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Royalty Restored or London under Charles II
Chapter XIX
by Molloy, J. Fitzgerald
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London under Charles II.--Condition and appearance of the
thoroughfares.--Coffee is first drunk in the capital.--Taverns
and their frequenters.--The city by night.--Wicked people do
creep about.--Companies of young gentlemen.--The Duke of Monmouth
kills a beadle.--Sir Charles Sedley's frolic.--Stately houses of
the nobility.--St. James's Park.--Amusement of the town.--At
Bartholomew Fair.--Bull, bear, and dog fights.--Some quaint
sports.
During the first six years of the merry monarch's reign, London
town, east of Temple Bar, consisted of narrow and tortuous
streets of quaintly gabled houses, pitched roofed and plaster
fronted. Scarce four years had passed after the devastating fire
which laid this portion of the capital in ashes, when a new and
stately city rose upon the ruins of the old. Thoroughfares lying
close by the Thames, which were wont to suffer from inundations,
were raised; those which from limited breadth had caused
inconvenience and bred pestilence were made wide; warehouses and
dwellings of solid brick and carved stone, with doors, window-
frames, and breastsummers of stout oak, replaced irregular though
not unpicturesque habitations; whilst the halls of companies,
eminent taverns, and abodes of great merchants, were now built
"with fair courtyards before them, and pleasant gardens behind
them, and fair spacious rooms and galleries in them, little
inferior to some princes' palaces." Moreover, churches designed
by the genius of Christopher Wren, adorned with spires, steeples,
and minarets, intersected the capital at all points.
This new, handsome, and populous city presented an animated, ever
changing, and merry scene. From "the high street which is called
the Strand," far eastwards, great painted signs, emblazoned with
heraldic arms, or ornamented with pictures of grotesque birds and
animals, swung above shop-doors and taverns. Stalls laden with
wares of every description, "set out with decorations as valuable
as those of the stage," extended into the thoroughfares. In the
new Exchange, built by the worshipful company of mercers at a
cost of eight thousand pounds, and adorned by a fair statue of
King Charles II. in the habit of a Roman emperor, were galleries
containing rows of very rich shops, displaying manufactures and
ornaments of rare description, served by young men known as
apprentices, and likewise by comely wenches.
At corners and nooks of streets, under eaves of churches and
great buildings, and other places of shelter, sat followers of
various trades and vendors of divers commodities, each in the
place which had become his from daily association and long habit.
These good people, together with keepers of stalls and shops,
extolled their wares in deafening shouts; snatches of song,
shouts of laughter, and the clang of pewter vessels came in
bursts of discord from open tavern doors; women discoursed with
or abused each other, according to their temper and inclination
as they leaned from the jutting small-paned windows and open
balconies of their homesteads; hackney coaches or "hell carts,"
as they drove by, cast filth and refuse lying in kennels upon the
clothes of passengers; the carriers of sedan-chairs deposited
their burthens to fight for right of way in narrow passages and
round crowded corners.
Through the busy concourse flowing up and down the thoroughfares
from dawn to dusk, street-criers took their way, bearing wares
upon their heads in wicker baskets, before them on broad trays,
or slung upon their backs in goodly packs. And as they passed,
their voices rose above the general din, calling "Fair lemons and
oranges, oranges and citrons!" "Cherries, sweet cherries, ripe
and red!" "New flounders and great plaice; buy my dish of great
eels!" "Rosemary and sweet briar; who'll buy my lavender?"
"Fresh cheese and cream!" "Lily-white vinegar!" "Dainty
sausages!" which calls, being frequently intoned to staves of
melody, fell with pleasant sounds upon the ear. [These hawkers
so seriously interfered with legitimate traders, that in 1694
they were forbidden to sell any goods or merchandise in any
public place within the city or liberties, except in open markets
and fairs, on penalty of forty shillings for each offence, both
to buyers and sellers.] Moreover, to these divers sights and
sounds were added ballad singers, who piped ditties upon topics
of the day; quacks who sold nostrums and magic potions; dancers
who performed on tight-ropes; wandering musicians; fire-eaters of
great renown; exhibitors of dancing dolls, and such like
itinerants "as make show of motions and strange sights," all of
whom were obliged to have and to hold "a license in red and black
letters, under the hand and seal of Thomas Killigrew, Esq.,
master of the revels to his sacred majesty Charles II."
