en when the next a diamond had thrownInto the vessel, which, though sunken, seemedA star upon the surface—it so upward gleamed.

After the fair ones, one and all, have castThe bauble that each prized as somewhat dear,The youths o’eranxious lest they be surpass’dBy maidens in their zealous acts sincere,(Who crowd about them as they hover nearThe sacred vase, observing them the while;)Drop gold, and gems, and crystals for the ear,Adorn’d with quaint devices, to beguileWith love, the heart that’s languishing, and free from guile.

Now all are gathered round in silence deep,Heart throbbing maids, (like knots of flowers fair,That bow unto the moon, whose soft rays sleepUpon their beauty,) and youths flush’d with careAnd keen anxiety, press forward there:Meanwhile, the little cherub-bride draws nigh,And from the vessel with her small hand fair,Brings forth the gem that gladdens some one’s eye,That grants to him or her the gift of prophecy.

Barton Wilford.

Mean Temperature 58·62.

[224]Cited by Brand.

There are several interesting notices of usages on this day and midsummer-eve, in vol. i. from col. 825 to 855. To the account of the “old London watch” there cited, from “Stow’s Survey,” should be added from Mr. Douce’s notes, quoted by Mr. Brand, that the watch “was laid down in the twentieth year of Henry VIII;” and that “the chronicles of Stow and Byddel assign the sweating sickness as a cause for discontinuing the watch.” Mr. Douce adds, that “Niccols says the watches on midsummer and St. Peter’s-eve were laid down by licence from the king, ‘for that the cittie had then bin charged with the leavie of a muster of 15,000 men.’”

A large paper copy of Brand’s “Popular Antiquities,” with MS. notes upon it by a gentleman of great reputation as an antiquary, and who has publicly distinguished himself by erudite dissertations on certain usages of ancient times, was some time ago most obligingly forwarded by that gentleman to the editor of theEvery-Day Book, with permission to use the valuable manuscript additions. Hitherto it happened, from peculiar circumstances, that the advantage has not been available, but this and future sheets will be enriched from that source. The gentleman referred to cites from—“an Indenture of covenant between Thomas Oken ofWarwickand his twelve feoffees, dated the 20th of January, 13 Elizabeth,” (1571,) the followingclause:—

“Also that (the feoffees) their heirs or assignes shall lykewise yerelie, for ever, after the deceasse of the said Thomas Oken, distribute, or cause to be distributed, and paide, out of the yerelie revenewes of the forsaid lands and teneme’tes, to and amongest theneyhgboures of the bonfire of the said T. O., w’thin the High payv’ment Warde in the said towne of Warwick, towe shillinges of lawfull englysshe money, and thre shillings more of lawfull englysshe money, to be paid by equall porcions, to and amongest the neyhboures ofthe other thre bonfyres, beinge w’thin the said ward of the high pay’ment, to make merry w’tall, at there said bonfyres,yff any be in the vigilles or daies of seynt John Baptist and seynt Peter; and yff they have noe bonfires, that then the same to be ymployed to some other good use or uses, as to them shal be thought metest and convenient.”

The same gentleman quotes and refers to the following illustration of theday:—

“It was the 24 June, (at Lödingen in Norway on the confines of Lapland) the festival of St. John the Baptist; and the people flocked from all quarters to sport the whole night round a blazing fire, kindled on the top of an adjacent hill: a practice common about the time of the solstice, to the whole of the Gothic tribes, being a vestige of that most ancient worship of the resplendant image of the divinity, the glorious luminary of day.”—Edinburgh Review, October, 1813, Art.Von Buch’s Travels in Norway and Lapland.

The emperor Charles V. found it expedient to exhibit to the turbulent inhabitants of Dunkirk, a show called theCow-mass, on St. John’s-day. Whether it has been resumed is uncertain, but in 1789 itwas described to have been represented at that time in the followingmanner:—

The morning is ushered in by the merry peals of thecorillons, or bell-playing. The streets are very early lined with soldiers; and, by eight o’clock, every house-top and window is filled with spectators, at least forty thousand exclusive of inhabitants.

About ten o’clock, after high mass at the great church, the show begins, by the townsmen being classed according to the different trades, walking two and two, each holding a burning wax candle, and at least a yard long, and each dressed not in their best apparel, but in the oldest and oddest fashion of their ancestors.

After the several companies is a pageant containing an emblematical representation of its trade, and this pageant is followed by patron saints, most of which are of solid silver adorned with jewels. Bands of music, vocal and instrumental, attend the companies, the chorusses of which are very solemn.

Then followed the friars and regular clergy, two and two, in the habits of their different orders, slow in their motion, and with the appearance of solemn piety.

Then came the abbot in a most magnificent dress, richly adorned with silver and gold, his train supported by two men in the dress of cardinals. The host was borne before him by an old white-bearded man of a most venerable aspect, surrounded by a great number of boys in white surplices, who strewed frankincense and myrrh under his feet; and four men supported a large canopy of wrought silver over his head, while four others sustained a large silver lantern, with a light in it at the end of a pole.

They then proceeded to the bottom of the street, where there was elevated a grand altar, ascended by a flight of steps; there the procession stopped, while the abbot came from under his canopy and took the host from the old man: ascending the altar, he held up the host in his elevated hands, and the vast multitude instantly fell on their knees, from the house-tops down to the dirt in the streets below.

