Susanna Ives’ Floating World

March 14, 2021March 22, 2021

Women in Late Joseon Korea – The Kisaeng

Oh, joy! Spring allergies are here again. To celebrate, I spent yesterday incapacitated on the couch watching K-dramas, including re-watching episodes of one of my newer favorites Mr. Queen.

All of this reminds me that I must continue my series on women in late Joseon Korea, as excerpted from Louise Jordan Miln’s book Quaint Korea, published in 1895. Today I’ve posted passages about Korean geishas known as Kisaeng. These women, usually between 16 and 22 years of age, were formally trained for their profession and regulated by the Korean government. Miln refers to these women as geisha. I’ve replaced these references with the Korean word Kisaeng. If you’re interested in learning more about Kisaeng, the Wikipedia entry for the Kisaeng is great.

As I caveated in my previous post on Joseon women, this excerpt is only one American woman’s observation of her experiences in Korea. You are welcome to politely correct or add more information (or suggest really good K-dramas!)

The word geisha is a Japanese word, and it signifies “accomplished person.” The Korean word for the class of women of whom I am writing is ki-saing.

ca. 1904. Gesang School (i.e. kisaeng school). Ephemera, Postcards. Place: Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library. https://library.artstor.org/asset/SS33525_33525_780252.

And as the women of the Korean gentry are more secluded than those of any other Asian gentry, so are the Kisaeng girls of Chosön more interesting, more fascinating…Women seem to be an indispensable element of society after all. Social enjoyment without them is more or less a failure, at least in any very prolonged form

***

The Kisaeng girls have names of their own, but then the Kisaeng have individuality; live lives, if not moral, why still, not colourless, and mix with men, if not on an equality, at least with a good deal of familiarity; and it would be rather awkward if the men who are dependent upon them for female society … had no name by which to call them. The “Fragrant Iris” was the name of a Kisaeng girl whose acquaintance Mr. Lowell tells us he made in Korea, and four of her companions were called “Peach Blossom,” “Plum Flower,” “Rose,” and “Moonbeam.”

ca. 1904. Corean beauty. Ephemera, Postcards. Place: Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library. https://library.artstor.org/asset/SS33525_33525_779937.

**Description**: A young ‘kisaeng’ (singing girl) in full Korean traditional dress. She has a typical married women’s hair style (jjok), which is called chignon with a hairpin (the ‘pinyo’). Korean ‘kisaeng’, or singing girls, dressed up for singing and dancing. A ‘Kisaeng’s’ social position was among the lowest in the traditional Korean class system. Their daughters also became ‘kisaeng’ and their sons became slaves. The art of entertaining of the ‘kisaeng’ is analogous to the Japanese geisha. These professional entertainers were highly trained in the arts of poetry, music, dance, and other forms of social or artistic diversion. In the early 1900s, ‘kisaeng’ did their hair up in a ‘chignon’ and wear shorter jackets (about 7-8 inches) than ordinary women – The skirts were cut with a full slit at the back and were fixed to the right side, while upper class women’s skirt were fixed to the left. Source: Kwon, O-chang. Inmurhwaro ponun Choson sidae uri ot, 1998, p. 140.

To please, to amuse, to understand, and to companion men, mentally and socially, is their chief duty, their chief occupation, and their most earnest study. The Kisaeng girl is, as a rule, rather better educated than the concubine, better educated, quite possibly, than the wife; for the Kisaeng must make her way, and hold any position she gains, solely by personal talent, personal attractiveness, and personal attainments. Not for her to lay at the man’s feet a son who may worship him into the most desirable corner of the Korean heaven; only for her to please him while she is with him, to touch for him odd instruments and sing to them soft, weird songs, to shake the soft perfume of her hair across his cheek and the perfume of the flowers she wears upon the bowl of food, or of fish, or fruit she humbly places before him; only for her to laugh at his humour, flat howsoever it may be; only for her to applaud his ambitions, urge on his hopes, charm away his fears; only for her to please; never for her, save by accident, to be pleased.

