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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16126-8.txt b/16126-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7532862 --- /dev/null +++ b/16126-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12377 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, English Satires, by Various, et al, Edited by +William Henry Oliphant Smeaton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: English Satires + + +Author: Various + +Editor: William Henry Oliphant Smeaton + +Release Date: June 24, 2005 [eBook #16126] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH SATIRES*** + + +E-text prepared by Lynn Bornath and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +ENGLISH SATIRES + +With an Introduction by + +OLIPHANT SMEATON + +London +The Gresham Publishing Company +34 Southampton Street +Strand + + + + + + + +TO THE MEMORY OF + +ALEXANDER BALLOCH GROSART +D.D., LL.D., F.S.A. + + +WITH A GRATEFUL SENSE OF ALL IT OWES TO HIS TEACHING +THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR + + + + +PREFACE. + + +In the compilation of this volume my aim has been to furnish a work +that would be representative in character rather than exhaustive. The +restrictions of space imposed by the limits of such a series as this +have necessitated the omission of many pieces that readers might expect +to see included. As far as possible, however, the most typical satires +of the successive eras have been selected, so as to throw into relief +the special literary characteristics of each, and to manifest the trend +of satiric development during the centuries elapsing between Langland +and Lowell. + +Acknowledgment is due, and is gratefully rendered, to Mrs. C.S. +Calverley for permission to print the verses which close this book; and +to Messrs. Macmillan & Co. for permission to print A.H. Clough's +"Spectator ab Extra". + +To Professor C.H. Herford my warmest thanks are due for his careful +revision of the Introduction, and for many valuable hints which have +been adopted in the course of the work; also to Mr. W. Keith Leask, +M.A.(Oxon.), and the librarians of the Edinburgh University and +Advocates' Libraries. + +OLIPHANT SMEATON. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + Page +INTRODUCTION xiii + +WILLIAM LANGLAND + I. Pilgrimage in Search of Do-well 1 + +GEOFFREY CHAUCER +II. III. The Monk and the Friar 6 + +JOHN LYDGATE + IV. The London Lackpenny 10 + +WILLIAM DUNBAR + V. The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins 14 + +SIR DAVID LYNDSAY + VI. Satire on the Syde Taillis--Ane Supplicatioun + directit to the Kingis Grace--1538 19 + +BISHOP JOSEPH HALL + VII. On Simony 22 + VIII. The Domestic Tutor's Position 23 + IX. The Impecunious Fop 24 + +GEORGE CHAPMAN + X. An Invective written by Mr. George Chapman + against Mr. Ben Jonson 26 + +JOHN DONNE + XI. The Character of the Bore 29 + +BEN JONSON + XII. The New Cry 34 + XIII. On Don Surly 35 + +SAMUEL BUTLER + XIV. The Character of Hudibras 36 + XV. The Character of a Small Poet 43 + +ANDREW MARVELL + XVI. Nostradamus's Prophecy 45 + +JOHN CLEIVELAND + XVII. The Scots Apostasie 47 + +JOHN DRYDEN + XVIII. Satire on the Dutch 49 + XIX. MacFlecknoe 50 + XX. Epistle to the Whigs 57 + +DANIEL DEFOE + XXI. Introduction to the True born Englishman 63 + +THE EARL OF DORSET + XXII. Satire on a Conceited Playwright 65 + +JOHN ARBUTHNOT + XXIII. Preface to John Bull and his Law suit 66 + XXIV. The History of John Bull 70 + XXV. Epitaph upon Colonel Chartres 76 + +JONATHAN SWIFT + XXVI. Mrs Frances Harris' Petition 77 + XXVII. Elegy on Partridge 81 + XXVIII. A Meditation upon a Broom stick 85 + XXIX. The Relations of Booksellers and Authors 86 + XXX. The Epistle Dedicatory to His Royal Highness + Prince Posterity 91 + +SIR RICHARD STEELE + XXXI. The Commonwealth of Lunatics 97 + +JOSEPH ADDISON + XXXII. Sir Roger de Coverley's Sunday 101 + +EDWARD YOUNG + XXXIII. To the Right Hon. Mr. Dodington 105 + +JOHN GAY + XXXIV. The Quidnunckis 112 + +ALEXANDER POPE + XXXV. The Dunciad--The Description of Dulness 114 + XXXVI. Sandys' Ghost; or, a proper new ballad of + the New Ovid's Metamorphoses, as it was + intended to be translated by persons of + quality 120 + XXXVII. Satire on the Whig Poets 122 +XXXVIII. Epilogue to the Satires 131 + +SAMUEL JOHNSON + XXXIX. The Vanity of Human Wishes 136 + XL. Letter to the Earl of Chesterfield 147 + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + XLI. The Retaliation 149 + XLII. The Logicians Refuted 154 + XLIII. Beau Tibbs, his Character and Family 156 + +CHARLES CHURCHILL + XLIV. The Journey 160 + +JUNIUS + XLV. To the King 164 + +ROBERT BURNS + XLVI. Address to the Unco Guid, or the Rigidly + Righteous 180 + XLVII. Holy Willie's Prayer 182 + +CHARLES LAMB + XLVIII. A Farewell to Tobacco 186 + +THOMAS MOORE + XLIX. Lines on Leigh Hunt 191 + +GEORGE CANNING + L. Epistle from Lord Boringdon to Lord Granville 192 + LI. Reformation of the Knave of Hearts 194 + +POETRY OF THE ANTI JACOBIN + LII. The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-grinder 203 + LIII. Song by Rogero the Captive 205 + +COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY + LIV. The Devil's Walk 206 + +SYDNEY SMITH + LV. The Letters of Peter Plymley--on "No + Popery" 208 + +JAMES SMITH + LVI. The Poet of Fashion 216 + +WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR + LVII. Bossuet and the Duchess of Fontanges 218 + +LORD BYRON + LVIII. The Vision of Judgment 226 + LIX. The Waltz 236 + LX. "The Dedication" in Don Juan 243 + +THOMAS HOOD + LXI. Cockle _v._ Cackle 249 + +LORD MACAULAY + LXII. The Country Clergyman's Trip to Cambridge 253 + +WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED + LXIII. The Red Fisherman; or, The Devil's Decoy 257 + LXIV. Mad--Quite Mad 264 + +BENJAMIN DISRAELI (LORD BEACONSFIELD) + LXV. Popanilla on Man 270 + +ROBERT BROWNING + LXVI. Cristina 277 + LXVII. The Lost Leader 280 + +WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY + LXVIII. Piscator and Piscatrix 281 + LXIX. On a Hundred Years Hence 283 + +ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH + LXX. Spectator Ab Extra 292 + +C.S. CALVERLEY + LXXI. "Hic Vir, Hic Est" 296 + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +Satire and the satirist have been in evidence in well-nigh all ages of +the world's history. The chief instruments of the satirist's equipment +are irony, sarcasm, invective, wit, and humour. The satiric +denunciation of a writer burning with indignation at some social wrong +or abuse, is capable of reaching the very highest level of literature. +The writings of a satirist of this type, and to some extent of every +satirist who touches on the social aspects of life, present a picture +more or less vivid, though not of course complete and impartial, of the +age to which he belongs, of the men, their manners, fashions, tastes, +and prevalent opinions. Thus they have a historical as well as a +literary and an ethical value. And Thackeray, in speaking of the office +of the humorist or satirist, for to him they were one, says, "He +professes to awaken and direct your love, your pity, your kindness, +your scorn for untruth, pretension, imposture, your tenderness for the +weak, the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy. To the best of his means +and ability he comments on all the ordinary actions and passions of +life almost."[1] + +Satire has, in consequence, always ranked as one of the cardinal +divisions of literature. Its position as such, however, is due rather +to the fact of it having been so regarded among the Romans, than from +its own intrinsic importance among us to-day. Until the closing decades +of the eighteenth century--so long, in fact, as the classics were +esteemed of paramount authority as models--satire proper was accorded a +definite place in letters, and was distinctively cultivated by men of +genius as a branch of literature. But with the rise of the true +_national_ spirit in the various literatures of Europe, and notably in +that of England, satire has gradually given place to other types of +composition. Slowly but surely it has been edged out of its prominent +position as a separate department, and has been relegated to the +position of a _quality of style_, important, beyond doubt, yet no +longer to be considered as a prime division of letters.[2] + +Rome rather than Greece must be esteemed the home of ancient satire. +Quintilian, indeed, claims it altogether for his countrymen in the +words, _Satira tota nostra est_; while Horace styles it _Græcis +intactum carmen_. But this claim must be accepted with many +reservations. It does not imply that we do not discover the existence +of satire, together with favourable examples of it, long anterior to +the oldest extant works in either Grecian or Latin literature. The use +of what are called "personalities" in everyday speech was the probable +origin of satire. Conversely, also, satire, in the majority of those +earlier types current at various periods in the history of literature, +has shown an inclination to be personal in its character. De Quincey, +accordingly, has argued that the more personal it became in its +allusions, the more it fulfilled its specific function. But such a view +is based on the supposition that satire has no other mission than to +lash the vices of our neighbours, without recalling the fact that the +satirist has a reformative as well as a punitive duty to discharge. The +further we revert into the "deep backward and abysm of time" towards +the early history of the world, the more pronounced and overt is this +indulgence in broad personal invective and sarcastic strictures. + +The earliest cultivators of the art were probably the men with a +grievance, or, as Dr. Garnett says, "the carpers and fault-finders of +the clan". Their first attempts were, as has been conjectured, merely +personal lampoons against those they disliked or differed from, and +were perhaps of a type cognate with the Homeric _Margites_. Homer's +character of Thersites is mayhap a lifelike portrait of some +contemporary satirist who made himself dreaded by his personalities. +But even in Thersites we see the germs of transition from merely +personal invective to satire directed against a class; and Greek +satire, though on the whole more personal than Roman, achieved +brilliant results. It is enough to name Archilochus, whom Mahaffy terms +the Swift of Greek Literature, Simonides of Amorgos (circ. 660 B.C.), +the author of the famous _Satire on Women_, and Hipponax of Ephesus, +reputed the inventor of the Scazon or halting iambic. + +But the lasting significance of Greek satire is mainly derived from +its surpassing distinction in two domains--in the comico-satiric drama +of Aristophanes, and in the _Beast Fables_ of 'Æsop'. In later Greek +literature it lost its robustness and became trivial and effeminate +through expending itself on unworthy objects. + +It is amongst the Romans, with their deeper ethical convictions and +more powerful social sense, that we must look for the true home of +ancient satire. The germ of Roman satire is undoubtedly to be found in +the rude Fescennine verses, the rough and licentious jests and +buffoonery of the harvest-home and the vintage thrown into +quasi-lyrical form. These songs gradually developed a concomitant form +of dialogue styled saturæ, a term denoting "miscellany", and derived +perhaps from the _Satura lanx_, a charger filled with the first-fruits +of the year's produce, which was offered to Bacchus and Ceres.[3] In +Ennius, the "father of Roman satire", and Varro, the word still +retained this old Roman sense. + +Lucilius was the first Roman writer who made "censorious criticism" the +prevailing tone of satire, and his work, the parent of the satire of +Horace, of Persius, of Juvenal, and through that of the poetical satire +of modern times, was the principal agent in fixing its present +polemical and urban associations upon a term originally steeped in the +savour of rustic revelry. In the hands of Horace, Roman satire was to +be moulded into a new type that was not only to be a thing of beauty, +but, as far as one can yet see, to remain a joy for ever. The great +Venusian, as he informs us, set before himself the task of adapting the +satire of Lucilius to the special circumstances, the manners, the +literary modes and tastes of the Augustan age. Horace's Satires conform +to Addison's great rule, which he lays down in the _Spectator_, that +the satire which only seeks to wound is as dangerous as arrows that fly +in the dark. There is always an ethical undercurrent running beneath +the polished raillery and the good-natured satire. His genial +_bonhomie_ prevents him from ever becoming ill-natured in his +animadversions. + +Of those manifold, kaleidoscopically-varied types of human nature which +in the Augustan age flocked to Rome as the centre of the known world, +he was a keen and a close observer. Jealously he noted the +deteriorating influence these foreign elements were exercising on the +grand old Roman character, and some of the bitterest home-thrusts he +ever delivered were directed against this alien invasion.[4] In those +brilliant pictures wherewith his satires are replete, Horace finds a +place for all. Sometimes he criticises as a far-off observer, gazing +with a sort of cynical amusement at this human raree-show; at others he +speaks as though he himself were in the very midst of the bustling +frivolity of the Roman Vanity Fair, and a sufferer from its follies. +Then his tone seems to deepen into a grave intensity of remonstrance, +as he exposes its hollowness, its heartlessness, and its blindness to +the absorbing problems of existence. + +After the death of Horace (B.C. 8) no names of note occur in the +domain of satire until we reach that famous trio, contemporary with one +another, who adorned the concluding half of the first century of our +era, viz.:--Juvenal, Persius, and Martial. They are severally +representative of distinct modes or types of satire. Juvenal +illustrates rhetorical or tragic satire, of which he is at once the +inventor and the most distinguished master--that form of composition, +in other words, which attacks vice, wrongs, or abuses in a high-pitched +strain of impassioned, declamatory eloquence. In this type of satire, +evil is designedly painted in exaggerated colours, that disgust may +more readily be aroused by the loathsomeness of the picture. As a +natural consequence, sobriety, moderation, and truth to nature no +longer are esteemed so indispensable. In this style Juvenal has had +many imitators, but no superiors. His satires represent the final +development the form underwent in achieving the definite purpose of +exposing and chastising in a systematic manner the entire catalogue of +vices, public and private, which were assailing the welfare of the +state. They constitute luridly powerful pictures of a debased and +shamelessly corrupt condition of society. Keen contemptuous ridicule, a +sardonic irony that held nothing in reverence, a caustic sarcasm that +burned like an acid, and a vituperative invective that ransacked the +language for phrases of opprobrium--these were the agents enlisted by +Juvenal into the service of purging society of its evil. + +Persius, on the other hand, was the philosophic satirist, whose +devotion to Stoicism caused him to see in it a panacea for all the +evils which Nero brought on the empire. The shortness of his life, his +studious tastes, and his exceptional moral purity all contributed to +keep him ignorant of that world of evil which, as Professor Sellar has +pithily remarked, it is the business of the satirist to know. Hence he +is purely a philosophic or didactic satirist. Only one of his poems, +the first, fulfils the special end of satire by representing any phase +whatever of the life of his time, and pointing its moral. + +Finally, Martial exchanged the epic tirade for the epigram as the +vehicle of his satire, and handled this lighter missile with +unsurpassed brilliance and _verve_. Despite his sycophancy and his +fulsome flattery of prospective benefactors, he displays more of the +sober moderation and sane common-sense of Horace than either of his +contemporaries. There are few better satirists of social and literary +pretenders either in ancient or modern times. No ancient has more +vividly painted the manners of antiquity. If Juvenal enforces the +lesson of that time, and has penetrated more deeply into the heart of +society, Martial has sketched its external aspect with a much fairer +pencil, and from a much more intimate contact with it. + +In the first and second centuries of our era two other forms of satire +took their rise, viz.:--the Milesian or "Satiric Tale" of Petronius and +Apuleius, and the "Satiric Dialogue" of Lucian. Both are admirable +pictures of their respective periods. The _Tales_ of the two first are +conceived with great force of imagination, and executed with a happy +blending of humour, wit, and cynical irony that suggests Gil Blas or +Barry Lyndon. _The Supper of Trimalchio_, by Petronius, reproduces with +unsparing hand the gluttony and the blatant vice of the Neronic epoch. +_The Golden Ass_ of Apuleius is a clever sketch of contemporary manners +in the second century, painting in vivid colours the reaction that had +set in against scepticism, and the general appetite that prevailed for +miracles and magic. + +Finally, ancient satire may be said to close with the famous +_Dialogues_ of Lucian, which, although written in Greek, exhibited all +the best features of Roman satire. Certainly the ethical purpose and +the reformative element are rather implied than insistently expressed +in Lucian; but he affords in his satiric sketches a capital glimpse of +the ludicrous perplexity into which the pagan mind was plunged when it +had lost faith in its mythology, and when a callous indifference +towards the Pantheon left the Roman world literally without a rational +creed. As a satire on the old Hellenic religion nothing could be racier +than _The Dialogues of the Gods_ and _The Dialogues of the Dead_. + +It is impossible in this brief survey to discuss at large the vast +chaotic epoch in the history of satire which lies between the end of +the ancient world and the dawn of humanism. For satire, as a literary +genre, belongs to these two. The mediæval world, inexhaustible in its +capacity and relish for abuse, full of rude laughter and drastic +humour--prompt, for all its superstition, to make a jest of the priest, +and, for all its chivalry, to catalogue the foibles of women--had the +satirical animus in abundance, and satirical songs, visions, fables, +fabliaux, ballads, epics, in legion, but no definite and recognised +school of satire. It is sufficient to name, as examples of the +extraordinary range of the mediæval satiric genius, the farce of +_Pathelin_, the beast-epic of _Renart_, the rhymes of Walter Map, and +the _Inferno_ of Dante. + +Of these satirists before the rise of "satire", mediæval England +produced two great examples in Chaucer and Langland. They typify at the +outset the two classes into which Dryden divided English satirists--the +followers of Horace's way and the followers of Juvenal's--the men of +the world, who assail the enemies of common-sense with the weapons of +humour and sarcasm; and the prophets, who assail vice and crime with +passionate indignation and invective scorn. Since Dryden's time neither +line has died out, and it is still possible, with all reserves, to +recognise the two strains through the whole course of English +literature: the one represented in Chaucer, Donne, Marvell, Addison, +Arbuthnot, Swift, Young, Goldsmith, Canning, Thackeray, and Tennyson; +the others in Langland, Skelton, Lyndsay, Nash, Marston, Dryden, Pope, +Churchill, Johnson, Junius, Burns, and Browning. + +Langland was a naïve mediæval Juvenal. The sad-visaged, world-weary +dreamer of the Malvern hills, sorrowing over the vice, the abuses, and +the social misery of his time, finding, as he tells us, no comfort in +any of the established institutions of his day, because confronted with +the fraud and falsehood that infected them all, is one of the most +pathetic figures in literature. As Skeat suggests, the object of his +great poem was to secure, through the latitude afforded by allegory, +opportunities of describing the life and manners of the poorer classes, +of inveighing against clerical abuses and the rapacity of the friars, +of representing the miseries caused by the great pestilences then +prevalent, and by the hasty and ill-advised marriages consequent +thereon; of denouncing lazy workmen and sham beggars, the corruption +and bribery then too common in the law-courts--in a word, to lash all +the numerous forms of falsehood, which are at all times the fit +subjects for satire and indignant exposure. Amid many essential +differences, is there not here a striking likeness to the work of the +Roman Juvenal? Langland's satire is not so fiery nor so rhetorically +intense as that of his prototype, but it is less profoundly despairing. +He satirizes evil rather by exposing it and contrasting it with good, +than by vehemently denouncing it. The colours of the pictures are +sombre, and the gloom is almost overwhelming, but still it is illumined +from time to time with the hope of coming amendment, when the great +reformer Piers the Plowman, by which is typified Christ,[5] should +appear, who was to remedy all abuses and restore the world to a right +condition. In this sustaining hope he differs from Juvenal, the +funereal gloom of whose satires is relieved by no gleam of hope for the +future. + +Contrast with this the humorous brightness, the laughter, and the light +of the surroundings associated with his great contemporary, Geoffrey +Chaucer. His very satire is kindly and quaint, like that of Horace, +rather than bitterly acidulous. He raps his age over the knuckles, it +is true, for its faults and foibles, but the censor's face wears a +genial smile. One of his chief attractions for us lies in his bright +objectivity. He never wears his heart on his sleeve like Langland. He +has touches of rare and profound pathos, but these notes of pain are +only like undertones of discord to throw the harmony into stronger +relief, only like little cloudlets momentarily flitting across the +golden sunshine of his humour. + +We read Chaucer, as we read Horace, from love of his piquant +Epicureanism, and the scintillating satire wherewith he enlivens those +matchless pictures of his epoch which he has handed down to us. +Chaucer, as Professor Minto puts it, wrote largely for the court +circle. His verses were first read in tapestried chambers, and to the +gracious ear of stately lords and ladies. It was because he wrote for +such an audience that he avoids the introduction of any discordant +element in the shape of the deeper and darker social problems of the +time. The same reticence occurs in Horace, writing as he did for the +ear of Augustus and Mæcenas, and of the fashionable circle thronging +the great palace of his patron on the Esquiline. Is not the historic +parallel between the two pairs of writers still further verified? +Chaucer wisely chose the epic form for his greatest poem, because he +could introduce thereinto so many distinct qualities of composition, +and the woof of racy humour as well as of sprightly satire which he +introduces with such consummate art into the texture of his verse is of +as fine a character as any in our literature. In Langland's great +allegory, the satire is earnest, grave and solemn, as though with a +sense of deep responsibility; that in Chaucer's _Canterbury +Tales_--nay, in all his poems--is genial, laughing, and good-natured; +tolerant, like Horace's of human weaknesses, because the author is so +keenly conscious of his own. + +Langland and Chaucer both died about the beginning of the fifteenth +century. But from that date until 1576--when Gascoigne's _Steel Glass_, +the first verse satire of the Elizabethan age, was published--we must +look mainly to Scotland and the poems of William Dunbar, Sir David +Lyndsay, and others, to preserve the apostolic succession of satire. +William Dunbar is one of the greatest of British satirists. His _Dance +of the Seven Deadly Sins_, in which the popular poetic form of the +age--allegory--is utilized with remarkable skill as the vehicle for a +scathing satire on the headlong sensuality of his time, produces by its +startling realism and terrible intensity an effect not unlike that +exercised by the overpowering creations of Salvator Rosa. The poem is a +bitter indictment of the utter corruption of all classes in the society +of his period. Like Juvenal, to whose school he belongs, he softens +nothing, tones down nothing. The evil is presented in all its native +hideousness. Lyndsay, on the other hand, would have been more vigorous +had he been less diffuse, and used the pruning-knife more unsparingly. +His finest satiric pictures often lose their point by verbosity and +tediousness. Brevity is the soul of satire as well as of wit. + +The most vigorous English satire of this entire period was that which +we owe to the scurrilous pen of Skelton and the provocative personality +of Wolsey. With his work may be mentioned the rude and unpolished, yet +vigorous, piece bearing the rhyming title, + + "Rede me and be nott wrothe, + For I saye no thing but trothe", + +written by two English Observantine Franciscan friars, William Roy and +Jerome Barlowe;[6] a satire which stung the great cardinal so sharply +that he commissioned Hermann Rynck to buy up every available copy. +Alexander Barclay's imitation, in his _Ship of Fools_, of Sebastian +Brandt's _Narrenschiff_, was only remarkable for the novel satirical +device of the plan. + +Bishop Latimer in his sermons is a vigorous satirist, particularly in +that discourse upon "The Ploughers" (1547). His fearlessness is very +conspicuous, and his attacks on the bishops who proved untrue to their +trust and allowed their dioceses to go to wreck and ruin, are outspoken +and trenchant: + + "They that be lords will ill go to plough. It is no meet office for + them. It is not seeming for their state. Thus came up lording + loiterers; Thus crept in unprechinge prelates, and so have they + long continued. For how many unlearned prelates have we now at this + day? And no marvel; For if the ploughmen that now be, were made + lordes, they would clean give over ploughing, they would leave of + theyr labour and fall to lording outright and let the plough + stand. For ever since the Prelates were made lords and nobles, the + plough standeth, there is no work done, the people starve. They + hawke, they hunte, they carde, they dyce, they pastime in their + prelacies with galaunt gentlemen, with their dauncing minions, and + with their freshe companions, so that ploughing is set aside."[7] + +But after Gascoigne's _Steel Glass_ was published, which professed to +hold a mirror or "steel glass" up to the vices of the age, we reach +that wonderful outburst of satiric, epigrammatic, and humorous +composition which was one of the characteristics, and certainly not the +least important, of the Elizabethan epoch. Lodge's _Fig for Momus_ +(1593) contains certain satires which rank with Gascoigne's work as the +earliest compositions of that type belonging to the period. That they +were of no mean reputation in their own day is evident from the +testimony of Meres,[8] who says, "As Horace, Lucilius, Juvenal, +Persius, and Lucullus are the best for satire among the Latins, so with +us, in the same faculty, these are chiefe, Piers Plowman, Lodge, Hall +of Emanuel College, Cambridge, the author of _Pygmalion's Image and +Certain Satires_[9] and the author of _Skialethea_". This contemporary +opinion regarding the fact that _The Vision of Piers Plowman_ was +esteemed a satire of outstanding merit in those days, is a curious +commentary on Hall's boastful couplet describing himself as the +earliest English satirist. + +To name all the writers who, in this fruitful epoch of our literature, +devoted themselves to this kind of composition would be impossible. +From 1598 until the death of James I. upwards of one hundred separate +satirists can be named, both in verse and prose. Of these Bishop Hall +is one of the greatest, and I have chosen him as the leading +representative of the period. To the study of Horace and Juvenal he had +devoted many years of his early manhood, and his imitation of these two +great Romans is close and consistent. Therefore, for vigour, grave +dignity, and incisiveness of thought, united to graphic pictures of his +age, Hall is undeniably the most important name in the history of the +Elizabethan satire, strictly so called. His exposures of the follies of +his age were largely couched in the form, so much affected by Horace, +of a familiar commentary on certain occurrences, addressed apparently +to an anonymous correspondent. + +Contemporary with Hall was Thomas Nash, whose _Pierce Penilesse's +Supplication to the Devil_ was one of the most extraordinary onslaughts +on the social vices of the metropolis that the period produced. Written +in close imitation of Juvenal's earlier satires, he frequently +approaches the standard of his master in graphic power of description, +in scathing invective, and ironical mockery. In _Have with you to +Saffron Walden_ he lashed Gabriel Harvey for his unworthy conduct +towards the memory of Robert Greene. Both satires are written in prose, +as indeed are nearly all his works, inasmuch as Nash was more of a +pamphleteer than anything else. Other contemporaries of Hall were +Thomas Dekker, whose fame as a dramatist has eclipsed his reputation +as a satirist, but whose _Bachelor's Banquet--pleasantly discoursing +the variable humours of Women, their quickness of wits and unsearchable +deceits_, is a sarcastic impeachment of the gentler sex, while his +_Gull's Hornbook_ must be ranked with Nash's work as one of the most +unsparing castigations of social life in London. The latter is a volume +of fictitious maxims for the use of youths desirous of being considered +"pretty fellows". Other contemporaries were John Donne, John Marston, +Jonson, George Chapman, and Nicholas Breton--all names of men who were +conspicuous inheritors of the true Elizabethan spirit, and who united +virility of thought to robustness and trenchancy of sarcasm. + +Marston and Breton were amongst the best of the group, though they are +not represented in these pages owing to the unsuitability of their +writings for extract. Here is a picture from one of the satires of +Marston which is instinct with satiric power. It is a portrait of a +love-sick swain, and runs as follows:-- + + "For when my ears received a fearful sound + That he was sick, I went, and there I found, + Him laid of love and newly brought to bed + Of monstrous folly, and a franticke head: + His chamber hanged about with elegies, + With sad complaints of his love's miseries, + His windows strow'd with sonnets and the glasse + Drawn full of love-knots. I approach'd the asse, + And straight he weepes, and sighes some Sonnet out + To his fair love! and then he goes about, + For to perfume her rare perfection, + With some sweet smelling pink epitheton. + Then with a melting looke he writhes his head, + And straight in passion, riseth in his bed, + And having kist his hand, strok'd up his haire, + Made a French _congé_, cryes 'O cruall Faire!' + To th' antique bed-post."[10] + +Marston manifests more vigour and nervous force in his satires than +Hall, but exhibits less elegance and ease in versification. In Charles +Fitz-geoffrey's _Affaniæ_, a set of Latin epigrams, printed at Oxford +in 1601, Marston is complimented as the "Second English Satirist", or +rather as dividing the palm of priority and excellence in English +satire with Hall. The individual characteristics of the various leading +Elizabethan satirists,--the vitriolic bitterness of Nash, the +sententious profundity of Donne, the happy-go-lucky "slogging" of +genial Dekker, the sledge-hammer blows of Jonson, the turgid +malevolence of Chapman, and the stiletto-like thrusts of George +Buchanan are worthy of closer and more detailed study than can be +devoted to them in a sketch such as this. I regret that Nicolas +Breton's _Pasquil's Madcappe_ proved too long for quotation in its +entirety,[11] but the man who could pen such lines as these was, of a +truth, a satirist of a high order:-- + + But what availes unto the world to talke? + Wealth is a witch that hath a wicked charme, + That in the minds of wicked men doth walke, + Unto the heart and Soule's eternal harme, + Which is not kept by the Almighty arme: + O,'tis the strongest instrument of ill + That ere was known to work the devill's will. + + An honest man is held a good poore soule, + And kindnesse counted but a weake conceite, + And love writte up but in the woodcocke's soule, + While thriving _Wat_ doth but on Wealth await: + He is a fore horse that goes ever streight: + And he but held a foole for all his Wit, + That guides his braines but with a golden bit. + + A virgin is a vertuous kind of creature, + But doth not coin command Virginitie? + And beautie hath a strange bewitching feature, + But gold reads so much world's divinitie, + As with the Heavens hath no affinitie: + So that where Beauty doth with vertue dwell, + If it want money, yet it will not sell. + +Of the satiric forms peculiar to the Elizabethan epoch there is no +great variety. The _Characters_ of Theophrastus supplied a model to +some of the writers. The close adherence also which the majority of +them manifest to the broadly marked types of "Horatian" and +"Juvenalian" satire, both in matter and manner, is not a little +remarkable. The genius for selecting from the classics those forms both +of composition and metre best suited to become vehicles for satire, and +adapting them thereto, did not begin to manifest itself in so +pronounced a manner until after the Restoration. The Elizabethan +mind--using the phrase of course in its broad sense as inclusive of the +Jacobean and the early Caroline epochs--was more engrossed with the +matter than the manner of satire. Perhaps the finest satire which +distinguished this wonderful era was the _Argenis_ of John Barclay, a +politico-satiric romance, or, in other words, the adaptation of the +"Milesian tale" of Petronius to state affairs. + +During the Parliamentary War, satire was the only species of +composition which did not suffer more or less eclipse, but its +character underwent change. It became to a large extent a medium for +sectarian bitterness. It lost its catholicity, and degenerated in great +measure into the instrument of partisan antagonism, and a means of +impaling the folly or fanaticism, real or imagined, of special +individuals among the Cavaliers and Roundheads.[12] Of such a character +was the bulk of the satires produced at that time. In a few instances, +however, a higher note was struck, as, for example, when "dignified +political satire", in the hands of Andrew Marvell, was utilized to +fight the battle of freedom of conscience in the matter of the +observances of external religion. _The Rehearsal Transposed, Mr. +Smirke, or the Divine in Mode, and his Political Satires_ are +masterpieces of lofty indignation mingled with grave and ironical +banter. Among many others Edmund Waller showed himself an apt disciple +of Horace, and produced charming social satires marked by delicate wit +and raillery in the true Horatian mode; while the Duke of Buckingham, +in the _Rehearsal_, utilized the dramatic parody to travesty the plays +of Dryden. Abraham Cowley, in the _Mistress_, also imitated Horace, and +in his play _Cutter of Coleman Street_ satirized the Puritans' +affectation of superior sanctity and their affected style of +conversation. Then came John Oldham and John Cleiveland, who both +accepted Juvenal as their model. Cleiveland's antipathy towards +Cromwell and the Scots was on a par with that of John Wilkes towards +the latter, and was just as unreasonable, while the language he +employed in his diatribes against both was so extravagant as to lose +its sarcastic point in mere vulgar abuse. In like manner Oldham's +_Satires on the Jesuits_ afford as disgraceful a specimen of sectarian +bigotry as the language contains. Only their pungency and wit render +them readable. He displays Juvenal's violence of invective without his +other redeeming qualities. All these, however, were entirely eclipsed +in reputation by a writer who made the mock-epic the medium through +which the bitterest onslaught on the anti-royalist party and its +principles was delivered by one who, as a "king's man", was almost as +extreme a bigot as those he satirized. The _Hudibras_ of Samuel Butler, +in its mingling of broad, almost extravagant, humour and sneering +mockery has no parallel in our literature. Butler's characters are +rather mere "humours" or _qualities_ than real personages. There is no +attempt made to observe the modesty of nature. _Hudibras_, therefore, +is an example not so much of satire, though satire is present in rich +measure also, as of burlesque. The poem is genuinely satirical only in +those parts where the author steps in as the chorus, so to speak, and +offers pithy moralizings on what is taking place in the action of the +story. There is visible throughout the poem, however, a lack of +restraint that causes him to overdo his part. Were _Hudibras_ shorter, +the satire would be more effective. Though in parts often as terse in +style as Pope's best work, still the poem is too long, and it undoes +the force of its attack on the Puritans by its exaggeration. + +All these writers, even Butler himself, simply prepared the way for the +man who is justly regarded as England's greatest satirist. The epoch of +John Dryden has been fittingly styled the "Golden Age of English +Satire".[13] To warrant this description, however, it must be held to +include the writers of the reign of Queen Anne. The Elizabethan period +was perhaps richer, numerically speaking, in representatives of certain +types of satirical composition, but the true perfection, the +efflorescence of the long-growing plant, was reached in that era which +extended from the publication of Dryden's _Absalom and Achitophel_ +(Part I.) in 1681 to the issue of Pope's _Dunciad_ in its final form in +1742. During these sixty years appeared the choicest of English +satires, to wit, all Dryden's finest pieces, the _Medal_, +_MacFlecknoe_, and _Absalom and Achitophel_, Swift's _Tale of a Tub_, +and his _Miscellanies_--among which his best metrical satires appeared; +all Defoe's work, too, as well as Steele's in the _Tatler_, and +Addison's in the _Spectator_, Arbuthnot's _History of John Bull_, +Churchill's _Rosciad_, and finally all Pope's poems, including the +famous "Prologue" as well as the "Epilogue" to the _Satires_. It is +curious to note how the satirical succession (if the phrase be +permitted) is maintained uninterruptedly from Bishop Hall down to the +death of Pope--nay, we may even say down to the age of Byron, to whose +epoch one may trace something like a continuous tradition. Hall did +not die until Dryden was twenty-seven years of age. Pope delighted to +record that, when a boy of twelve years of age, he had met "Glorious +John", though the succession could be passed on otherwise through +Congreve, one of the most polished of English satirical writers, whom +Dryden complimented as "one whom every muse and grace adorn", while to +him also Pope dedicated his translation of the _Iliad_.[14] Bolingbroke, +furthermore, was the friend and patron of Pope, while the witty St. +John, in turn, was bound by ties of friendship to Mallet, who passed on +the succession to Goldsmith, Sheridan, Ellis, Canning, Moore, and +Byron. Thereafter satire begins to fall upon evil days, and the +tradition cannot be so clearly traced. + +But satire, during this "succession", did not remain absolutely the +same. She changed her garb with her epoch. Thus the robust bludgeoning +of Dryden and Shadwell, of Defoe, Steele, D'Urfey, and Tom Brown, gave +place to the sardonic ridicule of Swift, the polished raillery of +Arbuthnot, and the double-distilled essence of acidulous sarcasm +present in the _Satires_ of Pope. There is as marked a difference +between the Drydenic and the Swiftian types of satire, between that of +Cleiveland and that of Pope, as between the diverse schools known as +the "Horatian" and the "Juvenalian". The cause of this, over and above +the effect produced by prolonged study of these two classical models, +was the overwhelming influence exercised on his age by the great French +critic and satirist, Boileau. Difficult indeed it is for us at the +present day to understand the European homage paid to Boileau. As +Hannay says, "He was a dignified classic figure supposed to be the +model of fine taste",[15] His word was law in the realm of criticism, +and for many years he was known, not alone in France, but throughout a +large portion of Europe, as "The Lawgiver of Parnassus". Prof. Dowden, +referring to his critical authority, remarks:-- + + "The genius of Boileau was in a high degree intellectual, animated + by ideas. As a moralist he is not searching or profound; he saw too + little of the inner world of the heart, and knew too imperfectly + its agitations. When, however, he deals with literature--and a just + judgment in letters may almost be called an element in morals--all + his penetration and power become apparent. To clear the ground for + the new school of nature, truth, and reason was Boileau's first + task. It was a task which called for courage and skill ... he + struck at the follies and affectations of the world of letters, and + he struck with force. It was a needful duty, and one most + effectively performed.... Boileau's influence as a critic of + literature can hardly be overrated; it has much in common with the + influence of Pope on English literature, beneficial as regards his + own time, somewhat restrictive and even tyrannical upon later + generations."[16] + +Owing to the predominance of French literary modes in England, this was +the man whose influence, until nearly the close of last century, was +paramount in England even when it was most bitterly disclaimed. +Boileau's _Satires_ were published during 1660-70, and he himself died +in 1711; but, though dead, he still ruled for many a decade to come. +This then was the literary censor to whom English satire of the +post-Drydenic epochs owed so much. Neither Swift nor Pope was ashamed +to confess his literary indebtedness to the great Frenchman; nay, +Dryden himself has confessed his obligations to Boileau, and in his +_Discourse on Satire_ has quoted his authority as absolute. Before +pointing out the differences between the Drydenic and post-Drydenic +satire let us note very briefly the special characteristics of the +former. Apart from the "matter" of his satire, Dryden laid this +department of letters under a mighty obligation through the splendid +service he rendered by the first successful application of the heroic +couplet to satire. Of itself this was a great boon; but his good deeds +as regards the "matter" of satiric composition have entirely obscured +the benefit he conferred on its manner or technical form. Dryden's four +great satires, _Absalom and Achitophel_, _The Medal_, _MacFlecknoe_, +and the _Hind and the Panther_, each exemplify a distinct and important +type of satire. The first named is the classical instance of the use of +"historic parallels" as applied to the impeachment of the vices or +abuses of any age. With matchless skill the story of Absalom is +employed not merely to typify, but actually to represent, the designs +of Monmouth and his Achitophel--Shaftesbury. _The Medal_ reverts to the +type of the classic satire of the Juvenalian order. It is slightly more +rhetorical in style, and is partly devoted to a bitter invective +against Shaftesbury, partly to an argument as to the unfitness of +republican institutions for England, partly to a satiric address to +the Whigs. The third of the great series, _MacFlecknoe_, is Dryden's +masterpiece of satiric irony; a purely personal attack upon his rival, +Shadwell, "Crowned King of Dulness, and in all the realms of nonsense +absolute". Finally, the _Hind and the Panther_ represents a new +development of the "satiric fable". Dryden gave to British satire the +impulse towards that final form of development which it received from +the great satirists of the next century. There is little that appears +in Swift, Addison, Arbuthnot, Pope, or even Byron, for which the way +was not prepared by the genius of "Glorious John". + +Of the famous group which adorned the reign of Queen Anne, Steele lives +above all in his Isaac Bickerstaff Essays, the vehicle of admirably +pithy and trenchant prose satire upon current political abuses. But, +unfortunately for his own fame, his lot was to be associated with the +greatest master of this form of composition that has appeared in +literature, and the celebrity of the greater writer dimmed that of the +lesser. Addison in his papers in the _Tatler_ and the _Spectator_ has +brought what may be styled the Essay of Satiric Portraiture--in after +days to be developed along other lines by Praed, Charles Lamb, Leigh +Hunt, and R.L. Stevenson--to an unsurpassed standard of excellence. +Such character studies as those of Sir Roger de Coverley, his household +and friends, Will Honeycomb, Sir Andrew Freeport, Ned Softly, and +others, possess an endless charm for us in the sobriety and moderation +of the colours, the truth to nature, the delicate raillery, and the +polished sarcasm of their satiric animadversions. Addison has studied +his Horace to advantage, and to the great Roman's attributes has added +other virtues distinctly English. + +Arbuthnot, the celebrated physician of Queen Anne, takes rank among the +best of English satirists by virtue of his famous work _The History of +John Bull_. The special mode or type employed was the "allegorical +political tale", of which the plot was the historic sequence of events +in connection with the war with Louis XIV. of France. The object of the +fictitious narrative was to throw ridicule on the Duke of Marlborough, +and to excite among the people a feeling of disgust at the protracted +hostilities. The nations involved are represented as tradesmen +implicated in a lawsuit, the origin of the dispute being traced to +their narrow and selfish views. The national characteristics of each +individual are skilfully hit off, and the various events of the war, +with the accompanying political intrigues, are symbolized by the stages +in the progress of the suit, the tricks of the lawyers, and the devices +of the principal attorney, Humphrey Hocus (Marlborough), to prolong the +struggle. His _Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus_--a satire on the abuses +of human learning,--in which the type of the fictitious biography is +adopted, is exceedingly clever. + +Finally, we reach the pair of satirists who, next to Dryden, must be +regarded as the writers whose influence has been greatest in +determining the character of British satire. Pope is the disciple of +Dryden, and the best qualities of the Drydenic satire, in both form and +matter, are reproduced in his works accompanied by special attributes +of his own. Owing to the extravagant admiration professed by Byron for +the author of the _Rape of the Lock_, and his repeated assurances of +his literary indebtedness to him, we are apt to overlook the fact that +the noble lord was under obligations to Dryden of a character quite as +weighty as those he was so ready to acknowledge to Pope. But the +latter, like Shakespeare, so improved all he borrowed that he has in +some instances actually received credit for inventing what he only took +from his great master. Pope was more of a refiner and polisher of +telling satiric forms which Dryden had in the first instance employed, +than an original inventor. + +To mention all the types of satire affected by this marvellously acute +and variously cultured poet would be a task of some difficulty. There +are few amongst the principal forms which he has not essayed. In spirit +he is more pungent and sarcastic, more acidulous and malicious, than +the large-hearted and generous-souled Dryden. Into his satire, +therefore, enters a greater amount of the element of personal dislike +and contempt than in the case of the other. While satire is present +more or less in nearly all Pope's verse, there are certain compositions +where it may be said to be the outstanding quality. These are his +_Satires_, among which should of course be included "The Prologue" and +"The Epilogue" to them, as well as the _Moral Essays_, and finally the +_Dunciad_. These comprise the best of his professed satires. His +_Satires and Epistles of Horace Imitated_ are just what they claim to +be--an adaptation to English scenes, sympathies, sentiments, and +surroundings of the Roman poet's characteristic style. Though Pope has +quite as many points of affinity with Juvenal as with Horace, the +adaptation and transference of the local atmosphere from Tiber to +Thames is managed with extraordinary skill. The historic parallels, +too, of the personages in the respective poems are made to accord and +harmonize with the spirit of the time. The _Satires_ are written from +the point of view of opposition to Sir Robert Walpole, the great Whig +minister. They display the concentrated essence of bitterness towards +the ministerial policy. As Minto tersely puts it, we see gathered up in +them the worst that was thought and said about the government and court +party when men's minds were heated almost to the point of civil war.[17] +In the "Prologue" and the "Epilogue" are contained some of the most +finished satiric portraits drawn by Pope in any of his works. For +caustic bitterness, sustained but polished irony, and merciless +sarcastic malice, the characters of Atticus (Addison), Bufo, and Sporus +have never been surpassed in the literature of political or social +criticism.[18] + +The _Dunciad_ is an instance of the mock-epic utilized for the purposes +of satire. Here Pope, as regards theme, possibly had the idea suggested +to him by Dryden's _MacFlecknoe_, but undoubtedly the heroic couplet, +which the latter had first applied to satire and used with such +conspicuous success, was still further polished and improved by Pope +until, as Mr. Courthope says, "it became in his hands a rapier of +perfect flexibility and temper". From the time of Pope until that of +Byron this stately measure has been regarded as the metre best suited +_par excellence_ for the display of satiric point and brilliancy, and +as the medium best calculated to confer dignity on political satire. +The _Dunciad_, while personal malice enters into it, must not be +regarded as, properly speaking, a malicious satire. From a literary +censor's point of view almost every lash Pope administered was richly +deserved. In this respect Pope has all Horace's fairness and +moderation, while at the same time he exhibits not a little of +Juvenal's depth of conviction that desperate diseases demand radical +remedies.[19] + +By the side of Pope stands an impressive but a mournful figure, one of +the most tragic in our literature, to think of whom, as Thackeray says, +"is like thinking of the ruin of a great empire". As an all-round +satirist Jonathan Swift has no superior save Dryden, and he only by +virtue of his broader human sympathies. In the works of the great Dean +we have many distinct forms of satire. Scarce anything he wrote, with +the exception of his unfortunate _History of the Last Four Years of +Queen Anne_, but is marked by satiric touches that relieve the tedium +of even its dullest pages. He has utilized nearly all the recognized +modes of satiric composition throughout the range of his long list of +works. In the _Tale of a Tub_ he employed the vehicle of the satiric +tale to lash the Dissenters, the Papists, and even the Church of +England; in a word, the cant of religion as well as the pretensions of +letters and the shams of the world. In the _Battle of the Books_ the +parody or travesty of the Romances of Chivalry is used to ridicule the +controversy raging between Temple, Wotton, Boyle, and Bentley, +regarding the comparative merits of ancient and modern writers. In +_Gulliver's Travels_ the fictitious narrative or mock journal is +impressed into the service, the method consisting in adopting an absurd +supposition at the outset and then gravely deducing the logical effects +which follow. These three form the trio of great prose satires which +from the epoch of their publication until now have remained the wonder +and the delight of successive generations. Their realism, humorous +invention, ready wit, unsparing irony, and keen ridicule have exercised +as potent an attraction as their gloomy misanthropy has repelled. Among +minor satires are his scathing attacks in prose and verse on the war +party as a ring of Whig stock-jobbers, such as _Advice to the October +Club_, _Public Spirit of the Whigs, &c._, the _Virtues of Sid Hamet_, +_The Magician's Wand_ (directed against Godolphin); his _Polite +Conversations_ and _Directions to Servants_ are savage attacks on the +inanity of society small-talk and the greed of the menials of the +period. But why prolong the list? From the _Drapier's Letters_, +directed against a supposed fraudulent introduction of a copper +currency known as "Wood's Halfpence", to his skit on _The Furniture of +a Woman's Mind_, there were few topics current in his day, whether in +politics, theology, economics, or social gossip, which he did not +attack with the artillery of his wit and satire. Had he been less +sardonic, had he possessed even a modicum of the _bonhomie_ of his +friend Arbuthnot, Swift's satire would have exercised even more potent +an influence than it has been its fortune to achieve. + +Pope died in 1744, Swift in 1745. During their last years there were +signs that the literary modes of the epoch of Queen Anne, which had +maintained their ascendency so long, were rapidly losing their hold on +the popular mind. A new literary period was about to open wherein new +literary ideals and new models would prevail. Satire, in common with +literature as a whole, felt the influence of the transitional era. As +we have seen, it concerned itself largely with ridiculing the follies +and eccentricities of men of letters and foolish pretenders to the +title; also in lashing social vices and abuses. The political enmity +existing between the Jacobites and the Hanoverians continued to afford +occasion for the exchange of party squibs and lampoons. The lengthened +popularity of Gay's _Beggars' Opera_, a composition wherein a new mode +was created, viz. the satiric opera (the prototype of the comic opera +of later days), affords an index to the temper of the time. It was the +age of England's lethargy. + +After the defeat of Culloden, satire languished for a while, to revive +again during the ministry of the Earl of Bute, when everything Scots +came in for condemnation, and when Smollett and John Wilkes belaboured +each other in the _Briton_ and the _North Briton_, in pamphlet, +pasquinade, and parody, until at last Lord Bute withdrew from the +contest in disgust, and suspended the organ over which the author of +_Roderick Random_ presided. The satirical effusions of this epoch are +almost entirely worthless, the only redeeming feature being the fact +that Goldsmith was at that very moment engaged in throwing off those +delicious _morceaux_ of social satire contained in _The Citizen of the +World_. Johnson, a few years before, had set the fashion for some time +with his two satires written in free imitation of Juvenal--_London_, +and _The Vanity of Human Wishes_. But from 1760 onward until the close +of the century, when Ellis, Canning, and Frere opened what may be +termed the modern epoch of satire, the influence paramount was that of +Goldsmith. Fielding and Smollett were both satirists of powerful and +original stamp, but they were so much else besides that their influence +was lost in that of the genial author of the _Deserted Village_ and +_Retaliation_. His _Vicar of Wakefield_ is a satire, upon sober, +moderate principles, against the vice of the upper classes, as typified +in the character of Mr. Thornhill, while the sketch of Beau Tibbs in +_The Citizen of the World_ is a racy picture of the out-at-elbows, +would-be man of fashion, who seeks to pose as a social leader and +arbiter of taste when he had better have been following a trade. + +The next revival of the popularity of satire takes place towards the +commencement of the third last decade of the eighteenth century, when, +using the vehicle of the epistolary mode, an anonymous writer, whose +identity is still in dispute, attacked the monarch, the government, +and the judicature of the country, in a series of letters in which +scathing invective, merciless ridicule, and lofty scorn were united to +vigour and polish of style, as well as undeniable literary taste. + +After the appearance of the _Letters of Junius_, which, perhaps, have +owed the permanence of their popularity as much to the interest +attaching to the mystery of their authorship as to their intrinsic +merits, political satire may be said to have once more slumbered +awhile. The impression produced by the studied malice of the _Letters_, +and the epigrammatic suggestiveness which appeared to leave as much +unsaid as was said, was enormous, yet, strangely enough, they were +unable to check the growing influence of the school of satire whereof +Goldsmith was the chief founder, and from which the fashionable _jeux +d'esprit_, the sparkling _persiflage_ of the society _flâneurs_ of the +nineteenth century are the legitimate descendants.[20] The decade +1768-78, therefore--that decade when the plays of Goldsmith and +Sheridan were appearing,--witnessed the rise and the development of +that genial, humorous raillery, in prose and verse, of personal foibles +and of social abuses, of which the _Retaliation_ and the Beau Tibbs +papers are favourable examples. These were the distinguishing +characteristics of our satiric literature during the closing decade of +the eighteenth century until the horrors of the French Revolution, and +the sympathy with it which was apparently being aroused in England, +called political satire into requisition once more. Party feeling ran +high with regard to the principles enunciated by the so-called "friends +of freedom". The sentiments of the "Constitutional Tories" found +expression in the bitter, sardonic, vitriolic mockery visible in the +pages of the _Anti-Jacobin_,[21] which did more to check the progress of +nascent Radicalism and the movement in favour of political reform than +any other means employed. Chief-justice Mansfield's strictures and Lord +Braxfield's diatribes alike paled into insignificance beside these +deadly, scorching bombs of Juvenal-like vituperation, which have +remained unapproached in their specific line. As an example take +Ellis's _Ode to Jacobinism_, of which I quote two stanzas:-- + + "Daughter of Hell, insatiate power! + Destroyer of the human race, + Whose iron scourge and maddening hour + Exalt the bad, the good debase; + When first to scourge the sons of earth, + Thy sire his darling child designed, + Gallia received the monstrous birth, + Voltaire informed thine infant mind. + Well-chosen nurse, his sophist lore, + He bade thee many a year explore, + He marked thy progress firm though slow, + And statesmen, princes, leagued with their inveterate foe. + Scared at thy frown terrific, fly + The morals (antiquated brood), + Domestic virtue, social joy, + And faith that has for ages stood; + Swift they disperse and with them go + The friend sincere, the generous foe-- + Traitors to God, to man avowed, + By thee now raised aloft, now crushed beneath the crowd." + +Space only remains for a single word upon the satire of the nineteenth +century. In this category would be included the _Bæviad_ and the +_Mæviad_ by William Gifford (editor of the _Anti-Jacobin_), which, +though first printed in the closing years of the eighteenth century, +were issued in volume form in 1800. Written as they are in avowed +imitation of Juvenal, Persius, and Horace, they out-Juvenal Juvenal by +the violence of the language, besides descending to a depth of personal +scurrility as foreign to the nature of true satire as abuse is alien to +wit. They have long since been consigned to merited oblivion, though in +their day, from the useful and able work done by their author in other +fields of literature, they enjoyed no inconsiderable amount of fame. +Two or three lines from the _Bæviad_ will give a specimen of its +quality:-- + + "For mark, to what 'tis given, and then declare, + Mean though I am, if it be worth my care. + Is it not given to Este's unmeaning dash, + To Topham's fustian, Reynold's flippant trash, + To Andrews' doggerel where three wits combine, + To Morton's catchword, Greathead's idiot line, + And Holcroft's Shug-lane cant and Merry's Moorfields Whine?"[22] + +The early years of the present century still felt the influence of the +sardonic ridicule which prevailed during the closing years of the +previous one, and the satirists who appeared during the first decades +of the former belonged to the robust or energetic order. Their names +and their works are well-nigh forgotten. + +We now reach the last of the greater satirists that have adorned our +literature, one who is in many respects a worthy peer of Dryden, Swift, +and Pope. Lord Byron's fame as a satirist rests on three great works, +each of them illustrative of a distinct type of composition. Other +satires he has written, nay, the satiric quality is present more or +less in nearly all he produced; but _The Vision of Judgment_, _Beppo_, +and _Don Juan_ are his three masterpieces in this style of literature. +They are wonderful compositions in every sense of the word. The +sparkling wit, the ready raillery, the cutting irony, the biting +sarcasm, and the sardonic cynicism which characterize almost every line +of them are united to a brilliancy of imagination, a swiftness as well +as a felicity of thought, and an epigrammatic terseness of phrase which +even Byron himself has equalled nowhere else in his works. _The Vision +of Judgment_ is an example in the first instance of parody, and, in the +second, but not by any means so distinctly, of allegory. Its savage +ferocity of sarcasm crucified Southey upon the cross of scornful +contempt. Byron is not as good a metrist as a satirist, and the _Ottava +rima_ in his hands sometimes halts a little; still, the poem is a +notable example of a satiric parody written with such distinguished +success in a measure of great technical difficulty. + +It is somewhat curious that all three of Byron's great satiric poems +should be written in the same measure. Yet so it is, for the poet, +having become enamoured of the metre after reading Frere's clever +satire, _Whistlecraft_, ever afterwards had a peculiar fondness for +it. Both _Beppo_ and _Don Juan_ are also excellent examples of the +metrical "satiric tale". The former, being the earlier satire of the +two, was Byron's first essay in this new type of satiric composition. +His success therein stimulated him to attempt another "tale" which in +some respects presents features that ally it to the mock-epic. _Beppo_ +is a perfect storehouse of well-rounded satirical phrases that cleave +to the memory, such as "the deep damnation of his 'bah'" and the +description of the "budding miss", + + "So much alarmed that she is quite alarming, + All giggle, blush, half pertness and half pout". + +_Beppo_ leads up to _Don Juan_, and it is hard to say which is the +cleverer satire of the two. In both, the wit is so unforced and +natural, the fun so sparkling, the banter and the persiflage so bright +and scintillating, that they seem, as Sir Walter Scott said, to be the +natural outflow from the fountain of humour. Byron's earliest satire, +_English Bards and Scots Reviewers_, is a clever piece of work, but +compared with the great trio above-named is a production of his nonage. + +Byron was succeeded by Praed, whose social pictures are instinct with +the most refined and polished raillery, with the true Attic salt of wit +united to a metrical deftness as graceful as it was artistic. During +Praed's lifetime, Lamb with his inimitable _Essays of Elia_, Southey, +Barham with the ever-popular _Ingoldsby Legends_, James and Horace +Smith with the _Rejected Addresses_, Disraeli, Leigh Hunt, Tom Hood, +and Landor had been winning laurels in various branches of social +satire which, consequent upon the influence of Byron and then of his +disciple, Praed, became the current mode. A favourable example of that +style is found in Leigh Hunt's _Feast of the Poets_ and in Edward +Fitz-Gerald's _Chivalry at a Discount_. Other writers of satire in the +earlier decades of the present century were Peacock, who in his novels +(_Crotchet Castle_, &c.) evolved an original type of satire based upon +the Athenian New Comedy. Miss Austen in her English novels and Miss +Edgeworth in her Irish tales employed satire to impeach certain crying +social abuses, as also did Dickens in _Oliver Twist_ and others of his +books. Douglas Jerrold's comedies and sketches are full of titbits of +gay and brilliant banter and biting irony. If _Sartor Resartus_ could +be regarded as a satire, as Dr. Garnett says, Carlyle would be the +first of satirists, with his thundering invective, grand rhetoric, +indignant scorn, grim humour, and satiric gloom in denouncing the shams +of human society and of human nature. An admirable American school of +satire was founded by Washington Irving, of which Judge Haliburton (Sam +Slick), Paulding, Holmes, Artemus Ward, and Dudley Warner are the chief +names. + +Since the third and fourth decades of our century, in other words, +since the epoch of the Reform Bill and the Chartist agitation, satire +has more and more tended to lose its acid and its venom, to slough the +dark sardonic sarcasm of past days and to don the light sportive garb +of the social humorist and epigrammist. Robustious bludgeoning has gone +out of fashion, and in its place we have the playful satiric wit, +sparkling as of well-drawn Moet or Clicquot, of Mortimer Collins, H.S. +Leigh, Arthur Locker and Frederick Locker-Lampson, W.S. Gilbert, Austin +Dobson, Bret Harte, F. Anstey, Dr. Walter C. Smith, and many other +graceful and delightful social satirists whose verses are household +words amongst us. From week to week also there appear in the pages of +that trenchant social censor, _Punch_, and the other high-class +comico-satiric journals, many pieces of genuine and witty social +satire. Every year the demand seems increasing, and yet the supply +shows no signs of running dry. + +Political satire, in its metrical form, has had from time to time a +temporary revival of popularity in such compositions as James Russell +Lowell's inimitable _Biglow Papers_, as well as in more recent volumes, +of which Mr. Owen Seaman's verse is an example; while are not its prose +forms legion in the pages of our periodical press? It has, however, now +lost that vitriolic quality which made it so scorching and offensively +personal. The man who wrote nowadays as did Dryden, and Junius, and +Canning, or, in social satire, as did Peter Pindar and Byron, would be +forthwith ostracized from literary fellowship. + +But what more need be said of an introductory character to these +selections that are now placed before the reader? English satire, +though perhaps less in evidence to-day as a separate department in +letters, is still as cardinal a quality as ever in the productions of +our leading authors. If satires are no longer in fashion, satire is +perennial as an attribute in literature, and we have every reason to +cherish it and welcome it as warmly as of old. The novels of Thackeray, +as I have already said, contain some of the most delicately incisive +shafts of satire that have been barbed by any writer of the present +century. "George Eliot", also, though in a less degree, has shown +herself a satirist of much power and pungency, while others of our +latter-day novelists manifest themselves as possessed of a faculty of +satire both virile and trenchant. It is one of the indispensable +qualities of a great writer's style, because its quarry is one of the +most widely diffused of existing things on the face of the globe. There +is no age without its folly, no epoch without its faults. So long, +therefore, as man and his works are imperfect, so long shall there be +existent among us abuses, social, political, professional, and +ecclesiastical, and so long, too, shall it be the province and the +privilege of those who feel themselves called upon to play the +difficult part of _censor morum_, to prick the bubbles of falsehood, +vanity, and vice with the shafts of ridicule and raillery. + +[Footnote 1: _The English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century_.] + +[Footnote 2: Cf. Lenient, _History of French Satire_.] + +[Footnote 3: Thomson's _Ante-Augustan Latin Poetry_.] + +[Footnote 4: Cf. Mackail; Paten, _Études sur la Poésie latine_.] + +[Footnote 5: See Skeat's "Langland" in _Encyclop. Brit._] + +[Footnote 6: See Arber's Reprints for 1868.] + +[Footnote 7: Arber's Select Reprints.] + +[Footnote 8: _Palladis Tamia: Wits Treasury_.] + +[Footnote 9: This, of course, was Marston.] + +[Footnote 10: From the Fifth Satire in _The Metamorphosis of +Pygmalion's Image and Certain Satyres_, by John Marston. 1598.] + +[Footnote 11: _Pasquil's Madcappe: Thrown at the Corruption of these +Times_--1626. Breton, to be read at all, ought to be studied in the two +noble volumes edited by Dr. A.B. Grosart. From his edition I quote.] + +[Footnote 12: _English Literature_, by Prof. Craik. Hannay's _Satires +and Satirists_.] + +[Footnote 13: _Life of Dryden_, by Sir Walter Scott. Saintsbury's _Life +of Dryden_.] + +[Footnote 14: Thackeray's _English Humorists_. Hannay's _Satires and +Satirists_.] + +[Footnote 15: _Satire and Satirists_, by James Hannay. Lecture III.] + +[Footnote 16: Dowden's _French Literature_.] + +[Footnote 17: Minto's _Characteristics of English Poets_.] + +[Footnote 18: Cf. Saintsbury's _Life of Dryden_.] + +[Footnote 19: Cf. Gosse, _Eighteenth Century Literature_.] + +[Footnote 20: Thackeray's _English Humorists_.] + +[Footnote 21: _The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_--Carisbrooke Library, +1890.] + +[Footnote 22: _The Bæviad and the Mæviad_, by W. Gifford, Esq., 1800.] + + + + +ENGLISH SATIRES. + + +WILLIAM LANGLAND. + +(1330?-1400?) + + +I. PILGRIMAGE IN SEARCH OF DO-WELL. + + This opening satire constitutes the whole of the Eighth _Passus_ of + _Piers Plowman's Vision_ and the First of Do-Wel. The "Dreamer" + here sets off on a new pilgrimage in search of a person who has not + appeared in the poem before--Do-Well. The following is the argument + of the _Passus_.--"All Piers Plowman's inquiries after Do-Well are + fruitless. Even the friars to whom he addresses himself give but a + confused account; and weary with wandering about, the dreamer is + again overtaken by slumber. Thought now appears to him, and + recommends him to Wit, who describes to him the residence of + Do-Well, Do-Bet, Do-Best, and enumerates their companions and + attendants." + + + Thus y-robed in russet · romed I aboute + Al in a somer seson · for to seke Do-wel; + And frayned[23] full ofte · of folk that I mette + If any wight wiste · wher Do-wel was at inne; + And what man he myghte be · of many man I asked. + Was nevere wight, as I wente · that me wisse kouthe[24] + Where this leode lenged,[25] · lasse ne moore.[26] + Til it bifel on a Friday · two freres I mette + Maisters of the Menours[27] · men of grete witte. + I hailsed them hendely,[28] · as I hadde y-lerned. + And preède them par charité, · er thei passed ferther, + If thei knew any contree · or costes as thei wente, + "Where that Do-wel dwelleth · dooth me to witene". + For thei be men of this moolde · that moost wide walken, + And knowen contrees and courtes, · and many kynnes places, + Bothe princes paleises · and povere mennes cotes,[29] + And Do-wel and Do-yvele · where thei dwelle bothe. + "Amonges us" quod the Menours, · "that man is dwellynge, + And evere hath as I hope, · and evere shal herafter." + "_Contra_", quod I as a clerc, · and comsed to disputen, + And seide hem soothly, · "_Septies in die cadit justus_". + "Sevene sithes,[30] seeth the book · synneth the rightfulle; + And who so synneth," I seide, · "dooth yvele, as me thynketh; + And Do-wel and Do-yvele · mowe noght dwelle togideres. + Ergo he nis noght alway · among you freres: + He is outher while ellis where · to wisse the peple." + "I shal seye thee, my sone" · seide the frere thanne, + "How seven sithes the sadde man, · on a day synneth; + By a forbisne"[31] quod the frere, · "I shal thee faire showe. + Lat brynge a man in a boot, · amydde the brode watre; + The wynd and the water · and the boot waggyng, + Maketh the man many a tyme · to falle and to stonde; + For stonde he never so stif, · he stumbleth if he meve, + Ac yet is he saaf and sound, · and so hym bihoveth; + For if he ne arise the rather, · and raughte to the steere, + The wynd wolde with the water · the boot over throwe; + And thanne were his lif lost, · thorough lackesse of hymselve[32]. + And thus it falleth," quod the frere, · "by folk here on erthe; + The water is likned to the world · that wanyeth and wexeth; + The goodes of this grounde arn like · to the grete wawes, + That as wyndes and wedres · walketh aboute; + The boot is likned to oure body · that brotel[33] is of kynde, + That thorough the fend and the flesshe · and the frele worlde + Synneth the sadde man · a day seven sithes. + Ac[34] dedly synne doth he noght, · for Do-wel hym kepeth; + And that is Charité the champion, · chief help ayein Synne; + For he strengtheth men to stonde, · and steereth mannes soule, + And though the body bowe · as boot dooth in the watre, + Ay is thi soul saaf, · but if thou wole thiselve + Do a deedly synne, · and drenche so thi soule, + God wole suffre wel thi sleuthe[35] · if thiself liketh. + For he yaf thee a yeres-gyve,[36] · to yeme[37] wel thiselve, + And that is wit and free-wil, · to every wight a porcion, + To fleynge foweles, · to fisshes and to beastes: + Ac man hath moost thereof, · and moost is to blame, + But if he werch wel therwith, · as Do-wel hym techeth." + "I have no kynde knowyng,"[38] quod I, · "to conceyven alle your wordes: + Ac if I may lyve and loke, · I shall go lerne bettre." + "I bikenne thee Christ,"[39] quod he, · "that on cros deyde!" + And I seide "the same · save you fro myschaunce, + And gyve you grace on this grounde · goode men to worthe!"[40] + And thus I wente wide wher · walkyng myn one,[41] + By a wilderness, · and by a wodes side: + Blisse of the briddes.[42] · Broughte me a-slepe, + And under a lynde upon a launde[43] · lened I a stounde[44], + To lythe the layes · the lovely foweles made, + Murthe of hire mowthes · made me ther to slepe; + The merveillouseste metels[45] · mette me[46] thanne + That ever dremed wight · in worlde, as I wene. + A muche man, as me thoughte · and like to myselve, + Cam and called me · by my kynde name. + "What artow," quod I tho, · "that thow my name knowest." + "That woost wel," quod he, · "and no wight bettre." + "Woot I what thou art?" · "Thought," seide he thanne; + "I have sued[47] thee this seven yeer, · seye[48] thou me no rather."[49] + "Artow Thought," quod I thoo, · "thow koudest me wisse, + Where that Do-wel dwelleth, · and do me that to knowe." + "Do-wel and Do-bet, · and Do-best the thridde," quod he, + "Arn thre fair vertues, · and ben noght fer to fynde. + Who so is trewe of his tunge, · and of his two handes, + And thorugh his labour or thorugh his land, · his liflode wynneth,[50] + And is trusty of his tailende, · taketh but his owene, + And is noght dronklewe[51] ne dedeynous,[52] · Do-wel hym folweth. + Do-bet dooth ryght thus; · ac he dooth much more; + He is as lowe as a lomb, · and lovelich of speche, + And helpeth alle men · after that hem nedeth. + The bagges and the bigirdles, · he hath to-broke hem alle + That the Erl Avarous · heeld and hise heires. + And thus with Mammonaes moneie · he hath maad hym frendes, + And is ronne to religion, · and hath rendred the Bible, + And precheth to the peple · Seint Poules wordes: + _Libenter suffertis insipientes, cum sitis ipsi sapientes_: + 'And suffreth the unwise' · with you for to libbe + And with glad will dooth hem good · and so God you hoteth. + Do-best is above bothe, · and bereth a bisshopes crosse, + Is hoked on that oon ende · to halie men fro helle; + A pik is on that potente,[53] · to putte a-down the wikked + That waiten any wikkednesse · Do-wel to tene.[54] + And Do-wel and Do-bet · amonges hem han ordeyned, + To crowne oon to be kyng · to rulen hem bothe; + That if Do-wel or Do-bet · dide ayein Do-best, + Thanne shal the kyng come · and casten hem in irens, + And but if Do-best bede[55] for hem, · thei to be there for evere. + Thus Do-wel and Do-bet, · and Do-best the thridde, + Crouned oon to the kyng · to kepen hem alle, + And to rule the reme · by hire thre wittes, + And noon oother wise, · but as thei thre assented." + I thonked Thoght tho, · that he me thus taughte. + "Ac yet savoreth me noght thi seying. · I coveit to lerne + How Do-wel, Do-bet, and Do-best · doon among the peple." + "But Wit konne wisse thee," quod Thoght, · "Where tho thre dwelle, + Ellis woot I noon that kan · that now is alyve." + Thoght and I thus · thre daies we yeden,[56] + Disputyng upon Do-wel · day after oother; + And er we were war, · with Wit gonne we mete.[57] + He was long and lene, · lik to noon other; + Was no pride on his apparaille · ne poverte neither; + Sad of his semblaunt, · and of softe chere, + I dorste meve no matere · to maken hym to jangle, + But as I bad Thoght thoo · be mene bitwene, + And pute forth som purpos · to preven his wittes, + What was Do-wel fro Do-bet, · and Do-best from hem bothe. + Thanne Thoght in that tyme · seide these wordes: + "Where Do-wel, Do-bet, · and Do-best ben in londe, + Here is Wil wolde wite, · if Wit koude teche him; + And whether he be man or woman · this man fayn wolde aspie, + And werchen[58] as thei thre wolde, · thus is his entente" + +[Footnote 23: questioned.] + +[Footnote 24: could tell me.] + +[Footnote 25: Where this man dwelt.] + +[Footnote 26: mean or gentle.] + +[Footnote 27: of the Minorite order.] + +[Footnote 28: I saluted them courteously.] + +[Footnote 29: and poor men's cots.] + +[Footnote 30: times.] + +[Footnote 31: example.] + +[Footnote 32: through his own negligence.] + +[Footnote 33: weak, unstable.] + +[Footnote 34: But.] + +[Footnote 35: sloth.] + +[Footnote 36: a year's-gift.] + +[Footnote 37: to rule, guide, govern.] + +[Footnote 38: mother-wit.] + +[Footnote 39: I commit thee to Christ.] + +[Footnote 40: to become.] + +[Footnote 41: by myself.] + +[Footnote 42: The charm of the birds.] + +[Footnote 43: under a linden-tree on a plain.] + +[Footnote 44: a short time.] + +[Footnote 45: a most wonderful dream.] + +[Footnote 46: I dreamed.] + +[Footnote 47: followed.] + +[Footnote 48: sawest.] + +[Footnote 49: sooner.] + +[Footnote 50: gains his livelihood.] + +[Footnote 51: drunken.] + +[Footnote 52: disdainful.] + +[Footnote 53: club staff.] + +[Footnote 54: to injure.] + +[Footnote 55: pray.] + +[Footnote 56: journeyed.] + +[Footnote 57: we met Wit.] + +[Footnote 58: work.] + + + + +GEOFFREY CHAUCER. + +(1340?-1400.) + + +PORTRAITS FROM THE CANTERBURY TALES. + +II. AND III. THE MONK AND THE FRIAR. + + + The following complete portraits of two of the characters in + Chaucer's matchless picture of the Canterbury Pilgrims are taken + from the Prologue to the _Canterbury Tales_. + + + II. + + A monk ther was, a fayre for the maistríe,[59] + An outrider, that loved venerie;[60] + A manly man, to ben an abbot able. + Ful many a deintè[61] hors hadde he in stable: + And whan he rode, men might his bridel here + Gingeling in a whistling wind as clere, + And eke as loude, as doth the chapell belle, + Ther as this lord was keeper of the celle. + The reule of Seint Maure and of Seint Beneit, + Because that it was olde and somdele streit, + This ilkè monk lette oldè thingès pace,[62] + And held after the newè world the space. + He yaf not of the text a pulled hen,[63] + That saith, that hunters ben not holy men; + Ne that a monk, whan he is reckèles,[64] + Is like to a fish that is waterles; + That is to say, a monk out of his cloistre. + This ilkè text held he not worth an oistre. + And I say his opinion was good. + What? shulde he studie, and make himselven wood[65] + Upon a book in cloistre alway to pore, + Or swinken[66] with his hondès, and laboùre, + As Austin bit?[67] how shal the world be served? + Let Austin have his swink to him reserved. + Therfore he was a prickasoure[68] a right: + Greihoundes he hadde as swift as foul of flight: + Of pricking[69] and of hunting for the hare + Was all his lust, for no cost wolde he spare. + I saw his sleves purfiled[70] at the hond + With gris,[71] and that the finest of the lond. + And for to fasten his hood under his chinne, + He hadde of gold ywrought a curious pinne; + A love-knotte in the greter end ther was. + His hed was balled,[72] and shone as any glas, + And eke his face, as it hadde ben anoint. + He was a lord ful fat and in good point. + His eyen stepe,[73] and rolling in his hed, + That stemed as a forneis of led.[74] + His bootès souple, his hors in gret estat: + Now certainly he was a fayre prelát. + He was not pale as a forpined[75] gost. + A fat swan loved he best of any rost, + His palfrey was as broune as is a bery. + + + III. + + A Frere[76] ther was, a wanton and a mery, + A Limitour,[77] a ful solempnè man. + In all the ordres foure is none that can + So muche of daliance and fayre langáge. + He hadde ymade ful many a mariáge + Of yongè wimmen, at his owen cost. + Until[78] his ordre he was a noble post. + Ful wel beloved, and familier was he + With frankeleins[79] over all in his contrèe, + And eke with worthy wimmen of the toun: + For he had power of confessioun, + As saide himselfè, more than a curát, + For of his ordre he was a licenciat. + Ful swetely herde he confession, + And plesant was his absolution. + He was an esy man to give penaunce, + Ther as he wiste[80] to han[81] a good pitaunce: + For unto a poure[82] ordre for to give + Is signè that a man is wel yshrive.[83] + For if he gaf, he dorstè make avaunt,[84] + He wistè that a man was repentaunt. + For many a man so hard is of his herte, + He may not wepe although him sorè smerte. + Therfore in stede of weping and praieres, + Men mote[85] give silver to the pourè freres. + His tippet was ay farsed[86] ful of knives, + And pinnès, for to given fayrè wives. + And certainly he hadde a mery note. + Wel coude he singe and plaien on a rote.[87] + Of yeddinges[88] he bar utterly the pris. + His nekke was white as the flour de lis. + Therto he strong was as a champioun, + And knew wel the tavérnes in every toun, + And every hosteler and tappestere, + Better than a lazar or a beggestere, + For unto swiche a worthy man as he + Accordeth not, as by his facultè, + To haven[89] with sike lazars acquaintànce. + It is not honest, it may not avànce,[90] + As for to delen with no swiche pouràille,[91] + But all with riche, and sellers of vitàille. + And over all, ther as profit shuld arise, + Curteis he was, and lowly of servise. + Ther nas no man no wher so vertuous. + He was the beste begger in his hous: + [And gave a certain fermè[92] for the grant, + Non of his bretheren came in his haunt.] + For though a widewe haddè but a shoo, + (So plesant was his _in principio_) + Yet wold he have a ferthing or[93] he went. + His pourchas was wel better than his rent.[94] + And rage he coude as it hadde ben a whelp, + In lovèdayes,[95] ther coude he mochel help. + For ther he was nat like a cloisterere, + With thredbare cope, as is a poure scolere, + But he was like a maister or a pope. + Of double worsted was his semicope,[96] + That round was as a belle out of the presse. + Somwhat he lisped, for his wantonnesse, + To make his English swete upon his tonge; + And in his harping, whan that he hadde songe, + His eyen twinkeled in his hed aright, + As don the sterrès in a frosty night. + This worthy limitour was cleped Hubèrd. + +[Footnote 59: a fair one for the mastership.] + +[Footnote 60: hunting.] + +[Footnote 61: dainty.] + +[Footnote 62: pass.] + +[Footnote 63: did not care a plucked hen for the text.] + +[Footnote 64: careless; removed from the restraints of his order and +vows.] + +[Footnote 65: mad.] + +[Footnote 66: toil.] + +[Footnote 67: biddeth.] + +[Footnote 68: hard rider.] + +[Footnote 69: spurring.] + +[Footnote 70: wrought on the edge.] + +[Footnote 71: a fine kind of fur.] + +[Footnote 72: bald.] + +[Footnote 73: bright.] + +[Footnote 74: Shone like a furnace under a cauldron.] + +[Footnote 75: tormented.] + +[Footnote 76: Friar.] + +[Footnote 77: A friar with a licence to beg within certain limits.] + +[Footnote 78: Unto.] + +[Footnote 79: country gentlemen.] + +[Footnote 80: knew.] + +[Footnote 81: have.] + +[Footnote 82: poor.] + +[Footnote 83: shriven.] + +[Footnote 84: durst make a boast.] + +[Footnote 85: must.] + +[Footnote 86: stuffed.] + +[Footnote 87: a stringed instrument.] + +[Footnote 88: story telling.] + +[Footnote 89: have.] + +[Footnote 90: profit.] + +[Footnote 91: poor people.] + +[Footnote 92: farm. This couplet only appears in the Hengwrt MS. As Mr. +Pollard says, it is probably Chaucer's, but may have been omitted by +him as it interrupts the sentence. Cf. _Globe_ Chaucer.] + +[Footnote 93: ere.] + +[Footnote 94: The proceeds of his begging exceeded his fixed income.] + +[Footnote 95: Days appointed for the amicable settlement of +differences.] + +[Footnote 96: half cloak.] + + + + +JOHN LYDGATE. + +(1373?-1460.) + + +IV. THE LONDON LACKPENNY. + + + This is an admirable picture of London life early in the fifteenth + century. The poem first appeared among Lydgate's fugitive pieces, + and has been preserved in the Harleian MSS. + + + To London once my steps I bent, + Where truth in no wise should be faint; + To Westminster-ward I forthwith went, + To a man of Law to make complaint. + I said, "For Mary's love, that holy saint, + Pity the poor that would proceed!"[97] + But for lack of money, I could not speed. + + And, as I thrust the press among, + By froward chance my hood was gone; + Yet for all that I stayed not long + Till to the King's Bench I was come. + Before the Judge I kneeled anon + And prayed him for God's sake take heed. + But for lack of money, I might not speed. + + Beneath them sat clerks a great rout,[98] + Which fast did write by one assent; + There stood up one and cried about + "Richard, Robert, and John of Kent!" + I wist not well what this man meant, + He cried so thickly there indeed. + But he that lacked money might not speed. + + To the Common Pleas I yode tho,[99] + There sat one with a silken hood: + I 'gan him reverence for to do, + And told my case as well as I could; + How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood; + I got not a mum of his mouth for my meed,[100] + And for lack of money I might not speed. + + Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence, + Before the clerks of the Chancery; + Where many I found earning of pence; + But none at all once regarded me. + I gave them my plaint upon my knee; + They liked it well when they had it read; + But, lacking money, I could not be sped. + + In Westminster Hall I found out one, + Which went in a long gown of ray;[101] + I crouched and knelt before him; anon, + For Mary's love, for help I him pray. + "I wot not what thou mean'st", 'gan he say; + To get me thence he did me bid, + For lack of money I could not speed. + + Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor + Would do for me aught although I should die; + Which seing, I gat me out of the door; + Where Flemings began on me for to cry,-- + "Master, what will you copen[102] or buy? + Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read? + Lay down your silver, and here you may speed." + + To Westminster Gate I presently went, + When the sun was at high prime; + Cooks to me they took good intent,[103] + And proffered me bread, with ale and wine, + Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine; + A fairé cloth they 'gan for to spread, + But, wanting money, I might not then speed. + + Then unto London I did me hie, + Of all the land it beareth the prize; + "Hot peascodes!" one began to cry; + "Strawberries ripe!" and "Cherries in the rise!"[104] + One bade me come near and buy some spice; + Pepper and saffrone they 'gan me bede;[105] + But, for lack of money, I might not speed. + + Then to the Cheap I 'gan me drawn,[106] + Where much people I saw for to stand; + One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn; + Another he taketh me by the hand, + "Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land"; + I never was used to such things indeed; + And, wanting money, I might not speed. + + Then went I forth by London stone, + Throughout all the Canwick Street; + Drapers much cloth me offered anon; + Then comes me one cried, "Hot sheep's feet!" + One cried, "Mackarel!" "Rushes green!" another 'gan greet;[107] + One bade me buy a hood to cover my head; + But for want of money I might not be sped. + + Then I hied me into East Cheap: + One cries "Ribs of beef and many a pie!" + Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; + There was harpé, pipe, and minstrelsy: + "Yea, by cock!" "Nay, by cock!" some began cry; + Some sung of "Jenkin and Julian" for their meed; + But, for lack of money, I might not speed. + + Then into Cornhill anon I yode + Where there was much stolen gear among; + I saw where hung my owné hood, + That I had lost among the throng: + To buy my own hood I thought it wrong; + I knew it as well as I did my creed; + But, for lack of money, I could not speed. + + The Taverner took me by the sleeve; + "Sir," saith he, "will you our wine assay?" + I answered, "That cannot much me grieve; + A penny can do no more than it may." + I drank a pint, and for it did pay; + Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede; + And, wanting money, I could not speed. + + Then hied I me to Billings-gate, + And one cried, "Ho! go we hence!" + I prayed a bargeman, for God's sake, + That he would spare me my expense. + "Thou 'scap'st not here," quoth he, "under twopence; + I list not yet bestow any almsdeed." + Thus, lacking money, I could not speed. + + Then I conveyed me into Kent; + For of the law would I meddle no more. + Because no man to me took intent, + I dight[108] me to do as I did before. + Now Jesus that in Bethlehem was bore[109], + Save London and send true lawyers their meed! + For whoso wants money with them shall not speed. + + +[Footnote 97: go to law.] + +[Footnote 98: crowd.] + +[Footnote 99: went then.] + +[Footnote 100: reward.] + +[Footnote 101: striped stuff.] + +[Footnote 102: exchange.] + +[Footnote 103: notice.] + +[Footnote 104: on the bough.] + +[Footnote 105: offer.] + +[Footnote 106: approach.] + +[Footnote 107: call.] + +[Footnote 108: set.] + +[Footnote 109: born.] + + + + +WILLIAM DUNBAR. + +(1460-1520?) + + +V. THE DANCE OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS. + + One of Dunbar's most telling satires, as well as one of the most + powerful in the language. + + + I. + + Of Februar the fiftene nicht + Full lang before the dayis licht + I lay intill a trance + And then I saw baith Heaven and Hell + Me thocht, amang the fiendis fell + Mahoun gart cry ane dance + Of shrews that were never shriven,[110] + Agains the feast of Fastern's even,[111] + To mak their observance. + He bad gallants gae graith a gyis,[112] + And cast up gamountis[113] in the skies, + As varlets do in France. + + + II. + + Helie harlots on hawtane wise,[114] + Come in with mony sundry guise, + But yet leuch never Mahoun, + While priests come in with bare shaven necks; + Then all the fiends leuch, and made gecks, + Black-Belly and Bawsy Brown.[115] + + + III. + + Let see, quoth he, now wha begins: + With that the foul Seven Deadly Sins + Begoud to leap at anis. + And first of all in Dance was Pride, + With hair wyld back, and bonnet on side, + Like to make vaistie wanis;[116] + And round about him, as a wheel, + Hang all in rumples to the heel + His kethat for the nanis:[117] + Mony proud trumpour[118] with him trippit; + Through scalding fire, aye as they skippit + They girned with hideous granis.[119] + + + IV. + + Then Ire came in with sturt and strife; + His hand was aye upon his knife, + He brandished like a beir:[120] + Boasters, braggars, and bargainers,[121] + After him passit in to pairs, + All bodin in feir of weir;[122] + In jacks, and scryppis, and bonnets of steel, + Their legs were chainit to the heel,[123] + Frawart was their affeir:[124] + Some upon other with brands beft,[125] + Some jaggit others to the heft, + With knives that sharp could shear. + + + V. + + Next in the Dance followit Envy, + Filled full of feud and felony, + Hid malice and despite: + For privy hatred that traitor tremlit; + Him followit mony freik dissemlit,[126] + With fenyeit wordis quhyte:[127] + And flatterers in to men's faces; + And backbiters in secret places, + To lie that had delight; + And rownaris of false lesings,[128] + Alace! that courts of noble kings + Of them can never be quit. + + + VI. + + Next him in Dance came Covetyce, + Root of all evil, and ground of vice, + That never could be content: + Catives, wretches, and ockeraris,[129] + Hudpikes,[130] hoarders, gatheraris, + All with that warlock went: + Out of their throats they shot on other + Het, molten gold, me thocht, a futher[131] + As fire-flaucht maist fervent; + Aye as they toomit them of shot, + Fiends filled them new up to the throat + With gold of all kind prent.[132] + + + VII. + + Syne Sweirness, at the second bidding, + Came like a sow out of a midding, + Full sleepy was his grunyie:[133] + Mony swear bumbard belly huddroun,[134] + Mony slut, daw, and sleepy duddroun, + Him servit aye with sonnyie;[135] + He drew them furth intill a chain, + And Belial with a bridle rein + Ever lashed them on the lunyie:[136] + In Daunce they were so slaw of feet, + They gave them in the fire a heat, + And made them quicker of cunyie.[137] + + + VIII. + + Then Lechery, that laithly corpse, + Came berand like ane baggit horse,[138] + And Idleness did him lead; + There was with him ane ugly sort, + And mony stinking foul tramort,[139] + That had in sin been dead: + When they were enterit in the Dance, + They were full strange of countenance, + Like torches burning red. + + + IX. + + Then the foul monster, Gluttony, + Of wame insatiable and greedy, + To Dance he did him dress: + Him followit mony foul drunkart, + With can and collop, cup and quart, + In surfit and excess; + Full mony a waistless wally-drag, + With wames unweildable, did furth wag, + In creesh[140] that did incress: + Drink! aye they cried, with mony a gaip, + The fiends gave them het lead to laip, + Their leveray was na less.[141] + + + X. + + Nae minstrels played to them but doubt,[142] + For gleemen there were halden out, + Be day, and eke by nicht; + Except a minstrel that slew a man, + So to his heritage he wan, + And enterit by brieve of richt.[143] + Then cried Mahoun for a Hieland Padyane:[144] + Syne ran a fiend to fetch Makfadyane, + Far northwast in a neuck; + Be he the coronach[145] had done shout, + Ersche men so gatherit him about, + In hell great room they took: + Thae tarmigants, with tag and tatter, + Full loud in Ersche begoud to clatter, + And roup like raven and rook.[146] + The Devil sae deaved[147] was with their yell; + That in the deepest pot of hell + He smorit[148] them with smoke! + +[Footnote 110: Mahoun, or the devil, proclaimed a dance of sinners that +had not received absolution.] + +[Footnote 111: The evening before Lent, usually a festival at the +Scottish court.] + +[Footnote 112: go prepare a show in character.] + +[Footnote 113: gambols.] + +[Footnote 114: Holy harlots (hypocrites), in a haughty manner. The term +harlot was applied indiscriminately to both sexes.] + +[Footnote 115: Names of spirits, like Robin Goodfellow in England, and +Brownie in Scotland.] + +[Footnote 116: Pride, with hair artfully put back, and bonnet on side: +"vaistie wanis" is now unintelligible; some interpret the phrase as +meaning "wasteful wants", but this seems improbable, considering the +locality or scene of the poem.] + +[Footnote 117: His cassock for the nonce or occasion.] + +[Footnote 118: a cheat or impostor.] + +[Footnote 119: groans.] + +[Footnote 120: bear.] + +[Footnote 121: Boasters, braggarts, and bullies.] + +[Footnote 122: Arrayed in the accoutrements of war.] + +[Footnote 123: In coats of armour, and covered with iron network to the +heel.] + +[Footnote 124: Wild was their aspect.] + +[Footnote 125: brands beat.] + +[Footnote 126: many strong dissemblers.] + +[Footnote 127: With feigned words fair or white.] + +[Footnote 128: spreaders of false reports.] + +[Footnote 129: usurers.] + +[Footnote 130: Misers.] + +[Footnote 131: a great quantity.] + +[Footnote 132: gold of every coinage.] + +[Footnote 133: his grunt.] + +[Footnote 134: Many a lazy glutton.] + +[Footnote 135: served with care.] + +[Footnote 136: loins.] + +[Footnote 137: quicker of apprehension.] + +[Footnote 138: neighing like an entire horse.] + +[Footnote 139: corpse.] + +[Footnote 140: grease.] + +[Footnote 141: Their reward, or their desire not diminished.] + +[Footnote 142: No minstrels without doubt--a compliment to the poetical +profession: there were no gleemen or minstrels in the infernal +regions.] + +[Footnote 143: letter of right.] + +[Footnote 144: Pageant.] + +[Footnote 145: By the time he had done shouting the coronach or cry of +help, the Highlanders speaking Erse or Gaelic gathered about him.] + +[Footnote 146: croaked like ravens and rooks.] + +[Footnote 147: deafened.] + +[Footnote 148: smothered.] + + + + +SIR DAVID LYNDSAY. + +(1490-1555.) + + +VI. SATIRE ON THE SYDE TAILLIS--ANE SUPPLICATIOUN DIRECTIT TO THE KINGIS +GRACE--1538. + + The specimen of Lyndsay cited below--this satire on long trains--is + by no means the most favourable that could be desired, but it is + the only one that lent itself readily to quotation. The archaic + spelling is slightly modernized. + + + Schir! though your Grace has put gret order + Baith in the Hieland and the Border + Yet mak I supplicatioun + Till have some reformatioun + Of ane small falt, whilk is nocht treason + Though it be contrarie to reason. + Because the matter been so vile, + It may nocht have ane ornate style; + Wherefore I pray your Excellence + To hear me with great patience: + Of stinking weedis maculate + No man nay mak ane rose-chaplet. + Sovereign, I mean of thir syde tails, + Whilk through the dust and dubis trails + Three quarters lang behind their heels, + Express again' all commonweals. + Though bishops, in their pontificals, + Have men for to bear up their tails, + For dignity of their office; + Richt so ane queen or ane empress; + Howbeit they use sic gravity, + Conformand to their majesty, + Though their robe-royals be upborne, + I think it is ane very scorn, + That every lady of the land + Should have her tail so syde trailand; + Howbeit they been of high estate, + The queen they should nocht counterfeit. + + Wherever they may go it may be seen + How kirk and causay they soop[149] clean. + The images into the kirk + May think of their syde taillis irk;[150] + For when the weather been maist fair, + The dust flies highest in the air, + And all their faces does begarie. + Gif they could speak, they wald them warie...[151] + But I have maist into despite + Poor claggocks[152] clad in raploch-white, + Whilk has scant twa merks for their fees, + Will have twa ells beneath their knees. + Kittock that cleckit[153] was yestreen, + The morn, will counterfeit the queen: + And Moorland Meg, that milked the yowes, + Claggit with clay aboon the hows,[154] + In barn nor byre she will not bide, + Without her kirtle tail be syde. + In burghs, wanton burgess wives + Wha may have sydest tailis strives, + Weel borderéd with velvet fine, + But followand them it is ane pyne: + In summer, when the streetis dries, + They raise the dust aboon the skies; + Nane may gae near them at their ease, + Without they cover mouth and neese... + I think maist pane after ane rain, + To see them tuckit up again; + Then when they step furth through the street, + Their fauldings flaps about their feet; + They waste mair claith, within few years, + Nor wald cleid fifty score of freirs... + Of tails I will no more indite, + For dread some duddron[155] me despite: + Notwithstanding, I will conclude, + That of syde tails can come nae gude, + Sider nor may their ankles hide, + The remanent proceeds of pride, + And pride proceeds of the devil, + Thus alway they proceed of evil. + + Ane other fault, sir, may be seen-- + They hide their face all but the een; + When gentlemen bid them gude-day, + Without reverence they slide away... + Without their faults be soon amended, + My flyting,[156] sir, shall never be ended; + But wald your Grace my counsel tak, + Ane proclamation ye should mak, + Baith through the land and burrowstouns,[157] + To shaw their face and cut their gowns. + + Women will say this is nae bourds,[158] + To write sic vile and filthy words. + But wald they clenge[159] their filthy tails + Whilk over the mires and middens trails, + Then should my writing clengit be; + None other mends they get of me. + +[Footnote 149: sweep.] + +[Footnote 150: be annoyed.] + +[Footnote 151: curse or cry out.] + +[Footnote 152: draggle-tails.] + +[Footnote 153: hatched.] + +[Footnote 154: houghs.] + +[Footnote 155: slut.] + +[Footnote 156: scolding, brawling.] + +[Footnote 157: burgh towns.] + +[Footnote 158: scoffs.] + +[Footnote 159: cleanse.] + + + + +BISHOP JOSEPH HALL. + +(1574-1656.) + + +VII. ON SIMONY. + + This satire levels a rebuke at the Simoniacal traffic in livings, + then openly practised by public advertisement affixed to the door + of St. Paul's. "Si Quis" (if anyone) was the first word of these + advertisements. Dekker, in the _Gull's Hornbook_, speaks of the + "Siquis door of Paules", and in Wroth's _Epigrams_ (1620) we read, + "A Merry Greek set up a _Siquis_ late". This satire forms the Fifth + of the Second Book of the _Virgidemiarum_. + + + Saw'st thou ever Siquis patcht on Pauls Church door + To seek some vacant vicarage before? + Who wants a churchman that can service say, + Read fast and fair his monthly homily? + And wed and bury and make Christen-souls?[160] + Come to the left-side alley of St. Paules. + Thou servile fool, why could'st thou not repair + To buy a benefice at Steeple-Fair? + There moughtest thou, for but a slendid price, + Advowson thee with some fat benefice: + Or if thee list not wait for dead mens shoon, + Nor pray each morn the incumbents days were doone: + A thousand patrons thither ready bring, + Their new-fall'n[161] churches, to the chaffering; + Stake three years stipend: no man asketh more. + Go, take possession of the Church porch door, + And ring thy bells; luck stroken in thy fist + The parsonage is thine, or ere thou wist. + Saint Fool's of Gotam[162] mought thy parish be + For this thy base and servile Simony. + +[Footnote 160: baptize.] + +[Footnote 161: newly fallen in, through the death of the incumbent.] + +[Footnote 162: Referring to Andrew Borde's book, _The Merry Tales of +the Mad Men of Gotham_.] + + + +VIII. THE DOMESTIC TUTOR'S POSITION. + + This satire forms the Sixth of Book II. of the _Virgidemiarum_, and + is regarded as one of Bishop Hall's best. See the _Return from + Parnassus_ and Parrot's _Springes for Woodcocks_ (1613) for + analogous references to those occurring in this piece. + + + A gentle squire would gladly entertain + Into his house some trencher chapelain; + Some willing man that might instruct his sons, + And that would stand to good conditions. + First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed + Whiles his young master lieth o'er his head. + Second that he do on no default + Ever presume to sit above the salt. + Third that he never change his trencher twice. + Fourth that he use all common courtesies: + Sit bare at meals and one half rise and wait. + Last, that he never his young master beat, + But he must ask his mother to define, + How many jerks she would his breech should line. + All these observed, he could contented be, + To give five marks and winter livery. + + + +IX. THE IMPECUNIOUS FOP. + + This satire constitutes Satire Seven of Book III. The phrase of + dining with Duke Humphrey, which is still occasionally heard, + originated in the following manner:--In the body of old St. Paul's + was a huge and conspicuous monument of Sir John Beauchamp, buried + in 1358, son of Guy, and brother of Thomas, Earl of Warwick. This + by vulgar mistake was called the tomb of Humphrey, Duke of + Gloucester, who was really buried at St. Alban's. The middle aisle + of St. Paul's was therefore called "The Duke's Gallery". In + Dekker's _Dead Terme_ we have the phrase used and a full + explanation of it given; also in Sam Speed's _Legend of His Grace + Humphrey, Duke of St. Paul's Cathedral Walk_ (1674). + + + See'st thou how gaily my young master goes, + Vaunting himself upon his rising toes; + And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side; + And picks his glutted teeth since late noon-tide? + 'Tis Ruffio: Trow'st thou where he dined to-day? + In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humphrey. + Many good welcomes, and much gratis cheer, + Keeps he for every straggling cavalier; + An open house, haunted with great resort; + Long service mixt with musical disport. + Many fair younker with a feathered crest, + Chooses much rather be his shot-free guest, + To fare so freely with so little cost, + Than stake his twelvepence to a meaner host. + Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say + He touched no meat of all this livelong day; + For sure methought, yet that was but a guess, + His eyes seemed sunk for very hollowness, + But could he have--as I did it mistake-- + So little in his purse, so much upon his back? + So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt + That his gaunt gut no too much stuffing felt. + See'st thou how side[163] it hangs beneath his hip? + Hunger and heavy iron makes girdles slip. + Yet for all that, how stiffly struts he by, + All trapped in the new-found bravery. + The nuns of new-won Calais his bonnet lent, + In lieu of their so kind a conquerment. + What needed he fetch that from farthest Spain, + His grandame could have lent with lesser pain? + Though he perhaps ne'er passed the English shore, + Yet fain would counted be a conqueror. + His hair, French-like, stares on his frighted head, + One lock[164] Amazon-like dishevelled, + As if he meant to wear a native cord, + If chance his fates should him that bane afford. + All British bare upon the bristled skin, + Close notched is his beard, both lip and chin; + His linen collar labyrinthian set, + Whose thousand double turnings never met: + His sleeves half hid with elbow pinionings, + As if he meant to fly with linen wings. + But when I look, and cast mine eyes below, + What monster meets mine eyes in human show? + So slender waist with such an abbot's loin, + Did never sober nature sure conjoin. + Lik'st a strawn scarecrow in a new-sown field, + Reared on some stick, the tender corn to shield, + Or, if that semblance suit not every deal, + Like a broad shake-fork with a slender steel. + Despised nature suit them once aright, + Their body to their coat both now disdight. + Their body to their clothes might shapen be, + That will their clothës shape to their bodie. + Meanwhile I wonder at so proud a back, + Whiles the empty guts loud rumblen for long lack. + +[Footnote 163: long.] + +[Footnote 164: the love-locks which were so condemned by the Puritan +Prynne. Cf. Lyly's _Midas_ and Sir John Davies' Epigram 22, _In +Ciprum_.] + + + + +GEORGE CHAPMAN. + +(1559-1634.) + + +X. AN INVECTIVE WRITTEN BY MR. GEORGE CHAPMAN AGAINST MR. BEN JONSON. + + This satire was discovered in a "Common-place Book" belonging to + Chapman, preserved among the Ashmole MSS. in the Bodleian Library, + Oxford. + + + Great, learned, witty Ben, be pleased to light + The world with that three-forked fire; nor fright + All us, thy sublearned, with luciferous boast + That thou art most great, most learn'd, witty most + Of all the kingdom, nay of all the earth; + As being a thing betwixt a human birth + And an infernal; no humanity + Of the divine soul shewing man in thee. + + * * * * * + + Though thy play genius hang his broken wings + Full of sick feathers, and with forced things, + Imp thy scenes, labour'd and unnatural, + And nothing good comes with thy thrice-vex'd call, + Comest thou not yet, nor yet? O no, nor yet; + Yet are thy learn'd admirers so deep set + In thy preferment above all that cite + The sun in challenge for the heat and light + Of heaven's influences which of you two knew + And have most power in them; Great Ben, 'tis you. + Examine him, some truly-judging spirit, + That pride nor fortune hath to blind his merit, + He match'd with all book-fires, he ever read + His dusk poor candle-rents; his own fat head + With all the learn'd world's, Alexander's flame + That Cæsar's conquest cow'd, and stript his fame, + He shames not to give reckoning in with his; + As if the king pardoning his petulancies + Should pay his huge loss too in such a score + As all earth's learned fires he gather'd for. + What think'st thou, just friend? equall'd not this pride + All yet that ever Hell or Heaven defied? + And yet for all this, this club will inflict + His faultful pain, and him enough convict + He only reading show'd; learning, nor wit; + Only Dame Gilian's fire his desk will fit. + But for his shift by fire to save the loss + Of his vast learning, this may prove it gross: + True Muses ever vent breaths mixt with fire + Which, form'd in numbers, they in flames expire + Not only flames kindled with their own bless'd breath + That gave th' unborn life, and eternize death. + Great Ben, I know that this is in thy hand + And how thou fix'd in heaven's fix'd star dost stand + In all men's admirations and command; + For all that can be scribbled 'gainst the sorter + Of thy dead repercussions and reporter. + The kingdom yields not such another man; + Wonder of men he is; the player can + And bookseller prove true, if they could know + Only one drop, that drives in such a flow. + Are they not learned beasts, the better far + Their drossy exhalations a star + Their brainless admirations may render; + For learning in the wise sort is but lender + Of men's prime notion's doctrine; their own way + Of all skills' perceptible forms a key + Forging to wealth, and honour-soothed sense, + Never exploring truth or consequence, + Informing any virtue or good life; + And therefore Player, Bookseller, or Wife + Of either, (needing no such curious key) + All men and things, may know their own rude way. + Imagination and our appetite + Forming our speech no easier than they light + All letterless companions; t' all they know + Here or hereafter that like earth's sons plough + All under-worlds and ever downwards grow, + Nor let your learning think, egregious Ben, + These letterless companions are not men + With all the arts and sciences indued, + If of man's true and worthiest knowledge rude, + Which is to know and be one complete man, + And that not all the swelling ocean + Of arts and sciences, can pour both in: + If that brave skill then when thou didst begin + To study letters, thy great wit had plied, + Freely and only thy disease of pride + In vulgar praise had never bound thy [hide]. + + + + +JOHN DONNE. + +(1573-1631.) + + +XI. THE CHARACTER OF THE BORE. + + From Donne's _Satires_, No. IV.; first published in the quarto + edition of the "Poems" in 1633. See Dr. Grosart's interesting Essay + on the Life and Writings of Donne, prefixed to Vol. II. of that + scholar's excellent edition. + + + Well; I may now receive and die. My sin + Indeed is great, but yet I have been in + A purgatory, such as fear'd hell is + A recreation, and scant map of this. + My mind neither with pride's itch, nor yet hath been + Poison'd with love to see or to be seen. + I had no suit there, nor new suit to shew, + Yet went to court: but as Glare, which did go + To mass in jest, catch'd, was fain to disburse + The hundred marks, which is the statute's curse, + Before he 'scap'd; so't pleas'd my Destiny + (Guilty of my sin of going) to think me + As prone to all ill, and of good as forget- + Ful, as proud, lustful, and as much in debt, + As vain, as witless, and as false as they + Which dwell in court, for once going that way, + Therefore I suffer'd this: Towards me did run + A thing more strange than on Nile's slime the sun + E'er bred, or all which into Noah's ark came; + A thing which would have pos'd Adam to name: + Stranger than seven antiquaries' studies, + Than Afric's monsters, Guiana's rarities; + Stranger than strangers; one who for a Dane + In the Danes' massacre had sure been slain, + If he had liv'd then, and without help dies + When next the 'prentices 'gainst strangers rise; + One whom the watch at noon lets scarce go by; + One t' whom th' examining justice sure would cry, + Sir, by your priesthood, tell me what you are. + His clothes were strange, though coarse, and black, though bare; + Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been + Velvet, but 'twas now (so much ground was seen) + Become tufftaffaty; and our children shall + See it plain rash a while, then nought at all. + The thing hath travail'd, and, faith, speaks all tongues, + And only knoweth what t' all states belongs. + Made of th' accents and best phrase of all these, + He speaks one language. If strange meats displease, + Art can deceive, or hunger force my taste; + But pedant's motley tongue, soldier's bombast, + Mountebank's drug-tongue, nor the terms of law, + Are strong enough preparatives to draw + Me to hear this, yet I must be content + With his tongue, in his tongue call'd Compliment; + In which he can win widows, and pay scores, + Make men speak treason, cozen subtlest whores, + Outflatter favourites, or outlie either + Jovius or Surius, or both together. + He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God! + How have I sinn'd, that thy wrath's furious rod, + This fellow, chooseth me? He saith, Sir, + I love your judgment; whom do you prefer + For the best linguist? and I sillily + Said, that I thought Calepine's Dictionary. + Nay, but of men? Most sweet Sir! Beza, then + Some Jesuits, and two reverend men + Of our two academies, I nam'd. Here + He stopt me, and said; Nay, your apostles were + Good pretty linguists; so Panurgus was, + Yet a poor gentleman; all these may pass + By travel. Then, as if he would have sold + His tongue, he prais'd it, and such wonders told, + That I was fain to say, If you had liv'd, Sir, + Time enough to have been interpreter + To Babel's bricklayers, sure the tower had stood. + He adds, If of court-life you knew the good, + You would leave loneness. I said, Not alone + My loneness is, but Spartan's fashion, + To teach by painting drunkards, doth not last + Now; Aretine's pictures have made few chaste; + No more can princes' courts, though there be few + Better pictures of vice, teach me virtue. + He, like to a high-stretch'd lute-string, squeakt, O, Sir! + 'Tis sweet to talk of kings! At Westminster, + Said I, the man that keeps the Abbey-tombs, + And for his price doth, with who ever comes, + Of all our Harrys and our Edwards talk, + From king to king, and all their kin can walk: + Your ears shall hear naught but kings; your eyes meet + Kings only; the way to it is King's street. + He smack'd, and cry'd, He's base, mechanic coarse; + So're all our Englishmen in their discourse. + Are not your Frenchmen neat? Mine, eyes you see, + I have but one, Sir; look, he follows me. + Certes, they're neatly cloth'd. I of this mind am, + Your only wearing is your grogaram. + Not so, Sir; I have more. Under this pitch + He would not fly. I chaf'd him; but as itch + Scratch'd into smart, and as blunt iron ground + Into an edge, hurts worse; so I (fool!) found + Crossing hurt me. To fit my sullenness, + He to another key his style doth dress, + And asks, What news? I tell him of new plays: + He takes my hand, and, as a still which stays + A semibrief 'twixt each drop, he niggardly + As loth to enrich me, so tells many a lie, + More than ten Hollensheads, or Halls, or Stows, + Of trivial household trash he knows. He knows + When the queen frown'd or smil'd; and he knows what + A subtile statesman may gather of that: + He knows who loves whom, and who by poison + Hastes to an office's reversion; + He knows who hath sold his land, and now doth beg + A license old iron, boots, shoes, and egg- + Shells to transport. Shortly boys shall not play + At span-counter, or blow-point, but shall play + Toll to some courtier; and, wiser than us all, + He knows what lady is not painted. Thus + He with home-meats cloys me. I belch, spue, spit, + Look pale and sickly, like a patient, yet + He thrusts on more; and as he had undertook + To say Gallo-Belgicus without book, + Speaks of all states and deeds that have been since + The Spaniards came to th' loss of Amyens. + Like a big wife, at sight of loathed meat, + Ready to travail, so I sigh and sweat + To hear this makaron[165] talk in vain; for yet, + Either my humour or his own to fit, + He, like a privileg'd spy, whom nothing can + Discredit, libels now 'gainst each great man: + He names a price for every office paid: + He saith, Our wars thrive ill, because delay'd; + That offices are entail'd, and that there are + Perpetuities of them lasting as far + As the last day; and that great officers + Do with the pirates share and Dunkirkers. + Who wastes in meat, in clothes, in horse, he notes; + Who loves whores, who boys, and who goats. + I, more amaz'd than Circe's prisoners, when + They felt themselves turn beasts, felt myself then + Becoming traitor, and methought I saw + One of our giant statues ope his jaw + To suck me in for hearing him: I found + That as burnt venomous leachers do grow sound + By giving others their sores, I might grow + Guilty, and be free; therefore I did show + All signs of loathing; but since I am in, + I must pay mine and my forefathers' sin + To the last farthing: therefore to my power + Toughly and stubbornly I bear this cross; but th' hour + Of mercy now was come: he tries to bring + Me to pay a fine to 'scape his torturing, + And says, Sir, can you spare me? I said, Willingly. + Nay, Sir, can you spare me a crown? Thankfully I + Gave it as ransom. But as fiddlers still, + Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will + Thrust one more jigg upon you; so did he + With his long complimented thanks vex me. + But he is gone, thanks to his needy want, + And the prerogative of my crown. Scant + His thanks were ended when I (which did see + All the court fill'd with such strange things as he) + Ran from thence with such or more haste than one + Who fears more actions doth haste from prison. + At home in wholesome solitariness + My piteous soul began the wretchedness + Of suitors at court to mourn, and a trance + Like his who dreamt he saw hell did advance + Itself o'er me: such men as he saw there + I saw at court, and worse, and more. Low fear + Becomes the guilty, not th' accuser; then + Shall I, none's slave, of high born or rais'd men + Fear frowns, and my mistress, Truth! betray thee + To th' huffing braggart, puft nobility? + No, no; thou which since yesterday hast been + Almost about the whole world, hast thou seen, + O Sun! in all thy journey vanity + Such as swells the bladder of our court? I + Think he which made your waxen garden, and + Transported it from Italy, to stand + With us at London, flouts our courtiers; for + Just such gay painted things, which no sap nor + Taste have in them, ours are! + +[Footnote 165: fop, early form of macaroni.] + + + + +BEN JONSON. + +(1573-1637.) + + These two pieces are taken from Jonson's _Epigrams_. The first of + them was exceedingly popular in the poet's own lifetime. + + +XII. THE NEW CRY. + + Ere cherries ripe, and strawberries be gone; + Unto the cries of London I'll add one; + Ripe statesmen, ripe: they grow in ev'ry street; + At six-and-twenty, ripe. You shall 'em meet, + And have him yield no favour, but of state. + Ripe are their ruffs, their cuffs, their beards, their gate, + And grave as ripe, like mellow as their faces. + They know the states of Christendom, not the places: + Yet have they seen the maps, and bought 'em too, + And understand 'em, as most chapmen do. + The counsels, projects, practices they know, + And what each prince doth for intelligence owe, + And unto whom; they are the almanacks + For twelve years yet to come, what each state lacks. + They carry in their pockets Tacitus, + And the Gazetti, or Gallo-Belgicus: + And talk reserv'd, lock'd up, and full of fear; + Nay, ask you how the day goes, in your ear. + Keep a Star-chamber sentence close twelve days: + And whisper what a Proclamation says. + They meet in sixes, and at ev'ry mart, + Are sure to con the catalogue by heart; + Or ev'ry day, some one at Rimee's looks, + Or bills, and there he buys the name of books. + They all get Porta, for the sundry ways + To write in cypher, and the several keys, + To ope the character. They've found the slight + With juice of lemons, onions, piss, to write; + To break up seals and close 'em. And they know, + If the states make peace, how it will go + With England. All forbidden books they get, + And of the powder-plot, they will talk yet. + At naming the French king, their heads they shake, + And at the Pope, and Spain, slight faces make. + Or 'gainst the bishops, for the brethren rail + Much like those brethren; thinking to prevail + With ignorance on us, as they have done + On them: and therefore do not only shun + Others more modest, but contemn us too, + That know not so much state, wrong, as they do. + + + +XIII. ON DON SURLY. + + Don Surly to aspire the glorious name + Of a great man, and to be thought the same, + Makes serious use of all great trade he knows. + He speaks to men with a rhinocerote's nose, + Which he thinks great; and so reads verses too: + And that is done, as he saw great men do. + He has tympanies of business, in his face, + And can forget men's names, with a great grace. + He will both argue, and discourse in oaths, + Both which are great. And laugh at ill-made clothes; + That's greater yet: to cry his own up neat. + He doth, at meals, alone his pheasant eat, + Which is main greatness. And, at his still board, + He drinks to no man: that's, too, like a lord. + He keeps another's wife, which is a spice + Of solemn greatness. And he dares, at dice, + Blaspheme God greatly. Or some poor hind beat, + That breathes in his dog's way: and this is great. + Nay more, for greatness' sake, he will be one + May hear my epigrams, but like of none. + Surly, use other arts, these only can + Style thee a most great fool, but no great man. + + + + +SAMUEL BUTLER. + +(1612-1680.) + + +XIV. THE CHARACTER OF HUDIBRAS. + + This extract is taken from the first canto of Hudibras, and + contains the complete portrait of the Knight, Butler's aim in the + presentation of this character being to satirize those fanatics and + pretenders to religion who flourished during the Commonwealth. + + + When civil dudgeon first grew high, + And men fell out they knew not why; + When hard words, jealousies and fears, + Set folks together by the ears, + And made them fight like mad or drunk, + For Dame Religion as for punk: + Whose honesty they all durst swear for, + Though not a man of them knew wherefore: + When gospel-trumpeter surrounded + With long-ear'd rout to battle sounded, + And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, + Was beat with fist, instead of a stick: + Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, + And out he rode a-colonelling, + A wight he was, whose very sight wou'd + Intitle him, _Mirrour of Knighthood_; + That never bow'd his stubborn knee + To any thing but chivalry; + Nor put up blow, but that which laid + Right Worshipful on shoulder-blade: + Chief of domestic knights and errant, + Either for chartel or for warrant: + Great in the bench, great in the saddle, + That could as well bind o'er as swaddle: + Mighty he was at both of these, + And styl'd of _war_, as well as _peace_, + (So some rats, of amphibious nature, + Are either for the land or water). + But here our authors make a doubt, + Whether he were more wise or stout. + Some hold the one, and some the other: + But howsoe'er they make a pother, + The diff'rence was so small his brain + Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain; + Which made some take him for a tool + That knaves do work with, call'd a _fool_. + For 't has been held by many, that + As Montaigne, playing with his cat, + Complains she thought him but an ass, + Much more she would Sir Hudibras, + (For that the name our valiant Knight + To all his challenges did write) + But they're mistaken very much, + 'Tis plain enough he was no such. + We grant although he had much wit, + H' was very shy of using it; + As being loth to wear it out, + And therefore bore it not about + Unless on holidays, or so, + As men their best apparel do. + Besides, 'tis known he could speak Greek + As naturally as pigs squeak: + That Latin was no more difficile, + Than for a blackbird 'tis to whistle. + B'ing rich in both, he never scanted + His bounty unto such as wanted; + But much of either would afford + To many that had not one word. + For Hebrew roots, although they're found + To flourish most in barren ground, + He had such plenty as suffic'd + To make some think him circumcis'd: + And truly so he was, perhaps, + Not as a proselyte, but for claps, + He was in logic a great critic, + Profoundly skill'd in analytic; + He could distinguish, and divide + A hair 'twixt south and south west side; + On either which he could dispute, + Confute, change hands, and still confute; + He'd undertake to prove by force + Of argument, a man's no horse; + He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, + And that a lord may be an owl; + A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, + And rooks committee-men and trustees, + He'd run in debt by disputation, + And pay with ratiocination: + All this by syllogism, true + In mood and figure, he would do. + For rhetoric, he could not ope + His mouth, but out there flew a trope; + And when he happened to break off + I' th' middle of his speech, or cough, + H' had hard words, ready to show why, + And tell what rules he did it by: + Else when with greatest art he spoke, + You'd think he talk'd like other folk, + For all a rhetorician's rules + Teach nothing but to name his tools. + But, when he pleas'd to show't his speech + In loftiness of sound was rich; + A Babylonish dialect, + Which learned pedants much affect: + It was a party-coloured dress + Of patch'd and pye-ball'd languages; + 'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin, + Like fustian heretofore on satin. + It had an odd promiscuous tone, + As if h' had talk'd three parts in one; + Which made some think when he did gabble, + Th' had heard three labourers of Babel; + Or Cerberus himself pronounce + A leash of languages at once. + This he as volubly would vent + As if his stock would ne'er be spent; + And truly, to support that charge, + He had supplies as vast as large: + For he could coin or counterfeit + New words with little or no wit: + Words so debas'd and hard, no stone + Was hard enough to touch them on: + And when with hasty noise he spoke 'em, + The ignorant for current took 'em, + That had the orator who once + Did fill his mouth with pebble-stones + When he harangu'd but known his phrase, + He would have us'd no other ways. + In mathematics he was greater + Then Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater: + For he, by geometric scale, + Could take the size of pots of ale; + Resolve by sines and tangents, straight, + If bread and butter wanted weight; + And wisely tell what hour o' th' day + The clock does strike by algebra. + Beside, he was a shrewd philosopher, + And had read ev'ry text and gloss over; + Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath, + He understood b' implicit faith: + Whatever sceptic could inquire for, + For every _why_ he had a _wherefore_, + Knew more than forty of them do, + As far as words and terms could go. + All which he understood by rote, + And as occasion serv'd, would quote: + No matter whether right or wrong, + They must be either said or sung. + His notions fitted things so well, + That which was which he could not tell; + But oftentimes mistook the one + For th' other, as great clerks have done. + He cou'd reduce all things to acts, + And knew their natures by abstracts; + Where entity and quiddity, + The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly; + Where Truth in persons does appear, + Like words congeal'd in northern air. + He knew what's what, and that's as high + As metaphysic wit can fly. + In school divinity as able, + As he that hight, Irrefragable; + A second Thomas, or at once + To name them all, another Duns: + Profound in all the Nominal + And Real ways beyond them all; + For he a rope of sand could twist + As tough as learned Sorbonist: + And weave fine cobwebs, fit for scull; + That's empty when the moon is full: + Such as lodgings in a head + That's to be let unfurnished. + He could raise scruples dark and nice, + And after solve 'em in a trice, + As if divinity had catch'd + The itch, on purpose to be scratch'd; + Or, like a mountebank, did wound + And stab herself with doubts profound, + Only to show with how small pain + The sores of faith are cur'd again; + Although by woful proof we find, + They always leave a scar behind. + He knew the seat of paradise, + Cou'd tell in what degree it lies; + And, as he was dispos'd could prove it, + Below the moon, or else above it. + What Adam dream'd of when his bride + Came from her closet in his side; + Whether the devil tempted her + By a High-Dutch interpreter; + If either of them had a navel; + Who first made music malleable; + Whether the serpent, at the fall, + Had cloven feet, or none at all; + All this without a gloss or comment, + He could unriddle in a moment, + In proper terms such as men smatter, + When they throw out and miss the matter. + For his religion it was fit + To match his learning and his wit; + 'Twas Presbyterian true blue, + For he was of that stubborn crew + Of errant saints, whom all men grant + To be the true church militant: + Such as do build their faith upon + The holy text of pike and gun; + Decide all controversies by + Infallible artillery; + And prove their doctrine orthodox + By apostolic blows and knocks; + Call fire, and sword, and desolation, + A godly thorough reformation, + Which always must be carried on, + And still be doing, never done: + As if religion were intended + For nothing else but to be mended. + A sect whose chief devotion lies + In odd perverse antipathies: + In falling out with that or this, + And finding somewhat still amiss + More peevish, cross, and splenetic, + Than dog distract, or monkey sick + That with more care keep holiday + The wrong, than others the right way: + Compound for sins they are inclin'd to, + By damning those they have no mind to. + Still so perverse and opposite, + As if they worshipp'd God for spite. + The self-same thing they will abhor + One way, and long another for. + Free-will they one way disavow, + Another, nothing else allow. + + + +XV. THE CHARACTER OF A SMALL POET. + + From Butler's "Characters", a series of satirical portraits akin to + those of Theophrastus. + + +The Small Poet is one that would fain make himself that which nature +never meant him; like a fanatic that inspires himself with his own +whimsies. He sets up haberdasher of small poetry, with a very small +stock and no credit. He believes it is invention enough to find out +other men's wit; and whatsoever he lights upon, either in books or +company, he makes bold with as his own. This he puts together so +untowardly, that you may perceive his own wit as the rickets, by the +swelling disproportion of the joints. You may know his wit not to be +natural, 'tis so unquiet and troublesome in him: for as those that have +money but seldom, are always shaking their pockets when they have it, +so does he, when he thinks he has got something that will make him +appear witty. He is a perpetual talker; and you may know by the freedom +of his discourse that he came lightly by it, as thieves spend freely +what they get. He is like an Italian thief, that never robs but he +murders, to prevent discovery; so sure is he to cry down the man from +whom he purloins, that his petty larceny of wit may pass unsuspected. +He appears so over-concerned in all men's wits, as if they were but +disparagements of his own; and cries down all they do, as if they were +encroachments upon him. He takes jests from the owners and breaks them, +as justices do false weights, and pots that want measure. When he meets +with anything that is very good, he changes it into small money, like +three groats for a shilling, to serve several occasions. He disclaims +study, pretends to take things in motion, and to shoot flying, which +appears to be very true, by his often missing of his mark. As for +epithets, he always avoids those that are near akin to the sense. Such +matches are unlawful and not fit to be made by a Christian poet; and +therefore all his care is to choose out such as will serve, like a +wooden leg, to piece out a maimed verse that wants a foot or two, and +if they will but rhyme now and then into the bargain, or run upon a +letter, it is a work of supererogation. For similitudes, he likes the +hardest and most obscure best; for as ladies wear black patches to make +their complexions seem fairer than they are, so when an illustration is +more obscure than the sense that went before it, it must of necessity +make it appear clearer than it did; for contraries are best set off +with contraries. He has found out a new sort of poetical Georgics--a +trick of sowing wit like clover-grass on barren subjects, which would +yield nothing before. This is very useful for the times, wherein, some +men say, there is no room left for new invention. He will take three +grains of wit like the elixir, and, projecting it upon the iron age, +turn it immediately into gold. All the business of mankind has +presently vanished, the whole world has kept holiday; there has been no +men but heroes and poets, no women but nymphs and shepherdesses: trees +have borne fritters, and rivers flowed plum-porridge. When he writes, +he commonly steers the sense of his lines by the rhyme that is at the +end of them, as butchers do calves by the tail. For when he has made +one line, which is easy enough, and has found out some sturdy hard word +that will but rhyme, he will hammer the sense upon it, like a piece of +hot iron upon an anvil, into what form he pleases. There is no art in +the world so rich in terms as poetry; a whole dictionary is scarce able +to contain them; for there is hardly a pond, a sheep-walk, or a +gravel-pit in all Greece, but the ancient name of it is become a term +of art in poetry. By this means, small poets have such a stock of able +hard words lying by them, as dryades, hamadryades, aönides, fauni, +nymphæ, sylvani, &c. that signify nothing at all; and such a world of +pedantic terms of the same kind, as may serve to furnish all the new +inventions and "thorough reformations" that can happen between this and +Plato's great year. + + + + +ANDREW MARVELL. + +(1621-1678.) + + +XVI. NOSTRADAMUS'S PROPHECY. + + From _Political Satires and other Pieces_. It is curious to note + how much of the prophecy was actually fulfilled. + + + For faults and follies London's doom shall fix, + And she must sink in flames in "sixty-six"; + Fire-balls shall fly, but few shall see the train, + As far as from Whitehall to Pudding-Lane; + To burn the city, which again shall rise, + Beyond all hopes aspiring to the skies, + Where vengeance dwells. But there is one thing more + (Tho' its walls stand) shall bring the city low'r; + When legislators shall their trust betray, + Saving their own, shall give the rest away; + And those false men by th' easy people sent, + Give taxes to the King by Parliament; + When barefaced villains shall not blush to cheat + And chequer doors shall shut up Lombard Street. + When players come to act the part of queens, + Within the curtains, and behind the scenes: + When no man knows in whom to put his trust, + And e'en to rob the chequer shall be just, + When declarations, lies and every oath + Shall be in use at court, but faith and troth. + When two good kings shall be at Brentford town, + And when in London there shall not be one: + When the seat's given to a talking fool, + Whom wise men laugh at, and whom women rule; + A minister able only in his tongue + To make harsh empty speeches two hours long + When an old Scots Covenanter shall be + The champion for the English hierarchy: + When bishops shall lay all religion by, + And strive by law to establish tyranny, + When a lean treasurer shall in one year + Make himself fat, his King and people bare: + When the English Prince shall Englishmen despise, + And think French only loyal, Irish wise; + When wooden shoon shall be the English wear + And Magna Charta shall no more appear: + Then the English shall a greater tyrant know, + Than either Greek or Latin story show: + Their wives to 's lust exposed, their wealth to 's spoil, + With groans to fill his treasury they toil; + But like the Bellides must sigh in vain + For that still fill'd flows out as fast again; + Then they with envious eyes shall Belgium see, + And wish in vain Venetian liberty. + The frogs too late grown weary of their pain, + Shall pray to Jove to take him back again. + + + + +JOHN CLEIVELAND. + +(1613-1658.) + + +XVII. THE SCOTS APOSTASIE. + + From _Poems and Satires_, posthumously published in 1662. + + + Is't come to this? What shall the cheeks of fame + Stretch'd with the breath of learned Loudon's name, + Be flogg'd again? And that great piece of sense, + As rich in loyalty and eloquence, + Brought to the test be found a trick of state, + Like chemist's tinctures, proved adulterate; + The devil sure such language did achieve, + To cheat our unforewarned grand-dam Eve, + As this imposture found out to be sot + The experienced English to believe a Scot, + Who reconciled the Covenant's doubtful sense, + The Commons argument, or the City's pence? + Or did you doubt persistence in one good, + Would spoil the fabric of your brotherhood, + Projected first in such a forge of sin, + Was fit for the grand devil's hammering? + Or was't ambition that this damnéd fact + Should tell the world you know the sins you act? + The infamy this super-treason brings. + Blasts more than murders of your sixty kings; + A crime so black, as being advisedly done, + Those hold with these no competition. + Kings only suffered then; in this doth lie + The assassination of monarchy, + Beyond this sin no one step can be trod. + If not to attempt deposing of your God. + O, were you so engaged, that we might see + Heav'ns angry lightning 'bout your ears to flee, + Till you were shrivell'd to dust, and your cold land + Parch't to a drought beyond the Libyan sand! + But 'tis reserv'd till Heaven plague you worse; + The objects of an epidemic curse, + First, may your brethren, to whose viler ends + Your power hath bawded, cease to be your friends; + And prompted by the dictate of their reason; + And may their jealousies increase and breed + Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed. + In foreign nations may your loathed name be + A stigmatizing brand of infamy; + Till forced by general hate you cease to roam + The world, and for a plague live at home: + Till you resume your poverty, and be + Reduced to beg where none can be so free + To grant: and may your scabby land be all + Translated to a generall hospital. + Let not the sun afford one gentle ray, + To give you comfort of a summer's day; + But, as a guerdon for your traitorous war, + Love cherished only by the northern star. + No stranger deign to visit your rude coast, + And be, to all but banisht men, as lost. + And such in heightening of the indiction due + Let provok'd princes send them all to you. + Your State a chaos be, where not the law, + But power, your lives and liberties may give. + No subject 'mongst you keep a quiet breast + But each man strive through blood to be the best; + Till, for those miseries on us you've brought + By your own sword our just revenge be wrought. + To sum up all ... let your religion be + As your allegiance--maskt hypocrisie + Until when Charles shall be composed in dust + Perfum'd with epithets of good and just. + He saved--incenséd Heaven may have forgot-- + To afford one act of mercy to a Scot: + Unless that Scot deny himself and do + What's easier far--Renounce his nation too. + + + + +JOHN DRYDEN. + +(1631-1700.) + + +XVIII. SATIRE ON THE DUTCH. + + Originally printed in broadside form, being written in the year + 1662. It was bitterly resented by the Dutch. + + + As needy gallants, in the scriv'ner's hands, + Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd lands; + The first fat buck of all the season'd sent, + And keeper takes no fee in compliment; + The dotage of some Englishmen is such, + To fawn on those, who ruin them, the Dutch. + They shall have all, rather than make a war + With those, who of the same religion are. + The Straits, the Guinea-trade, the herrings too; + Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you. + Some are resolv'd, not to find out the cheat, + But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat. + What injuries soe'er upon us fall, + Yet still the same religion answers all. + Religion wheedl'd us to civil war, + Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now wou'd spare. + Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true, + They have no more religion, faith! than you. + Int'rest's the God they worship in their state, + And we, I take it, have not much of that. + Well monarchies may own religion's name, + But states are atheists in their very frame. + They share a sin; and such proportions fall, + That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all. + Think on their rapine, falsehood, cruelty, + And that what once they were, they still wou'd be. + To one well-born th' affront is worse and more, + When he's abus'd and baffl'd by a boor. + With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do; + They've both ill nature and ill manners too. + Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation; + For they were bred ere manners were in fashion: + And their new commonwealth has set them free + Only from honour and civility. + Venetians do not more uncouthly ride, + Than did their lubber state mankind bestride. + Their sway became 'em with as ill a mien, + As their own paunches swell above their chin. + Yet is their empire no true growth but humour, + And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour. + As Cato did in Africk fruits display; + Let us before our eyes their Indies lay: + All loyal English will like him conclude; + Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdu'd. + + + +XIX. MACFLECKNOE. + + This satire was written in reply to a savage poem by the dramatist, + Thomas Shadwell, entitled "The Medal of John Dayes". Dryden and + Shadwell had been friends, but the enmity begotten of political + opposition had separated them. Flecknoe, who gives the name to this + poem, and of whom Shadwell is treated as the son and heir, was a + dull poet who had always laid himself open to ridicule. It is not + known (says W.D. Christie in the _Globe_ Dryden) whether he had + ever given Dryden offence, but it is certain that his "Epigrams", + published in 1670, contain some lines addressed to Dryden of a + complimentary character. + + + All human things are subject to decay, + And, when fate summons, monarchs must obey; + This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young + Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long; + In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute, + Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute + This aged prince, now flourishing in peace, + And blest with issue of a large increase; + Worn out with business, did at length debate + To settle the succession of the state: + And, pond'ring, which of all his sons was fit + To reign, and wage immortal war with wit, + Cry'd, "'Tis resolv'd; for Nature pleads, that he + Should only rule, who most resembles me. + Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, + Mature in dulness from his tender years: + Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he, + Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity. + The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, + But Shadwell never deviates into sense. + Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, + Strike through, and make a lucid interval; + But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray, + His rising fogs prevail upon the day. + Besides, his goodly fabrick fills the eye, + And seems design'd for thoughtless majesty: + Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that shade the plain + And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign. + Heywood and Shirley were but types of thee, + Thou last great prophet of tautology. + Even I, a dunce of more renown than they, + Was sent before but to prepare thy way; + And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came + To teach the nations in thy greater name. + My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung, + When to King John of Portugal I sung, + Was but the prelude to that glorious day, + When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way, + With well-tim'd oars before the royal barge. + Swell'd with the pride of thy celestial charge; + And big with hymn, commander of an host, + The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets tost. + Methinks I see the new Arion fail, + The lute still trembling underneath thy nail. + At thy well-sharpened thumb, from shore to shore, + The trebles squeak with fear, the basses roar: + Echoes from Pissing-Alley Shadwell call, + And Shadwell they resound from Aston-Hall. + About thy boat the little fishes throng + As at the morning toast, that floats along. + Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band, + Thou wield'st thy papers in thy threshing hand. + St. Andre's feet ne'er kept more equal time, + Not ev'n the feet of thy own Psyche's rime: + Though they in number as in sense excel; + So just, so like tautology, they fell, + That, pale with envy, Singleton forswore + The lute and sword which he in triumph bore, + And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius more." + Here stopt the good old sire, and wept for joy, + In silent raptures of the hopeful boy. + All arguments, but most his plays, persuade, + That for anointed dulness he was made. + Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind, + (The fair Augusta much to fears inclin'd) + An ancient fabric, rais'd t' inform the sight + There stood of yore, and Barbican it hight: + A watch-tower once; but now so fate ordains, + Of all the pile an empty name remains: + From its old ruins brothel-houses rise, + Scenes of lewd loves, and of polluted joys, + Where their vast courts the mother-strumpets keep, + And, undisturb'd by watch, in silence sleep. + Near these a nursery erects its head + Where queens are form'd, and future heroes bred; + Where unfledg'd actors learn to laugh and cry, + Where infant punks their tender voices try, + And little Maximins the gods defy. + Great Fletcher never treads in buskins here, + Nor greater Jonson dares in socks appear; + But gentle Simkin just reception finds + Amidst this monument of vanish'd minds: + Poor clinches the suburbian Muse affords, + And Panton waging harmless war with words. + Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well known, + Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne. + For ancient Dekker prophesy'd long since, + That in this pile should reign a mighty prince, + Born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense: + To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe, + But worlds of misers from his pen should flow; + Humorists and hypocrites it should produce, + Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce. + Now Empress Fame had publish'd the renown + Of Shadwell's coronation through the town. + Rous'd by report of fame, the nations meet, + From near Bunhill, and distant Watling-street. + No Persian carpets spread th' imperial way, + But scatter'd limbs of mangled Poets lay; + From dusty shops neglected authors come, + Martyrs of pies, and reliques of the bum. + Much Heywood, Shirley, Ogleby there lay, + But loads of Shadwell almost chok'd the way. + Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepar'd, + And Herringman was captain of the guard. + The hoary prince in majesty appear'd, + High on a throne of his own labours rear'd. + At his right hand our young Ascanius sate, + Rome's other hope, and pillar of the state. + His brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace, + And lambent dulness play'd around his face. + As Hannibal did to the altars come, + Swore by his sire a mortal foe to Rome; + So Shadwell swore, nor should his vow be vain, + That he till death true dulness would maintain; + And, in his father's right, and realm's defence, + Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense. + The king himself the sacred unction made, + As king by office, and as priest by trade. + In his sinister hand, instead of ball, + He plac'd a mighty mug of potent ale; + Love's kingdom to his right he did convey, + At once his sceptre, and his rule of sway; + Whose righteous lore the prince had practis'd young, + And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung. + His temples, last, with poppies were o'erspread + That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head. + Just at the point of time, if Fame not lie, + On his left hand twelve reverend owls did fly. + So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tiber's brook, + Presage of sway from twice six vultures took. + Th' admiring throng loud acclamations make, + And omens of his future empire take. + The sire then shook the honours of his head, + And from his brows damps of oblivion shed + Full on the filial dulness: Long he stood, + Repelling from his breast the raging god: + At length burst out in this prophetic mood. + "Heav'ns! bless my son! from Ireland let him reign + To far Barbadoes on the western main; + Of his dominion may no end be known, + And greater than his father's be his throne; + Beyond Love's kingdom let him stretch his pen!--" + He paus'd, and all the people cry'd "Amen". + Then thus continu'd he: "My son, advance + Still in new impudence, new ignorance. + Success let others teach, learn thou from me + Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry. + Let Virtuosos in five years be writ; + Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit. + Let gentle George in triumph tread the stage, + Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage; + Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pit, + And in their folly show the writer's wit. + Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence, + And justify their authors' want of sense. + Let 'em be all by thy own model made + Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid; + That they to future ages may be known, + Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own. + Nay, let thy men of wit too be the same, + All full of thee, and diff'ring but in name. + But let no alien Sedley interpose, + To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose. + And when false flowers of rhetorick thou would'st cull, + Trust Nature, do not labour to be dull; + But write thy best, and top; and, in each line, + Sir Formal's oratory will be thine: + Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill, + And does thy Northern Dedications fill. + Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame, + By arrogating Jonson's hostile name. + Let father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise, + And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise. + Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part: + What share have we in Nature or in Art? + Where did his wit on learning fix a brand, + And rail at arts he did not understand? + Where made he love in Prince Nicander's vein, + Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain? + Where sold he bargains, whip-stitch, kiss my arse, + Promis'd a play, and dwindled to a farce? + When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin, + As thou whole Eth'ridge dost transfuse to thine? + But so transfus'd, as oil and waters flow, + His always floats above, thine sinks below. + This is thy province, this thy wondrous way, + New humours to invent for each new play: + This is that boasted bias of thy mind, + By which, one way, to dulness 'tis inclin'd: + Which makes thy writings lean on one side still, + And, in all changes, that way bends thy will. + Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence + Of likeness; thine's a tympany of sense. + A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, + But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit. + Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep; + Thy tragic muse gives smiles, thy comic sleep. + With whate'er gall thou set'st thyself to write, + Thy inoffensive satires never bite. + In thy felonious heart though venom lies, + It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. + Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame + In keen Iambics, but mild Anagram. + Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command + Some peaceful province in acrostic land, + There thou may'st wings display and altars raise, + And torture one poor word ten thousand ways. + Or if thou would'st thy different talents suit, + Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute." + He said: But his last words were scarcely heard: + For Bruce and Longvil had a trap prepar'd, + And down they sent the yet declaiming bard. + Sinking he left his drugget robe behind, + Borne upwards by a subterranean wind. + The mantle fell to the young prophet's part, + With double portion of his father's art. + + + +XX. EPISTLE TO THE WHIGS. + + This excellent specimen of Dryden's prose satire was prefixed to + his satiric poem "The Medal", published in March, 1682. It was + inspired by the striking of a medal to commemorate the rejection by + the London Grand Jury, on November 24, 1681, of a Bill of High + Treason presented against Lord Shaftesbury. This event had been a + great victory for the Whigs and a discomfiture for the Court. + + +For to whom can I dedicate this poem, with so much justice, as to you? +'Tis the representation of your own hero: 'Tis the picture drawn at +length, which you admire and prize so much in little. None of your +ornaments are wanting; neither the landscape of the tower, nor the +rising sun; nor the Anno Domini of your new sovereign's coronation. +This must needs be a grateful undertaking to your whole party; +especially to those who have not been so happy as to purchase the +original. I hear the graver has made a good market of it: all his Kings +are bought up already; or the value of the remainder so enhanced, that +many a poor Polander, who would be glad to worship the image, is not +able to go to the cost of him; but must be content to see him here. I +must confess, I am no great artist; but sign-post-painting will serve +the turn to remember a friend by, especially when better is not to be +had. Yet, for your comfort, the lineaments are true: and though he sat +not five times to me, as he did to B. yet I have consulted history; as +the Italian painters do, when they would draw a Nero or a Caligula; +though they have not seen the man, they can help their imagination by a +statue of him, and find out the colouring from Suetonius and Tacitus. +Truth is, you might have spared one side of your medal: the head would +be seen to more advantage, if it were placed on a spike of the tower; a +little nearer to the sun; which would then break out to better purpose. +You tell us, in your preface to the _No-Protestant Plot_, that you +shall be forced hereafter to leave off your modesty. I suppose you mean +that little, which is left you: for it was worn to rags when you put +out this medal. Never was there practised such a piece of notorious +impudence in the face of an established Government. I believe, when he +is dead, you will wear him in thumb-rings, as the Turks did Scanderbeg; +as if there were virtue in his bones to preserve you against monarchy. +Yet all this while, you pretend not only zeal for the public good, but +a due veneration for the person of the king. But all men, who can see +an inch before them, may easily detect those gross fallacies. That it +is necessary for men in your circumstances to pretend both, is granted +you; for without them there could be no ground to raise a faction. But +I would ask you one civil question: What right has any man among you, +or any association of men (to come nearer to you) who, out of +Parliament cannot be consider'd in a public capacity, to meet, as you +daily do, in factious clubs, to vilify the Government in your +discourses, and to libel it in all your writings? Who made you judges +in Israel? Or how is it consistent with your zeal for the public +welfare, to promote sedition? Does your definition of _loyal_, which is +to serve the King according to the laws, allow you the licence of +traducing the executive power, with which you own he is invested? You +complain, that his Majesty has lost the love and confidence of his +people; and, by your very urging it, you endeavour, what in you lies, +to make him lose them. All good subjects abhor the thought of +arbitrary power, whether it be in one or many; if you were the patriots +you would seem, you would not at this rate incense the multitude to +assume it; for no sober man can fear it, either from the King's +disposition or his practice; or even, where you would odiously lay it, +from his ministers. Give us leave to enjoy the Government, and the +benefit of laws, under which we were born, and which we desire to +transmit to our posterity. You are not the trustees of the public +liberty; and if you have not right to petition in a crowd, much less +have you to intermeddle in the management of affairs, or to arraign +what you do not like; which in effect is everything that is done by the +King and Council. Can you imagine, that any reasonable man will believe +you respect the person of his Majesty, when 'tis apparent that your +seditious pamphlets are stuffed with particular reflections on him? If +you have the confidence to deny this, 'tis easy to be evinced from a +thousand passages, which I only forbear to quote because I desire they +should die and be forgotten. I have perused many of your papers; and to +show you that I have, the third part of your _No-Protestant Plot_ is +much of it stolen from your dead author's pamphlet called the _Growth +of Popery_; as manifestly as Milton's defence of the English people is +from Buchanan, _de jure regni apud Scotos_; or your first covenant, and +new association, from the holy league of the French Guisards. Anyone, +who reads Davila, may trace your practices all along. There were the +same pretences for reformation and loyalty, the same aspersions of the +King, and the same grounds of a rebellion. I know not whether you will +take the historian's word, who says, it was reported, that Poltrot a +Huguenot murder'd Francis Duke of Guise, by the instigations of +Theodore Beza; or that it was a Huguenot minister, otherwise called a +Presbyterian (for our Church abhors so devilish a tenet) who first +writ a treatise of the lawfulness of deposing and murdering Kings, of a +different persuasion in religion. But I am able to prove from the +doctrine of Calvin, and principles of Buchanan, that they set the +people above the magistrate; which, if I mistake not, is your own +fundamental; and which carries your loyalty no farther than your +liking. When a vote of the House of Commons goes on your side, you are +as ready to observe it, as if it were passed into a law: but when you +are pinch'd with any former, and yet unrepealed, Act of Parliament, you +declare that in some cases you will not be obliged by it. The passage +is in the same third part of the _No-Protestant Plot_; and is too plain +to be denied. The late copy of your intended association you neither +wholly justify nor condemn: but as the Papists, when they are +unoppos'd, fly out into all the pageantries of worship, but, in times +of war, when they are hard pressed by arguments, lie close intrenched +behind the Council of Trent; so, now, when your affairs are in a low +condition, you dare not pretend that to be a legal combination; but +whensover you are afloat, I doubt not but it will be maintained and +justified to purpose. For indeed there is nothing to defend it but the +sword: 'Tis the proper time to say anything, when men have all things +in their power. + +In the meantime, you would fain be nibbling at a parallel betwixt this +association, and that in the time of Queen Elizabeth. But there is this +small difference betwixt them, that the ends of the one are directly +opposite to the other: one with the Queen's approbation and +conjunction, as head of it; the other, without either the consent or +knowledge of the King, against whose authority it is manifestly +design'd. Therefore you do well to have recourse to your last evasion, +that it was contriv'd by your enemies, and shuffled into the papers +that were seized; which yet you see the nation is not so easy to +believe, as your own jury. But the matter is not difficult, to find +twelve men in Newgate, who would acquit a malefactor. + +I have one only favour to desire of you at parting; that, when you +think of answering this poem, you would employ the same pens against +it, who have combated with so much success against Absalom and +Achitophel: for then you may assure yourselves of a clear victory, +without the least reply. Rail at me abundantly; and, not to break a +custom, do it without wit. By this method you will gain a considerable +point, which is, wholly to waive the answer of my argument. Never own +the bottom of your principles, for fear they should be treason. Fall +severely on the miscarriages of Government; for if scandal be not +allowed, you are no free-born subjects. If GOD has not blessed you with +the talent of rhyming, make use of my poor stock and welcome; let your +verses run upon my feet: and for the utmost refuge of notorious +blockheads, reduced to the last extremity of sense, turn my own lines +upon me, and, in utter despair of your own satire, make me satirize +myself. Some of you have been driven to this bay already; but above all +the rest, commend me to the Non-conformist parson, who writ _The Whip +and Key_. I am afraid it is not read so much as the piece deserves, +because the bookseller is every week crying Help, at the end of his +Gazette, to get it off. You see I am charitable enough to do him a +kindness, that it may be published as well as printed; and that so much +skill in Hebrew derivations may not lie for waste-paper in the shop. +Yet I half suspect he went no farther for his learning, than the index +of Hebrew names and etymologies, which is printed at the end of some +English bibles. If Achitophel signify the brother of a fool, the author +of that poem will pass with his readers for the next of kin. And, +perhaps, 'tis the relation that makes the kindness. Whatever the verses +are, buy them up, I beseech you, out of pity; for I hear the +conventicle is shut up, and the brother of Achitophel out of service. + +Now footmen, you know, have the generosity to make a purse, for a +member of their society, who has had his livery pulled over his ears: +and even Protestant flocks are brought up among you, out of veneration +to the name. A dissenter in poetry from sense and English, will make as +good a Protestant rhymer, as a dissenter from the Church of England a +Protestant parson. Besides, if you encourage a young beginner, who +knows but he may elevate his style a little, above the vulgar epithets +of profane and saucy Jack, and atheistic scribbler, with which he +treats me, when the fit of enthusiasm is strong upon him? By which +well-manner'd and charitable expressions, I was certain of his sect, +before I knew his name. What would you have more of a man? He has +damned me in your cause from Genesis to the Revelations; and has half +the texts of both the Testaments against me, if you will be so civil to +yourselves as to take him for your interpreter, and not to take them +for Irish witnesses. After all, perhaps, you will tell me, that you +retained him only for the opening of your cause, and that your main +lawyer is yet behind. Now, if it so happen he meet with no more reply +than his predecessors, you may either conclude, that I trust to the +goodness of my cause, or fear my adversary, or disdain him, or what you +please; for the short on it is, it is indifferent to your humble +servant, whatever your party says or thinks of him. + + + + +DANIEL DEFOE. + +(1661-1734) + + +XXI. INTRODUCTION TO THE TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN. + + "The True-born Englishman" was a metrical satire designed to defend + the king, William III., against the attacks made upon him over the + admission of foreigners into public offices and posts of + responsibility. + + + Speak, satire; for there's none can tell like thee + Whether 'tis folly, pride, or knavery + That makes this discontented land appear + Less happy now in times of peace than war? + Why civil feuds disturb the nation more + Than all our bloody wars have done before? + Fools out of favour grudge at knaves in place, + And men are always honest in disgrace; + The court preferments make men knaves in course, + But they which would be in them would be worse. + 'Tis not at foreigners that we repine, + Would foreigners their perquisites resign: + The grand contention's plainly to be seen, + To get some men put out, and some put in. + For this our senators make long harangues, + And florid members whet their polished tongues. + Statesmen are always sick of one disease, + And a good pension gives them present ease: + That's the specific makes them all content + With any king and any government. + Good patriots at court abuses rail, + And all the nation's grievances bewail; + But when the sovereign's balsam's once applied, + The zealot never fails to change his side; + And when he must the golden key resign, + The railing spirit comes about again. + Who shall this bubbled nation disabuse, + While they their own felicities refuse, + Who the wars have made such mighty pother, + And now are falling out with one another: + With needless fears the jealous nation fill, + And always have been saved against their will: + Who fifty millions sterling have disbursed, + To be with peace and too much plenty cursed: + Who their old monarch eagerly undo, + And yet uneasily obey the new? + Search, satire, search; a deep incision make; + The poison's strong, the antidote's too weak. + 'Tis pointed truth must manage this dispute, + And downright English, Englishmen confute. + Whet thy just anger at the nation's pride, + And with keen phrase repel the vicious tide; + To Englishmen their own beginnings show, + And ask them why they slight their neighbours so. + Go back to elder times and ages past, + And nations into long oblivion cast; + To old Britannia's youthful days retire, + And there for true-born Englishmen inquire. + Britannia freely will disown the name, + And hardly knows herself from whence they came: + Wonders that they of all men should pretend + To birth and blood, and for a name contend. + Go back to causes where our follies dwell, + And fetch the dark original from hell: + Speak, satire, for there's none like thee can tell. + + + + +THE EARL OF DORSET. + +(1637-1705.) + + +XXII. SATIRE ON A CONCEITED PLAYWRIGHT. + + The person against whom this attack was directed was Edward Howard, + author of _The British Princess_. + + + Thou damn'd antipodes to common-sense, + Thou foil to Flecknoe, pr'ythee tell from whence + Does all this mighty stock of dulness spring? + Is it thy own, or hast it from Snow-hill, + Assisted by some ballad-making quill? + No, they fly higher yet, thy plays are such, + I'd swear they were translated out of Dutch. + Fain would I know what diet thou dost keep, + If thou dost always, or dost never sleep? + Sure hasty-pudding is thy chiefest dish, + With bullock's liver, or some stinking fish: + Garbage, ox-cheeks, and tripes, do feast thy brain, + Which nobly pays this tribute back again. + With daisy-roots thy dwarfish Muse is fed, + A giant's body with a pigmy's head. + Canst thou not find, among thy numerous race + Of kindred, one to tell thee that thy plays + Are laught at by the pit, box, galleries, nay, stage? + Think on't a while, and thou wilt quickly find + Thy body made for labour, not thy mind. + No other use of paper thou shouldst make + Than carrying loads and reams upon thy back. + Carry vast burdens till thy shoulders shrink, + But curst be he that gives thee pen and ink: + Such dangerous weapons should be kept from fools, + As nurses from their children keep edg'd tools: + For thy dull fancy a muckinder is fit + To wipe the slobberings of thy snotty wit: + And though 'tis late, if justice could be found, + Thy plays like blind-born puppies should be drown'd. + For were it not that we respect afford + Unto the son of an heroic lord, + Thine in the ducking-stool should take her seat, + Drest like herself in a great chair of state; + Where like a Muse of quality she'd die, + And thou thyself shalt make her elegy, + In the same strain thou writ'st thy comedy. + + + + +JOHN ARBUTHNOT. + +(1667-1735.) + + +XXIII. PREFACE TO JOHN BULL AND HIS LAW-SUIT. + + First published as a political pamphlet, this piece had an + extraordinary run of popularity. It was originally issued in four + parts, but these afterwards were reduced to two, without any + omission, however, of matter. They appeared during the years + 1712-13, and the satire was finally published in book form in 1714. + The author was the intimate friend of Swift, Pope, and Gay. The + volume was exceedingly popular in Tory circles. The examples I have + selected are "The Preface" and also the opening chapters of the + history, which I have made to run on without breaking them up into + the short divisions of the text. + + +When I was first called to the office of historiographer to John Bull, +he expressed himself to this purpose: "Sir Humphrey Polesworth[166], I +know you are a plain dealer; it is for that reason I have chosen you +for this important trust; speak the truth and spare not". That I might +fulfil those his honourable intentions, I obtained leave to repair to, +and attend him in his most secret retirements; and I put the journals +of all transactions into a strong box, to be opened at a fitting +occasion, after the manner of the historiographers of some eastern +monarchs: this I thought was the safest way; though I declare I was +never afraid to be chopped[167] by my master for telling of truth. It +is from those journals that my memoirs are compiled: therefore let not +posterity a thousand years hence look for truth in the voluminous +annals of pedants, who are entirely ignorant of the secret springs of +great actions; if they do, let me tell them they will be nebused.[168] + +With incredible pains have I endeavoured to copy the several beauties +of the ancient and modern historians; the impartial temper of +Herodotus, the gravity, austerity, and strict morals of Thucydides, the +extensive knowledge of Xenophon, the sublimity and grandeur of Titus +Livius; and to avoid the careless style of Polybius, I have borrowed +considerable ornaments from Dionysius Halicarnasseus, and Diodorus +Siculus. The specious gilding of Tacitus I have endeavoured to shun. +Mariana, Davila, and Fra. Paulo, are those amongst the moderns whom I +thought most worthy of imitation; but I cannot be so disingenuous, as +not to own the infinite obligations I have to the _Pilgrim's Progress_ +of John Bunyan, and the _Tenter Belly_ of the Reverend Joseph Hall. + +From such encouragement and helps, it is easy to guess to what a degree +of perfection I might have brought this great work, had it not been +nipped in the bud by some illiterate people in both Houses of +Parliament, who envying the great figure I was to make in future ages, +under pretence of raising money for the war,[169] have padlocked all +those very pens that were to celebrate the actions of their heroes, by +silencing at once the whole university of Grub Street. I am persuaded +that nothing but the prospect of an approaching peace could have +encouraged them to make so bold a step. But suffer me, in the name of +the rest of the matriculates of that famous university, to ask them +some plain questions: Do they think that peace will bring along with it +the golden age? Will there be never a dying speech of a traitor? Are +Cethegus and Catiline turned so tame, that there will be no opportunity +to cry about the streets, "A Dangerous Plot"? Will peace bring such +plenty that no gentleman will have occasion to go upon the highway, or +break into a house? I am sorry that the world should be so much imposed +upon by the dreams of a false prophet, as to imagine the Millennium is +at hand. O Grub Street! thou fruitful nursery of towering geniuses! How +do I lament thy downfall? Thy ruin could never be meditated by any who +meant well to English liberty. No modern lyceum will ever equal thy +glory: whether in soft pastorals thou didst sing the flames of pampered +apprentices and coy cook-maids; or mournful ditties of departing +lovers; or if to Mæonian strains thou raisedst thy voice, to record the +stratagems, the arduous exploits, and the nocturnal scalade of needy +heroes, the terror of your peaceful citizens, describing the powerful +Betty or the artful Picklock, or the secret caverns and grottoes of +Vulcan sweating at his forge, and stamping the queen's image on viler +metals which he retails for beef and pots of ale; or if thou wert +content in simple narrative, to relate the cruel acts of implacable +revenge, or the complaint of ravished virgins blushing to tell their +adventures before the listening crowd of city damsels, whilst in thy +faithful history thou intermingledst the gravest counsels and the +purest morals. Nor less acute and piercing wert thou in thy search and +pompous descriptions of the works of nature; whether in proper and +emphatic terms thou didst paint the blazing comet's fiery tail, the +stupendous force of dreadful thunder and earthquakes, and the +unrelenting inundations. Sometimes, with Machiavelian sagacity, thou +unravelledst intrigues of state, and the traitorous conspiracies of +rebels, giving wise counsel to monarchs. How didst thou move our terror +and our pity with thy passionate scenes between Jack Catch and the +heroes of the Old Bailey? How didst thou describe their intrepid march +up Holborn Hill? Nor didst thou shine less in thy theological capacity, +when thou gavest ghostly counsels to dying felons, and didst record the +guilty pangs of Sabbath-breakers. How will the noble arts of John +Overton's[170] painting and sculpture now languish? where rich +invention, proper expression, correct design, divine attitudes, and +artful contrast, heightened with the beauties of clar. obscur., +embellished thy celebrated pieces, to the delight and astonishment of +the judicious multitude! Adieu, persuasive eloquence! the quaint +metaphor, the poignant irony, the proper epithet, and the lively +simile, are fled for ever! Instead of these, we shall have, I know not +what! The illiterate will tell the rest with pleasure. + +I hope the reader will excuse this digression, due by way of condolence +to my worthy brethren of Grub Street, for the approaching barbarity +that is likely to overspread all its regions by this oppressive and +exorbitant tax. It has been my good fortune to receive my education +there; and so long as I preserved some figure and rank amongst the +learned of that society, I scorned to take my degree either at Utrecht +or Leyden, though I was offered it gratis by the professors in those +universities. + +And now that posterity may not be ignorant in what age so excellent a +history was written (which would otherwise, no doubt, be the subject +of its inquiries), I think it proper to inform the learned of future +times, that it was compiled when Louis XIV. was King of France, and +Philip, his grandson, of Spain; when England and Holland, in +conjunction with the Emperor and the Allies, entered into a war against +these two princes, which lasted ten years under the management of the +Duke of Marlborough, and was put to a conclusion by the Treaty of +Utrecht, under the ministry of the Earl of Oxford, in the year 1713. + +Many at that time did imagine the history of John Bull, and the +personages mentioned in it, to be allegorical, which the author would +never own. Notwithstanding, to indulge the reader's fancy and +curiosity, I have printed at the bottom of the page the supposed +allusions of the most obscure parts of the story. + +[Footnote 166: A Member of Parliament, eminent for a certain cant in +his conversation, of which there is a good deal in this book.] + +[Footnote 167: A cant word of Sir Humphrey's.] + +[Footnote 168: Another cant word, signifying deceived.] + +[Footnote 169: Act restraining the liberty of the press, &c.] + +[Footnote 170: The engraver of the cuts before the Grub Street papers.] + + + +XXIV. THE HISTORY OF JOHN BULL. + + The Occasion of the Law-suit. + + +I need not tell you of the great quarrels that have happened in our +neighbourhood since the death of the late Lord Strutt[171]; how the +parson[172] and a cunning attorney got him to settle his estate upon +his cousin Philip Baboon, to the great disappointment of his cousin +Esquire South. Some stick not to say that the parson and the attorney +forged a will; for which they were well paid by the family of the +Baboons. Let that be as it will, it is matter of fact that the honour +and estate have continued ever since in the person of Philip Baboon. + +You know that the Lord Strutts have for many years been possessed of a +very great landed estate, well-conditioned, wooded, watered, with coal, +salt, tin, copper, iron, &c., all within themselves; that it has been +the misfortune of that family to be the property of their stewards, +tradesmen, and inferior servants, which has brought great incumbrances +upon them; at the same time, their not abating of their expensive way +of living has forced them to mortgage their best manors. It is credibly +reported that the butcher's and baker's bill of a Lord Strutt that +lived two hundred years ago are not yet paid. + +When Philip Baboon came first to the possession of the Lord Strutt's +estate, his tradesmen,[173] as is usual upon such occasion, waited upon +him to wish him joy and bespeak his custom. The two chief were John +Bull,[174] the clothier, and Nic. Frog,[175] the linen-draper. They +told him that the Bulls and Frogs had served the Lord Strutts with +drapery-ware for many years; that they were honest and fair dealers; +that their bills had never been questioned, that the Lord Strutts lived +generously, and never used to dirty their fingers with pen, ink, and +counters; that his lordship might depend upon their honesty that they +would use him as kindly as they had done his predecessors. The young +lord seemed to take all in good part, and dismissed them with a deal of +seeming content, assuring them he did not intend to change any of the +honourable maxims of his predecessors. + + + + How Bull and Frog grew jealous that the Lord Strutt intended to + give all his custom to his grandfather, Lewis Baboon. + + +It happened unfortunately for the peace of our neighbourhood that +this young lord had an old cunning rogue, or, as the Scots call it, +a false loon of a grandfather, that one might justly call a +Jack-of-all-Trades.