But clubs were not the only social enjoyments. The populace had, during this reign, many free sights—and the numerous visits of the Queen to the City provided fine shows gratis. She dined at Guildhall on the Lord Mayor's day after her accession, and she visited the City again on November 12 the same year, accompanied by both Houses of Parliament, to return thanks for the successes at Vigo. Certainly January 19, 1704, was kept as a fast; but on September 7 of that year the Queen again went to St. Paul's, in commemoration of the victory at Blenheim and the capture of Gibraltar; and on January 3, 1705, the standards[334] taken at Blenheim were carried, by a detachment of horse and foot guards, from the Tower, and hung up in Westminster Hall. On the 6th of the same month the Duke of Marlborough dined, by invitation, with the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, at Goldsmiths' Hall. Once more the Queen visited St. Paul's, on August 23, 1705, to return thanks for the Duke's forcing the French lines in Brabant, and yet again for the victory at Ramilies on June 27, 1706. This time, the colours taken were deposited in the Guildhall, with great pomp, on December 19, 1706: the Queen, and Prince George, going into St. James's Park to see them pass. On this occasion the Duke dined with the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, in Vintners' Hall. On December 30 of the same year, the Queen gave thanks at St. Paul's for the successes of the last campaign in Spain and Italy; and, as the newspaper account informs us, 'the Night ended with Ringing of Bells, Bonfires, Illuminations, and other Rejoycings.'
Yet again was there another day of public rejoicing, on May 1, 1707, to celebrate the union with Scotland, and the Queen once more visited St. Paul's. But this was to be the last. On thanksgiving day, July 7, 1713, to celebrate the conclusion of peace, Anne was too unwell to play her accustomed part, and was reluctantly compelled to abandon it and remain at home. The fireworks on this occasion were splendid. 'Those in Smithfield began about Ten at Night, and ended about Eleven: when those upon the Thames, over against Whitehall, began, and lasted till after Midnight. Besides that these were in both Places Excellent in their kind, they were play'd off with the utmost Regularity and good Order; so that we have not heard of the least Mischief done either upon the River or in Smithfield;' and, as was observed in the Guardian, No. 103: 'In short, the artist did his part to admiration, and was so encompassed with fire and smoke that one would have thought nothing but a Salamander could have been safe in such a situation.' But these seem to have been eclipsed by a display at Dublin in honour of the Queen's last birthday, February 6, 1714, as is recorded in the Daily Courant of February 16, 1714.
The Londoner, too, had his Lord Mayor's Show, with its fun, perhaps just a trifle rougher than in our day. Owing to the difference of old and new style, Lord Mayor's day was on October 29 instead of November 9 as now. Ward naturally revels in it[335]: 'Tuesday 29. Windows in Cheapside stuck with more Faces at Ten, than the Balconies with Candles on an Illumination Night. Wicked havock of Neats-Tongues and Hamms in the Barges about Eleven. Artillery Men march by two and two, burlesqued in Buft and Bandileers. The Vintners and Brewers, the Butchers and Apothecaries justle about precedence; 'Tis pity they are not incorporated. The Ladies pelted with dead Cats instead of Squibs from Twelve to Three. Mob tumultuous. Boys starting to see that which, as the Old Woman said, they must all come to one Day.' And in the London Spy he gives a very long account of the show, its pageants, and the rough humour of the spectators.
