'The Peaceable Lawyers are, in the first place, many of the Benchers

of the several Inns of Court, who seem to be the Dignitaries of the

Law, and are endowed with those Qualifications of Mind, that

accomplish a Man rather for a Ruler, than a Pleader; These Men live

Peaceably in their Habitations, Eating once a Day, and Dancing once a

Year, for the Honour of their Respective Societies.

'Another numberless Branch of Peaceable Lawyers, are those young Men,

who being placed at the Inns of Court in order to study the Laws of

their Country, frequent the Play House more than _Westminster Hall_,

and are seen in all publick Assemblies, except in a Court of Justice.

I shall say nothing of those Silent and Busie Multitudes that are

employed within Doors in the Drawing up of Writings and Conveyances;

nor of those greater Numbers that palliate their want of Business,

with a Pretence to such Chamber Practice.'

Thus we see that the legal world then very much resembled the same

now. Briefless barristers were as numerous then, and this seems to

have been their life: 'Young Barristers troop down to _Westminster_ at

Nine; Cheapen Cravats, and Handkerchiefs, Ogle the Semstresses, take a

Whet at the _Dog_, or a Slice of Roast Beef at _Heaven_, fetch half a

dozen turns in the Hall, peep in at the Common Pleas, talk over the

News, and so with their Green Bags, that have as little in them as

their Noddles, go home again. Summon'd by pensive Sound of Horn to

rotten roasted Mutton at Twelve; Leave a Paper in their Doors to study

Presidents and Cases for them all the Afternoon; may be heard of at

the Devil, or some neighbouring Tavern till One in the Morning.'[570]

[Footnote 570: _A Comical View of London and Westminster._]

We not only note, in this quotation, that the lawyers carried _green_

bags, but we find, in contemporary literature, frequent allusion to

these bags, which certainly had been of the same colour ever since

Charles the Second's time, and so continued until the reign of George

III. Bands were worn, but they were not the little things they are

now, and there was no distinctive wig--nay, some men were bold enough

to wear their own hair. Lady Sarah Cowper has left a memorandum[571]

respecting her father, Lord Cowper, which throws light on this

subject: 'The Queen after this was persuaded to trust a Whigg

ministry; and in the year 1705, Ocb{r.} she made my father L{d} Keeper

of the Great Seal in the 41{st} year of his age--'tis said the

youngest Lord Keeper that had ever been. He looked very young, and

wearing his own hair made him appear yet more so; which the Queen

observing, obliged him to cut it off, telling him the world would say

she had given the Seals to a Boy.' But it is said that when he

appeared at court in his wig, the Queen had to look at him more than

once before she recognised him.

[Footnote 571: _Lives of the Lord Chancellors_, etc., Lord

Campbell.]

So much for the barrister. Of the other branch, the attorney, we hear

very little. Ward certainly portrays him in no very bright colours.

'He's an Amphibious Monster, that partakes of two Natures, and those

contrary; He's a great Lover both of Peace and Enmity; and has no

sooner set People together by the Ears, but is Soliciting the Law to

make an end of the Difference. His Learning is commonly as little as

his Honesty; and his Conscience much larger than his Green Bag. Catch

him in what Company soever, you will always hear him stating of Cases,

or telling what notice my Lord Chancellor took of him, when he beg'd

Leave to supply the deficiency of his Councel. He always talks with as

great assurance as if he understood what he only pretends to know: And

always wears a Band, and in that lies his Gravity and Wisdom. He

concerns himself with no Justice but the Justice of a Cause: and for

making an unconscionable Bill, he out does a Taylor.'

The courts of law were conducted with as much decorum and dignity as

now; but there is no doubt that false witnesses could be hired--nay,

they had a regular name--'Knights of the Post'; a name which certainly

dates back as early as the time of Charles I., when 'a roaring gul and

Knight o' th' post' were coupled together. In Anne's time 'Knights of

the Post are to be had in the _Temple Walks_ from Morning till Night,

for two Pots of Belch, and a Sixpenny slice of Boil'd beef'; and

Ward's friend, the attorney, 'is so well read in Physiognomy, that he

knows a Knight of the Post by his Countenance; and if your Business

requires such an Agent, he can pick you up one at a small Warning. He

is very understanding in the Business of the _Old Bailey_ and knows as

well how to Fee a Jury Man as he does a Barrister. He has a rare knack

at putting in Broomstick Bail; and knows a great many more ways to

keep a Man out of his Money, than he does to get it him. Tricks and

Quirks he calls the cunning part of the Law; and that Attorney that

practises the most knavery, is the Man for his Money.'

Queen Anne's reign was not prolific of great lawyers, although Lords

Somers, Cowper, and Harcourt were alive. The two former had the

felicity of being scarified by Mrs. Manley in the 'New Atlantis.' The

former, under the name of Cicero, is accused of seducing a friend's

wife, and then imprisoning, and finally making away with, her

husband; and the latter was charged with committing bigamy. His

brother Spencer Cowper, too, was unhappy in his connection with the

fair sex, he having been, with three others, arraigned for being

concerned in the murder of one Sarah Stout. He was acquitted, and

probably remembered the fact when afterwards he was a judge, in which

capacity he was very merciful. Lord Cowper put an end to an old

custom, by refusing to receive New Year's gifts from the officers of

his court and the counsel of his Bar; by which his wife says he lost

3,000_l._ per annum; but even then, although his salary was nominally

4,000_l._, he managed, by fees to which he was entitled, to make it up

to 8,000_l._ If Evelyn is to be believed, he knew how to take care of

himself. 'Oct. 1705. Mr. Cowper made Lord Keeper. Observing how

uncertain greate officers are of continuing long in their places, he

would not accept it unless £2000 a yeare were given him in reversion

when he was put out, in consideration of his loss of practice. His

predecessors, how little time soever they had the seal, usually got

£100,000, and made themselves barons.'

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE RIVER.

Use as a highway -- River slang -- Rates of watermen --

Description of wherries -- Pleasure parties and barges -- The

Folly -- Its frequenters -- Gravesend tilt boat -- Fares at the

Horse Ferry -- The Fleet Ditch.

The River Thames was then a veritable 'silent highway,' in the sense

of affording transport for passengers for short distances. In fact,

the wherries then took the places in a great measure of our present

cabs; and a cry of 'Next Oars' or 'Sculls,' when anyone made his

appearance at the top of 'the Stairs,' was synonymous with 'Hansom' or

'Four Wheeler.'

Poor Taylor, the Water Poet, had, more than half a century before,

sung the decadence of this highway, but it still fairly held its own,

and was in great request. When Sir Roger went with the Spectator to

Spring Gardens, Foxhall (that naughty place where the 'wanton baggage'

of a mask tapped the old knight on the shoulder, and asked him if he

would drink a bottle of mead with her, and where Sir Roger told the

mistress of the house 'He should be a better Customer to her Garden,

if there were more Nightingales, and fewer Strumpets'), he never

dreamed of going any other way than by boat. He chose out the boatman

with the wooden leg, and afterwards regaled him with the remains of

their luncheon, to the waiter's astonishment.

Addison was writing a _superfine_ paper 'for gentlemen, by

gentlemen,' so he softens down the language for which the river was

noted, and ignores the torrent of licentious ribaldry with which every

boat greeted each other, and which was known as 'River Wit.' He

certainly hints at it, but simply touches it, and then changes the

subject. When Sir Roger, in the kindliness of his heart and the

forgetfulness of custom, bids the passing boats Good Night, he merely

says, 'But to the Knight's great Surprize, as he gave the Good Night

to two or three young Fellows a little before our Landing, one of

them, instead of returning the Civility asked us what queer old Put we

had in the Boat, and whether he was not ashamed to go a Wenching at

his Years! with a great deal of the like _Thames_ Ribaldry. Sir Roger

seem'd a little shock'd at first, but at length assuming a Face of

Magistracy, told us, _That if he were a_ Middlesex _Justice, he would

make such Vagrants know that Her Majesty's Subjects were no more to be

abused by Water than by Land._

But Brown gives us the unadulterated slang, which cannot possibly be

reprinted for general perusal--indeed, his whole account of the river,

although it is far too graphic to be omitted, and it gives us

certainly the best contemporaneous description we have, must be

somewhat expurgated to fit it for modern tastes. 'Finding my Companion

thus agreeable to my Humour, I steer'd him down _Blackfryars_ towards

the _Thames_ side, till coming near the Stairs, where from their Dirty

Benches up started such a noisy multitude of old grizly _Tritons_, in

sweaty Shirts, and short-skirted Doublets, hollowing and hooting out

_Next Oars_ and _Skullers_, shaking their Caps over their bald

Noddles, seeming as overjoy'd to see us as if we had been Foreign

Princes come out of stark Love and Kindness to redeem them and their

Families from Cruel Popery and Slavery. I bawl'd out as loud as a

Speaking Trumpet, _Next Oars_, and away run Captain _Charon_ from the

Front of his wrangling Fraternity, with a Badge upon his Arm that the

World might behold whose Slave he was, and hollow'd to his Man _Ben_

to bring the Boat near, whilst the rest withdrew to their Seats,

calling one another _Louzy Rogue_ and _Sorry Rascal_, giving us a

clear passage without further Molestation.

'Upon my Word, says my friend, I am glad we are past them, for this is

one of the most ill looking Rabble, and from whom I had more

apprehensions of Danger, than from any I have yet met with. 'Tis all,

said I, but an _Amusement_, step into the Boat, sit down Watermen, row

us up to _Chelsea_: No sooner had we put off into the middle of the

Stream, but our _Charon_ and his Assistant (being jolly Fellows) began

to scatter their verbal Wildfire on every side of them, their first

Attack being on a Couple of fine Ladies with a Footman in the Stern,

as follows.... One of the Ladies taking Courage, pluck'd up a Female

Spirit of Revenge, and racing us with the Gallantry of an _Amazon_

made the following return' ... Well! that awful piece of river chaff,

which is still popularly supposed to arouse the ire of 'bargees.' 'Who

eat puppy pie under Marlow Bridge?' was milk and water compared to

the fearfully strong language this lady made use of, the mildest part

of her speech being, 'talk not to a Woman, you surly Whelp, for you

are fit for nothing, but like the Breed you come on, to crawl upon all

four, and cry Bow wow at a Bear Garden.' And so on with every boat

they met.

'After rowing for some time, we had arriv'd at that Port to which we

had consign'd our selves, where we quitted our Boat, and offering old

_Charon_ Three Shillings, he swore he would have a Crown; but having

the printed Rates in my Pocket, I was forc'd to lug out my Oracle

before the Freshwater Looby would be convinc'd of his Error; and

withal told him, Had it been in _London_, I would have carry'd him

before my Lord Mayor, and have had him punish'd, for making, contrary

to Law, so unreasonable a Demand. With that he takes the Money, and

putting off his Boat, gave us a notable Farewel after the following

manner--_viz._ You're a Couple of Niggardly Sons of ----; I care not a

---- for my Lord Mayor; ---- the Rogue that printed that Book;

----take you for a Book-learn'd Blockhead; and confound him that

taught you to read; and so we parted.'

Misson says, 'The little Boats upon the _Thames_, which are only for

carrying of Persons, are light and pretty; some are row'd but by one

Man, others by two; the former are call'd _Scullers_, and the latter

_Oars_. They are reckon'd at several Thousands; but tho' there are

indeed a great many, I believe the Number is exaggerated. The City of

_London_ being very long, it is a great Conveniency to be able

sometimes to make Use of this Way of Carriage. You sit at your Ease

upon Cushions, and have a board to lean against; but generally they

have no Covering unless a Cloth, which the Watermen set up

immediately, in case of Need, over a few Hoops; and sometimes you are

wet to the Skin for all this. It is easy to conceive that the _Oars_

go faster than the _Sculls_, and accordingly their pay is doubled. You

never have any Disputes with them; for you can go to no Part either of

_London_, or the Country above or below it, but the Rate is fix'd by

Authority; every Thing is regulated and printed.'

This, then, is a sample of the social amenities as then practised on

the river, and the following are the

Rates of _Watermen_ as they are set forth by the _Lord Mayor_ and

_Aldermen_ of the City of _London_.[572]

[Footnote 572: 'An Useful COMPANION: or a _Help at Hand_.

Being a Convenient POCKET BOOK.' Lond. 1709.]

| Oars.| Skull.

From London Bridge to Lime House, New Crane, | s. d. | s. d.

Shadwell Dock, Bell Wharf, Ratcliff Cross | 1 -- | 6

To Wapping Dock, Wapping new and old Stairs, the | |

Hermitage, Rotherhith Church Stairs | 6 | 3

From St. Olave's to Rotherhith Church Stairs, and | |

Rotherhith Stairs | 6 | 3

From Billingsgate and St. Olave's to St. Saviour's | |

Mill | 6 | 3

All the Stairs between London Bridge and Westminster| 6 | 3

From either Side above London Bridge to Lambeth and | |

Foxhall | 1 -- | 6

From Temple, Dorset, and Black-fryers Stairs or | |

Pauls Wharf to Lambeth | 8 | 4

Over the Water directly between Foxhall and | |

Limehouse | 4 | 1

| |

The Rates of OARS down the River. | |

| |

| Wh. F | Com.

From London to | s. d. | s. d.

Gravesend | 4 6 | 9

Grays or Greenhith | 4 -- | 8

Purfleet or Erith | 3 -- | 6

Woolwich | 2 6 | 4

Blackwall | 2 -- | 4

Greenwich, or Deptford | 1 6 | 3

| |

Up the RIVER. | |

Chelsea, Battersey, Wandsworth | 1 6 | 3

Putney, Fulham, Barnelms | 2 -- | 4

Hammersmith, Chiswick, Mortlack | 2 6 | 6

Brentford, Isleworth, Richmond | 3 6 | 6

Twittenham | 4 -- | 6

Kingston | 5 -- | 9

Hampton Court | 6 -- | 1 --

Hampton Town, Sunbury, Walton | 7 -- | 1 --

Weybridge and Chertsey |10 -- | 1 --

Stanes |12 -- | 1 --

Windsor |14 -- | 2 --

The river, too, was naturally the place for picnics and pleasure

parties--although they were by no means so magnificent as the

following:[573] 'I took five Barges, and the fairest kept for my

Company; the other four I fill'd with Musick of all sorts, and of all

sorts the best; in the first were Fiddles, in the next Theorbo, Lutes,

and Voices. Flutes and such Pastoral Instruments i' th' third. Loud

Musick from the fourth did pierce the Air; Each Consort vy'd by turns,

which with most Melody shou'd charm our Ears. The fifth and largest of

'em all was neatly hung, not with dull Tapistry, but with green

Boughs, Curiously Interlac'd to let in Air, and every Branch with

Jessemins, and Orange Poesies deckt. In this the Feast was kept.'

[Footnote 573: _The Lying Lover_, ed. 1704.]

These pleasure barges were more or less ornate, and varied from the

ordinary boat, with a tilt of canvas or green boughs to very

elaborately carved and gilded ones. The last remaining, in our time,

were the State barges of Her Majesty, the Trinity Barge, and the Lord

Mayor's and City Companies' State barges. The recollection of the

water pageant, on a sunshiny Lord Mayor's day, will never be effaced

from the memory of those among us who are old enough to have seen it.

It was one of the prettiest sights I ever saw; and a few of these

barges may still be seen, utilised at Oxford as College Club boats.

Misson says of barges, 'They give this name in England to a Sort of

Pleasure Boat, at one End of which is a little Room, handsomely

painted and Cover'd, with a Table in the Middle, and Benches round it;

and at the other End, Seats for 8, 10, 12, 30 or 40 Rowers. There are

very few Persons of Great Quality but what have their _Barges_, tho'

they do not frequently make use of them. Their Watermen wear a Jacket

of the same Colour they give for their Livery, with a pretty large

Silver Badge upon their Arm, with the Nobleman's Coat of Arms emboss'd

in it. These Watermen have some Privileges, as belonging to Peers; but

they have no Wages, and are not domestick Servants: They live in their

own Houses with their Families, and earn their Livelihood as they can.

The Lord Mayor of _London_, and the several Companies have also their

Barges, and are carry'd in them upon certain solemn occasions.'

[Illustration: 'The Folly on the Thames.']

Moored opposite Whitehall was a very large barge with a saloon, and

promenade on the top, called the Folly, and this was a favourite place

of entertainment. It was a fashionable resort in Pepys' time. He says,

'13 Ap. 1668. Spent in the Folly 1_s._'; and Queen Mary and some of

her attendants paid it a visit. In Anne's reign it was used as a

coffee-house, but it no longer was extremely fashionable, as the

company was very mixed. As D'Urfey sung:--

When Drapers' smugged apprentices,

With Exchange girls most jolly,

After shop was shut and all,

Could sail up to the Folly.[574]

[Footnote 574: _A Touch of the Times._]

'Pray, says my Companion (pointing to the Folly), what noble

Structure is that floating upon the Water? I have often heard of

Castles in the Air, and this seems to me to be a kind of an Essay

towards such a windy Project. That Whimsical piece of Architect, said

I, was design'd as a Musical Summer House for the entertainment of

Quality, where they might meet.... But the Ladies of the Town, finding

it as convenient a Rendezvous for their purpose ... drove away their

private Enemies, and entirely possess'd themselves of this moveable

Mansion, which they have occupied ever since, very much to their

advantage.... We no sooner enter'd but we had as many Ladies staring

us in our Faces, as if we had been either handsom to admiration, or

ugly to a Miracle ... some dancing as they mov'd to show the Airyness

of their Temper; some ogling the Gallants, and others crowded into

Boxes like Passengers into a Western Wherry, sat smoaking their Noses,

and drinking Burnt Brandy, to defend their Stomachs from the chill Air

upon the Water.... In short, it was such a confused Scene of Folly,

Madness, and Debauchery, that we step'd again into our Boat without

Drinking to avoid the Inconveniences that attend mixing with such a

Swarm of Caterpillars, who are always dangerous to the Unwary, and

destructive to the Innocent.'[575]

[Footnote 575: _A Walk Round London and Westminster._]

The ordinary freight barges were, both as to build and rig, extremely

similar to those of the present day, and there was one passenger and

freight sailing boat which went to the then _Ultima Thule_ of a

Londoner's experience--the Gravesend Tilt boat--of which we have an

interesting reminiscence in the

'Rates for Carrying of Goods in the _Tilt Boat_ between _Gravesend_

and London[576]--

[Footnote 576: _An Useful Companion._]

s. d.

An Half Firkin -- 1

An Whole Firkin -- 2

An Hogshead 2 --

An Hundred Weight of Cheese, Iron, or any Heavy Goods -- 4

Sack of Salt, or Corn, Ordinary Chest, Trunck or Hamper -- 6

Every Single Person in the Ordinary Passage -- 6

The Hire of the Whole Tilt Boat 22 6

There was a horse ferry (from whence the name Horseferry Road) between

Westminster and Lambeth for passengers, horses, coaches, etc. The

rates were--

s. d.

For a Man and Horse -- 2

" Horse and Chaze 1 --

" Coach and 2 Horses 1 6

" " " 4 " 2 --

" " " 6 " 2 6

" a Cart Loaden 2 6

" a Cart, or Waggon each 2 --

Whilst on the subject of the river Thames, mention of one of its

tributaries, the Fleet Ditch, should not be omitted. Taking its rise

in Hampstead it meandered along, until it fell into the river at

Blackfriars, where it formed a wide and shallow mouth called a Fleet,

which was once of such extent that ships of considerable burden could

get up it some little distance. In Anne's time, however, it had become

a black and fetid sewer. Nobody had a good word for it. Gay never

mentions it without abuse.

Or who that rugged Street would traverse o'er,

That stretches, _O Fleet Ditch_, from thy black Shore.[577]

and--

If where Fleet Ditch with Muddy Current flows.

[Footnote 577: _Trivia._]

Ward says, 'from thence we took a turn down by the Ditch side, I

desiring my friend to inform me what great advantages this Costly

Brook contributed to the Town, to Countervail the Expence of Seventy

four Thousand Pounds, which I read in a very Credible Author was the

Charge of its making; He told me he was wholly unacquainted with any,

unless it was now and then to bring up a few Chaldron of Coles to 2 or

3 pedling _Fewel Merchants_, who sell them never the cheaper to the

poor for such Conveniency: And as for those Cellers you see on each

side, design'd for Warehouses, they are rendered by their dampness so

unfit for that purpose, that they are wholly useless, except for

Lightermen to lay themselves in, or to harbour Frogs, Toads and other

Vermin. The greatest good that ever I heard it did, was to the

undertaker, who is bound to acknowledge he has found better Fishing in

a muddy Stream, than ever he did in clear Water.'

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE STREETS.

Size of London -- Pall Mall -- London in wet weather -- Early

morning -- Street cries: a list of them -- Roguery in the streets

-- Orderly regulations -- State of the roads -- Rule of the road

-- Street signs -- Description of the streets -- Milkmaids on May

Day -- Hyde Park; its regulations -- Lighting the streets -- The

streets at night.

London, it is scarcely necessary to remark, was very circumscribed in

its area compared to its overgrown present dimensions. The northern

bank of the river was well occupied from Shadwell to Westminster,

opposite Lambeth. On the west the houses went down the northern side

of Piccadilly, as far as Apsley House; but Bond Street was only

partially built, and there were no houses westward of it. The Edgware

Road and Tottenham (or, as it was then called, Hampstead) Road were in

existence, but few were the houses in either of them. At the Back of

Montague and Southampton Houses, and generally north of Theobald's

Road and Clerkenwell, there was nought but fields, dotted here and

there with farmhouses--with the hills of Hampstead and Highgate for a

background. Houses ceased, on the eastern side, after Shoreditch, and

shortly after passing Whitechapel Church; so that a walk all round

inhabited London--skirting the north bank of the river to begin

with--might be done in about twelve miles.

Covent Garden was the centre of social life. Soho and Leicester

Squares, and thence westward, comprised the limits of the court and

fashionable society--that land of luxury for which Gay sighed, but

which yet was not perfect.

O bear me to the Paths of fair _Pell Mell_,

Safe are thy Pavements, grateful is thy Smell!

At distance, rolls along the gilded Coach,

Nor sturdy Carmen on thy Walks encroach;

No Less would bar thy Ways, were Chairs deny'd,

The soft Supports of Laziness and Pride;

Shops breathe Perfumes, thro' Sashes Ribbons glow,

The Mutual Arms of Ladies, and the Beau.--

Yet still ev'n Here, when Rains the Passage hide

Oft' the loose Stone spirts up a Muddy Tide,

Beneath thy careless Foot; and from on high,

Where Masons mount the Ladder, Fragments fly;

Mortar, and crumbled Lime in Show'rs descend,

And o'er thy Head destructive Tiles impend.

[Illustration: A Street Scene.]

If, when it was wet weather, the ground was so bad in 'fair Pell

Mell,' what was it elsewhere? Here is a little scene out in the fields

going to St. Pancras Church--a wedding party.[578] 'The morning being

rainy, methought the march to this wedding was but too lively a

picture of Wedlock itself. They seemed both to have a month's mind to

make the best of their way single; yet both tugged arm in arm: and

when they were in a dirty way, he was but deeper in the mire, by

endeavouring to pull out his companion, and yet without helping her.

The bridegroom's feathers in his hat all drooped; one of his shoes had

lost an heel. In short, he was, in his whole person and dress so

extremely soused, that there did not appear one inch or single thread

about him _unmarried_.'[579]

[Footnote 578: _Tatler_, No. 7.]

[Footnote 579: A play upon the word unmarred (unspoilt).]

Swift[580] gives an excellent metrical description of a shower in

those days.

[Footnote 580: _Tatler_, 238.]

Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down,

Threatening with deluge this devoted town.

To shops in crouds the draggled females fly,

Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.

The Templar spruce, while every spout's abroach,

Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a Coach.

The tuck'd up sempstress walks with hasty Strides,

While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's sides.

Here various kinds, by various fortunes led,

Commence acquaintance underneath a shed.

Triumphant Tories and desponding Whigs

Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs.

Box'd in a Chair the Beau impatient sits,

While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits;

And ever and anon with frightful din

The leather sounds; he trembles from within.

Those gutter spouts, sending their streams not quite clear of the

pavement, must have been a terrible nuisance to a generation of men

innocent of umbrella or Mackintosh; and Gay advises anyone, in wet

weather, to maintain his privilege of taking the wall, but not to

quarrel for it.

When from high Spouts the dashing Torrents fall,

Ever be watchful to maintain the Wall;

For should'st thou quit thy Ground, the rushing Throng

Will with impetuous Fury drive along;

All press to gain those Honours thou hast lost,

And rudely shove thee far without the Post.

Then to retrieve the Shed you strive in vain,

Draggled all o'er, and soak'd in Floods of Rain.

Yet rather bear the Show'r, and Toils of Mud,

Than in the doubtful Quarrel risque thy Blood.

Let us take the streets throughout the day; and let, as usual,

contemporary writers give their own account of them in their own

language. Steele[581] begins with a description of London in the

morning.

[Footnote 581: _Ibid._, No. 9.]

Now hardly here and there an hackney Coach

Appearing, show'd the ruddy morn's approach.

The slipshod 'prentice, from his master's door,

Had par'd the street, and sprinkled round the floor;

Now Moll had whirl'd her mop with dextrous airs,

Prepar'd to scrub the entry and the Stairs.

The youth with broomy stumps began to trace

The kennel edge, where wheels had worn the place.

The small coal man was heard with cadence deep,

Till drown'd in shriller notes of Chimney sweep.

Duns at his Lordship's gates began to meet;

And brick dust Moll had scream'd thro' half a street:

The turnkey now his flock returning sees,

Duly let out a' nights to steal for fees.

The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands;

And school boys lag with satchels in their hands.

It is only in the poorer neighbourhoods that street cries, nowadays,

flourish, and it is only by a visit to them that we can at all realise

the babel of sounds that the streets gave forth in the reign of Anne.

Luckily, as they differ so much from anything we know of, and are so

suggestive of the petty industries then practised, they have been

preserved for us by Marcellus Lauron, in his somewhat scarce

book,[582] from which many illustrations used in this book have been

taken. Here is a list of them:--

[Footnote 582: _Habits and Cryes of the City of London_,

1709.]

Any Card Matches or Save Alls.

Pretty Maids, Pretty Pins, Pretty Women.

Ripe Strawberryes.

A Bed Matt or a Door Matt.

Buy a fine Table Basket.

Old Shoes for some Broomes.

Hot bak'd Wardens Hott.[583]

Small Coale.

Maids, any Cunny[584] Skins.

Buy a Rabbet, a Rabbet.

Buy a Fork or a Fire Shovel.

Chimney Sweep.

Crab, Crab, any Crab.

Oh Rare Shoe.[585]

Lilly White Vinegar 3 pence a quart.

Buy my Dutch biskets.

Ripe Speragas.

Maids, buy a Mopp.

Buy my fat Chickens.

Buy my flounders.

Old Cloaks Suits or Coats.

Fair Lemons and Oranges.

Old Chairs to mend.

Twelve pence a peck Oysters.

Troope, every One.

Old Satten, Old Taffety or Velvet.

Ha, Ha, Ha, Poor Jack.

Buy my Dish of great Eeles.

Buy a fine Singing bird.

Buy any Wax or Wafers.

Fine Writeing Inke.

A Merry new Song.

Buy a new Almanack.

Buy my fine singing Glasses.[586]

Any Kitchen Stuffe have you, Maids.

Knives, Combs or Ink hornes.

Four for six pence, Mackrell.

Any Work for John Cooper.

Four paire for a Shilling, Holland Socks.

Colly Molly Puffe.[587]

Six pence a pound fair Cherryes.

Knives or Cissors to grinde.

Long thread Laces, long and Strong.

Remember the Poor prisoners.

A Brass Pott, or an Iron Pott to mend.

Buy my four Ropes of Hard Onyons.

London Gazettes here.

Buy a White line, a Jack line, or a Cloathe line.

Any old Iron, take money for.

Delicate Cowcumbers to pickle.

Any Baking Pears.

New River Water.

[Footnote 583: Pies.]

[Footnote 584: Rabbit.]

[Footnote 585: Raree Show.]

[Footnote 586: Glass Horns.]

[Footnote 587: An itinerant pastrycook, mentioned in

_Spectator_, 362, &c.]

This does not pretend to be an exhaustive list; in fact, they were so

numerous and varied that, as Addison says (_Spectator_, 251), 'There

is nothing which more astonishes a Foreigner, and frights a Country

Squire, than the Cries of London. My good friend Sir ROGER often

declares, that he cannot get them out of his Head, or go to sleep for

them, the first Week that he is in Town. On the contrary, WILL.

HONEYCOMB calls them the _Ramage de la Ville_, and prefers them to the

sounds of Larks and Nightingales, with all the Musick of the Fields

and Woods.' The whole of this _Spectator_ is on street cries, and is

very interesting reading.

Trim, in Steele's comedy of 'The Funeral' tells a lot of ragged

soldiers: 'There's a thousand things you might do to help out about

this Town, as to cry--Puff--Puff Pyes. Have you any Knives or Scissors

to grind--or, late in an Evening, whip from _Grub Street_ strange and

bloody News from _Flanders_--Votes from the House of Commons--Buns,

rare Buns--Old Silver Lace, Cloaks, Sutes or Coats--Old Shoes, Boots

or Hats.

Successive Crys the Season's Change declare,

And mark the Monthly Progress of the Year.

There was yet another noise in the streets, that of the ballad-singer,

or singers, for they generally went in couples. People were warned

against them.

Let not the Ballad-Singer's shrilling Strain

Amid the Swarm thy list'ning Ear detain:

Guard well thy Pocket; for these _Syrens_ stand,

To aid the Labours of the diving hand;

Confed'rate in the Cheat, they draw the Throng,

And _Cambrick_ Handkerchiefs reward the Song.

The streets ought to have been kept in fair order, if the inhabitants

had complied with the law; but they evidently neglected it, and had to

be reminded of their duties by a notice in the _Gazette_, April 12/14,

1711. According to 8 & 9 Will. III. cap. 37, everyone had, on

Wednesdays and Saturdays, to sweep and cleanse the road in front of

his house, building, or wall, and heap up the dirt for the scavenger

to remove, under penalty of 10_s._

That no one should throw any ashes, dirt, etc., into the open street

before his house, under penalty of 5_s._, or if it was thrown before

any other building, 20_s._; but they must deliver the dust to the

scavenger (2 Will. and Mary, cap. 8), who must come round daily to

collect it, giving notice by ringing a bell or otherwise, or penalty

40_s._

All householders, or, if empty, the owners of house, to keep the

pavement before said house in repair, or pay 20_s._ per rod, and

20_s._ per week, till the same be sufficiently repaired.

While it was being done, the self-same sign was hung out as now--

Does not each Walker know the Warning Sign,

When Wisps of Straw depend upon the Twine

'Cross the Close Street; that then the Pavior's Art

Renews the Ways, deny'd to Coach and Cart.

