London in Modern Times / or, Sketches of the English Metropolis during the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries.

by Unknown

Then loyalty, with all his lamps
New trimmed, a gallant show,
Chasing the darkness and the damps,
Set London in a glow.

It was a scene, in every part,
Like those in fable feigned,
And seemed by some magician's hand
Created and sustained.

On the 23d of April, a general thanksgiving was held for the king's recovery, and on that account his majesty, accompanied by the royal family, went in procession to attend public worship in St. Paul's Cathedral; thus reminding us of the words of the Babylonish monarch, "Mine understanding returned unto me, and I blessed the Most High, and I praised and honored him that liveth forever, whose dominion is an everlasting dominion, and his kingdom is from generation to generation."

At the close of the eighteenth century, the proceedings of revolutionary France sent a fresh stream of excitement through the public mind of England. On one side or the other, in sympathy with or in aversion to the measures adopted on the opposite side of the channel, most politicians, high and low, eagerly ranged themselves. The efforts of Mr. Pitt to prevent anything like the enactment here of what our neighbours were doing, were condemned or applauded by the two parties according to the principles they espoused. "The trials of Hardy, Tooke, Thelwall, and others," says a minister, then a student near the metropolis, "which took place not long after my entrance on college life, agitated London to an extent which I have never seen equaled, though my life has fallen on times and events of the most prodigious and portentous character."—Autobiography of the Rev. W. Walford. Clubs were formed of a more than questionable description, of which we remember to have received an illustrative anecdote from a citizen of London, now gray-headed, but then in the flower of his youth. Invited by a person of about his own age to attend a meeting, held in some obscure street, he was surprised on entrance to find a number of men, ranged on either side a room, sitting beside long tables, with one at the upper end, where sat the president for the evening. Several foaming tankards were brought in, when the president calling on the company to rise, took up one of the vessels, and striking off with his hand the foam that crested the porter, gave as a toast, "So let all —— perish." The blank was left to be filled up as each drinker pleased. The avowed dislike to kings, entertained by the boon companions there assembled, suggested to the visitor the word intended for insertion, and he gladly left the place, not a little alarmed lest he should be suspected of sympathy in treasonable designs.

Following political excitement came a monetary crisis, which struck a panic through the body of London merchants; for, in 1797, the Bank of England suspended its cash payments. But after all these storms, which severely tested its strength, the vessel of the state, under the blessing of the Almighty, righted itself, and scenes of political calm again smiled, and tides of commercial prosperity flowed upon old London.

In passing on to notice the general state of society in the metropolis during the last half of the eighteenth century, it is painful to notice the continuance of some of the revolting features which mark an earlier age. The old-fashioned burglaries, with the robberies and rogueries of the highway, were still perpetrated. A walk out of London after dark was by no means safe; and therefore, at the end of a bill of entertainment at Bellsize House, in the Hampstead-road, St. John's-wood, there was this postscript—"For the security of the guests, there are twelve stout fellows, completely armed, to patrol between London and Bellsize, to prevent the insults of highwaymen and footpads who infest the road." To cross Hounslow-heath or Finchley-common after sunset was a daring enterprise; nor did travelers venture on it without being armed, and even ball-proof carriages were used by some. At Kensington and other places in the vicinity of London, it was customary on Sunday evenings to ring a bell at intervals, to summon those who were returning to town to form themselves into a band, affording mutual protection, as they wended their way homewards. Town itself did not afford security; for George IV. and the Duke of York, when very young men, were stopped one night in a hackney-coach and robbed on Hay-hill, Berkeley-square. The state of the police, as these facts indicate, was most inefficient; but when the law seized on its transgressors, it was merciless in the penalty inflicted. Long trains of prisoners, chained together, might be seen marching through the streets on the way to jail, where the treatment they received was cruel in the extreme, and much more calculated to harden than to correct. The number of executions almost exceeds belief; and every approach to town exhibited a gibbet, with some miserable creature hanging in chains. These public spectacles missed their professed object, and the frequent executions did anything but check the commission of crime. The lowest classes constantly assembled to witness such spectacles, regarded them generally as mere matters of amusement, or as affording opportunities for the indulgence of their vices.

Some startling revelations of the state of things among London tradesmen, as well as the lowest orders, were made before a select committee of the House of Commons in 1835, relative to the period fifty years earlier. "The conduct of tradesmen," said one of the witnesses, "was exceedingly gross as compared with that of the same class at the present time. Decency was a very different thing from what it is now; their manners were such as scarcely to be credited. I made inquiries a few years ago, and found that between Temple-bar and Fleet-market, there were many houses in each of which there were more books than all the tradesmen's houses in the streets contained when I was a youth." He mentions, also, the open departure of thieves from certain public-houses, wishing one another success—"In Gray's-inn-lane," he remarks, "was the Blue Lion, commonly called the Blue Cat. I have seen the landlord of this place come into the room with a large lump of silver in his hand, which he had melted for the thieves, and pay them for it. There was no disguise about it. It was done openly." "At the time I am speaking of, there were scarcely any houses on the eastern side of Tottenham-court-road; there, and in the long fields, were several large ponds; the amusement here was duck-hunting and badger-baiting; they would throw a cat into the water, and set dogs at her; great cruelty was constantly practised, and the most abominable scenes used to take place. It is almost impossible for any person to believe the atrocities of low life at that time, which were not, as now, confined to the worst paid and most ignorant of the populace."

Turning to look for a moment at the opposite extreme of society, it is delightful to mark the improvement which had there taken place. While drawing-rooms and levees were held as before, though less frequent, the former being confined to once a week; while equipages of similar fashion as formerly continued to roll through the parks, Piccadilly, and the Mall; while the costumes and habits of courtiers exhibited no great variation; while theatres, and other places of amusement, were frequented by the fashionables; while gossiping calls in the morning, and gay parties at night, were the common and every-day incidents of West-end life—a very obvious improvement arose in the morals and general tone of feeling of people about court, in consequence of the exemplary and virtuous character of George III. and Queen Caroline. Fond of quiet and domestic repose, retiring into the bosom of their family, surrounded by a few favorite dependents, encouraging a taste for reading and music, and ever frowning upon vice in all its forms, they exerted a powerful influence upon those around them, and turned the palace into a completely different abode from what it had been in the time of the earlier Georges. Religion, too, if not in its earnest spirituality, yet in its decorous observances and its moral bearings, was maintained and promoted, both by royal precept and example. The monarch and his family were accustomed to attend regularly upon the services in the chapel attached to St. James's Palace.

The revival of religion in London, to which we adverted in a former chapter, produced permanent results. During the last half of the century, Christian godliness continued to advance. Whitefield's labors, as often as he visited the metropolis, produced a deep impression on the multitudes who, in chapels or the open air, were eager to hear him. Whitefield died in America, but a monument is erected to his memory in Tottenham-court Chapel, the walls of which often echoed with his fervid oratory. Wesley's exertions were prolonged till the year 1792. After a life of most energetic effort in the cause of Christ, this remarkable man expired at his house in London, 1791, in the eighty-eighth year of his age.

The countess of Huntingdon, Whitefield's early friend, exerted in London a powerful religious influence, "scattering the odors of the Saviour's name among mitres and coronets, and bearing a faithful testimony to her Divine Master in the presence of royalty itself." She has left behind her in the metropolis two remarkable proofs of her religious liberality and zeal, in Zion and Spafields Chapels, both of which she was the means of transforming out of places of amusement into houses for the service and praise of God.