After this solemnity, gaiety in the face of every one appeared, and the procession recommenced.

Other pageants came forth, from the great church, followed by a vast moving machine, consisting of several circular stages to representHeaven; on the bottom stages appeared many friars and nuns, each holding white lilies in their hands, and on the uppermost stage but one were two figures, representingAdamandEve, and several winged angels, in white flowing garments. On the uppermost stage was one figure only, to represent God, on whom all the eyes of the lower figures were directed, with looks of adoration and humility; this machine was drawn by horses.

Next followed an enormous figure to representHell. It was something like an elephant, with a large head and eyes, and a pair of horns, on which several little devils, or rather boys dressed like devils, were sitting; the monster was hollow within, and the lower jaw was movable, by moving of which it frequently exhibited the inward contents, which was filled with full-grown devils, who poured out liquid fire from the “jaws of hell.” At the same time, the figure was surrounded by a great number of external devils dressed in crape, with hideous masks and curled tails.

Between the figures which represented “heaven” and “hell,” several young ladies passed with wreaths of flowers on their heads, and palms in their hands, riding in elegant carriages. AfterHellfollowed old Lucifer himself, armed with a pitchfork, and leading St. Michael the archangel in chains. Michael and Lucifer were followed by a person dressed in a kind of harlequin’s coat hung round with bells, holding a hoop in his hands, through which he frequently jumped, and showed many other feats of activity; but what, or who he represented I cannot say (except it were afool).

Then came a grand carriage, covered with a superb canopy, from the middle of which hung a little dove; under the dove was a table covered with a carpet, at which were sitting two women dressed in white, with wings, pointing upwards to the dove. They represented the salutation of the Virgin Mary.

Next followed a group of dancing boys surrounding a stable, in which was seen the Virgin Mary again, and the child in the manger. This machine was followed by another fool, like the former, with a hoop of bells.

The next machine was a fish, fifteen feet long, moved by men, on wheels, concealed within; upon its back sat a boy, richly dressed, and playing upon a harp. The gold, silver, and jewels, which decorated this fish, were valued at ten thousand pounds and were finished by thecity merchants, whose sons and daughters were the principal actors in the show. After the fish came another fool, with a hoop, as before.

Then appeared Joseph as flying from Egypt; a woman representing a virgin with a young child upon her lap, and mounted on an ass, which was led by Joseph, who had a basket of tools on his back, and a long staff in his hand. Joseph and his spouse were attended by several devils, who beat off the people that crowded too close upon the procession: these two were followed by a fourth fool, or hoop-dancer.

Then came a large and magnificent carriage, on which sat a person representing thegrand monarquesitting on a throne, dressed in his robes, with a crown, ball, and sceptre, lying before him on a table covered with embroidered velvet. His most christian majesty was attended by several devils, hoop-dancers, and banner-bearers.

Then followed another machine bearing thequeenin her royal robes, attended by a great many ladies and maids of honour; the jewels of her crown were said to be of vast value; on this stage there was a grand band of music, and many dancers richly attired.

Then followed Bacchus, a large fat figure, dressed in coloured silk, attended by a great number of bacchanals holding goblets up to their mouths as in the act of drinking, with a few more devils and hoop-dancers.

Then followed a kind of a sea triumph, in the front of which appeared Neptune with his trident and crown, in a large shell, surrounded by boys dressed in white, who were throwing out and drawing in a deep sea-lead, as sounding for land.

Six men followed in white shirts, with poles twenty-five feet long, decorated with bells and flowers; frequently shaking their poles, or endeavouring to break them; for he who could break one was exempted a whole year from all parish duty.

The pole-bearers were followed by a large ship, representing a ship of war drawn on wheels by horses, with sails spread, colours flying, and brass guns on board fired off very briskly: on the quarter-deck stood the admiral, captain and boatswain, who, when he whistled, brought forth the sailors, some dancing, others heaving the log, and the tops filled with boys.

The ship was followed by the representation of a large wood, with men in it dressed in green; a green scaly skin was drawn over their own, and their faces were masked to appear as savages, each squirting water at the people from large pewter syringes. This piece of machinery, which was very noble, was the production of the Jesuit’s college, and caused great jollity among the common people.

The wood was followed by a very tall man, dressed like an infant in a body-coat, and walking in a go-cart, with a rattle in his hand.

This infant was followed by a man forty-five feet high, with a boy looking out of his pocket, shaking a rattle and calling out.—“grandpapa! grandpapa!” He was clothed in blue and gold, which reached quite to the ground, and concealed a body of men who moved it and made it dance.

After him followed a figure nearly of the same stature, mounted on a horse of suitable size for the enormous rider, which made a most striking and elegant appearance, both man and horse being executed in a masterly manner. It was made in a moving posture, two of the feet being raised from the ground.

Then followed a woman of equal stature, and not inferior in elegance to those which preceded; she had a watch at her side as large as a warming-pan, and her head and breast richly decorated with jewels; her eyes and head turned very naturally; and as she moved along she frequently danced, and not inelegantly.

“Thus,” says its describer, “ended theCow-mass, a show scarce exceeded by any in the knownworld.”[225]

In the church of Bradmore, Nottinghamshire, is a monument for sir Thomas Parkyns, who is represented standing in a posture for wrestling, and in another part he appears thrown by Time, with the following lines, written by Dr.Friend:—

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