gave birth to many jokes at the expence of the ill-fated champion. It
was not long before he returned, and fixing his eyes upon my companion,
swore he believed he had given him a dose of physic in the gingerbread,
and with a stern countenance declared, if it really was so, he would
resent it severely. My companion told him he had no reason to attribute
his disorder to the nuts he had given him, for that he himself and two
gentlemen then present had eat of them, and found no such effects;
upon this the company was unanimous in opinion, that it must be owing
to something else he had eat in the morning. Mr. Feastlove vowed that
he had refrained from eating any thing that morning on account of the
feast; every one then concluded the turbot did not agree with him, and
Mr. Feastlove began to imagine that was the cause, therefore determined
to try something else, and again sitting down, he filled a plate with
ham and fowl, seeming determined to make up the time and loss he had
suffered by the turbot, on those dishes. The quick dispatch he made
with the legs and wings of a fowl and a slice of ham, now, assured the
company that he was again restored to his usual health and vigour, and
they congratulated him on his recovery. Mr. Feastlove said it was very
surprising that turbot, which was a fish that he was extravagantly
fond of, should serve him so now, particularly, and that he believed he
should be able to make a tolerable dinner, but he had scarce devoured
two thirds of the ham and fowl he had helped himself to, before he very
gravely laid down his knife and fork, and with a mixture of sorrow and
anger, protested he found the disorder was again coming upon him,—and
in a few minutes the former convulsions of his face returned, which
caused much mirth in the company, though they endeavoured to conceal
it as much as possible.—He was now advised to drink a glass of wine
made hot, which he did, and again seized his knife and fork, and was
dissecting a fowl, but the hot wine, like a bason of water gruel,
aiding the physic that was lodged in the gingerbread, caused such a
ferment within him, that he seemed at a loss to tell which way it would
operate upon him; sometimes it appeared as if he had a fit of the
cholick, and by and by, as if he had taken a vomit, and just as two
fine haunches of venison appeared smoaking before him, he rose from his
chair, and cursing his guts, speeded down stairs.
This third retreat surprized the company much, though they did not
seem to be very sorry, it being observed he could very well afford to
lose what he did. The unhappy eater, of the appetite-creating nuts,
continued Sable, being returned, he again vented his rage against the
gingerbread, swearing nothing else could have affected him so, but
my companion, and the two gentlemen who had likewise eat gingerbread
(though indeed not out of the same pocket) being in good health, it
was determined by the company, that it could not possibly be the
cause.—Mr. Feastlove said he could not tell how it was, but he was
sure he had taken physick that day, and swore it was a strong dose
too;—and again sat down and swore a great oath, he would not leave the
room again till he had fully dined, and though he had been forced from
the turbot, and the ham and fowls, yet nothing should make him leave
the venison, while he had power to force a bit down.—Thus resolved
he fell most voraciously upon the haunches of venison, depriving them
of two full pounds at least, which after heating over a lamp with
currant jelly and other sauce, he began to send down to keep peace in
his _Corporation_, and for a considerable time I concluded the venison
would prevent any farther tumult;—but before one third had been
dispatched to keep the rebellious powers in awe, an alarm was begun,
and the noise of contention was heard again to rumble from within the
globose belly of the afflicted hero, and in a few minutes the noise
encreasing, declared the battle raged with great violence, but true to
the cause, he scorned to be subdued.
A gentleman now recommended a glass of brandy to Mr. Feastlove, which
he approving, he for a minute refrained from eating, and took off
a large glass, and then fell too again, being determined, he said,
to weather the storm, and the horrid faces he frequently made, and
extraordinary motions of his body, declared he was very strongly
summoned to depart the room again;—but soon the brandy, instead of
putting an end to the intestine broil, made it ten times worse,—and
just as he was opening his mouth to receive a small slice of venison,
not larger than a moderate sized mutton chop, the gingerbread proved
victorious, and drove fish, flesh and fowl, with other auxiliaries,
out of the field of battle, and they lay in great disorder, scattered
over the table, and endangered the eyes of the opposite gentlemen; nor
was this all, for during this disaster, another party had forced open
the _Sally-port_, and sought refuge in the breeches of the persevering
hero.—The company now rose in great confusion, and a quantity of snuff
was destroyed; those taking it now who perhaps never took any before.
To conclude this terrible affair, the gingerbread-eater, after being
pretty well recovered from this last unfortunate affair, was sent home
some pounds lighter than he usually came from a feast.
