'A few days ago I was introduced to a young couple who were but lately married, and are reckoned by all their acquaintance to be exceedingly happy in each other. I had scarce saluted the bride, when the husband caught her eagerly in his arms and almost devoured her with kisses. When we were seated, they took care to place themselves close to each other, and during our conversation he was constantly fiddling with her fingers, tapping her cheek, or playing with her hair. At dinner, they were mutually employed in pressing each other to taste of every dish, and the fond appellations of "My dear," "My love," &c., were continually bandied across the table. Soon after the cloth was removed, the lady made a motion to retire, but the husband prevented the compliments of the rest of the company by saying, "We should be unhappy without her." As the bottle went round, he joined her health to every toast, and could not help now and then rising from his chair to press her hand, and manifest the warmth of his passion by the ardour of his caresses. This precious fooling, though it highly entertained them, gave me great disgust; therefore, as my company might very well be spared, I took my leave as soon as possible.'
No. 8. The 'Connoisseur.'—March 21, 1754.
In outward show so splendid and so vain,
'Tis but a gilded block without a brain.
'I hope it will not be imputed to envy or malevolence that I here remark on the sign hung out before the productions of Mr. FitzAdam. When he gave his paper the title of the "World," I suppose he meant to intimate his design of describing that part of it who are known to account all other persons "Nobody," and are therefore emphatically called the "World." If this was to be pictured out in the head-piece, a lady at her toilette, a party at whist, or the jovial member of the Dilettanti tapping the world for champagne, had been the most natural and obvious hieroglyphics. But when we see the portrait of a philosopher poring on the globe, instead of observations on modern life, we might more naturally expect a system of geography, or an attempt towards a discovery of the longitude.
'Yet, in spite of all these disadvantages, the love of pleasure, and a few supernumerary guineas, draw the student from his literary employment, and entice him to this theatre of noise and hurry, this grand mart of luxury; where, as long as his purse can supply him, he may be as idle and debauched as he pleases. I could not help smiling at a dialogue between two of these gentlemen, which I overheard a few nights ago at the Bedford Coffee-house. "Ha! Jack," says one, accosting the other, "is it you? How long have you been in town?" "Two hours." "How long do you stay?" "Ten guineas; if you'll come to Venable's after the play is over, you'll find Tom Latin, Bob Classic, and two or three more, who will be very glad to see you. What, you're in town upon the sober plan at your father's? But hark ye, Frank, if you'll call in, I'll tell your friend Harris to prepare for you. So your servant; for I'm going to meet the finest girl upon town in the green-boxes."'
No. 12. The 'Connoisseur.'—April 18, 1754.
Nor shall the four-legg'd culprit 'scape the law,