trash, through no less than nine editions, the last dated 1716.
Indeed, it would appear to be a literary fraud, to keep alive the
calumny. All the evidence produced concerning the meetings is from
hearsay: the writer of the _Secret History_ had never himself been
present at the Club; and his friend from whom he professes to have
received his information, though a Whig, had no personal knowledge of
the Club. The slanderous rumour about Milton having to do with the
institution of the Club may be passed over as unworthy of notice, this
untrustworthy tract being the only authority for it. Lowndes says,
"this miserable tract has been attributed to the author of
_Hudibras_;" but it is altogether unworthy of him.
Observances, insulting to the memory of Charles I., were not
altogether unknown. Hearne tells us that on the 30th of January,
1706-7, some young men in All Souls College, Oxford, dined together at
twelve o'clock, and amused themselves with cutting off the heads of a
number of woodcocks, "in contempt of the memory of the blessed
martyr." They tried to get calves'-heads, but the cook refused to
dress them.
Some thirty years after, there occurred a scene which seemed to give
colour to the truth of the _Secret History_. On January 30, 1735,
"Some young noblemen and gentlemen met at a tavern in Suffolk-street,
called themselves the Calves' Head Club, dressed up a calf's head in
a napkin, and after some hurras threw it into a bonfire, and dipped
napkins in their red wine and waved them out of the window. The mob
had strong beer given them, and for a time hallooed as well as the
best, but taking disgust at some healths proposed, grew so outrageous
that they broke all the windows, and forced themselves into the house;
but the guards being sent for, prevented further mischief. The _Weekly
Chronicle_ of February 1, 1735, states that the damage was estimated
at 'some hundred pounds,' and that the guards were posted all night in
the street, for the security of the neighbourhood."
In L'Abbé Le Blanc's Letters we find this account of the
affair:--"Some young men of quality chose to abandon themselves to the
debauchery of drinking healths on the 30th of January, a day appointed
by the Church of England for a general fast, to expiate the murder of
Charles I., whom they honour as a martyr. As soon as they were heated
with wine, they began to sing. This gave great offence to the people,
who stopped before the tavern, and gave them abusive language. One of
these rash young men put his head out of the window and drank to the
memory of the army which dethroned this King, and to the rebels which
cut off his head upon a scaffold. The stones immediately flew from all
parts, the furious populace broke the windows of the house, and would
have set fire to it; and these silly young men had a great deal of
difficulty to save themselves."
Miss Banks tells us that "Lord Middlesex, Lord Boyne, and Mr.
Seawallis Shirley, were certainly present; probably, Lord John
Sackville, Mr. Ponsonby, afterwards Lord Besborough, was not there.
Lord Boyne's finger was broken by a stone which came in at the window.
Lord Harcourt was supposed to be present." Horace Walpole adds: "The
mob destroyed part of the house; Sir William (called Hellfire)
Stanhope was one of the members."
This riotous occurrence was the occasion of some verses in _The
Grub-street Journal_, from which the following lines may be quoted as
throwing additional light on the scene:--
"Strange times! when noble peers, secure from riot,
Can't keep Noll's annual festival in quiet,
Through sashes broke, dirt, stones, and brands thrown at 'em,
Which, if not scand- was _brand-alum magnatum_.
Forced to run down to vaults for safer quarters,
And in coal-holes their ribbons hide and garters.
They thought their feast in dismal fray thus ending,
Themselves to shades of death and hell descending;
This might have been, had stout Clare Market mobsters,
With cleavers arm'd, outmarch'd St. James's lobsters;
Numskulls they'd split, to furnish other revels,
And make a Calves'-head Feast for worms and devils."
The manner in which Noll's (Oliver Cromwell's) "annual festival" is
here alluded to, seems to show that the bonfire, with the calf's-head
and other accompaniments, had been exhibited in previous years. In
confirmation of this fact, there exists a print entitled _The True
Effigies of the Members of the Calves'-Head Club, held on the 30th of
January, 1734, in Suffolk Street, in the County of Middlesex_; being
the year before the riotous occurrence above related. This print shows
a bonfire in the centre of the foreground, with the mob; in the
background, a house with three windows, the central window exhibiting
two men, one of whom is about to throw the calf's-head into the
bonfire below. The window on the right shows three persons drinking
healths; that on the left, two other persons, one of whom wears a
mask, and has an axe in his hand.
