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 s.e.x [_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 p.r.o.nunciation 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 posta.s.ses 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 pa.s.s 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 s.e.x 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 tete 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 s.e.x 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 s.e.x, 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-c.o.c.k kind, that would fly at any thing scarlet. [_Takes the head off._] But such pract.i.tioners 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 s.e.x, 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 a.s.saults 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 n.o.ble 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, l.u.s.t, 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 aesop'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 grat.i.tude. 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 t.i.tle--[_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 _tete-a-tete_, a mere matrimonial _vis-a-vis_; the husband in a yawning state of dissipation, and the lady in almost the same drowsy att.i.tude, 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 n.o.body 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 n.o.body at home but my wife, I did not know what to do with myself."

END OF PART III.

PART IV.

{65}We shall now consider the law, as our laws are very considerable, both in bulk and number, according as the statutes declare; _considerandi, considerando, considerandum_; and are not to be meddled with by those that don't understand 'em. Law always expressing itself with true grammatical precision, never confounding moods, cases, or genders, except indeed when a _woman_ happens accidentally to be slain, then the verdict is always brought in _man_-slaughter. The essence of the law is altercation; for the law can altercate, fulminate, deprecate, irritate, and go on at any rate. Now the quintessence of the law has, according to its name, five parts. The first is the _beginning_, or _incipiendum_; the second the _uncertainty_, or _dubitandum_; the third _delay_, or _puzzliendum_; fourthly _replication_ without _endum_; and, fifthly, _monstrum et horrendum_.

{66}All which are exemplified in the following cases, Daniel against Dishclout.--Daniel was groom in the same family wherein Dishclout was cookmaid; and Daniel, returning home one day fuddled, he stooped down to take a sop out of the dripping-pan, which spoiled his clothes, and he was advised to bring his action against the cookmaid; the pleadings of which were as follow. The first person who spoke was Mr. Serjeant Snuffle. He began, saying, "Since I have the honour to be pitched upon to open this cause to your Lordship, I shall not impertinently presume to take up any of your Lordship's time by a round-about circ.u.mlocutory manner of speaking or talking, quite foreign to the purpose, and not any ways relating to the matter in hand. I shall, I will, I design to shew what damages my client has sustained hereupon, whereupon, and thereupon.

Now, my Lord, my client, being a servant in the same family with Dishclout, and not being at board wages, imagined he had a right to the fee-simple of the dripping-pan, therefore he made an attachment on the sop with his right-hand, which the defendant replevied with her left, tripped us up, and tumbled us into the dripping-pan. Now, in Broughton's Reports, Slack _versus_ Small wood, it is said that _primus {67}strocus sine jocus, absolutus est provokus_. Now who gave the _primus strocus?_ who gave the first offence? Why, the cook; she brought the driping-pan there; for, my Lord, though we will allow, if we had not been there, we could not have been thrown down there; yet, my Lord, if the dripping-pan had not been there, for us to have tumbled down into, we could not have tumbled into the dripping-pan." The next counsel on the same side began with, "My Lord, he who makes use of many words to no purpose has not much to say for himself, therefore I shall come to the point at once; at once and immediately I shall come to the point. My client was in liquor: the liquor in him having served an ejectment upon his understanding, common sense was nonsuited, and he was a man beside himself, as Dr.

Biblibus declares, in his Dissertation upon b.u.mpers, in the 139th folio volume of the Abridgment of the Statutes, page 1286, where he says, that a drunken man is _h.o.m.o duplicans_, or a double man; not only because he sees things double, but also because he is not as he should be, _profecto ipse_ he; but is as he should not be, _defecto tipse_ he."

{68}The counsel on the other side rose up gracefully, playing with his ruffles prettily, and tossing the ties of his wig about emphatically.

He began with, "My Lord, and you, gentlemen of the jury, I humbly do conceive I have the authority to declare that I am counsel in this case for the defendant; therefore, my Lord, I shall not flourish away in words; words are no more than filligree work. Some people may think them an embellishment; but to me it is a matter of astonishment how any one can be so impertinent to the detriment of all rudiment. But, my Lord, this is not to be looked at through the medium of right and wrong; for the law knows no medium, and {69}right and wrong are but its shadows.

Now, in the first place, they have called a kitchen my client's premises. Now a kitchen is n.o.body's premises; a kitchen is not a warehouse, nor a wash-house, a brew-house, nor a bake-house, an inn-house, nor an out-house, nor a dwelling-house; no, my Lord, 'tis absolutely and _bona fide_ neither more nor less than a kitchen, or, as the law more cla.s.sically expresses, a kitchen is, _camera necessaria pro usus cookare; c.u.m saucepannis, stewpannis, scullero, dressero, coalholo, stovis, smoak-jacko,pro roastandum, boilandum,fryandum, et plum-pudding mixandum, pro turtle soupos, calve's-head-hashibus, c.u.m calipee et calepashibus_.

"But we shall not avail ourselves of an _alibi_, but admit of the existence of a cook-maid. Now my Lord, we shall take it upon a new ground, and beg a new trial; for, as they have curtailed our name from plain Mary into Moll, I hope the court will not allow of this; for, if they were to allow of mistakes, what would the law do? for, when the law don't find mistakes, it is the business of the law to make them."

Therefore the court allowed them the liberty of a new trial; for the law is our liberty, and it is happy for us we have the liberty to go to law.

{70}By all the laws of laughing, every man is at liberty to play the fool with himself; but some people, fearful it would take from their consequence, choose to do it by proxy: hence comes the appearance of keeping fools in great families. [_Takes the head._] Thus are they dressed, and shew, by this party-coloured garment, they are related to all the wise families in the kingdom.

This is a Fool's Cap; 'tis put upon n.o.body's head. n.o.body's face is without features, because we could not put Anybody's face upon n.o.body's head. This is the head of Somebody. [_Takes the head._] It has two faces, for Somebody is supposed to carry two faces. One of these faces is handsome, the other rather ill-favoured. The handsome face is exhibited as a hint to that part {71}of mankind who are always whispering among their acquaintance, how well they are with Somebody, and that Somebody is a very fine woman. One of those boasters of beauty, one night at a tavern, relating his amazing amours, the toast-master called him to order, and a gentleman in a frolic, instead of naming any living lady for his toast, gave the Greek name of the tragic muse Melpomene; upon which the boaster of beauty, the moment he heard the word Melpomene, addresses the toast-master, "Oh! ho! Mr. Toastmaster, you are going a round of demireps. Ay, ay, Moll Pomene, I remember her very well; she was a very fine girl, and so was her sister, Bet Po-mene; I had 'em both at a certain house, you know where?" Can we help smiling at the partiality of the present times? that a man should be transported if he snares a hare, or nets a partridge, and yet there is no punishment for those whisperers away of ladies' reputations? But ill tongues would fall hurtless were there no believers to give them credit; as robbers could not continue to pilfer were there no receivers of stolea goods.

{72}Here is the head [_takes it_] of Anybody, with his eyes closed, his mouth shut, and his ears stopped; and this is exhibited as an emblem of wisdom; and anybody may become wise, if they will not spy into the faults of others, tell tales of others, nor listen to the tales of others, but mind their own business, and be satisfied. Here is the head [_takes it_] of Everybody. [_ Turns the head round._] This is to show how people dread popular clamour, or what all the world will say, or what every body will say. Nay, there is not a poor country wench, when her young master the 'squire attempts to delude her, but will immediately reply to him, "Lord!--Your honour!--What will the world say?" And this, _what will the {73}world say_, is what everybody is anxious after, although it is hardly worth anybody's while to trouble their heads with the world's sayings.

These four heads of n.o.body, Everybody, Somebody, and Anybody, form a fifth head, called a Busybody. The Busybody is always anxious after something about Somebody. He'll keep company with Anybody to find out Everybody's business; and is only at a loss when this head stops his pursuit, and n.o.body will give him an answer. It is from these four heads the fib of each day is fabricated. Suspicion begets the morning whisper, the gossip Report circulates it as a secret, wide-mouthed Wonder gives Credulity credit for it, and Self-interest authenticates that, as Anybody may be set to work by Somebody, Everybody's alarmed at it, and, at last, there is n.o.body knows any thing at all of the matter. From these four heads people purchase lottery-tickets, although calculation demonstrates the odds are so much against them; but Hope flatters them, Fancy makes them believe, and Expectation observes, that the twenty thousand pounds prizes must come to Somebody [_gives the head off_]; and, as Anybody may have them [_gives the head off_], and n.o.body {74}knows who [_gives the head off_], Everybody buys lottery-tickets.

[_Gives the head off._]

Most difficult it is for any single speaker long to preserve the attention of his auditors: nay, he could not continue speaking, conscious of that difficulty, did he not depend greatly on the humanity of his hearers. Yet it is not flattery prompts the lecturer to this address; for, to shew in how odious a light he holds flattery, he here exposes the head of flattery. [_Takes the head._]

This being, called Flattery, was begat upon Poverty, by Wit; and that is the reason why poor {75}wits are always the greatest flatterers. The ancients had several days they called lucky and unlucky ones; they were marked as white and black days. Thus is the face of Flattery distinguished; to the lucky she shews her white, or shining profile; to the unlucky she is always in eclipse: but, on the least approach of calamity, immediately Flattery changes into reproach. [_Opens the head._] How easy the transition is from flattery into reproach; the moral of which is, that it is a reproach to our understandings to suffer flattery. But some people are so fond of that incense, that they greedily accept it, though they despise the hand that offers it, without considering the receiver is as bad as the thief. As every head here is intended to convey some moral, the moral of this head is as follows: This head was the occasion of the first duel that ever was fought, it then standing on a pillar, in the centre, where four roads met. Two knights-errant, one from the north, and one from the south, arrived at the same instant at the pillar whereon this head was placed: one of the knights-errant, who only saw this side of the head, called out, "It is a shame to trust a silver head by the road side." "A silver head!"

replied the knight, who only saw this side of the head, "it is a black {76}head." Flat contradiction produced fatal demonstration; their swords flew out, and they hacked and hewed one another so long, that, at last, fainting with loss of blood, they fell on the ground; then, lifting up their eyes, they discovered their mistake concerning this image. A venerable hermit coming by, bound up their wounds, placed them again on horseback, and gave them this piece of advice, That they never hereafter should engage in any parties, or take part in any dispute, without having previously examined both sides of the question.

We shall now conclude this part of the lecture with four national characters.

{77}Here is the head of a Frenchman [_shews the head_], all levity and lightness, singing and capering from morning till night, as if he looked upon life to be but a long dance, and liberty and law but a jig. Yet Monsieur talks in high strains of the law, though he lives in a country that knows no law but the caprice of an absolute monarch. Has he property? an edict from the Grand Monarch can take it, and the slave is satisfied. Pursue him to the Bastile, or the dismal dungeon in the country to which a _lettre de cachet_ conveys him, and buries the wretch for life: there see him in all his misery; ask him "What is the cause?"

{78}"_Je ne scai pas_, it is de will of de Grand Monarch." Give him a _soupe maigre_, a little sallad, and a hind quarter of a frog, and he's in spirits.--"_Fal, lai, lai, vive le roy, vive la bagatelle_." He is now the declared enemy of Great Britain: ask him, "Why?--has England done your country an injury?" "Oh no." "What then is your cause of quarrel?" "England, sir, not give de liberty to de subject. She will have de tax upon de tea; but, by gar, sir, de Grand Monarch have send out de fleet and de army to chastise de English; and, ven de America are free, de Grand Monarch he tax de American himself." "But, Monsieur, is France able to cope with England on her own element, the sea?" "_Oh!

pourquois non?_" "Why not?"