The tragic-comic scene being ended, continued Sable, this worthy
member of Comus’s court, repaired to the rendezvous of the Choice
Spirits, where he was heartily received, and recounting to them his
day’s exploit, set them in a roar of laughter, at the expence of Mr.
Feastlove, who little dreamt, I believe, of taking a dose of physic on
the feast-day of the society, though ’tis probable this Choice Spirit
conferred a benefit on him instead of a punishment; in the morning this
frolicksome spark conducted me to my old lodgings.
I began now, continued Sable, to wish for a little respite, the
pleasing novelty of my situation in Monmouth-street, gradually
subsiding as the succession of my adventures encreased; and my
curiosity abating, in proportion as my excursions became less pleasing.
The desire I had of a little relaxation from business was gratified,
the expedition I had with the _choice spirit_, being the last time I
was called to aid the schemes of any of the sons of invention, who
might have occasion to appear in disguise, or assist the struggles of
the unfortunate in their endeavours to overcome an adverse fate, during
my stay in Monmouth-street, where I remained a considerable time
without any further employment.
During this recess from business continued Sable, I past much time
in contemplating on the various modes of happiness which mankind
sought after, and the different means they pursued to attain their
adopted wishes; the labours of my fellow adventurers in their diurnal
expeditions, which were always communicated to the society together
with my own experience, affording me variety of instances. The power
of reasoning, and of assimilating their ideas, with which men are
indued, to enable them to distinguish the true road to happiness,
I found was of little or no service to them in their pursuit, the
present gratification of the passions and senses, seems to be the chief
consideration and stimulater in all their actions; but when the vigour
of youth begins to relax, and the heat of blood to cool, the passions
and senses necessarily decay, and they then perceive their error, and
lament that they did not in their youth, furnish the storehouse of
wisdom, with useful knowledge, to enable them to pass with satisfaction
and tranquillity, through age and infirmity, and for want of which they
become fretful and peevish, disagreeable to themselves, and to every
one else.
The youthful auditor here thanked the sage adviser, for the lesson
he so gently insinuated, and assured him that he would endeavour to
regulate his conduct agreeably to the dictates of reason, and that his
study should be to acquire a fund of knowledge, so that the faculties
of his mind, might afford him pleasure when his passions and senses
should deny it. The wise narrator replyed, he hoped the alluring bates
of pleasure would not have power to check his resolution, or destroy
those blossoms of virtue whose fruit was happiness.
I next, continued Sable, became the property of a very ingenious
gentleman, who has entertained the town in a variety of characters, but
in none more singular, or more to his emolument, during the time it
lasted, than that in which I had the honour to serve him in, and though
he has never been remarkable for concealing his follies, yet this is
a secret which he has carefully preserved.—To keep you no longer in
suspence, I was purchased by this genius, to countenance him in the
character of a _Fortune-teller_, a scheme which his thorough knowledge
of the town, together with a great variety of anecdotes of a number
of people, which he had treasured up, made him the best qualified to
act of any man in London; and he was a very _Proteus_, in varying his
appearance, for he would be in your company two or three times a day,
if he had occasion, in the same number of characters, without your
being able to discover him.—It was this gentleman, continued Sable,
who removed me from Monmouth-street, to a lodging near Charing-cross,
this being the place he had chose to deliver his oracles from, a spot
which, time out of mind has been remarkable for the residence of all
the extraordinary things and phenomena, which have been deemed worthy
the attention of this metropolis.
Here White, begged to know why that place was so particularly fixt upon
by the industrious providers of strange sights and rarities. Sable
declared it was not in his power to resolve him, with certainty in
that point, but said, that as these itinerant raree-show gentlemen,
dealt in nothing but what is most properly adapted to the meanest
capacity, (as some book-sellers inform the world what they publish is)
so this neighbourhood may be looked upon, by these gentlemen, as the
meridian best calculated for their purpose.
Every thing being settled by this foreteller of events, continued
Sable, advertisements were put in the newspapers, and bills dispersed,
acquainting the nobility and gentry, that a sage Ægyptian, who was
making the tour of Europe, was arrived in London, and that his stay
would be only one month, during which time they might be informed of
any particular they were desirous of knowing, either past, present, or
to come; attendance at —— Charing-cross, every evening, from six to
nine, price five shillings each person.
The first who came to search the register of fate, continued Sable,
were two ladies, one tall and the other short, the tall lady desired
to know, as a specimen of the doctor’s art, (for so he stiled himself)
where she was on such a day, a considerable time past; the doctor
having been informed of the day of her nativity, and looking over
his book told her she was on the day she mentioned, in _Newgate_;
the lady started in great surprise,—and asked how she came to be
there,—the doctor told her, she went to see a _Highwayman_,—the other
lady then asked where she was on that day,—the Doctor, after going
through the ceremony of calculating her nativity, told her she was
also in _Newgate_, with the other lady on the same occasion.—These
answers were thought proof enough of the doctor’s knowledge of things
past,—and the tall lady next desired, he would tell her the most
remarkable place she had been at that day,—to which the doctor, after
making a calculation by some very extraordinary figures with pen and
ink, answered she had been to see the _tall man_,—where she had seen
_something_ that greatly _surprised_ her.—Here the lady blushed,
and said she was now sure he was the Devil; but the doctor declared
he was only a distant relation of the infernal’s.—Well where shall
I go to-morrow, says the lady, why, madam, says the doctor, you have
resolved to pay a visit to the _tall man_ again to-morrow evening
_alone_, but whether you will really keep to your resolution or not,
is more than the arch-fiend himself can tell.—The lady said she must
confess there was more truth than manners in his answers, and that she
should have expected such an answer to have been whispered when there
was a third person in company.—The doctor humbly asked pardon, but
said as the lady her companion was privy to her design, and intended
to visit the _tall man_ herself another time, he did not apprehend any
harm could arise in speaking of it at that time.—Well, Sir, says the
lady, since I find you do know more than I imagined, I hope you are
a man of honour, and at the same time put a guinea into the doctor’s
hand.—The doctor assured the ladies they might rely upon on his
secrecy, and waited upon them down a private pair of stairs which led
into a street that lay behind the house.
The first trial of my genius’s knowledge of the influence of the stars,
continued Sable, succeeded to admiration.—White here desired to
know what book it was the doctor extracted his knowledge from.—Sable
replied, it was a common place book in which his owner entered down
his anecdotes, and which he was every day encreasing, being employed
all day in going from place to place where he could best gain
intelligence—you will, no doubt, wonder, says Sable, how he could
come by the knowledge of the lady’s secret intention, that, adds
Sable, he guessed—which indeed from these ladies known character and
disposition was no difficult matter to do; for he knew who the ladies
were perfectly well, and, I assure you, they were both people of great
distinction.
The next remarkable person, continued Sable, who was desirous of
consulting the stars, was an officer in the guards, who on his entrance
told the doctor he had heard he was acquainted with things _above_
and _below_ stairs.—You understand me—continues he, and so let me
have five shillings worth of information.—From which quarter, Sir,
says the doctor—which quarter, replies the familiar gentleman,—why
faith, adds he, I believe it is from _below stairs_.—The doctor then
desired to know the day of his nativity, and that he would propose his
question,—why you must know, says the gay spark, that I have a d—’d
inclination to lie with the wife of a particular friend of mine, but I
want to know whether it will be attended with any bad consequences.—I
mean, continues he, whether I should be obliged to fight in this case
or not? for though I would not have you think me a coward, yet I should
not chuse to draw my sword upon my friend.—The doctor, after looking
over his book, and making a number of hieroglyphicks as usual, told
him, that though the husband would know his dishonour, yet he might be
assured no bad consequences would ensue to him, for that it would only
_make his friend unhappy during his life_; the son of Mars, continued
Sable, was extremely well satisfyed with this answer, and departed, in
all probability, to confer upon his friend this new mark of his esteem.
