Debt, Imprisonment for -- Fiction; London (England) -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
"I accepted the invitation, the strangeness of which affected
my curiosity rather than excited my hopes. I was to witness, I
thought, the spectacle of a degraded wretch who lived by breaking
the law, for each offence being liable to a penalty of not less
than a hundred pounds. It would be, I expected, such a sight as
that which the drunken Helot once presented to the virtuous Spartan
youth.
"We made our way through a mean and filthy neighbourhood, by the
side of a market heaped with cabbage-stalks, past houses where,
through the common panes of green glass set in leaden frames, one
might see a rushlight or a tallow candle feebly glimmering, for a
crew of drunken men to shout songs and drink beside.
"The room into which I was led opened off the street, and was of
fair proportions, but low. In it was a table, at the head of which,
in a vast wooden chair, sat a man who looked, though perhaps he
was not, the biggest man I had ever seen. Some tall men have small
hands, or narrow shoulders, or small heads; Doctor Shovel is great
all over, with a large and red face, a silk cassock, a full and
flowing wig, clean bands, and a flowered morning-gown very large
and comfortable.
"He seemed struck with some astonishment on hearing my name, but
presently recovered, and invited me to sit at his right hand. Sir
Miles sat at his left. The room was pretty full, and we found that
the evening had already begun by the exhaustion of the first bowl
of punch. The guests consisted of gentlemen who came, like myself,
to see and converse with the famous Doctor: and of prisoners who,
like Sir Miles, were living in the Rules.
"As the punch went round, the talk grew more jovial. That is to
say, the talk of the Doctor, because no one else said anything. He
talked continuously; he talked of everything. He seemed to know
everything, and to have been everywhere. When he was not talking
he was singing. At intervals he smoked a pipe of tobacco, which
did not interrupt his talk; and he never ceased sending round the
punch. I found that the visitors were expected to provide this part
of the entertainment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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