The dust carts were not unmixed blessings--

The _Dustman's_ Cart offends thy Cloaths and Eyes

When through the Street a Cloud of Ashes flies.

And there were other ways of 'offending Cloaths.'

When Drays bound high, they never cross behind,

Where bubbling Yest is blown by Gusts of Wind:

And when up _Ludgate Hill_ huge Carts move slow,

Far from the straining Steeds, securely go,

Whose dashing Hoofs, behind them, fling the Mire,

And mark, with muddy Blots, the gazing Squire.

In walking the rule was the same as now: everyone should take the

right-hand side of the path; and the courtesies of giving way on

special occasions are clearly pointed out in the following lines,

showing there was a time to concede and a time to retain the right to

the wall:--

Let due Civilities be strictly paid.

The Wall surrender to the hooded Maid;

Nor let thy sturdy Elbow's hasty Rage

Jostle the feeble Steps of trembling Age:

And when the Porter bends beneath his Load,

And pants for Breath; clear thou the crouded Road.

But above all, the groaping Blind direct,

And from the pressing Throng the Lame protect.

You'll sometimes meet a Fop, of Nicest Tread,

Whose mantling Peruke veils his empty Head,

At ev'ry Step he dreads the Wall to lose,

And risques, to save a Coach, his red heel'd Shoes;

Him like the _Miller_, pass with Caution by,

Lest from his Shoulder Clouds of Powder fly.

But when the Bully, with assuming Pace

Cocks his Broad Hat, edg'd round with tarnished Lace,

Yield not the Way; defie his strutting Pride,

And thrust him to the Muddy Kennel's side;

He never turns again, nor dares oppose,

But mutters Coward Curses as he goes.

The shops were low, and mostly with overhanging pent-houses, which

were inconvenient.

Where the low Penthouse bows the Walker's head,

And the rough Pavement wounds the yielding Tread:

Where not a Post protects the narrow Space,

And strung in Twines, Combs dangle in thy Face.

The goods were very much exposed; in fact, such conduct now in a

shopkeeper would rouse the virtuous indignation of any metropolitan

magistrate; but there was generally an apprentice on the look-out. Our

modern costermonger's barrows had a prototype. 'We mov'd on till we

came to _Fleet Bridge_, where Nuts, Ginger bread, Oranges and Oysters,

lay Pil'd up in Moveable Shops that run upon Wheeles, attended by Ill

looking Fellows, some with but one Eye, and others without

Noses.'[588]

[Footnote 588: _The London Spy._]

The street signs, which were necessary, as houses were not numbered,

were very numerous and large, and some were exceedingly costly. Misson

was very much struck with them. 'At _London_ they are commonly very

large, and jutt out so far, that in some narrow Streets they touch one

another; nay, and run across almost quite to the other Side. They are

generally adorn'd with Carving and Gilding; and there are several

that, with the Branches of Iron which support them, cost above a

hundred Guineas. They seldom write upon the Sign the Name of the Thing

represented in it; so that here is no need of _Molière's_ Inspector.

Out of _London_, and particularly in Villages, the Signs of Inns are

suspended in the middle of a great Wooden Portal, which may be look'd

upon as a Kind of triumphal Arch to the Honour of Bacchus.'

Brown draws a vivid if somewhat unpleasant picture of the

streets.[589] 'Some Carry, others are Carried: _Make way there_, says

a gouty leg'd Chairman, that is carrying a Punk of Quality to a

_Morning's Exercise_; or a _Bartholomew_ Baby Beau, newly launched out

of a Chocolate House, with his Pockets as empty as his brains. _Make

room there_, says another Fellow driving a Wheelbarrow of Nuts, that

spoil the Lungs of the City Prentices. One draws, another drives.

_Stand up there you blind Dog_, says a Carman, _Will you have the Cart

squeeze your Guts out?_ One Tinker knocks, another bawls, _Have you a

Brass Pot, Iron Pot, Kettle, Skillet, or a Frying Pan to mend?_ Whilst

another yelps louder than _Homer's_ Stentor, _Two a groat, and four

for Sixpence Mackerel_. One draws his Mouth up to his Ears, and howls

out, _Buy my Flounders_, and is followed by an old burly Drab, that

screams out the sale of her _Mades_ and her _Souls_ at the same

Instant.

[Footnote 589: _Amusements Serious and Comical, calculated

for the Meridian of London._]

'Here a sooty Chimney Sweeper takes the Wall of a grave _Alderman_,

and a _Broom man_ justles the _Parson_ of the Parish. There a fat

greasie _Porter_ runs a Trunk full butt upon you, while another

salutes you with a Flasket of _Eggs_ and _Butter_. _Turn out there you

Country Putt_, says a _Bully_ with a Sword two yards long jarring at

his heels, and throws him into the Kennel. By and by comes a

_Christning_, with the _Reader_ screwing up his Mouth to deliver the

Service _a la mode de Paris_, and afterwards talk immoderately nice

and dull with the Gossips, and the _Midwife_ strutting in the front,

and young Original Sin as fine as Fippence, follow'd with the Vocal

Musick of Kitchen Stuff ha' you Maid, and a damn'd Trumpeter calling

in the Rabble to see a Calf with Six Legs and a Top Knot. There goes a

Funeral with the Men of Rosemary after it, licking their Lips after

three hits of White, Sack and Claret at the House of Mourning, and the

_Sexton_ walking before, as big and bluff as a Beef Eater at a

Coronation. A Poet Scampers for 't as fast as his Legs will carry him,

and at his heels a brace of _Bandog Bailiffs_, with open Mouths ready

to devour him and all the Nine Muses.'

Let us turn to a prettier street scene. It is May Day, and, although

maypoles are banished to the country, where they still hold their own,

London celebrates it in another fashion. The milkmaids hold their

festival, and even Gay's 'Sallow Milkmaid's' cheeks must have

brightened at the prospect of such a treat. Confiding customers lent

them silver plate, and women's taste and a few ribbons make a gorgeous

trophy. Misson could not help being struck with it: 'On the First of

_May_, and the five or six Days following, all the pretty young

Country girls that serve the Town with Milk, dress themselves up very

neatly, and borrow abundance of Silver Plate, whereof they make a

Pyramid, which they adorn with Ribbands and Flowers, and carry upon

their Heads, instead of their common Milk Pails. In this Equipage,

accompany'd by some of their fellow Milk Maids, and a Bag pipe or a

Fiddle, they go from Door to Door, dancing before the Houses of their

Customers, in the Midst of Boys and Girls that follow them in Troops,

and every Body gives them something.'

[Illustration: Milkmaid on May Day.]

And Steele notices:[590] 'I was looking out of my parlour window this

morning, and receiving the honours which MARGERY, the milk maid to our

lane, was doing me, by _dancing_ before my door _with the plate of her

Customers on her head_,' etc.

[Footnote 590: _Tatler_, 166.]

In the daytime, after dinner, Hyde Park was the fashionable resort

either for promenading, riding, or driving. 'Here the people take the

Diversion of the Ring: In a pretty high place which lies very open

they have surrounded a Circumference of two or three hundred Paces

Diameter with a sorry Kind of Ballustrade, or rather with Poles plac'd

upon Stakes, but three Foot from the Ground; and the Coaches drive

round and round this. When they have turn'd for some Time round one

Way, they face about and turn t'other: So rowls the World.'[591]

[Footnote 591: Misson.]

But it evidently was falling into evil habits, for on July 1, 1712,

the Queen found it necessary to issue some rules and directions 'for

the better keeping Hyde Park in good Order.' The gate-keepers were to

be always on duty, and not to sell ale, brandy, or other liquors. No

one should leap over the ditches, or fences, or break the latter down.

'No Person to ride over the grass on the South side of the Gravelled

Coach Road ... excepting Henry Wise, who is permitted to pass cross

that Part of the Park leading from the Door in the Park Wall, next his

Plantation.' No grooms or others were to ride over the banks, or

slopes, of any pond. No stage coach, hackney coach, chaise with one

horse, cart, waggon, or funeral should pass through the park; and no

one should cut or lop any of the trees.

As evening drew on the lamps were lit, _i.e._ if there were not a full

moon, or in the summer time; but should the pavement be up, or a sewer

open, a lantern was specially provided.

Where a dim Gleam the paly Lanthorn throws

O'er the mid' Pavement; heapy Rubbish grows,

Or arched Vaults their gaping Jaws extend,

Or the dark Caves to Common Shores descend.

Oft' by the Winds, extinct the Signal lies.

Or smother'd in the glimm'ring Socket dies,

E'er Night has half roll'd round her Ebon Throne;

In the wide Gulph the shatter'd Coach o'erthrown,

Sinks with the Snorting Steeds; the Reins are broke,

And from the cracking Axle flies the Spoke.

Lighting was so far from universal that Thoresby[592] 'could not but

observe that all the way, quite through Hyde Park to the Queen's

palace at Kensington, has lanterns for illuminating the road in the

dark nights, for the Coaches.'

[Footnote 592: _Diary_, June 15, 1712.]

'Instead of Lanterns, they set up[593] in the Streets of _London_

Lamps,[594] which by Means of a very thick Convex Glass, throw out

great Rays of Light, which illuminate the Path for people that go on

Foot tolerably well. They begin to light up these Lamps at

_Michaelmas_, and continue them till _Lady Day_; they burn from Six in

the Evening till Midnight, and from every third Day after the Full

Moon to the sixth Day after the New Moon.'[595]

[Footnote 593: At every tenth house.]

[Footnote 594: The invention of Edmund Heming.]

[Footnote 595: Misson.]

There was an improvement on the convex lamp, a new one, called the

conic lamp, being introduced, and apparently answering very well. In

the _Gazette_, Dec. 30 to Jan. 2, 1706-7, is this advertisement:

'Whereas Her most Gracious Majesty Queen Anne has been pleased to

grant her Letters Patent for enlightening the Suburbs of London and

City of Westminster, and all other Cities and Places in England, by

new Invented Lights or Lamps called Conic Lamps, for 14 years; and

whereas the Letters Patent for the Convex Lamps are long since

expired; These are to certify whom it may concern, That by an Act of

Parliament made in the 2d Year of their late Majesties King William

and Queen Mary of ever Glorious Memory, all persons paying to any

Lamps, distanced by two of Her Majesty's Justices of the Peace, are

exempted from hanging out a Lanthorn and Candle and indemnified from

the Penalties contained in the said Act.'

In 1709, however, is an advertisement of yet another lamp. 'There is a

new Sort of Light call'd a Globe Light, at St. James's Coffee House,

near St. James's Palace, which is observ'd to enlighten the Street,

and all Parts near it, with a true steady Light, and no way offensive

to the Eye. The Person who contriv'd it and set it up, may be heard of

there, having obtain'd Her Majesty's Letters Patent for the

Same.'[596]

Ward draws a picture of the streets at night, too repulsive for

reproduction--doubtless a true one--but one taken from the very lowest

haunts. Gay's gentle verse, on the contrary, depicts more the

inconveniences of the badly lit streets, and their results:--

That Walker, who regardless of his Pace,

Turns oft' to pose upon the Damsel's Face

From Side to Side by thrusting Elbows tost,

Shall strike his aking Breast against the Post;

Or Water, dash'd from fishy Stalls, shall stain

His hapless Coat with Spirts of Scaly Rain.

But if unwarily he chance to stray,

Where twirling Turnstiles intercept the Way,

The thwarting Passenger shall force them round,

And beat the Wretch half breathless to the Ground.

Let constant Vigilance thy Footsteps guide,

And wary circumspection guard thy Side;

Then shalt thou walk unharm'd the dang'rous Night,

Nor need th' officious Link-Boy's smoaky Light.

Thou never wilt attempt to cross the Road,

Where Alehouse Benches rest the Porter's load,

Grievous to heedless Shins; No Barrow's Wheel,

That bruises oft the Truant School Boy's Heel,

Behind thee rolling, with insidious Pace,

Shall mark thy Stocking with a miry Trace.

Let not thy vent'rous Steps approach too nigh,

Where gaping wide, low steepy Cellars lie;

Should thy Shoe wrench aside, down, down you fall

And overturn the scolding Huckster's Stall.

The scolding Huckster shall not o'er thee moan,

But Pence exact for Nuts and Pears o'er thrown.

...............................................

Where the nail'd Hoop defends the painted Stall

Brush not thy sweeping Skirt too near the Wall;

Thy heedless Sleeve will drink the colour'd Oil,

And Spot indelible thy Pocket soil.

[Footnote 596: _Tatler_, Nov. 19/22.]

CHAPTER XXXVI.

CARRIAGES, ETC.

Smithfield -- Horse courses -- Waggons -- Stage coaches:

travelling in them described -- Bad roads -- Posting -- Hackney

coaches: their Fares -- Hackney coachmen -- State coaches --

Other carriages -- Suburban drives -- A Mechanical coach --

Mourning coaches -- Harness -- Sedan chairs -- Chairmen.

Among the many places swept away, and yet which many of us well

remember, is Smithfield, where both cattle and horses were sold; and

Ward gives a very amusing account of the horse sales there. 'From

thence we proceeded to the Rails, where Country Carters stood Arm'd

with their Long Whips, to keep their Teams (upon Sale in a due

_Decorum_,) who were drawn up into the most sightly order with their

fore feet Mounted on a Dunghill, and their Heads dress'd up to as much

advantage as an Inns of Court Sempstress, or the Mistress of a

Boarding School: Some with their Manes Frizzled up, to make 'em appear

high Wither'd, that they look'd as Fierce as one of _Hungess's_ Wild

Boars. Others with their Manes Plaited, as if they had been ridden by

the Nightmare: And the fellows that attended 'em made as uncouth

Figures as the Monsters in the Tempest; amongst these Cattel, here and

there, was the Conductor of a Dung Cart, in his Dirty Surplice,

wrangling about the Price of a Beast, as a wary Purchaser; and that he

ought not to be deceived in the Goodness of the Creature, he must see

him stand three fair Pulls at a Post, to which the Poor Jade is ty'd,

that he may exert his Strength, and shew the Clown his excellencies;

for which he strokes him on the Head, or claps him on the Buttocks, to

recompence his Labour.

'We went a little further, and there we saw a parcel of Ragged

Rapscallions, mounted upon Scrubbed Tits, scowring about the Rounds,

some Trotting, some Galloping, some Pacing, and others Stumbling.

'Pray friend, said I, what are those Eagle Look'd Fellows in their

Narrow Brimm'd White Beavers, Jockeys Coats, a Spur in one Heel, and

Bended Sticks in their Hands, that are so busily peeping into every

Horses Mouth?... Those Blades, says my friend, are a Subtle Sort of

_Smithfield Foxes_, called _Horse Coursers_, who Swear every Morning

by the Bridle, that they will not, from any Man, suffer a Knavish

trick, or ever do an Honest one. They are a sort of _English Jews_,

that never deal with any Man but they Cheat him; and have a rare

Faculty of Swearing a man out of his Senses, Lying him out of his

Reason, and Cozening him out of his Money; If they have a Horse to

sell that is Stone Blind, they'll call a Hundred Gods to Witness he

can see as well as you can. If he be downright Lame, they will use all

the Asseverations that the Devil can assist 'em with, that it is

nothing but a Spring Halt; and if he be Twenty Years old, they'll

Swear he comes but Seven next Grass, if they find the Buyer has not

Judgment enough to discover the Contrary.'

This horse market was of importance to the metropolis, which was

supplied from the country fairs, from which the horses came up in

droves. 'A Set of Geldings and Mares, just from a Journey to be sold

Cheap.' So many were wanted for riding, carriages, and draught

purposes. Horse-stealing was a crime so extremely prevalent, that is

difficult to take up a paper that does not contain an advertisement

respecting a lost or stolen horse.

