Eighteenth Century Waifs

And thus bespeaks him with his best Address:

See, Sir, how pleasant, what a Prospect’s there;
Below you see them sporting on the Bare;
Above, the Sun, Moon, Stars, engage the Eye,
And those Abroad can’t see beyond the Sky;
These Rooms are better far than those beneath,
A clearer Light, a sweeter Air we breathe;
A decent Garden does our Window grace
With Plants untainted, undisturb’d the Glass;
In short, Sir, nothing can be well more sweet;
But I forgot – perhaps you chuse to eat,
Tho’, for my Part, I’ve nothing of my own,
To-day I scraped my Yesterday’s Blade-bone;
But we can send – Ay, Sir, with all my Heart,
(Then, very opportunely, enters Smart[74 - The Name of the Cook of the Kitchen.])
Oh, here’s our Cook, he dresses all Things well;
Will you sup here, or do you chuse the Cell?
There’s mighty good Accommodations there,
Rooms plenty, or a Box in Bartholm’[75 - A place in the Cellar call’d Bartholomew Fair.] Fair;
There, too, we can divert you, and may show
Some Characters are worth your while to know.
Replies the new Collegian, Nothing more }
I wish to see, be pleas’d to go before; }
And, Smart, provide a handsome Dish for Four. }
But I forget; the Stranger and his Chum,
With t’other two, to Barth’lomew Fair are come;
Where, being seated, and the supper past,
They drink so deep, and put about so fast,
That, e’re the warning Watchman walks about,
With dismal tone Repeating, Who goes out?[76 - Who goes out? is repeated by Watchmen Prisoners from half-an-hour after nine till St. Paul’s Clock strikes Ten, to give Visitors Notice to depart.]
Ere St. Paul’s Clock no longer will withold
From striking Ten, and the voice cries – All told;[77 - While St. Paul’s is striking Ten, the Watchman don’t call Who goes out? but when the last stroke is given they cry All told! at which time the Gates are lock’d and nobody suffer’d to go out upon any Account.]
Ere this, our new Companions, everyone
In roaring Mirth and Wine so far were gone,
That ev’ry Sense from ev’ry Part was fled,
And were with Difficulty got to Bed;
Where, in the Morn, recover’d from his Drink,
The new Collegian may have Time to think;
And recollecting how he spent the Night,
Explore his Pockets, and not find a Doit.

Too thoughtless Man! to lavish thus away
A Week’s support in less than half a Day,
But ’tis a Curse attends this wretched Place,
To pay for dear-bought Wit in little Space,
Till Time shall come when this new Tenant here,
Will in his turn shule for a Pot of Beer,
Repent the melting of his Cash too fast,
And Snap at Strangers for a Night’s Repast.

JONAS HANWAY

If Jonas Hanway had lived before Fuller, he certainly would have been enshrined among his ‘Worthies;’ and it is astonishing to find how comparatively ignorant of him and his works are even well-read men. Ask one about him, and he will reply that he was a philanthropist, but he will hardly be able to say in what way he was philanthropic: ask another, and the reply will be that he was the man who introduced umbrellas into England – but it is very questionable if he could tell whence he got the umbrella to introduce. But in his time he was a man of mark, and his memory deserves more than a short notice in ‘Chalmers,’ the ‘Biographie Universelle,’ or any other biographical dictionary.

He was born at Portsmouth on the 12th of August, 1712, in the reign of ‘good Queen Anne.’ History is silent as to his pedigree, save and except that his father was connected with the navy, and was for some years store-keeper to the dockyard at Portsmouth, and his uncle by the father’s side was a Major John Hanway, who translated some odes of Horace, &c. His father died whilst Jonas was still a boy, and Mrs. Hanway had much trouble to bring up her young family, who all turned out well, and were prosperous in after life: one son, Thomas, filling the post of commander-in-chief of his Majesty’s ships at Plymouth, and afterwards commissioner of the dockyard at Chatham.

