[_Discovers two ladies on the table._] {45}In spite of all the sneers,
prints, and paragraphs, that have been published to render the ladies'
headdresses ridiculous, sure, when fancy prompts a fine woman to lead
the fashion, how can any man be so Hottentotish as to find fault with
it? I hope here to be acquitted from any design of rendering the ladies
ridiculous; all I aim at is to amuse. Here is a rich dressed lady
without elegance.--Here is an elegant dressed lady without riches;
for riches can no more give grace than they can beget understanding. A
multiplicity of ornaments may load the wearer, but can never
distinguish the gentlewoman. [_Gives off the delicate lady._] This is a
representation of those misled ladies whose families having gained
great fortunes by trade, begin to be ashamed of the industry of their
ancestors, {46}and turn up their nose at every thing mechanical, and
call it _wulgar_. They are continually thrusting themselves among the
nobility, to have it said they keep quality company, and for that empty
qualification expose themselves to all the tortures of ill treatment;
because it is a frolic for persons of rank to mortify such their
imitators. This is vanity without honour, and dignity at second-hand,
and shews that ladies may so far entangle the line of beauty, by not
having it properly unwound for them, till they are lost in a labyrinth
of fashionable intricacies. [_Gives the head off. Takes the head of
Cleopatra._]
Here is a real antique; this is the head of that famous demirep of
antiquity, called Cleopatra, {47}This is the way the ladies of antiquity
used to dress their heads in a morning. [_Gives the head off._] And this
is the way the ladies at present dress their heads in a morning. [_Takes
the head._] A lady in this dress seems hooded like a hawk, with a
blister on each cheek for the tooth-ach. One would imagine this fashion
had been invented by some surly duenna, or ill-natured guardian, on
purpose to prevent ladies turning to one side or the other; and that may
be the reason why now every young lady chooses to look forward. As the
world is round, every thing turns round along with it; no wonder there
should be such revolutions in ladies' head-dresses. This was in fashion
two or three years past; this is the fashion of last year [_takes a head
up_]; and this the morning headdress [_takes the head_] of this present
_anno domini_. These are the winkers, and these are the blinkers.
But, as the foibles of the ladies ought to be treated with the utmost
delicacy, all we can say of these three heads, thus hoodwinked, is, that
they are emblems of the three graces, who, thus muffled, have a mind to
play at blindman's buff together. [_Gives the heads off._]
{48}We shall now exhibit the head of An Old Maid. [_Takes the head._]
This is called antiquated virginity; it is a period when elderly
unmarried ladies are supposed to be bearing apes about in
leading-strings, as a punishment, because, when those elderly unmarried
ladies were young and beautiful, they made monkies of mankind. Old maids
are supposed to be ill-natured and crabbed, as wine kept too long on the
lees will turn to vinegar.
{49}Not to be partial to either sex [_takes the head up_], as a
companion to the Old Maid, here is the head of An Old Bachelor. These
old bachelors are mere bullies; they are perpetually abusing matrimony,
without ever daring to accept of the challenge. When they are in company
they are ever exclaiming against hen-pecked husbands, saying, if they
were married, their wives should never go any where without asking their
lords and masters' leave; and if they were married, the children should
never cry, nor the servants commit a fault: they'd set the house to
rights; they would do every thing. But the lion-like talkers abroad
are mere baa-lambs at home, being generally dupes and slaves to some
termagant mistress, against whose imperiousness they dare not open their
lips, {50}but are frightened even if she frowns. Old bachelors, in this,
resemble your pretenders to atheism, who make a mock in public of
what in private they tremble at and fall down to. When they become
superannuated, they set up for suitors, they ogle through spectacles,
and sing love songs to ladies with catarrhs by way of symphonies,
and they address a young lady with, "Come, my dear, I'll put on my
spectacles and pin your handkerchief for you; I'll sing you a love song;
'How can you, lovely Nancy!'" &c. [_Laughs aloud._] How droll to hear
the dotards aping youth, And talk of love's delights without a tooth!
[_Gives the head off._]
{51}It is something odd that ladies shall have their charms all abroad
in this manner [_takes the head_], and the very next moment this shall
come souse over their _heads_, like an extinguisher. [_Pulls the calash
over._] This is a hood in high taste at the upper end of the town; and
this [_takes the head_] a hood in high taste at the lower end of the
town. Not more different are these two heads in their dresses than
they are in their manner of conversation: this makes use of a delicate
dialect, it being thought polite pronunciation to say instead of cannot,
_ca'ant_; must not _ma'ant_; shall not, _sha'ant_, This clipping
of letters would be extremely detrimental to the current coin of
conversation, did not these good dames make ample amends by adding
supernumerary syllables when they talk of _break-fastes_, and
_toastesses_, and running their heads against the postasses to avoid
the wild _beastesses_. These female orators, brought up at the bar
of Billingsgate, have a peculiar way of expressing themselves, which,
however indelicate it may seem to more civilized ears, is exactly
conformable to the way of ancient oratory. The difference between
ancient and modern oratory consists in saying something or nothing to
the purpose. Some people talk without saying any thing; some people
{52}don't care what they say; some married men would be glad to have
nothing to say to their wives; and some husbands would be full as glad
if their wives had not any thing to say to them. [_ Gives the head
off._] Ancient oratory is the gift of just persuasion; modern oratory
the knack of putting words, not things, together; for speech-makers now
are estimated, not by the merit, but by the length of their harangues;
they are minuted as we do galloping horses, and their goodness rated
according as they hold out against time. For example, a gentleman lately
coming into a coffee-house, and expressing himself highly pleased with
some debates which he had just then heard, one of his acquaintance
begged the favour that he would tell the company what the debates were
about.