Some of the inland traffic was still done by means of packhorses.

'These are to give Notice to all Gentlemen or others that have

occasion to send Goods, or travel from London to Exeter or Plymouth,

or from Exeter and Plymouth, or any parts of Cornwall or Devonshire to

London; that they may be accommodated for Expedition by Pack Horse

Carriage, who set out from the Cross Keys Inn in Wood Street London

every Saturday, and from the Mermaid Inn in Exon every Monday.

Perform'd, if God permit, by Ebenezer Brookes.' But there were also

waggons, which, by the divine permission, started for every town of

note in England.

Stage coaches ran to most of the towns; and we may judge of the time

they took over their journeys, Gloucester, 82 miles, in one day, and

Hereford, 134 miles, in one day and a half. Their fares may be

somewhat approximately guessed at: Bath, 16_s._; Bristol, 15_s._ to

18_s._; and Gosport, 9_s._ Steele gives an amusing description in the

_Spectator_ (No. 132) of stage-coach travelling: how the captain was

subdued by the good plain sense of Ephraim the Quaker. 'We can not

help it, Friend, I say; if thou wilt, we must hear thee.... To speak

indiscreetly what we are obliged to hear, by being hasped up with thee

in this publick Vehicle is in some degree assaulting on the high

road.' The captain took the rebuke in good part, and thorough

good-fellowship prevailed. 'Faith, Friend, I thank thee: I should have

been a little impertinent if thou hadst not reprimanded me.'

In 'A Step to the Bath' we get an insight into stage-coach travelling.

'Enquiring of the Tapster what Company I was like to have, he said

more he believ'd than I desir'd; for there was four Places taken just

after I went, and three of the Passengers were in the House, and to

Lye there that Night; the other was for a Merchant of _Bristol_. Then

asking what those in the House were, he told me two Gentlewomen and

their Maid Servant, who were just going to Supper. Whereupon I bid him

go and give my Service to 'em, and tell 'em I was to Travel with 'em

to morrow, and should take it as a great favour, if they would please

to Honour me so far, as to admit me of their Company, for I was alone.

The Fellow brought word they desir'd me to walk in, and they should be

very glad of mine.... Supper being ended, they call'd for a Bill,

which was presently brought; out I lugg'd and was going to Discharge,

but they begg'd my Pardon, and would by no means suffer me; telling me

that I must submit to the Rule that is generally observ'd in

Travelling, for the Major of either Sex to Treat the Minor.'

They breakfasted at Colebrook, dined at Reading, and then drained the

merchant's bottle of 'Right Nants'; after which one of the ladies told

a story. They stopped at Theale to taste Old Mother Cleanly's bottled

ale and plum cake; then the merchant told a story; and the day's

journey terminated at Newbury. There they supped, and grumbled loudly

at the bill. 'For a brace of Midling Trouts they charged us but a

Leash of Crowns, Six Shillings for a Shoulder of Mutton and a Plate of

Gerkins, Three and Sixpence for Six Rowles, and three Nipperkins of

Belch; and two Shillings more for _Whip_ in drinking our Healths.

Their Wine indeed was good, so was their price; and in a Bill of two

pound four Shillings, they made a mistake but of Nine; I ask'd what

Countrey-man my Landlord was? answer was made, Full _North_; and Faith

'twas very Evident, for he had put the _Yorkshire_ most damnably upon

us.'

Next morning one of the ladies presented them with a pot of chocolate

of her own preparing; they refilled the merchant's bottle, and

started, beguiling the way with stories. Came to Marlborough, where

the road was so bad that the brandy bottle was broken; and there they

breakfasted. They seem to have dined at Calne or Chippenham,

complaining bitterly of the roads, the last portion of which was got

over at the rate of two miles in three hours. Here they stopped at a

famous house, where 'there was more Coaches and Waggons drawn up

before her Gate, than Hacks in _Palace Yard_, during the _Session of

Parliament_, or _Term Time_. All her Entertainment is Loins of

_Mutton_ or _Rabbits_; and she makes more Broth in a day than all the

_Chop Houses_ in _Castle Alley_ in a Week.'

'Having Din'd, we proceeded on our Journey, but with a great deal of

difficulty; for the Road was so Rocky, Unlevel, and Narrow in some

places, that I am persuaded the _Alps_ are to be passed with less

Danger,' and they finally reached Bath that evening.

The roads were bad almost everywhere, and no one travelled more than

they could help. The coaches were heavy and strong, to stand the

fearful wear and tear; but, to the passengers, a journey was simply

the time spent in torture. Even in London the stones jolted terribly.

Says Ward, 'When our _Stratford_ Tub by the assistance of its

Carrionly Tits of different Colours, had outrun the Smoothness of the

Road, and enter'd upon _London Stones_, with as frightful a rumbling

as an empty Hay Cart, our Leathern Conveniency being bound in the

Braces to its good Behaviour, had no more Sway than a Funeral Herse,

or a Country Waggon; That we were jumbled about like so many Pease in

a Child's Rattle, running at every Kennel Jolt a great hazard of a

Dislocation: This we endured till we were brought within _White

Chappel Bars_, where we lighted from our stubborn Caravan with our

Elbows and Shoulders as Black and Blew as a Rural _Man_ that has been

under the pinches of an angry _Fairy_.'

Posthouses were at convenient stages all over the kingdom, and the

postmaster was bound to provide horses for all comers, either to ride

or drive. His duties and tariffs were as follows:--

'The Post Master is obliged to receive of every Person, Riding Post

with Horses and Guide, thus 3_d._ per Mile for each Horse Hire and

4_d._ per Stage for a Guide.

'And no Person carrying a Bundle that doth not exceed 80 lbs.

Averdupoise, shall be charged for it.

'If through the default of the Post Master, any Person Riding Post

shall fail of being furnished, he shall forfeit 5_l._ Or if the Post

Master cannot, or do not furnish any Person with Horses for Riding

Post, then they are at Liberty to provide Horses for themselves; but

no Horses to be seized without the Owner's Consent.

[Illustration: Hackney Coach.]

'The other way that Gentlemen commonly Travel is in Stage Coaches,

which is from about 2_d._ Farthing to 3_d._ per Mile. The Flying Coach

is a Stage Coach, that is drawn by 6 Horses, and will sometimes run 90

or 100 _English_ Miles on one day.

'It may also be noted that _Carriage_ by Waggon or Pack Horses, is

about 5 Shillings for carrying 112 Pound Weight 100 Miles; and so in

proportion; though 'tis something cheaper in the Summer than

Winter.'[597]

[Footnote 597: _British Curiosities in Nature and Art_,

1713.]

The Hackney coach was a very useful institution, in spite of all said

against it. We have read Ward's description of the bumping he had in

one; in another part of the _London Spy_ he says: 'Would you have me,

said I, undergo the Punishment of a Coach again, when you Know I was

so great a Sufferer by the last, that it made my Bones rattle in my

Skin, and has brought as many Pains about me, as if troubled with the

Rheumatism. That was a Country Coach, says he, and only fit for the

Road; but _London_ Coaches are hung more loose, to prevent your being

Jolted by the roughness of the pavement.'

The ordinary hackney coaches do not seem to have been provided with

glasses. 'For want of Glasses to our Coach, having drawn up our Tin

Sashes, pink'd like the bottom of a Cullender, that the Air might pass

thro' the holes, and defend us from Stifling.'

By the 5 & 6 Will. and Mary, cap. 22, the number of hackney coaches

was fixed at 700, and a tax was imposed of 4_l._ per annum each, 1_l._

to be paid every quarter day, besides a fine of 50_l._ for their first

licence for 21 years; and 8_l._ per annum on stage coaches.

To look after these hackney carriages there were five commissioners,

at a salary each of 200_l._, and their office was in Surrey Street,

Strand. The fares were not very heavy, even taking the difference of

the value of money into consideration, and the fact that they had two

horses.

s. d.

For one day of 12 Hours 10 --

For one Hour 1 6

For every hour after the first 1 --

From any of the Inns of Court to any part of St. James's or

City of Westminster, except beyond Tuttle Street 1 --

From the Inns of Court, or thereabouts, to the Royal Exchange 1 --

From any of the Inns of Court, to the Tower, Aldgate, Bishopsgate

Street or thereabouts 1 6

And the same Rates back again, or to any Place of the like Distance.

And, if any Coachman shall refuse to go at, or exact more, for

Hire, than the Rates hereby limited, he shall for every such

Offence forfeit 40 Shillings

In 1710 the number of coaches was increased to 800 by the 9 Anne, cap.

23, which also provided that they were to pay five shillings weekly,

and were to go a mile and a half for one shilling, two miles for one

shilling and sixpence, above two miles two shillings, and greater

distances in the same proportion.

The hackney coachmen petitioned against the tax, and said they were

willing to pay the old one. One petition was entitled 'Some Reasons

most humbly Offered to the Consideration of the Right Honourable the

House of LORDS and the Honourable the House of Commons; by all the 700

_Hackney_ Coachmen and their Widows to Enable them to pay the Great

Tax laid upon them;' and another was 'The Hackney Coachmen's case.

Humbly presented to the Right Honourable House of Commons, with a

proposal to raise for her Majesty 200,000_l._ per annum.' This was

proposed, very coolly, to be done by laying a tax on all coaches and

carriages not licensed, on passengers going by stage coaches, and on

goods carried by waggons and packhorses.

The coaches were numbered, although I can only find one notice of it:

'So that, rather than to stand a Vapulation, one of them took Notice

of his Number;'[598] and the coachmen were noted for their incivility.

Of course they did not come from a very high class, and the habits and

language of the lower class of that time were extremely coarse. 'We

discharged our Grumbling Coachman, who Mutter'd heavily, according to

their old Custome, for t'other Sixpence; till at last moving us a

little beyond our Patience, we gave an Angry Positive Denial to his

Unreasonable Importunities; for we found, like the rest of his

Fraternity, he had taken up the Miserly Immoral rule, viz. _Never to

be Satisfied_.'

[Footnote 598: _London Spy._]

Gay gently hints at their incivility:--

If Wheels bar up the Road, where Streets are Crost,

With gentle Words the Coachman's Ear accost:

He ne'er the Threat, or harsh Command obeys,

But with Contempt the spatter'd Shoe surveys.

And, according to him, they were not only surly but pugnacious.

Now Oaths grow loud, with Coaches, Coaches jar,

And the smart Blow provokes the sturdy War;

From the high Box they whirl the Thong around,

And with the twining Lash their Shins resound:

Their Rage ferments, more dang'rous Wounds they try,

And the Blood gushes down their painful Eye.

And now on Foot the frowning Warriors light,

And with their pond'rous Fists renew the Fight;

Blow answers Blow, their Cheeks are 'smeared with Blood

'Till down they fall, and grappling, roll in Mud.

[Illustration: State Coach.]

State coaches were very handsome, being elaborately painted, carved,

and gilt, a fine coach and many servants being indispensable to a

person of rank.

But even in that age of luxuriously appointed equipages everyone was

astonished at the magnificence of that of the Venetian ambassador.

Luttrell notes it on May 20, 1707: 'Yesterday the Venetian ambassadors

made their publick entry thro' this citty to Somerset House in great

state and splendour, their Coach of State embroidered with gold, and

the richest that ever was seen in England: they had two with 8 horses,

and eight with 6 horses, trimm'd very fine with ribbons, 48 footmen

in blew velvet cover'd with gold lace, 24 gentlemen and pages on

horseback, with feathers in their hats.' And the novelty does not seem

to have worn off, for, four years afterwards, Swift writes to Stella:

'This evening I saw the Venetian Ambassador coming from his first

public audience. His coach is the most monstrous, huge, fine, rich,

gilt thing that ever I saw.' He also writes her, Feb. 6, 1712:

'Nothing has made so great a noise as one Kelson's Chariot, that cost

nine hundred and thirty Pounds, the finest was ever seen. The rabble

huzzaed him as much as they did Prince Eugene.'

Anybody with any pretension to wealth and fashion drove six horses, as

says Mrs. Plotwell[599]: 'I must have Six Horses in my Coach, four are

fit for those that have a Charge of Children, you and I shall never

have any;' and _Lucinda_ tells Sir _Toby Doubtful_[600]: 'You'll at

least keep Six Horses Sir _Toby_, for I wou'd not make a Tour in High

Park with less for the World; for me thinks a pair looks like a

Hackney.' The coachman, however, did not drive all six, one of the

leaders being always ridden by a postilion. These carriage horses were

heavy, long-tailed Flemish ones, and naturally went at a sedate and

sober trot.

[Footnote 599: _The Beau's Duel_, Mrs. Centlivre.]

[Footnote 600: _Love's Contrivance_, Mrs. Centlivre.]

[Illustration: State Coach.]

It was not everyone that could afford six, or even four, horses, so

there were lighter vehicles, as the chariot, the calash, and the

chaize or chaise. The latter was adapted for one or two horses, and

sometimes was highly ornamented. 'A very fine CHAIZE, very well

Carved, gilded and painted, and lined with blue Velvet, and a very

good HORSE for it, are to be sold together, or apart &c.--The Horse is

also a very good HORSE for the Saddle.'

'A very fine pair of young Stone Horses, and a very neat Chaize, well

Carved, gilt and painted, and lined with Scarlet, and but little the

worse for using to be sold.' 'A Curious 4 Wheel Shaze, Crane Neck'd,

little the worse for wearing, it is to be used with one or 2 Horses,

and there is a fine Harness for one Horse, and a Reputable Sumpture

Laopard Covering.'

The ordinary chaises, however, were much plainer, and they were built

strongly, to stand the strain of bad pavements and roads; but it is

probable that very few were put to such a severe test as the

following: 'At the Greyhound Inn in West Smithfield is to be sold a

Two Wheel Chaise, with a Pair of Horses well match'd: It has run over

a Bank and a Ditch 5 Foot High; and likewise through a deep Pit within

the Ring at Hide Park, in the presence of several Persons of Quality;

which are very satisfied it cannot be overturn'd with fair Driving. It

is to be Lett for 7_s._ 6_d._ a Day, with some Abatement for a longer

Time.'

There should be a history attaching to the following advertisement:

'Whereas, upon the 10th of Octob. last, a Gentleman brought a Calash

and one Horse, to the Duke of Grafton's Head at Hide Park Corner, and

on the 20th of the same Month fetched away the Horse, but left the

Calash as a pawn for what was due for the same. If the Owner will come

and pay what is due, he may have his Calash again, else it will be

appraised and sold in 10 days time.' The innkeeper had waited six

months before he advertised.

Here is another curious advertisement connected with coaches. 'Lost

the 26th of February, about 9 a Clock at Night, between the Angel and

Crown Tavern in Threadneedle Street, and the end of Bucklers Berry,

the side Door of a Chariot, Painted Coffee Colour, with a Round Cypher

in the Pannel, Lin'd with White Cloath embos'd with Red, having a

Glass in one Frame, and White Canvas in another, with Red Strings to

both Frames. Whosoever hath taken it up are desir'd to bring it to Mr.

Jacob's a Coachmaker at the corner of St. Mary Ax near London Wall,

where they shall receive 30_s._ Reward if all be brought with it; or

if offer'd to be Pawn'd or Sold, desire it may be stop'd and notice

given, or if already Pawn'd or Sold, their money again.'