'I took three lads, who are under my Guardianship, a rambling, in a hackney Coach, to shew them the town; as the lions, the tombs, Bedlam.'[336] These were the three great sights of London: the lions at the Tower, the tombs in Westminster Abbey, and the poor mad folk in Bedlam. 'To see the lions' is proverbial, and these had to be visited by every one new to the City. In 1703 there were four, two lions and two lionesses—one with a cub. In this reign three of the lions died almost at the same time, and it was looked upon by some as an event of dire portent. Addison laughingly alludes to the popular idea of something awful happening on the death of a 'Tower' lion, when, in the Freeholder, he makes the Jacobite squire ask the keeper whether any of the lions had fallen sick when Perth was taken, or on the flight of the Pretender. When dead they were sometimes stuffed, as Ward relates. He also says there was a leopard, three eagles, two owls, and a hyena. That was in 1703; and Thoresby, writing in 1709, went to see the 'lions, eagles, catamountains, leopards, &c.' He also relates[337] his experiences of a visit to the Tower itself: 'Walked with Mr. Dale to the Tower; was mightily pleased with the new and excellent method the Records[338] are put into (of which see a letter of the Bishop of Carlisle to me;) and viewed many great curiosities of that nature, and original letters from foreign kings and potentates, upon parchment, and paper as old (reckoned as great a rarity) to the Kings of England, very ancient tallies, Jewish stars, &c., which the obliging Mr. Holms showed me, who also gave me an autograph of Queen Elizabeth, that was his own property; then went to view the several armouries, as that more ancient of the weapons taken in the year 1588 from the pretended Invincible Armada, and those modern from Vigo, and in other memorable transactions of this age; the present armoury for use is put to a surprising method, in the form of shields, pyramids, trophies, &c. Some of the elder and later kings' armour are placed as though mounted on horseback.'
Ward also visited the Tower, after seeing the lions, and has left a most amusing account of what he saw, which is far too long for transcription. He first noted 'a parcel of Bulky Wardens, in old fashion'd Lac'd Jackets, and in Velvet Flat caps, hung round with divers colour'd Ribbonds, like a Fool's hat upon a Holiday.' Indeed, their costume was identical with their present state dress, only it was utterly marred by their wearing portentous periwigs. Under the guidance of one of these gentry he was shown Traitor's Gate, the White Tower, and St. Peter's Church; and afterwards, the Grand Armoury, where he was particularly delighted to see that 'at the corner of every Lobby, and turning of the Stairs, stood a Wooden Granadier as Sentinel, painted in his proper Colours, cut out with much exactness upon Board.' Arrived in the arsenal, he was handed over to one of the armourer's men, who had 'everything as ready at his fingers' ends, as the Fellow that shows the Tombs at Westminster. The first Figure at our Coming in, that most effected the Eye, by reason of its bigness, was a long Range of Muskets and Carbines, that ran the length of the Armory, which was distinguish'd by a Wilderness of Arms, whose Locks and Barrels were kept in that admirable Order, that they shone as bright as a Good Housewifes Spits and Pewter in the Christmas Holidays, on each side of which were Pistols, Baggonets, Scimiters, Hangers, Cutlaces, and the like Configurated into Shields, Triumphal Arches, Gates, Pillasters, Scollopshells, Mullets, Fans, Snakes, Serpents, Sun Beams, Gorgon's Heads, the Waves of the Ocean, Stars and Garters, and in the middle of all, Pillars of Pikes, and turn'd Pillars of Pistols; and at the end of the Wilderness, fire Arms plac'd in the Order of a great Organ.' Coming thence, he noticed the Tower rooks, as he called those men who asked 'Whether you will see the Crown, the whole Regalia or the King's Marching Train of Artillery?' He would have none of them, but went with a warder into the armoury proper, where he 'View'd the Princely Scare crows, and he told us to whom each Suit of Armour did belong Originally, adding some short Memorandums out of History, to every empty Iron side; some True, some False, supplying that with Invention, which he wanted in Memory.' He would not see the Regalia, but got a description of it from the warder, 'and so Cozened the Keeper of our Eighteen Pence a piece.' The warder told them 'there was a Royal Crown, and a new one made for the Coronation of the late Queen Mary, and three others wore by his Majesty with Distinct Robes, upon several occasions; also the Salt Spoons, Forks and Cups, us'd at the Coronation.' Altogether, a visit to the Tower then very much resembled one nowadays.
As to the tombs at Westminster, what more do we want to know about them, as they then were, than what is contained in Spectator No. 26, where Addison grumbles at Sir Cloudesley Shovel's monument, 'Instead of the brave rough English Admiral, which was the distinguishing Character of that plain gallant Man, he is represented on his Tomb, by the Figure of a Beau, dress'd in a long Perriwig, and reposing himself upon Velvet Cushions under a Canopy of State? 'And for all else in the grand old abbey, have we not the lifelike description of Sir Roger's visit?[339] how he saw Jacob's pillar, sat in the Coronation Chair, handled Edward the Third's sword, and afterwards wanted the Spectator to call on him 'at his Lodgings in Norfolk Buildings, and talk over these Matters with him more at leisure.' It would be a literary profanity to deal with them except in their entirety.
