A Book for a Rainy Day; or, Recollections of the Events of the Years 1766-1833. John Thomas Smith
has taken us in for as much more; and indeed it were shameful that such talents should be sunk for want of a little pecuniary aid.”
The ladies this year wore half a flat hat as an eye-shade.
1769.
Lord North, in a letter addressed to Sir Eardley Wilmot from Downing Street, bearing date this year, April 1st, says—
“My friend Colonel Luttrell having informed me that many persons depending upon the Court of Common Pleas are freeholders of Middlesex, etc., not having the honour of being acquainted with you himself, desires me to apply to you for your interest with your friends in his behalf. It is manifest how much it is for the honour of Parliament, and the quiet of this country in future times, that Mr. Wilkes should have an antagonist at the next Brentford election; and that his antagonist should meet with a respectable support. The state of the country has been examined, and there is the greatest reason to believe that the Colonel will have a very considerable show of legal votes, nay, even a majority, if his friends are not deterred from appearing at the poll. It is the game of Mr. Wilkes and his friends to increase those alarms, but they cannot frighten the candidate from his purpose; and I am very confident that the voters will run no risk. I hope, therefore, you will excuse this application. There is nothing, I imagine, that every true friend of this country must wish more than to see Mr. Wilkes disappointed in his projects; and nothing, I am convinced, will defeat them more effectually, than to fill up the vacant seat for Middlesex, especially if it can be done for a fair majority of legal votes.
“I am, Sir, with the greatest truth and respect, your most faithful, humble servant,
“North.”
The Judge, in his answer, dated on the following day, observed, “It would be highly improper for me to interfere in any shape in that election.” (See the Wilmot Letters, in the British Museum.)[31]
This year ladies continued to walk with fans in their hands.
1770.
Most of the citizens who had saved money were very fond of retiring to some country-house, at a short distance from the Metropolis, and more particularly to Islington, that being a selected and favourite spot. Charles Bretherton, Jun., made an etching, from a drawing by Mr. Bunbury,[32] of a Londoner, of the above description, whose waistcoat-pockets were large enough to convey a couple of fowls from a City feast home to his family. The print is entitled, “The Delights of Islington,” and bears the following inscription at the top:—
WHEREAS my new Pagoda has been clandestinely carried off, and a new pair of Dolphins taken from the top of the Gazebo, by some Bloodthirsty Villains; and whereas a great deal timber has been cut down and carried away from the Old Grove, that was planted last Spring, and Pluto and Proserpine thrown into my Basin: from henceforth, Steel Traps and spring guns will be constantly set for the better extirpation of such a nest of villains,
By me, Jeremiah Sago.
“THE DELIGHTS OF ISLINGTON”
On a garden notice-board, in another print, also after Bunbury, published at the same time, is inscribed,
THE NEW PARADISE.
No Gentlemen or Ladies to be admitted with nails in their shoes.[33]
For the information of the collectors of Bunbury’s prints, I beg to state that there is in Mrs. Banks’s collection of visiting cards, etc., in the British Museum, a small etching said to have been his very first attempt when at Westminster School. It represents a fellow riding a hog, brandishing a birch-broom by way of a baster, with another at a short distance, hallooing.
As Mr. Walpole is silent as to Jonathan Richardson’s place of interment, the biographical collector will find the following inscription in the burial-ground behind the Foundling Hospital, belonging to the parish of St. George the Martyr:—
Elizabeth Richardson,
Died 24th Dec. 1767,
Aged 74 years.
Jonathan Richardson,
Died 10th June, 1771,
Aged 77; both of this parish.[34]
1771.
The gaiety during the merry month of May was to me most delightful; my feet, though I knew nothing of the positions, kept pace with those of the blooming milkmaids, who danced round their garlands of massive plate, hired from the silversmiths to the amount of several hundreds of pounds, for the purpose of placing round an obelisk, covered with silk fixed upon a chairman’s horse. The most showy flowers of the season were arranged so as to fill up the openings between the dishes, plates, butter-boats, cream-jugs, and tankards. This obelisk was carried by two chairmen in gold-laced hats, six or more handsome milkmaids in pink and blue gowns, drawn through the pocket-holes, for they had one on either side: yellow or scarlet petticoats, neatly quilted, high-heeled shoes, mob-caps, with lappets of lace resting on their shoulders; nosegays in their bosoms, and flat Woffington hats, covered with ribbons of every colour. But what crowned the whole of the display was a magnificent silver tea-urn which surmounted the obelisk, the stand of which was profusely decorated with scarlet tulips. A smart, slender fellow of a fiddler, commonly wearing a sky-blue coat, with his hat profusely covered with ribbons, attended; and the master of the group was accompanied by a constable, to protect the plate from too close a pressure of the crowd, when the maids danced before the doors of his customers.[35]
One of the subjects selected by Mr. Jonathan Tyers, for the artists who decorated the boxes for supper-parties in Vauxhall Gardens,[36] was that of Milkmaids on May-day. In that picture (which, with the rest painted by Hayman and his pupils, has lately disappeared) the garland of plate was carried by a man on his head; and the milkmaids, who danced to the music of a wooden-legged fiddler, were extremely elegant. They had ruffled cuffs, and their gowns were not drawn through their pocket-holes as in my time; their hats were flat, and not unlike that worn by Peg Woffington, but bore a nearer shape to those now in use by some of the fish-women at Billingsgate. In Captain M. Laroon’s Cries of London, published by Tempest, there is a female entitled “A Merry Milkmaid.”[37] She is dancing with a small garland of plate upon her head; and from her dress I conclude that the Captain either made his drawing in the latter part of King William III.’s reign, or at the commencement of that of Queen Anne.
1772.
My dear mother’s declining state of health urged my father to consult Dr. Armstrong,[38] who recommended her to rise early and take milk at the cowhouse. I was her companion then; and I well remember that, after we had passed Portland Chapel, there were fields all the way on either side. The highway was irregular, with here and there a bank of separation; and that when we had crossed the New Road, there was a turnstile (called in an early plan, which I have seen since, “The White House”), at the entrance of a meadow leading to a little old public-house, the sign of the “Queen’s Head and Artichoke”: it was much weather-beaten, though perhaps once a tolerably good portrait of Queen Elizabeth. The house was reported to have been kept by one of Her Majesty’s gardeners.[39]
A little beyond a nest of small houses contiguous, was another turnstile opening also into fields,