A young lady, continued Sable, of a fine figure, next entered, and
after answering the doctor the necessary questions, told him she
wanted to know when she should be married—what sort of a man she
should have—and how many children?—The doctor, after consulting the
book of knowledge, told her, that it would be some time before she
was married—and that she would marry an old baronet, whose title and
estate she would deem a sufficient compensation, for the sacrifice of
her youth and beauty, to age and infirmity;—and that she would have
two daughters by him, both which would be born _within a month_ after
her marriage; and yet, adds he, your virtue will be unblemished.—Sir,
says the lady, this is the most inconsistent piece of intelligence that
I ever heard; I hope you don’t mean to affront me, adds the lady.—The
doctor replied, that what he had related to her, was but the effect
of his art; what is meant he declared was yet beyond his knowledge,
but, pray Sir, says the lady, does your art inform you that I shall
really have two daughters within a month after my marriage, and yet
my virtue be unblemished.—Madam, says the doctor, it is really as I
have related, but I will take some pains to unravel the mystery—upon
which he began to make a number of strange figures, and the result of
his enquiry, he told the lady, was, that she would certainly have two
daughters within the time he had mentioned, the eldest of whom, he
said, would be born very soon after her marriage, and the other within
a month after;—you will be very happy, madam, says he, in the first,
for your husband will spare nothing that his estate, which will not be
very small, can administer for its gratification; nor will you, madam,
set any bounds to your inclinations to support and cherish it.—But you
will not be so happy, says he, in your other daughter, for she will
be of an insatiable disposition, and your husband will do all in his
power to satisfy it, but all his endeavours will only serve to increase
its desires.—The lady declared she could not possibly understand him,
and desired if he could explain himself that he would.—The doctor
answered, what he had told her he was convinced would come to pass,
and that her first daughter’s name would be _Pride_, and the other
_Lust_.—Upon this the lady flew out of the room, saying,—he might
repent this treatment.
A little old gentleman with a white wig and rosy face, next entered
our temple, and addressing himself to the doctor, told him, that
though he had never placed any confidence in oracles, yet the fame
of his great skill in astrology, made him resolve to throw away five
shillings and half an hour, in consulting him in a thing he should be
glad to know.—The doctor told him he would resolve him in the best
manner his art would admit. The old gentleman said, that he had for
many years been saving every thing he could, scarce allowing himself
the necessaries of life, that he might leave a fortune to his son,
sufficient to raise a name; and though he had been stigmatised by many
people, with not having acquired the fortune he had by the fairest
means, yet he believed he had always kept _within_ the _letter_ of the
_law_; but, Sir, continues he, if I live six months longer, I shall be
able to leave my son fifty thousand pounds; therefore, I should be glad
to know what course he will take, and whether he will be much on the
Exchange, as I have been.—The doctor told him, his son would follow
_Newmarket course_, where, says he, he will _exchange_ the greatest
part of his fortune, for the qualities of a jockey, and by the time he
is five and twenty, will _exchange_ his liberty for a prison, where,
continues he, he will _exchange_ this life for another.—The old
gentleman was preparing to remonstrate against the decree of the stars,
but was prevented by the knocking of another visiter at the door,
and he was conducted down the back stairs, complaining all the way of
the partiality of fate in the unjust distribution of his fortune, and
in preventing him from being the _first stone_ in the foundation of a
family.
The violent knocking at the door which occasioned the sudden dismission
of the old gentleman, continued Sable, was the impatience of a lady,
whose dress and appearance bespoke she was of quality; she was a tall
fine figure, and her face exquisitely beautiful; her eyes were full
of levity, and declared the looseness of her soul:—On her entrance
she told the doctor, one of his _shop bills_ had been left at her
house, and that she had heard many people speak of his great knowledge,
which induced her to wait upon him.—The doctor politely acknowledged
the honour she did him, and ushered her to a seat.—Mr. what’s your
name—says this lady, I have been almost frighted to death these two
days, by the loss of a pocket book, which I am afraid has been found by
a certain person, therefore I desire you will tell me where it is, and
how I may recover it.—The doctor, after having calculated the lady’s
nativity, and applied to his book, told her, a servant to a gentleman
she had visited, had found it in his master’s _bed-chamber_, and that
he and several of his companions were at that time sat down to examine
the contents of it.—The lady said she was glad it had not fallen into
the hands of the person she was apprehensive of, but desired to know
if he could tell her whether there was a small book of ivory leaves
in it or not? The doctor told her, he would let her know the whole
contents in a few minutes.—Upon which he began to make a great variety
of incomprehensible figures, and in the conclusion told the lady, in
one of the pockets there was a paper of _carmine_, and several sorts