"About, Sir!--Yes, Sir.--About!--what were they debating about? Why they
were about five hours long." "But what did they say, Sir?" "What did
they say, Sir? Why one man said every thing; he was up two hours, three
quarters, nineteen seconds, and five eighths, by my watch, which is
the best stop-watch in England; so, if I don't know what he said, who
should? for I had my eye upon my watch all the time he was speaking."
"Which side was he of?" "Why {53}he was of my side, I stood close by him
all the time."
Here are the busts of two ancient laughing and crying Philosophers,
or orators. [_Takes the two heads up._] These in their life-time were
heads, of two powerful factions, called the Groaners and the Grinners.
_(Holds one head in each hand.)_ This Don Dismal's faction, is a
representation of that discontented part of mankind who are always
railing at the times, and the world, and the people of the world: This
is a good-natured fellow, that made the best of every thing: and this
Don Dismal would attack his brother--"Oh, brother! brother! brother!
what will this world come to?" "The same place it set out from this day
twelve-month." "When will the nation's debt be paid {54}off?" "Will
you pass your word for it?" "These are very slippery times--very
slippery times." "They are always so in frosty weather." "What's become
of our liberty?--Where shall we find liberty?" "In Ireland, to be
sure." "I can't bear to see such times." "Shut your eyes then." [_
Gives the heads off._]
It may seem strange to those spectators [_takes the head_] who are
unacquainted with the reasons that induce ladies to appear in such
caricatures, how that delicate sex can walk under the weight of such
enormous head-coverings; but what will not English hearts endure for the
good of their country? And it's all for the good of their country the
ladies wear such appearances; for, while mankind are such enemies to Old
England as to run wool to France, our ladies, by making use of wool as
part of their head-dresses [_lets down the tail and takes out the wool_],
keep it at home, and encourage the woollen manufactory. [_Takes off the
head._]
But, as all our fashions descend to our inferiors, a servant maid, in
the Peak of Derbyshire, having purchased an old tête from a puppet-show
woman, and being at a loss for some of this wool to stuff out the curls
with, fancied a whisp of hay might {55}do. [_Takes the head._] Here
is the servant maid, with her new-purchased finery; and here is her
new-fashioned stuffing. But, before she had finished at her garret
dressing-table, a ring at the door called her down stairs to receive a
letter from the postboy; turning back to go into the house again, the
postboy's horse, being hungry, laid hold of the head-dress by way of
forage. Never may the fair sex meet with a worse misfortune; but may the
ladies, always hereafter, preserve their heads in good order. Amen.
Horace, in describing a fine woman, makes use of two Latin words,
which are, _simplex munditiis_. Now these two words cannot be properly
translated; {56}their best interpretation is that of a young Female
Quaker. [_Takes the head._] Such is the effect of native neatness.
Here is no bundle of hair to set her off, no jewels to adorn her, nor
artificial complexion. Yet there is a certain odium which satire has
dared to charge our English ladies with, which is, plastering the
features with whitewash, or rubbing rouge or red upon their faces.
[_Gives the head off._] Women of the town may lay on red, because, like
pirates, the dexterity of their profession consists in their engaging
under false colours; but, for the delicate, the inculpable part of the
sex, to vermilion their faces, seems as if ladies would fish for lovers
as men bait for mackerel, by hanging something red upon the hook; or
that they imagined men to be of the bull or turkey-cock kind, that would
fly at any thing scarlet. [_Takes the head off._] But such practitioners
should remember that their faces are the works of their Creator.--If
bad, how dare they mend it? If good, why mend it? Are they ashamed of
his work, and proud of their own? If any such there are, let 'em lay by
the art, and blush not to appear that which he blushes not to have made
them. If any lady should be offended with the lecturer's daring to take
such liberties with her sex, by {57}way of atonement for that part of
my behaviour which may appear culpable, I humbly beg leave to offer a
nostrum, or recipe, to preserve the ladies' faces in perpetual bloom,
and defend beauty from all assaults of time; and I dare venture to
affirm, not all the paints, pomatums, or washes, can be of so much
service to make the ladies look lovely as the application of this.