There are two other prints, one engraved by the father of Vandergucht,
from a drawing by Hogarth.
After the tablecloth was removed (says the author), an anniversary
anthem was sung, and a calf's-skull filled with wine or other liquor,
and out of which the company drank to the pious memory of those worthy
patriots who had killed the tyrant; and lastly, a collection was made
for the writer of the anthem, to which every man contributed according
to his zeal or his means. The concluding lines of the anthem for the
year 1697 are as follow:--
"Advance the emblem of the action,
Fill the calf's skull full of wine;
Drinking ne'er was counted faction,
Men and gods adore the vine.
To the heroes gone before us,
Let's renew the flowing bowl;
While the lustre of their glories
Shines like stars from pole to pole."
The laureate of the Club and of this doggrel was Benjamin Bridgwater,
who, alluding to the observance of the 30th of January by zealous
Royalists, wrote:--
"They and we, this day observing,
Differ only in one thing;
They are canting, whining, starving;
We, rejoicing, drink, and sing."
Among Swift's poems will be remembered "Roland's Invitation to Dismal
to dine with the Calf's-Head Club":--
"While an alluding hymn some artist sings,
We toast 'Confusion to the race of kings.'"
Wilson, in his Life of De Foe, doubts the truthfulness of Ward's
narrative, but adds: "In the frighted mind of a high-flying churchman,
which was continually haunted by such scenes, the caricature would
easily pass for a likeness." "It is probable," adds the honest
biographer of De Foe, "that the persons thus collected together to
commemorate the triumph of their principles, although in a manner
dictated by bad taste, and outrageous to humanity, would have confined
themselves to the ordinary methods of eating and drinking, if it had
not been for the ridiculous farce so generally acted by the Royalists
upon the same day. The trash that issued from the pulpit in this
reign, upon the 30th of January, was such as to excite the worst
passions in the hearers. Nothing can exceed the grosness of language
employed upon these occasions. Forgetful even of common decorum, the
speakers ransacked the vocabulary of the vulgar for terms of
vituperation, and hurled their anathemas with wrath and fury against
the objects of their hatred. The terms rebel and fanatic were so often
upon their lips, that they became the reproach of honest men, who
preferred the scandal to the slavery they attempted to establish.
Those who could profane the pulpit with so much rancour in the support
of senseless theories, and deal it out to the people for religion, had
little reason to complain of a few absurd men who mixed politics and
calves' heads at a tavern; and still less, to brand a whole religious
community with their actions."
The strange story was believed till our own time, when it was fully
disproved by two letters written a few days after the riotous
occurrence, by Mr. A. Smyth, to Mr. Spence, and printed in the
Appendix to his _Anecdotes_, 2nd edit. 1858: in one it is stated,
"The affair has been grossly misrepresented all over the town, and in
most of the public papers: there was no calf's-head exposed at the
window, and afterwards thrown into the fire, no napkins dipt in claret
to represent blood, nor nothing that could give any colour to any such
reports. The meeting (at least with regard to our friends) was
entirely accidental," etc. The second letter alike contradicts the
whole story; and both attribute much of the disturbance to the
unpopularity of the Administration; their health being unluckily
proposed, raised a few faint claps but a general hiss, and then the
disturbance began. A letter from Lord Middlesex to Spence, gives a
still fuller account of the affair. By the style of the letter one may
judge what sort of heads the members had, and what was reckoned the
polite way of speaking to a waiter in those days:--
"Whitehall, Feb. ye 9th, 1735.
"Dear _Spanco_,--I don't in the least doubt but long before this time
the noise of the riot on the 30th of January has reached you at
Oxford; and though there has been as many lies and false reports
raised upon the occasion in this good city as any reasonable man could
expect, yet I fancy even those may be improved or increased before
they come to you. Now, that you may be able to defend your friends (as
I don't in the least doubt you have an inclination to do), I'll send
you the matter of fact literally and truly as it happened, upon my
honour. Eight of us happened to meet together the 30th of January, it
might have been the 10th of June, or any other day in the year, but
the mixture of the company has convinced most reasonable people by
this time that it was not a designed or premeditated affair. We met,
then, as I told you before, by chance upon this day, and after dinner,
having drunk very plentifully, especially some of the company, some of
us going to the window unluckily saw a little nasty fire made by some
boys in the street, of straw I think it was, and immediately cried
out, 'D--n it, why should not we have a fire as well as anybody else?'
Up comes the drawer, 'D--n you, you rascal, get us a bonfire.' Upon
which the imprudent puppy runs down, and without making any difficulty
(which he might have done by a thousand excuses, and which if he had,
in all probability, some of us would have come more to our senses),
sends for the faggots, and in an instant behold a large fire blazing
before the door. Upon which some of us, wiser, or rather soberer than
the rest, bethinking themselves then, for the first time, what day it
was, and fearing the consequences a bonfire on that day might have,
proposed drinking loyal and popular healths to the mob (out of the
window), which by this time was very great, in order to convince them
we did not intend it as a ridicule upon that day. The healths that
were drank out of the window were these, and these only: The King,
Queen, and Royal Family, the Protestant Succession, Liberty and
Property, the present Administration. Upon which the first stone was
flung, and then began our siege: which, for the time it lasted, was at
least as furious as that of Philipsbourg; it was more than an hour
before we got any assistance; the more sober part of us, doing this,
had a fine time of it, fighting to prevent fighting; in danger of
being knocked on the head by the stones that came in at the windows;
in danger of being run through by our mad friends, who, sword in hand,
swore they would go out, though they first made their way through us.
At length the justice, attended by a strong body of guards, came and
dispersed the populace. The person who first stirred up the mob is
known; he first gave them money, and then harangued them in a most
violent manner; I don't know if he did not fling the first stone
himself. He is an Irishman and a priest, and belonging to Imberti, the
Venetian Envoy. This is the whole story from which so many calves'
heads, bloody napkins, and the Lord knows what, has been made; it has
been the talk of the town and the country, and small beer and bread
and cheese to my friends the garretteers in Grub-street, for these few
days past. I, as well as your friends, hope to see you soon in town.
After so much prose, I can't help ending with a few verses:--
"O had I lived in merry Charles's days,
When dull the wise were called, and wit had praise;
When deepest politics could never pass
For aught, but surer tokens of an ass;
When not the frolicks of one drunken night
Could touch your honour, make your fame less bright;
Tho' mob-form'd scandal rag'd, and Papal spight."
"MIDDLESEX."
To sum up, the whole affair was a hoax, kept alive by the pretended
"Secret History." An accidental riot, following a debauch on one 30th
of January, has been distributed between two successive years, owing
to a misapprehension of the mode of reckoning time prevalent in the
early part of the last century; and there is no more reason for
believing in the existence of a Calves' Head Club in 1734-5 than there
is for believing it exists in 1864.
THE KING'S HEAD CLUB.
Another Club of this period was the "Club of Kings," or "the King
Club," all the members of which were called "King." Charles himself
was an honorary member.
A more important Club was "the King's Head Club," instituted for
affording the Court and Government support, and to influence
Protestant zeal: it was designed by the unscrupulous Shaftesbury: the
members were a sort of Decembrists of their day; but they failed in
their aim, and ultimately expired under the ridicule of being
designated "Hogs in armour." "The gentlemen of that worthy Society,"
says Roger North, in his _Examen_, "held their evening sessions
continually at the King's Head Tavern, over against the Inner Temple
Gate. But upon the occasion of the signal of a _green ribbon_, agreed
to be worn in their hats in the days of _street engagements_, like the
coats-of-arms of valiant knights of old, whereby all warriors of the
Society might be distinguished, and not mistake friends for enemies,
they were called also the _Green Ribbon Club_. Their seat was in a
sort of _Carfour_ at Chancery-lane end, a centre of business and
company most proper for such anglers of fools. The house was double
balconied in the front, as may be yet seen, for the clubsters to issue
forth in fresco with hats and no peruques; pipes in their mouths,
merry faces, and diluted throats, for vocal encouragement of the
_canaglia_ below, at bonfires, on usual and unusual occasions. They
admitted all strangers that were confidingly introduced; for it was a
main end of their Institution to make proselytes, especially of the
raw estated youth, newly come to town. This copious Society were to
the faction in and about London a sort of executive power, and, by
correspondence, all over England. The resolves of the more retired
councils of the ministry of the Faction were brought in here, and
orally insinuated to the company, whether it were lyes, defamations,
commendations, projects, etc., and so, like water diffused, spread all
over the town; whereby that which was digested at the Club over night,
was, like nourishment, at every assembly, male and female, the next
day:--and thus the younglings tasted of political administration, and
took themselves for notable counsellors."
North regarded the Green Ribbon Club as the focus of disaffection and
sedition, but his mere opinions are not to be depended on. Walpole
calls him "the voluminous squabbler in behalf of the most
unjustifiable excesses of Charles the Second's Administration."
Nevertheless, his relation of facts is very curious, and there is no
reason to discredit his account of those popular "routs," to use his
own phrase, to which he was an eyewitness.
The conversation and ordinary discourse of the Club, he informs us,
"was chiefly upon the subject of _Braveur_, in defending the cause of
Liberty and Property; what every true Protestant and Englishman ought
to venture to do, rather than be overpowered with Popery and Slavery."
They were provided with silk armour for defence, "against the time
that Protestants were to be massacred," and, in order "to be
assailants upon fair occasion," they had recommended to them, "a
certain pocket weapon which, for its design and efficacy, had the
honour to be called a _Protestant Flail_. The handles resembled a
farrier's blood-stick, and the fall was joined to the end by a strong
nervous ligature, that, in its swing, fell just short of the hand, and
was made of _Lignum Vitæ_, or rather, as the Poets termed it,
_Mortis_." This engine was "for street and crowd-work, and lurking
perdue in a coat-pocket, might readily sally out to execution; and so,
by clearing a great Hall or Piazza, or so, carry an Election by choice
of Polling, called _knocking down_!" The _armour_ of the _hogs_ is
further described as "silken back, breast, and potts, that were
pretended to be pistol-proof, in which any man dressed up was as safe
as in a house, for it was impossible any one would go to strike him
for laughing, so ridiculous was the figure, as they say, of _hogs in
armour_."
In describing the Pope-burning procession of the 17th of November,
1680, Roger North says, that "the Rabble first changed their title,
and were called _the Mob_ in the assemblies of this Club. It was their
Beast of Burthen, and called first, _mobile vulgus_, but fell
naturally into the contraction of one syllable, and ever since is
become proper English."
We shall not describe these Processions: the grand object was the
burning of figures, prepared for the occasion, and brought by the Mob
in procession, from the further end of London with "staffiers and
link-boys, sounding," and "coming up near to the Club-Quality in the
balconies, against which was provided a huge bonfire;" "and then,
after numerous platoons and volleys of squibs discharged, these
_Bamboches_ were, with redoubled noise, committed to the flames."
These outrageous celebrations were suppressed in 1683.
STREET CLUBS.
During the first quarter of the last century, there were formed in the
metropolis "Street Clubs," of the inhabitants of the same street; so
that a man had but to stir a few houses from his own door to enjoy his
Club and the society of his neighbours. There was another inducement:
the streets were then so unsafe, that "the nearer home a man's club
lay, the better for his clothes and his purse. Even riders in coaches
were not safe from mounted footpads, and from the danger of upsets in
the huge ruts and pits which intersected the streets. The passenger
who could not afford a coach had to pick his way, after dark, along
the dimly-lighted, ill-paved thoroughfares, seamed by filthy open
kennels, besprinkled from projecting spouts, bordered by gaping
cellars, guarded by feeble old watchmen, and beset with daring
street-robbers. But there were worse terrors of the night than the
chances of a splashing or a sprain,--risks beyond those of an
interrogatory by the watch, or of a 'stand and deliver' from a
footpad." These were the lawless rake-hells who, banded into clubs,
spread terror and dismay through the streets. Sir John Fielding, in
his cautionary book, published in 1776, described the dangerous
attacks of intemperate rakes in hot blood, who, occasionally and by
way of bravado, scour the streets, to show their manhood, not their
humanity; put the watch to flight; and now and then murdered some
harmless, inoffensive person. Thus, although there are in London no
ruffians and bravos, as in some parts of Spain and Italy, who will
kill for hire, yet there is no resisting anywhere the wild sallies of
youth, and the extravagances that flow from debauchery and wine. One
of our poets has given a necessary caution, especially to strangers,
in the following lines:--
"Prepare for death, if here at night you roam,
And sign your will before you sup from home;
Some fiery fop with new commission vain,
Who sleeps on brambles 'till he kills his man;
Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast,
Provokes a broil, and stabs you in a jest.
Yet, ev'n these heroes, mischievously gay,
Lords of the street, and terrors of the way;
Flush'd as they are with folly, youth, and wine,
Their prudent insults to the poor confine;
Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach,
And shun the shining train and gilded coach."
THE MOHOCKS.
This nocturnal fraternity met in the days of Queen Anne: but it had
been for many previous years the favourite amusement of dissolute
young men to form themselves into Clubs and Associations for
committing all sorts of excesses in the public streets, and alike
attacking orderly pedestrians, and even defenceless women. These Clubs
took various slang designations. At the Restoration they were "Mums"
and "Tityre-tus." They were succeeded by the "Hectors" and "Scourers,"
when, says Shadwell, "a man could not go from the Rose Tavern to the
Piazza once, but he must venture his life twice." Then came the
"Nickers," whose delight it was to smash windows with showers of
halfpence; next were the "Hawkabites;" and lastly, the "Mohocks."
These last are described in the _Spectator_, No. 324, as a set of men
who have borrowed their name from a sort of cannibals, in India, who
subsist by plundering and devouring all the nations about them. The
president is styled "Emperor of the Mohocks;" and his arms are a
Turkish crescent, which his imperial majesty bears at present in a
very extraordinary manner engraven upon his forehead; in imitation of
which the Members prided themselves in tattooing; or slashing people's
faces with, as Gay wrote, "new invented wounds." Their avowed design
was mischief, and upon this foundation all their rules and orders were
framed. They took care to drink themselves to a pitch beyond reason or
humanity, and then made a general sally, and attack all who were in
the streets. Some were knocked down, others stabbed, and others cut
and carbonadoed. To put the watch to a total rout, and mortify some of
those inoffensive militia, was reckoned a _coup d'éclat_. They had
special barbarities, which they executed upon their prisoners.
"Tipping the lion" was squeezing the nose flat to the face, and boring
out the eyes with their fingers. "Dancing-masters" were those who
taught their scholars to cut capers by running swords through their
legs. The "Tumblers" set women on their heads. The "Sweaters" worked
in parties of half-a-dozen, surrounding their victims with the points
of their swords. The Sweater upon whom the patient turned his back,
pricked him in "that part whereon school-boys are punished;" and, as
he veered round from the smart, each Sweater repeated this pinking
operation; "after this jig had gone two or three times round, and the
patient was thought to have sweat sufficiently, he was very
handsomely rubbed down by some attendants, who carried with them
instruments for that purpose, when they discharged him." An adventure
of this kind is narrated in No. 332 of the _Spectator_: it is there
termed a bagnio, for the orthography of which the writer consults the
sign-posts of the bagnio in Newgate-street and that in Chancery-lane.
Another savage diversion of the Mohocks was their thrusting women into
barrels, and rolling them down Snow or Ludgate Hill, as thus sung by
Gay, in his _Trivia_:--
"Now is the time that rakes their revels keep;
Kindlers of riot, enemies of sleep.
His scattered pence the flying Nicker flings,
And with the copper shower the casement rings.
Who has not heard the Scourer'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 desperate deeds and mischiefs, done
Where from Snow-hill black steepy torrents run;
How matrons, hooped 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, died."
Swift was inclined to doubt these savageries, yet went in some
apprehension of them. He writes, just at the date of the above
_Spectator_: "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 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."--_Journal to
Stella_, 1712.