On his father’s death, his mother removed to London, where, somehow or other, she brought up her children by her own exertions, and with such care and affection that Jonas never spoke, or wrote, of his mother but in terms of the highest reverence and gratitude. He was sent to school, where he was not only educated commercially, but classically. Still, he had his bread to win, and, when he was seventeen years of age, he was sent to Lisbon, which he reached June, 1729, and was bound apprentice to a merchant, under whose auspices he developed the business qualities which afterwards stood him in good stead. At the end of his apprenticeship he set up in business for himself in Lisbon, but soon removed to the wider field of London. What pursuit he followed there, neither he, nor any biographer of his, has told us, but in 1743 he accepted the offer of a partnership in Mr. Dingley’s house at St. Petersburg.

What a difference in the voyage from London to St. Petersburg, then and now! Now, overland: it only takes two days and a half.

Then, in April, 1743, he embarked on the Thames in a crazy old tub, bound for Riga, and got to Elsinore in May. As everything then was done in a leisurely manner, they stopped there for some days, arriving at Riga by the end of May, having taken twenty-six days to go from Elsinore to Riga, now done by steam, under fair conditions, in two days.

Here he found, as most people do, the Russian spring as hot as he ever remembered summer in Portugal, and was most hospitably entertained by the British factors. But Russia was at war with Sweden, and, although he had plenty of letters of recommendation, the Governor of Riga would not allow him to proceed on his journey, until he had communicated with the authorities at St. Petersburg, thus causing a delay of a fortnight, and he did not leave until the 7th of June. His sojourn at Riga, however, was not lost, for he kept his eyes open, and looked about him.

Travelling by post in Russia, even now, is not a luxury; it must have been ten times worse then, when he started on his journey in his sleeping-wagon, which was ‘made of leather, resembling a cradle, and hung upon braces,’ and his report of his journey was that ‘the post-horses are exceedingly bad, but as the stages are short, and the houses clean, the inconvenience is supportable.’ He made the journey in four days.

On his arrival, he soon set to work on the business that he came out to execute, namely, the opening of trade through the Caspian Sea to Persia, a journey which involved crossing Russia in Europe from the north-west to the south-east. This route had already been trodden by a sailor named Elton, who had spent some years among the nomadic Tartar tribes, and had, in 1739, descended the Volga with a cargo of goods, intending to go to Mesched; but he sold them before he reached there, at Resched, for a good price, and obtained leave to trade for the future. He returned to St. Petersburg, went again to Persia, and remained there in the service of Nadir Shah. It was to supply his defection that Jonas Hanway went out to Russia.

On the 10th of September, 1743, he set out on his veritably perilous journey, and it is really worth while to describe the despatch of goods in Russia at that day. ‘In Russia carriages for merchandize are drawn only by one horse. These vehicles are nine or ten feet long, and two or three broad, and are principally composed of two strong poles, supported by four wheels, of near an equal size, and about as high as the fore wheels of our ordinary coaches, but made very slight, many of the rounds of the wheels are of a single piece of wood, and open, in one part, for near an inch, and some of them are not shod with iron.

‘The first care is to lay the bales as high as the cart will admit on a bed of mats of the thickest sort. Besides the original package, which is calculated to stand the weather, the bales are usually covered with very thick mats, and over these other mats are laid to prevent the friction of the ropes; lastly, there is another covering of mats, in the want of raw cowhides, which are always best to defend goods from rain, or from the snow, which, when it melts, is yet more penetrating. Each bale is sealed up with a leaden seal, to prevent its being opened on the road, or any of the goods vended in the Country, that is, when they are intended for Persia…

‘The Caravans generally set out about twelve, both in the night and day, except in the heat of summer. In the winter, between St. Petersburg and Moscow, they usually travel seventy wersts[78 - A werst is one thousand and sixty-seven metres.] (about forty-seven English miles) in twenty-four hours, but from Moscow to Zaritzen only forty or fifty wersts: in summer their stages are shorter. Great part of the last-mentioned road being through an uninhabited country, makes the Carriers cautious not to jade their horses. Every time they set out, the conductors ought to count the loads. When necessity requires that the Caravan should be drawn within fences, or into yards, the heads of the waggons ought to stand towards the door in regular order, and a guard, who will keep a better watch than an ordinary carrier, should be set over it: for want of this precaution, whole Caravans in Russia have been sometimes consumed by fire. It is most eligible to stop in the field, where the usual method is to form the Carriages into a ring, and bring the horses, as well as the men, within it, always observing to keep in such a position as best to prevent an attack, or repulse an enemy.

