Fifty Years Ago. Walter Besant

like beating the bounds—for the boys to pin together those who were thus engaged by their coat-tails, shawls, skirts, sleeves, the ends of comforters, wrappers, and boas, and other outlying portions of raiment. When they discovered the trick—of course they only made pretence at being unconscious—by the rending, tearing, and destruction of their garments, they never failed to fall into ecstasies of (pretended) wrath, to the joy of the children, who next year repeated the trick with the same success. I think there are no longer any Twelfth-cakes, and I am sure that the boys have forgotten that trick.

      A PARISH BEADLE

      (From a Drawing by George Cruikshank in ‘London Characters’)

      On Twelfth Day the Bishop of London made an offering in the Chapel Royal of St. James’s in commemoration of the Wise Men from the East. Is that offering made still? and, if so, what does his lordship offer? and with what prayers, or hopes, or expectations, is that offering made?

      BEATING THE BOUNDS.

       At the commencement of Hilary Term the judges took breakfast with the Lord Chancellor, and afterwards drove in state to Westminster.

      On January 30, King Charles’s Day, the Lords went in procession to Westminster Abbey and the Commons to St. Margaret’s, both Houses to hear the Service of Commemoration. Where is that service now?

      On Easter Sunday the Royal Family attended Divine Service at St. James’s, and received the Sacrament.

      On Easter Monday the Lord Mayor, Sheriffs, and Aldermen went in state to Christ Church, formerly the Church of the Grey Friars, and heard service. In the evening there was a great banquet, with a ball. A fatiguing day for my Lord Mayor.

      Easter Monday was also the day of the Epping Hunt. Greenwich Fair was held on that and the two following days. And in Easter week the theatres played pieces for children.

      EVENING IN SMITHFIELD

      (From a Drawing made in 1858, at the gateway leading into Cloth Fair, the place of proclamation of Bartholomew Fair)

      On the first Sunday in Easter the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs went in state to St. Paul’s, and had a banquet afterwards.

      On May Day the chimney-sweeps had their annual holiday.

      On Ascension Day they made a procession of parish functionaries and parochial schools, and beat the bounds, and, to mark them well in the memory of all, they beat the charity children who attended the beadle, and they beat all the boys they caught on the way, and they banged against the boundaries all the strangers who passed within their reach. When it came to banging the strangers, they had a high old time.

      On the Queen’s Birthday there was a splendid procession of stage coaches from Piccadilly to the Post Office.

      BARTHOLOMEW FAIR.

      Lastly, on September 3, Bartholomew Fair was opened by the Lord Mayor, and then followed what our modern papers are wont to call a carnival, but what the papers of 1837 called, without any regard to picturesque writing, a scene of unbridled profligacy, licentiousness, and drunkenness, with fighting, both of fists and cudgels, pumping on pickpockets, robbery and cheating, noise and shouting, the braying of trumpets and the banging of drums. If you want to know what this ancient fair was like, go visit the Agricultural Hall at Christmas. They have the foolish din and noise of it, and if the people were drunk, and there were no police, and everybody was ready and most anxious to fight, and the pickpockets, thieves, bullies, and blackguards were doing what they pleased, you would have Bartholomew Fair complete.

CHAPTER III.

       LONDON IN 1837.

       Table of Contents

The extent of London in 1837, that is to say, of close and continuous London, may be easily understood by drawing on the map a red line a little above the south side of Regent’s Park. This line must be prolonged west until it strikes the Edgware Road, and eastward until it strikes the Regent’s Canal, after which it follows the Canal until it falls into the Regent’s Canal Docks. This is, roughly speaking, the boundary of the great city on the north and east. Its western boundary is the lower end of the Edgware Road, Park Lane, and a line drawn from Hyde Park Corner to Westminster Bridge. The river is its southern boundary, but if you wish to include the Borough, there will be a narrow fringe on the south side. This was the whole of London proper, that is to say, not the City of London, or London with her suburbs, but continuous London. If you look at Mr. Loftie’s excellent map of London,1 showing the extent built upon at different periods, you will find a greater area than this ascribed to London at this period. That is because Mr. Loftie has chosen to include many parts which at this time were suburbs of one street, straggling houses, with fields, nurseries, and market-gardens. Thus Kennington, Brixton, and Camberwell are included. But these suburban places were not in any sense part of continuous London. Open fields and gardens were lying behind the roads; at the north end of Kennington Common—then a dreary expanse uncared for and down-trodden—lay open ponds and fields; there were fields between Vauxhall Gardens and the Oval. If we look at the north of London, there were no houses round Primrose Hill; fields stretched north and east; to the west one or two roads were already pushing out, such as the Abbey Road and Avenue Road; through the pleasant fields of Kilburn, where still stood the picturesque fragments of Kilburn Priory, the Bayswater rivulet ran pleasantly; it was joined by two other brooks, one rising in St. John’s Wood, and flowing through what are now called Craven Gardens into the Serpentine. On Haverstock Hill were a few villas; Chalk Farm still had its farm buildings; Belsize House, with its park and lake, was the nearest house to Primrose Hill. A few houses showed the site of Kentish Town, while Camden Town was then a village, clustered about its High Street in the Hampstead Road. Even the York and Albany Tavern looked out back and front on fields; Mornington Crescent gazed across its garden upon open fields and farms; the great burial-ground of St. James’s Church had fields at the back; behind St. Pancras’ Churchyard stretched ‘Mr. Agar’s Farm;’ Islington was little more than a single street, with houses on either side; Bagnigge Wells—it stood at the north-east of St. Andrew’s Burying-ground in Gray’s Inn Road—was still in full swing; Hoxton had some of its old houses still standing, with the Haberdashers’ Almshouses; the rest was laid out in nurseries and gardens. King’s Cross was Battle Bridge; and Pentonville was only in its infancy.

1 Loftie’s History of London. Stanford, 1884.

      VAUXHALL GARDENS.

      Looking at this comparatively narrow area, consider the enormous growth of fifty years. What was Bow? A little village. What was Stratford, now a town of 70,000 people? There was no Stratford. Bromley was a waste; Dalston, Clapham, Hackney, Tottenham, Canonbury, Barnsbury—these were mere villages; now they are great and populous towns. But perhaps the change is more remarkable still when one considers the West End. All that great cantlet lying between Marylebone Road and Oxford Street was then much in the same state as now, though with some difference in detail; thus, one is surprised to find that the south of Blandford Square was occupied by a great nursery. But west of Edgware Road there was next to nothing. Connaught Square was already built, and the ground between the Grand Junction Road and the Bayswater Road was just laid out for building; but the great burying-ground of St. George’s, now hidden from view and built round, was in fields. The whole length of the Bayswater Road ran along market-gardens; a few houses stood in St. Petersburg Place; Westbourne Green