And round about the pole does make
A circle, like a bear at stake,
That at the chain's end wheels about,
And overturns the rabble rout.
For after solemn proclamation,
In the bear's name, as is the fashion,
According to the law of arms,
To keep men from inglorious harms,
That none presume to come so near
As forty feet of stake of bear;
If any yet be so fool hardy,
T' expose themselves to vain jeopardy,
If they come wounded off, and lame,
No honour's got by such a maim.
Indeed, in 1709, Christopher Preston, of Hockley-in-the-Hole, was attacked and partially devoured by one of his own bears. His funeral sermon was preached by the Rev. Dr. Pead, then incumbent of St. James's, Clerkenwell.
The animals destined for combat were paraded through the streets, as we learn from Gay ('Trivia,' Book 2).
Experienc'd Men, inur'd to City Ways,
Need not the Calendar to count their Days.
When through the Town, with slow and solemn Air,
Led by the Nostril walks the muzzled Bear;
Behind him moves majestically dull,
The Pride of Hockley Hole, the surly Bull;
Learn hence the Periods of the Week to Name.
Mondays and Thursdays are the Days of Game.
That these places of so-called sport were disorderly need not be said; indeed, to 'make a place a bear-garden' is proverbial. The rough element wanted some safe outlet for its energy, and found it in such exhibitions. Nor must we be too hasty to decry them when we recollect that it was only in 1835 that it absolutely became illegal to keep any house, pit, or other place for baiting or fighting any bull, bear, dog, or other animal. We have our dog-fights now—prize-fighting is not yet extinct, many a quiet main of cocks is fought, many a rat-pit exists, and badger-drawing is not altogether an unknown thing.
There were three bear-gardens—at Hockley-in-the-Hole (Clerkenwell), at Marrybone Fields (at the back of Soho Square), and at Tuttle (Tothill) Fields, Westminster, and at all these, baiting was carried on. Of the latter we find an advertisement promising plenty of sport:[369] 'At William Wells's Bear Garden, in Tuttle Fields, Westminster, this present Monday the 10th of April, will be a Green Bull Baited; and 20 Doggs fights for a Coller, and that Dogg that runs farthest and fairest wins the Coller; with other Diversion of Bull Baiting and Bear Baiting.
'Here follows the Manner of those Bull Baitings which are so much talk'd of: They tie a Rope to the Root of the Horns of the Ox or Bull, and fasten the other End of the Cord to an Iron Ring fix'd to a Stake driven into the Ground; so that this Cord being about 15 Foot long, the Bull is confin'd to a Sphere of about 30 Foot Diameter. Several Butchers, or other Gentlemen, that are desirous to exercise their Dogs,[370] stand round about, each holding his own by the Ears; and when the Sport begins, they let loose one of the Dogs: The Dog runs at the Bull: the Bull, immovable, looks down upon the Dog with an Eye of Scorn, and only turns a Horn to him to hinder him from coming near: The Dog is not daunted at this, he runs round him, and tries to get beneath his Belly, in order to seize him by the Muzzle, or the Dewlap, or the pendant Glands: The Bull then puts himself into a Posture of Defence; he beats the Ground with his Feet, which he joins together as close as possible, and his chief Aim is not to gore the Dog with the Point of his Horn,[371] but to slide one of them under the Dog's Belly (who creeps close to the Ground to hinder it) and to throw him so high in the Air that he may break his Neck in the Fall. This often happens: When the Dog thinks he is sure of fixing his Teeth, a Turn of the Horn, which seems to be done with all the Negligence in the World, gives him a Sprawl thirty Foot high, and puts him in danger of a damnable Squelch when he comes down. This Danger would be unavoidable, if the Dog's Friends were not ready beneath him, some with their Backs to give him a soft Reception, and others with long Poles which they offer him slant ways, to the Intent that, sliding down them, it may break the Force of his Fall. Notwithstanding all this care, a Toss generally makes him sing to a very scurvy Tune, and draw his Phiz into a pitiful Grimace: But, unless he is totally stunn'd with the Fall, he is sure to crawl again towards the Bull, with his old Antipathy, come on't what will. Sometimes a second Frisk into the Air disables him for ever from playing his old Tricks; But, sometimes, too, he fastens upon his Enemy, and when once he has seiz'd him with his Eye teeth, he sticks to him like a Leech, and would sooner die than leave his Hold. Then the Bull bellows, and bounds, and Kicks about to shake off the Dog; by his Leaping the Dog seems to be no Manner of Weight to him, tho' in all Appearance he puts him to great Pain. In the End, either the Dog tears out the Piece he has laid Hold on, and falls, or else remains fix'd to him, with an Obstinacy that would never end, if they did not pull him off. To call him away would be in vain; to give him a hundred blows would be as much so; you might cut him to Pieces Joint by Joint before he would let him loose. What is to be done then! While some hold the Bull, others thrust Staves into the Dog's Mouth, and open it by main Force. This is the only Way to part them.'[372]
This, however, was not always the case. Look at the other side:—
Curs'd dog, the bull reply'd, no more
I wonder at thy thirst of gore;
For thou (beneath a butcher train'd,
Whose hands with cruelty are stain'd,
His daily murders in thy view)
Must, like thy tutor, blood pursue.
Take then thy fate. With goring wound
At once he lifts him from the ground:
Aloft the sprawling hero flies,
Mangled he falls, he howls, and dies.[373]
Here is a refinement of cruelty: 'At the Bear Garden in Hockley in the Hole, 1710. This is to give notice to all Gentlemen, Gamsters, and Others, That on this present Monday is a Match to be fought by two Dogs, one from Newgate Market, against one of Honey Lane Market, at a Bull, for a Guinea to be spent. Five Let goes out off hand, which goes fairest and farthest in Wins all; like wise a Green Bull to be baited, which was never baited before, and a Bull to be turned lose with Fire works all over him; also a Mad Ass to be baited; With variety of Bull baiting and Bear baiting; and a Dog to be drawn up with Fire works.'[374] These novelties took, for a subsequent advertisement tells us that 'The Famous Bull of Fire works pleased the Gentry to Admiration.' Indeed, it must have been popular, for in an advertisement of the Tatler, Jan. 3/5, 1709 (1710), we find: 'This Day is published The Bull Baiting, or Sach——ll[375] dressed up in Fire works; lately brought over from the Bear Garden in Southwark, and exposed for the Diversion of the Citizens of London: at 6d. a piece.' This book, however, is very dreary fun.