Then quickly issued my command
The men should take them overland;
And such as were too large to drag on,
Should be convey’d upon a waggon.
The plan was hail’d with rapt’rous glee,
With double grog, and three times three.
“Our topmasts struck—the rigging stow’d—
The guns were sent off on the road—
And, as for shot and Congreve rockets,
The sailors took them in their pockets.
All hands were now put to the oar,
To tow the men-of-war ashore;
Which done—it cost but little pains—
The great exertion yet remains,
To lift their vast and pond’rous keels,
And ship them safely on the wheels;
Which, after much fatigue, at length
Was done by dint of manual strength.
All this achiev’d, they mov’d away
By help of horse-artillery.[34]
In future times ’twill scarce be creded
How well this novel plan succeeded.
And oh! the sight was worth a treasure,
And would have given their Lordships pleasure,
To see with what determined zeal
The sailors strove for the public weal.
Some took a bowsprit—some a mast—
Some held a hull by handspikes fast;
While others, not less glad than able,
Lash’d it safely with a cable.
But one, than all the rest much bolder,
Carried a fire-ship on his shoulder.
The whole arriving on the strand,
Without an accident on land,
Our fetter’d barks were soon untied,
And launch’d into the ocean wide;
With masts and rigging re-equipp’d,
And guns and ammunition shipp’d;
We now were fit to put to sea,
And meet the dastard enemy.
And for long time we sail’d about,
To find the slinking Frenchmen out;
Until we met near Rotten shore,
As I have said herein before.”
The accompanying illustration is from a satirical
print by George Cruikshank, re the Jubilee, called “The Modern Don Quixote, or the Fire King.”
There were pictorial caricatures of this Naumachia, of course, but, judging from two contemporary prints of it in the Crace collection (Port. ix. 96, 97), in the British Museum, it must have been a very pretty sight, only, naturally, on a very small scale.
Another attraction in Hyde Park, at this Jubilee, was a fair, with its shows by Richardson, Reede, Saunders, and Gingel;—also Polito’s wild beasts were on exhibition. There were drinking booths, with taking signs, such as “The Duke of Wellington,” “The Vetteran Prince Blucher,” “The Prince Regent,” etc.; dancing, singing and refreshment booths, and—being warm weather—eating and drinking could be indulged in in the open air. This fair was kept up after the Jubilee with the additional attractions of E.O. tables—black and white cocks—dice tables, and a game with dice called under and over seven: nor did the police even make a show of stopping this gambling. There were donkey racing, jumping in sacks, running for smocks, etc., and there were printing presses, where, on payment, people had the privilege of themselves pulling off a typographical souvenir of the fair. Nay, it was even contemplated to print a Jubilee Fair Journal.
It was anticipated that this fair would last until the 12th, and so it possibly might have done, had it been conducted with anything like decency and order; but, as these were conspicuously absent, Lord Sidmouth, Secretary of State for the Home Department, ordered it to be closed on the night of Saturday the 6th. This order the booth keepers petitioned against, on the plea that, on the strength of its being open for a longer time, they had laid in a large stock of provisions, liquor, toys, etc., which would be thrown upon their hands. Lord Sidmouth’s order not being enforced, they kept on, so that it was found necessary to issue another—which was acted on—and the fair came to an end on the night of the 11th.
A contemporary newspaper, speaking of it, says: “Never, within the memory of man, has there been witnessed such scenes of drunkenness and dissipation as these fooleries have given rise to, and the misery they have brought upon thousands is extreme. A report from the pawnbrokers would be an awful lesson to governments, how they encourage such riot. Since the delirium, from the example of the highest quarter, began, the pawnbrokers have more than trebled their businesses; clothes, furniture, and, worst of all, tools, have been sacrificed for the sake of momentary enjoyment; industry of every kind has been interrupted, and many hundreds of starving families will long have to remember the æra of the Park Fêtes.”