[176] Sometimes you would see him behind his +counter selling broadcloth, sometimes measuring linen; next day he +would be dealing in mercery-ware. High heads, ribbons, gloves, fans, +and lace he understood to a nicety. Charles Mather could not bubble a +young beau better with a toy; nay, he would descend even to the selling +of tape, garters, and shoe-buckles. When shop was shut up he would go +about the neighbourhood and earn half-a-crown by teaching the young men +and maids to dance. By these methods he had acquired immense riches, +which he used to squander[177] away at back-sword, quarter-staff, and +cudgel-play, in which he took great pleasure, and challenged all the +country. You will say it is no wonder if Bull and Frog should be +jealous of this fellow. "It is not impossible," says Frog to Bull, "but +this old rogue will take the management of the young lord's business +into his hands; besides, the rascal has good ware, and will serve him +as cheap as anybody. In that case, I leave you to judge what must +become of us and our families; we must starve, or turn journeyman to +old Lewis Baboon. Therefore, neighbour, I hold it advisable that we +write to young Lord Strutt to know the bottom of this matter." + + + + A Copy of Bull and Frog's Letter to Lord Strutt. + + +My Lord,--I suppose your lordship knows that the Bulls and the Frogs +have served the Lord Strutts with all sorts of drapery-ware time out of +mind. And whereas we are jealous, not without reason, that your +lordship intends henceforth to buy of your grandsire old Lewis Baboon, +this is to inform your lordship that this proceeding does not suit with +the circumstances of our families, who have lived and made a good +figure in the world by the generosity of the Lord Strutts. Therefore we +think fit to acquaint your lordship that you must find sufficient +security to us, our heirs, and assigns that you will not employ Lewis +Baboon, or else we will take our remedy at law, clap an action upon you +of £20,000 for old debts, seize and distrain your goods and chattels, +which, considering your lordship's circumstances, will plunge you into +difficulties, from which it will not be easy to extricate yourself. +Therefore we hope, when your lordship has better considered on it, you +will comply with the desire of + +Your loving friends, + +JOHN BULL. +NIC. FROG. + + +Some of Bull's friends advised him to take gentler methods with the +young lord, but John naturally loved rough play. It is impossible to +express the surprise of the Lord Strutt upon the receipt of this +letter. He was not flush in ready money either to go to law or clear +old debts, neither could he find good bail. He offered to bring matters +to a friendly accommodation, and promised, upon his word of honour, +that he would not change his drapers; but all to no purpose, for Bull +and Frog saw clearly that old Lewis would have the cheating of him. + + + + How Bull and Frog went to law with Lord Strutt about the premises, + and were joined by the rest of the tradesmen. + + +All endeavours of accommodation between Lord Strutt and his drapers +proved vain. Jealousies increased, and, indeed, it was rumoured abroad +that Lord Strutt had bespoke his new liveries of old Lewis Baboon. This +coming to Mrs. Bull's ears, when John Bull came home, he found all his +family in an uproar. Mrs. Bull, you must know, was very apt to be +choleric. "You sot," says she, "you loiter about ale-houses and +taverns, spend your time at billiards, ninepins, or puppet-shows, or +flaunt about the streets in your new gilt chariot, never minding me nor +your numerous family. Don't you hear how Lord Strutt has bespoke his +liveries at Lewis Baboon's shop? Don't you see how that old fox steals +away your customers, and turns you out of your business every day, and +you sit like an idle drone, with your hands in your pockets? Fie upon +it. Up, man, rouse thyself; I'll sell to my shift before I'll be so +used by that knave."[178] You must think Mrs. Bull had been pretty well +tuned up by Frog, who chimed in with her learned harangue. No further +delay now, but to counsel learned in the law they go, who unanimously +assured them both of justice and infallible success of their lawsuit. + +I told you before that old Lewis Baboon was a sort of a +Jack-of-all-trades, which made the rest of the tradesmen jealous, as +well as Bull and Frog; they, hearing of the quarrel, were glad of an +opportunity of joining against old Lewis Baboon, provided that Bull and +Frog would bear the charges of the suit. Even lying Ned, the +chimney-sweeper of Savoy, and Tom, the Portugal dustman, put in their +claims, and the cause was put into the hands of Humphry Hocus, the +attorney. + +A declaration was drawn up to show "That Bull and Frog had undoubted +right by prescription to be drapers to the Lord Strutts; that there +were several old contracts to that purpose; that Lewis Baboon had taken +up the trade of clothier and draper without serving his time or +purchasing his freedom; that he sold goods that were not marketable +without the stamp; that he himself was more fit for a bully than a +tradesman, and went about through all the country fairs challenging +people to fight prizes, wrestling and cudgel-play, and abundance more +to this purpose". + + + + The true characters of John Bull, Nic. Frog, and Hocus.[179] + + +For the better understanding the following history the reader ought to +know that Bull, in the main, was an honest, plain-dealing fellow, +choleric, bold, and of a very unconstant temper; he dreaded not old +Lewis either at back-sword, single falchion, or cudgel-play; but then +he was very apt to quarrel with his best friends, especially if they +pretended to govern him. If you flattered him you might lead him like a +child. John's temper depended very much upon the air; his spirits rose +and fell with the weather-glass. John was quick, and understood his +business very well, but no man alive was more careless in looking into +his accounts, or more cheated by partners, apprentices, and servants. +This was occasioned by his being a boon companion, loving his bottle +and his diversion; for, to say truth, no man kept a better house than +John, nor spent his money more generously. By plain and fair dealing +John had acquired some plums, and might have kept them had it not been +for his unhappy lawsuit. + +Nic. Frog was a cunning, sly fellow, quite the reverse of John in many +particulars; covetous, frugal, minded domestic affairs, would pinch his +belly to save his pocket, never lost a farthing by careless servants or +bad debtors. He did not care much for any sort of diversion, except +tricks of high German artists and legerdemain. No man exceeded Nic. in +these; yet it must be owned that Nic. was a fair dealer, and in that +way acquired immense riches. + +Hocus was an old cunning attorney, and though this was the first +considerable suit that ever he was engaged in, he showed himself +superior in address to most of his profession. He kept always good +clerks, he loved money, was smooth-tongued, gave good words, and seldom +lost his temper. He was not worse than an infidel, for he provided +plentifully for his family, but he loved himself better than them all. +The neighbours reported that he was henpecked, which was impossible, by +such a mild-spirited woman as his wife was. + +[Footnote 171: late King of Spain.] + +[Footnote 172: Cardinal Portocarero.] + +[Footnote 173: The first letters of congratulation from King William +and the States of Holland upon King Philip's accession to the crown of +Spain.] + +[Footnote 174: The English.] + +[Footnote 175: The Dutch.] + +[Footnote 176: The character and trade of the French nation.] + +[Footnote 177: The King's disposition to war.] + +[Footnote 178: The sentiments and addresses of the Parliament at that +time.] + +[Footnote 179: Characters of the English and Dutch, and the General, +Duke of Marlborough.] + + + +XXV. EPITAPH UPON COLONEL CHARTRES. + + Swift was reported to have had a hand in this piece, and indeed for + some time it was ascribed to him. But there is now no doubt that it + was entirely the work of Arbuthnot. + + +Here continueth to rot the body of Francis Chartres; who, with an +inflexible constancy and inimitable uniformity of life, persisted, in +spite of age and infirmities, in the practice of every human vice +excepting prodigality and hypocrisy: his insatiable avarice exempted +him from the first, his matchless impudence from the second. + +Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his manners, +than successful in accumulating wealth. + +For, without trade or profession, without trust of public money, and +without bribe-worthy service, he acquired, or more properly created, a +ministerial estate. + +He was the only person of his time who could cheat without the mask of +honesty, retain his primeval meanness when possessed of ten thousand a +year; and, having daily deserved the gibbet for what he did, was at +last condemned to it for what he could not do. + +O indignant reader, think not his life useless to mankind, providence +connived at his execrable designs, to give to after-ages a conspicuous +proof and example of how small estimation is exorbitant wealth in the +sight of God, by his bestowing it on the most unworthy of all mortals. + + _Joannes jacet hic Mirandula--cætera norunt + Et Tagus et Ganges forsan et Antipodes_. + + Applied to F. C. + + Here Francis Chartres lies--be civil! + The rest God knows--perhaps the devil. + + + + +JONATHAN SWIFT. + +(1667-1745.) + + +XXVI. MRS. FRANCES HARRIS' PETITION. + + Written in the year 1701. The Lord Justices addressed were the + Earls of Berkeley and of Galway. The "Lady Betty" mentioned in the + piece was the Lady Betty Berkeley. "Lord Dromedary", the Earl of + Drogheda, and "The Chaplain", Swift himself. The author was at the + time smarting under a sense of disappointment over the failure of + his request to Lord Berkeley for preferment to the rich deanery of + Derry. + + +TO THEIR EXCELLENCIES THE LORD JUSTICES OF IRELAND. THE HUMBLE PETITION +OF FRANCES HARRIS, WHO MUST STARVE, AND DIE A MAID, IF IT MISCARRIES. +HUMBLY SHOWETH, + + That I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's chamber, because I was cold, + And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, + besides farthings, in money and gold: + So, because I had been buying things for my lady last night, + I was resolved to tell my money, and see if it was right. + Now you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock, + Therefore all the money I have, which God knows, is a very small stock, + I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next my smock. + So, when I went to put up my purse, as luck would have it, + my smock was unript, + And instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipt: + Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed; + And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe as my stupid head! + So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light: + But when I search'd and miss'd my purse, law! I thought I should have + sunk outright. + "Lawk, madam," says Mary, "how d'ye do?" "Indeed," says I, "never worse: + But pray, Mary, can you tell what I've done with my purse?" + "Lawk, help me!" said Mary; "I never stirred out of this place:" + "Nay," said I, "I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain case." + So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm: + However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm. + So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very well think, + But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink. + So I was a-dream'd, methought, that I went and search'd the folks round, + And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's box, tied in a rag the money was found. + So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a-swearing: + Then my dame Wadger came: and she, you know, is thick of hearing: + "Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you know what a loss + I have had?" + "Nay," said she, "my Lord Colway's folks are all very sad; + For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail." + "Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that I ail." + Says Cary, says he, "I've been a servant this five-and-twenty years + come spring, + And in all the places I lived I never heard of such a thing." + "Yes," says the Steward, "I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's, + Such a thing as this happen'd, just about the time of gooseberries." + So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief, + (Now, you must know, of all things in the world I hate a thief,) + However, I was resolved to bring the discourse slily about: + "Mrs. Dukes," said I, "here's an ugly accident has happen'd out: + 'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a mouse; + But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house. + 'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, makes a + great hole in my wages: + Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages. + Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and everybody understands, + That tho' 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands." + "The devil take me," said she (blessing herself), "if ever I saw't!" + So she roar'd like a Bedlam, as tho' I had called her all to nought. + So you know, what could I say to her any more? + I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before. + Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man: + "No," said I, "'tis the same thing, the chaplain will be here anon." + So the chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart, + Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part. + So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd, + "Parson," said I, "can you cast a nativity when a body's plunder'd?" + (Now you must know, he hates to be called _parson_, like the devil.) + "Truly," says he, "Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil; + If your money be gone, as a learned divine says, d'ye see: + You are no text for my handling; so take that from me: + I was never taken for a conjuror before, I'd have you to know." + "Law!" said I, "don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so; + You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a parson's wife, + I never took one in your coat for a conjuror in all my life." + With that, he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say, + "Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away. + Well: I thought I should have swoon'd, "Law!" said I, "what shall I do? + I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!" + Then my Lord called me: "Harry," said my Lord, "don't cry, + I'll give you something towards your loss;" and, says my Lady, + "so will I." + "O, but," said I, "what if, after all, the chaplain won't come to?" + For that, he said, (an't please your Excellencies), I must petition you. + The premises tenderly consider'd, I desire your Excellencies' protection, + And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection: + And, over and above, that I may have your Excellencies' letter, + With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better: + And then your poor petitioner both night and day, + Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray. + + + +XXVII. ELEGY ON PARTRIDGE. + + This was written to satirize the superstitious faith placed in the + predictions of the almanac-makers of the period. Partridge was the + name of one of them--a cobbler by profession. Fielding also + satirized the folly in _Tom Jones_. The elegy is upon "his + supposed death", which drew from Partridge an indignant denial. + + + Well; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd, + Though we all took it for a jest: + Partridge is dead; nay more, he died + Ere he could prove the good 'squire lied. + Strange, an astrologer should die + Without one wonder in the sky! + Not one of his crony stars + To pay their duty at his hearse! + No meteor, no eclipse appear'd! + No comet with a flaming beard! + The sun has rose, and gone to bed, + Just as if Partridge were not dead; + Nor hid himself behind the moon + To make a dreadful night at noon. + He at fit periods walks through Aries, + Howe'er our earthly motion varies; + And twice a year he'll cut the equator, + As if there had been no such matter. + Some wits have wonder'd what analogy + There is 'twixt cobbling and astrology; + How Partridge made his optics rise + From a shoe-sole to reach the skies. + A list the cobbler's temples ties, + To keep the hair out of his eyes; + From whence 'tis plain, the diadem + That princes wear derives from them: + And therefore crowns are nowadays + Adorn'd with golden stars and rays: + Which plainly shows the near alliance + 'Twixt cobbling and the planets science. + Besides, that slow-pac'd sign Bootes, + As 'tis miscall'd, we know not who 'tis: + But Partridge ended all disputes; + He knew his trade, and call'd it boots. + The horned moon, which heretofore + Upon their shoes the Romans wore, + Whose wideness kept their toes from corns, + And whence we claim our shoeing-horns, + Shows how the art of cobbling bears + A near resemblance to the spheres. + A scrap of parchment hung by geometry + (A great refinement in barometry) + Can, like the stars, foretell the weather; + And what is parchment else but leather? + Which an astrologer might use + Either for almanacs or shoes. + Thus Partridge by his wit and parts + At once did practise both these arts: + And as the boding owl (or rather + The bat, because her wings are leather) + Steals from her private cell by night, + And flies about the candle-light; + So learned Partridge could as well + Creep in the dark from leathern cell, + And in his fancy fly as far + To peep upon a twinkling star. + Besides, he could confound the spheres, + And set the planets by the ears; + To show his skill, he Mars could join + To Venus in aspect malign; + Then call in Mercury for aid, + And cure the wounds that Venus made. + Great scholars have in Lucian read, + When Philip king of Greece was dead, + His soul and spirit did divide, + And each part took a different side: + One rose a star; the other fell + Beneath, and mended shoes in hell. + Thus Partridge still shines in each art, + The cobbling and star-gazing part, + And is install'd as good a star + As any of the Cæsars are. + Triumphant star! some pity show + On cobblers militant below, + Whom roguish boys in stormy nights + Torment by pissing out their lights, + Or thro' a chink convey their smoke + Inclos'd artificers to choke. + Thou, high exalted in thy sphere, + May'st follow still thy calling there. + To thee the Bull will lend his hide, + By Phoebus newly tann'd and dry'd: + For thee they Argo's hulk will tax, + And scrape her pitchy sides for wax; + Then Ariadne kindly lends + Her braided hair to make thee ends; + The point of Sagittarius' dart + Turns to an awl by heav'nly art; + And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife, + Will forge for thee a paring-knife. + For want of room by Virgo's side, + She'll strain a point, and sit astride, + To take thee kindly in between; + And then the signs will be thirteen. + + + THE EPITAPH. + + Here, five foot deep, lies on his back + A cobbler, star-monger, and quack; + Who to the stars in pure good-will + Does to his best look upward still. + Weep, all you customers that use + His pills, his almanacs, or shoes: + And you that did your fortunes seek, + Step to his grave but once a week: + This earth, which bears his body's print, + You'll find has so much virtue in't, + That I durst pawn my ears 't will tell + Whate'er concerns you full as well, + In physic, stolen goods, or love, + As he himself could, when above. + + + +XXVIII. A MEDITATION UPON A BROOM-STICK. + + The remainder of the title is "According to the Style and Manner of + the Honourable Robert Boyle's _Meditations_", and is intended as a + satire on the style of that philosopher's lucubrations. + + +This single stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying in that +neglected corner, I once knew in a nourishing state in a forest: it was +full of sap, full of leaves, and full of boughs: but now, in vain does +the busy art of man pretend to vie with nature, by tying that withered +bundle of twigs to its sapless trunk. 'Tis now at best but the reverse +of what it was, a tree turned upside down, the branches on the earth, +and the root in the air: 'tis now handled by every dirty wench, +condemned to do her drudgery, and, by a capricious kind of fate, +destined to make other things clean, and be nasty itself. At length, +worn to the stumps in the service of the maids, 'tis either thrown out +of doors, or condemned to the last use of kindling a fire. When I +beheld this, I sighed and said within myself, surely mortal man is a +broom-stick; nature sent him into the world strong and lusty, in a +thriving condition, wearing his own hair on his head, the proper +branches of this reasoning vegetable, till the axe of intemperance has +lopped off his green boughs, and left him a withered trunk. He then +flies to art, and puts on a periwig, valuing himself upon an unnatural +bundle of hairs, all covered with powder, that never grew on his head. +But now should this our broomstick pretend to enter the scene, proud of +those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered with dust, though +the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber, we should be apt to +ridicule and despise its vanity. Partial judges that we are of our own +excellencies, and other men's defaults! + +But a broom-stick, perhaps you will say, is an emblem of a tree +standing on its head; and pray what is man, but a topsy-turvy creature, +his animal faculties perpetually mounted on his rational, his head +where his heels should be, grovelling on the earth! And yet, with all +his faults, he sets up to be an universal reformer and corrector of +abuses, a remover of grievances, rakes into every sluts' corner of +nature, bringing hidden corruptions to the light, and raises a mighty +dust where there was none before, sharing deeply all the while in the +very same pollutions he pretends to sweep away. His last days are spent +in slavery to women, and generally the least deserving; till, worn to +the stumps, like his brother bezom, he is either kicked out of doors, +or made use of to kindle flames, for others to warm themselves by. + + + +XXIX. THE RELATIONS OF BOOKSELLERS AND AUTHORS. + + This piece constitutes Section X. of _The Tale of a Tub_. + + +It is an unanswerable argument of a very refined age the wonderful +civilities that have passed of late years between the nation of authors +and that of readers. There can hardly pop out a play, a pamphlet, or a +poem, without a preface full of acknowledgments to the world for the +general reception and applause they have given it, which the Lord knows +where, or when, or how, or from whom it received. In due deference to +so laudable a custom, I do here return my humble thanks to His Majesty +and both Houses of Parliament, to the Lords of the King's most +honourable Privy Council, to the reverend the Judges, to the Clergy, +and Gentry, and Yeomanry of this land: but in a more especial manner to +my worthy brethren and friends at Will's Coffee-house, and Gresham +College, and Warwick Lane, and Moorfields, and Scotland Yard, and +Westminster Hall, and Guildhall; in short, to all inhabitants and +retainers whatsoever, either in court, or church, or camp, or city, or +country, for their generosity and universal acceptance of this divine +treatise. I accept their approbation and good opinion with extreme +gratitude, and to the utmost of my poor capacity shall take hold of all +opportunities to return the obligation. + +I am also happy that fate has flung me into so blessed an age for the +mutual felicity of booksellers and authors, whom I may safely affirm to +be at this day the two only satisfied parties in England. Ask an author +how his last piece has succeeded, "Why, truly he thanks his stars the +world has been very favourable, and he has not the least reason to +complain". And yet he wrote it in a week at bits and starts, when he +could steal an hour from his urgent affairs, as it is a hundred to one +you may see further in the preface, to which he refers you, and for the +rest to the bookseller. There you go as a customer, and make the same +question, "He blesses his God the thing takes wonderful; he is just +printing a second edition, and has but three left in his shop". You +beat down the price; "Sir, we shall not differ", and in hopes of your +custom another time, lets you have it as reasonable as you please; "And +pray send as many of your acquaintance as you will; I shall upon your +account furnish them all at the same rate". + +Now it is not well enough considered to what accidents and occasions +the world is indebted for the greatest part of those noble writings +which hourly start up to entertain it. If it were not for a rainy day, +a drunken vigil, a fit of the spleen, a course of physic, a sleepy +Sunday, an ill run at dice, a long tailor's bill, a beggar's purse, a +factious head, a hot sun, costive diet, want of books, and a just +contempt of learning,--but for these events, I say, and some others too +long to recite (especially a prudent neglect of taking brimstone +inwardly), I doubt the number of authors and of writings would dwindle +away to a degree most woeful to behold. To confirm this opinion, hear +the words of the famous troglodyte philosopher. "It is certain," said +he, "some grains of folly are of course annexed as part in the +composition of human nature; only the choice is left us whether we +please to wear them inlaid or embossed, and we need not go very far to +seek how that is usually determined, when we remember it is with human +faculties as with liquors, the lightest will be ever at the top." + +There is in this famous island of Britain a certain paltry scribbler, +very voluminous, whose character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger +to. He deals in a pernicious kind of writings called "Second Parts", +and usually passes under the name of "The Author of the First". I +easily foresee that as soon as I lay down my pen this nimble operator +will have stole it, and treat me as inhumanly as he has already done +Dr. Blackmore, Lestrange, and many others who shall here be nameless. I +therefore fly for justice and relief into the hands of that great +rectifier of saddles and lover of mankind, Dr. Bentley, begging he will +take this enormous grievance into his most modern consideration; and if +it should so happen that the furniture of an ass in the shape of a +second part must for my sins be clapped, by mistake, upon my back, that +he will immediately please, in the presence of the world, to lighten me +of the burden, and take it home to his own house till the true beast +thinks fit to call for it. + +In the meantime, I do here give this public notice that my resolutions +are to circumscribe within this discourse the whole stock of matter I +have been so many years providing. Since my vein is once opened, I am +content to exhaust it all at a running, for the peculiar advantage of +my dear country, and for the universal benefit of mankind. Therefore, +hospitably considering the number of my guests, they shall have my +whole entertainment at a meal, and I scorn to set up the leavings in +the cupboard. What the guests cannot eat may be given to the poor, and +the dogs under the table may gnaw the bones.[180] This I understand for +a more generous proceeding than to turn the company's stomachs by +inviting them again to-morrow to a scurvy meal of scraps. + +If the reader fairly considers the strength of what I have advanced in +the foregoing section, I am convinced it will produce a wonderful +revolution in his notions and opinions, and he will be abundantly +better prepared to receive and to relish the concluding part of this +miraculous treatise. Readers may be divided into three classes, the +superficial, the ignorant, and the learned, and I have with much +felicity fitted my pen to the genius and advantage of each. The +superficial reader will be strangely provoked to laughter, which clears +the breast and the lungs, is sovereign against the spleen, and the most +innocent of all diuretics. The ignorant reader (between whom and the +former the distinction is extremely nice) will find himself disposed to +stare, which is an admirable remedy for ill eyes, serves to raise and +enliven the spirits, and wonderfully helps perspiration. But the reader +truly learned, chiefly for whose benefit I wake when others sleep, and +sleep when others wake, will here find sufficient matter to employ his +speculations for the rest of his life. It were much to be wished, and I +do here humbly propose for an experiment, that every prince in +Christendom will take seven of the deepest scholars in his dominions +and shut them up close for seven years in seven chambers, with a +command to write seven ample commentaries on this comprehensive +discourse. I shall venture to affirm that, whatever difference may be +found in their several conjectures, they will be all, without the +least distortion, manifestly deducible from the text. Meantime it is my +earnest request that so useful an undertaking may be entered upon (if +their Majesties please) with all convenient speed, because I have a +strong inclination before I leave the world to taste a blessing which +we mysterious writers can seldom reach till we have got into our +graves, whether it is that fame being a fruit grafted on the body, can +hardly grow and much less ripen till the stock is in the earth, or +whether she be a bird of prey, and is lured among the rest to pursue +after the scent of a carcass, or whether she conceives her trumpet +sounds best and farthest when she stands on a tomb, by the advantage of +a rising ground and the echo of a hollow vault. + +It is true, indeed, the republic of dark authors, after they once found +out this excellent expedient of dying, have been peculiarly happy in +the variety as well as extent of their reputation. For night being the +universal mother of things, wise philosophers hold all writings to be +fruitful in the proportion they are dark, and therefore the true +illuminated (that is to say, the darkest of all) have met with such +numberless commentators, whose scholiastic midwifery hath delivered +them of meanings that the authors themselves perhaps never conceived, +and yet may very justly be allowed the lawful parents of them, the +words of such writers being like seed, which, however scattered at +random, when they light upon a fruitful ground, will multiply far +beyond either the hopes or imagination of the sower. + +And therefore, in order to promote so useful a work, I will here take +leave to glance a few innuendos that may be of great assistance to +those sublime spirits who shall be appointed to labour in a universal +comment upon this wonderful discourse. And first, I have couched a very +profound mystery in the number of o's multiplied by seven and divided +by nine. Also, if a devout brother of the Rosy Cross will pray +fervently for sixty-three mornings with a lively faith, and then +transpose certain letters and syllables according to prescription, in +the second and fifth section they will certainly reveal into a full +receipt of the _opus magnum_. Lastly, whoever will be at the pains to +calculate the whole number of each letter in this treatise, and sum up +the difference exactly between the several numbers, assigning the true +natural cause for every such difference, the discoveries in the product +will plentifully reward his labour. But then he must beware of Bythus +and Sigè, and be sure not to forget the qualities of Acamoth; _a cujus +lacrymis humecta prodit substantia, à risu lucida, à tristitiâ solida, +et à timoré mobilis_, wherein Eugenius Philalethes[181] hath committed +an unpardonable mistake. + +[Footnote 180: The bad critics.] + +[Footnote 181: A name under which Thomas Vaughan wrote.] + + + +XXX. THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE POSTERITY. + + The following is the famous dedication of _The Tale of a Tub_. The + description of "the tyranny of Time" was regarded by Goethe as one + of the finest passages in Swift's works. + + +SIR, + +I here present your Highness with the fruits of a very few leisure +hours, stolen from the short intervals of a world of business, and of +an employment quite alien from such amusements as this; the poor +production of that refuse of time which has lain heavy upon my hands +during a long prorogation of Parliament, a great dearth of foreign +news, and a tedious fit of rainy weather. For which, and other reasons, +it cannot choose extremely to deserve such a patronage as that of your +Highness, whose numberless virtues in so few years, make the world look +upon you as the future example to all princes. For although your +Highness is hardly got clear of infancy, yet has the universal learned +world already resolved upon appealing to your future dictates with the +lowest and most resigned submission, fate having decreed you sole +arbiter of the productions of human wit in this polite and most +accomplished age. Methinks the number of appellants were enough to +shock and startle any judge of a genius less unlimited than yours; but +in order to prevent such glorious trials, the person, it seems, to +whose care the education of your Highness is committed, has resolved, +as I am told, to keep you in almost an universal ignorance of our +studies, which it is your inherent birthright to inspect. + +It is amazing to me that this person should have assurance, in the face +of the sun, to go about persuading your Highness that our age is almost +wholly illiterate and has hardly produced one writer upon any subject. +I know very well that when your Highness shall come to riper years, and +have gone through the learning of antiquity, you will be too curious to +neglect inquiring into the authors of the very age before you; and to +think that this insolent, in the account he is preparing for your view, +designs to reduce them to a number so insignificant as I am ashamed to +mention; it moves my zeal and my spleen for the honour and interest of +our vast flourishing body, as well as of myself, for whom I know by +long experience he has professed, and still continues, a peculiar +malice. + +It is not unlikely that, when your Highness will one day peruse what I +am now writing, you may be ready to expostulate with your governor upon +the credit of what I here affirm, and command him to show you some of +our productions. To which he will answer--for I am well informed of +his designs--by asking your Highness where they are, and what is become +of them? and pretend it a demonstration that there never were any, +because they are not then to be found. Not to be found! Who has mislaid +them? Are they sunk in the abyss of things? It is certain that in their +own nature they were light enough to swim upon the surface for all +eternity; therefore, the fault is in him who tied weights so heavy to +their heels as to depress them to the centre. Is their very essence +destroyed? Who has annihilated them? Were they drowned by purges or +martyred by pipes? Who administered them to the posteriors of ----. But +that it may no longer be a doubt with your Highness who is to be the +author of this universal ruin, I beseech you to observe that large and +terrible scythe which your governor affects to bear continually about +him. Be pleased to remark the length and strength, the sharpness and +hardness, of his nails and teeth; consider his baneful, abominable +breath, enemy to life and matter, infectious and corrupting, and then +reflect whether it be possible for any mortal ink and paper of this +generation to make a suitable resistance. Oh, that your Highness would +one day resolve to disarm this usurping _maître de palais_ of his +furious engines, and bring your empire _hors du page_! + +It were endless to recount the several methods of tyranny and +destruction which your governor is pleased to practise upon this +occasion. His inveterate malice is such to the writings of our age, +that, of several thousands produced yearly from this renowned city, +before the next revolution of the sun there is not one to be heard of. +Unhappy infants! many of them barbarously destroyed before they have so +much as learnt their mother-tongue to beg for pity. Some he stifles in +their cradles, others he frights into convulsions, whereof they +suddenly die, some he flays alive, others he tears limb from limb, +great numbers are offered to Moloch, and the rest, tainted by his +breath, die of a languishing consumption. + +But the concern I have most at heart is for our Corporation of Poets, +from whom I am preparing a petition to your Highness, to be subscribed +with the names of one hundred and thirty-six of the first race, but +whose immortal productions are never likely to reach your eyes, though +each of them is now an humble and an earnest appellant for the laurel, +and has large comely volumes ready to show for a support to his +pretensions. The never-dying works of these illustrious persons your +governor, sir, has devoted to unavoidable death, and your Highness is +to be made believe that our age has never arrived at the honour to +produce one single poet. + +We confess immortality to be a great and powerful goddess, but in vain +we offer up to her our devotions and our sacrifices if your Highness's +governor, who has usurped the priesthood, must, by an unparalled +ambition and avarice, wholly intercept and devour them. + +To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned and devoid of writers in +any kind, seems to be an assertion so bold and so false, that I have +been sometimes thinking the contrary may almost be proved by +uncontrollable demonstration. It is true, indeed, that although their +numbers be vast and their productions numerous in proportion, yet are +they hurried so hastily off the scene that they escape our memory and +delude our sight. When I first thought of this address, I had prepared +a copious list of titles to present your Highness as an undisputed +argument for what I affirm. The originals were posted fresh upon all +gates and corners of streets; but returning in a very few hours to take +a review, they were all torn down and fresh ones in their places. I +inquired after them among readers and booksellers, but I inquired in +vain; the memorial of them was lost among men, their place was no more +to be found; and I was laughed to scorn for a clown and a pedant, +devoid of all taste and refinement, little versed in the course of +present affairs, and that knew nothing of what had passed in the best +companies of court and town. So that I can only avow in general to your +Highness that we do abound in learning and wit, but to fix upon +particulars is a task too slippery for my slender abilities. If I +should venture, in a windy day, to affirm to your Highness that there +is a large cloud near the horizon in the form of a bear, another in the +zenith with the head of an ass, a third to the westward with claws like +a dragon; and your Highness should in a few minutes think fit to +examine the truth, it is certain they would be all changed in figure +and position, new ones would arise, and all we could agree upon would +be, that clouds there were, but that I was grossly mistaken in the +zoography and topography of them. + +But your governor, perhaps, may still insist, and put the question, +What is then become of those immense bales of paper which must needs +have been employed in such numbers of books? Can these also be wholly +annihilated, and so of a sudden, as I pretend? What shall I say in +return of so invidious an objection? It ill befits the distance between +your Highness and me to send you for ocular conviction to a jakes or an +oven, to the windows of a bawdyhouse, or to a sordid lantern. Books, +like men their authors, have no more than one way of coming into the +world, but there are ten thousand to go out of it and return no more. + +I profess to your Highness, in the integrity of my heart, that what I +am going to say is literally true this minute I am writing; what +revolutions may happen before it shall be ready for your perusal I can +by no means warrant; however, I beg you to accept it as a specimen of +our learning, our politeness, and our wit. I do therefore affirm, upon +the word of a sincere man, that there is now actually in being a +certain poet called John Dryden, whose translation of Virgil was lately +printed in large folio, well bound, and if diligent search were made, +for aught I know, is yet to be seen. There is another called Nahum +Tate, who is ready to make oath that he has caused many reams of verse +to be published, whereof both himself and his bookseller, if lawfully +required, can still produce authentic copies, and therefore wonders why +the world is pleased to make such a secret of it. There is a third, +known by the name of Tom Durfey, a poet of a vast comprehension, an +universal genius, and most profound learning. There are also one Mr. +Rymer and one Mr. Dennis, most profound critics. There is a person +styled Dr. Bentley, who has wrote near a thousand pages of immense +erudition, giving a full and true account of a certain squabble of +wonderful importance between himself and a bookseller; he is a writer +of infinite wit and humour, no man rallies with a better grace and in +more sprightly turns. Further, I avow to your Highness that with these +eyes I have beheld the person of William Wotton, B.D., who has written +a good-sized volume against a friend of your governor, from whom, alas! +he must therefore look for little favour, in a most gentlemanly style, +adorned with utmost politeness and civility, replete with discoveries +equally valuable for their novelty and use, and embellished with traits +of wit so poignant and so apposite, that he is a worthy yoke-mate to +his fore-mentioned friend. + +Why should I go upon farther particulars, which might fill a volume +with the just eulogies of my contemporary brethren? I shall bequeath +this piece of justice to a larger work, wherein I intend to write a +character of the present set of wits in our nation; their persons I +shall describe particularly and at length, their genius and +understandings in miniature. + +In the meantime, I do here make bold to present your Highness with a +faithful abstract drawn from the universal body of all arts and +sciences, intended wholly for your service and instruction. Nor do I +doubt in the least, but your Highness will peruse it as carefully and +make as considerable improvements as other young princes have already +done by the many volumes of late years written for a help to their +studies. + +That your Highness may advance in wisdom and virtue, as well as years, +and at last outshine all your royal ancestors, shall be the daily +prayer of, + +Sir, +Your Highness's most devoted, &c. +_Decem_. 1697. + + + + +SIR RICHARD STEELE. + +(1672-1729.) + + +XXXI. THE COMMONWEALTH OF LUNATICS. + + This paper forms No. 125 of _The Tatler_, January 26th, 1709. + + +From my own apartment, _January_ 25. + +There is a sect of ancient philosophers, who, I think, have left more +volumes behind them, and those better written, than any other of the +fraternities in philosophy. It was a maxim of this sect, that all those +who do not live up to the principles of reason and virtue are madmen. +Everyone who governs himself by these rules is allowed the title of +wise, and reputed to be in his senses: and everyone, in proportion as +he deviates from them, is pronounced frantic and distracted. Cicero, +having chosen this maxim for his theme, takes occasion to argue from +it very agreeably with Clodius, his implacable adversary, who had +procured his banishment. A city, says he, is an assembly distinguished +into bodies of men, who are in possession of their respective rights +and privileges, cast under proper subordinations, and in all its parts +obedient to the rules of law and equity. He then represents the +government from whence he was banished, at a time when the consul, +senate, and laws had lost their authority, as a commonwealth of +lunatics. For this reason he regards his expulsion from Rome as a man +would being turned out of Bedlam, if the inhabitants of it should drive +him out of their walls as a person unfit for their community. We are +therefore to look upon every man's brain to be touched, however he may +appear in the general conduct of his life, if he has an unjustifiable +singularity in any part of his conversation or behaviour; or if he +swerves from right reason, however common his kind of madness may be, +we shall not excuse him for its being epidemical; it being our present +design to clap up all such as have the marks of madness upon them, who +are now permitted to go about the streets for no other reason but +because they do no mischief in their fits. Abundance of imaginary great +men are put in straw to bring them to a right sense of themselves. And +is it not altogether as reasonable, that an insignificant man, who has +an immoderate opinion of his merits, and a quite different notion of +his own abilities from what the rest of the world entertain, should +have the same care taken of him as a beggar who fancies himself a duke +or a prince? Or why should a man who starves in the midst of plenty be +trusted with himself more than he who fancies he is an emperor in the +midst of poverty? I have several women of quality in my thoughts who +set so exorbitant a value upon themselves that I have often most +heartily pitied them, and wished them for their recovery under the same +discipline with the pewterer's wife. I find by several hints in ancient +authors that when the Romans were in the height of power and luxury +they assigned out of their vast dominions an island called Anticyra as +an habitation for madmen. This was the Bedlam of the Roman empire, +whither all persons who had lost their wits used to resort from all +parts of the world in quest of them. Several of the Roman emperors were +advised to repair to this island: but most of them, instead of +listening to such sober counsels, gave way to their distraction, until +the people knocked them on the head as despairing of their cure. In +short, it was as usual for men of distempered brains to take a voyage +to Anticyra in those days as it is in ours for persons who have a +disorder in their lungs to go to Montpellier. + +The prodigious crops of hellebore with which this whole island abounded +did not only furnish them with incomparable tea, snuff, and Hungary +water, but impregnated the air of the country with such sober and +salutiferous steams as very much comforted the heads and refreshed the +senses of all that breathed in it. A discarded statesman that, at his +first landing, appeared stark, staring mad, would become calm in a +week's time, and upon his return home live easy and satisfied in his +retirement. A moping lover would grow a pleasant fellow by that time he +had rid thrice about the island: and a hair-brained rake, after a short +stay in the country, go home again a composed, grave, worthy gentleman. + +I have premised these particulars before I enter on the main design of +this paper, because I would not be thought altogether notional in what +I have to say, and pass only for a projector in morality. I could quote +Horace and Seneca and some other ancient writers of good repute upon +the same occasion, and make out by their testimony that our streets are +filled with distracted persons; that our shops and taverns, private and +public houses, swarm with them; and that it is very hard to make up a +tolerable assembly without a majority of them. But what I have already +said is, I hope, sufficient to justify the ensuing project, which I +shall therefore give some account of without any further preface. + +1. It is humbly proposed, That a proper receptacle or habitation be +forthwith erected for all such persons as, upon due trial and +examination, shall appear to be out of their wits. + +2. That, to serve the present exigency, the college in Moorfields be +very much extended at both ends; and that it be converted into a +square, by adding three other sides to it. + +3. That nobody be admitted into these three additional sides but such +whose frenzy can lay no claim to any apartment in that row of building +which is already erected. + +4. That the architect, physician, apothecary, surgeon, keepers, nurses, +and porters be all and each of them cracked, provided that their frenzy +does not lie in the profession or employment to which they shall +severally and respectively be assigned. + +_N.B._ It is thought fit to give the foregoing notice, that none may +present himself here for any post of honour or profit who is not duly +qualified. + +5. That over all the gates of the additional buildings there be figures +placed in the same manner as over the entrance of the edifice already +erected, provided they represent such distractions only as are proper +for those additional buildings; as of an envious man gnawing his own +flesh; a gamester pulling himself by the ears and knocking his head +against a marble pillar; a covetous man warming himself over a heap of +gold; a coward flying from his own shadow, and the like. + +Having laid down this general scheme of my design, I do hereby invite +all persons who are willing to encourage so public-spirited a project +to bring in their contributions as soon as possible; and to apprehend +forthwith any politician whom they shall catch raving in a +coffee-house, or any free-thinker whom they shall find publishing his +deliriums, or any other person who shall give the like manifest signs +of a crazed imagination. And I do at the same time give this public +notice to all the madmen about this great city, that they may return to +their senses with all imaginable expedition, lest, if they should come +into my hands, I should put them into a regimen which they would not +like; for if I find any one of them persist in his frantic behaviour I +will make him in a month's time as famous as ever Oliver's porter was. + + + + +JOSEPH ADDISON. + +(1672-1719.) + + +XXXII. SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY'S SUNDAY. + + This piece represents the complete paper, No. 112 of _The + Spectator_, July 9th, 1711. + + +I am always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and think, if +keeping holy the seventh day were only a human institution, it would be +the best method that could have been thought of for the polishing and +civilizing of mankind. It is certain the country people would soon +degenerate into a kind of savages and barbarians, were there not such +frequent returns of a stated time in which the whole village meet +together with their best faces and in their cleanliest habits to +converse with one another upon indifferent subjects, hear their duties +explained to them, and join together in adoration of the supreme Being. +Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes +in their minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes +upon appearing in their most agreeable forms and exerting all such +qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. A +country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard as a +citizen does upon the Change, the whole parish politics being generally +discussed in that place either after sermon or before the bell rings. + +My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has beautified the inside +of his church with several texts of his own choosing; he has likewise +given a handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the communion table at his +own expense. He has often told me that at his coming to his estate he +found his parishioners very irregular; and that in order to make them +kneel and join in the responses he gave every one of them a hassock and +a common-prayer book: and at the same time employed an itinerant +singing-master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to +instruct them rightly in the tunes of the psalms, upon which they now +very much value themselves, and indeed out-do most of the country +churches that I have ever heard. + +As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in +very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; +for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon +recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he sees +anybody else nodding either wakes them himself or sends his servants to +them. Several other of the old knight's particularities break out upon +these occasions: sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the +singing-psalms half a minute after the rest of the congregation have +done with it: sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of his +devotion, he pronounces Amen three or four times to the same prayer; +and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to +count the congregation or see if any of his tenants are missing. + +I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midst +of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was +about and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews it seems is +remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking his +heels for his diversion. This authority of the knight, though exerted +in that odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of life, +has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to +see anything ridiculous in his behaviour; besides that the general good +sense and worthiness of his character makes his friends observe these +little singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good +qualities. + +As soon as the sermon is finished nobody presumes to stir till Sir +Roger is gone out of the church. The knight walks down from his seat in +the chancel between a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing to +him on each side; and every now and then inquires how such an one's +wife, or mother, or son, or father do, whom he does not see at church, +which is understood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent. + +The chaplain has often told me that upon a catechizing day, when Sir +Roger has been pleased with a boy that answers well, he has ordered a +Bible to be given him next day for his encouragement; and sometimes +accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger has +likewise added five pounds a year to the clerk's place; and that he may +encourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the church +service, has promised upon the death of the present incumbent, who is +very old, to bestow it according to merit. + +The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his chaplain, and their +mutual concurrence in doing good, is the more remarkable because the +very next village is famous for the differences and contentions that +rise between the parson and the squire, who live in a perpetual state +of war. The parson is always preaching at the squire, and the squire to +be revenged on the parson never comes to church. The squire has made +all his tenants atheists and tithe-stealers; while the parson instructs +them every Sunday in the dignity of his order, and insinuates to them +in almost every sermon that he is a better man than his patron. In +short, matters are come to such an extremity that the squire has not +said his prayers either in public or private this half year; and that +the parson threatens him, if he does not mend his manners, to pray for +him in the face of the whole congregation. + +Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the country, are very +fatal to the ordinary people, who are so used to be dazzled with riches +that they pay as much deference to the understanding of a man of an +estate as of a man of learning, and are very hardly brought to regard +any truth, how important soever it may be, that is preached to them +when they know there are several men of five hundred a year who do not +believe it. + + + + +EDWARD YOUNG. + +(1681-1765.) + + +XXXIII. TO THE RIGHT HON. MR. DODINGTON. + + This is justly regarded as one of the finest satires in the English + language. It is taken from Dr. Young's _Series of Satires_ + published in collected form in 1750. Dodington was the famous "Bubb + Dodington", satirized as Bubo by Pope in the "Prologue to the + Satires". + + + Long, Dodington, in debt, I long have sought + To ease the burden of my graceful thought: + And now a poet's gratitude you see: + Grant him two favours, and he'll ask for three: + For whose the present glory, or the gain? + You give protection, I a worthless strain. + You love and feel the poet's sacred flame, + And know the basis of a solid fame; + Though prone to like, yet cautious to commend, + You read with all the malice of a friend; + Nor favour my attempts that way alone, + But, more to raise my verse, conceal your own. + An ill-tim'd modesty! turn ages o'er, + When wanted Britain bright examples more? + Her learning, and her genius too, decays; + And dark and cold are her declining days; + As if men now were of another cast, + They meanly live on alms of ages past, + Men still are men; and they who boldly dare, + Shall triumph o'er the sons of cold despair; + Or, if they fail, they justly still take place + Of such who run in debt for their disgrace; + Who borrow much, then fairly make it known, + And damn it with improvements of their own. + We bring some new materials, and what's old + New cast with care, and in no borrow'd mould; + Late times the verse may read, if these refuse; + And from sour critics vindicate the Muse. + "Your work is long", the critics cry. 'Tis true, + And lengthens still, to take in fools like you: + Shorten my labour, if its length you blame: + For, grow but wise, you rob me of my game; + As haunted hags, who, while the dogs pursue, + Renounce their four legs, and start up on two. + + Like the bold bird upon the banks of Nile + That picks the teeth of the dire crocodile, + Will I enjoy (dread feast!) the critic's rage, + And with the fell destroyer feed my page. + For what ambitious fools are more to blame, + Than those who thunder in the critic's name? + Good authors damn'd, have their revenge in this, + To see what wretches gain the praise they miss. + + Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak, + Like an old Druid from his hollow oak, + As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries, + "Ten thousand worlds for the three unities!" + Ye doctors sage, who through Parnassus teach, + Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach. + + One judges as the weather dictates; right + The poem is at noon, and wrong at night: + Another judges by a surer gage, + An author's principles, or parentage; + Since his great ancestors in Flanders fell, + The poem doubtless must be written well. + Another judges by the writer's look; + Another judges, for he bought the book: + Some judge, their knack of judging wrong to keep; + Some judge, because it is too soon to sleep. + Thus all will judge, and with one single aim, + To gain themselves, not give the writer, fame. + The very best ambitiously advise, + Half to serve you, and half to pass for wise. + + Critics on verse, as squibs on triumphs wait, + Proclaim the glory, and augment the state; + Hot, envious, noisy, proud, the scribbling fry + Burn, hiss, and bounce, waste paper, stink, and die. + Rail on, my friends! what more my verse can crown + Than Compton's smile, and your obliging frown? + + Not all on books their criticism waste: + The genius of a dish some justly taste, + And eat their way to fame; with anxious thought + The salmon is refus'd, the turbot bought. + Impatient art rebukes the sun's delay + And bids December yield the fruits of May; + Their various cares in one great point combine + The business of their lives, that is--to dine. + Half of their precious day they give the feast; + And to a kind digestion spare the rest. + Apicius, here, the taster of the town, + Feeds twice a week, to settle their renown. + + These worthies of the palate guard with care + The sacred annals of their bills of fare; + In those choice books their panegyrics read, + And scorn the creatures that for hunger feed. + If man by feeding well commences great, + Much more the worm to whom that man is meat. + + To glory some advance a lying claim, + Thieves of renown, and pilferers of fame: + Their front supplies what their ambition lacks; + They know a thousand lords, behind their backs. + Cottil is apt to wink upon a peer, + When turn'd away, with a familiar leer; + And Harvey's eyes, unmercifully keen, + Have murdered fops, by whom she ne'er was seen. + Niger adopts stray libels; wisely prone, + To cover shame still greater than his own. + Bathyllus, in the winter of threescore, + Belies his innocence, and keeps a ----. + Absence of mind Brabantio turns to fame, + Learns to mistake, nor knows his brother's name; + Has words and thoughts in nice disorder set, + And takes a memorandum to forget. + Thus vain, not knowing what adorns or blots + Men forge the patents that create them sots. + + As love of pleasure into pain betrays, + So most grow infamous through love of praise. + But whence for praise can such an ardour rise, + When those, who bring that incense, we despise? + For such the vanity of great and small, + Contempt goes round, and all men laugh at all. + Nor can even satire blame them; for 'tis true, + They have most ample cause for what they do + O fruitful Britain! doubtless thou wast meant + A nurse of fools, to stock the continent. + Though Phoebus and the Nine for ever mow, + Rank folly underneath the scythe will grow + The plenteous harvest calls me forward still, + Till I surpass in length my lawyer's bill; + A Welsh descent, which well-paid heralds damn; + Or, longer still, a Dutchman's epigram. + When, cloy'd, in fury I throw down my pen, + In comes a coxcomb, and I write again. + + See Tityrus, with merriment possest, + Is burst with laughter, ere he hears the jest: + What need he stay? for when the jest is o'er, + His teeth will be no whiter than before. + Is there of thee, ye fair! so great a dearth, + That you need purchase monkeys for your mirth! + + Some, vain of paintings, bid the world admire; + Of houses some; nay, houses that they hire: + Some (perfect wisdom!) of a beauteous wife; + And boast, like Cordeliers, a scourge for life. + + Sometimes, through pride, the sexes change their airs; + My lord has vapours, and my lady swears; + Then, stranger still! on turning of the wind, + My lord wears breeches, and my lady's kind. + + To show the strength, and infamy of pride, + By all 'tis follow'd, and by all denied. + What numbers are there, which at once pursue, + Praise, and the glory to contemn it, too? + Vincenna knows self-praise betrays to shame, + And therefore lays a stratagem for fame; + Makes his approach in modesty's disguise, + To win applause; and takes it by surprise. + "To err," says he, "in small things, is my fate." + You know your answer, "he's exact in great". + "My style", says he, "is rude and full of faults." + "But oh! what sense! what energy of thoughts!" + That he wants algebra, he must confess; + "But not a soul to give our arms success". + "Ah! that's an hit indeed," Vincenna cries; + "But who in heat of blood was ever wise? + I own 'twas wrong, when thousands called me back + To make that hopeless, ill-advised attack; + All say, 'twas madness; nor dare I deny; + Sure never fool so well deserved to die." + Could this deceive in others to be free, + It ne'er, Vincenna, could deceive in thee! + Whose conduct is a comment to thy tongue, + So clear, the dullest cannot take thee wrong. + Thou on one sleeve wilt thy revenues wear; + And haunt the court, without a prospect there. + Are these expedients for renown? Confess + Thy little self, that I may scorn thee less. + + Be wise, Vincenna, and the court forsake; + Our fortunes there, nor thou, nor I, shall make. + Even men of merit, ere their point they gain, + In hardy service make a long campaign; + Most manfully besiege the patron's gate, + And oft repulsed, as oft attack the great + With painful art, and application warm. + And take, at last, some little place by storm; + Enough to keep two shoes on Sunday clean, + And starve upon discreetly, in Sheer-Lane. + Already this thy fortune can afford; + Then starve without the favour of my lord. + 'Tis true, great fortunes some great men confer, + But often, even in doing right, they err: + From caprice, not from choice, their favours come: + They give, but think it toil to know to whom: + The man that's nearest, yawning, they advance: + 'Tis inhumanity to bless by chance. + If merit sues, and greatness is so loth + To break its downy trance, I pity both. + + Behold the masquerade's fantastic scene! + The Legislature join'd with Drury-Lane! + When Britain calls, th' embroider'd patriots run, + And serve their country--if the dance is done. + "Are we not then allow'd to be polite?" + Yes, doubtless; but first set your notions right. + Worth, of politeness is the needful ground; + Where that is wanting, this can ne'er be found. + Triflers not even in trifles can excel; + 'Tis solid bodies only polish well. + + Great, chosen prophet! for these latter days, + To turn a willing world from righteous ways! + Well, Heydegger, dost thou thy master serve; + Well has he seen his servant should not starve, + Thou to his name hast splendid temples raised + In various forms of worship seen him prais'd, + Gaudy devotion, like a Roman, shown, + And sung sweet anthems in a tongue unknown. + Inferior offerings to thy god of vice + Are duly paid, in fiddles, cards, and dice; + Thy sacrifice supreme, an hundred maids! + That solemn rite of midnight masquerades! + + Though bold these truths, thou, Muse, with truths like these, + Wilt none offend, whom 'tis a praise to please; + Let others flatter to be flatter'd, thou + Like just tribunals, bend an awful brow. + How terrible it were to common-sense, + To write a satire, which gave none offence! + And, since from life I take the draughts you see. + If men dislike them, do they censure me? + The fool, and knave, 'tis glorious to offend, + And Godlike an attempt the world to mend, + The world, where lucky throws to blockheads fall, + Knaves know the game, and honest men pay all. + How hard for real worth to gain its price! + A man shall make his fortune in a trice, + If blest with pliant, though but slender, sense, + Feign'd modesty, and real impudence: + A supple knee, smooth tongue, an easy grace. + A curse within, a smile upon his face; + A beauteous sister, or convenient wife, + Are prizes in the lottery of life; + Genius and Virtue they will soon defeat, + And lodge you in the bosom of the great. + To merit, is but to provide a pain + For men's refusing what you ought to gain. + + May, Dodington, this maxim fail in you, + Whom my presaging thoughts already view + By Walpole's conduct fired, and friendship grac'd, + Still higher in your Prince's favour plac'd: + And lending, here, those awful councils aid, + Which you, abroad, with such success obey'd! + Bear this from one, who holds your friendship dear; + What most we wish, with ease we fancy near. + + + + +JOHN GAY. + +(1685-1732.) + + +XXXIV. THE QUIDNUNCKIS. + + The following piece was originally claimed for Swift in the edition + of his works published in 1749. But it was undoubtedly written by + Gay, being only sent to Swift for perusal. This explains the fact + of its being found amongst the papers of the latter. The poem is + suggested by the death of the Duke Regent of France. + + + How vain are mortal man's endeavours? + (Said, at dame Elleot's,[182] master Travers) + Good Orleans dead! in truth 'tis hard: + Oh! may all statesmen die prepar'd! + I do foresee (and for foreseeing + He equals any man in being) + The army ne'er can be disbanded. + --I with the king was safely landed. + Ah friends! great changes threat the land! + All France and England at a stand! + There's Meroweis--mark! strange work! + And there's the Czar, and there's the Turk-- + The Pope--An India-merchant by + Cut short the speech with this reply: + All at a stand? you see great changes? + Ah, sir! you never saw the Ganges: + There dwells the nation of Quidnunckis + (So Monomotapa calls monkeys:) + On either bank from bough to bough, + They meet and chat (as we may now): + Whispers go round, they grin, they shrug, + They bow, they snarl, they scratch, they hug; + And, just as chance or whim provoke them, + They either bite their friends, or stroke them. + There have I seen some active prig, + To show his parts, bestride a twig: + Lord! how the chatt'ring tribe admire! + Not that he's wiser, but he's higher: + All long to try the vent'rous thing, + (For power is but to have one's swing). + From side to side he springs, he spurns, + And bangs his foes and friends by turns. + Thus as in giddy freaks he bounces, + Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces! + Down the swift stream the wretch is borne; + Never, ah never, to return! + Zounds! what a fall had our dear brother! + Morbleu! cries one; and damme, t'other. + The nation gives a general screech; + None cocks his tail, none claws his breech; + Each trembles for the public weal, + And for a while forgets to steal. + Awhile all eyes intent and steady + Pursue him whirling down the eddy: + But, out of mind when out of view, + Some other mounts the twig anew; + And business on each monkey shore + Runs the same track it ran before. + +[Footnote 182: Coffee-house near St. James's.] + + + + +ALEXANDER POPE. + +(1688-1744.) + + +XXXV. THE DUNCIAD--THE DESCRIPTION OF DULNESS. + + One of the most scathing satires in the history of literature. Pope + in the latest editions of it rather spoilt its point by + substituting Colley Gibber for Theobald as the "hero" of it. Our + text is from the edition of 1743. The satire first appeared in + 1728, and other editions, greatly altered, were issued in 1729, + 1742, 1743. + + + The mighty mother, and her son, who brings + The Smithfield muses[183] to the ear of kings, + I sing. Say you, her instruments the great! + Called to this work by Dulness, Jove, and fate: + You by whose care, in vain decried and curst, + Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first; + Say, how the goddess bade Britannia sleep, + And poured her spirit o'er the land and deep. + In eldest time, ere mortals writ or read, + Ere Pallas issued from the Thunderer's head, + Dulness o'er all possessed her ancient right, + Daughter of chaos and eternal night: + Fate in their dotage this fair idiot gave, + Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave + Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind, + She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind. + Still her old empire to restore she tries, + For, born a goddess, Dulness never dies. + O thou! whatever title please thine ear, + Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver! + Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air, + Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair, + Or praise the court, or magnify mankind,[184] + Or thy grieved country's copper chains unbind; + From thy Boeotia though her power retires, + Mourn not, my Swift, at aught our realm acquires, + Here pleased behold her mighty wings outspread + To hatch a new Saturnian age of lead. + Close to those walls where folly holds her throne, + And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, + Where o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand,[185] + Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand; + One cell there is, concealed from vulgar eye, + The cave of poverty and poetry, + Keen, hollow winds howl through the bleak recess, + Emblem of music caused by emptiness. + Hence bards, like Proteus long in vain tied down, + Escape in monsters, and amaze the town. + Hence miscellanies spring, the weekly boast + Of Curll's chaste press, and Lintot's rubric post:[186] + Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lines,[187] + Hence journals, medleys, mercuries, magazines; + Sepulchral lies, our holy walls to grace, + And new-year odes,[188] and all the Grub Street race. + In clouded majesty here Dulness shone; + Four guardian virtues, round, support her throne: + Fierce champion fortitude, that knows no fears + Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears: + Calm temperance, whose blessings those partake + Who hunger, and who thirst for scribbling sake: + Prudence, whose glass presents the approaching jail: + Poetic justice, with her lifted scale, + Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs, + And solid pudding against empty praise. + Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep, + Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep, + Till genial Jacob,[189] or a warm third day, + Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play: + How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie, + How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry, + Maggots half-formed in rhyme exactly meet, + And learn to crawl upon poetic feet. + Here one poor word an hundred clenches makes, + And ductile dulness new meanders takes + There motley images her fancy strike, + Figures ill paired, and similes unlike. + She sees a mob of metaphors advance, + Pleased with the madness of the mazy dance; + How tragedy and comedy embrace; + How farce and epic get a jumbled race; + How Time himself[190] stands still at her command, + Realms shift their place, and ocean turns to land. + Here gay description Egypt glads with showers, + Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers; + Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen, + There painted valleys of eternal green; + In cold December fragrant chaplets blow, + And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow. + All these and more the cloud-compelling queen + Beholds through fogs, that magnify the scene. + She, tinselled o'er in robes of varying hues, + With self-applause her wild creation views; + Sees momentary monsters rise and fall, + And with her own fools-colours gilds them all. + 'Twas on the day when Thorold rich and grave,[191] + Like Cimon, triumphed both on land and wave: + (Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces, + Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and broad faces) + Now night descending, the proud scene was o'er, + But lived in Settle's numbers one day more.[192] + Now mayors and shrieves all hushed and satiate lay, + Yet ate, in dreams, the custard of the day; + While pensive poets painful vigils keep, + Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep. + Much to the mindful queen the feast recalls + What city swans once sung within the walls; + Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise, + And sure succession down from Heywood's[193] days. + She saw, with joy, the line immortal run, + Each sire impressed, and glaring in his son: + So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care, + Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear. + She saw old Prynne in restless Daniel[194] shine, + And Eusden eke out[195] Blackmore's endless line; + She saw slow Philips creep like Tate's poor page, + And all the mighty mad[196] in Dennis rage. + In each she marks her image full exprest, + But chief in Bays's monster-breeding breast, + Bays, formed by nature stage and town to bless, + And act, and be, a coxcomb with success. + Dulness, with transport eyes the lively dunce, + Remembering she herself was pertness once. + Now (shame to fortune!) an ill run at play + Blanked his bold visage, and a thin third day: + Swearing and supperless the hero sate, + Blasphemed his gods, the dice, and damned his fate; + Then gnawed his pen, then dashed it on the ground, + Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound! + Plunged for his sense, but found no bottom there; + Yet wrote and floundered on in mere despair. + Round him much embryo, much abortion lay, + Much future ode, and abdicated play; + Nonsense precipitate, like running lead, + That slipped through cracks and zigzags of the head; + All that on folly frenzy could beget, + Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit, + Next, o'er his books his eyes began to roll, + In pleasing memory of all he stole, + How here he sipped, how there he plundered snug, + And sucked all o'er, like an industrious bug. + Here lay poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes, and here + The frippery of crucified Molière; + There hapless Shakespeare, yet of Tibbald sore, + Wished he had blotted for himself before. + The rest on outside merit but presume, + Or serve (like other fools) to fill a room; + Such with their shelves as due proportion hold, + Or their fond parents dressed in red and gold; + Or where the pictures for the page atone, + And Quarles is saved by beauties not his own. + Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great; + There, stamped with arms, Newcastle shines complete: + Here all his suffering brotherhood retire, + And 'scape the martyrdom of jakes and fire: + A Gothic library! of Greece and Rome + Well purged, and worthy Settle, Banks, and Broome. + +[Footnote 183: Smithfield is the place where Bartholomew Fair was kept, +whose shows and dramatical entertainments were, by the hero of this +poem and others of equal genius, brought to the theatres of Covent +Garden, Lincolns-Inn-Fields, and the Haymarket, to be the reigning +pleasures of the court and town. This happened in the reigns of King +George I. and II.] + +[Footnote 184: _Ironicé_, alluding to Gulliver's representations of +both.--The next line relates to the papers of the Drapier against the +currency of Wood's copper coin in Ireland, which, upon the great +discontent of the people, his majesty was graciously pleased to +recall.] + +[Footnote 185: Mr. Caius Gabriel Cibber, father of the poet laureate. +The two statues of the lunatics over the gates of Bedlam Hospital were +done by him, and (as the son justly says of them) are no ill monuments +of his fame as an artist.] + +[Footnote 186: Two booksellers. The former was fined by the Court of +King's Bench for publishing obscene books; the latter usually adorned +his shop with titles in red letters.] + +[Footnote 187: It was an ancient English custom for the malefactors to +sing a psalm at their execution at Tyburn; and no less customary to +print elegies on their deaths, at the same time or before.] + +[Footnote 188: Made by the poet laureate for the time being, to be sung +at court on every New Year's Day.] + +[Footnote 189: Jacob Tonson the bookseller.] + +[Footnote 190: Alluding to the transgressions of the unities in the +plays of such poets.] + +[Footnote 191: Sir George Thorold, Lord Mayor of London in the year +1720. The procession of a Lord Mayor was made partly by land, and +partly by water.--Cimon, the famous Athenian general, obtained a +victory by sea, and another by land, on the same day, over the Persians +and barbarians.] + +[Footnote 192: Settle was poet to the city of London. His office was to +compose yearly panegyrics upon the Lord Mayors, and verses to be spoken +in the pageants: but that part of the shows being at length abolished, +the employment of the city poet ceased; so that upon Settle's death +there was no successor appointed to that place.] + +[Footnote 193: John Heywood, whose "Interludes" were printed in the +time of Henry VIII.] + +[Footnote 194: The first edition had it,-- + + "She saw in Norton all his father shine": + +Daniel Defoe was a genius, but Norton Defoe was a wretched writer, and +never attempted poetry. Much more justly is Daniel himself made +successor to W. Pryn, both of whom wrote verses as well as politics. +And both these authors had a semblance in their fates as well as +writings, having been alike sentenced to the pillory.] + +[Footnote 195: Laurence Eusden, poet laureate before Gibber. We have +the names of only a few of his works, which were very numerous. + +Nahum Tate was poet laureate, a poor writer, of no invention; but who +sometimes translated tolerably when assisted by Dryden. In the second +part of Absalom and Achitophel there are about two hundred lines in all +by Dryden which contrast strongly with the insipidity of the rest.] + +[Footnote 196: John Dennis was the son of a saddler in London, born in +1657. He paid court to Dryden; and having obtained some correspondence +with Wycherley and Congreve he immediately made public their letters.] + + + +XXXVI. SANDYS' GHOST; OR, A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE NEW OVID'S +METAMORPHOSES, AS IT WAS INTENDED TO BE TRANSLATED BY PERSONS OF QUALITY. + + This satire owed its origin to the fact that Sir Samuel Garth was + about to publish a new translation of Ovid's _Metamorphoses_. + George Sandys--the old translator--died in 1643. + + + Ye Lords and Commons, men of wit, + And pleasure about town; + Read this ere you translate one bit + Of books of high renown. + + Beware of Latin authors all! + Nor think your verses sterling, + Though with a golden pen you scrawl, + And scribble in a Berlin: + + For not the desk with silver nails, + Nor bureau of expense, + Nor standish well japanned avails + To writing of good sense. + + Hear how a ghost in dead of night, + With saucer eyes of fire, + In woeful wise did sore affright + A wit and courtly squire. + + Rare Imp of Phoebus, hopeful youth, + Like puppy tame that uses + To fetch and carry, in his mouth, + The works of all the Muses. + + Ah! why did he write poetry + That hereto was so civil; + And sell his soul for vanity, + To rhyming and the devil? + + A desk he had of curious work, + With glittering studs about; + Within the same did Sandys lurk, + Though Ovid lay without. + + Now as he scratched to fetch up thought, + Forth popped the sprite so thin; + And from the key-hole bolted out, + All upright as a pin. + + With whiskers, band, and pantaloon, + And ruff composed most duly; + The squire he dropped his pen full soon, + While as the light burnt bluely. + + "Ho! Master Sam," quoth Sandys' sprite, + "Write on, nor let me scare ye; + Forsooth, if rhymes fall in not right, + To Budgell seek, or Carey. + + "I hear the beat of Jacob's drums, + Poor Ovid finds no quarter! + See first the merry P---- comes[197] + In haste, without his garter. + + "Then lords and lordlings, squires and knights, + Wits, witlings, prigs, and peers! + Garth at St. James's, and at White's, + Beats up for volunteers. + + "What Fenton will not do, nor Gay, + Nor Congreve, Rowe, nor Stanyan, + Tom Burnett or Tom D'Urfey may, + John Dunton, Steele, or anyone. + + "If Justice Philips' costive head + Some frigid rhymes disburses; + They shall like Persian tales be read, + And glad both babes and nurses. + + "Let Warwick's muse with Ashurst join, + And Ozell's with Lord Hervey's: + Tickell and Addison combine, + And Pope translate with Jervas. + + "Lansdowne himself, that lively lord, + Who bows to every lady, + Shall join with Frowde in one accord, + And be like Tate and Brady. + + "Ye ladies too draw forth your pen, + I pray where can the hurt lie? + Since you have brains as well as men, + As witness Lady Wortley. + + "Now, Tonson, 'list thy forces all, + Review them, and tell noses; + For to poor Ovid shall befall + A strange metamorphosis. + + "A metamorphosis more strange + Than all his books can vapour;" + "To what" (quoth squire) "shall Ovid change?" + Quoth Sandys: "To waste paper". + +[Footnote 197: The Earl of Pembroke, probably.--_Roscoe_.] + + + +XXXVII. SATIRE ON THE WHIG POETS. + + This is practically the whole of Pope's famous Epistle to + Arbuthnot, otherwise the _Prologue to the Satires_. The only + portion I have omitted, in order to include in this collection one + of the greatest of his satires, is the introductory lines, which + are frequently dropped, as the poem really begins with the line + wherewith it is represented as opening here. + + + Soft were my numbers; who could take offence, + While pure description held the place of sense? + Like gentle Fanny's was my flowery theme, + A painted mistress, or a purling stream. + Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill;-- + I wished the man a dinner, and sat still. + Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret; + I never answered,--I was not in debt. + If want provoked, or madness made them print, + I waged no war with Bedlam or the Mint. + Did some more sober critic come abroad; + If wrong, I smiled; if right, I kissed the rod. + Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence, + And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense. + Commas and points they set exactly right, + And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite. + Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced these ribalds, + From slashing Bentley down to pidling Tibalds: + Each wight, who reads not, and but scans and spells, + Each word-catcher, that lives on syllables, + Even such small critic some regard may claim, + Preserved in Milton's or in Shakespeare's name. + Pretty! in amber to observe the forms + Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! + The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, + But wonder how the devil they got there. + Were others angry: I excused them too; + Well might they rage, I gave them but their due. + A man's true merit 'tis not hard to find; + But each man's secret standard in his mind, + That casting-weight pride adds to emptiness, + This, who can gratify? for who can guess? + The bard whom pilfered pastorals renown, + Who turns a Persian tale for half-a-crown,[198] + Just writes to make his barrenness appear, + And strains, from hard-bound brains, eight lines a-year; + He, who still wanting, though he lives on theft, + Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left: + And he, who now to sense, now nonsense leaning, + Means not, but blunders round about a meaning: + And he, whose fustian's so sublimely bad, + It is not poetry, but prose run mad: + All these, my modest satire bade translate, + And owned that nine such poets made a Tate.[199] + How did they fume, and stamp, and roar, and chafe! + And swear, not Addison himself was safe. + Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires + True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; + Blest with each talent and each art to please, + And born to write, converse, and live with ease: + Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, + Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne. + View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, + And hate for arts that caused himself to rise; + Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, + And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; + Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, + Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike; + Alike reserved to blame, or to commend, + A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend; + Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged, + And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; + Like Cato, give his little senate laws, + And sit attentive to his own applause; + While wits and templars every sentence raise, + And wonder with a foolish face of praise:-- + Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? + Who would not weep, if Atticus[200] were he? + Who though my name stood rubric on the walls, + Or plaistered posts, with claps, in capitals? + Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers' load, + On wings of winds came flying all abroad?[201] + I sought no homage from the race that write; + I kept, like Asian monarchs, from their sight: + Poems I heeded (now be-rhymed so long) + No more than thou, great George! a birthday song. + I ne'er with wits or witlings passed my days, + To spread about the itch of verse and praise; + Nor like a puppy, daggled through the town, + To fetch and carry sing-song up and down; + Nor at rehearsals sweat, and mouthed, and cried, + With handkerchief and orange at my side; + But sick of fops, and poetry, and prate, + To Bufo left the whole Castillan state. + Proud as Apollo on his forked hill, + Sat full-blown Bufo, puffed by every quill;[202] + Fed with soft dedication all day long, + Horace and he went hand in hand in song. + His library (where busts of poets dead + And a true Pindar stood without a head), + Received of wits an undistinguished race, + Who first his judgment asked, and then a place: + Much they extolled his pictures, much his seat, + And flattered every day, and some days eat: + Till grown more frugal in his riper days, + He paid some bards with port, and some with praise + To some a dry rehearsal was assigned, + And others (harder still) he paid in kind, + Dryden alone (what wonder?) came not nigh, + Dryden alone escaped this judging eye: + But still the great have kindness in reserve, + He helped to bury whom he helped to starve. + May some choice patron bless each gray goose quill! + May every Bavias have his Bufo still! + So, when a statesman wants a day's defence, + Or envy holds a whole week's war with sense, + Or simple pride for flattery makes demands, + May dunce by dunce be whistled off my hands! + Blest be the great! for those they take away, + And those they left me; for they left me Gay; + Left me to see neglected genius bloom, + Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb: + Of all thy blameless life the sole return + My verse, and Queensbury weeping o'er thy urn! + Oh, let me live my own, and die so too! + (To live and die is all I have to do:) + Maintain a poet's dignity and ease, + And see what friends, and read what books I please; + Above a patron, though I condescend + Sometimes to call a minister my friend. + I was not born for courts or great affairs; + I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers; + Can sleep without a poem in my head; + Nor know, if Dennis be alive or dead. + Why am I asked what next shall see the light? + Heavens! was I born for nothing but to write? + Has life no joys for me? or (to be grave) + Have I no friend to serve, no soul to save? + "I found him close with Swift"--"Indeed? no doubt," + (Cries prating Balbus) "something will come out." + 'Tis all in vain, deny it as I will. + No, such a genius never can lie still; + And then for mine obligingly mistakes + The first lampoon Sir Will,[203] or Bubo[204] makes. + Poor guiltless I! and can I choose but smile, + When every coxcomb knows me by my style? + Cursed be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, + That tends to make one worthy man my foe, + Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear, + Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear! + But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace, + Insults fallen worth, or beauty in distress, + Who loves a lie, lame slander helps about, + Who writes a libel, or who copies out: + That fop, whose pride affects a patron's name, + Yet absent, wounds an author's honest fame: + Who can your merit selfishly approve, + And show the sense of it without the love; + Who has the vanity to call you friend, + Yet wants the honour, injured, to defend; + Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say, + And, if he lie not, must at least betray: + Who to the Dean, and silver bell can swear,[205] + And sees at canons what was never there; + Who reads, but with a lust to misapply, + Make satire a lampoon, and fiction, lie. + A lash like mine no honest man shall dread, + But all such babbling blockheads in his stead. + Let Sporus[206] tremble-- + _A_. What? that thing of silk, + Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? + Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? + Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel? + _P_. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, + This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings; + Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, + Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: + So well-bred spaniels civilly delight + In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. + Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, + As shallow streams run dimpling all the way. + Whether in florid impotence he speaks, + And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks + Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad, + Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, + In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, + Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. + His wit all see-saw, between that and this, + Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, + And he himself one vile antithesis. + Amphibious thing! that acting either part, + The trifling head or the corrupted heart, + Fop at the toilet, flatterer at the board, + Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord. + Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest, + A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest; + Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust; + Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust. + Not fortune's worshipper, nor fashion's fool, + Not lucre's madman, nor ambition's tool, + Not proud, nor servile;--be one poet's praise, + That, if he pleased, he pleased by manly ways: + That flattery, even to kings, he held a shame, + And thought a lie in verse or prose the same. + That not in fancy's maze he wandered long, + But stooped to truth, and moralized his song: + That not for fame, but virtue's better end, + He stood the furious foe, the timid friend, + The damning critic, half-approving wit, + The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit; + Laughed at the loss of friends he never had, + The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad; + The distant threats of vengeance on his head, + The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed; + The tale revived, the lie so oft o'erthrown, + The imputed trash, and dulness not his own; + The morals blackened when the writings scape, + The libelled person, and the pictured shape; + Abuse, on all he loved, or loved him, spread, + A friend in exile, or a father, dead; + The whisper, that to greatness still too near, + Perhaps, yet vibrates on his sovereign's ear:-- + Welcome for thee, fair virtue! all the past; + For thee, fair virtue! welcome even the last! + _A_. But why insult the poor, affront the great? + _P_. A knave's a knave, to me, in every state: + Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, + Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail, + A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer, + Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire; + If on a pillory, or near a throne, + He gain his prince's ear, or lose his own. + Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit, + Sappho can tell you how this man was bit; + This dreaded satirist Dennis will confess + Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress; + So humble, he has knocked at Tibbald's door, + Has drunk with Cibber, nay, has rhymed for Moore. + Full ten years slandered, did he once reply? + Three thousand suns went down on Welsted's lie. + To please a mistress one aspersed his life; + He lashed him not, but let her be his wife. + Let Budgel charge low Grub Street on his quill, + And write whate'er he pleased, except his will. + Let the two Curlls of town and court, abuse + His father, mother, body, soul, and muse + Yet why? that father held it for a rule, + It was a sin to call our neighbour fool: + That harmless mother thought no wife a whore: + Hear this, and spare his family, James Moore! + Unspotted names, and memorable long! + If there be force in virtue, or in song. + Of gentle blood (part shed in honour's cause, + While yet in Britain honour had applause) + Each parent sprung-- + _A_. What fortune, pray?-- + _P_. Their own, + And better got, than Bestia's from the throne. + Born to no pride, inheriting no strife, + Nor marrying discord in a noble wife, + Stranger to civil and religious rage, + The good man walked innoxious through his age, + No courts he saw, no suits would ever try, + Nor dared an oath, nor hazarded a lie. + Unlearned, he knew no schoolman's subtle art, + No language, but the language of the heart. + By nature honest, by experience wise, + Healthy by temperance, and by exercise; + His life, though long, to sickness passed unknown, + His death was instant, and without a groan. + O, grant me, thus to live, and thus to die! + Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I. + O, friend! may each domestic bliss be thine! + Be no unpleasing melancholy mine: + Me, let the tender office long engage, + To rock the cradle of reposing age, + With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, + Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death, + Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, + And keep awhile one parent from the sky! + On cares like these if length of days attend, + May heaven, to bless those days, preserve my friend, + Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene, + And just as rich as when he served a queen. + _A_. Whether that blessing be denied or given, + Thus far was right, the rest belongs to heaven. + +[Footnote 198: Ambrose Philips translated a book called the _Persian +Tales_.] + +[Footnote 199: Nahum Tate, the joint-author with Brady of the version +of the Psalms.] + +[Footnote 200: Addison.] + +[Footnote 201: Hopkins, in the 104th Psalm.] + +[Footnote 202: Lord Halifax.] + +[Footnote 203: Sir William Yonge.] + +[Footnote 204: Bubb Dodington.] + +[Footnote 205: Meaning the man who would have persuaded the Duke of +Chandos that Pope meant to ridicule him in the Epistle on _Taste_.] + +[Footnote 206: Lord Hervey.] + + + +XXXVIII. EPILOGUE TO THE SATIRES. + + The following piece represents the first dialogue in the Epilogue + to the Satires. Huggins mentioned in the poem was the jailer of the + Fleet Prison, who had enriched himself by many exactions, for which + he was tried and expelled. Jekyl was Sir Joseph Jekyl, Master of + the Rolls, a man of great probity, who, though a Whig, frequently + voted against the Court, which drew on him the laugh here + described. Lyttleton was George Lyttleton, Secretary to the Prince + of Wales, distinguished for his writings in the cause of liberty. + Written in 1738, and first published in the following year. + + + _Fr_[_iend_]. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print, + And when it comes, the court see nothing in 't. + You grow correct, that once with rapture writ, + And are, besides, too moral for a wit. + Decay of parts, alas! we all must feel-- + Why now, this moment, don't I see you steal? + 'Tis all from Horace; Horace long before ye + Said, "Tories called him Whig, and Whigs a Tory"; + And taught his Romans, in much better metre, + "To laugh at fools who put their trust in Peter". + But Horace, sir, was delicate, was nice; + Bubo observes, he lashed no sort of vice: + Horace would say, Sir Billy served the crown, + Blunt could do business, Huggins knew the town; + In Sappho touch the failings of the sex, + In reverend bishops note some small neglects, + And own, the Spaniard did a waggish thing, + Who cropped our ears, and sent them to the king. + His sly, polite, insinuating style + Could please at court, and make Augustus smile: + An artful manager, that crept between + His friend and shame, and was a kind of screen. + But 'faith your very friends will soon be sore: + Patriots there are, who wish you'd jest no more-- + And where's the glory? 'twill be only thought + The great man never offered you a groat. + Go see Sir Robert-- + P[_ope_]. See Sir Robert!--hum-- + And never laugh--for all my life to come? + Seen him I have, but in his happier hour + Of social pleasure, ill exchanged for power; + Seen him, uncumbered with the venal tribe, + Smile without art, and win without a bribe. + Would he oblige me? let me only find, + He does not think me what he thinks mankind. + Come, come, at all I laugh he laughs, no doubt; + The only difference is, I dare laugh out. + _F_. Why yes: with Scripture still you may be free: + A horse-laugh, if you please, at honesty; + A joke on Jekyl, or some odd old Whig + Who never changed his principle or wig. + A patriot is a fool in every age, + Whom all Lord Chamberlains allow the stage: + These nothing hurts; they keep their fashion still, + And wear their strange old virtue, as they will. + If any ask you, "Who's the man, so near + His prince, that writes in verse, and has his ear?" + Why, answer, Lyttleton, and I'll engage + The worthy youth shall ne'er be in a rage; + But were his verses vile, his whisper base, + You'd quickly find him in Lord Fanny's case. + Sejanus, Wolsey, hurt not honest Fleury,[207] + But well may put some statesmen in a fury. + Laugh then at any, but at fools or foes; + These you but anger, and you mend not those. + Laugh at your friends, and, if your friends are sore, + So much the better, you may laugh the more. + To vice and folly to confine the jest, + Sets half the world, God knows, against the rest; + Did not the sneer of more impartial men + At sense and virtue, balance all again. + Judicious wits spread wide the ridicule, + And charitably comfort knave and fool. + _P_. Dear sir, forgive the prejudice of youth: + Adieu distinction, satire, warmth, and truth! + Come, harmless characters, that no one hit; + Come, Henley's oratory, Osborne's wit! + The honey dropping from Favonio's tongue, + The flowers of Bubo, and the flow of Yonge! + The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence, + And all the well-whipped cream of courtly sense, + That first was H----vy's, F----'s next, and then + The S----te's and then H----vy's once again.[208] + O come, that easy Ciceronian style, + So Latin, yet so English all the while, + As, though the pride of Middleton[209] and Bland, + All boys may read, and girls may understand! + Then might I sing, without the least offence, + And all I sung shall be the nation's sense; + Or teach the melancholy muse to mourn, + Hang the sad verse on Carolina's[210] urn, + And hail her passage to the realms of rest, + All parts performed, and all her children blest! + So--satire is no more--I feel it die-- + No gazetteer more innocent than I-- + And let, a' God's name, every fool and knave + Be graced through life, and flattered in his grave. + _F_. Why so? if satire knows its time and place, + You still may lash the greatest--in disgrace: + For merit will by turns forsake them all; + Would you know when? exactly when they fall. + But let all satire in all changes spare + Immortal Selkirk[211], and grave De----re. + Silent and soft, as saints remove to heaven, + All ties dissolved and every sin forgiven, + These may some gentle ministerial wing + Receive, and place for ever near a king! + There, where no passion, pride, or shame transport, + Lulled with the sweet nepenthe of a court; + There, where no father's, brother's, friend's disgrace + Once break their rest, or stir them from their place: + But passed the sense of human miseries, + All tears are wiped for ever from all eyes; + No cheek is known to blush, no heart to throb, + Save when they lose a question, or a job. + _P_. Good heaven forbid, that I should blast their glory, + Who know how like Whig ministers to Tory, + And, when three sovereigns died, could scarce be vext, + Considering what a gracious prince was next. + Have I, in silent wonder, seen such things + As pride in slaves, and avarice in kings; + And at a peer, or peeress, shall I fret, + Who starves a sister, or forswears a debt?[212] + Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast; + But shall the dignity of vice be lost? + Ye gods! shall Gibber's son, without rebuke, + Swear like a lord, or Rich out-whore a duke? + A favourite's porter with his master vie, + Be bribed as often, and as often lie? + Shall Ward draw contracts with a statesman's skill? + Or Japhet pocket, like his grace, a will? + Is it for Bond, or Peter (paltry things), + To pay their debts, or keep their faith, like kings? + If Blount dispatched himself, he played the man, + And so mayest thou, illustrious Passeran! + But shall a printer, weary of his life, + Learn, from their books, to hang himself and wife? + This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not bear; + Vice thus abused, demands a nation's care; + This calls the Church to deprecate our sin, + And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin. + Let modest Foster, if he will, excel + Ten metropolitans in preaching well; + A simple Quaker, or a Quaker's wife, + Outdo Llandaff in doctrine,--yea in life: + Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, + Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. + Virtue may choose the high or low degree, + 'Tis just alike to virtue, and to me; + Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king, + She's still the same, beloved, contented thing. + Vice is undone, if she forgets her birth, + And stoops from angels to the dregs of earth: + But 'tis the fall degrades her to a whore; + Let greatness own her, and she's mean no more; + Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess; + Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless; + In golden chains the willing world she draws, + And hers the gospel is, and hers the laws, + Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, + And sees pale virtue carted in her stead. + Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car, + Old England's genius, rough with many a scar, + Dragged in the dust! his arms hang idly round, + His flag inverted trails along the ground! + Our youth, all liveried o'er with foreign gold, + Before her dance: behind her crawl the old! + See thronging millions to the Pagod run, + And offer country, parent, wife, or son! + Hear her black trumpet through the land proclaim, + That not to be corrupted is the shame. + In soldier, churchman, patriot, man in power, + 'Tis avarice all, ambition is no more! + See, all our nobles begging to be slaves! + See, all our fools aspiring to be knaves! + The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore, + Are what ten thousand envy and adore; + All, all look up, with reverential awe, + At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the law; + While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry-- + "Nothing is sacred now but villainy ". + Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain) + Show, there was one who held it in disdain. + +[Footnote 207: Cardinal: and Minister to Louis XV.] + +[Footnote 208: This couplet alludes to the preachers of some recent +Court Sermons of a florid panegyrical character; also to some speeches +of a like kind, some parts of both of which were afterwards +incorporated in an address to the monarch.] + +[Footnote 209: Dr. Conyers Middleton, author of the _Life of Cicero_.] + +[Footnote 210: Queen Consort to King George II. She died in 1737.] + +[Footnote 211: A title given to Lord Selkirk by King James II. He was +Gentleman of the Bed-chamber to William III., to George I., and to +George II. He was proficient in all the forms of the House, in which he +comported himself with great dignity.] + +[Footnote 212: Referring to Lady M.W. Montagu and her sister, the +Countess of Mar.] + + + + +SAMUEL JOHNSON. + +(1709-1784.) + + +XXXIX. THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. + + Published in January, 1749, in order, as was reported, to excite + interest in the author's tragedy of _Irene_. The poem is written in + imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal. + + + Let observation, with extensive view, + Survey mankind from China to Peru; + Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, + And watch the busy scenes of crowded life; + Then say, how hope and fear, desire and hate, + O'erspread with snares the clouded maze of fate, + Where way'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride, + To tread the dreary paths without a guide, + As treach'rous phantoms in the mist delude, + Shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good; + How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, + Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice; + How nations sink, by darling schemes oppress'd, + When Vengeance listens to the fool's request. + Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, + Each gift of nature, and each grace of art; + With fatal heat impetuous courage glows, + With fatal sweetness elocution flows; + Impeachment stops the speaker's pow'rful breath, + And restless fire precipitates on death. + But, scarce observ'd, the knowing and the bold + Fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold; + Wide wasting pest! that rages unconfin'd, + And crowds with crimes the records of mankind: + For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws, + For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws: + Wealth heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety buys, + The dangers gather as the treasures rise. + Let Hist'ry tell where rival kings command, + And dubious title shakes the madded land. + When statutes glean the refuse of the sword, + How much more safe the vassal than the lord; + Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of power, + And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tower, + Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, + Though Confiscation's vultures hover round. + The needy traveller, serene and gay, + Walks the wild heath, and sings his toil away. + Does envy seize thee? crush th' upbraiding joy; + Increase his riches, and his peace destroy; + Now fears in dire vicissitude invade, + The rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring shade; + Nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief, + One shows the plunder, and one hides the thief. + Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails, + And pain and grandeur load the tainted gales; + Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care, + Th' insidious rival and the gaping heir. + Once more, Democritus, arise on earth, + With cheerful wisdom and instructive mirth, + See motley life in modern trappings dress'd, + And feed with varied fools th' eternal jest: + Thou who could'st laugh where want enchain'd caprice, + Toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece; + Where wealth, unlov'd, without a mourner dy'd; + And scarce a sycophant was fed by pride; + Where ne'er was known the form of mock debate, + Or seen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state; + Where change of fav'rites made no change of laws, + And senates heard before they judg'd a cause; + How would'st thou shake at Britain's modish tribe, + Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe? + Attentive truth and nature to descry, + And pierce each scene with philosophic eye, + To thee were solemn toys, or empty show, + The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe: + All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain, + Whose joys are causeless, and whose griefs are vain. + Such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's mind, + Renew'd at ev'ry glance on human kind; + How just that scorn ere yet thy voice declare, + Search ev'ry state, and canvass ev'ry pray'r: + Unnumber'd suppliants crowd Preferment's gate, + A thirst for wealth, and burning to be great; + Delusive Fortune hears th' incessant call, + They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall. + On ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend, + Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end. + Love ends with hope, the sinking statesman's door + Pours in the morning worshipper no more; + For growing names the weekly scribbler lies, + To growing wealth the dedicator flies, + From ev'ry room descends the painted face, + That hung the bright palladium of the place: + And, smok'd in kitchens, or in auctions sold, + To better features yields the frame of gold; + For now no more we trace in ev'ry line + Heroic worth, benevolence divine: + The form distorted, justifies the fall, + And detestation rides th' indignant wall. + But will not Britain hear the last appeal, + Sign her foes' doom, or guard her fav'rites' zeal? + Through Freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings, + Degrading nobles, and controlling kings; + Our supple tribes repress their patriot throats, + And ask no questions but the price of votes; + With weekly libels and septennial ale, + Their wish is full to riot and to rail. + In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand, + Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand: + To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign. + Through him the rays of regal bounty shine, + Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows, + His smile alone security bestows: + Still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r, + Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r: + Till conquest unresisted ceas'd to please, + And rights submitted, left him none to seize. + At length his sov'reign frowns--the train of state + Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate. + Where'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye, + His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly; + Now drops at once the pride of awful state, + The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate, + The regal palace, the luxurious board, + The liv'ried army, and the menial lord. + With age, with cares, with maladies oppress'd, + He seeks the refuge of monastic rest. + Grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings, + And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. + Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine, + Shall Wolsey's wealth, with Wolsey's end, be thine? + Or liv'st thou now, with safer pride content, + The wisest justice on the banks of Trent? + For, why did Wolsey, near the steeps of fate, + On weak foundations raise th' enormous weight? + Why but to sink beneath misfortune's blow, + With louder ruin to the gulfs below? + What gave great Villiers to th' assassin's knife, + And fix'd disease on Harley's closing life? + What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde, + By kings protected, and to kings ally'd? + What but their wish indulg'd in courts to shine, + And pow'r too great to keep, or to resign? + When first the college rolls receive his name, + The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; + Resistless burns the fever of renown, + Caught from the strong contagion of the gown: + O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread, + And Bacon's mansion[213] trembles o'er his head. + Are these thy views? Proceed, illustrious youth, + And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth! + Yet, should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat + Till captive Science yields her last retreat; + Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray, + And pour on misty Doubt resistless day; + Should no false kindness lure to loose delight, + Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; + Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain, + And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain; + Should beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, + Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart; + Should no disease thy torpid veins invade, + Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade; + Yet hope not life from grief or danger free, + Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee: + Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, + And pause awhile from Letters, to be wise; + There mark what ills the scholar's life assail, + Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. + See nations, slowly wise, and meanly just, + To buried merit raise the tardy bust. + If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, + Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end. + Nor deem, when Learning her last prize bestows, + The glitt'ring eminence exempt from woes; + See, when the vulgar 'scape, despis'd or aw'd, + Rebellion's vengeful talons seize on Laud. + From meaner minds though smaller fines content, + The plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent; + Mark'd out by dang'rous parts, he meets the shock, + And fatal Learning leads him to the block: + Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep, + But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep. + The festal blazes, the triumphal show, + The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe, + The senate's thanks, the Gazette's pompous tale, + With force resistless o'er the brave prevail. + Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd, + For such the steady Romans shook the world; + For such in distant lands the Britons shine, + And stain with blood the Danube or the Rhine; + This pow'r has praise that virtue scarce can warm, + Till fame supplies the universal charm. + Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal game, + Where wasted nations raise a single name; + And mortgag'd states their grandsires' wreaths regret, + From age to age in everlasting debt; + Wreaths which at last the dear-bought right convey, + To rust on medals, or on stones decay. + On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, + How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide; + A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, + No dangers fright him, and no labours tire; + O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, + Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain; + No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, + War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field; + Behold surrounding kings their pow'r combine, + And one capitulate, and one resign; + Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; + "Think nothing gain'd," he cries, "till nought remain, + On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, + And all be mine beneath the polar sky". + The march begins in military state, + And nations on his eye suspended wait; + Stern Famine guards the solitary coast, + And Winter barricades the realm of Frost; + He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay; + Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's day: + The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, + And shows his miseries in distant lands; + Condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait, + While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. + But did not Chance at length her error mend? + Did no subverted empire mark his end? + Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? + Or hostile millions press him to the ground? + His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, + A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; + He left the name, at which the world grew pale + To point a moral, or adorn a tale. + All times their scenes of pompous woes afford, + From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord. + In gay hostility and barb'rous pride, + With half mankind embattled at his side, + Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey + And starves exhausted regions in his way; + Attendant Flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er, + Till counted myriads soothe his pride no more; + Fresh praise is try'd till madness fires his mind, + The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind, + New pow'rs are claim'd, new pow'rs are still bestow'd, + Till rude Resistance lops the spreading god; + The daring Greeks deride the martial show, + And heap their valleys with the gaudy foe; + Th' insulted sea with humbler thoughts he gains, + A single skiff to speed his flight remains; + Th' incumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast, + Through purple billows and a floating host. + The bold Bavarian, in a luckless hour, + Tries the dread summits of Cæsarian pow'r, + With unexpected legions bursts away, + And sees defenceless realms receive his sway; + Short sway! fair Austria spreads her mournful charms, + The queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms; + From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze + Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise; + The fierce Croatian, and the wild Hussar, + With all the sons of ravage crowd the war; + The baffled prince, in honour's flatt'ring bloom + Of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom; + His foes' derision, and his subjects' blame, + And steals to death from anguish and from shame. + Enlarge my life with multitude of days! + In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays: + Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know, + That life protracted is protracted woe. + Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, + And shuts up all the passages of joy: + In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour, + The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r; + With listless eyes the dotard views the store, + He views, and wonders that they please no more: + Now pall the tasteless meats and joyless wines, + And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns. + Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain, + Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain: + No sounds, alas! would touch th' impervious ear, + Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus near; + Nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend, + Nor sweeter music of a virtuous friend; + But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, + Perversely grave, or positively wrong. + The still returning tale, and ling'ring jest, + Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd guest. + While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer, + And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear; + The watchful guests still hint the last offence; + The daughter's petulance the son's expense, + Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill, + And mould his passions till they make his will. + Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade, + Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade; + But unextinguish'd Av'rice still remains, + And dreaded losses aggravate his pains; + He turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands, + His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands; + Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, + Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. + But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime + Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime; + An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay, + And glides in modest innocence away; + Whose peaceful day Benevolence endears, + Whose night congratulating Conscience cheers; + The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend; + Such age there is, and who shall wish its end? + Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune flings, + To press the weary minutes' flagging wings; + New sorrow rises as the day returns, + A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. + Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier, + Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear; + Year chases year, decay pursues decay, + Still drops some joy from with'ring life away; + New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage, + Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage, + Till pitying Nature signs the last release, + And bids afflicted worth retire to peace. + But few there are whom hours like these await, + Who set unclouded in the gulfs of Fate. + From Lydia's monarch should the search descend, + By Solon caution'd to regard his end, + In life's last scene what prodigies surprise, + Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise! + From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, + And Swift expires a driv'ller and a show. + The teeming mother, anxious for her race, + Begs for each birth the fortune of a face; + Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring; + And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king. + Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, + Whom Pleasure keeps too busy to be wise; + Whom joys with soft varieties invite, + By day the frolic, and the dance by night; + Who frown with vanity, who smile with art, + And ask the latent fashion of the heart; + What care, what rules, your heedless charms shall save, + Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave? + Against your fame with fondness hate combines, + The rival batters, and the lover mines. + With distant voice neglected Virtue calls, + Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance falls; + Tir'd with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry reign, + And Pride and Prudence take her seat in vain. + In crowd at once, where none the pass defend, + The harmless freedom, and the private friend. + The guardians yield, by force superior ply'd, + To Int'rest, Prudence; and to Flatt'ry, Pride. + Here Beauty falls betray'd, despis'd, distress'd, + And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest. + Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find? + Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? + Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, + Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? + Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, + No cries invoke the mercies of the skies? + Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain + Which Heav'n may hear, nor deem Religion vain. + Still raise for good the supplicating voice, + But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choice. + Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar + The secret ambush of a specious pray'r; + Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, + Secure, whate'er he gives, he gives the best. + Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, + And strong devotion to the skies aspires, + Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, + Obedient passions and a will resigned; + For love, which scarce collective man can fill; + For patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill; + For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, + Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat: + These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain, + These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain; + With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, + And makes the happiness she does not find. + +[Footnote 213: There is a tradition, that the study of Friar Bacon, +built on an arch over the bridge, will fall when a man greater than +Bacon shall pass under it. To prevent so shocking an accident, it was +pulled down many years since.] + + + +XL. LETTER TO THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD. + + Though perhaps scarcely a professedly satirical production in the + proper sense of the word, there are few more pungent satires than + the following letter. In Boswell's _Life of Johnson_ we read, "When + the Dictionary was on the eve of publication. Lord Chesterfield, + who, it is said, had flattered himself with expectations that + Johnson would dedicate the work to him, attempted in a courtly + manner to soothe and insinuate himself with the sage, conscious, as + it would seem, of the cold indifference with which he had treated + its learned author, and further attempted to conciliate him by + writing two papers in the _World_ in recommendation of the work.... + This courtly device failed of its effect. Johnson despised the + honeyed words, and he states 'I wrote him a letter expressed in + civil terms, but such as might show him that I did not mind what he + said or wrote, and that I had done with him'." + + +February 7, 1755. + +"MY LORD, + +"I have been lately informed by the proprietor of _The World_ that two +papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were +written by your lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour which, +being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well +how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. + +"When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I +was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your +address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself _Le +vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre_;--that I might obtain that regard +for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so +little encouraged that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to +continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in public, I had +exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar +can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to +have his all neglected, be it ever so little. + +"Seven years, my lord, have now past since I waited in your outward +rooms or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been +pushing on my work through difficulties of which it is useless to +complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, +without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile +of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron +before. + +"The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found +him a native of the rocks. + +"Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man +struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, +encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take +of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been +delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, +and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is +no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit +has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider +me as owing that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to do for +myself. + +"Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any +favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should +conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long +wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so +much exultation. + +"MY LORD, + +"Your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant, + +"SAM JOHNSON." + + + + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + +(1728-1774.) + + +XLI. THE RETALIATION. + + The origin of the following satire is told by Boswell (who was + prejudiced against Goldsmith) in this wise: "At a meeting of a + company of gentlemen who were well known to each other and + diverting themselves among other things with the peculiar oddities + of Dr. Goldsmith, who would never allow a superior in any art, from + writing poetry down to dancing a hornpipe, Goldsmith, with great + eagerness, insisted on matching his epigrammatic powers with + Garrick's. It was determined that each should write the other's + epitaph. Garrick immediately said his epitaph was finished, and + spoke the following distich extempore: + + "'Here lies Nolly Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, + Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll'. + + "Goldsmith would not produce his at the time, but some weeks after, + read to the company this satire in which the characteristics of + them all were happily hit off." + + + Of old, when Scarron his companions invited, + Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united; + If our landlord supplies us with beef and with fish, + Let each guest bring himself, and he brings a good dish: + Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains; + Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains; + Our Will shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour; + And Dick with his pepper shall heighten their savour; + Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain, + And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain: + Our Garrick a salad, for in him we see + Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree: + To make out the dinner, full certain I am + That Ridge is anchovy, and Reynolds is lamb; + That Hickey's a capon; and, by the same rule, + Magnanimous Goldsmith a gooseberry-fool. + At a dinner so various, at such a repast, + Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last? + Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm able, + Till all my companions sink under the table; + Then, with chaos and blunders encircling my head, + Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead. + Here lies the good Dean, reunited to earth, + Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth; + If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt, + At least in six weeks I could not find them out; + Yet some have declared, and it can't be denied them, + That Slyboots was cursedly cunning to hide them. + Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, + We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; + Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, + And to party gave up what was meant for mankind: + Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat + To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote: + Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, + And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining; + Tho' equal to all things, for all things unfit, + Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; + For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient; + And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. + In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in place, sir, + To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. + Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, + While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't; + The pupil of impulse, it forced him along, + His conduct still right, with his argument wrong; + Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam, + The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home: + Would you ask for his merits? alas, he had none! + What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own. + Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at, + Alas, that such frolic should now be so quiet! + What spirits were his, what wit and what whim, + Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb! + Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball, + Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all! + In short, so provoking a devil was Dick, + That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick, + But, missing his mirth and agreeable vein, + As often we wish'd to have Dick back again. + Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts, + The Terence of England, the mender of hearts; + A flattering painter, who made it his care + To draw men as they ought to be, not what they are. + His gallants are all faultless, his women divine, + And Comedy wonders at being so fine; + Like a tragedy-queen he has dizen'd her out, + Or rather like tragedy giving a rout. + His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd + Of virtues and feelings, that folly grows proud; + And coxcombs, alike in their failings alone, + Adopting his portraits, are pleased with their own. + Say, where has our poet this malady caught? + Or wherefore his characters thus without fault? + Say, was it, that vainly directing his view + To find out men's virtues, and finding them few, + Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, + He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself? + Here Douglas retires from his toils to relax, + The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks. + Come, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines, + Come, and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclines + When satire and censure encircled his throne, + I fear'd for your safety, I fear'd for my own: + But now he is gone, and we want a detector, + Our Dodds shall be pious, our Kenricks shall lecture; + Macpherson write bombast, and call it a style; + Our Townshend make speeches, and I shall compile; + New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross over, + No countryman living their tricks to discover: + Detection her taper shall quench to a spark, + And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheat in the dark. + Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can? + An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man; + As an actor, confessed without rival to shine; + As a wit, if not first, in the very first line; + Yet with talents like these, and an excellent heart, + The man had his failings, a dupe to his art; + Like an ill-judging beauty his colours he spread, + And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red. + On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting: + 'Twas only that when he was off he was acting; + With no reason on earth to go out of his way, + He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day: + Tho' secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick + If they were not his own by finessing and trick; + He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, + For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back. + Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, + And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame; + Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, + Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. + But let us be candid, and speak out our mind: + If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. + Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave, + What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave! + How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you raised, + When he was be-Roscius'd and you were bepraised! + But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, + To act as an angel, and mix with the skies! + Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill, + Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will; + Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love, + And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above. + Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature, + And Slander itself must allow him good-nature: + He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper: + Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. + Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser? + I answer, no, no, for he always was wiser. + Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat? + His very worst foe can't accuse him of that. + Perhaps he confided in men as they go, + And so was too foolishly honest? Ah no! + Then what was his failing? Come, tell it, and burn ye,-- + He was, could he help it? a special attorney. + Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, + He has not left a wiser or better behind: + His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand: + His manners were gentle, complying, and bland; + Still born to improve us in every part, + His pencil our faces, his manners our heart: + To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, + When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing: + When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, + He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff. + + + +XLII. THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. + + This piece was first printed in _The Busy Body_ in 1759, in direct + imitation of the style of Swift. It was, therefore, improperly + included in the Dublin edition of Swift's works, and in the edition + of Swift edited by Sir Walter Scott. + + + Logicians have but ill defined + As rational the human mind, + Reason they say belongs to man, + But let them prove it if they can, + Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius + By ratiocinations specious + Have strove to prove with great precision, + With definition and division, + _Homo est ratione preditum_; + But for my soul I cannot credit 'em. + And must in spite of them maintain, + That man and all his ways are vain: + And that this boasted lord of nature + Is both a weak and erring creature. + That instinct is a surer guide + Than reason, boasting mortals' pride; + And that brute beasts are far before 'em, + _Deus est anima brutorum_. + Who ever knew an honest brute + At law his neighbour prosecute. + Bring action for assault and battery, + Or friend beguile with lies and flattery? + O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd. + No politics disturb the mind; + They eat their meals, and take their sport, + Nor know who's in or out at court; + They never to the levee go + To treat as dearest friend, a foe; + They never importune his Grace, + Nor ever cringe to men in place; + Nor undertake a dirty job, + Nor draw the quill to write for Bob: + Fraught with invective they ne'er go + To folks at Pater-Noster Row: + No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters, + No pickpockets, or poetasters, + Are known to honest quadrupeds, + No single brute his fellows leads. + Brutes never meet in bloody fray, + Nor cut each other's throats for pay. + Of beasts, it is confess'd, the ape + Comes nearest us in human shape. + Like man he imitates each fashion, + And malice is his ruling passion; + But both in malice and grimaces, + A courtier any ape surpasses. + Behold him humbly cringing wait + Upon the minister of state; + View him soon after to inferiors + Aping the conduct of superiors: + He promises with equal air, + And to perform takes equal care. + He in his turn finds imitators, + At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters, + Their master's manners still contract, + And footmen, lords and dukes can act, + Thus at the court both great and small + Behave alike, for all ape all. + + + +XLIII. BEAU TIBBS, HIS CHARACTER AND FAMILY. + + Johnson always maintained that there was a great deal of + Goldsmith's own nature and eccentricities portrayed in the + character of Beau Tibbs. The following piece constitutes Letter 54 + of the _Citizen of the World_. + + +I am apt to fancy I have contracted a new acquaintance, whom it will be +no easy matter to shake off. My little beau yesterday overtook me again +in one of the public walks, and slapping me on the shoulder, saluted me +with an air of the most perfect familiarity. His dress was the same as +usual, except that he had more powder in his hair, wore a dirtier +shirt, a pair of temple spectacles, and his hat under his arm. + +As I knew him to be an harmless, amusing little thing, I could not +return his smiles with any degree of severity: so we walked forward on +terms of the utmost intimacy, and in a few minutes discussed all the +usual topics preliminary to particular conversation. + +The oddities that marked his character, however, soon began to appear; +he bowed to several well-dressed persons, who, by their manner of +returning the compliment, appeared perfect strangers. At intervals he +drew out a pocket-book, seeming to take memorandums before all the +company, with much importance and assiduity. In this manner he led me +through the length of the whole walk, fretting at his absurdities, and +fancying myself laughed at not less than him by every spectator. + +When we were got to the end of our procession, "Blast me," cries he, +with an air of vivacity, "I never saw the park so thin in my life +before; there's no company at all to-day; not a single face to be +seen." "No company," interrupted I, peevishly; "no company where there +is such a crowd! why man, there's too much. What are the thousands +that have been laughing at us but company!" "Lard, my dear," returned +he, with the utmost good-humour, "you seem immensely chagrined; but +blast me, when the world laughs at me, I laugh at all the world, and so +we are even. My Lord Trip, Bill Squash, the Creolian, and I sometimes +make a party at being ridiculous; and so we say and do a thousand +things for the joke. But I see you are grave, and if you are a fine +grave sentimental companion, you shall dine with me and my wife to-day, +I must insist on't; I'll introduce you to Mrs. Tibbs, a lady of as +elegant qualifications as any in nature; she was bred, but that's +between ourselves, under the inspection of the Countess of All-night. A +charming body of voice, but no more of that, she will give us a song. +You shall see my little girl too, Carolina Wilhelma Amelia Tibbs, a +sweet pretty creature; I design her for my Lord Drumstick's eldest son, +but that's in friendship, let it go no farther; she's but six years +old, and yet she walks a minuet, and plays on the guitar immensely +already. I intend she shall be as perfect as possible in every +accomplishment. In the first place I'll make her a scholar; I'll teach +her Greek myself, and learn that language purposely to instruct her; +but let that be a secret." + +Thus saying, without waiting for a reply, he took me by the arm, and +hauled me along. We passed through many dark alleys and winding ways; +for, from some motives, to me unknown, he seemed to have a particular +aversion to every frequented street; at last, however, we got to the +door of a dismal-looking house in the outlets of the town, where he +informed me he chose to reside for the benefit of the air. + +We entered the lower door, which ever seemed to lie most hospitably +open, and I began to ascend an old and creaking staircase, when, as he +mounted to show me the way, he demanded whether I delighted in +prospects, to which answering in the affirmative, "Then," says he, "I +shall show you one of the most charming in the world out of my windows; +we shall see the ships sailing, and the whole country for twenty miles +round, tip top, quite high. My Lord Swamp would give ten thousand +guineas for such an one; but as I sometimes pleasantly tell him, I +always love to keep my prospects at home, that my friends may see me +the oftener." + +By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would permit us to +ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the +first floor down the chimney; and knocking at the door, a voice from +within demanded, who's there? My conductor answered that it was him. +But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again repeated the +demand: to which he answered louder than before; and now the door was +opened by an old woman with cautious reluctance. + +When we were got in, he welcomed me to his house with great ceremony, +and turning to the old woman, asked where was her lady? "Good troth," +replied she, in a peculiar dialect, "she's washing your two shirts at +the next door, because they have taken an oath against lending out the +tub any longer." "My two shirts," cries he in a tone that faltered with +confusion, "what does the idiot mean!" "I ken what I mean well enough," +replied the other, "she's washing your two shirts at the next door, +because--" "Fire and fury! no more of thy stupid explanations," cried +he. "Go and inform her we have got company. Were that Scotch hag to be +for ever in the family, she would never learn politeness, nor forget +that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or testify the smallest specimen +of breeding or high life; and yet it is very surprising too, as I had +her from a parliament man, a friend of mine, from the highlands, one +of the politest men in the world; but that's a secret." + +We waited some time for Mrs. Tibbs' arrival, during which interval I +had a full opportunity of surveying the chamber and all its furniture; +which consisted of four chairs with old wrought bottoms, that he +assured me were his wife's embroidery; a square table that had been +once japanned, a cradle in one corner, a lumbering cabinet in the +other; a broken shepherdess, and a mandarin without a head, were stuck +over the chimney; and round the walls several paltry, unframed +pictures, which, he observed, were all his own drawing. "What do you +think, sir, of that head in a corner, done in the manner of Grisoni? +There's the true keeping in it; it's my own face, and though there +happens to be no likeness, a countess offered me an hundred for its +fellow. I refused her, for, hang it, that would be mechanical, you +know." + +The wife at last made her appearance, at once a slattern and a +coquette; much emaciated, but still carrying the remains of beauty. She +made twenty apologies for being seen in such odious dishabille, but +hoped to be excused, as she had stayed out all night at the gardens +with the countess, who was excessively fond of the horns. "And, indeed, +my dear," added she, turning to her husband, "his lordship drank your +health in a bumper." "Poor Jack," cries he, "a dear good-natured +creature, I know he loves me; but I hope, my dear, you have given +orders for dinner; you need make no great preparations neither, there +are but three of us, something elegant, and little will do; a turbot, +an ortolan, or a--" "Or what do you think, my dear," interrupts the +wife, "of a nice pretty bit of ox-cheek, piping hot, and dressed with a +little of my own sauce."--"The very thing," replies he, "it will eat +best with some smart bottled beer: but be sure to let's have the sauce +his grace was so fond of. I hate your immense loads of meat, that is +country all over; extreme disgusting to those who are in the least +acquainted with high life." + +By this time my curiosity began to abate, and my appetite to increase; +the company of fools may at first make us smile, but at last never +fails of rendering us melancholy; I therefore pretended to recollect a +prior engagement, and after having shown my respect to the house, +according to the fashion of the English, by giving the old servant a +piece of money at the door, I took my leave; Mr. Tibbs assuring me that +dinner, if I stayed, would be ready at least in less than two hours. + + + + +CHARLES CHURCHILL. + +(1731-1764.) + + +XLIV. THE JOURNEY. + + Churchill devoted himself principally to satirical attacks upon + actors and the stage as a whole. His _Rosciad_ created quite a + panic among the disciples of Thespis, even the mighty Garrick + courting this terrible _censor morum_. His own morals were but + indifferent. + + + Some of my friends (for friends I must suppose + All, who, not daring to appear my foes, + Feign great good-will, and not more full of spite + Than full of craft, under false colours fight) + Some of my friends (so lavishly I print) + As more in sorrow than in anger, hint + (Tho' that indeed will scarce admit a doubt) + That I shall run my stock of genius out, + My no great stock, and, publishing so fast, + Must needs become a bankrupt at the last. + Recover'd from the vanity of youth, + I feel, alas! this melancholy truth, + Thanks to each cordial, each advising friend, + And am, if not too late, resolv'd to mend, + Resolv'd to give some respite to my pen, + Apply myself once more to books and men, + View what is present, what is past review, + And my old stock exhausted, lay in new. + For twice six moons (let winds, turn'd porters, bear + This oath to Heav'n), for twice six moons, I swear, + No Muse shall tempt me with her siren lay, + Nor draw me from Improvement's thorny way; + Verse I abjure, nor will forgive that friend, + Who in my hearing shall a rhyme commend. + It cannot be--Whether I will, or no, + Such as they are, my thoughts in measure flow. + Convinc'd, determin'd, I in prose begin, + But ere I write one sentence, verse creeps in, + And taints me thro' and thro': by this good light, + In verse I talk by day, I dream by night; + If now and then I curse, my curses chime, + Nor can I pray, unless I pray in rhyme, + E'en now I err, in spite of common-sense, + And my confession doubles my offence. + Here is no lie, no gall, no art, no force; + Mean are the words, and such as come of course, + The subject not less simple than the lay; + A plain, unlabour'd Journey of a day. + Far from me now be ev'ry tuneful Maid, + I neither ask, nor can receive their aid. + Pegasus turn'd into a common hack, + Alone I jog, and keep the beaten track, + Nor would I have the Sisters of the Hill + Behold their bard in such a dishabille. + Absent, but only absent for a time, + Let them caress some dearer son of rhyme; + Let them, as far as decency permits, + Without suspicion, play the fool with wits, + 'Gainst fools be guarded; 'tis a certain rule, + Wits are false things, there's danger in a fool. + Let them, tho' modest, Gray more modest woo; + Let them with Mason bleat, and bray, and coo; + Let them with Franklin, proud of some small Greek, + Make Sophocles disguis'd, in English speak; + Let them with Glover o'er Medea doze; + Let them with Dodsley wail Cleone's woes, + Whilst he, fine feeling creature, all in tears, + Melts, as they melt, and weeps with weeping peers; + Let them with simple Whitehead, taught to creep + Silent and soft, lay Fontenelle asleep;[214] + Let them with Browne contrive, to vulgar trick, + To cure the dead, and make the living sick;[215] + Let them in charity to Murphy give + Some old French piece, that he may steal and live; + Let them with antic Foote subscriptions get, + And advertise a Summer-house of Wit. + Thus, or in any better way they please, + With these great men, or with great men like these, + Let them their appetite for laughter feed; + I on my Journey all alone proceed. + If fashionable grown, and fond of pow'r, + With hum'rous Scots let them disport their hour: + Let them dance, fairy-like, round Ossian's tomb; + Let them forge lies, and histories for Hume; + Let them with Home, the very prince of verse, + Make something like a Tragedy in Erse; + Under dark Allegory's flimsy veil + Let them with Ogilvie spin out a tale + Of rueful length; Let them plain things obscure, + Debase what's truly rich, and what is poor + Make poorer still by jargon most uncouth; + With ev'ry pert, prim prettiness of youth + Born of false Taste, with Fancy (like a child + Not knowing what it cries for) running wild, + With bloated style, by affectation taught, + With much false colouring, and little thought, + With phrases strange, and dialect decreed + By reason never to have pass'd the Tweed, + With words which Nature meant each other's foe, + Forc'd to compound whether they will or no; + With such materials let them, if they will, + To prove at once their pleasantry and skill, + Build up a bard to war 'gainst Common-Sense, + By way of compliment to Providence; + Let them with Armstrong, taking leave of Sense, + Read musty lectures on Benevolence, + Or con the pages of his gaping Day, + Where all his former fame was thrown away, + Where all but barren labour was forgot, + And the vain stiffness of a letter'd Scot; + Let them with Armstrong pass the term of light, + But not one hour of darkness; when the night + Suspends this mortal coil, when Memory wakes, + When for our past misdoings Conscience takes + A deep revenge, when by Reflection led, + She draws his curtain, and looks Comfort dead, + Let ev'ry Muse be gone; in vain he turns + And tries to pray for sleep; an Etna burns, + A more than Etna in his coward breast, + And Guilt, with vengeance arm'd, forbids him rest: + Tho' soft as plumage from young zephyr's wing, + His couch seems hard, and no relief can bring. + Ingratitude hath planted daggers there, + No good man can deserve, no brave man bear. + Thus, or in any better way they please, + With these great men, or with great men like these, + Let them their appetite for laughter feed + I on my Journey all alone proceed. + +[Footnote 214: See _The School for Lovers_, by Mr. Whitehead, taken +from Fontenelle.] + +[Footnote 215: See _The Cure of Saul_, by Dr. Browne.] + + + + +JUNIUS. + +(1769-1770-1771.) + + +XLV. TO THE KING. + + The following is the famous letter which appeared in the _Public + Advertiser_ for December 20th, 1769. This is also the one on which + the advocates of the theory that George, Lord Sackville, was the + writer of the _Letters of Junius_ lay such stress. + + +_To the Printer of the "Public Advertiser_". + +December 19, 1769. + +SIR, + +When the complaints of a brave and powerful people are observed to +increase in proportion to the wrongs they have suffered, when, instead +of sinking into submission, they are roused to resistance, the time +will soon arrive at which every inferior consideration must yield to +the security of the sovereign, and to the general safety of the state. +There is a moment of difficulty and danger at which flattery and +falsehood can no longer deceive, and simplicity itself can no longer be +misled. Let us suppose it arrived; let us suppose a gracious, +well-intentioned prince, made sensible at last of the great duty he +owes to his people, and of his own disgraceful situation; that he looks +round him for assistance, and asks for no advice but how to gratify the +wishes and secure the happiness of his subjects. In these +circumstances, it may be matter of curious _speculation_ to consider, +if an honest man were permitted to approach a king, in what terms he +would address himself to his sovereign. Let it be imagined, no matter +how improbable, that the first prejudice against his character is +removed; that the ceremonious difficulties of an audience are +surmounted; that he feels himself animated by the purest and most +honourable affections to his king and country; and that the great +person whom he addresses has spirit enough to bid him speak freely, and +understanding enough to listen to him with attention. Unacquainted with +the vain impertinence of forms, he would deliver his sentiments with +dignity and firmness, but not without respect. + +Sir, + +It is the misfortune of your life, and originally the cause of every +reproach and distress which has attended your government, that you +should never have been acquainted with the language of truth until you +heard it in the complaints of your people. It is not, however, too late +to correct the error of your education. We are still inclined to make +an indulgent allowance for the pernicious lessons you received in your +youth, and to form the most sanguine hopes from the natural benevolence +of your disposition. We are far from thinking you capable of a direct, +deliberate purpose to invade those original rights of your subjects on +which all their civil and political liberties depend. Had it been +possible for us to entertain a suspicion so dishonourable to your +character, we should long since have adopted a style of remonstrance +very distant from the humility of complaint. The doctrine inculcated by +our laws, _That the king can do no-wrong_, is admitted without +reluctance. We separate the amiable, good-natured prince from the folly +and treachery of his servants, and the private virtues of the man from +the vices of his government. Were it not for this just distinction, I +know not whether your Majesty's condition, or that of the English +nation, would deserve most to be lamented. I would prepare your mind +for a favourable reception of truth by removing every painful, +offensive idea of personal reproach. Your subjects, Sir, wish for +nothing but that, as _they_ are reasonable and affectionate enough to +separate your person from your government, so _you_, in your turn, +should distinguish between the conduct which becomes the permanent +dignity of a king and that which serves only to promote the temporary +interest and miserable ambition of a minister. + +You ascended the throne with a declared--and, I doubt not, a +sincere--resolution of giving universal satisfaction to your subjects. +You found them pleased with the novelty of a young prince whose +countenance promised even more than his words, and loyal to you, not +only from principle, but passion. It was not a cold profession of +allegiance to the first magistrate, but a partial, animated attachment +to a favourite prince, the native of their country. They did not wait +to examine your conduct nor to be determined by experience, but gave +you a generous credit for the future blessings of your reign, and paid +you in advance the dearest tribute of their affections. Such, Sir, was +once the disposition of a people who now surround your throne with +reproaches and complaints.--Do justice to yourself. Banish from your +mind those unworthy opinions with which some interested persons have +laboured to possess you.--Distrust the men who tell you that the +English are naturally light and inconstant; that they complain without +a cause. Withdraw your confidence equally from all parties--from +ministers, favourites, and relations; and let there be one moment in +your life in which you have consulted your own understanding. + +When you affectedly renounced the name of Englishman, believe me, Sir, +you were persuaded to pay a very ill-judged compliment to one part of +your subjects at the expense of another. While the natives of Scotland +are not in actual rebellion, they are undoubtedly entitled to +protection; nor do I mean to condemn the policy of giving some +encouragement to the novelty of their affections for the House of +Hanover. I am ready to hope for everything from their new-born zeal, +and from the future steadiness of their allegiance, but hitherto they +have no claim to your favour. To honour them with a determined +predilection and confidence, in exclusion of your English subjects, who +placed your family, and, in spite of treachery and rebellion, have +supported it, upon the throne, is a mistake too gross even for the +unsuspecting generosity of youth. In this error we see a capital +violation of the most obvious rules of policy and prudence. We trace +it, however, to an original bias in your education, and are ready to +allow for your inexperience. + +To the same early influence we attribute it that you have descended to +take a share, not only in the narrow views and interests of particular +persons, but in the fatal malignity of their passions. At your +accession to the throne the whole system of government was altered, not +from wisdom or deliberation, but because it had been adopted by your +predecessor. A little personal motive of pique and resentment was +sufficient to remove the ablest servants of the Crown; but it is not in +this country, Sir, that such men can be dishonoured by the frowns of a +king. They were dismissed, but could not be disgraced. Without entering +into a minuter discussion of the merits of the peace, we may observe, +in the imprudent hurry with which the first overtures from France were +accepted, in the conduct of the negotiation, and terms of the treaty, +the strongest marks of that precipitate spirit of concession with which +a certain part of your subjects have been at all times ready to +purchase a peace with the natural enemies of this country. On _your_ +part we are satisfied that everything was honourable and sincere; and, +if England was sold to France, we doubt not that your Majesty was +equally betrayed. The conditions of the peace were matter of grief and +surprise to your subjects, but not the immediate cause of their present +discontent. + +Hitherto, Sir, you had been sacrificed to the prejudices and passions +of others. With what firmness will you bear the mention of your own? + +A man, not very honourably distinguished in the world, commences a +formal attack upon your favourite, considering nothing but how he might +best expose his person and principles to detestation, and the national +character of his countrymen to contempt. The natives of that country, +Sir, are as much distinguished by a peculiar character as by your +Majesty's favour. Like another chosen people, they have been conducted +into the land of plenty, where they find themselves effectually marked +and divided from mankind. There is hardly a period at which the most +irregular character may not be redeemed. The mistakes of one sex find a +retreat in patriotism, those of the other in devotion. Mr. Wilkes +brought with him into politics the same liberal sentiments by which his +private conduct had been directed, and seemed to think that, as there +are few excesses in which an English gentleman may not be permitted to +indulge, the same latitude was allowed him in the choice of his +political principles, and in the spirit of maintaining them. I mean to +state, not entirely to defend, his conduct. In the earnestness of his +zeal he suffered some unwarrantable insinuations to escape him. He said +more than moderate men would justify, but not enough to entitle him to +the honour of your Majesty's personal resentment. The rays of royal +indignation, collected upon him, served only to illuminate, and could +not consume. Animated by the favour of the people on the one side, and +heated by persecution on the other, his views and sentiments changed +with his situation. Hardly serious at first, he is now an enthusiast. +The coldest bodies warm with opposition, the hardest sparkle in +collision.--There is a holy, mistaken zeal in politics as well as +religion. By persuading others, we convince ourselves. The passions are +engaged, and create a material affection in the mind, which forces us +to love the cause for which we suffer. Is this a contention worthy of a +king? Are you not sensible how much the meanness of the cause gives an +air of ridicule to the serious difficulties into which you have been +betrayed? The destruction of one man has been now, for many years, the +sole object of your government; and, if there can be anything still +more disgraceful, we have seen, for such an object, the utmost +influence of the executive power, and every ministerial artifice, +exerted without success. Nor can you ever succeed, unless he should be +imprudent enough to forfeit the protection of those laws to which you +owe your crown, or unless your minister should persuade you to make it +a question of force alone, and try the whole strength of government in +opposition to the people. The lessons he has received from experience +will probably guard him from such excess of folly, and in your +Majesty's virtues we find an unquestionable assurance that no illegal +violence will be attempted. + +Far from suspecting you of so horrible a design, we would attribute his +continued violation of the laws, and even the last enormous attack upon +the vital principles of the constitution, to an ill-advised, unworthy, +personal resentment. From one false step you have been betrayed into +another, and, as the cause was unworthy of you, your ministers were +determined that the prudence executed should correspond with the +wisdom and dignity of the design. They have reduced you to the +necessity of choosing out of a variety of difficulties; to a situation +so unhappy that you can neither do wrong without ruin, nor right +without affliction. These worthy servants have undoubtedly given you +many singular proofs of their abilities. Not contented with making Mr. +Wilkes a man of importance, they have judiciously transferred the +question from the rights and interests of one man to the most important +rights and interests of the people, and forced your subjects from +wishing well to the cause of an individual to unite with him in their +own. Let them proceed as they have begun, and your Majesty need not +doubt that the catastrophe will do no dishonour to the conduct of the +piece. + +The circumstances to which you are reduced will not admit of a +compromise with the English nation. Undecisive, qualifying measures +will disgrace your government still more than open violence, and, +without satisfying the people, will excite their contempt. They have +too much understanding and spirit to accept of an indirect satisfaction +for a direct injury. Nothing less than a repeal, as formal as the +resolution itself, can heal the wound which has been given to the +constitution, nor will anything less be accepted. I can readily believe +that there is an influence sufficient to recall that pernicious vote. +The House of Commons undoubtedly consider their duty to the Crown as +paramount to all other obligations. To us they are only indebted for an +accidental existence, and have justly transferred their gratitude from +their parents to their benefactors, from those who gave them birth to +the minister from whose benevolence they derive the comforts and +pleasure of their political life, who has taken the tenderest care of +their infancy and relieves their necessities without offending their +delicacy. But if it were possible for their integrity to be degraded +to a condition so vile and abject that, compared with it, the present +estimation they stand in is a state of honour and respect, consider, +Sir, in what manner you will afterwards proceed. Can you conceive that +the people of this country will long submit to be governed by so +flexible a House of Commons? It is not in the nature of human society +that any form of government, in such circumstances, can long be +preserved. In ours, the general contempt of the people is as fatal as +their detestation. Such, I am persuaded, would be the necessary effect +of any base concession made by the present House of Commons, and, as a +qualifying measure would not be accepted, it remains for you to decide +whether you will, at any hazard, support a set of men who have reduced +you to this unhappy dilemma, or whether you will gratify the united +wishes of the whole people of England by dissolving the Parliament. + +Taking it for granted, as I do very sincerely, that you have personally +no design against the constitution, nor any view inconsistent with the +good of your subjects, I think you cannot hesitate long upon the choice +which it equally concerns your interests and your honour to adopt. On +one side you hazard the affection of all your English subjects, you +relinquish every hope of repose to yourself, and you endanger the +establishment of your family for ever. All this you venture for no +object whatsoever, or for such an object as it would be an affront to +you to name. Men of sense will examine your conduct with suspicion, +while those who are incapable of comprehending to what degree they are +injured afflict you with clamours equally insolent and unmeaning. +Supposing it possible that no fatal struggle should ensue, you +determine at once to be unhappy, without the hope of a compensation +either from interest or ambition. If an English king be hated or +despised, he _must_ be unhappy; and this, perhaps, is the only +political truth which he ought to be convinced of without experiment. +But if the English people should no longer confine their resentment to +a submissive representation of their wrongs; if, following the glorious +example of their ancestors, they should no longer appeal to the +creature of the constitution, but to that high Being who gave them the +rights of humanity, whose gifts it were sacrilege to surrender, let me +ask you, Sir, upon what part of your subjects would you rely for +assistance? + +The people of Ireland have been uniformly plundered and oppressed. In +return they give you every day fresh marks of their resentment. They +despise the miserable governor you have sent them, because he is the +creature of Lord Bute, nor is it from any natural confusion in their +ideas that they are so ready to confound the original of a king with +the disgraceful representation of him. + +The distance of the colonies would make it impossible for them to take +an active concern in your affairs, if they were as well affected to +your government as they once pretended to be to your person. They were +ready enough to distinguish between you and your ministers. They +complained of an act of the legislature, but traced the origin of it no +higher than to the servants of the Crown; they pleased themselves with +the hope that their sovereign, if not favourable to their cause, at +least was impartial. The decisive personal part you took against them +has effectually banished that first distinction from their minds. They +consider you as united with your servants against America, and know how +to distinguish the sovereign and a venal parliament on one side from +the real sentiments of the English people on the other. Looking forward +to independence, they might possibly receive you for their king; but, +if ever you retire to America, be assured they will give you such a +covenant to digest as the presbytery of Scotland would have been +ashamed to offer to Charles the Second. They left their native land in +search of freedom, and found it in a desert. Divided as they are into a +thousand forms of policy and religion, there is one point in which they +all agree: they equally detest the pageantry of a king and the +supercilious hypocrisy of a bishop. + +It is not, then, from the alienated affections of Ireland or America +that you can reasonably look for assistance; still less from the people +of England, who are actually contending for their rights, and in this +great question are parties against you. You are not, however, destitute +of every appearance of support: you have all the Jacobites, Non-jurors, +Roman Catholics, and Tories of this country, and all Scotland, without +exception. Considering from what family you are descended, the choice +of your friends has been singularly directed; and truly, Sir, if you +had not lost the Whig interest of England, I should admire your +dexterity in turning the hearts of your enemies. Is it possible for you +to place any confidence in men who, before they are faithful to you, +must renounce every opinion and betray every principle, both in church +and state, which they inherit from their ancestors and are confirmed in +by their education; whose numbers are so inconsiderable that they have +long since been obliged to give up the principles and language which +distinguish them as a party, and to fight under the banners of their +enemies? Their zeal begins with hypocrisy, and must conclude in +treachery. At first they deceive, at last they betray. + +As to the Scotch, I must suppose your heart and understanding so +biassed from your earliest infancy in their favour that nothing less +than _your own_ misfortunes can undeceive you. You will not accept of +the uniform experience of your ancestors; and, when once a man is +determined to believe, the very absurdity of the doctrine confirms him +in his faith. A bigoted understanding can draw a proof of attachment to +the House of Hanover from a notorious zeal for the House of Stuart, and +find an earnest of future loyalty in former rebellions. Appearances +are, however, in their favour: so strongly, indeed, that one would +think they had forgotten that you are their lawful king, and had +mistaken you for a pretender to the crown. Let it be admitted, then, +that the Scotch are as sincere in their present professions as if you +were in reality, not an Englishman, but a Briton of the North. You +would not be the first prince of their native country against whom they +have rebelled, nor the first whom they have basely betrayed. Have you +forgotten, Sir, or has your favourite concealed from you, that part of +our history when the unhappy Charles (and he, too, had private virtues) +fled from the open, avowed indignation of his English subjects, and +surrendered himself at discretion to the good faith of his own +countrymen? Without looking for support in their affections as +subjects, he applied only to their honour as gentlemen for protection. +They received him, as they would your Majesty, with bows and smiles and +falsehood, and kept him until they had settled their bargain with the +English parliament, then basely sold their native king to the vengeance +of his enemies. This, Sir, was not the act of a few traitors, but the +deliberate treachery of a Scotch parliament representing the nation. A +wise prince might draw from it two lessons of equal utility to himself. +On one side he might learn to dread the undisguised resentment of a +generous people who dare openly assert their rights, and who in a just +cause are ready to meet their sovereign in the field. On the other side +he would be taught to apprehend something far more formidable: a +fawning treachery against which no prudence can guard, no courage can +defend. The insidious smile upon the cheek would warn him of the canker +in the heart. + +From the uses to which one part of the army has been too frequently +applied, you have some reason to expect that there are no services they +would refuse. Here, too, we trace the partiality of your understanding. +You take the sense of the army from the conduct of the guards, with the +same justice with which you collect the sense of the people from the +representations of the ministry. Your marching regiments, Sir, will not +make the guards their example either as soldiers or subjects. They feel +and resent, as they ought to do, that invariable, undistinguishing +favour with which the guards are treated, while those gallant troops, +by whom every hazardous, every laborious service is performed, are left +to perish in garrisons abroad, or pine in quarters at home, neglected +and forgotten. If they had no sense of the great original duty they owe +their country, their resentment would operate like patriotism, and +leave your cause to be defended by those on whom you have lavished the +rewards and honours of their profession. The Prætorian bands, enervated +and debauched as they were, had still strength enough to awe the Roman +populace, but when the distant legions took the alarm they marched to +Rome and gave away the empire. + +On this side, then, whichever way you turn your eyes, you see nothing +but perplexity and distress. You may determine to support the very +ministry who have reduced your affairs to this deplorable situation; +you may shelter yourself under the forms of a parliament, and set the +people at defiance; but be assured, Sir, that such a resolution would +be as imprudent as it would be odious. If it did not immediately shake +your establishment, it would rob you of your peace of mind for ever. + +On the other, how different is the prospect! How easy, how safe and +honourable, is the path before you! The English nation declare they are +grossly injured by their representatives, and solicit your Majesty to +exert your lawful prerogative, and give them an opportunity of +recalling a trust which they find has been scandalously abused. You are +not to be told that the power of the House of Commons is not original, +but delegated to them for the welfare of the people, from whom they +received it. A question of right arises between the constituent and the +representative body. By what authority shall it be decided? Will your +Majesty interfere in a question in which you have, properly, no +immediate concern? It would be a step equally odious and unnecessary. +Shall the Lords be called upon to determine the rights and privileges +of the Commons? They cannot do it without a flagrant breach of the +constitution. Or will you refer it to the judges? They have often told +your ancestors that the law of parliament is above them. What part then +remains but to leave it to the people to determine for themselves? They +alone are injured, and since there is no superior power to which the +cause can be referred, they alone ought to determine. + +I do not mean to perplex you with a tedious argument upon a subject +already so discussed that inspiration could hardly throw a new light +upon it. There are, however, two points of view in which it +particularly imports your Majesty to consider the late proceedings of +the House of Commons. By depriving a subject of his birthright they +have attributed to their own vote an authority equal to an act of the +whole legislature, and, though perhaps not with the same motives, have +strictly followed the example of the Long Parliament, which first +declared the regal office useless, and soon after, with as little +ceremony, dissolved the House of Lords. The same pretended power which +robs an English subject of his birthright may rob an English king of +his crown. In another view, the resolution of the House of Commons, +apparently not so dangerous to your Majesty, is still more alarming to +your people. Not contented with divesting one man of his right, they +have arbitrarily conveyed that right to another. They have set aside a +return as illegal, without daring to censure those officers who were +particularly apprised of Mr. Wilkes' incapacity, not only by the +declaration of the House, but expressly by the writ directed to them, +and who, nevertheless, returned him as duly elected. They have rejected +the majority of votes, the only criterion by which our laws judge of +the sense of the people; they have transferred the right of election +from the collective to the representative body; and by these acts, +taken separately or together, they have essentially altered the +original constitution of the House of Commons. Versed as your Majesty +undoubtedly is in the English history, it cannot escape you how much it +is your interest as well as your duty to prevent one of the three +estates from encroaching upon the province of the other two, or +assuming the authority of them all. When once they have departed from +the great constitutional line by which all their proceedings should be +directed, who will answer for their future moderation? Or what +assurance will they give you that, when they have trampled upon their +equals, they will submit to a superior? Your Majesty may learn +hereafter how nearly the slave and tyrant are allied. + +Some of your council, more candid than the rest, admit the abandoned +profligacy of the present House of Commons, but oppose their +dissolution, upon an opinion, I confess, not very unwarrantable, that +their successors would be equally at the disposal of the treasury. I +cannot persuade myself that the nation will have profited so little by +experience. But if that opinion were well founded, you might then +gratify our wishes at an easy rate, and appease the present clamour +against your government, without offering any material injury to the +favourite cause of corruption. + +You have still an honourable part to act. The affections of your +subjects may still be recovered. But before you subdue their hearts you +must gain a noble victory over your own. Discard those little, personal +resentments which have too long directed your public conduct. Pardon +this man the remainder of his punishment; and, if resentment still +prevails, make it what it should have been long since--an act, not of +mercy, but of contempt. He will soon fall back into his natural +station, a silent senator, and hardly supporting the weekly eloquence +of a newspaper. The gentle breath of peace would leave him on the +surface, neglected and unremoved. It is only the tempest that lifts him +from his place. + +Without consulting your minister, call together your whole council. Let +it appear to the public that you can determine and act for yourself. +Come forward to your people. Lay aside the wretched formalities of a +king, and speak to your subjects with the spirit of a man and in the +language of a gentleman. Tell them you have been fatally deceived. The +acknowledgment will be no disgrace, but rather an honour, to your +understanding. Tell them you are determined to remove every cause of +complaint against your government, that you will give your confidence +to no man who does not possess the confidence of your subjects, and +leave it to themselves to determine, by their conduct at a future +election, whether or no it be in reality the general sense of the +nation that their rights have been arbitrarily invaded by the present +House of Commons, and the constitution betrayed. They will then do +justice to their representatives and to themselves. + +These sentiments, Sir, and the style they are conveyed in, may be +offensive, perhaps, because they are new to you. Accustomed to the +language of courtiers, you measure their affections by the vehemence of +their expressions, and when they only praise you indifferently, you +admire their sincerity. But this is not a time to trifle with your +fortune. They deceive you, Sir, who tell you that you have many +friends, whose affections are founded upon a principle of personal +attachment. The first foundation of friendship is not the power of +conferring benefits, but the equality with which they are received and +may be returned. The fortune which made you a king forbade you to have +a friend. It is a law of nature which cannot be violated with impunity. +The mistaken prince who looks for friendship will find a favourite, and +in that favourite the ruin of his affairs. + +The people of England are loyal to the House of Hanover, not from a +vain preference of one family to another, but from a conviction that +the establishment of that family was necessary to the support of their +civil and religious liberties. This, Sir, is a principle of allegiance +equally solid and rational, fit for Englishmen to adopt, and well +worthy of your Majesty's encouragement. We cannot long be deluded by +nominal distinctions. The name of Stuart, of itself, is only +contemptible; armed with the sovereign authority, their principles are +formidable. The prince who imitates their conduct should be warned by +their example, and, while he plumes himself upon the security of his +title to the crown, should remember that, as it was acquired by one +revolution, it may be lost by another. + + + + +ROBERT BURNS. + +(1759-1796.) + + +XLVI. ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. + + My son, these maxims make a rule, + And lump them aye thegither; + The Rigid Righteous is a fool, + The Rigid Wise anither; + The cleanest corn that ere was dight + May ha'e some pyles o' caff in; + So ne'er a fellow-creature slight + For random fits o' daffin'.--_Solomon_.--Eccles. vii. 16. + + This undoubtedly ranks as one of the noblest satires in our + literature. It was first published as a broadside, and afterwards + incorporated in the Kilmarnock and Edinburgh editions. + + + Oh ye wha are sae guid yoursel', + Sae pious an' sae holy, + Ye've nought to do but mark an' tell + Your neebour's fauts an' folly! + Whase life is like a weel-gaun[216] mill, + Supplied wi' store o' water, + The heaped happer's[217] ebbing still, + An' still the clap plays clatter. + + Hear me, ye venerable core, + As counsel for poor mortals, + That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door, + For glaiket[218] Folly's portals; + I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes, + Would here propone defences, + Their donsie[219] tricks, their black mistakes + Their failings an' mischances. + + Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd, + An' shudder at the niffer[220], + But cast a moment's fair regard, + What mak's the mighty differ? + Discount what scant occasion gave + That purity ye pride in, + An' (what's aft mair than a' the lave) + Your better art o' hiding. + + Think, when your castigated pulse + Gi'es now an' then a wallop, + What ragings must his veins convulse, + That still eternal gallop. + Wi' wind an' tide fair i' your tail, + Right on ye scud your sea-way; + But in the teeth o' baith to sail, + It makes an unco lee-way. + + See social life an' glee sit down, + All joyous an' unthinking, + Till, quite transmugrified, they're grown + Debauchery an' drinking: + Oh would they stay to calculate + Th' eternal consequences; + Or your more dreaded hell to state, + Damnation of expenses! + + Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, + Tied up in godly laces, + Before ye gi'e poor frailty names, + Suppose a change o' cases; + A dear loved lad, convenience snug, + A treacherous inclination-- + But, let me whisper i' your lug[221], + Ye'er aiblins[222] nae temptation. + + Then gently scan your brother man, + Still gentler sister woman; + Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, + To step aside is human: + One point must still be greatly dark, + The moving why they do it: + An' just as lamely can ye mark, + How far perhaps they rue it. + + Who made the heart, 'tis He alone + Decidedly can try us, + He knows each chord--its various tone, + Each spring--its various bias: + Then at the balance let's be mute, + We never can adjust it; + What's done we partly may compute, + But know not what's resisted. + +[Footnote 216: well-going.] + +[Footnote 217: hopper.] + +[Footnote 218: idle.] + +[Footnote 219: unlucky.] + +[Footnote 220: exchange.] + +[Footnote 221: ear.] + +[Footnote 222: perhaps.] + + + +XLVII. HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. + + The hero of this daring exposition of Calvinistic theology was + William Fisher, a farmer in the neighbourhood of Mauchline, and an + elder in Mr. Auld's session. He had signalized himself in the + prosecution of Mr. Hamilton, elsewhere alluded to; and Burns + appears to have written these verses in retribution of the rancour + he had displayed on that occasion. Fisher was afterwards convicted + of appropriating the money collected for the poor. Coming home one + night from market in a state of intoxication, he fell into a ditch, + where he was found dead next morning. The poem was first published + in 1801, along with the "Jolly Beggars". + + + Oh Thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell, + Wha, as it pleases best thysel', + Sends ane to heaven, an' ten to hell, + A' for thy glory, + An' no for ony guid or ill + They've done afore thee! + + I bless an' praise thy matchless might, + Whan thousands thou hast left in night, + That I am here afore thy sight, + For gifts an' grace + A burnin' and a shinin' light + To a' this place. + + What was I, or my generation, + That I should get sic exaltation, + I wha deserve sic just damnation, + For broken laws, + Five thousand years 'fore my creation, + Thro' Adam's cause? + + When frae my mither's womb I fell, + Thou might ha'e plunged me deep in hell, + To gnash my gums, to weep an' wail, + In burnin' lake, + Whare damned devils roar an' yell, + Chain'd to a stake. + + Yet I am here, a chosen sample; + To show thy grace is great an' ample; + I'm here a pillar in thy temple, + Strong as a rock, + A guide, a buckler, an example, + To a' thy flock. + + But yet, oh Lord! confess I must, + At times I'm fash'd[223] wi' fleshly lust; + An' sometimes, too, wi' warldly trust, + Vile self gets in: + But Thou remembers we are dust, + Defil'd in sin. + + Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn + Beset thy servant e'en an' morn + Lest he owre high an' proud should turn, + 'Cause he's sae gifted; + If sae, Thy ban' maun e'en be borne, + Until Thou lift it. + + Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place, + For here Thou hast a chosen race: + But God confound their stubborn face, + And blast their name, + Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace + And public shame. + + Lord, mind Cawn Hamilton's deserts, + He drinks, and swears, and plays at cartes[224], + Yet has sae mony takin' arts, + Wi' grit an' sma'[225], + Frae God's ain priests the people's hearts + He steals awa'. + + And whan we chasten'd him therefore, + Thou kens how he bred sic a splore[226], + As set the warld in a roar + O' laughin' at us,-- + Curse Thou his basket and his store, + Kail and potatoes. + + Lord, hear my earnest cry and pray'r + Against the Presbyt'ry of Ayr; + Thy strong right hand, Lord, mak' it bare + Upo' their heads, + Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare, + For their misdeeds. + + Oh Lord my God, that glib-tongu'd Aiken, + My very heart and saul are quakin', + To think how we stood groanin', shakin', + And swat wi' dread, + While he wi' hingin' lips and snakin', + Held up his head. + + Lord, in the day of vengeance try him, + Lord, visit them wha did employ him, + And pass not in thy mercy by 'em, + Nor hear their pray'r; + But for thy people's sake destroy 'em, + And dinna spare, + + But, Lord, remember me and mine, + Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine, + That I for gear[227] and grace may shine, + Excell'd by nane, + And a' the glory shall be thine, + Amen, amen! + + +EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE. + + + Here Holy Willie's sair-worn clay + Tak's up its last abode; + His saul has ta'en some ither way, + I fear the left-hand road. + + Stop! there he is, as sure's a gun, + Poor, silly body, see him; + Nae wonder he's as black's the grun', + Observe wha's standing wi' him. + + Your brunstane[228] devilship, I see, + Has got him there before ye; + But haud your nine-tail cat a wee, + Till ance you've heard my story. + + Your pity I will not implore, + For pity ye ha'e nane; + Justice, alas! has gi'en him o'er, + And mercy's day is gane. + + But hear me, sir, de'il as ye are, + Look something to your credit; + A coof[229] like him wad stain your name, + If it were kent ye did it. + +[Footnote 223: troubled.] + +[Footnote 224: cards.] + +[Footnote 225: great and small.] + +[Footnote 226: row.] + +[Footnote 227: wealth.] + +[Footnote 228: brimstone.] + +[Footnote 229: fool.] + + + + +CHARLES LAMB. + +(1775-1835.) + + +XLVIII. A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO. + + Published originally in 1811 in _The Reflector_, No. 4. As Lamb + himself states, it was meditated for two years before it was + committed to paper in 1805, but not published until six years + afterwards. + + + May the Babylonish curse + Straight confound my stammering verse, + If I can a passage see + In this word-perplexity, + Or a fit expression find, + Or a language to my mind + (Still the phrase is wide or scant), + To take leave of thee, Great Plant! + Or in any terms relate + Half my love, or half my hate: + For I hate yet love thee so, + That, whichever thing I show, + The plain truth will seem to be + A constrained hyperbole, + And the passions to proceed + More from a mistress than a weed. + + Sooty retainer to the vine, + Bacchus' black servant, negro fine; + Sorcerer, that mak'st us dote upon + Thy begrimed complexion, + And, for thy pernicious sake, + More and greater oaths to break + Than reclaimèd lovers take + 'Gainst women: thou thy siege dost lay + Much too in the female way, + While thou suck'st the lab'ring breath + Faster than kisses or than death. + + Thou in such a cloud dost bind us, + That our worst foes cannot find us, + And ill fortune, that would thwart us, + Shoots at rovers, shooting at us; + While each man, through thy heightening steam, + Does like a smoking Etna seem, + And all about us does express + (Fancy and wit in richest dress) + A Sicilian fruitfulness + + Thou through such a mist dost show us, + That our best friends do not know us, + And, for those allowed features, + Due to reasonable creatures, + Liken'st us to fell Chimeras-- + Monsters that, who see us, fear us; + Worse than Cerberus or Geryon, + Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion. + + Bacchus we know, and we allow + His tipsy rites. But what art thou, + That but by reflex canst show + What his deity can do, + As the false Egyptian spell + Aped the true Hebrew miracle? + Some few vapours thou may'st raise, + The weak brain may serve to amaze. + But to the reins and nobler heart + Canst nor life nor heat impart. + + Brother of Bacchus, later born, + The old world was sure forlorn + Wanting thee, that aidest more + The god's victories than before + All his panthers, and the brawls + Of his piping Bacchanals. + These, as stale, we disallow, + Or judge of _thee_ meant: only thou + His true Indian conquest art; + And, for ivy round his dart, + The reformèd god now weaves + A finer thyrsus of thy leaves. + + Scent to match thy rich perfume + Chemic art did ne'er presume + Through her quaint alembic strain, + None so sovereign to the brain. + Nature, that did in thee excel, + Framed again no second smell. + Roses, violets, but toys + For the smaller sort of boys, + Or for greener damsels meant; + Thou art the only manly scent. + + Stinking'st of the stinking kind, + Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind, + Africa, that brags her foison, + Breeds no such prodigious poison, + Henbane, nightshade, both together, + Hemlock, aconite-- + Nay, rather, + Plant divine, of rarest virtue; + Blisters on the tongue would hurt you. + 'Twas but in a sort I blamed thee; + None e'er prospered who defamed thee; + Irony all, and feigned abuse, + Such as perplexed lovers use + At a need, when, in despair + To paint forth their fairest fair, + Or in part but to express + That exceeding comeliness + Which their fancies doth so strike, + They borrow language of dislike, + And, instead of Dearest Miss, + Jewel, Honey, Sweetheart, Bliss, + And those forms of old admiring, + Call her Cockatrice and Siren, + Basilisk, and all that's evil, + Witch, Hyena, Mermaid, Devil, + Ethiop, Wench, and Blackamoor, + Monkey, Ape, and twenty more; + Friendly Trait'ress, Loving Foe,-- + Not that she is truly so, + But no other way they know + A contentment to express, + Borders so upon excess, + That they do not rightly wot + Whether it be pain or not. + + Or as men, constrained to part + With what's nearest to their heart, + While their sorrow's at the height, + Lose discrimination quite, + And their hasty wrath let fall, + To appease their frantic gall, + On the darling thing whatever + Whence they feel it death to sever, + Though it be, as they, perforce + Guiltless of the sad divorce. + + For I must (nor let it grieve thee, + Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee. + For thy sake, Tobacco, I + Would do anything but die, + And but seek to extend my days + Long enough to sing thy praise. + But, as she who once hath been + A king's consort is a queen + Ever after, nor will bate + Any title of her state, + Though a widow or divorced, + So I, from thy converse forced, + The old name and style retain, + A right Katherine of Spain; + And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys + Of the blest Tobacco Boys; + Where, though I, by sour physician, + Am debarred the full fruition + Of thy favours, I may catch + Some collateral sweets, and snatch + Sidelong odours, that give life + Like glances from a neighbour's wife; + And still live in the byplaces + And the suburbs of thy graces, + And in thy borders take delight, + An unconquered Canaanite. + + + + +THOMAS MOORE. + +(1779-1852.) + + +XLIX. LINES ON LEIGH HUNT. + + Suggested by Hunt's _Byron and his Contemporaries_. + + + Next week will be published (as "Lives" are the rage) + The whole Reminiscences, wondrous and strange, + Of a small puppy-dog that lived once in the cage + Of the late noble lion at Exeter 'Change. + + Though the dog is a dog of the kind they call "sad", + 'Tis a puppy that much to good breeding pretends; + And few dogs have such opportunities had + Of knowing how lions behave--among friends. + + How that animal eats, how he moves, how he drinks, + Is all noted down by this Boswell so small; + And 'tis plain, from each sentence, the puppy-dog thinks + That the lion was no such great things after all. + + Though he roar'd pretty well--this the puppy allows-- + It was all, he says, borrow'd--all second-hand roar; + And he vastly prefers his own little bow-wows + To the loftiest war-note the lion could pour. + + 'Tis indeed as good fun as a cynic could ask, + To see how this cockney-bred setter of rabbits + Takes gravely the lord of the forest to task, + And judges of lions by puppy-dog habits. + + Nay, fed as he was (and this makes it a dark case) + With sops every day from the lion's own pan, + He lifts up his leg at the noble beast's carcase, + And--does all a dog, so diminutive, can. + + However the book's a good book, being rich in + Examples and warnings to lions high-bred, + How they suffer small mongrelly curs in their kitchen, + Who'll feed on them living, and foul them when dead. + + + + +GEORGE CANNING. + +(1770-1827.) + + +L. EPISTLE FROM LORD BORINGDON TO LORD GRANVILLE. + + Published in _Fugitive Verses_, and thence included among Canning's + works. + + + Oft you have ask'd me, Granville, why + Of late I heave the frequent sigh? + Why, moping, melancholy, low, + From supper, commons, wine, I go? + Why bows my mind, by care oppress'd, + By day no peace, by night no rest? + Hear, then, my friend, and ne'er you knew + A tale so tender, and so true-- + Hear what, tho' shame my tongue restrain, + My pen with freedom shall explain. + Say, Granville, do you not remember, + About the middle of November, + When Blenheim's hospitable lord + Received us at his cheerful board; + How fair the Ladies Spencer smiled, + Enchanting, witty, courteous, mild? + And mark'd you not, how many a glance + Across the table, shot by chance + From fair Eliza's graceful form, + Assail'd and took my heart by storm? + And mark'd you not, with earnest zeal, + I ask'd her, if she'd have some veal? + And how, when conversation's charms + Fresh vigour gave to love's alarms, + My heart was scorch'd, and burnt to tinder, + When talking to her at the _winder_? + These facts premised, you can't but guess + The cause of my uneasiness, + For you have heard, as well as I, + That she'll be married speedily; + And then--my grief more plain to tell-- + Soft cares, sweet fears, fond hopes,--farewell! + But still, tho' false the fleeting dream, + Indulge awhile the tender theme, + And hear, had fortune yet been kind, + How bright the prospect of the mind. + O! had I had it in my power + To wed her--with a suited dower-- + And proudly bear the beauteous maid + To Saltrum's venerable shade,-- + Or if she liked not woods at Saltrum, + Why, nothing easier than to alter 'em,-- + Then had I tasted bliss sincere, + And happy been from year to year. + How changed this scene! for now, my Granville, + Another match is on the anvil. + And I, a widow'd dove, complain, + And feel no refuge from my pain-- + Save that of pitying Spencer's sister, + Who's lost a lord, and gained a Mister. + + + +LI. REFORMATION OF THE KNAVE OF HEARTS. + + This is an exquisite satire on the attempts at criticism which were + current in _pre-Edinburgh Review_ days, when the majority of the + journals were mere touts for the booksellers. The papers in + question are taken from Nos. 11 and 12 of the _Microcosm_, + published on Monday, February 12th, 1787--when Canning was + seventeen years of age. + + +The epic poem on which I shall ground my present critique has for its +chief characteristics brevity and simplicity. The author--whose name I +lament that I am, in some degree, prevented from consecrating to +immortal fame, by not knowing what it is--the author, I say, has not +branched his poem into excrescences of episode, or prolixities of +digression; it is neither variegated with diversity of unmeaning +similitudes, nor glaring with the varnish of unnatural metaphor. The +whole is plain and uniform; so much so, indeed, that I should hardly be +surprised if some morose readers were to conjecture that the poet had +been thus simple rather from necessity than choice; that he had been +restrained, not so much by chastity of judgment, as sterility of +imagination. + +Nay, some there may be, perhaps, who will dispute his claim to the +title of an epic poet, and will endeavour to degrade him even to the +rank of a ballad-monger. But I, as his commentator, will contend for +the dignity of my author, and will plainly demonstrate his poem to be +an epic poem, agreeable to the example of all poets, and the consent of +all critics heretofore. + +First, it is universally agreed that an epic poem should have three +component parts--a beginning, a middle, and an end; secondly, it is +allowed that it should have one grand action or main design, to the +forwarding of which all the parts of it should directly or indirectly +tend, and that this design should be in some measure consonant with, +and conducive to, the purposes of morality; and thirdly, it is +indisputably settled that it should have a hero. I trust that in none +of these points the poem before us will be found deficient. There are +other inferior properties which I shall consider in due order. + +Not to keep my readers longer in suspense, the subject of the poem is +"The Reformation of the Knave of Hearts". It is not improbable that +some may object to me that a knave is an unworthy hero for an epic +poem--that a hero ought to be all that is great and good. The objection +is frivolous. The greatest work of this kind that the world has ever +produced has "the Devil" for its hero; and supported as my author is by +so great a precedent, I contend that his hero is a very decent hero, +and especially as he has the advantage of Milton's, by reforming, at +the end, is evidently entitled to a competent share of celebrity. + +I shall now proceed to the more immediate examination of the poem in +its different parts. The beginning, say the critics, ought to be plain +and simple--neither embellished with the flowers of poetry, nor turgid +with pomposity of diction. In this how exactly does our author conform +to the established opinion! He begins thus: + + "The Queen of Hearts + She made some tarts". + +Can anything be more clear! more natural! more agreeable to the true +spirit of simplicity? Here are no tropes, no figurative expressions, +not even so much as an invocation to the Muse. He does not detain his +readers by any needless circumlocution, by unnecessarily informing them +what he _is_ going to sing, or still more unnecessarily enumerating +what he _is not_ going to sing; but, according to the precept of +Horace:-- + + _In médias res, + Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit--_ + +That is, he at once introduces us and sets us on the most easy and +familiar footing imaginable with her Majesty of Hearts, and interests +us deeply in her domestic concerns. But to proceed-- + + "The Queen of Hearts + She made some tarts, + All on a summer's day". + +Here indeed the prospect brightens, and we are led to expect some +liveliness of imagery, some warmth of poetical colouring; but here is +no such thing. There is no task more difficult to a poet than that of +rejection. Ovid among the ancients, and Dryden among the moderns, were +perhaps the most remarkable for the want of it. The latter, from the +haste in which he generally produced his compositions, seldom paid much +attention to the _limæ labor_, "the labour of correction", and seldom, +therefore, rejected the assistance of any idea that presented itself. +Ovid, not content with catching the leading features of any scene or +character, indulged himself in a thousand minutiæ of description, a +thousand puerile prettinesses, which were in themselves uninteresting, +and took off greatly from the effect of the whole; as the numberless +suckers and straggling branches of a fruit-tree, if permitted to shoot +out unrestrained, while they are themselves barren and useless, +diminish considerably the vigour of the parent stock. Ovid had more +genius but less judgment than Virgil; Dryden more imagination but less +correctness than Pope; had they not been deficient in these points the +former would certainly have equalled, the latter infinitely outshone +the merits of his countryman. Our author was undoubtedly possessed of +that power which they wanted, and was cautious not to indulge too far +the sallies of a lively imagination. Omitting, therefore, any mention +of sultry Sirius, sylvan shade, sequestered glade, verdant hills, +purling rills, mossy mountains, gurgling fountains, &c., he simply +tells us that it was "All on a summer's day". For my own part I confess +that I find myself rather flattered than disappointed, and consider the +poet as rather paying a compliment to the abilities of his readers, +than baulking their expectations. It is certainly a great pleasure to +see a picture well painted; but it is a much greater to paint it well +oneself. This, therefore, I look upon as a stroke of excellent +management in the poet. Here every reader is at liberty to gratify his +own taste, to design for himself just what sort of "summer's day" he +likes best; to choose his own scenery, dispose his lights and shades as +he pleases, to solace himself with a rivulet or a horse-pond, a shower +or a sunbeam, a grove or a kitchen-garden, according to his fancy. How +much more considerate this than if the poet had, from an affected +accuracy of description, thrown us into an unmannerly perspiration by +the heat of the atmosphere, forced us into a landscape of his own +planning, with perhaps a paltry good-for-nothing zephyr or two, and a +limited quantity of wood and water. All this Ovid would undoubtedly +have done. Nay, to use the expression of a learned brother +commentator--_quovis pignore decertem_, "I would lay any wager", that +he would have gone so far as to tell us what the tarts were made of, +and perhaps wandered into an episode on the art of preserving cherries. +But _our_ poet, above such considerations, leaves every reader to +choose his own ingredients, and sweeten them to his own liking; wisely +foreseeing, no doubt, that the more palatable each had rendered them to +his own taste, the more he would be affected at their approaching loss. + + "All on a summer's day." + +I cannot leave this line without remarking that one of the Scribleri, a +descendant of the famous Martinus, has expressed his suspicions of the +text being corrupted here, and proposes instead of "all on" reading +"alone", alleging, in favour of this alteration, the effect of solitude +in raising the passions. But Hiccius Doctius, a high Dutch commentator, +one nevertheless well versed in British literature, in a note of his +usual length and learning, has confuted the arguments of Scriblerus. In +support of the present reading he quotes a passage from a poem written +about the same period with our author's, by the celebrated Johannes +Pastor[230], intituled "An Elegiac Epistle to the Turnkey of Newgate", +wherein the gentleman declares that, rather indeed in compliance with +an old custom than to gratify any particular wish of his own, he is +going-- + + "All hanged for to be + Upon that fatal Tyburn tree ". + +Now, as nothing throws greater light on an author than the concurrence +of a contemporary writer, I am inclined to be of Hiccius' opinion, and +to consider the "All" as an elegant expletive, or, as he more aptly +phrases it _elegans expletivum_. The passage therefore must stand +thus:-- + + "The Queen of Hearts + She made some tarts + All on a summer's day." + +And thus ends the first part, or beginning, which is simple and +unembellished, opens the subject in a natural and easy manner, excites, +but does not too far gratify our curiosity, for a reader of accurate +observation may easily discover that the hero of the poem has not, as +yet, made his appearance. + +I could not continue my examination at present through the whole of +this poem without far exceeding the limits of a single paper. I have +therefore divided it into two, but shall not delay the publication of +the second to another week, as that, besides breaking the connection of +criticism, would materially injure the unities of the poem. + +Having thus gone through the first part, or beginning of the poem, we +may, naturally enough, proceed to the consideration of the second. + +The second part, or middle, is the proper place for bustle and +business, for incident and adventure:-- + + "The Knave of Hearts + He stole those tarts". + +Here attention is awakened, and our whole souls are intent upon the +first appearance of the hero. Some readers may perhaps be offended at +his making his _entree_ in so disadvantageous a character as that of a +thief. To this I plead precedent. + +The hero of the Iliad, as I observed in a former paper, is made to +lament very pathetically that "life is not like all other possessions, +to be acquired by theft". A reflection, in my opinion, evidently +showing that, if he _did_ refrain from the practice of this ingenious +art, it was not from want of an inclination that way. We may remember, +too, that in Virgil's poem almost the first light in which the pious +Æneas appears to us is a deer-stealer; nor is it much excuse for him +that the deer were wandering without keepers, for however he might, +from this circumstance, have been unable to ascertain whose property +they were, he might, I think, have been pretty well assured that they +were not his. + +Having thus acquitted our hero of misconduct, by the example of his +betters, I proceed to what I think the master-stroke of the poet. + + "The Knave of Hearts + He stole those tarts, + And--took them--quite away!!" + +Here, whoever has an ear for harmony and a heart for feeling must be +touched! There is a desponding melancholy in the run of the last line! +an air of tender regret in the addition of "quite away!" a something so +expressive of irrecoverable loss! so forcibly intimating the _Ad +nunquam reditura!_ "They never can return!" in short, such an union of +sound and sense as we rarely, if ever, meet with in any author, ancient +or modern. Our feelings are all alive, but the poet, wisely dreading +that our sympathy with the injured Queen might alienate our affections +from his hero, contrives immediately to awaken our fears for him by +telling us that-- + + "The King of Hearts + Called for those tarts". + +We are all conscious of the fault of our hero, and all tremble with +him, for the punishment which the enraged monarch may inflict: + + "And beat the Knave full sore!" + +The fatal blow is struck! We cannot but rejoice that guilt is justly +punished, though we sympathize with the guilty object of punishment. +Here Scriblerus, who, by the by, is very fond of making unnecessary +alterations, proposes reading "score" instead of "sore", meaning +thereby to particularize that the beating bestowed by this monarch +consisted of twenty stripes. But this proceeds from his ignorance of +the genius of our language, which does not admit of such an expression +as "full score", but would require the insertion of the particle "a", +which cannot be, on account of the metre. And this is another great +artifice of the poet. By leaving the quantity of beating indeterminate, +he gives every reader the liberty to administer it, in exact proportion +to the sum of indignation which he may have conceived against his hero, +that by thus amply satisfying their resentment they may be the more +easily reconciled to him afterwards. + + "The King of Hearts + Called for those tarts, + And beat the Knave full sore." + +Here ends the second part, or middle of the poem, in which we see the +character and exploits of the hero portrayed with the hand of a master. + +Nothing now remains to be examined but the third part, or end. In the +end it is a rule pretty well established that the work should draw +towards a conclusion, which our author manages thus:-- + + "The Knave of Hearts + Brought back those tarts". + +Here everything is at length settled; the theft is compensated, the +tarts restored to their right owner, and poetical justice, in every +respect, strictly and impartially administered. + +We may observe that there is nothing in which our poet has better +succeeded than in keeping up an unremitted attention in his readers to +the main instruments, the machinery of his poem, viz. the _tarts_; +insomuch that the afore-mentioned Scriblerus has sagely observed that +"he can't tell, but he doesn't know, but the tarts may be reckoned the +heroes of the poem". Scriblerus, though a man of learning, and +frequently right in his opinion, has here certainly hazarded a rash +conjecture. His arguments are overthrown entirely by his great +opponent, Hiccius, who concludes by triumphantly asking, "Had the tarts +been eaten, how could the poet have compensated for the loss of his +heroes?" + +We are now come to the _dénouement_, the setting all to rights: and our +poet, in the management of his moral, is certainly superior to his +great ancient predecessors. The moral of their fables, if any they +have, is so interwoven with the main body of their work, that in +endeavouring to unravel it we should tear the whole. Our author has +very properly preserved his whole and entire for the end of his poem, +where he completes his main design, the reformation of his hero, thus-- + + "And vowed he'd steal no more". + +Having in the course of his work shown the bad effects arising from +theft, he evidently means this last moral reflection to operate with +his readers as a gentle and polite dissuasive from stealing. + + "The Knave of Hearts + Brought back those tarts, + And vowed he'd steal no more!" + +Thus have I industriously gone through the several parts of this +wonderful work, and clearly proved it, in every one of these parts, and +in all of them together, to be a "due and proper epic poem", and to +have as good a right to that title, from its adherence to prescribed +rules, as any of the celebrated masterpieces of antiquity. And here I +cannot help again lamenting that, by not knowing the name of the +author, I am unable to twine our laurels together, and to transmit to +posterity the mingled praises of genius and judgment, of the poet and +his commentator. + +[Footnote 230: More commonly known, I believe, by the appellation of +Jack Shepherd.] + + + + +POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN. + +(1797-1798.) + + +LII. THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER. + + The _Anti-Jacobin_ was planned by George Canning when he was + Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He secured the + collaboration of George Ellis, John Hookham Frere, William Gifford, + and some others. The last-named was appointed working editor. The + first number appeared on the 20th November, 1797, with a notice + that "the publication would be continued every Monday during the + sitting of Parliament". A volume of the best pieces, entitled _The + Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_, was published in 1800. It is almost + impossible to apportion accurately the various pieces to their + respective authors, though more than one attempt has been made so + to do. The following piece is designed to ridicule the extravagant + sympathy for the lower classes which was then the fashion. + + + _Friend of Humanity_. + + Needy knife-grinder! whither are you going? + Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order-- + Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in't, + So have your breeches! + + Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones, + Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike- + Road, what hard work 'tis crying all day, "Knives and + Scissors to grind O!" + + Tell me, knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives? + Did some rich man tyrannically use you? + Was it the squire? or parson of the parish? + Or the attorney? + + Was it the squire for killing of his game? or + Covetous parson for his tithes distraining? + Or roguish lawyer made you lose your little + All in a lawsuit? + + (Have you not read the _Rights of Man_, by Tom Paine?) + Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, + Ready to fall as soon as you have told your + Pitiful story. + + _Knife-grinder_. + + Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir, + Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers, + This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were + Torn in the scuffle. + + Constable came up for to take me into + Custody; they took me before the Justice, + Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish + Stocks for a vagrant. + + I should be glad to drink your honour's health in + A pot of beer, if you would give me sixpence; + But, for my part, I never love to meddle + With politics, sir. + + _Friend of Humanity_. + + _I_ give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first-- + Wretch! whom no sense of wrong can rouse to vengeance-- + Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, + Spiritless outcast! + +[_Kicks the knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport +of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy_.] + + + +LIII. SONG BY ROGERO THE CAPTIVE. + + This is a satirical imitation of many of the songs current in the + romantic dramas of the period. It is contained in the _Rovers, or + the Double Arrangement_, act i. sc. 2, a skit upon the dramatic + literature of the day. + + + Whene'er with haggard eyes I view + This dungeon, that I'm rotting in, + I think of those companions true + Who studied with me in the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen. + [_Weeps, and pulls out a blue 'kerchief, with which + he wipes his eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he + proceeds_. + + Sweet 'kerchief check'd with heavenly blue, + Which once my love sat knotting in, + Alas, Matilda then was true, + At least I thought so at the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen. + [_At the repetition of this line Rogero clanks + his chain in cadence_. + + Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift ye flew, + Her neat post-waggon trotting in! + Ye bore Matilda from my view; + Forlorn I languish'd at the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen. + + This faded form! this pallid hue! + This blood my veins is clotting in, + My years are many--they were few + When I first entered at the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen. + + + There first for thee my passion grew, + Sweet; sweet Matilda Pottingen! + Thou wast the daughter of my tutor, + Law Professor at the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen + + Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu, + That kings and priests are plotting in; + Here doom'd to starve on water-gruel, + never shall I see the U- + -niversity of Gottingen!-- + -niversity of Gottingen! + + [_During the last stanza Rogero dashes his head + repeatedly against the walls of his prison; + and, finally, so hard as to produce a visible + contusion. He then throws himself on the + floor in an agony. The curtain drops--the + music still continuing to play till it is wholly + fallen_. + + + + +COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY. + +(1772-1834.) (1774-1843.) + + +LIV. THE DEVIL'S WALK. + + Originally written in an album belonging to one of the Misses + Fricker, the ladies whom the two poets married. What was the extent + of the collaboration of the respective writers in the poem is + unknown, but the fact is beyond a doubt that it was written by them + in conjunction. + + + From his brimstone bed at break of day + A-walking the Devil is gone, + To visit his snug little farm upon earth, + And see how his stock goes on. + + Over the hill and over the dale, + And he went over the plain, + And backward and forward he switched his long tail, + As a gentleman switches his cane. + + And how, then, was the Devil drest? + Oh, he was in his Sunday best; + His jacket was red, and his breeches were blue, + And there was a hole where his tail came through. + + He saw a lawyer killing a viper + On a dunghill hard by his own stable; + And the Devil smiled, for it put him in mind + Of Cain and his brother Abel. + + He saw an apothecary on a white horse + Ride by on his own vocations; + And the Devil thought of his old friend + Death in the Revelations. + + He saw a cottage with a double coach-house, + A cottage of gentility; + And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin + Is the pride that apes humility. + + He went into a rich bookseller's shop, + Quoth he! we are both of one college, + For I myself sate like a cormorant once, + Fast by the tree of knowledge. + + Down the river there plied, with wind and tide, + A pig, with vast celerity, + And the Devil looked wise as he saw how the while + It cut its own throat. There! quoth he, with a smile, + Goes "England's commercial prosperity". + + As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he saw + A solitary cell; + And the Devil was pleased, for it gave him a hint + For improving his prisons in hell. + + General Gascoigne's burning face + He saw with consternation; + And back to hell his way did take, + For the Devil thought by a slight mistake + It was a general conflagration. + + + + +SYDNEY SMITH. + +(1771-1845.) + + +LV. THE LETTERS OF PETER PLYMLEY--ON "NO POPERY". + + In 1807 the _Letters of Peter Plymley_ to his brother Abraham on + the subject of the Irish Catholics were published. "The letters", + as Professor Henry Morley says, "fell like sparks on a heap of + gunpowder. All London, and soon all England, were alive to the + sound reason recommended by a lively wit." The example of his + satiric force and sarcastic ratiocination cited below is the Second + Letter in the Series. + + +DEAR ABRAHAM, + +The Catholic not respect an oath! why not? What upon earth has kept him +out of Parliament, or excluded him from all the offices whence he is +excluded, but his respect for oaths? There is no law which prohibits a +Catholic to sit in Parliament. There could be no such law; because it +is impossible to find out what passes in the interior of any man's +mind. Suppose it were in contemplation to exclude all men from certain +offices who contended for the legality of taking tithes: the only mode +of discovering that fervid love of decimation which I know you to +possess would be to tender you an oath "against that damnable doctrine, +that it is lawful for a spiritual man to take, abstract, appropriate, +subduct, or lead away the tenth calf, sheep, lamb, ox, pigeon, duck", +&c., and every other animal that ever existed, which of course the +lawyers would take care to enumerate. Now this oath I am sure you would +rather die than take; and so the Catholic is excluded from Parliament +because he will not swear that he disbelieves the leading doctrines of +his religion! The Catholic asks you to abolish some oaths which oppress +him; your answer is that he does not respect oaths. Then why subject +him to the test of oaths? The oaths keep him out of Parliament; why, +then, he respects them. Turn which way you will, either your laws are +nugatory, or the Catholic is bound by religious obligations as you are; +but no eel in the well-sanded fist of a cook-maid, upon the eve of +being skinned, ever twisted and writhed as an orthodox parson does when +he is compelled by the gripe of reason to admit anything in favour of a +dissenter. + +I will not dispute with you whether the Pope be or be not the Scarlet +Lady of Babylon. I hope it is not so; because I am afraid it will +induce His Majesty's Chancellor of the Exchequer to introduce several +severe bills against popery, if that is the case; and though he will +have the decency to appoint a previous committee of inquiry as to the +fact, the committee will be garbled, and the report inflammatory. +Leaving this to be settled as he pleases to settle it, I wish to inform +you, that, previously to the bill last passed in favour of the +Catholics, at the suggestion of Mr. Pitt, and for his satisfaction, the +opinions of six of the most celebrated of the foreign Catholic +universities were taken as to the right of the Pope to interfere in the +temporal concerns of any country. The answer cannot possibly leave the +shadow of a doubt, even in the mind of Baron Maseres; and Dr. Rennel +would be compelled to admit it, if three Bishops lay dead at the very +moment the question were put to him. To this answer might be added also +the solemn declaration and signature of all the Catholics in Great +Britain. + +I should perfectly agree with you, if the Catholics admitted such a +dangerous dispensing power in the hands of the Pope; but they all deny +it, and laugh at it, and are ready to abjure it in the most decided +manner you can devise. They obey the Pope as the spiritual head of +their Church; but are you really so foolish as to be imposed upon by +mere names? What matters it the seven-thousandth part of a farthing who +is the spiritual head of any Church? Is not Mr. Wilberforce at the head +of the Church of Clapham? Is not Dr. Letsom at the head of the Quaker +Church? Is not the General Assembly at the head of the Church of +Scotland? How is the government disturbed by these many-headed +Churches? or in what way is the power of the Crown augmented by this +almost nominal dignity? + +The King appoints a fast-day once a year, and he makes the bishops: and +if the government would take half the pains to keep the Catholics out +of the arms of France that it does to widen Temple Bar, or improve Snow +Hill, the King would get into his hands the appointments of the titular +Bishops of Ireland. Both Mr. C----'s sisters enjoy pensions more than +sufficient to place the two greatest dignitaries of the Irish Catholic +Church entirely at the disposal of the Crown. Everybody who knows +Ireland knows perfectly well that nothing would be easier, with the +expenditure of a little money, than to preserve enough of the +ostensible appointment in the hands of the Pope to satisfy the scruples +of the Catholics, while the real nomination remained with the Crown. +But, as I have before said, the moment the very name of Ireland is +mentioned, the English seem to bid adieu to common feeling, common +prudence, and common sense, and to act with the barbarity of tyrants +and the fatuity of idiots. + +Whatever your opinion may be of the follies of the Roman Catholic +religion, remember they are the follies of four millions of human +beings, increasing rapidly in numbers, wealth, and intelligence, who, +if firmly united with this country, would set at defiance the power of +France, and if once wrested from their alliance with England, would in +three years render its existence as an independent nation absolutely +impossible. You speak of danger to the Establishment: I request to know +when the Establishment was ever so much in danger as when Hoche was in +Bantry Bay, and whether all the books of Bossuet, or the arts of the +Jesuits, were half so terrible? Mr. Perceval and his parsons forget all +this, in their horror lest twelve or fourteen old women may be +converted to holy water and Catholic nonsense. They never see that, +while they are saving these venerable ladies from perdition, Ireland +may be lost, England broken down, and the Protestant Church, with all +its deans, prebendaries, Percevals, and Rennels, be swept into the +vortex of oblivion. + +Do not, I beseech you, ever mention to me again the name of Dr. +Duigenan. I have been in every corner of Ireland, and have studied its +present strength and condition with no common labour. Be assured +Ireland does not contain at this moment less than 5,000,000 people. +There were returned in the year 1791 to the hearth tax 701,000 houses, +and there is no kind of question that there were about 50,000 houses +omitted in that return. Taking, however, only the number returned for +the tax, and allowing the average of six to a house (a very small +average for a potato-fed people), this brings the population to +4,200,000 people in the year 1791: and it can be shown from the +clearest evidence (and Mr. Newenham in his book shows it), that Ireland +for the last 50 years has increased in its population at the rate of +50,000 or 60,000 per annum; which leaves the present population of +Ireland at about 5,000,000, after every possible deduction for +_existing circumstances, just and necessary wars, monstrous and +unnatural rebellions_, and all other sources of human destruction. Of +this population, two out of ten are Protestants; and the half of the +Protestant population are dissenters, and as inimical to the Church as +the Catholics themselves. In this state of things thumbscrews and +whipping--admirable engines of policy as they must be considered to +be--will not ultimately avail. The Catholics will hang over you; they +will watch for the moment, and compel you hereafter to give them ten +times as much, against your will, as they would now be contented with, +if it were voluntarily surrendered. Remember what happened in the +American war, when Ireland compelled you to give her everything she +asked, and to renounce, in the most explicit manner, your claim of +sovereignty over her. God Almighty grant the folly of these present men +may not bring on such another crisis of public affairs! + +What are your dangers which threaten the Establishment? Reduce this +declamation to a point, and let us understand what you mean. The most +ample allowance does not calculate that there would be more than twenty +members who were Roman Catholics in one house, and ten in the other, if +the Catholic emancipation were carried into effect. Do you mean that +these thirty members would bring in a bill to take away the tithes from +the Protestant, and to pay them to the Catholic clergy? Do you mean +that a Catholic general would march his army into the House of Commons, +and purge it of Mr. Perceval and Dr. Duigenan? or, that the +theological writers would become all of a sudden more acute or more +learned, if the present civil incapacities were removed? Do you fear +for your tithes, or your doctrines, or your person, or the English +Constitution? Every fear, taken separately, is so glaringly absurd, +that no man has the folly or the boldness to state it. Everyone +conceals his ignorance, or his baseness, in a stupid general panic, +which, when called on, he is utterly incapable of explaining. Whatever +you think of the Catholics, there they are--you cannot get rid of them; +your alternative is to give them a lawful place for stating their +grievances, or an unlawful one: if you do not admit them to the House +of Commons, they will hold their parliament in Potatoe Place, Dublin, +and be ten times as violent and inflammatory as they would be in +Westminster. Nothing would give me such an idea of security as to see +twenty or thirty Catholic gentlemen in Parliament, looked upon by all +the Catholics as the fair and proper organ of their party. I should +have thought it the height of good fortune that such a wish existed on +their part, and the very essence of madness and ignorance to reject it. +Can you murder the Catholics? Can you neglect them? They are too +numerous for both these expedients. What remains to be done is obvious +to every human being--but to that man who, instead of being a Methodist +preacher, is, for the curse of us and our children, and for the ruin of +Troy and the misery of good old Priam and his sons, become a legislator +and a politician. + +A distinction, I perceive, is taken by one of the most feeble noblemen +in Great Britain, between persecution and the deprivation of political +power; whereas, there is no more distinction between these two things +than there is between him who makes the distinction and a booby. If I +strip off the relic-covered jacket of a Catholic, and give him twenty +stripes ... I persecute; if I say, Everybody in the town where you live +shall be a candidate for lucrative and honourable offices, but you, who +are a Catholic ... I do not persecute! What barbarous nonsense is this! +as if degradation was not as great an evil as bodily pain or as severe +poverty: as if I could not be as great a tyrant by saying, You shall +not enjoy--as by saying, You shall suffer. The English, I believe, are +as truly religious as any nation in Europe; I know no greater blessing; +but it carries with it this evil in its train, that any villain who +will bawl out, "_The Church is in danger!_" may get a place and a good +pension; and that any administration who will do the same thing may +bring a set of men into power who, at a moment of stationary and +passive piety, would be hooted by the very boys in the streets. But it +is not all religion; it is, in great part, the narrow and exclusive +spirit which delights to keep the common blessings of sun and air and +freedom from other human beings. "Your religion has always been +degraded; you are in the dust, and I will take care you never rise +again. I should enjoy less the possession of an earthly good by every +additional person to whom it was extended." You may not be aware of it +yourself, most reverend Abraham, but you deny their freedom to the +Catholics upon the same principle that Sarah, your wife, refuses to +give the receipt for a ham or a gooseberry dumpling: she values her +receipts, not because they secure to her a certain flavour, but because +they remind her that her neighbours want it:--a feeling laughable in a +priestess, shameful in a priest; venial when it withholds the blessings +of a ham, tyrannical and execrable when it narrows the boon of +religious freedom. + +You spend a great deal of ink about the character of the present prime +minister. Grant you all that you write--I say, I fear he will ruin +Ireland, and pursue a line of policy destructive to the true interest +of his country: and then you tell me, he is faithful to Mrs. Perceval, +and kind to the Master Percevals! These are, undoubtedly, the first +qualifications to be looked to in a time of the most serious public +danger; but somehow or another (if public and private virtues must +always be incompatible), I should prefer that he destroyed the domestic +happiness of Wood or Cockell, owed for the veal of the preceding year, +whipped his boys, and saved his country. + +The late administration did not do right; they did not build their +measures upon the solid basis of facts. They should have caused several +Catholics to have been dissected after death by surgeons of either +religion; and the report to have been published with accompanying +plates. If the viscera, and other organs of life, had been found to be +the same as in Protestant bodies; if the provisions of nerves, +arteries, cerebrum, and cerebellum, had been the same as we are +provided with, or as the dissenters are now known to possess; then, +indeed, they might have met Mr. Perceval upon a proud eminence, and +convinced the country at large of the strong probability that the +Catholics are really human creatures, endowed with the feelings of men, +and entitled to all their rights. But instead of this wise and prudent +measure, Lord Howick, with his usual precipitation, brings forward a +bill in their favour, without offering the slightest proof to the +country that they were anything more than horses and oxen. The person +who shows the lama at the corner of Piccadilly has the precaution to +write up--_Allowed by Sir Joseph Banks to be a real quadruped_, so his +Lordship might have said--_Allowed by the bench of Bishops to be real +human creatures_.... I could write you twenty letters upon this +subject; but I am tired, and so I suppose are you. Our friendship is +now of forty years' standing; you know me to be a truly religious man; +but I shudder to see religion treated like a cockade, or a pint of +beer, and made the instrument of a party. I love the king, but I love +the people as well as the king; and if I am sorry to see his old age +molested, I am much more sorry to see four millions of Catholics +baffled in their just expectations. If I love Lord Grenville and Lord +Howick, it is because they love their country; if I abhor ... it is +because I know there is but one man among them who is not laughing at +the enormous folly and credulity of the country, and that he is an +ignorant and mischievous bigot. As for the light and frivolous jester, +of whom it is your misfortune to think so highly, learn, my dear +Abraham, that this political Killigrew, just before the breaking up of +the last administration, was in actual treaty with them for a place; +and if they had survived twenty-four hours longer, he would have been +now declaiming against the cry of No Popery! instead of inflaming it. +With this practical comment on the baseness of human nature, I bid you +adieu! + + + + +JAMES SMITH. + +(1775-1839.) + + +LVI. THE POET OF FASHION. + + From the famous _Rejected Addresses_. + + + His book is successful, he's steeped in renown, + His lyric effusions have tickled the town; + Dukes, dowagers, dandies, are eager to trace + The fountain of verse in the verse-maker's face: + While, proud as Apollo, with peers _tête-à-tête_, + From Monday till Saturday dining off plate, + His heart full of hope, and his head full of gain, + The Poet of Fashion dines out in Park Lane. + + Now lean-jointured widows who seldom draw corks, + Whose tea-spoons do duty for knives and for forks, + Send forth, vellum-covered, a six-o'clock card, + And get up a dinner to peep at the bard; + Veal, sweetbread, boiled chickens, and tongue crown the cloth, + And soup _à la reine_, little better than broth. + While, past his meridian, but still with some heat, + The Poet of Fashion dines out in Sloane Street, + + Enrolled in the tribe who subsist by their wits, + Remember'd by starts, and forgotten by fits, + Now artists and actors, the bardling engage, + To squib in the journals, and write for the stage. + Now soup _à la reine_ bends the knee to ox-cheek, + And chickens and tongue bow to bubble-and-squeak. + While, still in translation employ'd by "the Row" + The Poet of Fashion dines out in Soho. + + Pushed down from Parnassus to Phlegethon's brink, + Toss'd, torn, and trunk-lining, but still with some ink, + Now squat city misses their albums expand, + And woo the worn rhymer for "something off-hand"; + No longer with stinted effrontery fraught, + Bucklersbury now seeks what St. James's once sought, + And (O, what a classical haunt for a bard!) + The Poet of Fashion dines out in Barge-yard. + + + + +WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. + +(1775-1864.) + + +LVII. BOSSUET AND THE DUCHESS OF FONTANGES. + + This is taken from Landor's _Imaginary Conversations_, and is one + of the best examples of his light, airy, satiric vein. + + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle, it is the King's desire that I compliment you +on the elevation you have attained. + +_Fontanges_, O monseigneur, I know very well what you mean. His Majesty +is kind and polite to everybody. The last thing he said to me was, +"Angélique! do not forget to compliment Monseigneur the Bishop on the +dignity I have conferred upon him, of almoner to the Dauphiness. I +desired the appointment for him only that he might be of rank +sufficient to confess you, now you are Duchess. Let him be your +confessor, my little girl." + +_Bossuet_. I dare not presume to ask you, mademoiselle, what was your +gracious reply to the condescension of our royal master. + +_Fontanges_. Oh, yes! you may. I told him I was almost sure I should be +ashamed of confessing such naughty things to a person of high rank, who +writes like an angel. + +_Bossuet_. The observation was inspired, mademoiselle, by your goodness +and modesty. + +_Fontanges_. You are so agreeable a man, monseigneur, I will confess to +you, directly, if you like. + +_Bossuet_. Have you brought yourself to a proper frame of mind, young +lady? + +_Fontanges_. What is that? + +_Bossuet_. Do you hate sin? + +_Fontanges_. Very much. + +_Bossuet_. Are you resolved to leave it off? + +_Fontanges_. I have left it off entirely since the King began to love +me. I have never said a spiteful word of anybody since. + +_Bossuet_. In your opinion, mademoiselle, are there no other sins than +malice? + +_Fontanges_. I never stole anything; I never committed adultery; I +never coveted my neighbour's wife; I never killed any person, though +several have told me they should die for me. + +_Bossuet_. Vain, idle talk! Did you listen to it? + +_Fontanges_. Indeed I did, with both ears; it seemed so funny. + +_Bossuet_. You have something to answer for, then? + +_Fontanges_. No, indeed, I have not, monseigneur. I have asked many +times after them, and found they were all alive, which mortified me. + +_Bossuet_. So, then! you would really have them die for you? + +_Fontanges_. Oh, no, no! but I wanted to see whether they were in +earnest, or told me fibs; for, if they told me fibs, I would never +trust them again. + +_Bossuet_. Do you hate the world, mademoiselle? + +_Fontanges_. A good deal of it: all Picardy, for example, and all +Sologne; nothing is uglier--and, oh my life! what frightful men and +women! + +_Bossuet_. I would say, in plain language, do you hate the flesh and +the devil? + +_Fontanges_. Who does not hate the devil? If you will hold my hand the +while, I will tell him so.--I hate you, beast! There now. As for flesh, +I never could bear a fat man. Such people can neither dance nor hunt, +nor do anything that I know of. + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle Marie-Angélique de Scoraille de Rousille, +Duchess de Fontanges! do you hate titles and dignities and yourself? + +_Fontanges_. Myself! does anyone hate me? Why should I be the first? +Hatred is the worst thing in the world: it makes one so very ugly. + +_Bossuet_. To love God, we must hate ourselves. We must detest our +bodies, if we would save our souls. + +_Fontanges_. That is hard: how can I do it? I see nothing so detestable +in mine. Do you? To love is easier. I love God whenever I think of him, +he has been so very good to me; but I cannot hate myself, if I would. +As God hath not hated me, why should I? Beside, it was he who made the +King to love me; for I heard you say in a sermon that the hearts of +kings are in his rule and governance. As for titles and dignities, I do +not care much about them while His Majesty loves me, and calls me his +Angélique. They make people more civil about us; and therefore it must +be a simpleton who hates or disregards them, and a hypocrite who +pretends it. I am glad to be a duchess. Manon and Lizette have never +tied my garter so as to hurt me since, nor has the mischievous old La +Grange said anything cross or bold; on the contrary, she told me what a +fine colour and what a plumpness it gave me. Would not you rather be a +duchess than a waiting-maid or a nun, if the King gave you your choice? + +_Bossuet_. Pardon me, mademoiselle, I am confounded at the levity of +your question. + +_Fontanges_. I am in earnest, as you see. + +_Bossuet_. Flattery will come before you in other and more dangerous +forms: you will be commended for excellences which do not belong to +you; and this you will find as injurious to your repose as to your +virtue. An ingenuous mind feels in unmerited praise the bitterest +reproof. If you reject it, you are unhappy; if you accept it, you are +undone. The compliments of a king are of themselves sufficient to +pervert your intellect. + +_Fontanges_. There you are mistaken twice over. It is not my person +that pleases him so greatly: it is my spirit, my wit, my talents, my +genius, and that very thing which you have mentioned--what was it? my +intellect. He never complimented me the least upon my beauty. Others +have said that I am the most beautiful young creature under heaven; a +blossom of Paradise, a nymph, an angel; worth (let me whisper it in +your ear--do I lean too hard?) a thousand Montespans. But His Majesty +never said more on the occasion than that I was _imparagonable_! (what +is that?) and that he adored me; holding my hand and sitting quite +still, when he might have romped with me and kissed me. + +_Bossuet_. I would aspire to the glory of converting you. + +_Fontanges_. You may do anything with me but convert me: you must not +do that; I am a Catholic born. M. de Turenne and Mademoiselle de Duras +were heretics: you did right there. The King told the chancellor that +he prepared them, that the business was arranged for you, and that you +had nothing to do but get ready the arguments and responses, which you +did gallantly--did not you? And yet Mademoiselle de Duras was very +awkward for a long while afterwards in crossing herself, and was once +remarked to beat her breast in the litany with the points of two +fingers at a time, when everyone is taught to use only the second, +whether it has a ring upon it or not. I am sorry she did so; for people +might think her insincere in her conversion, and pretend that she kept +a finger for each religion. + +_Bossuet_. It would be as uncharitable to doubt the conviction of +Mademoiselle de Duras as that of M. le Maréchali. + +_Fontanges_. I have heard some fine verses, I can assure you, +monseigneur, in which you are called the conqueror of Turenne. I should +like to have been his conqueror myself, he was so great a man. I +understand that you have lately done a much more difficult thing. + +_Bossuet_. To what do you refer, mademoiselle? + +_Fontanges_. That you have overcome quietism. Now, in the name of +wonder, how could you manage that? + +_Bossuet_. By the grace of God. + +_Fontanges_. Yes, indeed; but never until now did God give any preacher +so much of his grace as to subdue this pest. + +_Bossuet_. It has appeared among us but lately. + +_Fontanges_. Oh, dear me! I have always been subject to it dreadfully, +from a child. + +_Bossuet_. Really! I never heard so. + +_Fontanges_. I checked myself as well as I could, although they +constantly told me I looked well in it. + +_Bossuet_. In what, mademoiselle? + +_Fontanges_. In quietism; that is, when I fell asleep at sermon-time. I +am ashamed that such a learned and pious man as M. de Fénélon should +incline to it, as they say he does. + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle, you quite mistake the matter. + +_Fontanges_. Is not then M. de Fénélon thought a very pious and learned +person? + +_Bossuet_. And justly. + +_Fontanges_. I have read a great way in a romance he has begun, about a +knight-errant in search of a father. The King says there are many such +about his court; but I never saw them nor heard of them before. The +Marchioness de la Motte, his relative, brought it to me, written out in +a charming hand, as much as the copybook would hold; and I got through, +I know not how far. If he had gone on with the nymphs in the grotto, I +never should have been tired of him; but he quite forgot his own +story, and left them at once: in a hurry (I suppose) to set out upon +his mission to Saintonge in the _pays de d'Aunis_, where the King has +promised him a famous _heretic-hunt_. He is, I do assure you, a +wonderful creature: he understands so much Latin and Greek, and knows +all the tricks of the sorceresses. Yet you keep him under. + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle, if you really have anything to confess, and if +you desire that I should have the honour of absolving you, it would be +better to proceed in it, than to oppress me with unmerited eulogies on +my humble labours. + +_Fontanges_. You must first direct me, monseigneur: I have nothing +particular. The King assures me there is no harm whatever in his love +toward me. + +_Bossuet_. That depends on your thoughts at the moment. If you abstract +the mind from the body, and turn your heart toward heaven-- + +_Fontanges_. O monseigneur, I always did so--every time but once--you +quite make me blush. Let us converse about something else, or I shall +grow too serious, just as you made me the other day at the funeral +sermon. And now let me tell you, my lord, you compose such pretty +funeral sermons, I hope I shall have the pleasure of hearing you preach +mine. + +_Bossuet_. Rather let us hope, mademoiselle, that the hour is yet far +distant when so melancholy a service will be performed for you. May he +who is unborn be the sad announcer of your departure hence![231] May he +indicate to those around him many virtues not perhaps yet full-blown in +you, and point triumphantly to many faults and foibles checked by you +in their early growth, and lying dead on the open road you shall have +left behind you! To me the painful duty will, I trust, be spared: I am +advanced in age; you are a child. + +_Fontanges_. Oh, no! I am seventeen. + +_Bossuet_. I should have supposed you younger by two years at least. +But do you collect nothing from your own reflection, which raises so +many in my breast? You think it possible that I, aged as I am, may +preach a sermon on your funeral. We say that our days are few; and +saying it, we say too much. Marie Angélique, we have but one: the past +are not ours, and who can promise us the future? This in which we live +is ours only while we live in it; the next moment may strike it off +from us; the next sentence I would utter may be broken and fall between +us.[232] The beauty that has made a thousand hearts to beat at one +instant, at the succeeding has been without pulse and colour, without +admirer, friend, companion, follower. She by whose eyes the march of +victory shall have been directed, whose name shall have animated armies +at the extremities of the earth, drops into one of its crevices and +mingles with its dust. Duchess de Fontanges! think on this! Lady! so +live as to think on it undisturbed! + +_Fontanges_. O God! I am quite alarmed. Do not talk thus gravely. It is +in vain that you speak to me in so sweet a voice. I am frightened even +at the rattle of the beads about my neck: take them off, and let us +talk on other things. What was it that dropped on the floor as you +were speaking? It seemed to shake the room, though it sounded like a +pin or button. + +_Bossuet_. Leave it there! + +_Fontanges_. Your ring fell from your hand, my Lord Bishop! How quick +you are! Could not you have trusted me to pick it up? + +_Bossuet_. Madame is too condescending: had this happened, I should +have been overwhelmed with confusion. My hand is shrivelled: the ring +has ceased to fit it. A mere accident may draw us into perdition; a +mere accident may bestow on us the means of grace. A pebble has moved +you more than my words. + +_Fontanges_. It pleases me vastly: I admire rubies. I will ask the King +for one exactly like it. This is the time he usually comes from the +chase. I am sorry you cannot be present to hear how prettily I shall +ask him: but that is impossible, you know; for I shall do it just when +I am certain he would give me anything. He said so himself; he said but +yesterday-- + + 'Such a sweet creature is worth a world': + +and no actor on the stage was more like a king than His Majesty was +when he spoke it, if he had but kept his wig and robe on. And yet you +know he is rather stiff and wrinkled for so great a monarch; and his +eyes, I am afraid, are beginning to fail him, he looks so close at +things. + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle, such is the duty of a prince who desires to +conciliate our regard and love. + +_Fontanges_. Well, I think so too, though I did not like it in him at +first. I am sure he will order the ring for me, and I will confess to +you with it upon my finger. But first I must be cautious and particular +to know of him how much it is his royal will that I should say. + +[Footnote 231: Bossuet was in his fifty-fourth year; Mademoiselle de +Fontanges died in child-bed the year following; he survived her +twenty-three years.] + +[Footnote 232: Though Bossuet was capable of uttering and even of +feeling such a sentiment, his conduct towards Fénélon, the fairest +apparition that Christianity ever presented, was ungenerous and unjust. + +While the diocese of Cambray was ravaged by Louis, it was spared by +Marlborough, who said to the Archbishop that, if he was sorry he had +not taken Cambray, it was chiefly because he lost for a time the +pleasure of visiting so great a man. Peterborough, the next of our +generals in glory, paid his respects to him some years afterward.] + + + + +GEORGE, LORD BYRON. + +(1788-1824.) + + +LVIII. THE VISION OF JUDGMENT. + + _The Vision of Judgment_ appeared in 1822, and created a great + sensation owing to its terrible attack on George III., as well as + its ridicule of Southey, of whose long-forgotten _Vision of + Judgment_ this is a parody. + + + I. + + Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate; + His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull, + So little trouble had been given of late: + Not that the place by any means was full, + But since the Gallic era "eighty-eight", + The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull, + And "a pull all together", as they say + At sea--which drew most souls another way. + + II. + + The angels all were singing out of tune, + And hoarse with having little else to do, + Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, + Or curb a runaway young star or two, + Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon + Broke out of bounds o'er the ethereal blue, + Splitting some planet with its playful tail, + As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale. + + III. + + The guardian seraphs had retired on high, + Finding their charges past all care below; + Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky + Save the recording angel's black bureau; + Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply + With such rapidity of vice and woe, + That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills, + And yet was in arrear of human ills. + + IV. + + His business so augmented of late years, + That he was forced, against his will no doubt + (Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers), + For some resource to turn himself about, + And claim the help of his celestial peers, + To aid him ere he should be quite worn out + By the increased demand for his remarks: + Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks. + + V. + + This was a handsome board--at least for heaven; + And yet they had even then enough to do, + So many conquerors' cars were daily driven, + So many kingdoms fitted up anew; + Each day, too, slew its thousands six or seven, + Till at the crowning carnage, Waterloo, + They threw their pens down in divine disgust, + The page was so besmear'd with blood and dust. + + VI. + + This by the way; 'tis not mine to record + What angels shrink from: even the very devil + On this occasion his own work abhorr'd, + So surfeited with the infernal revel: + Though he himself had sharpen'd every sword, + It almost quench'd his innate thirst of evil. + (Here Satan's sole good work deserves insertion-- + 'Tis that he has both generals in reversion.) + + VII. + + Let's skip a few short years of hollow peace, + Which peopled earth no better, hell as wont, + And heaven none--they form the tyrant's lease, + With nothing but new names subscribed upon't: + 'Twill one day finish: meantime they increase, + "With seven heads and ten horns", and all in front, + Like Saint John's foretold beast; but ours are born + Less formidable in the head than horn. + + VIII. + + In the first year of freedom's second dawn + Died George the Third; although no tyrant, one + Who shielded tyrants, till each sense withdrawn + Left him nor mental nor external sun: + A better farmer ne'er brush'd dew from lawn, + A worse king never left a realm undone! + He died--but left his subjects still behind, + One half as mad--and t'other no less blind. + + IX. + + He died! his death made no great stir on earth: + His burial made some pomp: there was profusion + Of velvet, gilding, brass, and no great dearth + Of aught but tears--save those shed by collusion. + For these things may be bought at their true worth; + Of elegy there was the due infusion-- + Bought also; and the torches, cloaks, and banners, + Heralds, and relics of old Gothic manners, + + X. + + Form'd a sepulchral mélodrame. Of all + The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show, + Who cared about the corpse? The funeral + Made the attraction, and the black the woe, + There throbb'd not there a thought which pierced the pall; + And when the gorgeous coffin was laid low, + It seem'd the mockery of hell to fold + The rottenness of eighty years in gold. + + XI. + + So mix his body with the dust! It might + Return to what it _must_ far sooner, were + The natural compound left alone to fight + Its way back into earth, and fire, and air, + But the unnatural balsams merely blight + What nature made him at his birth, as bare + As the mere million's base unmummied clay-- + Yet all his spices but prolong decay. + + XII. + + He's dead--and upper earth with him has done; + He's buried; save the undertaker's bill, + Or lapidary's scrawl, the world has gone + For him, unless he left a German will. + But where's the proctor who will ask his son? + In whom his qualities are reigning still, + Except that household virtue, most uncommon, + Of constancy to a bad, ugly woman. + + XIII. + + "God save the King!" It is a large economy + In God to save the like; but if He will + Be saving, all the better; for not one am I + Of those who think damnation better still; + I hardly know, too, if not quite alone am I + In this small hope of bettering future ill + By circumscribing, with some slight restriction, + The eternity of hell's hot jurisdiction. + + XIV. + + I know this is unpopular; I know + 'Tis blasphemous; I know one may be damn'd + For hoping no one else may e'er be so; + I know my catechism: I know we 're cramm'd + With the best doctrines till we quite o'erflow; + I know that all save England's church have shamm'd; + And that the other twice two hundred churches + And synagogues have made a _damn'd_ bad purchase. + + XV. + + God help us all! God help me too! I am, + God knows, as helpless as the devil can wish, + And not a whit more difficult to damn, + Than is to bring to land a late-hooked fish, + Or to the butcher to purvey the lamb; + Not that I'm fit for such a noble dish, + As one day will be that immortal fry + Of almost everybody born to die. + + XVI. + + Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate, + And nodded o'er his keys; when lo! there came + A wondrous noise he had not heard of late-- + A rushing sound of wind, and stream, and flame; + In short, a roar of things extremely great, + Which would have made all save a saint exclaim; + But he, with first a start and then a wink, + Said, "There's another star gone out, I think!" + + XVII. + + But ere he could return to his repose, + A cherub flapp'd his right wing o'er his eyes-- + At which Saint Peter yawn'd and rubb'd his nose; + "Saint porter," said the angel, "prithee rise!" + Waving a goodly wing, which glow'd, as glows + An earthly peacock's tail, with heavenly dyes; + To which the Saint replied, "Well, what's the matter? + Is Lucifer come back with all this clatter?" + + XVIII. + + "No," quoth the cherub; "George the Third is dead." + "And who _is_ George the Third?" replied the apostle; + "_What George? What Third?_" "The King of England," said + The angel. "Well, he won't find kings to jostle + Him on his way; but does he wear his head? + Because the last we saw here had a tussle, + And ne'er would have got into heaven's good graces, + Had he not flung his head in all our faces. + + XIX. + + "He was, if I remember, King of France, + That head of his, which could not keep a crown + On earth, yet ventured in my face to advance + A claim to those of martyrs--like my own. + If I had had my sword, as I had once + When I cut ears off, I had cut him down; + But having but my _keys_, and not my brand, + I only knock'd his head from out his hand. + + XX. + + "And then he set up such a headless howl, + That all the saints came out and took him in; + And there he sits by St. Paul, cheek by jowl; + That fellow Paul--the parvenu! The skin + Of Saint Bartholomew, which makes his cowl + In heaven, and upon earth redeem'd his sin + So as to make a martyr, never sped + Better than did that weak and wooden head. + + XXI. + + "But had it come up here upon its shoulders, + There would have been a different tale to tell; + The fellow-feeling in the saints' beholders + Seems to have acted on them like a spell; + And so this very foolish head heaven solders + Back on its trunk: it may be very well, + And seems the custom here to overthrow + Whatever has been wisely done below." + + XXII. + + The angel answer'd, "Peter! do not pout: + The king who comes has head and all entire, + And never knew much what it was about-- + He did as doth the puppet--by its wire, + And will be judged like all the rest, no doubt: + My business and your own is not to inquire + Into such matters, but to mind our cue-- + Which is to act as we are bid to do." + + XXIII. + + While thus they spake, the angelic caravan, + Arriving like a rush of mighty wind, + Cleaving the fields of space, as doth the swan + Some silver stream (say Ganges, Nile, or Inde, + Or Thames, or Tweed), and 'midst them an old man + With an old soul, and both extremely blind, + Halted before the gate, and in his shroud + Seated their fellow-traveller on a cloud. + + XXIV. + + But bringing up the rear of this bright host, + A Spirit of a different aspect waved + His wings, like thunder-clouds above some coast + Whose barren beach with frequent wrecks is paved; + His brow was like the deep when tempest-toss'd; + Fierce and unfathomable thoughts engraved + Eternal wrath on his immortal face, + And _where_ he gazed, a gloom pervaded space. + + XXV. + + As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate + Ne'er to be enter'd more by him or Sin, + With such a glance of supernatural hate, + As made St. Peter wish himself within: + He patter'd with his keys at a great rate, + And sweated through his apostolic skin: + Of course his perspiration was but ichor, + Or some such other spiritual liquor. + + XXVI. + + The very cherubs huddled all together, + Like birds when soars the falcon; and they felt + A tingling to the tip of every feather, + And form'd a circle like Orion's belt + Around their poor old charge; who scarce knew whither + His guards had led him, though they gently dealt + With royal manes (for by many stories, + And true, we learn the angels all are Tories). + + XXVII. + + As things were in this posture, the gate flew + Asunder, and the flashing of its hinges + Flung over space an universal hue + Of many-color'd flame, until its tinges + Reach'd even our speck of earth, and made a new + Aurora Borealis spread its fringes + O'er the North Pole, the same seen, when ice-bound, + By Captain Perry's crew, in "Melville's Sound". + + XXVIII. + + And from the gate thrown open issued beaming + A beautiful and mighty Thing of Light, + Radiant with glory, like a banner streaming + Victorious from some world-o'erthrowing fight: + My poor comparisons must needs be teeming + With earthly likenesses, for here the night + Of clay obscures our best conceptions, saving + Johanna Southcote, or Bob Southey raving. + + XXIX. + + 'Twas the archangel Michael: all men know + The make of angels and archangels, since + There's scarce a scribbler has not one to show, + From the fiends' leader to the angels' prince. + There also are some altar-pieces, though + I really can't say that they much evince + One's inner notions of immortal spirits; + But let the connoisseurs explain _their_ merits. + + XXX. + + Michael flew forth in glory and in good, + A goodly work of Him from whom all glory + And good arise: the portal pass'd--he stood + Before him the young cherubs and saints hoary-- + (I say _young_, begging to be understood + By looks, not years, and should be very sorry + To state, they were not older than St. Peter, + But merely that they seem'd a little sweeter). + + XXXI. + + The cherubs and the saints bow'd down before + That archangelic hierarch, the first + Of essences angelical, who wore + The aspect of a god; but this ne'er nursed + Pride in his heavenly bosom, in whose core + No thought, save for his Maker's service, durst + Intrude, however glorified and high; + He knew him but the viceroy of the sky. + + XXXII. + + He and the sombre silent Spirit met-- + They knew each other both for good and ill; + Such was their power that neither could forget + His former friend and future foe; but still + There was a high, immortal, proud regret + In either's eye, as if't were less their will + Than destiny to make the eternal years + Their date of war, and their _champ clos_ the spheres. + + XXXIII. + + But here they were in neutral space: we know + From Job, that Satan hath the power to pay + A heavenly visit thrice a year or so; + And that "the sons of God", like those of clay, + Must keep him company; and we might show + From the same book, in how polite a way + The dialogue is held between the powers + Of Good and Evil--but 'twould take up hours. + + XXXIV. + + And this is not a theologic tract, + To prove with Hebrew and with Arabic, + If Job be allegory or a fact, + But a true narrative; and thus I pick + From out the whole but such and such an act, + As sets aside the slightest thought of trick. + 'Tis every tittle true, beyond suspicion, + And accurate as any other vision. + + + +LIX. THE WALTZ. + + Published in 1813 and described by its author as an "Apostrophic + Hymn". + + + Muse of the many-twinkling feet! whose charms + Are now extended up from legs to arms; + Terpsichore!--too long misdeem'd a maid-- + Reproachful term--bestow'd but to upbraid-- + Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine, + The least a vestal of the virgin Nine. + Far be from thee and thine the name of prude; + Mock'd, yet triumphant; sneer'd at, unsubdued; + Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly, + If but thy coats are reasonably high; + Thy breast, if bare enough, requires no shield: + Dance forth--_sans armour_ thou shalt take the field, + And own--impregnable to _most_ assaults, + Thy not too lawfully begotten "Waltz". + + Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young huzzar, + The whisker'd votary of waltz and war, + His night devotes, despite of spurs and boots; + A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes: + Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz! beneath whose banners + A modern hero fought for modish manners; + On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's fame, + Cock'd, fired, and miss'd his man--but gain'd his aim: + Hail, moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast + Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest. + Oh, for the flow of Busby or of Fitz, + The latter's loyalty, the former's wits, + To "energize the object I pursue", + And give both Belial and his dance their due! + + Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine + (Famed for the growth of pedigree and wine), + Long be thine import from all duty free, + And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee; + In some few qualities alike--for hock + Improves our cellar--_thou_ our living stock. + The head to hock belongs--thy subtler art + Intoxicates alone the heedless heart: + Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims, + And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs. + + O Germany! how much to thee we owe, + As heaven-born Pitt can testify below. + Ere cursed confederation made thee France's, + And only left us thy d--d debts and dances! + Of subsidies and Hanover bereft, + We bless thee still--for George the Third is left! + Of kings the best, and last not least in worth, + For graciously begetting George the Fourth. + To Germany, and highnesses serene, + Who owe us millions--don't we owe the queen? + To Germany, what owe we not besides? + So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides: + Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood, + Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud; + Who sent us--so be pardon'd all our faults-- + A dozen dukes, some kings, a queen--and Waltz. + + But peace to her, her emperor and diet, + Though now transferr'd to Bonaparte's "fiat!" + Back to thy theme--O Muse of motion! say, + How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way? + + Borne on thy breath of hyperborean gales + From Hamburg's port (while Hamburg yet had _mails_), + Ere yet unlucky Fame, compelled to creep + To snowy Gottenburg was chill'd to sleep; + Or, starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise, + Heligoland, to stock thy mart with lies; + While unburnt Moscow yet had news to send, + Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend. + She came--Waltz came--and with her certain sets + Of true despatches, and as true gazettes: + Then flamed of Austerlitz the blest despatch, + Which _Moniteur_ nor _Morning Post_ can match; + And, almost crush'd beneath the glorious news, + Ten plays, and forty tales of Kotzebue's; + One envoy's letters, six composers' airs, + And loads from Frankfort and from Leipsic fairs: + Meiner's four volumes upon womankind, + Like Lapland witches to ensure a wind; + Brunck's heaviest tome for ballast, and, to back it, + Of Heynè, such as should not sink the packet. + + Fraught with this cargo, and her fairest freight, + Delightful Waltz, on tiptoe for a mate, + The welcome vessel reach'd the genial strand, + And round her flock'd the daughters of the land. + Not decent David, when, before the ark, + His grand _pas-seul_ excited some remark, + Not love-lorn Quixote, when his Sancho thought + The knight's fandango friskier than it ought; + Not soft Herodias, when, with winning tread, + Her nimble feet danced off another's head; + Not Cleopatra on her galley's deck, + Display'd so much of _leg_, or more of _neck_, + Than thou ambrosial Waltz, when first the moon + Beheld thee twirling to a Saxon tune! + + To you, ye husbands of ten years whose brows + Ache with the annual tributes of a spouse; + To you of nine years less, who only bear + The budding sprouts of those that you _shall_ wear, + With added ornaments around them roll'd + Of native brass, or law-awarded gold: + To you, ye matrons, ever on the watch + To mar a son's, or make a daughter's match; + To you, ye children of--whom chance accords-- + _Always_ the ladies, and _sometimes_ their lords; + To you, ye single gentlemen, who seek + Torments for life, or pleasures for a week; + As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide, + To gain your own, or snatch another's bride;-- + To one and all the lovely stranger came, + And every ball-room echoes with her name. + + Endearing Waltz! to thy more melting tune + Bow Irish jig and ancient rigadoon. + Scotch reels, avaunt! and country dance forego + Your future claims to each fantastic toe! + Waltz, Waltz alone, both legs and arms demands, + Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands; + Hands which may freely range in public sight + Where ne'er before--but--pray "put out the light". + Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier + Shines much too far, or I am much too near; + And true, though strange, Waltz whispers this remark, + "My slippery steps are safest in the dark!" + But here the Muse with due decorum halts, + And lends her longest petticoat to Waltz. + + Observant travellers of every time! + Ye quartos publish'd upon every clime! + Oh, say, shall dull Romaika's heavy round, + Fandango's wriggle, or Bolero's bound; + Can Egypt's Almas--tantalizing group-- + Columbia's caperers to the warlike whoop-- + Can aught from cold Kamschatka to Cape Horn + With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be borne? + Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt's, + Each tourist pens a paragraph for "Waltz". + + Shades of those belles whose reign began of yore, + With George the Third's--and ended long before!-- + Though in your daughters' daughters yet you thrive, + Burst from your lead, and be yourselves alive! + Back to the ball-room speed your spectred host; + Fools' Paradise is dull to that you lost. + No treacherous powder bids conjecture quake; + No stiff-starch'd stays make meddling fingers ache + (Transferr'd to those ambiguous things that ape + Goats in their visage, women in their shape): + No damsel faints when rather closely press'd, + But more caressing seems when most caress'd; + Superfluous hartshorn and reviving salts; + Both banished, by the sovereign cordial, "Waltz". + + Seductive Waltz!--though on thy native shore + Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore: + Werter--to decent vice though much inclined, + Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blind-- + Though gentle Genlis, in her strife with Staël, + Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball; + The fashion hails--from countesses to queens, + And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes; + Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads, + And turns--if nothing else--at least our _heads_; + With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce, + And cockneys practise what they can't pronounce. + Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts, + And rhyme finds partner rhyme in praise of "Waltz!" + + Blest was the time Waltz chose for her _début_: + The court, the Regent, like herself, were new, + New face for friends, for foes some new rewards; + New ornaments for black and royal guards; + New laws to hang the rogues that roar'd for bread; + New coins (most new) to follow those that fled; + New victories--nor can we prize them less, + Though Jenky wonders at his own success; + New wars, because the old succeed so well, + That most survivors envy those who fell; + New mistresses--no, old--and yet 'tis true, + Though they be _old_, the _thing_ is something new; + Each new, quite new--(except some ancient tricks), + New white-sticks, gold-sticks, broom-sticks, all new sticks! + With vests or ribbons, deck'd alike in hue, + New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue; + So saith the muse! my ----, what say you? + Such was the time when Waltz might best maintain + Her new preferments in this novel reign; + Such was the time, nor ever yet was such: + Hoops are _no more_, and petticoats _not much_: + Morals and minuets, virtue and her stays, + And tell-tale powder--all have had their days. + The ball begins--the honours of the house + First duly done by daughter or by spouse, + Some potentate--or royal or serene-- + With Kent's gay grace, or sapient Glo'ster's mien, + Leads forth the ready dame, whose rising flush + Might once have been mistaken for a blush, + From where the garb just leaves the bosom free, + That spot where hearts were once supposed to be; + Round all the confines of the yielded waist, + The stranger's hand may wander undisplaced; + The lady's in return may grasp as much + As princely paunches offer to her touch. + Pleased round the chalky floor how well they trip, + One hand reposing on the royal hip: + The other to the shoulder no less royal + Ascending with affection truly loyal! + Thus front to front the partners move or stand, + The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand; + And all in turn may follow in their rank, + The Earl of--Asterisk--and Lady--Blank; + Sir--Such-a-one--with those of fashion's host, + For whose blest surnames--_vide Morning Post_ + (Or if for that impartial print too late, + Search Doctors' Commons six months from my date)-- + Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow, + The genial contact gently undergo; + Till some might marvel, with the modest Turk, + If "nothing follows all this palming work". + True, honest Mirza!--you may trust my rhyme-- + Something does follow at a fitter time; + The breast thus publicly resign'd to man + In private may resist him--if it can. + + O ye who loved our grandmothers of yore, + Fitzpatrick, Sheridan, and many more! + And thou, my prince! whose sovereign taste and will + It is to love the lovely beldames still! + Thou ghost of Queensbury! whose judging sprite + Satan may spare to peep a single night, + Pronounce--if ever in your days of bliss + Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this; + To teach the young ideas how to rise, + Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes; + Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame, + With half-told wish and ill-dissembled flame; + For prurient nature still will storm the breast-- + _Who_, tempted thus, can answer for the rest? + + But ye, who never felt a single thought, + For what our morals are to be, or ought; + Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap, + Say--would you make those beauties quite so cheap? + Hot from the hands promiscuously applied, + Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side, + Where were the rapture then to clasp the form + From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm? + At once love's most endearing thought resign, + To press the hand so press'd by none but thine; + To gaze upon that eye which never met + Another's ardent look without regret; + Approach the lip which all, without restraint, + Come near enough--if not to touch--to taint; + If such thou lovest--love her then no more, + Or give--like her--caresses to a score; + Her mind with these is gone, and with it go + The little left behind it to bestow. + + Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme? + The bard forgot thy praises were his theme. + Terpsichore, forgive!--at every ball + My wife _now_ waltzes--and my daughters _shall_; + _My_ son--(or stop--'tis needless to inquire-- + These little accidents should ne'er transpire; + Some ages hence our genealogic tree + Will wear as green a bough for him as me)-- + Waltzing shall rear, to make our name amends, + Grandsons for me--in heirs to all his friends. + + + +LX. "THE DEDICATION" IN DON JUAN. + + Southey as Poet Laureate was a favourite target for satirical quips + and cranks on the part of Byron. This "Dedication" was not + published until after the author's death. + + + I. + + Bob Southey! You're a poet--Poet-laureate, + And representative of all the race; + Although 'tis true that you turn'd out a Tory + Last--yours has lately been a common case-- + And now, my Epic Renegade! what are ye at? + With all the Lakers, in and out of place? + A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye + Like "four-and-twenty Blackbirds in a pie; + + II. + + "Which pie being open'd they began to sing" + (This old song and new simile holds good), + "A dainty dish to set before the King", + Or Regent, who admires such kind of food-- + And Coleridge, too, has lately taken wing, + But like a hawk encumber'd with his hood-- + Explaining metaphysics to the nation-- + I wish he would explain his Explanation. + + III. + + You, Bob, are rather insolent, you know + At being disappointed in your wish + To supersede all warblers here below, + And be the only blackbird in the dish; + And then you overstrain yourself, or so, + And tumble downward like the flying fish + Gasping on deck, because you soar too high, Bob, + And fall, for lack of moisture quite a-dry, Bob! + + IV. + + And Wordsworth, in a rather long "Excursion" + (I think the quarto holds five hundred pages), + Has given a sample from the vasty version + Of his new system to perplex the sages; + 'Tis poetry--at least by his assertion, + And may appear so when the dog-star rages-- + And he who understands it would be able + To add a story to the Tower of Babel. + + V. + + You--Gentlemen! by dint of long seclusion + From better company, have kept your own + At Keswick, and, through still continued fusion + Of one another's minds, at last have grown + To deem as a most logical conclusion, + That Poesy has wreaths for you alone; + There is a narrowness in such a notion, + Which makes me wish you'd change your lakes for ocean. + + VI. + + I would not imitate the petty thought, + Nor coin my self-love to so base a vice, + For all the glory your conversion brought, + Since gold alone should not have been its price, + You have your salary; was't for that you wrought? + And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise! + You're shabby fellows--true--but poets still, + And duly seated on the immortal hill. + + VII. + + Your bays may hide the baldness of your brows-- + Perhaps some virtuous blushes, let them go-- + To you I envy neither fruit nor boughs, + And for the fame you would engross below, + The field is universal, and allows + Scope to all such as feel the inherent glow; + Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe, will try + 'Gainst you the question with posterity. + + VIII. + + For me, who, wandering with pedestrian Muses, + Contend not with you on the winged steed, + I wish your fate may yield ye, when she chooses, + The fame you envy and the skill you need; + And recollect a poet nothing loses + In giving to his brethren their full meed + Of merit, and complaint of present days + Is not the certain path to future praise. + + IX. + + He that reserves his laurels for posterity + (Who does not often claim the bright reversion) + Has generally no great crop to spare it, he + Being only injured by his own assertion; + And although here and there some glorious rarity + Arise like Titan from the sea's immersion, + The major part of such appellants go + To--God knows where--for no one else can know. + + X. + + If, fallen in evil days on evil tongues, + Milton appealed to the Avenger, Time, + If Time, the Avenger, execrates his wrongs, + And makes the word "Miltonic" mean "_sublime_", + _He_ deign'd not to belie his soul in songs, + Nor turn his very talent to a crime; + _He_ did not loathe the sire to laud the son, + But closed the tyrant-hater he begun. + + XI. + + Think'st thou, could he--the blind old man--arise, + Like Samuel from the grave, to freeze once more + The blood of monarchs with his prophecies, + Or be alive again--again all hoar + With time and trials, and those helpless eyes, + And heartless daughters--worn--and pale--and poor: + Would _he_ adore a sultan? _he_ obey + The intellectual eunuch Castlereagh? + + XII. + + Cold-blooded, smooth-faced, placid miscreant! + Dabbling its sleek young hands in Erin's gore, + And thus for wider carnage taught to pant, + Transferr'd to gorge upon a sister shore, + The vulgarest tool that Tyranny could want, + With just enough of talent, and no more, + To lengthen fetters by another fix'd. + And offer poison long already mix'd. + + XIII. + + An orator of such set trash of phrase + Ineffably--legitimately vile, + That even its grossest flatterers dare not praise, + Nor foes--all nations--condescend to smile; + Not even a sprightly blunder's spark can blaze + From that Ixion grindstone's ceaseless toil, + That turns and turns to give the world a notion + Of endless torments and perpetual motion. + + XIV. + + A bungler even in its disgusting trade, + And botching, patching, leaving still behind + Something of which its masters are afraid, + States to be curb'd, and thoughts to be confined, + Conspiracy or Congress to be made-- + Cobbling at manacles for all mankind-- + A tinkering slave-maker, who mends old chains, + With God and man's abhorrence for its gains. + + XV. + + If we may judge of matter by the mind, + Emasculated to the marrow _It_ + Hath but two objects, how to serve, and bind, + Deeming the chain it wears even men may fit, + Eutropius of its many masters,--blind + To worth as freedom, wisdom as to wit, + Fearless--because _no_ feeling dwells in ice, + Its very courage stagnates to a vice. + + XVI. + + Where shall I turn me not to _view_ its bonds, + For I will never _feel_ them:--Italy! + Thy late reviving Roman soul desponds + Beneath the lie this State-thing breathed o'er thee-- + Thy clanking chain, and Erin's yet green wounds, + Have voices--tongues to cry aloud for me. + Europe has slaves--allies--kings--armies still, + And Southey lives to sing them very ill. + + XVII. + + Meantime, Sir Laureate, I proceed to dedicate, + In honest simple verse, this song to you. + And if in flattering strains I do not predicate, + 'Tis that I still retain my "buff and blue"; + My politics as yet are all to educate: + Apostasy's so fashionable, too, + To keep _one_ creed's a task grown quite Herculean: + Is it not so, my Tory, Ultra-Julian? + +VENICE, September 16, 1818. + + + + +THOMAS HOOD. + +(1798-1845.) + + +LXI. COCKLE _v_. CACKLE. + + This is not meant as a "cut" at that standard medicine named + therein which has wrought such good in its day; but is a satire on + quack advertising generally. The more worthless the nostrum, the + more universal the advertising of it, such is the moral of Hood's + satire. + + + Those who much read advertisements and bills, + Must have seen puffs of Cockle's Pills, + Call'd Anti-bilious-- + Which some physicians sneer at, supercilious, + But which we are assured, if timely taken, + May save your liver and bacon; + Whether or not they really give one ease, + I, who have never tried, + Will not decide; + But no two things in union go like these-- + Viz.--quacks and pills--save ducks and pease. + Now Mrs. W. was getting sallow, + Her lilies not of the white kind, but yellow, + And friends portended was preparing for + A human pâté périgord; + She was, indeed, so very far from well, + Her son, in filial fear, procured a box + Of those said pellets to resist bile's shocks, + And--tho' upon the ear it strangely knocks-- + To save her by a Cockle from a shell! + But Mrs. W., just like Macbeth, + Who very vehemently bids us "throw + Bark to the Bow-wows", hated physic so, + It seem'd to share "the bitterness of Death": + Rhubarb--Magnesia--Jalap, and the kind-- + Senna--Steel--Assa-foetida, and Squills-- + Powder or Draught--but least her throat inclined + To give a course to boluses or pills; + No--not to save her life, in lung or lobe, + For all her lights' or all her liver's sake, + Would her convulsive thorax undertake, + Only one little uncelestial globe! + + 'Tis not to wonder at, in such a case, + If she put by the pill-box in a place + For linen rather than for drugs intended-- + Yet for the credit of the pills let's say + After they thus were stow'd away, + Some of the linen mended; + But Mrs. W. by disease's dint, + Kept getting still more yellow in her tint, + When lo! her second son, like elder brother, + Marking the hue on the parental gills, + Brought a new charge of Anti-tumeric Pills, + To bleach the jaundiced visage of his mother-- + Who took them--in her cupboard--like the other. + + "Deeper and deeper still", of course, + The fatal colour daily grew in force; + Till daughter W. newly come from Rome, + Acting the self-same filial, pillial, part, + To cure Mamma, another dose brought home + Of Cockles;--not the Cockles of her heart! + These going where the others went before, + Of course she had a very pretty store; + And then--some hue of health her cheek adorning, + The medicine so good must be, + They brought her dose on dose, which she + Gave to the up-stairs cupboard, "night and morning". + Till wanting room at last, for other stocks, + Out of the window one fine day she pitch'd + The pillage of each box, and quite enrich'd + The feed of Mister Burrell's hens and cocks,-- + A little Barber of a by-gone day, + Over the way + Whose stock in trade, to keep the least of shops, + Was one great head of Kemble,--that is, John, + Staring in plaster, with a Brutus on, + And twenty little Bantam fowls--with crops. + Little Dame W. thought when through the sash + She gave the physic wings, + To find the very things + So good for bile, so bad for chicken rash, + For thoughtless cock, and unreflecting pullet! + But while they gathered up the nauseous nubbles, + Each peck'd itself into a peck of troubles, + And brought the hand of Death upon its gullet. + They might as well have addled been, or ratted, + For long before the night--ah woe betide + The Pills! each suicidal Bantam died + Unfatted! + + Think of poor Burrel's shock, + Of Nature's debt to see his hens all payers, + And laid in death as Everlasting Layers, + With Bantam's small Ex-Emperor, the Cock, + In ruffled plumage and funereal hackle, + Giving, undone by Cockle, a last Cackle! + To see as stiff as stone, his un'live stock, + It really was enough to move his block. + Down on the floor he dash'd, with horror big, + Mr. Bell's third wife's mother's coachman's wig; + And with a tragic stare like his own Kemble, + Burst out with natural emphasis enough, + And voice that grief made tremble, + Into that very speech of sad Macduff-- + "What!--all my pretty chickens and their dam, + At one fell swoop!-- + Just when I'd bought a coop + To see the poor lamented creatures cram!" + + After a little of this mood, + And brooding over the departed brood, + With razor he began to ope each craw, + Already turning black, as black as coals; + When lo! the undigested cause he saw-- + "Pison'd by goles!" + + To Mrs. W.'s luck a contradiction, + Her window still stood open to conviction; + And by short course of circumstantial labour, + He fix'd the guilt upon his adverse neighbour;-- + Lord! how he rail'd at her: declaring how, + He'd bring an action ere next Term of Hilary, + Then, in another moment, swore a vow, + He'd make her do pill-penance in the pillory! + She, meanwhile distant from the dimmest dream + Of combating with guilt, yard-arm or arm-yard, + Lapp'd in a paradise of tea and cream; + When up ran Betty with a dismal scream-- + "Here's Mr. Burrell, ma'am, with all his farmyard!" + Straight in he came, unbowing and unbending, + With all the warmth that iron and a barbe + Can harbour; + To dress the head and front of her offending, + The fuming phial of his wrath uncorking; + In short, he made her pay him altogether, + In hard cash, very _hard_, for ev'ry feather, + Charging of course, each Bantam as a Dorking; + Nothing could move him, nothing make him supple, + So the sad dame unpocketing her loss, + Had nothing left but to sit hands across, + And see her poultry "going down ten couple". + + Now birds by poison slain, + As venom'd dart from Indian's hollow cane, + Are edible; and Mrs. W.'s thrift,-- + She had a thrifty vein,-- + Destined one pair for supper to make shift,-- + Supper as usual at the hour of ten: + But ten o'clock arrived and quickly pass'd, + Eleven--twelve--and one o'clock at last, + Without a sign of supper even then! + At length the speed of cookery to quicken, + Betty was called, and with reluctant feet, + Came up at a white heat-- + "Well, never I see chicken like them chicken! + My saucepans, they have been a pretty while in 'em! + Enough to stew them, if it comes to that, + To flesh and bones, and perfect rags; but drat + Those Anti-biling Pills! there is no bile in 'em!" + + + + +LORD MACAULAY. + +(1800-1859.) + + +LXII. THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRIP TO CAMBRIDGE. + + This is one of the numerous _jeux d'esprit_ in which Macaulay, in + his earlier years, indulged at election times. It was written in + 1827. + + + As I sate down to breakfast in state, + At my living of Tithing-cum-Boring, + With Betty beside me to wait, + Came a rap that almost beat the door in. + I laid down my basin of tea, + And Betty ceased spreading the toast, + "As sure as a gun, sir," said she, + "That must be the knock of the Post". + + A letter--and free--bring it here, + I have no correspondent who franks. + No! yes! can it be? Why, my dear, + 'Tis our glorious, our Protestant Bankes. + "Dear sir, as I know you desire + That the Church should receive due protection + I humbly presume to require + Your aid at the Cambridge election. + + "It has lately been brought to my knowledge, + That the Ministers fully design + To suppress each cathedral and college, + And eject every learned divine. + To assist this detestable scheme + Three nuncios from Rome are come over; + They left Calais on Monday by steam, + And landed to dinner at Dover. + + "An army of grim Cordeliers, + Well furnish'd with relics and vermin, + Will follow, Lord Westmoreland fears, + To effect what their chiefs may determine. + Lollards' tower, good authorities say, + Is again fitting up as a prison; + And a wood-merchant told me to-day + 'Tis a wonder how faggots have risen. + + "The finance-scheme of Canning contains + A new Easter-offering tax: + And he means to devote all the gains + To a bounty on thumb-screws and racks. + Your living, so neat and compact-- + Pray, don't let the news give you pain? + Is promised, I know for a fact, + To an olive-faced padre from Spain." + + I read, and I felt my heart bleed, + Sore wounded with horror and pity; + So I flew, with all possible speed, + To our Protestant champion's committee. + True gentlemen, kind and well bred! + No fleering! no distance! no scorn! + They asked after my wife who is dead, + And my children who never were born. + + They then, like high-principled Tories, + Called our Sovereign unjust and unsteady, + And assailed him with scandalous stories, + Till the coach for the voters was ready. + That coach might be well called a casket + Of learning and brotherly love: + There were parsons in boot and in basket; + There were parsons below and above. + + There were Sneaker and Griper, a pair + Who stick to Lord Mulesby like leeches; + A smug chaplain of plausible air, + Who writes my Lord Goslingham's speeches. + Dr. Buzz, who alone is a host, + Who, with arguments weighty as lead, + Proves six times a week in the _Post_ + That flesh somehow differs from bread. + + Dr. Nimrod, whose orthodox toes + Are seldom withdrawn from the stirrup. + Dr. Humdrum, whose eloquence flows, + Like droppings of sweet poppy syrup; + Dr. Rosygill puffing and fanning, + And wiping away perspiration; + Dr. Humbug, who proved Mr. Canning + The beast in St. John's Revelation. + + A layman can scarce form a notion + Of our wonderful talk on the road; + Of the learning, the wit, and devotion, + Which almost each syllable show'd: + Why, divided allegiance agrees + So ill with our free constitution; + How Catholics swear as they please, + In hope of the priest's absolution: + + How the Bishop of Norwich had barter'd + His faith for a legate's commission; + How Lyndhurst, afraid to be martyr'd, + Had stooped to a base coalition; + How Papists are cased from compassion + By bigotry, stronger than steel; + How burning would soon come in fashion, + And how very bad it must feel. + + We were all so much touched and excited + By a subject so direly sublime, + That the rules of politeness were slighted, + And we all of us talked at a time; + And in tones, which each moment grew louder, + Told how we should dress for the show, + And where we should fasten the powder, + And if we should bellow or no. + + Thus from subject to subject we ran, + And the journey pass'd pleasantly o'er, + Till at last Dr. Humdrum began: + From that time I remember no more. + At Ware he commenced his prelection, + In the dullest of clerical drones: + And when next I regained recollection + We were rumbling o'er Trumpington stones. + + + + +WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. + +(1802-1839.) + + +LXIII. THE RED FISHERMAN; OR, THE DEVIL'S DECOY. + + Published in Knight's _Annual_. + + + The Abbot arose, and closed his book, + And donned his sandal shoon, + And wandered forth alone, to look + Upon the summer moon: + A starlight sky was o'er his head, + A quiet breeze around; + And the flowers a thrilling fragrance shed + And the waves a soothing sound: + It was not an hour, nor a scene, for aught + But love and calm delight; + Yet the holy man had a cloud of thought + On his wrinkled brow that night. + He gazed on the river that gurgled by, + But he thought not of the reeds + He clasped his gilded rosary, + But he did not tell the beads; + If he looked to the heaven, 'twas not to invoke + The Spirit that dwelleth there; + If he opened his lips, the words they spoke + Had never the tone of prayer. + A pious priest might the Abbot seem, + He had swayed the crozier well; + But what was the theme of the Abbot's dream, + The Abbot were loth to tell. + + Companionless, for a mile or more, + He traced the windings of the shore. + Oh beauteous is that river still, + As it winds by many a sloping hill, + And many a dim o'erarching grove, + And many a flat and sunny cove, + And terraced lawns, whose bright arcades + The honeysuckle sweetly shades, + And rocks, whose very crags seem bowers, + So gay they are with grass and flowers! + But the Abbot was thinking of scenery + About as much, in sooth, + As a lover thinks of constancy, + Or an advocate of truth. + He did not mark how the skies in wrath + Grew dark above his head; + He did not mark how the mossy path + Grew damp beneath his tread; + And nearer he came, and still more near, + To a pool, in whose recess + The water had slept for many a year, + Unchanged and motionless; + From the river stream it spread away + The space of half a rood; + The surface had the hue of clay + And the scent of human blood; + The trees and the herbs that round it grew + Were venomous and foul, + And the birds that through the bushes flew + Were the vulture and the owl; + The water was as dark and rank + As ever a Company pumped, + And the perch that was netted and laid on the bank + Grew rotten while it jumped; + And bold was he who thither came + At midnight, man or boy, + For the place was cursed with an evil name, + And that name was "The Devil's Decoy"! + + The Abbot was weary as abbot could be, + And he sat down to rest on the stump of a tree: + When suddenly rose a dismal tone,-- + Was it a song, or was it a moan?-- + "O ho! O ho! + Above,--below,-- + Lightly and brightly they glide and go! + The hungry and keen on the top are leaping, + The lazy and fat in the depths are sleeping; + Fishing is fine when the pool is muddy, + Broiling is rich when the coals are ruddy!"-- + In a monstrous fright, by the murky light, + He looked to the left and he looked to the right; + And what was the vision close before him + That flung such a sudden stupor o'er him? + 'Twas a sight to make the hair uprise, + And the life-blood colder run: + The startled Priest struck both his thigh, + And the abbey clock struck one! + + All alone, by the side of the pool, + A tall man sat on a three-legged stool, + Kicking his heels on the dewy sod, + And putting in order his reel and rod; + Red were the rags his shoulders wore, + And a high red cap on his head he bore; + His arms and his legs were long and bare; + And two or three locks of long red hair + Were tossing about his scraggy neck, + Like a tattered flag o'er a splitting wreck. + It might be time, or it might be trouble, + Had bent that stout back nearly double, + Sunk in their deep and hollow sockets + That blazing couple of Congreve rockets, + And shrunk and shrivelled that tawny skin, + Till it hardly covered the bones within. + The line the Abbot saw him throw + Had been fashioned and formed long ages ago, + And the hands that worked his foreign vest + Long ages ago had gone to their rest: + You would have sworn, as you looked on them, + He had fished in the flood with Ham and Shem! + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he took forth a bait from his iron box. + Minnow or gentle, worm or fly,-- + It seemed not such to the Abbot's eye; + Gaily it glittered with jewel and jem, + And its shape was the shape of a diadem. + It was fastened a gleaming hook about + By a chain within and a chain without; + The Fisherman gave it a kick and a spin, + And the water fizzed as it tumbled in! + + From the bowels of the earth, + Strange and varied sounds had birth; + Now the battle's bursting peal, + Neigh of steed, and clang of steel; + Now an old man's hollow groan + Echoed from the dungeon stone; + Now the weak and wailing cry + Of a stripling's agony!-- + Cold by this was the midnight air; + But the Abbot's blood ran colder, + When he saw a gasping knight lie there, + With a gash beneath his clotted hair, + And a hump upon his shoulder. + And the loyal churchman strove in vain + To mutter a Pater Noster; + For he who writhed in mortal pain + Was camped that night on Bosworth plain-- + The cruel Duke of Glo'ster! + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he took forth a bait from his iron box. + It was a haunch of princely size, + Filling with fragrance earth and skies. + The corpulent Abbot knew full well + The swelling form, and the steaming smell; + Never a monk that wore a hood + Could better have guessed the very wood + Where the noble hart had stood at bay, + Weary and wounded, at close of day. + + Sounded then the noisy glee + Of a revelling company,-- + Sprightly story, wicked jest, + Rated servant, greeted guest, + Flow of wine, and flight of cork, + Stroke of knife, and thrust of fork: + But, where'er the board was spread, + Grace, I ween, was never said!-- + Pulling and tugging the Fisherman sat; + And the Priest was ready to vomit, + When he hauled out a gentleman, fine and fat, + With a belly as big as a brimming vat, + And a nose as red as a comet. + "A capital stew," the Fisherman said, + "With cinnamon and sherry!" + And the Abbot turned away his head, + For his brother was lying before him dead, + The Mayor of St. Edmund's Bury! + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he took forth a bait from his iron box. + It was a bundle of beautiful things,-- + A peacock's tail and a butterfly's wings, + A scarlet slipper, an auburn curl, + A mantle of silk, and a bracelet of pearl, + And a packet of letters, from whose sweet fold + Such a stream of delicate odours rolled, + That the Abbot fell on his face, and fainted, + And deemed his spirit was half-way sainted. + + Sounds seemed dropping from the skies, + Stifled whispers, smothered sighs, + And the breath of vernal gales, + And the voice of nightingales: + But the nightingales were mute, + Envious, when an unseen lute + Shaped the music of its chords + Into passion's thrilling words: + "Smile, Lady, smile!--I will not set + Upon my brow the coronet, + Till thou wilt gather roses white + To wear around its gems of light. + Smile, Lady, smile!--I will not see + Rivers and Hastings bend the knee, + Till those bewitching lips of thine + Will bid me rise in bliss from mine. + Smile, Lady, smile!--for who would win + A loveless throne through guilt and sin? + Or who would reign o'er vale and hill, + If woman's heart were rebel still?" + + One jerk, and there a lady lay, + A lady wondrous fair; + But the rose of her lip had faded away, + And her cheek was as white and as cold as clay, + And torn was her raven hair. + "Ah ha!" said the Fisher, in merry guise, + "Her gallant was hooked before;" + And the Abbot heaved some piteous sighs, + For oft he had blessed those deep blue eyes, + The eyes of Mistress Shore! + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he took forth a bait from his iron box. + Many the cunning sportsman tried, + Many he flung with a frown aside; + A minstrel's harp, and a miser's chest, + A hermit's cowl, and a baron's crest, + Jewels of lustre, robes of price, + Tomes of heresy, loaded dice, + And golden cups of the brightest wine + That ever was pressed from the Burgundy vine. + There was a perfume of sulphur and nitre + As he came at last to a bishop's mitre! + + From top to toe the Abbot shook, + As the Fisherman armed his golden hook, + And awfully were his features wrought + By some dark dream or wakened thought. + Look how the fearful felon gazes + On the scaffold his country's vengeance raises, + When the lips are cracked and the jaws are dry + With the thirst which only in death shall die: + Mark the mariner's frenzied frown + As the swaling wherry settles down, + When peril has numbed the sense and will + Though the hand and the foot may struggle still: + Wilder far was the Abbot's glance, + Deeper far was the Abbot's trance: + Fixed as a monument, still as air, + He bent no knee, and he breathed no prayer + But he signed--he knew not why or how-- + The sign of the Cross on his clammy brow. + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he stalked away with his iron box. + "O ho! O ho! + The cock doth crow; + It is time for the Fisher to rise and go. + Fair luck to the Abbot, fair luck to the shrine! + He hath gnawed in twain my choicest line; + Let him swim to the north, let him swim to the south, + The Abbot will carry my hook in his mouth!" + + The Abbot had preached for many years + With as clear articulation + As ever was heard in the House of Peers + Against Emancipation; + His words had made battalions quake, + Had roused the zeal of martyrs, + Had kept the Court an hour awake + And the King himself three quarters: + But ever from that hour, 'tis said, + He stammered and he stuttered + As if an axe went through his head + With every word he uttered. + He stuttered o'er blessing, he stuttered o'er ban, + He stuttered, drunk or dry; + And none but he and the Fisherman + Could tell the reason why! + + + +LXIV. MAD--QUITE MAD. + + Originally published in the _Morning Post_ for 1834; afterwards + included in his _Essays_. + + + Great wits are sure to madness near allied.--_Dryden_. + +It has frequently been observed that genius and madness are nearly +allied; that very great talents are seldom found unaccompanied by a +touch of insanity, and that there are few Bedlamites who will not, +upon a close examination, display symptoms of a powerful, though ruined +intellect. According to this hypothesis, the flowers of Parnassus must +be blended with the drugs of Anticyra; and the man who feels himself to +be in possession of very brilliant wits may conclude that he is within +an ace of running out of them. Whether this be true or false, we are +not at present disposed to contradict the assertion. What we wish to +notice is the pains which many young men take to qualify themselves for +Bedlam, by hiding a good, sober, gentlemanlike understanding beneath an +assumption of thoughtlessness and whim. It is the received opinion +among many that a man's talents and abilities are to be rated by the +quantity of nonsense he utters per diem, and the number of follies he +runs into per annum. Against this idea we must enter our protest; if we +concede that every real genius is more or less a madman, we must not be +supposed to allow that every sham madman is more or less a genius. + +In the days of our ancestors, the hot-blooded youth who threw away his +fortune at twenty-one, his character at twenty-two, and his life at +twenty-three, was termed "a good fellow", "an honest fellow", "nobody's +enemy but his own". In our time the name is altered; and the +fashionable who squanders his father's estate, or murders his best +friend--who breaks his wife's heart at the gaming-table, and his own +neck at a steeple-chase--escapes the sentence which morality would pass +upon him, by the plea of lunacy. "He was a rascal," says Common-Sense. +"True," says the World; "but he was mad, you know--quite mad." + +We were lately in company with a knot of young men who were discussing +the character and fortunes of one of their own body, who was, it seems, +distinguished for his proficiency in the art of madness. "Harry," said +a young sprig of nobility, "have you heard that Charles is in the +King's Bench?" "I heard it this morning," drawled the Exquisite; "how +distressing! I have not been so hurt since poor Angelica (his bay mare) +broke down. Poor Charles has been too flighty." "His wings will be +clipped for the future!" observed young Caustic. "He has been very +imprudent," said young Candour. + +I inquired of whom they were speaking. "Don't you know Charles Gally?" +said the Exquisite, endeavouring to turn in his collar. "Not know +Charles Gally?" he repeated, with an expression of pity. "He is the +best fellow breathing; only lives to laugh and make others laugh: +drinks his two bottles with any man, and rides the finest mare I ever +saw--next to my Angelica. Not know Charles Gally? Why, everybody knows +him! He is so amusing! Ha! ha! And tells such admirable stories! Ha! +ha! Often have they kept me awake"--a yawn--"when nothing else could." +"Poor fellow!" said his lordship; "I understand he's done for ten +thousand!" "I never believe more than half what the world says," +observed Candour. "He that has not a farthing," said Caustic, "cares +little whether he owes ten thousand or five." "Thank Heaven!" said +Candour, "that will never be the case with Charles: he has a fine +estate in Leicestershire." "Mortgaged for half its value," said his +lordship. "A large personal property!" "All gone in annuity bills," +said the Exquisite. "A rich uncle upwards of fourscore!" "He'll cut him +off with a shilling," said Caustic. + +"Let us hope he may reform," sighed the Hypocrite; "and sell the pack," +added the Nobleman; "and marry," continued the Dandy. "Pshaw!" cried +the Satirist, "he will never get rid of his habits, his hounds, or his +horns." "But he has an excellent heart," said Candour. "Excellent," +repeated his lordship unthinkingly. "Excellent," lisped the Fop +effeminately. "Excellent," exclaimed the Wit ironically. We took this +opportunity to ask by what means so excellent a heart and so bright a +genius had contrived to plunge him into these disasters. "He was my +friend," replied his lordship, "and a man of large property; but he was +mad--quite mad. I remember his leaping a lame pony over a stone wall, +simply because Sir Marmaduke bet him a dozen that he broke his neck in +the attempt; and sending a bullet through a poor pedlar's pack because +Bob Darrell said the piece wouldn't carry so far." "Upon another +occasion," began the Exquisite, in his turn, "he jumped into a +horse-pond after dinner, in order to prove it was not six feet deep; +and overturned a bottle of eau-de-cologne in Lady Emilia's face, to +convince me that she was not painted. Poor fellow! The first experiment +cost him a dress, and the second an heiress." "I have heard," resumed +the Nobleman, "that he lost his election for ---- by lampooning the +mayor; and was dismissed from his place in the Treasury for challenging +Lord C----." "The last accounts I heard of him," said Caustic, "told me +that Lady Tarrel had forbid him her house for driving a sucking-pig +into her drawing-room; and that young Hawthorn had run him through for +boasting of favours from his sister!" "These gentlemen are really too +severe," remarked young Candour to us. "Not a jot," we said to +ourselves. + +"This will be a terrible blow for his sister," said a young man who had +been listening in silence. "A fine girl--a very fine girl," said the +Exquisite. "And a fine fortune," said the Nobleman; "the mines of Peru +are nothing to her." "Nothing at all," observed the Sneerer; "she has +no property there. But I would not have you caught, Harry; her income +was good, but is dipped, horribly dipped. Guineas melt very fast when +the cards are put by them." "I was not aware Maria was a gambler," +said the young man, much alarmed. "Her brother is, sir," replied his +informant. The querist looked sorry, but yet relieved. We could see +that he was not quite disinterested in his inquiries. "However," +resumed the young Cynic, "his profusion has at least obtained him many +noble and wealthy friends." He glanced at his hearers, and went on: "No +one that knew him will hear of his distresses without being forward to +relieve them. He will find interest for his money in the hearts of his +friends." Nobility took snuff; Foppery played with his watch-chain; +Hypocrisy looked grave. There was long silence. We ventured to regret +the misuse of natural talents, which, if properly directed, might have +rendered their possessor useful to the interests of society and +celebrated in the records of his country. Everyone stared, as if we +were talking Hebrew. "Very true," said his lordship, "he enjoys great +talents. No man is a nicer judge of horseflesh. He beats me at +billiards, and Harry at picquet; he's a dead shot at a button, and can +drive his curricle-wheels over a brace of sovereigns." "Radicalism," +says Caustic, looking round for a laugh. "He is a great amateur of +pictures," observed the Exquisite, "and is allowed to be quite a +connoisseur in beauty; but there," simpering, "everyone must claim the +privilege of judging for themselves." "Upon my word," said Candour, +"you allow poor Charles too little. I have no doubt he has great +courage--though, to be sure, there was a whisper that young Hawthorn +found him rather shy; and I am convinced he is very generous, though I +must confess that I have it from good authority that his younger +brother was refused the loan of a hundred when Charles had pigeoned +that fool of a nabob but the evening before. I would stake my existence +that he is a man of unshaken honour--though, when he eased Lieutenant +Hardy of his pay, there certainly was an awkward story about the +transaction, which was never properly cleared up. I hope that when +matters are properly investigated he will be liberated from all his +embarrassments; though I am sorry to be compelled to believe that he +has been spending double the amount of his income annually. But I trust +that all will be adjusted. I have no doubt upon the subject." "Nor I," +said Caustic. "We shall miss him prodigiously at the Club," said the +Dandy, with a slight shake of the head. "What a bore!" replied the +Nobleman, with a long yawn. We could hardly venture to express +compassion for a character so despicable. Our auditors, however, +entertained very different opinions of right and wrong! "Poor fellow! +he was much to be pitied: had done some very foolish things--to say the +truth was a sad scoundrel--but then he was always so mad." And having +come unanimously to this decision, the conclave dispersed. + +Charles gave an additional proof of his madness within a week after +this discussion by swallowing laudanum. The verdict of the coroner's +inquest confirmed the judgment of his four friends. For our own parts +we must pause before we give in to so dangerous a doctrine. Here is a +man who has outraged the laws of honour, the ties of relationship, and +the duties of religion: he appears before us in the triple character of +a libertine, a swindler, and a suicide. Yet his follies, his vices, his +crimes, are all palliated or even applauded by this specious _façon de +parler_--"He was mad--quite mad!" + + + + +BENJAMIN DISRAELI (LORD BEACONSFIELD). + +(1805-1881.) + + +LXV. POPANILLA ON MAN. + + This racy piece of satire is taken from Lord Beaconsfield's + mock-heroic romance--written in imitation of _Gulliver's + Travels,--The Voyage of Captain Popanilla_, of which it forms the + fourth chapter. + + +Six months had elapsed since the first chest of the cargo of Useful +Knowledge destined for the fortunate Maldives had been digested by the +recluse Popanilla; for a recluse he had now become. Great students are +rather dull companions. Our Fantasian friend, during his first studies, +was as moody, absent, and querulous as are most men of genius during +that mystical period of life. He was consequently avoided by the men +and quizzed by the women, and consoled himself for the neglect of the +first and the taunts of the second by the indefinite sensation that he +should, some day or other, turn out that little being called a great +man. As for his mistress, she considered herself insulted by being +addressed by a man who had lost her lock of hair. When the chest was +exhausted, Popanilla was seized with a profound melancholy. Nothing +depresses a man's spirits more completely than a self-conviction of +self-conceit; and Popanilla, who had been accustomed to consider +himself and his companions as the most elegant portion of the visible +creation, now discovered, with dismay, that he and his fellow-islanders +were nothing more than a horde of useless savages. + +This mortification, however, was soon succeeded by a proud +consciousness that he, at any rate, was now civilized; and that proud +consciousness by a fond hope that in a short time he might become a +civilizer. Like all projectors, he was not of sanguine temperament; but +he did trust that in the course of another season the Isle of Fantaisie +might take its station among the nations. He was determined, however, +not to be too rapid. It cannot be expected that ancient prejudices can +in a moment be eradicated, and new modes of conduct instantaneously +substituted and established. Popanilla, like a wise man, determined to +conciliate. His views were to be as liberal as his principles were +enlightened. Men should be forced to do nothing. Bigotry and +intolerance and persecution were the objects of his decided +disapprobation; resembling, in this particular, all the great and good +men who have ever existed, who have invariably maintained this opinion +so long as they have been in the minority. + +Popanilla appeared once more in the world. + +"Dear me! is that you, Pop?" exclaimed the ladies. "What have you been +doing with yourself all this time? Travelling, I suppose. Everyone +travels now. Really you travelled men get quite bores. And where did +you get that coat, if it be a coat?" + +Such was the style in which the Fantasian females saluted the +long-absent Popanilla; and really, when a man shuts himself up from the +world for a considerable time, and fancies that in condescending to +re-enter it he has surely the right to expect the homage due to a +superior being, the salutations are awkward. The ladies of England +peculiarly excel in this species of annihilation; and while they +continue to drown puppies, as they daily do, in a sea of sarcasm, I +think no true Englishman will hesitate one moment in giving them the +preference for tact and manner over all the vivacious French, all the +self-possessing Italian, and all the tolerant German women. This is a +clap-trap, and I have no doubt will sell the book. + +Popanilla, however, had not re-entered society with the intention of +subsiding into a nonentity, and he therefore took the opportunity, a +few minutes after sunset, just as his companions were falling into the +dance, to beg the favour of being allowed to address his sovereign only +for one single moment. + +"Sire!" said he, in that mild tone of subdued superciliousness with +which we should always address kings, and which, while it vindicates +our dignity, satisfactorily proves that we are above the vulgar passion +of envy. "Sire!" But let us not encourage that fatal faculty of oratory +so dangerous to free states, and therefore let us give the "substance +of Popanilla's speech".[233] He commenced his address in a manner +somewhat resembling the initial observations of those pleasing +pamphlets which are the fashion of the present hour, and which, being +intended to diffuse information among those who have not enjoyed the +opportunity and advantages of study, and are consequently of a gay and +cheerful disposition, treat of light subjects in a light and polished +style. Popanilla, therefore, spoke of man in a savage state, the origin +of society, and the elements of the social compact, in sentences which +would not have disgraced the mellifluous pen of Bentham. From these he +naturally digressed into an agreeable disquisition on the Anglo-Saxons; +and, after a little badinage on the Bill of Rights, flew off to an airy +_aperçu_ of the French Revolution. When he had arrived at the Isle of +Fantaisie he begged to inform His Majesty that man was born for +something else besides enjoying himself. It was, doubtless, extremely +pleasant to dance and sing, to crown themselves with chaplets, and to +drink wine; but he was "free to confess" that he did not imagine that +the most barefaced hireling of corruption could for a moment presume to +maintain that there was any utility in pleasure. If there were no +utility in pleasure, it was quite clear that pleasure could profit no +one. If, therefore, it were unprofitable, it was injurious, because +that which does not produce a profit is equivalent to a loss; therefore +pleasure is a losing business; consequently pleasure is not pleasant. + +He also showed that man was not born for himself, but for society; that +the interests of the body are alone to be considered, and not those of +the individual; and that a nation might be extremely happy, extremely +powerful, and extremely rich, although every individual member of it +might at the same time be miserable, dependent, and in debt. He +regretted to observe that no one in the island seemed in the slightest +degree conscious of the object of his being. Man is created for a +purpose; the object of his existence is to perfect himself. Man is +imperfect by nature, because if nature had made him perfect he would +have had no wants; and it is only by supplying his wants that utility +can be developed. The development of utility is therefore the object of +our being, and the attainment of this great end the cause of our +existence. This principle clears all doubts, and rationally accounts +for a state of existence which has puzzled many pseudo-philosophers. + +Popanilla then went on to show that the hitherto received definitions +of man were all erroneous; that man is neither a walking animal, nor a +talking animal, nor a cooking animal, nor a lounging animal, nor a +debt-incurring animal, nor a tax-paying animal, nor a printing animal, +nor a puffing animal, but a _developing animal_. Development is the +discovery of utility. By developing the water we get fish; by +developing the earth we get corn, and cash, and cotton; by developing +the air we get breath; by developing the fire we get heat. Thus the +use of the elements is demonstrated to the meanest capacity. But it was +not merely a material development to which he alluded; a moral +development was equally indispensable. He showed that it was impossible +for a nation either to think too much or to do too much. The life of +man was therefore to be passed in a moral and material development +until he had consummated his perfection. It was the opinion of +Popanilla that this great result was by no means so near at hand as +some philosophers flattered themselves, and that it might possibly +require another half-century before even the most civilized nation +could be said to have completed the destiny of the human race. At the +same time, he intimated that there were various extraordinary means by +which this rather desirable result might be facilitated; and there was +no saying what the building of a new University might do, of which, +when built, he had no objection to be appointed Principal. + +In answer to those who affect to admire that deficient system of +existence which they style simplicity of manners, and who are +perpetually committing the blunder of supposing that every advance +towards perfection only withdraws man further from his primitive and +proper condition, Popanilla triumphantly demonstrated that no such +order as that which they associated with the phrase "state of nature" +ever existed. "Man", said he, "is called the masterpiece of nature; and +man is also, as we all know, the most curious of machines. Now, a +machine is a work of art; consequently the masterpiece of nature is the +masterpiece of art. The object of all mechanism is the attainment of +utility; the object of man, who is the most perfect machine, is utility +in the highest degree. Can we believe, therefore, that this machine was +ever intended for a state which never could have called forth its +powers, a state in which no utility could ever have been attained, a +state in which there are no wants, consequently no demand, consequently +no supply, consequently no competition, consequently no invention, +consequently no profits; only one great pernicious monopoly of comfort +and ease? Society without wants is like a world without winds. It is +quite clear, therefore, that there is no such thing as Nature; Nature +is Art, or Art is Nature; that which is most useful is most natural, +because utility is the test of nature; therefore a steam-engine is in +fact a much more natural production than a mountain. + +"You are convinced, therefore," he continued, "by these observations, +that it is impossible for an individual or a nation to be too +artificial in their manners, their ideas, their laws, or their general +policy; because, in fact, the more artificial you become, the nearer +you approach that state of nature of which you are so perpetually +talking." Here observing that some of his audience appeared to be a +little sceptical, perhaps only surprised, he told them that what he +said must be true, because it entirely consisted of first principles. + +After having thus preliminarily descanted for about two hours, +Popanilla informed His Majesty that he was unused to public speaking, +and then proceeded to show that the grand characteristic of the social +action of the Isle of Fantaisie was a total want of development. This +he observed with equal sorrow and surprise; he respected the wisdom of +their ancestors; at the same time, no one could deny that they were +both barbarous and ignorant; he highly esteemed also the constitution, +but regretted that it was not in the slightest degree adapted to the +existing want of society; he was not for destroying any establishments, +but, on the contrary, was for courteously affording them the +opportunity of self-dissolution. He finished by re-urging, in strong +terms, the immediate development of the island. In the first place, a +great metropolis must be instantly built, because a great metropolis +always produces a great demand; and, moreover, Popanilla had some legal +doubts whether a country without a capital could in fact be considered +a state. Apologizing for having so long trespassed upon the attention +of the assembly, he begged distinctly to state that he had no wish to +see His Majesty and his fellow-subjects adopt these new principles +without examination and without experience. They might commence on a +small scale; let them cut down their forests, and by turning them into +ships and houses discover the utility of timber; let the whole island +be dug up; let canals be cut, docks be built, and all the elephants be +killed directly, that their teeth might yield an immediate article for +exportation. A short time would afford a sufficient trial. In the +meanwhile, they would not be pledged to further measures, and these +might be considered "only as an experiment". Taking for granted that +these principles would be acted on, and taking into consideration the +site of the island in the map of the world, the nature and extent of +its resources, its magnificent race of human beings, its varieties of +the animal creation, its wonderfully fine timber, its undeveloped +mineral treasures, the spaciousness of its harbours, and its various +facilities for extended international communication, Popanilla had no +hesitation in saying that a short time could not elapse ere, instead of +passing their lives in a state of unprofitable ease and useless +enjoyment, they might reasonably expect to be the terror and +astonishment of the universe, and to be able to annoy every nation of +any consequence. + +Here, observing a smile upon His Majesty's countenance, Popanilla told +the king that he was only a chief magistrate, and he had no more right +to laugh at him than a parish constable. He concluded by observing +that although what he at present urged might appear strange, +nevertheless, if the listeners had been acquainted with the characters +and cases of Galileo and Turgot, they would then have seen, as a +necessary consequence, that his system was perfectly correct, and he +himself a man of extraordinary merit. + +Here the chief magistrate, no longer daring to smile, burst into a fit +of laughter, and, turning to his courtiers, said: "I have not an idea +what this man is talking about, but I know that he makes my head ache. +Give me a cup of wine, and let us have a dance." + +All applauded the royal proposition; and pushing Popanilla from one to +another, until he was fairly hustled to the brink of the lagoon, they +soon forgot the existence of this bore; in one word, he was cut. When +Popanillo found himself standing alone, and looking grave while all the +rest were gay, he began to suspect that he was not so influential a +personage as he previously imagined. Rather crestfallen, he sneaked +home; and consoled himself for having nobody to speak to by reading +some amusing "Conversations on Political Economy". + +[Footnote 233: _Substance of a speech_, in Parliamentary language, +means a printed edition of an harangue which contains all that was +uttered in the House, and about as much again.] + + + + +ROBERT BROWNING. + +(1812-1890.) + + +LXVI. CRISTINA. + + From _Dramatic Lyrics_; written in 1842. + + + I. + + She should never have looked at me if she meant I should not love her. + There are plenty ... men, you call such, I suppose ... she may discover. + All her soul to, if she pleases, and yet leave much as she found them; + But I'm not so, and she knew it when she fixed me, glancing round them. + + II. + + What? To fix me thus meant nothing? But I can't tell (there's my + weakness) + What her look said!--no vile cant, sure, about "need to strew the + bleakness + Of some lone shore with its pearl-seed, that the sea feels"--no + "strange yearning + That such souls have, most to lavish where there's chance of least + returning". + + III. + + Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! but not quite so sunk that + moments, + Sure tho' seldom, are denied us, when the spirit's true endowments + Stand out plainly from its false ones, and apprise it if pursuing + Or the right way or the wrong way, to its triumph or undoing. + + IV. + + There are flashes struck from midnights, there are fire-flames + noondays kindle, + Whereby piled-up honours perish, whereby swollen ambitions dwindle, + While just this or that poor impulse, which for once had play unstifled, + Seems the sole work of a life-time that away the rest have trifled. + + V. + + Doubt you if, in some such moment, as she fixed me, she felt clearly, + Ages past the soul existed, here an age 'tis resting merely, + And hence fleets again for ages: while the true end, sole and single, + It stops here for is, this love-way, with some other soul to mingle? + + VI. + + Else it loses what it lived for, and eternally must lose it; + Better ends may be in prospect, deeper blisses (if you choose it), + But this life's end and this love-bliss have been lost here. Doubt you + whether + This she felt as, looking at me, mine and her souls rushed together? + + VII. + + Oh, observe! Of course, next moment, the world's honours, in derision, + Trampled out the light for ever. Never fear but there's provision + Of the devil's to quench knowledge, lest we walk the earth in rapture! + --Making those who catch God's secret, just so much more prize their + capture! + + VIII. + + Such am I: the secret's mine now! She has lost me, I have gained her; + Her soul's mine: and thus, grown perfect, I shall pass my life's + remainder. + Life will just hold out the proving both our powers, alone and blended: + And then, come next life quickly! This world's use will have been ended. + + + +LXVII. THE LOST LEADER. + + From _Dramatic Lyrics_; written in 1845. + + + I. + + Just for a handful of silver he left us, + Just for a riband to stick in his coat-- + Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, + Lost all the others, she lets us devote; + They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, + So much was theirs who so little allowed: + How all our copper had gone for his service! + Rags--were they purple, his heart had been proud! + We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him, + Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, + Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, + Made him our pattern to live and to die? + Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, + Burns, Shelley, were with us,--they watch from their graves! + He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, + He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves! + + II. + + We shall march prospering,--not thro' his presence; + Songs may inspirit us,--not from his lyre; + Deeds will be done,--while he boasts his quiescence, + Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire. + Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, + One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, + One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for angels, + One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! + Life's night begins: let him never come back to us! + There would be doubt, hesitation and pain, + Forced praise on our part--the glimmer of twilight, + Never glad confident morning again! + Best fight on well, for we taught him--strike gallantly, + Menace our heart ere we master his own; + Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us + Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne! + + + + +WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. + +(1811-1863.) + + +LXVIII. PISCATOR AND PISCATRIX. + + Published among Thackeray's "Ballads" under the sub-heading "Lines + written to an Album Print". + + + As on this pictured page I look, + This pretty tale of line and hook, + As though it were a novel-book, + Amuses and engages: + I know them both, the boy and girl; + She is the daughter of the Earl, + The lad (that has his hair in curl) + My lord the County's page is. + + A pleasant place for such a pair! + The fields lie basking in the glare; + No breath of wind the heavy air + Of lazy summer quickens. + Hard by you see the castle tall; + The village nestles round the wall, + As round about the hen its small + Young progeny of chickens. + + It is too hot to pace the keep; + To climb the turret is too steep; + My lord the Earl is dozing deep, + His noonday dinner over: + The postern warder is asleep + (Perhaps they've bribed him not to peep): + And so from out the gate they creep; + And cross the fields of clover. + + Their lines into the brook they launch; + He lays his cloak upon a branch, + To guarantee his Lady Blanche + 's delicate complexion: + He takes his rapier from his haunch, + That beardless, doughty champion staunch; + He'd drill it through the rival's paunch + That question'd his affection! + + O heedless pair of sportsmen slack! + You never mark, though trout or jack, + Or little foolish stickleback, + Your baited snares may capture. + What care has _she_ for line and hook? + She turns her back upon the brook, + Upon her lover's eyes to look + In sentimental rapture. + + O loving pair! as thus I gaze + Upon the girl who smiles always, + The little hand that ever plays + Upon the lover's shoulder; + In looking at your pretty shapes, + A sort of envious wish escapes + (Such as the Fox had for the Grapes) + The Poet, your beholder. + + To be brave, handsome, twenty-two; + With nothing else on earth to do, + But all day long to bill and coo: + It were a pleasant calling. + And had I such a partner sweet; + A tender heart for mine to beat, + A gentle hand my clasp to meet;-- + I'd let the world flow at my feet, + And never heed its brawling. + + + +LXIX. ON A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE. + + This is one of the most popular of the famous Roundabout Papers + written by Thackeray for the _Cornhill Magazine_, of which he was + the first editor. + + +Where have I just read of a game played at a country house? The party +assembles round a table with pens, ink, and paper. Some one narrates a +tale containing more or less incidents and personages. Each person of +the company then writes down, to the best of his memory and ability, +the anecdote just narrated, and finally the papers are to be read out. +I do not say I should like to play often at this game, which might +possibly be a tedious and lengthy pastime, not by any means so amusing +as smoking a cigar in the conservatory; or even listening to the young +ladies playing their piano-pieces; or to Hobbs and Nobbs lingering +round the bottle and talking over the morning's run with the hounds; +but surely it is a moral and ingenious sport. They say the variety of +narratives is often very odd and amusing. The original story becomes so +changed and distorted that at the end of all the statements you are +puzzled to know where the truth is at all. As time is of small +importance to the cheerful persons engaged in this sport, perhaps a +good way of playing it would be to spread it over a couple of years. +Let the people who played the game in '60 all meet and play it once +more in '61, and each write his story over again. Then bring out your +original and compare notes. Not only will the stories differ from each +other, but the writers will probably differ from themselves. In the +course of the year the incidents will grow or will dwindle strangely. +The least authentic of the statements will be so lively or so +malicious, or so neatly put, that it will appear most like the truth. I +like these tales and sportive exercises. I had begun a little print +collection once. I had Addison in his nightgown in bed at Holland +House, requesting young Lord Warwick to remark how a Christian should +die. I had Cambronne clutching his cocked hat, and uttering the +immortal _La Garde meurt et ne se rend pas_. I had the _Vengeur_ going +down, and all the crew hurraying like madmen. I had Alfred toasting the +muffin: Curtius (Haydon) jumping into the gulf; with extracts from +Napoleon's bulletins, and a fine authentic portrait of Baron +Munchausen. + +What man who has been before the public at all has not heard similar +wonderful anecdotes regarding himself and his own history? In these +humble essaykins I have taken leave to egotize. I cry out about the +shoes which pinch me, and, as I fancy, more naturally and pathetically +than if my neighbour's corns were trodden under foot. I prattle about +the dish which I love, the wine which I like, the talk I heard +yesterday--about Brown's absurd airs--Jones's ridiculous elation when +he thinks he has caught me in a blunder (a part of the fun, you see, is +that Jones will read this, and will perfectly well know that I mean +him, and that we shall meet and grin at each other with entire +politeness). This is not the highest kind of speculation, I confess, +but it is a gossip which amuses some folks. A brisk and honest +small-beer will refresh those who do not care for the frothy +outpourings of heavier taps. A two of clubs may be a good handy little +card sometimes, and able to tackle a king of diamonds, if it is a +little trump. Some philosophers get their wisdom with deep thought, and +out of ponderous libraries; I pick up my small crumbs of cogitation at +a dinner-table; or from Mrs. Mary and Miss Louisa, as they are +prattling over their five-o'clock tea. + +Well, yesterday at dinner, Jucundus was good enough to tell me a story +about myself, which he had heard from a lady of his acquaintance, to +whom I send my best compliments. The tale is this. At nine o'clock on +the evening of the 31st of November last, just before sunset, I was +seen leaving No. 96 Abbey Road, St. John's Wood, leading two little +children by the hand, one of them in a nankeen pelisse, and the other +having a mole on the third finger of his left hand (she thinks it was +the third finger, but is quite sure it was the left hand). Thence I +walked with them to Charles Boroughbridge's, pork and sausage man, No. +29 Upper Theresa Road. Here, whilst I left the little girl innocently +eating a polony in the front shop, I and Boroughbridge retired with the +boy into the back parlour, where Mrs. Boroughbridge was playing +cribbage. She put up the cards and boxes, took out a chopper and a +napkin, and we cut the little boy's little throat (which he bore with +great pluck and resolution), and made him into sausage-meat by the aid +of Purkis's excellent sausage-machine. The little girl at first could +not understand her brother's absence, but, under the pretence of taking +her to see Mr. Fechter in _Hamlet_, I led her down to the New River at +Sadler's Wells, where a body of a child in a nankeen pelisse was +subsequently found, and has never been recognized to the present day. +And this Mrs. Lynx can aver, because she saw the whole transaction with +her own eyes, as she told Mr. Jucundus. + +I have altered the little details of the anecdote somewhat. But this +story is, I vow and declare, as true as Mrs. Lynx's. Gracious goodness! +how do lies begin? What are the averages of lying? Is the same amount +of lies told about every man, and do we pretty much all tell the same +amount of lies? Is the average greater in Ireland than in Scotland, or +_vice versâ_--among women than among men? Is this a lie I am telling +now? If I am talking about you, the odds are, perhaps, that it is. I +look back at some which have been told about me, and speculate on them +with thanks and wonder. Dear friends have told them of me, have told +them to me of myself. Have they not to and of you, dear friend? A +friend of mine was dining at a large dinner of clergymen, and a story, +as true as the sausage story above given, was told regarding me, by one +of those reverend divines in whose frocks sit some anile chatterboxes, +as any man who knows this world knows. They take the privilege of their +gown. They cabal, and tattle, and hiss, and cackle comminations under +their breath. I say the old women of the other sex are not more +talkative or more mischievous than some of these. "Such a man ought not +to be spoken to", says Gobemouche, narrating the story--and such a +story! "And I am surprised he is admitted into society at all." Yes, +dear Gobemouche, but the story wasn't true: and I had no more done the +wicked deed in question than I had run away with the Queen of Sheba. + +I have always longed to know what that story was (or what collection of +histories), which a lady had in her mind to whom a servant of mine +applied for a place, when I was breaking up my establishment once, and +going abroad. Brown went with a very good character from us, which, +indeed, she fully deserved after several years' faithful service. But +when Mrs. Jones read the name of the person out of whose employment +Brown came, "That is quite sufficient", says Mrs. Jones. "You may go. I +will never take a servant out of _that_ house." Ah, Mrs. Jones, how I +should like to know what that crime was, or what that series of +villainies, which made you determine never to take a servant out of my +house! Do you believe in the story of the little boy and the sausages? +Have you swallowed that little minced infant? Have you devoured that +young Polonius? Upon my word you have maw enough. We somehow greedily +gobble down all stories in which the characters of our friends are +chopped up, and believe wrong of them without inquiry. In a late serial +work written by this hand, I remember making some pathetic remarks +about our propensity to believe ill of our neighbours--and I remember +the remarks, not because they were valuable, or novel, or ingenious, +but because, within three days after they had appeared in print, the +moralist who wrote them, walking home with a friend, heard a story +about another friend, which story he straightway believed, and which +story was scarcely more true than that sausage fable which is here set +down. _O mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!_ But though the preacher trips, +shall not the doctrine be good? Yea, brethren! Here be the rods. Look +you, here are the scourges. Choose me a nice, long, swishing, buddy +one, light and well-poised in the handle, thick and bushy at the tail. +Pick me out a whip-cord thong with some dainty knots in it--and now--we +all deserve it--whish, whish, whish! Let us cut into each other all +round. + +A favourite liar and servant of mine was a man I once had to drive a +brougham. He never came to my house, except for orders, and once when +he helped to wait at dinner, so clumsily that it was agreed we would +dispense with his further efforts. The (job) brougham horse used to +look dreadfully lean and tired, and the livery-stable keeper complained +that we worked him too hard. Now, it turned out that there was a +neighbouring butcher's lady who liked to ride in a brougham; and +Tomkins lent her ours, drove her cheerfully to Richmond and Putney, +and, I suppose, took out a payment in mutton-chops. We gave this good +Tomkins wine and medicine for his family when sick--we supplied him +with little comforts and extras which need not now be remembered--and +the grateful creature rewarded us by informing some of our tradesmen +whom he honoured with his custom, "Mr. Roundabout? Lor' bless you! I +carry him up to bed drunk every night in the week". He, Tomkins, being +a man of seven stone weight and five feet high; whereas his employer +was--but here modesty interferes, and I decline to enter into the +avoirdupois question. + +Now, what was Tomkin's motive for the utterance and dissemination of +these lies? They could further no conceivable end or interest of his +own. Had they been true stories, Tomkin's master would, and reasonably, +have been still more angry than at the fables. It was but suicidal +slander on the part of Tomkins--must come to a discovery--must end in a +punishment. The poor wretch had got his place under, as it turned out, +a fictitious character. He might have stayed in it, for of course +Tomkins had a wife and poor innocent children. He might have had bread, +beer, bed, character, coats, coals. He might have nestled in our little +island, comfortably sheltered from the storms of life; but we were +compelled to cast him out, and send him driving, lonely, perishing, +tossing, starving, to sea--to drown. To drown? There be other modes of +death whereby rogues die. Good-bye, Tomkins. And so the night-cap is +put on, and the bolt is drawn for poor T. + +Suppose we were to invite volunteers amongst our respected readers to +send in little statements of the lies which they know have been told +about themselves: what a heap of correspondence, what an exaggeration +of malignities, what a crackling bonfire of incendiary falsehoods, +might we not gather together! And a lie once set going, having the +breath of life breathed into it by the father of lying, and ordered to +run its diabolical little course, lives with a prodigious vitality. You +say, _Magna est veritas et proevalebit_. Psha! great lies are as great +as great truths, and prevail constantly, and day after day. Take an +instance or two out of my own little budget. I sit near a gentleman at +dinner, and the conversation turns upon a certain anonymous literary +performance which at the time is amusing the town. "Oh," says the +gentleman, "everybody knows who wrote that paper: it is Momus's." I was +a young author at the time, perhaps proud of my bantling: "I beg your +pardon," I say, "it was written by your humble servant." "Indeed!" was +all that the man replied, and he shrugged his shoulders, turned his +back, and talked to his other neighbour. I never heard sarcastic +incredulity more finely conveyed than by that "Indeed". "Impudent +liar," the gentleman's face said, as clear as face could speak. Where +was Magna Veritas, and how did she prevail then? She lifted up her +voice, she made her appeal, and she was kicked out of court. In New +York I read a newspaper criticism one day (by an exile from our shores +who has taken up his abode in the Western Republic), commenting upon a +letter of mine which had appeared in a contemporary volume, and wherein +it was stated that the writer was a lad in such and such a year, and in +point of fact, I was, at the period spoken of, nineteen years of age. +"Falsehood, Mr. Roundabout," says the noble critic: "you were then not +a lad; you were six-and-twenty years of age." You see he knew better +than papa and mamma and parish register. It was easier for him to think +and say I lied, on a twopenny matter connected with my own affairs, +than to imagine he was mistaken. Years ago, in a time when we were very +mad wags, Arcturus and myself met a gentleman from China who knew the +language. We began to speak Chinese against him. We said we were born +in China. We were two to one. We spoke the mandarin dialect with +perfect fluency. We had the company with us; as in the old, old days, +the squeak of the real pig was voted not to be so natural as the squeak +of the sham pig. O Arcturus, the sham pig squeaks in our streets now to +the applause of multitudes, and the real porker grunts unheeded in his +sty! + +I once talked for some little time with an amiable lady: it was for the +first time; and I saw an expression of surprise on her kind face which +said as plainly as face could say, "Sir, do you know that up to this +moment I have had a certain opinion of you, and that I begin to think I +have been mistaken or misled?" I not only know that she had heard evil +reports of me, but I know who told her--one of those acute fellows, my +dear brethren, of whom we spoke in a previous sermon, who has found me +out--found out actions which I never did, found out thoughts and +sayings which I never spoke, and judged me accordingly. Ah, my lad! +have I found _you_ out? _O risum teneatis_. Perhaps the person I am +accusing is no more guilty than I. + +How comes it that the evil which men say spreads so widely and lasts so +long, whilst our good kind words don't seem somehow to take root and +bear blossom? Is it that in the stony hearts of mankind these pretty +flowers can't find a place to grow? Certain it is that scandal is good +brisk talk, whereas praise of one's neighbour is by no means lively +hearing. An acquaintance grilled, scored, devilled, and served with +mustard and cayenne pepper, excites the appetite; whereas a slice of +cold friend with currant jelly is but a sickly, unrelishing meat. + +Now, such being the case, my dear worthy Mrs. Candour, in whom I know +there are a hundred good and generous qualities: it being perfectly +clear that the good things which we say of our neighbours don't +fructify, but somehow perish in the ground where they are dropped, +whilst the evil words are wafted by all the winds of scandal, take root +in all soils, and flourish amazingly--seeing, I say, that this +conversation does not give us a fair chance, suppose we give up +censoriousness altogether, and decline uttering our opinions about +Brown, Jones, and Robinson (and Mesdames B., J., and R.) at all. We may +be mistaken about every one of them, as, please goodness, those +anecdote-mongers against whom I have uttered my meek protest have been +mistaken about me. We need not go to the extent of saying that Mrs. +Manning was an amiable creature, much misunderstood; and Jack Thurtell +a gallant unfortunate fellow, not near so black as he was painted; but +we will try and avoid personalities altogether in talk, won't we? We +will range the fields of science, dear madam, and communicate to each +other the pleasing results of our studies. We will, if you please, +examine the infinitesimal wonders of nature through the microscope. We +will cultivate entomology. We will sit with our arms round each other's +waists on the _pons asinorum_, and see the stream of mathematics flow +beneath. We will take refuge in cards, and play at "beggar my +neighbour", not abuse my neighbour. We will go to the Zoological +Gardens and talk freely about the gorilla and his kindred, but not talk +about people who can talk in their turn. Suppose we praise the High +Church? we offend the Low Church. The Broad Church? High and Low are +both offended. What do you think of Lord Derby as a politician? And +what is your opinion of Lord Palmerston? If you please, will you play +me those lovely variations of "In a cottage near a wood"? It is a +charming air (you know it in French, I suppose? _Ah! te dirai-je, +maman?