Adown the Strand, Fleet Street, and in that part of the city
adjoining the Exchange, coffee-houses abounded in great numbers.
Coffee, which in this reign became a favourite beverage, was
introduced into London a couple of years before the restoration.
It had, however, been brought into England at a much earlier
period. John Evelyn, in the year 1638, speaks of it being drunk
at Oxford, where there came to his college "one Nathaniel
Conoposis out of Greece, from Cyrill the patriarch of
Constantinople, who, returning many years after, was made Bishop
of Smyrna." Twelve good years later, a coffee-house was opened
at Oxford by one Jacobs, a Jew, where this beverage was imbibed
"by some who delighted in novelty." It was, however, according
to Oldys the antiquarian, untasted in the capital till a Turkey
merchant named Edwards brought to London a Ragusan youth named
Pasqua Rosee, who prepared this drink for him daily. The
eagerness to taste the strange beverage drawing too much company
to his board, Edwards allowed the lad, together with a servant of
his son-in-law, to sell it publicly; whence coffee was first sold
in St. Michael's Alley in Cornhill by Pasqua Rosee, "at the sign
of his own head," about the year 1658.
Though coffee-drinkers first met with much ridicule from wits
about town, and writers of broadsheet ballads, the beverage
became gradually popular, and houses for its sale quickly
multiplied. Famous amongst these, in the reign of the merry
monarch, besides that already mentioned, was Garraway's in
Exchange Alley; the Rainbow, by the Inner Temple Gate; Dick's,
situated at No. 8, Fleet Street; Jacobs', the proprietor of which
moved in 1671 from Oxford to Southampton Buildings, Holborn; the
Grecian in the Strand, "conducted without ostentation or noise;"
the Westminster, noted as a resort of peers and members of
parliament; and Will's, in Russell Street, frequented by the poet
Dryden.
These houses, the forerunners of clubs, were, according to their
situation and convenience, frequented by noblemen and men of
quality, courtiers, foreign ministers, politicians, members of
learned professions, wits, citizens of various grades, and all
who loved to exchange greetings and gossip with their neighbours
and friends. Within these low-ceilinged comfortable coffee-house
rooms, fitted with strong benches and oak chairs, where the black
beverage was drunk from handless wide brimmed cups, Pepys passed
many cheerful hours, hearing much of the news he so happily
narrates, and holding pleasant discourse with many notable men.
It was in a coffee-house he encountered Major Waters, "a deaf and
most amorous melancholy gentleman, who is under a despayer in
love, which makes him bad company, though a most good-natured
man." And in such a place he listened to "some simple discourse
about quakers being charmed by a string about their wrists;" and
saw a certain merchant named Hill "that is a master of most sorts
of musique and other things, the universal character, art of
memory, counterfeiting of hands, and other most excellent
discourses."
In days before newspapers came into universal circulation, and
general meetings were known, coffee-houses became recognised
centres for exchange of thought and advocacy of political action.
Aware of this, the government, under leadership of Danby, not
desiring to have its motives too freely canvassed, in 1675 issued
an order that such "places of resort for idle and disaffected
persons" should be closed. Alarmed by this command, the keepers
of such houses petitioned for its withdrawal, at the same time
faithfully promising libels should not be read under their roofs.
They were therefore permitted to carry on their business by
license.
