I’ve been reading a book by Robert Shoemaker titled The London Mob. It’s a
good, serious but fun book, not least because it points the reader, and modern
walker in the direction of various texts that he or she might otherwise not
know about. Among these are Daniel Defoe’s
Some
Considerations Upon Street-Walkers. With a Proposal for Lessening the Present
Number of Them. And a poem by John Gay titled “Trivia: or, the Art of
Walking the Streets of London,” written in 1716. I wish I’d known about them sooner.
The Defoe text describes the problems he’s experienced while walking
“upon important business” from Charing Cross to Ludgate:
“I have every now and then been put to the halt:
sometimes by the full encounter of an audacious harlot, whose impudent leer
shew’d she only stopped my passage in
order to draw my observation on her; at other times, by twitches of the sleeve,
lewd and ogling salutations; and not infrequently by the more profligate
impudence of some jades, who boldy dare to seize a man by the elbow, and make
insolent demands of wine and treats before they let him go.”
Now, I haven’t led an especially sheltered life, and I’ve
certainly done plenty of walking around Charing Cross but nobody has ever demanded
“wine and treats” from me. A bit of me
almost wishes they had.
The Gay poem, an
imitation of Juvenal (inevitably), gives bits of handy advice about walking in
London. The include: don’t wear black,
don’t wear stylish shoes, keep an eye on the weather, and be especially
cautious at night. Also keep an eye out for dodgy women, obviously, and make
sure that nobody steals your wig.
Where
the Mob gathers, swiftly shoot along,
Nor idly
mingle in the noisy Throng.
Lur’d by
the Silver Hilt, amid the Swarm,
The
subtil Artist will thy Side disarm.
Nor is
thy Flaxen Wigg with Safety worn;
High on
the Shoulder, in a Basket born,
Lurks
the sly Boy; whose Hand to Rapine bred,
Plucks
off the curling Honours of thy Head.
Now I assume that John
Gay probably was a wig wearer, at least some of the time, but the best known portraits of
him show him wearing a turban arrangement that I’d have thought would be just
asking for trouble if you dared to wear it while walking the streets of London.