_) and was a favourite with poor Marie Antoinette. I say "poor", +because I have a right to speak with pity of a sovereign who was +renowned for so much beauty and so much misfortune. But as for giving +any opinion on her conduct, saying that she was good or bad, or +indifferent, goodness forbid! We have agreed we will not be censorious. +Let us have a game at cards--at _écarté_, if you please. You deal. I +ask for cards. I lead the deuce of clubs.... + +What? there is no deuce! Deuce take it! What? People _will_ go on +talking about their neighbours, and won't have their mouths stopped by +cards, or ever so much microscopes and aquariums? Ah, my poor dear Mrs. +Candour, I agree with you. By the way, did you ever see anything like +Lady Godiva Trotter's dress last night? People _will_ go on chattering, +although we hold our tongues; and, after all, my good soul, what will +their scandal matter a hundred years hence? + + + + +ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. + +(1819-1861.) + + +LXX. SPECTATOR AB EXTRA. + + As I sat at the Café I said to myself, + They may talk as they please about what they call pelf, + They may sneer as they like about eating and drinking, + But help it I cannot, I cannot help thinking + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + I sit at my table _en grand seigneur_, + And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor, + Not only the pleasure itself of good living, + But also the pleasure of now and then giving: + So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So pleasant it is to have money. + + They may talk as they please about what they call pelf, + And how one ought never to think of one's self, + How pleasures of thought surpass eating and drinking, + My pleasure of thought is the pleasure of thinking + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + + LE DINER. + + Come along, 'tis the time, ten or more minutes past, + And he who came first had to wait for the last; + The oysters ere this had been in and been out; + While I have been sitting and thinking about + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + A clear soup with eggs; _voilà tout_; of the fish + The _filets de sole_ are a moderate dish + _À la Orly_, but you're for red mullet, you say: + By the gods of good fare, who can question to-day + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + After oysters, Sauterne; then Sherry; Champagne, + Ere one bottle goes, comes another again; + Fly up, thou bold cork, to the ceiling above, + And tell to our ears in the sound that we love + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + I've the simplest of palates; absurd it may be, + But I almost could dine on a _poulet-au-riz_, + Fish and soup and omelette and that--but the deuce-- + There were to be woodcocks, and not _Charlotte Russe_! + So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So pleasant it is to have money. + + Your Chablis is acid, away with the hock, + Give me the pure juice of the purple Médoc; + St. Peray is exquisite; but, if you please, + Some Burgundy just before tasting the cheese. + So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So pleasant it is to have money. + + As for that, pass the bottle, and hang the expense-- + I've seen it observed by a writer of sense, + That the labouring classes could scarce live a day, + If people like us didn't eat, drink, and pay. + So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So useful it is to have money. + + One ought to be grateful, I quite apprehend, + Having dinner and supper and plenty to spend, + And so suppose now, while the things go away, + By way of a grace we all stand up and say + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + + PARVENANT. + + I cannot but ask, in the park and the streets, + When I look at the number of persons one meets, + Whate'er in the world the poor devils can do + Whose fathers and mothers can't give them a _sous_. + So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + I ride, and I drive, and I care not a d--n, + The people look up and they ask who I am; + And if I should chance to run over a cad, + I can pay for the damage, if ever so bad. + So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So useful it is to have money. + + It was but this winter I came up to town, + And already I'm gaining a sort of renown; + Find my way to good houses without much ado, + Am beginning to see the nobility too. + So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So useful it is to have money. + + O dear what a pity they ever should lose it, + Since they are the people who know how to use it; + So easy, so stately, such manners, such dinners; + And yet, after all, it is we are the winners. + So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + It is all very well to be handsome and tall, + Which certainly makes you look well at a ball, + It's all very well to be clever and witty. + But if you are poor, why it's only a pity. + So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + There's something undoubtedly in a fine air, + To know how to smile and be able to stare, + High breeding is something, but well bred or not, + In the end the one question is, what have you got? + So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + And the angels in pink and the angels in blue, + In muslins and moirés so lovely and new, + What is it they want, and so wish you to guess, + But if you have money, the answer is yes. + So needful, they tell you, is money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + + + +C.S. CALVERLEY. + +(1831-1884.) + + +LXXI. "HIC VIR, HIC EST." + + The subtle mingling of pathos and satire in this poem evoked the + warm admiration of Mr. J. Russell Lowell. This is published by + special permission of Messrs. G. Bell & Sons, to whom thanks are + tendered. + + + Often, when o'er tree and turret, + Eve a dying radiance flings, + By that ancient pile I linger, + Known familiarly as "King's". + And the ghosts of days departed + Rise, and in my burning breast + All the undergraduate wakens, + And my spirit is at rest. + + What, but a revolting fiction, + Seems the actual result + Of the Census's inquiries, + Made upon the 15th ult.? + Still my soul is in its boyhood; + Nor of year or changes recks, + Though my scalp is almost hairless, + And my figure grows convex. + + Backward moves the kindly dial; + And I'm numbered once again + With those noblest of their species + Called emphatically "Men"; + Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime, + Through the streets, with tranquil mind, + And a long-backed fancy-mongrel + Trailing casually behind. + + Past the Senate-house I saunter, + Whistling with an easy grace; + Past the cabbage stalks that carpet + Still the beefy market-place; + Poising evermore the eye-glass + In the light sarcastic eye, + Lest, by chance, some breezy nursemaid + Pass, without a tribute, by. + + Once, an unassuming Freshman, + Thro' these wilds I wandered on, + Seeing in each house a College, + Under every cap a Don; + Each perambulating infant + Had a magic in its squall, + For my eager eye detected + Senior Wranglers in them all. + + By degrees my education + Grew, and I became as others; + Learned to blunt my moral feelings + By the aid of Bacon Brothers; + Bought me tiny boots of Mortlock, + And colossal prints of Roe; + And ignored the proposition, + That both time and money go. + + Learned to work the wary dogcart, + Artfully thro' King's Parade; + Dress, and steer a boat, and sport with + Amaryllis in the shade: + Struck, at Brown's, the dashing hazard; + Or (more curious sport than that) + Dropped, at Callaby's, the terrier + Down upon the prisoned rat. + + I have stood serene on Fenner's + Ground, indifferent to blisters, + While the Buttress of the period + Bowled me his peculiar twisters: + Sung, "We won't go home till morning"; + Striven to part my backhair straight; + Drunk (not lavishly) of Miller's + Old dry wines at 78/:-- + + When within my veins the blood ran, + And the curls were on my brow, + I did, oh ye undergraduates, + Much as ye are doing now. + Wherefore bless ye, O beloved ones:-- + Now into mine inn must I, + Your "poor moralist", betake me, + In my "solitary fly". + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH SATIRES*** + + +******* This file should be named 16126-8.txt or 16126-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/2/16126 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: English Satires</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: William Henry Oliphant Smeaton</p> +<p>Release Date: June 24, 2005 [eBook #16126]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH SATIRES***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Lynn Bornath<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (https://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<div id="titlepages"> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>ENGLISH SATIRES</h1> + +<br /><br /><br /> +<div class="center">WITH AN INTRODUCTION +<br /><br /> +BY +<br /><br /> +<span class="larger">OLIPHANT SMEATON</span></div> + +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + +<div class="center"><span class="small">LONDON</span><br /> +<span class="small">THE GRESHAM PUBLISHING COMPANY</span><br /> +<span class="small">34 SOUTHAMPTON STREET</span><br /> +<span class="small">STRAND</span></div> + +<hr class="long" /> + +<div class="center"><span class="small">TO THE MEMORY OF</span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="larger">ALEXANDER BALLOCH GROSART</span><br /> +<span class="small">D.D., LL.D., F.S.A.</span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="small">WITH A GRATEFUL SENSE OF ALL IT OWES TO</span><br /> +<span class="small">HIS TEACHING</span><br /> +<span class="small">THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY</span><br /><br /> +THE AUTHOR</div> + +<hr class="long" /> + +</div> + +<div id="preface"> + +<h2>PREFACE.</h2> + +<p>In the compilation of this volume my aim has been to furnish a work +that would be representative in character rather than exhaustive. The +restrictions of space imposed by the limits of such a series as this +have necessitated the omission of many pieces that readers might expect +to see included. As far as possible, however, the most typical satires +of the successive eras have been selected, so as to throw into relief +the special literary characteristics of each, and to manifest the trend +of satiric development during the centuries elapsing between Langland +and Lowell.</p> + +<p>Acknowledgment is due, and is gratefully rendered, to Mrs. C.S. +Calverley for permission to print the verses which close this book; and +to Messrs. Macmillan & Co. for permission to print A.H. Clough's +"Spectator ab Extra".</p> + +<p>To Professor C.H. Herford my warmest thanks are due for his careful +revision of the Introduction, and for many valuable hints which have +been adopted in the course of the work; also to Mr. W. Keith Leask, +M.A.(Oxon.), and the librarians of the Edinburgh University and +Advocates' Libraries.</p> + +<p class="right">OLIPHANT SMEATON.</p> + +<hr class="long" /> + +</div> + +<div id="toc"> + +<span class="pagenum">[ix]<a name="pageix" id="pageix"></a></span> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table width="100%" summary="Table of contents."> +<tr> + <td colspan="3" align="right">Page</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2">INTRODUCTION</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#pagexiii">xiii</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">WILLIAM LANGLAND</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#i">I.</a></td> + <td>Pilgrimage in Search of Do-well</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page001">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">GEOFFREY CHAUCER</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#ii">II.</a> <a href="#iii">III.</a></td> + <td>The Monk and the Friar</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page006">6</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JOHN LYDGATE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#iv">IV.</a></td> + <td>The London Lackpenny</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page010">10</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">WILLIAM DUNBAR</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#v">V.</a></td> + <td>The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page014">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">SIR DAVID LYNDSAY</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#vi">VI.</a></td> + <td>Satire on the Syde Taillis—Ane Supplicatioun directit to the<br /> + Kingis Grace—1538</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page019">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">BISHOP JOSEPH HALL</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#vii">VII.</a></td> + <td>On Simony</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page022">22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#viii">VIII.</a></td> + <td>The Domestic Tutor's Position</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page023">23</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#ix">IX.</a></td> + <td>The Impecunious Fop</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page024">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">GEORGE CHAPMAN</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#x">X.</a></td> + <td>An Invective written by Mr. George Chapman against Mr. Ben Jonson</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page026">26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JOHN DONNE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xi">XI.</a></td> + <td>The Character of the Bore</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page029">29</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">BEN JONSON</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xii">XII.</a></td> + <td>The New Cry</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page034">34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xiii">XIII.</a></td> + <td>On Don Surly</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page035">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">SAMUEL BUTLER</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xiv">XIV.</a></td> + <td>The Character of Hudibras</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page036">36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xv">XV.</a></td> + <td>The Character of a Small Poet</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page043">43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">ANDREW MARVELL</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xvi">XVI.</a></td> + <td>Nostradamus's Prophecy</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page045">45</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<span class="pagenum">[x]<a name="pagex" id="pagex"></a></span> +<table width="100%" summary="Table of contents."> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JOHN CLEIVELAND</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xvii">XVII.</a></td> + <td>The Scots Apostasie</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page047">47</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JOHN DRYDEN</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xviii">XVIII.</a></td> + <td>Satire on the Dutch</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page049">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xix">XIX.</a></td> + <td>MacFlecknoe</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page050">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xx">XX.</a></td> + <td>Epistle to the Whigs</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page057">57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">DANIEL DEFOE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxi">XXI.</a></td> + <td>Introduction to the True born Englishman</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page063">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">THE EARL OF DORSET</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxii">XXII.</a></td> + <td>Satire on a Conceited Playwright</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page065">65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JOHN ARBUTHNOT</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxiii">XXIII.</a></td> + <td>Preface to John Bull and his Law suit</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page066">66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxiv">XXIV.</a></td> + <td>The History of John Bull</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page070">70</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxv">XXV.</a></td> + <td>Epitaph upon Colonel Chartres</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page076">76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JONATHAN SWIFT</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxvi">XXVI.</a></td> + <td>Mrs Frances Harris' Petition</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page077">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxvii">XXVII.</a></td> + <td>Elegy on Partridge</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page081">81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxviii">XXVIII.</a></td> + <td>A Meditation upon a Broom stick</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page085">85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxix">XXIX.</a></td> + <td>The Relations of Booksellers and Authors</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page086">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxx">XXX.</a></td> + <td>The Epistle Dedicatory to His Royal Highness Prince Posterity</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page091">91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">SIR RICHARD STEELE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxi">XXXI.</a></td> + <td>The Commonwealth of Lunatics</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page097">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JOSEPH ADDISON</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxii">XXXII.</a></td> + <td>Sir Roger de Coverley's Sunday</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page101">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">EDWARD YOUNG</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxiii">XXXIII.</a></td> + <td>To the Right Hon. Mr. Dodington</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page105">105</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JOHN GAY</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxiv">XXXIV.</a></td> + <td>The Quidnunckis</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page112">112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">ALEXANDER POPE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxv">XXXV.</a></td> + <td>The Dunciad—The Description of Dulness</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page114">114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxvi">XXXVI.</a></td> + <td>Sandys' Ghost; or, a proper new ballad of the New Ovid's Metamorphoses, + as it was intended to be translated by persons of quality</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page120">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxvii">XXXVII.</a></td> + <td>Satire on the Whig Poets</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page122">122</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxviii">XXXVIII.</a></td> + <td>Epilogue to the Satires</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page131">131</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<span class="pagenum">[xi]<a name="pagexi" id="pagexi"></a></span> +<table width="100%" summary="Table of contents."> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">SAMUEL JOHNSON</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xxxix">XXXIX.</a></td> + <td>The Vanity of Human Wishes</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page136">136</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xl">XL.</a></td> + <td>Letter to the Earl of Chesterfield</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page147">147</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">OLIVER GOLDSMITH</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xli">XLI.</a></td> + <td>The Retaliation</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page149">149</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xlii">XLII.</a></td> + <td>The Logicians Refuted</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page154">154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xliii">XLIII.</a></td> + <td>Beau Tibbs, his Character and Family</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page156">156</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">CHARLES CHURCHILL</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xliv">XLIV.</a></td> + <td>The Journey</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page160">160</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JUNIUS</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xlv">XLV.</a></td> + <td>To the King</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page164">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">ROBERT BURNS</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xlvi">XLVI.</a></td> + <td>Address to the Unco Guid, or the Rigidly Righteous</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page180">180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xlvii">XLVII.</a></td> + <td>Holy Willie's Prayer</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page182">182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">CHARLES LAMB</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xlviii">XLVIII.</a></td> + <td>A Farewell to Tobacco</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page186">186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">THOMAS MOORE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#xlix">XLIX.</a></td> + <td>Lines on Leigh Hunt</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page191">191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">GEORGE CANNING</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#l">L.</a></td> + <td>Epistle from Lord Boringdon to Lord Granville</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page192">192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#li">LI.</a></td> + <td>Reformation of the Knave of Hearts</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page194">194</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">POETRY OF THE ANTI JACOBIN</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lii">LII.</a></td> + <td>The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-grinder</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page203">203</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#liii">LIII.</a></td> + <td>Song by Rogero the Captive</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page205">205</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#liv">LIV.</a></td> + <td>The Devil's Walk</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page206">206</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">SYDNEY SMITH</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lv">LV.</a></td> + <td>The Letters of Peter Plymley—on "No Popery"</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page208">208</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">JAMES SMITH</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lvi">LVI.</a></td> + <td>The Poet of Fashion</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page216">216</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lvii">LVII.</a></td> + <td>Bossuet and the Duchess of Fontanges</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page218">218</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<span class="pagenum">[xii]<a name="pagexii" id="pagexii"></a></span> +<table width="100%" summary="Table of contents."> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">LORD BYRON</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lviii">LVIII.</a></td> + <td>The Vision of Judgment</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page226">226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lix">LIX.</a></td> + <td>The Waltz</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page236">236</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lx">LX.</a></td> + <td>"The Dedication" in Don Juan</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page243">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">THOMAS HOOD</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxi">LXI.</a></td> + <td>Cockle <i>v.</i> Cackle</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page249">249</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">LORD MACAULAY</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxii">LXII.</a></td> + <td>The Country Clergyman's Trip to Cambridge</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page253">253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxiii">LXIII.</a></td> + <td>The Red Fisherman; or, The Devil's Decoy</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page257">257</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxiv">LXIV.</a></td> + <td>Mad—Quite Mad</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page264">264</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">BENJAMIN DISRAELI (LORD BEACONSFIELD)</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxv">LXV.</a></td> + <td>Popanilla on Man</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page270">270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">ROBERT BROWNING</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxvi">LXVI.</a></td> + <td>Cristina</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page277">277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxvii">LXVII.</a></td> + <td>The Lost Leader</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page280">280</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxviii">LXVIII.</a></td> + <td>Piscator and Piscatrix</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page281">281</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxix">LXIX.</a></td> + <td>On a Hundred Years Hence</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page283">283</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxx">LXX.</a></td> + <td>Spectator Ab Extra</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page292">292</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3">C.S. CALVERLEY</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right"><a href="#lxxi">LXXI.</a></td> + <td>"Hic Vir, Hic Est"</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#page296">296</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + +<div id="content"> + +<hr class="long" /> + +<span class="pagenum">[xiii]<a name="pagexiii" id="pagexiii"></a></span> +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> + +<p>Satire and the satirist have been in evidence in well-nigh all ages of +the world's history. The chief instruments of the satirist's equipment +are irony, sarcasm, invective, wit, and humour. The satiric +denunciation of a writer burning with indignation at some social wrong +or abuse, is capable of reaching the very highest level of literature. +The writings of a satirist of this type, and to some extent of every +satirist who touches on the social aspects of life, present a picture +more or less vivid, though not of course complete and impartial, of the +age to which he belongs, of the men, their manners, fashions, tastes, +and prevalent opinions. Thus they have a historical as well as a +literary and an ethical value. And Thackeray, in speaking of the office +of the humorist or satirist, for to him they were one, says, "He +professes to awaken and direct your love, your pity, your kindness, +your scorn for untruth, pretension, imposture, your tenderness for the +weak, the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy. To the best of his means +and ability he comments on all the ordinary actions and passions of +life almost."<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref1" id="fnref1" href="#fn1">[1]</a></span></p> + +<p>Satire has, in consequence, always ranked as one +<span class="pagenum">[xiv]<a name="pagexiv" id="pagexiv"></a></span>of the cardinal +divisions of literature. Its position as such, however, is due rather +to the fact of it having been so regarded among the Romans, than from +its own intrinsic importance among us to-day. Until the closing decades +of the eighteenth century—so long, in fact, as the classics were +esteemed of paramount authority as models—satire proper was accorded a +definite place in letters, and was distinctively cultivated by men of +genius as a branch of literature. But with the rise of the true +<i>national</i> spirit in the various literatures of Europe, and notably in +that of England, satire has gradually given place to other types of +composition. Slowly but surely it has been edged out of its prominent +position as a separate department, and has been relegated to the +position of a <i>quality of style</i>, important, beyond doubt, yet no +longer to be considered as a prime division of letters.<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref2" id="fnref2" href="#fn2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rome rather than Greece must be esteemed the home of ancient satire. +Quintilian, indeed, claims it altogether for his countrymen in the +words, <i>Satira tota nostra est</i>; while Horace styles it <i>Græcis +intactum carmen</i>. But this claim must be accepted with many +reservations. It does not imply that we do not discover the existence +of satire, together with favourable examples of it, long anterior to +the oldest extant works in either Grecian or Latin literature. The use +of what are called "personalities" in everyday speech was the probable +origin of satire. Conversely, also, satire, in the majority of those +earlier types current at various periods in the history of literature, +has shown an inclination <span class="pagenum">[xv]<a name="pagexv" +id="pagexv"></a></span>to be personal in its character. De Quincey, +accordingly, has argued that the more personal it became in its +allusions, the more it fulfilled its specific function. But such a view +is based on the supposition that satire has no other mission than to +lash the vices of our neighbours, without recalling the fact that the +satirist has a reformative as well as a punitive duty to discharge. The +further we revert into the "deep backward and abysm of time" towards +the early history of the world, the more pronounced and overt is this +indulgence in broad personal invective and sarcastic strictures.</p> + +<p>The earliest cultivators of the art were probably the men with a +grievance, or, as Dr. Garnett says, "the carpers and fault-finders of +the clan". Their first attempts were, as has been conjectured, merely +personal lampoons against those they disliked or differed from, and +were perhaps of a type cognate with the Homeric <i>Margites</i>. Homer's +character of Thersites is mayhap a lifelike portrait of some +contemporary satirist who made himself dreaded by his personalities. +But even in Thersites we see the germs of transition from merely +personal invective to satire directed against a class; and Greek +satire, though on the whole more personal than Roman, achieved +brilliant results. It is enough to name Archilochus, whom Mahaffy terms +the Swift of Greek Literature, Simonides of Amorgos (circ. 660 B.C.), +the author of the famous <i>Satire on Women</i>, and Hipponax of Ephesus, +reputed the inventor of the Scazon or halting iambic.</p> + +<p>But the lasting significance of Greek satire is +<span class="pagenum">[xvi]<a name="pagexvi" id="pagexvi"></a></span>mainly derived from +its surpassing distinction in two domains—in the comico-satiric drama +of Aristophanes, and in the <i>Beast Fables</i> of 'Æsop'. In later Greek +literature it lost its robustness and became trivial and effeminate +through expending itself on unworthy objects.</p> + +<p>It is amongst the Romans, with their deeper ethical convictions and +more powerful social sense, that we must look for the true home of +ancient satire. The germ of Roman satire is undoubtedly to be found in +the rude Fescennine verses, the rough and licentious jests and +buffoonery of the harvest-home and the vintage thrown into +quasi-lyrical form. These songs gradually developed a concomitant form +of dialogue styled saturæ, a term denoting "miscellany", and derived +perhaps from the <i>Satura lanx</i>, a charger filled with the first-fruits +of the year's produce, which was offered to Bacchus and Ceres.<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref3" id="fnref3" href="#fn3">[3]</a></span> In +Ennius, the "father of Roman satire", and Varro, the word still +retained this old Roman sense.</p> + +<p>Lucilius was the first Roman writer who made "censorious criticism" the +prevailing tone of satire, and his work, the parent of the satire of +Horace, of Persius, of Juvenal, and through that of the poetical satire +of modern times, was the principal agent in fixing its present +polemical and urban associations upon a term originally steeped in the +savour of rustic revelry. In the hands of Horace, Roman satire was to +be moulded into a new type that was not only to be a thing of beauty, +but, as far as one can yet see, to remain a joy for ever. +<span class="pagenum">[xvii]<a name="pagexvii" id="pagexvii"></a></span>The great +Venusian, as he informs us, set before himself the task of adapting the +satire of Lucilius to the special circumstances, the manners, the +literary modes and tastes of the Augustan age. Horace's Satires conform +to Addison's great rule, which he lays down in the <i>Spectator</i>, that +the satire which only seeks to wound is as dangerous as arrows that fly +in the dark. There is always an ethical undercurrent running beneath +the polished raillery and the good-natured satire. His genial +<i>bonhomie</i> prevents him from ever becoming ill-natured in his +animadversions.</p> + +<p>Of those manifold, kaleidoscopically-varied types of human nature which +in the Augustan age flocked to Rome as the centre of the known world, +he was a keen and a close observer. Jealously he noted the +deteriorating influence these foreign elements were exercising on the +grand old Roman character, and some of the bitterest home-thrusts he +ever delivered were directed against this alien invasion.<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref4" id="fnref4" href="#fn4">[4]</a></span> In those +brilliant pictures wherewith his satires are replete, Horace finds a +place for all. Sometimes he criticises as a far-off observer, gazing +with a sort of cynical amusement at this human raree-show; at others he +speaks as though he himself were in the very midst of the bustling +frivolity of the Roman Vanity Fair, and a sufferer from its follies. +Then his tone seems to deepen into a grave intensity of remonstrance, +as he exposes its hollowness, its heartlessness, and its blindness to +the absorbing problems of existence.</p> + +<p>After the death of Horace (B.C. 8) no names of +<span class="pagenum">[xviii]<a name="pagexviii" id="pagexviii"></a></span>note occur in the +domain of satire until we reach that famous trio, contemporary with one +another, who adorned the concluding half of the first century of our +era, viz.:—Juvenal, Persius, and Martial. They are severally +representative of distinct modes or types of satire. Juvenal +illustrates rhetorical or tragic satire, of which he is at once the +inventor and the most distinguished master—that form of composition, +in other words, which attacks vice, wrongs, or abuses in a high-pitched +strain of impassioned, declamatory eloquence. In this type of satire, +evil is designedly painted in exaggerated colours, that disgust may +more readily be aroused by the loathsomeness of the picture. As a +natural consequence, sobriety, moderation, and truth to nature no +longer are esteemed so indispensable. In this style Juvenal has had +many imitators, but no superiors. His satires represent the final +development the form underwent in achieving the definite purpose of +exposing and chastising in a systematic manner the entire catalogue of +vices, public and private, which were assailing the welfare of the +state. They constitute luridly powerful pictures of a debased and +shamelessly corrupt condition of society. Keen contemptuous ridicule, a +sardonic irony that held nothing in reverence, a caustic sarcasm that +burned like an acid, and a vituperative invective that ransacked the +language for phrases of opprobrium—these were the agents enlisted by +Juvenal into the service of purging society of its evil.</p> + +<p>Persius, on the other hand, was the philosophic satirist, whose +devotion to Stoicism caused him to +<span class="pagenum">[xix]<a name="pagexix" id="pagexix"></a></span> +see in it a panacea for all the +evils which Nero brought on the empire. The shortness of his life, his +studious tastes, and his exceptional moral purity all contributed to +keep him ignorant of that world of evil which, as Professor Sellar has +pithily remarked, it is the business of the satirist to know. Hence he +is purely a philosophic or didactic satirist. Only one of his poems, +the first, fulfils the special end of satire by representing any phase +whatever of the life of his time, and pointing its moral.</p> + +<p>Finally, Martial exchanged the epic tirade for the epigram as the +vehicle of his satire, and handled this lighter missile with +unsurpassed brilliance and <i>verve</i>. Despite his sycophancy and his +fulsome flattery of prospective benefactors, he displays more of the +sober moderation and sane common-sense of Horace than either of his +contemporaries. There are few better satirists of social and literary +pretenders either in ancient or modern times. No ancient has more +vividly painted the manners of antiquity. If Juvenal enforces the +lesson of that time, and has penetrated more deeply into the heart of +society, Martial has sketched its external aspect with a much fairer +pencil, and from a much more intimate contact with it.</p> + +<p>In the first and second centuries of our era two other forms of satire +took their rise, viz.:—the Milesian or "Satiric Tale" of Petronius and +Apuleius, and the "Satiric Dialogue" of Lucian. Both are admirable +pictures of their respective periods. The <i>Tales</i> of the two first are +conceived with great force of imagination, and executed with a happy +<span class="pagenum">[xx]<a name="pagexx" id="pagexx"></a></span> +blending of humour, wit, and cynical irony that suggests Gil Blas or +Barry Lyndon. <i>The Supper of Trimalchio</i>, by Petronius, reproduces with +unsparing hand the gluttony and the blatant vice of the Neronic epoch. +<i>The Golden Ass</i> of Apuleius is a clever sketch of contemporary manners +in the second century, painting in vivid colours the reaction that had +set in against scepticism, and the general appetite that prevailed for +miracles and magic.</p> + +<p>Finally, ancient satire may be said to close with the famous +<i>Dialogues</i> of Lucian, which, although written in Greek, exhibited all +the best features of Roman satire. Certainly the ethical purpose and +the reformative element are rather implied than insistently expressed +in Lucian; but he affords in his satiric sketches a capital glimpse of +the ludicrous perplexity into which the pagan mind was plunged when it +had lost faith in its mythology, and when a callous indifference +towards the Pantheon left the Roman world literally without a rational +creed. As a satire on the old Hellenic religion nothing could be racier +than <i>The Dialogues of the Gods</i> and <i>The Dialogues of the Dead</i>.</p> + +<p>It is impossible in this brief survey to discuss at large the vast +chaotic epoch in the history of satire which lies between the end of +the ancient world and the dawn of humanism. For satire, as a literary +genre, belongs to these two. The mediæval world, inexhaustible in its +capacity and relish for abuse, full of rude laughter and drastic +humour—prompt, for all its superstition, to make a jest of the priest, +and, for all its chivalry, to catalogue the foibles of +<span class="pagenum">[xxi]<a name="pagexxi" id="pagexxi"></a></span>women—had the +satirical animus in abundance, and satirical songs, visions, fables, +fabliaux, ballads, epics, in legion, but no definite and recognised +school of satire. It is sufficient to name, as examples of the +extraordinary range of the mediæval satiric genius, the farce of +<i>Pathelin</i>, the beast-epic of <i>Renart</i>, the rhymes of Walter Map, and +the <i>Inferno</i> of Dante.</p> + +<p>Of these satirists before the rise of "satire", mediæval England +produced two great examples in Chaucer and Langland. They typify at the +outset the two classes into which Dryden divided English satirists—the +followers of Horace's way and the followers of Juvenal's—the men of +the world, who assail the enemies of common-sense with the weapons of +humour and sarcasm; and the prophets, who assail vice and crime with +passionate indignation and invective scorn. Since Dryden's time neither +line has died out, and it is still possible, with all reserves, to +recognise the two strains through the whole course of English +literature: the one represented in Chaucer, Donne, Marvell, Addison, +Arbuthnot, Swift, Young, Goldsmith, Canning, Thackeray, and Tennyson; +the others in Langland, Skelton, Lyndsay, Nash, Marston, Dryden, Pope, +Churchill, Johnson, Junius, Burns, and Browning.</p> + +<p>Langland was a naïve mediæval Juvenal. The sad-visaged, world-weary +dreamer of the Malvern hills, sorrowing over the vice, the abuses, and +the social misery of his time, finding, as he tells us, no comfort in +any of the established institutions of his day, because confronted with +the fraud and falsehood that infected them all, is one of the most +<span class="pagenum">[xxii]<a name="pagexxii" id="pagexxii"></a></span> +pathetic figures in literature. As Skeat suggests, the object of his +great poem was to secure, through the latitude afforded by allegory, +opportunities of describing the life and manners of the poorer classes, +of inveighing against clerical abuses and the rapacity of the friars, +of representing the miseries caused by the great pestilences then +prevalent, and by the hasty and ill-advised marriages consequent +thereon; of denouncing lazy workmen and sham beggars, the corruption +and bribery then too common in the law-courts—in a word, to lash all +the numerous forms of falsehood, which are at all times the fit +subjects for satire and indignant exposure. Amid many essential +differences, is there not here a striking likeness to the work of the +Roman Juvenal? Langland's satire is not so fiery nor so rhetorically +intense as that of his prototype, but it is less profoundly despairing. +He satirizes evil rather by exposing it and contrasting it with good, +than by vehemently denouncing it. The colours of the pictures are +sombre, and the gloom is almost overwhelming, but still it is illumined +from time to time with the hope of coming amendment, when the great +reformer Piers the Plowman, by which is typified Christ,<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref5" id="fnref5" href="#fn5">[5]</a></span> should +appear, who was to remedy all abuses and restore the world to a right +condition. In this sustaining hope he differs from Juvenal, the +funereal gloom of whose satires is relieved by no gleam of hope for the +future.</p> + +<p>Contrast with this the humorous brightness, the laughter, and the light +of the surroundings <span class="pagenum">[xxiii]<a name="pagexxiii" id="pagexxiii"></a></span> +associated with his great contemporary, Geoffrey +Chaucer. His very satire is kindly and quaint, like that of Horace, +rather than bitterly acidulous. He raps his age over the knuckles, it +is true, for its faults and foibles, but the censor's face wears a +genial smile. One of his chief attractions for us lies in his bright +objectivity. He never wears his heart on his sleeve like Langland. He +has touches of rare and profound pathos, but these notes of pain are +only like undertones of discord to throw the harmony into stronger +relief, only like little cloudlets momentarily flitting across the +golden sunshine of his humour.</p> + +<p>We read Chaucer, as we read Horace, from love of his piquant +Epicureanism, and the scintillating satire wherewith he enlivens those +matchless pictures of his epoch which he has handed down to us. +Chaucer, as Professor Minto puts it, wrote largely for the court +circle. His verses were first read in tapestried chambers, and to the +gracious ear of stately lords and ladies. It was because he wrote for +such an audience that he avoids the introduction of any discordant +element in the shape of the deeper and darker social problems of the +time. The same reticence occurs in Horace, writing as he did for the +ear of Augustus and Mæcenas, and of the fashionable circle thronging +the great palace of his patron on the Esquiline. Is not the historic +parallel between the two pairs of writers still further verified? +Chaucer wisely chose the epic form for his greatest poem, because he +could introduce thereinto so many distinct qualities of composition, +and the woof of racy humour as well as +<span class="pagenum">[xxiv]<a name="pagexxiv" id="pagexxiv"></a></span> +of sprightly satire which he +introduces with such consummate art into the texture of his verse is of +as fine a character as any in our literature. In Langland's great +allegory, the satire is earnest, grave and solemn, as though with a +sense of deep responsibility; that in Chaucer's <i>Canterbury +Tales</i>—nay, in all his poems—is genial, laughing, and good-natured; +tolerant, like Horace's of human weaknesses, because the author is so +keenly conscious of his own.</p> + +<p>Langland and Chaucer both died about the beginning of the fifteenth +century. But from that date until 1576—when Gascoigne's <i>Steel Glass</i>, +the first verse satire of the Elizabethan age, was published—we must +look mainly to Scotland and the poems of William Dunbar, Sir David +Lyndsay, and others, to preserve the apostolic succession of satire. +William Dunbar is one of the greatest of British satirists. His <i>Dance +of the Seven Deadly Sins</i>, in which the popular poetic form of the +age—allegory—is utilized with remarkable skill as the vehicle for a +scathing satire on the headlong sensuality of his time, produces by its +startling realism and terrible intensity an effect not unlike that +exercised by the overpowering creations of Salvator Rosa. The poem is a +bitter indictment of the utter corruption of all classes in the society +of his period. Like Juvenal, to whose school he belongs, he softens +nothing, tones down nothing. The evil is presented in all its native +hideousness. Lyndsay, on the other hand, would have been more vigorous +had he been less diffuse, and used the pruning-knife more unsparingly. +His finest satiric pictures often lose +<span class="pagenum">[xxv]<a name="pagexxv" id="pagexxv"></a></span> +their point by verbosity and +tediousness. Brevity is the soul of satire as well as of wit.</p> + +<p>The most vigorous English satire of this entire period was that which +we owe to the scurrilous pen of Skelton and the provocative personality +of Wolsey. With his work may be mentioned the rude and unpolished, yet +vigorous, piece bearing the rhyming title,</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"Rede me and be nott wrothe,</div> + <div>For I saye no thing but trothe",</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">written by two English Observantine Franciscan friars, William Roy and +Jerome Barlowe;<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref6" id="fnref6" href="#fn6">[6]</a></span> +a satire which stung the great cardinal so sharply +that he commissioned Hermann Rynck to buy up every available copy. +Alexander Barclay's imitation, in his <i>Ship of Fools</i>, of Sebastian +Brandt's <i>Narrenschiff,</i> was only remarkable for the novel satirical +device of the plan.</p> + +<p>Bishop Latimer in his sermons is a vigorous satirist, particularly in +that discourse upon "The Ploughers" (1547). His fearlessness is very +conspicuous, and his attacks on the bishops who proved untrue to their +trust and allowed their dioceses to go to wreck and ruin, are outspoken +and trenchant:</p> + + <blockquote><p>"They that be lords will ill go to plough. It is no meet office for + them. It is not seeming for their state. Thus came up lording + loiterers; Thus crept in unprechinge prelates, and so have they + long continued. For how many unlearned prelates have we now at this + day? And no marvel; For if the ploughmen that now be, were made + lordes, they would clean give over ploughing, they would leave of + theyr labour and <span class="pagenum">[xxvi]<a name="pagexxvi" id="pagexxvi"></a></span> + fall to lording outright and let the plough + stand. For ever since the Prelates were made lords and nobles, the + plough standeth, there is no work done, the people starve. They + hawke, they hunte, they carde, they dyce, they pastime in their + prelacies with galaunt gentlemen, with their dauncing minions, and + with their freshe companions, so that ploughing is set aside."<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref7" id="fnref7" href="#fn7">[7]</a></span></p></blockquote> + +<p>But after Gascoigne's <i>Steel Glass</i> was published, which professed to +hold a mirror or "steel glass" up to the vices of the age, we reach +that wonderful outburst of satiric, epigrammatic, and humorous +composition which was one of the characteristics, and certainly not the +least important, of the Elizabethan epoch. Lodge's <i>Fig for Momus</i> +(1593) contains certain satires which rank with Gascoigne's work as the +earliest compositions of that type belonging to the period. That they +were of no mean reputation in their own day is evident from the +testimony of Meres,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref8" id="fnref8" +href="#fn8">[8]</a></span> who says, "As Horace, Lucilius, Juvenal, +Persius, and Lucullus are the best for satire among the Latins, so with +us, in the same faculty, these are chiefe, Piers Plowman, Lodge, Hall +of Emanuel College, Cambridge, the author of <i>Pygmalion's Image and +Certain Satires</i><span class="fnref"><a name="fnref9" id="fnref9" +href="#fn9">[9]</a></span> and the author of <i>Skialethea</i>". This contemporary +opinion regarding the fact that <i>The Vision of Piers Plowman</i> was +esteemed a satire of outstanding merit in those days, is a curious +commentary on Hall's boastful couplet describing himself as the +earliest English satirist.</p> + +<p>To name all the writers who, in this fruitful epoch of our literature, +devoted themselves to this <span class="pagenum">[xxvii]<a name="pagexxvii" +id="pagexxvii"></a></span>kind of composition would be impossible. +From 1598 until the death of James I. upwards of one hundred separate +satirists can be named, both in verse and prose. Of these Bishop Hall +is one of the greatest, and I have chosen him as the leading +representative of the period. To the study of Horace and Juvenal he had +devoted many years of his early manhood, and his imitation of these two +great Romans is close and consistent. Therefore, for vigour, grave +dignity, and incisiveness of thought, united to graphic pictures of his +age, Hall is undeniably the most important name in the history of the +Elizabethan satire, strictly so called. His exposures of the follies of +his age were largely couched in the form, so much affected by Horace, +of a familiar commentary on certain occurrences, addressed apparently +to an anonymous correspondent.</p> + +<p>Contemporary with Hall was Thomas Nash, whose <i>Pierce Penilesse's +Supplication to the Devil</i> was one of the most extraordinary onslaughts +on the social vices of the metropolis that the period produced. Written +in close imitation of Juvenal's earlier satires, he frequently +approaches the standard of his master in graphic power of description, +in scathing invective, and ironical mockery. In <i>Have with you to +Saffron Walden</i> he lashed Gabriel Harvey for his unworthy conduct +towards the memory of Robert Greene. Both satires are written in prose, +as indeed are nearly all his works, inasmuch as Nash was more of a +pamphleteer than anything else. Other contemporaries of Hall were +Thomas Dekker, whose fame as a dramatist has +<span class="pagenum">[xxviii]<a name="pagexxviii" id="pagexxviii"></a></span> +eclipsed his reputation +as a satirist, but whose <i>Bachelor's Banquet—pleasantly discoursing +the variable humours of Women, their quickness of wits and unsearchable +deceits</i>, is a sarcastic impeachment of the gentler sex, while his +<i>Gull's Hornbook</i> must be ranked with Nash's work as one of the most +unsparing castigations of social life in London. The latter is a volume +of fictitious maxims for the use of youths desirous of being considered +"pretty fellows". Other contemporaries were John Donne, John Marston, +Jonson, George Chapman, and Nicholas Breton—all names of men who were +conspicuous inheritors of the true Elizabethan spirit, and who united +virility of thought to robustness and trenchancy of sarcasm.</p> + +<p>Marston and Breton were amongst the best of the group, though they are +not represented in these pages owing to the unsuitability of their +writings for extract. Here is a picture from one of the satires of +Marston which is instinct with satiric power. It is a portrait of a +love-sick swain, and runs as follows:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"For when my ears received a fearful sound</div> + <div>That he was sick, I went, and there I found,</div> + <div>Him laid of love and newly brought to bed</div> + <div>Of monstrous folly, and a franticke head:</div> + <div>His chamber hanged about with elegies,</div> + <div>With sad complaints of his love's miseries,</div> + <div>His windows strow'd with sonnets and the glasse</div> + <div>Drawn full of love-knots. I approach'd the asse,</div> + <div>And straight he weepes, and sighes some Sonnet out</div> + <div>To his fair love! and then he goes about,</div> + <div>For to perfume her rare perfection,</div> + <div>With some sweet smelling pink epitheton.</div> + <span class="pagenum">[xxix]<a name="pagexxix" id="pagexxix"></a></span> + <div>Then with a melting looke he writhes his head,</div> + <div>And straight in passion, riseth in his bed,</div> + <div>And having kist his hand, strok'd up his haire,</div> + <div>Made a French <i>congé</i>, cryes 'O cruall Faire!'</div> + <div>To th' antique bed-post."<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref10" + id="fnref10" href="#fn10">[10]</a></span></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Marston manifests more vigour and nervous force in his satires than +Hall, but exhibits less elegance and ease in versification. In Charles +Fitz-geoffrey's <i>Affaniæ</i>, a set of Latin epigrams, printed at Oxford +in 1601, Marston is complimented as the "Second English Satirist", or +rather as dividing the palm of priority and excellence in English +satire with Hall. The individual characteristics of the various leading +Elizabethan satirists,—the vitriolic bitterness of Nash, the +sententious profundity of Donne, the happy-go-lucky "slogging" of +genial Dekker, the sledge-hammer blows of Jonson, the turgid +malevolence of Chapman, and the stiletto-like thrusts of George +Buchanan are worthy of closer and more detailed study than can be +devoted to them in a sketch such as this. I regret that Nicolas +Breton's <i>Pasquil's Madcappe</i> proved too long for quotation in its +entirety,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref11" id="fnref11" +href="#fn11">[11]</a></span> but the man who could pen such lines as these was, of a +truth, a satirist of a high order:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">But what availes unto the world to talke?</div> + <div>Wealth is a witch that hath a wicked charme,</div> + <div>That in the minds of wicked men doth walke,</div> + <div>Unto the heart and Soule's eternal harme,</div> + <div>Which is not kept by the Almighty arme:</div> + <span class="pagenum">[xxx]<a name="pagexxx" id="pagexxx"></a></span> + <div>O,'tis the strongest instrument of ill</div> + <div>That ere was known to work the devill's will.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>An honest man is held a good poore soule,</div> + <div>And kindnesse counted but a weake conceite,</div> + <div>And love writte up but in the woodcocke's soule,</div> + <div>While thriving <i>Wat</i> doth but on Wealth await:</div> + <div>He is a fore horse that goes ever streight:</div> + <div>And he but held a foole for all his Wit,</div> + <div>That guides his braines but with a golden bit.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A virgin is a vertuous kind of creature,</div> + <div>But doth not coin command Virginitie?</div> + <div>And beautie hath a strange bewitching feature,</div> + <div>But gold reads so much world's divinitie,</div> + <div>As with the Heavens hath no affinitie:</div> + <div>So that where Beauty doth with vertue dwell,</div> + <div>If it want money, yet it will not sell.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Of the satiric forms peculiar to the Elizabethan epoch there is no +great variety. The <i>Characters</i> of Theophrastus supplied a model to +some of the writers. The close adherence also which the majority of +them manifest to the broadly marked types of "Horatian" and +"Juvenalian" satire, both in matter and manner, is not a little +remarkable. The genius for selecting from the classics those forms both +of composition and metre best suited to become vehicles for satire, and +adapting them thereto, did not begin to manifest itself in so +pronounced a manner until after the Restoration. The Elizabethan +mind—using the phrase of course in its broad sense as inclusive of the +Jacobean and the early Caroline epochs—was more engrossed with the +matter than the manner of satire. Perhaps the finest satire which +distinguished this wonderful era was the <i>Argenis</i> of John Barclay, a +<span class="pagenum">[xxxi]<a name="pagexxxi" id="pagexxxi"></a></span> +politico-satiric romance, or, in other words, the adaptation of the +"Milesian tale" of Petronius to state affairs.</p> + +<p>During the Parliamentary War, satire was the only species of +composition which did not suffer more or less eclipse, but its +character underwent change. It became to a large extent a medium for +sectarian bitterness. It lost its catholicity, and degenerated in great +measure into the instrument of partisan antagonism, and a means of +impaling the folly or fanaticism, real or imagined, of special +individuals among the Cavaliers and Roundheads.<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref12" id="fnref12" href="#fn12">[12]</a></span> +Of such a character +was the bulk of the satires produced at that time. In a few instances, +however, a higher note was struck, as, for example, when "dignified +political satire", in the hands of Andrew Marvell, was utilized to +fight the battle of freedom of conscience in the matter of the +observances of external religion. <i>The Rehearsal Transposed, Mr. +Smirke, or the Divine in Mode, and his Political Satires</i> are +masterpieces of lofty indignation mingled with grave and ironical +banter. Among many others Edmund Waller showed himself an apt disciple +of Horace, and produced charming social satires marked by delicate wit +and raillery in the true Horatian mode; while the Duke of Buckingham, +in the <i>Rehearsal</i>, utilized the dramatic parody to travesty the plays +of Dryden. Abraham Cowley, in the <i>Mistress</i>, also imitated Horace, and +in his play <i>Cutter of Coleman Street</i> satirized the Puritans' +affectation of superior sanctity and their affected style of +conversation. Then came John Oldham and John Cleiveland, who both +accepted <span class="pagenum">[xxxii]<a name="pagexxxii" id="pagexxxii"></a></span> +Juvenal as their model. Cleiveland's antipathy towards +Cromwell and the Scots was on a par with that of John Wilkes towards +the latter, and was just as unreasonable, while the language he +employed in his diatribes against both was so extravagant as to lose +its sarcastic point in mere vulgar abuse. In like manner Oldham's +<i>Satires on the Jesuits</i> afford as disgraceful a specimen of sectarian +bigotry as the language contains. Only their pungency and wit render +them readable. He displays Juvenal's violence of invective without his +other redeeming qualities. All these, however, were entirely eclipsed +in reputation by a writer who made the mock-epic the medium through +which the bitterest onslaught on the anti-royalist party and its +principles was delivered by one who, as a "king's man", was almost as +extreme a bigot as those he satirized. The <i>Hudibras</i> of Samuel Butler, +in its mingling of broad, almost extravagant, humour and sneering +mockery has no parallel in our literature. Butler's characters are +rather mere "humours" or <i>qualities</i> than real personages. There is no +attempt made to observe the modesty of nature. <i>Hudibras</i>, therefore, +is an example not so much of satire, though satire is present in rich +measure also, as of burlesque. The poem is genuinely satirical only in +those parts where the author steps in as the chorus, so to speak, and +offers pithy moralizings on what is taking place in the action of the +story. There is visible throughout the poem, however, a lack of +restraint that causes him to overdo his part. Were <i>Hudibras</i> shorter, +the satire would be more effective. Though in parts often as terse in +style as <span class="pagenum">[xxxiii]<a name="pagexxxiii" id="pagexxxiii"></a></span> +Pope's best work, still the poem is too long, and it undoes +the force of its attack on the Puritans by its exaggeration.</p> + +<p>All these writers, even Butler himself, simply prepared the way for the +man who is justly regarded as England's greatest satirist. The epoch of +John Dryden has been fittingly styled the "Golden Age of English +Satire".<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref13" id="fnref13" href="#fn13">[13]</a></span> +To warrant this description, however, it must be held to +include the writers of the reign of Queen Anne. The Elizabethan period +was perhaps richer, numerically speaking, in representatives of certain +types of satirical composition, but the true perfection, the +efflorescence of the long-growing plant, was reached in that era which +extended from the publication of Dryden's <i>Absalom and Achitophel</i> +(Part I.) in 1681 to the issue of Pope's <i>Dunciad</i> in its final form in +1742. During these sixty years appeared the choicest of English +satires, to wit, all Dryden's finest pieces, the <i>Medal</i>, +<i>MacFlecknoe</i>, and <i>Absalom and Achitophel</i>, Swift's <i>Tale of a Tub</i>, +and his <i>Miscellanies</i>—among which his best metrical satires appeared; +all Defoe's work, too, as well as Steele's in the <i>Tatler</i>, and +Addison's in the <i>Spectator</i>, Arbuthnot's <i>History of John Bull</i>, +Churchill's <i>Rosciad</i>, and finally all Pope's poems, including the +famous "Prologue" as well as the "Epilogue" to the <i>Satires</i>. It is +curious to note how the satirical succession (if the phrase be +permitted) is maintained uninterruptedly from Bishop Hall down to the +death of Pope—nay, we may even say down to the age of Byron, to whose +epoch one may trace something like a continuous +<span class="pagenum">[xxxiv]<a name="pagexxxiv" id="pagexxxiv"></a></span>tradition. Hall did +not die until Dryden was twenty-seven years of age. Pope delighted to +record that, when a boy of twelve years of age, he had met "Glorious +John", though the succession could be passed on otherwise through +Congreve, one of the most polished of English satirical writers, whom +Dryden complimented as "one whom every muse and grace adorn", while to +him also Pope dedicated his translation of the <i>Iliad</i>.<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref14" id="fnref14" href="#fn14">[14]</a></span> Bolingbroke, +furthermore, was the friend and patron of Pope, while the witty St. +John, in turn, was bound by ties of friendship to Mallet, who passed on +the succession to Goldsmith, Sheridan, Ellis, Canning, Moore, and +Byron. Thereafter satire begins to fall upon evil days, and the +tradition cannot be so clearly traced.</p> + +<p>But satire, during this "succession", did not remain absolutely the +same. She changed her garb with her epoch. Thus the robust bludgeoning +of Dryden and Shadwell, of Defoe, Steele, D'Urfey, and Tom Brown, gave +place to the sardonic ridicule of Swift, the polished raillery of +Arbuthnot, and the double-distilled essence of acidulous sarcasm +present in the <i>Satires</i> of Pope. There is as marked a difference +between the Drydenic and the Swiftian types of satire, between that of +Cleiveland and that of Pope, as between the diverse schools known as +the "Horatian" and the "Juvenalian". The cause of this, over and above +the effect produced by prolonged study of these two classical models, +was the overwhelming influence exercised on his age by the great French +critic and satirist, Boileau. Difficult +<span class="pagenum">[xxxv]<a name="pagexxxv" id="pagexxxv"></a></span>indeed it is for us at the +present day to understand the European homage paid to Boileau. As +Hannay says, "He was a dignified classic figure supposed to be the +model of fine taste",<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref15" id="fnref15" +href="#fn15">[15]</a></span> His word was law in the realm of criticism, +and for many years he was known, not alone in France, but throughout a +large portion of Europe, as "The Lawgiver of Parnassus". Prof. Dowden, +referring to his critical authority, remarks:—</p> + + <blockquote><p>"The genius of Boileau was in a high degree intellectual, animated + by ideas. As a moralist he is not searching or profound; he saw too + little of the inner world of the heart, and knew too imperfectly + its agitations. When, however, he deals with literature—and a just + judgment in letters may almost be called an element in morals—all + his penetration and power become apparent. To clear the ground for + the new school of nature, truth, and reason was Boileau's first + task. It was a task which called for courage and skill ... he + struck at the follies and affectations of the world of letters, and + he struck with force. It was a needful duty, and one most + effectively performed.... Boileau's influence as a critic of + literature can hardly be overrated; it has much in common with the + influence of Pope on English literature, beneficial as regards his + own time, somewhat restrictive and even tyrannical upon later + generations."<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref16" id="fnref16" + href="#fn16">[16]</a></span></p></blockquote> + +<p>Owing to the predominance of French literary modes in England, this was +the man whose influence, until nearly the close of last century, was +paramount in England even when it was most bitterly disclaimed. +Boileau's <i>Satires</i> were published during 1660-70, and he himself died +in 1711; but, though dead, he still ruled for many a +<span class="pagenum">[xxxvi]<a name="pagexxxvi" id="pagexxxvi"></a></span>decade to come. +This then was the literary censor to whom English satire of the +post-Drydenic epochs owed so much. Neither Swift nor Pope was ashamed +to confess his literary indebtedness to the great Frenchman; nay, +Dryden himself has confessed his obligations to Boileau, and in his +<i>Discourse on Satire</i> has quoted his authority as absolute. Before +pointing out the differences between the Drydenic and post-Drydenic +satire let us note very briefly the special characteristics of the +former. Apart from the "matter" of his satire, Dryden laid this +department of letters under a mighty obligation through the splendid +service he rendered by the first successful application of the heroic +couplet to satire. Of itself this was a great boon; but his good deeds +as regards the "matter" of satiric composition have entirely obscured +the benefit he conferred on its manner or technical form. Dryden's four +great satires, <i>Absalom and Achitophel</i>, <i>The Medal</i>, <i>MacFlecknoe</i>, +and the <i>Hind and the Panther</i>, each exemplify a distinct and important +type of satire. The first named is the classical instance of the use of +"historic parallels" as applied to the impeachment of the vices or +abuses of any age. With matchless skill the story of Absalom is +employed not merely to typify, but actually to represent, the designs +of Monmouth and his Achitophel—Shaftesbury. <i>The Medal</i> reverts to the +type of the classic satire of the Juvenalian order. It is slightly more +rhetorical in style, and is partly devoted to a bitter invective +against Shaftesbury, partly to an argument as to the unfitness of +republican institutions for England, partly <span class="pagenum">[xxxvii]<a +name="pagexxxvii" id="pagexxxvii"></a></span>to a satiric address to +the Whigs. The third of the great series, <i>MacFlecknoe</i>, is Dryden's +masterpiece of satiric irony; a purely personal attack upon his rival, +Shadwell, "Crowned King of Dulness, and in all the realms of nonsense +absolute". Finally, the <i>Hind and the Panther</i> represents a new +development of the "satiric fable". Dryden gave to British satire the +impulse towards that final form of development which it received from +the great satirists of the next century. There is little that appears +in Swift, Addison, Arbuthnot, Pope, or even Byron, for which the way +was not prepared by the genius of "Glorious John".</p> + +<p>Of the famous group which adorned the reign of Queen Anne, Steele lives +above all in his Isaac Bickerstaff Essays, the vehicle of admirably +pithy and trenchant prose satire upon current political abuses. But, +unfortunately for his own fame, his lot was to be associated with the +greatest master of this form of composition that has appeared in +literature, and the celebrity of the greater writer dimmed that of the +lesser. Addison in his papers in the <i>Tatler</i> and the <i>Spectator</i> has +brought what may be styled the Essay of Satiric Portraiture—in after +days to be developed along other lines by Praed, Charles Lamb, Leigh +Hunt, and R.L. Stevenson—to an unsurpassed standard of excellence. +Such character studies as those of Sir Roger de Coverley, his household +and friends, Will Honeycomb, Sir Andrew Freeport, Ned Softly, and +others, possess an endless charm for us in the sobriety and moderation +of the colours, the truth to nature, the delicate raillery, and the +polished sarcasm of their <span class="pagenum">[xxxviii]<a name="pagexxxviii" +id="pagexxxviii"></a></span>satiric animadversions. Addison has studied +his Horace to advantage, and to the great Roman's attributes has added +other virtues distinctly English.</p> + +<p>Arbuthnot, the celebrated physician of Queen Anne, takes rank among the +best of English satirists by virtue of his famous work <i>The History of +John Bull</i>. The special mode or type employed was the "allegorical +political tale", of which the plot was the historic sequence of events +in connection with the war with Louis XIV. of France. The object of the +fictitious narrative was to throw ridicule on the Duke of Marlborough, +and to excite among the people a feeling of disgust at the protracted +hostilities. The nations involved are represented as tradesmen +implicated in a lawsuit, the origin of the dispute being traced to +their narrow and selfish views. The national characteristics of each +individual are skilfully hit off, and the various events of the war, +with the accompanying political intrigues, are symbolized by the stages +in the progress of the suit, the tricks of the lawyers, and the devices +of the principal attorney, Humphrey Hocus (Marlborough), to prolong the +struggle. His <i>Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus</i>—a satire on the abuses +of human learning,—in which the type of the fictitious biography is +adopted, is exceedingly clever.</p> + +<p>Finally, we reach the pair of satirists who, next to Dryden, must be +regarded as the writers whose influence has been greatest in +determining the character of British satire. Pope is the disciple of +Dryden, and the best qualities of the Drydenic satire, in both form and +matter, are reproduced in <span class="pagenum">[xxxix]<a name="pagexxxix" +id="pagexxxix"></a></span>his works accompanied by special attributes +of his own. Owing to the extravagant admiration professed by Byron for +the author of the <i>Rape of the Lock</i>, and his repeated assurances of +his literary indebtedness to him, we are apt to overlook the fact that +the noble lord was under obligations to Dryden of a character quite as +weighty as those he was so ready to acknowledge to Pope. But the +latter, like Shakespeare, so improved all he borrowed that he has in +some instances actually received credit for inventing what he only took +from his great master. Pope was more of a refiner and polisher of +telling satiric forms which Dryden had in the first instance employed, +than an original inventor.</p> + +<p>To mention all the types of satire affected by this marvellously acute +and variously cultured poet would be a task of some difficulty. There +are few amongst the principal forms which he has not essayed. In spirit +he is more pungent and sarcastic, more acidulous and malicious, than +the large-hearted and generous-souled Dryden. Into his satire, +therefore, enters a greater amount of the element of personal dislike +and contempt than in the case of the other. While satire is present +more or less in nearly all Pope's verse, there are certain compositions +where it may be said to be the outstanding quality. These are his +<i>Satires</i>, among which should of course be included "The Prologue" and +"The Epilogue" to them, as well as the <i>Moral Essays</i>, and finally the +<i>Dunciad</i>. These comprise the best of his professed satires. His +<i>Satires and Epistles of Horace Imitated</i> are just what they +<span class="pagenum">[xl]<a name="pagexl" id="pagexl"></a></span>claim to +be—an adaptation to English scenes, sympathies, sentiments, and +surroundings of the Roman poet's characteristic style. Though Pope has +quite as many points of affinity with Juvenal as with Horace, the +adaptation and transference of the local atmosphere from Tiber to +Thames is managed with extraordinary skill. The historic parallels, +too, of the personages in the respective poems are made to accord and +harmonize with the spirit of the time. The <i>Satires</i> are written from +the point of view of opposition to Sir Robert Walpole, the great Whig +minister. They display the concentrated essence of bitterness towards +the ministerial policy. As Minto tersely puts it, we see gathered up in +them the worst that was thought and said about the government and court +party when men's minds were heated almost to the point of civil war.<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref17" id="fnref17" href="#fn17">[17]</a></span> +In the "Prologue" and the "Epilogue" are contained some of the most +finished satiric portraits drawn by Pope in any of his works. For +caustic bitterness, sustained but polished irony, and merciless +sarcastic malice, the characters of Atticus (Addison), Bufo, and Sporus +have never been surpassed in the literature of political or social +criticism.<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref18" id="fnref18" href="#fn18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>The <i>Dunciad</i> is an instance of the mock-epic utilized for the purposes +of satire. Here Pope, as regards theme, possibly had the idea suggested +to him by Dryden's <i>MacFlecknoe</i>, but undoubtedly the heroic couplet, +which the latter had first applied to satire and used with such +conspicuous success, was still further polished and improved by Pope +until, <span class="pagenum">[xli]<a name="pagexli" id="pagexli"></a></span> +as Mr. Courthope says, "it became in his hands a rapier of +perfect flexibility and temper". From the time of Pope until that of +Byron this stately measure has been regarded as the metre best suited +<i>par excellence</i> for the display of satiric point and brilliancy, and +as the medium best calculated to confer dignity on political satire. +The <i>Dunciad</i>, while personal malice enters into it, must not be +regarded as, properly speaking, a malicious satire. From a literary +censor's point of view almost every lash Pope administered was richly +deserved. In this respect Pope has all Horace's fairness and +moderation, while at the same time he exhibits not a little of +Juvenal's depth of conviction that desperate diseases demand radical +remedies.<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref19" id="fnref19" href="#fn19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<p>By the side of Pope stands an impressive but a mournful figure, one of +the most tragic in our literature, to think of whom, as Thackeray says, +"is like thinking of the ruin of a great empire". As an all-round +satirist Jonathan Swift has no superior save Dryden, and he only by +virtue of his broader human sympathies. In the works of the great Dean +we have many distinct forms of satire. Scarce anything he wrote, with +the exception of his unfortunate <i>History of the Last Four Years of +Queen Anne</i>, but is marked by satiric touches that relieve the tedium +of even its dullest pages. He has utilized nearly all the recognized +modes of satiric composition throughout the range of his long list of +works. In the <i>Tale of a Tub</i> he employed the vehicle of the satiric +tale to lash the Dissenters, the Papists, and even the Church of +England; in a <span class="pagenum">[xlii]<a name="pagexlii" id="pagexlii"></a></span> +word, the cant of religion as well as the pretensions of +letters and the shams of the world. In the <i>Battle of the Books</i> the +parody or travesty of the Romances of Chivalry is used to ridicule the +controversy raging between Temple, Wotton, Boyle, and Bentley, +regarding the comparative merits of ancient and modern writers. In +<i>Gulliver's Travels</i> the fictitious narrative or mock journal is +impressed into the service, the method consisting in adopting an absurd +supposition at the outset and then gravely deducing the logical effects +which follow. These three form the trio of great prose satires which +from the epoch of their publication until now have remained the wonder +and the delight of successive generations. Their realism, humorous +invention, ready wit, unsparing irony, and keen ridicule have exercised +as potent an attraction as their gloomy misanthropy has repelled. Among +minor satires are his scathing attacks in prose and verse on the war +party as a ring of Whig stock-jobbers, such as <i>Advice to the October +Club</i>, <i>Public Spirit of the Whigs, &c.</i>, the <i>Virtues of Sid Hamet</i>, +<i>The Magician's Wand</i> (directed against Godolphin); his <i>Polite +Conversations</i> and <i>Directions to Servants</i> are savage attacks on the +inanity of society small-talk and the greed of the menials of the +period. But why prolong the list? From the <i>Drapier's Letters</i>, +directed against a supposed fraudulent introduction of a copper +currency known as "Wood's Halfpence", to his skit on <i>The Furniture of +a Woman's Mind</i>, there were few topics current in his day, whether in +politics, theology, economics, or social gossip, which he did not +<span class="pagenum">[xliii]<a name="pagexliii" id="pagexliii"></a></span> +attack with the artillery of his wit and satire. Had he been less +sardonic, had he possessed even a modicum of the <i>bonhomie</i> of his +friend Arbuthnot, Swift's satire would have exercised even more potent +an influence than it has been its fortune to achieve.</p> + +<p>Pope died in 1744, Swift in 1745. During their last years there were +signs that the literary modes of the epoch of Queen Anne, which had +maintained their ascendency so long, were rapidly losing their hold on +the popular mind. A new literary period was about to open wherein new +literary ideals and new models would prevail. Satire, in common with +literature as a whole, felt the influence of the transitional era. As +we have seen, it concerned itself largely with ridiculing the follies +and eccentricities of men of letters and foolish pretenders to the +title; also in lashing social vices and abuses. The political enmity +existing between the Jacobites and the Hanoverians continued to afford +occasion for the exchange of party squibs and lampoons. The lengthened +popularity of Gay's <i>Beggars' Opera</i>, a composition wherein a new mode +was created, viz. the satiric opera (the prototype of the comic opera +of later days), affords an index to the temper of the time. It was the +age of England's lethargy.</p> + +<p>After the defeat of Culloden, satire languished for a while, to revive +again during the ministry of the Earl of Bute, when everything Scots +came in for condemnation, and when Smollett and John Wilkes belaboured +each other in the <i>Briton</i> and the <i>North Briton</i>, in pamphlet, +pasquinade, and parody, <span class="pagenum">[xliv]<a name="pagexliv" id="pagexliv"></a></span> +until at last Lord Bute withdrew from the +contest in disgust, and suspended the organ over which the author of +<i>Roderick Random</i> presided. The satirical effusions of this epoch are +almost entirely worthless, the only redeeming feature being the fact +that Goldsmith was at that very moment engaged in throwing off those +delicious <i>morceaux</i> of social satire contained in <i>The Citizen of the +World</i>. Johnson, a few years before, had set the fashion for some time +with his two satires written in free imitation of Juvenal—<i>London</i>, +and <i>The Vanity of Human Wishes</i>. But from 1760 onward until the close +of the century, when Ellis, Canning, and Frere opened what may be +termed the modern epoch of satire, the influence paramount was that of +Goldsmith. Fielding and Smollett were both satirists of powerful and +original stamp, but they were so much else besides that their influence +was lost in that of the genial author of the <i>Deserted Village</i> and +<i>Retaliation</i>. His <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i> is a satire, upon sober, +moderate principles, against the vice of the upper classes, as typified +in the character of Mr. Thornhill, while the sketch of Beau Tibbs in +<i>The Citizen of the World</i> is a racy picture of the out-at-elbows, +would-be man of fashion, who seeks to pose as a social leader and +arbiter of taste when he had better have been following a trade.</p> + +<p>The next revival of the popularity of satire takes place towards the +commencement of the third last decade of the eighteenth century, when, +using the vehicle of the epistolary mode, an anonymous writer, whose +identity is still in dispute, attacked <span class="pagenum">[xlv]<a +name="pagexlv" id="pagexlv"></a></span>the monarch, the government, +and the judicature of the country, in a series of letters in which +scathing invective, merciless ridicule, and lofty scorn were united to +vigour and polish of style, as well as undeniable literary taste.</p> + +<p>After the appearance of the <i>Letters of Junius</i>, which, perhaps, have +owed the permanence of their popularity as much to the interest +attaching to the mystery of their authorship as to their intrinsic +merits, political satire may be said to have once more slumbered +awhile. The impression produced by the studied malice of the <i>Letters</i>, +and the epigrammatic suggestiveness which appeared to leave as much +unsaid as was said, was enormous, yet, strangely enough, they were +unable to check the growing influence of the school of satire whereof +Goldsmith was the chief founder, and from which the fashionable <i>jeux +d'esprit</i>, the sparkling <i>persiflage</i> of the society <i>flâneurs</i> of the +nineteenth century are the legitimate descendants.<span class="fnref"><a +name="fnref20" id="fnref20" href="#fn20">[20]</a></span> The decade +1768-78, therefore—that decade when the plays of Goldsmith and +Sheridan were appearing,—witnessed the rise and the development of +that genial, humorous raillery, in prose and verse, of personal foibles +and of social abuses, of which the <i>Retaliation</i> and the Beau Tibbs +papers are favourable examples. These were the distinguishing +characteristics of our satiric literature during the closing decade of +the eighteenth century until the horrors of the French Revolution, and +the sympathy with it which was apparently being aroused in England, +called political satire into requisition once more. Party feeling +<span class="pagenum">[xlvi]<a name="pagexlvi" id="pagexlvi"></a></span>ran +high with regard to the principles enunciated by the so-called "friends +of freedom". The sentiments of the "Constitutional Tories" found +expression in the bitter, sardonic, vitriolic mockery visible in the +pages of the <i>Anti-Jacobin</i>,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref21" +id="fnref21" href="#fn21">[21]</a></span> which did more to check the progress of +nascent Radicalism and the movement in favour of political reform than +any other means employed. Chief-justice Mansfield's strictures and Lord +Braxfield's diatribes alike paled into insignificance beside these +deadly, scorching bombs of Juvenal-like vituperation, which have +remained unapproached in their specific line. As an example take +Ellis's <i>Ode to Jacobinism</i>, of which I quote two stanzas:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"Daughter of Hell, insatiate power!</div> + <div>Destroyer of the human race,</div> + <div>Whose iron scourge and maddening hour</div> + <div>Exalt the bad, the good debase;</div> + <div>When first to scourge the sons of earth,</div> + <div>Thy sire his darling child designed,</div> + <div>Gallia received the monstrous birth,</div> + <div>Voltaire informed thine infant mind.</div> + <div>Well-chosen nurse, his sophist lore,</div> + <div>He bade thee many a year explore,</div> + <div>He marked thy progress firm though slow,</div> + <div>And statesmen, princes, leagued with their inveterate foe.</div> + <div>Scared at thy frown terrific, fly</div> + <div>The morals (antiquated brood),</div> + <div>Domestic virtue, social joy,</div> + <div>And faith that has for ages stood;</div> + <div>Swift they disperse and with them go</div> + <div>The friend sincere, the generous foe—</div> + <div>Traitors to God, to man avowed,</div> + <div>By thee now raised aloft, now crushed beneath the crowd."</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[xlvii]<a name="pagexlvii" id="pagexlvii"></a></span> +Space only remains for a single word upon the satire of the nineteenth +century. In this category would be included the <i>Bæviad</i> and the +<i>Mæviad</i> by William Gifford (editor of the <i>Anti-Jacobin</i>), which, +though first printed in the closing years of the eighteenth century, +were issued in volume form in 1800. Written as they are in avowed +imitation of Juvenal, Persius, and Horace, they out-Juvenal Juvenal by +the violence of the language, besides descending to a depth of personal +scurrility as foreign to the nature of true satire as abuse is alien to +wit. They have long since been consigned to merited oblivion, though in +their day, from the useful and able work done by their author in other +fields of literature, they enjoyed no inconsiderable amount of fame. +Two or three lines from the <i>Bæviad</i> will give a specimen of its +quality:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"For mark, to what 'tis given, and then declare,</div> + <div>Mean though I am, if it be worth my care.</div> + <div>Is it not given to Este's unmeaning dash,</div> + <div>To Topham's fustian, Reynold's flippant trash,</div> + <div>To Andrews' doggerel where three wits combine,</div> + <div>To Morton's catchword, Greathead's idiot line,</div> + <div>And Holcroft's Shug-lane cant and Merry's Moorfields Whine?"<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref22" id="fnref22" href="#fn22">[22]</a></span></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The early years of the present century still felt the influence of the +sardonic ridicule which prevailed during the closing years of the +previous one, and the satirists who appeared during the first decades +of the former belonged to the robust or energetic order. Their names +and their works are well-nigh forgotten.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[xlviii]<a name="pagexlviii" id="pagexlviii"></a></span> +We now reach the last of the greater satirists that have adorned our +literature, one who is in many respects a worthy peer of Dryden, Swift, +and Pope. Lord Byron's fame as a satirist rests on three great works, +each of them illustrative of a distinct type of composition. Other +satires he has written, nay, the satiric quality is present more or +less in nearly all he produced; but <i>The Vision of Judgment</i>, <i>Beppo</i>, +and <i>Don Juan</i> are his three masterpieces in this style of literature. +They are wonderful compositions in every sense of the word. The +sparkling wit, the ready raillery, the cutting irony, the biting +sarcasm, and the sardonic cynicism which characterize almost every line +of them are united to a brilliancy of imagination, a swiftness as well +as a felicity of thought, and an epigrammatic terseness of phrase which +even Byron himself has equalled nowhere else in his works. <i>The Vision +of Judgment</i> is an example in the first instance of parody, and, in the +second, but not by any means so distinctly, of allegory. Its savage +ferocity of sarcasm crucified Southey upon the cross of scornful +contempt. Byron is not as good a metrist as a satirist, and the <i>Ottava +rima</i> in his hands sometimes halts a little; still, the poem is a +notable example of a satiric parody written with such distinguished +success in a measure of great technical difficulty.</p> + +<p>It is somewhat curious that all three of Byron's great satiric poems +should be written in the same measure. Yet so it is, for the poet, +having become enamoured of the metre after reading Frere's clever +satire, <i>Whistlecraft</i>, ever afterwards <span class="pagenum">[xlix]<a +name="pagexlix" id="pagexlix"></a></span>had a peculiar fondness for +it. Both <i>Beppo</i> and <i>Don Juan</i> are also excellent examples of the +metrical "satiric tale". The former, being the earlier satire of the +two, was Byron's first essay in this new type of satiric composition. +His success therein stimulated him to attempt another "tale" which in +some respects presents features that ally it to the mock-epic. <i>Beppo</i> +is a perfect storehouse of well-rounded satirical phrases that cleave +to the memory, such as "the deep damnation of his 'bah'" and the +description of the "budding miss",</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"So much alarmed that she is quite alarming,</div> + <div>All giggle, blush, half pertness and half pout".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><i>Beppo</i> leads up to <i>Don Juan</i>, and it is hard to say which is the +cleverer satire of the two. In both, the wit is so unforced and +natural, the fun so sparkling, the banter and the persiflage so bright +and scintillating, that they seem, as Sir Walter Scott said, to be the +natural outflow from the fountain of humour. Byron's earliest satire, +<i>English Bards and Scots Reviewers</i>, is a clever piece of work, but +compared with the great trio above-named is a production of his nonage.</p> + +<p>Byron was succeeded by Praed, whose social pictures are instinct with +the most refined and polished raillery, with the true Attic salt of wit +united to a metrical deftness as graceful as it was artistic. During +Praed's lifetime, Lamb with his inimitable <i>Essays of Elia</i>, Southey, +Barham with the ever-popular <i>Ingoldsby Legends</i>, James and Horace +Smith with the <i>Rejected Addresses</i>, Disraeli, Leigh Hunt, Tom Hood, +and Landor had been winning <span class="pagenum">[l]<a name="pagel" +id="pagel"></a></span>laurels in various branches of social +satire which, consequent upon the influence of Byron and then of his +disciple, Praed, became the current mode. A favourable example of that +style is found in Leigh Hunt's <i>Feast of the Poets</i> and in Edward +Fitz-Gerald's <i>Chivalry at a Discount</i>. Other writers of satire in the +earlier decades of the present century were Peacock, who in his novels +(<i>Crotchet Castle</i>, &c.) evolved an original type of satire based upon +the Athenian New Comedy. Miss Austen in her English novels and Miss +Edgeworth in her Irish tales employed satire to impeach certain crying +social abuses, as also did Dickens in <i>Oliver Twist</i> and others of his +books. Douglas Jerrold's comedies and sketches are full of titbits of +gay and brilliant banter and biting irony. If <i>Sartor Resartus</i> could +be regarded as a satire, as Dr. Garnett says, Carlyle would be the +first of satirists, with his thundering invective, grand rhetoric, +indignant scorn, grim humour, and satiric gloom in denouncing the shams +of human society and of human nature. An admirable American school of +satire was founded by Washington Irving, of which Judge Haliburton (Sam +Slick), Paulding, Holmes, Artemus Ward, and Dudley Warner are the chief +names.</p> + +<p>Since the third and fourth decades of our century, in other words, +since the epoch of the Reform Bill and the Chartist agitation, satire +has more and more tended to lose its acid and its venom, to slough the +dark sardonic sarcasm of past days and to don the light sportive garb +of the social humorist and epigrammist. Robustious bludgeoning has gone +out of fashion, and in its place we <span class="pagenum">[li]<a +name="pageli" id="pageli"></a></span>have the playful satiric wit, +sparkling as of well-drawn Moet or Clicquot, of Mortimer Collins, H.S. +Leigh, Arthur Locker and Frederick Locker-Lampson, W.S. Gilbert, Austin +Dobson, Bret Harte, F. Anstey, Dr. Walter C. Smith, and many other +graceful and delightful social satirists whose verses are household +words amongst us. From week to week also there appear in the pages of +that trenchant social censor, <i>Punch</i>, and the other high-class +comico-satiric journals, many pieces of genuine and witty social +satire. Every year the demand seems increasing, and yet the supply +shows no signs of running dry.</p> + +<p>Political satire, in its metrical form, has had from time to time a +temporary revival of popularity in such compositions as James Russell +Lowell's inimitable <i>Biglow Papers</i>, as well as in more recent volumes, +of which Mr. Owen Seaman's verse is an example; while are not its prose +forms legion in the pages of our periodical press? It has, however, now +lost that vitriolic quality which made it so scorching and offensively +personal. The man who wrote nowadays as did Dryden, and Junius, and +Canning, or, in social satire, as did Peter Pindar and Byron, would be +forthwith ostracized from literary fellowship.</p> + +<p>But what more need be said of an introductory character to these +selections that are now placed before the reader? English satire, +though perhaps less in evidence to-day as a separate department in +letters, is still as cardinal a quality as ever in the productions of +our leading authors. If satires are no longer in fashion, satire is +perennial as an <span class="pagenum">[lii]<a name="pagelii" +id="pagelii"></a></span>attribute in literature, and we have every reason to +cherish it and welcome it as warmly as of old. The novels of Thackeray, +as I have already said, contain some of the most delicately incisive +shafts of satire that have been barbed by any writer of the present +century. "George Eliot", also, though in a less degree, has shown +herself a satirist of much power and pungency, while others of our +latter-day novelists manifest themselves as possessed of a faculty of +satire both virile and trenchant. It is one of the indispensable +qualities of a great writer's style, because its quarry is one of the +most widely diffused of existing things on the face of the globe. There +is no age without its folly, no epoch without its faults. So long, +therefore, as man and his works are imperfect, so long shall there be +existent among us abuses, social, political, professional, and +ecclesiastical, and so long, too, shall it be the province and the +privilege of those who feel themselves called upon to play the +difficult part of <i>censor morum</i>, to prick the bubbles of falsehood, +vanity, and vice with the shafts of ridicule and raillery.</p> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn1" id="fn1" href="#fnref1">[1]</a></span> +<i>The English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn2" id="fn2" href="#fnref2">[2]</a></span> +Cf. Lenient, <i>History of French Satire</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn3" id="fn3" href="#fnref3">[3]</a></span> +Thomson's <i>Ante-Augustan Latin Poetry</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn4" id="fn4" href="#fnref4">[4]</a></span> +Cf. Mackail; Paten, <i>Études sur la Poésie latine</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn5" id="fn5" href="#fnref5">[5]</a></span> +See Skeat's "Langland" in <i>Encyclop. Brit.</i> +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn6" id="fn6" href="#fnref6">[6]</a></span> +See Arber's Reprints for 1868. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn7" id="fn7" href="#fnref7">[7]</a></span> +Arber's Select Reprints. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn8" id="fn8" href="#fnref8">[8]</a></span> +<i>Palladis Tamia: Wits Treasury.</i> +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn9" id="fn9" href="#fnref9">[9]</a></span> +This, of course, was Marston. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn10" id="fn10" href="#fnref10">[10]</a></span> +From the Fifth Satire in <i>The Metamorphosis of +Pygmalion's Image and Certain Satyres</i>, by John Marston. 1598. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn11" id="fn11" href="#fnref11">[11]</a></span> +<i>Pasquil's Madcappe: Thrown at the Corruption of these +Times</i>—1626. Breton, to be read at all, ought to be studied in the two +noble volumes edited by Dr. A.B. Grosart. From his edition I quote. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn12" id="fn12" href="#fnref12">[12]</a></span> +<i>English Literature</i>, by Prof. Craik. Hannay's <i>Satires +and Satirists</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn13" id="fn13" href="#fnref13">[13]</a></span> +<i>Life of Dryden</i>, by Sir Walter Scott. Saintsbury's <i>Life +of Dryden</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn14" id="fn14" href="#fnref14">[14]</a></span> +Thackeray's <i>English Humorists</i>. Hannay's <i>Satires and +Satirists</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn15" id="fn15" href="#fnref15">[15]</a></span> +<i>Satire and Satirists</i>, by James Hannay. Lecture III. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn16" id="fn16" href="#fnref16">[16]</a></span> +Dowden's <i>French Literature</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn17" id="fn17" href="#fnref17">[17]</a></span> +Minto's <i>Characteristics of English Poets</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn18" id="fn18" href="#fnref18">[18]</a></span> +Cf. Saintsbury's <i>Life of Dryden</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn19" id="fn19" href="#fnref19">[19]</a></span> +Cf. Gosse, <i>Eighteenth Century Literature</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn20" id="fn20" href="#fnref20">[20]</a></span> +Thackeray's <i>English Humorists</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn21" id="fn21" href="#fnref21">[21]</a></span> +<i>The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin</i>—Carisbrooke Library, +1890. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn22" id="fn22" href="#fnref22">[22]</a></span> +<i>The Bæviad and the Mæviad</i>, by W. Gifford, Esq., 1800.] +</div> + +<hr class="long" /> + +<span class="pagenum">[001]<a name="page001" id="page001"></a></span> +<h2>ENGLISH SATIRES.</h2> + +<h2>WILLIAM LANGLAND.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1330?-1400?)</div> + +<h3><a name="i" id="i">I.</a> PILGRIMAGE IN SEARCH OF DO-WELL.</h3> + + <blockquote><p class="noindent">This opening satire constitutes + the whole of the Eighth <i>Passus</i> of + <i>Piers Plowman's Vision</i> and the First of Do-Wel. The "Dreamer" + here sets off on a new pilgrimage in search of a person who has not + appeared in the poem before—Do-Well. The following is the argument + of the <i>Passus</i>.—"All Piers Plowman's inquiries after Do-Well are + fruitless. Even the friars to whom he addresses himself give but a + confused account; and weary with wandering about, the dreamer is + again overtaken by slumber. Thought now appears to him, and + recommends him to Wit, who describes to him the residence of + Do-Well, Do-Bet, Do-Best, and enumerates their companions and + attendants."</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Thus y-robed in russet · romed I aboute</div> + <div>Al in a somer seson · for to seke Do-wel;</div> + <div>And frayned<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref23" id="fnref23" + href="#fn23">[23]</a></span> full ofte · of folk that I mette</div> + <div>If any wight wiste · wher Do-wel was at inne;</div> + <div>And what man he myghte be · of many man I asked.</div> + <div>Was nevere wight, as I wente · that me wisse kouthe<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref24" id="fnref24" href="#fn24">[24]</a></span></div> + <div>Where this leode lenged,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref25" + id="fnref25" href="#fn25">[25]</a></span> · lasse ne moore.<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref26" id="fnref26" href="#fn26">[26]</a></span></div> + <div>Til it bifel on a Friday · two freres I mette</div> + <div>Maisters of the Menours<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref27" + id="fnref27" href="#fn27">[27]</a></span> · men of grete witte.</div> + <span class="pagenum">[002]<a name="page002" id="page002"></a></span> + <div>I hailsed them hendely,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref28" + id="fnref28" href="#fn28">[28]</a></span> · as I hadde y-lerned.</div> + <div>And preède them par charité, · er thei passed ferther,</div> + <div>If thei knew any contree · or costes as thei wente,</div> + <div>"Where that Do-wel dwelleth · dooth me to witene".</div> + <div>For thei be men of this moolde · that moost wide walken,</div> + <div>And knowen contrees and courtes, · and many kynnes places,</div> + <div>Bothe princes paleises · and povere mennes cotes,<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref29" id="fnref29" href="#fn29">[29]</a></span></div> + <div>And Do-wel and Do-yvele · where thei dwelle bothe.</div> + <div>"Amonges us" quod the Menours, · "that man is dwellynge,</div> + <div>And evere hath as I hope, · and evere shal herafter."</div> + <div>"<i>Contra</i>", quod I as a clerc, · and comsed to disputen,</div> + <div>And seide hem soothly, · "<i>Septies in die cadit justus</i>".</div> + <div>"Sevene sithes,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref30" id="fnref30" + href="#fn30">[30]</a></span> seeth the book · synneth the rightfulle;</div> + <div>And who so synneth," I seide, · "dooth yvele, as me thynketh;</div> + <div>And Do-wel and Do-yvele · mowe noght dwelle togideres.</div> + <div>Ergo he nis noght alway · among you freres:</div> + <div>He is outher while ellis where · to wisse the peple."</div> + <div>"I shal seye thee, my sone" · seide the frere thanne,</div> + <div>"How seven sithes the sadde man, · on a day synneth;</div> + <div>By a forbisne"<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref31" id="fnref31" + href="#fn31">[31]</a></span> quod the frere, · "I shal thee faire showe.</div> + <div>Lat brynge a man in a boot, · amydde the brode watre;</div> + <div>The wynd and the water · and the boot waggyng,</div> + <div>Maketh the man many a tyme · to falle and to stonde;</div> + <div>For stonde he never so stif, · he stumbleth if he meve,</div> + <div>Ac yet is he saaf and sound, · and so hym bihoveth;</div> + <div>For if he ne arise the rather, · and raughte to the steere,</div> + <div>The wynd wolde with the water · the boot over throwe;</div> + <div>And thanne were his lif lost, · thorough lackesse of hymselve<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref32" id="fnref32" href="#fn32">[32]</a></span>.</div> + <span class="pagenum">[003]<a name="page003" id="page003"></a></span> + <div>And thus it falleth," quod the frere, · "by folk here on erthe;</div> + <div>The water is likned to the world · that wanyeth and wexeth;</div> + <div>The goodes of this grounde arn like · to the grete wawes,</div> + <div>That as wyndes and wedres · walketh aboute;</div> + <div>The boot is likned to oure body · that brotel<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref33" id="fnref33" href="#fn33">[33]</a></span> is of kynde,</div> + <div>That thorough the fend and the flesshe · and the frele worlde</div> + <div>Synneth the sadde man · a day seven sithes.</div> + <div>Ac<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref34" id="fnref34" href="#fn34">[34]</a></span> + dedly synne doth he noght, · for Do-wel hym kepeth;</div> + <div>And that is Charité the champion, · chief help ayein Synne;</div> + <div>For he strengtheth men to stonde, · and steereth mannes soule,</div> + <div>And though the body bowe · as boot dooth in the watre,</div> + <div>Ay is thi soul saaf, · but if thou wole thiselve</div> + <div>Do a deedly synne, · and drenche so thi soule,</div> + <div>God wole suffre wel thi sleuthe<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref35" + id="fnref35" href="#fn35">[35]</a></span> · if thiself liketh.</div> + <div>For he yaf thee a yeres-gyve,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref36" + id="fnref36" href="#fn36">[36]</a></span> · to yeme<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref37" id="fnref37" href="#fn37">[37]</a></span> wel thiselve,</div> + <div>And that is wit and free-wil, · to every wight a porcion,</div> + <div>To fleynge foweles, · to fisshes and to beastes:</div> + <div>Ac man hath moost thereof, · and moost is to blame,</div> + <div>But if he werch wel therwith, · as Do-wel hym techeth."</div> + <div>"I have no kynde knowyng,"<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref38" + id="fnref38" href="#fn38">[38]</a></span> quod I, · "to conceyven alle + your wordes:</div> + <div>Ac if I may lyve and loke, · I shall go lerne bettre."</div> + <div>"I bikenne thee Christ,"<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref39" + id="fnref39" href="#fn39">[39]</a></span> quod he, · "that on cros deyde!"</div> + <div>And I seide "the same · save you fro myschaunce,</div> + <div>And gyve you grace on this grounde · goode men to worthe!"<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref40" id="fnref40" href="#fn40">[40]</a></span></div> + <div>And thus I wente wide wher · walkyng myn one,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref41" id="fnref41" href="#fn41">[41]</a></span></div> + <span class="pagenum">[004]<a name="page004" id="page004"></a></span> + <div>By a wilderness, · and by a wodes side:</div> + <div>Blisse of the briddes.<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref42" + id="fnref42" href="#fn42">[42]</a></span> · Broughte me a-slepe,</div> + <div>And under a lynde upon a launde<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref43" + id="fnref43" href="#fn43">[43]</a></span> · lened I a stounde<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref44" id="fnref44" href="#fn44">[44]</a></span>,</div> + <div>To lythe the layes · the lovely foweles made,</div> + <div>Murthe of hire mowthes · made me ther to slepe;</div> + <div>The merveillouseste metels<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref45" + id="fnref45" href="#fn45">[45]</a></span> · mette me<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref46" id="fnref46" href="#fn46">[46]</a></span> thanne</div> + <div>That ever dremed wight · in worlde, as I wene.</div> + <div>A muche man, as me thoughte · and like to myselve,</div> + <div>Cam and called me · by my kynde name.</div> + <div>"What artow," quod I tho, · "that thow my name knowest."</div> + <div>"That woost wel," quod he, · "and no wight bettre."</div> + <div>"Woot I what thou art?" · "Thought," seide he thanne;</div> + <div>"I have sued<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref47" id="fnref47" + href="#fn47">[47]</a></span> thee this seven yeer, · seye<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref48" id="fnref48" href="#fn48">[48]</a></span> + thou me no rather."<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref49" id="fnref49" + href="#fn49">[49]</a></span></div> + <div>"Artow Thought," quod I thoo, · "thow koudest me wisse,</div> + <div>Where that Do-wel dwelleth, · and do me that to knowe."</div> + <div>"Do-wel and Do-bet, · and Do-best the thridde," quod he,</div> + <div>"Arn thre fair vertues, · and ben noght fer to fynde.</div> + <div>Who so is trewe of his tunge, · and of his two handes,</div> + <div>And thorugh his labour or thorugh his land, · his liflode wynneth,<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref50" id="fnref50" href="#fn50">[50]</a></span></div> + <div>And is trusty of his tailende, · taketh but his owene,</div> + <div>And is noght dronklewe<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref51" + id="fnref51" href="#fn51">[51]</a></span> ne dedeynous,<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref52" id="fnref52" href="#fn52">[52]</a></span> + · Do-wel hym folweth.</div> + <div>Do-bet dooth ryght thus; · ac he dooth much more;</div> + <div>He is as lowe as a lomb, · and lovelich of speche,</div> + <div>And helpeth alle men · after that hem nedeth.</div> + <div>The bagges and the bigirdles, · he hath to-broke hem alle</div> + <span class="pagenum">[005]<a name="page005" id="page005"></a></span> + <div>That the Erl Avarous · heeld and hise heires.</div> + <div>And thus with Mammonaes moneie · he hath maad hym frendes,</div> + <div>And is ronne to religion, · and hath rendred the Bible,</div> + <div>And precheth to the peple · Seint Poules wordes:</div> + <div><i>Libenter suffertis insipientes, cum sitis ipsi sapientes</i>:</div> + <div>'And suffreth the unwise' · with you for to libbe</div> + <div>And with glad will dooth hem good · and so God you hoteth.</div> + <div>Do-best is above bothe, · and bereth a bisshopes crosse,</div> + <div>Is hoked on that oon ende · to halie men fro helle;</div> + <div>A pik is on that potente,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref53" + id="fnref53" href="#fn53">[53]</a></span> · to putte a-down the wikked</div> + <div>That waiten any wikkednesse · Do-wel to tene.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref54" id="fnref54" href="#fn54">[54]</a></span></div> + <div>And Do-wel and Do-bet · amonges hem han ordeyned,</div> + <div>To crowne oon to be kyng · to rulen hem bothe;</div> + <div>That if Do-wel or Do-bet · dide ayein Do-best,</div> + <div>Thanne shal the kyng come · and casten hem in irens,</div> + <div>And but if Do-best bede<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref55" + id="fnref55" href="#fn55">[55]</a></span> for hem, · thei to be + there for evere.</div> + <div>Thus Do-wel and Do-bet, · and Do-best the thridde,</div> + <div>Crouned oon to the kyng · to kepen hem alle,</div> + <div>And to rule the reme · by hire thre wittes,</div> + <div>And noon oother wise, · but as thei thre assented."</div> + <div>I thonked Thoght tho, · that he me thus taughte.</div> + <div>"Ac yet savoreth me noght thi seying. · I coveit to lerne</div> + <div>How Do-wel, Do-bet, and Do-best · doon among the peple."</div> + <div>"But Wit konne wisse thee," quod Thoght, · "Where tho thre dwelle,</div> + <div>Ellis woot I noon that kan · that now is alyve."</div> + <div>Thoght and I thus · thre daies we yeden,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref56" id="fnref56" href="#fn56">[56]</a></span></div> + <div>Disputyng upon Do-wel · day after oother;</div> + <div>And er we were war, · with Wit gonne we mete.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref57" id="fnref57" href="#fn57">[57]</a></span></div> + <span class="pagenum">[006]<a name="page006" id="page006"></a></span> + <div>He was long and lene, · lik to noon other;</div> + <div>Was no pride on his apparaille · ne poverte neither;</div> + <div>Sad of his semblaunt, · and of softe chere,</div> + <div>I dorste meve no matere · to maken hym to jangle,</div> + <div>But as I bad Thoght thoo · be mene bitwene,</div> + <div>And pute forth som purpos · to preven his wittes,</div> + <div>What was Do-wel fro Do-bet, · and Do-best from hem bothe.</div> + <div>Thanne Thoght in that tyme · seide these wordes:</div> + <div>"Where Do-wel, Do-bet, · and Do-best ben in londe,</div> + <div>Here is Wil wolde wite, · if Wit koude teche him;</div> + <div>And whether he be man or woman · this man fayn wolde aspie,</div> + <div>And werchen<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref58" id="fnref58" + href="#fn58">[58]</a></span> as thei thre wolde, · thus is his entente"</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn23" id="fn23" href="#fnref23">[23]</a></span> +questioned. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn24" id="fn24" href="#fnref24">[24]</a></span> +could tell me. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn25" id="fn25" href="#fnref25">[25]</a></span> +Where this man dwelt. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn26" id="fn26" href="#fnref26">[26]</a></span> +mean or gentle. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn27" id="fn27" href="#fnref27">[27]</a></span> +of the Minorite order. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn28" id="fn28" href="#fnref28">[28]</a></span> +I saluted them courteously. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn29" id="fn29" href="#fnref29">[29]</a></span> +and poor men's cots. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn30" id="fn30" href="#fnref30">[30]</a></span> +times. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn31" id="fn31" href="#fnref31">[31]</a></span> +example. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn32" id="fn32" href="#fnref32">[32]</a></span> +through his own negligence. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn33" id="fn33" href="#fnref33">[33]</a></span> +weak, unstable. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn34" id="fn34" href="#fnref34">[34]</a></span> +But. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn35" id="fn35" href="#fnref35">[35]</a></span> +sloth. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn36" id="fn36" href="#fnref36">[36]</a></span> +a year's-gift. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn37" id="fn37" href="#fnref37">[37]</a></span> +to rule, guide, govern. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn38" id="fn38" href="#fnref38">[38]</a></span> +mother-wit. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn39" id="fn39" href="#fnref39">[39]</a></span> +I commit thee to Christ. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn40" id="fn40" href="#fnref40">[40]</a></span> +to become. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn41" id="fn41" href="#fnref41">[41]</a></span> +by myself. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn42" id="fn42" href="#fnref42">[42]</a></span> +The charm of the birds. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn43" id="fn43" href="#fnref43">[43]</a></span> +under a linden-tree on a plain. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn44" id="fn44" href="#fnref44">[44]</a></span> +a short time. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn45" id="fn45" href="#fnref45">[45]</a></span> +a most wonderful dream. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn46" id="fn46" href="#fnref46">[46]</a></span> +I dreamed. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn47" id="fn47" href="#fnref47">[47]</a></span> +followed. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn48" id="fn48" href="#fnref48">[48]</a></span> +sawest. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn49" id="fn49" href="#fnref49">[49]</a></span> +sooner. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn50" id="fn50" href="#fnref50">[50]</a></span> +gains his livelihood. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn51" id="fn51" href="#fnref51">[51]</a></span> +drunken. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn52" id="fn52" href="#fnref52">[52]</a></span> +disdainful. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn53" id="fn53" href="#fnref53">[53]</a></span> +club staff. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn54" id="fn54" href="#fnref54">[54]</a></span> +to injure. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn55" id="fn55" href="#fnref55">[55]</a></span> +pray. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn56" id="fn56" href="#fnref56">[56]</a></span> +journeyed. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn57" id="fn57" href="#fnref57">[57]</a></span> +we met Wit. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn58" id="fn58" href="#fnref58">[58]</a></span> +work. +</div> + +<h2>GEOFFREY CHAUCER.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1340?-1400.)</div> + +<h3>PORTRAITS FROM THE CANTERBURY TALES.</h3> + +<h3>II. AND III. THE MONK AND THE FRIAR.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The following complete portraits + of two of the characters in + Chaucer's matchless picture of the Canterbury Pilgrims are taken + from the Prologue to the <i>Canterbury Tales</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<h4><a name="ii" id="ii">II.</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A monk ther was, a fayre for the maistríe,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref59" id="fnref59" href="#fn59">[59]</a></span></div> + <div>An outrider, that loved venerie;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref60" id="fnref60" href="#fn60">[60]</a></span></div> + <div>A manly man, to ben an abbot able.</div> + <div>Ful many a deintè<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref61" + id="fnref61" href="#fn61">[61]</a></span> hors hadde he in stable:</div> + <div>And whan he rode, men might his bridel here</div> + <span class="pagenum">[007]<a name="page007" id="page007"></a></span> + <div>Gingeling in a whistling wind as clere,</div> + <div>And eke as loude, as doth the chapell belle,</div> + <div>Ther as this lord was keeper of the celle.</div> + <div class="in1">The reule of Seint Maure and of Seint Beneit,</div> + <div>Because that it was olde and somdele streit,</div> + <div>This ilkè monk lette oldè thingès pace,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref62" id="fnref62" href="#fn62">[62]</a></span></div> + <div>And held after the newè world the space.</div> + <div>He yaf not of the text a pulled hen,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref63" id="fnref63" href="#fn63">[63]</a></span></div> + <div>That saith, that hunters ben not holy men;</div> + <div>Ne that a monk, whan he is reckèles,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref64" id="fnref64" href="#fn64">[64]</a></span></div> + <div>Is like to a fish that is waterles;</div> + <div>That is to say, a monk out of his cloistre.</div> + <div>This ilkè text held he not worth an oistre.</div> + <div>And I say his opinion was good.</div> + <div>What? shulde he studie, and make himselven wood<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref65" id="fnref65" href="#fn65">[65]</a></span></div> + <div>Upon a book in cloistre alway to pore,</div> + <div>Or swinken<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref66" id="fnref66" + href="#fn66">[66]</a></span> with his hondès, and laboùre,</div> + <div>As Austin bit?<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref67" id="fnref67" + href="#fn67">[67]</a></span> how shal the world be served?</div> + <div>Let Austin have his swink to him reserved.</div> + <div>Therfore he was a prickasoure<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref68" + id="fnref68" href="#fn68">[68]</a></span> a right:</div> + <div>Greihoundes he hadde as swift as foul of flight:</div> + <div>Of pricking<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref69" id="fnref69" + href="#fn69">[69]</a></span> and of hunting for the hare</div> + <div>Was all his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.</div> + <div class="in1">I saw his sleves purfiled<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref70" id="fnref70" href="#fn70">[70]</a></span> at the hond</div> + <div>With gris,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref71" id="fnref71" + href="#fn71">[71]</a></span> and that the finest of the lond.</div> + <div>And for to fasten his hood under his chinne,</div> + <div>He hadde of gold ywrought a curious pinne;</div> + <div>A love-knotte in the greter end ther was.</div> + <div>His hed was balled,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref72" + id="fnref72" href="#fn72">[72]</a></span> and shone as any glas,</div> + <div>And eke his face, as it hadde ben anoint.</div> + <div>He was a lord ful fat and in good point.</div> + <span class="pagenum">[008]<a name="page008" id="page008"></a></span> + <div>His eyen stepe,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref73" id="fnref73" + href="#fn73">[73]</a></span> and rolling in his hed,</div> + <div>That stemed as a forneis of led.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref74" id="fnref74" href="#fn74">[74]</a></span></div> + <div>His bootès souple, his hors in gret estat:</div> + <div>Now certainly he was a fayre prelát.</div> + <div>He was not pale as a forpined<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref75" + id="fnref75" href="#fn75">[75]</a></span> gost.</div> + <div>A fat swan loved he best of any rost,</div> + <div>His palfrey was as broune as is a bery.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<h4><a name="iii" id="iii">III.</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A Frere<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref76" id="fnref76" + href="#fn76">[76]</a></span> ther was, a wanton and a mery,</div> + <div>A Limitour,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref77" id="fnref77" + href="#fn77">[77]</a></span> a ful solempnè man.</div> + <div>In all the ordres foure is none that can</div> + <div>So muche of daliance and fayre langáge.</div> + <div>He hadde ymade ful many a mariáge</div> + <div>Of yongè wimmen, at his owen cost.</div> + <div>Until<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref78" id="fnref78" + href="#fn78">[78]</a></span> his ordre he was a noble post.</div> + <div>Ful wel beloved, and familier was he</div> + <div>With frankeleins<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref79" + id="fnref79" href="#fn79">[79]</a></span> over all in his contrèe,</div> + <div>And eke with worthy wimmen of the toun:</div> + <div>For he had power of confessioun,</div> + <div>As saide himselfè, more than a curát,</div> + <div>For of his ordre he was a licenciat.</div> + <div>Ful swetely herde he confession,</div> + <div>And plesant was his absolution.</div> + <div>He was an esy man to give penaunce,</div> + <div>Ther as he wiste<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref80" id="fnref80" + href="#fn80">[80]</a></span> to han<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref81" id="fnref81" href="#fn81">[81]</a></span> a good pitaunce:</div> + <div>For unto a poure<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref82" + id="fnref82" href="#fn82">[82]</a></span> ordre for to give</div> + <div>Is signè that a man is wel yshrive.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref83" id="fnref83" href="#fn83">[83]</a></span></div> + <div>For if he gaf, he dorstè make avaunt,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref84" id="fnref84" href="#fn84">[84]</a></span></div> + <span class="pagenum">[009]<a name="page009" id="page009"></a></span> + <div>He wistè that a man was repentaunt.</div> + <div>For many a man so hard is of his herte,</div> + <div>He may not wepe although him sorè smerte.</div> + <div>Therfore in stede of weping and praieres,</div> + <div>Men mote<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref85" id="fnref85" + href="#fn85">[85]</a></span> give silver to the pourè freres.</div> + <div class="in1">His tippet was ay farsed<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref86" id="fnref86" href="#fn86">[86]</a></span> ful of knives,</div> + <div>And pinnès, for to given fayrè wives.</div> + <div>And certainly he hadde a mery note.</div> + <div>Wel coude he singe and plaien on a rote.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref87" id="fnref87" href="#fn87">[87]</a></span></div> + <div>Of yeddinges<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref88" id="fnref88" + href="#fn88">[88]</a></span> he bar utterly the pris.</div> + <div>His nekke was white as the flour de lis.</div> + <div>Therto he strong was as a champioun,</div> + <div>And knew wel the tavérnes in every toun,</div> + <div>And every hosteler and tappestere,</div> + <div>Better than a lazar or a beggestere,</div> + <div>For unto swiche a worthy man as he</div> + <div>Accordeth not, as by his facultè,</div> + <div>To haven<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref89" id="fnref89" + href="#fn89">[89]</a></span> with sike lazars acquaintànce.</div> + <div>It is not honest, it may not avànce,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref90" id="fnref90" href="#fn90">[90]</a></span></div> + <div>As for to delen with no swiche pouràille,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref91" id="fnref91" href="#fn91">[91]</a></span></div> + <div>But all with riche, and sellers of vitàille.</div> + <div>And over all, ther as profit shuld arise,</div> + <div>Curteis he was, and lowly of servise.</div> + <div>Ther nas no man no wher so vertuous.</div> + <div>He was the beste begger in his hous:</div> + <div>[And gave a certain fermè<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref92" + id="fnref92" href="#fn92">[92]</a></span> for the grant,</div> + <div>Non of his bretheren came in his haunt.]</div> + <div>For though a widewe haddè but a shoo,</div> + <div>(So plesant was his <i>in principio</i>)</div> + <div>Yet wold he have a ferthing or<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref93" + id="fnref93" href="#fn93">[93]</a></span> he went.</div> + <span class="pagenum">[010]<a name="page010" id="page010"></a></span> + <div>His pourchas was wel better than his rent.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref94" id="fnref94" href="#fn94">[94]</a></span></div> + <div>And rage he coude as it hadde ben a whelp,</div> + <div>In lovèdayes,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref95" id="fnref95" + href="#fn95">[95]</a></span> ther coude he mochel help.</div> + <div>For ther he was nat like a cloisterere,</div> + <div>With thredbare cope, as is a poure scolere,</div> + <div>But he was like a maister or a pope.</div> + <div>Of double worsted was his semicope,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref96" id="fnref96" href="#fn96">[96]</a></span></div> + <div>That round was as a belle out of the presse.</div> + <div>Somwhat he lisped, for his wantonnesse,</div> + <div>To make his English swete upon his tonge;</div> + <div>And in his harping, whan that he hadde songe,</div> + <div>His eyen twinkeled in his hed aright,</div> + <div>As don the sterrès in a frosty night.</div> + <div>This worthy limitour was cleped Hubèrd.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn59" id="fn59" href="#fnref59">[59]</a></span> +a fair one for the mastership. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn60" id="fn60" href="#fnref60">[60]</a></span> +hunting. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn61" id="fn61" href="#fnref61">[61]</a></span> +dainty. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn62" id="fn62" href="#fnref62">[62]</a></span> +pass. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn63" id="fn63" href="#fnref63">[63]</a></span> +did not care a plucked hen for the text. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn64" id="fn64" href="#fnref64">[64]</a></span> +careless; removed from the restraints of his order and vows. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn65" id="fn65" href="#fnref65">[65]</a></span> +mad. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn66" id="fn66" href="#fnref66">[66]</a></span> +toil. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn67" id="fn67" href="#fnref67">[67]</a></span> +biddeth. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn68" id="fn68" href="#fnref68">[68]</a></span> +hard rider. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn69" id="fn69" href="#fnref69">[69]</a></span> +spurring. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn70" id="fn70" href="#fnref70">[70]</a></span> +wrought on the edge. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn71" id="fn71" href="#fnref71">[71]</a></span> +a fine kind of fur. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn72" id="fn72" href="#fnref72">[72]</a></span> +bald. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn73" id="fn73" href="#fnref73">[73]</a></span> +bright. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn74" id="fn74" href="#fnref74">[74]</a></span> +Shone like a furnace under a cauldron. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn75" id="fn75" href="#fnref75">[75]</a></span> +tormented. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn76" id="fn76" href="#fnref76">[76]</a></span> +Friar. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn77" id="fn77" href="#fnref77">[77]</a></span> +A friar with a licence to beg within certain limits. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn78" id="fn78" href="#fnref78">[78]</a></span> +Unto. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn79" id="fn79" href="#fnref79">[79]</a></span> +country gentlemen. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn80" id="fn80" href="#fnref80">[80]</a></span> +knew. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn81" id="fn81" href="#fnref81">[81]</a></span> +have. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn82" id="fn82" href="#fnref82">[82]</a></span> +poor. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn83" id="fn83" href="#fnref83">[83]</a></span> +shriven. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn84" id="fn84" href="#fnref84">[84]</a></span> +durst make a boast. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn85" id="fn85" href="#fnref85">[85]</a></span> +must. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn86" id="fn86" href="#fnref86">[86]</a></span> +stuffed. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn87" id="fn87" href="#fnref87">[87]</a></span> +a stringed instrument. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn88" id="fn88" href="#fnref88">[88]</a></span> +story telling. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn89" id="fn89" href="#fnref89">[89]</a></span> +have. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn90" id="fn90" href="#fnref90">[90]</a></span> +profit. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn91" id="fn91" href="#fnref91">[91]</a></span> +poor people. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn92" id="fn92" href="#fnref92">[92]</a></span> +farm. This couplet only appears in the Hengwrt MS. As Mr. +Pollard says, it is probably Chaucer's, but may have been omitted by +him as it interrupts the sentence. Cf. <i>Globe</i> Chaucer. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn93" id="fn93" href="#fnref93">[93]</a></span> +ere. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn94" id="fn94" href="#fnref94">[94]</a></span> +The proceeds of his begging exceeded his fixed income. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn95" id="fn95" href="#fnref95">[95]</a></span> +Days appointed for the amicable settlement of differences. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn96" id="fn96" href="#fnref96">[96]</a></span> +half cloak. +</div> + +<h2>JOHN LYDGATE.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1373?-1460.)</div> + +<h3><a name="iv" id="iv">IV.</a> THE LONDON LACKPENNY.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is an admirable picture of London life early in the fifteenth + century. The poem first appeared among Lydgate's fugitive pieces, + and has been preserved in the Harleian MSS.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>To London once my steps I bent,</div> + <div>Where truth in no wise should be faint;</div> + <div>To Westminster-ward I forthwith went,</div> + <div>To a man of Law to make complaint.</div> + <div>I said, "For Mary's love, that holy saint,</div> + <div>Pity the poor that would proceed!"<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref97" id="fnref97" href="#fn97">[97]</a></span></div> + <div>But for lack of money, I could not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[011]<a name="page011" id="page011"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>And, as I thrust the press among,</div> + <div>By froward chance my hood was gone;</div> + <div>Yet for all that I stayed not long</div> + <div>Till to the King's Bench I was come.</div> + <div>Before the Judge I kneeled anon</div> + <div>And prayed him for God's sake take heed.</div> + <div>But for lack of money, I might not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Beneath them sat clerks a great rout,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref98" id="fnref98" href="#fn98">[98]</a></span></div> + <div>Which fast did write by one assent;</div> + <div>There stood up one and cried about</div> + <div>"Richard, Robert, and John of Kent!"</div> + <div>I wist not well what this man meant,</div> + <div>He cried so thickly there indeed.</div> + <div>But he that lacked money might not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>To the Common Pleas I yode tho,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref99" + id="fnref99" href="#fn99">[99]</a></span></div> + <div>There sat one with a silken hood:</div> + <div>I 'gan him reverence for to do,</div> + <div>And told my case as well as I could;</div> + <div>How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood;</div> + <div>I got not a mum of his mouth for my meed,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref100" id="fnref100" href="#fn100">[100]</a></span></div> + <div>And for lack of money I might not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence,</div> + <div>Before the clerks of the Chancery;</div> + <div>Where many I found earning of pence;</div> + <div>But none at all once regarded me.</div> + <div>I gave them my plaint upon my knee;</div> + <div>They liked it well when they had it read;</div> + <div>But, lacking money, I could not be sped.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>In Westminster Hall I found out one,</div> + <div>Which went in a long gown of ray;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref101" id="fnref101" href="#fn101">[101]</a></span></div> +<span class="pagenum">[012]<a name="page012" id="page012"></a></span> + <div>I crouched and knelt before him; anon,</div> + <div>For Mary's love, for help I him pray.</div> + <div>"I wot not what thou mean'st", 'gan he say;</div> + <div>To get me thence he did me bid,</div> + <div>For lack of money I could not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor</div> + <div>Would do for me aught although I should die;</div> + <div>Which seing, I gat me out of the door;</div> + <div>Where Flemings began on me for to cry,—</div> + <div>"Master, what will you copen<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref102" + id="fnref102" href="#fn102">[102]</a></span> or buy?</div> + <div>Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read?</div> + <div>Lay down your silver, and here you may speed."</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>To Westminster Gate I presently went,</div> + <div>When the sun was at high prime;</div> + <div>Cooks to me they took good intent,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref103" id="fnref103" href="#fn103">[103]</a></span></div> + <div>And proffered me bread, with ale and wine,</div> + <div>Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine;</div> + <div>A fairé cloth they 'gan for to spread,</div> + <div>But, wanting money, I might not then speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then unto London I did me hie,</div> + <div>Of all the land it beareth the prize;</div> + <div>"Hot peascodes!" one began to cry;</div> + <div>"Strawberries ripe!" and "Cherries in the rise!"<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref104" id="fnref104" href="#fn104">[104]</a></span></div> + <div>One bade me come near and buy some spice;</div> + <div>Pepper and saffrone they 'gan me bede;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref105" id="fnref105" href="#fn105">[105]</a></span></div> + <div>But, for lack of money, I might not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then to the Cheap I 'gan me drawn,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref106" id="fnref106" href="#fn106">[106]</a></span></div> + <div>Where much people I saw for to stand;</div> + <div>One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn;</div> + <div>Another he taketh me by the hand,</div> + <div>"Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land";</div> +<span class="pagenum">[013]<a name="page013" id="page013"></a></span> + <div>I never was used to such things indeed;</div> + <div>And, wanting money, I might not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then went I forth by London stone,</div> + <div>Throughout all the Canwick Street;</div> + <div>Drapers much cloth me offered anon;</div> + <div>Then comes me one cried, "Hot sheep's feet!"</div> + <div>One cried, "Mackarel!" "Rushes green!" another 'gan greet;<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref107" id="fnref107" href="#fn107">[107]</a></span></div> + <div>One bade me buy a hood to cover my head;</div> + <div>But for want of money I might not be sped.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then I hied me into East Cheap:</div> + <div>One cries "Ribs of beef and many a pie!"</div> + <div>Pewter pots they clattered on a heap;</div> + <div>There was harpé, pipe, and minstrelsy:</div> + <div>"Yea, by cock!" "Nay, by cock!" some began cry;</div> + <div>Some sung of "Jenkin and Julian" for their meed;</div> + <div>But, for lack of money, I might not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then into Cornhill anon I yode</div> + <div>Where there was much stolen gear among;</div> + <div>I saw where hung my owné hood,</div> + <div>That I had lost among the throng:</div> + <div>To buy my own hood I thought it wrong;</div> + <div>I knew it as well as I did my creed;</div> + <div>But, for lack of money, I could not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The Taverner took me by the sleeve;</div> + <div>"Sir," saith he, "will you our wine assay?"</div> + <div>I answered, "That cannot much me grieve;</div> + <div>A penny can do no more than it may."</div> + <div>I drank a pint, and for it did pay;</div> + <div>Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede;</div> + <div>And, wanting money, I could not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[014]<a name="page014" id="page014"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then hied I me to Billings-gate,</div> + <div>And one cried, "Ho! go we hence!"</div> + <div>I prayed a bargeman, for God's sake,</div> + <div>That he would spare me my expense.</div> + <div>"Thou 'scap'st not here," quoth he, "under twopence;</div> + <div>I list not yet bestow any almsdeed."</div> + <div>Thus, lacking money, I could not speed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then I conveyed me into Kent;</div> + <div>For of the law would I meddle no more.</div> + <div>Because no man to me took intent,</div> + <div>I dight<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref108" id="fnref108" + href="#fn108">[108]</a></span> me to do as I did before.</div> + <div>Now Jesus that in Bethlehem was bore<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref109" id="fnref109" href="#fn109">[109]</a></span>,</div> + <div>Save London and send true lawyers their meed!</div> + <div>For whoso wants money with them shall not speed.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn97" id="fn97" href="#fnref97">[97]</a></span> +go to law. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn98" id="fn98" href="#fnref98">[98]</a></span> +crowd. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn99" id="fn99" href="#fnref99">[99]</a></span> +went then. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn100" id="fn100" href="#fnref100">[100]</a></span> +reward. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn101" id="fn101" href="#fnref101">[101]</a></span> +striped stuff. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn102" id="fn102" href="#fnref102">[102]</a></span> +exchange. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn103" id="fn103" href="#fnref103">[103]</a></span> +notice. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn104" id="fn104" href="#fnref104">[104]</a></span> +on the bough. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn105" id="fn105" href="#fnref105">[105]</a></span> +offer. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn106" id="fn106" href="#fnref106">[106]</a></span> +approach. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn107" id="fn107" href="#fnref107">[107]</a></span> +call. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn108" id="fn108" href="#fnref108">[108]</a></span> +set. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn109" id="fn109" href="#fnref109">[109]</a></span> +born. +</div> + +<h2>WILLIAM DUNBAR.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1460-1520?)</div> + +<h3><a name="v" id="v">V.</a> THE DANCE OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>One of Dunbar's most telling satires, as well as one of the most + powerful in the language.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Of Februar the fiftene nicht</div> + <div>Full lang before the dayis licht</div> + <div>I lay intill a trance</div> + <div>And then I saw baith Heaven and Hell</div> + <div>Me thocht, amang the fiendis fell</div> + <div>Mahoun gart cry ane dance</div> + <div>Of shrews that were never shriven,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref110" id="fnref110" href="#fn110">[110]</a></span></div> +<span class="pagenum">[015]<a name="page015" id="page015"></a></span> + <div>Agains the feast of Fastern's even,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref111" id="fnref111" href="#fn111">[111]</a></span></div> + <div class="in1">To mak their observance.</div> + <div>He bad gallants gae graith a gyis,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref112" id="fnref112" href="#fn112">[112]</a></span></div> + <div>And cast up gamountis<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref113" + id="fnref113" href="#fn113">[113]</a></span> in the skies,</div> + <div class="in1">As varlets do in France.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Helie harlots on hawtane wise,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref114" + id="fnref114" href="#fn114">[114]</a></span></div> + <div>Come in with mony sundry guise,</div> + <div class="in1">But yet leuch never Mahoun,</div> + <div>While priests come in with bare shaven necks;</div> + <div>Then all the fiends leuch, and made gecks,</div> + <div class="in1">Black-Belly and Bawsy Brown.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref115" id="fnref115" href="#fn115">[115]</a></span></div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>III.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Let see, quoth he, now wha begins:</div> + <div>With that the foul Seven Deadly Sins</div> + <div class="in1">Begoud to leap at anis.</div> + <div>And first of all in Dance was Pride,</div> + <div>With hair wyld back, and bonnet on side,</div> + <div class="in1">Like to make vaistie wanis;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref116" id="fnref116" href="#fn116">[116]</a></span></div> + <div>And round about him, as a wheel,</div> + <div>Hang all in rumples to the heel</div> + <div class="in1">His kethat for the nanis:<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref117" id="fnref117" href="#fn117">[117]</a></span></div> +<span class="pagenum">[016]<a name="page016" id="page016"></a></span> + <div>Mony proud trumpour<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref118" + id="fnref118" href="#fn118">[118]</a></span> with him trippit;</div> + <div>Through scalding fire, aye as they skippit</div> + <div class="in1">They girned with hideous granis.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref119" id="fnref119" href="#fn119">[119]</a></span></div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then Ire came in with sturt and strife;</div> + <div>His hand was aye upon his knife,</div> + <div class="in1">He brandished like a beir:<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref120" id="fnref120" href="#fn120">[120]</a></span></div> + <div>Boasters, braggars, and bargainers,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref121" id="fnref121" href="#fn121">[121]</a></span></div> + <div>After him passit in to pairs,</div> + <div class="in1">All bodin in feir of weir;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref122" id="fnref122" href="#fn122">[122]</a></span></div> + <div>In jacks, and scryppis, and bonnets of steel,</div> + <div>Their legs were chainit to the heel,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref123" id="fnref123" href="#fn123">[123]</a></span></div> + <div class="in1">Frawart was their affeir:<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref124" id="fnref124" href="#fn124">[124]</a></span></div> + <div>Some upon other with brands beft,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref125" id="fnref125" href="#fn125">[125]</a></span></div> + <div>Some jaggit others to the heft,</div> + <div class="in1">With knives that sharp could shear.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>V.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Next in the Dance followit Envy,</div> + <div>Filled full of feud and felony,</div> + <div class="in1">Hid malice and despite:</div> + <div>For privy hatred that traitor tremlit;</div> + <div>Him followit mony freik dissemlit,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref126" id="fnref126" href="#fn126">[126]</a></span></div> + <div class="in1">With fenyeit wordis quhyte:<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref127" id="fnref127" href="#fn127">[127]</a></span></div> + <div>And flatterers in to men's faces;</div> + <div>And backbiters in secret places,</div> + <div class="in1">To lie that had delight;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[017]<a name="page017" id="page017"></a></span> + <div>And rownaris of false lesings,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref128" + id="fnref128" href="#fn128">[128]</a></span></div> + <div>Alace! that courts of noble kings</div> + <div class="in1">Of them can never be quit.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Next him in Dance came Covetyce,</div> + <div>Root of all evil, and ground of vice,</div> + <div class="in1">That never could be content:</div> + <div>Catives, wretches, and ockeraris,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref129" id="fnref129" href="#fn129">[129]</a></span></div> + <div>Hudpikes,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref130" id="fnref130" + href="#fn130">[130]</a></span> hoarders, gatheraris,</div> + <div class="in1">All with that warlock went:</div> + <div>Out of their throats they shot on other</div> + <div>Het, molten gold, me thocht, a futher<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref131" id="fnref131" href="#fn131">[131]</a></span></div> + <div class="in1">As fire-flaucht maist fervent;</div> + <div>Aye as they toomit them of shot,</div> + <div>Fiends filled them new up to the throat</div> + <div class="in1">With gold of all kind prent.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref132" id="fnref132" href="#fn132">[132]</a></span></div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Syne Sweirness, at the second bidding,</div> + <div>Came like a sow out of a midding,</div> + <div class="in1">Full sleepy was his grunyie:<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref133" id="fnref133" href="#fn133">[133]</a></span></div> + <div>Mony swear bumbard belly huddroun,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref134" id="fnref134" href="#fn134">[134]</a></span></div> + <div>Mony slut, daw, and sleepy duddroun,</div> + <div class="in1">Him servit aye with sonnyie;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref135" id="fnref135" href="#fn135">[135]</a></span></div> + <div>He drew them furth intill a chain,</div> + <div>And Belial with a bridle rein</div> + <div class="in1">Ever lashed them on the lunyie:<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref136" id="fnref136" href="#fn136">[136]</a></span></div> + <div>In Daunce they were so slaw of feet,</div> + <div>They gave them in the fire a heat,</div> + <div class="in1">And made them quicker of cunyie.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref137" id="fnref137" href="#fn137">[137]</a></span></div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[018]<a name="page018" id="page018"></a></span> +<h3>VIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then Lechery, that laithly corpse,</div> + <div>Came berand like ane baggit horse,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref138" id="fnref138" href="#fn138">[138]</a></span></div> + <div class="in1">And Idleness did him lead;</div> + <div>There was with him ane ugly sort,</div> + <div>And mony stinking foul tramort,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref139" id="fnref139" href="#fn139">[139]</a></span></div> + <div class="in1">That had in sin been dead:</div> + <div>When they were enterit in the Dance,</div> + <div>They were full strange of countenance,</div> + <div class="in1">Like torches burning red.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>IX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then the foul monster, Gluttony,</div> + <div>Of wame insatiable and greedy,</div> + <div class="in1">To Dance he did him dress:</div> + <div>Him followit mony foul drunkart,</div> + <div>With can and collop, cup and quart,</div> + <div class="in1">In surfit and excess;</div> + <div>Full mony a waistless wally-drag,</div> + <div>With wames unweildable, did furth wag,</div> + <div class="in1">In creesh<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref140" + id="fnref140" href="#fn140">[140]</a></span> that did incress:</div> + <div>Drink! aye they cried, with mony a gaip,</div> + <div>The fiends gave them het lead to laip,</div> + <div class="in1">Their leveray was na less.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref141" id="fnref141" href="#fn141">[141]</a></span></div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>X.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Nae minstrels played to them but doubt,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref142" id="fnref142" href="#fn142">[142]</a></span></div> + <div>For gleemen there were halden out,</div> + <div class="in1">Be day, and eke by nicht;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[019]<a name="page019" id="page019"></a></span> + <div>Except a minstrel that slew a man,</div> + <div>So to his heritage he wan,</div> + <div class="in1">And enterit by brieve of richt.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref143" id="fnref143" href="#fn143">[143]</a></span></div> + <div>Then cried Mahoun for a Hieland Padyane:<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref144" id="fnref144" href="#fn144">[144]</a></span></div> + <div>Syne ran a fiend to fetch Makfadyane,</div> + <div class="in1">Far northwast in a neuck;</div> + <div>Be he the coronach<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref145" + id="fnref145" href="#fn145">[145]</a></span> had done shout,</div> + <div>Ersche men so gatherit him about,</div> + <div class="in1">In hell great room they took:</div> + <div>Thae tarmigants, with tag and tatter,</div> + <div>Full loud in Ersche begoud to clatter,</div> + <div>And roup like raven and rook.<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref146" + id="fnref146" href="#fn146">[146]</a></span></div> + <div>The Devil sae deaved<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref147" + id="fnref147" href="#fn147">[147]</a></span> was with their yell;</div> + <div>That in the deepest pot of hell</div> + <div>He smorit<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref148" id="fnref148" + href="#fn148">[148]</a></span> them with smoke!</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn110" id="fn110" href="#fnref110">[110]</a></span> +Mahoun, or the devil, proclaimed a dance of sinners that +had not received absolution. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn111" id="fn111" href="#fnref111">[111]</a></span> +The evening before Lent, usually a festival at the +Scottish court. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn112" id="fn112" href="#fnref112">[112]</a></span> +go prepare a show in character. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn113" id="fn113" href="#fnref113">[113]</a></span> +gambols. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn114" id="fn114" href="#fnref114">[114]</a></span> +Holy harlots (hypocrites), in a haughty manner. The term +harlot was applied indiscriminately to both sexes. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn115" id="fn115" href="#fnref115">[115]</a></span> +Names of spirits, like Robin Goodfellow in England, and +Brownie in Scotland. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn116" id="fn116" href="#fnref116">[116]</a></span> +Pride, with hair artfully put back, and bonnet on side: +"vaistie wanis" is now unintelligible; some interpret the phrase as +meaning "wasteful wants", but this seems improbable, considering the +locality or scene of the poem. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn117" id="fn117" href="#fnref117">[117]</a></span> +His cassock for the nonce or occasion. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn118" id="fn118" href="#fnref118">[118]</a></span> +a cheat or impostor. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn119" id="fn119" href="#fnref119">[119]</a></span> +groans. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn120" id="fn120" href="#fnref120">[120]</a></span> +bear. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn121" id="fn121" href="#fnref121">[121]</a></span> +Boasters, braggarts, and bullies. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn122" id="fn122" href="#fnref122">[122]</a></span> +Arrayed in the accoutrements of war. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn123" id="fn123" href="#fnref123">[123]</a></span> +In coats of armour, and covered with iron network to the +heel. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn124" id="fn124" href="#fnref124">[124]</a></span> +Wild was their aspect. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn125" id="fn125" href="#fnref125">[125]</a></span> +brands beat. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn126" id="fn126" href="#fnref126">[126]</a></span> +many strong dissemblers. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn127" id="fn127" href="#fnref127">[127]</a></span> +With feigned words fair or white. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn128" id="fn128" href="#fnref128">[128]</a></span> +spreaders of false reports. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn129" id="fn129" href="#fnref129">[129]</a></span> +usurers. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn130" id="fn130" href="#fnref130">[130]</a></span> +Misers. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn131" id="fn131" href="#fnref131">[131]</a></span> +a great quantity. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn132" id="fn132" href="#fnref132">[132]</a></span> +gold of every coinage. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn133" id="fn133" href="#fnref133">[133]</a></span> +his grunt. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn134" id="fn134" href="#fnref134">[134]</a></span> +Many a lazy glutton. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn135" id="fn135" href="#fnref135">[135]</a></span> +served with care. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn136" id="fn136" href="#fnref136">[136]</a></span> +loins. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn137" id="fn137" href="#fnref137">[137]</a></span> +quicker of apprehension. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn138" id="fn138" href="#fnref138">[138]</a></span> +neighing like an entire horse. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn139" id="fn139" href="#fnref139">[139]</a></span> +corpse. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn140" id="fn140" href="#fnref140">[140]</a></span> +grease. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn141" id="fn141" href="#fnref141">[141]</a></span> +Their reward, or their desire not diminished. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn142" id="fn142" href="#fnref142">[142]</a></span> +No minstrels without doubt—a compliment to the poetical +profession: there were no gleemen or minstrels in the infernal +regions. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn143" id="fn143" href="#fnref143">[143]</a></span> +letter of right. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn144" id="fn144" href="#fnref144">[144]</a></span> +Pageant. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn145" id="fn145" href="#fnref145">[145]</a></span> +By the time he had done shouting the coronach or cry of +help, the Highlanders speaking Erse or Gaelic gathered about him. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn146" id="fn146" href="#fnref146">[146]</a></span> +croaked like ravens and rooks. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn147" id="fn147" href="#fnref147">[147]</a></span> +deafened. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn148" id="fn148" href="#fnref148">[148]</a></span> +smothered. +</div> + +<h2>SIR DAVID LYNDSAY.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1490-1555.)</div> + +<h3><a name="vi" id="vi">VI.</a> SATIRE ON THE SYDE TAILLIS—ANE SUPPLICATIOUN<br /> +DIRECTIT TO THE KINGIS GRACE—1538.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The specimen of Lyndsay cited below—this satire on long trains—is + by no means the most favourable that could be desired, but it is + the only one that lent itself readily to quotation. The archaic + spelling is slightly modernized.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Schir! though your Grace has put gret order</div> + <div>Baith in the Hieland and the Border</div> + <div>Yet mak I supplicatioun</div> + <div>Till have some reformatioun</div> +<span class="pagenum">[020]<a name="page020" id="page020"></a></span> + <div>Of ane small falt, whilk is nocht treason</div> + <div>Though it be contrarie to reason.</div> + <div>Because the matter been so vile,</div> + <div>It may nocht have ane ornate style;</div> + <div>Wherefore I pray your Excellence</div> + <div>To hear me with great patience:</div> + <div>Of stinking weedis maculate</div> + <div>No man nay mak ane rose-chaplet.</div> + <div>Sovereign, I mean of thir syde tails,</div> + <div>Whilk through the dust and dubis trails</div> + <div>Three quarters lang behind their heels,</div> + <div>Express again' all commonweals.</div> + <div>Though bishops, in their pontificals,</div> + <div>Have men for to bear up their tails,</div> + <div>For dignity of their office;</div> + <div>Richt so ane queen or ane empress;</div> + <div>Howbeit they use sic gravity,</div> + <div>Conformand to their majesty,</div> + <div>Though their robe-royals be upborne,</div> + <div>I think it is ane very scorn,</div> + <div>That every lady of the land</div> + <div>Should have her tail so syde trailand;</div> + <div>Howbeit they been of high estate,</div> + <div>The queen they should nocht counterfeit.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Wherever they may go it may be seen</div> + <div>How kirk and causay they soop<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref149" + id="fnref149" href="#fn149">[149]</a></span> clean.</div> + <div>The images into the kirk</div> + <div>May think of their syde taillis irk;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref150" id="fnref150" href="#fn150">[150]</a></span></div> + <div>For when the weather been maist fair,</div> + <div>The dust flies highest in the air,</div> + <div>And all their faces does begarie.</div> + <div>Gif they could speak, they wald them warie...<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref151" id="fnref151" href="#fn151">[151]</a></span></div> + <div>But I have maist into despite</div> +<span class="pagenum">[021]<a name="page021" id="page021"></a></span> + <div>Poor claggocks<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref152" id="fnref152" + href="#fn152">[152]</a></span> clad in raploch-white,</div> + <div>Whilk has scant twa merks for their fees,</div> + <div>Will have twa ells beneath their knees.</div> + <div>Kittock that cleckit<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref153" + id="fnref153" href="#fn153">[153]</a></span> was yestreen,</div> + <div>The morn, will counterfeit the queen:</div> + <div>And Moorland Meg, that milked the yowes,</div> + <div>Claggit with clay aboon the hows,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref154" id="fnref154" href="#fn154">[154]</a></span></div> + <div>In barn nor byre she will not bide,</div> + <div>Without her kirtle tail be syde.</div> + <div>In burghs, wanton burgess wives</div> + <div>Wha may have sydest tailis strives,</div> + <div>Weel borderéd with velvet fine,</div> + <div>But followand them it is ane pyne:</div> + <div>In summer, when the streetis dries,</div> + <div>They raise the dust aboon the skies;</div> + <div>Nane may gae near them at their ease,</div> + <div>Without they cover mouth and neese...</div> + <div>I think maist pane after ane rain,</div> + <div>To see them tuckit up again;</div> + <div>Then when they step furth through the street,</div> + <div>Their fauldings flaps about their feet;</div> + <div>They waste mair claith, within few years,</div> + <div>Nor wald cleid fifty score of freirs...</div> + <div>Of tails I will no more indite,</div> + <div>For dread some duddron<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref155" + id="fnref155" href="#fn155">[155]</a></span> me despite:</div> + <div>Notwithstanding, I will conclude,</div> + <div>That of syde tails can come nae gude,</div> + <div>Sider nor may their ankles hide,</div> + <div>The remanent proceeds of pride,</div> + <div>And pride proceeds of the devil,</div> + <div>Thus alway they proceed of evil.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Ane other fault, sir, may be seen—</div> + <div>They hide their face all but the een;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[022]<a name="page022" id="page022"></a></span> + <div>When gentlemen bid them gude-day,</div> + <div>Without reverence they slide away...</div> + <div>Without their faults be soon amended,</div> + <div>My flyting,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref156" id="fnref156" + href="#fn156">[156]</a></span> sir, shall never be ended;</div> + <div>But wald your Grace my counsel tak,</div> + <div>Ane proclamation ye should mak,</div> + <div>Baith through the land and burrowstouns,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref157" id="fnref157" href="#fn157">[157]</a></span></div> + <div>To shaw their face and cut their gowns.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Women will say this is nae bourds,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref158" id="fnref158" href="#fn158">[158]</a></span></div> + <div>To write sic vile and filthy words.</div> + <div>But wald they clenge<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref159" + id="fnref159" href="#fn159">[159]</a></span> their filthy tails</div> + <div>Whilk over the mires and middens trails,</div> + <div>Then should my writing clengit be;</div> + <div>None other mends they get of me.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn149" id="fn149" href="#fnref149">[149]</a></span> +sweep. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn150" id="fn150" href="#fnref150">[150]</a></span> +be annoyed. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn151" id="fn151" href="#fnref151">[151]</a></span> +curse or cry out. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn152" id="fn152" href="#fnref152">[152]</a></span> +draggle-tails. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn153" id="fn153" href="#fnref153">[153]</a></span> +hatched. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn154" id="fn154" href="#fnref154">[154]</a></span> +houghs. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn155" id="fn155" href="#fnref155">[155]</a></span> +slut. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn156" id="fn156" href="#fnref156">[156]</a></span> +scolding, brawling. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn157" id="fn157" href="#fnref157">[157]</a></span> +burgh towns. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn158" id="fn158" href="#fnref158">[158]</a></span> +scoffs. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn159" id="fn159" href="#fnref159">[159]</a></span> +cleanse. +</div> + +<h2>BISHOP JOSEPH HALL.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1574-1656.)</div> + +<h3><a name="vii" id="vii">VII.</a> ON SIMONY.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This satire levels a rebuke at the Simoniacal traffic in livings, + then openly practised by public advertisement affixed to the door + of St. Paul's. "Si Quis" (if anyone) was the first word of these + advertisements. Dekker, in the <i>Gull's Hornbook</i>, speaks of the + "Siquis door of Paules", and in Wroth's <i>Epigrams</i> (1620) we read, + "A Merry Greek set up a <i>Siquis</i> late". This satire forms the Fifth + of the Second Book of the <i>Virgidemiarum</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Saw'st thou ever Siquis patcht on Pauls Church door</div> + <div>To seek some vacant vicarage before?</div> + <div>Who wants a churchman that can service say,</div> + <div>Read fast and fair his monthly homily?</div> + <div>And wed and bury and make Christen-souls?<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref160" id="fnref160" href="#fn160">[160]</a></span></div> +<span class="pagenum">[023]<a name="page023" id="page023"></a></span> + <div>Come to the left-side alley of St. Paules.</div> + <div>Thou servile fool, why could'st thou not repair</div> + <div>To buy a benefice at Steeple-Fair?</div> + <div>There moughtest thou, for but a slendid price,</div> + <div>Advowson thee with some fat benefice:</div> + <div>Or if thee list not wait for dead mens shoon,</div> + <div>Nor pray each morn the incumbents days were doone:</div> + <div>A thousand patrons thither ready bring,</div> + <div>Their new-fall'n<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref161" id="fnref161" + href="#fn161">[161]</a></span> churches, to the chaffering;</div> + <div>Stake three years stipend: no man asketh more.</div> + <div>Go, take possession of the Church porch door,</div> + <div>And ring thy bells; luck stroken in thy fist</div> + <div>The parsonage is thine, or ere thou wist.</div> + <div>Saint Fool's of Gotam<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref162" + id="fnref162" href="#fn162">[162]</a></span> mought thy parish be</div> + <div>For this thy base and servile Simony.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn160" id="fn160" href="#fnref160">[160]</a></span> +baptize. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn161" id="fn161" href="#fnref161">[161]</a></span> +newly fallen in, through the death of the incumbent. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn162" id="fn162" href="#fnref162">[162]</a></span> +Referring to Andrew Borde's book, <i>The Merry Tales of +the Mad Men of Gotham</i>. +</div> + +<br /><br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="viii" id="viii">VIII.</a> THE DOMESTIC TUTOR'S POSITION.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This satire forms the Sixth of Book II. of the <i>Virgidemiarum</i>, and + is regarded as one of Bishop Hall's best. See the <i>Return from + Parnassus</i> and Parrot's <i>Springes for Woodcocks</i> (1613) for + analogous references to those occurring in this piece.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A gentle squire would gladly entertain</div> + <div>Into his house some trencher chapelain;</div> + <div>Some willing man that might instruct his sons,</div> + <div>And that would stand to good conditions.</div> + <div>First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed</div> + <div>Whiles his young master lieth o'er his head.</div> + <div>Second that he do on no default</div> + <div>Ever presume to sit above the salt.</div> + <div>Third that he never change his trencher twice.</div> + <div>Fourth that he use all common courtesies:</div> + <div>Sit bare at meals and one half rise and wait.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[024]<a name="page024" id="page024"></a></span> + <div>Last, that he never his young master beat,</div> + <div>But he must ask his mother to define,</div> + <div>How many jerks she would his breech should line.</div> + <div>All these observed, he could contented be,</div> + <div>To give five marks and winter livery.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="ix" id="ix">IX.</a> THE IMPECUNIOUS FOP.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This satire constitutes Satire Seven of Book III. The phrase of + dining with Duke Humphrey, which is still occasionally heard, + originated in the following manner:—In the body of old St. Paul's + was a huge and conspicuous monument of Sir John Beauchamp, buried + in 1358, son of Guy, and brother of Thomas, Earl of Warwick. This + by vulgar mistake was called the tomb of Humphrey, Duke of + Gloucester, who was really buried at St. Alban's. The middle aisle + of St. Paul's was therefore called "The Duke's Gallery". In + Dekker's <i>Dead Terme</i> we have the phrase used and a full + explanation of it given; also in Sam Speed's <i>Legend of His Grace + Humphrey, Duke of St. Paul's Cathedral Walk</i> (1674).</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>See'st thou how gaily my young master goes,</div> + <div>Vaunting himself upon his rising toes;</div> + <div>And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side;</div> + <div>And picks his glutted teeth since late noon-tide?</div> + <div>'Tis Ruffio: Trow'st thou where he dined to-day?</div> + <div>In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humphrey.</div> + <div>Many good welcomes, and much gratis cheer,</div> + <div>Keeps he for every straggling cavalier;</div> + <div>An open house, haunted with great resort;</div> + <div>Long service mixt with musical disport.</div> + <div>Many fair younker with a feathered crest,</div> + <div>Chooses much rather be his shot-free guest,</div> + <div>To fare so freely with so little cost,</div> + <div>Than stake his twelvepence to a meaner host.</div> + <div>Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say</div> + <div>He touched no meat of all this livelong day;</div> + <div>For sure methought, yet that was but a guess,</div> + <div>His eyes seemed sunk for very hollowness,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[025]<a name="page025" id="page025"></a></span> + <div>But could he have—as I did it mistake—</div> + <div>So little in his purse, so much upon his back?</div> + <div>So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt</div> + <div>That his gaunt gut no too much stuffing felt.</div> + <div>See'st thou how side<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref163" + id="fnref163" href="#fn163">[163]</a></span> it hangs beneath his hip?</div> + <div>Hunger and heavy iron makes girdles slip.</div> + <div>Yet for all that, how stiffly struts he by,</div> + <div>All trapped in the new-found bravery.</div> + <div>The nuns of new-won Calais his bonnet lent,</div> + <div>In lieu of their so kind a conquerment.</div> + <div>What needed he fetch that from farthest Spain,</div> + <div>His grandame could have lent with lesser pain?</div> + <div>Though he perhaps ne'er passed the English shore,</div> + <div>Yet fain would counted be a conqueror.</div> + <div>His hair, French-like, stares on his frighted head,</div> + <div>One lock<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref164" id="fnref164" + href="#fn164">[164]</a></span> Amazon-like dishevelled,</div> + <div>As if he meant to wear a native cord,</div> + <div>If chance his fates should him that bane afford.</div> + <div>All British bare upon the bristled skin,</div> + <div>Close notched is his beard, both lip and chin;</div> + <div>His linen collar labyrinthian set,</div> + <div>Whose thousand double turnings never met:</div> + <div>His sleeves half hid with elbow pinionings,</div> + <div>As if he meant to fly with linen wings.</div> + <div>But when I look, and cast mine eyes below,</div> + <div>What monster meets mine eyes in human show?</div> + <div>So slender waist with such an abbot's loin,</div> + <div>Did never sober nature sure conjoin.</div> + <div>Lik'st a strawn scarecrow in a new-sown field,</div> + <div>Reared on some stick, the tender corn to shield,</div> + <div>Or, if that semblance suit not every deal,</div> + <div>Like a broad shake-fork with a slender steel.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[026]<a name="page026" id="page026"></a></span> + <div>Despised nature suit them once aright,</div> + <div>Their body to their coat both now disdight.</div> + <div>Their body to their clothes might shapen be,</div> + <div>That will their clothës shape to their bodie.</div> + <div>Meanwhile I wonder at so proud a back,</div> + <div>Whiles the empty guts loud rumblen for long lack.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn163" id="fn163" href="#fnref163">[163]</a></span> +long. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn164" id="fn164" href="#fnref164">[164]</a></span> +the love-locks which were so condemned by the Puritan +Prynne. Cf. Lyly's <i>Midas</i> and Sir John Davies' Epigram 22, <i>In +Ciprum</i>. +</div> + +<h2>GEORGE CHAPMAN.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1559-1634.)</div> + +<h3><a name="x" id="x">X.</a> AN INVECTIVE WRITTEN BY MR. GEORGE CHAPMAN<br /> +AGAINST MR. BEN JONSON.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This satire was discovered in a "Common-place Book" belonging to + Chapman, preserved among the Ashmole MSS. in the Bodleian Library, + Oxford.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Great, learned, witty Ben, be pleased to light</div> + <div>The world with that three-forked fire; nor fright</div> + <div>All us, thy sublearned, with luciferous boast</div> + <div>That thou art most great, most learn'd, witty most</div> + <div>Of all the kingdom, nay of all the earth;</div> + <div>As being a thing betwixt a human birth</div> + <div>And an infernal; no humanity</div> + <div>Of the divine soul shewing man in thee.</div> + <div> . . . . . . . . . .