[_Shews the girdle of good temper._]
Let but the ladies wear this noble order, and they never will be angry
with me; this is the grand secret of attraction; this is the Girdle
op Venus, which Juno borrowed to make herself appear {58}lovely to her
husband Jupiter, and what is here humbly recommended to all married
folks of every denomination; and to them I appeal, whether husband or
wife, wife or husband, do not alternately wish each other would wear
this girdle? But here lies the mistake; while the husband _begs_ his
wife, the wife _insists_ upon the husband's putting it on; in the
contention the girdle drops down between them, and neither of them will
condescend to stoop first to take it up. [_Lays down the girdle._]. Bear
and forbear, give and forgive, are the four chariot-wheels that carry
Love to Heaven: Peace, Lowliness, Fervency, and Taste, are the four
radiant horses that draw it. Many people have been all their life-time
making this chariot, without ever being able to put one wheel to it.
Their horses have most of them got the springhalt, and that is the
reason why married people now a-days walk a-foot to the Elysian fields.
Many a couple, who live in splendor, think they keep the only carriage
that can convey them to happiness; but their vehicle is too often the
postcoach of ruin; the horses, that draw it are Vanity, Insolence,
Luxury, and Credit; the footmen who ride behind it are Pride, Lust,
Tyranny, and Oppression; the servants out of livery, that wait at table,
{59}are Folly and Wantonness; them Sickness and Death take away. Were
ladies once to see themselves in an ill temper, I question if ever again
they would choose to appear in such a character.
Here is a Lady [_takes up the picture_] in her true tranquil state of
mind, in that amiableness of disposition which makes foreigners declare
that an English lady, when she chooses to be in temper, and chooses
to be herself, is the most lovely figure in the universe; and on the
reverse of this medallion is the same lady when she chooses _not_ to be
in temper, and _not_ to be herself. [_Turns the picture._] This face is
put on when she is disappointed of her masquerade habit, when she has
lost a _sans prendre_, when her lap-dog's foot is trod {60}upon, or when
her husband has dared to contradict her. Some married ladies may have
great cause of complaint against their husbands' irregularities; but is
this a face to make those husbands better? Surely no! It is only by such
looks as these [_turns the picture_] they are to be won: and may the
ladies hereafter only wear such looks, and may this never more be known
[_turns the picture_] only as a picture taken out of Æsop's Fables.
[_Gives off the picture._]
May each married lady preserve her good man, And young ones get good
ones as fast as they can.
It is very remarkable there should be such a plentiful harvest of
courtship before marriage, and generally such a famine afterwards.
Courtship is a fine bowling-green turf, all galloping round and
sweet-hearting, a sunshine holiday in summer time: but when once through
matrimony's turnpike, the weather becomes wintry, and some husbands
are seized with a cold aguish fit, to which the faculty have given this
name--[_Shews the girdle of indifference._] Courtship is matrimony's
running footman, but seldom stays to see the stocking thrown; it is
too often carried away by the two grand preservatives of matrimonial
{61}friendship, delicacy and gratitude. There is also another distemper
very mortal to the honeymoon; 'tis what the ladies sometimes are seized
with, and the college of physicians call it by this title--[_Shews the
girdle of the sullens._]
This distemper generally arises from some ill-conditioned speech, with
which the lady has been hurt; who then, leaning on her elbow upon the
arm-chair, her cheek resting upon the back of her hand, her eyes fixed
earnestly upon the fire, her feet beating tattoo time: the husband in
the mean while biting his lips, pulling down his ruffles, stamping
about the room, and looking at his lady {62}like the devil: at last he
abruptly demands of her her,
"What's the matter with you, madam?"
The lady mildly replies,
"Nothing."
"What is it you mean, madam?"
"Nothing."
"What would you make me, madam?"
"Nothing."
"What is it I have done to you, madam?"
"O--h--nothing." And this quarrel arose as they sat at breakfast. The
lady very innocently observed, she believed the tea was made with Thames
water. The husband, in mere contradiction, insisted upon it that the
tea-kettle was filled out of the New River.
{63}From a scene of matrimonial tumult here is one of matrimonial
tranquillity. [_Matrimonial picture brought on, and you go forward._]
Here is an after-dinner wedlock _tête-à-tête_, a mere matrimonial
_vis-à-vis_; the husband in a yawning state of dissipation, and the lady
in almost the same drowsy attitude, called, A nothing-to-doishness. If
an unexpected visitor should happen to break in upon their solitude,
the lady, in her apology, declares that "she is horribly chagrined, and
most immensely out of countenance, to be caught in such a deshabille:
but, upon honour, she did not mind {64}how her clothes were huddled on,
not expecting any company, there being nobody at home but her husband."
The gentleman, he shakes his guest by the hand, and says, "I am
heartily glad to see you, Jack; I don't know how it was, I was almost
asleep; for, as there was nobody at home but my wife, I did not know
what to do with myself."
END OF PART III.