The Mall was the fashionable lounge, or the Parade, where smoking was not allowed.[132] 'From thence we walk'd into the Parade, which my Friend told me us'd, in a Morning, to be cover'd with the Bones of Red Herrings, and smelt as strong about Breakfast Times as a Wet Salter's Shop at Midsummer. But now, says he, its perfum'd again with English Breath; and the scent of Oroonoko Tobacco no more offends the Nostrils of our squeamish Ladies.' And there were the ducks to feed on the canal. But the Mall was the place. Ward goes into ecstasies over it: never was there such a sight. 'From thence we went thro' the Pallace into the Park about the time when the Court Ladies raise their extended Limbs from their downy Couches, and Walk into the Mall to refresh their charming Bodies with the Cooling and Salubrious Breezes of the Gilded Evening. We could not possibly have chose a Luckier Minute to have seen the delightful Park in its greatest Glory and Perfection; for the brightest Stars of the Creation sure (that shine by no other Power than humane Excellence) were moving here with such awful State and Majesty that their Graceful Deportments bespoke 'em Goddesses,' etc.
A TEA PARTY.
Of course they paid visits—how could women live without a little gossip? The invaluable Misson takes a note of the practice. 'Persons of the first Quality visit one another in England as much as we do in France, generally about Evening; but the ordinary Sort of People have not that Custom. Among us all the little Shopkeepers, particularly the Women, go with their Gowns about their Heels to visit one another by Turns, either to crack and bounce to one another, or else to sit with their Arms a cross, and say nothing. What can be more tedious, impertinent, and ridiculous than such Visits? Here, Persons of that Condition go to see one another with their Work in their Hands and Chearfulness in their Countenance, without Rule or Constraint. Upon certain Occasions, as upon Mourning or Marriage, they pay one another Visits of Ceremony.' Brown gives a most amusing description[133] of 'the City Ladies Visiting Day, which is a familiar Assembly, or a general Council, of the fair and charming Sex, where all the important affairs of their Neighbours are largely discuss'd, but judg'd in an arbitrary manner, without hearing the Parties speak for themselves. Nothing comes amiss to these Tribunals; matters of high and no consequence, as Religion and Cuckoldom, Commodes and Sermons, Politicks and Gallantry, Receipts of Cookery and Scandal, Coquetry and Preserving, Jilting and Laundry; in short, every thing is subject to the Jurisdiction of this Court, and no Appeal lies from it. The Coach stops at the Goldsmith's or Mercer's Door, and off leaps Mr. Skip Kennel from behind it, and makes his Address to the Book Keeper or Prentice, and asks if his Lady (for that is always the name of the Mistress) receives any Visits that day or No; some stay must be made till the Woman above stairs sends down her Answer, and then the Pink of Courtesie is receiv'd at the top of the Stairs, like King James by the French King, and handed to her stool of discourse.... Thus they take a sip of Tea, then for a draught or two of Scandal to digest it, next let it be Ratafia, or any other Favourite Liquor, Scandal must be the after draught to make it sit easie on their Stomach, till the half hour's past, and they have disburthen'd themselves of their Secrets, and take Coach for some other place to collect new matter for Defamation.'
Tea was then in its infancy, but it was an extremely fashionable beverage, in spite of its expense, and the tea-table was the very centre of scandal and gossip.
| How see we Scandal (for our sex too base), | |
| Seat in dread Empire in the Female Race, | |
| 'Mong Beaus and Women, Fans and Mechlin Lace, | |
| Chief seat of Slander, Ever there we see | |
| Thick Scandal circulate with right Bohea. | |
| There, source of black'ning Falshood's Mint of Lies, | |
| Each Dame th' Improvement of her Talent tries, | |
| And at each Sip a Lady's Honour dies; | |
| Truth rare as Silence, or a Negro Swan, | |
| Appears among those Daughters of the Fan. | |
Naturally, when out walking they did a little shopping, or what passed as such; for then, as now, many a fine lady would go into a shop and look at the goods simply to pass away the time, regardless of the loss and inconvenience to the shopkeeper. Steele notices this—indeed, what little social blot ever went undetected by the omniscient Spectator?—in the following amusing strain:[134] 'I am, dear Sir, one of the top China Women about Town; and though I say it, keep as good Things and receive as fine Company as any o' this End of the Town, let the other be who she will. In short I am in a fair Way to be easy, were it not for a Club of Female Rakes who, under pretence of taking their innocent rambles, forsooth, and diverting the Spleen, seldom fail to plague me twice or thrice a day to cheapen Tea, or buy a Skreen. What else should they mean? as they often repeat it. These Rakes are your idle Ladies of Fashion, who having nothing to do employ themselves in tumbling over my Ware. One of these No Customers (for, by the way, they seldom or never buy anything) calls for a set of Tea Dishes, another for a Bason, a third for my best Green Tea, and even to the Punch bowl; there's scarce a piece in my Shop but must be displaced, and the whole agreeable Architecture disordered, so that I can compare 'em to nothing but to the Night Goblins that take a Pleasure to overturn the Disposition of Plates and Dishes in the kitchens of your housewifely Maids. Well, after all this Racket and Clutter, this is too dear, that is their Aversion; another thing is Charming, but not wanted. The Ladies are cured of the Spleen, but I am not a Shilling the better for it.'
A LADY AND FOOTMAN.
One famous place for shopping was the New Exchange, in the Strand, which must have been something like our arcades; and many are the allusions, in contemporary literature, to the dangerous allurements of the Exchange shop-girls. 'Did you buy anything? Some Bawbles. But my choice was so distracted among the Pretty Merchants and their Dealers, I knew not where to run first. One little lisping Rogue, Ribbandths, Gloveths, Tippeths. Sir, cries another, will you buy a fine Sword Knot; then a third, pretty voice and Curtsie, Does not your Lady want Hoods, Scarfs, fine green silk Stockings. I went by as if I had been in a Seraglio, a living Gallery of Beauties—staring from side to side, I bowing, they laughing; so made my escape.'[135]