</div> + <div>Though thy play genius hang his broken wings</div> + <div>Full of sick feathers, and with forced things,</div> + <div>Imp thy scenes, labour'd and unnatural,</div> + <div>And nothing good comes with thy thrice-vex'd call,</div> + <div>Comest thou not yet, nor yet? O no, nor yet;</div> + <div>Yet are thy learn'd admirers so deep set</div> + <div>In thy preferment above all that cite</div> + <div>The sun in challenge for the heat and light</div> +<span class="pagenum">[027]<a name="page027" id="page027"></a></span> + <div>Of heaven's influences which of you two knew</div> + <div>And have most power in them; Great Ben, 'tis you.</div> + <div>Examine him, some truly-judging spirit,</div> + <div>That pride nor fortune hath to blind his merit,</div> + <div>He match'd with all book-fires, he ever read</div> + <div>His dusk poor candle-rents; his own fat head</div> + <div>With all the learn'd world's, Alexander's flame</div> + <div>That Cæsar's conquest cow'd, and stript his fame,</div> + <div>He shames not to give reckoning in with his;</div> + <div>As if the king pardoning his petulancies</div> + <div>Should pay his huge loss too in such a score</div> + <div>As all earth's learned fires he gather'd for.</div> + <div>What think'st thou, just friend? equall'd not this pride</div> + <div>All yet that ever Hell or Heaven defied?</div> + <div>And yet for all this, this club will inflict</div> + <div>His faultful pain, and him enough convict</div> + <div>He only reading show'd; learning, nor wit;</div> + <div>Only Dame Gilian's fire his desk will fit.</div> + <div>But for his shift by fire to save the loss</div> + <div>Of his vast learning, this may prove it gross:</div> + <div>True Muses ever vent breaths mixt with fire</div> + <div>Which, form'd in numbers, they in flames expire</div> + <div>Not only flames kindled with their own bless'd breath</div> + <div>That gave th' unborn life, and eternize death.</div> + <div>Great Ben, I know that this is in thy hand</div> + <div>And how thou fix'd in heaven's fix'd star dost stand</div> + <div>In all men's admirations and command;</div> + <div>For all that can be scribbled 'gainst the sorter</div> + <div>Of thy dead repercussions and reporter.</div> + <div>The kingdom yields not such another man;</div> + <div>Wonder of men he is; the player can</div> + <div>And bookseller prove true, if they could know</div> + <div>Only one drop, that drives in such a flow.</div> + <div>Are they not learned beasts, the better far</div> + <div>Their drossy exhalations a star</div> +<span class="pagenum">[028]<a name="page028" id="page028"></a></span> + <div>Their brainless admirations may render;</div> + <div>For learning in the wise sort is but lender</div> + <div>Of men's prime notion's doctrine; their own way</div> + <div>Of all skills' perceptible forms a key</div> + <div>Forging to wealth, and honour-soothed sense,</div> + <div>Never exploring truth or consequence,</div> + <div>Informing any virtue or good life;</div> + <div>And therefore Player, Bookseller, or Wife</div> + <div>Of either, (needing no such curious key)</div> + <div>All men and things, may know their own rude way.</div> + <div>Imagination and our appetite</div> + <div>Forming our speech no easier than they light</div> + <div>All letterless companions; t' all they know</div> + <div>Here or hereafter that like earth's sons plough</div> + <div>All under-worlds and ever downwards grow,</div> + <div>Nor let your learning think, egregious Ben,</div> + <div>These letterless companions are not men</div> + <div>With all the arts and sciences indued,</div> + <div>If of man's true and worthiest knowledge rude,</div> + <div>Which is to know and be one complete man,</div> + <div>And that not all the swelling ocean</div> + <div>Of arts and sciences, can pour both in:</div> + <div>If that brave skill then when thou didst begin</div> + <div>To study letters, thy great wit had plied,</div> + <div>Freely and only thy disease of pride</div> + <div>In vulgar praise had never bound thy [hide].</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[029]<a name="page029" id="page029"></a></span> +<h2>JOHN DONNE.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1573-1631.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xi" id="xi">XI.</a> THE CHARACTER OF THE BORE.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>From Donne's <i>Satires</i>, No. IV.; first published in the quarto + edition of the "Poems" in 1633. See Dr. Grosart's interesting Essay + on the Life and Writings of Donne, prefixed to Vol. II. of that + scholar's excellent edition.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Well; I may now receive and die. My sin</div> + <div>Indeed is great, but yet I have been in</div> + <div>A purgatory, such as fear'd hell is</div> + <div>A recreation, and scant map of this.</div> + <div>My mind neither with pride's itch, nor yet hath been</div> + <div>Poison'd with love to see or to be seen.</div> + <div>I had no suit there, nor new suit to shew,</div> + <div>Yet went to court: but as Glare, which did go</div> + <div>To mass in jest, catch'd, was fain to disburse</div> + <div>The hundred marks, which is the statute's curse,</div> + <div>Before he 'scap'd; so't pleas'd my Destiny</div> + <div>(Guilty of my sin of going) to think me</div> + <div>As prone to all ill, and of good as forget-</div> + <div>Ful, as proud, lustful, and as much in debt,</div> + <div>As vain, as witless, and as false as they</div> + <div>Which dwell in court, for once going that way,</div> + <div>Therefore I suffer'd this: Towards me did run</div> + <div>A thing more strange than on Nile's slime the sun</div> + <div>E'er bred, or all which into Noah's ark came;</div> + <div>A thing which would have pos'd Adam to name:</div> + <div>Stranger than seven antiquaries' studies,</div> + <div>Than Afric's monsters, Guiana's rarities;</div> + <div>Stranger than strangers; one who for a Dane</div> + <div>In the Danes' massacre had sure been slain,</div> + <div>If he had liv'd then, and without help dies</div> +<span class="pagenum">[030]<a name="page030" id="page030"></a></span> + <div>When next the 'prentices 'gainst strangers rise;</div> + <div>One whom the watch at noon lets scarce go by;</div> + <div>One t' whom th' examining justice sure would cry,</div> + <div>Sir, by your priesthood, tell me what you are.</div> + <div>His clothes were strange, though coarse, and black, though bare;</div> + <div>Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been</div> + <div>Velvet, but 'twas now (so much ground was seen)</div> + <div>Become tufftaffaty; and our children shall</div> + <div>See it plain rash a while, then nought at all.</div> + <div>The thing hath travail'd, and, faith, speaks all tongues,</div> + <div>And only knoweth what t' all states belongs.</div> + <div>Made of th' accents and best phrase of all these,</div> + <div>He speaks one language. If strange meats displease,</div> + <div>Art can deceive, or hunger force my taste;</div> + <div>But pedant's motley tongue, soldier's bombast,</div> + <div>Mountebank's drug-tongue, nor the terms of law,</div> + <div>Are strong enough preparatives to draw</div> + <div>Me to hear this, yet I must be content</div> + <div>With his tongue, in his tongue call'd Compliment;</div> + <div>In which he can win widows, and pay scores,</div> + <div>Make men speak treason, cozen subtlest whores,</div> + <div>Outflatter favourites, or outlie either</div> + <div>Jovius or Surius, or both together.</div> + <div>He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God!</div> + <div>How have I sinn'd, that thy wrath's furious rod,</div> + <div>This fellow, chooseth me? He saith, Sir,</div> + <div>I love your judgment; whom do you prefer</div> + <div>For the best linguist? and I sillily</div> + <div>Said, that I thought Calepine's Dictionary.</div> + <div>Nay, but of men? Most sweet Sir! Beza, then</div> + <div>Some Jesuits, and two reverend men</div> + <div>Of our two academies, I nam'd. Here</div> + <div>He stopt me, and said; Nay, your apostles were</div> + <div>Good pretty linguists; so Panurgus was,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[031]<a name="page031" id="page031"></a></span> + <div>Yet a poor gentleman; all these may pass</div> + <div>By travel. Then, as if he would have sold</div> + <div>His tongue, he prais'd it, and such wonders told,</div> + <div>That I was fain to say, If you had liv'd, Sir,</div> + <div>Time enough to have been interpreter</div> + <div>To Babel's bricklayers, sure the tower had stood.</div> + <div>He adds, If of court-life you knew the good,</div> + <div>You would leave loneness. I said, Not alone</div> + <div>My loneness is, but Spartan's fashion,</div> + <div>To teach by painting drunkards, doth not last</div> + <div>Now; Aretine's pictures have made few chaste;</div> + <div>No more can princes' courts, though there be few</div> + <div>Better pictures of vice, teach me virtue.</div> + <div>He, like to a high-stretch'd lute-string, squeakt, O, Sir!</div> + <div>'Tis sweet to talk of kings! At Westminster,</div> + <div>Said I, the man that keeps the Abbey-tombs,</div> + <div>And for his price doth, with who ever comes,</div> + <div>Of all our Harrys and our Edwards talk,</div> + <div>From king to king, and all their kin can walk:</div> + <div>Your ears shall hear naught but kings; your eyes meet</div> + <div>Kings only; the way to it is King's street.</div> + <div>He smack'd, and cry'd, He's base, mechanic coarse;</div> + <div>So're all our Englishmen in their discourse.</div> + <div>Are not your Frenchmen neat? Mine, eyes you see,</div> + <div>I have but one, Sir; look, he follows me.</div> + <div>Certes, they're neatly cloth'd. I of this mind am,</div> + <div>Your only wearing is your grogaram.</div> + <div>Not so, Sir; I have more. Under this pitch</div> + <div>He would not fly. I chaf'd him; but as itch</div> + <div>Scratch'd into smart, and as blunt iron ground</div> + <div>Into an edge, hurts worse; so I (fool!) found</div> + <div>Crossing hurt me. To fit my sullenness,</div> + <div>He to another key his style doth dress,</div> + <div>And asks, What news? I tell him of new plays:</div> + <div>He takes my hand, and, as a still which stays</div> +<span class="pagenum">[032]<a name="page032" id="page032"></a></span> + <div>A semibrief 'twixt each drop, he niggardly</div> + <div>As loth to enrich me, so tells many a lie,</div> + <div>More than ten Hollensheads, or Halls, or Stows,</div> + <div>Of trivial household trash he knows. He knows</div> + <div>When the queen frown'd or smil'd; and he knows what</div> + <div>A subtile statesman may gather of that:</div> + <div>He knows who loves whom, and who by poison</div> + <div>Hastes to an office's reversion;</div> + <div>He knows who hath sold his land, and now doth beg</div> + <div>A license old iron, boots, shoes, and egg-</div> + <div>Shells to transport. Shortly boys shall not play</div> + <div>At span-counter, or blow-point, but shall play</div> + <div>Toll to some courtier; and, wiser than us all,</div> + <div>He knows what lady is not painted. Thus</div> + <div>He with home-meats cloys me. I belch, spue, spit,</div> + <div>Look pale and sickly, like a patient, yet</div> + <div>He thrusts on more; and as he had undertook</div> + <div>To say Gallo-Belgicus without book,</div> + <div>Speaks of all states and deeds that have been since</div> + <div>The Spaniards came to th' loss of Amyens.</div> + <div>Like a big wife, at sight of loathed meat,</div> + <div>Ready to travail, so I sigh and sweat</div> + <div>To hear this makaron<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref165" + id="fnref165" href="#fn165">[165]</a></span> talk in vain; for yet,</div> + <div>Either my humour or his own to fit,</div> + <div>He, like a privileg'd spy, whom nothing can</div> + <div>Discredit, libels now 'gainst each great man:</div> + <div>He names a price for every office paid:</div> + <div>He saith, Our wars thrive ill, because delay'd;</div> + <div>That offices are entail'd, and that there are</div> + <div>Perpetuities of them lasting as far</div> + <div>As the last day; and that great officers</div> + <div>Do with the pirates share and Dunkirkers.</div> + <div>Who wastes in meat, in clothes, in horse, he notes;</div> + <div>Who loves whores, who boys, and who goats.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[033]<a name="page033" id="page033"></a></span> + <div>I, more amaz'd than Circe's prisoners, when</div> + <div>They felt themselves turn beasts, felt myself then</div> + <div>Becoming traitor, and methought I saw</div> + <div>One of our giant statues ope his jaw</div> + <div>To suck me in for hearing him: I found</div> + <div>That as burnt venomous leachers do grow sound</div> + <div>By giving others their sores, I might grow</div> + <div>Guilty, and be free; therefore I did show</div> + <div>All signs of loathing; but since I am in,</div> + <div>I must pay mine and my forefathers' sin</div> + <div>To the last farthing: therefore to my power</div> + <div>Toughly and stubbornly I bear this cross; but th' hour</div> + <div>Of mercy now was come: he tries to bring</div> + <div>Me to pay a fine to 'scape his torturing,</div> + <div>And says, Sir, can you spare me? I said, Willingly.</div> + <div>Nay, Sir, can you spare me a crown? Thankfully I</div> + <div>Gave it as ransom. But as fiddlers still,</div> + <div>Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will</div> + <div>Thrust one more jigg upon you; so did he</div> + <div>With his long complimented thanks vex me.</div> + <div>But he is gone, thanks to his needy want,</div> + <div>And the prerogative of my crown. Scant</div> + <div>His thanks were ended when I (which did see</div> + <div>All the court fill'd with such strange things as he)</div> + <div>Ran from thence with such or more haste than one</div> + <div>Who fears more actions doth haste from prison.</div> + <div>At home in wholesome solitariness</div> + <div>My piteous soul began the wretchedness</div> + <div>Of suitors at court to mourn, and a trance</div> + <div>Like his who dreamt he saw hell did advance</div> + <div>Itself o'er me: such men as he saw there</div> + <div>I saw at court, and worse, and more. Low fear</div> + <div>Becomes the guilty, not th' accuser; then</div> + <div>Shall I, none's slave, of high born or rais'd men</div> + <div>Fear frowns, and my mistress, Truth! betray thee</div> +<span class="pagenum">[034]<a name="page034" id="page034"></a></span> + <div>To th' huffing braggart, puft nobility?</div> + <div>No, no; thou which since yesterday hast been</div> + <div>Almost about the whole world, hast thou seen,</div> + <div>O Sun! in all thy journey vanity</div> + <div>Such as swells the bladder of our court? I</div> + <div>Think he which made your waxen garden, and</div> + <div>Transported it from Italy, to stand</div> + <div>With us at London, flouts our courtiers; for</div> + <div>Just such gay painted things, which no sap nor</div> + <div>Taste have in them, ours are!</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn165" id="fn165" href="#fnref165">[165]</a></span> +fop, early form of macaroni. +</div> + +<h2>BEN JONSON.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1573-1637.)</div> + + <blockquote><p>These two pieces are taken from Jonson's <i>Epigrams</i>. The first of + them was exceedingly popular in the poet's own lifetime.</p></blockquote> + +<br /><br /> +<h3><a name="xii" id="xii">XII.</a> THE NEW CRY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Ere cherries ripe, and strawberries be gone;</div> + <div class="in1">Unto the cries of London I'll add one;</div> + <div>Ripe statesmen, ripe: they grow in ev'ry street;</div> + <div class="in1">At six-and-twenty, ripe. You shall 'em meet,</div> + <div>And have him yield no favour, but of state.</div> + <div class="in1">Ripe are their ruffs, their cuffs, their beards, their gate,</div> + <div>And grave as ripe, like mellow as their faces.</div> + <div class="in1">They know the states of Christendom, not the places:</div> + <div>Yet have they seen the maps, and bought 'em too,</div> + <div class="in1">And understand 'em, as most chapmen do.</div> + <div>The counsels, projects, practices they know,</div> + <div class="in1">And what each prince doth for intelligence owe,</div> + <div>And unto whom; they are the almanacks</div> + <div class="in1">For twelve years yet to come, what each state lacks.</div> + <div>They carry in their pockets Tacitus,</div> + <div class="in1">And the Gazetti, or Gallo-Belgicus:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[035]<a name="page035" id="page035"></a></span> + <div>And talk reserv'd, lock'd up, and full of fear;</div> + <div class="in1">Nay, ask you how the day goes, in your ear.</div> + <div>Keep a Star-chamber sentence close twelve days:</div> + <div class="in1">And whisper what a Proclamation says.</div> + <div>They meet in sixes, and at ev'ry mart,</div> + <div class="in1">Are sure to con the catalogue by heart;</div> + <div>Or ev'ry day, some one at Rimee's looks,</div> + <div class="in1">Or bills, and there he buys the name of books.</div> + <div>They all get Porta, for the sundry ways</div> + <div class="in1">To write in cypher, and the several keys,</div> + <div>To ope the character. They've found the slight</div> + <div class="in1">With juice of lemons, onions, piss, to write;</div> + <div>To break up seals and close 'em. And they know,</div> + <div class="in1">If the states make peace, how it will go</div> + <div>With England. All forbidden books they get,</div> + <div class="in1">And of the powder-plot, they will talk yet.</div> + <div>At naming the French king, their heads they shake,</div> + <div class="in1">And at the Pope, and Spain, slight faces make.</div> + <div>Or 'gainst the bishops, for the brethren rail</div> + <div class="in1">Much like those brethren; thinking to prevail</div> + <div>With ignorance on us, as they have done</div> + <div class="in1">On them: and therefore do not only shun</div> + <div>Others more modest, but contemn us too,</div> + <div class="in1">That know not so much state, wrong, as they do.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xiii" id="xiii">XIII.</a> ON DON SURLY.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Don Surly to aspire the glorious name</div> + <div class="in1">Of a great man, and to be thought the same,</div> + <div>Makes serious use of all great trade he knows.</div> + <div class="in1">He speaks to men with a rhinocerote's nose,</div> + <div>Which he thinks great; and so reads verses too:</div> + <div class="in1">And that is done, as he saw great men do.</div> + <div>He has tympanies of business, in his face,</div> + <div class="in1">And can forget men's names, with a great grace.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[036]<a name="page036" id="page036"></a></span> + <div>He will both argue, and discourse in oaths,</div> + <div class="in1">Both which are great. And laugh at ill-made clothes;</div> + <div>That's greater yet: to cry his own up neat.</div> + <div class="in1">He doth, at meals, alone his pheasant eat,</div> + <div>Which is main greatness. And, at his still board,</div> + <div class="in1">He drinks to no man: that's, too, like a lord.</div> + <div>He keeps another's wife, which is a spice</div> + <div class="in1">Of solemn greatness. And he dares, at dice,</div> + <div>Blaspheme God greatly. Or some poor hind beat,</div> + <div class="in1">That breathes in his dog's way: and this is great.</div> + <div>Nay more, for greatness' sake, he will be one</div> + <div class="in1">May hear my epigrams, but like of none.</div> + <div>Surly, use other arts, these only can</div> + <div class="in1">Style thee a most great fool, but no great man.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SAMUEL BUTLER.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1612-1680.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xiv" id="xiv">XIV.</a> THE CHARACTER OF HUDIBRAS.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This extract is taken from the first canto of Hudibras, and + contains the complete portrait of the Knight, Butler's aim in the + presentation of this character being to satirize those fanatics and + pretenders to religion who flourished during the Commonwealth.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>When civil dudgeon first grew high,</div> + <div>And men fell out they knew not why;</div> + <div>When hard words, jealousies and fears,</div> + <div>Set folks together by the ears,</div> + <div>And made them fight like mad or drunk,</div> + <div>For Dame Religion as for punk:</div> + <div>Whose honesty they all durst swear for,</div> + <div>Though not a man of them knew wherefore:</div> + <div>When gospel-trumpeter surrounded</div> + <div>With long-ear'd rout to battle sounded,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[037]<a name="page037" id="page037"></a></span> + <div>And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,</div> + <div>Was beat with fist, instead of a stick:</div> + <div>Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,</div> + <div>And out he rode a-colonelling,</div> + <div class="in1">A wight he was, whose very sight wou'd</div> + <div>Intitle him, <i>Mirrour of Knighthood</i>;</div> + <div>That never bow'd his stubborn knee</div> + <div>To any thing but chivalry;</div> + <div>Nor put up blow, but that which laid</div> + <div>Right Worshipful on shoulder-blade:</div> + <div>Chief of domestic knights and errant,</div> + <div>Either for chartel or for warrant:</div> + <div>Great in the bench, great in the saddle,</div> + <div>That could as well bind o'er as swaddle:</div> + <div>Mighty he was at both of these,</div> + <div>And styl'd of <i>war</i>, as well as <i>peace</i>,</div> + <div>(So some rats, of amphibious nature,</div> + <div>Are either for the land or water).</div> + <div>But here our authors make a doubt,</div> + <div>Whether he were more wise or stout.</div> + <div>Some hold the one, and some the other:</div> + <div>But howsoe'er they make a pother,</div> + <div>The diff'rence was so small his brain</div> + <div>Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;</div> + <div>Which made some take him for a tool</div> + <div>That knaves do work with, call'd a <i>fool</i>.</div> + <div>For 't has been held by many, that</div> + <div>As Montaigne, playing with his cat,</div> + <div>Complains she thought him but an ass,</div> + <div>Much more she would Sir Hudibras,</div> + <div>(For that the name our valiant Knight</div> + <div>To all his challenges did write)</div> + <div>But they're mistaken very much,</div> + <div>'Tis plain enough he was no such.</div> + <div>We grant although he had much wit,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[038]<a name="page038" id="page038"></a></span> + <div>H' was very shy of using it;</div> + <div>As being loth to wear it out,</div> + <div>And therefore bore it not about</div> + <div>Unless on holidays, or so,</div> + <div>As men their best apparel do.</div> + <div>Besides, 'tis known he could speak Greek</div> + <div>As naturally as pigs squeak:</div> + <div>That Latin was no more difficile,</div> + <div>Than for a blackbird 'tis to whistle.</div> + <div>B'ing rich in both, he never scanted</div> + <div>His bounty unto such as wanted;</div> + <div>But much of either would afford</div> + <div>To many that had not one word.</div> + <div>For Hebrew roots, although they're found</div> + <div>To flourish most in barren ground,</div> + <div>He had such plenty as suffic'd</div> + <div>To make some think him circumcis'd:</div> + <div>And truly so he was, perhaps,</div> + <div>Not as a proselyte, but for claps,</div> + <div class="in1">He was in logic a great critic,</div> + <div>Profoundly skill'd in analytic;</div> + <div>He could distinguish, and divide</div> + <div>A hair 'twixt south and south west side;</div> + <div>On either which he could dispute,</div> + <div>Confute, change hands, and still confute;</div> + <div>He'd undertake to prove by force</div> + <div>Of argument, a man's no horse;</div> + <div>He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl,</div> + <div>And that a lord may be an owl;</div> + <div>A calf an alderman, a goose a justice,</div> + <div>And rooks committee-men and trustees,</div> + <div>He'd run in debt by disputation,</div> + <div>And pay with ratiocination:</div> + <div>All this by syllogism, true</div> + <div>In mood and figure, he would do.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[039]<a name="page039" id="page039"></a></span> + <div class="in1">For rhetoric, he could not ope</div> + <div>His mouth, but out there flew a trope;</div> + <div>And when he happened to break off</div> + <div>I' th' middle of his speech, or cough,</div> + <div>H' had hard words, ready to show why,</div> + <div>And tell what rules he did it by:</div> + <div>Else when with greatest art he spoke,</div> + <div>You'd think he talk'd like other folk,</div> + <div>For all a rhetorician's rules</div> + <div>Teach nothing but to name his tools.</div> + <div>But, when he pleas'd to show't his speech</div> + <div>In loftiness of sound was rich;</div> + <div>A Babylonish dialect,</div> + <div>Which learned pedants much affect:</div> + <div>It was a party-coloured dress</div> + <div>Of patch'd and pye-ball'd languages;</div> + <div>'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin,</div> + <div>Like fustian heretofore on satin.</div> + <div>It had an odd promiscuous tone,</div> + <div>As if h' had talk'd three parts in one;</div> + <div>Which made some think when he did gabble,</div> + <div>Th' had heard three labourers of Babel;</div> + <div>Or Cerberus himself pronounce</div> + <div>A leash of languages at once.</div> + <div>This he as volubly would vent</div> + <div>As if his stock would ne'er be spent;</div> + <div>And truly, to support that charge,</div> + <div>He had supplies as vast as large:</div> + <div>For he could coin or counterfeit</div> + <div>New words with little or no wit:</div> + <div>Words so debas'd and hard, no stone</div> + <div>Was hard enough to touch them on:</div> + <div>And when with hasty noise he spoke 'em,</div> + <div>The ignorant for current took 'em,</div> + <div>That had the orator who once</div> +<span class="pagenum">[040]<a name="page040" id="page040"></a></span> + <div>Did fill his mouth with pebble-stones</div> + <div>When he harangu'd but known his phrase,</div> + <div>He would have us'd no other ways.</div> + <div>In mathematics he was greater</div> + <div>Then Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater:</div> + <div>For he, by geometric scale,</div> + <div>Could take the size of pots of ale;</div> + <div>Resolve by sines and tangents, straight,</div> + <div>If bread and butter wanted weight;</div> + <div>And wisely tell what hour o' th' day</div> + <div>The clock does strike by algebra.</div> + <div>Beside, he was a shrewd philosopher,</div> + <div>And had read ev'ry text and gloss over;</div> + <div>Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath,</div> + <div>He understood b' implicit faith:</div> + <div>Whatever sceptic could inquire for,</div> + <div>For every <i>why</i> he had a <i>wherefore</i>,</div> + <div>Knew more than forty of them do,</div> + <div>As far as words and terms could go.</div> + <div>All which he understood by rote,</div> + <div>And as occasion serv'd, would quote:</div> + <div>No matter whether right or wrong,</div> + <div>They must be either said or sung.</div> + <div>His notions fitted things so well,</div> + <div>That which was which he could not tell;</div> + <div>But oftentimes mistook the one</div> + <div>For th' other, as great clerks have done.</div> + <div>He cou'd reduce all things to acts,</div> + <div>And knew their natures by abstracts;</div> + <div>Where entity and quiddity,</div> + <div>The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly;</div> + <div>Where Truth in persons does appear,</div> + <div>Like words congeal'd in northern air.</div> + <div>He knew what's what, and that's as high</div> + <div>As metaphysic wit can fly.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[041]<a name="page041" id="page041"></a></span> + <div>In school divinity as able,</div> + <div>As he that hight, Irrefragable;</div> + <div>A second Thomas, or at once</div> + <div>To name them all, another Duns:</div> + <div>Profound in all the Nominal</div> + <div>And Real ways beyond them all;</div> + <div>For he a rope of sand could twist</div> + <div>As tough as learned Sorbonist:</div> + <div>And weave fine cobwebs, fit for scull;</div> + <div>That's empty when the moon is full:</div> + <div>Such as lodgings in a head</div> + <div>That's to be let unfurnished.</div> + <div>He could raise scruples dark and nice,</div> + <div>And after solve 'em in a trice,</div> + <div>As if divinity had catch'd</div> + <div>The itch, on purpose to be scratch'd;</div> + <div>Or, like a mountebank, did wound</div> + <div>And stab herself with doubts profound,</div> + <div>Only to show with how small pain</div> + <div>The sores of faith are cur'd again;</div> + <div>Although by woful proof we find,</div> + <div>They always leave a scar behind.</div> + <div>He knew the seat of paradise,</div> + <div>Cou'd tell in what degree it lies;</div> + <div>And, as he was dispos'd could prove it,</div> + <div>Below the moon, or else above it.</div> + <div>What Adam dream'd of when his bride</div> + <div>Came from her closet in his side;</div> + <div>Whether the devil tempted her</div> + <div>By a High-Dutch interpreter;</div> + <div>If either of them had a navel;</div> + <div>Who first made music malleable;</div> + <div>Whether the serpent, at the fall,</div> + <div>Had cloven feet, or none at all;</div> + <div>All this without a gloss or comment,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[042]<a name="page042" id="page042"></a></span> + <div>He could unriddle in a moment,</div> + <div>In proper terms such as men smatter,</div> + <div>When they throw out and miss the matter.</div> + <div class="in1">For his religion it was fit</div> + <div>To match his learning and his wit;</div> + <div>'Twas Presbyterian true blue,</div> + <div>For he was of that stubborn crew</div> + <div>Of errant saints, whom all men grant</div> + <div>To be the true church militant:</div> + <div>Such as do build their faith upon</div> + <div>The holy text of pike and gun;</div> + <div>Decide all controversies by</div> + <div>Infallible artillery;</div> + <div>And prove their doctrine orthodox</div> + <div>By apostolic blows and knocks;</div> + <div>Call fire, and sword, and desolation,</div> + <div>A godly thorough reformation,</div> + <div>Which always must be carried on,</div> + <div>And still be doing, never done:</div> + <div>As if religion were intended</div> + <div>For nothing else but to be mended.</div> + <div>A sect whose chief devotion lies</div> + <div>In odd perverse antipathies:</div> + <div>In falling out with that or this,</div> + <div>And finding somewhat still amiss</div> + <div>More peevish, cross, and splenetic,</div> + <div>Than dog distract, or monkey sick</div> + <div>That with more care keep holiday</div> + <div>The wrong, than others the right way:</div> + <div>Compound for sins they are inclin'd to,</div> + <div>By damning those they have no mind to.</div> + <div>Still so perverse and opposite,</div> + <div>As if they worshipp'd God for spite.</div> + <div>The self-same thing they will abhor</div> + <div>One way, and long another for.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[043]<a name="page043" id="page043"></a></span> + <div>Free-will they one way disavow,</div> + <div>Another, nothing else allow.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xv" id="xv">XV.</a> THE CHARACTER OF A SMALL POET.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>From Butler's "Characters", a series of satirical portraits akin to + those of Theophrastus.</p></blockquote> + +<p>The Small Poet is one that would fain make himself that which nature +never meant him; like a fanatic that inspires himself with his own +whimsies. He sets up haberdasher of small poetry, with a very small +stock and no credit. He believes it is invention enough to find out +other men's wit; and whatsoever he lights upon, either in books or +company, he makes bold with as his own. This he puts together so +untowardly, that you may perceive his own wit as the rickets, by the +swelling disproportion of the joints. You may know his wit not to be +natural, 'tis so unquiet and troublesome in him: for as those that have +money but seldom, are always shaking their pockets when they have it, +so does he, when he thinks he has got something that will make him +appear witty. He is a perpetual talker; and you may know by the freedom +of his discourse that he came lightly by it, as thieves spend freely +what they get. He is like an Italian thief, that never robs but he +murders, to prevent discovery; so sure is he to cry down the man from +whom he purloins, that his petty larceny of wit may pass unsuspected. +He appears so over-concerned in all men's wits, as if they were but +disparagements of his own; and cries down all they do, as if they were +encroachments upon him. He takes jests from the owners and breaks them, +as justices do false weights, and pots that want measure. When he meets +with anything that is very good, he changes it into small money, like +three groats for a shilling, to serve several occasions. He +<span class="pagenum">[044]<a name="page044" id="page044"></a></span>disclaims +study, pretends to take things in motion, and to shoot flying, which +appears to be very true, by his often missing of his mark. As for +epithets, he always avoids those that are near akin to the sense. Such +matches are unlawful and not fit to be made by a Christian poet; and +therefore all his care is to choose out such as will serve, like a +wooden leg, to piece out a maimed verse that wants a foot or two, and +if they will but rhyme now and then into the bargain, or run upon a +letter, it is a work of supererogation. For similitudes, he likes the +hardest and most obscure best; for as ladies wear black patches to make +their complexions seem fairer than they are, so when an illustration is +more obscure than the sense that went before it, it must of necessity +make it appear clearer than it did; for contraries are best set off +with contraries. He has found out a new sort of poetical Georgics—a +trick of sowing wit like clover-grass on barren subjects, which would +yield nothing before. This is very useful for the times, wherein, some +men say, there is no room left for new invention. He will take three +grains of wit like the elixir, and, projecting it upon the iron age, +turn it immediately into gold. All the business of mankind has +presently vanished, the whole world has kept holiday; there has been no +men but heroes and poets, no women but nymphs and shepherdesses: trees +have borne fritters, and rivers flowed plum-porridge. When he writes, +he commonly steers the sense of his lines by the rhyme that is at the +end of them, as butchers do calves by the tail. For when he has made +one line, which is easy enough, and has found out some sturdy hard word +that will but rhyme, he will hammer the sense upon it, like a piece of +hot iron upon an anvil, into what form he pleases. There is no art in +the world so rich in terms as poetry; a whole dictionary is scarce able +to contain them; for there is hardly a pond, a sheep-walk, or a +gravel-pit in all Greece, <span class="pagenum">[045]<a name="page045" +id="page045"></a></span>but the ancient name of it is become a term +of art in poetry. By this means, small poets have such a stock of able +hard words lying by them, as dryades, hamadryades, aönides, fauni, +nymphæ, sylvani, &c. that signify nothing at all; and such a world of +pedantic terms of the same kind, as may serve to furnish all the new +inventions and "thorough reformations" that can happen between this and +Plato's great year.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ANDREW MARVELL.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1621-1678.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xvi" id="xvi">XVI.</a> NOSTRADAMUS'S PROPHECY.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>From <i>Political Satires and other Pieces</i>. It is curious to note + how much of the prophecy was actually fulfilled.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>For faults and follies London's doom shall fix,</div> + <div>And she must sink in flames in "sixty-six";</div> + <div>Fire-balls shall fly, but few shall see the train,</div> + <div>As far as from Whitehall to Pudding-Lane;</div> + <div>To burn the city, which again shall rise,</div> + <div>Beyond all hopes aspiring to the skies,</div> + <div>Where vengeance dwells. But there is one thing more</div> + <div>(Tho' its walls stand) shall bring the city low'r;</div> + <div>When legislators shall their trust betray,</div> + <div>Saving their own, shall give the rest away;</div> + <div>And those false men by th' easy people sent,</div> + <div>Give taxes to the King by Parliament;</div> + <div>When barefaced villains shall not blush to cheat</div> + <div>And chequer doors shall shut up Lombard Street.</div> + <div>When players come to act the part of queens,</div> + <div>Within the curtains, and behind the scenes:</div> + <div>When no man knows in whom to put his trust,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[046]<a name="page046" id="page046"></a></span> + <div>And e'en to rob the chequer shall be just,</div> + <div>When declarations, lies and every oath</div> + <div>Shall be in use at court, but faith and troth.</div> + <div>When two good kings shall be at Brentford town,</div> + <div>And when in London there shall not be one:</div> + <div>When the seat's given to a talking fool,</div> + <div>Whom wise men laugh at, and whom women rule;</div> + <div>A minister able only in his tongue</div> + <div>To make harsh empty speeches two hours long</div> + <div>When an old Scots Covenanter shall be</div> + <div>The champion for the English hierarchy:</div> + <div>When bishops shall lay all religion by,</div> + <div>And strive by law to establish tyranny,</div> + <div>When a lean treasurer shall in one year</div> + <div>Make himself fat, his King and people bare:</div> + <div>When the English Prince shall Englishmen despise,</div> + <div>And think French only loyal, Irish wise;</div> + <div>When wooden shoon shall be the English wear</div> + <div>And Magna Charta shall no more appear:</div> + <div>Then the English shall a greater tyrant know,</div> + <div>Than either Greek or Latin story show:</div> + <div>Their wives to 's lust exposed, their wealth to 's spoil,</div> + <div>With groans to fill his treasury they toil;</div> + <div>But like the Bellides must sigh in vain</div> + <div>For that still fill'd flows out as fast again;</div> + <div>Then they with envious eyes shall Belgium see,</div> + <div>And wish in vain Venetian liberty.</div> + <div>The frogs too late grown weary of their pain,</div> + <div>Shall pray to Jove to take him back again.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[047]<a name="page047" id="page047"></a></span> +<h2>JOHN CLEIVELAND.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1613-1658.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xvii" id="xvii">XVII.</a> THE SCOTS APOSTASIE.</h3> + + <blockquote><p class="center">From <i>Poems and Satires</i>, + posthumously published in 1662.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Is't come to this? What shall the cheeks of fame</div> + <div>Stretch'd with the breath of learned Loudon's name,</div> + <div>Be flogg'd again? And that great piece of sense,</div> + <div>As rich in loyalty and eloquence,</div> + <div>Brought to the test be found a trick of state,</div> + <div>Like chemist's tinctures, proved adulterate;</div> + <div>The devil sure such language did achieve,</div> + <div>To cheat our unforewarned grand-dam Eve,</div> + <div>As this imposture found out to be sot</div> + <div>The experienced English to believe a Scot,</div> + <div>Who reconciled the Covenant's doubtful sense,</div> + <div>The Commons argument, or the City's pence?</div> + <div>Or did you doubt persistence in one good,</div> + <div>Would spoil the fabric of your brotherhood,</div> + <div>Projected first in such a forge of sin,</div> + <div>Was fit for the grand devil's hammering?</div> + <div>Or was't ambition that this damnéd fact</div> + <div>Should tell the world you know the sins you act?</div> + <div>The infamy this super-treason brings.</div> + <div>Blasts more than murders of your sixty kings;</div> + <div>A crime so black, as being advisedly done,</div> + <div>Those hold with these no competition.</div> + <div>Kings only suffered then; in this doth lie</div> + <div>The assassination of monarchy,</div> + <div>Beyond this sin no one step can be trod.</div> + <div>If not to attempt deposing of your God.</div> + <div>O, were you so engaged, that we might see</div> + <div>Heav'ns angry lightning 'bout your ears to flee,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[048]<a name="page048" id="page048"></a></span> + <div>Till you were shrivell'd to dust, and your cold land</div> + <div>Parch't to a drought beyond the Libyan sand!</div> + <div>But 'tis reserv'd till Heaven plague you worse;</div> + <div>The objects of an epidemic curse,</div> + <div>First, may your brethren, to whose viler ends</div> + <div>Your power hath bawded, cease to be your friends;</div> + <div>And prompted by the dictate of their reason;</div> + <div>And may their jealousies increase and breed</div> + <div>Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed.</div> + <div>In foreign nations may your loathed name be</div> + <div>A stigmatizing brand of infamy;</div> + <div>Till forced by general hate you cease to roam</div> + <div>The world, and for a plague live at home:</div> + <div>Till you resume your poverty, and be</div> + <div>Reduced to beg where none can be so free</div> + <div>To grant: and may your scabby land be all</div> + <div>Translated to a generall hospital.</div> + <div>Let not the sun afford one gentle ray,</div> + <div>To give you comfort of a summer's day;</div> + <div>But, as a guerdon for your traitorous war,</div> + <div>Love cherished only by the northern star.</div> + <div>No stranger deign to visit your rude coast,</div> + <div>And be, to all but banisht men, as lost.</div> + <div>And such in heightening of the indiction due</div> + <div>Let provok'd princes send them all to you.</div> + <div>Your State a chaos be, where not the law,</div> + <div>But power, your lives and liberties may give.</div> + <div>No subject 'mongst you keep a quiet breast</div> + <div>But each man strive through blood to be the best;</div> + <div>Till, for those miseries on us you've brought</div> + <div>By your own sword our just revenge be wrought.</div> + <div>To sum up all ... let your religion be</div> + <div>As your allegiance—maskt hypocrisie</div> + <div>Until when Charles shall be composed in dust</div> + <div>Perfum'd with epithets of good and just.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[049]<a name="page049" id="page049"></a></span> + <div>He saved—incenséd Heaven may have forgot—</div> + <div>To afford one act of mercy to a Scot:</div> + <div>Unless that Scot deny himself and do</div> + <div>What's easier far—Renounce his nation too.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>JOHN DRYDEN.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1631-1700.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xviii" id="xviii">XVIII.</a> SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Originally printed in broadside form, being written in the year + 1662. It was bitterly resented by the Dutch.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>As needy gallants, in the scriv'ner's hands,</div> + <div>Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd lands;</div> + <div>The first fat buck of all the season'd sent,</div> + <div>And keeper takes no fee in compliment;</div> + <div>The dotage of some Englishmen is such,</div> + <div>To fawn on those, who ruin them, the Dutch.</div> + <div>They shall have all, rather than make a war</div> + <div>With those, who of the same religion are.</div> + <div>The Straits, the Guinea-trade, the herrings too;</div> + <div>Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you.</div> + <div>Some are resolv'd, not to find out the cheat,</div> + <div>But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat.</div> + <div>What injuries soe'er upon us fall,</div> + <div>Yet still the same religion answers all.</div> + <div>Religion wheedl'd us to civil war,</div> + <div>Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now wou'd spare.</div> + <div>Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true,</div> + <div>They have no more religion, faith! than you.</div> + <div>Int'rest's the God they worship in their state,</div> + <div>And we, I take it, have not much of that.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[050]<a name="page050" id="page050"></a></span> + <div>Well monarchies may own religion's name,</div> + <div>But states are atheists in their very frame.</div> + <div>They share a sin; and such proportions fall,</div> + <div>That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all.</div> + <div>Think on their rapine, falsehood, cruelty,</div> + <div>And that what once they were, they still wou'd be.</div> + <div>To one well-born th' affront is worse and more,</div> + <div>When he's abus'd and baffl'd by a boor.</div> + <div>With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do;</div> + <div>They've both ill nature and ill manners too.</div> + <div>Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation;</div> + <div>For they were bred ere manners were in fashion:</div> + <div>And their new commonwealth has set them free</div> + <div>Only from honour and civility.</div> + <div>Venetians do not more uncouthly ride,</div> + <div>Than did their lubber state mankind bestride.</div> + <div>Their sway became 'em with as ill a mien,</div> + <div>As their own paunches swell above their chin.</div> + <div>Yet is their empire no true growth but humour,</div> + <div>And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour.</div> + <div>As Cato did in Africk fruits display;</div> + <div>Let us before our eyes their Indies lay:</div> + <div>All loyal English will like him conclude;</div> + <div>Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdu'd.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xix" id="xix">XIX.</a> MACFLECKNOE.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This satire was written in reply to a savage poem by the dramatist, + Thomas Shadwell, entitled "The Medal of John Dayes". Dryden and + Shadwell had been friends, but the enmity begotten of political + opposition had separated them. Flecknoe, who gives the name to this + poem, and of whom Shadwell is treated as the son and heir, was a + dull poet who had always laid himself open to ridicule. It is not + known (says W.D. Christie in the <i>Globe</i> Dryden) whether he had + ever given Dryden offence, but it is certain that his "Epigrams", + published in 1670, contain some lines addressed to Dryden of a + complimentary character.</p></blockquote> + +<span class="pagenum">[051]<a name="page051" id="page051"></a></span> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>All human things are subject to decay,</div> + <div>And, when fate summons, monarchs must obey;</div> + <div>This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young</div> + <div>Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long;</div> + <div>In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute,</div> + <div>Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute</div> + <div>This aged prince, now flourishing in peace,</div> + <div>And blest with issue of a large increase;</div> + <div>Worn out with business, did at length debate</div> + <div>To settle the succession of the state:</div> + <div>And, pond'ring, which of all his sons was fit</div> + <div>To reign, and wage immortal war with wit,</div> + <div>Cry'd, "'Tis resolv'd; for Nature pleads, that he</div> + <div>Should only rule, who most resembles me.</div> + <div>Shadwell alone my perfect image bears,</div> + <div>Mature in dulness from his tender years:</div> + <div>Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he,</div> + <div>Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity.</div> + <div>The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,</div> + <div>But Shadwell never deviates into sense.</div> + <div>Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,</div> + <div>Strike through, and make a lucid interval;</div> + <div>But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray,</div> + <div>His rising fogs prevail upon the day.</div> + <div>Besides, his goodly fabrick fills the eye,</div> + <div>And seems design'd for thoughtless majesty:</div> + <div>Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that shade the plain</div> + <div>And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign.</div> + <div>Heywood and Shirley were but types of thee,</div> + <div>Thou last great prophet of tautology.</div> + <div>Even I, a dunce of more renown than they,</div> + <div>Was sent before but to prepare thy way;</div> + <div>And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came</div> + <div>To teach the nations in thy greater name.</div> + <div>My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[052]<a name="page052" id="page052"></a></span> + <div>When to King John of Portugal I sung,</div> + <div>Was but the prelude to that glorious day,</div> + <div>When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way,</div> + <div>With well-tim'd oars before the royal barge.</div> + <div>Swell'd with the pride of thy celestial charge;</div> + <div>And big with hymn, commander of an host,</div> + <div>The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets tost.</div> + <div>Methinks I see the new Arion fail,</div> + <div>The lute still trembling underneath thy nail.</div> + <div>At thy well-sharpened thumb, from shore to shore,</div> + <div>The trebles squeak with fear, the basses roar:</div> + <div>Echoes from Pissing-Alley Shadwell call,</div> + <div>And Shadwell they resound from Aston-Hall.</div> + <div>About thy boat the little fishes throng</div> + <div>As at the morning toast, that floats along.</div> + <div>Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band,</div> + <div>Thou wield'st thy papers in thy threshing hand.</div> + <div>St. Andre's feet ne'er kept more equal time,</div> + <div>Not ev'n the feet of thy own Psyche's rime:</div> + <div>Though they in number as in sense excel;</div> + <div>So just, so like tautology, they fell,</div> + <div>That, pale with envy, Singleton forswore</div> + <div>The lute and sword which he in triumph bore,</div> + <div>And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius more."</div> + <div class="in1">Here stopt the good old sire, and wept for joy,</div> + <div>In silent raptures of the hopeful boy.</div> + <div>All arguments, but most his plays, persuade,</div> + <div>That for anointed dulness he was made.</div> + <div class="in1">Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind,</div> + <div>(The fair Augusta much to fears inclin'd)</div> + <div>An ancient fabric, rais'd t' inform the sight</div> + <div>There stood of yore, and Barbican it hight:</div> + <div>A watch-tower once; but now so fate ordains,</div> + <div>Of all the pile an empty name remains:</div> + <div>From its old ruins brothel-houses rise,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[053]<a name="page053" id="page053"></a></span> + <div>Scenes of lewd loves, and of polluted joys,</div> + <div>Where their vast courts the mother-strumpets keep,</div> + <div>And, undisturb'd by watch, in silence sleep.</div> + <div>Near these a nursery erects its head</div> + <div>Where queens are form'd, and future heroes bred;</div> + <div>Where unfledg'd actors learn to laugh and cry,</div> + <div>Where infant punks their tender voices try,</div> + <div>And little Maximins the gods defy.</div> + <div>Great Fletcher never treads in buskins here,</div> + <div>Nor greater Jonson dares in socks appear;</div> + <div>But gentle Simkin just reception finds</div> + <div>Amidst this monument of vanish'd minds:</div> + <div>Poor clinches the suburbian Muse affords,</div> + <div>And Panton waging harmless war with words.</div> + <div>Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well known,</div> + <div>Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne.</div> + <div>For ancient Dekker prophesy'd long since,</div> + <div>That in this pile should reign a mighty prince,</div> + <div>Born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense:</div> + <div>To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe,</div> + <div>But worlds of misers from his pen should flow;</div> + <div>Humorists and hypocrites it should produce,</div> + <div>Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce.</div> + <div class="in1">Now Empress Fame had publish'd the renown</div> + <div>Of Shadwell's coronation through the town.</div> + <div>Rous'd by report of fame, the nations meet,</div> + <div>From near Bunhill, and distant Watling-street.</div> + <div>No Persian carpets spread th' imperial way,</div> + <div>But scatter'd limbs of mangled Poets lay;</div> + <div>From dusty shops neglected authors come,</div> + <div>Martyrs of pies, and reliques of the bum.</div> + <div>Much Heywood, Shirley, Ogleby there lay,</div> + <div>But loads of Shadwell almost chok'd the way.</div> + <div>Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepar'd,</div> + <div>And Herringman was captain of the guard.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[054]<a name="page054" id="page054"></a></span> + <div>The hoary prince in majesty appear'd,</div> + <div>High on a throne of his own labours rear'd.</div> + <div>At his right hand our young Ascanius sate,</div> + <div>Rome's other hope, and pillar of the state.</div> + <div>His brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace,</div> + <div>And lambent dulness play'd around his face.</div> + <div>As Hannibal did to the altars come,</div> + <div>Swore by his sire a mortal foe to Rome;</div> + <div>So Shadwell swore, nor should his vow be vain,</div> + <div>That he till death true dulness would maintain;</div> + <div>And, in his father's right, and realm's defence,</div> + <div>Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense.</div> + <div>The king himself the sacred unction made,</div> + <div>As king by office, and as priest by trade.</div> + <div>In his sinister hand, instead of ball,</div> + <div>He plac'd a mighty mug of potent ale;</div> + <div>Love's kingdom to his right he did convey,</div> + <div>At once his sceptre, and his rule of sway;</div> + <div>Whose righteous lore the prince had practis'd young,</div> + <div>And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung.</div> + <div>His temples, last, with poppies were o'erspread</div> + <div>That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head.</div> + <div>Just at the point of time, if Fame not lie,</div> + <div>On his left hand twelve reverend owls did fly.</div> + <div>So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tiber's brook,</div> + <div>Presage of sway from twice six vultures took.</div> + <div>Th' admiring throng loud acclamations make,</div> + <div>And omens of his future empire take.</div> + <div>The sire then shook the honours of his head,</div> + <div>And from his brows damps of oblivion shed</div> + <div>Full on the filial dulness: Long he stood,</div> + <div>Repelling from his breast the raging god:</div> + <div>At length burst out in this prophetic mood.</div> + <div class="in1">"Heav'ns! bless my son! from Ireland let him reign</div> + <div>To far Barbadoes on the western main;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[055]<a name="page055" id="page055"></a></span> + <div>Of his dominion may no end be known,</div> + <div>And greater than his father's be his throne;</div> + <div>Beyond Love's kingdom let him stretch his pen!—"</div> + <div>He paus'd, and all the people cry'd "Amen".</div> + <div>Then thus continu'd he: "My son, advance</div> + <div>Still in new impudence, new ignorance.</div> + <div>Success let others teach, learn thou from me</div> + <div>Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry.</div> + <div>Let Virtuosos in five years be writ;</div> + <div>Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit.</div> + <div>Let gentle George in triumph tread the stage,</div> + <div>Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage;</div> + <div>Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pit,</div> + <div>And in their folly show the writer's wit.</div> + <div>Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence,</div> + <div>And justify their authors' want of sense.</div> + <div>Let 'em be all by thy own model made</div> + <div>Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid;</div> + <div>That they to future ages may be known,</div> + <div>Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own.</div> + <div>Nay, let thy men of wit too be the same,</div> + <div>All full of thee, and diff'ring but in name.</div> + <div>But let no alien Sedley interpose,</div> + <div>To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose.</div> + <div>And when false flowers of rhetorick thou would'st cull,</div> + <div>Trust Nature, do not labour to be dull;</div> + <div>But write thy best, and top; and, in each line,</div> + <div>Sir Formal's oratory will be thine:</div> + <div>Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill,</div> + <div>And does thy Northern Dedications fill.</div> + <div>Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame,</div> + <div>By arrogating Jonson's hostile name.</div> + <div>Let father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise,</div> + <div>And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise.</div> + <div>Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[056]<a name="page056" id="page056"></a></span> + <div>What share have we in Nature or in Art?</div> + <div>Where did his wit on learning fix a brand,</div> + <div>And rail at arts he did not understand?</div> + <div>Where made he love in Prince Nicander's vein,</div> + <div>Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain?</div> + <div>Where sold he bargains, whip-stitch, kiss my arse,</div> + <div>Promis'd a play, and dwindled to a farce?</div> + <div>When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin,</div> + <div>As thou whole Eth'ridge dost transfuse to thine?</div> + <div>But so transfus'd, as oil and waters flow,</div> + <div>His always floats above, thine sinks below.</div> + <div>This is thy province, this thy wondrous way,</div> + <div>New humours to invent for each new play:</div> + <div>This is that boasted bias of thy mind,</div> + <div>By which, one way, to dulness 'tis inclin'd:</div> + <div>Which makes thy writings lean on one side still,</div> + <div>And, in all changes, that way bends thy will.</div> + <div>Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence</div> + <div>Of likeness; thine's a tympany of sense.</div> + <div>A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ,</div> + <div>But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit.</div> + <div>Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep;</div> + <div>Thy tragic muse gives smiles, thy comic sleep.</div> + <div>With whate'er gall thou set'st thyself to write,</div> + <div>Thy inoffensive satires never bite.</div> + <div>In thy felonious heart though venom lies,</div> + <div>It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies.</div> + <div>Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame</div> + <div>In keen Iambics, but mild Anagram.</div> + <div>Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command</div> + <div>Some peaceful province in acrostic land,</div> + <div>There thou may'st wings display and altars raise,</div> + <div>And torture one poor word ten thousand ways.</div> + <div>Or if thou would'st thy different talents suit,</div> + <div>Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute."</div> +<span class="pagenum">[057]<a name="page057" id="page057"></a></span> + <div class="in1">He said: But his last words were scarcely heard:</div> + <div>For Bruce and Longvil had a trap prepar'd,</div> + <div>And down they sent the yet declaiming bard.</div> + <div>Sinking he left his drugget robe behind,</div> + <div>Borne upwards by a subterranean wind.</div> + <div>The mantle fell to the young prophet's part,</div> + <div>With double portion of his father's art.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xx" id="xx">XX.</a> EPISTLE TO THE WHIGS.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This excellent specimen of Dryden's prose satire was prefixed to + his satiric poem "The Medal", published in March, 1682. It was + inspired by the striking of a medal to commemorate the rejection by + the London Grand Jury, on November 24, 1681, of a Bill of High + Treason presented against Lord Shaftesbury. This event had been a + great victory for the Whigs and a discomfiture for the Court.</p></blockquote> + +<p>For to whom can I dedicate this poem, with so much justice, as to you? +'Tis the representation of your own hero: 'Tis the picture drawn at +length, which you admire and prize so much in little. None of your +ornaments are wanting; neither the landscape of the tower, nor the +rising sun; nor the Anno Domini of your new sovereign's coronation. +This must needs be a grateful undertaking to your whole party; +especially to those who have not been so happy as to purchase the +original. I hear the graver has made a good market of it: all his Kings +are bought up already; or the value of the remainder so enhanced, that +many a poor Polander, who would be glad to worship the image, is not +able to go to the cost of him; but must be content to see him here. I +must confess, I am no great artist; but sign-post-painting will serve +the turn to remember a friend by, especially when better is not to be +had. Yet, for your comfort, the lineaments are true: and though he sat +not five times to me, as he did to B. yet I have consulted history; as +the Italian painters do, when they would draw a Nero or a +<span class="pagenum">[058]<a name="page058" id="page058"></a></span>Caligula; +though they have not seen the man, they can help their imagination by a +statue of him, and find out the colouring from Suetonius and Tacitus. +Truth is, you might have spared one side of your medal: the head would +be seen to more advantage, if it were placed on a spike of the tower; a +little nearer to the sun; which would then break out to better purpose. +You tell us, in your preface to the <i>No-Protestant Plot</i>, that you +shall be forced hereafter to leave off your modesty. I suppose you mean +that little, which is left you: for it was worn to rags when you put +out this medal. Never was there practised such a piece of notorious +impudence in the face of an established Government. I believe, when he +is dead, you will wear him in thumb-rings, as the Turks did Scanderbeg; +as if there were virtue in his bones to preserve you against monarchy. +Yet all this while, you pretend not only zeal for the public good, but +a due veneration for the person of the king. But all men, who can see +an inch before them, may easily detect those gross fallacies. That it +is necessary for men in your circumstances to pretend both, is granted +you; for without them there could be no ground to raise a faction. But +I would ask you one civil question: What right has any man among you, +or any association of men (to come nearer to you) who, out of +Parliament cannot be consider'd in a public capacity, to meet, as you +daily do, in factious clubs, to vilify the Government in your +discourses, and to libel it in all your writings? Who made you judges +in Israel? Or how is it consistent with your zeal for the public +welfare, to promote sedition? Does your definition of <i>loyal</i>, which is +to serve the King according to the laws, allow you the licence of +traducing the executive power, with which you own he is invested? You +complain, that his Majesty has lost the love and confidence of his +people; and, by your very urging it, you endeavour, what in you lies, +to make <span class="pagenum">[059]<a name="page059" id="page059"></a></span> +him lose them. All good subjects abhor the thought of +arbitrary power, whether it be in one or many; if you were the patriots +you would seem, you would not at this rate incense the multitude to +assume it; for no sober man can fear it, either from the King's +disposition or his practice; or even, where you would odiously lay it, +from his ministers. Give us leave to enjoy the Government, and the +benefit of laws, under which we were born, and which we desire to +transmit to our posterity. You are not the trustees of the public +liberty; and if you have not right to petition in a crowd, much less +have you to intermeddle in the management of affairs, or to arraign +what you do not like; which in effect is everything that is done by the +King and Council. Can you imagine, that any reasonable man will believe +you respect the person of his Majesty, when 'tis apparent that your +seditious pamphlets are stuffed with particular reflections on him? If +you have the confidence to deny this, 'tis easy to be evinced from a +thousand passages, which I only forbear to quote because I desire they +should die and be forgotten. I have perused many of your papers; and to +show you that I have, the third part of your <i>No-Protestant Plot</i> is +much of it stolen from your dead author's pamphlet called the <i>Growth +of Popery</i>; as manifestly as Milton's defence of the English people is +from Buchanan, <i>de jure regni apud Scotos</i>; or your first covenant, and +new association, from the holy league of the French Guisards. Anyone, +who reads Davila, may trace your practices all along. There were the +same pretences for reformation and loyalty, the same aspersions of the +King, and the same grounds of a rebellion. I know not whether you will +take the historian's word, who says, it was reported, that Poltrot a +Huguenot murder'd Francis Duke of Guise, by the instigations of +Theodore Beza; or that it was a Huguenot minister, otherwise called a +Presbyterian (for our Church <span class="pagenum">[060]<a name="page060" +id="page060"></a></span>abhors so devilish a tenet) who first +writ a treatise of the lawfulness of deposing and murdering Kings, of a +different persuasion in religion. But I am able to prove from the +doctrine of Calvin, and principles of Buchanan, that they set the +people above the magistrate; which, if I mistake not, is your own +fundamental; and which carries your loyalty no farther than your +liking. When a vote of the House of Commons goes on your side, you are +as ready to observe it, as if it were passed into a law: but when you +are pinch'd with any former, and yet unrepealed, Act of Parliament, you +declare that in some cases you will not be obliged by it. The passage +is in the same third part of the <i>No-Protestant Plot</i>; and is too plain +to be denied. The late copy of your intended association you neither +wholly justify nor condemn: but as the Papists, when they are +unoppos'd, fly out into all the pageantries of worship, but, in times +of war, when they are hard pressed by arguments, lie close intrenched +behind the Council of Trent; so, now, when your affairs are in a low +condition, you dare not pretend that to be a legal combination; but +whensover you are afloat, I doubt not but it will be maintained and +justified to purpose. For indeed there is nothing to defend it but the +sword: 'Tis the proper time to say anything, when men have all things +in their power.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, you would fain be nibbling at a parallel betwixt this +association, and that in the time of Queen Elizabeth. But there is this +small difference betwixt them, that the ends of the one are directly +opposite to the other: one with the Queen's approbation and +conjunction, as head of it; the other, without either the consent or +knowledge of the King, against whose authority it is manifestly +design'd. Therefore you do well to have recourse to your last evasion, +that it was contriv'd by your enemies, and shuffled into the papers +that were <span class="pagenum">[061]<a name="page061" id="page061"></a></span>seized; +which yet you see the nation is not so easy to +believe, as your own jury. But the matter is not difficult, to find +twelve men in Newgate, who would acquit a malefactor.</p> + +<p>I have one only favour to desire of you at parting; that, when you +think of answering this poem, you would employ the same pens against +it, who have combated with so much success against Absalom and +Achitophel: for then you may assure yourselves of a clear victory, +without the least reply. Rail at me abundantly; and, not to break a +custom, do it without wit. By this method you will gain a considerable +point, which is, wholly to waive the answer of my argument. Never own +the bottom of your principles, for fear they should be treason. Fall +severely on the miscarriages of Government; for if scandal be not +allowed, you are no free-born subjects. If GOD has not blessed you with +the talent of rhyming, make use of my poor stock and welcome; let your +verses run upon my feet: and for the utmost refuge of notorious +blockheads, reduced to the last extremity of sense, turn my own lines +upon me, and, in utter despair of your own satire, make me satirize +myself. Some of you have been driven to this bay already; but above all +the rest, commend me to the Non-conformist parson, who writ <i>The Whip +and Key</i>. I am afraid it is not read so much as the piece deserves, +because the bookseller is every week crying Help, at the end of his +Gazette, to get it off. You see I am charitable enough to do him a +kindness, that it may be published as well as printed; and that so much +skill in Hebrew derivations may not lie for waste-paper in the shop. +Yet I half suspect he went no farther for his learning, than the index +of Hebrew names and etymologies, which is printed at the end of some +English bibles. If Achitophel signify the brother of a fool, the author +of that poem will pass with his <span class="pagenum">[062]<a name="page062" +id="page062"></a></span>readers for the next of kin. And, +perhaps, 'tis the relation that makes the kindness. Whatever the verses +are, buy them up, I beseech you, out of pity; for I hear the +conventicle is shut up, and the brother of Achitophel out of service.</p> + +<p>Now footmen, you know, have the generosity to make a purse, for a +member of their society, who has had his livery pulled over his ears: +and even Protestant flocks are brought up among you, out of veneration +to the name. A dissenter in poetry from sense and English, will make as +good a Protestant rhymer, as a dissenter from the Church of England a +Protestant parson. Besides, if you encourage a young beginner, who +knows but he may elevate his style a little, above the vulgar epithets +of profane and saucy Jack, and atheistic scribbler, with which he +treats me, when the fit of enthusiasm is strong upon him? By which +well-manner'd and charitable expressions, I was certain of his sect, +before I knew his name. What would you have more of a man? He has +damned me in your cause from Genesis to the Revelations; and has half +the texts of both the Testaments against me, if you will be so civil to +yourselves as to take him for your interpreter, and not to take them +for Irish witnesses. After all, perhaps, you will tell me, that you +retained him only for the opening of your cause, and that your main +lawyer is yet behind. Now, if it so happen he meet with no more reply +than his predecessors, you may either conclude, that I trust to the +goodness of my cause, or fear my adversary, or disdain him, or what you +please; for the short on it is, it is indifferent to your humble +servant, whatever your party says or thinks of him.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[063]<a name="page063" id="page063"></a></span> +<h2>DANIEL DEFOE.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1661-1734)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxi" id="xxi">XXI.</a> INTRODUCTION TO THE TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>"The True-born Englishman" was a metrical satire designed to defend + the king, William III., against the attacks made upon him over the + admission of foreigners into public offices and posts of + responsibility.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Speak, satire; for there's none can tell like thee</div> + <div>Whether 'tis folly, pride, or knavery</div> + <div>That makes this discontented land appear</div> + <div>Less happy now in times of peace than war?</div> + <div>Why civil feuds disturb the nation more</div> + <div>Than all our bloody wars have done before?</div> + <div class="in1">Fools out of favour grudge at knaves in place,</div> + <div>And men are always honest in disgrace;</div> + <div>The court preferments make men knaves in course,</div> + <div>But they which would be in them would be worse.</div> + <div>'Tis not at foreigners that we repine,</div> + <div>Would foreigners their perquisites resign:</div> + <div>The grand contention's plainly to be seen,</div> + <div>To get some men put out, and some put in.</div> + <div>For this our senators make long harangues,</div> + <div>And florid members whet their polished tongues.</div> + <div>Statesmen are always sick of one disease,</div> + <div>And a good pension gives them present ease:</div> + <div>That's the specific makes them all content</div> + <div>With any king and any government.</div> + <div>Good patriots at court abuses rail,</div> + <div>And all the nation's grievances bewail;</div> + <div>But when the sovereign's balsam's once applied,</div> + <div>The zealot never fails to change his side;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[064]<a name="page064" id="page064"></a></span> + <div>And when he must the golden key resign,</div> + <div>The railing spirit comes about again.</div> + <div class="in1">Who shall this bubbled nation disabuse,</div> + <div>While they their own felicities refuse,</div> + <div>Who the wars have made such mighty pother,</div> + <div>And now are falling out with one another:</div> + <div>With needless fears the jealous nation fill,</div> + <div>And always have been saved against their will:</div> + <div>Who fifty millions sterling have disbursed,</div> + <div>To be with peace and too much plenty cursed:</div> + <div>Who their old monarch eagerly undo,</div> + <div>And yet uneasily obey the new?</div> + <div>Search, satire, search; a deep incision make;</div> + <div>The poison's strong, the antidote's too weak.</div> + <div>'Tis pointed truth must manage this dispute,</div> + <div>And downright English, Englishmen confute.</div> + <div class="in1">Whet thy just anger at the nation's pride,</div> + <div>And with keen phrase repel the vicious tide;</div> + <div>To Englishmen their own beginnings show,</div> + <div>And ask them why they slight their neighbours so.</div> + <div>Go back to elder times and ages past,</div> + <div>And nations into long oblivion cast;</div> + <div>To old Britannia's youthful days retire,</div> + <div>And there for true-born Englishmen inquire.</div> + <div>Britannia freely will disown the name,</div> + <div>And hardly knows herself from whence they came:</div> + <div>Wonders that they of all men should pretend</div> + <div>To birth and blood, and for a name contend.</div> + <div>Go back to causes where our follies dwell,</div> + <div>And fetch the dark original from hell:</div> + <div>Speak, satire, for there's none like thee can tell.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[065]<a name="page065" id="page065"></a></span> +<h2>THE EARL OF DORSET.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1637-1705.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxii" id="xxii">XXII.</a> SATIRE ON A CONCEITED PLAYWRIGHT.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The person against whom this attack was directed was Edward Howard, + author of <i>The British Princess</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Thou damn'd antipodes to common-sense,</div> + <div>Thou foil to Flecknoe, pr'ythee tell from whence</div> + <div>Does all this mighty stock of dulness spring?</div> + <div>Is it thy own, or hast it from Snow-hill,</div> + <div>Assisted by some ballad-making quill?</div> + <div>No, they fly higher yet, thy plays are such,</div> + <div>I'd swear they were translated out of Dutch.</div> + <div>Fain would I know what diet thou dost keep,</div> + <div>If thou dost always, or dost never sleep?</div> + <div>Sure hasty-pudding is thy chiefest dish,</div> + <div>With bullock's liver, or some stinking fish:</div> + <div>Garbage, ox-cheeks, and tripes, do feast thy brain,</div> + <div>Which nobly pays this tribute back again.</div> + <div>With daisy-roots thy dwarfish Muse is fed,</div> + <div>A giant's body with a pigmy's head.</div> + <div>Canst thou not find, among thy numerous race</div> + <div>Of kindred, one to tell thee that thy plays</div> + <div>Are laught at by the pit, box, galleries, nay, stage?</div> + <div>Think on't a while, and thou wilt quickly find</div> + <div>Thy body made for labour, not thy mind.</div> + <div>No other use of paper thou shouldst make</div> + <div>Than carrying loads and reams upon thy back.</div> + <div>Carry vast burdens till thy shoulders shrink,</div> + <div>But curst be he that gives thee pen and ink:</div> + <div>Such dangerous weapons should be kept from fools,</div> + <div>As nurses from their children keep edg'd tools:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[066]<a name="page066" id="page066"></a></span> + <div>For thy dull fancy a muckinder is fit</div> + <div>To wipe the slobberings of thy snotty wit:</div> + <div>And though 'tis late, if justice could be found,</div> + <div>Thy plays like blind-born puppies should be drown'd.</div> + <div>For were it not that we respect afford</div> + <div>Unto the son of an heroic lord,</div> + <div>Thine in the ducking-stool should take her seat,</div> + <div>Drest like herself in a great chair of state;</div> + <div>Where like a Muse of quality she'd die,</div> + <div>And thou thyself shalt make her elegy,</div> + <div>In the same strain thou writ'st thy comedy.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>JOHN ARBUTHNOT.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1667-1735.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxiii" id="xxiii">XXIII.</a> PREFACE TO JOHN BULL AND HIS LAW-SUIT.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>First published as a political pamphlet, this piece had an + extraordinary run of popularity. It was originally issued in four + parts, but these afterwards were reduced to two, without any + omission, however, of matter. They appeared during the years + 1712-13, and the satire was finally published in book form in 1714. + The author was the intimate friend of Swift, Pope, and Gay. The + volume was exceedingly popular in Tory circles. The examples I have + selected are "The Preface" and also the opening chapters of the + history, which I have made to run on without breaking them up into + the short divisions of the text.</p></blockquote> + + +<p>When I was first called to the office of historiographer to John Bull, +he expressed himself to this purpose: "Sir Humphrey Polesworth<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref166" id="fnref166" href="#fn166">[166]</a></span>, I +know you are a plain dealer; it is for that reason I have chosen you +for this important trust; speak the truth and spare not". That I might +fulfil those his honourable intentions, I obtained +<span class="pagenum">[067]<a name="page067" id="page067"></a></span>leave to repair to, +and attend him in his most secret retirements; and I put the journals +of all transactions into a strong box, to be opened at a fitting +occasion, after the manner of the historiographers of some eastern +monarchs: this I thought was the safest way; though I declare I was +never afraid to be chopped<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref167" +id="fnref167" href="#fn167">[167]</a></span> by my master for telling of truth. It +is from those journals that my memoirs are compiled: therefore let not +posterity a thousand years hence look for truth in the voluminous +annals of pedants, who are entirely ignorant of the secret springs of +great actions; if they do, let me tell them they will be nebused.<span +class="fnref"><a name="fnref168" id="fnref168" href="#fn168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>With incredible pains have I endeavoured to copy the several beauties +of the ancient and modern historians; the impartial temper of +Herodotus, the gravity, austerity, and strict morals of Thucydides, the +extensive knowledge of Xenophon, the sublimity and grandeur of Titus +Livius; and to avoid the careless style of Polybius, I have borrowed +considerable ornaments from Dionysius Halicarnasseus, and Diodorus +Siculus. The specious gilding of Tacitus I have endeavoured to shun. +Mariana, Davila, and Fra. Paulo, are those amongst the moderns whom I +thought most worthy of imitation; but I cannot be so disingenuous, as +not to own the infinite obligations I have to the <i>Pilgrim's Progress</i> +of John Bunyan, and the <i>Tenter Belly</i> of the Reverend Joseph Hall.</p> + +<p>From such encouragement and helps, it is easy to guess to what a degree +of perfection I might have brought this great work, had it not been +nipped in the bud by some illiterate people in both Houses of +Parliament, who envying the great figure I was to make in future ages, +under pretence of raising money for the war,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref169" +id="fnref169" href="#fn169">[169]</a></span> have padlocked +<span class="pagenum">[068]<a name="page068" id="page068"></a></span>all +those very pens that were to celebrate the actions of their heroes, by +silencing at once the whole university of Grub Street. I am persuaded +that nothing but the prospect of an approaching peace could have +encouraged them to make so bold a step. But suffer me, in the name of +the rest of the matriculates of that famous university, to ask them +some plain questions: Do they think that peace will bring along with it +the golden age? Will there be never a dying speech of a traitor? Are +Cethegus and Catiline turned so tame, that there will be no opportunity +to cry about the streets, "A Dangerous Plot"? Will peace bring such +plenty that no gentleman will have occasion to go upon the highway, or +break into a house? I am sorry that the world should be so much imposed +upon by the dreams of a false prophet, as to imagine the Millennium is +at hand. O Grub Street! thou fruitful nursery of towering geniuses! How +do I lament thy downfall? Thy ruin could never be meditated by any who +meant well to English liberty. No modern lyceum will ever equal thy +glory: whether in soft pastorals thou didst sing the flames of pampered +apprentices and coy cook-maids; or mournful ditties of departing +lovers; or if to Mæonian strains thou raisedst thy voice, to record the +stratagems, the arduous exploits, and the nocturnal scalade of needy +heroes, the terror of your peaceful citizens, describing the powerful +Betty or the artful Picklock, or the secret caverns and grottoes of +Vulcan sweating at his forge, and stamping the queen's image on viler +metals which he retails for beef and pots of ale; or if thou wert +content in simple narrative, to relate the cruel acts of implacable +revenge, or the complaint of ravished virgins blushing to tell their +adventures before the listening crowd of city damsels, whilst in thy +faithful history thou intermingledst the gravest counsels and the +purest morals. Nor less acute and piercing wert thou in thy search and +pompous <span class="pagenum">[069]<a name="page069" id="page069"></a></span> +descriptions of the works of nature; whether in proper and +emphatic terms thou didst paint the blazing comet's fiery tail, the +stupendous force of dreadful thunder and earthquakes, and the +unrelenting inundations. Sometimes, with Machiavelian sagacity, thou +unravelledst intrigues of state, and the traitorous conspiracies of +rebels, giving wise counsel to monarchs. How didst thou move our terror +and our pity with thy passionate scenes between Jack Catch and the +heroes of the Old Bailey? How didst thou describe their intrepid march +up Holborn Hill? Nor didst thou shine less in thy theological capacity, +when thou gavest ghostly counsels to dying felons, and didst record the +guilty pangs of Sabbath-breakers. How will the noble arts of John +Overton's<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref170" id="fnref170" href="#fn170">[170]</a></span> +painting and sculpture now languish? where rich +invention, proper expression, correct design, divine attitudes, and +artful contrast, heightened with the beauties of clar. obscur., +embellished thy celebrated pieces, to the delight and astonishment of +the judicious multitude! Adieu, persuasive eloquence! the quaint +metaphor, the poignant irony, the proper epithet, and the lively +simile, are fled for ever! Instead of these, we shall have, I know not +what! The illiterate will tell the rest with pleasure.</p> + +<p>I hope the reader will excuse this digression, due by way of condolence +to my worthy brethren of Grub Street, for the approaching barbarity +that is likely to overspread all its regions by this oppressive and +exorbitant tax. It has been my good fortune to receive my education +there; and so long as I preserved some figure and rank amongst the +learned of that society, I scorned to take my degree either at Utrecht +or Leyden, though I was offered it gratis by the professors in those +universities.</p> + +<p>And now that posterity may not be ignorant in what age so excellent a +history was written (which would <span class="pagenum">[070]<a name="page070" +id="page070"></a></span>otherwise, no doubt, be the subject +of its inquiries), I think it proper to inform the learned of future +times, that it was compiled when Louis XIV. was King of France, and +Philip, his grandson, of Spain; when England and Holland, in +conjunction with the Emperor and the Allies, entered into a war against +these two princes, which lasted ten years under the management of the +Duke of Marlborough, and was put to a conclusion by the Treaty of +Utrecht, under the ministry of the Earl of Oxford, in the year 1713.</p> + +<p>Many at that time did imagine the history of John Bull, and the +personages mentioned in it, to be allegorical, which the author would +never own. Notwithstanding, to indulge the reader's fancy and +curiosity, I have printed at the bottom of the page the supposed +allusions of the most obscure parts of the story.</p> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn166" id="fn166" href="#fnref166">[166]</a></span> +A Member of Parliament, eminent for a certain cant in +his conversation, of which there is a good deal in this book. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn167" id="fn167" href="#fnref167">[167]</a></span> +A cant word of Sir Humphrey's. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn168" id="fn168" href="#fnref168">[168]</a></span> +Another cant word, signifying deceived. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn169" id="fn169" href="#fnref169">[169]</a></span> +Act restraining the liberty of the press, &c. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn170" id="fn170" href="#fnref170">[170]</a></span> +The engraver of the cuts before the Grub Street papers. +</div> + +<br /><br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xxiv" id="xxiv">XXIV.</a> THE HISTORY OF JOHN BULL.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">The Occasion of the Law-suit.</p> + +<p>I need not tell you of the great quarrels that have happened in our +neighbourhood since the death of the late Lord Strutt<span class="fnref"><a +name="fnref171" id="fnref171" href="#fn171">[171]</a></span>; how the +parson<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref172" id="fnref172" href="#fn172">[172]</a></span> +and a cunning attorney got him to settle his estate upon +his cousin Philip Baboon, to the great disappointment of his cousin +Esquire South. Some stick not to say that the parson and the attorney +forged a will; for which they were well paid by the family of the +Baboons. Let that be as it will, it is matter of fact that the honour +and estate have continued ever since in the person of Philip Baboon.</p> + +<p>You know that the Lord Strutts have for many years been possessed of a +very great landed estate, well-conditioned, wooded, watered, with coal, +salt, tin, copper, iron, &c., all within themselves; that it has been +the <span class="pagenum">[071]<a name="page071" id="page071"></a></span> +misfortune of that family to be the property of their stewards, +tradesmen, and inferior servants, which has brought great incumbrances +upon them; at the same time, their not abating of their expensive way +of living has forced them to mortgage their best manors. It is credibly +reported that the butcher's and baker's bill of a Lord Strutt that +lived two hundred years ago are not yet paid.</p> + +<p>When Philip Baboon came first to the possession of the Lord Strutt's +estate, his tradesmen,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref173" id="fnref173" +href="#fn173">[173]</a></span> as is usual upon such occasion, waited upon +him to wish him joy and bespeak his custom. The two chief were John +Bull,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref174" id="fnref174" href="#fn174">[174]</a></span> +the clothier, and Nic. Frog,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref175" id="fnref175" +href="#fn175">[175]</a></span> the linen-draper. They +told him that the Bulls and Frogs had served the Lord Strutts with +drapery-ware for many years; that they were honest and fair dealers; +that their bills had never been questioned, that the Lord Strutts lived +generously, and never used to dirty their fingers with pen, ink, and +counters; that his lordship might depend upon their honesty that they +would use him as kindly as they had done his predecessors. The young +lord seemed to take all in good part, and dismissed them with a deal of +seeming content, assuring them he did not intend to change any of the +honourable maxims of his predecessors.</p> + +<br /> + + <blockquote><p>How Bull and Frog grew jealous that the Lord Strutt intended to + give all his custom to his grandfather, Lewis Baboon.</p></blockquote> + +<p>It happened unfortunately for the peace of our neighbourhood that +this young lord had an old cunning rogue, or, as the Scots call it, +a false loon of a grandfather, that one might justly call a +Jack-of-all-Trades.<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref176" id="fnref176" +href="#fn176">[176]</a></span> Sometimes <span class="pagenum">[072]<a name="page072" +id="page072"></a></span>you would see him behind his +counter selling broadcloth, sometimes measuring linen; next day he +would be dealing in mercery-ware. High heads, ribbons, gloves, fans, +and lace he understood to a nicety. Charles Mather could not bubble a +young beau better with a toy; nay, he would descend even to the selling +of tape, garters, and shoe-buckles. When shop was shut up he would go +about the neighbourhood and earn half-a-crown by teaching the young men +and maids to dance. By these methods he had acquired immense riches, +which he used to squander<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref177" id="fnref177" +href="#fn177">[177]</a></span> away at back-sword, quarter-staff, and +cudgel-play, in which he took great pleasure, and challenged all the +country. You will say it is no wonder if Bull and Frog should be +jealous of this fellow. "It is not impossible," says Frog to Bull, "but +this old rogue will take the management of the young lord's business +into his hands; besides, the rascal has good ware, and will serve him +as cheap as anybody. In that case, I leave you to judge what must +become of us and our families; we must starve, or turn journeyman to +old Lewis Baboon. Therefore, neighbour, I hold it advisable that we +write to young Lord Strutt to know the bottom of this matter."</p> + +<br /> + + <p class="centersmall">A Copy of Bull and Frog's Letter to Lord Strutt.</p> + +<p>My Lord,—I suppose your lordship knows that the Bulls and the Frogs +have served the Lord Strutts with all sorts of drapery-ware time out of +mind. And whereas we are jealous, not without reason, that your +lordship intends henceforth to buy of your grandsire old Lewis Baboon, +this is to inform your lordship that this proceeding does not suit with +the circumstances of our families, who have lived and made a good +figure in the world by the generosity of the Lord Strutts. Therefore we +think <span class="pagenum">[073]<a name="page073" id="page073"></a></span> +fit to acquaint your lordship that you must find sufficient +security to us, our heirs, and assigns that you will not employ Lewis +Baboon, or else we will take our remedy at law, clap an action upon you +of £20,000 for old debts, seize and distrain your goods and chattels, +which, considering your lordship's circumstances, will plunge you into +difficulties, from which it will not be easy to extricate yourself. +Therefore we hope, when your lordship has better considered on it, you +will comply with the desire of</p> + +<div class="right">Your loving friends,</div> +<br /> +<div class="right"><span class="small">JOHN BULL.</span><br /> +<span class="small">NIC. FROG.</span></div> + +<p>Some of Bull's friends advised him to take gentler methods with the +young lord, but John naturally loved rough play. It is impossible to +express the surprise of the Lord Strutt upon the receipt of this +letter. He was not flush in ready money either to go to law or clear +old debts, neither could he find good bail. He offered to bring matters +to a friendly accommodation, and promised, upon his word of honour, +that he would not change his drapers; but all to no purpose, for Bull +and Frog saw clearly that old Lewis would have the cheating of him.</p> + +<br /> + + <blockquote><p>How Bull and Frog went to law with Lord Strutt about the premises, + and were joined by the rest of the tradesmen.</p></blockquote> + +<p>All endeavours of accommodation between Lord Strutt and his drapers +proved vain. Jealousies increased, and, indeed, it was rumoured abroad +that Lord Strutt had bespoke his new liveries of old Lewis Baboon. This +coming to Mrs. Bull's ears, when John Bull came home, he found all his +family in an uproar. Mrs. Bull, you must know, was very apt to be +choleric. "You sot," says she, "you loiter about ale-houses and +taverns, spend <span class="pagenum">[074]<a name="page074" id="page074"></a></span> +your time at billiards, ninepins, or puppet-shows, or +flaunt about the streets in your new gilt chariot, never minding me nor +your numerous family. Don't you hear how Lord Strutt has bespoke his +liveries at Lewis Baboon's shop? Don't you see how that old fox steals +away your customers, and turns you out of your business every day, and +you sit like an idle drone, with your hands in your pockets? Fie upon +it. Up, man, rouse thyself; I'll sell to my shift before I'll be so +used by that knave."<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref178" id="fnref178" +href="#fn178">[178]</a></span> You must think Mrs. Bull had been pretty well +tuned up by Frog, who chimed in with her learned harangue. No further +delay now, but to counsel learned in the law they go, who unanimously +assured them both of justice and infallible success of their lawsuit.</p> + +<p>I told you before that old Lewis Baboon was a sort of a +Jack-of-all-trades, which made the rest of the tradesmen jealous, as +well as Bull and Frog; they, hearing of the quarrel, were glad of an +opportunity of joining against old Lewis Baboon, provided that Bull and +Frog would bear the charges of the suit. Even lying Ned, the +chimney-sweeper of Savoy, and Tom, the Portugal dustman, put in their +claims, and the cause was put into the hands of Humphry Hocus, the +attorney.</p> + +<p>A declaration was drawn up to show "That Bull and Frog had undoubted +right by prescription to be drapers to the Lord Strutts; that there +were several old contracts to that purpose; that Lewis Baboon had taken +up the trade of clothier and draper without serving his time or +purchasing his freedom; that he sold goods that were not marketable +without the stamp; that he himself was more fit for a bully than a +tradesman, and went about through all the country fairs challenging +people to fight prizes, wrestling and cudgel-play, and abundance more +to this purpose".</p> + +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[075]<a name="page075" id="page075"></a></span> + + <p class="centersmall">The true characters of John Bull, Nic. Frog, and Hocus.<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref179" id="fnref179" href="#fn179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>For the better understanding the following history the reader ought to +know that Bull, in the main, was an honest, plain-dealing fellow, +choleric, bold, and of a very unconstant temper; he dreaded not old +Lewis either at back-sword, single falchion, or cudgel-play; but then +he was very apt to quarrel with his best friends, especially if they +pretended to govern him. If you flattered him you might lead him like a +child. John's temper depended very much upon the air; his spirits rose +and fell with the weather-glass. John was quick, and understood his +business very well, but no man alive was more careless in looking into +his accounts, or more cheated by partners, apprentices, and servants. +This was occasioned by his being a boon companion, loving his bottle +and his diversion; for, to say truth, no man kept a better house than +John, nor spent his money more generously. By plain and fair dealing +John had acquired some plums, and might have kept them had it not been +for his unhappy lawsuit.</p> + +<p>Nic. Frog was a cunning, sly fellow, quite the reverse of John in many +particulars; covetous, frugal, minded domestic affairs, would pinch his +belly to save his pocket, never lost a farthing by careless servants or +bad debtors. He did not care much for any sort of diversion, except +tricks of high German artists and legerdemain. No man exceeded Nic. in +these; yet it must be owned that Nic. was a fair dealer, and in that +way acquired immense riches.</p> + +<p>Hocus was an old cunning attorney, and though this was the first +considerable suit that ever he was engaged in, he showed himself +superior in address to most of his <span class="pagenum">[076]<a name="page076" +id="page076"></a></span>profession. He kept always good +clerks, he loved money, was smooth-tongued, gave good words, and seldom +lost his temper. He was not worse than an infidel, for he provided +plentifully for his family, but he loved himself better than them all. +The neighbours reported that he was henpecked, which was impossible, by +such a mild-spirited woman as his wife was.</p> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn171" id="fn171" href="#fnref171">[171]</a></span> +late King of Spain. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn172" id="fn172" href="#fnref172">[172]</a></span> +Cardinal Portocarero. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn173" id="fn173" href="#fnref173">[173]</a></span> +The first letters of congratulation from King William +and the States of Holland upon King Philip's accession to the crown of +Spain. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn174" id="fn174" href="#fnref174">[174]</a></span> +The English. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn175" id="fn175" href="#fnref175">[175]</a></span> +The Dutch. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn176" id="fn176" href="#fnref176">[176]</a></span> +The character and trade of the French nation. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn177" id="fn177" href="#fnref177">[177]</a></span> +The King's disposition to war. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn178" id="fn178" href="#fnref178">[178]</a></span> +The sentiments and addresses of the Parliament at that time. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn179" id="fn179" href="#fnref179">[179]</a></span> +Characters of the English and Dutch, and the General, +Duke of Marlborough. +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xxv" id="xxv">XXV.</a> EPITAPH UPON COLONEL CHARTRES.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Swift was reported to have had a hand in this piece, and indeed for + some time it was ascribed to him. But there is now no doubt that it + was entirely the work of Arbuthnot.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Here continueth to rot the body of Francis Chartres; who, with an +inflexible constancy and inimitable uniformity of life, persisted, in +spite of age and infirmities, in the practice of every human vice +excepting prodigality and hypocrisy: his insatiable avarice exempted +him from the first, his matchless impudence from the second.</p> + +<p>Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his manners, +than successful in accumulating wealth.</p> + +<p>For, without trade or profession, without trust of public money, and +without bribe-worthy service, he acquired, or more properly created, a +ministerial estate.</p> + +<p>He was the only person of his time who could cheat without the mask of +honesty, retain his primeval meanness when possessed of ten thousand a +year; and, having daily deserved the gibbet for what he did, was at +last condemned to it for what he could not do.</p> + +<p>O indignant reader, think not his life useless to mankind, providence +connived at his execrable designs, to give to after-ages a conspicuous +proof and example of how small estimation is exorbitant wealth in the +sight of God, by his bestowing it on the most unworthy of all mortals. +<span class="pagenum">[077]<a name="page077" id="page077"></a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div><i>Joannes jacet hic Mirandula—cætera norunt</i></div> + <div><i>Et Tagus et Ganges forsan et Antipodes</i>.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="center">Applied to F. C.</div> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Here Francis Chartres lies—be civil!</div> + <div>The rest God knows—perhaps the devil.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>JONATHAN SWIFT.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1667-1745.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxvi" id="xxvi">XXVI.</a> MRS. FRANCES HARRIS' PETITION.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Written in the year 1701. The Lord Justices addressed were the + Earls of Berkeley and of Galway. The "Lady Betty" mentioned in the + piece was the Lady Betty Berkeley. "Lord Dromedary", the Earl of + Drogheda, and "The Chaplain", Swift himself. The author was at the + time smarting under a sense of disappointment over the failure of + his request to Lord Berkeley for preferment to the rich deanery of + Derry.</p></blockquote> + +<br /> +<p class="noindent"><span class="small">TO THEIR EXCELLENCIES THE LORD JUSTICES +OF IRELAND. THE HUMBLE PETITION OF FRANCES HARRIS, WHO MUST STARVE, AND DIE +A MAID, IF IT MISCARRIES. HUMBLY SHOWETH,</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>That I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's chamber, because I was cold,</div> + <div>And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, + besides farthings, in money and gold:</div> + <div>So, because I had been buying things for my lady last night,</div> + <div>I was resolved to tell my money, and see if it was right.</div> + <div>Now you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock,</div> + <div>Therefore all the money I have, which God knows, is a very small stock,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[078]<a name="page078" id="page078"></a></span> + <div>I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next my smock.</div> + <div>So, when I went to put up my purse, as luck would have it, my + smock was unript,</div> + <div>And instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipt:</div> + <div>Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed;</div> + <div>And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe as my stupid head!</div> + <div>So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light:</div> + <div>But when I search'd and miss'd my purse, law! I thought I should have sunk outright.</div> + <div>"Lawk, madam," says Mary, "how d'ye do?" "Indeed," says I, "never worse:</div> + <div>But pray, Mary, can you tell what I've done with my purse?"</div> + <div>"Lawk, help me!" said Mary; "I never stirred out of this place:"</div> + <div>"Nay," said I, "I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain case."</div> + <div>So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm:</div> + <div>However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm.</div> + <div>So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very well think,</div> + <div>But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink.</div> + <div>So I was a-dream'd, methought, that I went and search'd the folks round,</div> + <div>And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's box, tied in a rag the money was found.</div> + <div>So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a-swearing:</div> + <div>Then my dame Wadger came: and she, you know, is thick of hearing:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[079]<a name="page079" id="page079"></a></span> + <div>"Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you know what a loss I have had?"</div> + <div>"Nay," said she, "my Lord Colway's folks are all very sad;</div> + <div>For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail."</div> + <div>"Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that I ail."</div> + <div>Says Cary, says he, "I've been a servant this five-and-twenty years come spring,</div> + <div>And in all the places I lived I never heard of such a thing."</div> + <div>"Yes," says the Steward, "I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's,</div> + <div>Such a thing as this happen'd, just about the time of gooseberries."</div> + <div>So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief,</div> + <div>(Now, you must know, of all things in the world I hate a thief,)</div> + <div>However, I was resolved to bring the discourse slily about:</div> + <div>"Mrs. Dukes," said I, "here's an ugly accident has happen'd out:</div> + <div>'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a mouse;</div> + <div>But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house.</div> + <div>'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, makes a great hole in my wages:</div> + <div>Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages.</div> + <div>Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and everybody understands,</div> + <div>That tho' 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands."</div> + <div>"The devil take me," said she (blessing herself), "if ever I saw't!"</div> + <div>So she roar'd like a Bedlam, as tho' I had called her all to nought.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[080]<a name="page080" id="page080"></a></span> + <div>So you know, what could I say to her any more?</div> + <div>I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before.</div> + <div>Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man:</div> + <div>"No," said I, "'tis the same thing, the chaplain will be here anon."</div> + <div>So the chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart,</div> + <div>Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part.</div> + <div>So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd,</div> + <div>"Parson," said I, "can you cast a nativity when a body's plunder'd?"</div> + <div>(Now you must know, he hates to be called <i>parson</i>, like the devil.)</div> + <div>"Truly," says he, "Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil;</div> + <div>If your money be gone, as a learned divine says, d'ye see:</div> + <div>You are no text for my handling; so take that from me:</div> + <div>I was never taken for a conjuror before, I'd have you to know."</div> + <div>"Law!" said I, "don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so;</div> + <div>You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a parson's wife,</div> + <div>I never took one in your coat for a conjuror in all my life."</div> + <div>With that, he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say,</div> + <div>"Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away.</div> + <div>Well: I thought I should have swoon'd, "Law!" said I, "what shall I do?</div> + <div>I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!"</div> +<span class="pagenum">[081]<a name="page081" id="page081"></a></span> + <div>Then my Lord called me: "Harry," said my Lord, "don't cry,</div> + <div>I'll give you something towards your loss;" and, says my Lady, "so will I."</div> + <div>"O, but," said I, "what if, after all, the chaplain won't come to?"</div> + <div>For that, he said, (an't please your Excellencies), I must petition you.</div> + <div>The premises tenderly consider'd, I desire your Excellencies' protection,</div> + <div>And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection:</div> + <div>And, over and above, that I may have your Excellencies' letter,</div> + <div>With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better:</div> + <div>And then your poor petitioner both night and day,</div> + <div>Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xxvii" id="xxvii">XXVII.</a> ELEGY ON PARTRIDGE.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This was written to satirize the superstitious faith placed in the + predictions of the almanac-makers of the period. Partridge was the + name of one of them—a cobbler by profession. Fielding also + satirized the folly in <i>Tom Jones</i>. The elegy is upon "his + supposed death", which drew from Partridge an indignant denial.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Well; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd,</div> + <div>Though we all took it for a jest:</div> + <div>Partridge is dead; nay more, he died</div> + <div>Ere he could prove the good 'squire lied.</div> + <div>Strange, an astrologer should die</div> + <div>Without one wonder in the sky!</div> + <div>Not one of his crony stars</div> + <div>To pay their duty at his hearse!</div> + <div>No meteor, no eclipse appear'd!</div> + <div>No comet with a flaming beard!</div> +<span class="pagenum">[082]<a name="page082" id="page082"></a></span> + <div>The sun has rose, and gone to bed,</div> + <div>Just as if Partridge were not dead;</div> + <div>Nor hid himself behind the moon</div> + <div>To make a dreadful night at noon.</div> + <div>He at fit periods walks through Aries,</div> + <div>Howe'er our earthly motion varies;</div> + <div>And twice a year he'll cut the equator,</div> + <div>As if there had been no such matter.</div> + <div class="in1">Some wits have wonder'd what analogy</div> + <div>There is 'twixt cobbling and astrology;</div> + <div>How Partridge made his optics rise</div> + <div>From a shoe-sole to reach the skies.</div> + <div class="in1">A list the cobbler's temples ties,</div> + <div>To keep the hair out of his eyes;</div> + <div>From whence 'tis plain, the diadem</div> + <div>That princes wear derives from them:</div> + <div>And therefore crowns are nowadays</div> + <div>Adorn'd with golden stars and rays:</div> + <div>Which plainly shows the near alliance</div> + <div>'Twixt cobbling and the planets science.</div> + <div class="in1">Besides, that slow-pac'd sign Bootes,</div> + <div>As 'tis miscall'd, we know not who 'tis:</div> + <div>But Partridge ended all disputes;</div> + <div>He knew his trade, and call'd it boots.</div> + <div class="in1">The horned moon, which heretofore</div> + <div>Upon their shoes the Romans wore,</div> + <div>Whose wideness kept their toes from corns,</div> + <div>And whence we claim our shoeing-horns,</div> + <div>Shows how the art of cobbling bears</div> + <div>A near resemblance to the spheres.</div> + <div class="in1">A scrap of parchment hung by geometry</div> + <div>(A great refinement in barometry)</div> + <div>Can, like the stars, foretell the weather;</div> + <div>And what is parchment else but leather?</div> + <div>Which an astrologer might use</div> +<span class="pagenum">[083]<a name="page083" id="page083"></a></span> + <div>Either for almanacs or shoes.</div> + <div class="in1">Thus Partridge by his wit and parts</div> + <div>At once did practise both these arts:</div> + <div>And as the boding owl (or rather</div> + <div>The bat, because her wings are leather)</div> + <div>Steals from her private cell by night,</div> + <div>And flies about the candle-light;</div> + <div>So learned Partridge could as well</div> + <div>Creep in the dark from leathern cell,</div> + <div>And in his fancy fly as far</div> + <div>To peep upon a twinkling star.</div> + <div class="in1">Besides, he could confound the spheres,</div> + <div>And set the planets by the ears;</div> + <div>To show his skill, he Mars could join</div> + <div>To Venus in aspect malign;</div> + <div>Then call in Mercury for aid,</div> + <div>And cure the wounds that Venus made.</div> + <div class="in1">Great scholars have in Lucian read,</div> + <div>When Philip king of Greece was dead,</div> + <div>His soul and spirit did divide,</div> + <div>And each part took a different side:</div> + <div>One rose a star; the other fell</div> + <div>Beneath, and mended shoes in hell.</div> + <div class="in1">Thus Partridge still shines in each art,</div> + <div>The cobbling and star-gazing part,</div> + <div>And is install'd as good a star</div> + <div>As any of the Cæsars are.</div> + <div class="in1">Triumphant star! some pity show</div> + <div>On cobblers militant below,</div> + <div>Whom roguish boys in stormy nights</div> + <div>Torment by pissing out their lights,</div> + <div>Or thro' a chink convey their smoke</div> + <div>Inclos'd artificers to choke.</div> + <div class="in1">Thou, high exalted in thy sphere,</div> + <div>May'st follow still thy calling there.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[084]<a name="page084" id="page084"></a></span> + <div>To thee the Bull will lend his hide,</div> + <div>By Phoebus newly tann'd and dry'd:</div> + <div>For thee they Argo's hulk will tax,</div> + <div>And scrape her pitchy sides for wax;</div> + <div>Then Ariadne kindly lends</div> + <div>Her braided hair to make thee ends;</div> + <div>The point of Sagittarius' dart</div> + <div>Turns to an awl by heav'nly art;</div> + <div>And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife,</div> + <div>Will forge for thee a paring-knife.</div> + <div>For want of room by Virgo's side,</div> + <div>She'll strain a point, and sit astride,</div> + <div>To take thee kindly in between;</div> + <div>And then the signs will be thirteen.</div> +</div> +</div> + + <h3>THE EPITAPH.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Here, five foot deep, lies on his back</div> + <div>A cobbler, star-monger, and quack;</div> + <div>Who to the stars in pure good-will</div> + <div>Does to his best look upward still.</div> + <div>Weep, all you customers that use</div> + <div>His pills, his almanacs, or shoes:</div> + <div>And you that did your fortunes seek,</div> + <div>Step to his grave but once a week:</div> + <div>This earth, which bears his body's print,</div> + <div>You'll find has so much virtue in't,</div> + <div>That I durst pawn my ears 't will tell</div> + <div>Whate'er concerns you full as well,</div> + <div>In physic, stolen goods, or love,</div> + <div>As he himself could, when above.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum">[085]<a name="page085" id="page085"></a></span> +<h3><a name="xxviii" id="xxviii">XXVIII.</a> A MEDITATION UPON A BROOM-STICK.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The remainder of the title is "According to the Style and Manner of + the Honourable Robert Boyle's <i>Meditations</i>", and is intended as a + satire on the style of that philosopher's lucubrations.</p></blockquote> + +<p>This single stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying in that +neglected corner, I once knew in a nourishing state in a forest: it was +full of sap, full of leaves, and full of boughs: but now, in vain does +the busy art of man pretend to vie with nature, by tying that withered +bundle of twigs to its sapless trunk. 'Tis now at best but the reverse +of what it was, a tree turned upside down, the branches on the earth, +and the root in the air: 'tis now handled by every dirty wench, +condemned to do her drudgery, and, by a capricious kind of fate, +destined to make other things clean, and be nasty itself. At length, +worn to the stumps in the service of the maids, 'tis either thrown out +of doors, or condemned to the last use of kindling a fire. When I +beheld this, I sighed and said within myself, surely mortal man is a +broom-stick; nature sent him into the world strong and lusty, in a +thriving condition, wearing his own hair on his head, the proper +branches of this reasoning vegetable, till the axe of intemperance has +lopped off his green boughs, and left him a withered trunk. He then +flies to art, and puts on a periwig, valuing himself upon an unnatural +bundle of hairs, all covered with powder, that never grew on his head. +But now should this our broomstick pretend to enter the scene, proud of +those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered with dust, though +the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber, we should be apt to +ridicule and despise its vanity. Partial judges that we are of our own +excellencies, and other men's defaults!</p> + +<p>But a broom-stick, perhaps you will say, is an emblem +<span class="pagenum">[086]<a name="page086" id="page086"></a></span>of a tree +standing on its head; and pray what is man, but a topsy-turvy creature, +his animal faculties perpetually mounted on his rational, his head +where his heels should be, grovelling on the earth! And yet, with all +his faults, he sets up to be an universal reformer and corrector of +abuses, a remover of grievances, rakes into every sluts' corner of +nature, bringing hidden corruptions to the light, and raises a mighty +dust where there was none before, sharing deeply all the while in the +very same pollutions he pretends to sweep away. His last days are spent +in slavery to women, and generally the least deserving; till, worn to +the stumps, like his brother bezom, he is either kicked out of doors, +or made use of to kindle flames, for others to warm themselves by.</p> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xxix" id="xxix">XXIX.</a> THE RELATIONS OF BOOKSELLERS AND AUTHORS.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">This piece constitutes Section X. of <i>The Tale of a Tub</i>.</p> + +<p>It is an unanswerable argument of a very refined age the wonderful +civilities that have passed of late years between the nation of authors +and that of readers. There can hardly pop out a play, a pamphlet, or a +poem, without a preface full of acknowledgments to the world for the +general reception and applause they have given it, which the Lord knows +where, or when, or how, or from whom it received. In due deference to +so laudable a custom, I do here return my humble thanks to His Majesty +and both Houses of Parliament, to the Lords of the King's most +honourable Privy Council, to the reverend the Judges, to the Clergy, +and Gentry, and Yeomanry of this land: but in a more especial manner to +my worthy brethren and friends at Will's Coffee-house, and Gresham +College, and Warwick Lane, and Moorfields, and Scotland Yard, and +Westminster Hall, and Guildhall; in <span class="pagenum">[087]<a name="page087" +id="page087"></a></span>short, to all inhabitants and +retainers whatsoever, either in court, or church, or camp, or city, or +country, for their generosity and universal acceptance of this divine +treatise. I accept their approbation and good opinion with extreme +gratitude, and to the utmost of my poor capacity shall take hold of all +opportunities to return the obligation.</p> + +<p>I am also happy that fate has flung me into so blessed an age for the +mutual felicity of booksellers and authors, whom I may safely affirm to +be at this day the two only satisfied parties in England. Ask an author +how his last piece has succeeded, "Why, truly he thanks his stars the +world has been very favourable, and he has not the least reason to +complain". And yet he wrote it in a week at bits and starts, when he +could steal an hour from his urgent affairs, as it is a hundred to one +you may see further in the preface, to which he refers you, and for the +rest to the bookseller. There you go as a customer, and make the same +question, "He blesses his God the thing takes wonderful; he is just +printing a second edition, and has but three left in his shop". You +beat down the price; "Sir, we shall not differ", and in hopes of your +custom another time, lets you have it as reasonable as you please; "And +pray send as many of your acquaintance as you will; I shall upon your +account furnish them all at the same rate".</p> + +<p>Now it is not well enough considered to what accidents and occasions +the world is indebted for the greatest part of those noble writings +which hourly start up to entertain it. If it were not for a rainy day, +a drunken vigil, a fit of the spleen, a course of physic, a sleepy +Sunday, an ill run at dice, a long tailor's bill, a beggar's purse, a +factious head, a hot sun, costive diet, want of books, and a just +contempt of learning,—but for these events, I say, and some others too +long to recite (especially a prudent neglect of taking brimstone +inwardly), I doubt the number <span class="pagenum">[088]<a name="page088" +id="page088"></a></span>of authors and of writings would dwindle +away to a degree most woeful to behold. To confirm this opinion, hear +the words of the famous troglodyte philosopher. "It is certain," said +he, "some grains of folly are of course annexed as part in the +composition of human nature; only the choice is left us whether we +please to wear them inlaid or embossed, and we need not go very far to +seek how that is usually determined, when we remember it is with human +faculties as with liquors, the lightest will be ever at the top."</p> + +<p>There is in this famous island of Britain a certain paltry scribbler, +very voluminous, whose character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger +to. He deals in a pernicious kind of writings called "Second Parts", +and usually passes under the name of "The Author of the First". I +easily foresee that as soon as I lay down my pen this nimble operator +will have stole it, and treat me as inhumanly as he has already done +Dr. Blackmore, Lestrange, and many others who shall here be nameless. I +therefore fly for justice and relief into the hands of that great +rectifier of saddles and lover of mankind, Dr. Bentley, begging he will +take this enormous grievance into his most modern consideration; and if +it should so happen that the furniture of an ass in the shape of a +second part must for my sins be clapped, by mistake, upon my back, that +he will immediately please, in the presence of the world, to lighten me +of the burden, and take it home to his own house till the true beast +thinks fit to call for it.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, I do here give this public notice that my resolutions +are to circumscribe within this discourse the whole stock of matter I +have been so many years providing. Since my vein is once opened, I am +content to exhaust it all at a running, for the peculiar advantage of +my dear country, and for the universal <span class="pagenum">[089]<a name="page089" +id="page089"></a></span>benefit of mankind. Therefore, +hospitably considering the number of my guests, they shall have my +whole entertainment at a meal, and I scorn to set up the leavings in +the cupboard. What the guests cannot eat may be given to the poor, and +the dogs under the table may gnaw the bones.<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref180" +id="fnref180" href="#fn180">[180]</a></span> This I understand for +a more generous proceeding than to turn the company's stomachs by +inviting them again to-morrow to a scurvy meal of scraps.</p> + +<p>If the reader fairly considers the strength of what I have advanced in +the foregoing section, I am convinced it will produce a wonderful +revolution in his notions and opinions, and he will be abundantly +better prepared to receive and to relish the concluding part of this +miraculous treatise. Readers may be divided into three classes, the +superficial, the ignorant, and the learned, and I have with much +felicity fitted my pen to the genius and advantage of each. The +superficial reader will be strangely provoked to laughter, which clears +the breast and the lungs, is sovereign against the spleen, and the most +innocent of all diuretics. The ignorant reader (between whom and the +former the distinction is extremely nice) will find himself disposed to +stare, which is an admirable remedy for ill eyes, serves to raise and +enliven the spirits, and wonderfully helps perspiration. But the reader +truly learned, chiefly for whose benefit I wake when others sleep, and +sleep when others wake, will here find sufficient matter to employ his +speculations for the rest of his life. It were much to be wished, and I +do here humbly propose for an experiment, that every prince in +Christendom will take seven of the deepest scholars in his dominions +and shut them up close for seven years in seven chambers, with a +command to write seven ample commentaries on this comprehensive +discourse. I shall venture to affirm that, whatever difference may be +found in <span class="pagenum">[090]<a name="page090" id="page090"></a></span> +their several conjectures, they will be all, without the +least distortion, manifestly deducible from the text. Meantime it is my +earnest request that so useful an undertaking may be entered upon (if +their Majesties please) with all convenient speed, because I have a +strong inclination before I leave the world to taste a blessing which +we mysterious writers can seldom reach till we have got into our +graves, whether it is that fame being a fruit grafted on the body, can +hardly grow and much less ripen till the stock is in the earth, or +whether she be a bird of prey, and is lured among the rest to pursue +after the scent of a carcass, or whether she conceives her trumpet +sounds best and farthest when she stands on a tomb, by the advantage of +a rising ground and the echo of a hollow vault.</p> + +<p>It is true, indeed, the republic of dark authors, after they once found +out this excellent expedient of dying, have been peculiarly happy in +the variety as well as extent of their reputation. For night being the +universal mother of things, wise philosophers hold all writings to be +fruitful in the proportion they are dark, and therefore the true +illuminated (that is to say, the darkest of all) have met with such +numberless commentators, whose scholiastic midwifery hath delivered +them of meanings that the authors themselves perhaps never conceived, +and yet may very justly be allowed the lawful parents of them, the +words of such writers being like seed, which, however scattered at +random, when they light upon a fruitful ground, will multiply far +beyond either the hopes or imagination of the sower.</p> + +<p>And therefore, in order to promote so useful a work, I will here take +leave to glance a few innuendos that may be of great assistance to +those sublime spirits who shall be appointed to labour in a universal +comment upon this wonderful discourse. And first, I have couched a very +<span class="pagenum">[091]<a name="page091" id="page091"></a></span> +profound mystery in the number of o's multiplied by seven and divided +by nine. Also, if a devout brother of the Rosy Cross will pray +fervently for sixty-three mornings with a lively faith, and then +transpose certain letters and syllables according to prescription, in +the second and fifth section they will certainly reveal into a full +receipt of the <i>opus magnum</i>. Lastly, whoever will be at the pains to +calculate the whole number of each letter in this treatise, and sum up +the difference exactly between the several numbers, assigning the true +natural cause for every such difference, the discoveries in the product +will plentifully reward his labour. But then he must beware of Bythus +and Sigè, and be sure not to forget the qualities of Acamoth; <i>a cujus +lacrymis humecta prodit substantia, à risu lucida, à tristitiâ solida, +et à timoré mobilis</i>, wherein Eugenius Philalethes<span class="fnref"><a +name="fnref181" id="fnref181" href="#fn181">[181]</a></span> hath committed +an unpardonable mistake.</p> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn180" id="fn180" href="#fnref180">[180]</a></span> +The bad critics. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn181" id="fn181" href="#fnref181">[181]</a></span> +A name under which Thomas Vaughan wrote. +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xxx" id="xxx">XXX.</a> THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS<br /> +PRINCE POSTERITY.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The following is the famous dedication of <i>The Tale of a Tub</i>. The + description of "the tyranny of Time" was regarded by Goethe as one + of the finest passages in Swift's works.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="noindent">SIR,</p> + +<p>I here present your Highness with the fruits of a very few leisure +hours, stolen from the short intervals of a world of business, and of +an employment quite alien from such amusements as this; the poor +production of that refuse of time which has lain heavy upon my hands +during a long prorogation of Parliament, a great dearth of foreign +news, and a tedious fit of rainy weather. For which, and other reasons, +it cannot choose extremely to <span class="pagenum">[092]<a name="page092" +id="page092"></a></span>deserve such a patronage as that of your +Highness, whose numberless virtues in so few years, make the world look +upon you as the future example to all princes. For although your +Highness is hardly got clear of infancy, yet has the universal learned +world already resolved upon appealing to your future dictates with the +lowest and most resigned submission, fate having decreed you sole +arbiter of the productions of human wit in this polite and most +accomplished age. Methinks the number of appellants were enough to +shock and startle any judge of a genius less unlimited than yours; but +in order to prevent such glorious trials, the person, it seems, to +whose care the education of your Highness is committed, has resolved, +as I am told, to keep you in almost an universal ignorance of our +studies, which it is your inherent birthright to inspect.</p> + +<p>It is amazing to me that this person should have assurance, in the face +of the sun, to go about persuading your Highness that our age is almost +wholly illiterate and has hardly produced one writer upon any subject. +I know very well that when your Highness shall come to riper years, and +have gone through the learning of antiquity, you will be too curious to +neglect inquiring into the authors of the very age before you; and to +think that this insolent, in the account he is preparing for your view, +designs to reduce them to a number so insignificant as I am ashamed to +mention; it moves my zeal and my spleen for the honour and interest of +our vast flourishing body, as well as of myself, for whom I know by +long experience he has professed, and still continues, a peculiar +malice.</p> + +<p>It is not unlikely that, when your Highness will one day peruse what I +am now writing, you may be ready to expostulate with your governor upon +the credit of what I here affirm, and command him to show you some of +our productions. To which he will answer—for I am well +<span class="pagenum">[093]<a name="page093" id="page093"></a></span>informed of +his designs—by asking your Highness where they are, and what is become +of them? and pretend it a demonstration that there never were any, +because they are not then to be found. Not to be found! Who has mislaid +them? Are they sunk in the abyss of things? It is certain that in their +own nature they were light enough to swim upon the surface for all +eternity; therefore, the fault is in him who tied weights so heavy to +their heels as to depress them to the centre. Is their very essence +destroyed? Who has annihilated them? Were they drowned by purges or +martyred by pipes? Who administered them to the posteriors of ——. But +that it may no longer be a doubt with your Highness who is to be the +author of this universal ruin, I beseech you to observe that large and +terrible scythe which your governor affects to bear continually about +him. Be pleased to remark the length and strength, the sharpness and +hardness, of his nails and teeth; consider his baneful, abominable +breath, enemy to life and matter, infectious and corrupting, and then +reflect whether it be possible for any mortal ink and paper of this +generation to make a suitable resistance. Oh, that your Highness would +one day resolve to disarm this usurping <i>maître de palais</i> of his +furious engines, and bring your empire <i>hors du page</i>!</p> + +<p>It were endless to recount the several methods of tyranny and +destruction which your governor is pleased to practise upon this +occasion. His inveterate malice is such to the writings of our age, +that, of several thousands produced yearly from this renowned city, +before the next revolution of the sun there is not one to be heard of. +Unhappy infants! many of them barbarously destroyed before they have so +much as learnt their mother-tongue to beg for pity. Some he stifles in +their cradles, others he frights into convulsions, whereof they +suddenly die, some he flays alive, others he tears limb from limb, +great <span class="pagenum">[094]<a name="page094" id="page094"></a></span> +numbers are offered to Moloch, and the rest, tainted by his +breath, die of a languishing consumption.</p> + +<p>But the concern I have most at heart is for our Corporation of Poets, +from whom I am preparing a petition to your Highness, to be subscribed +with the names of one hundred and thirty-six of the first race, but +whose immortal productions are never likely to reach your eyes, though +each of them is now an humble and an earnest appellant for the laurel, +and has large comely volumes ready to show for a support to his +pretensions. The never-dying works of these illustrious persons your +governor, sir, has devoted to unavoidable death, and your Highness is +to be made believe that our age has never arrived at the honour to +produce one single poet.</p> + +<p>We confess immortality to be a great and powerful goddess, but in vain +we offer up to her our devotions and our sacrifices if your Highness's +governor, who has usurped the priesthood, must, by an unparalled +ambition and avarice, wholly intercept and devour them.</p> + +<p>To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned and devoid of writers in +any kind, seems to be an assertion so bold and so false, that I have +been sometimes thinking the contrary may almost be proved by +uncontrollable demonstration. It is true, indeed, that although their +numbers be vast and their productions numerous in proportion, yet are +they hurried so hastily off the scene that they escape our memory and +delude our sight. When I first thought of this address, I had prepared +a copious list of titles to present your Highness as an undisputed +argument for what I affirm. The originals were posted fresh upon all +gates and corners of streets; but returning in a very few hours to take +a review, they were all torn down and fresh ones in their places. I +inquired after them among readers and booksellers, but I inquired in +vain; the memorial of them was lost among men, their <span class="pagenum">[095]<a +name="page095" id="page095"></a></span>place was no more +to be found; and I was laughed to scorn for a clown and a pedant, +devoid of all taste and refinement, little versed in the course of +present affairs, and that knew nothing of what had passed in the best +companies of court and town. So that I can only avow in general to your +Highness that we do abound in learning and wit, but to fix upon +particulars is a task too slippery for my slender abilities. If I +should venture, in a windy day, to affirm to your Highness that there +is a large cloud near the horizon in the form of a bear, another in the +zenith with the head of an ass, a third to the westward with claws like +a dragon; and your Highness should in a few minutes think fit to +examine the truth, it is certain they would be all changed in figure +and position, new ones would arise, and all we could agree upon would +be, that clouds there were, but that I was grossly mistaken in the +zoography and topography of them.</p> + +<p>But your governor, perhaps, may still insist, and put the question, +What is then become of those immense bales of paper which must needs +have been employed in such numbers of books? Can these also be wholly +annihilated, and so of a sudden, as I pretend? What shall I say in +return of so invidious an objection? It ill befits the distance between +your Highness and me to send you for ocular conviction to a jakes or an +oven, to the windows of a bawdyhouse, or to a sordid lantern. Books, +like men their authors, have no more than one way of coming into the +world, but there are ten thousand to go out of it and return no more.</p> + +<p>I profess to your Highness, in the integrity of my heart, that what I +am going to say is literally true this minute I am writing; what +revolutions may happen before it shall be ready for your perusal I can +by no means warrant; however, I beg you to accept it as a specimen of +<span class="pagenum">[096]<a name="page096" id="page096"></a></span> +our learning, our politeness, and our wit. I do therefore affirm, upon +the word of a sincere man, that there is now actually in being a +certain poet called John Dryden, whose translation of Virgil was lately +printed in large folio, well bound, and if diligent search were made, +for aught I know, is yet to be seen. There is another called Nahum +Tate, who is ready to make oath that he has caused many reams of verse +to be published, whereof both himself and his bookseller, if lawfully +required, can still produce authentic copies, and therefore wonders why +the world is pleased to make such a secret of it. There is a third, +known by the name of Tom Durfey, a poet of a vast comprehension, an +universal genius, and most profound learning. There are also one Mr. +Rymer and one Mr. Dennis, most profound critics. There is a person +styled Dr. Bentley, who has wrote near a thousand pages of immense +erudition, giving a full and true account of a certain squabble of +wonderful importance between himself and a bookseller; he is a writer +of infinite wit and humour, no man rallies with a better grace and in +more sprightly turns. Further, I avow to your Highness that with these +eyes I have beheld the person of William Wotton, B.D., who has written +a good-sized volume against a friend of your governor, from whom, alas! +he must therefore look for little favour, in a most gentlemanly style, +adorned with utmost politeness and civility, replete with discoveries +equally valuable for their novelty and use, and embellished with traits +of wit so poignant and so apposite, that he is a worthy yoke-mate to +his fore-mentioned friend.</p> + +<p>Why should I go upon farther particulars, which might fill a volume +with the just eulogies of my contemporary brethren? I shall bequeath +this piece of justice to a larger work, wherein I intend to write a +character of the present set of wits in our nation; their persons I +shall <span class="pagenum">[097]<a name="page097" id="page097"></a></span> +describe particularly and at length, their genius and +understandings in miniature.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, I do here make bold to present your Highness with a +faithful abstract drawn from the universal body of all arts and +sciences, intended wholly for your service and instruction. Nor do I +doubt in the least, but your Highness will peruse it as carefully and +make as considerable improvements as other young princes have already +done by the many volumes of late years written for a help to their +studies.</p> + +<p>That your Highness may advance in wisdom and virtue, as well as years, +and at last outshine all your royal ancestors, shall be the daily +prayer of,</p> + +<div class="in20">Sir,</div> +<div class="right">Your Highness's most devoted, &c.</div> +<p class="noindent"><i>Decem</i>. 1697.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SIR RICHARD STEELE.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1672-1729.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxxi" id="xxxi">XXXI.</a> THE COMMONWEALTH OF LUNATICS.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">This paper forms No. 125 of <i>The Tatler</i>, January 26th, 1709.</p> + +<div class="right">From my own apartment, <i>January</i> 25.</div> + +<p>There is a sect of ancient philosophers, who, I think, have left more +volumes behind them, and those better written, than any other of the +fraternities in philosophy. It was a maxim of this sect, that all those +who do not live up to the principles of reason and virtue are madmen. +Everyone who governs himself by these rules is allowed the title of +wise, and reputed to be in his senses: and everyone, in proportion as +he deviates from them, is pronounced frantic and distracted. Cicero, +<span class="pagenum">[098]<a name="page098" id="page098"></a></span> +having chosen this maxim for his theme, takes occasion to argue from +it very agreeably with Clodius, his implacable adversary, who had +procured his banishment. A city, says he, is an assembly distinguished +into bodies of men, who are in possession of their respective rights +and privileges, cast under proper subordinations, and in all its parts +obedient to the rules of law and equity. He then represents the +government from whence he was banished, at a time when the consul, +senate, and laws had lost their authority, as a commonwealth of +lunatics. For this reason he regards his expulsion from Rome as a man +would being turned out of Bedlam, if the inhabitants of it should drive +him out of their walls as a person unfit for their community. We are +therefore to look upon every man's brain to be touched, however he may +appear in the general conduct of his life, if he has an unjustifiable +singularity in any part of his conversation or behaviour; or if he +swerves from right reason, however common his kind of madness may be, +we shall not excuse him for its being epidemical; it being our present +design to clap up all such as have the marks of madness upon them, who +are now permitted to go about the streets for no other reason but +because they do no mischief in their fits. Abundance of imaginary great +men are put in straw to bring them to a right sense of themselves. And +is it not altogether as reasonable, that an insignificant man, who has +an immoderate opinion of his merits, and a quite different notion of +his own abilities from what the rest of the world entertain, should +have the same care taken of him as a beggar who fancies himself a duke +or a prince? Or why should a man who starves in the midst of plenty be +trusted with himself more than he who fancies he is an emperor in the +midst of poverty? I have several women of quality in my thoughts who +set so exorbitant a value upon themselves <span class="pagenum">[099]<a +name="page099" id="page099"></a></span>that I have often most +heartily pitied them, and wished them for their recovery under the same +discipline with the pewterer's wife. I find by several hints in ancient +authors that when the Romans were in the height of power and luxury +they assigned out of their vast dominions an island called Anticyra as +an habitation for madmen. This was the Bedlam of the Roman empire, +whither all persons who had lost their wits used to resort from all +parts of the world in quest of them. Several of the Roman emperors were +advised to repair to this island: but most of them, instead of +listening to such sober counsels, gave way to their distraction, until +the people knocked them on the head as despairing of their cure. In +short, it was as usual for men of distempered brains to take a voyage +to Anticyra in those days as it is in ours for persons who have a +disorder in their lungs to go to Montpellier.</p> + +<p>The prodigious crops of hellebore with which this whole island abounded +did not only furnish them with incomparable tea, snuff, and Hungary +water, but impregnated the air of the country with such sober and +salutiferous steams as very much comforted the heads and refreshed the +senses of all that breathed in it. A discarded statesman that, at his +first landing, appeared stark, staring mad, would become calm in a +week's time, and upon his return home live easy and satisfied in his +retirement. A moping lover would grow a pleasant fellow by that time he +had rid thrice about the island: and a hair-brained rake, after a short +stay in the country, go home again a composed, grave, worthy gentleman.</p> + +<p>I have premised these particulars before I enter on the main design of +this paper, because I would not be thought altogether notional in what +I have to say, and pass only for a projector in morality. I could quote +Horace and Seneca and some other ancient writers of good repute +<span class="pagenum">[100]<a name="page100" id="page100"></a></span>upon +the same occasion, and make out by their testimony that our streets are +filled with distracted persons; that our shops and taverns, private and +public houses, swarm with them; and that it is very hard to make up a +tolerable assembly without a majority of them. But what I have already +said is, I hope, sufficient to justify the ensuing project, which I +shall therefore give some account of without any further preface.</p> + +<p>1. It is humbly proposed, That a proper receptacle or habitation be +forthwith erected for all such persons as, upon due trial and +examination, shall appear to be out of their wits.</p> + +<p>2. That, to serve the present exigency, the college in Moorfields be +very much extended at both ends; and that it be converted into a +square, by adding three other sides to it.</p> + +<p>3. That nobody be admitted into these three additional sides but such +whose frenzy can lay no claim to any apartment in that row of building +which is already erected.</p> + +<p>4. That the architect, physician, apothecary, surgeon, keepers, nurses, +and porters be all and each of them cracked, provided that their frenzy +does not lie in the profession or employment to which they shall +severally and respectively be assigned.</p> + +<p><i>N.B.</i> It is thought fit to give the foregoing notice, that none may +present himself here for any post of honour or profit who is not duly +qualified.</p> + +<p>5. That over all the gates of the additional buildings there be figures +placed in the same manner as over the entrance of the edifice already +erected, provided they represent such distractions only as are proper +for those additional buildings; as of an envious man gnawing his own +flesh; a gamester pulling himself by the ears and knocking his head +against a marble pillar; a covetous <span class="pagenum">[101]<a name="page101" +id="page101"></a></span>man warming himself over a heap of +gold; a coward flying from his own shadow, and the like.</p> + +<p>Having laid down this general scheme of my design, I do hereby invite +all persons who are willing to encourage so public-spirited a project +to bring in their contributions as soon as possible; and to apprehend +forthwith any politician whom they shall catch raving in a +coffee-house, or any free-thinker whom they shall find publishing his +deliriums, or any other person who shall give the like manifest signs +of a crazed imagination. And I do at the same time give this public +notice to all the madmen about this great city, that they may return to +their senses with all imaginable expedition, lest, if they should come +into my hands, I should put them into a regimen which they would not +like; for if I find any one of them persist in his frantic behaviour I +will make him in a month's time as famous as ever Oliver's porter was.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>JOSEPH ADDISON.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1672-1719.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxxii" id="xxxii">XXXII.</a> SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY'S SUNDAY.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This piece represents the complete paper, No. 112 of <i>The + Spectator</i>, July 9th, 1711.</p></blockquote> + +<p>I am always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and think, if +keeping holy the seventh day were only a human institution, it would be +the best method that could have been thought of for the polishing and +civilizing of mankind. It is certain the country people would soon +degenerate into a kind of savages and barbarians, were there not such +frequent returns of a stated time in which the whole village meet +together with their <span class="pagenum">[102]<a name="page102" id="page102"></a></span> +best faces and in their cleanliest habits to +converse with one another upon indifferent subjects, hear their duties +explained to them, and join together in adoration of the supreme Being. +Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes +in their minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes +upon appearing in their most agreeable forms and exerting all such +qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. A +country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard as a +citizen does upon the Change, the whole parish politics being generally +discussed in that place either after sermon or before the bell rings.</p> + +<p>My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has beautified the inside +of his church with several texts of his own choosing; he has likewise +given a handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the communion table at his +own expense. He has often told me that at his coming to his estate he +found his parishioners very irregular; and that in order to make them +kneel and join in the responses he gave every one of them a hassock and +a common-prayer book: and at the same time employed an itinerant +singing-master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to +instruct them rightly in the tunes of the psalms, upon which they now +very much value themselves, and indeed out-do most of the country +churches that I have ever heard.</p> + +<p>As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in +very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; +for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon +recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he sees +anybody else nodding either wakes them himself or sends his servants to +them. Several other of the old knight's particularities break out upon +these occasions: sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the +singing-psalms <span class="pagenum">[103]<a name="page103" id="page103"></a></span> +half a minute after the rest of the congregation have +done with it: sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of his +devotion, he pronounces Amen three or four times to the same prayer; +and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to +count the congregation or see if any of his tenants are missing.</p> + +<p>I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midst +of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was +about and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews it seems is +remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking his +heels for his diversion. This authority of the knight, though exerted +in that odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of life, +has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to +see anything ridiculous in his behaviour; besides that the general good +sense and worthiness of his character makes his friends observe these +little singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good +qualities.</p> + +<p>As soon as the sermon is finished nobody presumes to stir till Sir +Roger is gone out of the church. The knight walks down from his seat in +the chancel between a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing to +him on each side; and every now and then inquires how such an one's +wife, or mother, or son, or father do, whom he does not see at church, +which is understood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent.</p> + +<p>The chaplain has often told me that upon a catechizing day, when Sir +Roger has been pleased with a boy that answers well, he has ordered a +Bible to be given him next day for his encouragement; and sometimes +accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger has +likewise added five pounds a year to the clerk's place; and that he may +encourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the church +service, has promised <span class="pagenum">[104]<a name="page104" +id="page104"></a></span>upon the death of the present incumbent, who is +very old, to bestow it according to merit.</p> + +<p>The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his chaplain, and their +mutual concurrence in doing good, is the more remarkable because the +very next village is famous for the differences and contentions that +rise between the parson and the squire, who live in a perpetual state +of war. The parson is always preaching at the squire, and the squire to +be revenged on the parson never comes to church. The squire has made +all his tenants atheists and tithe-stealers; while the parson instructs +them every Sunday in the dignity of his order, and insinuates to them +in almost every sermon that he is a better man than his patron. In +short, matters are come to such an extremity that the squire has not +said his prayers either in public or private this half year; and that +the parson threatens him, if he does not mend his manners, to pray for +him in the face of the whole congregation.</p> + +<p>Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the country, are very +fatal to the ordinary people, who are so used to be dazzled with riches +that they pay as much deference to the understanding of a man of an +estate as of a man of learning, and are very hardly brought to regard +any truth, how important soever it may be, that is preached to them +when they know there are several men of five hundred a year who do not +believe it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[105]<a name="page105" id="page105"></a></span> +<h2>EDWARD YOUNG.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1681-1765.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxxiii" id="xxxiii">XXXIII.</a> TO THE RIGHT HON. MR. DODINGTON.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is justly regarded as one of the finest satires in the English + language. It is taken from Dr. Young's <i>Series of Satires</i> + published in collected form in 1750. Dodington was the famous "Bubb + Dodington", satirized as Bubo by Pope in the "Prologue to the + Satires".</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Long, Dodington, in debt, I long have sought</div> + <div>To ease the burden of my graceful thought:</div> + <div>And now a poet's gratitude you see:</div> + <div>Grant him two favours, and he'll ask for three:</div> + <div>For whose the present glory, or the gain?</div> + <div>You give protection, I a worthless strain.</div> + <div>You love and feel the poet's sacred flame,</div> + <div>And know the basis of a solid fame;</div> + <div>Though prone to like, yet cautious to commend,</div> + <div>You read with all the malice of a friend;</div> + <div>Nor favour my attempts that way alone,</div> + <div>But, more to raise my verse, conceal your own.</div> + <div class="in1">An ill-tim'd modesty! turn ages o'er,</div> + <div>When wanted Britain bright examples more?</div> + <div>Her learning, and her genius too, decays;</div> + <div>And dark and cold are her declining days;</div> + <div>As if men now were of another cast,</div> + <div>They meanly live on alms of ages past,</div> + <div>Men still are men; and they who boldly dare,</div> + <div>Shall triumph o'er the sons of cold despair;</div> + <div>Or, if they fail, they justly still take place</div> + <div>Of such who run in debt for their disgrace;</div> + <div>Who borrow much, then fairly make it known,</div> + <div>And damn it with improvements of their own.</div> + <div>We bring some new materials, and what's old</div> +<span class="pagenum">[106]<a name="page106" id="page106"></a></span> + <div>New cast with care, and in no borrow'd mould;</div> + <div>Late times the verse may read, if these refuse;</div> + <div>And from sour critics vindicate the Muse.</div> + <div>"Your work is long", the critics cry. 'Tis true,</div> + <div>And lengthens still, to take in fools like you:</div> + <div>Shorten my labour, if its length you blame:</div> + <div>For, grow but wise, you rob me of my game;</div> + <div>As haunted hags, who, while the dogs pursue,</div> + <div>Renounce their four legs, and start up on two.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Like the bold bird upon the banks of Nile</div> + <div>That picks the teeth of the dire crocodile,</div> + <div>Will I enjoy (dread feast!) the critic's rage,</div> + <div>And with the fell destroyer feed my page.</div> + <div>For what ambitious fools are more to blame,</div> + <div>Than those who thunder in the critic's name?</div> + <div>Good authors damn'd, have their revenge in this,</div> + <div>To see what wretches gain the praise they miss.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak,</div> + <div>Like an old Druid from his hollow oak,</div> + <div>As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries,</div> + <div>"Ten thousand worlds for the three unities!"</div> + <div>Ye doctors sage, who through Parnassus teach,</div> + <div>Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">One judges as the weather dictates; right</div> + <div>The poem is at noon, and wrong at night:</div> + <div>Another judges by a surer gage,</div> + <div>An author's principles, or parentage;</div> + <div>Since his great ancestors in Flanders fell,</div> + <div>The poem doubtless must be written well.</div> + <div>Another judges by the writer's look;</div> + <div>Another judges, for he bought the book:</div> + <div>Some judge, their knack of judging wrong to keep;</div> + <div>Some judge, because it is too soon to sleep.</div> + <div>Thus all will judge, and with one single aim,</div> + <div>To gain themselves, not give the writer, fame.</div> + <div>The very best ambitiously advise,</div> + <div>Half to serve you, and half to pass for wise.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[107]<a name="page107" id="page107"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Critics on verse, as squibs on triumphs wait,</div> + <div>Proclaim the glory, and augment the state;</div> + <div>Hot, envious, noisy, proud, the scribbling fry</div> + <div>Burn, hiss, and bounce, waste paper, stink, and die.</div> + <div>Rail on, my friends! what more my verse can crown</div> + <div>Than Compton's smile, and your obliging frown?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Not all on books their criticism waste:</div> + <div>The genius of a dish some justly taste,</div> + <div>And eat their way to fame; with anxious thought</div> + <div>The salmon is refus'd, the turbot bought.</div> + <div>Impatient art rebukes the sun's delay</div> + <div>And bids December yield the fruits of May;</div> + <div>Their various cares in one great point combine</div> + <div>The business of their lives, that is—to dine.</div> + <div>Half of their precious day they give the feast;</div> + <div>And to a kind digestion spare the rest.</div> + <div>Apicius, here, the taster of the town,</div> + <div>Feeds twice a week, to settle their renown.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">These worthies of the palate guard with care</div> + <div>The sacred annals of their bills of fare;</div> + <div>In those choice books their panegyrics read,</div> + <div>And scorn the creatures that for hunger feed.</div> + <div>If man by feeding well commences great,</div> + <div>Much more the worm to whom that man is meat.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">To glory some advance a lying claim,</div> + <div>Thieves of renown, and pilferers of fame:</div> + <div>Their front supplies what their ambition lacks;</div> + <div>They know a thousand lords, behind their backs.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[108]<a name="page108" id="page108"></a></span> + <div>Cottil is apt to wink upon a peer,</div> + <div>When turn'd away, with a familiar leer;</div> + <div>And Harvey's eyes, unmercifully keen,</div> + <div>Have murdered fops, by whom she ne'er was seen.</div> + <div>Niger adopts stray libels; wisely prone,</div> + <div>To cover shame still greater than his own.</div> + <div>Bathyllus, in the winter of threescore,</div> + <div>Belies his innocence, and keeps a ——.</div> + <div>Absence of mind Brabantio turns to fame,</div> + <div>Learns to mistake, nor knows his brother's name;</div> + <div>Has words and thoughts in nice disorder set,</div> + <div>And takes a memorandum to forget.</div> + <div>Thus vain, not knowing what adorns or blots</div> + <div>Men forge the patents that create them sots.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">As love of pleasure into pain betrays,</div> + <div>So most grow infamous through love of praise.</div> + <div>But whence for praise can such an ardour rise,</div> + <div>When those, who bring that incense, we despise?</div> + <div>For such the vanity of great and small,</div> + <div>Contempt goes round, and all men laugh at all.</div> + <div>Nor can even satire blame them; for 'tis true,</div> + <div>They have most ample cause for what they do</div> + <div>O fruitful Britain! doubtless thou wast meant</div> + <div>A nurse of fools, to stock the continent.</div> + <div>Though Phoebus and the Nine for ever mow,</div> + <div>Rank folly underneath the scythe will grow</div> + <div>The plenteous harvest calls me forward still,</div> + <div>Till I surpass in length my lawyer's bill;</div> + <div>A Welsh descent, which well-paid heralds damn;</div> + <div>Or, longer still, a Dutchman's epigram.</div> + <div>When, cloy'd, in fury I throw down my pen,</div> + <div>In comes a coxcomb, and I write again.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">See Tityrus, with merriment possest,</div> + <div>Is burst with laughter, ere he hears the jest:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[109]<a name="page109" id="page109"></a></span> + <div>What need he stay? for when the jest is o'er,</div> + <div>His teeth will be no whiter than before.</div> + <div>Is there of thee, ye fair! so great a dearth,</div> + <div>That you need purchase monkeys for your mirth!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Some, vain of paintings, bid the world admire;</div> + <div>Of houses some; nay, houses that they hire:</div> + <div>Some (perfect wisdom!) of a beauteous wife;</div> + <div>And boast, like Cordeliers, a scourge for life.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Sometimes, through pride, the sexes change their airs;</div> + <div>My lord has vapours, and my lady swears;</div> + <div>Then, stranger still! on turning of the wind,</div> + <div>My lord wears breeches, and my lady's kind.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">To show the strength, and infamy of pride,</div> + <div>By all 'tis follow'd, and by all denied.</div> + <div>What numbers are there, which at once pursue,</div> + <div>Praise, and the glory to contemn it, too?</div> + <div>Vincenna knows self-praise betrays to shame,</div> + <div>And therefore lays a stratagem for fame;</div> + <div>Makes his approach in modesty's disguise,</div> + <div>To win applause; and takes it by surprise.</div> + <div>"To err," says he, "in small things, is my fate."</div> + <div>You know your answer, "he's exact in great".</div> + <div>"My style", says he, "is rude and full of faults."</div> + <div>"But oh! what sense! what energy of thoughts!"</div> + <div>That he wants algebra, he must confess;</div> + <div>"But not a soul to give our arms success".</div> + <div>"Ah! that's an hit indeed," Vincenna cries;</div> + <div>"But who in heat of blood was ever wise?</div> + <div>I own 'twas wrong, when thousands called me back</div> + <div>To make that hopeless, ill-advised attack;</div> + <div>All say, 'twas madness; nor dare I deny;</div> + <div>Sure never fool so well deserved to die."</div> +<span class="pagenum">[110]<a name="page110" id="page110"></a></span> + <div>Could this deceive in others to be free,</div> + <div>It ne'er, Vincenna, could deceive in thee!</div> + <div>Whose conduct is a comment to thy tongue,</div> + <div>So clear, the dullest cannot take thee wrong.</div> + <div>Thou on one sleeve wilt thy revenues wear;</div> + <div>And haunt the court, without a prospect there.</div> + <div>Are these expedients for renown? Confess</div> + <div>Thy little self, that I may scorn thee less.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Be wise, Vincenna, and the court forsake;</div> + <div>Our fortunes there, nor thou, nor I, shall make.</div> + <div>Even men of merit, ere their point they gain,</div> + <div>In hardy service make a long campaign;</div> + <div>Most manfully besiege the patron's gate,</div> + <div>And oft repulsed, as oft attack the great</div> + <div>With painful art, and application warm.</div> + <div>And take, at last, some little place by storm;</div> + <div>Enough to keep two shoes on Sunday clean,</div> + <div>And starve upon discreetly, in Sheer-Lane.</div> + <div>Already this thy fortune can afford;</div> + <div>Then starve without the favour of my lord.</div> + <div>'Tis true, great fortunes some great men confer,</div> + <div>But often, even in doing right, they err:</div> + <div>From caprice, not from choice, their favours come:</div> + <div>They give, but think it toil to know to whom:</div> + <div>The man that's nearest, yawning, they advance:</div> + <div>'Tis inhumanity to bless by chance.</div> + <div>If merit sues, and greatness is so loth</div> + <div>To break its downy trance, I pity both.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Behold the masquerade's fantastic scene!</div> + <div>The Legislature join'd with Drury-Lane!</div> + <div>When Britain calls, th' embroider'd patriots run,</div> + <div>And serve their country—if the dance is done.</div> + <div>"Are we not then allow'd to be polite?"</div> + <div>Yes, doubtless; but first set your notions right.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[111]<a name="page111" id="page111"></a></span> + <div>Worth, of politeness is the needful ground;</div> + <div>Where that is wanting, this can ne'er be found.</div> + <div>Triflers not even in trifles can excel;</div> + <div>'Tis solid bodies only polish well.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Great, chosen prophet! for these latter days,</div> + <div>To turn a willing world from righteous ways!</div> + <div>Well, Heydegger, dost thou thy master serve;</div> + <div>Well has he seen his servant should not starve,</div> + <div>Thou to his name hast splendid temples raised</div> + <div>In various forms of worship seen him prais'd,</div> + <div>Gaudy devotion, like a Roman, shown,</div> + <div>And sung sweet anthems in a tongue unknown.</div> + <div>Inferior offerings to thy god of vice</div> + <div>Are duly paid, in fiddles, cards, and dice;</div> + <div>Thy sacrifice supreme, an hundred maids!</div> + <div>That solemn rite of midnight masquerades!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">Though bold these truths, thou, Muse, with truths like these,</div> + <div>Wilt none offend, whom 'tis a praise to please;</div> + <div>Let others flatter to be flatter'd, thou</div> + <div>Like just tribunals, bend an awful brow.</div> + <div>How terrible it were to common-sense,</div> + <div>To write a satire, which gave none offence!</div> + <div>And, since from life I take the draughts you see.</div> + <div>If men dislike them, do they censure me?</div> + <div>The fool, and knave, 'tis glorious to offend,</div> + <div>And Godlike an attempt the world to mend,</div> + <div>The world, where lucky throws to blockheads fall,</div> + <div>Knaves know the game, and honest men pay all.</div> + <div class="in1">How hard for real worth to gain its price!</div> + <div>A man shall make his fortune in a trice,</div> + <div>If blest with pliant, though but slender, sense,</div> + <div>Feign'd modesty, and real impudence:</div> + <div>A supple knee, smooth tongue, an easy grace.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[112]<a name="page112" id="page112"></a></span> + <div>A curse within, a smile upon his face;</div> + <div>A beauteous sister, or convenient wife,</div> + <div>Are prizes in the lottery of life;</div> + <div>Genius and Virtue they will soon defeat,</div> + <div>And lodge you in the bosom of the great.</div> + <div>To merit, is but to provide a pain</div> + <div>For men's refusing what you ought to gain.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in1">May, Dodington, this maxim fail in you,</div> + <div>Whom my presaging thoughts already view</div> + <div>By Walpole's conduct fired, and friendship grac'd,</div> + <div>Still higher in your Prince's favour plac'd:</div> + <div>And lending, here, those awful councils aid,</div> + <div>Which you, abroad, with such success obey'd!</div> + <div>Bear this from one, who holds your friendship dear;</div> + <div>What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>JOHN GAY.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1685-1732.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxxiv" id="xxxiv">XXXIV.</a> THE QUIDNUNCKIS.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The following piece was originally claimed for Swift in the edition + of his works published in 1749. But it was undoubtedly written by + Gay, being only sent to Swift for perusal. This explains the fact + of its being found amongst the papers of the latter. The poem is + suggested by the death of the Duke Regent of France.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>How vain are mortal man's endeavours?</div> + <div>(Said, at dame Elleot's,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref182" + id="fnref182" href="#fn182">[182]</a></span> master Travers)</div> + <div>Good Orleans dead! in truth 'tis hard:</div> + <div>Oh! may all statesmen die prepar'd!</div> + <div>I do foresee (and for foreseeing</div> + <div>He equals any man in being)</div> +<span class="pagenum">[113]<a name="page113" id="page113"></a></span> + <div>The army ne'er can be disbanded.</div> + <div>—I with the king was safely landed.</div> + <div>Ah friends! great changes threat the land!</div> + <div>All France and England at a stand!</div> + <div>There's Meroweis—mark! strange work!</div> + <div>And there's the Czar, and there's the Turk—</div> + <div>The Pope—An India-merchant by</div> + <div>Cut short the speech with this reply:</div> + <div class="in1">All at a stand? you see great changes?</div> + <div>Ah, sir! you never saw the Ganges:</div> + <div>There dwells the nation of Quidnunckis</div> + <div>(So Monomotapa calls monkeys:)</div> + <div>On either bank from bough to bough,</div> + <div>They meet and chat (as we may now):</div> + <div>Whispers go round, they grin, they shrug,</div> + <div>They bow, they snarl, they scratch, they hug;</div> + <div>And, just as chance or whim provoke them,</div> + <div>They either bite their friends, or stroke them.</div> + <div class="in1">There have I seen some active prig,</div> + <div>To show his parts, bestride a twig:</div> + <div>Lord! how the chatt'ring tribe admire!</div> + <div>Not that he's wiser, but he's higher:</div> + <div>All long to try the vent'rous thing,</div> + <div>(For power is but to have one's swing).</div> + <div>From side to side he springs, he spurns,</div> + <div>And bangs his foes and friends by turns.</div> + <div>Thus as in giddy freaks he bounces,</div> + <div>Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces!</div> + <div>Down the swift stream the wretch is borne;</div> + <div>Never, ah never, to return!</div> + <div class="in1">Zounds! what a fall had our dear brother!</div> + <div>Morbleu! cries one; and damme, t' other.</div> + <div>The nation gives a general screech;</div> + <div>None cocks his tail, none claws his breech;</div> + <div>Each trembles for the public weal,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[114]<a name="page114" id="page114"></a></span> + <div>And for a while forgets to steal.</div> + <div class="in1">Awhile all eyes intent and steady</div> + <div>Pursue him whirling down the eddy:</div> + <div>But, out of mind when out of view,</div> + <div>Some other mounts the twig anew;</div> + <div>And business on each monkey shore</div> + <div>Runs the same track it ran before.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn182" id="fn182" href="#fnref182">[182]</a></span> +Coffee-house near St. James's. +</div> + +<h2>ALEXANDER POPE.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1688-1744.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxxv" id="xxxv">XXXV.</a> THE DUNCIAD—THE DESCRIPTION OF DULNESS.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>One of the most scathing satires in the history of literature. Pope + in the latest editions of it rather spoilt its point by + substituting Colley Gibber for Theobald as the "hero" of it. Our + text is from the edition of 1743. The satire first appeared in + 1728, and other editions, greatly altered, were issued in 1729, + 1742, 1743.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The mighty mother, and her son, who brings</div> + <div>The Smithfield muses<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref183" + id="fnref183" href="#fn183">[183]</a></span> to the ear of kings,</div> + <div>I sing. Say you, her instruments the great!</div> + <div>Called to this work by Dulness, Jove, and fate:</div> + <div>You by whose care, in vain decried and curst,</div> + <div>Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first;</div> + <div>Say, how the goddess bade Britannia sleep,</div> + <div>And poured her spirit o'er the land and deep.</div> + <div class="in1">In eldest time, ere mortals writ or read,</div> + <div>Ere Pallas issued from the Thunderer's head,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[115]<a name="page115" id="page115"></a></span> + <div>Dulness o'er all possessed her ancient right,</div> + <div>Daughter of chaos and eternal night:</div> + <div>Fate in their dotage this fair idiot gave,</div> + <div>Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave</div> + <div>Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind,</div> + <div>She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind.</div> + <div class="in1">Still her old empire to restore she tries,</div> + <div>For, born a goddess, Dulness never dies.</div> + <div>O thou! whatever title please thine ear,</div> + <div>Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver!</div> + <div>Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air,</div> + <div>Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair,</div> + <div>Or praise the court, or magnify mankind,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref184" id="fnref184" href="#fn184">[184]</a></span></div> + <div>Or thy grieved country's copper chains unbind;</div> + <div>From thy Boeotia though her power retires,</div> + <div>Mourn not, my Swift, at aught our realm acquires,</div> + <div>Here pleased behold her mighty wings outspread</div> + <div>To hatch a new Saturnian age of lead.</div> + <div class="in1">Close to those walls where folly holds her throne,</div> + <div>And laughs to think Monroe would take her down,</div> + <div>Where o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref185" id="fnref185" href="#fn185">[185]</a></span></div> + <div>Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand;</div> + <div>One cell there is, concealed from vulgar eye,</div> + <div>The cave of poverty and poetry,</div> + <div>Keen, hollow winds howl through the bleak recess,</div> + <div>Emblem of music caused by emptiness.</div> + <div>Hence bards, like Proteus long in vain tied down,</div> + <div>Escape in monsters, and amaze the town.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[116]<a name="page116" id="page116"></a></span> + <div>Hence miscellanies spring, the weekly boast</div> + <div>Of Curll's chaste press, and Lintot's rubric post:<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref186" id="fnref186" href="#fn186">[186]</a></span></div> + <div>Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lines,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref187" id="fnref187" href="#fn187">[187]</a></span></div> + <div>Hence journals, medleys, mercuries, magazines;</div> + <div>Sepulchral lies, our holy walls to grace,</div> + <div>And new-year odes,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref188" id="fnref188" + href="#fn188">[188]</a></span> and all the Grub Street race.