stars: The fame of your great knowledge in the mysteries of fate,
says this antiquated lady, hath made me resolve to wait upon you in
an affair that concerns me very nearly: The doctor assured her, that
as far as his knowledge extended, he would answer any thing she was
desirous of knowing: Sir, says the lady, I have a fortune of twenty
thousand pounds, and am yet a virgin; but, adds she, I have thoroughly
considered the design and end of marriage, and am now convinced that
it is an institution calculated for the mutual benefit of both sexes.
The scripture too, continues she, instructs us to associate together
for the procreation of our species, and therefore I am now resolved
to comply with the dictates of the divine law and the _call of
nature_—(I must confess, says Sable, I was a good deal surprized to
hear a woman, who seemed to be not far distant from what is called the
grand climacterick of her age, talk of the procreation of her species
in this manner, and of her resolution to follow the call of nature)
Your sentiments, madam, says the doctor, are certainly right, and I
have chosen, says this wrinkled old lady _a proper young Gentleman_
to partake of conjugal felicity with me, and by whom I may fulfil the
divine command: Undoubtedly, madam, says the doctor, a young man is
more proper for such cases than a man of your own years: I think so
indeed, Sir, says the lady, though I believe I should have children
by almost any man; for I am of a very _fruitful_ family, nor am
I, continued she, so old as perhaps you may imagine me;—but, Sir,
says she, my business with you, is to know whether I shall receive any
ill treatment from him, how many children I shall have, and whether
my _intentions_ will be _thoroughly answered_ by marrying this young
gentleman, for I am resolved upon that, and the marriage writings are
bespoke. Madam, says the doctor, I will resolve you presently; upon
which he turned to his book, and after casting the necessary figures
for information, told the lady, she might depend upon receiving no
_male-treatment_ from her intended spouse: that all her _reasonable_
expectations would be answered, such as having the credit of one of the
handsomest men in town for her husband, keep what company she pleased,
go where she pleased; and in short, do what she pleased, as she did
before marriage, for that her husband would never trouble her about any
thing:—But, Sir, says the lady, you don’t speak of the other comforts
I should expect, and which was my chief design in marriage.—All the
other comforts of marriage, Madam, says the doctor; you will receive
by _Proxy_.—_Proxy_, Sir! says the lady, what do you mean? Why,
madam, replies the doctor, you will enjoy your husband’s company, at
bed and board by _Proxy_, bear children by _Proxy_: Don’t tell me,
Sir, interrupted this ancient virgin, of bearing children by _Proxy_,
I look upon myself as capable of bearing Children as any young girl
whatever, and assure you, Sir, I shall not desire any one to bear them
for me, and so, Sir, your servant, and immediately hobbled down stairs
repeating frequently as she went, the word _Proxy_.
And now, my son, continues Sable, to his gay companion, I believe
I have related to you all the occurrences, that are worthy your
attention, during my stay with this fortune-teller; were I to give
you a detail of every particular person’s desire, whose simplicity
or curiosity brought them to our nocturnal temple, it would take
up more time than I fear I have to continue with you, nor would it
be either entertaining or instructive to you, but rather the vast
numbers of people, of all ranks, who came to enquire how far they and
their trivial concerns were the peculiar care of the stars, would
create in you a mean opinion of the wisdom of the inhabitants of this
town.—The truth is, continued Sable, the particular disposition of the
people of this metropolis, to credit the most absurd and impossible
performances, when undertaken by _Foreigners_, is one of their
chief characteristicks; and the preference and encouragement given
to Foreigners of all denominations, who come here, as to the Land of
Promise, to seek their fortunes, enables them to return and purchase
estates in their own country, whose produce is equal to the revenue of
many Princes; and I have heard it said, that there is at this day, a
most superb and magnificent house, or rather palace, in Italy, which
was built by a famous eunuch, who resided here some time; on which
he has wrote on several conspicuous places, _ENGLISH_ FOLLY.—You
will naturally ask, says Sable, what the excellence of these strollers
consists in;—in an exceeding acute taste, continues he, in the choice
of the most debilitating pleasures, that can render the mind mean and
contemptible; and as there are always people who make a business of
pleasure, these panders are at hand, ready to administer to them, the
fruits of their knowledge; so that, continues Sable, those who for half
a score of years, have been under tutors, beginning to restrain the
power of their passions, are in a few months deprived of the benefits
they have paid so dearly for, both in time and money; and by listening
to these purveyors of pleasure, give themselves up to every ignoble
gratification, that can debase the mind, or corrupt their sentiments.