***

In proportion to the populations of the two countries there are far fewer Geisha in Korea than in Japan, but this is solely, I think, because Korea is so much poorer than Japan; for nowhere are women of their profession more appreciated, more esteemed, and treated by men more on an equality than they are in Chosön. The Korean Kisaeng is systematically and carefully trained for her intended profession. Several years are occupied by her education, and not until she is proficient in singing, in dancing, in reciting, in the playing of many instruments, in repartee, in the pouring of wine, in the filling and lighting of pipes, in making herself generally useful at feasts and festivals, and above all, in being good-natured, is she allowed to ply her trade. In or near every large Korean city are picturesque little buildings called “pleasure-houses.” They are very like the tea-houses of Japan. They are usually built in some secluded spot, and are surrounded by the brilliance of flowers, and half hidden beneath the shadow of trees. They are scantily but artistically furnished, and are running over with tea and sweetmeats and girls.

The Kisaeng of the King are, of course, the flower of the profession, and are dressed even more elaborately than the ordinary Kisaeng, which is quite superfluous.

https://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2001705585/
Geisha girl of palace

Most Asian dances are slow. Probably the slowest of them all is the dance of the Korean Kisaeng. The Kisaeng herself is covered and covered from throat to ankle. It would be imprudent to say how many dresses she usually wears at once. She dresses in silk and in glimmering tissues. Before dancing she usually takes off two or three of her gowns, and tucks up the trains of the robes she still wears, but even so she is very much dressed, and a thoroughly well-clad person. In winter she wears bands of costly fur on her jaunty little cap, and an edge of the same fur about her delightful little jacket of fine cashmere, or of silk. She wears most brilliant colours, and all her garments are perfumed and exquisitely clean. Indeed, cleanliness must be her ideal of godliness.

***

Her parents are poor, always very poor, and she is pretty, always very pretty. It is this prettiness which causes her almost from her babyhood to be destined for the amusement profession. It makes her suitable for that profession, and ensures her probable success in it. Her parents gladly set her aside from the toilers of the family, and she is given every possible advantage of mind and person. So she is insured a life of ease, and even of comparative luxury. She is a blooming, gladsome thing, with gleaming eyes, and laughing lips, and happy dancing feet. She looks like some marvelous human flower when you meet her in the streets of Söul, and forms an indescribable contrast to the draggled crowds that draw apart to let her pass as she goes on her laughing way to her well-paid work.

Kisaengs are greatly in demand for picnics, and in the summer often spend days in the cool, fragrant woods, playing for, reciting to, and feasting with some merry party of pleasure-makers. If their services are required at a Korean feast they usually slip in one by one when the meal is more than half done. The host and his guests make room for them, and each girl seats herself near to a man whose attendant she thus becomes for the entire evening. They pour wine for the men, and see that all their wants and creature comforts are well looked after. They do not eat unless the men voluntarily feed them. To feed them is to give them a great mark of favour, and it would be the worst of bad form for them to refuse any morsel so offered. After the feast they sing and dance in turn and together. They recite love stories and ballads, and strum industriously away upon Korean instruments. Their singing is very plaintive: as sad as any earthly music, but it is not sweet nor pleasing to European ears. To introduce them for an evening into the most respectable family circle is regarded as the best of good taste. Some of these girls live together, many of them live, nominally at least, in the homes of their own childhood. They form strange contrasts to their sisters of approximately the same age, whose lives have been lives of virtue and incessant work.

ca. 1904. A Corean court singer. Ephemera, Postcards. Place: Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library. https://library.artstor.org/asset/SS33525_33525_779853.
Description
Courtesans frequently danced and sang during festivities at the royal court. This singer/dancer is shown wearing a ‘hwagwan’ (a small crown decorated with flowers and jewels), and a long, well-tailored silk jacket over a skirt. Her hands grasp colorful pieces of cloth which are enhance her performance as she dances. This is a (hand-colored) photograph taken in a studio setting, produced for mass production. Source: Kwon, O-chang. Inmurhwaro ponun Choson sidae uri ot, 1998, p. 150.

