"Now burst the blazing bonfires on the sight,
Through the wide air their coruscations play;
The windows beam with artificial light,
And all the region emulates the day.
"The moping mason, from yon tavern led,
In mystic words doth to the moon complain
That unsound port distracts his aching head,
And o'er the waiter waves his clouded cane."--E.
[Illustration: NIGHT.]
Mr. Walpole very truly observes, that this print is inferior to the
three others; there is, however, broad humour in some of the figures.
The wounded freemason, who, in zeal of brotherly love, has drank
his bumpers to the craft till he is unable to find his way home, is
under the guidance of a waiter. This has been generally considered as
intended for Sir Thomas de Veil, and, from an authenticated portrait
which I have seen, I am inclined to think it is, notwithstanding Sir
John Hawkins asserts that "he could discover no resemblance." When
the knight saw him in his magisterial capacity, he was probably sober
and sedate: here he is represented a little disguised. The British
Xantippe showering her favours from the window upon his head, may
have its source in that respect which the inmates of such houses
as the Rummer Tavern had for a justice of peace.[142]
The waiter who supports his worship seems, from the patch upon his
forehead, to have been in a recent affray; but what use he can have
for a lantern it is not easy to divine, unless he is conducting
his charge to some place where there is neither moonlight nor
illumination.
The Salisbury flying coach oversetting and broken, by passing through
the bonfire, is said to be an intended burlesque upon a right
honourable peer, who was accustomed to drive his own carriage over
hedges, ditches, and rivers; and has been sometimes known to drive
three or four of his maid-servants into a deep water, and there leave
them in the coach to shift for themselves.
The butcher and little fellow who are assisting the terrified
passengers, are possibly _free_ and _accepted_ masons. One of them
seems to have a mop in his hand;--the pail is out of sight!
To crown the joys of the populace, a man with a pipe in his mouth is
filling a capacious hogshead with British Burgundy.
The joint operation of shaving and bleeding, performed by a drunken
'prentice on a greasy oilman, does not seem a very natural exhibition
on a rejoicing night.
The poor wretches under the barber's bench display a prospect of
penury and wretchedness which I hope is not so common now as it was
then.
In the distance is a cart laden with furniture, which some
unfortunate tenant is removing out of the reach of his landlord's
execution.
There is humour in the barber's sign and inscription: "Shaving,
bleeding, and teeth drawn with a touch. _Ecce signum!_"
The Rummer Tavern still retains its old situation. It was then
quaintly distinguished as the NEW BAGNIO.
By the oaken boughs on the sign, and the oak leaves in the
freemasons' hats, it seems that this rejoicing night is the 29th of
May, the anniversary of our second Charles's restoration; that happy
day when, according to our excellent old ballad, "the king enjoyed
his own again." This might be one reason for the artist choosing a
scene contiguous to the beautiful equestrian statue[143] of Charles
I.
In the distance we see a house on fire,--an accident very likely to
happen on such a night as this.
The original pictures of "Morning" and "Noon" were sold to the Duke
of Ancaster for fifty-seven guineas; "Evening" and "Night" to Sir
William Heathcote for sixty-four guineas.
[Illustration: (end of chapter floral icon)]