bes of humanity, and at last Die and
turn to dust, precisely as though the world--or rather the concerns of
that gross Orb--were all going on in their ordinary jog-trot manner.
Although from day to day we people in London knew not whether before the
sun set the dreaded pibroch of the Highland Clans might not be heard at
Charing Cross, and the barbarian rout of Caterans that formed the
Prince,--I mean the Chevalier,--I mean the Pretender's Army, scattered
all about the City, plundering our Chattels, and ravaging our fair
English homes; although, for aught men knew, another month, nay another
week, might see King George the Second toppled from his Throne, and King
James the Third installed, with his Royal Highness Charles Edward
Prince of Wales as Regent; although it was but a toss-up whether the
Archbishop of Canterbury should not be ousted from Lambeth by a Popish
Prelate, and the whole country reduced to Slavery and Bankruptcy;--yet
to those who lived quiet lives, and kept civil tongues in their heads,
all things went on pretty much as usual: and each day had its evil, and
sufficient for the day was the evil thereof. That the Highlandmen were
at Derby did not prevent the Hostess of the Stone Kitchen--that famous
Tavern in the Tower--from bringing in one's reckoning and insisting on
payment. That there was consternation at St. James's, with the King
meditating flight and the Royal Family in tears and swooning, did not
save the little schoolboy a whipping if he knew not his lesson at
morning call. It will be so, I suppose, until the end of the world. We
must needs eat and drink, and feel heat and cold, and marry or be given
in marriage, whatsoever party prevail, and whatsoever King carries crown
and sceptre; and however dreadful the crisis, we must have our Dinners,
and fleas will bite us, and corns pinch our Feet. So while all the
Public were talking about the Rebellion, all the world went nevertheless
to the Playhouses, where they played loyal Pieces and sang "God save
great George our King" every night; as also to Balls, Ridottos, Clubs,
Masquerades, Drums, Routs, Concerts, and Pharaoh parties. They read
Novels and flirted their fans, and powdered and patched themselves, and
distended their coats with hoops, just as though there were no such
persons in the world as the Duke of Cumberland and Charles Edward
Stuart. And in like manner we Warders in the Tower, though ready for any
martial emergency that might turn up, were