</div> + <div class="in1">In clouded majesty here Dulness shone;</div> + <div>Four guardian virtues, round, support her throne:</div> + <div>Fierce champion fortitude, that knows no fears</div> + <div>Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears:</div> + <div>Calm temperance, whose blessings those partake</div> + <div>Who hunger, and who thirst for scribbling sake:</div> + <div>Prudence, whose glass presents the approaching jail:</div> + <div>Poetic justice, with her lifted scale,</div> + <div>Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs,</div> + <div>And solid pudding against empty praise.</div> + <div class="in1">Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep,</div> + <div>Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep,</div> + <div>Till genial Jacob,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref189" + id="fnref189" href="#fn189">[189]</a></span> or a warm third day,</div> + <div>Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play:</div> + <div>How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie,</div> + <div>How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry,</div> + <div>Maggots half-formed in rhyme exactly meet,</div> + <div>And learn to crawl upon poetic feet.</div> + <div>Here one poor word an hundred clenches makes,</div> + <div>And ductile dulness new meanders takes</div> + <div>There motley images her fancy strike,</div> + <div>Figures ill paired, and similes unlike.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[117]<a name="page117" id="page117"></a></span> + <div>She sees a mob of metaphors advance,</div> + <div>Pleased with the madness of the mazy dance;</div> + <div>How tragedy and comedy embrace;</div> + <div>How farce and epic get a jumbled race;</div> + <div>How Time himself<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref190" id="fnref190" + href="#fn190">[190]</a></span> stands still at her command,</div> + <div>Realms shift their place, and ocean turns to land.</div> + <div>Here gay description Egypt glads with showers,</div> + <div>Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers;</div> + <div>Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen,</div> + <div>There painted valleys of eternal green;</div> + <div>In cold December fragrant chaplets blow,</div> + <div>And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.</div> + <div class="in1">All these and more the cloud-compelling queen</div> + <div>Beholds through fogs, that magnify the scene.</div> + <div>She, tinselled o'er in robes of varying hues,</div> + <div>With self-applause her wild creation views;</div> + <div>Sees momentary monsters rise and fall,</div> + <div>And with her own fools-colours gilds them all.</div> + <div class="in1">'Twas on the day when Thorold rich and grave,<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref191" id="fnref191" href="#fn191">[191]</a></span></div> + <div>Like Cimon, triumphed both on land and wave:</div> + <div>(Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces,</div> + <div>Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and broad faces)</div> + <div>Now night descending, the proud scene was o'er,</div> + <div>But lived in Settle's numbers one day more.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref192" id="fnref192" href="#fn192">[192]</a></span></div> + <div>Now mayors and shrieves all hushed and satiate lay,</div> + <div>Yet ate, in dreams, the custard of the day;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[118]<a name="page118" id="page118"></a></span> + <div>While pensive poets painful vigils keep,</div> + <div>Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep.</div> + <div>Much to the mindful queen the feast recalls</div> + <div>What city swans once sung within the walls;</div> + <div>Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise,</div> + <div>And sure succession down from Heywood's<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref193" id="fnref193" href="#fn193">[193]</a></span> days.</div> + <div>She saw, with joy, the line immortal run,</div> + <div>Each sire impressed, and glaring in his son:</div> + <div>So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care,</div> + <div>Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear.</div> + <div>She saw old Prynne in restless Daniel<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref194" + id="fnref194" href="#fn194">[194]</a></span> shine,</div> + <div>And Eusden eke out<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref195" id="fnref195" + href="#fn195">[195]</a></span> Blackmore's endless line;</div> + <div>She saw slow Philips creep like Tate's poor page,</div> + <div>And all the mighty mad<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref196" id="fnref196" + href="#fn196">[196]</a></span> in Dennis rage.</div> + <div class="in1">In each she marks her image full exprest,</div> + <div>But chief in Bays's monster-breeding breast,</div> + <div>Bays, formed by nature stage and town to bless,</div> + <div>And act, and be, a coxcomb with success.</div> + <div>Dulness, with transport eyes the lively dunce,</div> + <div>Remembering she herself was pertness once.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[119]<a name="page119" id="page119"></a></span> + <div>Now (shame to fortune!) an ill run at play</div> + <div>Blanked his bold visage, and a thin third day:</div> + <div>Swearing and supperless the hero sate,</div> + <div>Blasphemed his gods, the dice, and damned his fate;</div> + <div>Then gnawed his pen, then dashed it on the ground,</div> + <div>Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound!</div> + <div>Plunged for his sense, but found no bottom there;</div> + <div>Yet wrote and floundered on in mere despair.</div> + <div>Round him much embryo, much abortion lay,</div> + <div>Much future ode, and abdicated play;</div> + <div>Nonsense precipitate, like running lead,</div> + <div>That slipped through cracks and zigzags of the head;</div> + <div>All that on folly frenzy could beget,</div> + <div>Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit,</div> + <div>Next, o'er his books his eyes began to roll,</div> + <div>In pleasing memory of all he stole,</div> + <div>How here he sipped, how there he plundered snug,</div> + <div>And sucked all o'er, like an industrious bug.</div> + <div>Here lay poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes, and here</div> + <div>The frippery of crucified Molière;</div> + <div>There hapless Shakespeare, yet of Tibbald sore,</div> + <div>Wished he had blotted for himself before.</div> + <div>The rest on outside merit but presume,</div> + <div>Or serve (like other fools) to fill a room;</div> + <div>Such with their shelves as due proportion hold,</div> + <div>Or their fond parents dressed in red and gold;</div> + <div>Or where the pictures for the page atone,</div> + <div>And Quarles is saved by beauties not his own.</div> + <div>Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great;</div> + <div>There, stamped with arms, Newcastle shines complete:</div> + <div>Here all his suffering brotherhood retire,</div> + <div>And 'scape the martyrdom of jakes and fire:</div> + <div>A Gothic library! of Greece and Rome</div> + <div>Well purged, and worthy Settle, Banks, and Broome.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn183" id="fn183" href="#fnref183">[183]</a></span> +Smithfield is the place where Bartholomew Fair was kept, +whose shows and dramatical entertainments were, by the hero of this +poem and others of equal genius, brought to the theatres of Covent +Garden, Lincolns-Inn-Fields, and the Haymarket, to be the reigning +pleasures of the court and town. This happened in the reigns of King +George I. and II. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn184" id="fn184" href="#fnref184">[184]</a></span> +<i>Ironicé</i>, alluding to Gulliver's representations of +both.—The next line relates to the papers of the Drapier against the +currency of Wood's copper coin in Ireland, which, upon the great +discontent of the people, his majesty was graciously pleased to +recall. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn185" id="fn185" href="#fnref185">[185]</a></span> +Mr. Caius Gabriel Cibber, father of the poet laureate. +The two statues of the lunatics over the gates of Bedlam Hospital were +done by him, and (as the son justly says of them) are no ill monuments +of his fame as an artist. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn186" id="fn186" href="#fnref186">[186]</a></span> +Two booksellers. The former was fined by the Court of +King's Bench for publishing obscene books; the latter usually adorned +his shop with titles in red letters. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn187" id="fn187" href="#fnref187">[187]</a></span> +It was an ancient English custom for the malefactors to +sing a psalm at their execution at Tyburn; and no less customary to +print elegies on their deaths, at the same time or before. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn188" id="fn188" href="#fnref188">[188]</a></span> +Made by the poet laureate for the time being, to be sung +at court on every New Year's Day. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn189" id="fn189" href="#fnref189">[189]</a></span> +Jacob Tonson the bookseller. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn190" id="fn190" href="#fnref190">[190]</a></span> +Alluding to the transgressions of the unities in the +plays of such poets. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn191" id="fn191" href="#fnref191">[191]</a></span> +Sir George Thorold, Lord Mayor of London in the year +1720. The procession of a Lord Mayor was made partly by land, and +partly by water.—Cimon, the famous Athenian general, obtained a +victory by sea, and another by land, on the same day, over the Persians +and barbarians. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn192" id="fn192" href="#fnref192">[192]</a></span> +Settle was poet to the city of London. His office was to +compose yearly panegyrics upon the Lord Mayors, and verses to be spoken +in the pageants: but that part of the shows being at length abolished, +the employment of the city poet ceased; so that upon Settle's death +there was no successor appointed to that place. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn193" id="fn193" href="#fnref193">[193]</a></span> +John Heywood, whose "Interludes" were printed in the +time of Henry VIII. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn194" id="fn194" href="#fnref194">[194]</a></span> +The first edition had it,— +<br /><br /> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"She saw in Norton all his father shine":</div> +</div> +</div> +Daniel Defoe was a genius, but Norton Defoe was a wretched writer, and +never attempted poetry. Much more justly is Daniel himself made +successor to W. Pryn, both of whom wrote verses as well as politics. +And both these authors had a semblance in their fates as well as +writings, having been alike sentenced to the pillory. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn195" id="fn195" href="#fnref195">[195]</a></span> +Laurence Eusden, poet laureate before Gibber. We have +the names of only a few of his works, which were very numerous. +<br /><br /> +Nahum Tate was poet laureate, a poor writer, of no invention; but who +sometimes translated tolerably when assisted by Dryden. In the second +part of Absalom and Achitophel there are about two hundred lines in all +by Dryden which contrast strongly with the insipidity of the rest. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn196" id="fn196" href="#fnref196">[196]</a></span> +John Dennis was the son of a saddler in London, born in +1657. He paid court to Dryden; and having obtained some correspondence +with Wycherley and Congreve he immediately made public their letters. +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum">[120]<a name="page120" id="page120"></a></span> +<h3><a name="xxxvi" id="xxxvi">XXXVI.</a> SANDYS' GHOST;<br /> OR, A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE NEW OVID'S +METAMORPHOSES,<br /> AS IT WAS INTENDED TO BE TRANSLATED BY PERSONS OF QUALITY.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This satire owed its origin to the fact that Sir Samuel Garth was + about to publish a new translation of Ovid's <i>Metamorphoses</i>. + George Sandys—the old translator—died in 1643.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Ye Lords and Commons, men of wit,</div> + <div class="in1">And pleasure about town;</div> + <div>Read this ere you translate one bit</div> + <div class="in1">Of books of high renown.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Beware of Latin authors all!</div> + <div class="in1">Nor think your verses sterling,</div> + <div>Though with a golden pen you scrawl,</div> + <div class="in1">And scribble in a Berlin:</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>For not the desk with silver nails,</div> + <div class="in1">Nor bureau of expense,</div> + <div>Nor standish well japanned avails</div> + <div class="in1">To writing of good sense.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Hear how a ghost in dead of night,</div> + <div class="in1">With saucer eyes of fire,</div> + <div>In woeful wise did sore affright</div> + <div class="in1">A wit and courtly squire.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Rare Imp of Phoebus, hopeful youth,</div> + <div class="in1">Like puppy tame that uses</div> + <div>To fetch and carry, in his mouth,</div> + <div class="in1">The works of all the Muses.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Ah! why did he write poetry</div> + <div class="in1">That hereto was so civil;</div> + <div>And sell his soul for vanity,</div> + <div class="in1">To rhyming and the devil?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[121]<a name="page121" id="page121"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A desk he had of curious work,</div> + <div class="in1">With glittering studs about;</div> + <div>Within the same did Sandys lurk,</div> + <div class="in1">Though Ovid lay without.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Now as he scratched to fetch up thought,</div> + <div class="in1">Forth popped the sprite so thin;</div> + <div>And from the key-hole bolted out,</div> + <div class="in1">All upright as a pin.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>With whiskers, band, and pantaloon,</div> + <div class="in1">And ruff composed most duly;</div> + <div>The squire he dropped his pen full soon,</div> + <div class="in1">While as the light burnt bluely.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"Ho! Master Sam," quoth Sandys' sprite,</div> + <div class="in1">"Write on, nor let me scare ye;</div> + <div>Forsooth, if rhymes fall in not right,</div> + <div class="in1">To Budgell seek, or Carey.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"I hear the beat of Jacob's drums,</div> + <div class="in1">Poor Ovid finds no quarter!</div> + <div>See first the merry P—— comes<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref197" id="fnref197" href="#fn197">[197]</a></span></div> + <div class="in1">In haste, without his garter.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"Then lords and lordlings, squires and knights,</div> + <div class="in1">Wits, witlings, prigs, and peers!</div> + <div>Garth at St. James's, and at White's,</div> + <div class="in1">Beats up for volunteers.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"What Fenton will not do, nor Gay,</div> + <div class="in1">Nor Congreve, Rowe, nor Stanyan,</div> + <div>Tom Burnett or Tom D'Urfey may,</div> + <div class="in1">John Dunton, Steele, or anyone.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"If Justice Philips' costive head</div> + <div class="in1">Some frigid rhymes disburses;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[122]<a name="page122" id="page122"></a></span> + <div>They shall like Persian tales be read,</div> + <div class="in1">And glad both babes and nurses.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"Let Warwick's muse with Ashurst join,</div> + <div class="in1">And Ozell's with Lord Hervey's:</div> + <div>Tickell and Addison combine,</div> + <div class="in1">And Pope translate with Jervas.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"Lansdowne himself, that lively lord,</div> + <div class="in1">Who bows to every lady,</div> + <div>Shall join with Frowde in one accord,</div> + <div class="in1">And be like Tate and Brady.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"Ye ladies too draw forth your pen,</div> + <div class="in1">I pray where can the hurt lie?</div> + <div>Since you have brains as well as men,</div> + <div class="in1">As witness Lady Wortley.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"Now, Tonson, 'list thy forces all,</div> + <div class="in1">Review them, and tell noses;</div> + <div>For to poor Ovid shall befall</div> + <div class="in1">A strange metamorphosis.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"A metamorphosis more strange</div> + <div class="in1">Than all his books can vapour;"</div> + <div>"To what" (quoth squire) "shall Ovid change?"</div> + <div class="in1">Quoth Sandys: "To waste paper".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn197" id="fn197" href="#fnref197">[197]</a></span> +The Earl of Pembroke, probably.—<i>Roscoe</i>. +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xxxvii" id="xxxvii">XXXVII.</a> SATIRE ON THE WHIG POETS.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is practically the whole of Pope's famous Epistle to + Arbuthnot, otherwise the <i>Prologue to the Satires</i>. The only + portion I have omitted, in order to include in this collection one + of the greatest of his satires, is the introductory lines, which + are frequently dropped, as the poem really begins with the line + wherewith it is represented as opening here.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Soft were my numbers; who could take offence,</div> + <div>While pure description held the place of sense?</div> + <div>Like gentle Fanny's was my flowery theme,</div> + <div>A painted mistress, or a purling stream.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[123]<a name="page123" id="page123"></a></span> + <div>Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill;—</div> + <div>I wished the man a dinner, and sat still.</div> + <div>Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret;</div> + <div>I never answered,—I was not in debt.</div> + <div>If want provoked, or madness made them print,</div> + <div>I waged no war with Bedlam or the Mint.</div> + <div class="in1">Did some more sober critic come abroad;</div> + <div>If wrong, I smiled; if right, I kissed the rod.</div> + <div>Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence,</div> + <div>And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense.</div> + <div>Commas and points they set exactly right,</div> + <div>And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite.</div> + <div>Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced these ribalds,</div> + <div>From slashing Bentley down to pidling Tibalds:</div> + <div>Each wight, who reads not, and but scans and spells,</div> + <div>Each word-catcher, that lives on syllables,</div> + <div>Even such small critic some regard may claim,</div> + <div>Preserved in Milton's or in Shakespeare's name.</div> + <div>Pretty! in amber to observe the forms</div> + <div>Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms!</div> + <div>The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,</div> + <div>But wonder how the devil they got there.</div> + <div class="in1">Were others angry: I excused them too;</div> + <div>Well might they rage, I gave them but their due.</div> + <div>A man's true merit 'tis not hard to find;</div> + <div>But each man's secret standard in his mind,</div> + <div>That casting-weight pride adds to emptiness,</div> + <div>This, who can gratify? for who can guess?</div> + <div>The bard whom pilfered pastorals renown,</div> + <div>Who turns a Persian tale for half-a-crown,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref198" id="fnref198" href="#fn198">[198]</a></span></div> + <div>Just writes to make his barrenness appear,</div> + <div>And strains, from hard-bound brains, eight lines a-year;</div> + <div>He, who still wanting, though he lives on theft,</div> + <div>Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[124]<a name="page124" id="page124"></a></span> + <div>And he, who now to sense, now nonsense leaning,</div> + <div>Means not, but blunders round about a meaning:</div> + <div>And he, whose fustian's so sublimely bad,</div> + <div>It is not poetry, but prose run mad:</div> + <div>All these, my modest satire bade translate,</div> + <div>And owned that nine such poets made a Tate.<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref199" id="fnref199" href="#fn199">[199]</a></span></div> + <div>How did they fume, and stamp, and roar, and chafe!</div> + <div>And swear, not Addison himself was safe.</div> + <div class="in1">Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires</div> + <div>True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires;</div> + <div>Blest with each talent and each art to please,</div> + <div>And born to write, converse, and live with ease:</div> + <div>Should such a man, too fond to rule alone,</div> + <div>Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne.</div> + <div>View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes,</div> + <div>And hate for arts that caused himself to rise;</div> + <div>Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,</div> + <div>And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer;</div> + <div>Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,</div> + <div>Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike;</div> + <div>Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,</div> + <div>A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;</div> + <div>Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged,</div> + <div>And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged;</div> + <div>Like Cato, give his little senate laws,</div> + <div>And sit attentive to his own applause;</div> + <div>While wits and templars every sentence raise,</div> + <div>And wonder with a foolish face of praise:—</div> + <div>Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?</div> + <div>Who would not weep, if Atticus<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref200" + id="fnref200" href="#fn200">[200]</a></span> were he?</div> + <div class="in1">Who though my name stood rubric on the walls,</div> + <div>Or plaistered posts, with claps, in capitals?</div> + <div>Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers' load,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[125]<a name="page125" id="page125"></a></span> + <div>On wings of winds came flying all abroad?<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref201" id="fnref201" href="#fn201">[201]</a></span></div> + <div>I sought no homage from the race that write;</div> + <div>I kept, like Asian monarchs, from their sight:</div> + <div>Poems I heeded (now be-rhymed so long)</div> + <div>No more than thou, great George! a birthday song.</div> + <div>I ne'er with wits or witlings passed my days,</div> + <div>To spread about the itch of verse and praise;</div> + <div>Nor like a puppy, daggled through the town,</div> + <div>To fetch and carry sing-song up and down;</div> + <div>Nor at rehearsals sweat, and mouthed, and cried,</div> + <div>With handkerchief and orange at my side;</div> + <div>But sick of fops, and poetry, and prate,</div> + <div>To Bufo left the whole Castillan state.</div> + <div class="in1">Proud as Apollo on his forked hill,</div> + <div>Sat full-blown Bufo, puffed by every quill;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref202" id="fnref202" href="#fn202">[202]</a></span></div> + <div>Fed with soft dedication all day long,</div> + <div>Horace and he went hand in hand in song.</div> + <div>His library (where busts of poets dead</div> + <div>And a true Pindar stood without a head),</div> + <div>Received of wits an undistinguished race,</div> + <div>Who first his judgment asked, and then a place:</div> + <div>Much they extolled his pictures, much his seat,</div> + <div>And flattered every day, and some days eat:</div> + <div>Till grown more frugal in his riper days,</div> + <div>He paid some bards with port, and some with praise</div> + <div>To some a dry rehearsal was assigned,</div> + <div>And others (harder still) he paid in kind,</div> + <div>Dryden alone (what wonder?) came not nigh,</div> + <div>Dryden alone escaped this judging eye:</div> + <div>But still the great have kindness in reserve,</div> + <div>He helped to bury whom he helped to starve.</div> + <div class="in1">May some choice patron bless each gray goose quill!</div> + <div>May every Bavias have his Bufo still!</div> + <div>So, when a statesman wants a day's defence,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[126]<a name="page126" id="page126"></a></span> + <div>Or envy holds a whole week's war with sense,</div> + <div>Or simple pride for flattery makes demands,</div> + <div>May dunce by dunce be whistled off my hands!</div> + <div>Blest be the great! for those they take away,</div> + <div>And those they left me; for they left me Gay;</div> + <div>Left me to see neglected genius bloom,</div> + <div>Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb:</div> + <div>Of all thy blameless life the sole return</div> + <div>My verse, and Queensbury weeping o'er thy urn!</div> + <div class="in1">Oh, let me live my own, and die so too!</div> + <div>(To live and die is all I have to do:)</div> + <div>Maintain a poet's dignity and ease,</div> + <div>And see what friends, and read what books I please;</div> + <div>Above a patron, though I condescend</div> + <div>Sometimes to call a minister my friend.</div> + <div>I was not born for courts or great affairs;</div> + <div>I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers;</div> + <div>Can sleep without a poem in my head;</div> + <div>Nor know, if Dennis be alive or dead.</div> + <div class="in1">Why am I asked what next shall see the light?</div> + <div>Heavens! was I born for nothing but to write?</div> + <div>Has life no joys for me? or (to be grave)</div> + <div>Have I no friend to serve, no soul to save?</div> + <div>"I found him close with Swift"—"Indeed? no doubt,"</div> + <div>(Cries prating Balbus) "something will come out."</div> + <div>'Tis all in vain, deny it as I will.</div> + <div>No, such a genius never can lie still;</div> + <div>And then for mine obligingly mistakes</div> + <div>The first lampoon Sir Will,<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref203" + id="fnref203" href="#fn203">[203]</a></span> or Bubo<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref204" id="fnref204" href="#fn204">[204]</a></span> makes.</div> + <div>Poor guiltless I! and can I choose but smile,</div> + <div>When every coxcomb knows me by my style?</div> + <div class="in1">Cursed be the verse, how well soe'er it flow,</div> + <div>That tends to make one worthy man my foe,</div> + <div>Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[127]<a name="page127" id="page127"></a></span> + <div>Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear!</div> + <div>But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace,</div> + <div>Insults fallen worth, or beauty in distress,</div> + <div>Who loves a lie, lame slander helps about,</div> + <div>Who writes a libel, or who copies out:</div> + <div>That fop, whose pride affects a patron's name,</div> + <div>Yet absent, wounds an author's honest fame:</div> + <div>Who can your merit selfishly approve,</div> + <div>And show the sense of it without the love;</div> + <div>Who has the vanity to call you friend,</div> + <div>Yet wants the honour, injured, to defend;</div> + <div>Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say,</div> + <div>And, if he lie not, must at least betray:</div> + <div>Who to the Dean, and silver bell can swear,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref205" id="fnref205" href="#fn205">[205]</a></span></div> + <div>And sees at canons what was never there;</div> + <div>Who reads, but with a lust to misapply,</div> + <div>Make satire a lampoon, and fiction, lie.</div> + <div>A lash like mine no honest man shall dread,</div> + <div>But all such babbling blockheads in his stead.</div> + <div class="in1">Let Sporus<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref206" + id="fnref206" href="#fn206">[206]</a></span> tremble—</div> + <div class="in1"><i>A</i>.<span class="in9">What? that thing of silk,</span></div> + <div>Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk?</div> + <div>Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?</div> + <div>Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?</div> + <div class="in1"><i>P</i>. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,</div> + <div>This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings;</div> + <div>Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys,</div> + <div>Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys:</div> + <div>So well-bred spaniels civilly delight</div> + <div>In mumbling of the game they dare not bite.</div> + <div>Eternal smiles his emptiness betray,</div> + <div>As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.</div> + <div>Whether in florid impotence he speaks,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[128]<a name="page128" id="page128"></a></span> + <div>And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks</div> + <div>Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad,</div> + <div>Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad,</div> + <div>In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies,</div> + <div>Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies.</div> + <div>His wit all see-saw, between that and this,</div> + <div>Now high, now low, now master up, now miss,</div> + <div>And he himself one vile antithesis.</div> + <div>Amphibious thing! that acting either part,</div> + <div>The trifling head or the corrupted heart,</div> + <div>Fop at the toilet, flatterer at the board,</div> + <div>Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord.</div> + <div>Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest,</div> + <div>A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest;</div> + <div>Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust;</div> + <div>Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust.</div> + <div class="in1">Not fortune's worshipper, nor fashion's fool,</div> + <div>Not lucre's madman, nor ambition's tool,</div> + <div>Not proud, nor servile;—be one poet's praise,</div> + <div>That, if he pleased, he pleased by manly ways:</div> + <div>That flattery, even to kings, he held a shame,</div> + <div>And thought a lie in verse or prose the same.</div> + <div>That not in fancy's maze he wandered long,</div> + <div>But stooped to truth, and moralized his song:</div> + <div>That not for fame, but virtue's better end,</div> + <div>He stood the furious foe, the timid friend,</div> + <div>The damning critic, half-approving wit,</div> + <div>The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit;</div> + <div>Laughed at the loss of friends he never had,</div> + <div>The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad;</div> + <div>The distant threats of vengeance on his head,</div> + <div>The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed;</div> + <div>The tale revived, the lie so oft o'erthrown,</div> + <div>The imputed trash, and dulness not his own;</div> + <div>The morals blackened when the writings scape,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[129]<a name="page129" id="page129"></a></span> + <div>The libelled person, and the pictured shape;</div> + <div>Abuse, on all he loved, or loved him, spread,</div> + <div>A friend in exile, or a father, dead;</div> + <div>The whisper, that to greatness still too near,</div> + <div>Perhaps, yet vibrates on his sovereign's ear:—</div> + <div>Welcome for thee, fair virtue! all the past;</div> + <div>For thee, fair virtue! welcome even the last!</div> + <div class="in1"><i>A</i>. But why insult the poor, affront the great?</div> + <div class="in1"><i>P</i>. A knave's a knave, to me, in every state:</div> + <div>Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail,</div> + <div>Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail,</div> + <div>A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer,</div> + <div>Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire;</div> + <div>If on a pillory, or near a throne,</div> + <div>He gain his prince's ear, or lose his own.</div> + <div class="in1">Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit,</div> + <div>Sappho can tell you how this man was bit;</div> + <div>This dreaded satirist Dennis will confess</div> + <div>Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress;</div> + <div>So humble, he has knocked at Tibbald's door,</div> + <div>Has drunk with Cibber, nay, has rhymed for Moore.</div> + <div>Full ten years slandered, did he once reply?</div> + <div>Three thousand suns went down on Welsted's lie.</div> + <div>To please a mistress one aspersed his life;</div> + <div>He lashed him not, but let her be his wife.</div> + <div>Let Budgel charge low Grub Street on his quill,</div> + <div>And write whate'er he pleased, except his will.</div> + <div>Let the two Curlls of town and court, abuse</div> + <div>His father, mother, body, soul, and muse</div> + <div>Yet why? that father held it for a rule,</div> + <div>It was a sin to call our neighbour fool:</div> + <div>That harmless mother thought no wife a whore:</div> + <div>Hear this, and spare his family, James Moore!</div> + <div>Unspotted names, and memorable long!</div> + <div>If there be force in virtue, or in song.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[130]<a name="page130" id="page130"></a></span> + <div class="in1">Of gentle blood (part shed in honour's cause,</div> + <div>While yet in Britain honour had applause)</div> + <div>Each parent sprung—</div> + <div class="in1"><i>A</i>.<span class="in7">What fortune, pray?—</span></div> + <div class="in1"><i>P</i>.<span class="in16">Their own,</span></div> + <div>And better got, than Bestia's from the throne.</div> + <div>Born to no pride, inheriting no strife,</div> + <div>Nor marrying discord in a noble wife,</div> + <div>Stranger to civil and religious rage,</div> + <div>The good man walked innoxious through his age,</div> + <div>No courts he saw, no suits would ever try,</div> + <div>Nor dared an oath, nor hazarded a lie.</div> + <div>Unlearned, he knew no schoolman's subtle art,</div> + <div>No language, but the language of the heart.</div> + <div>By nature honest, by experience wise,</div> + <div>Healthy by temperance, and by exercise;</div> + <div>His life, though long, to sickness passed unknown,</div> + <div>His death was instant, and without a groan.</div> + <div>O, grant me, thus to live, and thus to die!</div> + <div>Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I.</div> + <div class="in1">O, friend! may each domestic bliss be thine!</div> + <div>Be no unpleasing melancholy mine:</div> + <div>Me, let the tender office long engage,</div> + <div>To rock the cradle of reposing age,</div> + <div>With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,</div> + <div>Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death,</div> + <div>Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,</div> + <div>And keep awhile one parent from the sky!</div> + <div>On cares like these if length of days attend,</div> + <div>May heaven, to bless those days, preserve my friend,</div> + <div>Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene,</div> + <div>And just as rich as when he served a queen.</div> + <div class="in1"><i>A</i>. Whether that blessing be denied or given,</div> + <div>Thus far was right, the rest belongs to heaven.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn198" id="fn198" href="#fnref198">[198]</a></span> +Ambrose Philips translated a book called the <i>Persian +Tales</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn199" id="fn199" href="#fnref199">[199]</a></span> +Nahum Tate, the joint-author with Brady of the version +of the Psalms. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn200" id="fn200" href="#fnref200">[200]</a></span> +Addison. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn201" id="fn201" href="#fnref201">[201]</a></span> +Hopkins, in the 104th Psalm. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn202" id="fn202" href="#fnref202">[202]</a></span> +Lord Halifax. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn203" id="fn203" href="#fnref203">[203]</a></span> +Sir William Yonge. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn204" id="fn204" href="#fnref204">[204]</a></span> +Bubb Dodington. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn205" id="fn205" href="#fnref205">[205]</a></span> +Meaning the man who would have persuaded the Duke of +Chandos that Pope meant to ridicule him in the Epistle on <i>Taste</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn206" id="fn206" href="#fnref206">[206]</a></span> +Lord Hervey. +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum">[131]<a name="page131" id="page131"></a></span> +<h3><a name="xxxviii" id="xxxviii">XXXVIII.</a> EPILOGUE TO THE SATIRES.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The following piece represents the first dialogue in the Epilogue + to the Satires. Huggins mentioned in the poem was the jailer of the + Fleet Prison, who had enriched himself by many exactions, for which + he was tried and expelled. Jekyl was Sir Joseph Jekyl, Master of + the Rolls, a man of great probity, who, though a Whig, frequently + voted against the Court, which drew on him the laugh here + described. Lyttleton was George Lyttleton, Secretary to the Prince + of Wales, distinguished for his writings in the cause of liberty. + Written in 1738, and first published in the following year.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div><i>Fr</i>[<i>iend</i>]. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print,</div> + <div>And when it comes, the court see nothing in 't.</div> + <div>You grow correct, that once with rapture writ,</div> + <div>And are, besides, too moral for a wit.</div> + <div>Decay of parts, alas! we all must feel—</div> + <div>Why now, this moment, don't I see you steal?</div> + <div>'Tis all from Horace; Horace long before ye</div> + <div>Said, "Tories called him Whig, and Whigs a Tory";</div> + <div>And taught his Romans, in much better metre,</div> + <div>"To laugh at fools who put their trust in Peter".</div> + <div class="in1">But Horace, sir, was delicate, was nice;</div> + <div>Bubo observes, he lashed no sort of vice:</div> + <div>Horace would say, Sir Billy served the crown,</div> + <div>Blunt could do business, Huggins knew the town;</div> + <div>In Sappho touch the failings of the sex,</div> + <div>In reverend bishops note some small neglects,</div> + <div>And own, the Spaniard did a waggish thing,</div> + <div>Who cropped our ears, and sent them to the king.</div> + <div>His sly, polite, insinuating style</div> + <div>Could please at court, and make Augustus smile:</div> + <div>An artful manager, that crept between</div> + <div>His friend and shame, and was a kind of screen.</div> + <div>But 'faith your very friends will soon be sore:</div> + <div>Patriots there are, who wish you'd jest no more—</div> +<span class="pagenum">[132]<a name="page132" id="page132"></a></span> + <div>And where's the glory? 'twill be only thought</div> + <div>The great man never offered you a groat.</div> + <div>Go see Sir Robert—</div> + <div class="in1">P[<i>ope</i>].<span class="in5">See Sir Robert!—hum—</span></div> + <div>And never laugh—for all my life to come?</div> + <div>Seen him I have, but in his happier hour</div> + <div>Of social pleasure, ill exchanged for power;</div> + <div>Seen him, uncumbered with the venal tribe,</div> + <div>Smile without art, and win without a bribe.</div> + <div>Would he oblige me? let me only find,</div> + <div>He does not think me what he thinks mankind.</div> + <div>Come, come, at all I laugh he laughs, no doubt;</div> + <div>The only difference is, I dare laugh out.</div> + <div class="in1"><i>F.</i> Why yes: with Scripture still you may be free:</div> + <div>A horse-laugh, if you please, at honesty;</div> + <div>A joke on Jekyl, or some odd old Whig</div> + <div>Who never changed his principle or wig.</div> + <div>A patriot is a fool in every age,</div> + <div>Whom all Lord Chamberlains allow the stage:</div> + <div>These nothing hurts; they keep their fashion still,</div> + <div>And wear their strange old virtue, as they will.</div> + <div>If any ask you, "Who's the man, so near</div> + <div>His prince, that writes in verse, and has his ear?"</div> + <div>Why, answer, Lyttleton, and I'll engage</div> + <div>The worthy youth shall ne'er be in a rage;</div> + <div>But were his verses vile, his whisper base,</div> + <div>You'd quickly find him in Lord Fanny's case.</div> + <div>Sejanus, Wolsey, hurt not honest Fleury,<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref207" id="fnref207" href="#fn207">[207]</a></span></div> + <div>But well may put some statesmen in a fury.</div> + <div class="in1">Laugh then at any, but at fools or foes;</div> + <div>These you but anger, and you mend not those.</div> + <div>Laugh at your friends, and, if your friends are sore,</div> + <div>So much the better, you may laugh the more.</div> + <div>To vice and folly to confine the jest,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[133]<a name="page133" id="page133"></a></span> + <div>Sets half the world, God knows, against the rest;</div> + <div>Did not the sneer of more impartial men</div> + <div>At sense and virtue, balance all again.</div> + <div>Judicious wits spread wide the ridicule,</div> + <div>And charitably comfort knave and fool.</div> + <div class="in1"><i>P</i>. Dear sir, forgive the prejudice of youth:</div> + <div>Adieu distinction, satire, warmth, and truth!</div> + <div>Come, harmless characters, that no one hit;</div> + <div>Come, Henley's oratory, Osborne's wit!</div> + <div>The honey dropping from Favonio's tongue,</div> + <div>The flowers of Bubo, and the flow of Yonge!</div> + <div>The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence,</div> + <div>And all the well-whipped cream of courtly sense,</div> + <div>That first was H——vy's, F——'s next, and then</div> + <div>The S——te's and then H——vy's once again.<span + class="fnref"><a name="fnref208" id="fnref208" href="#fn208">[208]</a></span></div> + <div>O come, that easy Ciceronian style,</div> + <div>So Latin, yet so English all the while,</div> + <div>As, though the pride of Middleton<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref209" + id="fnref209" href="#fn209">[209]</a></span> and Bland,</div> + <div>All boys may read, and girls may understand!</div> + <div>Then might I sing, without the least offence,</div> + <div>And all I sung shall be the nation's sense;</div> + <div>Or teach the melancholy muse to mourn,</div> + <div>Hang the sad verse on Carolina's<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref210" id="fnref210" href="#fn210">[210]</a></span> urn,</div> + <div>And hail her passage to the realms of rest,</div> + <div>All parts performed, and all her children blest!</div> + <div>So—satire is no more—I feel it die—</div> + <div>No gazetteer more innocent than I—</div> + <div>And let, a' God's name, every fool and knave</div> + <div>Be graced through life, and flattered in his grave.</div> + <div class="in1"><i>F</i>. Why so? if satire knows its time and place,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[134]<a name="page134" id="page134"></a></span> + <div>You still may lash the greatest—in disgrace:</div> + <div>For merit will by turns forsake them all;</div> + <div>Would you know when? exactly when they fall.</div> + <div>But let all satire in all changes spare</div> + <div>Immortal Selkirk<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref211" id="fnref211" + href="#fn211">[211]</a></span>, and grave De——re.</div> + <div>Silent and soft, as saints remove to heaven,</div> + <div>All ties dissolved and every sin forgiven,</div> + <div>These may some gentle ministerial wing</div> + <div>Receive, and place for ever near a king!</div> + <div>There, where no passion, pride, or shame transport,</div> + <div>Lulled with the sweet nepenthe of a court;</div> + <div>There, where no father's, brother's, friend's disgrace</div> + <div>Once break their rest, or stir them from their place:</div> + <div>But passed the sense of human miseries,</div> + <div>All tears are wiped for ever from all eyes;</div> + <div>No cheek is known to blush, no heart to throb,</div> + <div>Save when they lose a question, or a job.</div> + <div class="in1"><i>P</i>. Good heaven forbid, that I should blast their glory,</div> + <div>Who know how like Whig ministers to Tory,</div> + <div>And, when three sovereigns died, could scarce be vext,</div> + <div>Considering what a gracious prince was next.</div> + <div>Have I, in silent wonder, seen such things</div> + <div>As pride in slaves, and avarice in kings;</div> + <div>And at a peer, or peeress, shall I fret,</div> + <div>Who starves a sister, or forswears a debt?<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref212" id="fnref212" href="#fn212">[212]</a></span></div> + <div>Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast;</div> + <div>But shall the dignity of vice be lost?</div> + <div>Ye gods! shall Gibber's son, without rebuke,</div> + <div>Swear like a lord, or Rich out-whore a duke?</div> + <div>A favourite's porter with his master vie,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[135]<a name="page135" id="page135"></a></span> + <div>Be bribed as often, and as often lie?</div> + <div>Shall Ward draw contracts with a statesman's skill?</div> + <div>Or Japhet pocket, like his grace, a will?</div> + <div>Is it for Bond, or Peter (paltry things),</div> + <div>To pay their debts, or keep their faith, like kings?</div> + <div>If Blount dispatched himself, he played the man,</div> + <div>And so mayest thou, illustrious Passeran!</div> + <div>But shall a printer, weary of his life,</div> + <div>Learn, from their books, to hang himself and wife?</div> + <div>This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not bear;</div> + <div>Vice thus abused, demands a nation's care;</div> + <div>This calls the Church to deprecate our sin,</div> + <div>And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin.</div> + <div class="in1">Let modest Foster, if he will, excel</div> + <div>Ten metropolitans in preaching well;</div> + <div>A simple Quaker, or a Quaker's wife,</div> + <div>Outdo Llandaff in doctrine,—yea in life:</div> + <div>Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame,</div> + <div>Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.</div> + <div>Virtue may choose the high or low degree,</div> + <div>'Tis just alike to virtue, and to me;</div> + <div>Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king,</div> + <div>She's still the same, beloved, contented thing.</div> + <div>Vice is undone, if she forgets her birth,</div> + <div>And stoops from angels to the dregs of earth:</div> + <div>But 'tis the fall degrades her to a whore;</div> + <div>Let greatness own her, and she's mean no more;</div> + <div>Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess;</div> + <div>Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless;</div> + <div>In golden chains the willing world she draws,</div> + <div>And hers the gospel is, and hers the laws,</div> + <div>Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head,</div> + <div>And sees pale virtue carted in her stead.</div> + <div>Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car,</div> + <div>Old England's genius, rough with many a scar,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[136]<a name="page136" id="page136"></a></span> + <div>Dragged in the dust! his arms hang idly round,</div> + <div>His flag inverted trails along the ground!</div> + <div>Our youth, all liveried o'er with foreign gold,</div> + <div>Before her dance: behind her crawl the old!</div> + <div>See thronging millions to the Pagod run,</div> + <div>And offer country, parent, wife, or son!</div> + <div>Hear her black trumpet through the land proclaim,</div> + <div>That not to be corrupted is the shame.</div> + <div>In soldier, churchman, patriot, man in power,</div> + <div>'Tis avarice all, ambition is no more!</div> + <div>See, all our nobles begging to be slaves!</div> + <div>See, all our fools aspiring to be knaves!</div> + <div>The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore,</div> + <div>Are what ten thousand envy and adore;</div> + <div>All, all look up, with reverential awe,</div> + <div>At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the law;</div> + <div>While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry—</div> + <div>"Nothing is sacred now but villainy ".</div> + <div class="in1">Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain)</div> + <div>Show, there was one who held it in disdain.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn207" id="fn207" href="#fnref207">[207]</a></span> +Cardinal: and Minister to Louis XV. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn208" id="fn208" href="#fnref208">[208]</a></span> +This couplet alludes to the preachers of some recent +Court Sermons of a florid panegyrical character; also to some speeches +of a like kind, some parts of both of which were afterwards +incorporated in an address to the monarch. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn209" id="fn209" href="#fnref209">[209]</a></span> +Dr. Conyers Middleton, author of the <i>Life of Cicero</i>. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn210" id="fn210" href="#fnref210">[210]</a></span> +Queen Consort to King George II. She died in 1737. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn211" id="fn211" href="#fnref211">[211]</a></span> +A title given to Lord Selkirk by King James II. He was +Gentleman of the Bed-chamber to William III., to George I., and to +George II. He was proficient in all the forms of the House, in which he +comported himself with great dignity. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn212" id="fn212" href="#fnref212">[212]</a></span> +Referring to Lady M.W. Montagu and her sister, the +Countess of Mar. +</div> + +<h2>SAMUEL JOHNSON.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1709-1784.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xxxix" id="xxxix">XXXIX.</a> THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Published in January, 1749, in order, as was reported, to excite + interest in the author's tragedy of <i>Irene</i>. The poem is written in + imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Let observation, with extensive view,</div> + <div>Survey mankind from China to Peru;</div> + <div>Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife,</div> + <div>And watch the busy scenes of crowded life;</div> + <div>Then say, how hope and fear, desire and hate,</div> + <div>O'erspread with snares the clouded maze of fate,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[137]<a name="page137" id="page137"></a></span> + <div>Where way'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride,</div> + <div>To tread the dreary paths without a guide,</div> + <div>As treach'rous phantoms in the mist delude,</div> + <div>Shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good;</div> + <div>How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice,</div> + <div>Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice;</div> + <div>How nations sink, by darling schemes oppress'd,</div> + <div>When Vengeance listens to the fool's request.</div> + <div>Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart,</div> + <div>Each gift of nature, and each grace of art;</div> + <div>With fatal heat impetuous courage glows,</div> + <div>With fatal sweetness elocution flows;</div> + <div>Impeachment stops the speaker's pow'rful breath,</div> + <div>And restless fire precipitates on death.</div> + <div class="in1">But, scarce observ'd, the knowing and the bold</div> + <div>Fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold;</div> + <div>Wide wasting pest! that rages unconfin'd,</div> + <div>And crowds with crimes the records of mankind:</div> + <div>For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws,</div> + <div>For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws:</div> + <div>Wealth heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety buys,</div> + <div>The dangers gather as the treasures rise.</div> + <div class="in1">Let Hist'ry tell where rival kings command,</div> + <div>And dubious title shakes the madded land.</div> + <div>When statutes glean the refuse of the sword,</div> + <div>How much more safe the vassal than the lord;</div> + <div>Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of power,</div> + <div>And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tower,</div> + <div>Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound,</div> + <div>Though Confiscation's vultures hover round.</div> + <div class="in1">The needy traveller, serene and gay,</div> + <div>Walks the wild heath, and sings his toil away.</div> + <div>Does envy seize thee? crush th' upbraiding joy;</div> + <div>Increase his riches, and his peace destroy;</div> + <div>Now fears in dire vicissitude invade,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[138]<a name="page138" id="page138"></a></span> + <div>The rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring shade;</div> + <div>Nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief,</div> + <div>One shows the plunder, and one hides the thief.</div> + <div class="in1">Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails,</div> + <div>And pain and grandeur load the tainted gales;</div> + <div>Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care,</div> + <div>Th' insidious rival and the gaping heir.</div> + <div class="in1">Once more, Democritus, arise on earth,</div> + <div>With cheerful wisdom and instructive mirth,</div> + <div>See motley life in modern trappings dress'd,</div> + <div>And feed with varied fools th' eternal jest:</div> + <div>Thou who could'st laugh where want enchain'd caprice,</div> + <div>Toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece;</div> + <div>Where wealth, unlov'd, without a mourner dy'd;</div> + <div>And scarce a sycophant was fed by pride;</div> + <div>Where ne'er was known the form of mock debate,</div> + <div>Or seen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state;</div> + <div>Where change of fav'rites made no change of laws,</div> + <div>And senates heard before they judg'd a cause;</div> + <div>How would'st thou shake at Britain's modish tribe,</div> + <div>Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe?</div> + <div>Attentive truth and nature to descry,</div> + <div>And pierce each scene with philosophic eye,</div> + <div>To thee were solemn toys, or empty show,</div> + <div>The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe:</div> + <div>All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain,</div> + <div>Whose joys are causeless, and whose griefs are vain.</div> + <div class="in1">Such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's mind,</div> + <div>Renew'd at ev'ry glance on human kind;</div> + <div>How just that scorn ere yet thy voice declare,</div> + <div>Search ev'ry state, and canvass ev'ry pray'r:</div> + <div class="in1">Unnumber'd suppliants crowd Preferment's gate,</div> + <div>A thirst for wealth, and burning to be great;</div> + <div>Delusive Fortune hears th' incessant call,</div> + <div>They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[139]<a name="page139" id="page139"></a></span> + <div>On ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend,</div> + <div>Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end.</div> + <div>Love ends with hope, the sinking statesman's door</div> + <div>Pours in the morning worshipper no more;</div> + <div>For growing names the weekly scribbler lies,</div> + <div>To growing wealth the dedicator flies,</div> + <div>From ev'ry room descends the painted face,</div> + <div>That hung the bright palladium of the place:</div> + <div>And, smok'd in kitchens, or in auctions sold,</div> + <div>To better features yields the frame of gold;</div> + <div>For now no more we trace in ev'ry line</div> + <div>Heroic worth, benevolence divine:</div> + <div>The form distorted, justifies the fall,</div> + <div>And detestation rides th' indignant wall.</div> + <div class="in1">But will not Britain hear the last appeal,</div> + <div>Sign her foes' doom, or guard her fav'rites' zeal?</div> + <div>Through Freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings,</div> + <div>Degrading nobles, and controlling kings;</div> + <div>Our supple tribes repress their patriot throats,</div> + <div>And ask no questions but the price of votes;</div> + <div>With weekly libels and septennial ale,</div> + <div>Their wish is full to riot and to rail.</div> + <div class="in1">In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand,</div> + <div>Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand:</div> + <div>To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign.</div> + <div>Through him the rays of regal bounty shine,</div> + <div>Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows,</div> + <div>His smile alone security bestows:</div> + <div>Still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r,</div> + <div>Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r:</div> + <div>Till conquest unresisted ceas'd to please,</div> + <div>And rights submitted, left him none to seize.</div> + <div>At length his sov'reign frowns—the train of state</div> + <div>Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate.</div> + <div>Where'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[140]<a name="page140" id="page140"></a></span> + <div>His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly;</div> + <div>Now drops at once the pride of awful state,</div> + <div>The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate,</div> + <div>The regal palace, the luxurious board,</div> + <div>The liv'ried army, and the menial lord.</div> + <div>With age, with cares, with maladies oppress'd,</div> + <div>He seeks the refuge of monastic rest.</div> + <div>Grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings,</div> + <div>And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings.</div> + <div class="in1">Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine,</div> + <div>Shall Wolsey's wealth, with Wolsey's end, be thine?</div> + <div>Or liv'st thou now, with safer pride content,</div> + <div>The wisest justice on the banks of Trent?</div> + <div>For, why did Wolsey, near the steeps of fate,</div> + <div>On weak foundations raise th' enormous weight?</div> + <div>Why but to sink beneath misfortune's blow,</div> + <div>With louder ruin to the gulfs below?</div> + <div class="in1">What gave great Villiers to th' assassin's knife,</div> + <div>And fix'd disease on Harley's closing life?</div> + <div>What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde,</div> + <div>By kings protected, and to kings ally'd?</div> + <div>What but their wish indulg'd in courts to shine,</div> + <div>And pow'r too great to keep, or to resign?</div> + <div class="in1">When first the college rolls receive his name,</div> + <div>The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame;</div> + <div>Resistless burns the fever of renown,</div> + <div>Caught from the strong contagion of the gown:</div> + <div>O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread,</div> + <div>And Bacon's mansion<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref213" + id="fnref213" href="#fn213">[213]</a></span> trembles o'er his head.</div> + <div>Are these thy views? Proceed, illustrious youth,</div> + <div>And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth!</div> +<span class="pagenum">[141]<a name="page141" id="page141"></a></span> + <div>Yet, should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat</div> + <div>Till captive Science yields her last retreat;</div> + <div>Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray,</div> + <div>And pour on misty Doubt resistless day;</div> + <div>Should no false kindness lure to loose delight,</div> + <div>Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright;</div> + <div>Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain,</div> + <div>And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain;</div> + <div>Should beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart,</div> + <div>Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart;</div> + <div>Should no disease thy torpid veins invade,</div> + <div>Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade;</div> + <div>Yet hope not life from grief or danger free,</div> + <div>Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee:</div> + <div>Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes,</div> + <div>And pause awhile from Letters, to be wise;</div> + <div>There mark what ills the scholar's life assail,</div> + <div>Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.</div> + <div>See nations, slowly wise, and meanly just,</div> + <div>To buried merit raise the tardy bust.</div> + <div>If dreams yet flatter, once again attend,</div> + <div>Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end.</div> + <div class="in1">Nor deem, when Learning her last prize bestows,</div> + <div>The glitt'ring eminence exempt from woes;</div> + <div>See, when the vulgar 'scape, despis'd or aw'd,</div> + <div>Rebellion's vengeful talons seize on Laud.</div> + <div>From meaner minds though smaller fines content,</div> + <div>The plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent;</div> + <div>Mark'd out by dang'rous parts, he meets the shock,</div> + <div>And fatal Learning leads him to the block:</div> + <div>Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep,</div> + <div>But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep.</div> + <div class="in1">The festal blazes, the triumphal show,</div> + <div>The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe,</div> + <div>The senate's thanks, the Gazette's pompous tale,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[142]<a name="page142" id="page142"></a></span> + <div>With force resistless o'er the brave prevail.</div> + <div>Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd,</div> + <div>For such the steady Romans shook the world;</div> + <div>For such in distant lands the Britons shine,</div> + <div>And stain with blood the Danube or the Rhine;</div> + <div>This pow'r has praise that virtue scarce can warm,</div> + <div>Till fame supplies the universal charm.</div> + <div>Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal game,</div> + <div>Where wasted nations raise a single name;</div> + <div>And mortgag'd states their grandsires' wreaths regret,</div> + <div>From age to age in everlasting debt;</div> + <div>Wreaths which at last the dear-bought right convey,</div> + <div>To rust on medals, or on stones decay.</div> + <div class="in1">On what foundation stands the warrior's pride,</div> + <div>How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide;</div> + <div>A frame of adamant, a soul of fire,</div> + <div>No dangers fright him, and no labours tire;</div> + <div>O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain,</div> + <div>Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain;</div> + <div>No joys to him pacific sceptres yield,</div> + <div>War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field;</div> + <div>Behold surrounding kings their pow'r combine,</div> + <div>And one capitulate, and one resign;</div> + <div>Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain;</div> + <div>"Think nothing gain'd," he cries, "till nought remain,</div> + <div>On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly,</div> + <div>And all be mine beneath the polar sky".</div> + <div>The march begins in military state,</div> + <div>And nations on his eye suspended wait;</div> + <div>Stern Famine guards the solitary coast,</div> + <div>And Winter barricades the realm of Frost;</div> + <div>He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay;</div> + <div>Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's day:</div> + <div>The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands,</div> + <div>And shows his miseries in distant lands;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[143]<a name="page143" id="page143"></a></span> + <div>Condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait,</div> + <div>While ladies interpose, and slaves debate.</div> + <div>But did not Chance at length her error mend?</div> + <div>Did no subverted empire mark his end?</div> + <div>Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound?</div> + <div>Or hostile millions press him to the ground?</div> + <div>His fall was destin'd to a barren strand,</div> + <div>A petty fortress, and a dubious hand;</div> + <div>He left the name, at which the world grew pale</div> + <div>To point a moral, or adorn a tale.</div> + <div class="in1">All times their scenes of pompous woes afford,</div> + <div>From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord.</div> + <div>In gay hostility and barb'rous pride,</div> + <div>With half mankind embattled at his side,</div> + <div>Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey</div> + <div>And starves exhausted regions in his way;</div> + <div>Attendant Flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er,</div> + <div>Till counted myriads soothe his pride no more;</div> + <div>Fresh praise is try'd till madness fires his mind,</div> + <div>The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind,</div> + <div>New pow'rs are claim'd, new pow'rs are still bestow'd,</div> + <div>Till rude Resistance lops the spreading god;</div> + <div>The daring Greeks deride the martial show,</div> + <div>And heap their valleys with the gaudy foe;</div> + <div>Th' insulted sea with humbler thoughts he gains,</div> + <div>A single skiff to speed his flight remains;</div> + <div>Th' incumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast,</div> + <div>Through purple billows and a floating host.</div> + <div class="in1">The bold Bavarian, in a luckless hour,</div> + <div>Tries the dread summits of Cæsarian pow'r,</div> + <div>With unexpected legions bursts away,</div> + <div>And sees defenceless realms receive his sway;</div> + <div>Short sway! fair Austria spreads her mournful charms,</div> + <div>The queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms;</div> + <div>From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze</div> +<span class="pagenum">[144]<a name="page144" id="page144"></a></span> + <div>Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise;</div> + <div>The fierce Croatian, and the wild Hussar,</div> + <div>With all the sons of ravage crowd the war;</div> + <div>The baffled prince, in honour's flatt'ring bloom</div> + <div>Of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom;</div> + <div>His foes' derision, and his subjects' blame,</div> + <div>And steals to death from anguish and from shame.</div> + <div class="in1">Enlarge my life with multitude of days!</div> + <div>In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays:</div> + <div>Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know,</div> + <div>That life protracted is protracted woe.</div> + <div>Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy,</div> + <div>And shuts up all the passages of joy:</div> + <div>In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour,</div> + <div>The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r;</div> + <div>With listless eyes the dotard views the store,</div> + <div>He views, and wonders that they please no more:</div> + <div>Now pall the tasteless meats and joyless wines,</div> + <div>And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns.</div> + <div>Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain,</div> + <div>Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain:</div> + <div>No sounds, alas! would touch th' impervious ear,</div> + <div>Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus near;</div> + <div>Nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend,</div> + <div>Nor sweeter music of a virtuous friend;</div> + <div>But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue,</div> + <div>Perversely grave, or positively wrong.</div> + <div>The still returning tale, and ling'ring jest,</div> + <div>Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd guest.</div> + <div>While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer,</div> + <div>And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear;</div> + <div>The watchful guests still hint the last offence;</div> + <div>The daughter's petulance the son's expense,</div> + <div>Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill,</div> + <div>And mould his passions till they make his will.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[145]<a name="page145" id="page145"></a></span> + <div class="in1">Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade,</div> + <div>Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade;</div> + <div>But unextinguish'd Av'rice still remains,</div> + <div>And dreaded losses aggravate his pains;</div> + <div>He turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands,</div> + <div>His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands;</div> + <div>Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes,</div> + <div>Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies.</div> + <div class="in1">But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime</div> + <div>Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime;</div> + <div>An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay,</div> + <div>And glides in modest innocence away;</div> + <div>Whose peaceful day Benevolence endears,</div> + <div>Whose night congratulating Conscience cheers;</div> + <div>The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend;</div> + <div>Such age there is, and who shall wish its end?</div> + <div class="in1">Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune flings,</div> + <div>To press the weary minutes' flagging wings;</div> + <div>New sorrow rises as the day returns,</div> + <div>A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns.</div> + <div>Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier,</div> + <div>Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear;</div> + <div>Year chases year, decay pursues decay,</div> + <div>Still drops some joy from with'ring life away;</div> + <div>New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage,</div> + <div>Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage,</div> + <div>Till pitying Nature signs the last release,</div> + <div>And bids afflicted worth retire to peace.</div> + <div class="in1">But few there are whom hours like these await,</div> + <div>Who set unclouded in the gulfs of Fate.</div> + <div>From Lydia's monarch should the search descend,</div> + <div>By Solon caution'd to regard his end,</div> + <div>In life's last scene what prodigies surprise,</div> + <div>Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise!</div> + <div>From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[146]<a name="page146" id="page146"></a></span> + <div>And Swift expires a driv'ller and a show.</div> + <div class="in1">The teeming mother, anxious for her race,</div> + <div>Begs for each birth the fortune of a face;</div> + <div>Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring;</div> + <div>And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king.</div> + <div>Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes,</div> + <div>Whom Pleasure keeps too busy to be wise;</div> + <div>Whom joys with soft varieties invite,</div> + <div>By day the frolic, and the dance by night;</div> + <div>Who frown with vanity, who smile with art,</div> + <div>And ask the latent fashion of the heart;</div> + <div>What care, what rules, your heedless charms shall save,</div> + <div>Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave?</div> + <div>Against your fame with fondness hate combines,</div> + <div>The rival batters, and the lover mines.</div> + <div>With distant voice neglected Virtue calls,</div> + <div>Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance falls;</div> + <div>Tir'd with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry reign,</div> + <div>And Pride and Prudence take her seat in vain.</div> + <div>In crowd at once, where none the pass defend,</div> + <div>The harmless freedom, and the private friend.</div> + <div>The guardians yield, by force superior ply'd,</div> + <div>To Int'rest, Prudence; and to Flatt'ry, Pride.</div> + <div>Here Beauty falls betray'd, despis'd, distress'd,</div> + <div>And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest.</div> + <div class="in1">Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find?</div> + <div>Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind?</div> + <div>Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,</div> + <div>Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?</div> + <div>Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise,</div> + <div>No cries invoke the mercies of the skies?</div> + <div>Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain</div> + <div>Which Heav'n may hear, nor deem Religion vain.</div> + <div>Still raise for good the supplicating voice,</div> + <div>But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choice.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[147]<a name="page147" id="page147"></a></span> + <div>Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar</div> + <div>The secret ambush of a specious pray'r;</div> + <div>Implore his aid, in his decisions rest,</div> + <div>Secure, whate'er he gives, he gives the best.</div> + <div>Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires,</div> + <div>And strong devotion to the skies aspires,</div> + <div>Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind,</div> + <div>Obedient passions and a will resigned;</div> + <div>For love, which scarce collective man can fill;</div> + <div>For patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill;</div> + <div>For faith, that, panting for a happier seat,</div> + <div>Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat:</div> + <div>These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain,</div> + <div>These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain;</div> + <div>With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind,</div> + <div>And makes the happiness she does not find.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn213" id="fn213" href="#fnref213">[213]</a></span> +There is a tradition, that the study of Friar Bacon, +built on an arch over the bridge, will fall when a man greater than +Bacon shall pass under it. To prevent so shocking an accident, it was +pulled down many years since. +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xl" id="xl">XL.</a> LETTER TO THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Though perhaps scarcely a professedly satirical production in the + proper sense of the word, there are few more pungent satires than + the following letter. In Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i> we read, "When + the Dictionary was on the eve of publication. Lord Chesterfield, + who, it is said, had flattered himself with expectations that + Johnson would dedicate the work to him, attempted in a courtly + manner to soothe and insinuate himself with the sage, conscious, as + it would seem, of the cold indifference with which he had treated + its learned author, and further attempted to conciliate him by + writing two papers in the <i>World</i> in recommendation of the work.... + This courtly device failed of its effect. Johnson despised the + honeyed words, and he states 'I wrote him a letter expressed in + civil terms, but such as might show him that I did not mind what he + said or wrote, and that I had done with him'."</p></blockquote> + +<div class="right">February 7, 1755.</div> + +<p>"<span class="small">MY LORD</span>,</p> + +<p>"I have been lately informed by the proprietor of <i>The World</i> that two +papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were +written by your <span class="pagenum">[148]<a name="page148" id="page148"></a></span> +lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour which, +being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well +how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge.</p> + +<p>"When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I +was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your +address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself <i>Le +vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre</i>;—that I might obtain that regard +for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so +little encouraged that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to +continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in public, I had +exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar +can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to +have his all neglected, be it ever so little.</p> + +<p>"Seven years, my lord, have now past since I waited in your outward +rooms or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been +pushing on my work through difficulties of which it is useless to +complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, +without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile +of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron +before.</p> + +<p>"The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found +him a native of the rocks.</p> + +<p>"Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man +struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, +encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take +of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been +delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, +and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is +no very cynical asperity not <span class="pagenum">[149]<a name="page149" +id="page149"></a></span>to confess obligations where no benefit +has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider +me as owing that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to do for +myself.</p> + +<p>"Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any +favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should +conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long +wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so +much exultation.</p> + +<div class="in20">"<span class="small">MY LORD</span>,</div> +<br /> +<div class="right">"Your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant,</div> +<br /> +<div class="right">"SAM JOHNSON."</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OLIVER GOLDSMITH.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1728-1774.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xli" id="xli">XLI.</a> THE RETALIATION.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The origin of the following satire is told by Boswell (who was + prejudiced against Goldsmith) in this wise: "At a meeting of a + company of gentlemen who were well known to each other and + diverting themselves among other things with the peculiar oddities + of Dr. Goldsmith, who would never allow a superior in any art, from + writing poetry down to dancing a hornpipe, Goldsmith, with great + eagerness, insisted on matching his epigrammatic powers with + Garrick's. It was determined that each should write the other's + epitaph. Garrick immediately said his epitaph was finished, and + spoke the following distich extempore:</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div>"'Here lies Nolly Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll,</div> + <div>Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll'.</div> + </div> + </div> + + <p>"Goldsmith would not produce his at the time, but some weeks after, + read to the company this satire in which the characteristics of + them all were happily hit off."</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Of old, when Scarron his companions invited,</div> + <div>Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united;</div> + <div>If our landlord supplies us with beef and with fish,</div> + <div>Let each guest bring himself, and he brings a good dish:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[150]<a name="page150" id="page150"></a></span> + <div>Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains;</div> + <div>Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains;</div> + <div>Our Will shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour;</div> + <div>And Dick with his pepper shall heighten their savour;</div> + <div>Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain,</div> + <div>And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain:</div> + <div>Our Garrick a salad, for in him we see</div> + <div>Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree:</div> + <div>To make out the dinner, full certain I am</div> + <div>That Ridge is anchovy, and Reynolds is lamb;</div> + <div>That Hickey's a capon; and, by the same rule,</div> + <div>Magnanimous Goldsmith a gooseberry-fool.</div> + <div class="in1">At a dinner so various, at such a repast,</div> + <div>Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last?</div> + <div>Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm able,</div> + <div>Till all my companions sink under the table;</div> + <div>Then, with chaos and blunders encircling my head,</div> + <div>Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead.</div> + <div class="in1">Here lies the good Dean, reunited to earth,</div> + <div>Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth;</div> + <div>If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt,</div> + <div>At least in six weeks I could not find them out;</div> + <div>Yet some have declared, and it can't be denied them,</div> + <div>That Slyboots was cursedly cunning to hide them.</div> + <div class="in1">Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such,</div> + <div>We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much;</div> + <div>Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind,</div> + <div>And to party gave up what was meant for mankind:</div> + <div>Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat</div> + <div>To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote:</div> + <div>Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,</div> + <div>And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining;</div> + <div>Tho' equal to all things, for all things unfit,</div> + <div>Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit;</div> + <div>For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[151]<a name="page151" id="page151"></a></span> + <div>And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.</div> + <div>In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in place, sir,</div> + <div>To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.</div> + <div class="in1">Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint,</div> + <div>While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't;</div> + <div>The pupil of impulse, it forced him along,</div> + <div>His conduct still right, with his argument wrong;</div> + <div>Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam,</div> + <div>The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home:</div> + <div>Would you ask for his merits? alas, he had none!</div> + <div>What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own.</div> + <div class="in1">Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at,</div> + <div>Alas, that such frolic should now be so quiet!</div> + <div>What spirits were his, what wit and what whim,</div> + <div>Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb!</div> + <div>Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball,</div> + <div>Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all!</div> + <div>In short, so provoking a devil was Dick,</div> + <div>That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick,</div> + <div>But, missing his mirth and agreeable vein,</div> + <div>As often we wish'd to have Dick back again.</div> + <div class="in1">Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts,</div> + <div>The Terence of England, the mender of hearts;</div> + <div>A flattering painter, who made it his care</div> + <div>To draw men as they ought to be, not what they are.</div> + <div>His gallants are all faultless, his women divine,</div> + <div>And Comedy wonders at being so fine;</div> + <div>Like a tragedy-queen he has dizen'd her out,</div> + <div>Or rather like tragedy giving a rout.</div> + <div>His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd</div> + <div>Of virtues and feelings, that folly grows proud;</div> + <div>And coxcombs, alike in their failings alone,</div> + <div>Adopting his portraits, are pleased with their own.</div> + <div>Say, where has our poet this malady caught?</div> + <div>Or wherefore his characters thus without fault?</div> +<span class="pagenum">[152]<a name="page152" id="page152"></a></span> + <div>Say, was it, that vainly directing his view</div> + <div>To find out men's virtues, and finding them few,</div> + <div>Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf,</div> + <div>He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself?</div> + <div class="in1">Here Douglas retires from his toils to relax,</div> + <div>The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks.</div> + <div>Come, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines,</div> + <div>Come, and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclines</div> + <div>When satire and censure encircled his throne,</div> + <div>I fear'd for your safety, I fear'd for my own:</div> + <div>But now he is gone, and we want a detector,</div> + <div>Our Dodds shall be pious, our Kenricks shall lecture;</div> + <div>Macpherson write bombast, and call it a style;</div> + <div>Our Townshend make speeches, and I shall compile;</div> + <div>New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross over,</div> + <div>No countryman living their tricks to discover:</div> + <div>Detection her taper shall quench to a spark,</div> + <div>And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheat in the dark.</div> + <div class="in1">Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can?</div> + <div>An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man;</div> + <div>As an actor, confessed without rival to shine;</div> + <div>As a wit, if not first, in the very first line;</div> + <div>Yet with talents like these, and an excellent heart,</div> + <div>The man had his failings, a dupe to his art;</div> + <div>Like an ill-judging beauty his colours he spread,</div> + <div>And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red.</div> + <div>On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting:</div> + <div>'Twas only that when he was off he was acting;</div> + <div>With no reason on earth to go out of his way,</div> + <div>He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day:</div> + <div>Tho' secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick</div> + <div>If they were not his own by finessing and trick;</div> + <div>He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack,</div> + <div>For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[153]<a name="page153" id="page153"></a></span> + <div>Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came,</div> + <div>And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame;</div> + <div>Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease,</div> + <div>Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please.</div> + <div>But let us be candid, and speak out our mind:</div> + <div>If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind.</div> + <div>Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave,</div> + <div>What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave!</div> + <div>How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you raised,</div> + <div>When he was be-Roscius'd and you were bepraised!</div> + <div>But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies,</div> + <div>To act as an angel, and mix with the skies!</div> + <div>Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill,</div> + <div>Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will;</div> + <div>Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love,</div> + <div>And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.</div> + <div class="in1">Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature,</div> + <div>And Slander itself must allow him good-nature:</div> + <div>He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper:</div> + <div>Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper.</div> + <div>Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser?</div> + <div>I answer, no, no, for he always was wiser.</div> + <div>Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat?</div> + <div>His very worst foe can't accuse him of that.</div> + <div>Perhaps he confided in men as they go,</div> + <div>And so was too foolishly honest? Ah no!</div> + <div>Then what was his failing? Come, tell it, and burn ye,—</div> + <div>He was, could he help it? a special attorney.</div> + <div class="in1">Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind,</div> + <div>He has not left a wiser or better behind:</div> + <div>His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand:</div> + <div>His manners were gentle, complying, and bland;</div> + <div>Still born to improve us in every part,</div> + <div>His pencil our faces, his manners our heart:</div> + <div>To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[154]<a name="page154" id="page154"></a></span> + <div>When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing:</div> + <div>When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff,</div> + <div>He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xlii" id="xlii">XLII.</a> THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This piece was first printed in <i>The Busy Body</i> in 1759, in direct + imitation of the style of Swift. It was, therefore, improperly + included in the Dublin edition of Swift's works, and in the edition + of Swift edited by Sir Walter Scott.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Logicians have but ill defined</div> + <div>As rational the human mind,</div> + <div>Reason they say belongs to man,</div> + <div>But let them prove it if they can,</div> + <div>Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius</div> + <div>By ratiocinations specious</div> + <div>Have strove to prove with great precision,</div> + <div>With definition and division,</div> + <div><i>Homo est ratione preditum</i>;</div> + <div>But for my soul I cannot credit 'em.</div> + <div>And must in spite of them maintain,</div> + <div>That man and all his ways are vain:</div> + <div>And that this boasted lord of nature</div> + <div>Is both a weak and erring creature.</div> + <div>That instinct is a surer guide</div> + <div>Than reason, boasting mortals' pride;</div> + <div>And that brute beasts are far before 'em,</div> + <div><i>Deus est anima brutorum</i>.</div> + <div>Who ever knew an honest brute</div> + <div>At law his neighbour prosecute.</div> + <div>Bring action for assault and battery,</div> + <div>Or friend beguile with lies and flattery?</div> + <div>O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd.</div> + <div>No politics disturb the mind;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[155]<a name="page155" id="page155"></a></span> + <div>They eat their meals, and take their sport,</div> + <div>Nor know who's in or out at court;</div> + <div>They never to the levee go</div> + <div>To treat as dearest friend, a foe;</div> + <div>They never importune his Grace,</div> + <div>Nor ever cringe to men in place;</div> + <div>Nor undertake a dirty job,</div> + <div>Nor draw the quill to write for Bob:</div> + <div>Fraught with invective they ne'er go</div> + <div>To folks at Pater-Noster Row:</div> + <div>No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters,</div> + <div>No pickpockets, or poetasters,</div> + <div>Are known to honest quadrupeds,</div> + <div>No single brute his fellows leads.</div> + <div>Brutes never meet in bloody fray,</div> + <div>Nor cut each other's throats for pay.</div> + <div>Of beasts, it is confess'd, the ape</div> + <div>Comes nearest us in human shape.</div> + <div>Like man he imitates each fashion,</div> + <div>And malice is his ruling passion;</div> + <div>But both in malice and grimaces,</div> + <div>A courtier any ape surpasses.</div> + <div>Behold him humbly cringing wait</div> + <div>Upon the minister of state;</div> + <div>View him soon after to inferiors</div> + <div>Aping the conduct of superiors:</div> + <div>He promises with equal air,</div> + <div>And to perform takes equal care.</div> + <div>He in his turn finds imitators,</div> + <div>At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters,</div> + <div>Their master's manners still contract,</div> + <div>And footmen, lords and dukes can act,</div> + <div>Thus at the court both great and small</div> + <div>Behave alike, for all ape all.</div> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum">[156]<a name="page156" id="page156"></a></span> +<h3><a name="xliii" id="xliii">XLIII.</a> BEAU TIBBS, HIS CHARACTER AND FAMILY.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Johnson always maintained that there was a great deal of + Goldsmith's own nature and eccentricities portrayed in the + character of Beau Tibbs. The following piece constitutes Letter 54 + of the <i>Citizen of the World</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p>I am apt to fancy I have contracted a new acquaintance, whom it will be +no easy matter to shake off. My little beau yesterday overtook me again +in one of the public walks, and slapping me on the shoulder, saluted me +with an air of the most perfect familiarity. His dress was the same as +usual, except that he had more powder in his hair, wore a dirtier +shirt, a pair of temple spectacles, and his hat under his arm.</p> + +<p>As I knew him to be an harmless, amusing little thing, I could not +return his smiles with any degree of severity: so we walked forward on +terms of the utmost intimacy, and in a few minutes discussed all the +usual topics preliminary to particular conversation.</p> + +<p>The oddities that marked his character, however, soon began to appear; +he bowed to several well-dressed persons, who, by their manner of +returning the compliment, appeared perfect strangers. At intervals he +drew out a pocket-book, seeming to take memorandums before all the +company, with much importance and assiduity. In this manner he led me +through the length of the whole walk, fretting at his absurdities, and +fancying myself laughed at not less than him by every spectator.</p> + +<p>When we were got to the end of our procession, "Blast me," cries he, +with an air of vivacity, "I never saw the park so thin in my life +before; there's no company at all to-day; not a single face to be +seen." "No company," interrupted I, peevishly; "no company where there +is such <span class="pagenum">[157]<a name="page157" id="page157"></a></span> +a crowd! why man, there's too much. What are the thousands +that have been laughing at us but company!" "Lard, my dear," returned +he, with the utmost good-humour, "you seem immensely chagrined; but +blast me, when the world laughs at me, I laugh at all the world, and so +we are even. My Lord Trip, Bill Squash, the Creolian, and I sometimes +make a party at being ridiculous; and so we say and do a thousand +things for the joke. But I see you are grave, and if you are a fine +grave sentimental companion, you shall dine with me and my wife to-day, +I must insist on't; I'll introduce you to Mrs. Tibbs, a lady of as +elegant qualifications as any in nature; she was bred, but that's +between ourselves, under the inspection of the Countess of All-night. A +charming body of voice, but no more of that, she will give us a song. +You shall see my little girl too, Carolina Wilhelma Amelia Tibbs, a +sweet pretty creature; I design her for my Lord Drumstick's eldest son, +but that's in friendship, let it go no farther; she's but six years +old, and yet she walks a minuet, and plays on the guitar immensely +already. I intend she shall be as perfect as possible in every +accomplishment. In the first place I'll make her a scholar; I'll teach +her Greek myself, and learn that language purposely to instruct her; +but let that be a secret."</p> + +<p>Thus saying, without waiting for a reply, he took me by the arm, and +hauled me along. We passed through many dark alleys and winding ways; +for, from some motives, to me unknown, he seemed to have a particular +aversion to every frequented street; at last, however, we got to the +door of a dismal-looking house in the outlets of the town, where he +informed me he chose to reside for the benefit of the air.</p> + +<p>We entered the lower door, which ever seemed to lie most hospitably +open, and I began to ascend an old and <span class="pagenum">[158]<a +name="page158" id="page158"></a></span>creaking staircase, when, as he +mounted to show me the way, he demanded whether I delighted in +prospects, to which answering in the affirmative, "Then," says he, "I +shall show you one of the most charming in the world out of my windows; +we shall see the ships sailing, and the whole country for twenty miles +round, tip top, quite high. My Lord Swamp would give ten thousand +guineas for such an one; but as I sometimes pleasantly tell him, I +always love to keep my prospects at home, that my friends may see me +the oftener."</p> + +<p>By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would permit us to +ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the +first floor down the chimney; and knocking at the door, a voice from +within demanded, who's there? My conductor answered that it was him. +But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again repeated the +demand: to which he answered louder than before; and now the door was +opened by an old woman with cautious reluctance.</p> + +<p>When we were got in, he welcomed me to his house with great ceremony, +and turning to the old woman, asked where was her lady? "Good troth," +replied she, in a peculiar dialect, "she's washing your two shirts at +the next door, because they have taken an oath against lending out the +tub any longer." "My two shirts," cries he in a tone that faltered with +confusion, "what does the idiot mean!" "I ken what I mean well enough," +replied the other, "she's washing your two shirts at the next door, +because—" "Fire and fury! no more of thy stupid explanations," cried +he. "Go and inform her we have got company. Were that Scotch hag to be +for ever in the family, she would never learn politeness, nor forget +that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or testify the smallest specimen +of breeding or high life; and yet it is very surprising too, as I had +her from a parliament man, <span class="pagenum">[159]<a name="page159" +id="page159"></a></span>a friend of mine, from the highlands, one +of the politest men in the world; but that's a secret."</p> + +<p>We waited some time for Mrs. Tibbs' arrival, during which interval I +had a full opportunity of surveying the chamber and all its furniture; +which consisted of four chairs with old wrought bottoms, that he +assured me were his wife's embroidery; a square table that had been +once japanned, a cradle in one corner, a lumbering cabinet in the +other; a broken shepherdess, and a mandarin without a head, were stuck +over the chimney; and round the walls several paltry, unframed +pictures, which, he observed, were all his own drawing. "What do you +think, sir, of that head in a corner, done in the manner of Grisoni? +There's the true keeping in it; it's my own face, and though there +happens to be no likeness, a countess offered me an hundred for its +fellow. I refused her, for, hang it, that would be mechanical, you +know."</p> + +<p>The wife at last made her appearance, at once a slattern and a +coquette; much emaciated, but still carrying the remains of beauty. She +made twenty apologies for being seen in such odious dishabille, but +hoped to be excused, as she had stayed out all night at the gardens +with the countess, who was excessively fond of the horns. "And, indeed, +my dear," added she, turning to her husband, "his lordship drank your +health in a bumper." "Poor Jack," cries he, "a dear good-natured +creature, I know he loves me; but I hope, my dear, you have given +orders for dinner; you need make no great preparations neither, there +are but three of us, something elegant, and little will do; a turbot, +an ortolan, or a—" "Or what do you think, my dear," interrupts the +wife, "of a nice pretty bit of ox-cheek, piping hot, and dressed with a +little of my own sauce."—"The very thing," replies he, "it will eat +best with some smart bottled beer: but be sure to let's have the sauce +his grace was so fond of. I hate your <span class="pagenum">[160]<a +name="page160" id="page160"></a></span>immense loads of meat, that is +country all over; extreme disgusting to those who are in the least +acquainted with high life."</p> + +<p>By this time my curiosity began to abate, and my appetite to increase; +the company of fools may at first make us smile, but at last never +fails of rendering us melancholy; I therefore pretended to recollect a +prior engagement, and after having shown my respect to the house, +according to the fashion of the English, by giving the old servant a +piece of money at the door, I took my leave; Mr. Tibbs assuring me that +dinner, if I stayed, would be ready at least in less than two hours.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CHARLES CHURCHILL.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1731-1764.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xliv" id="xliv">XLIV.</a> THE JOURNEY.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Churchill devoted himself principally to satirical attacks upon + actors and the stage as a whole. His <i>Rosciad</i> created quite a + panic among the disciples of Thespis, even the mighty Garrick + courting this terrible <i>censor morum</i>. His own morals were but + indifferent.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Some of my friends (for friends I must suppose</div> + <div>All, who, not daring to appear my foes,</div> + <div>Feign great good-will, and not more full of spite</div> + <div>Than full of craft, under false colours fight)</div> + <div>Some of my friends (so lavishly I print)</div> + <div>As more in sorrow than in anger, hint</div> + <div>(Tho' that indeed will scarce admit a doubt)</div> + <div>That I shall run my stock of genius out,</div> + <div>My no great stock, and, publishing so fast,</div> + <div>Must needs become a bankrupt at the last.</div> + <div class="in1">Recover'd from the vanity of youth,</div> + <div>I feel, alas! this melancholy truth,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[161]<a name="page161" id="page161"></a></span> + <div>Thanks to each cordial, each advising friend,</div> + <div>And am, if not too late, resolv'd to mend,</div> + <div>Resolv'd to give some respite to my pen,</div> + <div>Apply myself once more to books and men,</div> + <div>View what is present, what is past review,</div> + <div>And my old stock exhausted, lay in new.</div> + <div>For twice six moons (let winds, turn'd porters, bear</div> + <div>This oath to Heav'n), for twice six moons, I swear,</div> + <div>No Muse shall tempt me with her siren lay,</div> + <div>Nor draw me from Improvement's thorny way;</div> + <div>Verse I abjure, nor will forgive that friend,</div> + <div>Who in my hearing shall a rhyme commend.</div> + <div class="in1">It cannot be—Whether I will, or no,</div> + <div>Such as they are, my thoughts in measure flow.</div> + <div>Convinc'd, determin'd, I in prose begin,</div> + <div>But ere I write one sentence, verse creeps in,</div> + <div>And taints me thro' and thro': by this good light,</div> + <div>In verse I talk by day, I dream by night;</div> + <div>If now and then I curse, my curses chime,</div> + <div>Nor can I pray, unless I pray in rhyme,</div> + <div>E'en now I err, in spite of common-sense,</div> + <div>And my confession doubles my offence.</div> + <div>Here is no lie, no gall, no art, no force;</div> + <div>Mean are the words, and such as come of course,</div> + <div>The subject not less simple than the lay;</div> + <div>A plain, unlabour'd Journey of a day.</div> + <div class="in1">Far from me now be ev'ry tuneful Maid,</div> + <div>I neither ask, nor can receive their aid.</div> + <div>Pegasus turn'd into a common hack,</div> + <div>Alone I jog, and keep the beaten track,</div> + <div>Nor would I have the Sisters of the Hill</div> + <div>Behold their bard in such a dishabille.</div> + <div>Absent, but only absent for a time,</div> + <div>Let them caress some dearer son of rhyme;</div> + <div>Let them, as far as decency permits,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[162]<a name="page162" id="page162"></a></span> + <div>Without suspicion, play the fool with wits,</div> + <div>'Gainst fools be guarded; 'tis a certain rule,</div> + <div>Wits are false things, there's danger in a fool.</div> + <div class="in1">Let them, tho' modest, Gray more modest woo;</div> + <div>Let them with Mason bleat, and bray, and coo;</div> + <div>Let them with Franklin, proud of some small Greek,</div> + <div>Make Sophocles disguis'd, in English speak;</div> + <div>Let them with Glover o'er Medea doze;</div> + <div>Let them with Dodsley wail Cleone's woes,</div> + <div>Whilst he, fine feeling creature, all in tears,</div> + <div>Melts, as they melt, and weeps with weeping peers;</div> + <div>Let them with simple Whitehead, taught to creep</div> + <div>Silent and soft, lay Fontenelle asleep;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref214" id="fnref214" href="#fn214">[214]</a></span></div> + <div>Let them with Browne contrive, to vulgar trick,</div> + <div>To cure the dead, and make the living sick;<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref215" id="fnref215" href="#fn215">[215]</a></span></div> + <div>Let them in charity to Murphy give</div> + <div>Some old French piece, that he may steal and live;</div> + <div>Let them with antic Foote subscriptions get,</div> + <div>And advertise a Summer-house of Wit.</div> + <div class="in1">Thus, or in any better way they please,</div> + <div>With these great men, or with great men like these,</div> + <div>Let them their appetite for laughter feed;</div> + <div>I on my Journey all alone proceed.</div> + <div class="in1">If fashionable grown, and fond of pow'r,</div> + <div>With hum'rous Scots let them disport their hour:</div> + <div>Let them dance, fairy-like, round Ossian's tomb;</div> + <div>Let them forge lies, and histories for Hume;</div> + <div>Let them with Home, the very prince of verse,</div> + <div>Make something like a Tragedy in Erse;</div> + <div>Under dark Allegory's flimsy veil</div> + <div>Let them with Ogilvie spin out a tale</div> + <div>Of rueful length; Let them plain things obscure,</div> + <div>Debase what's truly rich, and what is poor</div> +<span class="pagenum">[163]<a name="page163" id="page163"></a></span> + <div>Make poorer still by jargon most uncouth;</div> + <div>With ev'ry pert, prim prettiness of youth</div> + <div>Born of false Taste, with Fancy (like a child</div> + <div>Not knowing what it cries for) running wild,</div> + <div>With bloated style, by affectation taught,</div> + <div>With much false colouring, and little thought,</div> + <div>With phrases strange, and dialect decreed</div> + <div>By reason never to have pass'd the Tweed,</div> + <div>With words which Nature meant each other's foe,</div> + <div>Forc'd to compound whether they will or no;</div> + <div>With such materials let them, if they will,</div> + <div>To prove at once their pleasantry and skill,</div> + <div>Build up a bard to war 'gainst Common-Sense,</div> + <div>By way of compliment to Providence;</div> + <div>Let them with Armstrong, taking leave of Sense,</div> + <div>Read musty lectures on Benevolence,</div> + <div>Or con the pages of his gaping Day,</div> + <div>Where all his former fame was thrown away,</div> + <div>Where all but barren labour was forgot,</div> + <div>And the vain stiffness of a letter'd Scot;</div> + <div>Let them with Armstrong pass the term of light,</div> + <div>But not one hour of darkness; when the night</div> + <div>Suspends this mortal coil, when Memory wakes,</div> + <div>When for our past misdoings Conscience takes</div> + <div>A deep revenge, when by Reflection led,</div> + <div>She draws his curtain, and looks Comfort dead,</div> + <div>Let ev'ry Muse be gone; in vain he turns</div> + <div>And tries to pray for sleep; an Etna burns,</div> + <div>A more than Etna in his coward breast,</div> + <div>And Guilt, with vengeance arm'd, forbids him rest:</div> + <div>Tho' soft as plumage from young zephyr's wing,</div> + <div>His couch seems hard, and no relief can bring.</div> + <div>Ingratitude hath planted daggers there,</div> + <div>No good man can deserve, no brave man bear.</div> + <div class="in1">Thus, or in any better way they please,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[164]<a name="page164" id="page164"></a></span> + <div>With these great men, or with great men like these,</div> + <div>Let them their appetite for laughter feed</div> + <div>I on my Journey all alone proceed.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn214" id="fn214" href="#fnref214">[214]</a></span> +See <i>The School for Lovers</i>, by Mr. Whitehead, taken +from Fontenelle. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn215" id="fn215" href="#fnref215">[215]</a></span> +See <i>The Cure of Saul</i>, by Dr. Browne. +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h2>JUNIUS.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1769-1770-1771.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xlv" id="xlv">XLV.</a> TO THE KING.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The following is the famous letter which appeared in the <i>Public + Advertiser</i> for December 20th, 1769. This is also the one on which + the advocates of the theory that George, Lord Sackville, was the + writer of the <i>Letters of Junius</i> lay such stress.</p></blockquote> + +<br /><br /> + +<div class="center"><i>To the Printer of the "Public Advertiser</i>".</div> + +<div class="right">December 19, 1769.</div> + +<p>SIR,</p> + +<p>When the complaints of a brave and powerful people are observed to +increase in proportion to the wrongs they have suffered, when, instead +of sinking into submission, they are roused to resistance, the time +will soon arrive at which every inferior consideration must yield to +the security of the sovereign, and to the general safety of the state. +There is a moment of difficulty and danger at which flattery and +falsehood can no longer deceive, and simplicity itself can no longer be +misled. Let us suppose it arrived; let us suppose a gracious, +well-intentioned prince, made sensible at last of the great duty he +owes to his people, and of his own disgraceful situation; that he looks +round him for assistance, and asks for no advice but how to gratify the +wishes and secure the happiness of his subjects. In these +circumstances, it may be matter of curious <i>speculation</i> to consider, +if an honest man were permitted to approach a king, in what <span +class="pagenum">[165]<a name="page165" id="page165"></a></span>terms he +would address himself to his sovereign. Let it be imagined, no matter +how improbable, that the first prejudice against his character is +removed; that the ceremonious difficulties of an audience are +surmounted; that he feels himself animated by the purest and most +honourable affections to his king and country; and that the great +person whom he addresses has spirit enough to bid him speak freely, and +understanding enough to listen to him with attention. Unacquainted with +the vain impertinence of forms, he would deliver his sentiments with +dignity and firmness, but not without respect.</p> + +<p>Sir,</p> + +<p>It is the misfortune of your life, and originally the cause of every +reproach and distress which has attended your government, that you +should never have been acquainted with the language of truth until you +heard it in the complaints of your people. It is not, however, too late +to correct the error of your education. We are still inclined to make +an indulgent allowance for the pernicious lessons you received in your +youth, and to form the most sanguine hopes from the natural benevolence +of your disposition. We are far from thinking you capable of a direct, +deliberate purpose to invade those original rights of your subjects on +which all their civil and political liberties depend. Had it been +possible for us to entertain a suspicion so dishonourable to your +character, we should long since have adopted a style of remonstrance +very distant from the humility of complaint. The doctrine inculcated by +our laws, <i>That the king can do no-wrong,</i> is admitted without +reluctance. We separate the amiable, good-natured prince from the folly +and treachery of his servants, and the private virtues of the man from +the vices of his government. Were it not for this just distinction, I +know not whether your <span class="pagenum">[166]<a name="page166" +id="page166"></a></span>Majesty's condition, or that of the English +nation, would deserve most to be lamented. I would prepare your mind +for a favourable reception of truth by removing every painful, +offensive idea of personal reproach. Your subjects, Sir, wish for +nothing but that, as <i>they</i> are reasonable and affectionate enough to +separate your person from your government, so <i>you</i>, in your turn, +should distinguish between the conduct which becomes the permanent +dignity of a king and that which serves only to promote the temporary +interest and miserable ambition of a minister.</p> + +<p>You ascended the throne with a declared—and, I doubt not, a +sincere—resolution of giving universal satisfaction to your subjects. +You found them pleased with the novelty of a young prince whose +countenance promised even more than his words, and loyal to you, not +only from principle, but passion. It was not a cold profession of +allegiance to the first magistrate, but a partial, animated attachment +to a favourite prince, the native of their country. They did not wait +to examine your conduct nor to be determined by experience, but gave +you a generous credit for the future blessings of your reign, and paid +you in advance the dearest tribute of their affections. Such, Sir, was +once the disposition of a people who now surround your throne with +reproaches and complaints.—Do justice to yourself. Banish from your +mind those unworthy opinions with which some interested persons have +laboured to possess you.—Distrust the men who tell you that the +English are naturally light and inconstant; that they complain without +a cause. Withdraw your confidence equally from all parties—from +ministers, favourites, and relations; and let there be one moment in +your life in which you have consulted your own understanding.</p> + +<p>When you affectedly renounced the name of <span class="pagenum">[167]<a +name="page167" id="page167"></a></span>Englishman, believe me, Sir, +you were persuaded to pay a very ill-judged compliment to one part of +your subjects at the expense of another. While the natives of Scotland +are not in actual rebellion, they are undoubtedly entitled to +protection; nor do I mean to condemn the policy of giving some +encouragement to the novelty of their affections for the House of +Hanover. I am ready to hope for everything from their new-born zeal, +and from the future steadiness of their allegiance, but hitherto they +have no claim to your favour. To honour them with a determined +predilection and confidence, in exclusion of your English subjects, who +placed your family, and, in spite of treachery and rebellion, have +supported it, upon the throne, is a mistake too gross even for the +unsuspecting generosity of youth. In this error we see a capital +violation of the most obvious rules of policy and prudence. We trace +it, however, to an original bias in your education, and are ready to +allow for your inexperience.</p> + +<p>To the same early influence we attribute it that you have descended to +take a share, not only in the narrow views and interests of particular +persons, but in the fatal malignity of their passions. At your +accession to the throne the whole system of government was altered, not +from wisdom or deliberation, but because it had been adopted by your +predecessor. A little personal motive of pique and resentment was +sufficient to remove the ablest servants of the Crown; but it is not in +this country, Sir, that such men can be dishonoured by the frowns of a +king. They were dismissed, but could not be disgraced. Without entering +into a minuter discussion of the merits of the peace, we may observe, +in the imprudent hurry with which the first overtures from France were +accepted, in the conduct of the negotiation, and terms of the treaty, +the strongest marks of that precipitate spirit of concession with which +a certain part of your subjects have been at <span class="pagenum">[168]<a +name="page168" id="page168"></a></span>all times ready to +purchase a peace with the natural enemies of this country. On <i>your</i> +part we are satisfied that everything was honourable and sincere; and, +if England was sold to France, we doubt not that your Majesty was +equally betrayed. The conditions of the peace were matter of grief and +surprise to your subjects, but not the immediate cause of their present +discontent.</p> + +<p>Hitherto, Sir, you had been sacrificed to the prejudices and passions +of others. With what firmness will you bear the mention of your own?</p> + +<p>A man, not very honourably distinguished in the world, commences a +formal attack upon your favourite, considering nothing but how he might +best expose his person and principles to detestation, and the national +character of his countrymen to contempt. The natives of that country, +Sir, are as much distinguished by a peculiar character as by your +Majesty's favour. Like another chosen people, they have been conducted +into the land of plenty, where they find themselves effectually marked +and divided from mankind. There is hardly a period at which the most +irregular character may not be redeemed. The mistakes of one sex find a +retreat in patriotism, those of the other in devotion. Mr. Wilkes +brought with him into politics the same liberal sentiments by which his +private conduct had been directed, and seemed to think that, as there +are few excesses in which an English gentleman may not be permitted to +indulge, the same latitude was allowed him in the choice of his +political principles, and in the spirit of maintaining them. I mean to +state, not entirely to defend, his conduct. In the earnestness of his +zeal he suffered some unwarrantable insinuations to escape him. He said +more than moderate men would justify, but not enough to entitle him to +the honour of your Majesty's personal resentment. The rays of royal +indignation, collected upon him, served <span class="pagenum">[169]<a +name="page169" id="page169"></a></span>only to illuminate, and could +not consume. Animated by the favour of the people on the one side, and +heated by persecution on the other, his views and sentiments changed +with his situation. Hardly serious at first, he is now an enthusiast. +The coldest bodies warm with opposition, the hardest sparkle in +collision.—There is a holy, mistaken zeal in politics as well as +religion. By persuading others, we convince ourselves. The passions are +engaged, and create a material affection in the mind, which forces us +to love the cause for which we suffer. Is this a contention worthy of a +king? Are you not sensible how much the meanness of the cause gives an +air of ridicule to the serious difficulties into which you have been +betrayed? The destruction of one man has been now, for many years, the +sole object of your government; and, if there can be anything still +more disgraceful, we have seen, for such an object, the utmost +influence of the executive power, and every ministerial artifice, +exerted without success. Nor can you ever succeed, unless he should be +imprudent enough to forfeit the protection of those laws to which you +owe your crown, or unless your minister should persuade you to make it +a question of force alone, and try the whole strength of government in +opposition to the people. The lessons he has received from experience +will probably guard him from such excess of folly, and in your +Majesty's virtues we find an unquestionable assurance that no illegal +violence will be attempted.</p> + +<p>Far from suspecting you of so horrible a design, we would attribute his +continued violation of the laws, and even the last enormous attack upon +the vital principles of the constitution, to an ill-advised, unworthy, +personal resentment. From one false step you have been betrayed into +another, and, as the cause was unworthy of you, your ministers were +determined that the prudence <span class="pagenum">[170]<a name="page170" +id="page170"></a></span>executed should correspond with the +wisdom and dignity of the design. They have reduced you to the +necessity of choosing out of a variety of difficulties; to a situation +so unhappy that you can neither do wrong without ruin, nor right +without affliction. These worthy servants have undoubtedly given you +many singular proofs of their abilities. Not contented with making Mr. +Wilkes a man of importance, they have judiciously transferred the +question from the rights and interests of one man to the most important +rights and interests of the people, and forced your subjects from +wishing well to the cause of an individual to unite with him in their +own. Let them proceed as they have begun, and your Majesty need not +doubt that the catastrophe will do no dishonour to the conduct of the +piece.</p> + +<p>The circumstances to which you are reduced will not admit of a +compromise with the English nation. Undecisive, qualifying measures +will disgrace your government still more than open violence, and, +without satisfying the people, will excite their contempt. They have +too much understanding and spirit to accept of an indirect satisfaction +for a direct injury. Nothing less than a repeal, as formal as the +resolution itself, can heal the wound which has been given to the +constitution, nor will anything less be accepted. I can readily believe +that there is an influence sufficient to recall that pernicious vote. +The House of Commons undoubtedly consider their duty to the Crown as +paramount to all other obligations. To us they are only indebted for an +accidental existence, and have justly transferred their gratitude from +their parents to their benefactors, from those who gave them birth to +the minister from whose benevolence they derive the comforts and +pleasure of their political life, who has taken the tenderest care of +their infancy and relieves their necessities without offending their +delicacy. But <span class="pagenum">[171]<a name="page171" id="page171"></a></span> +if it were possible for their integrity to be degraded +to a condition so vile and abject that, compared with it, the present +estimation they stand in is a state of honour and respect, consider, +Sir, in what manner you will afterwards proceed. Can you conceive that +the people of this country will long submit to be governed by so +flexible a House of Commons? It is not in the nature of human society +that any form of government, in such circumstances, can long be +preserved. In ours, the general contempt of the people is as fatal as +their detestation. Such, I am persuaded, would be the necessary effect +of any base concession made by the present House of Commons, and, as a +qualifying measure would not be accepted, it remains for you to decide +whether you will, at any hazard, support a set of men who have reduced +you to this unhappy dilemma, or whether you will gratify the united +wishes of the whole people of England by dissolving the Parliament.</p> + +<p>Taking it for granted, as I do very sincerely, that you have personally +no design against the constitution, nor any view inconsistent with the +good of your subjects, I think you cannot hesitate long upon the choice +which it equally concerns your interests and your honour to adopt. On +one side you hazard the affection of all your English subjects, you +relinquish every hope of repose to yourself, and you endanger the +establishment of your family for ever. All this you venture for no +object whatsoever, or for such an object as it would be an affront to +you to name. Men of sense will examine your conduct with suspicion, +while those who are incapable of comprehending to what degree they are +injured afflict you with clamours equally insolent and unmeaning. +Supposing it possible that no fatal struggle should ensue, you +determine at once to be unhappy, without the hope of a compensation +either from interest or ambition. If an <span class="pagenum">[172]<a +name="page172" id="page172"></a></span>English king be hated or +despised, he <i>must</i> be unhappy; and this, perhaps, is the only +political truth which he ought to be convinced of without experiment. +But if the English people should no longer confine their resentment to +a submissive representation of their wrongs; if, following the glorious +example of their ancestors, they should no longer appeal to the +creature of the constitution, but to that high Being who gave them the +rights of humanity, whose gifts it were sacrilege to surrender, let me +ask you, Sir, upon what part of your subjects would you rely for +assistance?</p> + +<p>The people of Ireland have been uniformly plundered and oppressed. In +return they give you every day fresh marks of their resentment. They +despise the miserable governor you have sent them, because he is the +creature of Lord Bute, nor is it from any natural confusion in their +ideas that they are so ready to confound the original of a king with +the disgraceful representation of him.</p> + +<p>The distance of the colonies would make it impossible for them to take +an active concern in your affairs, if they were as well affected to +your government as they once pretended to be to your person. They were +ready enough to distinguish between you and your ministers. They +complained of an act of the legislature, but traced the origin of it no +higher than to the servants of the Crown; they pleased themselves with +the hope that their sovereign, if not favourable to their cause, at +least was impartial. The decisive personal part you took against them +has effectually banished that first distinction from their minds. They +consider you as united with your servants against America, and know how +to distinguish the sovereign and a venal parliament on one side from +the real sentiments of the English people on the other. Looking forward +to independence, they might possibly receive you for their king; but, +if ever you retire to America, be assured they <span class="pagenum">[173]<a +name="page173" id="page173"></a></span>will give you such a +covenant to digest as the presbytery of Scotland would have been +ashamed to offer to Charles the Second. They left their native land in +search of freedom, and found it in a desert. Divided as they are into a +thousand forms of policy and religion, there is one point in which they +all agree: they equally detest the pageantry of a king and the +supercilious hypocrisy of a bishop.</p> + +<p>It is not, then, from the alienated affections of Ireland or America +that you can reasonably look for assistance; still less from the people +of England, who are actually contending for their rights, and in this +great question are parties against you. You are not, however, destitute +of every appearance of support: you have all the Jacobites, Non-jurors, +Roman Catholics, and Tories of this country, and all Scotland, without +exception. Considering from what family you are descended, the choice +of your friends has been singularly directed; and truly, Sir, if you +had not lost the Whig interest of England, I should admire your +dexterity in turning the hearts of your enemies. Is it possible for you +to place any confidence in men who, before they are faithful to you, +must renounce every opinion and betray every principle, both in church +and state, which they inherit from their ancestors and are confirmed in +by their education; whose numbers are so inconsiderable that they have +long since been obliged to give up the principles and language which +distinguish them as a party, and to fight under the banners of their +enemies? Their zeal begins with hypocrisy, and must conclude in +treachery. At first they deceive, at last they betray.</p> + +<p>As to the Scotch, I must suppose your heart and understanding so +biassed from your earliest infancy in their favour that nothing less +than <i>your own</i> misfortunes can undeceive you. You will not accept of +the uniform <span class="pagenum">[174]<a name="page174" id="page174"></a></span> +experience of your ancestors; and, when once a man is +determined to believe, the very absurdity of the doctrine confirms him +in his faith. A bigoted understanding can draw a proof of attachment to +the House of Hanover from a notorious zeal for the House of Stuart, and +find an earnest of future loyalty in former rebellions. Appearances +are, however, in their favour: so strongly, indeed, that one would +think they had forgotten that you are their lawful king, and had +mistaken you for a pretender to the crown. Let it be admitted, then, +that the Scotch are as sincere in their present professions as if you +were in reality, not an Englishman, but a Briton of the North. You +would not be the first prince of their native country against whom they +have rebelled, nor the first whom they have basely betrayed. Have you +forgotten, Sir, or has your favourite concealed from you, that part of +our history when the unhappy Charles (and he, too, had private virtues) +fled from the open, avowed indignation of his English subjects, and +surrendered himself at discretion to the good faith of his own +countrymen? Without looking for support in their affections as +subjects, he applied only to their honour as gentlemen for protection. +They received him, as they would your Majesty, with bows and smiles and +falsehood, and kept him until they had settled their bargain with the +English parliament, then basely sold their native king to the vengeance +of his enemies. This, Sir, was not the act of a few traitors, but the +deliberate treachery of a Scotch parliament representing the nation. A +wise prince might draw from it two lessons of equal utility to himself. +On one side he might learn to dread the undisguised resentment of a +generous people who dare openly assert their rights, and who in a just +cause are ready to meet their sovereign in the field. On the other side +he would be taught to apprehend something far more formidable: a +<span class="pagenum">[175]<a name="page175" id="page175"></a></span> +fawning treachery against which no prudence can guard, no courage can +defend. The insidious smile upon the cheek would warn him of the canker +in the heart.</p> + +<p>From the uses to which one part of the army has been too frequently +applied, you have some reason to expect that there are no services they +would refuse. Here, too, we trace the partiality of your understanding. +You take the sense of the army from the conduct of the guards, with the +same justice with which you collect the sense of the people from the +representations of the ministry. Your marching regiments, Sir, will not +make the guards their example either as soldiers or subjects. They feel +and resent, as they ought to do, that invariable, undistinguishing +favour with which the guards are treated, while those gallant troops, +by whom every hazardous, every laborious service is performed, are left +to perish in garrisons abroad, or pine in quarters at home, neglected +and forgotten. If they had no sense of the great original duty they owe +their country, their resentment would operate like patriotism, and +leave your cause to be defended by those on whom you have lavished the +rewards and honours of their profession. The Prætorian bands, enervated +and debauched as they were, had still strength enough to awe the Roman +populace, but when the distant legions took the alarm they marched to +Rome and gave away the empire.</p> + +<p>On this side, then, whichever way you turn your eyes, you see nothing +but perplexity and distress. You may determine to support the very +ministry who have reduced your affairs to this deplorable situation; +you may shelter yourself under the forms of a parliament, and set the +people at defiance; but be assured, Sir, that such a resolution would +be as imprudent as it would be odious. If it did not immediately shake +your establishment, it would rob you of your peace of mind for ever.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[176]<a name="page176" id="page176"></a></span> +On the other, how different is the prospect! How easy, how safe and +honourable, is the path before you! The English nation declare they are +grossly injured by their representatives, and solicit your Majesty to +exert your lawful prerogative, and give them an opportunity of +recalling a trust which they find has been scandalously abused. You are +not to be told that the power of the House of Commons is not original, +but delegated to them for the welfare of the people, from whom they +received it. A question of right arises between the constituent and the +representative body. By what authority shall it be decided? Will your +Majesty interfere in a question in which you have, properly, no +immediate concern? It would be a step equally odious and unnecessary. +Shall the Lords be called upon to determine the rights and privileges +of the Commons? They cannot do it without a flagrant breach of the +constitution. Or will you refer it to the judges? They have often told +your ancestors that the law of parliament is above them. What part then +remains but to leave it to the people to determine for themselves? They +alone are injured, and since there is no superior power to which the +cause can be referred, they alone ought to determine.</p> + +<p>I do not mean to perplex you with a tedious argument upon a subject +already so discussed that inspiration could hardly throw a new light +upon it. There are, however, two points of view in which it +particularly imports your Majesty to consider the late proceedings of +the House of Commons. By depriving a subject of his birthright they +have attributed to their own vote an authority equal to an act of the +whole legislature, and, though perhaps not with the same motives, have +strictly followed the example of the Long Parliament, which first +declared the regal office useless, and soon after, with as little +ceremony, dissolved the House of Lords. The same pretended power which +<span class="pagenum">[177]<a name="page177" id="page177"></a></span> +robs an English subject of his birthright may rob an English king of +his crown. In another view, the resolution of the House of Commons, +apparently not so dangerous to your Majesty, is still more alarming to +your people. Not contented with divesting one man of his right, they +have arbitrarily conveyed that right to another. They have set aside a +return as illegal, without daring to censure those officers who were +particularly apprised of Mr. Wilkes' incapacity, not only by the +declaration of the House, but expressly by the writ directed to them, +and who, nevertheless, returned him as duly elected. They have rejected +the majority of votes, the only criterion by which our laws judge of +the sense of the people; they have transferred the right of election +from the collective to the representative body; and by these acts, +taken separately or together, they have essentially altered the +original constitution of the House of Commons. Versed as your Majesty +undoubtedly is in the English history, it cannot escape you how much it +is your interest as well as your duty to prevent one of the three +estates from encroaching upon the province of the other two, or +assuming the authority of them all. When once they have departed from +the great constitutional line by which all their proceedings should be +directed, who will answer for their future moderation? Or what +assurance will they give you that, when they have trampled upon their +equals, they will submit to a superior? Your Majesty may learn +hereafter how nearly the slave and tyrant are allied.</p> + +<p>Some of your council, more candid than the rest, admit the abandoned +profligacy of the present House of Commons, but oppose their +dissolution, upon an opinion, I confess, not very unwarrantable, that +their successors would be equally at the disposal of the treasury. I +cannot persuade myself that the nation will have profited so little by +experience. But if that opinion were well founded, <span class="pagenum">[178]<a +name="page178" id="page178"></a></span>you might then +gratify our wishes at an easy rate, and appease the present clamour +against your government, without offering any material injury to the +favourite cause of corruption.</p> + +<p>You have still an honourable part to act. The affections of your +subjects may still be recovered. But before you subdue their hearts you +must gain a noble victory over your own. Discard those little, personal +resentments which have too long directed your public conduct. Pardon +this man the remainder of his punishment; and, if resentment still +prevails, make it what it should have been long since—an act, not of +mercy, but of contempt. He will soon fall back into his natural +station, a silent senator, and hardly supporting the weekly eloquence +of a newspaper. The gentle breath of peace would leave him on the +surface, neglected and unremoved. It is only the tempest that lifts him +from his place.</p> + +<p>Without consulting your minister, call together your whole council. Let +it appear to the public that you can determine and act for yourself. +Come forward to your people. Lay aside the wretched formalities of a +king, and speak to your subjects with the spirit of a man and in the +language of a gentleman. Tell them you have been fatally deceived. The +acknowledgment will be no disgrace, but rather an honour, to your +understanding. Tell them you are determined to remove every cause of +complaint against your government, that you will give your confidence +to no man who does not possess the confidence of your subjects, and +leave it to themselves to determine, by their conduct at a future +election, whether or no it be in reality the general sense of the +nation that their rights have been arbitrarily invaded by the present +House of Commons, and the constitution betrayed. They will then do +justice to their representatives and to themselves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[179]<a name="page179" id="page179"></a></span> +These sentiments, Sir, and the style they are conveyed in, may be +offensive, perhaps, because they are new to you. Accustomed to the +language of courtiers, you measure their affections by the vehemence of +their expressions, and when they only praise you indifferently, you +admire their sincerity. But this is not a time to trifle with your +fortune. They deceive you, Sir, who tell you that you have many +friends, whose affections are founded upon a principle of personal +attachment. The first foundation of friendship is not the power of +conferring benefits, but the equality with which they are received and +may be returned. The fortune which made you a king forbade you to have +a friend. It is a law of nature which cannot be violated with impunity. +The mistaken prince who looks for friendship will find a favourite, and +in that favourite the ruin of his affairs.</p> + +<p>The people of England are loyal to the House of Hanover, not from a +vain preference of one family to another, but from a conviction that +the establishment of that family was necessary to the support of their +civil and religious liberties. This, Sir, is a principle of allegiance +equally solid and rational, fit for Englishmen to adopt, and well +worthy of your Majesty's encouragement. We cannot long be deluded by +nominal distinctions. The name of Stuart, of itself, is only +contemptible; armed with the sovereign authority, their principles are +formidable. The prince who imitates their conduct should be warned by +their example, and, while he plumes himself upon the security of his +title to the crown, should remember that, as it was acquired by one +revolution, it may be lost by another.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[180]<a name="page180" id="page180"></a></span> +<h2>ROBERT BURNS.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1759-1796.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xlvi" id="xlvi">XLVI.</a> ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>My son, these maxims make a rule,</div> + <div class="in1">And lump them aye thegither;</div> + <div>The Rigid Righteous is a fool,</div> + <div class="in1">The Rigid Wise anither;</div> + <div>The cleanest corn that ere was dight</div> + <div class="in1">May ha'e some pyles o' caff in;</div> + <div>So ne'er a fellow-creature slight</div> + <div class="in1">For random fits o' daffin'.—<i>Solomon</i>.—Eccles. vii. 16.</div> +</div> +</div> + + <blockquote><p>This undoubtedly ranks as one of the noblest satires in our + literature. It was first published as a broadside, and afterwards + incorporated in the Kilmarnock and Edinburgh editions.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Oh ye wha are sae guid yoursel',</div> + <div class="in1">Sae pious an' sae holy,</div> + <div>Ye've nought to do but mark an' tell</div> + <div class="in1">Your neebour's fauts an' folly!</div> + <div>Whase life is like a weel-gaun<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref216" + id="fnref216" href="#fn216">[216]</a></span> mill,</div> + <div class="in1">Supplied wi' store o' water,</div> + <div>The heaped happer's<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref217" + id="fnref217" href="#fn217">[217]</a></span> ebbing still,</div> + <div class="in1">An' still the clap plays clatter.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Hear me, ye venerable core,</div> + <div class="in1">As counsel for poor mortals,</div> + <div>That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door,</div> + <div class="in1">For glaiket<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref218" + id="fnref218" href="#fn218">[218]</a></span> Folly's portals;</div> + <div>I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes,</div> + <div class="in1">Would here propone defences,</div> + <div>Their donsie<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref219" id="fnref219" + href="#fn219">[219]</a></span> tricks, their black mistakes</div> + <div class="in1">Their failings an' mischances.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[181]<a name="page181" id="page181"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd,</div> + <div class="in1">An' shudder at the niffer<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref220" id="fnref220" href="#fn220">[220]</a></span>,</div> + <div>But cast a moment's fair regard,</div> + <div class="in1">What mak's the mighty differ?</div> + <div>Discount what scant occasion gave</div> + <div class="in1">That purity ye pride in,</div> + <div>An' (what's aft mair than a' the lave)</div> + <div class="in1">Your better art o' hiding.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Think, when your castigated pulse</div> + <div class="in1">Gi'es now an' then a wallop,</div> + <div>What ragings must his veins convulse,</div> + <div class="in1">That still eternal gallop.</div> + <div>Wi' wind an' tide fair i' your tail,</div> + <div class="in1">Right on ye scud your sea-way;</div> + <div>But in the teeth o' baith to sail,</div> + <div class="in1">It makes an unco lee-way.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>See social life an' glee sit down,</div> + <div class="in1">All joyous an' unthinking,</div> + <div>Till, quite transmugrified, they're grown</div> + <div class="in1">Debauchery an' drinking:</div> + <div>Oh would they stay to calculate</div> + <div class="in1">Th' eternal consequences;</div> + <div>Or your more dreaded hell to state,</div> + <div class="in1">Damnation of expenses!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames,</div> + <div class="in1">Tied up in godly laces,</div> + <div>Before ye gi'e poor frailty names,</div> + <div class="in1">Suppose a change o' cases;</div> + <div>A dear loved lad, convenience snug,</div> + <div class="in1">A treacherous inclination—</div> + <div>But, let me whisper i' your lug<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref221" + id="fnref221" href="#fn221">[221]</a></span>,</div> + <div class="in1">Ye'er aiblins<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref222" + id="fnref222" href="#fn222">[222]</a></span> nae temptation.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[182]<a name="page182" id="page182"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Then gently scan your brother man,</div> + <div class="in1">Still gentler sister woman;</div> + <div>Though they may gang a kennin' wrang,</div> + <div class="in1">To step aside is human:</div> + <div>One point must still be greatly dark,</div> + <div class="in1">The moving why they do it:</div> + <div>An' just as lamely can ye mark,</div> + <div class="in1">How far perhaps they rue it.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Who made the heart, 'tis He alone</div> + <div class="in1">Decidedly can try us,</div> + <div>He knows each chord—its various tone,</div> + <div class="in1">Each spring—its various bias:</div> + <div>Then at the balance let's be mute,</div> + <div class="in1">We never can adjust it;</div> + <div>What's done we partly may compute,</div> + <div class="in1">But know not what's resisted.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn216" id="fn216" href="#fnref216">[216]</a></span> +well-going. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn217" id="fn217" href="#fnref217">[217]</a></span> +hopper. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn218" id="fn218" href="#fnref218">[218]</a></span> +idle. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn219" id="fn219" href="#fnref219">[219]</a></span> +unlucky. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn220" id="fn220" href="#fnref220">[220]</a></span> +exchange. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn221" id="fn221" href="#fnref221">[221]</a></span> +ear. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn222" id="fn222" href="#fnref222">[222]</a></span> +perhaps. +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="xlvii" id="xlvii">XLVII.</a> HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The hero of this daring exposition of Calvinistic theology was + William Fisher, a farmer in the neighbourhood of Mauchline, and an + elder in Mr. Auld's session. He had signalized himself in the + prosecution of Mr. Hamilton, elsewhere alluded to; and Burns + appears to have written these verses in retribution of the rancour + he had displayed on that occasion. Fisher was afterwards convicted + of appropriating the money collected for the poor. Coming home one + night from market in a state of intoxication, he fell into a ditch, + where he was found dead next morning. The poem was first published + in 1801, along with the "Jolly Beggars".</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Oh Thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell,</div> + <div>Wha, as it pleases best thysel',</div> + <div>Sends ane to heaven, an' ten to hell,</div> + <div class="in7">A' for thy glory,</div> + <div>An' no for ony guid or ill</div> + <div class="in7">They've done afore thee!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[183]<a name="page183" id="page183"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I bless an' praise thy matchless might,</div> + <div>Whan thousands thou hast left in night,</div> + <div>That I am here afore thy sight,</div> + <div class="in7">For gifts an' grace</div> + <div>A burnin' and a shinin' light</div> + <div class="in7">To a' this place.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>What was I, or my generation,</div> + <div>That I should get sic exaltation,</div> + <div>I wha deserve sic just damnation,</div> + <div class="in7">For broken laws,</div> + <div>Five thousand years 'fore my creation,</div> + <div class="in7">Thro' Adam's cause?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>When frae my mither's womb I fell,</div> + <div>Thou might ha'e plunged me deep in hell,</div> + <div>To gnash my gums, to weep an' wail,</div> + <div class="in7">In burnin' lake,</div> + <div>Whare damned devils roar an' yell,</div> + <div class="in7">Chain'd to a stake.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Yet I am here, a chosen sample;</div> + <div>To show thy grace is great an' ample;</div> + <div>I'm here a pillar in thy temple,</div> + <div class="in7">Strong as a rock,</div> + <div>A guide, a buckler, an example,</div> + <div class="in7">To a' thy flock.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>But yet, oh Lord! confess I must,</div> + <div>At times I'm fash'd<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref223" + id="fnref223" href="#fn223">[223]</a></span> wi' fleshly lust;</div> + <div>An' sometimes, too, wi' warldly trust,</div> + <div class="in7">Vile self gets in:</div> + <div>But Thou remembers we are dust,</div> + <div class="in7">Defil'd in sin.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[184]<a name="page184" id="page184"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn</div> + <div>Beset thy servant e'en an' morn</div> + <div>Lest he owre high an' proud should turn,</div> + <div class="in7">'Cause he's sae gifted;</div> + <div>If sae, Thy ban' maun e'en be borne,</div> + <div class="in7">Until Thou lift it.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place,</div> + <div>For here Thou hast a chosen race:</div> + <div>But God confound their stubborn face,</div> + <div class="in7">And blast their name,</div> + <div>Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace</div> + <div class="in7">And public shame.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Lord, mind Cawn Hamilton's deserts,</div> + <div>He drinks, and swears, and plays at cartes<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref224" id="fnref224" href="#fn224">[224]</a></span>,</div> + <div>Yet has sae mony takin' arts,</div> + <div class="in7">Wi' grit an' sma'<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref225" + id="fnref225" href="#fn225">[225]</a></span>,</div> + <div>Frae God's ain priests the people's hearts</div> + <div class="in7">He steals awa'.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>And whan we chasten'd him therefore,</div> + <div>Thou kens how he bred sic a splore<span class="fnref"><a + name="fnref226" id="fnref226" href="#fn226">[226]</a></span>,</div> + <div>As set the warld in a roar</div> + <div class="in7">O' laughin' at us,—</div> + <div>Curse Thou his basket and his store,</div> + <div class="in7">Kail and potatoes.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Lord, hear my earnest cry and pray'r</div> + <div>Against the Presbyt'ry of Ayr;</div> + <div>Thy strong right hand, Lord, mak' it bare</div> + <div class="in7">Upo' their heads,</div> + <div>Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare,</div> + <div class="in7">For their misdeeds.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[185]<a name="page185" id="page185"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Oh Lord my God, that glib-tongu'd Aiken,</div> + <div>My very heart and saul are quakin',</div> + <div>To think how we stood groanin', shakin',</div> + <div class="in7">And swat wi' dread,</div> + <div>While he wi' hingin' lips and snakin',</div> + <div class="in7">Held up his head.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Lord, in the day of vengeance try him,</div> + <div>Lord, visit them wha did employ him,</div> + <div>And pass not in thy mercy by 'em,</div> + <div class="in7">Nor hear their pray'r;</div> + <div>But for thy people's sake destroy 'em,</div> + <div class="in7">And dinna spare,</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>But, Lord, remember me and mine,</div> + <div>Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine,</div> + <div>That I for gear<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref227" id="fnref227" + href="#fn227">[227]</a></span> and grace may shine,</div> + <div class="in7">Excell'd by nane,</div> + <div>And a' the glory shall be thine,</div> + <div class="in7">Amen, amen!</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3>EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Here Holy Willie's sair-worn clay</div> + <div class="in1">Tak's up its last abode;</div> + <div>His saul has ta'en some ither way,</div> + <div class="in1">I fear the left-hand road.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Stop! there he is, as sure's a gun,</div> + <div class="in1">Poor, silly body, see him;</div> + <div>Nae wonder he's as black's the grun',</div> + <div class="in1">Observe wha's standing wi' him.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Your brunstane<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref228" id="fnref228" + href="#fn228">[228]</a></span> devilship, I see,</div> + <div class="in1">Has got him there before ye;</div> + <div>But haud your nine-tail cat a wee,</div> + <div class="in1">Till ance you've heard my story.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[186]<a name="page186" id="page186"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Your pity I will not implore,</div> + <div class="in1">For pity ye ha'e nane;</div> + <div>Justice, alas! has gi'en him o'er,</div> + <div class="in1">And mercy's day is gane.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>But hear me, sir, de'il as ye are,</div> + <div class="in1">Look something to your credit;</div> + <div>A coof<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref229" id="fnref229" + href="#fn229">[229]</a></span> like him wad stain your name,</div> + <div class="in1">If it were kent ye did it.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn223" id="fn223" href="#fnref223">[223]</a></span> +troubled. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn224" id="fn224" href="#fnref224">[224]</a></span> +cards. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn225" id="fn225" href="#fnref225">[225]</a></span> +great and small. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn226" id="fn226" href="#fnref226">[226]</a></span> +row. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn227" id="fn227" href="#fnref227">[227]</a></span> +wealth. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn228" id="fn228" href="#fnref228">[228]</a></span> +brimstone. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn229" id="fn229" href="#fnref229">[229]</a></span> +fool. +</div> + +<h2>CHARLES LAMB.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1775-1835.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xlviii" id="xlviii">XLVIII.</a> A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Published originally in 1811 in <i>The Reflector</i>, No. 4. As Lamb + himself states, it was meditated for two years before it was + committed to paper in 1805, but not published until six years + afterwards.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>May the Babylonish curse</div> + <div>Straight confound my stammering verse,</div> + <div>If I can a passage see</div> + <div>In this word-perplexity,</div> + <div>Or a fit expression find,</div> + <div>Or a language to my mind</div> + <div>(Still the phrase is wide or scant),</div> + <div>To take leave of thee, Great Plant!</div> + <div>Or in any terms relate</div> + <div>Half my love, or half my hate:</div> + <div>For I hate yet love thee so,</div> + <div>That, whichever thing I show,</div> + <div>The plain truth will seem to be</div> + <div>A constrained hyperbole,</div> + <div>And the passions to proceed</div> + <div>More from a mistress than a weed.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[187]<a name="page187" id="page187"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Sooty retainer to the vine,</div> + <div>Bacchus' black servant, negro fine;</div> + <div>Sorcerer, that mak'st us dote upon</div> + <div>Thy begrimed complexion,</div> + <div>And, for thy pernicious sake,</div> + <div>More and greater oaths to break</div> + <div>Than reclaimèd lovers take</div> + <div>'Gainst women: thou thy siege dost lay</div> + <div>Much too in the female way,</div> + <div>While thou suck'st the lab'ring breath</div> + <div>Faster than kisses or than death.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Thou in such a cloud dost bind us,</div> + <div>That our worst foes cannot find us,</div> + <div>And ill fortune, that would thwart us,</div> + <div>Shoots at rovers, shooting at us;</div> + <div>While each man, through thy heightening steam,</div> + <div>Does like a smoking Etna seem,</div> + <div>And all about us does express</div> + <div>(Fancy and wit in richest dress)</div> + <div>A Sicilian fruitfulness</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Thou through such a mist dost show us,</div> + <div>That our best friends do not know us,</div> + <div>And, for those allowed features,</div> + <div>Due to reasonable creatures,</div> + <div>Liken'st us to fell Chimeras—</div> + <div>Monsters that, who see us, fear us;</div> + <div>Worse than Cerberus or Geryon,</div> + <div>Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Bacchus we know, and we allow</div> + <div>His tipsy rites. But what art thou,</div> + <div>That but by reflex canst show</div> + <div>What his deity can do,</div> + <div>As the false Egyptian spell</div> +<span class="pagenum">[188]<a name="page188" id="page188"></a></span> + <div>Aped the true Hebrew miracle?</div> + <div>Some few vapours thou may'st raise,</div> + <div>The weak brain may serve to amaze.</div> + <div>But to the reins and nobler heart</div> + <div>Canst nor life nor heat impart.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Brother of Bacchus, later born,</div> + <div>The old world was sure forlorn</div> + <div>Wanting thee, that aidest more</div> + <div>The god's victories than before</div> + <div>All his panthers, and the brawls</div> + <div>Of his piping Bacchanals.</div> + <div>These, as stale, we disallow,</div> + <div>Or judge of <i>thee</i> meant: only thou</div> + <div>His true Indian conquest art;</div> + <div>And, for ivy round his dart,</div> + <div>The reformèd god now weaves</div> + <div>A finer thyrsus of thy leaves.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Scent to match thy rich perfume</div> + <div>Chemic art did ne'er presume</div> + <div>Through her quaint alembic strain,</div> + <div>None so sovereign to the brain.</div> + <div>Nature, that did in thee excel,</div> + <div>Framed again no second smell.</div> + <div>Roses, violets, but toys</div> + <div>For the smaller sort of boys,</div> + <div>Or for greener damsels meant;</div> + <div>Thou art the only manly scent.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Stinking'st of the stinking kind,</div> + <div>Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind,</div> + <div>Africa, that brags her foison,</div> + <div>Breeds no such prodigious poison,</div> + <div>Henbane, nightshade, both together,</div> + <div>Hemlock, aconite—</div> +<span class="pagenum">[189]<a name="page189" id="page189"></a></span> + <div class="in11">Nay, rather,</div> + <div>Plant divine, of rarest virtue;</div> + <div>Blisters on the tongue would hurt you.</div> + <div>'Twas but in a sort I blamed thee;</div> + <div>None e'er prospered who defamed thee;</div> + <div>Irony all, and feigned abuse,</div> + <div>Such as perplexed lovers use</div> + <div>At a need, when, in despair</div> + <div>To paint forth their fairest fair,</div> + <div>Or in part but to express</div> + <div>That exceeding comeliness</div> + <div>Which their fancies doth so strike,</div> + <div>They borrow language of dislike,</div> + <div>And, instead of Dearest Miss,</div> + <div>Jewel, Honey, Sweetheart, Bliss,</div> + <div>And those forms of old admiring,</div> + <div>Call her Cockatrice and Siren,</div> + <div>Basilisk, and all that's evil,</div> + <div>Witch, Hyena, Mermaid, Devil,</div> + <div>Ethiop, Wench, and Blackamoor,</div> + <div>Monkey, Ape, and twenty more;</div> + <div>Friendly Trait'ress, Loving Foe,—</div> + <div>Not that she is truly so,</div> + <div>But no other way they know</div> + <div>A contentment to express,</div> + <div>Borders so upon excess,</div> + <div>That they do not rightly wot</div> + <div>Whether it be pain or not.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Or as men, constrained to part</div> + <div>With what's nearest to their heart,</div> + <div>While their sorrow's at the height,</div> + <div>Lose discrimination quite,</div> + <div>And their hasty wrath let fall,</div> + <div>To appease their frantic gall,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[190]<a name="page190" id="page190"></a></span> + <div>On the darling thing whatever</div> + <div>Whence they feel it death to sever,</div> + <div>Though it be, as they, perforce</div> + <div>Guiltless of the sad divorce.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>For I must (nor let it grieve thee,</div> + <div>Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee.</div> + <div>For thy sake, Tobacco, I</div> + <div>Would do anything but die,</div> + <div>And but seek to extend my days</div> + <div>Long enough to sing thy praise.</div> + <div>But, as she who once hath been</div> + <div>A king's consort is a queen</div> + <div>Ever after, nor will bate</div> + <div>Any title of her state,</div> + <div>Though a widow or divorced,</div> + <div>So I, from thy converse forced,</div> + <div>The old name and style retain,</div> + <div>A right Katherine of Spain;</div> + <div>And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys</div> + <div>Of the blest Tobacco Boys;</div> + <div>Where, though I, by sour physician,</div> + <div>Am debarred the full fruition</div> + <div>Of thy favours, I may catch</div> + <div>Some collateral sweets, and snatch</div> + <div>Sidelong odours, that give life</div> + <div>Like glances from a neighbour's wife;</div> + <div>And still live in the byplaces</div> + <div>And the suburbs of thy graces,</div> + <div>And in thy borders take delight,</div> + <div>An unconquered Canaanite.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[191]<a name="page191" id="page191"></a></span> +<h2>THOMAS MOORE.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1779-1852.)</div> + +<h3><a name="xlix" id="xlix">XLIX.</a> LINES ON LEIGH HUNT.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">Suggested by Hunt's <i>Byron and his Contemporaries</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Next week will be published (as "Lives" are the rage)</div> + <div class="in1">The whole Reminiscences, wondrous and strange,</div> + <div>Of a small puppy-dog that lived once in the cage</div> + <div class="in1">Of the late noble lion at Exeter 'Change.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Though the dog is a dog of the kind they call "sad",</div> + <div class="in1">'Tis a puppy that much to good breeding pretends;</div> + <div>And few dogs have such opportunities had</div> + <div class="in1">Of knowing how lions behave—among friends.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>How that animal eats, how he moves, how he drinks,</div> + <div class="in1">Is all noted down by this Boswell so small;</div> + <div>And 'tis plain, from each sentence, the puppy-dog thinks</div> + <div class="in1">That the lion was no such great things after all.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Though he roar'd pretty well—this the puppy allows—</div> + <div class="in1">It was all, he says, borrow'd—all second-hand roar;</div> + <div>And he vastly prefers his own little bow-wows</div> + <div class="in1">To the loftiest war-note the lion could pour.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>'Tis indeed as good fun as a cynic could ask,</div> + <div class="in1">To see how this cockney-bred setter of rabbits</div> + <div>Takes gravely the lord of the forest to task,</div> + <div class="in1">And judges of lions by puppy-dog habits.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Nay, fed as he was (and this makes it a dark case)</div> + <div class="in1">With sops every day from the lion's own pan,</div> + <div>He lifts up his leg at the noble beast's carcase,</div> + <div class="in1">And—does all a dog, so diminutive, can.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[192]<a name="page192" id="page192"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>However the book's a good book, being rich in</div> + <div class="in1">Examples and warnings to lions high-bred,</div> + <div>How they suffer small mongrelly curs in their kitchen,</div> + <div class="in1">Who'll feed on them living, and foul them when dead.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>GEORGE CANNING.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1770-1827.)</div> + +<h3><a name="l" id="l">L.</a> EPISTLE FROM LORD BORINGDON TO LORD GRANVILLE.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">Published in <i>Fugitive Verses</i>, and thence included among Canning's + works.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Oft you have ask'd me, Granville, why</div> + <div>Of late I heave the frequent sigh?</div> + <div>Why, moping, melancholy, low,</div> + <div>From supper, commons, wine, I go?</div> + <div>Why bows my mind, by care oppress'd,</div> + <div>By day no peace, by night no rest?</div> + <div>Hear, then, my friend, and ne'er you knew</div> + <div>A tale so tender, and so true—</div> + <div>Hear what, tho' shame my tongue restrain,</div> + <div>My pen with freedom shall explain.</div> + <div class="in1">Say, Granville, do you not remember,</div> + <div>About the middle of November,</div> + <div>When Blenheim's hospitable lord</div> + <div>Received us at his cheerful board;</div> + <div>How fair the Ladies Spencer smiled,</div> + <div>Enchanting, witty, courteous, mild?</div> + <div>And mark'd you not, how many a glance</div> + <div>Across the table, shot by chance</div> + <div>From fair Eliza's graceful form,</div> + <div>Assail'd and took my heart by storm?</div> +<span class="pagenum">[193]<a name="page193" id="page193"></a></span> + <div>And mark'd you not, with earnest zeal,</div> + <div>I ask'd her, if she'd have some veal?</div> + <div>And how, when conversation's charms</div> + <div>Fresh vigour gave to love's alarms,</div> + <div>My heart was scorch'd, and burnt to tinder,</div> + <div>When talking to her at the <i>winder</i>?</div> + <div>These facts premised, you can't but guess</div> + <div>The cause of my uneasiness,</div> + <div>For you have heard, as well as I,</div> + <div>That she'll be married speedily;</div> + <div>And then—my grief more plain to tell—</div> + <div>Soft cares, sweet fears, fond hopes,—farewell!</div> + <div>But still, tho' false the fleeting dream,</div> + <div>Indulge awhile the tender theme,</div> + <div>And hear, had fortune yet been kind,</div> + <div>How bright the prospect of the mind.</div> + <div>O! had I had it in my power</div> + <div>To wed her—with a suited dower—</div> + <div>And proudly bear the beauteous maid</div> + <div>To Saltrum's venerable shade,—</div> + <div>Or if she liked not woods at Saltrum,</div> + <div>Why, nothing easier than to alter 'em,—</div> + <div>Then had I tasted bliss sincere,</div> + <div>And happy been from year to year.</div> + <div>How changed this scene! for now, my Granville,</div> + <div>Another match is on the anvil.</div> + <div>And I, a widow'd dove, complain,</div> + <div>And feel no refuge from my pain—</div> + <div>Save that of pitying Spencer's sister,</div> + <div>Who's lost a lord, and gained a Mister.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum">[194]<a name="page194" id="page194"></a></span> +<h3><a name="li" id="li">LI.</a> REFORMATION OF THE KNAVE OF HEARTS.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is an exquisite satire on the attempts at criticism which were + current in <i>pre-Edinburgh Review</i> days, when the majority of the + journals were mere touts for the booksellers. The papers in + question are taken from Nos. 11 and 12 of the <i>Microcosm</i>, + published on Monday, February 12th, 1787—when Canning was + seventeen years of age.</p></blockquote> + +<p>The epic poem on which I shall ground my present critique has for its +chief characteristics brevity and simplicity. The author—whose name I +lament that I am, in some degree, prevented from consecrating to +immortal fame, by not knowing what it is—the author, I say, has not +branched his poem into excrescences of episode, or prolixities of +digression; it is neither variegated with diversity of unmeaning +similitudes, nor glaring with the varnish of unnatural metaphor. The +whole is plain and uniform; so much so, indeed, that I should hardly be +surprised if some morose readers were to conjecture that the poet had +been thus simple rather from necessity than choice; that he had been +restrained, not so much by chastity of judgment, as sterility of +imagination.</p> + +<p>Nay, some there may be, perhaps, who will dispute his claim to the +title of an epic poet, and will endeavour to degrade him even to the +rank of a ballad-monger. But I, as his commentator, will contend for +the dignity of my author, and will plainly demonstrate his poem to be +an epic poem, agreeable to the example of all poets, and the consent of +all critics heretofore.</p> + +<p>First, it is universally agreed that an epic poem should have three +component parts—a beginning, a middle, and an end; secondly, it is +allowed that it should have one grand action or main design, to the +forwarding of which all the parts of it should directly or indirectly +tend, and that this design should be in some measure consonant with, +and conducive to, the purposes of morality; and <span class="pagenum">[195]<a +name="page195" id="page195"></a></span>thirdly, it is +indisputably settled that it should have a hero. I trust that in none +of these points the poem before us will be found deficient. There are +other inferior properties which I shall consider in due order.</p> + +<p>Not to keep my readers longer in suspense, the subject of the poem is +"The Reformation of the Knave of Hearts". It is not improbable that +some may object to me that a knave is an unworthy hero for an epic +poem—that a hero ought to be all that is great and good. The objection +is frivolous. The greatest work of this kind that the world has ever +produced has "the Devil" for its hero; and supported as my author is by +so great a precedent, I contend that his hero is a very decent hero, +and especially as he has the advantage of Milton's, by reforming, at +the end, is evidently entitled to a competent share of celebrity.</p> + +<p>I shall now proceed to the more immediate examination of the poem in +its different parts. The beginning, say the critics, ought to be plain +and simple—neither embellished with the flowers of poetry, nor turgid +with pomposity of diction. In this how exactly does our author conform +to the established opinion! He begins thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The Queen of Hearts</div> + <div>She made some tarts".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Can anything be more clear! more natural! more agreeable to the true +spirit of simplicity? Here are no tropes, no figurative expressions, +not even so much as an invocation to the Muse. He does not detain his +readers by any needless circumlocution, by unnecessarily informing them +what he <i>is</i> going to sing, or still more unnecessarily enumerating +what he <i>is not</i> going to sing; but, according to the precept of +Horace:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in11"><i>In médias res,</i></div> + <div><i>Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit—</i></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[196]<a name="page196" id="page196"></a></span> +That is, he at once introduces us and sets us on the most easy and +familiar footing imaginable with her Majesty of Hearts, and interests +us deeply in her domestic concerns. But to proceed—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The Queen of Hearts</div> + <div>She made some tarts,</div> + <div>All on a summer's day".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Here indeed the prospect brightens, and we are led to expect some +liveliness of imagery, some warmth of poetical colouring; but here is +no such thing. There is no task more difficult to a poet than that of +rejection. Ovid among the ancients, and Dryden among the moderns, were +perhaps the most remarkable for the want of it. The latter, from the +haste in which he generally produced his compositions, seldom paid much +attention to the <i>limæ labor</i>, "the labour of correction", and seldom, +therefore, rejected the assistance of any idea that presented itself. +Ovid, not content with catching the leading features of any scene or +character, indulged himself in a thousand minutiæ of description, a +thousand puerile prettinesses, which were in themselves uninteresting, +and took off greatly from the effect of the whole; as the numberless +suckers and straggling branches of a fruit-tree, if permitted to shoot +out unrestrained, while they are themselves barren and useless, +diminish considerably the vigour of the parent stock. Ovid had more +genius but less judgment than Virgil; Dryden more imagination but less +correctness than Pope; had they not been deficient in these points the +former would certainly have equalled, the latter infinitely outshone +the merits of his countryman. Our author was undoubtedly possessed of +that power which they wanted, and was cautious not to indulge too far +the sallies of a lively imagination. Omitting, therefore, any mention +of sultry Sirius, sylvan shade, sequestered glade, verdant hills, +purling rills, <span class="pagenum">[197]<a name="page197" id="page197"></a></span> +mossy mountains, gurgling fountains, &c., he simply +tells us that it was "All on a summer's day". For my own part I confess +that I find myself rather flattered than disappointed, and consider the +poet as rather paying a compliment to the abilities of his readers, +than baulking their expectations. It is certainly a great pleasure to +see a picture well painted; but it is a much greater to paint it well +oneself. This, therefore, I look upon as a stroke of excellent +management in the poet. Here every reader is at liberty to gratify his +own taste, to design for himself just what sort of "summer's day" he +likes best; to choose his own scenery, dispose his lights and shades as +he pleases, to solace himself with a rivulet or a horse-pond, a shower +or a sunbeam, a grove or a kitchen-garden, according to his fancy. How +much more considerate this than if the poet had, from an affected +accuracy of description, thrown us into an unmannerly perspiration by +the heat of the atmosphere, forced us into a landscape of his own +planning, with perhaps a paltry good-for-nothing zephyr or two, and a +limited quantity of wood and water. All this Ovid would undoubtedly +have done. Nay, to use the expression of a learned brother +commentator—<i>quovis pignore decertem</i>, "I would lay any wager", that +he would have gone so far as to tell us what the tarts were made of, +and perhaps wandered into an episode on the art of preserving cherries. +But <i>our</i> poet, above such considerations, leaves every reader to +choose his own ingredients, and sweeten them to his own liking; wisely +foreseeing, no doubt, that the more palatable each had rendered them to +his own taste, the more he would be affected at their approaching loss.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"All on a summer's day."