Kisaengs never by any chance become familiar with, or are treated familiarly by the women of the households into which they are occasionally introduced, and yet some of them are not unchaste in their personal lives. This, however, is of course very exceptional. Occasionally the Kisaeng becomes the concubine of a man of position, or the personal attendant of a man of wealth.

https://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2003666545/

If you haven’t already, check out the earlier post in this series.

Women in Late Joseon Korea – Part One

December 21, 2020December 21, 2020

A Somber Christmas in 1914

My mother always wildly decorates her home for the holidays. This year she has sent us pictures of her fantastical decorations because my husband and I have decided that it wouldn’t be prudent to travel. We haven’t put up a tree at our house. However, we’ve decorated the larger houseplants with lights and hung the kids’ stockings.

As I was looking for something to post on my blog, I came across the description of this melancholy Christmas from 1914, found in My War Diary, by Mary King Waddington.

Mary was born in New York City in 1833 and later moved with her family to France. There, she became the second wife of William Henry Waddington. William later served as the Prime Minister of France in 1879 and then as the French Ambassador to the United Kingdom. Mary wrote several books about her experiences as a French statesman’s wife.

In My War Diary, which takes place after her husband’s death, she chronicles her experiences in France during WWI. During the time of the excerpt below, she is living with her daughter-in-law, Charlotte, in Paris, while her son Francis is away at war.

December 24th.

Charlotte and I went out this morning to do a little, very little shopping. She won’t have a Christmas tree, which the boys quite understand. “War times” explains everything. But they have their crèche as usual, as all the animals and rois mages are there; and hung up their stockings–one for father, and we will send him a Christmas paquet, with a plum-pudding.

Christmas Day.

Our dinner was as cheerful as it could be under the circumstances.

We had a small tree in the middle of the table, just to mark the day. We tried not to miss Francis too awfully; choked a little when we drank to our men at the front. I wonder what next Christmas will bring us, and how many places will be empty at the Christmas dinner. But we mustn’t look forward, only be thankful that after five months of war none of our men are touched.

December 29th.

The days are so exactly alike. Time slips by without our realising how fast it goes.

I am writing late, just to see the old year out. The street is perfectly quiet and dark. No balls, no réveillons. This tragic year finishes in darkness and silence. Certainly, if Paris had become too frivolous and pleasure-loving, she is expiating it now. The people themselves are so changed. They are not sad; that isn’t the word, but serious, engrossed with the men in the ranks and the women and children left behind them.

Paris is caring well for all her children. There are ouvroirs and free meals (very good) everywhere.

Dans un hôpital du Nord de la France, le décor de Christmas (Noël). 1914.

March 27, 2020March 27, 2020

A Daring Plan For Freedom

I’m excerpting from a very special book today. You may recognize the story as you read along. I won’t display the book’s title and authors until the end of the post.

MY wife and myself were born in different towns in the state of Georgia, which is one of the principal slave States. It is true, our condition as slaves was not by any means the worst; but the mere idea that we were held as chattels, and deprived of all legal rights—the thought that we had to give up our hard earnings to a tyrant, to enable him to live in idleness and luxury—the thought that we could not call the bones and sinews that God gave us our own: but above all, the fact that another man had the power to tear from our cradle the new-born babe and sell it in the shambles like a brute, and then scourge us if we dared to lift a finger to save it from such a fate, haunted us for years.

My wife’s first master was her father, and her mother his slave, and the latter is still the slave of his widow.

Notwithstanding my wife being of African extraction on her mother’s side, she is almost white— in fact, she is so nearly so that the tyrannical old lady to whom she first belonged became so annoyed, at finding her frequently mistaken for a child of the family, that she gave her when eleven years of age to a daughter, as a wedding present. This separated my wife from her mother, and also from several other dear friends. But the incessant cruelty of her old mistress made the change of owners or treatment so desirable, that she did not grumble much at this cruel separation.