Next in point of interest to coffee-houses were taverns where men
came to make merry, in an age when simplicity and good fellowship
largely obtained. As in coffee-houses, gossip was the order of
the day in such places, each tavern being in itself "a broacher
of more news than hogsheads, and more jests than news." Those of
good standing and fair renown could boast rows of bright flagons
ranged on shelves round panelled walls; of hosts, rotund in
person and genial in manner; and of civil drawers, who could
claim good breeding. The Bear, at the bridge-foot, situated at
the Southwark side, was well known to men of gallantry and women
of pleasure; and was, moreover, famous as the spot where the Duke
of Richmond awaited Mistress Stuart on her escape from Whitehall.
The Boar's Head, in Eastcheap, which gained pleasant mention in
the plays of William Shakespeare, when rebuilt, after the great
fire, became a famous resort. The Three Cranes, in the Vintry,
was sacred to the shade of rare Ben Jonson. The White Bear's
Head, in Abchurch Lane, where French dinners were served from
five shillings a head "to a guinea, or what sum you pleased," was
the resort of cavaliers, The Rose Tavern, in the Poultry, was
famous for its excellent ale, and no less for its mighty pretty
hostess, to whom the king had kissed hands as he rode by on his
entry. The Rummer was likewise of some note, inasmuch as it was
kept by one Samuel Prior, uncle to Matthew Prior, the ingenious
poet. On the balcony of the Cock, near Covent Garden, Sir
Charles Sedley had stood naked in a drunken frolic; and at the
King's Head, over against the Inner Temple Gate, Shaftesbury and
his friends laid their plots, coming out afterwards on the double
balcony in front, as North describes them, "with hats and no
peruques, pipes in their mouths, merry faces and dilated throats,
for vocal encouragement of the canaglia below."
All day long the streets were crowded by those whom business or
diversion carried abroad; but when night fell apace, the keepers
of stalls and shops speedily secured their wares and fastened
their doors, whilst the honest citizen and his family kept within
house. For the streets being unlighted, darkness fell upon them,
relieved only as some person of wealth rode homewards from
visiting a friend, or a band of late revellers returned from a
feast, when the glare of flambeaux, carried by their attendants,
for a moment brought the outlines of houses into relief, or
flashed red light upon their diamond panes, leaving all in
profound gloom on disappearing.
The condition of the thoroughfares favouring the inclination of
many loose persons, they wandered at large, dealing mischief to
those whose duty took them abroad. From the year 1556, in the
reign of Queen Mary, "fit persons with suitable strength" had
been appointed to walk the streets and watch the city by night;
to protect those in danger, arrest suspected persons, warn
householders of danger by fire and candle, help the poor, pray
for the dead, and preserve the peace. These burly individuals
were known as watch or bell men; one was appointed for each ward,
whose duty it was to pass through the district he guarded ringing
his bell, "and when that ceaseth," says Stow, "he salutes his
masters and mistresses with his rhymes, suitable to the seasons
and festivals of the year, and bids them look to their lights."
In the third year of the reign of King Charles II., whilst Sir
John Robinson was mayor of London town, divers good orders were
made by him and his common council for the better service of
these watches. The principal of these set forth that each should
be accompanied by a constable and a beadle selected from the
inhabitants of their respective wards, who should be required in
turn to render voluntary service in guarding the city, from nine
of the clock at night till seven in the morning, from Michaelmas
to the 1st of April; and from that date until the 31st of March,
from ten at night till five in the morning.
These rules were not, however, vigorously carried out; the
volunteers were frequently unwilling to do duty, or when, fearful
of fine, they went abroad, they usually spent their time in
tippling in ale-houses, so that, as Delaune remarks, "a great
many wicked persons capable of the blackest villainies do creep
about, as daily and sad experience shows." It was not only those
who, with drawn swords, darted from some deep porch or sheltering
buttress, in hopes of enriching themselves at their neighbour's
expense, that were to be dreaded. It was a fashion of the time
for companies of young gentlemen to saunter forth in numbers
after route or supper, when, being merry with wine and eager for
adventure, they were brave enough to waylay the honest citizen
and abduct his wife, beat the watch and smash his lantern, bedaub
signboards and wrench knockers, overturn a sedan-chair and
vanquish the carriers, sing roystering songs under the casements
of peaceful sleepers, and play strange pranks to which they were
prompted by young blood and high spirits.