In very many advertisements of the sale of second-hand carriages, it

is mentioned that the glasses are complete. One would imagine from

this that glass was dear, but it was not particularly so. 'These are

to give notice to all Persons that have occasions for Coach Glasses,

or Glasses for Sash Windows, that they may be furnished with all

sorts, at half the prises they were formerly sold for.' And it goes on

to say that 12 inches square was 2_s._ 6_d._, and increased up to 22

inches, nearly at the rate of 6_d._ per inch, or 8_s._ 6_d._; 23

inches was 10_s._ 6_d._, and so on at about 2_s._ 6_d._ per inch to 28

inches, which was 20_s._, until it culminated at 36 inches square for

£2 10_s._ If this, really, was half the previous cost, and if we

reckon the difference in the value of money then and now perhaps some

economical people would think twice before having a broken glass

repaired.

There were also a 'Chasse marée Coach,' and a 'Curtin Coach for Six

People.'

They used to take nice little drives, too, in these clumsy old

carriages--but they took their time over the journey. Thoresby's

'kind friend Mr. Boulter, brought his chariot from Chelsea, purposely

to carry him to see Hampton Court.' They started about eleven, and,

'having passed through the City, we passed the Gravel Pits,[601] and

had a clear air (whither the Consumptive are sent by the physicians)

and delicate pleasant Country to Acton and Brentford; the Duke of

Somerset's Seat at Sion House looked most charmingly, and was the

first time I had observed the lime trees in the avenues cut in a

pyramidal form, even to a great distance from the palace, which looked

very Noble; thence through Thistleworth and Twitnam, a very pleasant

road.' After their visit to Hampton, they stopped for the night at

Richmond Wells, returning next day _viâ_ Kew, Mortlake, Putney, and

Wandsworth.

[Footnote 601: At Kensington.]

His friend Boulter, on another occasion, 'took me in his Coach to

Hampstead, where we dined with his mother; and after viewing that

pleasant town, and taking a view of the Country from the Hill beyond

it, we took a tour to Highgate, Mussel Hill and other Country

villages, and a pleasant Country, and returned by Islington and

Newington home again.'

There was a mechanical curiosity which appeared in 1711, and of which

the following is an advertisement. 'An Invention of a wonderful

Chariot, in which Persons may travel several Miles an Hour, without

the assistance of Horses, and Measure the Miles as they go; it turns

or goes back; having the Praise of all Persons of Quality, and

ingenious Men that have seen it. Note that it is convenient for any

Gentleman that is incapable of walking thro' lameness, to ride about

his Park or Garden, without damaging his Tarris-Walks or Grass-Plats.

The Invention is so highly approv'd that there is one already bespoke

by a Person of Quality, which is to go on four Wheels, and swing in

the Nature of a large Coach; which according to a modest Computation,

will travel at the Rate of 7 or 8 Miles an Hour. If any Person of

Quality is desirous to use them with Horses, they may either travel as

far again in a Day as they can with another Coach, or can go as far

with a Pair of Horses, as the Coaches hitherto in Use can with 6. Note

that such as are bespoke for Parks or Gardens only, will come very

reasonable, others at proportionable Prices.'

It was the fashion to use a mourning coach all the time mourning was

worn, and this rendered it incumbent upon people to possess such a

vehicle; consequently they were frequently advertised for sale--'At

Mr. Harrison's, Coach Maker, in the Broadway, Westminster, is a

Mourning Coach and Harness, never used, with a whole Fore Glass, and

two Door Glasses and all other Materials (the Person being deceased);

also a Mourning Chariot, being little used, with all Materials

likewise, and a Leather Body Coach, being very fashionable with a

Coafoay Lining and 4 Glasses, and several sorts of Shazesses, at very

reasonable Rates.'

The reins were not of leather, but of worsted, and sometimes of gay

colours. Pepys, on that Memorable May Day in 1669 when he started his

pretty gilt coach, and had the horses' manes and tails tied with red

ribbons, had 'green reins, that people did mightily look upon us.'

French harness seems to have been most fashionable, although there is

'a pair of fine new Rumpee Town Harness' advertised; and hammer-cloths

were used on the coach-boxes. A singular industry sprang up--that of

stealing these hammer-cloths. 'Lost off a Gentleman's Coach Box a

Crimson Coffoy Hammer Cloth, with 2 yellow Laces about it.' 'Lost off

a Gentleman's Coach Box, a Blue Hammer Cloth, trimm'd with a Gold

colour'd Lace that is almost turn'd yellow.' 'Lost a Red Shag Hammock

Cloth, with white Silk Lace round it, embroider'd with white and blue,

and 3 Bulls Heads and a Squirrel for the Coat of Arms.

[Illustration: The Sedan Chair.]

The sedan chair was a conveyance that was getting into vogue in Anne's

reign. Taking its name from the town of Sedan in France, it was first

used in England in 1581, and in London in 1623.

In 1711 an Act (9 Anne, c. 23) was passed licensing 200 public sedan

chairs at ten shillings each yearly, and their fare was settled at

1_s._ per mile. Next year, another Act (10 Anne, c. 19) was passed,

licensing 100 more, but keeping the fares unaltered.

Like coaches, their adornment was indicative of the wealth and

position of their owners--although, perhaps, none ever came up to

Anne's royal present.[602] 'The Queen has made a present of a chair

value £8000 to the King of Prussia, which is ordered for Berlin.'

Still they were highly ornamental, as the following, which was the

property of Sir Joseph Williamson, deceased, will show. 'A Cedan (or

Chair) lin'd with Crimson Velvet, trim'd with Gold and Silver, and a

new Mourning Chair &c.'

[Footnote 602: _Luttrell's Diary_, Dec. 10, 1709.]

The prefix 'Sedan' was seldom used, and these conveyances were

generally termed 'Chairs.' That they were considered somewhat of a

novelty in Anne's reign is evidenced by that line of Gay's 'Nor late

invented Chairs perplex'd the way,' and also by the fact that then the

public chairs were first licensed, and the number, a very small one,

regulated.

They were not particularly comfortable, as the Marquis of Hazard

describes[603]: 'Hey, let my three Footmen wait with my Chair

there--the Rascals have come such a high trot--they've jolted me worse

than a Hackney Coach--and I am in as much disorder as if I had not

been drest to day.' And they were sometimes dangerous too.

[Footnote 603: _The Gamester._]

Or, box'd within the Chair, contemn the Street,

And trust their Safety to another's Feet.

.........................................

The drunken Chairman in the Kennel Spurns,

The Glasses shatters, and his Charge o'erturns.

Gay evidently did not like either chairs or chairmen, for he warns his

reader thus:--

Let not the Chairman with assuming Stride,

Press near the Wall, and rudely thrust thy Side:

The Laws have set him Bounds; his servile Feet

Should ne'er encroach where Posts defend the Street.

Yet who the Footman's Arrogance can quell,

Whose Flambeau gilds the Sashes of Pell Mell?

When in long Rank a Train of Torches flame,

To light the Midnight Visits of the Dame?

Others, perhaps, by happier Guidance led,

May where the Chairman rests, with Safety tread;

When e'er I pass, their Poles, unseen below,

Make my Knee tremble with the jarring Blow.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE MOHOCKS.

Scourers, etc. -- Bully Dawson -- Two outbreaks -- That in 1712

-- Hawkubites -- Exploits of the Mohocks -- Sir Roger de Coverley

-- Swift's fear of them -- Emperor of the Mohocks -- Gog and

Magog -- The Queen's proclamation -- Decline of the scare --

Constables and watchmen.

In every age and country young blood is hot blood, and in this reign

it was particularly so. The wild blood of the Cavaliers still danced

in the veins of the beaus in Anne's time, and nightly frolics and

broils were of frequent occurrence. They had their predecessors in

this work--as Sir _Tope_ says in Shadwell's play of 'The Scowrers':

'Puh, this is nothing, why I knew the _Hectors_, and before them the

_Muns_ and the Titire Tus, they were brave fellows indeed; in those

days a man could not go from the _Rose Tavern_ to the _Piazza_ once,

but he must venture his life twice.' And Whackum, in the same play,

describes the doings of the fraternity of Scourers. 'Then how we

Scour'd the Market People, overthrew the Butter Women, defeated the

Pippin Merchants, wip'd out the Milk Scores, pull'd off the Door

Knockers, dawb'd the Gilt Signs.'

In Anne's reign these roysterers were called Mohocks--why, I know not,

except that it was then a sort of generic term for North American

Indians. In a later age this furore was termed Tom and Jerryism; but

then it had an intelligible origin, from Pierce Egan's 'Life in

London, or the Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn Esq. and his

elegant Friend Corinthian Tom &c.' It still exists, although it has no

special name.

Brown, in his 'Letters from the Dead to the Living,' says in that

'From Bully Dawson[604] to Bully W....n': 'Therefore if ever you

intend to be my Rival in Glory, you must fight a Bailiff once a Day,

stand Kick and Cuff once a Week, Challenge some Coward or other once a

Month, Bilk your Lodgings once a quarter, and Cheat a Taylor once a

year, crow over every Coxcomb you meet with, and be sure you kick

every jilt you bully into submission and a compliance of treating you;

never till then will the fame of W....n ring like _Dawson's_ in every

Coffee House, or be the merry subject of every Tavern Tittle Tattle.'

[Footnote 604: Bully Dawson is supposed to be the original

of Captain Hackum in Shadwell's play of 'The Squire of

Alsatia,' and is mentioned by Steele in No. 2 of the

_Spectator_, when he speaks of Sir Roger de Coverley having

'kick'd Bully Dawson in a publick Coffee House for calling

him Youngster.']

There seem to have been two special outbreaks of Mohocks--one in 1709,

and the other in 1712. Of the first Steele says:[605] 'When I was a

middle-aged Man, there were many societies of _Ambitious_ young men in

England, who, in their pursuits after same, were every night employed

in roasting Porters, smoaking Coblers, knocking down Watchmen,

overturning Constables, breaking Windows, blackening Sign Posts, and

the like immortal enterprizes, that dispersed their Reputation

throughout the whole Kingdom. One could hardly find a knocker at a

door in a whole street after a midnight expedition of these _Beaux

Esprits_. I was lately very much surprised by an account of my Maid,

who entered my bed chamber this morning in a very great fright, and

told me, she was afraid my parlour was haunted; for that she had found

several panes of my Windows broken, and the floor strewed with

half-pence. I have not yet a full light into this new way, but am apt

to think, that it is a generous piece of wit, that some of my

Contemporaries make use of, to break windows, and leave money to pay

for them.'

[Footnote 605: _Tatler_, 77.]

Gay notices the Mohocks, and their window-breaking thus:--

Now is the Time that Rakes their Revells keep;

Kindlers of Riot, Enemies of Sleep.

His scatter'd Pence the flying _Nicker_ flings,

And with the Copper Show'r the Casement rings.

Who has not heard the _Scowrer's_ Midnight Fame?

Who has not trembled at the _Mohock's_ Name?

Was there a Watchman took his hourly Rounds,

Safe from their Blows, or new invented Wounds?

I pass their desp'rate Deeds, and Mischiefs done,

Where from _Snow Hill_ black Steepy Torrents run;

How Matrons, hoop'd within the Hogshead's Womb,

Were tumbled furious thence, the rolling Tomb

O'er the Stones thunders, bounds from Side to Side.

So _Regulus_ to save his Country dy'd.

The greatest scare, however, was in March 1712, and that exercised the

popular mind as much as the garotters of modern times. People, of

course, were more frightened than hurt, and there is very little doubt

but that this outbreak was much exaggerated. Still, we can only take

the contemporary accounts, and this is one of them.

[606]'THE TOWN RAKES, or the Frolicks of the _Mohocks_ or

_Hawkubites_. With an Account of their Frolicks last night, and at

several other Times: shewing how they slit the Noses of several Men

and Women, and wounded others; Several of which were taken up last

Night by the Guards, and committed to several Prisons, the Guards

being drawn out to disperse them.

[Footnote 606: Brit. Mus. 816 m. 19/74.]

'There are a certain set of Persons, amongst whom there are some of

too great a Character, to be nam'd in these barbarous and ridiculous

Encounters, did they not expose themselves by such mean and vulgar

Exploits.

'These Barbarities have been carry'd on by a Gang of 'em for a

considerable time, and many innocent Persons have receiv'd great

Injury from them, who call themselves _Hawkubites_; and their

mischievous Invention of the Word is, that they take people betwixt

_Hawk_ and _Buzzard_, that is, betwixt two of them, and making them

turn from one to the other, abuse them with Blows and other Scoffings;

and, if they pretend to speak for themselves, they then Slit their

Noses, or cut them down the Back.

'The Watch in most of the Out-parts of the town stand in awe of them,

because they always come in a body, and are too strong for them, and

when any Watchman presumes to demand where they are going, they

generally misuse them.

'Last Night they had a general Rendezvouz, and were bent upon

Mischief; their way is to meet People in the Streets and Stop them,

and begin to Banter them, and if they make any Answer, they lay on

them with Sticks, and toss them from one to another in a very rude

manner.

'They attacked the Watch in _Devereux Court_ and _Essex Street_, made

them scower; they also slit two Persons' Noses, and cut a Woman in the

Arm with a penknife that she is lam'd. They likewise rowled a Woman in

a Tub down _Snow Hill_, that was going to Market, set other Women on

their Heads, misusing them in a barbarous manner.

'They have short Clubs or Batts that have Lead at the End, which will

overset a Coach, or turn over a Chair, and Tucks[607] in their Canes

ready for Mischief.

[Footnote 607: A tuck was a short sword.]

'One of these Persons suppos'd to be of the Gang, did formerly slit a

Drawer's Nose at _Greenwich_, and has committed many such Frolicks

since. They were so outrageous last Night, that the Guards at _White

Hall_ was alarm'd, and a Detachment order'd to Patrole; and 'tis said,

the Train Bands will be order'd to do Duty for the future, to prevent

these Disorders; several of them were taken up last Night, and put

into the Round Houses till order is taken what to do with them.'

The Spectator, whose living was by making the most of any popular

subject of the hour, was specially exercised over the Mohocks. 'An

outrageous Ambition of doing all possible hurt to their

Fellow-Creatures, is the great Cement of their Assembly and the only

Qualification required in the Members. In order to exert this

Principle in its full Strength and Perfection, they take Care to drink

themselves to a pitch that is beyond the Possibility of attending to

any Motives of Reason and Humanity; then make a general Sally, and

attack all that are so unfortunate as to walk the Streets through

which they patrole. Some are knock'd down, others stabb'd, others cut

and carbonado'd. To put the Watch to a total Rout, and mortify some of

those inoffensive Militia, is reckon'd a Coup d'éclat. The particular

Talents by which these _Misanthropes_ are distinguished from one

another, consist in the various kinds of Barbarities which they

execute upon their Prisoners. Some are celebrated for a happy

Dexterity in tipping the Lion upon them; which is perform'd by

squeezing the Nose flat to the Face, and boring out the Eyes with

their Fingers; Others are called the Dancing Masters, and teach their

Scholars to cut Capers by running Swords thro' their Legs; a new

Invention, whether originally _French_ I cannot tell; A third sort are

the Tumblers, whose office it is to set Women on their Heads, and

commit certain Indecencies or rather Barbarities on the Limbs which

they expose.'[608]

[Footnote 608: _Spectator_, 324.]

Sir Roger de Coverley was even somewhat nervous about them when he

went to the play--and 'asked me, in the next place whether there would

not be some danger in coming home late, in case the Mohocks should be

Abroad'; and we learn how, finally, the party went to the theatre.

'The Captain, who did not fail to meet me there at the appointed Hour,

bid Sir Roger fear nothing, for that he had put on the same Sword

which he made use of at the Battle of _Steenkirk_. Sir Roger's

Servants, and among the rest my old Friend, the Butler, had, I found,

provided themselves with good Oaken Plants, to attend their Master

upon this occasion.'