Sable having indulged himself in exposing the ill consequences that
result from the extraordinary encouragement Foreigners receive to
export themselves among us, thus continued his narration.
The retailer of the events of fortune, resumed Sable, having exhausted
all his stock of knowledge, and the limited time of his continuance in
this metropolis being expired, he disposed of the utensils belonging to
his profession, such as a beard of a most reverend length, a pair of
globes, magic wand, &c. &c. &c. to the manager of a strolling company,
to equip serjeant Kite for an Ægyptian astrologer; but I was disposed
of to an old cloaths-man, the manager refusing me, saying he had
already in his wardrobe, a Black Coat for an _Undertaker_, _Apothecary_
or _Parson_.
The dealer in left-off cloaths, resumed Sable, having deposited the
consideration which was exchanged for me, shifted me into his green
bag, and marched with me again to my old neighbourhood of St. Giles;
where I was no sooner arrived, than I began to experience the torment
of the brushes, and remained twenty-four hours, stretched upon the
rack, and then was delivered over to a botcher, to repair the fractured
fibres which the press had forced asunder. My old preservative the
nap, having like a faithless friend, abandoned me, when I stood
most in need of assistance. My owner having thus furbished me up,
I was conducted into the shop, and hung among the _better sort_ of
_second-hand gentlemen_.
The third day, continued Sable, I was summoned into the parlour, and
was ordered to be tried upon a middle-aged gentleman, and met with his
approbation; so leaving his former attendant, which was in a very bad
condition, and paying a small fee more to the salesman, he conducted me
to a street, near Red-Lion-Square, where he ascended into a garret.
It being evening, continued Sable, I had not an opportunity of forming
any judgment of the profession of my new owner, though I imagined
he was either a great œconomist, or that poverty and he were joint
tenants of the apartment; for upon the candle’s going out (which from
a seeming affection to my unknown master, had long laboured to support
life) he retired to rest, though very early in the evening;—as soon
as day-light would permit me, continued Sable, I began to take an
inventory of the furniture; which I found consisted of an old miserable
bed and bedstead, with a coverlet and an old blue curtain, which
was fixed to the side of the bedstead; adjoining to the casement,
a whitewashed wall served to keep the wind from intruding upon the
privacy of the reposed gentleman on the other side, and also to receive
that which some people of a phlegmatick constitution, carry with them
in their pockets. A table next presented itself, which seemed to lament
the loss of a flap, that either time, or something else, had amputated
from it, and which was laid across a chair, the cane-bottom having
given way; two other maimed chairs supported themselves by leaning
against the wall, one of which sustained me; the next were two deal
boxes, which occupied a fourth part of the room, one of which wanting a
lid disclosed a confused heap of papers, amongst which I saw the cover
of a letter directed to Mr. Stanza; and lastly a shelf that ran the
length of the room, on which lay one black pudding.
From the letter and papers in the box, continued Sable, I concluded, I
was now the property of an author. Early in the morning, Mr. _Stanza_
(that being my owner’s name) got up, and taking down the blue curtain,
wrapt it about him, tying it round with a garter; so that it made a
tolerable good morning gown, wanting nothing but sleeves, and sitting
down to the table, he put the finishing stroke to the poem, and then
read it over with great satisfaction. He next prepared to equip himself
to go out, which took up the best part of two hours; (including the
cleaning of his shoes,) and performing some very dexterous operations
on his stockings) however, at length, he was drest, and carefully
folding up his poem put it into his pocket, and after reconnoitring
the street door through the casement, sallied forth. Near Gray’s-Inn,
in Holborn, two men stept up to him, and one of them whispering him
in the ear, informed him of a piece of news, that I found by his
“rueful length of face” was rather disagreeable to him, and these two
gentlemen conducting him to a house in Gray’s-Inn-Lane, I found the
bard was under an arrest, though I did not imagine a poet was within
the jurisdiction of any court, but the court of criticism, or that he
was liable to answer any plaint but what arose within the province of
_Parnassus_. However Mr. Stanza was left by his two companions under
lock and key; but as he soon began to recover his spirits, I imagined
he intended to remove the plaint, and have his cause tried before
_Apollo_, but he was the next day, for want of bail, removed to the
_Fleet-Prison_.
This prison, continued Sable, tho’ it is said to be the best in the
kingdom, is a most shocking place, the generality of the inhabitants
being those who have brought themselves here, either by idleness or
extravagance, and very few of those bring in with them any principle
of honesty or sense of shame, or if they do, they generally get rid of
such troublesome companions in a very short time; most of them divert
reflection by amusement, or drown it by debauchery, which weakens the
mind to such a degree, that they scarce ever after are capable of
reflection, as some colds take away the voice, which is never to be
recovered again; those who are forced thither by misfortunes, find it
difficult to maintain their principles; so naturally and imperceptibly
do we imbibe the sentiments and manners of those with whom we are
accustomed to converse.
One day being at the billiard table, which is permitted to be set up
here for the recreation of _Gentlemen_, I recognized the person of my
ingenious companion the sharper, who it seems, had been excelled in
his own way, and outwitted by a bailiff; I must confess, says Sable,
if it should have happened, that I should ever have had occasion to
have enquired for this genius, I should have applied to this place, if
I had not found him in the _printed Register of Deaths_ published by
the _Ordinary of Newgate_: And it is more than probable the latter will
be yet honoured with his name.—But to return to my fellow prisoner
Mr. Stanza, who had, I learned, been in his youth a man of gaiety, and
had with great facility run through a pretty fortune, and afterwards
run through the several characters of gamester, fortunehunter, and
sharper, but with very indifferent success, and had now taken up
the _lucrative_ calling of a poet. The bard, continued Sable, whose
happy disposition was superior to fate, in two or three days, began
to be reconciled to his situation, and applied very closely to his
profession, consuming much ink and paper; and in three months, that I
continued with him there, he had written three acts of a tragedy, two
acts of a comedy, almost finished a dramatic pastoral entertainment,
and drawn many characters for farces, besides several poetical
essays, which from the want of taste in the publishers, had been
rejected and lay dead upon his hands; but the publick will have the
pleasure of perusing them in his works, which he intends to publish by
subscription, having already written thirty pages of a preface: add
to these, continued Sable, he was an excellent _Handycraftsman_, and
three times a week, furnished the carpenters and joiners of a certain
periodical work with _easy chairs, wooden spoons, &c. &c. &c._[A]
the materials for which, he pilfered from the storehouses of several
eminent Parnassian merchants, and sold as _new cut_ from the _Forest
of Parnassus_, daubing it over by way of disguise, with a nasty
composition of his own making.—You will think, continued Sable, from
what I have related to you concerning Mr. Stanza, that he was a man of
great erudition and genius, as well as industry and perseverance. It
must be confessed, says Sable, that if he could not boast so much of
the former, as some authors, it is certain that he excelled most of
them in the latter, so that what was deficient in quality, was amply
made up by the quantity; and though it might be alledged against him,
that his labours did not any way contribute to the improvement of his
readers; yet, should he be arraigned by some ill-natured critick,
for not having answered the intention of his profession, he might,
with great propriety, plead his _head_, as women at the Old Bailey,
sometimes in arrest of judgment plead their _belly_; and if the court
should direct a jury of criticks to enquire, if he had neither _wit_ or
_learning_, they would, if it was an impartial jury, certainly return
_non est inventus_, and consequently, he would be discharged.
During my abode, continued Sable, with Mr. Stanza in this repository
of vice and folly, the bard had contracted an acquaintance with a
certain quack, who from the length of time he had been here, and
the visible decay of his drapery, was become worthy observation, as
ancient coins become valuable by rust and antiquity. The bills of
mortality too had long mourned his absence, the number of deaths being
sensibly diminished during the doctor’s seclusion from the world.