</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>I cannot leave this line without remarking that one of the Scribleri, a +descendant of the famous Martinus, has <span class="pagenum">[198]<a name="page198" +id="page198"></a></span>expressed his suspicions of the +text being corrupted here, and proposes instead of "all on" reading +"alone", alleging, in favour of this alteration, the effect of solitude +in raising the passions. But Hiccius Doctius, a high Dutch commentator, +one nevertheless well versed in British literature, in a note of his +usual length and learning, has confuted the arguments of Scriblerus. In +support of the present reading he quotes a passage from a poem written +about the same period with our author's, by the celebrated Johannes +Pastor<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref230" id="fnref230" href="#fn230">[230]</a></span>, +intituled "An Elegiac Epistle to the Turnkey of Newgate", +wherein the gentleman declares that, rather indeed in compliance with +an old custom than to gratify any particular wish of his own, he is +going—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"All hanged for to be</div> + <div>Upon that fatal Tyburn tree ".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Now, as nothing throws greater light on an author than the concurrence +of a contemporary writer, I am inclined to be of Hiccius' opinion, and +to consider the "All" as an elegant expletive, or, as he more aptly +phrases it <i>elegans expletivum</i>. The passage therefore must stand +thus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The Queen of Hearts</div> + <div>She made some tarts</div> + <div>All on a summer's day."</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>And thus ends the first part, or beginning, which is simple and +unembellished, opens the subject in a natural and easy manner, excites, +but does not too far gratify our curiosity, for a reader of accurate +observation may easily discover that the hero of the poem has not, as +yet, made his appearance.</p> + +<p>I could not continue my examination at present through the whole of +this poem without far exceeding the limits of a single paper. I have +therefore divided it into <span class="pagenum">[199]<a name="page199" +id="page199"></a></span>two, but shall not delay the publication of +the second to another week, as that, besides breaking the connection of +criticism, would materially injure the unities of the poem.</p> + +<p>Having thus gone through the first part, or beginning of the poem, we +may, naturally enough, proceed to the consideration of the second.</p> + +<p>The second part, or middle, is the proper place for bustle and +business, for incident and adventure:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The Knave of Hearts</div> + <div>He stole those tarts".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Here attention is awakened, and our whole souls are intent upon the +first appearance of the hero. Some readers may perhaps be offended at +his making his <i>entree</i> in so disadvantageous a character as that of a +thief. To this I plead precedent.</p> + +<p>The hero of the Iliad, as I observed in a former paper, is made to +lament very pathetically that "life is not like all other possessions, +to be acquired by theft". A reflection, in my opinion, evidently +showing that, if he <i>did</i> refrain from the practice of this ingenious +art, it was not from want of an inclination that way. We may remember, +too, that in Virgil's poem almost the first light in which the pious +Æneas appears to us is a deer-stealer; nor is it much excuse for him +that the deer were wandering without keepers, for however he might, +from this circumstance, have been unable to ascertain whose property +they were, he might, I think, have been pretty well assured that they +were not his.</p> + +<p>Having thus acquitted our hero of misconduct, by the example of his +betters, I proceed to what I think the master-stroke of the poet.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The Knave of Hearts</div> + <div>He stole those tarts,</div> + <div class="outleft">And—took them—quite away!!"</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[200]<a name="page200" id="page200"></a></span> +Here, whoever has an ear for harmony and a heart for feeling must be +touched! There is a desponding melancholy in the run of the last line! +an air of tender regret in the addition of "quite away!" a something so +expressive of irrecoverable loss! so forcibly intimating the <i>Ad +nunquam reditura!</i> "They never can return!" in short, such an union of +sound and sense as we rarely, if ever, meet with in any author, ancient +or modern. Our feelings are all alive, but the poet, wisely dreading +that our sympathy with the injured Queen might alienate our affections +from his hero, contrives immediately to awaken our fears for him by +telling us that—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The King of Hearts</div> + <div>Called for those tarts".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>We are all conscious of the fault of our hero, and all tremble with +him, for the punishment which the enraged monarch may inflict:</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"And beat the Knave full sore!"</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The fatal blow is struck! We cannot but rejoice that guilt is justly +punished, though we sympathize with the guilty object of punishment. +Here Scriblerus, who, by the by, is very fond of making unnecessary +alterations, proposes reading "score" instead of "sore", meaning +thereby to particularize that the beating bestowed by this monarch +consisted of twenty stripes. But this proceeds from his ignorance of +the genius of our language, which does not admit of such an expression +as "full score", but would require the insertion of the particle "a", +which cannot be, on account of the metre. And this is another great +artifice of the poet. By leaving the quantity of beating indeterminate, +he gives every reader the liberty to administer it, in exact proportion +to the sum of indignation which he may have conceived against his hero, +that <span class="pagenum">[201]<a name="page201" id="page201"></a></span> +by thus amply satisfying their resentment they may be the more +easily reconciled to him afterwards.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The King of Hearts</div> + <div>Called for those tarts,</div> + <div class="outleft">And beat the Knave full sore."</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Here ends the second part, or middle of the poem, in which we see the +character and exploits of the hero portrayed with the hand of a master.</p> + +<p>Nothing now remains to be examined but the third part, or end. In the +end it is a rule pretty well established that the work should draw +towards a conclusion, which our author manages thus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The Knave of Hearts</div> + <div>Brought back those tarts".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Here everything is at length settled; the theft is compensated, the +tarts restored to their right owner, and poetical justice, in every +respect, strictly and impartially administered.</p> + +<p>We may observe that there is nothing in which our poet has better +succeeded than in keeping up an unremitted attention in his readers to +the main instruments, the machinery of his poem, viz. the <i>tarts</i>; +insomuch that the afore-mentioned Scriblerus has sagely observed that +"he can't tell, but he doesn't know, but the tarts may be reckoned the +heroes of the poem". Scriblerus, though a man of learning, and +frequently right in his opinion, has here certainly hazarded a rash +conjecture. His arguments are overthrown entirely by his great +opponent, Hiccius, who concludes by triumphantly asking, "Had the tarts +been eaten, how could the poet have compensated for the loss of his +heroes?"</p> + +<p>We are now come to the <i>dénouement</i>, the setting all to rights: and our +poet, in the management of his moral, is <span class="pagenum">[202]<a +name="page202" id="page202"></a></span>certainly superior to his +great ancient predecessors. The moral of their fables, if any they +have, is so interwoven with the main body of their work, that in +endeavouring to unravel it we should tear the whole. Our author has +very properly preserved his whole and entire for the end of his poem, +where he completes his main design, the reformation of his hero, thus—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"And vowed he'd steal no more".</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Having in the course of his work shown the bad effects arising from +theft, he evidently means this last moral reflection to operate with +his readers as a gentle and polite dissuasive from stealing.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="quote">"The Knave of Hearts</div> + <div>Brought back those tarts,</div> + <div class="outleft">And vowed he'd steal no more!"</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Thus have I industriously gone through the several parts of this +wonderful work, and clearly proved it, in every one of these parts, and +in all of them together, to be a "due and proper epic poem", and to +have as good a right to that title, from its adherence to prescribed +rules, as any of the celebrated masterpieces of antiquity. And here I +cannot help again lamenting that, by not knowing the name of the +author, I am unable to twine our laurels together, and to transmit to +posterity the mingled praises of genius and judgment, of the poet and +his commentator.</p> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn230" id="fn230" href="#fnref230">[230]</a></span> +More commonly known, I believe, by the appellation of +Jack Shepherd. +</div> + +<span class="pagenum">[203]<a name="page203" id="page203"></a></span> +<h2>POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1797-1798.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lii" id="lii">LII.</a> THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The <i>Anti-Jacobin</i> was planned by George Canning when he was + Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He secured the + collaboration of George Ellis, John Hookham Frere, William Gifford, + and some others. The last-named was appointed working editor. The + first number appeared on the 20th November, 1797, with a notice + that "the publication would be continued every Monday during the + sitting of Parliament". A volume of the best pieces, entitled <i>The + Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin</i>, was published in 1800. It is almost + impossible to apportion accurately the various pieces to their + respective authors, though more than one attempt has been made so + to do. The following piece is designed to ridicule the extravagant + sympathy for the lower classes which was then the fashion.</p></blockquote> + +<br /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="title"><i>Friend of Humanity</i>.</div> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Needy knife-grinder! whither are you going?</div> + <div>Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order—</div> + <div>Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in't,</div> + <div class="in14">So have your breeches!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones,</div> + <div>Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike-</div> + <div>Road, what hard work 'tis crying all day, "Knives and</div> + <div class="in14">Scissors to grind O!"</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Tell me, knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives?</div> + <div>Did some rich man tyrannically use you?</div> + <div>Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?</div> + <div class="in14">Or the attorney?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Was it the squire for killing of his game? or</div> + <div>Covetous parson for his tithes distraining?</div> + <div>Or roguish lawyer made you lose your little</div> + <div class="in14">All in a lawsuit?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[204]<a name="page204" id="page204"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>(Have you not read the <i>Rights of Man</i>, by Tom Paine?)</div> + <div>Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids,</div> + <div>Ready to fall as soon as you have told your</div> + <div class="in14">Pitiful story.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="title"><i>Knife-grinder.</i></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir,</div> + <div>Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers,</div> + <div>This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were</div> + <div class="in14">Torn in the scuffle.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Constable came up for to take me into</div> + <div>Custody; they took me before the Justice,</div> + <div>Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish</div> + <div class="in14">Stocks for a vagrant.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I should be glad to drink your honour's health in</div> + <div>A pot of beer, if you would give me sixpence;</div> + <div>But, for my part, I never love to meddle</div> + <div class="in14">With politics, sir.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="title"><i>Friend of Humanity</i>.</div> +<div class="stanza"> + <div><i>I</i> give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first—</div> + <div>Wretch! whom no sense of wrong can rouse to vengeance—</div> + <div>Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,</div> + <div class="in14">Spiritless outcast!</div> +<br /> + <div class="in7">[<i>Kicks the knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and + exit in a transport of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy</i>.]</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum">[205]<a name="page205" id="page205"></a></span> +<h3><a name="liii" id="liii">LIII.</a> SONG BY ROGERO THE CAPTIVE.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is a satirical imitation of many of the songs current in the + romantic dramas of the period. It is contained in the <i>Rovers, or + the Double Arrangement</i>, act i. sc. 2, a skit upon the dramatic + literature of the day.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Whene'er with haggard eyes I view</div> + <div class="in1">This dungeon, that I'm rotting in,</div> + <div>I think of those companions true</div> + <div>Who studied with me in the U-</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen—</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen.</div> + <div class="in1">[<i>Weeps, and pulls out a blue 'kerchief, with which + he wipes his eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he + proceeds</i>.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Sweet 'kerchief check'd with heavenly blue,</div> + <div class="in1">Which once my love sat knotting in,</div> + <div>Alas, Matilda then was true,</div> + <div>At least I thought so at the U-</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen—</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen.</div> + <div class="in1">[<i>At the repetition of this line Rogero clanks + his chain in cadence</i>.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift ye flew,</div> + <div class="in1">Her neat post-waggon trotting in!</div> + <div>Ye bore Matilda from my view;</div> + <div>Forlorn I languish'd at the U-</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen—</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>This faded form! this pallid hue!</div> + <div class="in1">This blood my veins is clotting in,</div> + <div>My years are many—they were few</div> + <div>When I first entered at the U-</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen—</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[206]<a name="page206" id="page206"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>There first for thee my passion grew,</div> + <div class="in1">Sweet; sweet Matilda Pottingen!</div> + <div>Thou wast the daughter of my tutor,</div> + <div>Law Professor at the U-</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen—</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu,</div> + <div class="in1">That kings and priests are plotting in;</div> + <div>Here doom'd to starve on water-gruel,</div> + <div>never shall I see the U-</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen!—</div> + <div class="in5">-niversity of Gottingen!</div> + <div class="in1">[<i>During the last stanza Rogero dashes his head + repeatedly against the walls of his prison; + and, finally, so hard as to produce a visible + contusion. He then throws himself on the + floor in an agony. The curtain drops—the + music still continuing to play till it is wholly + fallen.</i>.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1772-1834.) + (1774-1843.)</div> + +<h3><a name="liv" id="liv">LIV.</a> THE DEVIL'S WALK.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Originally written in an album belonging to one of the Misses + Fricker, the ladies whom the two poets married. What was the extent + of the collaboration of the respective writers in the poem is + unknown, but the fact is beyond a doubt that it was written by them + in conjunction.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>From his brimstone bed at break of day</div> + <div>A-walking the Devil is gone,</div> + <div>To visit his snug little farm upon earth,</div> + <div>And see how his stock goes on.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[207]<a name="page207" id="page207"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Over the hill and over the dale,</div> + <div>And he went over the plain,</div> + <div>And backward and forward he switched his long tail,</div> + <div>As a gentleman switches his cane.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>And how, then, was the Devil drest?</div> + <div>Oh, he was in his Sunday best;</div> + <div>His jacket was red, and his breeches were blue,</div> + <div>And there was a hole where his tail came through.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>He saw a lawyer killing a viper</div> + <div>On a dunghill hard by his own stable;</div> + <div>And the Devil smiled, for it put him in mind</div> + <div>Of Cain and his brother Abel.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>He saw an apothecary on a white horse</div> + <div>Ride by on his own vocations;</div> + <div>And the Devil thought of his old friend</div> + <div>Death in the Revelations.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>He saw a cottage with a double coach-house,</div> + <div>A cottage of gentility;</div> + <div>And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin</div> + <div>Is the pride that apes humility.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>He went into a rich bookseller's shop,</div> + <div>Quoth he! we are both of one college,</div> + <div>For I myself sate like a cormorant once,</div> + <div>Fast by the tree of knowledge.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Down the river there plied, with wind and tide,</div> + <div>A pig, with vast celerity,</div> + <div>And the Devil looked wise as he saw how the while</div> + <div>It cut its own throat. There! quoth he, with a smile,</div> + <div>Goes "England's commercial prosperity".</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[208]<a name="page208" id="page208"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he saw</div> + <div>A solitary cell;</div> + <div>And the Devil was pleased, for it gave him a hint</div> + <div>For improving his prisons in hell.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>General Gascoigne's burning face</div> + <div>He saw with consternation;</div> + <div>And back to hell his way did take,</div> + <div>For the Devil thought by a slight mistake</div> + <div>It was a general conflagration.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SYDNEY SMITH.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1771-1845.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lv" id="lv">LV.</a> THE LETTERS OF PETER PLYMLEY—ON "NO POPERY".</h3> + + <blockquote><p>In 1807 the <i>Letters of Peter Plymley</i> to his brother Abraham on + the subject of the Irish Catholics were published. "The letters", + as Professor Henry Morley says, "fell like sparks on a heap of + gunpowder. All London, and soon all England, were alive to the + sound reason recommended by a lively wit." The example of his + satiric force and sarcastic ratiocination cited below is the Second + Letter in the Series.</p></blockquote> + +<br /><br /> + +<p>DEAR ABRAHAM,</p> + +<p>The Catholic not respect an oath! why not? What upon earth has kept him +out of Parliament, or excluded him from all the offices whence he is +excluded, but his respect for oaths? There is no law which prohibits a +Catholic to sit in Parliament. There could be no such law; because it +is impossible to find out what passes in the interior of any man's +mind. Suppose it were in contemplation to exclude all men from certain +offices who contended for the legality of taking tithes: the only mode +of discovering that fervid love of <span class="pagenum">[209]<a name="page209" +id="page209"></a></span>decimation which I know you to +possess would be to tender you an oath "against that damnable doctrine, +that it is lawful for a spiritual man to take, abstract, appropriate, +subduct, or lead away the tenth calf, sheep, lamb, ox, pigeon, duck", +&c., and every other animal that ever existed, which of course the +lawyers would take care to enumerate. Now this oath I am sure you would +rather die than take; and so the Catholic is excluded from Parliament +because he will not swear that he disbelieves the leading doctrines of +his religion! The Catholic asks you to abolish some oaths which oppress +him; your answer is that he does not respect oaths. Then why subject +him to the test of oaths? The oaths keep him out of Parliament; why, +then, he respects them. Turn which way you will, either your laws are +nugatory, or the Catholic is bound by religious obligations as you are; +but no eel in the well-sanded fist of a cook-maid, upon the eve of +being skinned, ever twisted and writhed as an orthodox parson does when +he is compelled by the gripe of reason to admit anything in favour of a +dissenter.</p> + +<p>I will not dispute with you whether the Pope be or be not the Scarlet +Lady of Babylon. I hope it is not so; because I am afraid it will +induce His Majesty's Chancellor of the Exchequer to introduce several +severe bills against popery, if that is the case; and though he will +have the decency to appoint a previous committee of inquiry as to the +fact, the committee will be garbled, and the report inflammatory. +Leaving this to be settled as he pleases to settle it, I wish to inform +you, that, previously to the bill last passed in favour of the +Catholics, at the suggestion of Mr. Pitt, and for his satisfaction, the +opinions of six of the most celebrated of the foreign Catholic +universities were taken as to the right of the Pope to interfere in the +temporal concerns of any country. The answer cannot possibly leave the +shadow of a doubt, <span class="pagenum">[210]<a name="page210" id="page210"></a></span> +even in the mind of Baron Maseres; and Dr. Rennel +would be compelled to admit it, if three Bishops lay dead at the very +moment the question were put to him. To this answer might be added also +the solemn declaration and signature of all the Catholics in Great +Britain.</p> + +<p>I should perfectly agree with you, if the Catholics admitted such a +dangerous dispensing power in the hands of the Pope; but they all deny +it, and laugh at it, and are ready to abjure it in the most decided +manner you can devise. They obey the Pope as the spiritual head of +their Church; but are you really so foolish as to be imposed upon by +mere names? What matters it the seven-thousandth part of a farthing who +is the spiritual head of any Church? Is not Mr. Wilberforce at the head +of the Church of Clapham? Is not Dr. Letsom at the head of the Quaker +Church? Is not the General Assembly at the head of the Church of +Scotland? How is the government disturbed by these many-headed +Churches? or in what way is the power of the Crown augmented by this +almost nominal dignity?</p> + +<p>The King appoints a fast-day once a year, and he makes the bishops: and +if the government would take half the pains to keep the Catholics out +of the arms of France that it does to widen Temple Bar, or improve Snow +Hill, the King would get into his hands the appointments of the titular +Bishops of Ireland. Both Mr. C——'s sisters enjoy pensions more than +sufficient to place the two greatest dignitaries of the Irish Catholic +Church entirely at the disposal of the Crown. Everybody who knows +Ireland knows perfectly well that nothing would be easier, with the +expenditure of a little money, than to preserve enough of the +ostensible appointment in the hands of the Pope to satisfy the scruples +of the Catholics, while the real nomination remained with the Crown. +But, as I have before said, the moment the <span class="pagenum">[211]<a +name="page211" id="page211"></a></span>very name of Ireland is +mentioned, the English seem to bid adieu to common feeling, common +prudence, and common sense, and to act with the barbarity of tyrants +and the fatuity of idiots.</p> + +<p>Whatever your opinion may be of the follies of the Roman Catholic +religion, remember they are the follies of four millions of human +beings, increasing rapidly in numbers, wealth, and intelligence, who, +if firmly united with this country, would set at defiance the power of +France, and if once wrested from their alliance with England, would in +three years render its existence as an independent nation absolutely +impossible. You speak of danger to the Establishment: I request to know +when the Establishment was ever so much in danger as when Hoche was in +Bantry Bay, and whether all the books of Bossuet, or the arts of the +Jesuits, were half so terrible? Mr. Perceval and his parsons forget all +this, in their horror lest twelve or fourteen old women may be +converted to holy water and Catholic nonsense. They never see that, +while they are saving these venerable ladies from perdition, Ireland +may be lost, England broken down, and the Protestant Church, with all +its deans, prebendaries, Percevals, and Rennels, be swept into the +vortex of oblivion.</p> + +<p>Do not, I beseech you, ever mention to me again the name of Dr. +Duigenan. I have been in every corner of Ireland, and have studied its +present strength and condition with no common labour. Be assured +Ireland does not contain at this moment less than 5,000,000 people. +There were returned in the year 1791 to the hearth tax 701,000 houses, +and there is no kind of question that there were about 50,000 houses +omitted in that return. Taking, however, only the number returned for +the tax, and allowing the average of six to a house (a very small +average for a potato-fed people), this brings the <span class="pagenum">[212]<a +name="page212" id="page212"></a></span>population to +4,200,000 people in the year 1791: and it can be shown from the +clearest evidence (and Mr. Newenham in his book shows it), that Ireland +for the last 50 years has increased in its population at the rate of +50,000 or 60,000 per annum; which leaves the present population of +Ireland at about 5,000,000, after every possible deduction for +<i>existing circumstances, just and necessary wars, monstrous and +unnatural rebellions</i>, and all other sources of human destruction. Of +this population, two out of ten are Protestants; and the half of the +Protestant population are dissenters, and as inimical to the Church as +the Catholics themselves. In this state of things thumbscrews and +whipping—admirable engines of policy as they must be considered to +be—will not ultimately avail. The Catholics will hang over you; they +will watch for the moment, and compel you hereafter to give them ten +times as much, against your will, as they would now be contented with, +if it were voluntarily surrendered. Remember what happened in the +American war, when Ireland compelled you to give her everything she +asked, and to renounce, in the most explicit manner, your claim of +sovereignty over her. God Almighty grant the folly of these present men +may not bring on such another crisis of public affairs!</p> + +<p>What are your dangers which threaten the Establishment? Reduce this +declamation to a point, and let us understand what you mean. The most +ample allowance does not calculate that there would be more than twenty +members who were Roman Catholics in one house, and ten in the other, if +the Catholic emancipation were carried into effect. Do you mean that +these thirty members would bring in a bill to take away the tithes from +the Protestant, and to pay them to the Catholic clergy? Do you mean +that a Catholic general would march his army into the House of Commons, +and purge it of Mr. <span class="pagenum">[213]<a name="page213" id="page213"></a></span> +Perceval and Dr. Duigenan? or, that the +theological writers would become all of a sudden more acute or more +learned, if the present civil incapacities were removed? Do you fear +for your tithes, or your doctrines, or your person, or the English +Constitution? Every fear, taken separately, is so glaringly absurd, +that no man has the folly or the boldness to state it. Everyone +conceals his ignorance, or his baseness, in a stupid general panic, +which, when called on, he is utterly incapable of explaining. Whatever +you think of the Catholics, there they are—you cannot get rid of them; +your alternative is to give them a lawful place for stating their +grievances, or an unlawful one: if you do not admit them to the House +of Commons, they will hold their parliament in Potatoe Place, Dublin, +and be ten times as violent and inflammatory as they would be in +Westminster. Nothing would give me such an idea of security as to see +twenty or thirty Catholic gentlemen in Parliament, looked upon by all +the Catholics as the fair and proper organ of their party. I should +have thought it the height of good fortune that such a wish existed on +their part, and the very essence of madness and ignorance to reject it. +Can you murder the Catholics? Can you neglect them? They are too +numerous for both these expedients. What remains to be done is obvious +to every human being—but to that man who, instead of being a Methodist +preacher, is, for the curse of us and our children, and for the ruin of +Troy and the misery of good old Priam and his sons, become a legislator +and a politician.</p> + +<p>A distinction, I perceive, is taken by one of the most feeble noblemen +in Great Britain, between persecution and the deprivation of political +power; whereas, there is no more distinction between these two things +than there is between him who makes the distinction and a booby. If I +strip off the relic-covered jacket of a Catholic, and give +<span class="pagenum">[214]<a name="page214" id="page214"></a></span>him twenty +stripes ... I persecute; if I say, Everybody in the town where you live +shall be a candidate for lucrative and honourable offices, but you, who +are a Catholic ... I do not persecute! What barbarous nonsense is this! +as if degradation was not as great an evil as bodily pain or as severe +poverty: as if I could not be as great a tyrant by saying, You shall +not enjoy—as by saying, You shall suffer. The English, I believe, are +as truly religious as any nation in Europe; I know no greater blessing; +but it carries with it this evil in its train, that any villain who +will bawl out, "<i>The Church is in danger!</i>" may get a place and a good +pension; and that any administration who will do the same thing may +bring a set of men into power who, at a moment of stationary and +passive piety, would be hooted by the very boys in the streets. But it +is not all religion; it is, in great part, the narrow and exclusive +spirit which delights to keep the common blessings of sun and air and +freedom from other human beings. "Your religion has always been +degraded; you are in the dust, and I will take care you never rise +again. I should enjoy less the possession of an earthly good by every +additional person to whom it was extended." You may not be aware of it +yourself, most reverend Abraham, but you deny their freedom to the +Catholics upon the same principle that Sarah, your wife, refuses to +give the receipt for a ham or a gooseberry dumpling: she values her +receipts, not because they secure to her a certain flavour, but because +they remind her that her neighbours want it:—a feeling laughable in a +priestess, shameful in a priest; venial when it withholds the blessings +of a ham, tyrannical and execrable when it narrows the boon of +religious freedom.</p> + +<p>You spend a great deal of ink about the character of the present prime +minister. Grant you all that you write—I say, I fear he will ruin +Ireland, and pursue a line of <span class="pagenum">[215]<a name="page215" +id="page215"></a></span>policy destructive to the true interest +of his country: and then you tell me, he is faithful to Mrs. Perceval, +and kind to the Master Percevals! These are, undoubtedly, the first +qualifications to be looked to in a time of the most serious public +danger; but somehow or another (if public and private virtues must +always be incompatible), I should prefer that he destroyed the domestic +happiness of Wood or Cockell, owed for the veal of the preceding year, +whipped his boys, and saved his country.</p> + +<p>The late administration did not do right; they did not build their +measures upon the solid basis of facts. They should have caused several +Catholics to have been dissected after death by surgeons of either +religion; and the report to have been published with accompanying +plates. If the viscera, and other organs of life, had been found to be +the same as in Protestant bodies; if the provisions of nerves, +arteries, cerebrum, and cerebellum, had been the same as we are +provided with, or as the dissenters are now known to possess; then, +indeed, they might have met Mr. Perceval upon a proud eminence, and +convinced the country at large of the strong probability that the +Catholics are really human creatures, endowed with the feelings of men, +and entitled to all their rights. But instead of this wise and prudent +measure, Lord Howick, with his usual precipitation, brings forward a +bill in their favour, without offering the slightest proof to the +country that they were anything more than horses and oxen. The person +who shows the lama at the corner of Piccadilly has the precaution to +write up—<i>Allowed by Sir Joseph Banks to be a real quadruped</i>, so his +Lordship might have said—<i>Allowed by the bench of Bishops to be real +human creatures</i>.... I could write you twenty letters upon this +subject; but I am tired, and so I suppose are you. Our friendship is +now of forty years' standing; you know me to be a truly religious man; +but I shudder to see religion <span class="pagenum">[216]<a name="page216" +id="page216"></a></span>treated like a cockade, or a pint of +beer, and made the instrument of a party. I love the king, but I love +the people as well as the king; and if I am sorry to see his old age +molested, I am much more sorry to see four millions of Catholics +baffled in their just expectations. If I love Lord Grenville and Lord +Howick, it is because they love their country; if I abhor ... it is +because I know there is but one man among them who is not laughing at +the enormous folly and credulity of the country, and that he is an +ignorant and mischievous bigot. As for the light and frivolous jester, +of whom it is your misfortune to think so highly, learn, my dear +Abraham, that this political Killigrew, just before the breaking up of +the last administration, was in actual treaty with them for a place; +and if they had survived twenty-four hours longer, he would have been +now declaiming against the cry of No Popery! instead of inflaming it. +With this practical comment on the baseness of human nature, I bid you +adieu!</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>JAMES SMITH.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1775-1839.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lvi" id="lvi">LVI.</a> THE POET OF FASHION.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">From the famous <i>Rejected Addresses</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>His book is successful, he's steeped in renown,</div> + <div>His lyric effusions have tickled the town;</div> + <div>Dukes, dowagers, dandies, are eager to trace</div> + <div>The fountain of verse in the verse-maker's face:</div> + <div>While, proud as Apollo, with peers <i>tête-à-tête</i>,</div> + <div>From Monday till Saturday dining off plate,</div> + <div>His heart full of hope, and his head full of gain,</div> + <div>The Poet of Fashion dines out in Park Lane.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[217]<a name="page217" id="page217"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Now lean-jointured widows who seldom draw corks,</div> + <div>Whose tea-spoons do duty for knives and for forks,</div> + <div>Send forth, vellum-covered, a six-o'clock card,</div> + <div>And get up a dinner to peep at the bard;</div> + <div>Veal, sweetbread, boiled chickens, and tongue crown the cloth,</div> + <div>And soup <i>à la reine</i>, little better than broth.</div> + <div>While, past his meridian, but still with some heat,</div> + <div>The Poet of Fashion dines out in Sloane Street,</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Enrolled in the tribe who subsist by their wits,</div> + <div>Remember'd by starts, and forgotten by fits,</div> + <div>Now artists and actors, the bardling engage,</div> + <div>To squib in the journals, and write for the stage.</div> + <div>Now soup <i>à la reine</i> bends the knee to ox-cheek,</div> + <div>And chickens and tongue bow to bubble-and-squeak.</div> + <div>While, still in translation employ'd by "the Row"</div> + <div>The Poet of Fashion dines out in Soho.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Pushed down from Parnassus to Phlegethon's brink,</div> + <div>Toss'd, torn, and trunk-lining, but still with some ink,</div> + <div>Now squat city misses their albums expand,</div> + <div>And woo the worn rhymer for "something off-hand";</div> + <div>No longer with stinted effrontery fraught,</div> + <div>Bucklersbury now seeks what St. James's once sought,</div> + <div>And (O, what a classical haunt for a bard!)</div> + <div>The Poet of Fashion dines out in Barge-yard.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[218]<a name="page218" id="page218"></a></span> +<h2>WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1775-1864.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lvii" id="lvii">LVII.</a> BOSSUET AND THE DUCHESS OF FONTANGES.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is taken from Landor's <i>Imaginary Conversations</i>, and is one + of the best examples of his light, airy, satiric vein.</p></blockquote> + +<br /> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Mademoiselle, it is the King's desire that I compliment you on the +elevation you have attained.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>, O monseigneur, I know very well what you mean. His Majesty +is kind and polite to everybody. The last thing he said to me was, +"Angélique! do not forget to compliment Monseigneur the Bishop on the +dignity I have conferred upon him, of almoner to the Dauphiness. I +desired the appointment for him only that he might be of rank +sufficient to confess you, now you are Duchess. Let him be your +confessor, my little girl."</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. I dare not presume to ask you, mademoiselle, what was your +gracious reply to the condescension of our royal master.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Oh, yes! you may. I told him I was almost sure I should be +ashamed of confessing such naughty things to a person of high rank, who +writes like an angel.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. The observation was inspired, mademoiselle, by your goodness +and modesty.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. You are so agreeable a man, monseigneur, I will confess to +you, directly, if you like.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Have you brought yourself to a proper frame of mind, young +lady?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. What is that?</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[219]<a name="page219" id="page219"></a></span> +<i>Bossuet</i>. Do you hate sin?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Very much.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Are you resolved to leave it off?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. I have left it off entirely since the King began to love +me. I have never said a spiteful word of anybody since.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. In your opinion, mademoiselle, are there no other sins than +malice?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. I never stole anything; I never committed adultery; I +never coveted my neighbour's wife; I never killed any person, though +several have told me they should die for me.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Vain, idle talk! Did you listen to it?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Indeed I did, with both ears; it seemed so funny.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. You have something to answer for, then?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. No, indeed, I have not, monseigneur. I have asked many +times after them, and found they were all alive, which mortified me.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. So, then! you would really have them die for you?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Oh, no, no! but I wanted to see whether they were in +earnest, or told me fibs; for, if they told me fibs, I would never +trust them again.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Do you hate the world, mademoiselle?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. A good deal of it: all Picardy, for example, and all +Sologne; nothing is uglier—and, oh my life! what frightful men and +women!</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. I would say, in plain language, do you hate the flesh and +the devil?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Who does not hate the devil? If you will hold my hand the +while, I will tell him so.—I hate you, beast! There now. As for flesh, +I never could bear a fat man. Such people can neither dance nor hunt, +nor do anything that I know of.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[220]<a name="page220" id="page220"></a></span> +<i>Bossuet</i>. Mademoiselle Marie-Angélique de Scoraille de Rousille, +Duchess de Fontanges! do you hate titles and dignities and yourself?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Myself! does anyone hate me? Why should I be the first? +Hatred is the worst thing in the world: it makes one so very ugly.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. To love God, we must hate ourselves. We must detest our +bodies, if we would save our souls.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. That is hard: how can I do it? I see nothing so detestable +in mine. Do you? To love is easier. I love God whenever I think of him, +he has been so very good to me; but I cannot hate myself, if I would. +As God hath not hated me, why should I? Beside, it was he who made the +King to love me; for I heard you say in a sermon that the hearts of +kings are in his rule and governance. As for titles and dignities, I do +not care much about them while His Majesty loves me, and calls me his +Angélique. They make people more civil about us; and therefore it must +be a simpleton who hates or disregards them, and a hypocrite who +pretends it. I am glad to be a duchess. Manon and Lizette have never +tied my garter so as to hurt me since, nor has the mischievous old La +Grange said anything cross or bold; on the contrary, she told me what a +fine colour and what a plumpness it gave me. Would not you rather be a +duchess than a waiting-maid or a nun, if the King gave you your choice?</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Pardon me, mademoiselle, I am confounded at the levity of +your question.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. I am in earnest, as you see.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Flattery will come before you in other and more dangerous +forms: you will be commended for excellences which do not belong to +you; and this you will find as injurious to your repose as to your +virtue. An ingenuous mind feels in unmerited praise the bitterest +<span class="pagenum">[221]<a name="page221" id="page221"></a></span> +reproof. If you reject it, you are unhappy; if you accept it, you are +undone. The compliments of a king are of themselves sufficient to +pervert your intellect.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. There you are mistaken twice over. It is not my person +that pleases him so greatly: it is my spirit, my wit, my talents, my +genius, and that very thing which you have mentioned—what was it? my +intellect. He never complimented me the least upon my beauty. Others +have said that I am the most beautiful young creature under heaven; a +blossom of Paradise, a nymph, an angel; worth (let me whisper it in +your ear—do I lean too hard?) a thousand Montespans. But His Majesty +never said more on the occasion than that I was <i>imparagonable</i>! (what +is that?) and that he adored me; holding my hand and sitting quite +still, when he might have romped with me and kissed me.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. I would aspire to the glory of converting you.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. You may do anything with me but convert me: you must not +do that; I am a Catholic born. M. de Turenne and Mademoiselle de Duras +were heretics: you did right there. The King told the chancellor that +he prepared them, that the business was arranged for you, and that you +had nothing to do but get ready the arguments and responses, which you +did gallantly—did not you? And yet Mademoiselle de Duras was very +awkward for a long while afterwards in crossing herself, and was once +remarked to beat her breast in the litany with the points of two +fingers at a time, when everyone is taught to use only the second, +whether it has a ring upon it or not. I am sorry she did so; for people +might think her insincere in her conversion, and pretend that she kept +a finger for each religion.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. It would be as uncharitable to doubt the conviction of +Mademoiselle de Duras as that of M. le Maréchali.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[222]<a name="page222" id="page222"></a></span> +<i>Fontanges</i>. I have heard some fine verses, I can assure you, +monseigneur, in which you are called the conqueror of Turenne. I should +like to have been his conqueror myself, he was so great a man. I +understand that you have lately done a much more difficult thing.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. To what do you refer, mademoiselle?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. That you have overcome quietism. Now, in the name of +wonder, how could you manage that?</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. By the grace of God.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Yes, indeed; but never until now did God give any preacher +so much of his grace as to subdue this pest.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. It has appeared among us but lately.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Oh, dear me! I have always been subject to it dreadfully, +from a child.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Really! I never heard so.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. I checked myself as well as I could, although they +constantly told me I looked well in it.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. In what, mademoiselle?</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. In quietism; that is, when I fell asleep at sermon-time. I +am ashamed that such a learned and pious man as M. de Fénélon should +incline to it, as they say he does.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Mademoiselle, you quite mistake the matter.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Is not then M. de Fénélon thought a very pious and learned +person?</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. And justly.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. I have read a great way in a romance he has begun, about a +knight-errant in search of a father. The King says there are many such +about his court; but I never saw them nor heard of them before. The +Marchioness de la Motte, his relative, brought it to me, written out in +a charming hand, as much as the copybook would hold; and I got through, +I know not how far. If he had gone on with the nymphs in the grotto, I +<span class="pagenum">[223]<a name="page223" id="page223"></a></span> +never should have been tired of him; but he quite forgot his own +story, and left them at once: in a hurry (I suppose) to set out upon +his mission to Saintonge in the <i>pays de d'Aunis</i>, where the King has +promised him a famous <i>heretic-hunt</i>. He is, I do assure you, a +wonderful creature: he understands so much Latin and Greek, and knows +all the tricks of the sorceresses. Yet you keep him under.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Mademoiselle, if you really have anything to confess, and if +you desire that I should have the honour of absolving you, it would be +better to proceed in it, than to oppress me with unmerited eulogies on +my humble labours.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. You must first direct me, monseigneur: I have nothing +particular. The King assures me there is no harm whatever in his love +toward me.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. That depends on your thoughts at the moment. If you abstract +the mind from the body, and turn your heart toward heaven—</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. O monseigneur, I always did so—every time but once—you +quite make me blush. Let us converse about something else, or I shall +grow too serious, just as you made me the other day at the funeral +sermon. And now let me tell you, my lord, you compose such pretty +funeral sermons, I hope I shall have the pleasure of hearing you preach +mine.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Rather let us hope, mademoiselle, that the hour is yet far +distant when so melancholy a service will be performed for you. May he +who is unborn be the sad announcer of your departure hence! +<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref231" id="fnref231" href="#fn231">[231]</a></span> May he +indicate to those around him many virtues not perhaps yet full-blown in +you, and point triumphantly to many faults and foibles checked by you +in their early growth, and <span class="pagenum">[224]<a name="page224" id="page224"></a></span> +lying dead on the open road you shall have +left behind you! To me the painful duty will, I trust, be spared: I am +advanced in age; you are a child.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Oh, no! I am seventeen.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. I should have supposed you younger by two years at least. +But do you collect nothing from your own reflection, which raises so +many in my breast? You think it possible that I, aged as I am, may +preach a sermon on your funeral. We say that our days are few; and +saying it, we say too much. Marie Angélique, we have but one: the past +are not ours, and who can promise us the future? This in which we live +is ours only while we live in it; the next moment may strike it off +from us; the next sentence I would utter may be broken and fall between +us.<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref232" id="fnref232" href="#fn232">[232]</a></span> +The beauty that has made a thousand hearts to beat at one +instant, at the succeeding has been without pulse and colour, without +admirer, friend, companion, follower. She by whose eyes the march of +victory shall have been directed, whose name shall have animated armies +at the extremities of the earth, drops into one of its crevices and +mingles with its dust. Duchess de Fontanges! think on this! Lady! so +live as to think on it undisturbed!</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. O God! I am quite alarmed. Do not talk thus gravely. It is +in vain that you speak to me in so sweet a voice. I am frightened even +at the rattle of the beads about my neck: take them off, and let us +talk on other things. What was it that dropped on the floor as +<span class="pagenum">[225]<a name="page225" id="page225"></a></span>you +were speaking? It seemed to shake the room, though it sounded like a +pin or button.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Leave it there!</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Your ring fell from your hand, my Lord Bishop! How quick +you are! Could not you have trusted me to pick it up?</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Madame is too condescending: had this happened, I should +have been overwhelmed with confusion. My hand is shrivelled: the ring +has ceased to fit it. A mere accident may draw us into perdition; a +mere accident may bestow on us the means of grace. A pebble has moved +you more than my words.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. It pleases me vastly: I admire rubies. I will ask the King +for one exactly like it. This is the time he usually comes from the +chase. I am sorry you cannot be present to hear how prettily I shall +ask him: but that is impossible, you know; for I shall do it just when +I am certain he would give me anything. He said so himself; he said but +yesterday—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>'Such a sweet creature is worth a world":</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="noindent">and no actor on the stage was more like a king than His Majesty was +when he spoke it, if he had but kept his wig and robe on. And yet you +know he is rather stiff and wrinkled for so great a monarch; and his +eyes, I am afraid, are beginning to fail him, he looks so close at +things.</p> + +<p><i>Bossuet</i>. Mademoiselle, such is the duty of a prince who desires to +conciliate our regard and love.</p> + +<p><i>Fontanges</i>. Well, I think so too, though I did not like it in him at +first. I am sure he will order the ring for me, and I will confess to +you with it upon my finger. But first I must be cautious and particular +to know of him how much it is his royal will that I should say.</p> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn231" id="fn231" href="#fnref231">[231]</a></span> +Bossuet was in his fifty-fourth year; Mademoiselle de +Fontanges died in child-bed the year following; he survived her +twenty-three years. +<br /><br /> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn232" id="fn232" href="#fnref232">[232]</a></span> +Though Bossuet was capable of uttering and even of +feeling such a sentiment, his conduct towards Fénélon, the fairest +apparition that Christianity ever presented, was ungenerous and unjust. +<br /><br /> +While the diocese of Cambray was ravaged by Louis, it was spared by +Marlborough, who said to the Archbishop that, if he was sorry he had +not taken Cambray, it was chiefly because he lost for a time the +pleasure of visiting so great a man. Peterborough, the next of our +generals in glory, paid his respects to him some years afterward. +</div> + +<span class="pagenum">[226]<a name="page226" id="page226"></a></span> +<h2>GEORGE, LORD BYRON.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1788-1824.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lviii" id="lviii">LVIII.</a> THE VISION OF JUDGMENT.</h3> + + <blockquote><p><i>The Vision of Judgment</i> appeared in 1822, and created a great + sensation owing to its terrible attack on George III., as well as + its ridicule of Southey, of whose long-forgotten <i>Vision of + Judgment</i> this is a parody.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate;</div> + <div class="in1">His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull,</div> + <div>So little trouble had been given of late:</div> + <div class="in1">Not that the place by any means was full,</div> + <div>But since the Gallic era "eighty-eight",</div> + <div class="in1">The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull,</div> + <div>And "a pull all together", as they say</div> + <div>At sea—which drew most souls another way.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The angels all were singing out of tune,</div> + <div class="in1">And hoarse with having little else to do,</div> + <div>Excepting to wind up the sun and moon,</div> + <div class="in1">Or curb a runaway young star or two,</div> + <div>Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon</div> + <div class="in1">Broke out of bounds o'er the ethereal blue,</div> + <div>Splitting some planet with its playful tail,</div> + <div>As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>III.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The guardian seraphs had retired on high,</div> + <div class="in1">Finding their charges past all care below;</div> + <div>Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky</div> + <div class="in1">Save the recording angel's black bureau;</div> + <div>Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply</div> + <div class="in1">With such rapidity of vice and woe,</div> + <div>That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills,</div> + <div>And yet was in arrear of human ills.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[227]<a name="page227" id="page227"></a></span> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>His business so augmented of late years,</div> + <div class="in1">That he was forced, against his will no doubt</div> + <div>(Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers),</div> + <div class="in1">For some resource to turn himself about,</div> + <div>And claim the help of his celestial peers,</div> + <div class="in1">To aid him ere he should be quite worn out</div> + <div>By the increased demand for his remarks:</div> + <div>Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>V.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>This was a handsome board—at least for heaven;</div> + <div class="in1">And yet they had even then enough to do,</div> + <div>So many conquerors' cars were daily driven,</div> + <div class="in1">So many kingdoms fitted up anew;</div> + <div>Each day, too, slew its thousands six or seven,</div> + <div class="in1">Till at the crowning carnage, Waterloo,</div> + <div>They threw their pens down in divine disgust,</div> + <div>The page was so besmear'd with blood and dust.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>This by the way; 'tis not mine to record</div> + <div class="in1">What angels shrink from: even the very devil</div> + <div>On this occasion his own work abhorr'd,</div> + <div class="in1">So surfeited with the infernal revel:</div> + <div>Though he himself had sharpen'd every sword,</div> + <div class="in1">It almost quench'd his innate thirst of evil.</div> + <div>(Here Satan's sole good work deserves insertion—</div> + <div>'Tis that he has both generals in reversion.)</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Let's skip a few short years of hollow peace,</div> + <div class="in1">Which peopled earth no better, hell as wont,</div> + <div>And heaven none—they form the tyrant's lease,</div> + <div class="in1">With nothing but new names subscribed upon't:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[228]<a name="page228" id="page228"></a></span> + <div>'Twill one day finish: meantime they increase,</div> + <div class="in1">"With seven heads and ten horns", and all in front,</div> + <div>Like Saint John's foretold beast; but ours are born</div> + <div>Less formidable in the head than horn.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>In the first year of freedom's second dawn</div> + <div class="in1">Died George the Third; although no tyrant, one</div> + <div>Who shielded tyrants, till each sense withdrawn</div> + <div class="in1">Left him nor mental nor external sun:</div> + <div>A better farmer ne'er brush'd dew from lawn,</div> + <div class="in1">A worse king never left a realm undone!</div> + <div>He died—but left his subjects still behind,</div> + <div>One half as mad—and t' other no less blind.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>IX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>He died! his death made no great stir on earth:</div> + <div class="in1">His burial made some pomp: there was profusion</div> + <div>Of velvet, gilding, brass, and no great dearth</div> + <div class="in1">Of aught but tears—save those shed by collusion.</div> + <div>For these things may be bought at their true worth;</div> + <div class="in1">Of elegy there was the due infusion—</div> + <div>Bought also; and the torches, cloaks, and banners,</div> + <div>Heralds, and relics of old Gothic manners,</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>X.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Form'd a sepulchral mélodrame. Of all</div> + <div class="in1">The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show,</div> + <div>Who cared about the corpse? The funeral</div> + <div class="in1">Made the attraction, and the black the woe,</div> + <div>There throbb'd not there a thought which pierced the pall;</div> + <div class="in1">And when the gorgeous coffin was laid low,</div> + <div>It seem'd the mockery of hell to fold</div> + <div>The rottenness of eighty years in gold.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[229]<a name="page229" id="page229"></a></span> +<h3>XI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>So mix his body with the dust! It might</div> + <div class="in1">Return to what it <i>must</i> far sooner, were</div> + <div>The natural compound left alone to fight</div> + <div class="in1">Its way back into earth, and fire, and air,</div> + <div>But the unnatural balsams merely blight</div> + <div class="in1">What nature made him at his birth, as bare</div> + <div>As the mere million's base unmummied clay—</div> + <div>Yet all his spices but prolong decay.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>He's dead—and upper earth with him has done;</div> + <div class="in1">He's buried; save the undertaker's bill,</div> + <div>Or lapidary's scrawl, the world has gone</div> + <div class="in1">For him, unless he left a German will.</div> + <div>But where's the proctor who will ask his son?</div> + <div class="in1">In whom his qualities are reigning still,</div> + <div>Except that household virtue, most uncommon,</div> + <div>Of constancy to a bad, ugly woman.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"God save the King!" It is a large economy</div> + <div class="in1">In God to save the like; but if He will</div> + <div>Be saving, all the better; for not one am I</div> + <div class="in1">Of those who think damnation better still;</div> + <div>I hardly know, too, if not quite alone am I</div> + <div class="in1">In this small hope of bettering future ill</div> + <div>By circumscribing, with some slight restriction,</div> + <div>The eternity of hell's hot jurisdiction.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XIV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I know this is unpopular; I know</div> + <div class="in1">'Tis blasphemous; I know one may be damn'd</div> + <div>For hoping no one else may e'er be so;</div> + <div class="in1">I know my catechism: I know we 're cramm'd</div> +<span class="pagenum">[230]<a name="page230" id="page230"></a></span> + <div>With the best doctrines till we quite o'erflow;</div> + <div class="in1">I know that all save England's church have shamm'd;</div> + <div>And that the other twice two hundred churches</div> + <div>And synagogues have made a <i>damn'd</i> bad purchase.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>God help us all! God help me too! I am,</div> + <div class="in1">God knows, as helpless as the devil can wish,</div> + <div>And not a whit more difficult to damn,</div> + <div class="in1">Than is to bring to land a late-hooked fish,</div> + <div>Or to the butcher to purvey the lamb;</div> + <div class="in1">Not that I'm fit for such a noble dish,</div> + <div>As one day will be that immortal fry</div> + <div>Of almost everybody born to die.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XVI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate,</div> + <div class="in1">And nodded o'er his keys; when lo! there came</div> + <div>A wondrous noise he had not heard of late—</div> + <div class="in1">A rushing sound of wind, and stream, and flame;</div> + <div>In short, a roar of things extremely great,</div> + <div class="in1">Which would have made all save a saint exclaim;</div> + <div>But he, with first a start and then a wink,</div> + <div>Said, "There's another star gone out, I think!"</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XVII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>But ere he could return to his repose,</div> + <div class="in1">A cherub flapp'd his right wing o'er his eyes—</div> + <div>At which Saint Peter yawn'd and rubb'd his nose;</div> + <div class="in1">"Saint porter," said the angel, "prithee rise!"</div> + <div>Waving a goodly wing, which glow'd, as glows</div> + <div class="in1">An earthly peacock's tail, with heavenly dyes;</div> + <div>To which the Saint replied, "Well, what's the matter?</div> + <div>Is Lucifer come back with all this clatter?"</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[231]<a name="page231" id="page231"></a></span> +<h3>XVIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"No," quoth the cherub; "George the Third is dead."</div> + <div class="in1">"And who <i>is</i> George the Third?" replied the apostle;</div> + <div>"<i>What George? What Third?</i>" "The King of England," said</div> + <div class="in1">The angel. "Well, he won't find kings to jostle</div> + <div>Him on his way; but does he wear his head?</div> + <div class="in1">Because the last we saw here had a tussle,</div> + <div>And ne'er would have got into heaven's good graces,</div> + <div>Had he not flung his head in all our faces.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XIX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"He was, if I remember, King of France,</div> + <div class="in1">That head of his, which could not keep a crown</div> + <div>On earth, yet ventured in my face to advance</div> + <div class="in1">A claim to those of martyrs—like my own.</div> + <div>If I had had my sword, as I had once</div> + <div class="in1">When I cut ears off, I had cut him down;</div> + <div>But having but my <i>keys</i>, and not my brand,</div> + <div>I only knock'd his head from out his hand.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"And then he set up such a headless howl,</div> + <div class="in1">That all the saints came out and took him in;</div> + <div>And there he sits by St. Paul, cheek by jowl;</div> + <div class="in1">That fellow Paul—the parvenu! The skin</div> + <div>Of Saint Bartholomew, which makes his cowl</div> + <div class="in1">In heaven, and upon earth redeem'd his sin</div> + <div>So as to make a martyr, never sped</div> + <div>Better than did that weak and wooden head.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"But had it come up here upon its shoulders,</div> + <div class="in1">There would have been a different tale to tell;</div> + <div>The fellow-feeling in the saints' beholders</div> + <div class="in1">Seems to have acted on them like a spell;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[232]<a name="page232" id="page232"></a></span> + <div>And so this very foolish head heaven solders</div> + <div class="in1">Back on its trunk: it may be very well,</div> + <div>And seems the custom here to overthrow</div> + <div>Whatever has been wisely done below."</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The angel answer'd, "Peter! do not pout:</div> + <div class="in1">The king who comes has head and all entire,</div> + <div>And never knew much what it was about—</div> + <div class="in1">He did as doth the puppet—by its wire,</div> + <div>And will be judged like all the rest, no doubt:</div> + <div class="in1">My business and your own is not to inquire</div> + <div>Into such matters, but to mind our cue—</div> + <div>Which is to act as we are bid to do."</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>While thus they spake, the angelic caravan,</div> + <div class="in1">Arriving like a rush of mighty wind,</div> + <div>Cleaving the fields of space, as doth the swan</div> + <div class="in1">Some silver stream (say Ganges, Nile, or Inde,</div> + <div>Or Thames, or Tweed), and 'midst them an old man</div> + <div class="in1">With an old soul, and both extremely blind,</div> + <div>Halted before the gate, and in his shroud</div> + <div>Seated their fellow-traveller on a cloud.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXIV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>But bringing up the rear of this bright host,</div> + <div class="in1">A Spirit of a different aspect waved</div> + <div>His wings, like thunder-clouds above some coast</div> + <div class="in1">Whose barren beach with frequent wrecks is paved;</div> + <div>His brow was like the deep when tempest-toss'd;</div> + <div class="in1">Fierce and unfathomable thoughts engraved</div> + <div>Eternal wrath on his immortal face,</div> + <div>And <i>where</i> he gazed, a gloom pervaded space.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[233]<a name="page233" id="page233"></a></span> +<h3>XXV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate</div> + <div class="in1">Ne'er to be enter'd more by him or Sin,</div> + <div>With such a glance of supernatural hate,</div> + <div class="in1">As made St. Peter wish himself within:</div> + <div>He patter'd with his keys at a great rate,</div> + <div class="in1">And sweated through his apostolic skin:</div> + <div>Of course his perspiration was but ichor,</div> + <div>Or some such other spiritual liquor.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXVI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The very cherubs huddled all together,</div> + <div class="in1">Like birds when soars the falcon; and they felt</div> + <div>A tingling to the tip of every feather,</div> + <div class="in1">And form'd a circle like Orion's belt</div> + <div>Around their poor old charge; who scarce knew whither</div> + <div class="in1">His guards had led him, though they gently dealt</div> + <div>With royal manes (for by many stories,</div> + <div>And true, we learn the angels all are Tories).</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXVII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>As things were in this posture, the gate flew</div> + <div class="in1">Asunder, and the flashing of its hinges</div> + <div>Flung over space an universal hue</div> + <div class="in1">Of many-color'd flame, until its tinges</div> + <div>Reach'd even our speck of earth, and made a new</div> + <div class="in1">Aurora Borealis spread its fringes</div> + <div>O'er the North Pole, the same seen, when ice-bound,</div> + <div>By Captain Perry's crew, in "Melville's Sound".</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXVIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>And from the gate thrown open issued beaming</div> + <div class="in1">A beautiful and mighty Thing of Light,</div> + <div>Radiant with glory, like a banner streaming</div> + <div class="in1">Victorious from some world-o'erthrowing fight:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[234]<a name="page234" id="page234"></a></span> + <div>My poor comparisons must needs be teeming</div> + <div class="in1">With earthly likenesses, for here the night</div> + <div>Of clay obscures our best conceptions, saving</div> + <div>Johanna Southcote, or Bob Southey raving.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXIX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>'Twas the archangel Michael: all men know</div> + <div class="in1">The make of angels and archangels, since</div> + <div>There's scarce a scribbler has not one to show,</div> + <div class="in1">From the fiends' leader to the angels' prince.</div> + <div>There also are some altar-pieces, though</div> + <div class="in1">I really can't say that they much evince</div> + <div>One's inner notions of immortal spirits;</div> + <div>But let the connoisseurs explain <i>their</i> merits.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Michael flew forth in glory and in good,</div> + <div class="in1">A goodly work of Him from whom all glory</div> + <div>And good arise: the portal pass'd—he stood</div> + <div class="in1">Before him the young cherubs and saints hoary—</div> + <div>(I say <i>young</i>, begging to be understood</div> + <div class="in1">By looks, not years, and should be very sorry</div> + <div>To state, they were not older than St. Peter,</div> + <div>But merely that they seem'd a little sweeter).</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXXI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The cherubs and the saints bow'd down before</div> + <div class="in1">That archangelic hierarch, the first</div> + <div>Of essences angelical, who wore</div> + <div class="in1">The aspect of a god; but this ne'er nursed</div> + <div>Pride in his heavenly bosom, in whose core</div> + <div class="in1">No thought, save for his Maker's service, durst</div> + <div>Intrude, however glorified and high;</div> + <div>He knew him but the viceroy of the sky.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[235]<a name="page235" id="page235"></a></span> +<h3>XXXII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>He and the sombre silent Spirit met—</div> + <div class="in1">They knew each other both for good and ill;</div> + <div>Such was their power that neither could forget</div> + <div class="in1">His former friend and future foe; but still</div> + <div>There was a high, immortal, proud regret</div> + <div class="in1">In either's eye, as if't were less their will</div> + <div>Than destiny to make the eternal years</div> + <div>Their date of war, and their <i>champ clos</i> the spheres.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXXIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>But here they were in neutral space: we know</div> + <div class="in1">From Job, that Satan hath the power to pay</div> + <div>A heavenly visit thrice a year or so;</div> + <div class="in1">And that "the sons of God", like those of clay,</div> + <div>Must keep him company; and we might show</div> + <div class="in1">From the same book, in how polite a way</div> + <div>The dialogue is held between the powers</div> + <div>Of Good and Evil—but 'twould take up hours.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XXXIV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>And this is not a theologic tract,</div> + <div class="in1">To prove with Hebrew and with Arabic,</div> + <div>If Job be allegory or a fact,</div> + <div class="in1">But a true narrative; and thus I pick</div> + <div>From out the whole but such and such an act,</div> + <div class="in1">As sets aside the slightest thought of trick.</div> + <div>'Tis every tittle true, beyond suspicion,</div> + <div>And accurate as any other vision.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum">[236]<a name="page236" id="page236"></a></span> +<h3><a name="lix" id="lix">LIX.</a> THE WALTZ.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">Published in 1813 and described by its author as an "Apostrophic + Hymn".</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Muse of the many-twinkling feet! whose charms</div> + <div>Are now extended up from legs to arms;</div> + <div>Terpsichore!—too long misdeem'd a maid—</div> + <div>Reproachful term—bestow'd but to upbraid—</div> + <div>Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine,</div> + <div>The least a vestal of the virgin Nine.</div> + <div>Far be from thee and thine the name of prude;</div> + <div>Mock'd, yet triumphant; sneer'd at, unsubdued;</div> + <div>Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly,</div> + <div>If but thy coats are reasonably high;</div> + <div>Thy breast, if bare enough, requires no shield:</div> + <div>Dance forth—<i>sans armour</i> thou shalt take the field,</div> + <div>And own—impregnable to <i>most</i> assaults,</div> + <div>Thy not too lawfully begotten "Waltz".</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young huzzar,</div> + <div>The whisker'd votary of waltz and war,</div> + <div>His night devotes, despite of spurs and boots;</div> + <div>A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes:</div> + <div>Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz! beneath whose banners</div> + <div>A modern hero fought for modish manners;</div> + <div>On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's fame,</div> + <div>Cock'd, fired, and miss'd his man—but gain'd his aim:</div> + <div>Hail, moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast</div> + <div>Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest.</div> + <div>Oh, for the flow of Busby or of Fitz,</div> + <div>The latter's loyalty, the former's wits,</div> + <div>To "energize the object I pursue",</div> + <div>And give both Belial and his dance their due!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine</div> + <div>(Famed for the growth of pedigree and wine),</div> +<span class="pagenum">[237]<a name="page237" id="page237"></a></span> + <div>Long be thine import from all duty free,</div> + <div>And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee;</div> + <div>In some few qualities alike—for hock</div> + <div>Improves our cellar—<i>thou</i> our living stock.</div> + <div>The head to hock belongs—thy subtler art</div> + <div>Intoxicates alone the heedless heart:</div> + <div>Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims,</div> + <div>And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>O Germany! how much to thee we owe,</div> + <div>As heaven-born Pitt can testify below.</div> + <div>Ere cursed confederation made thee France's,</div> + <div>And only left us thy d—d debts and dances!</div> + <div>Of subsidies and Hanover bereft,</div> + <div>We bless thee still—for George the Third is left!</div> + <div>Of kings the best, and last not least in worth,</div> + <div>For graciously begetting George the Fourth.</div> + <div>To Germany, and highnesses serene,</div> + <div>Who owe us millions—don't we owe the queen?</div> + <div>To Germany, what owe we not besides?</div> + <div>So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides:</div> + <div>Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood,</div> + <div>Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud;</div> + <div>Who sent us—so be pardon'd all our faults—</div> + <div>A dozen dukes, some kings, a queen—and Waltz.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>But peace to her, her emperor and diet,</div> + <div>Though now transferr'd to Bonaparte's "fiat!"</div> + <div>Back to thy theme—O Muse of motion! say,</div> + <div>How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Borne on thy breath of hyperborean gales</div> + <div>From Hamburg's port (while Hamburg yet had <i>mails</i>),</div> + <div>Ere yet unlucky Fame, compelled to creep</div> + <div>To snowy Gottenburg was chill'd to sleep;</div> + <div>Or, starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise,</div> + <div>Heligoland, to stock thy mart with lies;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[238]<a name="page238" id="page238"></a></span> + <div>While unburnt Moscow yet had news to send,</div> + <div>Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend.</div> + <div>She came—Waltz came—and with her certain sets</div> + <div>Of true despatches, and as true gazettes:</div> + <div>Then flamed of Austerlitz the blest despatch,</div> + <div>Which <i>Moniteur</i> nor <i>Morning Post</i> can match;</div> + <div>And, almost crush'd beneath the glorious news,</div> + <div>Ten plays, and forty tales of Kotzebue's;</div> + <div>One envoy's letters, six composers' airs,</div> + <div>And loads from Frankfort and from Leipsic fairs:</div> + <div>Meiner's four volumes upon womankind,</div> + <div>Like Lapland witches to ensure a wind;</div> + <div>Brunck's heaviest tome for ballast, and, to back it,</div> + <div>Of Heynè, such as should not sink the packet.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Fraught with this cargo, and her fairest freight,</div> + <div>Delightful Waltz, on tiptoe for a mate,</div> + <div>The welcome vessel reach'd the genial strand,</div> + <div>And round her flock'd the daughters of the land.</div> + <div>Not decent David, when, before the ark,</div> + <div>His grand <i>pas-seul</i> excited some remark,</div> + <div>Not love-lorn Quixote, when his Sancho thought</div> + <div>The knight's fandango friskier than it ought;</div> + <div>Not soft Herodias, when, with winning tread,</div> + <div>Her nimble feet danced off another's head;</div> + <div>Not Cleopatra on her galley's deck,</div> + <div>Display'd so much of <i>leg</i>, or more of <i>neck</i>,</div> + <div>Than thou ambrosial Waltz, when first the moon</div> + <div>Beheld thee twirling to a Saxon tune!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>To you, ye husbands of ten years whose brows</div> + <div>Ache with the annual tributes of a spouse;</div> + <div>To you of nine years less, who only bear</div> + <div>The budding sprouts of those that you <i>shall</i> wear,</div> + <div>With added ornaments around them roll'd</div> + <div>Of native brass, or law-awarded gold:</div> +<span class="pagenum">[239]<a name="page239" id="page239"></a></span> + <div>To you, ye matrons, ever on the watch</div> + <div>To mar a son's, or make a daughter's match;</div> + <div>To you, ye children of—whom chance accords—</div> + <div><i>Always</i> the ladies, and <i>sometimes</i> their lords;</div> + <div>To you, ye single gentlemen, who seek</div> + <div>Torments for life, or pleasures for a week;</div> + <div>As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide,</div> + <div>To gain your own, or snatch another's bride;—</div> + <div>To one and all the lovely stranger came,</div> + <div>And every ball-room echoes with her name.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Endearing Waltz! to thy more melting tune</div> + <div>Bow Irish jig and ancient rigadoon.</div> + <div>Scotch reels, avaunt! and country dance forego</div> + <div>Your future claims to each fantastic toe!</div> + <div>Waltz, Waltz alone, both legs and arms demands,</div> + <div>Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands;</div> + <div>Hands which may freely range in public sight</div> + <div>Where ne'er before—but—pray "put out the light".</div> + <div>Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier</div> + <div>Shines much too far, or I am much too near;</div> + <div>And true, though strange, Waltz whispers this remark,</div> + <div>"My slippery steps are safest in the dark!"</div> + <div>But here the Muse with due decorum halts,</div> + <div>And lends her longest petticoat to Waltz.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Observant travellers of every time!</div> + <div>Ye quartos publish'd upon every clime!</div> + <div>Oh, say, shall dull Romaika's heavy round,</div> + <div>Fandango's wriggle, or Bolero's bound;</div> + <div>Can Egypt's Almas—tantalizing group—</div> + <div>Columbia's caperers to the warlike whoop—</div> + <div>Can aught from cold Kamschatka to Cape Horn</div> + <div>With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be borne?</div> + <div>Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt's,</div> + <div>Each tourist pens a paragraph for "Waltz".</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[240]<a name="page240" id="page240"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Shades of those belles whose reign began of yore,</div> + <div>With George the Third's—and ended long before!—</div> + <div>Though in your daughters' daughters yet you thrive,</div> + <div>Burst from your lead, and be yourselves alive!</div> + <div>Back to the ball-room speed your spectred host;</div> + <div>Fools' Paradise is dull to that you lost.</div> + <div>No treacherous powder bids conjecture quake;</div> + <div>No stiff-starch'd stays make meddling fingers ache</div> + <div>(Transferr'd to those ambiguous things that ape</div> + <div>Goats in their visage, women in their shape):</div> + <div>No damsel faints when rather closely press'd,</div> + <div>But more caressing seems when most caress'd;</div> + <div>Superfluous hartshorn and reviving salts;</div> + <div>Both banished, by the sovereign cordial, "Waltz".</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Seductive Waltz!—though on thy native shore</div> + <div>Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore:</div> + <div>Werter—to decent vice though much inclined,</div> + <div>Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blind—</div> + <div>Though gentle Genlis, in her strife with Staël,</div> + <div>Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball;</div> + <div>The fashion hails—from countesses to queens,</div> + <div>And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes;</div> + <div>Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads,</div> + <div>And turns—if nothing else—at least our <i>heads</i>;</div> + <div>With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce,</div> + <div>And cockneys practise what they can't pronounce.</div> + <div>Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts,</div> + <div>And rhyme finds partner rhyme in praise of "Waltz!"</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Blest was the time Waltz chose for her <i>début</i>:</div> + <div>The court, the Regent, like herself, were new,</div> + <div>New face for friends, for foes some new rewards;</div> + <div>New ornaments for black and royal guards;</div> + <div>New laws to hang the rogues that roar'd for bread;</div> + <div>New coins (most new) to follow those that fled;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[241]<a name="page241" id="page241"></a></span> + <div>New victories—nor can we prize them less,</div> + <div>Though Jenky wonders at his own success;</div> + <div>New wars, because the old succeed so well,</div> + <div>That most survivors envy those who fell;</div> + <div>New mistresses—no, old—and yet 'tis true,</div> + <div>Though they be <i>old</i>, the <i>thing</i> is something new;</div> + <div>Each new, quite new—(except some ancient tricks),</div> + <div>New white-sticks, gold-sticks, broom-sticks, all new sticks!</div> + <div>With vests or ribbons, deck'd alike in hue,</div> + <div>New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue;</div> + <div>So saith the muse! my ——, what say you?</div> + <div>Such was the time when Waltz might best maintain</div> + <div>Her new preferments in this novel reign;</div> + <div>Such was the time, nor ever yet was such:</div> + <div>Hoops are <i>no more</i>, and petticoats <i>not much</i>:</div> + <div>Morals and minuets, virtue and her stays,</div> + <div>And tell-tale powder—all have had their days.</div> + <div>The ball begins—the honours of the house</div> + <div>First duly done by daughter or by spouse,</div> + <div>Some potentate—or royal or serene—</div> + <div>With Kent's gay grace, or sapient Glo'ster's mien,</div> + <div>Leads forth the ready dame, whose rising flush</div> + <div>Might once have been mistaken for a blush,</div> + <div>From where the garb just leaves the bosom free,</div> + <div>That spot where hearts were once supposed to be;</div> + <div>Round all the confines of the yielded waist,</div> + <div>The stranger's hand may wander undisplaced;</div> + <div>The lady's in return may grasp as much</div> + <div>As princely paunches offer to her touch.</div> + <div>Pleased round the chalky floor how well they trip,</div> + <div>One hand reposing on the royal hip:</div> + <div>The other to the shoulder no less royal</div> + <div>Ascending with affection truly loyal!</div> + <div>Thus front to front the partners move or stand,</div> + <div>The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[242]<a name="page242" id="page242"></a></span> + <div>And all in turn may follow in their rank,</div> + <div>The Earl of—Asterisk—and Lady—Blank;</div> + <div>Sir—Such-a-one—with those of fashion's host,</div> + <div>For whose blest surnames—<i>vide Morning Post</i></div> + <div>(Or if for that impartial print too late,</div> + <div>Search Doctors' Commons six months from my date)—</div> + <div>Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow,</div> + <div>The genial contact gently undergo;</div> + <div>Till some might marvel, with the modest Turk,</div> + <div>If "nothing follows all this palming work".</div> + <div>True, honest Mirza!—you may trust my rhyme—</div> + <div>Something does follow at a fitter time;</div> + <div>The breast thus publicly resign'd to man</div> + <div>In private may resist him—if it can.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>O ye who loved our grandmothers of yore,</div> + <div>Fitzpatrick, Sheridan, and many more!</div> + <div>And thou, my prince! whose sovereign taste and will</div> + <div>It is to love the lovely beldames still!</div> + <div>Thou ghost of Queensbury! whose judging sprite</div> + <div>Satan may spare to peep a single night,</div> + <div>Pronounce—if ever in your days of bliss</div> + <div>Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this;</div> + <div>To teach the young ideas how to rise,</div> + <div>Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes;</div> + <div>Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame,</div> + <div>With half-told wish and ill-dissembled flame;</div> + <div>For prurient nature still will storm the breast—</div> + <div><i>Who</i>, tempted thus, can answer for the rest?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>But ye, who never felt a single thought,</div> + <div>For what our morals are to be, or ought;</div> + <div>Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap,</div> + <div>Say—would you make those beauties quite so cheap?</div> + <div>Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,</div> + <div>Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[243]<a name="page243" id="page243"></a></span> + <div>Where were the rapture then to clasp the form</div> + <div>From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm?</div> + <div>At once love's most endearing thought resign,</div> + <div>To press the hand so press'd by none but thine;</div> + <div>To gaze upon that eye which never met</div> + <div>Another's ardent look without regret;</div> + <div>Approach the lip which all, without restraint,</div> + <div>Come near enough—if not to touch—to taint;</div> + <div>If such thou lovest—love her then no more,</div> + <div>Or give—like her—caresses to a score;</div> + <div>Her mind with these is gone, and with it go</div> + <div>The little left behind it to bestow.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme?</div> + <div>The bard forgot thy praises were his theme.</div> + <div>Terpsichore, forgive!—at every ball</div> + <div>My wife <i>now</i> waltzes—and my daughters <i>shall</i>;</div> + <div><i>My</i> son—(or stop—'tis needless to inquire—</div> + <div>These little accidents should ne'er transpire;</div> + <div>Some ages hence our genealogic tree</div> + <div>Will wear as green a bough for him as me)—</div> + <div>Waltzing shall rear, to make our name amends,</div> + <div>Grandsons for me—in heirs to all his friends.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="lx" id="lx">LX.</a> "THE DEDICATION" IN DON JUAN.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Southey as Poet Laureate was a favourite target for satirical quips + and cranks on the part of Byron. This "Dedication" was not + published until after the author's death.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Bob Southey! You're a poet—Poet-laureate,</div> + <div class="in1">And representative of all the race;</div> + <div>Although 'tis true that you turn'd out a Tory</div> + <div class="in1">Last—yours has lately been a common case—</div> +<span class="pagenum">[244]<a name="page244" id="page244"></a></span> + <div>And now, my Epic Renegade! what are ye at?</div> + <div class="in1">With all the Lakers, in and out of place?</div> + <div>A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye</div> + <div>Like "four-and-twenty Blackbirds in a pie;</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"Which pie being open'd they began to sing"</div> + <div class="in1">(This old song and new simile holds good),</div> + <div>"A dainty dish to set before the King",</div> + <div class="in1">Or Regent, who admires such kind of food—</div> + <div>And Coleridge, too, has lately taken wing,</div> + <div class="in1">But like a hawk encumber'd with his hood—</div> + <div>Explaining metaphysics to the nation—</div> + <div>I wish he would explain his Explanation.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>III.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>You, Bob, are rather insolent, you know</div> + <div class="in1">At being disappointed in your wish</div> + <div>To supersede all warblers here below,</div> + <div class="in1">And be the only blackbird in the dish;</div> + <div>And then you overstrain yourself, or so,</div> + <div class="in1">And tumble downward like the flying fish</div> + <div>Gasping on deck, because you soar too high, Bob,</div> + <div>And fall, for lack of moisture quite a-dry, Bob!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>And Wordsworth, in a rather long "Excursion"</div> + <div class="in1">(I think the quarto holds five hundred pages),</div> + <div>Has given a sample from the vasty version</div> + <div class="in1">Of his new system to perplex the sages;</div> + <div>'Tis poetry—at least by his assertion,</div> + <div class="in1">And may appear so when the dog-star rages—</div> + <div>And he who understands it would be able</div> + <div>To add a story to the Tower of Babel.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[245]<a name="page245" id="page245"></a></span> +<h3>V.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>You—Gentlemen! by dint of long seclusion</div> + <div class="in1">From better company, have kept your own</div> + <div>At Keswick, and, through still continued fusion</div> + <div class="in1">Of one another's minds, at last have grown</div> + <div>To deem as a most logical conclusion,</div> + <div class="in1">That Poesy has wreaths for you alone;</div> + <div>There is a narrowness in such a notion,</div> + <div>Which makes me wish you'd change your lakes for ocean.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I would not imitate the petty thought,</div> + <div class="in1">Nor coin my self-love to so base a vice,</div> + <div>For all the glory your conversion brought,</div> + <div class="in1">Since gold alone should not have been its price,</div> + <div>You have your salary; was't for that you wrought?</div> + <div class="in1">And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise!</div> + <div>You're shabby fellows—true—but poets still,</div> + <div>And duly seated on the immortal hill.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Your bays may hide the baldness of your brows—</div> + <div class="in1">Perhaps some virtuous blushes, let them go—</div> + <div>To you I envy neither fruit nor boughs,</div> + <div class="in1">And for the fame you would engross below,</div> + <div>The field is universal, and allows</div> + <div class="in1">Scope to all such as feel the inherent glow;</div> + <div>Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe, will try</div> + <div>'Gainst you the question with posterity.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>For me, who, wandering with pedestrian Muses,</div> + <div class="in1">Contend not with you on the winged steed,</div> + <div>I wish your fate may yield ye, when she chooses,</div> + <div class="in1">The fame you envy and the skill you need;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[246]<a name="page246" id="page246"></a></span> + <div>And recollect a poet nothing loses</div> + <div class="in1">In giving to his brethren their full meed</div> + <div>Of merit, and complaint of present days</div> + <div>Is not the certain path to future praise.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>IX.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>He that reserves his laurels for posterity</div> + <div class="in1">(Who does not often claim the bright reversion)</div> + <div>Has generally no great crop to spare it, he</div> + <div class="in1">Being only injured by his own assertion;</div> + <div>And although here and there some glorious rarity</div> + <div class="in1">Arise like Titan from the sea's immersion,</div> + <div>The major part of such appellants go</div> + <div>To—God knows where—for no one else can know.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>X.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>If, fallen in evil days on evil tongues,</div> + <div class="in1">Milton appealed to the Avenger, Time,</div> + <div>If Time, the Avenger, execrates his wrongs,</div> + <div class="in1">And makes the word "Miltonic" mean "<i>sublime</i>",</div> + <div><i>He</i> deign'd not to belie his soul in songs,</div> + <div class="in1">Nor turn his very talent to a crime;</div> + <div><i>He</i> did not loathe the sire to laud the son,</div> + <div>But closed the tyrant-hater he begun.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Think'st thou, could he—the blind old man—arise,</div> + <div class="in1">Like Samuel from the grave, to freeze once more</div> + <div>The blood of monarchs with his prophecies,</div> + <div class="in1">Or be alive again—again all hoar</div> + <div>With time and trials, and those helpless eyes,</div> + <div class="in1">And heartless daughters—worn—and pale—and poor:</div> + <div>Would <i>he</i> adore a sultan? <i>he</i> obey</div> + <div>The intellectual eunuch Castlereagh?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[247]<a name="page247" id="page247"></a></span> +<h3>XII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Cold-blooded, smooth-faced, placid miscreant!</div> + <div class="in1">Dabbling its sleek young hands in Erin's gore,</div> + <div>And thus for wider carnage taught to pant,</div> + <div class="in1">Transferr'd to gorge upon a sister shore,</div> + <div>The vulgarest tool that Tyranny could want,</div> + <div class="in1">With just enough of talent, and no more,</div> + <div>To lengthen fetters by another fix'd.</div> + <div>And offer poison long already mix'd.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XIII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>An orator of such set trash of phrase</div> + <div class="in1">Ineffably—legitimately vile,</div> + <div>That even its grossest flatterers dare not praise,</div> + <div class="in1">Nor foes—all nations—condescend to smile;</div> + <div>Not even a sprightly blunder's spark can blaze</div> + <div class="in1">From that Ixion grindstone's ceaseless toil,</div> + <div>That turns and turns to give the world a notion</div> + <div>Of endless torments and perpetual motion.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XIV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A bungler even in its disgusting trade,</div> + <div class="in1">And botching, patching, leaving still behind</div> + <div>Something of which its masters are afraid,</div> + <div class="in1">States to be curb'd, and thoughts to be confined,</div> + <div>Conspiracy or Congress to be made—</div> + <div class="in1">Cobbling at manacles for all mankind—</div> + <div>A tinkering slave-maker, who mends old chains,</div> + <div>With God and man's abhorrence for its gains.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XV.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>If we may judge of matter by the mind,</div> + <div class="in1">Emasculated to the marrow <i>It</i></div> + <div>Hath but two objects, how to serve, and bind,</div> + <div class="in1">Deeming the chain it wears even men may fit,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[248]<a name="page248" id="page248"></a></span> + <div>Eutropius of its many masters,—blind</div> + <div class="in1">To worth as freedom, wisdom as to wit,</div> + <div>Fearless—because <i>no</i> feeling dwells in ice,</div> + <div>Its very courage stagnates to a vice.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XVI.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Where shall I turn me not to <i>view</i> its bonds,</div> + <div class="in1">For I will never <i>feel</i> them:—Italy!</div> + <div>Thy late reviving Roman soul desponds</div> + <div class="in1">Beneath the lie this State-thing breathed o'er thee—</div> + <div>Thy clanking chain, and Erin's yet green wounds,</div> + <div class="in1">Have voices—tongues to cry aloud for me.</div> + <div>Europe has slaves—allies—kings—armies still,</div> + <div>And Southey lives to sing them very ill.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>XVII.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Meantime, Sir Laureate, I proceed to dedicate,</div> + <div class="in1">In honest simple verse, this song to you.</div> + <div>And if in flattering strains I do not predicate,</div> + <div class="in1">'Tis that I still retain my "buff and blue";</div> + <div>My politics as yet are all to educate:</div> + <div class="in1">Apostasy's so fashionable, too,</div> + <div>To keep <i>one</i> creed's a task grown quite Herculean:</div> + <div>Is it not so, my Tory, Ultra-Julian?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="right"><span class="small">VENICE</span>, September 16, 1818.</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[249]<a name="page249" id="page249"></a></span> +<h2>THOMAS HOOD.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1798-1845.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lxi" id="lxi">LXI.</a> COCKLE <i>v</i>. CACKLE.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is not meant as a "cut" at that standard medicine named + therein which has wrought such good in its day; but is a satire on + quack advertising generally. The more worthless the nostrum, the + more universal the advertising of it, such is the moral of Hood's + satire.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Those who much read advertisements and bills,</div> + <div>Must have seen puffs of Cockle's Pills,</div> + <div class="in2">Call'd Anti-bilious—</div> + <div>Which some physicians sneer at, supercilious,</div> + <div>But which we are assured, if timely taken,</div> + <div class="in2">May save your liver and bacon;</div> + <div>Whether or not they really give one ease,</div> + <div class="in2">I, who have never tried,</div> + <div class="in2">Will not decide;</div> + <div>But no two things in union go like these—</div> + <div>Viz.—quacks and pills—save ducks and pease.</div> + <div>Now Mrs. W. was getting sallow,</div> + <div>Her lilies not of the white kind, but yellow,</div> + <div>And friends portended was preparing for</div> + <div class="in2">A human pâté périgord;</div> + <div>She was, indeed, so very far from well,</div> + <div>Her son, in filial fear, procured a box</div> + <div>Of those said pellets to resist bile's shocks,</div> + <div>And—tho' upon the ear it strangely knocks—</div> + <div>To save her by a Cockle from a shell!</div> + <div>But Mrs. W., just like Macbeth,</div> + <div>Who very vehemently bids us "throw</div> + <div>Bark to the Bow-wows", hated physic so,</div> + <div>It seem'd to share "the bitterness of Death":</div> + <div>Rhubarb—Magnesia—Jalap, and the kind—</div> + <div>Senna—Steel—Assa-foetida, and Squills—</div> +<span class="pagenum">[250]<a name="page250" id="page250"></a></span> + <div>Powder or Draught—but least her throat inclined</div> + <div>To give a course to boluses or pills;</div> + <div>No—not to save her life, in lung or lobe,</div> + <div>For all her lights' or all her liver's sake,</div> + <div>Would her convulsive thorax undertake,</div> + <div>Only one little uncelestial globe!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>'Tis not to wonder at, in such a case,</div> + <div>If she put by the pill-box in a place</div> + <div>For linen rather than for drugs intended—</div> + <div>Yet for the credit of the pills let's say</div> + <div class="in2">After they thus were stow'd away,</div> + <div class="in2">Some of the linen mended;</div> + <div>But Mrs. W. by disease's dint,</div> + <div>Kept getting still more yellow in her tint,</div> + <div>When lo! her second son, like elder brother,</div> + <div>Marking the hue on the parental gills,</div> + <div>Brought a new charge of Anti-tumeric Pills,</div> + <div>To bleach the jaundiced visage of his mother—</div> + <div>Who took them—in her cupboard—like the other.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in2">"Deeper and deeper still", of course,</div> + <div class="in2">The fatal colour daily grew in force;</div> + <div>Till daughter W. newly come from Rome,</div> + <div>Acting the self-same filial, pillial, part,</div> + <div>To cure Mamma, another dose brought home</div> + <div>Of Cockles;—not the Cockles of her heart!</div> + <div class="in2">These going where the others went before,</div> + <div class="in2">Of course she had a very pretty store;</div> + <div>And then—some hue of health her cheek adorning,</div> + <div class="in2">The medicine so good must be,</div> + <div class="in2">They brought her dose on dose, which she</div> + <div>Gave to the up-stairs cupboard, "night and morning".</div> + <div>Till wanting room at last, for other stocks,</div> + <div>Out of the window one fine day she pitch'd</div> + <div>The pillage of each box, and quite enrich'd</div> +<span class="pagenum">[251]<a name="page251" id="page251"></a></span> + <div>The feed of Mister Burrell's hens and cocks,—</div> + <div class="in2">A little Barber of a by-gone day,</div> + <div class="in2">Over the way</div> + <div>Whose stock in trade, to keep the least of shops,</div> + <div>Was one great head of Kemble,—that is, John,</div> + <div>Staring in plaster, with a Brutus on,</div> + <div>And twenty little Bantam fowls—with crops.</div> + <div>Little Dame W. thought when through the sash</div> + <div class="in2">She gave the physic wings,</div> + <div class="in2">To find the very things</div> + <div>So good for bile, so bad for chicken rash,</div> + <div>For thoughtless cock, and unreflecting pullet!</div> + <div>But while they gathered up the nauseous nubbles,</div> + <div>Each peck'd itself into a peck of troubles,</div> + <div>And brought the hand of Death upon its gullet.</div> + <div>They might as well have addled been, or ratted,</div> + <div>For long before the night—ah woe betide</div> + <div>The Pills! each suicidal Bantam died</div> + <div class="in2">Unfatted!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in2">Think of poor Burrel's shock,</div> + <div>Of Nature's debt to see his hens all payers,</div> + <div>And laid in death as Everlasting Layers,</div> + <div>With Bantam's small Ex-Emperor, the Cock,</div> + <div>In ruffled plumage and funereal hackle,</div> + <div>Giving, undone by Cockle, a last Cackle!</div> + <div>To see as stiff as stone, his un'live stock,</div> + <div>It really was enough to move his block.</div> + <div>Down on the floor he dash'd, with horror big,</div> + <div>Mr. Bell's third wife's mother's coachman's wig;</div> + <div>And with a tragic stare like his own Kemble,</div> + <div>Burst out with natural emphasis enough,</div> + <div class="in2">And voice that grief made tremble,</div> + <div>Into that very speech of sad Macduff—</div> + <div>"What!—all my pretty chickens and their dam,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[252]<a name="page252" id="page252"></a></span> + <div class="in2">At one fell swoop!—</div> + <div class="in2">Just when I'd bought a coop</div> + <div>To see the poor lamented creatures cram!"</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div class="in2">After a little of this mood,</div> + <div class="in2">And brooding over the departed brood,</div> + <div>With razor he began to ope each craw,</div> + <div>Already turning black, as black as coals;</div> + <div>When lo! the undigested cause he saw—</div> + <div class="in2">"Pison'd by goles!"</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>To Mrs. W.'s luck a contradiction,</div> + <div>Her window still stood open to conviction;</div> + <div>And by short course of circumstantial labour,</div> + <div>He fix'd the guilt upon his adverse neighbour;—</div> + <div>Lord! how he rail'd at her: declaring how,</div> + <div>He'd bring an action ere next Term of Hilary,</div> + <div>Then, in another moment, swore a vow,</div> + <div>He'd make her do pill-penance in the pillory!</div> + <div>She, meanwhile distant from the dimmest dream</div> + <div>Of combating with guilt, yard-arm or arm-yard,</div> + <div>Lapp'd in a paradise of tea and cream;</div> + <div>When up ran Betty with a dismal scream—</div> + <div>"Here's Mr. Burrell, ma'am, with all his farmyard!"</div> + <div>Straight in he came, unbowing and unbending,</div> + <div class="in2">With all the warmth that iron and a barbe</div> + <div class="in2">Can harbour;</div> + <div>To dress the head and front of her offending,</div> + <div>The fuming phial of his wrath uncorking;</div> + <div>In short, he made her pay him altogether,</div> + <div>In hard cash, very <i>hard</i>, for ev'ry feather,</div> + <div>Charging of course, each Bantam as a Dorking;</div> + <div>Nothing could move him, nothing make him supple,</div> + <div>So the sad dame unpocketing her loss,</div> + <div>Had nothing left but to sit hands across,</div> + <div>And see her poultry "going down ten couple".</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[253]<a name="page253" id="page253"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Now birds by poison slain,</div> + <div>As venom'd dart from Indian's hollow cane,</div> + <div>Are edible; and Mrs. W.'s thrift,—</div> + <div>She had a thrifty vein,—</div> + <div>Destined one pair for supper to make shift,—</div> + <div>Supper as usual at the hour of ten:</div> + <div>But ten o'clock arrived and quickly pass'd,</div> + <div>Eleven—twelve—and one o'clock at last,</div> + <div>Without a sign of supper even then!</div> + <div>At length the speed of cookery to quicken,</div> + <div>Betty was called, and with reluctant feet,</div> + <div class="in2">Came up at a white heat—</div> + <div>"Well, never I see chicken like them chicken!</div> + <div>My saucepans, they have been a pretty while in 'em!</div> + <div>Enough to stew them, if it comes to that,</div> + <div>To flesh and bones, and perfect rags; but drat</div> + <div>Those Anti-biling Pills! there is no bile in 'em!"</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>LORD MACAULAY.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1800-1859.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lxii" id="lxii">LXII.</a> THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRIP TO CAMBRIDGE.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is one of the numerous <i>jeux d'esprit</i> in which Macaulay, in + his earlier years, indulged at election times. It was written in + 1827.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>As I sate down to breakfast in state,</div> + <div class="in1">At my living of Tithing-cum-Boring,</div> + <div>With Betty beside me to wait,</div> + <div class="in1">Came a rap that almost beat the door in.</div> + <div>I laid down my basin of tea,</div> + <div class="in1">And Betty ceased spreading the toast,</div> + <div>"As sure as a gun, sir," said she,</div> + <div class="in1">"That must be the knock of the Post".</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[254]<a name="page254" id="page254"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A letter—and free—bring it here,</div> + <div class="in1">I have no correspondent who franks.</div> + <div>No! yes! can it be? Why, my dear,</div> + <div class="in1">'Tis our glorious, our Protestant Bankes.</div> + <div>"Dear sir, as I know you desire</div> + <div class="in1">That the Church should receive due protection</div> + <div>I humbly presume to require</div> + <div class="in1">Your aid at the Cambridge election.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"It has lately been brought to my knowledge,</div> + <div class="in1">That the Ministers fully design</div> + <div>To suppress each cathedral and college,</div> + <div class="in1">And eject every learned divine.</div> + <div>To assist this detestable scheme</div> + <div class="in1">Three nuncios from Rome are come over;</div> + <div>They left Calais on Monday by steam,</div> + <div class="in1">And landed to dinner at Dover.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"An army of grim Cordeliers,</div> + <div class="in1">Well furnish'd with relics and vermin,</div> + <div>Will follow, Lord Westmoreland fears,</div> + <div class="in1">To effect what their chiefs may determine.</div> + <div>Lollards' tower, good authorities say,</div> + <div class="in1">Is again fitting up as a prison;</div> + <div>And a wood-merchant told me to-day</div> + <div class="in1">'Tis a wonder how faggots have risen.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>"The finance-scheme of Canning contains</div> + <div class="in1">A new Easter-offering tax:</div> + <div>And he means to devote all the gains</div> + <div class="in1">To a bounty on thumb-screws and racks.</div> + <div>Your living, so neat and compact—</div> + <div class="in1">Pray, don't let the news give you pain?</div> + <div>Is promised, I know for a fact,</div> + <div class="in1">To an olive-faced padre from Spain."</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[255]<a name="page255" id="page255"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I read, and I felt my heart bleed,</div> + <div class="in1">Sore wounded with horror and pity;</div> + <div>So I flew, with all possible speed,</div> + <div class="in1">To our Protestant champion's committee.</div> + <div>True gentlemen, kind and well bred!</div> + <div class="in1">No fleering! no distance! no scorn!</div> + <div>They asked after my wife who is dead,</div> + <div class="in1">And my children who never were born.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>They then, like high-principled Tories,</div> + <div class="in1">Called our Sovereign unjust and unsteady,</div> + <div>And assailed him with scandalous stories,</div> + <div class="in1">Till the coach for the voters was ready.</div> + <div>That coach might be well called a casket</div> + <div class="in1">Of learning and brotherly love:</div> + <div>There were parsons in boot and in basket;</div> + <div class="in1">There were parsons below and above.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>There were Sneaker and Griper, a pair</div> + <div class="in1">Who stick to Lord Mulesby like leeches;</div> + <div>A smug chaplain of plausible air,</div> + <div class="in1">Who writes my Lord Goslingham's speeches.</div> + <div>Dr. Buzz, who alone is a host,</div> + <div class="in1">Who, with arguments weighty as lead,</div> + <div>Proves six times a week in the <i>Post</i></div> + <div class="in1">That flesh somehow differs from bread.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Dr. Nimrod, whose orthodox toes</div> + <div class="in1">Are seldom withdrawn from the stirrup.</div> + <div>Dr. Humdrum, whose eloquence flows,</div> + <div class="in1">Like droppings of sweet poppy syrup;</div> + <div>Dr. Rosygill puffing and fanning,</div> + <div class="in1">And wiping away perspiration;</div> + <div>Dr. Humbug, who proved Mr. Canning</div> + <div class="in1">The beast in St. John's Revelation.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[256]<a name="page256" id="page256"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A layman can scarce form a notion</div> + <div class="in1">Of our wonderful talk on the road;</div> + <div>Of the learning, the wit, and devotion,</div> + <div class="in1">Which almost each syllable show'd:</div> + <div>Why, divided allegiance agrees</div> + <div class="in1">So ill with our free constitution;</div> + <div>How Catholics swear as they please,</div> + <div class="in1">In hope of the priest's absolution:</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>How the Bishop of Norwich had barter'd</div> + <div class="in1">His faith for a legate's commission;</div> + <div>How Lyndhurst, afraid to be martyr'd,</div> + <div class="in1">Had stooped to a base coalition;</div> + <div>How Papists are cased from compassion</div> + <div class="in1">By bigotry, stronger than steel;</div> + <div>How burning would soon come in fashion,</div> + <div class="in1">And how very bad it must feel.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>We were all so much touched and excited</div> + <div class="in1">By a subject so direly sublime,</div> + <div>That the rules of politeness were slighted,</div> + <div class="in1">And we all of us talked at a time;</div> + <div>And in tones, which each moment grew louder,</div> + <div class="in1">Told how we should dress for the show,</div> + <div>And where we should fasten the powder,</div> + <div class="in1">And if we should bellow or no.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Thus from subject to subject we ran,</div> + <div class="in1">And the journey pass'd pleasantly o'er,</div> + <div>Till at last Dr. Humdrum began:</div> + <div class="in1">From that time I remember no more.</div> + <div>At Ware he commenced his prelection,</div> + <div class="in1">In the dullest of clerical drones:</div> + <div>And when next I regained recollection</div> + <div class="in1">We were rumbling o'er Trumpington stones.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[257]<a name="page257" id="page257"></a></span> +<h2>WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1802-1839.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lxiii" id="lxiii">LXIII.</a> THE RED FISHERMAN; OR, THE DEVIL'S DECOY.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">Published in Knight's <i>Annual</i>.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The Abbot arose, and closed his book,</div> + <div class="in1">And donned his sandal shoon,</div> + <div>And wandered forth alone, to look</div> + <div class="in1">Upon the summer moon:</div> + <div>A starlight sky was o'er his head,</div> + <div class="in1">A quiet breeze around;</div> + <div>And the flowers a thrilling fragrance shed</div> + <div class="in1">And the waves a soothing sound:</div> + <div>It was not an hour, nor a scene, for aught</div> + <div class="in1">But love and calm delight;</div> + <div>Yet the holy man had a cloud of thought</div> + <div class="in1">On his wrinkled brow that night.</div> + <div>He gazed on the river that gurgled by,</div> + <div class="in1">But he thought not of the reeds</div> + <div>He clasped his gilded rosary,</div> + <div class="in1">But he did not tell the beads;</div> + <div>If he looked to the heaven, 'twas not to invoke</div> + <div class="in1">The Spirit that dwelleth there;</div> + <div>If he opened his lips, the words they spoke</div> + <div class="in1">Had never the tone of prayer.</div> + <div>A pious priest might the Abbot seem,</div> + <div class="in1">He had swayed the crozier well;</div> + <div>But what was the theme of the Abbot's dream,</div> + <div class="in1">The Abbot were loth to tell.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Companionless, for a mile or more,</div> + <div>He traced the windings of the shore.</div> + <div>Oh beauteous is that river still,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[258]<a name="page258" id="page258"></a></span> + <div>As it winds by many a sloping hill,</div> + <div>And many a dim o'erarching grove,</div> + <div>And many a flat and sunny cove,</div> + <div>And terraced lawns, whose bright arcades</div> + <div>The honeysuckle sweetly shades,</div> + <div>And rocks, whose very crags seem bowers,</div> + <div>So gay they are with grass and flowers!</div> + <div>But the Abbot was thinking of scenery</div> + <div class="in1">About as much, in sooth,</div> + <div>As a lover thinks of constancy,</div> + <div class="in1">Or an advocate of truth.</div> + <div>He did not mark how the skies in wrath</div> + <div class="in1">Grew dark above his head;</div> + <div>He did not mark how the mossy path</div> + <div class="in1">Grew damp beneath his tread;</div> + <div>And nearer he came, and still more near,</div> + <div class="in1">To a pool, in whose recess</div> + <div>The water had slept for many a year,</div> + <div class="in1">Unchanged and motionless;</div> + <div>From the river stream it spread away</div> + <div class="in1">The space of half a rood;</div> + <div>The surface had the hue of clay</div> + <div class="in1">And the scent of human blood;</div> + <div>The trees and the herbs that round it grew</div> + <div class="in1">Were venomous and foul,</div> + <div>And the birds that through the bushes flew</div> + <div class="in1">Were the vulture and the owl;</div> + <div>The water was as dark and rank</div> + <div class="in1">As ever a Company pumped,</div> + <div>And the perch that was netted and laid on the bank</div> + <div class="in1">Grew rotten while it jumped;</div> + <div>And bold was he who thither came</div> + <div class="in1">At midnight, man or boy,</div> + <div>For the place was cursed with an evil name,</div> + <div class="in1">And that name was "The Devil's Decoy"!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[259]<a name="page259" id="page259"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The Abbot was weary as abbot could be,</div> + <div>And he sat down to rest on the stump of a tree:</div> + <div>When suddenly rose a dismal tone,—</div> + <div>Was it a song, or was it a moan?—</div> + <div class="in2">"O ho! O ho!</div> + <div class="in2">Above,—below,—</div> + <div>Lightly and brightly they glide and go!</div> + <div>The hungry and keen on the top are leaping,</div> + <div>The lazy and fat in the depths are sleeping;</div> + <div>Fishing is fine when the pool is muddy,</div> + <div>Broiling is rich when the coals are ruddy!"—</div> + <div>In a monstrous fright, by the murky light,</div> + <div>He looked to the left and he looked to the right;</div> + <div>And what was the vision close before him</div> + <div>That flung such a sudden stupor o'er him?</div> + <div>'Twas a sight to make the hair uprise,</div> + <div class="in1">And the life-blood colder run:</div> + <div>The startled Priest struck both his thigh,</div> + <div class="in1">And the abbey clock struck one!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>All alone, by the side of the pool,</div> + <div>A tall man sat on a three-legged stool,</div> + <div>Kicking his heels on the dewy sod,</div> + <div>And putting in order his reel and rod;</div> + <div>Red were the rags his shoulders wore,</div> + <div>And a high red cap on his head he bore;</div> + <div>His arms and his legs were long and bare;</div> + <div>And two or three locks of long red hair</div> + <div>Were tossing about his scraggy neck,</div> + <div>Like a tattered flag o'er a splitting wreck.</div> + <div>It might be time, or it might be trouble,</div> + <div>Had bent that stout back nearly double,</div> + <div>Sunk in their deep and hollow sockets</div> + <div>That blazing couple of Congreve rockets,</div> + <div>And shrunk and shrivelled that tawny skin,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[260]<a name="page260" id="page260"></a></span> + <div>Till it hardly covered the bones within.</div> + <div>The line the Abbot saw him throw</div> + <div>Had been fashioned and formed long ages ago,</div> + <div>And the hands that worked his foreign vest</div> + <div>Long ages ago had gone to their rest:</div> + <div>You would have sworn, as you looked on them,</div> + <div>He had fished in the flood with Ham and Shem!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks,</div> + <div>As he took forth a bait from his iron box.</div> + <div>Minnow or gentle, worm or fly,—</div> + <div>It seemed not such to the Abbot's eye;</div> + <div>Gaily it glittered with jewel and jem,</div> + <div>And its shape was the shape of a diadem.</div> + <div>It was fastened a gleaming hook about</div> + <div>By a chain within and a chain without;</div> + <div>The Fisherman gave it a kick and a spin,</div> + <div>And the water fizzed as it tumbled in!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>From the bowels of the earth,</div> + <div>Strange and varied sounds had birth;</div> + <div>Now the battle's bursting peal,</div> + <div>Neigh of steed, and clang of steel;</div> + <div>Now an old man's hollow groan</div> + <div>Echoed from the dungeon stone;</div> + <div>Now the weak and wailing cry</div> + <div>Of a stripling's agony!—</div> + <div>Cold by this was the midnight air;</div> + <div class="in1">But the Abbot's blood ran colder,</div> + <div>When he saw a gasping knight lie there,</div> + <div>With a gash beneath his clotted hair,</div> + <div class="in1">And a hump upon his shoulder.</div> + <div>And the loyal churchman strove in vain</div> + <div class="in1">To mutter a Pater Noster;</div> + <div>For he who writhed in mortal pain</div> +<span class="pagenum">[261]<a name="page261" id="page261"></a></span> + <div>Was camped that night on Bosworth plain—</div> + <div class="in1">The cruel Duke of Glo'ster!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks,</div> + <div>As he took forth a bait from his iron box.</div> + <div>It was a haunch of princely size,</div> + <div>Filling with fragrance earth and skies.</div> + <div>The corpulent Abbot knew full well</div> + <div>The swelling form, and the steaming smell;</div> + <div>Never a monk that wore a hood</div> + <div>Could better have guessed the very wood</div> + <div>Where the noble hart had stood at bay,</div> + <div>Weary and wounded, at close of day.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Sounded then the noisy glee</div> + <div>Of a revelling company,—</div> + <div>Sprightly story, wicked jest,</div> + <div>Rated servant, greeted guest,</div> + <div>Flow of wine, and flight of cork,</div> + <div>Stroke of knife, and thrust of fork:</div> + <div>But, where'er the board was spread,</div> + <div>Grace, I ween, was never said!—</div> + <div>Pulling and tugging the Fisherman sat;</div> + <div class="in1">And the Priest was ready to vomit,</div> + <div>When he hauled out a gentleman, fine and fat,</div> + <div>With a belly as big as a brimming vat,</div> + <div class="in1">And a nose as red as a comet.</div> + <div>"A capital stew," the Fisherman said,</div> + <div class="in1">"With cinnamon and sherry!"</div> + <div>And the Abbot turned away his head,</div> + <div>For his brother was lying before him dead,</div> + <div class="in1">The Mayor of St. Edmund's Bury!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks,</div> + <div>As he took forth a bait from his iron box.</div> + <div>It was a bundle of beautiful things,—</div> +<span class="pagenum">[262]<a name="page262" id="page262"></a></span> + <div>A peacock's tail and a butterfly's wings,</div> + <div>A scarlet slipper, an auburn curl,</div> + <div>A mantle of silk, and a bracelet of pearl,</div> + <div>And a packet of letters, from whose sweet fold</div> + <div>Such a stream of delicate odours rolled,</div> + <div>That the Abbot fell on his face, and fainted,</div> + <div>And deemed his spirit was half-way sainted.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Sounds seemed dropping from the skies,</div> + <div>Stifled whispers, smothered sighs,</div> + <div>And the breath of vernal gales,</div> + <div>And the voice of nightingales:</div> + <div>But the nightingales were mute,</div> + <div>Envious, when an unseen lute</div> + <div>Shaped the music of its chords</div> + <div>Into passion's thrilling words:</div> + <div>"Smile, Lady, smile!—I will not set</div> + <div>Upon my brow the coronet,</div> + <div>Till thou wilt gather roses white</div> + <div>To wear around its gems of light.</div> + <div>Smile, Lady, smile!—I will not see</div> + <div>Rivers and Hastings bend the knee,</div> + <div>Till those bewitching lips of thine</div> + <div>Will bid me rise in bliss from mine.</div> + <div>Smile, Lady, smile!—for who would win</div> + <div>A loveless throne through guilt and sin?</div> + <div>Or who would reign o'er vale and hill,</div> + <div>If woman's heart were rebel still?"</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>One jerk, and there a lady lay,</div> + <div class="in1">A lady wondrous fair;</div> + <div>But the rose of her lip had faded away,</div> + <div>And her cheek was as white and as cold as clay,</div> + <div class="in1">And torn was her raven hair.</div> + <div>"Ah ha!" said the Fisher, in merry guise,</div> + <div class="in1">"Her gallant was hooked before;"</div> +<span class="pagenum">[263]<a name="page263" id="page263"></a></span> + <div>And the Abbot heaved some piteous sighs,</div> + <div>For oft he had blessed those deep blue eyes,</div> + <div class="in1">The eyes of Mistress Shore!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks,</div> + <div>As he took forth a bait from his iron box.</div> + <div>Many the cunning sportsman tried,</div> + <div>Many he flung with a frown aside;</div> + <div>A minstrel's harp, and a miser's chest,</div> + <div>A hermit's cowl, and a baron's crest,</div> + <div>Jewels of lustre, robes of price,</div> + <div>Tomes of heresy, loaded dice,</div> + <div>And golden cups of the brightest wine</div> + <div>That ever was pressed from the Burgundy vine.</div> + <div>There was a perfume of sulphur and nitre</div> + <div>As he came at last to a bishop's mitre!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>From top to toe the Abbot shook,</div> + <div>As the Fisherman armed his golden hook,</div> + <div>And awfully were his features wrought</div> + <div>By some dark dream or wakened thought.</div> + <div>Look how the fearful felon gazes</div> + <div>On the scaffold his country's vengeance raises,</div> + <div>When the lips are cracked and the jaws are dry</div> + <div>With the thirst which only in death shall die:</div> + <div>Mark the mariner's frenzied frown</div> + <div>As the swaling wherry settles down,</div> + <div>When peril has numbed the sense and will</div> + <div>Though the hand and the foot may struggle still:</div> + <div>Wilder far was the Abbot's glance,</div> + <div>Deeper far was the Abbot's trance:</div> + <div>Fixed as a monument, still as air,</div> + <div>He bent no knee, and he breathed no prayer</div> + <div>But he signed—he knew not why or how—</div> + <div>The sign of the Cross on his clammy brow.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[264]<a name="page264" id="page264"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks,</div> + <div>As he stalked away with his iron box.</div> + <div class="in2">"O ho! O ho!</div> + <div class="in2">The cock doth crow;</div> + <div>It is time for the Fisher to rise and go.</div> + <div>Fair luck to the Abbot, fair luck to the shrine!</div> + <div>He hath gnawed in twain my choicest line;</div> + <div>Let him swim to the north, let him swim to the south,</div> + <div>The Abbot will carry my hook in his mouth!"</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>The Abbot had preached for many years</div> + <div class="in1">With as clear articulation</div> + <div>As ever was heard in the House of Peers</div> + <div class="in1">Against Emancipation;</div> + <div>His words had made battalions quake,</div> + <div class="in1">Had roused the zeal of martyrs,</div> + <div>Had kept the Court an hour awake</div> + <div class="in1">And the King himself three quarters:</div> + <div>But ever from that hour, 'tis said,</div> + <div class="in1">He stammered and he stuttered</div> + <div>As if an axe went through his head</div> + <div class="in1">With every word he uttered.</div> + <div>He stuttered o'er blessing, he stuttered o'er ban,</div> + <div class="in1">He stuttered, drunk or dry;</div> + <div>And none but he and the Fisherman</div> + <div class="in1">Could tell the reason why!</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="lxiv" id="lxiv">LXIV.</a> MAD—QUITE MAD.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Originally published in the <i>Morning Post</i> for 1834; afterwards + included in his <i>Essays</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="center">Great wits are sure to madness near allied.—<i>Dryden</i>.</div> + +<p>It has frequently been observed that genius and madness are nearly +allied; that very great talents are seldom found unaccompanied by a +touch of insanity, and <span class="pagenum">[265]<a name="page265" +id="page265"></a></span>that there are few Bedlamites who will not, +upon a close examination, display symptoms of a powerful, though ruined +intellect. According to this hypothesis, the flowers of Parnassus must +be blended with the drugs of Anticyra; and the man who feels himself to +be in possession of very brilliant wits may conclude that he is within +an ace of running out of them. Whether this be true or false, we are +not at present disposed to contradict the assertion. What we wish to +notice is the pains which many young men take to qualify themselves for +Bedlam, by hiding a good, sober, gentlemanlike understanding beneath an +assumption of thoughtlessness and whim. It is the received opinion +among many that a man's talents and abilities are to be rated by the +quantity of nonsense he utters per diem, and the number of follies he +runs into per annum. Against this idea we must enter our protest; if we +concede that every real genius is more or less a madman, we must not be +supposed to allow that every sham madman is more or less a genius.</p> + +<p>In the days of our ancestors, the hot-blooded youth who threw away his +fortune at twenty-one, his character at twenty-two, and his life at +twenty-three, was termed "a good fellow", "an honest fellow", "nobody's +enemy but his own". In our time the name is altered; and the +fashionable who squanders his father's estate, or murders his best +friend—who breaks his wife's heart at the gaming-table, and his own +neck at a steeple-chase—escapes the sentence which morality would pass +upon him, by the plea of lunacy. "He was a rascal," says Common-Sense. +"True," says the World; "but he was mad, you know—quite mad."</p> + +<p>We were lately in company with a knot of young men who were discussing +the character and fortunes of one of their own body, who was, it seems, +distinguished for his proficiency in the art of madness. "Harry," said +a young <span class="pagenum">[266]<a name="page266" id="page266"></a></span> +sprig of nobility, "have you heard that Charles is in the +King's Bench?" "I heard it this morning," drawled the Exquisite; "how +distressing! I have not been so hurt since poor Angelica (his bay mare) +broke down. Poor Charles has been too flighty." "His wings will be +clipped for the future!" observed young Caustic. "He has been very +imprudent," said young Candour.</p> + +<p>I inquired of whom they were speaking. "Don't you know Charles Gally?" +said the Exquisite, endeavouring to turn in his collar. "Not know +Charles Gally?" he repeated, with an expression of pity. "He is the +best fellow breathing; only lives to laugh and make others laugh: +drinks his two bottles with any man, and rides the finest mare I ever +saw—next to my Angelica. Not know Charles Gally? Why, everybody knows +him! He is so amusing! Ha! ha! And tells such admirable stories! Ha! +ha! Often have they kept me awake"—a yawn—"when nothing else could." +"Poor fellow!" said his lordship; "I understand he's done for ten +thousand!" "I never believe more than half what the world says," +observed Candour. "He that has not a farthing," said Caustic, "cares +little whether he owes ten thousand or five." "Thank Heaven!" said +Candour, "that will never be the case with Charles: he has a fine +estate in Leicestershire." "Mortgaged for half its value," said his +lordship. "A large personal property!" "All gone in annuity bills," +said the Exquisite. "A rich uncle upwards of fourscore!" "He'll cut him +off with a shilling," said Caustic.</p> + +<p>"Let us hope he may reform," sighed the Hypocrite; "and sell the pack," +added the Nobleman; "and marry," continued the Dandy. "Pshaw!" cried +the Satirist, "he will never get rid of his habits, his hounds, or his +horns." "But he has an excellent heart," said Candour. "Excellent," +repeated his lordship unthinkingly. "Excellent," <span class="pagenum">[267]<a +name="page267" id="page267"></a></span>lisped the Fop +effeminately. "Excellent," exclaimed the Wit ironically. We took this +opportunity to ask by what means so excellent a heart and so bright a +genius had contrived to plunge him into these disasters. "He was my +friend," replied his lordship, "and a man of large property; but he was +mad—quite mad. I remember his leaping a lame pony over a stone wall, +simply because Sir Marmaduke bet him a dozen that he broke his neck in +the attempt; and sending a bullet through a poor pedlar's pack because +Bob Darrell said the piece wouldn't carry so far." "Upon another +occasion," began the Exquisite, in his turn, "he jumped into a +horse-pond after dinner, in order to prove it was not six feet deep; +and overturned a bottle of eau-de-cologne in Lady Emilia's face, to +convince me that she was not painted. Poor fellow! The first experiment +cost him a dress, and the second an heiress." "I have heard," resumed +the Nobleman, "that he lost his election for —— by lampooning the +mayor; and was dismissed from his place in the Treasury for challenging +Lord C——." "The last accounts I heard of him," said Caustic, "told me +that Lady Tarrel had forbid him her house for driving a sucking-pig +into her drawing-room; and that young Hawthorn had run him through for +boasting of favours from his sister!" "These gentlemen are really too +severe," remarked young Candour to us. "Not a jot," we said to +ourselves.</p> + +<p>"This will be a terrible blow for his sister," said a young man who had +been listening in silence. "A fine girl—a very fine girl," said the +Exquisite. "And a fine fortune," said the Nobleman; "the mines of Peru +are nothing to her." "Nothing at all," observed the Sneerer; "she has +no property there. But I would not have you caught, Harry; her income +was good, but is dipped, horribly dipped. Guineas melt very fast when +the cards are put by them." "I was not aware Maria was a +<span class="pagenum">[268]<a name="page268" id="page268"></a></span>gambler," +said the young man, much alarmed. "Her brother is, sir," replied his +informant. The querist looked sorry, but yet relieved. We could see +that he was not quite disinterested in his inquiries. "However," +resumed the young Cynic, "his profusion has at least obtained him many +noble and wealthy friends." He glanced at his hearers, and went on: "No +one that knew him will hear of his distresses without being forward to +relieve them. He will find interest for his money in the hearts of his +friends." Nobility took snuff; Foppery played with his watch-chain; +Hypocrisy looked grave. There was long silence. We ventured to regret +the misuse of natural talents, which, if properly directed, might have +rendered their possessor useful to the interests of society and +celebrated in the records of his country. Everyone stared, as if we +were talking Hebrew. "Very true," said his lordship, "he enjoys great +talents. No man is a nicer judge of horseflesh. He beats me at +billiards, and Harry at picquet; he's a dead shot at a button, and can +drive his curricle-wheels over a brace of sovereigns." "Radicalism," +says Caustic, looking round for a laugh. "He is a great amateur of +pictures," observed the Exquisite, "and is allowed to be quite a +connoisseur in beauty; but there," simpering, "everyone must claim the +privilege of judging for themselves." "Upon my word," said Candour, +"you allow poor Charles too little. I have no doubt he has great +courage—though, to be sure, there was a whisper that young Hawthorn +found him rather shy; and I am convinced he is very generous, though I +must confess that I have it from good authority that his younger +brother was refused the loan of a hundred when Charles had pigeoned +that fool of a nabob but the evening before. I would stake my existence +that he is a man of unshaken honour—though, when he eased Lieutenant +Hardy of his pay, there certainly was an awkward story <span class="pagenum">[269]<a +name="page269" id="page269"></a></span>about the +transaction, which was never properly cleared up. I hope that when +matters are properly investigated he will be liberated from all his +embarrassments; though I am sorry to be compelled to believe that he +has been spending double the amount of his income annually. But I trust +that all will be adjusted. I have no doubt upon the subject." "Nor I," +said Caustic. "We shall miss him prodigiously at the Club," said the +Dandy, with a slight shake of the head. "What a bore!" replied the +Nobleman, with a long yawn. We could hardly venture to express +compassion for a character so despicable. Our auditors, however, +entertained very different opinions of right and wrong! "Poor fellow! +he was much to be pitied: had done some very foolish things—to say the +truth was a sad scoundrel—but then he was always so mad." And having +come unanimously to this decision, the conclave dispersed.</p> + +<p>Charles gave an additional proof of his madness within a week after +this discussion by swallowing laudanum. The verdict of the coroner's +inquest confirmed the judgment of his four friends. For our own parts +we must pause before we give in to so dangerous a doctrine. Here is a +man who has outraged the laws of honour, the ties of relationship, and +the duties of religion: he appears before us in the triple character of +a libertine, a swindler, and a suicide. Yet his follies, his vices, his +crimes, are all palliated or even applauded by this specious <i>façon de +parler</i>—"He was mad—quite mad!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[270]<a name="page270" id="page270"></a></span> +<h2>BENJAMIN DISRAELI (LORD BEACONSFIELD).</h2> + +<div class="years">(1805-1881.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lxv" id="lxv">LXV.</a> POPANILLA ON MAN.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This racy piece of satire is taken from Lord Beaconsfield's + mock-heroic romance—written in imitation of <i>Gulliver's + Travels,—The Voyage of Captain Popanilla</i>, of which it forms the + fourth chapter.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Six months had elapsed since the first chest of the cargo of Useful +Knowledge destined for the fortunate Maldives had been digested by the +recluse Popanilla; for a recluse he had now become. Great students are +rather dull companions. Our Fantasian friend, during his first studies, +was as moody, absent, and querulous as are most men of genius during +that mystical period of life. He was consequently avoided by the men +and quizzed by the women, and consoled himself for the neglect of the +first and the taunts of the second by the indefinite sensation that he +should, some day or other, turn out that little being called a great +man. As for his mistress, she considered herself insulted by being +addressed by a man who had lost her lock of hair. When the chest was +exhausted, Popanilla was seized with a profound melancholy. Nothing +depresses a man's spirits more completely than a self-conviction of +self-conceit; and Popanilla, who had been accustomed to consider +himself and his companions as the most elegant portion of the visible +creation, now discovered, with dismay, that he and his fellow-islanders +were nothing more than a horde of useless savages.</p> + +<p>This mortification, however, was soon succeeded by a proud +consciousness that he, at any rate, was now civilized; and that proud +consciousness by a fond hope that in a <span class="pagenum">[271]<a +name="page271" id="page271"></a></span>short time he might become a +civilizer. Like all projectors, he was not of sanguine temperament; but +he did trust that in the course of another season the Isle of Fantaisie +might take its station among the nations. He was determined, however, +not to be too rapid. It cannot be expected that ancient prejudices can +in a moment be eradicated, and new modes of conduct instantaneously +substituted and established. Popanilla, like a wise man, determined to +conciliate. His views were to be as liberal as his principles were +enlightened. Men should be forced to do nothing. Bigotry and +intolerance and persecution were the objects of his decided +disapprobation; resembling, in this particular, all the great and good +men who have ever existed, who have invariably maintained this opinion +so long as they have been in the minority.</p> + +<p>Popanilla appeared once more in the world.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! is that you, Pop?" exclaimed the ladies. "What have you been +doing with yourself all this time? Travelling, I suppose. Everyone +travels now. Really you travelled men get quite bores. And where did +you get that coat, if it be a coat?"</p> + +<p>Such was the style in which the Fantasian females saluted the +long-absent Popanilla; and really, when a man shuts himself up from the +world for a considerable time, and fancies that in condescending to +re-enter it he has surely the right to expect the homage due to a +superior being, the salutations are awkward. The ladies of England +peculiarly excel in this species of annihilation; and while they +continue to drown puppies, as they daily do, in a sea of sarcasm, I +think no true Englishman will hesitate one moment in giving them the +preference for tact and manner over all the vivacious French, all the +self-possessing Italian, and all the tolerant German women. This is a +clap-trap, and I have no doubt will sell the book.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum">[272]<a name="page272" id="page272"></a></span> +Popanilla, however, had not re-entered society with the intention of +subsiding into a nonentity, and he therefore took the opportunity, a +few minutes after sunset, just as his companions were falling into the +dance, to beg the favour of being allowed to address his sovereign only +for one single moment.</p> + +<p>"Sire!" said he, in that mild tone of subdued superciliousness with +which we should always address kings, and which, while it vindicates +our dignity, satisfactorily proves that we are above the vulgar passion +of envy. "Sire!" But let us not encourage that fatal faculty of oratory +so dangerous to free states, and therefore let us give the "substance +of Popanilla's speech".<span class="fnref"><a name="fnref233" id="fnref233" +href="#fn233">[233]</a></span> He commenced his address in a manner +somewhat resembling the initial observations of those pleasing +pamphlets which are the fashion of the present hour, and which, being +intended to diffuse information among those who have not enjoyed the +opportunity and advantages of study, and are consequently of a gay and +cheerful disposition, treat of light subjects in a light and polished +style. Popanilla, therefore, spoke of man in a savage state, the origin +of society, and the elements of the social compact, in sentences which +would not have disgraced the mellifluous pen of Bentham. From these he +naturally digressed into an agreeable disquisition on the Anglo-Saxons; +and, after a little badinage on the Bill of Rights, flew off to an airy +<i>aperçu</i> of the French Revolution. When he had arrived at the Isle of +Fantaisie he begged to inform His Majesty that man was born for +something else besides enjoying himself. It was, doubtless, extremely +pleasant to dance and sing, to crown themselves with chaplets, and to +drink wine; but he was "free to confess" that he <span class="pagenum">[273]<a +name="page273" id="page273"></a></span>did not imagine that +the most barefaced hireling of corruption could for a moment presume to +maintain that there was any utility in pleasure. If there were no +utility in pleasure, it was quite clear that pleasure could profit no +one. If, therefore, it were unprofitable, it was injurious, because +that which does not produce a profit is equivalent to a loss; therefore +pleasure is a losing business; consequently pleasure is not pleasant.</p> + +<p>He also showed that man was not born for himself, but for society; that +the interests of the body are alone to be considered, and not those of +the individual; and that a nation might be extremely happy, extremely +powerful, and extremely rich, although every individual member of it +might at the same time be miserable, dependent, and in debt. He +regretted to observe that no one in the island seemed in the slightest +degree conscious of the object of his being. Man is created for a +purpose; the object of his existence is to perfect himself. Man is +imperfect by nature, because if nature had made him perfect he would +have had no wants; and it is only by supplying his wants that utility +can be developed. The development of utility is therefore the object of +our being, and the attainment of this great end the cause of our +existence. This principle clears all doubts, and rationally accounts +for a state of existence which has puzzled many pseudo-philosophers.</p> + +<p>Popanilla then went on to show that the hitherto received definitions +of man were all erroneous; that man is neither a walking animal, nor a +talking animal, nor a cooking animal, nor a lounging animal, nor a +debt-incurring animal, nor a tax-paying animal, nor a printing animal, +nor a puffing animal, but a <i>developing animal</i>. Development is the +discovery of utility. By developing the water we get fish; by +developing the earth we get corn, and cash, and cotton; by developing +the air we <span class="pagenum">[274]<a name="page274" id="page274"></a></span> +get breath; by developing the fire we get heat. Thus the +use of the elements is demonstrated to the meanest capacity. But it was +not merely a material development to which he alluded; a moral +development was equally indispensable. He showed that it was impossible +for a nation either to think too much or to do too much. The life of +man was therefore to be passed in a moral and material development +until he had consummated his perfection. It was the opinion of +Popanilla that this great result was by no means so near at hand as +some philosophers flattered themselves, and that it might possibly +require another half-century before even the most civilized nation +could be said to have completed the destiny of the human race. At the +same time, he intimated that there were various extraordinary means by +which this rather desirable result might be facilitated; and there was +no saying what the building of a new University might do, of which, +when built, he had no objection to be appointed Principal.</p> + +<p>In answer to those who affect to admire that deficient system of +existence which they style simplicity of manners, and who are +perpetually committing the blunder of supposing that every advance +towards perfection only withdraws man further from his primitive and +proper condition, Popanilla triumphantly demonstrated that no such +order as that which they associated with the phrase "state of nature" +ever existed. "Man", said he, "is called the masterpiece of nature; and +man is also, as we all know, the most curious of machines. Now, a +machine is a work of art; consequently the masterpiece of nature is the +masterpiece of art. The object of all mechanism is the attainment of +utility; the object of man, who is the most perfect machine, is utility +in the highest degree. Can we believe, therefore, that this machine was +ever intended for a state which never could have called forth +<span class="pagenum">[275]<a name="page275" id="page275"></a></span>its +powers, a state in which no utility could ever have been attained, a +state in which there are no wants, consequently no demand, consequently +no supply, consequently no competition, consequently no invention, +consequently no profits; only one great pernicious monopoly of comfort +and ease? Society without wants is like a world without winds. It is +quite clear, therefore, that there is no such thing as Nature; Nature +is Art, or Art is Nature; that which is most useful is most natural, +because utility is the test of nature; therefore a steam-engine is in +fact a much more natural production than a mountain.</p> + +<p>"You are convinced, therefore," he continued, "by these observations, +that it is impossible for an individual or a nation to be too +artificial in their manners, their ideas, their laws, or their general +policy; because, in fact, the more artificial you become, the nearer +you approach that state of nature of which you are so perpetually +talking." Here observing that some of his audience appeared to be a +little sceptical, perhaps only surprised, he told them that what he +said must be true, because it entirely consisted of first principles.</p> + +<p>After having thus preliminarily descanted for about two hours, +Popanilla informed His Majesty that he was unused to public speaking, +and then proceeded to show that the grand characteristic of the social +action of the Isle of Fantaisie was a total want of development. This +he observed with equal sorrow and surprise; he respected the wisdom of +their ancestors; at the same time, no one could deny that they were +both barbarous and ignorant; he highly esteemed also the constitution, +but regretted that it was not in the slightest degree adapted to the +existing want of society; he was not for destroying any establishments, +but, on the contrary, was for courteously affording them the +opportunity of self-dissolution. He <span class="pagenum">[276]<a name="page276" +id="page276"></a></span>finished by re-urging, in strong +terms, the immediate development of the island. In the first place, a +great metropolis must be instantly built, because a great metropolis +always produces a great demand; and, moreover, Popanilla had some legal +doubts whether a country without a capital could in fact be considered +a state. Apologizing for having so long trespassed upon the attention +of the assembly, he begged distinctly to state that he had no wish to +see His Majesty and his fellow-subjects adopt these new principles +without examination and without experience. They might commence on a +small scale; let them cut down their forests, and by turning them into +ships and houses discover the utility of timber; let the whole island +be dug up; let canals be cut, docks be built, and all the elephants be +killed directly, that their teeth might yield an immediate article for +exportation. A short time would afford a sufficient trial. In the +meanwhile, they would not be pledged to further measures, and these +might be considered "only as an experiment". Taking for granted that +these principles would be acted on, and taking into consideration the +site of the island in the map of the world, the nature and extent of +its resources, its magnificent race of human beings, its varieties of +the animal creation, its wonderfully fine timber, its undeveloped +mineral treasures, the spaciousness of its harbours, and its various +facilities for extended international communication, Popanilla had no +hesitation in saying that a short time could not elapse ere, instead of +passing their lives in a state of unprofitable ease and useless +enjoyment, they might reasonably expect to be the terror and +astonishment of the universe, and to be able to annoy every nation of +any consequence.</p> + +<p>Here, observing a smile upon His Majesty's countenance, Popanilla told +the king that he was only a chief magistrate, and he had no more right +to laugh at him <span class="pagenum">[277]<a name="page277" id="page277"></a></span> +than a parish constable. He concluded by observing +that although what he at present urged might appear strange, +nevertheless, if the listeners had been acquainted with the characters +and cases of Galileo and Turgot, they would then have seen, as a +necessary consequence, that his system was perfectly correct, and he +himself a man of extraordinary merit.</p> + +<p>Here the chief magistrate, no longer daring to smile, burst into a fit +of laughter, and, turning to his courtiers, said: "I have not an idea +what this man is talking about, but I know that he makes my head ache. +Give me a cup of wine, and let us have a dance."</p> + +<p>All applauded the royal proposition; and pushing Popanilla from one to +another, until he was fairly hustled to the brink of the lagoon, they +soon forgot the existence of this bore; in one word, he was cut. When +Popanillo found himself standing alone, and looking grave while all the +rest were gay, he began to suspect that he was not so influential a +personage as he previously imagined. Rather crestfallen, he sneaked +home; and consoled himself for having nobody to speak to by reading +some amusing "Conversations on Political Economy".</p> + +<div class="fn"> +<span class="fnnum"><a name="fn233" id="fn233" href="#fnref233">[233]</a></span> +<i>Substance of a speech</i>, in Parliamentary language, +means a printed edition of an harangue which contains all that was +uttered in the House, and about as much again. +</div> + +<h2>ROBERT BROWNING.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1812-1890.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lxvi" id="lxvi">LXVI.</a> CRISTINA.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">From <i>Dramatic Lyrics</i>; written in 1842.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>She should never have looked at me if she meant I should not love her.</div> + <div>There are plenty ... men, you call such, I suppose ... she may discover.</div> +<span class="pagenum">[278]<a name="page278" id="page278"></a></span> + <div>All her soul to, if she pleases, and yet leave much as she found them;</div> + <div>But I'm not so, and she knew it when she fixed me, glancing round them.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>What? To fix me thus meant nothing? But I can't tell (there's my weakness)</div> + <div>What her look said!—no vile cant, sure, about "need to strew the bleakness</div> + <div>Of some lone shore with its pearl-seed, that the sea feels"—no "strange yearning</div> + <div>That such souls have, most to lavish where there's chance of least returning".</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>III.</h3> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! but not quite so sunk that moments,</div> + <div>Sure tho' seldom, are denied us, when the spirit's true endowments</div> + <div>Stand out plainly from its false ones, and apprise it if pursuing</div> + <div>Or the right way or the wrong way, to its triumph or undoing.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>IV.</h3> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>There are flashes struck from midnights, there are fire-flames noondays kindle,</div> + <div>Whereby piled-up honours perish, whereby swollen ambitions dwindle,</div> + <div>While just this or that poor impulse, which for once had play unstifled,</div> + <div>Seems the sole work of a life-time that away the rest have trifled.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[279]<a name="page279" id="page279"></a></span> +<h3>V.</h3> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>Doubt you if, in some such moment, as she fixed me, she felt clearly,</div> + <div>Ages past the soul existed, here an age 'tis resting merely,</div> + <div>And hence fleets again for ages: while the true end, sole and single,</div> + <div>It stops here for is, this love-way, with some other soul to mingle?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>Else it loses what it lived for, and eternally must lose it;</div> + <div>Better ends may be in prospect, deeper blisses (if you choose it),</div> + <div>But this life's end and this love-bliss have been lost here. Doubt you whether</div> + <div>This she felt as, looking at me, mine and her souls rushed together?</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VII.</h3> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>Oh, observe! Of course, next moment, the world's honours, in derision,</div> + <div>Trampled out the light for ever. Never fear but there's provision</div> + <div>Of the devil's to quench knowledge, lest we walk the earth in rapture!</div> + <div>—Making those who catch God's secret, just so much more prize their capture!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>VIII.</h3> +<div class="stanzawide"> + <div>Such am I: the secret's mine now! She has lost me, I have gained her;</div> + <div>Her soul's mine: and thus, grown perfect, I shall pass my life's remainder.</div> + <div>Life will just hold out the proving both our powers, alone and blended:</div> + <div>And then, come next life quickly! This world's use will have been ended.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum">[280]<a name="page280" id="page280"></a></span> +<h3><a name="lxvii" id="lxvii">LXVII.</a> THE LOST LEADER.</h3> + + <p class="centersmall">From <i>Dramatic Lyrics</i>; written in 1845.</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<h3>I.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Just for a handful of silver he left us,</div> + <div class="in1">Just for a riband to stick in his coat—</div> + <div>Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us,</div> + <div class="in1">Lost all the others, she lets us devote;</div> + <div>They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver,</div> + <div class="in1">So much was theirs who so little allowed:</div> + <div>How all our copper had gone for his service!</div> + <div class="in1">Rags—were they purple, his heart had been proud!</div> + <div>We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him,</div> + <div class="in1">Lived in his mild and magnificent eye,</div> + <div>Learned his great language, caught his clear accents,</div> + <div class="in1">Made him our pattern to live and to die?</div> + <div>Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us,</div> + <div class="in1">Burns, Shelley, were with us,—they watch from their graves!</div> + <div>He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,</div> + <div class="in1">He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>II.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>We shall march prospering,—not thro' his presence;</div> + <div class="in1">Songs may inspirit us,—not from his lyre;</div> + <div>Deeds will be done,—while he boasts his quiescence,</div> + <div class="in1">Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire.</div> + <div>Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more,</div> + <div class="in1">One task more declined, one more footpath untrod,</div> + <div>One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for angels,</div> + <div class="in1">One wrong more to man, one more insult to God!</div> + <div>Life's night begins: let him never come back to us!</div> + <div class="in1">There would be doubt, hesitation and pain,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[281]<a name="page281" id="page281"></a></span> + <div>Forced praise on our part—the glimmer of twilight,</div> + <div class="in1">Never glad confident morning again!</div> + <div>Best fight on well, for we taught him—strike gallantly,</div> + <div class="in1">Menace our heart ere we master his own;</div> + <div>Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us</div> + <div class="in1">Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne!</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1811-1863.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lxviii" id="lxviii">LXVIII.</a> PISCATOR AND PISCATRIX.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>Published among Thackeray's "Ballads" under the sub-heading "Lines + written to an Album Print".</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>As on this pictured page I look,</div> + <div>This pretty tale of line and hook,</div> + <div>As though it were a novel-book,</div> + <div class="in1">Amuses and engages:</div> + <div>I know them both, the boy and girl;</div> + <div>She is the daughter of the Earl,</div> + <div>The lad (that has his hair in curl)</div> + <div class="in1">My lord the County's page is.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A pleasant place for such a pair!</div> + <div>The fields lie basking in the glare;</div> + <div>No breath of wind the heavy air</div> + <div class="in1">Of lazy summer quickens.</div> + <div>Hard by you see the castle tall;</div> + <div>The village nestles round the wall,</div> + <div>As round about the hen its small</div> + <div class="in1">Young progeny of chickens.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>It is too hot to pace the keep;</div> + <div>To climb the turret is too steep;</div> +<span class="pagenum">[282]<a name="page282" id="page282"></a></span> + <div>My lord the Earl is dozing deep,</div> + <div class="in1">His noonday dinner over:</div> + <div>The postern warder is asleep</div> + <div>(Perhaps they've bribed him not to peep):</div> + <div>And so from out the gate they creep;</div> + <div class="in1">And cross the fields of clover.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Their lines into the brook they launch;</div> + <div>He lays his cloak upon a branch,</div> + <div>To guarantee his Lady Blanche</div> + <div class="in1">'s delicate complexion:</div> + <div>He takes his rapier from his haunch,</div> + <div>That beardless, doughty champion staunch;</div> + <div>He'd drill it through the rival's paunch</div> + <div class="in1">That question'd his affection!</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>O heedless pair of sportsmen slack!</div> + <div>You never mark, though trout or jack,</div> + <div>Or little foolish stickleback,</div> + <div class="in1">Your baited snares may capture.</div> + <div>What care has <i>she</i> for line and hook?</div> + <div>She turns her back upon the brook,</div> + <div>Upon her lover's eyes to look</div> + <div class="in1">In sentimental rapture.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>O loving pair! as thus I gaze</div> + <div>Upon the girl who smiles always,</div> + <div>The little hand that ever plays</div> + <div class="in1">Upon the lover's shoulder;</div> + <div>In looking at your pretty shapes,</div> + <div>A sort of envious wish escapes</div> + <div>(Such as the Fox had for the Grapes)</div> + <div class="in1">The Poet, your beholder.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>To be brave, handsome, twenty-two;</div> + <div>With nothing else on earth to do,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[283]<a name="page283" id="page283"></a></span> + <div>But all day long to bill and coo:</div> + <div class="in1">It were a pleasant calling.</div> + <div>And had I such a partner sweet;</div> + <div>A tender heart for mine to beat,</div> + <div>A gentle hand my clasp to meet;—</div> + <div>I'd let the world flow at my feet,</div> + <div class="in1">And never heed its brawling.</div> +</div> +<br /> + +<br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="lxix" id="lxix">LXIX.</a> ON A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE.</h3> + + <blockquote><p>This is one of the most popular of the famous Roundabout Papers + written by Thackeray for the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, of which he was + the first editor.</p></blockquote> + +<p>Where have I just read of a game played at a country house? The party +assembles round a table with pens, ink, and paper. Some one narrates a +tale containing more or less incidents and personages. Each person of +the company then writes down, to the best of his memory and ability, +the anecdote just narrated, and finally the papers are to be read out. +I do not say I should like to play often at this game, which might +possibly be a tedious and lengthy pastime, not by any means so amusing +as smoking a cigar in the conservatory; or even listening to the young +ladies playing their piano-pieces; or to Hobbs and Nobbs lingering +round the bottle and talking over the morning's run with the hounds; +but surely it is a moral and ingenious sport. They say the variety of +narratives is often very odd and amusing. The original story becomes so +changed and distorted that at the end of all the statements you are +puzzled to know where the truth is at all. As time is of small +importance to the cheerful persons engaged in this sport, perhaps a +good way of playing it would be to spread it over a couple of years. +Let the people who played the game in '60 all meet and play it once +more in '61, and each write his <span class="pagenum">[284]<a name="page284" +id="page284"></a></span>story over again. Then bring out your +original and compare notes. Not only will the stories differ from each +other, but the writers will probably differ from themselves. In the +course of the year the incidents will grow or will dwindle strangely. +The least authentic of the statements will be so lively or so +malicious, or so neatly put, that it will appear most like the truth. I +like these tales and sportive exercises. I had begun a little print +collection once. I had Addison in his nightgown in bed at Holland +House, requesting young Lord Warwick to remark how a Christian should +die. I had Cambronne clutching his cocked hat, and uttering the +immortal <i>La Garde meurt et ne se rend pas</i>. I had the <i>Vengeur</i> going +down, and all the crew hurraying like madmen. I had Alfred toasting the +muffin: Curtius (Haydon) jumping into the gulf; with extracts from +Napoleon's bulletins, and a fine authentic portrait of Baron +Munchausen.</p> + +<p>What man who has been before the public at all has not heard similar +wonderful anecdotes regarding himself and his own history? In these +humble essaykins I have taken leave to egotize. I cry out about the +shoes which pinch me, and, as I fancy, more naturally and pathetically +than if my neighbour's corns were trodden under foot. I prattle about +the dish which I love, the wine which I like, the talk I heard +yesterday—about Brown's absurd airs—Jones's ridiculous elation when +he thinks he has caught me in a blunder (a part of the fun, you see, is +that Jones will read this, and will perfectly well know that I mean +him, and that we shall meet and grin at each other with entire +politeness). This is not the highest kind of speculation, I confess, +but it is a gossip which amuses some folks. A brisk and honest +small-beer will refresh those who do not care for the frothy +outpourings of heavier taps. A two of clubs may be a good handy little +card sometimes, and able to tackle a king of diamonds, <span +class="pagenum">[285]<a name="page285" id="page285"></a></span>if it is a +little trump. Some philosophers get their wisdom with deep thought, and +out of ponderous libraries; I pick up my small crumbs of cogitation at +a dinner-table; or from Mrs. Mary and Miss Louisa, as they are +prattling over their five-o'clock tea.</p> + +<p>Well, yesterday at dinner, Jucundus was good enough to tell me a story +about myself, which he had heard from a lady of his acquaintance, to +whom I send my best compliments. The tale is this. At nine o'clock on +the evening of the 31st of November last, just before sunset, I was +seen leaving No. 96 Abbey Road, St. John's Wood, leading two little +children by the hand, one of them in a nankeen pelisse, and the other +having a mole on the third finger of his left hand (she thinks it was +the third finger, but is quite sure it was the left hand). Thence I +walked with them to Charles Boroughbridge's, pork and sausage man, No. +29 Upper Theresa Road. Here, whilst I left the little girl innocently +eating a polony in the front shop, I and Boroughbridge retired with the +boy into the back parlour, where Mrs. Boroughbridge was playing +cribbage. She put up the cards and boxes, took out a chopper and a +napkin, and we cut the little boy's little throat (which he bore with +great pluck and resolution), and made him into sausage-meat by the aid +of Purkis's excellent sausage-machine. The little girl at first could +not understand her brother's absence, but, under the pretence of taking +her to see Mr. Fechter in <i>Hamlet</i>, I led her down to the New River at +Sadler's Wells, where a body of a child in a nankeen pelisse was +subsequently found, and has never been recognized to the present day. +And this Mrs. Lynx can aver, because she saw the whole transaction with +her own eyes, as she told Mr. Jucundus.</p> + +<p>I have altered the little details of the anecdote somewhat. But this +story is, I vow and declare, as true as Mrs. Lynx's. Gracious goodness! +how do lies begin? <span class="pagenum">[286]<a name="page286" id="page286"></a></span> +What are the averages of lying? Is the same amount +of lies told about every man, and do we pretty much all tell the same +amount of lies? Is the average greater in Ireland than in Scotland, or +<i>vice versâ</i>—among women than among men? Is this a lie I am telling +now? If I am talking about you, the odds are, perhaps, that it is. I +look back at some which have been told about me, and speculate on them +with thanks and wonder. Dear friends have told them of me, have told +them to me of myself. Have they not to and of you, dear friend? A +friend of mine was dining at a large dinner of clergymen, and a story, +as true as the sausage story above given, was told regarding me, by one +of those reverend divines in whose frocks sit some anile chatterboxes, +as any man who knows this world knows. They take the privilege of their +gown. They cabal, and tattle, and hiss, and cackle comminations under +their breath. I say the old women of the other sex are not more +talkative or more mischievous than some of these. "Such a man ought not +to be spoken to", says Gobemouche, narrating the story—and such a +story! "And I am surprised he is admitted into society at all." Yes, +dear Gobemouche, but the story wasn't true: and I had no more done the +wicked deed in question than I had run away with the Queen of Sheba.</p> + +<p>I have always longed to know what that story was (or what collection of +histories), which a lady had in her mind to whom a servant of mine +applied for a place, when I was breaking up my establishment once, and +going abroad. Brown went with a very good character from us, which, +indeed, she fully deserved after several years' faithful service. But +when Mrs. Jones read the name of the person out of whose employment +Brown came, "That is quite sufficient", says Mrs. Jones. "You may go. I +will never take a servant out of <i>that</i> house." Ah, Mrs. Jones, how I +should like to know what that <span class="pagenum">[287]<a name="page287" +id="page287"></a></span>crime was, or what that series of +villainies, which made you determine never to take a servant out of my +house! Do you believe in the story of the little boy and the sausages? +Have you swallowed that little minced infant? Have you devoured that +young Polonius? Upon my word you have maw enough. We somehow greedily +gobble down all stories in which the characters of our friends are +chopped up, and believe wrong of them without inquiry. In a late serial +work written by this hand, I remember making some pathetic remarks +about our propensity to believe ill of our neighbours—and I remember +the remarks, not because they were valuable, or novel, or ingenious, +but because, within three days after they had appeared in print, the +moralist who wrote them, walking home with a friend, heard a story +about another friend, which story he straightway believed, and which +story was scarcely more true than that sausage fable which is here set +down. <i>O mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!</i> But though the preacher trips, +shall not the doctrine be good? Yea, brethren! Here be the rods. Look +you, here are the scourges. Choose me a nice, long, swishing, buddy +one, light and well-poised in the handle, thick and bushy at the tail. +Pick me out a whip-cord thong with some dainty knots in it—and now—we +all deserve it—whish, whish, whish! Let us cut into each other all +round.</p> + +<p>A favourite liar and servant of mine was a man I once had to drive a +brougham. He never came to my house, except for orders, and once when +he helped to wait at dinner, so clumsily that it was agreed we would +dispense with his further efforts. The (job) brougham horse used to +look dreadfully lean and tired, and the livery-stable keeper complained +that we worked him too hard. Now, it turned out that there was a +neighbouring butcher's lady who liked to ride in a brougham; and +Tomkins lent her ours, drove her cheerfully to Richmond and Putney, +<span class="pagenum">[288]<a name="page288" id="page288"></a></span> +and, I suppose, took out a payment in mutton-chops. We gave this good +Tomkins wine and medicine for his family when sick—we supplied him +with little comforts and extras which need not now be remembered—and +the grateful creature rewarded us by informing some of our tradesmen +whom he honoured with his custom, "Mr. Roundabout? Lor' bless you! I +carry him up to bed drunk every night in the week". He, Tomkins, being +a man of seven stone weight and five feet high; whereas his employer +was—but here modesty interferes, and I decline to enter into the +avoirdupois question.