Swift was in mortal fear of them, and, in his 'History of the Four

Last Years of Queen Anne,' declares it was part of a deliberate plan

to raise riot, during which Harley might have been assassinated--and

accuses Prince Eugene of setting it afloat. He writes Stella--in

Letter 43--fragmentary jottings of his feelings during this period of

terror. 'Did I tell you of a race of Rakes, called the Mohocks, that

play the devil about this town every night, slit peoples noses, and

bid them, &c.... Young Davenant was telling us at Court how he was set

upon by the Mohocks, and how they ran his chair through with a Sword.

It is not safe being in the streets at Night for them. The Bishop of

Salisbury's son is said to be of the gang. They are all Whigs; and a

great lady sent to me, to speak to her father and to lord treasurer,

to have a care of them, and to be careful likewise of myself; for she

heard they had malicious intentions against the Ministers and their

friends.... I walked in the Park this evening, and came home early to

avoid the Mohocks.... Here is the devil and all to do with these

Mohocks. Grub Street papers about them fly like lightning, and a list

printed of near eighty put into several prisons, and all a lie; and I

almost begin to think there is no truth, or very little, in the whole

Story. He that abused Davenant was a Drunken gentleman; none of that

gang. My man tells me, that one of the lodgers heard in a Coffee

House, publicly, that one design of the Mohocks was upon me, if they

Could Catch me; and though I believe nothing of it, I forbear walking

late, and they have put me to the Charge of some shillings already....

I came home in a Chair for fear of the Mohocks.... I came afoot but

had my Man with me. Lord treasurer advised me not to go in a Chair,

because the Mohocks insult Chairs more than they do those on foot.

They think there is some mischievous design in those villains. Several

of them, lord-treasurer told me, are actually taken up. I heard at

dinner, that one of them was killed last night.... Lord Winchelsea

told me to day at Court, that two of the Mohocks caught a maid of old

Lady Winchelsea's at the door of their house in the Park, with a

candle, and had just lighted out somebody. They Cut all her face, and

beat her without any provocation.... I staid till past twelve, and

could not get a Coach, and was alone, and was afraid enough of the

Mohocks.'

This dreaded association was supposed to be under the orders of a

chief or 'Emperor,' who wore a crescent on his forehead, and is so

described both in the _Spectator_ and in Gay's very amusing play of

'The Mohocks,' which is a delicious burlesque on the scare. Here is a

sample of it. Some of the watch are talking about this dreaded band,

and their doings. Says one: 'I met about five or six and thirty of

these _Mohocks_--by the same token 'twas a very windy Morning--they

all had Swords as broad as Butcher's Cleavers, and hack'd and hew'd

down all before them--I saw--as I am a Man of credit, in the

Neighbourhood--all the Ground covered with Noses--as thick as 'tis

with Hail Stones after a Storm.' Says another: 'That is nothing to

what I have seen--I saw them hook a Man as cleverly as a Fisher Man

would a great Fish--and play him up and down from _Charing Cross_ to

_Temple Bar_--they cut off his Ears, and eat them up, and then gave

him a swinging slash in the Arm--told him bleeding was good for a

fright, and so turned him loose.' A third relates his experience:

'Poh! that's nothing at all--I saw them cut off a Fellow's Legs, and,

if the poor Man had not run hard for it, they had Cut off his Head

into the bargain.' And the fourth tells how, 'Poor _John Mopstaff's_

Wife was like to Come to damage by them--for they took her up by the

Heels, and turn'd her quite inside out--the poor Woman, they say, will

ne'er be good for anything More.'

Gay also wrote another skit on these awful beings. 'An ARGUMENT

proving from History, Reason, and Scripture, that the present

_Mohocks_ and _Hawkubites_ are the GOG and MAGOG mentioned in the

Revelations, and therefore, That this vain and Transitory World will

shortly be brought to its final Dissolution.' It is not particularly

amusing, being a parody on scriptural prophecy, and it winds up with

the following:--

From Mohocks and from Hawkubites

Good Lord deliver me,

Who wander through the Streets by Night

Committing Cruelty.

They slash our Sons with Bloody knives,

And on our Daughters fall;

And if they ravish not our Wives,

We have good Luck withal.

Coaches and Chairs they overturn,

Nay Carts most easily;

Therefore from GOG and eke MAGOG

Good Lord, deliver me.

Public feeling on the matter, however, was so strong, that on March

17, 1712, the Queen issued a Royal Proclamation.

'Anne, R. The Queen's Most Excellent Majesty being watchful for the

Publick Good of Her Loving Subjects, and taking notice of the great

and unusual Riots and Barbarities which have lately been committed in

the Night time, in the open Streets, in several parts of the Cities of

_London_ and _Westminster_, and Parts adjacent, by numbers of Evil

dispos'd Persons, who have combined together to disturb the Publick

Peace, and in an inhuman manner, without any Provocation, have

Assaulted and Wounded many of her Majesty's good Subjects, and have

had the Boldness to insult the Constables and Watchmen, in the

Execution of their Office, to the great Terror of Her Majesty's said

Subjects, and in Contempt and Defiance of the Laws of this Realm, to

the Dishonour of Her Majesty's Government, and the Displeasure of

Almighty God &c. &c. &c.... Her Majesty doth hereby promise and

declare, That whosoever shall before the First Day of _May_ now next

ensuing discover to any of Her Majesty's Justices of Peace, any Person

who, since the First Day of _February_ last past, hath, without any

Provocation, Wounded, Stabb'd or Maim'd, or who shall before the said

First Day of _May_, without any Provocation, Wound, Stab, or Maim, any

of Her Majesty's Subjects within the said Cities of _London_ and

_Westminster_, and Parts adjacent, so as such Offender be brought to

Justice, shall have and receive the Reward of One Hundred Pounds, &c.'

[Illustration: The Watch.]

Can the following advertisement have any possible relation to the

midnight orgies of the Mohocks? _Post Boy_, Dec. 18/20, 1712: 'Lately

found, several Pair of Stockings, some Night Caps, and several Pair of

Shooes, with two Brazill Rolling Pins, and some Brass Knockers of

Doors.'

Brass knockers evidently were attractive, for in 1714 we find a genius

advertising, 'There is to be Sold at the Sign of the Plow on Fleet

Ditch, New Fashion Brass Knockers of all Sizes that cannot be broke

off so easily as any that have yet been made. However, this is to

Satisfy all Gentlemen and others that do buy any of them, that if any

should be broke off, upon their bringing me a Piece of that which I

sold, I will give them gratis one as good and as large as they

bought.'

The fright soon passed off, for we find Budgell[609] writing on April

8, 1712, that some began to doubt 'whether indeed there were ever any

such Society of Men. The Terror which spread itself over the whole

Nation some Years since, on account of the _Irish_, is still fresh in

most Peoples Memories, tho' it afterwards appeared there was not the

least Ground for that general Consternation. The late Panick Fear was,

in the opinion of many deep and penetrating Persons, of the same

Nature.' But there is no doubt there was a substratum of reality,

mixed with a great deal of exaggeration.

[Footnote 609: _Spectator_, 347.]

The civil power was utterly unable to cope with riots of this

description. What were the watchmen like? From the time of Dogberry to

the institution of the present police they have ever been a

laughing-stock. Old, infirm men, badly paid, incumbered with a long

staff and a lantern, perambulated the streets under the authority of a

constable. Who cared for them? Certainly not a Mohock. Nay, their very

honesty was called in question. 'Two of them like honest fellows,

handed me home to my Chambers, without so much as stealing my Hat or

picking my pockets which was a Wonder.'

[Illustration: A Constable.]

Ward gives an amusing little sketch of their venality.

'Civil and Sober Persons, said he, how do I know that, Mr. _Prattle

Box_? You may be Drunk for ought I know, and only feign yourselves

Sober before my presence to escape the penalty of the Act.

'My Friend puts his Hand in his Pocket, plucks out a Shilling, Indeed,

Mr. Constable, says he, we tell you nothing but the Naked Truth. There

is something for your Watch to Drink; We know it is a late Hour, but

hope you will detain us no longer.

'With that Mr. _Surly Cuff_ directs himself to his right hand

Janizary, Hem, hah, Aminidab, I believe they are Civil Gentlemen; Ay,

ay, said he, Master, you need not question it; they don't look as if

they had Fire balls about 'em. Well, Gentlemen, you may pass; but Pray

go civilly home. Here, Colly, light the Gentlemen down the Hill, they

may chance to Stumble in the Dark, and break their Shins against the

Monument.'

What sings Gay of watchmen?

Yet there are Watchmen, who with friendly Light,

Will teach thy reeling Steps to tread aright;

For _Sixpence_ will support thy helpless Arm,

And Home conduct thee, safe from nightly Harm;

But if they shake their Lanthorns, from afar,

To call their Breth'ren to confed'rate War,

When Rakes resist their Pow'r; if hapless you

Should chance to wander with the Scow'ring Crew;

Though Fortune yield thee Captive, ne'er despair,

But seek the Constable's consid'rate Ear;

He will reverse the Watchman's harsh Decree,

Mov'd by the Rhetrick of a Silver Fee.

Thus, would you gain some fav'rite Courtier's Word;

Fee not the petty Clarks, but bribe my Lord.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

DUELLING.

Its prevalence -- Bullying -- Fielding's duels -- Favourite

localities -- Its illegality -- Col. Thornhill and Sir Cholmley

Dering: their quarrel and duel -- Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun

-- Story of their duel.

The senseless custom of duelling was much in vogue in this reign,

although perhaps it had not reached to the height it afterwards did.

The custom of wearing swords rendered the arbitrament of every dispute

liable to be settled by those weapons. A few hasty words and the sword

was whipped out, and probably one or other of the combatants had

reason to regret his loss of temper. Indeed, to such a pitch had it

come that the Code of Old John Selden, 'The duels or single combat,'

printed in 1610, was reprinted in 1711 for the benefit of Queen Anne's

subjects, as was also Sir William Hope's 'New Method of Fencing &c.'

Fencing-masters naturally advertised. 'Peter Besson a Waldense, born

in Piedmont, teaches the use of the Italian Spadroon; and does invite

all Gentlemen that are curious in the Sword to see him perform his

Exercises at St. Amant's Coffee House by Charing Cross, Tuesdays,

Thursdays, and Saturdays, from 10 of the Clock in the Morning till 1.

He hath been in most Princes Courts of Europe, from whom he hath ample

Certificates of his great Dexterity and Ability this Way, and in a

very short time can make Gentlemen compleat Masters of this sort of

Sword.' There were also the numerous fencing-masters who performed at

Hockley in the Hole, who were always available as teachers.

Steele, who had himself fought his man and run him through the body,

did all he could to discountenance the practice; as he says in

_Tatler_ 25: 'I shall talk very freely on a Custom which all men wish

exploded, though no man has courage enough to resist it.' And not only

does he write against it in that number, but also in Nos. 26, 28, 29,

38, and 39.

[Illustration: A Duel.]

As a specimen of the hectoring and bullying then in vogue among a

certain class, let us take the following extract from Ward[610]: 'As

we came down _Ludgate Hill_, a couple of _Town Bullies_ (as I suppose

from their Behaviour) met each other, Damn ye, Sir, says one, why did

you not meet me Yesterday Morning according to Appointment? Damn you,

Sir, for a Cowardly Pimp, reply'd the other, I was there and waited

till I was Wet to the Skin, and you never came at me. You lie like a

Villain, says t'other, I was there, and stay'd the time of a

Gentleman; and draw now, and give me Satisfaction like a Man of

Honour, or I'll Cut your Ears off. You see, says the Valiant

Adversary, I have not my Fighting Sword on, and hope you are a Man of

more Honour than to take advantage of a Gentleman. Then go home and

fetch it, says _Don Furioso_, like a man of Justice, and meet me

within an Hour in the _King's Bench Walks_ in the _Temple_, or the

next time I see you, by _Jove's Thunderbolts_, I will Pink as many

Eylet holes in your Skin, as you have Button holes in your Coat; and

therefore have a Care how you Trespass upon my Patience. Upon the

Reputation of a Gentleman, I will Punctually meet you at your Time,

and Place; reply'd the other, and so they Parted.'

[Footnote 610: _London Spy._]

Very early in the reign we hear of duels. The _Flying Post_, Dec.

15/17, 1702, tells us of two. 'On Monday last Col. Fielding, commonly

called Handsom Fielding, was dangerously wounded in a Quarrel with one

Mr. Gudgeon, a Gentleman, at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.... On

Tuesday night last, one Mr. Cusaick, an Irish Gentleman, and Capt

Fullwood, quarrelled at the New Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and

afterwards fought; Captain Fullwood fell on the Spot, and Mr. Cusaick

was dangerously wounded.'

In the same paper for Dec. 22/24, 1702, we read: 'Mr. Fullwood, who

fought with Mr. Cusaick last Week in Lincoln's Inn Fields, was very

decently buried on Sunday last in the Evening at St. Clement's Danes

in the Strand. His Corps was brought from the Hay Market in a Hearse,

attended by many Gentlemen of Note, and some of Quality; they had all

Favours and Gloves.... Two Gentlemen of the Guards fought a Duel in

the Meuse; one was kill'd upon the Spot, and the other dangerously

wounded.'

We find 'handsom Fielding' at it again in 1704. 'On Friday last my

Lord de la Ware, and Mr. Fielding one of Her Majesty's Equerries,

fought a Duel at Windsor: His Lordship was dangerously wounded.'[611]

[Footnote 611: _Daily Courant_, Sept. 18, 1704.]

There were pet places for these combats, as there were also in the

later days of duelling with pistols, when Wimbledon Common, Wormwood

Scrubs, and Chalk Farm were fashionable localities. In Anne's time the

favourite spots were Lincoln's Inn Fields, or the fields at the back

of Montague and Southampton Houses, St. James's Park, and Barn Elms

between Putney and Mortlake. '29 May 1705. Saturday last, Mr. Kennet,

a young Kentish gentleman of the Temple, was killed in a duel behind

Montague House, supposed by one Mr. Medlicot, who made his

escape.'[612] '23 June 1705. A duel was this week fought in St.

James's Park between Foot Onslow Esq., and Dr Shadwell: the latter

wounded and disarmed.'

[Footnote 612: _Luttrell's Diary._]

It was illegal to fight duels, but the law was seldom acted on. Still,

it was put in force when appealed to. '25 Feb. 1703. Upon Notice

given, that Sir Stafford Fairborn and admiral Churchill designed to

fight a Duel, they were both Confined, to prevent the same.'

Whilst on this subject, notice of two famous duels fought in this

reign must not be omitted--those between Col. Thornhill and Sir

Cholmley Dering, and between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun;

because they throw so much light on the then procedure in these

matters.

Swift[613] notices the former thus: 'Dr. Freind came this morning to

visit Atterbury's lady and children as physician, and persuaded me to

go with him to town in his Chariot. He told me he had been an hour

before with Sir Cholmley Dering, Charles Dering's nephew, and head of

that family in Kent, for which he is Knight of the Shire. He said he

left him dying of a pistol Shot quite through the body, by one Mr.

Thornhill. They fought at sword and pistol this morning in Tuttle

Fields; their pistols so near, that the muzzles touched. Thornhill

discharged first, and Dering having received the shot, discharged his

pistol as he was falling, so it went into the Air.'

[Footnote 613: _Journal to Stella_, May 9, 1711.]