of powders, in the second, there was a small lock of _flaxen-coloured
hair_ inclosed in a letter, which was dated from the _Temple_, and
contained passionate expressions of the most tender love and eternal
constancy, with an acknowledgement of favours in the most delicate
terms.—The lady told the doctor there was no necessity for his being
very particular, the doctor proceeding said, there was a picture in
miniature of an officer, concealed under a pocket looking-glass, with
several tender billet-doux addressed to Amaryllis, which had been slipt
into her ladyship’s hand; in the same pocket, continues he, there is a
miniature of a certain nobleman which was given to your ladyship upon
your marriage; well, hang the picture and the original too, says the
lady, is the book with the ivory leaves there? I shall inform your
ladyship presently, replies the doctor:—In another pocket, there is
a collection of _curious pictures_ in _India paper_, given to your
ladyship by the gentleman who gave your ladyship the lock of hair, and
artfully concealed in a small almanack book:—Here the lady blushed and
told the doctor, she desired only to know if the book she mentioned was
there.—The doctor begged a moment’s patience;—in a private pocket,
continues he, there is a small viol of red liquor, and in another
private pocket, there is a number of appointments to meet in a wood
in Kensington gardens, and various other places, and a small book of
ivory leaves, containing a short account of the art of intriguing, with
a select number of extraordinary good _excuses_ in case of _suspicion_,
and some excellent _salvos_ for _palpable discoveries_, wrote by your
ladyship’s own hand, and which is the book, I presume, says the doctor,
your ladyship enquired so particularly for.—It is, answered the lady,
and now pray, says she, inform me how I can get it back again.—The
doctor answered, he believed if her ladyship would advertise it with a
handsome reward she might recover it; the lady declared she would give
any thing for it, and putting two guineas into the doctor’s hand, said
she hoped she might rely upon his secrecy; the doctor assured her she
might, and then conducted her to a hackney coach waiting at the door
for her.
The next who came to consult the keeper of the book of knowledge,
continued Sable, was a young lady of a most engaging countenance, her
natural air and the taste of her dress, seemed to vie with each other,
in rendering her an object of love,—if it was possible for envy to
have fixed upon any thing that seemed imperfect, it must have been
rather too much levity, which her eyes expressed. This young lady
having informed the doctor, what he required to know, she told him she
had three lovers, who made their addresses to her; one, she said, was
a gentleman of the law, another was a lieutenant in the army, and the
third a gentleman of no profession, and desired to know which of them
she should have; the doctor having consulted his book, told her she
should marry neither of them; the young lady was a good deal surprized,
and desired if she should have neither of them,—to know who else would
be her lot.—I find, miss, says the doctor, you will have several
offers from tradesmen, whom you will reject; for though you have no
fortune, yet you will adhere to your darling hopes of marrying a
gentleman, but you will be deceived in your expectations. I have always
been told, says the lady, by people of your profession, and that by
more than one, that I should be marryed to a gentleman.—Those who have
told you so, replies the doctor, deceived you; they have injured many
young people, adds he, by flattering the passions of the credulous,
which has influenced the conduct of weak people, and laid the
foundation of their ruin.—Sir, says the lady, I believe it is a maxim
amongst _Fortune-tellers_, to speak ill of every one in the profession
besides themselves, but Sir, adds she, you have not told me who I am
to marry.—It is out of my power, madam, says the doctor, for though I
can frequently see you a _Votress_ at the _altar of Love_, yet I cannot
find that you will ever enter the _Hymeneal Temple_.—I must confess,
says the lady, you are the most discouraging foreteller of events
that I ever met with, and I have had my fortune told me by _Cards_,
_Coffee-grounds_, by inspecting the _lines_ of my _hand_, and by the
_Man in the Old Bailey_, and have always been told that I should marry
a _handsome black gentleman_, nay, how many children I should have, and
that I should be very prosperous, and end my days in a _large handsome
house_. My art deceives me greatly, replies the doctor, if there is
any truth in any of these things, except indeed, that you will end your
days in a large handsome house. What, you do agree with him in that!
says the lady, I should be vastly glad if you can tell me whereabout it
is situated; the doctor, after having taken some time in ascertaining
the Geography, told her, he could not tell her any other way, than by
sketching out the appearance of it; and in a few minutes told her, if
she would look upon a paper he shewed her, she might probably know
it;—the young lady was very eager to behold the plan of the mansion
that she was to conclude her life in, and perusing it attentively, I
saw her cheeks glow with indignation, and throwing the paper down, left
the room, pronouncing as she went—an _Hospital_ indeed!
The first appearance of this young lady, says Sable, revived in me
the sensations of my youth, and I must confess my heart was greatly
interested in her fate; but the information of the doctor filled me
with great anxiety, though I hope his presages will prove his knowledge
not infallible.