Among those who made prominent figures in such unholy sports was
the king's eldest son, my Lord Duke of Monmouth. He and his
young grace of Albemarle--son to that gallant soldier now
deceased, who was instrumental in restoring his majesty--together
with some seven or eight young gentlemen, whilst on their rounds
one Sunday morning encountered a beadle, whose quaint and
ponderous figure presented itself to their blithe minds as a fit
object for diversion in lieu of better. Accordingly they
accosted him with rough words and unceremonious usage, the which
he resenting, they came to boisterous threats and many blows,
that ended only when the poor fellow lay with outstretched limbs
stark dead upon the pavement. Sir Charles Sedley and Lord
Brockhurst were also notable as having been engaged in another
piece of what has been called "frolick and debauchery," when
"they ran up and down all night almost naked through the streets,
at last fighting and being beaten by the watch, and clapped up
all night."
It was not until the last years of the merry monarch's reign that
there was introduced "an ingenious and useful invention for the
good of this great city, calculated to secure one's goods,
estates, and person; to prevent fires, robberies and
housebreakings, and several accidents and casualties by falls to
which man is liable by walking in the dark" This was a scheme for
lighting the streets, by placing an oil-lamp in front of every
tenth house on each side of the way, from Michaelmas to Lady-day,
every night from six of the clock till twelve, beginning the
third night after every full moon, and ending on the sixth night
after every new moon; one hundred and twenty nights in all. The
originator of this plan was one Edward Hemming, of London,
gentleman. His project was at first ridiculed and opposed by
"narrow-souled and self-interested people," who were no doubt
children of darkness and doers of evil deeds; but was eventually
hailed with delight by all honest men, one of whom, gifted with
considerable imagination, declared these poor oil-lamps "seemed
but one great solar light that turned nocturnal shades to
noonday."
In this reign the city proper was confined eastward of Temple
Bar; to the west lay the palaces of Somerset House and Whitehall,
the stately parks, and great houses of the nobility surrounded by
wide gardens and wooded grounds. Monsieur Sorbiere, who in this
reign made a journey into England, an account of which he
subsequently published "to divert a person of quality who loved
him extremely," resided close by Covent Garden during his stay.
It was usual, he writes, for people in the district to say, "I go
to London," for "indeed 'tis a journey for those who live near
Westminster. 'Tis true," he adds, "they may sometimes get
thither in a quarter of an hour by water, which they cannot do in
less than two hours by land, for I am persuaded no less time will
be necessary to go from one end of its suburb to the other." For
a crown a week this ingenious and travelled gentleman had
lodgings in Covent Garden, not far removed from Salisbury House,
a vicinity which he avows was "certainly the finest place in the
suburbs." Covent Garden itself has been described by John
Strype, native of the city of London, as "a curious large and
airy square enclosed by rails, between which railes and houses
runs a fair street." The square, or, as it was commonly called,
garden, was well gravelled for greater accommodation of those who
wished to take the air; and that its surface might more quickly
dry after rain, it was raised by an easy ascent to the centre,
where stood a sundial fixed on a black marble pillar, at the base
of which were stone steps, "whereon the weary' might rest."
The west side of the square was flanked by the handsome portico
of St. Paul's Church, erected at the expense of Francis, Earl of
Bedford, from designs by Mr. Inigo Jones; the south side opened
to Bedford Gardens, "where there is a small grotto of trees, most
pleasant in the summer season. Here, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and
Saturdays, a market was held, well stocked with roots, fruits,
herbs, and flowers. On the north and east sides stood large and
stately houses of persons of quality and consideration, the
fronts of which, being supported by strong pillars, afforded
broad walks, known as the Piazza, and found convenient in wet and
sultry weather.