This duel created an immense sensation at the time, and several

accounts of the trial, etc., are preserved. From one of these[614] we

will take our facts, premising that the trial took place at the Old

Bailey, May 18, 1711. 'The first Evidences were such as related to the

quarrel, begun at the _Toy_ at _Hampton Court April_ 27th past, who

depos'd that at an Assembly of about Eighteen Gentlemen met there at

that Time, a Difference happen'd between the Deceas'd and the

Prisoner, upon their struggling and contending with each other, the

Wainscoat of the Room broke in, and _Mr. Thornhill_ falling down, had

some Teeth struck out by Sir _Cholmley Deering's_ stamping upon him;

that upon this, the Company immediately interpos'd to prevent further

Mischief; and Sir _Cholmley_ being made sensible of his fault,

declar'd himself ready to ask Mr. _Thornhill's_ Pardon which he did

not think sufficient for the injury done him in beating out his Teeth;

but upon his requiring further Satisfaction, Sir _Cholmley_ reply'd,

He did not know where to find him, which Mr. _Thornhill_ said 'twas a

Lie; soon after this the company broke up, and 'twas observ'd that

those Two Gentlemen went home in different Coaches.

[Footnote 614: Brit. Mus. E. 1992/4.]

'It appeared that after this the Deceas'd made overtures of

Accommodation.'

At the trial the doctors deposed that Thornhill's injuries were very

severe, that he had had fever, and might have died, had he not had an

excellent constitution. As soon as he recovered a little, he sent his

antagonist the following challenge.

'May the 8th, 1711.

'Sir, I shall be able to go Abroad to Morrow Morning, and desire

you would give me a Meeting with your Sword and Pistols, which I

insist on; the Worthy Gentleman my Friend, who brings this, will

concert with you for the Time and Place. I think _Tuttle Fields_

will do well, _Hide Park_ will not, this Time of the Year being

full of Company.

'I am, Your Humble Servant,

'_Richard Thornhill_.'

His servant deposed that on the morning of the 9th of May 'Sir

_Cholmley_ came into his Master's dining Room with a Brace of Pistols

in his Hands; upon which he inform'd his Master, Sir _Cholmley_ was

there; who thereupon came to him, and ask'd Sir _Cholmley_ if he

would drink a Dish of Tea, which he refus'd, but drank a Glass of

Small beer. Mr. _Thornhill_ having dress'd himself, they went together

in a Hackney Coach to _Tuttle Fields_. Upon their being there, the

Evidence depos'd, That they Came up like Two Lions with their Pistols

advanc'd, and when within Four Yards of each other, discharg'd so

equally together, that it could not well be discover'd who Shot

first.'

Sir Cholmley fell, and the usual scene took place; the quondam friend

rushed forward, and regretfully wished to be of service to the dying

man. A surgeon was sent for, and before his death Sir Cholmley not

only freely forgave his adversary, but admitted that 'this Misfortune

was my own Fault, and of my own Seeking.'

For the defence 'Several Persons of Quality and Worth declared as to

Mr. _Thornhill's_ Character, That they never knew him to be of a

Quarrelsome Disposition; but that on the Contrary, Sir _Cholmley

Deering_ was given to be unwarrantably Contentious.'

[Illustration: Duel between Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun.]

The judge summed up very clearly, but against the prisoner, pointing

out to the jury the difference between manslaughter and murder; but

the jury brought in a verdict of manslaughter.

Thornhill did not survive his adversary long. Swift writes Stella,

Aug. 21, 1711: 'Thornhill, who killed Sir Cholmley Dering, was

murdered by two men on Turnham Green last Monday Night. As they

stabbed him, they bid him remember Sir Cholmley Dering. They had

quarrelled at Hampton Court, and followed and stabbed him on

horseback.'

His remorse at his killing Dering is commented on by Steele in

_Spectator_ 84, under the name of _Spinamont_.

The duel between the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Mohun has been

frequently described; and, had only the dissolute Mohun have been

killed, few would have regretted its having taken place. As it was,

the Duke being the leader of the Jacobite faction in Scotland, and

Mohun being a violent Whig, the duel was invested with a political

colouring; and the Tories, enraged at Hamilton's fall, did not scruple

to call it a Whig murder, and denounce Lord Mohun's second, General

Macartney, as having unfairly stabbed him; but from all the

evidence[615] it is impossible to believe it.

[Footnote 615: Brit. Mus. 515 l. 2/215.]

The story of the duel is briefly this. The two noblemen were opposing

parties in a lawsuit, and on Nov. 13, 1712, met in the chambers of a

Master in Chancery, when the Duke remarked of a witness--'There is no

truth or justice in him.' Lord Mohun replied, 'I know Mr. Whitworth;

he is an honest Man, and has as much truth as your Grace.' This,

fanned into flame by officious friends, was enough; and on Nov. 15, or

two days afterwards, they fought, early in the morning, in Hyde Park;

their seconds--Col. Hamilton and General Macartney--also fighting, or,

as they expressed it, 'taking their share in the dance.' Lord Mohun

fell, dead, and the Duke atop of him, mortally wounded. The seconds

left off fighting, and went to the assistance of their principals; and

it was then, it was averred, that Gen. Macartney treacherously stabbed

the Duke.

Macartney fled; but Col. Hamilton remained, took his trial, and was

only found guilty of manslaughter. He accused Macartney of the foul

deed, and great was the hue and cry after him. The Duchess was

naturally enraged, and offered a reward of 300_l._ for his

apprehension, and the Government offered 500_l._ more, but he got off

safely. When things were quieter, he returned, stood his trial at the

Queen's Bench, Colonel Hamilton's testimony was contradicted, and he

was acquitted of the murder--but found guilty of manslaughter. The

punishment for this, by pleading benefit of clergy, which of course

was always done, was reduced to a very minimum, something amounting to

the supposed burning of the hand with a barely warm or cold iron--and

he was restored to his rank in the army and had a regiment given him.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

THE ARMY AND NAVY.

Sale of commissions -- General practice -- Its illegality -- Arrears

of pay -- Descriptions of officers -- Army chaplains -- The rank and

file -- Description of them -- Irregularity of pay -- Rations --

Recruiting -- Bounty -- Gaol birds -- Vagrants -- Desertions -- Story

of seditious drummers -- Train bands -- The Navy: its deeds --

Unpopularity of the service -- Pressing -- Desertion -- Rewards for

capture -- Pay -- Description of Admiralty -- Mercantile marine.

'Colonel Southwell has sold his regiment for 5,000_l._ to Colonel

Hansam of the guards;'[616] and doubtless the latter made money by the

transaction, for it seems to have been the practice then for the

colonel to sell the smaller commissions in his regiment. Hear what

Brown says on the subject:[617] 'We observ'd there a _Colonel_ and his

_Agent_, upon whom a pretty brisk Youth of about Seventeen attended at

three or four Yards distance in the Rear, and made his Honours upon

every occasion, we happen'd to place ourselves very near, and

immediately express'd himself as follows: "This young Gentleman has a

Particular Regard to your Honour, and a desire to learn the Art of War

under so experienc'd an Officer; 'tis true, he can't boast of any

Antiquity of Blood or Service in the Army, to recommend him to so

considerable a Post, as that of Ensign to your Honour. But, Sir, he

has deposited a Hundred Guineas in the hands of Sir _Francis Child_,

which, I presume, will plead his Merit very weightily; besides an

Acknowledgement to your humble Servant." The Favour was granted, and

the young Beau dismiss'd to his satisfaction.'

[Footnote 616: _Luttrell_, June 12, 1708.]

[Footnote 617: _A Walk round London and Westminster._]

This is not an exaggeration; the thing was openly talked about, and

even advertised. 'This is to give Notice, That Whosoever has a Mind to

treat about the purchasing Commissions in the Army, either in old

Regiments, or others, let them apply themselves to Mr. Pyne at his

Coffee House under Scotland Yard Gate, near Whitehall, and they will

be further inform'd about it.'

This advertisement seems to have aroused the authorities, for in the

_Gazette_ of Oct. 23/25, 1711, is the following official notice:

'Whereas a scandalous Advertisement has been twice published in the

_Post Boy_, giving Notice, That whoever has a mind to treat about the

Purchasing Commissions in the Army, either in the old Regiments or

others, might apply to Mr. Pyne, at his Coffee house under Scotland

Yard Gate near Whitehall, and they should be further inform'd about

it; which being directly contrary to Her Majesty's express Will and

pleasure, sometime declar'd and signif'd, as well at home, as to all

her Generals abroad, against the Sale of Commissions upon any account

whatsoever; it is thought fit to give this publick Notice, to prevent

any abuses or Impositions that might happen therefrom; and whoever

shall discover to Her Majesty's Secretary at War, at his Office in

Whitehall, the Authors of the said Advertisement, shall have due

Protection and Encouragement.'

A colonel clothed his regiment too, and there must have been money

made out of that: and a military conversation recorded by Brown throws

much light on the manners of the army at that time. 'We had pass'd the

_Horse Guards_ and enter'd the oderiferous Park of _St. James's_, we

found it a _High Change_ on the _Parade_, Red Coats and Laced Hats

spread everywhere.... Here is decided the Price of Commissions, which

are openly bought and sold, as if a lawful Merchandize.... Here you

may hear all this General's Miscarriages fully accounted for; that

General's success magnify'd and describ'd; that Colonel damn'd for

being put over this Captain's Head; that Agent curs'd for tricking the

Regiment out of their Pay, or by raising such Contributions with the

Colonel's Connivance, that Estates are now got at this end of the

Town, as well as by Stock Jobbing in the City. Here honest _Pain_, and

_Potter_, and divers others of that fraternity, take their mid-day's

Perambulation, to Agree with Spendthrift Officers, for advancing their

Money at 30 per Cent.'

The pay of all ranks in the army was always in arrear and hard to be

got at, so these agents had a fine time of it.

_Lord Hardy._ Were you at the Agent's?

_Trim._ Yes.

_Lord Hardy._ Well, and how?

_Trim._ Why, Sir, for your Arrears, you may have Eleven Shillings

in the Pound; but he'll not touch your Growing Subsistence, under

Three Shillings in the Pound Interest; besides which, You must

let his Clerk _Jonathan Item_, Swear the Peace against you to

keep you from Duelling, or insure your life, which you may do for

Eight _per cent._ On these terms He'll Oblige you; which he would

not do for any Body else in the Regiment, but he has a Friendship

for you.

_Lord Hardy._ Oh, I'm his Humble Servant; But he must have his

own terms, we can't Starve, nor must my Fellows want.[618]

[Footnote 618: _The Funeral._]

Was an officer killed in action, his wife would be entitled to a

pension--but it seems to have been somewhat problematical whether it

would be available. 'One must Sneak to the Government, for a Pension

of twenty Shillings a Week to Subsist half a Score Children, and

hammer out the rest with Washing and Starching.'[619]

[Footnote 619: _Tunbridge Walks._]

The 'Officer and Gentleman' hardly went together; the rough life of

the camp told, and almost all contemporary writers agree in painting

him as a swaggering, dicing bully. Farquhar's description[620] will

serve for all:--

[Footnote 620: _The Recruiting Officer._]

_Silvia._ I'm call'd Captain, Sir, by all the Coffee men,

Drawers, and Groom porters in London; for I wear a Red Coat, a

Sword, a Hat _bien troussé_, a Martial Twist in my Cravat, a

fierce knot in my Perriwig, a Cane upon my Button, Picquet in my

Head, and Dice in my pocket.

_Scale._ Your Name: pray Sir.

_Silvia._ Capt. _Pinch_: I cock my Hat with a Pinch, I take Snuff

with a Pinch, pay my women with a Pinch, In short, I can do

anything at a Pinch, but fight and fill my Belly.

In Bickerstaff's 'Lottery for the London Ladies,' another class of

officer is spoken of. 'Young spruce _Beauish_ non fighting _Officers_,

often to be seen at _Man's Coffee House_, Loaded with more Gold Lace

than ever was worn by a thriving _Hostess_ upon her _Red Petticoat_,

all _Ladies_ Sons of a fine _Barbary_ Shape, _Dance_ admirably, _Sing_

charmingly, speak _French_ fluently, and are the _Darlings_ of their

_Mothers_; have large Pay for little Service, are kept at home by the

Interest of their Friends, to oblige the _Ladies_, and hate the

thought of going on Board Ships, because their nice Noses are unable

to endure the smell of _Tar_, or the stink of _Belg_ Water; besides

they are as much afraid of dawbing their _Cloaths_ as they are of

ventering their Carcases.'

Who can this be? 'The first Gentleman I happen'd to cast my Eyes upon,

was my old Friend and Fellow Collegian _Bartholomew Cringe_. I

wonder'd who in the Devil's Name had equipt him with a Wig large

enough to load a Camel.... His Sword in length resembled a Footman's,

who asserts the Reputation of his Mistriss, which, for divers good

Causes and Reasons, he is very nearly Concern'd in. His Coat was as

blue as the Sky; and his Hat boldly erected its Sable Penthouse to

play with greater vivacity the ruddy Complexion of its Owner.... Says

he, Dear friend, _Tom_, you're surpriz'd to find your old Friend in

this Place and Habit. I wear this Dress and Garniture as the Emblems

of my Militant Capacity. I have the Honour to perform the Duties of my

Office under the Protection of that worthy Gentleman Lieutenant

General ---- in Quality of Chaplain to his Regiment.'[621]

[Footnote 621: _A Walk round London and Westminster._]

Even _their_ commissions were the subject of traffic. 'If any

Gentleman that is Chaplain to a Regiment is willing to dispose of his

Commission, he is desired to acquaint therewith the Master of the Tilt

Yard Coffee House near Whitehall.'

What were the rank and file of this period? Hear a contemporary

opinion.[622] 'A Foot Soldier is commonly a Man, who for the sake of

wearing a Sword, and the Honour of being term'd a Gentleman, is coax'd

from a Handicraft Trade, whereby he might Live comfortably, to bear

Arms for his King and Country, whereby he has the hopes of nothing but

to Live Starvingly. His Lodging is as near Heaven as his Quarters can

raise him; and his Soul generally is as near Hell as a Profligate Life

can sink him. To speak without Swearing, he thinks a Scandal to his

Post; and makes many a Meal upon Tobacco, which keeps the inside of

his Carcase as Nasty as his Shirt. He's a Champion for the Church,

because he Fights for Religion, tho' he never hears Prayers except

they be Read upon a Drum Head. He often leads a Sober Life against

his Will; but he never can pass by a Brandy shop with 2_d._ in his

Pocket, for he as Naturally loves Strong Waters as a Turk loves

Coffee.... He is a Man of Undaunted Courage; and dreads no Enemies so

much as he does the Wooden Horse, which makes him hate to be mounted;

and rather chuses to be a Foot Soldier. He's a Man, that when upon

guard, always keeps his word, and obeys his Officer as Indians do the

Devil, not thro' Love but Fear; ... When once he has been in a Battle

it's a hard matter to get him out of it; for where ever he comes he's

always talking of the Action, in which he was posted in the greatest

danger; and seems to know more of the matter than the General. Scars,

tho' got in Drunken Quarrels, he makes Badges of his Bravery; and

tells you they were Wounds receiv'd in some Engagement, tho' perhaps

given him for his Sawciness. He's one that loves Fighting no more than

other Men; tho' perhaps a dozen of Drink and an affront, will make him

draw his Sword; yet a Pint, and a good Word, will make him put it up

again. Let him be in never so many Campaigns in _Flanders_ he

contracts but few Habits of a _Dutchman_, for you shall oftener see

him with his Fingers in his Neck than his Hands in his Pockets. He has

the Pleasure once a Week, when he receives his Subsistence, of

boasting he has Money in his Breeches; and for all he is a Soldier

owes no man a Groat, which is likely enough to be true, because no

Body will trust him. Hunger and Lousiness are the two Distempers that

Afflict him; and Idleness and Scratching the two Medicines that

Palliate his Miseries. If he spends Twenty years in Wars, and lives to

be Forty, perhaps he may get a Halbert; and if he Survives Three

Score, an Hospital. The best end he can expect to make, is to Die in

the Bed of Honour; and the greatest Living Marks of his Bravery, to

recommend him at once to the World's Praise and Pity, are Crippled

Limbs, with which I shall leave him to beg a better Lively Hood.'

