A stick and a stake, for king George’s sake,
A stick and a stump, for Guy Fawkes’s rump!
Holla boys! holla boys! huzza—a—a
Scuffles seldom happen now, but “in my youthful days,” “when Guy met Guy—then came the tug of war!” The partisans fought, and a decided victory ended in the capture of the “Guy” belonging to the vanquished. Sometimes desperate bands, who omitted, or were destitute of the means to make “Guys,” went forth like Froissart’s knights “upon adventures.” An enterprise of this sort was called “going to smug a Guy,” that is, to steal one by “force of arms,” fists, and sticks, from its rightful owners. These partisans were always successful, for they always attacked the weak.
In such times, the burning of “a good Guy” was a scene of uproar unknown to the present day. The bonfire in Lincoln’s Inn Fields was of this superior order of disorder. It was made at the Great Queen-street corner, immediately opposite Newcastle-house. Fuel came all day long, in carts properly guarded against surprise: old people have remembered when upwards of two hundred cart-loads were brought to make and feed this bonfire, and more than thirty “Guys” were burnt upon gibbets between eight and twelve o’clock at night.
At the same period, the butchers in Clare-market had a bonfire in the open space of the market, next to Bear-yard, and they thrashed each other “round about the wood-fire,” with the strongest sinews of slaughtered bulls. Large parties of butchers from all the markets paraded the streets, ringing peals from marrow-bones-and-cleavers, so loud as to overpower the storms of sound that came from the rocking belfries of the churches. By ten o’clock, London was so lit up by bonfires and fireworks, that from the suburbs it looked in one red heat. Many were the overthrows of horsemen and carriages, from the discharge of hand-rockets, and the pressure of moving mobs inflamed to violence by drink, and fighting their way against each other.
This fiery zeal has gradually decreased. Men no longer take part or interest in such an observance of the day, and boys carry about their “Guy” with no other sentiment or knowledge respecting him, than body-snatchers have of a newly-raised corpse, or the method of dissecting it; their only question is, how much they shall get by the operation to make merry with. They sometimes confound their confused notion of the principle with the mawkin, and for “the Guy,” they say, “the Pope.” Their difference is not by the way of distinction, but ignorance. “No popery,” no longer ferments; the spirit is of the lees.
The day is commonly called Gunpowder treason, and has been kept as an anniversary from 1605, when the plot was discovered, the night before it was to have been put in execution. The design was to blow up the king, James I., the prince of Wales, and the lords and commons assembled in parliament. One of the conspirators, being desirous of saving lord Monteagle, addressed an anonymous letter to him, ten days before the parliament met, in which was this expression, “the danger is past, so soon as you have burnt the letter.” The earl of Salisbury said it was written by some fool or madman; but the king said, “so soon as you have burnt the letter,” was to be interpreted, in as short a space as you shall take to burn the letter. Then, comparing the sentence with one foregoing, “that they should receive a terrible blow, this parliament, and yet should not see who hurt them,” he concluded, that some sudden blow was preparing by means of gunpowder. Accordingly, all the rooms and cellars under the parliament-house were searched; but as nothing was discovered, it was resolved on the fourth of November, at midnight, the day before the parliament met, to search under the wood, in a cellar hired by Mr. Percy, a papist. Accordingly sir Thomas Knevet, going about that time, found at the door a man in a cloak and boots, whom he apprehended. This was Guy Fawkes, who passed for Percy’s servant. On removing the wood, &c. they discovered thirty-six barrels of gunpowder, and on Guy Fawkes being searched, there were found upon him, a dark lantern, a tinder-box, and three matches. Instead of being dismayed, he boldly said, if he had been taken within the cellar, he would have blown up himself and them together. On his examination, he confessed the design was to blow up the king and parliament, and expressed great sorrow that it was not done, saying, it was the devil and not God that was the discoverer. The number of persons discovered to have been in the conspiracy were about thirteen; they were all Roman catholics, and their design was to restore the catholic religion in England. It appears that Guy Fawkes and his associates had assembled, and concerted the plot at the old King’s-head tavern, in Leadenhall-street. Two of the conspirators were killed, in endeavouring to avoid apprehension; eight were executed. Two jesuits, Oldcorn and Garnet, also suffered death; the former for saying “the ill success of the conspiracy did not render it the less just;” the latter for being privy to the conspiracy and not revealing it.
A corporation notice is annually left at the house of every inhabitant in the city of London, previous to lord mayor’s day. The following (delivered in St. Bride’s) is its form:
SIR,
October the 11th, 1825.