The Slattern: A Sketch from Real Life

The Slattern: A Sketch from Real Life

If the following be not merely `Fancy's Sketch,' it is at least to be hoped that the `Palace' of the fair original who sat for the picture, rears its cobwebbed ceilings in some far distant land.


Give me one ounce of civit, good apothecary,
To sweeten my imagination.

I mark'd her well. She wore a cap so soil'd,
It seem'd as though `t had hung a month in smoke;
And in ungraceful manner t'was dispos'd
Around her temples - serving not t' adorn
Nor to protect a head which, all eyes saw,
Of such kind office stood in utmost need.
Her hair in many clusters from beneath
Their dirty cap escap'd, and waving free
In wild disorder, half her features hid.
Her dress had once been white (when it was new;)
But now, alack, conjecture had been pozed
To guess its proper hue. `Twas stained with spots
Of ev'ry dye, and stripes of every shape,
Save those which Fancy, with her handmaid,
And, Taste - best pleas'd and best employ'd
When call'd to decorate the Fair, and then
Most happy in their skill - are wont to use.
In her silk a grievous rent appear'd
On either heel - designed, I ween, to let
Her feet enjoy the benefit of air,
Since water was denied them --- and, for lack
Of garters circumcinct and well secur'd,
All their supernatural length in ample folds,
Had round her ancles settled; --- while her shoes,
Slip-shod and loose, with seam-rent soals and gaps,
Were worn, all fitting, on contrary feet.
Her children were unwashed, their hair uncomb'd,
Their garments patch'd with ill-assorted cloth,
And `out at elbows' was her husband's coat.
Her house was topsy-turvey; cobwebs hung
From the smok'd ceiling; tables, desks and chairs
With dust were covered; and the windows look'd
As though they'd not been wash'd since the great
flood.
With busy bustle fidgeting about,
In "setting things to rights," she was employ'd
While strange confusion worse confounded mark'd
Her efforts at adjustment --- for what yet,
Perchance, had in its proper station stood,
Was by her over-activeness displac'd -
Apologies abundant, for the plight
In which her person and her house were found,
Were glibly made; while the whole blame
Of that most dread disgusting filthiness,
Was cast on all, save the true cause --- herself.
Determin'd at the moment to be neat,
And to display her skill in housewifery,
At a distorting glass, a twitch or two,
She gave her cap --- then seiz'd a broom,
And with such force her dirty carpet swept
That soon a cloud of dust the chamber fill'd,
And, like a mist, its friendly veil spread o'er
The scene abhorrent. Gladly I escaped
From that loath'd interview; and as I left
The palace of the queen of filth, and breath'd
Heaven's purcr again, I vow'd and said
I rather would be tied down to a stake,
And thrice be flogg'd on each returning day,
Than be the husband of thing like her.
I cannot call her Woman.

V.L.

2:3, p. 23

1828.04.11

From the New York Recorder; From a Gentleman's Pocket Album