There is a considerable number of deaths, for people died even in those good old times, and one drowning; whether intentional or not we cannot inform our readers, as the “Old Whig” went to press before the inquest was holden before Mr. Coroner and a most respectable jury.
We still tipple a little after dinner, but our fathers were prudent men; they took time by the forelock, and began their convivialities with their dejeune. The following is a short notice of the exploits of a few of these true men. It is with a deep feeling of the transitory nature of all sublunary things, that we introduce this notice, by announcing to our readers at a distance, that the merry Boar’s Head is merry no more, and that he who goes thither in the hope of quaffing port, where plump Jack quaffed sack and sugar, will return disappointed. The sign remains, but the hostel is gone.
“On Saturday last, the right hon. the Lord Mayor held a wardmote at St. Mary Abchurch, for the election of a common councilman, in the room of Mr. Deputy Davis. His lordship went sooner than was expected by Mr. Clay’s friends, and arriving at the church, ordered proclamation to be made, when Mr. Edward Yeates was put up by every person present; then the question being asked, whether any other was offered to the ward, and there being no person named, his lordship declared Mr. Yeates duly elected, and ordered him to be sworn in, which was accordingly done; and just at the words ‘So help you God,’ Mr. Clay’s friends (who were numerous, and had been at breakfast at the Boar’s Head Tavern, in Eastcheap) came into the church, but it was too late, for the election was over. This has created a great deal of mirth in the ward, which is likely to continue for some time. The Boar’s Head is said to be the tavern so often mentioned by Shakspeare, in his play of Henry the Fourth, which occasioned a gentleman, who heard the circumstances of the election, to repeat the following lines from that play:—
“‘Falst. Now Hall, what a time of day is it, lad?’
“‘P. Hen.——What a devil has thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons,’” &c.
The above account gives a specimen of the sobriety of our fathers; another of their virtues is exemplified in the following:—
“By a letter from Penzance, in Cornwall, we have the following account, viz.:—‘That on the 12th instant at night, was lost near Portlevan (and all the men drowned, as is supposed), the queen Caroline, of Topsham, Thomas Wills, master, from Oporto, there being some pieces of letters found on the sands, directed for Edward Mann, of Exon, one for James La Roche, Esq. of Bristol, and another for Robert Smyth, Esq. and Company, Bristol. Some casks of wine came on shore, which were immediately secured by the country people; but on a composition with the collector, to pay them eight guineas for each pipe they brought on shore, they delivered to him twenty-five pipes; and he paid so many times eight guineas, else they would have staved them, or carried them off.’”
The order maintained in England at that time was nothing compared to the strictness of discipline observed on the continent.
“They write from Rome, that count Trevelii, a Neapolitan, had been beheaded there, for being the author of some satirical writings against the Pope: that Father Jacobini, who was sentenced to be beheaded on the same account, had obtained the favour of being sent to the gallies, through the intercession of cardinal Guadagni, the pope’s nephew, who was most maltreated by the priest and the count.”
These were times, as Dame Quickly would say, when honourable men were not to be insulted with impunity.