‘The Khalmucks on the banks of the Volga are ever ready to embrace an opportunity of plundering and destroying passengers; therefore, when there is any occasion to travel on those banks, which should be avoided as much as possible, an advance guard of at least four Cossacks is of great use, especially to patrole in the night; it is not often practised, but I found it indispensably necessary when I travelled on those banks…

‘A hundred carriages take up two-thirds of a mile in length, so that, when no horseman is at hand to spread the alarm, the rear might be easily carried off. They have not even a trumpet, horn, or other instrument for this purpose; they trust in providence, and think any care of this kind unnecessary, though the neglect has sometimes proved of fatal consequence.’

In this primitive style he set forth on his trading venture to Persia, taking with him a clerk, a Russian, as menial servant, a Tartar boy, and a soldier, by way of guard. He had ‘a convenient sleeping-waggon’ for himself, and another for his clerk – the Russ, the Tartar, and the soldier evidently having to shift as the drivers of the twenty loads of goods (consisting of thirty-seven bales of English cloth) did. It is interesting to follow out this little venture. The caravan started on the 1st of September, 1743, and ten days afterwards he set out to join it, which he did at Tver, arriving at Moscow on the 20th of September.

Here he looked about him, saw the Great Bell, &c. received no little hospitality, and repaired the defects of his caravan, starting again on the 24th of September, and his instructions to his limited suite were to avoid all occasion of dispute, and, should such unfortunately arise, he should be informed of it, in order that he might deal with it according to the best of his judgment. But he went among the Tartars without any misadventure, noting some very curious facts, until he came to Tzaritzin, on the Volga, whence he proposed to commence his somewhat perilous journey by water, to the Caspian Sea. He arrived at Tzaritzin on the 9th of October, but, as there was not the same pushing and driving in business then as now, he stopped there for a month to recruit, and hire a vessel. He succeeded in getting one, such a thing as it was, but then he only paid a nominal sum for it. As he justly observes: ‘The reader will imagine that forty roubles[79 - Then valued at four shillings each, or eight pounds in all.] cannot purchase a good vessel; however, this price produced the best I could find. Their decks were only loose pieces of the barks of trees; they have no knees, and but few beams: hardly any pitch or tar is used, in place of it are long slips of bark, which they nail over the gaping seams, to prevent the loose and bad corking (caulking) from falling out. Instead of iron bolts, they have spikes of deal with round heads. The method of keeping them clear of water is by a large scoop, which is suspended by the beam over the well-way, and through a scuttle at a proper height they scoop out the water with great facility.’

He bought two of these A.1. vessels, and put a crew of five fishermen on board each, besides his own suite, and, because of the pirates who infested those waters, he hired a guard of six soldiers. By-the-way, they had a rough and ready way of dealing with these pirates when they did catch them. ‘As their cruelties are very great, so is the punishment inflicted on them when they are taken. A float is built, in size according to the number of delinquents, and a gallows erected on it, to contain a sufficient number of iron hooks, on which they are hung alive, by the ribs. The float is launched into the stream, with labels over their heads, signifying their crimes; and orders are given to all towns and villages on the borders of the river, upon pain of death, not only to afford no relief to any of these wretches, but to push off the float, should it land near them. Sometimes their partners in wickedness meet them, and, if there are any signs of life, take him down, otherwise they shoot them dead; but, if they are catched in these acts of illegal mercy, they are hung up without the ceremony of a trial, as happened about eight years ago. They tell me of one of these miscreants who had the fortune to disengage himself from the hook, and though naked, and trembling with pain and loss of blood, he got ashore. The first object he saw who could afford him any relief was a poor shepherd, whose brains he beat out with a stone, and took his clothes. These malefactors sometimes hang thus three, four, and five days alive. The pain generally produces a raging fever, in which they utter the most horrid imprecations, and implore the relief of water, or other small liquors.’