Here amongst other houses was that of my Lord Brouncker, where
Mr. Pepys enjoyed a most noble French dinner and much good
discourse, in return for which he gave much satisfaction by the
singing of a new ballad, to wit, Lord Dorset's famous song, "To
all ye ladies now on land." Not far distant, its face turned to
the Strand, was the stately residence of the Duke of Bedford, a
large dark building, fronted by a great courtyard, and backed by
spacious gardens enclosed by red-brick walls. Likewise in the
Strand stood Arundel House, the residence of Henry Frederick
Howard, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, and Earl Marshal of England;
Hatfield House, built by Thomas Hatfield, Bishop of Durham, as a
town residence for himself and his heirs lawfully begotten; York
House, richly adorned with the arms of Villiers and Manners--one
gloomy chamber of which was shown as that wherein its late noble
owner, George, first Duke of Buckingham, was stabbed by Felton;
Worcester House, at one time occupied by Lord Chancellor
Clarendon; and Essex House, situated near St. Clement Danes, the
town residence of Arthur Capel, Earl of Essex, "a sober, wise,
judicious, and pondering person, not illiterate beyond the rate
of most noblemen of this age."
There were also many other noble mansions lying westward, amongst
them being those of the Dukes of Ormond and Norfolk in St.
James's Square, which was built at this time; Berkeley House,
which stood on the site now occupied by Berkeley Square, a
magnificent structure containing a staircase of cedar wood, and
great suites of lofty rooms; Leicester House, situated in
Leicester Fields, subsequently known as Leicester Square, behind
which stretched a goodly common; Goring House, "a very pretty
villa furnished with silver jars, vases, cabinets, and other rich
furniture, even to wantonnesse and profusion," on the site of
which Burlington Street now stands; Clarendon House, a princely
residence, combining "state, use, solidity, and beauty,"
surrounded by fair gardens, that presently gave place to Bond
Street; Southampton House, standing, as Evelyn says, in "a noble
piazza--a little town," now known as Bloomsbury Square, whose
pleasant grounds commanded a full view of the rising hills of
Hampstead and Highgate; and Montagu House, described as a palace
built in the French fashion, standing on the ground now occupied
by the British Museum, which in this reign was backed by lonely
fields, the dread scenes of "robbery, murder, and every species
of depravity and wickedness of which the heart can think."
Besides the grounds and gardens surrounding these stately
mansions, a further aspect of space and freshness was added to
the capital by public parks. Foremost amongst these was St.
James's, to which the merry monarch added several fields, and for
its greater advantage employed Monsieur La Notre, the famous
French landscape-gardener. Amongst the improvements this
ingenious man effected were planting trees of stately height,
contriving a canal one hundred feet broad and two hundred and
eighty feet long, with a decoy and duck island, [The goodnatured
Charles made Monsieur St. Evremond governor of Duck Island, to
which position he attached a salary much appreciated by the
exile. The island was removed in 1790 to make room for fresh
improvements.] and making a pleasant pathway bordered by an
aviary on either side, usually called Bird Cage Walk. An
enclosure for deer was formed in the centre of the park; not far
removed was the famous Physic Garden, where oranges were first
seen in England; and at the western end, where Buckingham Palace
has been erected, stood Arlington House, described as "a most
neat box, and sweetly seated amongst gardens, enjoying the
prospect of the park and the adjoining fields."
The great attraction of St. James's Park was the Mall, which
Monsieur Sorbiere tells us was a walk "eight hundred and fifty
paces in length, beset with rows of large trees, and near a small
wood, from whence you may see a fine mead, a long canal,
Westminster Abbey, and the suburbs, which afford an admirable
prospect." This path was skirted by a wooded border, and at the
extreme end was set with iron hoops, "for the purpose of playing
a game with a ball called the mall." ["Our Pall Mall is, I
believe, derived from paille maille, a game somewhat analogous to
cricket, and imported from France in the reign of the second
Charles. It was formerly played in St. James's Park, and in the
exercise of the sport a small hammer or mallet was used to strike
the ball. I think it worth noting that the Malhe crest is a
mailed arm and hand, the latter grasping a mallet."--NOTES AND
QUERIES, 1st series, vol. iii. p. 351.]
