This Mr Burchell of the Anodyne Necklace was a notorious quack of the time, to whom reference is made [further on]. It is patent to the most casual observer that he is able to dispose his wares in the most tempting manner, and the book, as well as the tickets, must have had a very good sale indeed. Also portraying the tastes and peculiarities of this portion of the eighteenth century is an invitation taken from the General Advertiser in October 1745, which displays inordinate vanity on the part of the writer, or, to put it in the mildest form, peculiarity of behaviour on that of the lady to whom he addresses himself:—
WHEREAS a lady last Saturday evening at the playhouse in Drury Lane in one of the left-hand boxes, was observed to take particular notice of a gentleman who sat about the middle of the pit, and as her company would be esteemed the greatest favour, she is humbly desired to send him directions, where and in what manner she would be waited upon, and direct the said letter to be left for P. M. Z. at the Portugal Coffee house near the Exchange.
Notices of this kind—many of the most barefaced, and not a few of a decidedly indelicate description—must have been a fruitful source of income to the proprietors of newspapers; and that professions of adoration for unknown women—most of whom were presumably married, else why all the concealment and strategy?—did not fall off as years progressed is shown by the following, taken from a wealth of the same kind in the commencement of 1748. It is also from the General Advertiser:—
WHEREAS a young lady was at Covent Garden playhouse last Tuesday night, and received a blow with a square piece of wood on her breast; if the lady be single and meet me on Sunday at two o’clock, on the Mall in St James’s Park, or send a line directed for A. B., to Mr Jones’s, at the Sun Tavern at St Paul’s Churchyard, where and when I shall wait on her, to inform her of something very much to her advantage on honourable terms, her compliance will be a lasting pleasure to her most obedient servant.
This man, though somewhat rude in his style, and, judging from the description of his adventure at the playhouse, rather coarse in his manners, is noticeable for stipulating that his charmer shall be single. Let us hope that, if his intentions were honourable, he prospered in his suit. If he didn’t, then perhaps he felt consoled by the knowledge that virtue is its own reward.
TO THE JOYOUS.—The Bloods are desired to meet together at the house known by the name of the Sir Hugh Middleton, near Saddler’s Wells, Islington, which Mr Skeggs has procured for that day for the better entertainment of those Gentlemen who agreed to meet at his own house. Dinner will be on the Table punctually at two o’clock.
The advertisement just given, which appears in the General Advertiser for January 13, 1748, is one of the rare instances of anything relating to politics in advertisements. The only time when political significance is given to an advertisement is when party dinners, of which the foregoing seems to be one, are advertised. The Sir Hugh Middleton is still in existence, and a few years back, when Sadler’s Wells was the only home for legitimacy in London, was much frequented by theatrical stars and the lesser lights of the drama. Comparatively recently a music-hall has been added to the establishment, which, however profitable in a pecuniary sense, hardly adds to the reputation of this well-known and once suburban tavern. In another preliminary notice, which appears early in April, attention is directed to another part of the town, and probably to another phase of political and party existence. It is, like the others, from the General Advertiser, which at the time was a great medium. The two which follow it are also from the same paper:—
HALF-MOON TAVERN, CHEAPSIDE.—Saturday next, the 16 April, being the anniversary of the Glorious Battle of Culloden, the Stars will assemble in the Moon at six in the evening. Therefore the choice spirits are desired to make their appearance and fill up the joy.
It is not hard to determine the sentiments of those who then called Culloden a glorious battle, though we should think there are few nowadays who, whatever their tastes and sympathies, would affix the adjective to a victory which, however decisive, was marred by one of the most disgraceful and cowardly massacres of any time. But the shame still rests on the memory of that man who was truly a butcher—a butcher of the defenceless, but an impotent officer and arrant coward in the presence of armed equality; and so, as his name leaves a nasty taste in the mouth, we will pass on to a contemporary card put forth by an enterprising tradesman:—
JOHN WARD, Stay-Maker,