He was observant, and, on his journey down the Volga, he noted many things which throw much light on the social life in Russia of these days. Take for instance the following: ‘The 14th of October I sent letters to my friends, by messengers who are appointed to attend a box of grapes, which is sent from Astrachan to the Empress’s Court every three days during the season. It is carried by two horses, supported in the manner of a litter. The grapes are preserved in sand, but, at best, are ill worth the expense of the conveyance for one thousand two hundred English miles.’

He sailed from Tzaritzin on the 14th of October, and on the 19th of the same month he reached Astrachan, where he was kindly received by Mr. George Thompson, agent to the British merchants trading to Persia; and also by the Russian governor (a quondam page to Peter the Great) who gave him many assurances that every help should be afforded him in his trade with Persia – but candidly informed him what rogues the Armenian traders were: ‘They are the most crafty people in all Asia, and delight in fraud. Let them get fifty per Cent. in a fair way, they are not contented without cheating five, and the five is sweeter than the fifty.’

Lapow, even then, was a recognized institution in Russia, for Hanway observes, ‘The Officers of the the Admiralty and Custom-House of Astrachan have very small salaries, which is the case in all other places in Russia: so that, instead of doing their duty to despatch business, they often seek pretences to protract it, in order to obtain the more considerable presents. Upon these occasions French Brandy, white wine, hats, stockings, ribbons, and such like are acceptable.’ Now-a-days, things are managed in a less cumbrous form. Rouble Notes take the place of gross material – but the Russian Official is unchanged.

Again, ‘Whilst I was busied in getting what informations were necessary, the governor invited me to a feast, at which there were nearly a hundred dishes; here I saw a singular specimen of Russian intemperance, for there were above thirty people who drank to excess, in goblets, a kind of cherry brandy. This feast was made for the birth of his granddaughter, on which occasion the guests presented an offering each according to his rank. This is a civil way of levying a heavy tax on the merchants, and a custom, tho’ not elegant, less absurd than that of some politer countries; for here, without disguise or ceremony, you leave one or two ducats, or some richer present on the lady’s bed, who sits up with great formality to be saluted.’

From Astrachan he went to Yerkie, at the mouth of the Volga, and virtually on the Caspian Sea, whence he set sail on the 22nd of November, arriving at Astrabad Bay on the 18th of December, where his vessel was taken for a pirate, and signal fires were, in consequence, lit on the hill-tops, etc. So he lay at anchor for a few days, employing his men in packing his goods so that they might be easily carried on land; and he gives us a curious insight into the life of sailors of that period.

‘The 25th being Christmas Day, I excused the seamen from the package of cloth, and prevailed on them to hear prayers, and a sermon. English seamen, of all mankind, seem the most indifferent with regard to religious duties; but their indifference is more the effect of want of reflection than the irreligious carelessness of their leaders. It is not to be imagined they would fight less if they prayed more; at least we find the praying warriors in Cromwell’s days fought as if they were sure of becoming saints in heaven. Certain it is our seamen do not entertain the same impressions of religion as the common run of labouring people.’

Hanway had been warned that he must take care of himself at Astrabad; that, probably, he would be robbed, and most certainly cheated; but never having received such treatment, and with his conscious faith of being an honest Englishman, he gave but little heed to the caution, but spent many days on ship-board, making up his merchandize into suitable packages for land carriage, and when he did land, he went in state, on horseback, to visit the governor, taking with him the invariable Oriental present, which, in his case, consisted of fine cloth, and loaves of sugar. He was kindly received by the governor, but soon having experienced the deceit and duplicity of the people, he hurried forward his departure for Mesched, sending ten camel loads of goods in advance. Luckily he did so, for the next day the town was besieged by Turcomans, who wanted to get possession of the Shah’s treasure, then in Astrabad, as well as the English goods, which presented an almost irresistible temptation to them.

Hanway was advised to disguise himself and fly, but he was an Englishman, and had the pluck of his race; so he concluded to stay, in spite of the objurgations and maledictions of some of the inhabitants, who cursed him as being the cause of their misfortunes. The town made but a feeble resistance, and, soon after its fall, Hanway received a visit from the captors, the story of which he thus tells: