The Old Chelsea Bun-House: A Tale of the Last Century

It is a sad Thing when a Lady of Quality, who has been a Toast in her Youth, and has seen the white-gloved Beaux, as Mr. Popecalls them, bowing to her from the Pit, and kissing the scented Tips of their Gloves to her in the Ring; who has flaunted at Vauxhall, and shone in a Side-Box of the Opera-House in Lincoln's Inn Fields; has run down Handel, and run after Bononcini; has had her gay Water-Parties to Jenny's Whim, attended by Violins and Hautboys; and has brought, not only her own Company, but her own Strawberries and Cherries to our Bun-house, as if our own were not good enough; it is mortifying, I say, when such a Lady of Quality falls into the sear and yellow Autumn of Life, and finds herself a disregarded Thing, with no resources but green Tea and Brag. And such is the Case with poor Lady Betty Spadille. How well I remember her, on the Occasion I have somewhat maliciously alluded to, for it sticks in my Throat, arriving at our Bun-House in her peach-coloured Sacque, Mechlin Head, and red-heeled Shoes, the Foreparts richly embroidered with Silver; loudly talking and laughing, and turning her Head right and left, now to this Beau, now to t'other, who fluttered round her with their clouded Canes and perfumed Wigs; now bursting into what the French People call des grands Eclats de Rire, now flirting her Fan, or rapping it on the Shoulder of one of the Ladies who accompanied her. Having just set my Mark, a Sprig of Rosemary, in the midst of one of good Bishop Atterbury's Sermons, I thought within myself, "Is this a Creature that is formed for Eternity?" Meanwhile, two tall Lacqueys, with immense Shoulder-Knots, bore between them a great Hamper of French Wine; while a little black Page, in pale Blue, laced with Silver, tottered under the Fruit from Rogers's; and certainly it was very fine. I never saw such Strawberries and Cherries before nor since. I did not think her a Belle of the first Order, setting her Rank and Style aside. Her Shape was fine; her Hand and Foot delicately formed; but she rolled her Eyes too much, and had too high a Colour. I don't believe she painted. Altogether, she seemed in the very Flush of Existence; as if she had never met with a Reverse, nor ever expected one. She seemed to think "Let us Eat and Drink," without adding, "To-morrow we die." We had set our oval Walnut-wood Table under the umbrageous Shade of two large Elms, and had spread it with one of our best Tablecloths. This was superciliously removed by the two Footmen, who spread a Tablecloth and Napkins they had brought with them. Our China Service and water Caraffes they condescended to use. Meanwhile, the Boatmen brought up a second Hamper, containing Ham, Tongue, Chicken, Sallet, and other Matters: but the Footmen, I should mention, brought the Plate, including not only silver Forks, but a silver Stew-Pan. The gay Bevy having streamed hither and thither, making their humorous and contemptuous Remarks, which were continually interspersed with, "Oh, my Lord!" and, "Oh, Sir Charles!" at length settled down to their Repast. There were three Ladies and four Gentlemen. Also, there was a tall, slender Girl in Black, whom I concluded my Lady's own Woman, because she stood the whole Time, a little behind Lady Betty, holding her Handkerchief and Scent-Bottle, watching her Eye, and obeying her Commands, almost before spoken; notwithstanding which, my Lady's Lip was often put up, and such words as "Thou'rt strangely slow ... Canst not hear me, Creature?" were muttered by her rosy mouth.