[Footnote 622: _The London Spy._]

To a Coblers Aul, or Butcher's Knife,

Or Porter's Knot, commend me;

But from a Souldier's Lazy Life,

Good Heaven pray defend me.

Here, then, we have an unvarnished description of the soldier of the

period, his virtues, his vices, his destitution, his uncleanliness;

but the authorities could not afford to be too particular in those

days, and, besides, the men did not get their pay regularly. True,

they were _promised_ that 'If any Able bodied Men are willing to serve

Her Majesty in the Train of Artillery abroad, let them repair to

Captain Silver, Master Gunner of England, at his House in St. James's

Park, they shall enter into present Pay of Seven Shillings a Week, and

be further encouraged and advanced as they shall deserve.'

Did they get this pay regularly? I fear not always. Ward speaks of

'that unfortunate Wretch, who in time of War hazzards his Life for Six

pence a pay, and that perhaps ne'er paid him;' and there is an

ominous advertisement,[623] 'The Paymaster General of Her Majesty's

Guards, Garrisons &c. in Great Britain, has given Notice, that Money

is issued for the Subsistance of the Troops and Regiments under his

Care, to the 24th instant, inclusive.' If it were the usual practice

to have the money in hand, there would have been no necessity for

advertising it in this case.

[Footnote 623: _Post Boy_, Oct. 7/9, 1712.]

Discipline seems to have been rather lax just then, for in the

_Gazette_, Oct. 11/14, 1712, there is a notice: 'Her Majesty is

pleased to order, that all the Officers of the Regiments of Harvey,

Peppar, Harrison, Wade, Bowles, Dormer, and Windress, do forthwith

repair to the Castle of Dublin, and there receive such Orders as shall

be given them by the Lords Justices of that Kingdom, upon pain of

being checked of their Pay.'

[Illustration: Soldiers.]

The uniforms in the army were plain and serviceable; the most

picturesque being that of the Grenadiers, who, Evelyn says, were first

introduced in 1678.

Some idea of the food given to the soldiers in garrison, may be gained

by perusal of the following contract for rations.[624] 'The Most

Honourable the Lord High Treasurer of Great Britain having receiv'd

Her Majesty's Pleasure, That a Contract shall be made for Victualling

Her Majesty's Garrisons at Minorca, to consist of about 4000 Men, and

at Gibraltar, to consist of about 2000 Men, according to the

Proportions underwritten for each Man for Seven Days, viz.

[Footnote 624: _Gazette_, Sept. 23/27, 1712.]

'7 Pound of Bread, or (when desir'd by the Commanders in

Chief) a pint of Wheat instead of a Pound of Bread.

'2 Pound and half of Beef

'1 Pound of Pork

'4 Pints of Pease

'3 Pints of Oatmeal

'6 Ounces of Butter

'8 Ounces of Cheese...'

Not a too liberal dietary for a soldier.

How did they recruit for the army? for, during the long war which

lasted nearly the whole of Anne's reign, men had to be furnished to

fill the cruel gaps made by slaughter, wounds, and disease. First of

all, a recruiting officer, with his sergeant and drummer, would be

quartered in some country town, and 'beat up for recruits.' Of a

recruiting officer we get some notion in _Spectator_ 132, and in

Farquhar's play. Let Sergeant Kite himself tell us the qualifications

for a recruiting sergeant. 'So that if your Worship pleases to cast up

the whole Sum, viz. Canting, Lying, Impudence, Pimping, Bullying,

Swearing, Drinking, and a Halbard, you will find the Sum Total amount

to a Recruiting Sergeant.' The Queen's shilling, once being taken, or

even sworn to have been taken, and attestation made, there was no help

for the recruit, unless he was bought out.

In 1703 these means seem to have failed, for men could not be got in

sufficient quantities without the inducement of a bounty. 'This is to

give Notice, That his Grace the Duke of Schombergh is raising a

Regiment of Dragoons for Her Majesty's Service; all such Persons who

shall have a mind to List themselves therein, may repair either to his

Grace's in Pall Mall, or to Mr. Brerewood in Norfolk Street, in the

Strand, near Temple Bar, Agent to the same, where such Persons as have

been formerly in the Army and are still fit for Dragoons, shall

receive 40.s. in hand for Levy Money, besides all fitting

Accoutrements, and such as have not been already in the Service shall

have 30.s. and Accoutrements.'

In 1706 an Act was passed (4 & 5 Anne, cap. 21) 'For the better

recruiting Her Majesty's Army and Marines,' which gave the power to

justices, assisted by their subordinates, 'to raise and levy such Able

bodied Men as have not any lawful Calling or Imployment or visible

Means for their Maintenance and Lively hood to serve as Soldiers.' A

volunteer was to have a bounty of 40_s._ given him, and 'shall not be

liable to be taken out of Her Majesty's Service by any Process other

than for some Criminal Matter.'

This shows to what straits they were reduced for men, and the

following exemplifies the class of recruits that were then going into

the army: 'Smith, who some time was half hanged[625] and cut down,

having accused about 350 pickpockets, housebreakers, &c. who gott to

be soldiers in the guards, the better to hide their roguery, were last

week upon mustering the regiments drawn out, and immediately shipt off

for Catalonia; and about 60 Women, who lay under condemnation for such

Crimes, were likewise sent away to follow the Camp.'[626]

[Footnote 625: See page 409.]

[Footnote 626: _Luttrell_, March 12, 1706.]

The Act of 1706 either fell partially in abeyance, or did not fulfil

its requirements, for in the _Gazette_ of Jan. 26/29, 1707-8, is a

proclamation by the Queen calling attention to it, and promising, for

the better carrying of it out, and 'for the greater Incouragement of

all Parish Officers to perform the Duty injoin'd them by that Act,

That such Parish Officers, for every Person they should bring before

the Magistrate, who should be Impressed should Receive the Sum of

Twenty Shillings; and that every Volunteer, for his better

Incouragement to come into our Service, and List himself according to

the Intention of the said Act, should Receive the sum of Four Pounds,

and also that such Volunteer should be Discharg'd after Three Years

Service, if he deserved it.'

This was the outcome of a fresh Act (7 Anne, cap. 2).

Of course these men deserted in shoals, but that they had always done,

from the first year of the Queen's reign. The reward offered, by their

officers, for their apprehension generally ranged from one to two

guineas, and occasionally they were entreated to return, of their own

free will, when they would be forgiven. Once only can I find that a

severe example was ever made of them, and that was in 1703. '6 Dec.

This day a Soldier of Colonel Gorsuck's Company was shot in Hide Park

for Desertion.' Probably they ran the gauntlet, as did that soldier in

1702: 'Yesterday a Soldier ran the Gantlet (as he well deserved) in

St. James's Park, for speaking some reflecting words on his late

Majesty, and is to run twice more.'

In the last year of Anne's reign there were some wicked drummers,

whose story is told very graphically in the _Post Boy_, Feb. 11/13,

1714. 'John Needham, Constable and Beadle of the Ward of Farringdon

within, warding at Ludgate the Sixth Instant, (the Queen's Birth Day)

by Order of the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen; was sent for to the

Crown Tavern on Ludgate Hill, to make a Gentleman Easy, who was in

Drink. The Constable having made him and the rest Friends, the

Gentleman would have him to the Queen's Arms Tavern, a little below,

where they drank a Glass of Wine together: But the Constable hearing

some Drums beat, ran into the Street, with his long Staff in his Hand,

and the Gentleman with him, who saw a very great Tumult of disorderly

Persons arm'd with huge Clubs, and several with Cleavers &c., and

innumerable Lights, and Streamers. Among the rest came Three of

H--M----'s Drummers beating their Drums; whereupon the Gentleman ran

up to the Drum Head, and ask'd, _Who they were for?_ They said, _The

House of Hanover_. He repli'd _G-- D-- you, what before the Queen is

dead? Drummers, I'll give you Sixpence, beat a Point of War for Queen_

ANNE, _here by the Constable_. But the Constable said, _No, let them

go into the Tavern, and beat out of the Crowd, and they shall have

Money and Wine too_. So he made way for them with his Staff, and they

went into the Tavern, where they beat and drank till the Tumult was

gone by. After which, the Constable had them up to Ludgate, and from

thence to the Compter. The next Evening, about Four a Clock, he

carry'd them before Sir William Withers, who demanded their Names, and

those of their Colonels, which are as follows, Thomas Hawes under

Colonel P----tt; Charles Bannister under Colonel E----ll; and William

Taylor under Brigadier F----s belonging to the F----R---- of G----'s.

And after Sir William Withers had examin'd them, and the said

Constable, and another Constable (whose Hat the Rioters beat off,

because he did not pull it off to them, tho' he was on his Duty with

his long Staff in his Hand) he was of Opinion their Crime would amount

to High Treason, and was so much the blacker, because they were the

Q----'s own S----ts, and therefore Committed them to Newgate.'

In cases, however, of civil commotion, the train bands were generally

called out. These citizen soldiers were ever the laughing stock of the

wits of their day, and Steele cannot help having his joke upon

them.[627] 'The Chief Citizens, like the noble Italians, hire

Mercenaries to carry arms in their Stead; and you shall have a fellow

of desperate fortune, for the gain of one half Crown, go through all

the dangers of Tothill Fields, or the Artillery Ground, clap his right

jaw within two inches of the touch-hole of a Musquet, fire it off, and

huzza, with as little concern as he tears a pullet.'

[Footnote 627: _Tatler_, No. 28.]

He laughs, too, at the officers, and at their method of promotion.

'But the point of honour justly gives way to that of gain; and, by

long and wise regulation, the richest is the bravest man. I have known

a Captain rise to a Colonel in two days by the fall of stocks; and a

Major, my good friend, near the Monument, ascended to that honour by

the fall of the price of Spirits, and the rising of right Nantz.' And

a great part of _Tatler_ 41 is taken up by a laughing criticism on 'An

Exercise of Arms,' which took place on June 29, 1709, and was supposed

to represent the putting down of a revolt.

The sister service had no easy task under Anne, but were always hard

at work, either at fighting or convoying, or transport work, besides

being always cruising about and snapping up prizes; and there were

some good commanders in those days, whose names have descended to

ours. What Englishman can forget the names of Benbow, Rooke, and

Cloudesley Shovel? They were not always successful--as in the case of

the first-named old sea-dog. On August 19, 1702, he sighted the

enemy's squadron, under Du Casse; on the 20th he engaged--but not till

the 24th did he come to close quarters. His ship, the _Breda_, was

then able to close with the sternmost French ship, which he himself

boarded three times, and was twice wounded. He afterwards had his

right leg shattered by a chain shot, and was carried below, but would

insist on being carried on deck, where he remained the rest of the

action. He disabled his opponent, but her consorts came to her relief,

when four cowardly captains of his basely deserted him, in spite of

his signals; so he had to give up the pursuit, and proceeded with his

squadron to Jamaica, where he died Nov. 4.

[Illustration: An Admiral.]

On Oct. 12, 1702, Sir George Rooke burnt the French and Spanish

shipping in Vigo, and sacked the town. This, besides the damage done

to the foreign navies, was notorious for the enormous quantity of

booty taken, both in specie, snuff, and other goods. What the specie

amounted to is not now known, but it was not so much as was expected,

for by far the larger portion had been landed and sent into the

interior of the country. Still it furnished a very handsome prize

money for all concerned, although, as is usual in such cases, it was

long before it was realised. A special coinage was made from this

specie, and _Ruding_ gives specimens of five-, two-, and one-guinea

and half-guinea pieces--and silver crowns, half-crowns, shillings, and

sixpences of this type. Some had the date 1702, others 1703, but in

every case the word VIGO was under the Queen's bust. Luttrell gives a

little anecdote about it. '20 Mar. 1703. This week £1000 of new mill'd

money coyned out of the plate taken at Vigo was brought from the

Tower to sir Christopher Musgrave's office in the exchequer, and

lock't up for her majestie's use, haveing the word Vigo under the

queen's effigie.

It is not within the province of this book to go into details of the

victories of the British navy in this reign, but we must not forget

that Sir George Rooke won us, in 1704, the rock of Gibraltar.

The damage done to the French shipping during the long war must have

been almost incalculable, not a daily paper or report from the

sea-ports being without mention of some prizes. Yet the service was

not a popular one, at least with seamen, the way the navy was

generally manned, by impress, being quite sufficient to make Jack

fight shy of it. We hear of this impressing in the very first year of

the reign. 'The Post Letter says there are 6 Press Ketches at

Falmouth, which have pressed a considerable number of Men for her

Majesty's Service.'[628] 'Irish Letters of the 26th past say, they

continue to beat up for Soldiers at Dublin, where abundance list

themselves, and that some Press-Ketches in that Harbour have pressed

400 Seamen within a few Days, and that a great many are voluntarily

come in.'[629]

[Footnote 628: _Flying Post_, April 2/4, 1702.]

[Footnote 629: _Ibid._, April 4/7, 1702.]

But though pressed, Jack was hard to hold, if he got a chance to get

away. 'Hull, 1 March. Last week a Lieutenant came hither with a Press

Gang, and had so good Success, that he soon Glean'd up a considerable

number; but having no vessel to put them on board, he turn'd them into

an upper Room in the Town Gaol, and on Saturday they broke out through

the top of the House and Escap'd.'[630]

[Footnote 630: _Daily Courant_, March 4, 1703.]

All means were tried to get men, and a bribe was held out by the Act 1

Anne, cap. 19, which provided for the discharge of every male prisoner

for debt under £20, and who had been in prison for six months, who

should enlist either in the army or navy, and the same was afterwards

tried by 4 & 5 Anne, cap, 6.

This serves to show the condition of the poor debtors, who were thus

invited to _ameliorate_ their position, by exchanging it for the

'Inferno' of a man-of-war of that period. Still we read early in 1704:

'There is great impressing of Seamen for Her Majesties Service, she

being resolved to have the Navy early at sea.' The bounty system was

tried, and on Dec. 14, 1704, the Queen issued a proclamation, offering

two months' pay to every sailor volunteering, and one month's to every

landsman. This proclamation also vowed vengeance against deserters,

ordered officers of press gangs to press no old men, boys, or infirm

persons, and promised them 'Twenty Shillings for each Seaman, and

Sixpence per Man for each Mile he shall be brought, if under twenty

Miles, and Ten Shillings for each Seaman that shall be brought above

Twenty Miles, over and above the said Twenty Shillings.'

This arbitrary system of impressing was so cruel, that one feels

heartily glad to find that it is possible there might be another side

to the question, and that a man might be punished for it. 'Yesterday

one Philpot was by the court of Queen's Bench fined 10 Nobles, and to

stand in the pillory on Tower Hill, for wrongfully pressing one Gill,

and taking 4 Guineas for his discharge.'[631] One man seems to have

had the courage to speak against it, and I regret I have been unable

to get his pamphlet. 'Just Published. The Old and True Way of Manning

the Fleet, Or how to Retrieve the Glory of the English Arms by Sea, as

it is done by Land; and to have Seamen always in readiness, without

Pressing. In a Letter from an old Parliament Sea Commander, to a

Member of the present House of Commons, desiring his Advice on that

Subject. Printed in the Year 1707.'

[Footnote 631: _Luttrell_, July 14, 1709.]