Eyre Crowe – Slaves Waiting for Sale – Richmond, Virginia.

My old master had the reputation of being a very humane and Christian man, but he thought nothing of selling my poor old father, and dear aged mother, at separate times, to different persons, to be dragged off never to behold each other again, till summoned to appear before the great tribunal of heaven. But, oh! what a happy meeting it will be on that day for those faithful souls. I say a happy meeting, because I never saw persons more devoted to the service of God than they. But how will the case stand with those reckless traffickers in human flesh and blood, who plunged the poisonous dagger of separation into those loving hearts which God had for so many years closely joined together—nay, sealed as it were with his own hands for the eternal courts of heaven? It is not for me to say what will become of those heartless tyrants. I must leave them in the hands of an all-wise and just God, who will, in his own good time, and in his own way, avenge the wrongs of his oppressed people.

My old master also sold a dear brother and a sister, in the same manner as he did my father and mother. The reason he assigned for disposing of my parents, as well as of several other aged slaves, was, that “they were getting old, and would soon become valueless in the market, and therefore he intended to sell off all the old stock, and buy in a young lot.” A most disgraceful conclusion for a man to come to, who made such great professions of religion!

This shameful conduct gave me a thorough hatred, not for true Christianity, but for slave-holding piety.

My old master, then, wishing to make the most of the rest of his slaves, apprenticed a brother and myself out to learn trades: he to a blacksmith, and myself to a cabinet-maker. If a slave has a good trade, he will let or sell for more than a person without one, and many slave-holders have their slaves taught trades on this account. But before our time expired, my old master wanted money; so he sold my brother, and then mortgaged my sister, a dear girl about fourteen years of age, and myself, then about sixteen, to one of the banks, to get money to speculate in cotton. This we knew nothing of at the moment; but time rolled on, the money became due, my master was unable to meet his payments; so the bank had us placed upon the auction stand and sold to the highest bidder.

My poor sister was sold first: she was knocked down to a planter who resided at some distance in the country. Then I was called upon the stand. While the auctioneer was crying the bids, I saw the man that had purchased my sister getting her into a cart, to take her to his home. I at once asked a slave friend who was standing near the platform, to run and ask the gentleman if he would please to wait till I was sold, in order that I might have an opportunity of bidding her good-bye. He sent me word back that he had some distance to go, and could not wait.

I then turned to the auctioneer, fell upon my knees, and humbly prayed him to let me just step down and bid my last sister farewell. But, instead of granting me this request, he grasped me by the neck, and in a commanding tone of voice, and with a violent oath, exclaimed, “Get up! You can do the wench no good; therefore there is no use in your seeing her.”

On rising, I saw the cart in which she sat moving slowly off; and, as she clasped her hands with a grasp that indicated despair, and looked pitifully round towards me, I also saw the large silent tears trickling down her cheeks. She made a farewell bow, and buried her face in her lap.

***

My wife was torn from her mother’s embrace in childhood, and taken to a distant part of the country. She had seen so many other children separated from their parents in this cruel manner, that the mere thought of her ever becoming the mother of a child, to linger out a miserable existence under the wretched system of American slavery, appeared to fill her very soul with horror; and as she had taken what I felt to be an important view of her condition, I did not, at first, press the marriage, but agreed to assist her in trying to devise some plan by which we might escape from our unhappy condition, and then be married.