In St. James's Park Samuel Pepys first saw the Duke of York
playing at "pelemele"; and likewise in 1662 witnessed with
astonishment people skate upon the ice there, skates having been
just introduced from Holland; on another occasion he enjoyed the
spectacle of Lords Castlehaven and Arran running down and killing
a stout buck for a wager before the king. And one sultry July
day, meeting an acquaintance here, the merry soul took him to the
farther end, where, seating himself under a tree in a corner, he
sung him some blithesome songs. It was likewise in St. James's
Park the Duke of York, meeting John Milton one day, asked him if
his blindness was not to be regarded as a just punishment from
heaven, due to his having written against the martyred king. "If
so, sir," replied the great poet and staunch republican, "what
must we think of his majesty's execution upon a scaffold?" To
which question his royal highness vouchsafed no reply.
It was a favourite custom of his majesty, who invariably rose
betimes, to saunter in the park whilst the day was young and pass
an hour or two in stroking the heads of his feathered favourites
in the aviary, feeding the fowls in the pond with biscuits, and
playing with the crowd of spaniels ever attending his walks. For
his greater amusement he had brought together in the park a rare
and valuable collection of birds and beasts; amongst which were,
according to a quaint authority, "an onocratylus, or pelican, a
fowl between a stork and a swan--a melancholy water-fowl brought
from Astracan by the Russian ambassador." This writer tells us,
"It was diverting to see how the pelican would toss up and turn a
flat fish, plaice or flounder, to get it right into its gullet at
its lower beak, which being filmy stretches to a prodigious
wideness when it devours a great fish. Here was also a small
water-fowl, not bigger than a more-hen, that went almost quite
erect like the penguin of America. It would eate as much fish as
its whole body weighed, yet ye body did not appear to swell the
bigger. The Solan geese here are also great devourers, and are
said soon to exhaust all ye fish in a pond. Here was a curious
sort of poultry not much exceeding the size of a tame pidgeon,
with legs so short as their crops seemed to touch ye earth; a
milk-white raven; a stork which was a rarity at this season,
seeing he was loose and could fly loftily; two Balearian cranes,
one of which having had one of his leggs broken, and cut off
above the knee, had a wooden or boxen leg and thigh, with a
joint so accurately made that ye creature could walke and use it
as well as if it had ben natural; it was made by a souldier. The
park was at this time stored with numerous flocks of severall
sorts of ordinary and extraordinary wild fowle breeding about the
decoy, which, looking neere so greate a citty, and among such a
concourse of souldiers and people, is a singular and diverting
thing. There are also deere of several countries, white, spotted
like leopards; antelopes, an elk, red deere, roebucks, staggs,
Guinea goates, Arabian sheepe, etc. There are withy-potts or
nests for the wild fowle to lay their eggs in, a little above ye
surface of ye water."
Hyde Park, lying close by, likewise afforded a pleasant and
convenient spot for recreation. Here, in a large circle railed
off and known as the Ring, the world of quality and fashion took
the air in coaches. The king and queen, surrounded by a goodly
throng of maids of honour and gentlemen in waiting, were wont to
ride here on summer evenings, whilst courtiers and citizens
looked on the brilliant cavalcade with loyal delight. Horse and
foot races were occasionally held in the park, as were reviews
likewise, Cosmo, Grand Duke of Tuscany, "a very jolly and good
comely man," whilst visiting England in 1669, was entertained by
his majesty with a military parade held here one Sunday in May.
On arriving at Hyde Park, he found a great concourse of people
and carriages waiting the coming of his majesty, who presently
appeared with the Duke of York and many lords and gentlemen of
the court. Having acknowledged an enthusiastic greeting, Charles
retired under shade of some trees, in order to protect himself
from the sun, and then gave orders for the troops to march past.