But the lions, the tombs, and Bedlam could never be sufficient recreative pabulum for a large city, so there were outlets for the exuberance of their spirits in the three fairs, Bartholomew, May fair, and Southwark. Bartholomew fair stands pre-eminent, both for its antiquity, its size, and length of duration. In Anne's time it was no longer the great mart for cloth it used to be—and the fair was given over to rioting and unlimited licence. This fair is a most congenial subject for Ward's pen, and he gives it free range—too free, alas! for many extracts. He describes the entrance to it as a 'Belfegor's Concert, the rumbling of Drums, mix'd with the intolerable Squalling of Cat Calls and Penny Trumpets,' so, to get out of the noise and smell, prominent in which latter was 'the Singeing of Pigs, and burnt Crackling of over Roasted Pork' (which was a specialty in the fair), he turned into an ale house, where he had doctored beer, and was so annoyed by a waiter, who would constantly inquire, 'Do you call, sirs?' that he threatened to kick him downstairs. From this upper room he could see the booths, and note the humours of the fair: the mock finery of the actors, who were 'strutting round their Balconies in their Tinsey Robes, and Golden Leather Buskins;' and the sorry buffoonery of the Merry Andrews. Having rested, he sallied forth into the fair, saw the rope-dancers, one of whom was a negress, who set a countryman near Ward into fits of laughter, which he explained: 'Master, says he, I have oftentimes heard of the Devil upon two Sticks, but never Zee it bevore in me Life. Bezide, Maister, who can forbear Laughing to see the Devil going to Dance?' He speaks in high terms of the German rope-dancer, of whom Lauron gives two portraits. He then went into a booth to see 'a Dwarf Comedy, Sir-nam'd a Droll,' but does not seem to have cared much about it. He and his friend then refreshed themselves with 'a Quart of Fill-birds, and Eat each of us two Penny worth of Burgamy Pears,' and witnessed another performance. They then needed solid food, so determined to have a quarter of a pig (sucking pig of course), and made their way to Pye Corner, 'where Cooks stood dripping at their Doors, like their Roasted Swine's Flesh,' but the total absence of cleanliness in the cookery was so repulsive, that they had to forego the luxury.
After undergoing the certain penalty of having his handkerchief stolen, he went to see another droll, the plot of which seems to have been perfectly inexplicable, and he came to the conclusion that 'Bartholomew Fair Drolls are like State Fire Works, they never do any Body good, but those that are concern'd in the Show.' The wax-work was then visited, and then they went to a music and dancing booth, in which they not only had a most discordant instrumental concert, but saw a woman 'Dance with Glasses full of Liquor upon the Backs of her Hands, to which she gave Variety of Motions, without Spilling,' and a youthful damsel perform a sword dance, which was succeeded by 'abundance of Insipid Stuff.' They got away, and passed by the 'Whirligigs,' went into a raffling shop, and the Groom Porter's, after which he went to an alehouse to rest himself and smoke a pipe, and finally went home, thoroughly tired.
This, then, was a true record of a visit to Bartholomew Fair, by the aid of which we shall thoroughly appreciate the following advertisements of the amusements there:—
'At the great Booth over against the Hospital Gate, during the time of Bartholomew Fair will be seen the Dancing on the Ropes, after the French and Italian Fashion, by a Company of the finest Performers that ever yet have been seen by the whole World. For in the same Booth will be seen the two Famous French Maidens, so much admired in all Places and Countries wherever they come (especially in May fair last), where they gain'd the highest Applause from all the Nobility and Gentry, for their wonderful Performance on the Rope, both with and without a Pole; so far out doing all others that have been seen of their Sex, as gives a general Satisfaction to all that ever yet beheld them. To which is added, Vaulting on the High Rope, and Tumbling on the Stage. As also Vaulting on two Horses, on the great Stage, at once. The Stage being built after the Italian manner, on which you will see the Famous Scaramouch and Harlequin. With several other Surprizing Entertainments, too tedious here to mention. Perform'd by the greatest Masters now in Europe. The like never seen before in England.'