We thought of plan after plan, but they all seemed crowded with insurmountable difficulties. We knew it was unlawful for any public conveyance to take us as passengers, without our master’s consent. We were also perfectly aware of the startling fact, that had we left without this consent the professional slave-hunters would have soon had their ferocious bloodhounds baying on our track, and in a short time we should have been dragged back to slavery, not to fill the more favourable situations which we had just left, but to be separated for life, and put to the very meanest and most laborious drudgery; or else have been tortured to death as examples, in order to strike terror into the hearts of others, and thereby prevent them from even attempting to escape from their cruel taskmasters. It is a fact worthy of remark, that nothing seems to give the slaveholders so much pleasure as the catching and torturing of fugitives. They had much rather take the keen and poisonous lash, and with it cut their poor trembling victims to atoms, than allow one of them to escape to a free country, and expose the infamous system from which he fled.

The greatest excitement prevails at a slave-hunt. The slaveholders and their hired ruffians appear to take more pleasure in this inhuman pursuit than English sportsmen do in chasing a fox or a stag. Therefore, knowing what we should have been compelled to suffer, if caught and taken back, we were more than anxious to hit upon a plan that would lead us safely to a land of liberty.

But, after puzzling our brains for years, we were reluctantly driven to the sad conclusion, that it was almost impossible to escape from slavery in Georgia, and travel 1,000 miles across the slave States. We therefore resolved to get the consent of our owners, be married, settle down in slavery, and endeavour to make ourselves as comfortable as possible under that system; but at the same time ever to keep our dim eyes steadily fixed upon the glimmering hope of liberty, and earnestly pray God mercifully to assist us to escape from our unjust thraldom.

We were married, and prayed and toiled on till December, 1848, at which time (as I have stated) a plan suggested itself…

***

Knowing that slaveholders have the privilege of taking their slaves to any part of the country they think proper, it occurred to me that, as my wife was nearly white, I might get her to disguise herself as an invalid gentleman, and assume to be my master, while I could attend as his slave, and that in this manner we might effect our escape.

After I thought of the plan, I suggested it to my wife, but at first she shrank from the idea. She thought it was almost impossible for her to assume that disguise, and travel a distance of 1,000 miles across the slave States. However, on the other hand, she also thought of her condition. She saw that the laws under which we lived did not recognize her to be a woman, but a mere chattel, to be bought and sold, or otherwise dealt with as her owner might see fit. Therefore the more she contemplated her helpless condition, the more anxious she was to escape from it. So she said, “I think it is almost too much for us to undertake; however, I feel that God is on our side, and with his assistance, notwithstanding all the difficulties, we shall be able to succeed. Therefore, if you will purchase the disguise, I will try to carry out the plan.”

But after I concluded to purchase the disguise, I was afraid to go to anyone to ask him to sell me the articles. It is unlawful in Georgia for a white man to trade with slaves without the master’s consent. But, notwithstanding this, many persons will sell a slave any article that he can get the money to buy. Not that they sympathize with the slave, but merely because his testimony is not admitted in court against a free white person.

Therefore, with little difficulty I went to different parts of the town, at odd times, and purchased things piece by piece, (except the trowsers which she found necessary to make,) and took them home to the house where my wife resided. She being a ladies’ maid, and a favourite slave in the family, was allowed a little room to herself; and amongst other pieces of furniture which I had made in my overtime, was a chest of drawers; so when I took the articles home, she locked them up carefully in these drawers. No one about the premises knew that she had anything of the kind. So when we fancied we had everything ready the time was fixed for the flight. But we knew it would not do to start off without first getting our master’s consent to be away for a few days. Had we left without this, they would soon have had us back into slavery, and probably we should never have got another fair opportunity of even attempting to escape.

Some of the best slaveholders will sometimes give their favourite slaves a few days’ holiday at Christmas time; so, after no little amount of perseverance on my wife’s part, she obtained a pass from her mistress, allowing her to be away for a few days. The cabinet-maker with whom I worked gave me a similar paper, but said that he needed my services very much, and wished me to return as soon as the time granted was up.

However, at first, we were highly delighted at the idea of having gained permission to be absent for a few days; but when the thought flashed across my wife’s mind, that it was customary for travellers to register their names in the visitors’ book at hotels, as well as in the clearance or Custom-house book at Charleston, South Carolina —it made our spirits droop within us.