"The whole corps," says the Grand Duke, "consisted of two
regiments of infantry, and one of cavalry, and of three companies
of the body-guard, which was granted to the king by parliament
since his return, and was formed of six hundred horsemen, each
armed with carabines and pistols, all well mounted and dressed,
which are uniform in every; thing but colour. When they had
marched by, without firing either a volley or a salve, his
majesty dismounted from his horse, and entering his carriage,
retired to Whitehall."
Besides such diversions as were enjoyed in the parks, the people
had various other sources of public amusement; amongst these
puppet-shows, exhibitions of strength and agility, bear-baiting,
cock-fighting, and dancing obtained. Until the restoration,
puppet-shows had not been seen for years; for these droll dolls,
being regarded as direct agents of Satan, were discountenanced by
the puritans. With the coming of his majesty they returned in
vast numbers, and were hailed with great delight by the people.
One of these exhibitions which found special favour with the
town, and speedily drew great audiences of gallants and ladies of
quality, was situated within the rails of Covent Garden. And so
perfect were the marionettes of this booth in the performance of
divers sad tragedies and gay comedies, that they had the honour
of receiving a royal command to play before their majesties at
Whitehall. Amongst the most famous tumblers, or, as they were
then styled, posturemakers, of this reign were Jacob Hall the
friend of my Lady Castlemaine, and Joseph Clarke, beloved by the
citizens. Though the latter was "a well-made man and rather
gross than thin," we are told he "exhibited in the most natural
manner almost every species of deformity and dislocation; he
could dislocate his vertebrae so as to render himself a shocking
spectacle; he could also assume all the uncouth faces he had seen
at a quaker's meeting, at the theatre, or any public place. He
was likewise the plague of all the tailors about town. He would
send for one of them to take measure of him, but would so
contrive it as to have a most immoderate rising in one of his
shoulders; when his clothes were brought home and tried upon him,
the deformity was removed into the other shoulder, upon which the
tailor begged pardon for the mistake, and mended it as fast as he
could; but on another trial found him as straight-shouldered a
man as one would desire to see, but a little unfortunate in a
hump back. In fact, this wandering tumour puzzled all the
workmen about town, who found it impossible to accommodate so
changeable a customer."
Florian Marchand, "the water-spouter," was another performer who
enjoyed considerable fame. Such was the dexterity of this
conjurer that, "drinking only fountaine-water, he rendered out of
his mouth in severall glasses all sorts of wine and sweete
waters." A Turk, who walked up an almost perpendicular line by
means of his toes, danced blindfold on a tight rope with a boy
dangling from his feet, and stood on his head on the top of a
high mast, shared an equal popularity with Barbara Vanbeck, the
bearded woman, and "a monstrous beast, called a dromedary."
These wondrous sights, together with various others of a like
kind, which were scattered throughout the town and suburbs during
the greater part of the year, assembled in full strength at the
fairs of St. Margaret, Southwark, and St. Bartholomew, in
Smithfield. These gatherings, which usually lasted a fortnight,
were looked forward to with considerable pleasure, and frequented
not only by citizens bent on sport, but by courtiers in search of
adventure.
Nay, even her majesty was tempted on one occasion to go a-
fairing, as we gather from a letter addressed to Sir Robert
Paston, contained in Ives's select papers. "Last week," says the
writer thereof, "the queen, the Duchess of Richmond, and the
Duchess of Buckingham had a frolick to disguise themselves like
country lasses, in red petticoates, waistcoates, etc., and so goe
see the faire. Sir Bernard Gascoign, on a cart jade, rode before
the queen; another stranger before the Duchess of Buckingham, and
Mr. Roper before Richmond. They had all so overdone it in their
disguise, and look'd so much more like antiques than country
volk, that as soon as they came to the faire, the people began to
goe after them; but the queen going to a booth to buy a pair of
yellow stockins for her sweethart, and Sir Bernard asking for a
pair of gloves, sticht with blew, for his sweethart, they were
soon, by their gebrish, found to be strangers, which drew a
bigger flock about them. One amongst them [who] had seen the
queen at dinner, knew her, and was proud of her knowledge. This
soon brought all the faire into a crowd to stare at the queen.
