Those few who did not desert me altogether, were persons of strong but
coarse minds; and from the absence of all delicacy in them, I suffered
almost as much as from the super-abundance of a false species of it
in the others. Those who stuck by me were the jokers, who thought
themselves entitled, by the fidelity which they had shown towards me,
to use me with what familiarity they pleased. Many and unfeeling are the
jests that I have suffered from these rude (because faithful) Achateses.
As they passed me in the streets, one would nod significantly to his
companion and say, pointing to me, smoke his cravat, and ask me if I
had got a wen, that I was so solicitous to cover my neck. Another would
enquire, what news from * * * Assizes? (which you may guess, Mr. Editor,
was the scene of my shame) and whether the sessions was like to prove
a maiden one? A third would offer to ensure me from drowning. A fourth
would teaze me with enquiries how I felt when I was swinging, whether I
had not something like a blue flame dancing before my eyes? A fifth
took a fancy never to call me any thing but _Lazarus_. And an eminent
bookseller and publisher, who, in his zeal to present the public with
new facts, had he lived in those days, I am confident, would not have
scrupled waiting upon the person himself last mentioned, at the most
critical period of his existence, to solicit a _few facts relative to
resuscitation_, had the modesty to offer me--guineas per sheet, if I
would write, in his Magazine, a physiological account of my feelings
upon coming to myself.
But these were evils which a moderate fortitude might have enabled me
to struggle with. Alas! Mr. Editor, the women,--whose good graces I had
always most assiduously cultivated, from whose softer minds I had hoped
a more delicate and generous sympathy than I found in the men,--the
women began to shun me--this was the unkindest blow of all.
But is it to be wondered at? How couldest thou imagine, wretched est of
beings, that that tender creature Seraphina would fling her pretty arms
about that neck which previous circumstances had rendered infamous? That
she would put up with the refuse of the rope, the leavings of the cord?
Or that any analogy could subsist between the knot which binds true
lovers, and the knot which ties malefactors.
I can forgive that pert baggage Flirtilla, who, when I complimented her
one day on the execution which her eyes had done, replied, that to be
sure, Mr. * * was a judge of those things. But from thy more exalted
mind, Celestina, I expected a more unprejudiced decision.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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