So, while sitting in our little room upon the verge of despair, all at once my wife raised her head, and with a smile upon her face, which was a moment before bathed in tears, said, “I think I have it!” I asked what it was. She said, “I think I can make a poultice and bind up my right hand in a sling, and with propriety ask the officers to register my name for me.” I thought that would do.

It then occurred to her that the smoothness of her face might betray her; so she decided to make another poultice, and put it in a white handkerchief to be worn under the chin, up the cheeks, and to tie over the head. This nearly hid the expression of the countenance, as well as the beardless chin.

The poultice is left off in the engraving, because the likeness could not have been taken well with it on.

My wife, knowing that she would be thrown a good deal into the company of gentlemen, fancied that she could get on better if she had something to go over the eyes; so I went to a shop and bought a pair of green spectacles. This was in the evening.

We sat up all night discussing the plan, and making preparations. Just before the time arrived, in the morning, for us to leave, I cut off my wife’s hair square at the back of the head, and got her to dress in the disguise and stand out on the floor. I found that she made a most respectable looking gentleman.

My wife had no ambition whatever to assume this disguise, and would not have done so had it been possible to have obtained our liberty by more simple means; but we knew it was not customary in the South for ladies to travel with male servants; and therefore, notwithstanding my wife’s fair complexion, it would have been a very difficult task for her to have come off as a free white lady, with me as her slave; in fact, her not being able to write would have made this quite impossible. We knew that no public conveyance would take us, or any other slave, as a passenger, without our master’s consent. This consent could never be obtained to pass into a free State. My wife’s being muffled in the poultices, &c., furnished a plausible excuse for avoiding general conversation, of which most Yankee travellers are passionately fond.

*Henry Ossawa Tanner* – The Good Shepherd

When the time had arrived for us to start, we blew out the lights, knelt down, and prayed to our Heavenly Father mercifully to assist us, as he did his people of old, to escape from cruel bondage; and we shall ever feel that God heard and answered our prayer. Had we not been sustained by a kind, and I sometimes think special, providence, we could never have overcome the mountainous difficulties…

Read more about William and Ellen Craft’s courageous journey to freedom, which took them all the way to England, in their book.

See more images of Ellen and William Craft:
Picture of William Craft in a locket
William and Ellen Smith Craft Photo Album. There are two photographs of Ellen Craft in this album, but you must thumb through the pages to find them. Click on the image of the album cover to open the album in a reader.

October 13, 2017October 14, 2017

The Day of the Child – 1909

Last week I decided that I needed an organizer to help my poor addled mind. Rather than purchase one, I fired up Photoshop and created some custom pages based on my own needs. Of course, I couldn’t be satisfied with just words and lines, so I went hunting in Google Books for some pretty illustrations. I came across a volume of The Delineator, published in 1909. Amid all the lovely fashion images, I found this little article on the British Children Act of 1908.

I’m adding images of children up for adoption in 1909. The Delineator helped place children each month. Their stories are heartbreaking.

~ The Day of the Child

IT HAS come at last. While we have been pondering, in this country, the evils which affect child life, our mother, the ever aggressive England, has taken the great forward step. While here one devoted band of enthusiasts has been fighting for child-labor restrictions, and another for Child Hygiene and a third for Child Rescue, our great mother nation across the sea has been formulating and has now passed a drastic act, revolutionary in its provisions, which must bring joy and heartfelt relief to all those who have long since realized the import of proper legislation in regard to the child. To quote the newspaper reports of this great forward step:

“It provides for the stricter prevention of cruelty to children and the better safeguarding of infant life, institutes children’s courts, arranges for the segregation of juvenile offenders and undertakes a wider parental control of the morals of children.”

Pawnbrokers may not accept articles in pawn from children under fourteen years of age. Innkeepers may not allow them in their barrooms. Tobacconists may not sell cigarettes to boys apparently under sixteen, and constables must confiscate cigarettes or tobacco in their possession.