Being thus discovered, they as soon as they could got to their
horses; but as many of the faire as had horses, got up with their
wives, children, sweetharts, or neighbours behind them, to get as
much gape as they could till they brought them to the court gate.
Thus by ill conduct was a merry frolick turned into a penance."
On another occasion my Lady Castlemaine went to Bartholomew fair
to see the puppets play "Patient Grissel;" and there was the
street "full of people expecting her coming out," who, when she
appeared, "suffered her with great respect to take the coach."
Not only the king's mistress, but likewise the whole court went
to St. Margaret's fair to see "an Italian wench daunce and
performe all the tricks on the high rope to admiration; and
monkies and apes do other feates of activity." "They," says a
quaint author, "were gallantly clad A LA MODE, went upright,
saluted the company, bowing and pulling off their hats, with as
good a grace as if instructed by a dancing master. They turned
heels over head with a basket having eggs in it, without breaking
any; also with lighted candles on their heads, without
extinguishing them; and with vessells of water without spilling a
drop."
The cruel sport of bull and bear baiting was also commonly
practised. Seated round an amphitheatre, the people witnessed
these unfortunate animals being torn to pieces by dogs, the
owners of which frequently jumped into the arena to urge them to
their sanguinary work, on the result of which great wagers
depended. Indignation arising against those who witnessed such
sights may be somewhat appeased by the knowledge that infuriated
bulls occasionally tossed the torn and bleeding carcases of their
tormentors into the faces and laps of spectators. Pepys
frequently speaks of dense crowds which assembled to witness this
form of cruelty, which he designates as good sport; and Evelyn
speaks of a gallant steed that, under the pretence that he had
killed a man, was baited by dogs, but fought so hard for his life
"the fiercest of them could not fasten on him till he was run
through with swords." Not only bull and bear baiting, cock and
dog fighting were encouraged, but prize combats between man and
man were regarded as sources of great diversion. Pepys gives a
vivid picture of a furious encounter he, in common with a great
and excited crowd, witnessed at the bear-garden stairs, at
Bankside, between a butcher and a waterman. "The former," says
he, "had the better all along, till by-and-by the latter dropped
his sword out of his hand; and the butcher, whether not seeing
his sword dropped I know not, but did give him a cut over the
wrist, so as he was disabled to fight any longer. But Lord! to
see how in a minute the whole stage was full of watermen to
revenge the foul play, and the butchers to defend their fellow,
though most blamed him; and then they all fell to it to knocking
down and cutting many on each side. It was pleasant to see, but
that I stood in the pit, and feared that in the tumult I might
get some hurt."
Among the more healthy sports which obtained during the reign
were horse-racing, tennis, and bowling. The monarch had, at vast
expense, built a house and stables at Newmarket, where he and his
court regularly repaired, to witness racing. Here likewise the
king and "ye jolly blades enjoyed dauncing, feasting, and
revelling, more resembling a luxurious and abandoned route than a
Christian court." He had likewise a tennis-court and bowling
green at Whitehall, where at noonday and towards eve, blithe
lords, and ladies in brave apparel, might be seen at play.
Bowling was a game to which the people were much devoted, every
suburban tavern having its green, where good friends and honest
neighbours challenged each other's strength and skill. And
amongst other pleasant sports and customs were those practised on
May-day, when maids rose betimes to bathe their faces in dew,
that they might become sweet-complexioned to men's sight; and
milk-maids with garlands of spring flowers upon their pails, and
posies in their breasts, danced to the merry music of fiddles
adown the streets.
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