This gentleman, continued Sable, had tried many schemes to regain
his liberty, but hitherto without effect: at length he fell upon an
expedient, that indeed promised no better success than any of the
former; but the doctor being of a disposition not easily discouraged
by difficulty, he resolved to put the trial of it into execution;
accordingly, he drew up an advertisement, _addressed to unmarried_
ladies, which he put in one of the daily newspapers, setting forth,
that a single gentleman of a good family, was confined in the Fleet
for an inconsiderable sum, and that if any lady who had a fortune
sufficient to enable her to live genteelly, with the addition of the
advertiser’s practice in his profession, was willing to accept of a
husband, who would make it his study to evince his gratitude, he was
willing to _change his state_, and might be spoke with by any lady at
the lodge of the Fleet-Prison.—This scheme was looked upon (should
it prove successful) by some people, as exchanging a temporary
confinement for a perpetual slavery;—but the doctor was one of those,
who were certain that locks and bolts were more difficult to burst
asunder than the bonds of matrimony, and indeed, in the doctor’s
opinion, there was no tie, either divine or human, that was half so
binding as that which was made of iron: he likewise knew that his
profession would enable him at any time, to get rid of a disagreeable
wife, as well as a troublesome patient. The doctor, as I hinted before,
continued Sable, had received much damage in his wardrobe, and now
constantly made his appearance in a long morning gown, which served
instead of coat and waistcoat, and some people scrupled not to say,
for breeches too; but that I had some reason to believe was not true;
for, in order to aid the son of Æsculapius in his matrimonial scheme,
Mr. Stanza, at the doctor’s request, consigned me over to him, in lieu
of the morning gown, that the doctor might be able to receive any
ladies who might apply to him, in conference of the advertisement,
and I luckily fitted the doctor extremely well.—The second day after
advertising, the doctor was called down to the lodge, and immediately
obeying the summons: he was introduced to two young ladies, who I
soon recollected to be the same who sat in the box with me at the
play-house, when the sharper so ingeniously carried off the old
gentleman’s rocqueleau; these ladies diverted themselves for some time
at the expence of the doctor, and then left him, not a little chagrined
at the first disappointment; however, he was in the dusk of the evening
again summoned to the lodge, where he found an old lady waiting for
him, whom he politely addressed: The compact shoulders and promising
legs of the doctor, continued Sable, drew a more than ordinary
attention from this ancient lady, and influenced her so much in his
favour, that in a very short time the match was concluded, and every
thing was settled for the doctor’s departure the succeeding morning,
for which purpose the lady gave him a bank note; and left him overjoyed
with his good fortune. The doctor immediately went to Mr. Stanza,
acquainted him with his success, and begged the bard would let him keep
me, and set his own price upon me.—This matter was soon settled, and
I remained with the doctor, who generously made a present of the gown
to Mr. Stanza. In the morning, continued Sable, the lady came to her
appointment; and the doctor after having taken leave of his fellow
prisoners, handed the lady into a hackney coach, and immediately
drove to the temple of Hymen, and from thence they went a few miles
out of town to celebrate the nuptials, and in the evening came to the
lady’s house in Southwark, where the marriage, was consummated. The
facility with which this marriage was conducted, continued Sable,
did not, however, outstrip the eager wishes of the parties to have
it concluded; the lady was perhaps stimulated by charity, and could
not sleep, till she had released a man of the doctor’s figure from
misery; and the doctor, I suppose, was no less uneasy, till he had
once more an opportunity of circulating his medicines, to the great
emolument of his good friends the _Undertakers_; whose trade had
languished very much during his long confinement. The next morning,
continued Sable, the doctor determined to shew himself amongst his
brethren of the faculty, and accordingly conducted me to St. Thomas’s
Hospital: here he was congratulated by his acquaintance upon recovering
his liberty, which the doctor received with an extraordinary good
countenance. During our stay in the womens ward at the hospital,
continued Sable, I recollected, amongst the unhappy creatures, the
features of the daughter of Mr. Sirloin, who was so well recovered
from a _Salivation_, as to convince me by her behaviour, that she was
an abandoned prostitute: I was struck with surprize and pity, continued
Sable, to see what a wretched condition she was reduced to, and my
censure was involuntarily fixed upon the ill conduct of her parents,
but chiefly, upon her mother’s ill-placed pride and silly expectations,
_that something might happen_: a vain hope, says Sable, frequently
indulged by weak people, and indeed what has happened to this young
woman, is too often the consequence of encouraging pride and folly in
those who have nothing to support it. The doctor, continued Sable
having perambulated through all the hospitals the morning would admit,
returned home to his spouse, and in the afternoon, made his appearance,
at all the coffee houses within the circle of his knowledge. The
next morning, continued Sable, the taylor brought home a new suit of
cloaths, upon which I was deposited in the wardrobe. And now, my son,
says Sable, to his youthful companion, I think, I have performed.—Here
Sable, was unluckily prevented from concluding his adventures by the
entrance of a person, who took away White, the companion and auditor
of the sage narrator; but ’tis _presumed_, he had only a few words
more to have entirely ended; and as truth has presided over our pen,
throughout the relation of these uncommon adventures, we are not at
liberty to set down words that were really never uttered; therefore we
chose to leave Sable’s last sentence broken, rather than put down any
thing we have not authority for, as some historians do. And now, gentle
reader, we take our leave of thee, hoping thou hast received as much
pleasure in the perusal of this delectable history, as the relation of
it from the sage’s mouth afforded us.
=Footnote.= [A] Vide titles to several _wooden_ pieces, inserted in
Lloyd’s papers.
FINIS.
Transcriber’s Notes.
1. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
2. The original book was printed using the ‘long s’. This edition
uses the modern ‘short s’.