“A mother may not leave a child under seven in a room where there is an open fire. Every child put out to nurse for more than forty-eight hours must be registered, and foster-parents may not insure the lives of children in their care. Severe penalties are imposed for the ill-treatment or exposure of children. The suffocation of a child of less than three years as the result of “overlying by a person under the influence of drink is cause for prosecution. It is a punishable offense to permit a child to beg, or to live in evil surroundings. No liquor may be given to a child under five except in extraordinary circumstances. A vagrant may be punished for permitting a child to wander about with him.”

Isn’t that comforting?

And, what is more: “Persons under sixteen must be tried in special juvenile courts from which the public is excluded. After January first next a child may not be sentenced to death or to penal servitude or committed to prison in default of the payment of a fine or damages. Special ‘places of detention are instituted for young offenders, where they will be free from association with adult criminals, and reformatories and industrial schools are provided.”

Much along this line has already been done in the United States, but surely here for the first time is the children’s charter, and this is truly the day of the child. While we in this country have been fighting to arouse the American sense to the fact that there is a problem which concerns the child, England has solved it. She has blazed the way. We will come along some day with a “Children’s Secretary,” there will be a “bureau” to gather data concerning the child. We will have uniform State child-labor laws and child-hygiene laws and child-rescue laws, and when we do we will have great cause for rejoicing. But meanwhile England has preceded us, and in the matter of sound forward legislation on this all-important topic we are only beginning. England has given us the Magna Charta of the Child.

May 22, 2016April 8, 2021

Regency Era Wife Selling

I found this little bit of atrocity searching Google Books using the keyword “pastimes.” I had hoped to find some genteel crafts that ladies did to while away their evenings, maybe some embroidery or paper craft. No such luck.

The following is excerpted from Popular Pastimes, Being A Selection Of Picturesque Representations Of The Customs & Amusements Of Great Britain published in 1816.

AMONG the customs unknown to the law in this country, though by the illiterate and vulgar supposed to be of legal validity and assurance, is that of SELLING a WIFE, like a brute animal, in a common market-place. At what period this practice had origin we have not discovered, but it has unquestionably been in existence for a long series of years; and many instances might be given of the extensive spread of this licentious custom in more modern times. From newspapers of different dates, now before us, the three following cases are selected, in order to shew that the metropolis does not alone participate in the disgrace which springs from the legislative tolerance of this irreligious and indecent custom ; but that other parts of England are equally involved in the shame of such a scandalous profligacy. It merits, indeed, the greater reprehension, from the foul stigma which it fixes on our national character; and though the magistracy may not, at present, be armed with sufficient powers to put a stop to a practice so highly censurable (though we doubt the assumption ; for whatever is contrary to good morals, is assuredly amenable to the law) ; the Parliament should immediately interfere, and prevent its longer continuance by the infliction of punishment.

Under the date of June the 12th, 1797, we read thus : ‘“ At the close of Smithfield-market on Monday, a man who keeps a public house in the neighbourhood of Lisson-green, brought his Wife, to whom he had been married about two months, for sale into the market; where having by means of a rope, made her fast to the railing opposite St. Bartholemew’s coffee-house, she was exposed to the view of hundreds of spectators for near a quarter of an hour, and at length sold, for half a guinea, to a dealer in flowers, at Paddington. He is to receive with the woman, from her original owner, twenty pounds in bad halfpence.” The second instance was on the 11th of March, 1808, when “ a private individual led his Wife to Sheffield market, by a cord tied round her waist, and publicly announced that he wanted to sell his cow. On this occasion, a butcher who officiated as auctioneer, and knocked down the lot for a guinea, declared that he had not brought a cow to a better market for many years.” The last of the three instances occurred on the 27th of March, 1808, when “ a man publicly sold his Wife to a fisherman, in the market at Brighton, for twenty shillings and a blunderbuss.”