</p> + +<p>Now, what was Tomkin's motive for the utterance and dissemination of +these lies? They could further no conceivable end or interest of his +own. Had they been true stories, Tomkin's master would, and reasonably, +have been still more angry than at the fables. It was but suicidal +slander on the part of Tomkins—must come to a discovery—must end in a +punishment. The poor wretch had got his place under, as it turned out, +a fictitious character. He might have stayed in it, for of course +Tomkins had a wife and poor innocent children. He might have had bread, +beer, bed, character, coats, coals. He might have nestled in our little +island, comfortably sheltered from the storms of life; but we were +compelled to cast him out, and send him driving, lonely, perishing, +tossing, starving, to sea—to drown. To drown? There be other modes of +death whereby rogues die. Good-bye, Tomkins. And so the night-cap is +put on, and the bolt is drawn for poor T.</p> + +<p>Suppose we were to invite volunteers amongst our respected readers to +send in little statements of the lies which they know have been told +about themselves: what a heap of correspondence, what an exaggeration +of malignities, what a crackling bonfire of incendiary falsehoods, +might we not gather together! And a lie once set going, +<span class="pagenum">[289]<a name="page289" id="page289"></a></span>having the +breath of life breathed into it by the father of lying, and ordered to +run its diabolical little course, lives with a prodigious vitality. You +say, <i>Magna est veritas et proevalebit</i>. Psha! great lies are as great +as great truths, and prevail constantly, and day after day. Take an +instance or two out of my own little budget. I sit near a gentleman at +dinner, and the conversation turns upon a certain anonymous literary +performance which at the time is amusing the town. "Oh," says the +gentleman, "everybody knows who wrote that paper: it is Momus's." I was +a young author at the time, perhaps proud of my bantling: "I beg your +pardon," I say, "it was written by your humble servant." "Indeed!" was +all that the man replied, and he shrugged his shoulders, turned his +back, and talked to his other neighbour. I never heard sarcastic +incredulity more finely conveyed than by that "Indeed". "Impudent +liar," the gentleman's face said, as clear as face could speak. Where +was Magna Veritas, and how did she prevail then? She lifted up her +voice, she made her appeal, and she was kicked out of court. In New +York I read a newspaper criticism one day (by an exile from our shores +who has taken up his abode in the Western Republic), commenting upon a +letter of mine which had appeared in a contemporary volume, and wherein +it was stated that the writer was a lad in such and such a year, and in +point of fact, I was, at the period spoken of, nineteen years of age. +"Falsehood, Mr. Roundabout," says the noble critic: "you were then not +a lad; you were six-and-twenty years of age." You see he knew better +than papa and mamma and parish register. It was easier for him to think +and say I lied, on a twopenny matter connected with my own affairs, +than to imagine he was mistaken. Years ago, in a time when we were very +mad wags, Arcturus and myself met a gentleman from China who knew the +language. We <span class="pagenum">[290]<a name="page290" id="page290"></a></span> +began to speak Chinese against him. We said we were born +in China. We were two to one. We spoke the mandarin dialect with +perfect fluency. We had the company with us; as in the old, old days, +the squeak of the real pig was voted not to be so natural as the squeak +of the sham pig. O Arcturus, the sham pig squeaks in our streets now to +the applause of multitudes, and the real porker grunts unheeded in his +sty!</p> + +<p>I once talked for some little time with an amiable lady: it was for the +first time; and I saw an expression of surprise on her kind face which +said as plainly as face could say, "Sir, do you know that up to this +moment I have had a certain opinion of you, and that I begin to think I +have been mistaken or misled?" I not only know that she had heard evil +reports of me, but I know who told her—one of those acute fellows, my +dear brethren, of whom we spoke in a previous sermon, who has found me +out—found out actions which I never did, found out thoughts and +sayings which I never spoke, and judged me accordingly. Ah, my lad! +have I found <i>you</i> out? <i>O risum teneatis.</i> Perhaps the person I am +accusing is no more guilty than I.</p> + +<p>How comes it that the evil which men say spreads so widely and lasts so +long, whilst our good kind words don't seem somehow to take root and +bear blossom? Is it that in the stony hearts of mankind these pretty +flowers can't find a place to grow? Certain it is that scandal is good +brisk talk, whereas praise of one's neighbour is by no means lively +hearing. An acquaintance grilled, scored, devilled, and served with +mustard and cayenne pepper, excites the appetite; whereas a slice of +cold friend with currant jelly is but a sickly, unrelishing meat.</p> + +<p>Now, such being the case, my dear worthy Mrs. Candour, in whom I know +there are a hundred good and generous qualities: it being perfectly +clear that the good <span class="pagenum">[291]<a name="page291" id="page291"></a></span> +things which we say of our neighbours don't +fructify, but somehow perish in the ground where they are dropped, +whilst the evil words are wafted by all the winds of scandal, take root +in all soils, and flourish amazingly—seeing, I say, that this +conversation does not give us a fair chance, suppose we give up +censoriousness altogether, and decline uttering our opinions about +Brown, Jones, and Robinson (and Mesdames B., J., and R.) at all. We may +be mistaken about every one of them, as, please goodness, those +anecdote-mongers against whom I have uttered my meek protest have been +mistaken about me. We need not go to the extent of saying that Mrs. +Manning was an amiable creature, much misunderstood; and Jack Thurtell +a gallant unfortunate fellow, not near so black as he was painted; but +we will try and avoid personalities altogether in talk, won't we? We +will range the fields of science, dear madam, and communicate to each +other the pleasing results of our studies. We will, if you please, +examine the infinitesimal wonders of nature through the microscope. We +will cultivate entomology. We will sit with our arms round each other's +waists on the <i>pons asinorum</i>, and see the stream of mathematics flow +beneath. We will take refuge in cards, and play at "beggar my +neighbour", not abuse my neighbour. We will go to the Zoological +Gardens and talk freely about the gorilla and his kindred, but not talk +about people who can talk in their turn. Suppose we praise the High +Church? we offend the Low Church. The Broad Church? High and Low are +both offended. What do you think of Lord Derby as a politician? And +what is your opinion of Lord Palmerston? If you please, will you play +me those lovely variations of "In a cottage near a wood"? It is a +charming air (you know it in French, I suppose? <i>Ah! te dirai-je, +maman?</i>) and was a favourite with poor Marie Antoinette. I say "poor", +because I have a right to <span class="pagenum">[292]<a name="page292" id="page292"></a></span> +speak with pity of a sovereign who was +renowned for so much beauty and so much misfortune. But as for giving +any opinion on her conduct, saying that she was good or bad, or +indifferent, goodness forbid! We have agreed we will not be censorious. +Let us have a game at cards—at <i>écarté</i>, if you please. You deal. I +ask for cards. I lead the deuce of clubs....</p> + +<p>What? there is no deuce! Deuce take it! What? People <i>will</i> go on +talking about their neighbours, and won't have their mouths stopped by +cards, or ever so much microscopes and aquariums? Ah, my poor dear Mrs. +Candour, I agree with you. By the way, did you ever see anything like +Lady Godiva Trotter's dress last night? People <i>will</i> go on chattering, +although we hold our tongues; and, after all, my good soul, what will +their scandal matter a hundred years hence?</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1819-1861.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lxx" id="lxx">LXX.</a> SPECTATOR AB EXTRA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>As I sat at the Café I said to myself,</div> + <div>They may talk as they please about what they call pelf,</div> + <div>They may sneer as they like about eating and drinking,</div> + <div>But help it I cannot, I cannot help thinking</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I sit at my table <i>en grand seigneur</i>,</div> + <div>And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor,</div> + <div>Not only the pleasure itself of good living,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[293]<a name="page293" id="page293"></a></span> + <div>But also the pleasure of now and then giving:</div> + <div class="in2">So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>They may talk as they please about what they call pelf,</div> + <div>And how one ought never to think of one's self,</div> + <div>How pleasures of thought surpass eating and drinking,</div> + <div>My pleasure of thought is the pleasure of thinking</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>LE DINER.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Come along, 'tis the time, ten or more minutes past,</div> + <div>And he who came first had to wait for the last;</div> + <div>The oysters ere this had been in and been out;</div> + <div>While I have been sitting and thinking about</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>A clear soup with eggs; <i>voilà tout</i>; of the fish</div> + <div>The <i>filets de sole</i> are a moderate dish</div> + <div><i>À la Orly</i>, but you're for red mullet, you say:</div> + <div>By the gods of good fare, who can question to-day</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>After oysters, Sauterne; then Sherry; Champagne,</div> + <div>Ere one bottle goes, comes another again;</div> + <div>Fly up, thou bold cork, to the ceiling above,</div> + <div>And tell to our ears in the sound that we love</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I've the simplest of palates; absurd it may be,</div> + <div>But I almost could dine on a <i>poulet-au-riz</i>,</div> + <div>Fish and soup and omelette and that—but the deuce—</div> + <div>There were to be woodcocks, and not <i>Charlotte Russe</i>!</div> + <div class="in2">So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[294]<a name="page294" id="page294"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Your Chablis is acid, away with the hock,</div> + <div>Give me the pure juice of the purple Médoc;</div> + <div>St. Peray is exquisite; but, if you please,</div> + <div>Some Burgundy just before tasting the cheese.</div> + <div class="in2">So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>As for that, pass the bottle, and hang the expense—</div> + <div>I've seen it observed by a writer of sense,</div> + <div>That the labouring classes could scarce live a day,</div> + <div>If people like us didn't eat, drink, and pay.</div> + <div class="in2">So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So useful it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>One ought to be grateful, I quite apprehend,</div> + <div>Having dinner and supper and plenty to spend,</div> + <div>And so suppose now, while the things go away,</div> + <div>By way of a grace we all stand up and say</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">How pleasant it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<h3>PARVENANT.</h3> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I cannot but ask, in the park and the streets,</div> + <div>When I look at the number of persons one meets,</div> + <div>Whate'er in the world the poor devils can do</div> + <div>Whose fathers and mothers can't give them a <i>sous</i>.</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I ride, and I drive, and I care not a d—n,</div> + <div>The people look up and they ask who I am;</div> + <div>And if I should chance to run over a cad,</div> +<span class="pagenum">[295]<a name="page295" id="page295"></a></span> + <div>I can pay for the damage, if ever so bad.</div> + <div class="in2">So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So useful it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>It was but this winter I came up to town,</div> + <div>And already I'm gaining a sort of renown;</div> + <div>Find my way to good houses without much ado,</div> + <div>Am beginning to see the nobility too.</div> + <div class="in2">So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So useful it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>O dear what a pity they ever should lose it,</div> + <div>Since they are the people who know how to use it;</div> + <div>So easy, so stately, such manners, such dinners;</div> + <div>And yet, after all, it is we are the winners.</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>It is all very well to be handsome and tall,</div> + <div>Which certainly makes you look well at a ball,</div> + <div>It's all very well to be clever and witty.</div> + <div>But if you are poor, why it's only a pity.</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>There's something undoubtedly in a fine air,</div> + <div>To know how to smile and be able to stare,</div> + <div>High breeding is something, but well bred or not,</div> + <div>In the end the one question is, what have you got?</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>And the angels in pink and the angels in blue,</div> + <div>In muslins and moirés so lovely and new,</div> + <div>What is it they want, and so wish you to guess,</div> + <div>But if you have money, the answer is yes.</div> + <div class="in2">So needful, they tell you, is money, heigh-ho!</div> + <div class="in2">So needful it is to have money.</div> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum">[296]<a name="page296" id="page296"></a></span> +<h2>C.S. CALVERLEY.</h2> + +<div class="years">(1831-1884.)</div> + +<h3><a name="lxxi" id="lxxi">LXXI.</a> "HIC VIR, HIC EST."</h3> + + <blockquote><p>The subtle mingling of pathos and satire in this poem evoked the + warm admiration of Mr. J. Russell Lowell. This is published by + special permission of Messrs. G. Bell & Sons, to whom thanks are + tendered.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Often, when o'er tree and turret,</div> + <div class="in1">Eve a dying radiance flings,</div> + <div>By that ancient pile I linger,</div> + <div class="in1">Known familiarly as "King's".</div> + <div>And the ghosts of days departed</div> + <div class="in1">Rise, and in my burning breast</div> + <div>All the undergraduate wakens,</div> + <div class="in1">And my spirit is at rest.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>What, but a revolting fiction,</div> + <div class="in1">Seems the actual result</div> + <div>Of the Census's inquiries,</div> + <div class="in1">Made upon the 15th ult.?</div> + <div>Still my soul is in its boyhood;</div> + <div class="in1">Nor of year or changes recks,</div> + <div>Though my scalp is almost hairless,</div> + <div class="in1">And my figure grows convex.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Backward moves the kindly dial;</div> + <div class="in1">And I'm numbered once again</div> + <div>With those noblest of their species</div> + <div class="in1">Called emphatically "Men";</div> + <div>Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime,</div> + <div class="in1">Through the streets, with tranquil mind,</div> + <div>And a long-backed fancy-mongrel</div> + <div class="in1">Trailing casually behind.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[297]<a name="page297" id="page297"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Past the Senate-house I saunter,</div> + <div class="in1">Whistling with an easy grace;</div> + <div>Past the cabbage stalks that carpet</div> + <div class="in1">Still the beefy market-place;</div> + <div>Poising evermore the eye-glass</div> + <div class="in1">In the light sarcastic eye,</div> + <div>Lest, by chance, some breezy nursemaid</div> + <div class="in1">Pass, without a tribute, by.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Once, an unassuming Freshman,</div> + <div class="in1">Thro' these wilds I wandered on,</div> + <div>Seeing in each house a College,</div> + <div class="in1">Under every cap a Don;</div> + <div>Each perambulating infant</div> + <div class="in1">Had a magic in its squall,</div> + <div>For my eager eye detected</div> + <div class="in1">Senior Wranglers in them all.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>By degrees my education</div> + <div class="in1">Grew, and I became as others;</div> + <div>Learned to blunt my moral feelings</div> + <div class="in1">By the aid of Bacon Brothers;</div> + <div>Bought me tiny boots of Mortlock,</div> + <div class="in1">And colossal prints of Roe;</div> + <div>And ignored the proposition,</div> + <div class="in1">That both time and money go.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>Learned to work the wary dogcart,</div> + <div class="in1">Artfully thro' King's Parade;</div> + <div>Dress, and steer a boat, and sport with</div> + <div class="in1">Amaryllis in the shade:</div> + <div>Struck, at Brown's, the dashing hazard;</div> + <div class="in1">Or (more curious sport than that)</div> + <div>Dropped, at Callaby's, the terrier</div> + <div class="in1">Down upon the prisoned rat.</div> +</div> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum">[298]<a name="page298" id="page298"></a></span> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>I have stood serene on Fenner's</div> + <div class="in1">Ground, indifferent to blisters,</div> + <div>While the Buttress of the period</div> + <div class="in1">Bowled me his peculiar twisters:</div> + <div>Sung, "We won't go home till morning";</div> + <div class="in1">Striven to part my backhair straight;</div> + <div>Drunk (not lavishly) of Miller's</div> + <div class="in1">Old dry wines at 78/:—</div> +</div> +<br /> +<div class="stanza"> + <div>When within my veins the blood ran,</div> + <div class="in1">And the curls were on my brow,</div> + <div>I did, oh ye undergraduates,</div> + <div class="in1">Much as ye are doing now.</div> + <div>Wherefore bless ye, O beloved ones:—</div> + <div class="in1">Now into mine inn must I,</div> + <div>Your "poor moralist", betake me,</div> + <div class="in1">In my "solitary fly".</div> +</div> +</div> + +</div> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH SATIRES***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 16126-h.txt or 16126-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/2/16126">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/1/2/16126</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/16126.txt b/16126.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f8cb51 --- /dev/null +++ b/16126.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12377 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, English Satires, by Various, et al, Edited by +William Henry Oliphant Smeaton + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: English Satires + + +Author: Various + +Editor: William Henry Oliphant Smeaton + +Release Date: June 24, 2005 [eBook #16126] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH SATIRES*** + + +E-text prepared by Lynn Bornath and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +ENGLISH SATIRES + +With an Introduction by + +OLIPHANT SMEATON + +London +The Gresham Publishing Company +34 Southampton Street +Strand + + + + + + + +TO THE MEMORY OF + +ALEXANDER BALLOCH GROSART +D.D., LL.D., F.S.A. + + +WITH A GRATEFUL SENSE OF ALL IT OWES TO HIS TEACHING +THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR + + + + +PREFACE. + + +In the compilation of this volume my aim has been to furnish a work +that would be representative in character rather than exhaustive. The +restrictions of space imposed by the limits of such a series as this +have necessitated the omission of many pieces that readers might expect +to see included. As far as possible, however, the most typical satires +of the successive eras have been selected, so as to throw into relief +the special literary characteristics of each, and to manifest the trend +of satiric development during the centuries elapsing between Langland +and Lowell. + +Acknowledgment is due, and is gratefully rendered, to Mrs. C.S. +Calverley for permission to print the verses which close this book; and +to Messrs. Macmillan & Co. for permission to print A.H. Clough's +"Spectator ab Extra". + +To Professor C.H. Herford my warmest thanks are due for his careful +revision of the Introduction, and for many valuable hints which have +been adopted in the course of the work; also to Mr. W. Keith Leask, +M.A.(Oxon.), and the librarians of the Edinburgh University and +Advocates' Libraries. + +OLIPHANT SMEATON. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + Page +INTRODUCTION xiii + +WILLIAM LANGLAND + I. Pilgrimage in Search of Do-well 1 + +GEOFFREY CHAUCER +II. III. The Monk and the Friar 6 + +JOHN LYDGATE + IV. The London Lackpenny 10 + +WILLIAM DUNBAR + V. The Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins 14 + +SIR DAVID LYNDSAY + VI. Satire on the Syde Taillis--Ane Supplicatioun + directit to the Kingis Grace--1538 19 + +BISHOP JOSEPH HALL + VII. On Simony 22 + VIII. The Domestic Tutor's Position 23 + IX. The Impecunious Fop 24 + +GEORGE CHAPMAN + X. An Invective written by Mr. George Chapman + against Mr. Ben Jonson 26 + +JOHN DONNE + XI. The Character of the Bore 29 + +BEN JONSON + XII. The New Cry 34 + XIII. On Don Surly 35 + +SAMUEL BUTLER + XIV. The Character of Hudibras 36 + XV. The Character of a Small Poet 43 + +ANDREW MARVELL + XVI. Nostradamus's Prophecy 45 + +JOHN CLEIVELAND + XVII. The Scots Apostasie 47 + +JOHN DRYDEN + XVIII. Satire on the Dutch 49 + XIX. MacFlecknoe 50 + XX. Epistle to the Whigs 57 + +DANIEL DEFOE + XXI. Introduction to the True born Englishman 63 + +THE EARL OF DORSET + XXII. Satire on a Conceited Playwright 65 + +JOHN ARBUTHNOT + XXIII. Preface to John Bull and his Law suit 66 + XXIV. The History of John Bull 70 + XXV. Epitaph upon Colonel Chartres 76 + +JONATHAN SWIFT + XXVI. Mrs Frances Harris' Petition 77 + XXVII. Elegy on Partridge 81 + XXVIII. A Meditation upon a Broom stick 85 + XXIX. The Relations of Booksellers and Authors 86 + XXX. The Epistle Dedicatory to His Royal Highness + Prince Posterity 91 + +SIR RICHARD STEELE + XXXI. The Commonwealth of Lunatics 97 + +JOSEPH ADDISON + XXXII. Sir Roger de Coverley's Sunday 101 + +EDWARD YOUNG + XXXIII. To the Right Hon. Mr. Dodington 105 + +JOHN GAY + XXXIV. The Quidnunckis 112 + +ALEXANDER POPE + XXXV. The Dunciad--The Description of Dulness 114 + XXXVI. Sandys' Ghost; or, a proper new ballad of + the New Ovid's Metamorphoses, as it was + intended to be translated by persons of + quality 120 + XXXVII. Satire on the Whig Poets 122 +XXXVIII. Epilogue to the Satires 131 + +SAMUEL JOHNSON + XXXIX. The Vanity of Human Wishes 136 + XL. Letter to the Earl of Chesterfield 147 + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH + XLI. The Retaliation 149 + XLII. The Logicians Refuted 154 + XLIII. Beau Tibbs, his Character and Family 156 + +CHARLES CHURCHILL + XLIV. The Journey 160 + +JUNIUS + XLV. To the King 164 + +ROBERT BURNS + XLVI. Address to the Unco Guid, or the Rigidly + Righteous 180 + XLVII. Holy Willie's Prayer 182 + +CHARLES LAMB + XLVIII. A Farewell to Tobacco 186 + +THOMAS MOORE + XLIX. Lines on Leigh Hunt 191 + +GEORGE CANNING + L. Epistle from Lord Boringdon to Lord Granville 192 + LI. Reformation of the Knave of Hearts 194 + +POETRY OF THE ANTI JACOBIN + LII. The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-grinder 203 + LIII. Song by Rogero the Captive 205 + +COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY + LIV. The Devil's Walk 206 + +SYDNEY SMITH + LV. The Letters of Peter Plymley--on "No + Popery" 208 + +JAMES SMITH + LVI. The Poet of Fashion 216 + +WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR + LVII. Bossuet and the Duchess of Fontanges 218 + +LORD BYRON + LVIII. The Vision of Judgment 226 + LIX. The Waltz 236 + LX. "The Dedication" in Don Juan 243 + +THOMAS HOOD + LXI. Cockle _v._ Cackle 249 + +LORD MACAULAY + LXII. The Country Clergyman's Trip to Cambridge 253 + +WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED + LXIII. The Red Fisherman; or, The Devil's Decoy 257 + LXIV. Mad--Quite Mad 264 + +BENJAMIN DISRAELI (LORD BEACONSFIELD) + LXV. Popanilla on Man 270 + +ROBERT BROWNING + LXVI. Cristina 277 + LXVII. The Lost Leader 280 + +WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY + LXVIII. Piscator and Piscatrix 281 + LXIX. On a Hundred Years Hence 283 + +ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH + LXX. Spectator Ab Extra 292 + +C.S. CALVERLEY + LXXI. "Hic Vir, Hic Est" 296 + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +Satire and the satirist have been in evidence in well-nigh all ages of +the world's history. The chief instruments of the satirist's equipment +are irony, sarcasm, invective, wit, and humour. The satiric +denunciation of a writer burning with indignation at some social wrong +or abuse, is capable of reaching the very highest level of literature. +The writings of a satirist of this type, and to some extent of every +satirist who touches on the social aspects of life, present a picture +more or less vivid, though not of course complete and impartial, of the +age to which he belongs, of the men, their manners, fashions, tastes, +and prevalent opinions. Thus they have a historical as well as a +literary and an ethical value. And Thackeray, in speaking of the office +of the humorist or satirist, for to him they were one, says, "He +professes to awaken and direct your love, your pity, your kindness, +your scorn for untruth, pretension, imposture, your tenderness for the +weak, the poor, the oppressed, the unhappy. To the best of his means +and ability he comments on all the ordinary actions and passions of +life almost."[1] + +Satire has, in consequence, always ranked as one of the cardinal +divisions of literature. Its position as such, however, is due rather +to the fact of it having been so regarded among the Romans, than from +its own intrinsic importance among us to-day. Until the closing decades +of the eighteenth century--so long, in fact, as the classics were +esteemed of paramount authority as models--satire proper was accorded a +definite place in letters, and was distinctively cultivated by men of +genius as a branch of literature. But with the rise of the true +_national_ spirit in the various literatures of Europe, and notably in +that of England, satire has gradually given place to other types of +composition. Slowly but surely it has been edged out of its prominent +position as a separate department, and has been relegated to the +position of a _quality of style_, important, beyond doubt, yet no +longer to be considered as a prime division of letters.[2] + +Rome rather than Greece must be esteemed the home of ancient satire. +Quintilian, indeed, claims it altogether for his countrymen in the +words, _Satira tota nostra est_; while Horace styles it _Graecis +intactum carmen_. But this claim must be accepted with many +reservations. It does not imply that we do not discover the existence +of satire, together with favourable examples of it, long anterior to +the oldest extant works in either Grecian or Latin literature. The use +of what are called "personalities" in everyday speech was the probable +origin of satire. Conversely, also, satire, in the majority of those +earlier types current at various periods in the history of literature, +has shown an inclination to be personal in its character. De Quincey, +accordingly, has argued that the more personal it became in its +allusions, the more it fulfilled its specific function. But such a view +is based on the supposition that satire has no other mission than to +lash the vices of our neighbours, without recalling the fact that the +satirist has a reformative as well as a punitive duty to discharge. The +further we revert into the "deep backward and abysm of time" towards +the early history of the world, the more pronounced and overt is this +indulgence in broad personal invective and sarcastic strictures. + +The earliest cultivators of the art were probably the men with a +grievance, or, as Dr. Garnett says, "the carpers and fault-finders of +the clan". Their first attempts were, as has been conjectured, merely +personal lampoons against those they disliked or differed from, and +were perhaps of a type cognate with the Homeric _Margites_. Homer's +character of Thersites is mayhap a lifelike portrait of some +contemporary satirist who made himself dreaded by his personalities. +But even in Thersites we see the germs of transition from merely +personal invective to satire directed against a class; and Greek +satire, though on the whole more personal than Roman, achieved +brilliant results. It is enough to name Archilochus, whom Mahaffy terms +the Swift of Greek Literature, Simonides of Amorgos (circ. 660 B.C.), +the author of the famous _Satire on Women_, and Hipponax of Ephesus, +reputed the inventor of the Scazon or halting iambic. + +But the lasting significance of Greek satire is mainly derived from +its surpassing distinction in two domains--in the comico-satiric drama +of Aristophanes, and in the _Beast Fables_ of 'AEsop'. In later Greek +literature it lost its robustness and became trivial and effeminate +through expending itself on unworthy objects. + +It is amongst the Romans, with their deeper ethical convictions and +more powerful social sense, that we must look for the true home of +ancient satire. The germ of Roman satire is undoubtedly to be found in +the rude Fescennine verses, the rough and licentious jests and +buffoonery of the harvest-home and the vintage thrown into +quasi-lyrical form. These songs gradually developed a concomitant form +of dialogue styled saturae, a term denoting "miscellany", and derived +perhaps from the _Satura lanx_, a charger filled with the first-fruits +of the year's produce, which was offered to Bacchus and Ceres.[3] In +Ennius, the "father of Roman satire", and Varro, the word still +retained this old Roman sense. + +Lucilius was the first Roman writer who made "censorious criticism" the +prevailing tone of satire, and his work, the parent of the satire of +Horace, of Persius, of Juvenal, and through that of the poetical satire +of modern times, was the principal agent in fixing its present +polemical and urban associations upon a term originally steeped in the +savour of rustic revelry. In the hands of Horace, Roman satire was to +be moulded into a new type that was not only to be a thing of beauty, +but, as far as one can yet see, to remain a joy for ever. The great +Venusian, as he informs us, set before himself the task of adapting the +satire of Lucilius to the special circumstances, the manners, the +literary modes and tastes of the Augustan age. Horace's Satires conform +to Addison's great rule, which he lays down in the _Spectator_, that +the satire which only seeks to wound is as dangerous as arrows that fly +in the dark. There is always an ethical undercurrent running beneath +the polished raillery and the good-natured satire. His genial +_bonhomie_ prevents him from ever becoming ill-natured in his +animadversions. + +Of those manifold, kaleidoscopically-varied types of human nature which +in the Augustan age flocked to Rome as the centre of the known world, +he was a keen and a close observer. Jealously he noted the +deteriorating influence these foreign elements were exercising on the +grand old Roman character, and some of the bitterest home-thrusts he +ever delivered were directed against this alien invasion.[4] In those +brilliant pictures wherewith his satires are replete, Horace finds a +place for all. Sometimes he criticises as a far-off observer, gazing +with a sort of cynical amusement at this human raree-show; at others he +speaks as though he himself were in the very midst of the bustling +frivolity of the Roman Vanity Fair, and a sufferer from its follies. +Then his tone seems to deepen into a grave intensity of remonstrance, +as he exposes its hollowness, its heartlessness, and its blindness to +the absorbing problems of existence. + +After the death of Horace (B.C. 8) no names of note occur in the +domain of satire until we reach that famous trio, contemporary with one +another, who adorned the concluding half of the first century of our +era, viz.:--Juvenal, Persius, and Martial. They are severally +representative of distinct modes or types of satire. Juvenal +illustrates rhetorical or tragic satire, of which he is at once the +inventor and the most distinguished master--that form of composition, +in other words, which attacks vice, wrongs, or abuses in a high-pitched +strain of impassioned, declamatory eloquence. In this type of satire, +evil is designedly painted in exaggerated colours, that disgust may +more readily be aroused by the loathsomeness of the picture. As a +natural consequence, sobriety, moderation, and truth to nature no +longer are esteemed so indispensable. In this style Juvenal has had +many imitators, but no superiors. His satires represent the final +development the form underwent in achieving the definite purpose of +exposing and chastising in a systematic manner the entire catalogue of +vices, public and private, which were assailing the welfare of the +state. They constitute luridly powerful pictures of a debased and +shamelessly corrupt condition of society. Keen contemptuous ridicule, a +sardonic irony that held nothing in reverence, a caustic sarcasm that +burned like an acid, and a vituperative invective that ransacked the +language for phrases of opprobrium--these were the agents enlisted by +Juvenal into the service of purging society of its evil. + +Persius, on the other hand, was the philosophic satirist, whose +devotion to Stoicism caused him to see in it a panacea for all the +evils which Nero brought on the empire. The shortness of his life, his +studious tastes, and his exceptional moral purity all contributed to +keep him ignorant of that world of evil which, as Professor Sellar has +pithily remarked, it is the business of the satirist to know. Hence he +is purely a philosophic or didactic satirist. Only one of his poems, +the first, fulfils the special end of satire by representing any phase +whatever of the life of his time, and pointing its moral. + +Finally, Martial exchanged the epic tirade for the epigram as the +vehicle of his satire, and handled this lighter missile with +unsurpassed brilliance and _verve_. Despite his sycophancy and his +fulsome flattery of prospective benefactors, he displays more of the +sober moderation and sane common-sense of Horace than either of his +contemporaries. There are few better satirists of social and literary +pretenders either in ancient or modern times. No ancient has more +vividly painted the manners of antiquity. If Juvenal enforces the +lesson of that time, and has penetrated more deeply into the heart of +society, Martial has sketched its external aspect with a much fairer +pencil, and from a much more intimate contact with it. + +In the first and second centuries of our era two other forms of satire +took their rise, viz.:--the Milesian or "Satiric Tale" of Petronius and +Apuleius, and the "Satiric Dialogue" of Lucian. Both are admirable +pictures of their respective periods. The _Tales_ of the two first are +conceived with great force of imagination, and executed with a happy +blending of humour, wit, and cynical irony that suggests Gil Blas or +Barry Lyndon. _The Supper of Trimalchio_, by Petronius, reproduces with +unsparing hand the gluttony and the blatant vice of the Neronic epoch. +_The Golden Ass_ of Apuleius is a clever sketch of contemporary manners +in the second century, painting in vivid colours the reaction that had +set in against scepticism, and the general appetite that prevailed for +miracles and magic. + +Finally, ancient satire may be said to close with the famous +_Dialogues_ of Lucian, which, although written in Greek, exhibited all +the best features of Roman satire. Certainly the ethical purpose and +the reformative element are rather implied than insistently expressed +in Lucian; but he affords in his satiric sketches a capital glimpse of +the ludicrous perplexity into which the pagan mind was plunged when it +had lost faith in its mythology, and when a callous indifference +towards the Pantheon left the Roman world literally without a rational +creed. As a satire on the old Hellenic religion nothing could be racier +than _The Dialogues of the Gods_ and _The Dialogues of the Dead_. + +It is impossible in this brief survey to discuss at large the vast +chaotic epoch in the history of satire which lies between the end of +the ancient world and the dawn of humanism. For satire, as a literary +genre, belongs to these two. The mediaeval world, inexhaustible in its +capacity and relish for abuse, full of rude laughter and drastic +humour--prompt, for all its superstition, to make a jest of the priest, +and, for all its chivalry, to catalogue the foibles of women--had the +satirical animus in abundance, and satirical songs, visions, fables, +fabliaux, ballads, epics, in legion, but no definite and recognised +school of satire. It is sufficient to name, as examples of the +extraordinary range of the mediaeval satiric genius, the farce of +_Pathelin_, the beast-epic of _Renart_, the rhymes of Walter Map, and +the _Inferno_ of Dante. + +Of these satirists before the rise of "satire", mediaeval England +produced two great examples in Chaucer and Langland. They typify at the +outset the two classes into which Dryden divided English satirists--the +followers of Horace's way and the followers of Juvenal's--the men of +the world, who assail the enemies of common-sense with the weapons of +humour and sarcasm; and the prophets, who assail vice and crime with +passionate indignation and invective scorn. Since Dryden's time neither +line has died out, and it is still possible, with all reserves, to +recognise the two strains through the whole course of English +literature: the one represented in Chaucer, Donne, Marvell, Addison, +Arbuthnot, Swift, Young, Goldsmith, Canning, Thackeray, and Tennyson; +the others in Langland, Skelton, Lyndsay, Nash, Marston, Dryden, Pope, +Churchill, Johnson, Junius, Burns, and Browning. + +Langland was a naive mediaeval Juvenal. The sad-visaged, world-weary +dreamer of the Malvern hills, sorrowing over the vice, the abuses, and +the social misery of his time, finding, as he tells us, no comfort in +any of the established institutions of his day, because confronted with +the fraud and falsehood that infected them all, is one of the most +pathetic figures in literature. As Skeat suggests, the object of his +great poem was to secure, through the latitude afforded by allegory, +opportunities of describing the life and manners of the poorer classes, +of inveighing against clerical abuses and the rapacity of the friars, +of representing the miseries caused by the great pestilences then +prevalent, and by the hasty and ill-advised marriages consequent +thereon; of denouncing lazy workmen and sham beggars, the corruption +and bribery then too common in the law-courts--in a word, to lash all +the numerous forms of falsehood, which are at all times the fit +subjects for satire and indignant exposure. Amid many essential +differences, is there not here a striking likeness to the work of the +Roman Juvenal? Langland's satire is not so fiery nor so rhetorically +intense as that of his prototype, but it is less profoundly despairing. +He satirizes evil rather by exposing it and contrasting it with good, +than by vehemently denouncing it. The colours of the pictures are +sombre, and the gloom is almost overwhelming, but still it is illumined +from time to time with the hope of coming amendment, when the great +reformer Piers the Plowman, by which is typified Christ,[5] should +appear, who was to remedy all abuses and restore the world to a right +condition. In this sustaining hope he differs from Juvenal, the +funereal gloom of whose satires is relieved by no gleam of hope for the +future. + +Contrast with this the humorous brightness, the laughter, and the light +of the surroundings associated with his great contemporary, Geoffrey +Chaucer. His very satire is kindly and quaint, like that of Horace, +rather than bitterly acidulous. He raps his age over the knuckles, it +is true, for its faults and foibles, but the censor's face wears a +genial smile. One of his chief attractions for us lies in his bright +objectivity. He never wears his heart on his sleeve like Langland. He +has touches of rare and profound pathos, but these notes of pain are +only like undertones of discord to throw the harmony into stronger +relief, only like little cloudlets momentarily flitting across the +golden sunshine of his humour. + +We read Chaucer, as we read Horace, from love of his piquant +Epicureanism, and the scintillating satire wherewith he enlivens those +matchless pictures of his epoch which he has handed down to us. +Chaucer, as Professor Minto puts it, wrote largely for the court +circle. His verses were first read in tapestried chambers, and to the +gracious ear of stately lords and ladies. It was because he wrote for +such an audience that he avoids the introduction of any discordant +element in the shape of the deeper and darker social problems of the +time. The same reticence occurs in Horace, writing as he did for the +ear of Augustus and Maecenas, and of the fashionable circle thronging +the great palace of his patron on the Esquiline. Is not the historic +parallel between the two pairs of writers still further verified? +Chaucer wisely chose the epic form for his greatest poem, because he +could introduce thereinto so many distinct qualities of composition, +and the woof of racy humour as well as of sprightly satire which he +introduces with such consummate art into the texture of his verse is of +as fine a character as any in our literature. In Langland's great +allegory, the satire is earnest, grave and solemn, as though with a +sense of deep responsibility; that in Chaucer's _Canterbury +Tales_--nay, in all his poems--is genial, laughing, and good-natured; +tolerant, like Horace's of human weaknesses, because the author is so +keenly conscious of his own. + +Langland and Chaucer both died about the beginning of the fifteenth +century. But from that date until 1576--when Gascoigne's _Steel Glass_, +the first verse satire of the Elizabethan age, was published--we must +look mainly to Scotland and the poems of William Dunbar, Sir David +Lyndsay, and others, to preserve the apostolic succession of satire. +William Dunbar is one of the greatest of British satirists. His _Dance +of the Seven Deadly Sins_, in which the popular poetic form of the +age--allegory--is utilized with remarkable skill as the vehicle for a +scathing satire on the headlong sensuality of his time, produces by its +startling realism and terrible intensity an effect not unlike that +exercised by the overpowering creations of Salvator Rosa. The poem is a +bitter indictment of the utter corruption of all classes in the society +of his period. Like Juvenal, to whose school he belongs, he softens +nothing, tones down nothing. The evil is presented in all its native +hideousness. Lyndsay, on the other hand, would have been more vigorous +had he been less diffuse, and used the pruning-knife more unsparingly. +His finest satiric pictures often lose their point by verbosity and +tediousness. Brevity is the soul of satire as well as of wit. + +The most vigorous English satire of this entire period was that which +we owe to the scurrilous pen of Skelton and the provocative personality +of Wolsey. With his work may be mentioned the rude and unpolished, yet +vigorous, piece bearing the rhyming title, + + "Rede me and be nott wrothe, + For I saye no thing but trothe", + +written by two English Observantine Franciscan friars, William Roy and +Jerome Barlowe;[6] a satire which stung the great cardinal so sharply +that he commissioned Hermann Rynck to buy up every available copy. +Alexander Barclay's imitation, in his _Ship of Fools_, of Sebastian +Brandt's _Narrenschiff_, was only remarkable for the novel satirical +device of the plan. + +Bishop Latimer in his sermons is a vigorous satirist, particularly in +that discourse upon "The Ploughers" (1547). His fearlessness is very +conspicuous, and his attacks on the bishops who proved untrue to their +trust and allowed their dioceses to go to wreck and ruin, are outspoken +and trenchant: + + "They that be lords will ill go to plough. It is no meet office for + them. It is not seeming for their state. Thus came up lording + loiterers; Thus crept in unprechinge prelates, and so have they + long continued. For how many unlearned prelates have we now at this + day? And no marvel; For if the ploughmen that now be, were made + lordes, they would clean give over ploughing, they would leave of + theyr labour and fall to lording outright and let the plough + stand. For ever since the Prelates were made lords and nobles, the + plough standeth, there is no work done, the people starve. They + hawke, they hunte, they carde, they dyce, they pastime in their + prelacies with galaunt gentlemen, with their dauncing minions, and + with their freshe companions, so that ploughing is set aside."[7] + +But after Gascoigne's _Steel Glass_ was published, which professed to +hold a mirror or "steel glass" up to the vices of the age, we reach +that wonderful outburst of satiric, epigrammatic, and humorous +composition which was one of the characteristics, and certainly not the +least important, of the Elizabethan epoch. Lodge's _Fig for Momus_ +(1593) contains certain satires which rank with Gascoigne's work as the +earliest compositions of that type belonging to the period. That they +were of no mean reputation in their own day is evident from the +testimony of Meres,[8] who says, "As Horace, Lucilius, Juvenal, +Persius, and Lucullus are the best for satire among the Latins, so with +us, in the same faculty, these are chiefe, Piers Plowman, Lodge, Hall +of Emanuel College, Cambridge, the author of _Pygmalion's Image and +Certain Satires_[9] and the author of _Skialethea_". This contemporary +opinion regarding the fact that _The Vision of Piers Plowman_ was +esteemed a satire of outstanding merit in those days, is a curious +commentary on Hall's boastful couplet describing himself as the +earliest English satirist. + +To name all the writers who, in this fruitful epoch of our literature, +devoted themselves to this kind of composition would be impossible. +From 1598 until the death of James I. upwards of one hundred separate +satirists can be named, both in verse and prose. Of these Bishop Hall +is one of the greatest, and I have chosen him as the leading +representative of the period. To the study of Horace and Juvenal he had +devoted many years of his early manhood, and his imitation of these two +great Romans is close and consistent. Therefore, for vigour, grave +dignity, and incisiveness of thought, united to graphic pictures of his +age, Hall is undeniably the most important name in the history of the +Elizabethan satire, strictly so called. His exposures of the follies of +his age were largely couched in the form, so much affected by Horace, +of a familiar commentary on certain occurrences, addressed apparently +to an anonymous correspondent. + +Contemporary with Hall was Thomas Nash, whose _Pierce Penilesse's +Supplication to the Devil_ was one of the most extraordinary onslaughts +on the social vices of the metropolis that the period produced. Written +in close imitation of Juvenal's earlier satires, he frequently +approaches the standard of his master in graphic power of description, +in scathing invective, and ironical mockery. In _Have with you to +Saffron Walden_ he lashed Gabriel Harvey for his unworthy conduct +towards the memory of Robert Greene. Both satires are written in prose, +as indeed are nearly all his works, inasmuch as Nash was more of a +pamphleteer than anything else. Other contemporaries of Hall were +Thomas Dekker, whose fame as a dramatist has eclipsed his reputation +as a satirist, but whose _Bachelor's Banquet--pleasantly discoursing +the variable humours of Women, their quickness of wits and unsearchable +deceits_, is a sarcastic impeachment of the gentler sex, while his +_Gull's Hornbook_ must be ranked with Nash's work as one of the most +unsparing castigations of social life in London. The latter is a volume +of fictitious maxims for the use of youths desirous of being considered +"pretty fellows". Other contemporaries were John Donne, John Marston, +Jonson, George Chapman, and Nicholas Breton--all names of men who were +conspicuous inheritors of the true Elizabethan spirit, and who united +virility of thought to robustness and trenchancy of sarcasm. + +Marston and Breton were amongst the best of the group, though they are +not represented in these pages owing to the unsuitability of their +writings for extract. Here is a picture from one of the satires of +Marston which is instinct with satiric power. It is a portrait of a +love-sick swain, and runs as follows:-- + + "For when my ears received a fearful sound + That he was sick, I went, and there I found, + Him laid of love and newly brought to bed + Of monstrous folly, and a franticke head: + His chamber hanged about with elegies, + With sad complaints of his love's miseries, + His windows strow'd with sonnets and the glasse + Drawn full of love-knots. I approach'd the asse, + And straight he weepes, and sighes some Sonnet out + To his fair love! and then he goes about, + For to perfume her rare perfection, + With some sweet smelling pink epitheton. + Then with a melting looke he writhes his head, + And straight in passion, riseth in his bed, + And having kist his hand, strok'd up his haire, + Made a French _conge_, cryes 'O cruall Faire!' + To th' antique bed-post."[10] + +Marston manifests more vigour and nervous force in his satires than +Hall, but exhibits less elegance and ease in versification. In Charles +Fitz-geoffrey's _Affaniae_, a set of Latin epigrams, printed at Oxford +in 1601, Marston is complimented as the "Second English Satirist", or +rather as dividing the palm of priority and excellence in English +satire with Hall. The individual characteristics of the various leading +Elizabethan satirists,--the vitriolic bitterness of Nash, the +sententious profundity of Donne, the happy-go-lucky "slogging" of +genial Dekker, the sledge-hammer blows of Jonson, the turgid +malevolence of Chapman, and the stiletto-like thrusts of George +Buchanan are worthy of closer and more detailed study than can be +devoted to them in a sketch such as this. I regret that Nicolas +Breton's _Pasquil's Madcappe_ proved too long for quotation in its +entirety,[11] but the man who could pen such lines as these was, of a +truth, a satirist of a high order:-- + + But what availes unto the world to talke? + Wealth is a witch that hath a wicked charme, + That in the minds of wicked men doth walke, + Unto the heart and Soule's eternal harme, + Which is not kept by the Almighty arme: + O,'tis the strongest instrument of ill + That ere was known to work the devill's will. + + An honest man is held a good poore soule, + And kindnesse counted but a weake conceite, + And love writte up but in the woodcocke's soule, + While thriving _Wat_ doth but on Wealth await: + He is a fore horse that goes ever streight: + And he but held a foole for all his Wit, + That guides his braines but with a golden bit. + + A virgin is a vertuous kind of creature, + But doth not coin command Virginitie? + And beautie hath a strange bewitching feature, + But gold reads so much world's divinitie, + As with the Heavens hath no affinitie: + So that where Beauty doth with vertue dwell, + If it want money, yet it will not sell. + +Of the satiric forms peculiar to the Elizabethan epoch there is no +great variety. The _Characters_ of Theophrastus supplied a model to +some of the writers. The close adherence also which the majority of +them manifest to the broadly marked types of "Horatian" and +"Juvenalian" satire, both in matter and manner, is not a little +remarkable. The genius for selecting from the classics those forms both +of composition and metre best suited to become vehicles for satire, and +adapting them thereto, did not begin to manifest itself in so +pronounced a manner until after the Restoration. The Elizabethan +mind--using the phrase of course in its broad sense as inclusive of the +Jacobean and the early Caroline epochs--was more engrossed with the +matter than the manner of satire. Perhaps the finest satire which +distinguished this wonderful era was the _Argenis_ of John Barclay, a +politico-satiric romance, or, in other words, the adaptation of the +"Milesian tale" of Petronius to state affairs. + +During the Parliamentary War, satire was the only species of +composition which did not suffer more or less eclipse, but its +character underwent change. It became to a large extent a medium for +sectarian bitterness. It lost its catholicity, and degenerated in great +measure into the instrument of partisan antagonism, and a means of +impaling the folly or fanaticism, real or imagined, of special +individuals among the Cavaliers and Roundheads.[12] Of such a character +was the bulk of the satires produced at that time. In a few instances, +however, a higher note was struck, as, for example, when "dignified +political satire", in the hands of Andrew Marvell, was utilized to +fight the battle of freedom of conscience in the matter of the +observances of external religion. _The Rehearsal Transposed, Mr. +Smirke, or the Divine in Mode, and his Political Satires_ are +masterpieces of lofty indignation mingled with grave and ironical +banter. Among many others Edmund Waller showed himself an apt disciple +of Horace, and produced charming social satires marked by delicate wit +and raillery in the true Horatian mode; while the Duke of Buckingham, +in the _Rehearsal_, utilized the dramatic parody to travesty the plays +of Dryden. Abraham Cowley, in the _Mistress_, also imitated Horace, and +in his play _Cutter of Coleman Street_ satirized the Puritans' +affectation of superior sanctity and their affected style of +conversation. Then came John Oldham and John Cleiveland, who both +accepted Juvenal as their model. Cleiveland's antipathy towards +Cromwell and the Scots was on a par with that of John Wilkes towards +the latter, and was just as unreasonable, while the language he +employed in his diatribes against both was so extravagant as to lose +its sarcastic point in mere vulgar abuse. In like manner Oldham's +_Satires on the Jesuits_ afford as disgraceful a specimen of sectarian +bigotry as the language contains. Only their pungency and wit render +them readable. He displays Juvenal's violence of invective without his +other redeeming qualities. All these, however, were entirely eclipsed +in reputation by a writer who made the mock-epic the medium through +which the bitterest onslaught on the anti-royalist party and its +principles was delivered by one who, as a "king's man", was almost as +extreme a bigot as those he satirized. The _Hudibras_ of Samuel Butler, +in its mingling of broad, almost extravagant, humour and sneering +mockery has no parallel in our literature. Butler's characters are +rather mere "humours" or _qualities_ than real personages. There is no +attempt made to observe the modesty of nature. _Hudibras_, therefore, +is an example not so much of satire, though satire is present in rich +measure also, as of burlesque. The poem is genuinely satirical only in +those parts where the author steps in as the chorus, so to speak, and +offers pithy moralizings on what is taking place in the action of the +story. There is visible throughout the poem, however, a lack of +restraint that causes him to overdo his part. Were _Hudibras_ shorter, +the satire would be more effective. Though in parts often as terse in +style as Pope's best work, still the poem is too long, and it undoes +the force of its attack on the Puritans by its exaggeration. + +All these writers, even Butler himself, simply prepared the way for the +man who is justly regarded as England's greatest satirist. The epoch of +John Dryden has been fittingly styled the "Golden Age of English +Satire".[13] To warrant this description, however, it must be held to +include the writers of the reign of Queen Anne. The Elizabethan period +was perhaps richer, numerically speaking, in representatives of certain +types of satirical composition, but the true perfection, the +efflorescence of the long-growing plant, was reached in that era which +extended from the publication of Dryden's _Absalom and Achitophel_ +(Part I.) in 1681 to the issue of Pope's _Dunciad_ in its final form in +1742. During these sixty years appeared the choicest of English +satires, to wit, all Dryden's finest pieces, the _Medal_, +_MacFlecknoe_, and _Absalom and Achitophel_, Swift's _Tale of a Tub_, +and his _Miscellanies_--among which his best metrical satires appeared; +all Defoe's work, too, as well as Steele's in the _Tatler_, and +Addison's in the _Spectator_, Arbuthnot's _History of John Bull_, +Churchill's _Rosciad_, and finally all Pope's poems, including the +famous "Prologue" as well as the "Epilogue" to the _Satires_. It is +curious to note how the satirical succession (if the phrase be +permitted) is maintained uninterruptedly from Bishop Hall down to the +death of Pope--nay, we may even say down to the age of Byron, to whose +epoch one may trace something like a continuous tradition. Hall did +not die until Dryden was twenty-seven years of age. Pope delighted to +record that, when a boy of twelve years of age, he had met "Glorious +John", though the succession could be passed on otherwise through +Congreve, one of the most polished of English satirical writers, whom +Dryden complimented as "one whom every muse and grace adorn", while to +him also Pope dedicated his translation of the _Iliad_.[14] Bolingbroke, +furthermore, was the friend and patron of Pope, while the witty St. +John, in turn, was bound by ties of friendship to Mallet, who passed on +the succession to Goldsmith, Sheridan, Ellis, Canning, Moore, and +Byron. Thereafter satire begins to fall upon evil days, and the +tradition cannot be so clearly traced. + +But satire, during this "succession", did not remain absolutely the +same. She changed her garb with her epoch. Thus the robust bludgeoning +of Dryden and Shadwell, of Defoe, Steele, D'Urfey, and Tom Brown, gave +place to the sardonic ridicule of Swift, the polished raillery of +Arbuthnot, and the double-distilled essence of acidulous sarcasm +present in the _Satires_ of Pope. There is as marked a difference +between the Drydenic and the Swiftian types of satire, between that of +Cleiveland and that of Pope, as between the diverse schools known as +the "Horatian" and the "Juvenalian". The cause of this, over and above +the effect produced by prolonged study of these two classical models, +was the overwhelming influence exercised on his age by the great French +critic and satirist, Boileau. Difficult indeed it is for us at the +present day to understand the European homage paid to Boileau. As +Hannay says, "He was a dignified classic figure supposed to be the +model of fine taste",[15] His word was law in the realm of criticism, +and for many years he was known, not alone in France, but throughout a +large portion of Europe, as "The Lawgiver of Parnassus". Prof. Dowden, +referring to his critical authority, remarks:-- + + "The genius of Boileau was in a high degree intellectual, animated + by ideas. As a moralist he is not searching or profound; he saw too + little of the inner world of the heart, and knew too imperfectly + its agitations. When, however, he deals with literature--and a just + judgment in letters may almost be called an element in morals--all + his penetration and power become apparent. To clear the ground for + the new school of nature, truth, and reason was Boileau's first + task. It was a task which called for courage and skill ... he + struck at the follies and affectations of the world of letters, and + he struck with force. It was a needful duty, and one most + effectively performed.... Boileau's influence as a critic of + literature can hardly be overrated; it has much in common with the + influence of Pope on English literature, beneficial as regards his + own time, somewhat restrictive and even tyrannical upon later + generations."[16] + +Owing to the predominance of French literary modes in England, this was +the man whose influence, until nearly the close of last century, was +paramount in England even when it was most bitterly disclaimed. +Boileau's _Satires_ were published during 1660-70, and he himself died +in 1711; but, though dead, he still ruled for many a decade to come. +This then was the literary censor to whom English satire of the +post-Drydenic epochs owed so much. Neither Swift nor Pope was ashamed +to confess his literary indebtedness to the great Frenchman; nay, +Dryden himself has confessed his obligations to Boileau, and in his +_Discourse on Satire_ has quoted his authority as absolute. Before +pointing out the differences between the Drydenic and post-Drydenic +satire let us note very briefly the special characteristics of the +former. Apart from the "matter" of his satire, Dryden laid this +department of letters under a mighty obligation through the splendid +service he rendered by the first successful application of the heroic +couplet to satire. Of itself this was a great boon; but his good deeds +as regards the "matter" of satiric composition have entirely obscured +the benefit he conferred on its manner or technical form. Dryden's four +great satires, _Absalom and Achitophel_, _The Medal_, _MacFlecknoe_, +and the _Hind and the Panther_, each exemplify a distinct and important +type of satire. The first named is the classical instance of the use of +"historic parallels" as applied to the impeachment of the vices or +abuses of any age. With matchless skill the story of Absalom is +employed not merely to typify, but actually to represent, the designs +of Monmouth and his Achitophel--Shaftesbury. _The Medal_ reverts to the +type of the classic satire of the Juvenalian order. It is slightly more +rhetorical in style, and is partly devoted to a bitter invective +against Shaftesbury, partly to an argument as to the unfitness of +republican institutions for England, partly to a satiric address to +the Whigs. The third of the great series, _MacFlecknoe_, is Dryden's +masterpiece of satiric irony; a purely personal attack upon his rival, +Shadwell, "Crowned King of Dulness, and in all the realms of nonsense +absolute". Finally, the _Hind and the Panther_ represents a new +development of the "satiric fable". Dryden gave to British satire the +impulse towards that final form of development which it received from +the great satirists of the next century. There is little that appears +in Swift, Addison, Arbuthnot, Pope, or even Byron, for which the way +was not prepared by the genius of "Glorious John". + +Of the famous group which adorned the reign of Queen Anne, Steele lives +above all in his Isaac Bickerstaff Essays, the vehicle of admirably +pithy and trenchant prose satire upon current political abuses. But, +unfortunately for his own fame, his lot was to be associated with the +greatest master of this form of composition that has appeared in +literature, and the celebrity of the greater writer dimmed that of the +lesser. Addison in his papers in the _Tatler_ and the _Spectator_ has +brought what may be styled the Essay of Satiric Portraiture--in after +days to be developed along other lines by Praed, Charles Lamb, Leigh +Hunt, and R.L. Stevenson--to an unsurpassed standard of excellence. +Such character studies as those of Sir Roger de Coverley, his household +and friends, Will Honeycomb, Sir Andrew Freeport, Ned Softly, and +others, possess an endless charm for us in the sobriety and moderation +of the colours, the truth to nature, the delicate raillery, and the +polished sarcasm of their satiric animadversions. Addison has studied +his Horace to advantage, and to the great Roman's attributes has added +other virtues distinctly English. + +Arbuthnot, the celebrated physician of Queen Anne, takes rank among the +best of English satirists by virtue of his famous work _The History of +John Bull_. The special mode or type employed was the "allegorical +political tale", of which the plot was the historic sequence of events +in connection with the war with Louis XIV. of France. The object of the +fictitious narrative was to throw ridicule on the Duke of Marlborough, +and to excite among the people a feeling of disgust at the protracted +hostilities. The nations involved are represented as tradesmen +implicated in a lawsuit, the origin of the dispute being traced to +their narrow and selfish views. The national characteristics of each +individual are skilfully hit off, and the various events of the war, +with the accompanying political intrigues, are symbolized by the stages +in the progress of the suit, the tricks of the lawyers, and the devices +of the principal attorney, Humphrey Hocus (Marlborough), to prolong the +struggle. His _Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus_--a satire on the abuses +of human learning,--in which the type of the fictitious biography is +adopted, is exceedingly clever. + +Finally, we reach the pair of satirists who, next to Dryden, must be +regarded as the writers whose influence has been greatest in +determining the character of British satire. Pope is the disciple of +Dryden, and the best qualities of the Drydenic satire, in both form and +matter, are reproduced in his works accompanied by special attributes +of his own. Owing to the extravagant admiration professed by Byron for +the author of the _Rape of the Lock_, and his repeated assurances of +his literary indebtedness to him, we are apt to overlook the fact that +the noble lord was under obligations to Dryden of a character quite as +weighty as those he was so ready to acknowledge to Pope. But the +latter, like Shakespeare, so improved all he borrowed that he has in +some instances actually received credit for inventing what he only took +from his great master. Pope was more of a refiner and polisher of +telling satiric forms which Dryden had in the first instance employed, +than an original inventor. + +To mention all the types of satire affected by this marvellously acute +and variously cultured poet would be a task of some difficulty. There +are few amongst the principal forms which he has not essayed. In spirit +he is more pungent and sarcastic, more acidulous and malicious, than +the large-hearted and generous-souled Dryden. Into his satire, +therefore, enters a greater amount of the element of personal dislike +and contempt than in the case of the other. While satire is present +more or less in nearly all Pope's verse, there are certain compositions +where it may be said to be the outstanding quality. These are his +_Satires_, among which should of course be included "The Prologue" and +"The Epilogue" to them, as well as the _Moral Essays_, and finally the +_Dunciad_. These comprise the best of his professed satires. His +_Satires and Epistles of Horace Imitated_ are just what they claim to +be--an adaptation to English scenes, sympathies, sentiments, and +surroundings of the Roman poet's characteristic style. Though Pope has +quite as many points of affinity with Juvenal as with Horace, the +adaptation and transference of the local atmosphere from Tiber to +Thames is managed with extraordinary skill. The historic parallels, +too, of the personages in the respective poems are made to accord and +harmonize with the spirit of the time. The _Satires_ are written from +the point of view of opposition to Sir Robert Walpole, the great Whig +minister. They display the concentrated essence of bitterness towards +the ministerial policy. As Minto tersely puts it, we see gathered up in +them the worst that was thought and said about the government and court +party when men's minds were heated almost to the point of civil war.[17] +In the "Prologue" and the "Epilogue" are contained some of the most +finished satiric portraits drawn by Pope in any of his works. For +caustic bitterness, sustained but polished irony, and merciless +sarcastic malice, the characters of Atticus (Addison), Bufo, and Sporus +have never been surpassed in the literature of political or social +criticism.[18] + +The _Dunciad_ is an instance of the mock-epic utilized for the purposes +of satire. Here Pope, as regards theme, possibly had the idea suggested +to him by Dryden's _MacFlecknoe_, but undoubtedly the heroic couplet, +which the latter had first applied to satire and used with such +conspicuous success, was still further polished and improved by Pope +until, as Mr. Courthope says, "it became in his hands a rapier of +perfect flexibility and temper". From the time of Pope until that of +Byron this stately measure has been regarded as the metre best suited +_par excellence_ for the display of satiric point and brilliancy, and +as the medium best calculated to confer dignity on political satire. +The _Dunciad_, while personal malice enters into it, must not be +regarded as, properly speaking, a malicious satire. From a literary +censor's point of view almost every lash Pope administered was richly +deserved. In this respect Pope has all Horace's fairness and +moderation, while at the same time he exhibits not a little of +Juvenal's depth of conviction that desperate diseases demand radical +remedies.[19] + +By the side of Pope stands an impressive but a mournful figure, one of +the most tragic in our literature, to think of whom, as Thackeray says, +"is like thinking of the ruin of a great empire". As an all-round +satirist Jonathan Swift has no superior save Dryden, and he only by +virtue of his broader human sympathies. In the works of the great Dean +we have many distinct forms of satire. Scarce anything he wrote, with +the exception of his unfortunate _History of the Last Four Years of +Queen Anne_, but is marked by satiric touches that relieve the tedium +of even its dullest pages. He has utilized nearly all the recognized +modes of satiric composition throughout the range of his long list of +works. In the _Tale of a Tub_ he employed the vehicle of the satiric +tale to lash the Dissenters, the Papists, and even the Church of +England; in a word, the cant of religion as well as the pretensions of +letters and the shams of the world. In the _Battle of the Books_ the +parody or travesty of the Romances of Chivalry is used to ridicule the +controversy raging between Temple, Wotton, Boyle, and Bentley, +regarding the comparative merits of ancient and modern writers. In +_Gulliver's Travels_ the fictitious narrative or mock journal is +impressed into the service, the method consisting in adopting an absurd +supposition at the outset and then gravely deducing the logical effects +which follow. These three form the trio of great prose satires which +from the epoch of their publication until now have remained the wonder +and the delight of successive generations. Their realism, humorous +invention, ready wit, unsparing irony, and keen ridicule have exercised +as potent an attraction as their gloomy misanthropy has repelled. Among +minor satires are his scathing attacks in prose and verse on the war +party as a ring of Whig stock-jobbers, such as _Advice to the October +Club_, _Public Spirit of the Whigs, &c._, the _Virtues of Sid Hamet_, +_The Magician's Wand_ (directed against Godolphin); his _Polite +Conversations_ and _Directions to Servants_ are savage attacks on the +inanity of society small-talk and the greed of the menials of the +period. But why prolong the list? From the _Drapier's Letters_, +directed against a supposed fraudulent introduction of a copper +currency known as "Wood's Halfpence", to his skit on _The Furniture of +a Woman's Mind_, there were few topics current in his day, whether in +politics, theology, economics, or social gossip, which he did not +attack with the artillery of his wit and satire. Had he been less +sardonic, had he possessed even a modicum of the _bonhomie_ of his +friend Arbuthnot, Swift's satire would have exercised even more potent +an influence than it has been its fortune to achieve. + +Pope died in 1744, Swift in 1745. During their last years there were +signs that the literary modes of the epoch of Queen Anne, which had +maintained their ascendency so long, were rapidly losing their hold on +the popular mind. A new literary period was about to open wherein new +literary ideals and new models would prevail. Satire, in common with +literature as a whole, felt the influence of the transitional era. As +we have seen, it concerned itself largely with ridiculing the follies +and eccentricities of men of letters and foolish pretenders to the +title; also in lashing social vices and abuses. The political enmity +existing between the Jacobites and the Hanoverians continued to afford +occasion for the exchange of party squibs and lampoons. The lengthened +popularity of Gay's _Beggars' Opera_, a composition wherein a new mode +was created, viz. the satiric opera (the prototype of the comic opera +of later days), affords an index to the temper of the time. It was the +age of England's lethargy. + +After the defeat of Culloden, satire languished for a while, to revive +again during the ministry of the Earl of Bute, when everything Scots +came in for condemnation, and when Smollett and John Wilkes belaboured +each other in the _Briton_ and the _North Briton_, in pamphlet, +pasquinade, and parody, until at last Lord Bute withdrew from the +contest in disgust, and suspended the organ over which the author of +_Roderick Random_ presided. The satirical effusions of this epoch are +almost entirely worthless, the only redeeming feature being the fact +that Goldsmith was at that very moment engaged in throwing off those +delicious _morceaux_ of social satire contained in _The Citizen of the +World_. Johnson, a few years before, had set the fashion for some time +with his two satires written in free imitation of Juvenal--_London_, +and _The Vanity of Human Wishes_. But from 1760 onward until the close +of the century, when Ellis, Canning, and Frere opened what may be +termed the modern epoch of satire, the influence paramount was that of +Goldsmith. Fielding and Smollett were both satirists of powerful and +original stamp, but they were so much else besides that their influence +was lost in that of the genial author of the _Deserted Village_ and +_Retaliation_. His _Vicar of Wakefield_ is a satire, upon sober, +moderate principles, against the vice of the upper classes, as typified +in the character of Mr. Thornhill, while the sketch of Beau Tibbs in +_The Citizen of the World_ is a racy picture of the out-at-elbows, +would-be man of fashion, who seeks to pose as a social leader and +arbiter of taste when he had better have been following a trade. + +The next revival of the popularity of satire takes place towards the +commencement of the third last decade of the eighteenth century, when, +using the vehicle of the epistolary mode, an anonymous writer, whose +identity is still in dispute, attacked the monarch, the government, +and the judicature of the country, in a series of letters in which +scathing invective, merciless ridicule, and lofty scorn were united to +vigour and polish of style, as well as undeniable literary taste. + +After the appearance of the _Letters of Junius_, which, perhaps, have +owed the permanence of their popularity as much to the interest +attaching to the mystery of their authorship as to their intrinsic +merits, political satire may be said to have once more slumbered +awhile. The impression produced by the studied malice of the _Letters_, +and the epigrammatic suggestiveness which appeared to leave as much +unsaid as was said, was enormous, yet, strangely enough, they were +unable to check the growing influence of the school of satire whereof +Goldsmith was the chief founder, and from which the fashionable _jeux +d'esprit_, the sparkling _persiflage_ of the society _flaneurs_ of the +nineteenth century are the legitimate descendants.[20] The decade +1768-78, therefore--that decade when the plays of Goldsmith and +Sheridan were appearing,--witnessed the rise and the development of +that genial, humorous raillery, in prose and verse, of personal foibles +and of social abuses, of which the _Retaliation_ and the Beau Tibbs +papers are favourable examples. These were the distinguishing +characteristics of our satiric literature during the closing decade of +the eighteenth century until the horrors of the French Revolution, and +the sympathy with it which was apparently being aroused in England, +called political satire into requisition once more. Party feeling ran +high with regard to the principles enunciated by the so-called "friends +of freedom". The sentiments of the "Constitutional Tories" found +expression in the bitter, sardonic, vitriolic mockery visible in the +pages of the _Anti-Jacobin_,[21] which did more to check the progress of +nascent Radicalism and the movement in favour of political reform than +any other means employed. Chief-justice Mansfield's strictures and Lord +Braxfield's diatribes alike paled into insignificance beside these +deadly, scorching bombs of Juvenal-like vituperation, which have +remained unapproached in their specific line. As an example take +Ellis's _Ode to Jacobinism_, of which I quote two stanzas:-- + + "Daughter of Hell, insatiate power! + Destroyer of the human race, + Whose iron scourge and maddening hour + Exalt the bad, the good debase; + When first to scourge the sons of earth, + Thy sire his darling child designed, + Gallia received the monstrous birth, + Voltaire informed thine infant mind. + Well-chosen nurse, his sophist lore, + He bade thee many a year explore, + He marked thy progress firm though slow, + And statesmen, princes, leagued with their inveterate foe. + Scared at thy frown terrific, fly + The morals (antiquated brood), + Domestic virtue, social joy, + And faith that has for ages stood; + Swift they disperse and with them go + The friend sincere, the generous foe-- + Traitors to God, to man avowed, + By thee now raised aloft, now crushed beneath the crowd." + +Space only remains for a single word upon the satire of the nineteenth +century. In this category would be included the _Baeviad_ and the +_Maeviad_ by William Gifford (editor of the _Anti-Jacobin_), which, +though first printed in the closing years of the eighteenth century, +were issued in volume form in 1800. Written as they are in avowed +imitation of Juvenal, Persius, and Horace, they out-Juvenal Juvenal by +the violence of the language, besides descending to a depth of personal +scurrility as foreign to the nature of true satire as abuse is alien to +wit. They have long since been consigned to merited oblivion, though in +their day, from the useful and able work done by their author in other +fields of literature, they enjoyed no inconsiderable amount of fame. +Two or three lines from the _Baeviad_ will give a specimen of its +quality:-- + + "For mark, to what 'tis given, and then declare, + Mean though I am, if it be worth my care. + Is it not given to Este's unmeaning dash, + To Topham's fustian, Reynold's flippant trash, + To Andrews' doggerel where three wits combine, + To Morton's catchword, Greathead's idiot line, + And Holcroft's Shug-lane cant and Merry's Moorfields Whine?"[22] + +The early years of the present century still felt the influence of the +sardonic ridicule which prevailed during the closing years of the +previous one, and the satirists who appeared during the first decades +of the former belonged to the robust or energetic order. Their names +and their works are well-nigh forgotten. + +We now reach the last of the greater satirists that have adorned our +literature, one who is in many respects a worthy peer of Dryden, Swift, +and Pope. Lord Byron's fame as a satirist rests on three great works, +each of them illustrative of a distinct type of composition. Other +satires he has written, nay, the satiric quality is present more or +less in nearly all he produced; but _The Vision of Judgment_, _Beppo_, +and _Don Juan_ are his three masterpieces in this style of literature. +They are wonderful compositions in every sense of the word. The +sparkling wit, the ready raillery, the cutting irony, the biting +sarcasm, and the sardonic cynicism which characterize almost every line +of them are united to a brilliancy of imagination, a swiftness as well +as a felicity of thought, and an epigrammatic terseness of phrase which +even Byron himself has equalled nowhere else in his works. _The Vision +of Judgment_ is an example in the first instance of parody, and, in the +second, but not by any means so distinctly, of allegory. Its savage +ferocity of sarcasm crucified Southey upon the cross of scornful +contempt. Byron is not as good a metrist as a satirist, and the _Ottava +rima_ in his hands sometimes halts a little; still, the poem is a +notable example of a satiric parody written with such distinguished +success in a measure of great technical difficulty. + +It is somewhat curious that all three of Byron's great satiric poems +should be written in the same measure. Yet so it is, for the poet, +having become enamoured of the metre after reading Frere's clever +satire, _Whistlecraft_, ever afterwards had a peculiar fondness for +it. Both _Beppo_ and _Don Juan_ are also excellent examples of the +metrical "satiric tale". The former, being the earlier satire of the +two, was Byron's first essay in this new type of satiric composition. +His success therein stimulated him to attempt another "tale" which in +some respects presents features that ally it to the mock-epic. _Beppo_ +is a perfect storehouse of well-rounded satirical phrases that cleave +to the memory, such as "the deep damnation of his 'bah'" and the +description of the "budding miss", + + "So much alarmed that she is quite alarming, + All giggle, blush, half pertness and half pout". + +_Beppo_ leads up to _Don Juan_, and it is hard to say which is the +cleverer satire of the two. In both, the wit is so unforced and +natural, the fun so sparkling, the banter and the persiflage so bright +and scintillating, that they seem, as Sir Walter Scott said, to be the +natural outflow from the fountain of humour. Byron's earliest satire, +_English Bards and Scots Reviewers_, is a clever piece of work, but +compared with the great trio above-named is a production of his nonage. + +Byron was succeeded by Praed, whose social pictures are instinct with +the most refined and polished raillery, with the true Attic salt of wit +united to a metrical deftness as graceful as it was artistic. During +Praed's lifetime, Lamb with his inimitable _Essays of Elia_, Southey, +Barham with the ever-popular _Ingoldsby Legends_, James and Horace +Smith with the _Rejected Addresses_, Disraeli, Leigh Hunt, Tom Hood, +and Landor had been winning laurels in various branches of social +satire which, consequent upon the influence of Byron and then of his +disciple, Praed, became the current mode. A favourable example of that +style is found in Leigh Hunt's _Feast of the Poets_ and in Edward +Fitz-Gerald's _Chivalry at a Discount_. Other writers of satire in the +earlier decades of the present century were Peacock, who in his novels +(_Crotchet Castle_, &c.) evolved an original type of satire based upon +the Athenian New Comedy. Miss Austen in her English novels and Miss +Edgeworth in her Irish tales employed satire to impeach certain crying +social abuses, as also did Dickens in _Oliver Twist_ and others of his +books. Douglas Jerrold's comedies and sketches are full of titbits of +gay and brilliant banter and biting irony. If _Sartor Resartus_ could +be regarded as a satire, as Dr. Garnett says, Carlyle would be the +first of satirists, with his thundering invective, grand rhetoric, +indignant scorn, grim humour, and satiric gloom in denouncing the shams +of human society and of human nature. An admirable American school of +satire was founded by Washington Irving, of which Judge Haliburton (Sam +Slick), Paulding, Holmes, Artemus Ward, and Dudley Warner are the chief +names. + +Since the third and fourth decades of our century, in other words, +since the epoch of the Reform Bill and the Chartist agitation, satire +has more and more tended to lose its acid and its venom, to slough the +dark sardonic sarcasm of past days and to don the light sportive garb +of the social humorist and epigrammist. Robustious bludgeoning has gone +out of fashion, and in its place we have the playful satiric wit, +sparkling as of well-drawn Moet or Clicquot, of Mortimer Collins, H.S. +Leigh, Arthur Locker and Frederick Locker-Lampson, W.S. Gilbert, Austin +Dobson, Bret Harte, F. Anstey, Dr. Walter C. Smith, and many other +graceful and delightful social satirists whose verses are household +words amongst us. From week to week also there appear in the pages of +that trenchant social censor, _Punch_, and the other high-class +comico-satiric journals, many pieces of genuine and witty social +satire. Every year the demand seems increasing, and yet the supply +shows no signs of running dry. + +Political satire, in its metrical form, has had from time to time a +temporary revival of popularity in such compositions as James Russell +Lowell's inimitable _Biglow Papers_, as well as in more recent volumes, +of which Mr. Owen Seaman's verse is an example; while are not its prose +forms legion in the pages of our periodical press? It has, however, now +lost that vitriolic quality which made it so scorching and offensively +personal. The man who wrote nowadays as did Dryden, and Junius, and +Canning, or, in social satire, as did Peter Pindar and Byron, would be +forthwith ostracized from literary fellowship. + +But what more need be said of an introductory character to these +selections that are now placed before the reader? English satire, +though perhaps less in evidence to-day as a separate department in +letters, is still as cardinal a quality as ever in the productions of +our leading authors. If satires are no longer in fashion, satire is +perennial as an attribute in literature, and we have every reason to +cherish it and welcome it as warmly as of old. The novels of Thackeray, +as I have already said, contain some of the most delicately incisive +shafts of satire that have been barbed by any writer of the present +century. "George Eliot", also, though in a less degree, has shown +herself a satirist of much power and pungency, while others of our +latter-day novelists manifest themselves as possessed of a faculty of +satire both virile and trenchant. It is one of the indispensable +qualities of a great writer's style, because its quarry is one of the +most widely diffused of existing things on the face of the globe. There +is no age without its folly, no epoch without its faults. So long, +therefore, as man and his works are imperfect, so long shall there be +existent among us abuses, social, political, professional, and +ecclesiastical, and so long, too, shall it be the province and the +privilege of those who feel themselves called upon to play the +difficult part of _censor morum_, to prick the bubbles of falsehood, +vanity, and vice with the shafts of ridicule and raillery. + +[Footnote 1: _The English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century_.] + +[Footnote 2: Cf. Lenient, _History of French Satire_.] + +[Footnote 3: Thomson's _Ante-Augustan Latin Poetry_.] + +[Footnote 4: Cf. Mackail; Paten, _Etudes sur la Poesie latine_.] + +[Footnote 5: See Skeat's "Langland" in _Encyclop. Brit._] + +[Footnote 6: See Arber's Reprints for 1868.] + +[Footnote 7: Arber's Select Reprints.] + +[Footnote 8: _Palladis Tamia: Wits Treasury_.] + +[Footnote 9: This, of course, was Marston.] + +[Footnote 10: From the Fifth Satire in _The Metamorphosis of +Pygmalion's Image and Certain Satyres_, by John Marston. 1598.] + +[Footnote 11: _Pasquil's Madcappe: Thrown at the Corruption of these +Times_--1626. Breton, to be read at all, ought to be studied in the two +noble volumes edited by Dr. A.B. Grosart. From his edition I quote.] + +[Footnote 12: _English Literature_, by Prof. Craik. Hannay's _Satires +and Satirists_.] + +[Footnote 13: _Life of Dryden_, by Sir Walter Scott. Saintsbury's _Life +of Dryden_.] + +[Footnote 14: Thackeray's _English Humorists_. Hannay's _Satires and +Satirists_.] + +[Footnote 15: _Satire and Satirists_, by James Hannay. Lecture III.] + +[Footnote 16: Dowden's _French Literature_.] + +[Footnote 17: Minto's _Characteristics of English Poets_.] + +[Footnote 18: Cf. Saintsbury's _Life of Dryden_.] + +[Footnote 19: Cf. Gosse, _Eighteenth Century Literature_.] + +[Footnote 20: Thackeray's _English Humorists_.] + +[Footnote 21: _The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_--Carisbrooke Library, +1890.] + +[Footnote 22: _The Baeviad and the Maeviad_, by W. Gifford, Esq., 1800.] + + + + +ENGLISH SATIRES. + + +WILLIAM LANGLAND. + +(1330?-1400?) + + +I. PILGRIMAGE IN SEARCH OF DO-WELL. + + This opening satire constitutes the whole of the Eighth _Passus_ of + _Piers Plowman's Vision_ and the First of Do-Wel. The "Dreamer" + here sets off on a new pilgrimage in search of a person who has not + appeared in the poem before--Do-Well. The following is the argument + of the _Passus_.--"All Piers Plowman's inquiries after Do-Well are + fruitless. Even the friars to whom he addresses himself give but a + confused account; and weary with wandering about, the dreamer is + again overtaken by slumber. Thought now appears to him, and + recommends him to Wit, who describes to him the residence of + Do-Well, Do-Bet, Do-Best, and enumerates their companions and + attendants." + + + Thus y-robed in russet . romed I aboute + Al in a somer seson . for to seke Do-wel; + And frayned[23] full ofte . of folk that I mette + If any wight wiste . wher Do-wel was at inne; + And what man he myghte be . of many man I asked. + Was nevere wight, as I wente . that me wisse kouthe[24] + Where this leode lenged,[25] . lasse ne moore.[26] + Til it bifel on a Friday . two freres I mette + Maisters of the Menours[27] . men of grete witte. + I hailsed them hendely,[28] . as I hadde y-lerned. + And preede them par charite, . er thei passed ferther, + If thei knew any contree . or costes as thei wente, + "Where that Do-wel dwelleth . dooth me to witene". + For thei be men of this moolde . that moost wide walken, + And knowen contrees and courtes, . and many kynnes places, + Bothe princes paleises . and povere mennes cotes,[29] + And Do-wel and Do-yvele . where thei dwelle bothe. + "Amonges us" quod the Menours, . "that man is dwellynge, + And evere hath as I hope, . and evere shal herafter." + "_Contra_", quod I as a clerc, . and comsed to disputen, + And seide hem soothly, . "_Septies in die cadit justus_". + "Sevene sithes,[30] seeth the book . synneth the rightfulle; + And who so synneth," I seide, . "dooth yvele, as me thynketh; + And Do-wel and Do-yvele . mowe noght dwelle togideres. + Ergo he nis noght alway . among you freres: + He is outher while ellis where . to wisse the peple." + "I shal seye thee, my sone" . seide the frere thanne, + "How seven sithes the sadde man, . on a day synneth; + By a forbisne"[31] quod the frere, . "I shal thee faire showe. + Lat brynge a man in a boot, . amydde the brode watre; + The wynd and the water . and the boot waggyng, + Maketh the man many a tyme . to falle and to stonde; + For stonde he never so stif, . he stumbleth if he meve, + Ac yet is he saaf and sound, . and so hym bihoveth; + For if he ne arise the rather, . and raughte to the steere, + The wynd wolde with the water . the boot over throwe; + And thanne were his lif lost, . thorough lackesse of hymselve[32]. + And thus it falleth," quod the frere, . "by folk here on erthe; + The water is likned to the world . that wanyeth and wexeth; + The goodes of this grounde arn like . to the grete wawes, + That as wyndes and wedres . walketh aboute; + The boot is likned to oure body . that brotel[33] is of kynde, + That thorough the fend and the flesshe . and the frele worlde + Synneth the sadde man . a day seven sithes. + Ac[34] dedly synne doth he noght, . for Do-wel hym kepeth; + And that is Charite the champion, . chief help ayein Synne; + For he strengtheth men to stonde, . and steereth mannes soule, + And though the body bowe . as boot dooth in the watre, + Ay is thi soul saaf, . but if thou wole thiselve + Do a deedly synne, . and drenche so thi soule, + God wole suffre wel thi sleuthe[35] . if thiself liketh. + For he yaf thee a yeres-gyve,[36] . to yeme[37] wel thiselve, + And that is wit and free-wil, . to every wight a porcion, + To fleynge foweles, . to fisshes and to beastes: + Ac man hath moost thereof, . and moost is to blame, + But if he werch wel therwith, . as Do-wel hym techeth." + "I have no kynde knowyng,"[38] quod I, . "to conceyven alle your wordes: + Ac if I may lyve and loke, . I shall go lerne bettre." + "I bikenne thee Christ,"[39] quod he, . "that on cros deyde!" + And I seide "the same . save you fro myschaunce, + And gyve you grace on this grounde . goode men to worthe!"[40] + And thus I wente wide wher . walkyng myn one,[41] + By a wilderness, . and by a wodes side: + Blisse of the briddes.[42] . Broughte me a-slepe, + And under a lynde upon a launde[43] . lened I a stounde[44], + To lythe the layes . the lovely foweles made, + Murthe of hire mowthes . made me ther to slepe; + The merveillouseste metels[45] . mette me[46] thanne + That ever dremed wight . in worlde, as I wene. + A muche man, as me thoughte . and like to myselve, + Cam and called me . by my kynde name. + "What artow," quod I tho, . "that thow my name knowest." + "That woost wel," quod he, . "and no wight bettre." + "Woot I what thou art?" . "Thought," seide he thanne; + "I have sued[47] thee this seven yeer, . seye[48] thou me no rather."[49] + "Artow Thought," quod I thoo, . "thow koudest me wisse, + Where that Do-wel dwelleth, . and do me that to knowe." + "Do-wel and Do-bet, . and Do-best the thridde," quod he, + "Arn thre fair vertues, . and ben noght fer to fynde. + Who so is trewe of his tunge, . and of his two handes, + And thorugh his labour or thorugh his land, . his liflode wynneth,[50] + And is trusty of his tailende, . taketh but his owene, + And is noght dronklewe[51] ne dedeynous,[52] . Do-wel hym folweth. + Do-bet dooth ryght thus; . ac he dooth much more; + He is as lowe as a lomb, . and lovelich of speche, + And helpeth alle men . after that hem nedeth. + The bagges and the bigirdles, . he hath to-broke hem alle + That the Erl Avarous . heeld and hise heires. + And thus with Mammonaes moneie . he hath maad hym frendes, + And is ronne to religion, . and hath rendred the Bible, + And precheth to the peple . Seint Poules wordes: + _Libenter suffertis insipientes, cum sitis ipsi sapientes_: + 'And suffreth the unwise' . with you for to libbe + And with glad will dooth hem good . and so God you hoteth. + Do-best is above bothe, . and bereth a bisshopes crosse, + Is hoked on that oon ende . to halie men fro helle; + A pik is on that potente,[53] . to putte a-down the wikked + That waiten any wikkednesse . Do-wel to tene.[54] + And Do-wel and Do-bet . amonges hem han ordeyned, + To crowne oon to be kyng . to rulen hem bothe; + That if Do-wel or Do-bet . dide ayein Do-best, + Thanne shal the kyng come . and casten hem in irens, + And but if Do-best bede[55] for hem, . thei to be there for evere. + Thus Do-wel and Do-bet, . and Do-best the thridde, + Crouned oon to the kyng . to kepen hem alle, + And to rule the reme . by hire thre wittes, + And noon oother wise, . but as thei thre assented." + I thonked Thoght tho, . that he me thus taughte. + "Ac yet savoreth me noght thi seying. . I coveit to lerne + How Do-wel, Do-bet, and Do-best . doon among the peple." + "But Wit konne wisse thee," quod Thoght, . "Where tho thre dwelle, + Ellis woot I noon that kan . that now is alyve." + Thoght and I thus . thre daies we yeden,[56] + Disputyng upon Do-wel . day after oother; + And er we were war, . with Wit gonne we mete.[57] + He was long and lene, . lik to noon other; + Was no pride on his apparaille . ne poverte neither; + Sad of his semblaunt, . and of softe chere, + I dorste meve no matere . to maken hym to jangle, + But as I bad Thoght thoo . be mene bitwene, + And pute forth som purpos . to preven his wittes, + What was Do-wel fro Do-bet, . and Do-best from hem bothe. + Thanne Thoght in that tyme . seide these wordes: + "Where Do-wel, Do-bet, . and Do-best ben in londe, + Here is Wil wolde wite, . if Wit koude teche him; + And whether he be man or woman . this man fayn wolde aspie, + And werchen[58] as thei thre wolde, . thus is his entente" + +[Footnote 23: questioned.] + +[Footnote 24: could tell me.] + +[Footnote 25: Where this man dwelt.] + +[Footnote 26: mean or gentle.] + +[Footnote 27: of the Minorite order.] + +[Footnote 28: I saluted them courteously.] + +[Footnote 29: and poor men's cots.] + +[Footnote 30: times.] + +[Footnote 31: example.] + +[Footnote 32: through his own negligence.] + +[Footnote 33: weak, unstable.] + +[Footnote 34: But.] + +[Footnote 35: sloth.] + +[Footnote 36: a year's-gift.] + +[Footnote 37: to rule, guide, govern.] + +[Footnote 38: mother-wit.] + +[Footnote 39: I commit thee to Christ.] + +[Footnote 40: to become.] + +[Footnote 41: by myself.] + +[Footnote 42: The charm of the birds.] + +[Footnote 43: under a linden-tree on a plain.] + +[Footnote 44: a short time.] + +[Footnote 45: a most wonderful dream.] + +[Footnote 46: I dreamed.] + +[Footnote 47: followed.] + +[Footnote 48: sawest.] + +[Footnote 49: sooner.] + +[Footnote 50: gains his livelihood.] + +[Footnote 51: drunken.] + +[Footnote 52: disdainful.] + +[Footnote 53: club staff.] + +[Footnote 54: to injure.] + +[Footnote 55: pray.] + +[Footnote 56: journeyed.] + +[Footnote 57: we met Wit.] + +[Footnote 58: work.] + + + + +GEOFFREY CHAUCER. + +(1340?-1400.) + + +PORTRAITS FROM THE CANTERBURY TALES. + +II. AND III. THE MONK AND THE FRIAR. + + + The following complete portraits of two of the characters in + Chaucer's matchless picture of the Canterbury Pilgrims are taken + from the Prologue to the _Canterbury Tales_. + + + II. + + A monk ther was, a fayre for the maistrie,[59] + An outrider, that loved venerie;[60] + A manly man, to ben an abbot able. + Ful many a deinte[61] hors hadde he in stable: + And whan he rode, men might his bridel here + Gingeling in a whistling wind as clere, + And eke as loude, as doth the chapell belle, + Ther as this lord was keeper of the celle. + The reule of Seint Maure and of Seint Beneit, + Because that it was olde and somdele streit, + This ilke monk lette olde thinges pace,[62] + And held after the newe world the space. + He yaf not of the text a pulled hen,[63] + That saith, that hunters ben not holy men; + Ne that a monk, whan he is reckeles,[64] + Is like to a fish that is waterles; + That is to say, a monk out of his cloistre. + This ilke text held he not worth an oistre. + And I say his opinion was good. + What? shulde he studie, and make himselven wood[65] + Upon a book in cloistre alway to pore, + Or swinken[66] with his hondes, and laboure, + As Austin bit?[67] how shal the world be served? + Let Austin have his swink to him reserved. + Therfore he was a prickasoure[68] a right: + Greihoundes he hadde as swift as foul of flight: + Of pricking[69] and of hunting for the hare + Was all his lust, for no cost wolde he spare. + I saw his sleves purfiled[70] at the hond + With gris,[71] and that the finest of the lond. + And for to fasten his hood under his chinne, + He hadde of gold ywrought a curious pinne; + A love-knotte in the greter end ther was. + His hed was balled,[72] and shone as any glas, + And eke his face, as it hadde ben anoint. + He was a lord ful fat and in good point. + His eyen stepe,[73] and rolling in his hed, + That stemed as a forneis of led.[74] + His bootes souple, his hors in gret estat: + Now certainly he was a fayre prelat. + He was not pale as a forpined[75] gost. + A fat swan loved he best of any rost, + His palfrey was as broune as is a bery. + + + III. + + A Frere[76] ther was, a wanton and a mery, + A Limitour,[77] a ful solempne man. + In all the ordres foure is none that can + So muche of daliance and fayre langage. + He hadde ymade ful many a mariage + Of yonge wimmen, at his owen cost. + Until[78] his ordre he was a noble post. + Ful wel beloved, and familier was he + With frankeleins[79] over all in his contree, + And eke with worthy wimmen of the toun: + For he had power of confessioun, + As saide himselfe, more than a curat, + For of his ordre he was a licenciat. + Ful swetely herde he confession, + And plesant was his absolution. + He was an esy man to give penaunce, + Ther as he wiste[80] to han[81] a good pitaunce: + For unto a poure[82] ordre for to give + Is signe that a man is wel yshrive.[83] + For if he gaf, he dorste make avaunt,[84] + He wiste that a man was repentaunt. + For many a man so hard is of his herte, + He may not wepe although him sore smerte. + Therfore in stede of weping and praieres, + Men mote[85] give silver to the poure freres. + His tippet was ay farsed[86] ful of knives, + And pinnes, for to given fayre wives. + And certainly he hadde a mery note. + Wel coude he singe and plaien on a rote.[87] + Of yeddinges[88] he bar utterly the pris. + His nekke was white as the flour de lis. + Therto he strong was as a champioun, + And knew wel the tavernes in every toun, + And every hosteler and tappestere, + Better than a lazar or a beggestere, + For unto swiche a worthy man as he + Accordeth not, as by his faculte, + To haven[89] with sike lazars acquaintance. + It is not honest, it may not avance,[90] + As for to delen with no swiche pouraille,[91] + But all with riche, and sellers of vitaille. + And over all, ther as profit shuld arise, + Curteis he was, and lowly of servise. + Ther nas no man no wher so vertuous. + He was the beste begger in his hous: + [And gave a certain ferme[92] for the grant, + Non of his bretheren came in his haunt.] + For though a widewe hadde but a shoo, + (So plesant was his _in principio_) + Yet wold he have a ferthing or[93] he went. + His pourchas was wel better than his rent.[94] + And rage he coude as it hadde ben a whelp, + In lovedayes,[95] ther coude he mochel help. + For ther he was nat like a cloisterere, + With thredbare cope, as is a poure scolere, + But he was like a maister or a pope. + Of double worsted was his semicope,[96] + That round was as a belle out of the presse. + Somwhat he lisped, for his wantonnesse, + To make his English swete upon his tonge; + And in his harping, whan that he hadde songe, + His eyen twinkeled in his hed aright, + As don the sterres in a frosty night. + This worthy limitour was cleped Huberd. + +[Footnote 59: a fair one for the mastership.] + +[Footnote 60: hunting.] + +[Footnote 61: dainty.] + +[Footnote 62: pass.] + +[Footnote 63: did not care a plucked hen for the text.] + +[Footnote 64: careless; removed from the restraints of his order and +vows.] + +[Footnote 65: mad.] + +[Footnote 66: toil.] + +[Footnote 67: biddeth.] + +[Footnote 68: hard rider.] + +[Footnote 69: spurring.] + +[Footnote 70: wrought on the edge.] + +[Footnote 71: a fine kind of fur.] + +[Footnote 72: bald.] + +[Footnote 73: bright.] + +[Footnote 74: Shone like a furnace under a cauldron.] + +[Footnote 75: tormented.] + +[Footnote 76: Friar.] + +[Footnote 77: A friar with a licence to beg within certain limits.] + +[Footnote 78: Unto.] + +[Footnote 79: country gentlemen.] + +[Footnote 80: knew.] + +[Footnote 81: have.] + +[Footnote 82: poor.] + +[Footnote 83: shriven.] + +[Footnote 84: durst make a boast.] + +[Footnote 85: must.] + +[Footnote 86: stuffed.] + +[Footnote 87: a stringed instrument.] + +[Footnote 88: story telling.] + +[Footnote 89: have.] + +[Footnote 90: profit.] + +[Footnote 91: poor people.] + +[Footnote 92: farm. This couplet only appears in the Hengwrt MS. As Mr. +Pollard says, it is probably Chaucer's, but may have been omitted by +him as it interrupts the sentence. Cf. _Globe_ Chaucer.] + +[Footnote 93: ere.] + +[Footnote 94: The proceeds of his begging exceeded his fixed income.] + +[Footnote 95: Days appointed for the amicable settlement of +differences.] + +[Footnote 96: half cloak.] + + + + +JOHN LYDGATE. + +(1373?-1460.) + + +IV. THE LONDON LACKPENNY. + + + This is an admirable picture of London life early in the fifteenth + century. The poem first appeared among Lydgate's fugitive pieces, + and has been preserved in the Harleian MSS. + + + To London once my steps I bent, + Where truth in no wise should be faint; + To Westminster-ward I forthwith went, + To a man of Law to make complaint. + I said, "For Mary's love, that holy saint, + Pity the poor that would proceed!"[97] + But for lack of money, I could not speed. + + And, as I thrust the press among, + By froward chance my hood was gone; + Yet for all that I stayed not long + Till to the King's Bench I was come. + Before the Judge I kneeled anon + And prayed him for God's sake take heed. + But for lack of money, I might not speed. + + Beneath them sat clerks a great rout,[98] + Which fast did write by one assent; + There stood up one and cried about + "Richard, Robert, and John of Kent!" + I wist not well what this man meant, + He cried so thickly there indeed. + But he that lacked money might not speed. + + To the Common Pleas I yode tho,[99] + There sat one with a silken hood: + I 'gan him reverence for to do, + And told my case as well as I could; + How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood; + I got not a mum of his mouth for my meed,[100] + And for lack of money I might not speed. + + Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence, + Before the clerks of the Chancery; + Where many I found earning of pence; + But none at all once regarded me. + I gave them my plaint upon my knee; + They liked it well when they had it read; + But, lacking money, I could not be sped. + + In Westminster Hall I found out one, + Which went in a long gown of ray;[101] + I crouched and knelt before him; anon, + For Mary's love, for help I him pray. + "I wot not what thou mean'st", 'gan he say; + To get me thence he did me bid, + For lack of money I could not speed. + + Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor + Would do for me aught although I should die; + Which seing, I gat me out of the door; + Where Flemings began on me for to cry,-- + "Master, what will you copen[102] or buy? + Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read? + Lay down your silver, and here you may speed." + + To Westminster Gate I presently went, + When the sun was at high prime; + Cooks to me they took good intent,[103] + And proffered me bread, with ale and wine, + Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine; + A faire cloth they 'gan for to spread, + But, wanting money, I might not then speed. + + Then unto London I did me hie, + Of all the land it beareth the prize; + "Hot peascodes!" one began to cry; + "Strawberries ripe!" and "Cherries in the rise!"[104] + One bade me come near and buy some spice; + Pepper and saffrone they 'gan me bede;[105] + But, for lack of money, I might not speed. + + Then to the Cheap I 'gan me drawn,[106] + Where much people I saw for to stand; + One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn; + Another he taketh me by the hand, + "Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land"; + I never was used to such things indeed; + And, wanting money, I might not speed. + + Then went I forth by London stone, + Throughout all the Canwick Street; + Drapers much cloth me offered anon; + Then comes me one cried, "Hot sheep's feet!" + One cried, "Mackarel!" "Rushes green!" another 'gan greet;[107] + One bade me buy a hood to cover my head; + But for want of money I might not be sped. + + Then I hied me into East Cheap: + One cries "Ribs of beef and many a pie!" + Pewter pots they clattered on a heap; + There was harpe, pipe, and minstrelsy: + "Yea, by cock!" "Nay, by cock!" some began cry; + Some sung of "Jenkin and Julian" for their meed; + But, for lack of money, I might not speed. + + Then into Cornhill anon I yode + Where there was much stolen gear among; + I saw where hung my owne hood, + That I had lost among the throng: + To buy my own hood I thought it wrong; + I knew it as well as I did my creed; + But, for lack of money, I could not speed. + + The Taverner took me by the sleeve; + "Sir," saith he, "will you our wine assay?" + I answered, "That cannot much me grieve; + A penny can do no more than it may." + I drank a pint, and for it did pay; + Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede; + And, wanting money, I could not speed. + + Then hied I me to Billings-gate, + And one cried, "Ho! go we hence!" + I prayed a bargeman, for God's sake, + That he would spare me my expense. + "Thou 'scap'st not here," quoth he, "under twopence; + I list not yet bestow any almsdeed." + Thus, lacking money, I could not speed. + + Then I conveyed me into Kent; + For of the law would I meddle no more. + Because no man to me took intent, + I dight[108] me to do as I did before. + Now Jesus that in Bethlehem was bore[109], + Save London and send true lawyers their meed! + For whoso wants money with them shall not speed. + + +[Footnote 97: go to law.] + +[Footnote 98: crowd.] + +[Footnote 99: went then.] + +[Footnote 100: reward.] + +[Footnote 101: striped stuff.] + +[Footnote 102: exchange.] + +[Footnote 103: notice.] + +[Footnote 104: on the bough.] + +[Footnote 105: offer.] + +[Footnote 106: approach.] + +[Footnote 107: call.] + +[Footnote 108: set.] + +[Footnote 109: born.] + + + + +WILLIAM DUNBAR. + +(1460-1520?) + + +V. THE DANCE OF THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS. + + One of Dunbar's most telling satires, as well as one of the most + powerful in the language. + + + I. + + Of Februar the fiftene nicht + Full lang before the dayis licht + I lay intill a trance + And then I saw baith Heaven and Hell + Me thocht, amang the fiendis fell + Mahoun gart cry ane dance + Of shrews that were never shriven,[110] + Agains the feast of Fastern's even,[111] + To mak their observance. + He bad gallants gae graith a gyis,[112] + And cast up gamountis[113] in the skies, + As varlets do in France. + + + II. + + Helie harlots on hawtane wise,[114] + Come in with mony sundry guise, + But yet leuch never Mahoun, + While priests come in with bare shaven necks; + Then all the fiends leuch, and made gecks, + Black-Belly and Bawsy Brown.[115] + + + III. + + Let see, quoth he, now wha begins: + With that the foul Seven Deadly Sins + Begoud to leap at anis. + And first of all in Dance was Pride, + With hair wyld back, and bonnet on side, + Like to make vaistie wanis;[116] + And round about him, as a wheel, + Hang all in rumples to the heel + His kethat for the nanis:[117] + Mony proud trumpour[118] with him trippit; + Through scalding fire, aye as they skippit + They girned with hideous granis.[119] + + + IV. + + Then Ire came in with sturt and strife; + His hand was aye upon his knife, + He brandished like a beir:[120] + Boasters, braggars, and bargainers,[121] + After him passit in to pairs, + All bodin in feir of weir;[122] + In jacks, and scryppis, and bonnets of steel, + Their legs were chainit to the heel,[123] + Frawart was their affeir:[124] + Some upon other with brands beft,[125] + Some jaggit others to the heft, + With knives that sharp could shear. + + + V. + + Next in the Dance followit Envy, + Filled full of feud and felony, + Hid malice and despite: + For privy hatred that traitor tremlit; + Him followit mony freik dissemlit,[126] + With fenyeit wordis quhyte:[127] + And flatterers in to men's faces; + And backbiters in secret places, + To lie that had delight; + And rownaris of false lesings,[128] + Alace! that courts of noble kings + Of them can never be quit. + + + VI. + + Next him in Dance came Covetyce, + Root of all evil, and ground of vice, + That never could be content: + Catives, wretches, and ockeraris,[129] + Hudpikes,[130] hoarders, gatheraris, + All with that warlock went: + Out of their throats they shot on other + Het, molten gold, me thocht, a futher[131] + As fire-flaucht maist fervent; + Aye as they toomit them of shot, + Fiends filled them new up to the throat + With gold of all kind prent.[132] + + + VII. + + Syne Sweirness, at the second bidding, + Came like a sow out of a midding, + Full sleepy was his grunyie:[133] + Mony swear bumbard belly huddroun,[134] + Mony slut, daw, and sleepy duddroun, + Him servit aye with sonnyie;[135] + He drew them furth intill a chain, + And Belial with a bridle rein + Ever lashed them on the lunyie:[136] + In Daunce they were so slaw of feet, + They gave them in the fire a heat, + And made them quicker of cunyie.[137] + + + VIII. + + Then Lechery, that laithly corpse, + Came berand like ane baggit horse,[138] + And Idleness did him lead; + There was with him ane ugly sort, + And mony stinking foul tramort,[139] + That had in sin been dead: + When they were enterit in the Dance, + They were full strange of countenance, + Like torches burning red. + + + IX. + + Then the foul monster, Gluttony, + Of wame insatiable and greedy, + To Dance he did him dress: + Him followit mony foul drunkart, + With can and collop, cup and quart, + In surfit and excess; + Full mony a waistless wally-drag, + With wames unweildable, did furth wag, + In creesh[140] that did incress: + Drink! aye they cried, with mony a gaip, + The fiends gave them het lead to laip, + Their leveray was na less.[141] + + + X. + + Nae minstrels played to them but doubt,[142] + For gleemen there were halden out, + Be day, and eke by nicht; + Except a minstrel that slew a man, + So to his heritage he wan, + And enterit by brieve of richt.[143] + Then cried Mahoun for a Hieland Padyane:[144] + Syne ran a fiend to fetch Makfadyane, + Far northwast in a neuck; + Be he the coronach[145] had done shout, + Ersche men so gatherit him about, + In hell great room they took: + Thae tarmigants, with tag and tatter, + Full loud in Ersche begoud to clatter, + And roup like raven and rook.[146] + The Devil sae deaved[147] was with their yell; + That in the deepest pot of hell + He smorit[148] them with smoke! + +[Footnote 110: Mahoun, or the devil, proclaimed a dance of sinners that +had not received absolution.] + +[Footnote 111: The evening before Lent, usually a festival at the +Scottish court.] + +[Footnote 112: go prepare a show in character.] + +[Footnote 113: gambols.] + +[Footnote 114: Holy harlots (hypocrites), in a haughty manner. The term +harlot was applied indiscriminately to both sexes.] + +[Footnote 115: Names of spirits, like Robin Goodfellow in England, and +Brownie in Scotland.] + +[Footnote 116: Pride, with hair artfully put back, and bonnet on side: +"vaistie wanis" is now unintelligible; some interpret the phrase as +meaning "wasteful wants", but this seems improbable, considering the +locality or scene of the poem.] + +[Footnote 117: His cassock for the nonce or occasion.] + +[Footnote 118: a cheat or impostor.] + +[Footnote 119: groans.] + +[Footnote 120: bear.] + +[Footnote 121: Boasters, braggarts, and bullies.] + +[Footnote 122: Arrayed in the accoutrements of war.] + +[Footnote 123: In coats of armour, and covered with iron network to the +heel.] + +[Footnote 124: Wild was their aspect.] + +[Footnote 125: brands beat.] + +[Footnote 126: many strong dissemblers.] + +[Footnote 127: With feigned words fair or white.] + +[Footnote 128: spreaders of false reports.] + +[Footnote 129: usurers.] + +[Footnote 130: Misers.] + +[Footnote 131: a great quantity.] + +[Footnote 132: gold of every coinage.] + +[Footnote 133: his grunt.] + +[Footnote 134: Many a lazy glutton.] + +[Footnote 135: served with care.] + +[Footnote 136: loins.] + +[Footnote 137: quicker of apprehension.] + +[Footnote 138: neighing like an entire horse.] + +[Footnote 139: corpse.] + +[Footnote 140: grease.] + +[Footnote 141: Their reward, or their desire not diminished.] + +[Footnote 142: No minstrels without doubt--a compliment to the poetical +profession: there were no gleemen or minstrels in the infernal +regions.] + +[Footnote 143: letter of right.] + +[Footnote 144: Pageant.] + +[Footnote 145: By the time he had done shouting the coronach or cry of +help, the Highlanders speaking Erse or Gaelic gathered about him.] + +[Footnote 146: croaked like ravens and rooks.] + +[Footnote 147: deafened.] + +[Footnote 148: smothered.] + + + + +SIR DAVID LYNDSAY. + +(1490-1555.) + + +VI. SATIRE ON THE SYDE TAILLIS--ANE SUPPLICATIOUN DIRECTIT TO THE KINGIS +GRACE--1538. + + The specimen of Lyndsay cited below--this satire on long trains--is + by no means the most favourable that could be desired, but it is + the only one that lent itself readily to quotation. The archaic + spelling is slightly modernized. + + + Schir! though your Grace has put gret order + Baith in the Hieland and the Border + Yet mak I supplicatioun + Till have some reformatioun + Of ane small falt, whilk is nocht treason + Though it be contrarie to reason. + Because the matter been so vile, + It may nocht have ane ornate style; + Wherefore I pray your Excellence + To hear me with great patience: + Of stinking weedis maculate + No man nay mak ane rose-chaplet. + Sovereign, I mean of thir syde tails, + Whilk through the dust and dubis trails + Three quarters lang behind their heels, + Express again' all commonweals. + Though bishops, in their pontificals, + Have men for to bear up their tails, + For dignity of their office; + Richt so ane queen or ane empress; + Howbeit they use sic gravity, + Conformand to their majesty, + Though their robe-royals be upborne, + I think it is ane very scorn, + That every lady of the land + Should have her tail so syde trailand; + Howbeit they been of high estate, + The queen they should nocht counterfeit. + + Wherever they may go it may be seen + How kirk and causay they soop[149] clean. + The images into the kirk + May think of their syde taillis irk;[150] + For when the weather been maist fair, + The dust flies highest in the air, + And all their faces does begarie. + Gif they could speak, they wald them warie...[151] + But I have maist into despite + Poor claggocks[152] clad in raploch-white, + Whilk has scant twa merks for their fees, + Will have twa ells beneath their knees. + Kittock that cleckit[153] was yestreen, + The morn, will counterfeit the queen: + And Moorland Meg, that milked the yowes, + Claggit with clay aboon the hows,[154] + In barn nor byre she will not bide, + Without her kirtle tail be syde. + In burghs, wanton burgess wives + Wha may have sydest tailis strives, + Weel bordered with velvet fine, + But followand them it is ane pyne: + In summer, when the streetis dries, + They raise the dust aboon the skies; + Nane may gae near them at their ease, + Without they cover mouth and neese... + I think maist pane after ane rain, + To see them tuckit up again; + Then when they step furth through the street, + Their fauldings flaps about their feet; + They waste mair claith, within few years, + Nor wald cleid fifty score of freirs... + Of tails I will no more indite, + For dread some duddron[155] me despite: + Notwithstanding, I will conclude, + That of syde tails can come nae gude, + Sider nor may their ankles hide, + The remanent proceeds of pride, + And pride proceeds of the devil, + Thus alway they proceed of evil. + + Ane other fault, sir, may be seen-- + They hide their face all but the een; + When gentlemen bid them gude-day, + Without reverence they slide away... + Without their faults be soon amended, + My flyting,[156] sir, shall never be ended; + But wald your Grace my counsel tak, + Ane proclamation ye should mak, + Baith through the land and burrowstouns,[157] + To shaw their face and cut their gowns. + + Women will say this is nae bourds,[158] + To write sic vile and filthy words. + But wald they clenge[159] their filthy tails + Whilk over the mires and middens trails, + Then should my writing clengit be; + None other mends they get of me. + +[Footnote 149: sweep.] + +[Footnote 150: be annoyed.] + +[Footnote 151: curse or cry out.] + +[Footnote 152: draggle-tails.] + +[Footnote 153: hatched.] + +[Footnote 154: houghs.] + +[Footnote 155: slut.] + +[Footnote 156: scolding, brawling.] + +[Footnote 157: burgh towns.] + +[Footnote 158: scoffs.] + +[Footnote 159: cleanse.] + + + + +BISHOP JOSEPH HALL. + +(1574-1656.) + + +VII. ON SIMONY. + + This satire levels a rebuke at the Simoniacal traffic in livings, + then openly practised by public advertisement affixed to the door + of St. Paul's. "Si Quis" (if anyone) was the first word of these + advertisements. Dekker, in the _Gull's Hornbook_, speaks of the + "Siquis door of Paules", and in Wroth's _Epigrams_ (1620) we read, + "A Merry Greek set up a _Siquis_ late". This satire forms the Fifth + of the Second Book of the _Virgidemiarum_. + + + Saw'st thou ever Siquis patcht on Pauls Church door + To seek some vacant vicarage before? + Who wants a churchman that can service say, + Read fast and fair his monthly homily? + And wed and bury and make Christen-souls?[160] + Come to the left-side alley of St. Paules. + Thou servile fool, why could'st thou not repair + To buy a benefice at Steeple-Fair? + There moughtest thou, for but a slendid price, + Advowson thee with some fat benefice: + Or if thee list not wait for dead mens shoon, + Nor pray each morn the incumbents days were doone: + A thousand patrons thither ready bring, + Their new-fall'n[161] churches, to the chaffering; + Stake three years stipend: no man asketh more. + Go, take possession of the Church porch door, + And ring thy bells; luck stroken in thy fist + The parsonage is thine, or ere thou wist. + Saint Fool's of Gotam[162] mought thy parish be + For this thy base and servile Simony. + +[Footnote 160: baptize.] + +[Footnote 161: newly fallen in, through the death of the incumbent.] + +[Footnote 162: Referring to Andrew Borde's book, _The Merry Tales of +the Mad Men of Gotham_.] + + + +VIII. THE DOMESTIC TUTOR'S POSITION. + + This satire forms the Sixth of Book II. of the _Virgidemiarum_, and + is regarded as one of Bishop Hall's best. See the _Return from + Parnassus_ and Parrot's _Springes for Woodcocks_ (1613) for + analogous references to those occurring in this piece. + + + A gentle squire would gladly entertain + Into his house some trencher chapelain; + Some willing man that might instruct his sons, + And that would stand to good conditions. + First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed + Whiles his young master lieth o'er his head. + Second that he do on no default + Ever presume to sit above the salt. + Third that he never change his trencher twice. + Fourth that he use all common courtesies: + Sit bare at meals and one half rise and wait. + Last, that he never his young master beat, + But he must ask his mother to define, + How many jerks she would his breech should line. + All these observed, he could contented be, + To give five marks and winter livery. + + + +IX. THE IMPECUNIOUS FOP. + + This satire constitutes Satire Seven of Book III. The phrase of + dining with Duke Humphrey, which is still occasionally heard, + originated in the following manner:--In the body of old St. Paul's + was a huge and conspicuous monument of Sir John Beauchamp, buried + in 1358, son of Guy, and brother of Thomas, Earl of Warwick. This + by vulgar mistake was called the tomb of Humphrey, Duke of + Gloucester, who was really buried at St. Alban's. The middle aisle + of St. Paul's was therefore called "The Duke's Gallery". In + Dekker's _Dead Terme_ we have the phrase used and a full + explanation of it given; also in Sam Speed's _Legend of His Grace + Humphrey, Duke of St. Paul's Cathedral Walk_ (1674). + + + See'st thou how gaily my young master goes, + Vaunting himself upon his rising toes; + And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side; + And picks his glutted teeth since late noon-tide? + 'Tis Ruffio: Trow'st thou where he dined to-day? + In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humphrey. + Many good welcomes, and much gratis cheer, + Keeps he for every straggling cavalier; + An open house, haunted with great resort; + Long service mixt with musical disport. + Many fair younker with a feathered crest, + Chooses much rather be his shot-free guest, + To fare so freely with so little cost, + Than stake his twelvepence to a meaner host. + Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say + He touched no meat of all this livelong day; + For sure methought, yet that was but a guess, + His eyes seemed sunk for very hollowness, + But could he have--as I did it mistake-- + So little in his purse, so much upon his back? + So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt + That his gaunt gut no too much stuffing felt. + See'st thou how side[163] it hangs beneath his hip? + Hunger and heavy iron makes girdles slip. + Yet for all that, how stiffly struts he by, + All trapped in the new-found bravery. + The nuns of new-won Calais his bonnet lent, + In lieu of their so kind a conquerment. + What needed he fetch that from farthest Spain, + His grandame could have lent with lesser pain? + Though he perhaps ne'er passed the English shore, + Yet fain would counted be a conqueror. + His hair, French-like, stares on his frighted head, + One lock[164] Amazon-like dishevelled, + As if he meant to wear a native cord, + If chance his fates should him that bane afford. + All British bare upon the bristled skin, + Close notched is his beard, both lip and chin; + His linen collar labyrinthian set, + Whose thousand double turnings never met: + His sleeves half hid with elbow pinionings, + As if he meant to fly with linen wings. + But when I look, and cast mine eyes below, + What monster meets mine eyes in human show? + So slender waist with such an abbot's loin, + Did never sober nature sure conjoin. + Lik'st a strawn scarecrow in a new-sown field, + Reared on some stick, the tender corn to shield, + Or, if that semblance suit not every deal, + Like a broad shake-fork with a slender steel. + Despised nature suit them once aright, + Their body to their coat both now disdight. + Their body to their clothes might shapen be, + That will their clothes shape to their bodie. + Meanwhile I wonder at so proud a back, + Whiles the empty guts loud rumblen for long lack. + +[Footnote 163: long.] + +[Footnote 164: the love-locks which were so condemned by the Puritan +Prynne. Cf. Lyly's _Midas_ and Sir John Davies' Epigram 22, _In +Ciprum_.] + + + + +GEORGE CHAPMAN. + +(1559-1634.) + + +X. AN INVECTIVE WRITTEN BY MR. GEORGE CHAPMAN AGAINST MR. BEN JONSON. + + This satire was discovered in a "Common-place Book" belonging to + Chapman, preserved among the Ashmole MSS. in the Bodleian Library, + Oxford. + + + Great, learned, witty Ben, be pleased to light + The world with that three-forked fire; nor fright + All us, thy sublearned, with luciferous boast + That thou art most great, most learn'd, witty most + Of all the kingdom, nay of all the earth; + As being a thing betwixt a human birth + And an infernal; no humanity + Of the divine soul shewing man in thee. + + * * * * * + + Though thy play genius hang his broken wings + Full of sick feathers, and with forced things, + Imp thy scenes, labour'd and unnatural, + And nothing good comes with thy thrice-vex'd call, + Comest thou not yet, nor yet? O no, nor yet; + Yet are thy learn'd admirers so deep set + In thy preferment above all that cite + The sun in challenge for the heat and light + Of heaven's influences which of you two knew + And have most power in them; Great Ben, 'tis you. + Examine him, some truly-judging spirit, + That pride nor fortune hath to blind his merit, + He match'd with all book-fires, he ever read + His dusk poor candle-rents; his own fat head + With all the learn'd world's, Alexander's flame + That Caesar's conquest cow'd, and stript his fame, + He shames not to give reckoning in with his; + As if the king pardoning his petulancies + Should pay his huge loss too in such a score + As all earth's learned fires he gather'd for. + What think'st thou, just friend? equall'd not this pride + All yet that ever Hell or Heaven defied? + And yet for all this, this club will inflict + His faultful pain, and him enough convict + He only reading show'd; learning, nor wit; + Only Dame Gilian's fire his desk will fit. + But for his shift by fire to save the loss + Of his vast learning, this may prove it gross: + True Muses ever vent breaths mixt with fire + Which, form'd in numbers, they in flames expire + Not only flames kindled with their own bless'd breath + That gave th' unborn life, and eternize death. + Great Ben, I know that this is in thy hand + And how thou fix'd in heaven's fix'd star dost stand + In all men's admirations and command; + For all that can be scribbled 'gainst the sorter + Of thy dead repercussions and reporter. + The kingdom yields not such another man; + Wonder of men he is; the player can + And bookseller prove true, if they could know + Only one drop, that drives in such a flow. + Are they not learned beasts, the better far + Their drossy exhalations a star + Their brainless admirations may render; + For learning in the wise sort is but lender + Of men's prime notion's doctrine; their own way + Of all skills' perceptible forms a key + Forging to wealth, and honour-soothed sense, + Never exploring truth or consequence, + Informing any virtue or good life; + And therefore Player, Bookseller, or Wife + Of either, (needing no such curious key) + All men and things, may know their own rude way. + Imagination and our appetite + Forming our speech no easier than they light + All letterless companions; t' all they know + Here or hereafter that like earth's sons plough + All under-worlds and ever downwards grow, + Nor let your learning think, egregious Ben, + These letterless companions are not men + With all the arts and sciences indued, + If of man's true and worthiest knowledge rude, + Which is to know and be one complete man, + And that not all the swelling ocean + Of arts and sciences, can pour both in: + If that brave skill then when thou didst begin + To study letters, thy great wit had plied, + Freely and only thy disease of pride + In vulgar praise had never bound thy [hide]. + + + + +JOHN DONNE. + +(1573-1631.) + + +XI. THE CHARACTER OF THE BORE. + + From Donne's _Satires_, No. IV.; first published in the quarto + edition of the "Poems" in 1633. See Dr. Grosart's interesting Essay + on the Life and Writings of Donne, prefixed to Vol. II. of that + scholar's excellent edition. + + + Well; I may now receive and die. My sin + Indeed is great, but yet I have been in + A purgatory, such as fear'd hell is + A recreation, and scant map of this. + My mind neither with pride's itch, nor yet hath been + Poison'd with love to see or to be seen. + I had no suit there, nor new suit to shew, + Yet went to court: but as Glare, which did go + To mass in jest, catch'd, was fain to disburse + The hundred marks, which is the statute's curse, + Before he 'scap'd; so't pleas'd my Destiny + (Guilty of my sin of going) to think me + As prone to all ill, and of good as forget- + Ful, as proud, lustful, and as much in debt, + As vain, as witless, and as false as they + Which dwell in court, for once going that way, + Therefore I suffer'd this: Towards me did run + A thing more strange than on Nile's slime the sun + E'er bred, or all which into Noah's ark came; + A thing which would have pos'd Adam to name: + Stranger than seven antiquaries' studies, + Than Afric's monsters, Guiana's rarities; + Stranger than strangers; one who for a Dane + In the Danes' massacre had sure been slain, + If he had liv'd then, and without help dies + When next the 'prentices 'gainst strangers rise; + One whom the watch at noon lets scarce go by; + One t' whom th' examining justice sure would cry, + Sir, by your priesthood, tell me what you are. + His clothes were strange, though coarse, and black, though bare; + Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been + Velvet, but 'twas now (so much ground was seen) + Become tufftaffaty; and our children shall + See it plain rash a while, then nought at all. + The thing hath travail'd, and, faith, speaks all tongues, + And only knoweth what t' all states belongs. + Made of th' accents and best phrase of all these, + He speaks one language. If strange meats displease, + Art can deceive, or hunger force my taste; + But pedant's motley tongue, soldier's bombast, + Mountebank's drug-tongue, nor the terms of law, + Are strong enough preparatives to draw + Me to hear this, yet I must be content + With his tongue, in his tongue call'd Compliment; + In which he can win widows, and pay scores, + Make men speak treason, cozen subtlest whores, + Outflatter favourites, or outlie either + Jovius or Surius, or both together. + He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God! + How have I sinn'd, that thy wrath's furious rod, + This fellow, chooseth me? He saith, Sir, + I love your judgment; whom do you prefer + For the best linguist? and I sillily + Said, that I thought Calepine's Dictionary. + Nay, but of men? Most sweet Sir! Beza, then + Some Jesuits, and two reverend men + Of our two academies, I nam'd. Here + He stopt me, and said; Nay, your apostles were + Good pretty linguists; so Panurgus was, + Yet a poor gentleman; all these may pass + By travel. Then, as if he would have sold + His tongue, he prais'd it, and such wonders told, + That I was fain to say, If you had liv'd, Sir, + Time enough to have been interpreter + To Babel's bricklayers, sure the tower had stood. + He adds, If of court-life you knew the good, + You would leave loneness. I said, Not alone + My loneness is, but Spartan's fashion, + To teach by painting drunkards, doth not last + Now; Aretine's pictures have made few chaste; + No more can princes' courts, though there be few + Better pictures of vice, teach me virtue. + He, like to a high-stretch'd lute-string, squeakt, O, Sir! + 'Tis sweet to talk of kings! At Westminster, + Said I, the man that keeps the Abbey-tombs, + And for his price doth, with who ever comes, + Of all our Harrys and our Edwards talk, + From king to king, and all their kin can walk: + Your ears shall hear naught but kings; your eyes meet + Kings only; the way to it is King's street. + He smack'd, and cry'd, He's base, mechanic coarse; + So're all our Englishmen in their discourse. + Are not your Frenchmen neat? Mine, eyes you see, + I have but one, Sir; look, he follows me. + Certes, they're neatly cloth'd. I of this mind am, + Your only wearing is your grogaram. + Not so, Sir; I have more. Under this pitch + He would not fly. I chaf'd him; but as itch + Scratch'd into smart, and as blunt iron ground + Into an edge, hurts worse; so I (fool!) found + Crossing hurt me. To fit my sullenness, + He to another key his style doth dress, + And asks, What news? I tell him of new plays: + He takes my hand, and, as a still which stays + A semibrief 'twixt each drop, he niggardly + As loth to enrich me, so tells many a lie, + More than ten Hollensheads, or Halls, or Stows, + Of trivial household trash he knows. He knows + When the queen frown'd or smil'd; and he knows what + A subtile statesman may gather of that: + He knows who loves whom, and who by poison + Hastes to an office's reversion; + He knows who hath sold his land, and now doth beg + A license old iron, boots, shoes, and egg- + Shells to transport. Shortly boys shall not play + At span-counter, or blow-point, but shall play + Toll to some courtier; and, wiser than us all, + He knows what lady is not painted. Thus + He with home-meats cloys me. I belch, spue, spit, + Look pale and sickly, like a patient, yet + He thrusts on more; and as he had undertook + To say Gallo-Belgicus without book, + Speaks of all states and deeds that have been since + The Spaniards came to th' loss of Amyens. + Like a big wife, at sight of loathed meat, + Ready to travail, so I sigh and sweat + To hear this makaron[165] talk in vain; for yet, + Either my humour or his own to fit, + He, like a privileg'd spy, whom nothing can + Discredit, libels now 'gainst each great man: + He names a price for every office paid: + He saith, Our wars thrive ill, because delay'd; + That offices are entail'd, and that there are + Perpetuities of them lasting as far + As the last day; and that great officers + Do with the pirates share and Dunkirkers. + Who wastes in meat, in clothes, in horse, he notes; + Who loves whores, who boys, and who goats. + I, more amaz'd than Circe's prisoners, when + They felt themselves turn beasts, felt myself then + Becoming traitor, and methought I saw + One of our giant statues ope his jaw + To suck me in for hearing him: I found + That as burnt venomous leachers do grow sound + By giving others their sores, I might grow + Guilty, and be free; therefore I did show + All signs of loathing; but since I am in, + I must pay mine and my forefathers' sin + To the last farthing: therefore to my power + Toughly and stubbornly I bear this cross; but th' hour + Of mercy now was come: he tries to bring + Me to pay a fine to 'scape his torturing, + And says, Sir, can you spare me? I said, Willingly. + Nay, Sir, can you spare me a crown? Thankfully I + Gave it as ransom. But as fiddlers still, + Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will + Thrust one more jigg upon you; so did he + With his long complimented thanks vex me. + But he is gone, thanks to his needy want, + And the prerogative of my crown. Scant + His thanks were ended when I (which did see + All the court fill'd with such strange things as he) + Ran from thence with such or more haste than one + Who fears more actions doth haste from prison. + At home in wholesome solitariness + My piteous soul began the wretchedness + Of suitors at court to mourn, and a trance + Like his who dreamt he saw hell did advance + Itself o'er me: such men as he saw there + I saw at court, and worse, and more. Low fear + Becomes the guilty, not th' accuser; then + Shall I, none's slave, of high born or rais'd men + Fear frowns, and my mistress, Truth! betray thee + To th' huffing braggart, puft nobility? + No, no; thou which since yesterday hast been + Almost about the whole world, hast thou seen, + O Sun! in all thy journey vanity + Such as swells the bladder of our court? I + Think he which made your waxen garden, and + Transported it from Italy, to stand + With us at London, flouts our courtiers; for + Just such gay painted things, which no sap nor + Taste have in them, ours are! + +[Footnote 165: fop, early form of macaroni.] + + + + +BEN JONSON. + +(1573-1637.) + + These two pieces are taken from Jonson's _Epigrams_. The first of + them was exceedingly popular in the poet's own lifetime. + + +XII. THE NEW CRY. + + Ere cherries ripe, and strawberries be gone; + Unto the cries of London I'll add one; + Ripe statesmen, ripe: they grow in ev'ry street; + At six-and-twenty, ripe. You shall 'em meet, + And have him yield no favour, but of state. + Ripe are their ruffs, their cuffs, their beards, their gate, + And grave as ripe, like mellow as their faces. + They know the states of Christendom, not the places: + Yet have they seen the maps, and bought 'em too, + And understand 'em, as most chapmen do. + The counsels, projects, practices they know, + And what each prince doth for intelligence owe, + And unto whom; they are the almanacks + For twelve years yet to come, what each state lacks. + They carry in their pockets Tacitus, + And the Gazetti, or Gallo-Belgicus: + And talk reserv'd, lock'd up, and full of fear; + Nay, ask you how the day goes, in your ear. + Keep a Star-chamber sentence close twelve days: + And whisper what a Proclamation says. + They meet in sixes, and at ev'ry mart, + Are sure to con the catalogue by heart; + Or ev'ry day, some one at Rimee's looks, + Or bills, and there he buys the name of books. + They all get Porta, for the sundry ways + To write in cypher, and the several keys, + To ope the character. They've found the slight + With juice of lemons, onions, piss, to write; + To break up seals and close 'em. And they know, + If the states make peace, how it will go + With England. All forbidden books they get, + And of the powder-plot, they will talk yet. + At naming the French king, their heads they shake, + And at the Pope, and Spain, slight faces make. + Or 'gainst the bishops, for the brethren rail + Much like those brethren; thinking to prevail + With ignorance on us, as they have done + On them: and therefore do not only shun + Others more modest, but contemn us too, + That know not so much state, wrong, as they do. + + + +XIII. ON DON SURLY. + + Don Surly to aspire the glorious name + Of a great man, and to be thought the same, + Makes serious use of all great trade he knows. + He speaks to men with a rhinocerote's nose, + Which he thinks great; and so reads verses too: + And that is done, as he saw great men do. + He has tympanies of business, in his face, + And can forget men's names, with a great grace. + He will both argue, and discourse in oaths, + Both which are great. And laugh at ill-made clothes; + That's greater yet: to cry his own up neat. + He doth, at meals, alone his pheasant eat, + Which is main greatness. And, at his still board, + He drinks to no man: that's, too, like a lord. + He keeps another's wife, which is a spice + Of solemn greatness. And he dares, at dice, + Blaspheme God greatly. Or some poor hind beat, + That breathes in his dog's way: and this is great. + Nay more, for greatness' sake, he will be one + May hear my epigrams, but like of none. + Surly, use other arts, these only can + Style thee a most great fool, but no great man. + + + + +SAMUEL BUTLER. + +(1612-1680.) + + +XIV. THE CHARACTER OF HUDIBRAS. + + This extract is taken from the first canto of Hudibras, and + contains the complete portrait of the Knight, Butler's aim in the + presentation of this character being to satirize those fanatics and + pretenders to religion who flourished during the Commonwealth. + + + When civil dudgeon first grew high, + And men fell out they knew not why; + When hard words, jealousies and fears, + Set folks together by the ears, + And made them fight like mad or drunk, + For Dame Religion as for punk: + Whose honesty they all durst swear for, + Though not a man of them knew wherefore: + When gospel-trumpeter surrounded + With long-ear'd rout to battle sounded, + And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic, + Was beat with fist, instead of a stick: + Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, + And out he rode a-colonelling, + A wight he was, whose very sight wou'd + Intitle him, _Mirrour of Knighthood_; + That never bow'd his stubborn knee + To any thing but chivalry; + Nor put up blow, but that which laid + Right Worshipful on shoulder-blade: + Chief of domestic knights and errant, + Either for chartel or for warrant: + Great in the bench, great in the saddle, + That could as well bind o'er as swaddle: + Mighty he was at both of these, + And styl'd of _war_, as well as _peace_, + (So some rats, of amphibious nature, + Are either for the land or water). + But here our authors make a doubt, + Whether he were more wise or stout. + Some hold the one, and some the other: + But howsoe'er they make a pother, + The diff'rence was so small his brain + Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain; + Which made some take him for a tool + That knaves do work with, call'd a _fool_. + For 't has been held by many, that + As Montaigne, playing with his cat, + Complains she thought him but an ass, + Much more she would Sir Hudibras, + (For that the name our valiant Knight + To all his challenges did write) + But they're mistaken very much, + 'Tis plain enough he was no such. + We grant although he had much wit, + H' was very shy of using it; + As being loth to wear it out, + And therefore bore it not about + Unless on holidays, or so, + As men their best apparel do. + Besides, 'tis known he could speak Greek + As naturally as pigs squeak: + That Latin was no more difficile, + Than for a blackbird 'tis to whistle. + B'ing rich in both, he never scanted + His bounty unto such as wanted; + But much of either would afford + To many that had not one word. + For Hebrew roots, although they're found + To flourish most in barren ground, + He had such plenty as suffic'd + To make some think him circumcis'd: + And truly so he was, perhaps, + Not as a proselyte, but for claps, + He was in logic a great critic, + Profoundly skill'd in analytic; + He could distinguish, and divide + A hair 'twixt south and south west side; + On either which he could dispute, + Confute, change hands, and still confute; + He'd undertake to prove by force + Of argument, a man's no horse; + He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, + And that a lord may be an owl; + A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, + And rooks committee-men and trustees, + He'd run in debt by disputation, + And pay with ratiocination: + All this by syllogism, true + In mood and figure, he would do. + For rhetoric, he could not ope + His mouth, but out there flew a trope; + And when he happened to break off + I' th' middle of his speech, or cough, + H' had hard words, ready to show why, + And tell what rules he did it by: + Else when with greatest art he spoke, + You'd think he talk'd like other folk, + For all a rhetorician's rules + Teach nothing but to name his tools. + But, when he pleas'd to show't his speech + In loftiness of sound was rich; + A Babylonish dialect, + Which learned pedants much affect: + It was a party-coloured dress + Of patch'd and pye-ball'd languages; + 'Twas English cut on Greek and Latin, + Like fustian heretofore on satin. + It had an odd promiscuous tone, + As if h' had talk'd three parts in one; + Which made some think when he did gabble, + Th' had heard three labourers of Babel; + Or Cerberus himself pronounce + A leash of languages at once. + This he as volubly would vent + As if his stock would ne'er be spent; + And truly, to support that charge, + He had supplies as vast as large: + For he could coin or counterfeit + New words with little or no wit: + Words so debas'd and hard, no stone + Was hard enough to touch them on: + And when with hasty noise he spoke 'em, + The ignorant for current took 'em, + That had the orator who once + Did fill his mouth with pebble-stones + When he harangu'd but known his phrase, + He would have us'd no other ways. + In mathematics he was greater + Then Tycho Brahe, or Erra Pater: + For he, by geometric scale, + Could take the size of pots of ale; + Resolve by sines and tangents, straight, + If bread and butter wanted weight; + And wisely tell what hour o' th' day + The clock does strike by algebra. + Beside, he was a shrewd philosopher, + And had read ev'ry text and gloss over; + Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath, + He understood b' implicit faith: + Whatever sceptic could inquire for, + For every _why_ he had a _wherefore_, + Knew more than forty of them do, + As far as words and terms could go. + All which he understood by rote, + And as occasion serv'd, would quote: + No matter whether right or wrong, + They must be either said or sung. + His notions fitted things so well, + That which was which he could not tell; + But oftentimes mistook the one + For th' other, as great clerks have done. + He cou'd reduce all things to acts, + And knew their natures by abstracts; + Where entity and quiddity, + The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly; + Where Truth in persons does appear, + Like words congeal'd in northern air. + He knew what's what, and that's as high + As metaphysic wit can fly. + In school divinity as able, + As he that hight, Irrefragable; + A second Thomas, or at once + To name them all, another Duns: + Profound in all the Nominal + And Real ways beyond them all; + For he a rope of sand could twist + As tough as learned Sorbonist: + And weave fine cobwebs, fit for scull; + That's empty when the moon is full: + Such as lodgings in a head + That's to be let unfurnished. + He could raise scruples dark and nice, + And after solve 'em in a trice, + As if divinity had catch'd + The itch, on purpose to be scratch'd; + Or, like a mountebank, did wound + And stab herself with doubts profound, + Only to show with how small pain + The sores of faith are cur'd again; + Although by woful proof we find, + They always leave a scar behind. + He knew the seat of paradise, + Cou'd tell in what degree it lies; + And, as he was dispos'd could prove it, + Below the moon, or else above it. + What Adam dream'd of when his bride + Came from her closet in his side; + Whether the devil tempted her + By a High-Dutch interpreter; + If either of them had a navel; + Who first made music malleable; + Whether the serpent, at the fall, + Had cloven feet, or none at all; + All this without a gloss or comment, + He could unriddle in a moment, + In proper terms such as men smatter, + When they throw out and miss the matter. + For his religion it was fit + To match his learning and his wit; + 'Twas Presbyterian true blue, + For he was of that stubborn crew + Of errant saints, whom all men grant + To be the true church militant: + Such as do build their faith upon + The holy text of pike and gun; + Decide all controversies by + Infallible artillery; + And prove their doctrine orthodox + By apostolic blows and knocks; + Call fire, and sword, and desolation, + A godly thorough reformation, + Which always must be carried on, + And still be doing, never done: + As if religion were intended + For nothing else but to be mended. + A sect whose chief devotion lies + In odd perverse antipathies: + In falling out with that or this, + And finding somewhat still amiss + More peevish, cross, and splenetic, + Than dog distract, or monkey sick + That with more care keep holiday + The wrong, than others the right way: + Compound for sins they are inclin'd to, + By damning those they have no mind to. + Still so perverse and opposite, + As if they worshipp'd God for spite. + The self-same thing they will abhor + One way, and long another for. + Free-will they one way disavow, + Another, nothing else allow. + + + +XV. THE CHARACTER OF A SMALL POET. + + From Butler's "Characters", a series of satirical portraits akin to + those of Theophrastus. + + +The Small Poet is one that would fain make himself that which nature +never meant him; like a fanatic that inspires himself with his own +whimsies. He sets up haberdasher of small poetry, with a very small +stock and no credit. He believes it is invention enough to find out +other men's wit; and whatsoever he lights upon, either in books or +company, he makes bold with as his own. This he puts together so +untowardly, that you may perceive his own wit as the rickets, by the +swelling disproportion of the joints. You may know his wit not to be +natural, 'tis so unquiet and troublesome in him: for as those that have +money but seldom, are always shaking their pockets when they have it, +so does he, when he thinks he has got something that will make him +appear witty. He is a perpetual talker; and you may know by the freedom +of his discourse that he came lightly by it, as thieves spend freely +what they get. He is like an Italian thief, that never robs but he +murders, to prevent discovery; so sure is he to cry down the man from +whom he purloins, that his petty larceny of wit may pass unsuspected. +He appears so over-concerned in all men's wits, as if they were but +disparagements of his own; and cries down all they do, as if they were +encroachments upon him. He takes jests from the owners and breaks them, +as justices do false weights, and pots that want measure. When he meets +with anything that is very good, he changes it into small money, like +three groats for a shilling, to serve several occasions. He disclaims +study, pretends to take things in motion, and to shoot flying, which +appears to be very true, by his often missing of his mark. As for +epithets, he always avoids those that are near akin to the sense. Such +matches are unlawful and not fit to be made by a Christian poet; and +therefore all his care is to choose out such as will serve, like a +wooden leg, to piece out a maimed verse that wants a foot or two, and +if they will but rhyme now and then into the bargain, or run upon a +letter, it is a work of supererogation. For similitudes, he likes the +hardest and most obscure best; for as ladies wear black patches to make +their complexions seem fairer than they are, so when an illustration is +more obscure than the sense that went before it, it must of necessity +make it appear clearer than it did; for contraries are best set off +with contraries. He has found out a new sort of poetical Georgics--a +trick of sowing wit like clover-grass on barren subjects, which would +yield nothing before. This is very useful for the times, wherein, some +men say, there is no room left for new invention. He will take three +grains of wit like the elixir, and, projecting it upon the iron age, +turn it immediately into gold. All the business of mankind has +presently vanished, the whole world has kept holiday; there has been no +men but heroes and poets, no women but nymphs and shepherdesses: trees +have borne fritters, and rivers flowed plum-porridge. When he writes, +he commonly steers the sense of his lines by the rhyme that is at the +end of them, as butchers do calves by the tail. For when he has made +one line, which is easy enough, and has found out some sturdy hard word +that will but rhyme, he will hammer the sense upon it, like a piece of +hot iron upon an anvil, into what form he pleases. There is no art in +the world so rich in terms as poetry; a whole dictionary is scarce able +to contain them; for there is hardly a pond, a sheep-walk, or a +gravel-pit in all Greece, but the ancient name of it is become a term +of art in poetry. By this means, small poets have such a stock of able +hard words lying by them, as dryades, hamadryades, aoenides, fauni, +nymphae, sylvani, &c. that signify nothing at all; and such a world of +pedantic terms of the same kind, as may serve to furnish all the new +inventions and "thorough reformations" that can happen between this and +Plato's great year. + + + + +ANDREW MARVELL. + +(1621-1678.) + + +XVI. NOSTRADAMUS'S PROPHECY. + + From _Political Satires and other Pieces_. It is curious to note + how much of the prophecy was actually fulfilled. + + + For faults and follies London's doom shall fix, + And she must sink in flames in "sixty-six"; + Fire-balls shall fly, but few shall see the train, + As far as from Whitehall to Pudding-Lane; + To burn the city, which again shall rise, + Beyond all hopes aspiring to the skies, + Where vengeance dwells. But there is one thing more + (Tho' its walls stand) shall bring the city low'r; + When legislators shall their trust betray, + Saving their own, shall give the rest away; + And those false men by th' easy people sent, + Give taxes to the King by Parliament; + When barefaced villains shall not blush to cheat + And chequer doors shall shut up Lombard Street. + When players come to act the part of queens, + Within the curtains, and behind the scenes: + When no man knows in whom to put his trust, + And e'en to rob the chequer shall be just, + When declarations, lies and every oath + Shall be in use at court, but faith and troth. + When two good kings shall be at Brentford town, + And when in London there shall not be one: + When the seat's given to a talking fool, + Whom wise men laugh at, and whom women rule; + A minister able only in his tongue + To make harsh empty speeches two hours long + When an old Scots Covenanter shall be + The champion for the English hierarchy: + When bishops shall lay all religion by, + And strive by law to establish tyranny, + When a lean treasurer shall in one year + Make himself fat, his King and people bare: + When the English Prince shall Englishmen despise, + And think French only loyal, Irish wise; + When wooden shoon shall be the English wear + And Magna Charta shall no more appear: + Then the English shall a greater tyrant know, + Than either Greek or Latin story show: + Their wives to 's lust exposed, their wealth to 's spoil, + With groans to fill his treasury they toil; + But like the Bellides must sigh in vain + For that still fill'd flows out as fast again; + Then they with envious eyes shall Belgium see, + And wish in vain Venetian liberty. + The frogs too late grown weary of their pain, + Shall pray to Jove to take him back again. + + + + +JOHN CLEIVELAND. + +(1613-1658.) + + +XVII. THE SCOTS APOSTASIE. + + From _Poems and Satires_, posthumously published in 1662. + + + Is't come to this? What shall the cheeks of fame + Stretch'd with the breath of learned Loudon's name, + Be flogg'd again? And that great piece of sense, + As rich in loyalty and eloquence, + Brought to the test be found a trick of state, + Like chemist's tinctures, proved adulterate; + The devil sure such language did achieve, + To cheat our unforewarned grand-dam Eve, + As this imposture found out to be sot + The experienced English to believe a Scot, + Who reconciled the Covenant's doubtful sense, + The Commons argument, or the City's pence? + Or did you doubt persistence in one good, + Would spoil the fabric of your brotherhood, + Projected first in such a forge of sin, + Was fit for the grand devil's hammering? + Or was't ambition that this damned fact + Should tell the world you know the sins you act? + The infamy this super-treason brings. + Blasts more than murders of your sixty kings; + A crime so black, as being advisedly done, + Those hold with these no competition. + Kings only suffered then; in this doth lie + The assassination of monarchy, + Beyond this sin no one step can be trod. + If not to attempt deposing of your God. + O, were you so engaged, that we might see + Heav'ns angry lightning 'bout your ears to flee, + Till you were shrivell'd to dust, and your cold land + Parch't to a drought beyond the Libyan sand! + But 'tis reserv'd till Heaven plague you worse; + The objects of an epidemic curse, + First, may your brethren, to whose viler ends + Your power hath bawded, cease to be your friends; + And prompted by the dictate of their reason; + And may their jealousies increase and breed + Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed. + In foreign nations may your loathed name be + A stigmatizing brand of infamy; + Till forced by general hate you cease to roam + The world, and for a plague live at home: + Till you resume your poverty, and be + Reduced to beg where none can be so free + To grant: and may your scabby land be all + Translated to a generall hospital. + Let not the sun afford one gentle ray, + To give you comfort of a summer's day; + But, as a guerdon for your traitorous war, + Love cherished only by the northern star. + No stranger deign to visit your rude coast, + And be, to all but banisht men, as lost. + And such in heightening of the indiction due + Let provok'd princes send them all to you. + Your State a chaos be, where not the law, + But power, your lives and liberties may give. + No subject 'mongst you keep a quiet breast + But each man strive through blood to be the best; + Till, for those miseries on us you've brought + By your own sword our just revenge be wrought. + To sum up all ... let your religion be + As your allegiance--maskt hypocrisie + Until when Charles shall be composed in dust + Perfum'd with epithets of good and just. + He saved--incensed Heaven may have forgot-- + To afford one act of mercy to a Scot: + Unless that Scot deny himself and do + What's easier far--Renounce his nation too. + + + + +JOHN DRYDEN. + +(1631-1700.) + + +XVIII. SATIRE ON THE DUTCH. + + Originally printed in broadside form, being written in the year + 1662. It was bitterly resented by the Dutch. + + + As needy gallants, in the scriv'ner's hands, + Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd lands; + The first fat buck of all the season'd sent, + And keeper takes no fee in compliment; + The dotage of some Englishmen is such, + To fawn on those, who ruin them, the Dutch. + They shall have all, rather than make a war + With those, who of the same religion are. + The Straits, the Guinea-trade, the herrings too; + Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you. + Some are resolv'd, not to find out the cheat, + But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat. + What injuries soe'er upon us fall, + Yet still the same religion answers all. + Religion wheedl'd us to civil war, + Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now wou'd spare. + Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true, + They have no more religion, faith! than you. + Int'rest's the God they worship in their state, + And we, I take it, have not much of that. + Well monarchies may own religion's name, + But states are atheists in their very frame. + They share a sin; and such proportions fall, + That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all. + Think on their rapine, falsehood, cruelty, + And that what once they were, they still wou'd be. + To one well-born th' affront is worse and more, + When he's abus'd and baffl'd by a boor. + With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do; + They've both ill nature and ill manners too. + Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation; + For they were bred ere manners were in fashion: + And their new commonwealth has set them free + Only from honour and civility. + Venetians do not more uncouthly ride, + Than did their lubber state mankind bestride. + Their sway became 'em with as ill a mien, + As their own paunches swell above their chin. + Yet is their empire no true growth but humour, + And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour. + As Cato did in Africk fruits display; + Let us before our eyes their Indies lay: + All loyal English will like him conclude; + Let Caesar live, and Carthage be subdu'd. + + + +XIX. MACFLECKNOE. + + This satire was written in reply to a savage poem by the dramatist, + Thomas Shadwell, entitled "The Medal of John Dayes". Dryden and + Shadwell had been friends, but the enmity begotten of political + opposition had separated them. Flecknoe, who gives the name to this + poem, and of whom Shadwell is treated as the son and heir, was a + dull poet who had always laid himself open to ridicule. It is not + known (says W.D. Christie in the _Globe_ Dryden) whether he had + ever given Dryden offence, but it is certain that his "Epigrams", + published in 1670, contain some lines addressed to Dryden of a + complimentary character. + + + All human things are subject to decay, + And, when fate summons, monarchs must obey; + This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young + Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long; + In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute, + Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute + This aged prince, now flourishing in peace, + And blest with issue of a large increase; + Worn out with business, did at length debate + To settle the succession of the state: + And, pond'ring, which of all his sons was fit + To reign, and wage immortal war with wit, + Cry'd, "'Tis resolv'd; for Nature pleads, that he + Should only rule, who most resembles me. + Shadwell alone my perfect image bears, + Mature in dulness from his tender years: + Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he, + Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity. + The rest to some faint meaning make pretence, + But Shadwell never deviates into sense. + Some beams of wit on other souls may fall, + Strike through, and make a lucid interval; + But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray, + His rising fogs prevail upon the day. + Besides, his goodly fabrick fills the eye, + And seems design'd for thoughtless majesty: + Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that shade the plain + And, spread in solemn state, supinely reign. + Heywood and Shirley were but types of thee, + Thou last great prophet of tautology. + Even I, a dunce of more renown than they, + Was sent before but to prepare thy way; + And, coarsely clad in Norwich drugget, came + To teach the nations in thy greater name. + My warbling lute, the lute I whilom strung, + When to King John of Portugal I sung, + Was but the prelude to that glorious day, + When thou on silver Thames didst cut thy way, + With well-tim'd oars before the royal barge. + Swell'd with the pride of thy celestial charge; + And big with hymn, commander of an host, + The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets tost. + Methinks I see the new Arion fail, + The lute still trembling underneath thy nail. + At thy well-sharpened thumb, from shore to shore, + The trebles squeak with fear, the basses roar: + Echoes from Pissing-Alley Shadwell call, + And Shadwell they resound from Aston-Hall. + About thy boat the little fishes throng + As at the morning toast, that floats along. + Sometimes, as prince of thy harmonious band, + Thou wield'st thy papers in thy threshing hand. + St. Andre's feet ne'er kept more equal time, + Not ev'n the feet of thy own Psyche's rime: + Though they in number as in sense excel; + So just, so like tautology, they fell, + That, pale with envy, Singleton forswore + The lute and sword which he in triumph bore, + And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius more." + Here stopt the good old sire, and wept for joy, + In silent raptures of the hopeful boy. + All arguments, but most his plays, persuade, + That for anointed dulness he was made. + Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind, + (The fair Augusta much to fears inclin'd) + An ancient fabric, rais'd t' inform the sight + There stood of yore, and Barbican it hight: + A watch-tower once; but now so fate ordains, + Of all the pile an empty name remains: + From its old ruins brothel-houses rise, + Scenes of lewd loves, and of polluted joys, + Where their vast courts the mother-strumpets keep, + And, undisturb'd by watch, in silence sleep. + Near these a nursery erects its head + Where queens are form'd, and future heroes bred; + Where unfledg'd actors learn to laugh and cry, + Where infant punks their tender voices try, + And little Maximins the gods defy. + Great Fletcher never treads in buskins here, + Nor greater Jonson dares in socks appear; + But gentle Simkin just reception finds + Amidst this monument of vanish'd minds: + Poor clinches the suburbian Muse affords, + And Panton waging harmless war with words. + Here Flecknoe, as a place to fame well known, + Ambitiously design'd his Shadwell's throne. + For ancient Dekker prophesy'd long since, + That in this pile should reign a mighty prince, + Born for a scourge of wit, and flail of sense: + To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe, + But worlds of misers from his pen should flow; + Humorists and hypocrites it should produce, + Whole Raymond families, and tribes of Bruce. + Now Empress Fame had publish'd the renown + Of Shadwell's coronation through the town. + Rous'd by report of fame, the nations meet, + From near Bunhill, and distant Watling-street. + No Persian carpets spread th' imperial way, + But scatter'd limbs of mangled Poets lay; + From dusty shops neglected authors come, + Martyrs of pies, and reliques of the bum. + Much Heywood, Shirley, Ogleby there lay, + But loads of Shadwell almost chok'd the way. + Bilk'd stationers for yeomen stood prepar'd, + And Herringman was captain of the guard. + The hoary prince in majesty appear'd, + High on a throne of his own labours rear'd. + At his right hand our young Ascanius sate, + Rome's other hope, and pillar of the state. + His brows thick fogs, instead of glories, grace, + And lambent dulness play'd around his face. + As Hannibal did to the altars come, + Swore by his sire a mortal foe to Rome; + So Shadwell swore, nor should his vow be vain, + That he till death true dulness would maintain; + And, in his father's right, and realm's defence, + Ne'er to have peace with wit, nor truce with sense. + The king himself the sacred unction made, + As king by office, and as priest by trade. + In his sinister hand, instead of ball, + He plac'd a mighty mug of potent ale; + Love's kingdom to his right he did convey, + At once his sceptre, and his rule of sway; + Whose righteous lore the prince had practis'd young, + And from whose loins recorded Psyche sprung. + His temples, last, with poppies were o'erspread + That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head. + Just at the point of time, if Fame not lie, + On his left hand twelve reverend owls did fly. + So Romulus, 'tis sung, by Tiber's brook, + Presage of sway from twice six vultures took. + Th' admiring throng loud acclamations make, + And omens of his future empire take. + The sire then shook the honours of his head, + And from his brows damps of oblivion shed + Full on the filial dulness: Long he stood, + Repelling from his breast the raging god: + At length burst out in this prophetic mood. + "Heav'ns! bless my son! from Ireland let him reign + To far Barbadoes on the western main; + Of his dominion may no end be known, + And greater than his father's be his throne; + Beyond Love's kingdom let him stretch his pen!--" + He paus'd, and all the people cry'd "Amen". + Then thus continu'd he: "My son, advance + Still in new impudence, new ignorance. + Success let others teach, learn thou from me + Pangs without birth, and fruitless industry. + Let Virtuosos in five years be writ; + Yet not one thought accuse thy toil of wit. + Let gentle George in triumph tread the stage, + Make Dorimant betray, and Loveit rage; + Let Cully, Cockwood, Fopling, charm the pit, + And in their folly show the writer's wit. + Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence, + And justify their authors' want of sense. + Let 'em be all by thy own model made + Of dulness, and desire no foreign aid; + That they to future ages may be known, + Not copies drawn, but issue of thy own. + Nay, let thy men of wit too be the same, + All full of thee, and diff'ring but in name. + But let no alien Sedley interpose, + To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose. + And when false flowers of rhetorick thou would'st cull, + Trust Nature, do not labour to be dull; + But write thy best, and top; and, in each line, + Sir Formal's oratory will be thine: + Sir Formal, though unsought, attends thy quill, + And does thy Northern Dedications fill. + Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame, + By arrogating Jonson's hostile name. + Let father Flecknoe fire thy mind with praise, + And uncle Ogleby thy envy raise. + Thou art my blood, where Jonson has no part: + What share have we in Nature or in Art? + Where did his wit on learning fix a brand, + And rail at arts he did not understand? + Where made he love in Prince Nicander's vein, + Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain? + Where sold he bargains, whip-stitch, kiss my arse, + Promis'd a play, and dwindled to a farce? + When did his muse from Fletcher scenes purloin, + As thou whole Eth'ridge dost transfuse to thine? + But so transfus'd, as oil and waters flow, + His always floats above, thine sinks below. + This is thy province, this thy wondrous way, + New humours to invent for each new play: + This is that boasted bias of thy mind, + By which, one way, to dulness 'tis inclin'd: + Which makes thy writings lean on one side still, + And, in all changes, that way bends thy will. + Nor let thy mountain-belly make pretence + Of likeness; thine's a tympany of sense. + A tun of man in thy large bulk is writ, + But sure thou'rt but a kilderkin of wit. + Like mine, thy gentle numbers feebly creep; + Thy tragic muse gives smiles, thy comic sleep. + With whate'er gall thou set'st thyself to write, + Thy inoffensive satires never bite. + In thy felonious heart though venom lies, + It does but touch thy Irish pen, and dies. + Thy genius calls thee not to purchase fame + In keen Iambics, but mild Anagram. + Leave writing plays, and choose for thy command + Some peaceful province in acrostic land, + There thou may'st wings display and altars raise, + And torture one poor word ten thousand ways. + Or if thou would'st thy different talents suit, + Set thy own songs, and sing them to thy lute." + He said: But his last words were scarcely heard: + For Bruce and Longvil had a trap prepar'd, + And down they sent the yet declaiming bard. + Sinking he left his drugget robe behind, + Borne upwards by a subterranean wind. + The mantle fell to the young prophet's part, + With double portion of his father's art. + + + +XX. EPISTLE TO THE WHIGS. + + This excellent specimen of Dryden's prose satire was prefixed to + his satiric poem "The Medal", published in March, 1682. It was + inspired by the striking of a medal to commemorate the rejection by + the London Grand Jury, on November 24, 1681, of a Bill of High + Treason presented against Lord Shaftesbury. This event had been a + great victory for the Whigs and a discomfiture for the Court. + + +For to whom can I dedicate this poem, with so much justice, as to you? +'Tis the representation of your own hero: 'Tis the picture drawn at +length, which you admire and prize so much in little. None of your +ornaments are wanting; neither the landscape of the tower, nor the +rising sun; nor the Anno Domini of your new sovereign's coronation. +This must needs be a grateful undertaking to your whole party; +especially to those who have not been so happy as to purchase the +original. I hear the graver has made a good market of it: all his Kings +are bought up already; or the value of the remainder so enhanced, that +many a poor Polander, who would be glad to worship the image, is not +able to go to the cost of him; but must be content to see him here. I +must confess, I am no great artist; but sign-post-painting will serve +the turn to remember a friend by, especially when better is not to be +had. Yet, for your comfort, the lineaments are true: and though he sat +not five times to me, as he did to B. yet I have consulted history; as +the Italian painters do, when they would draw a Nero or a Caligula; +though they have not seen the man, they can help their imagination by a +statue of him, and find out the colouring from Suetonius and Tacitus. +Truth is, you might have spared one side of your medal: the head would +be seen to more advantage, if it were placed on a spike of the tower; a +little nearer to the sun; which would then break out to better purpose. +You tell us, in your preface to the _No-Protestant Plot_, that you +shall be forced hereafter to leave off your modesty. I suppose you mean +that little, which is left you: for it was worn to rags when you put +out this medal. Never was there practised such a piece of notorious +impudence in the face of an established Government. I believe, when he +is dead, you will wear him in thumb-rings, as the Turks did Scanderbeg; +as if there were virtue in his bones to preserve you against monarchy. +Yet all this while, you pretend not only zeal for the public good, but +a due veneration for the person of the king. But all men, who can see +an inch before them, may easily detect those gross fallacies. That it +is necessary for men in your circumstances to pretend both, is granted +you; for without them there could be no ground to raise a faction. But +I would ask you one civil question: What right has any man among you, +or any association of men (to come nearer to you) who, out of +Parliament cannot be consider'd in a public capacity, to meet, as you +daily do, in factious clubs, to vilify the Government in your +discourses, and to libel it in all your writings? Who made you judges +in Israel? Or how is it consistent with your zeal for the public +welfare, to promote sedition? Does your definition of _loyal_, which is +to serve the King according to the laws, allow you the licence of +traducing the executive power, with which you own he is invested? You +complain, that his Majesty has lost the love and confidence of his +people; and, by your very urging it, you endeavour, what in you lies, +to make him lose them. All good subjects abhor the thought of +arbitrary power, whether it be in one or many; if you were the patriots +you would seem, you would not at this rate incense the multitude to +assume it; for no sober man can fear it, either from the King's +disposition or his practice; or even, where you would odiously lay it, +from his ministers. Give us leave to enjoy the Government, and the +benefit of laws, under which we were born, and which we desire to +transmit to our posterity. You are not the trustees of the public +liberty; and if you have not right to petition in a crowd, much less +have you to intermeddle in the management of affairs, or to arraign +what you do not like; which in effect is everything that is done by the +King and Council. Can you imagine, that any reasonable man will believe +you respect the person of his Majesty, when 'tis apparent that your +seditious pamphlets are stuffed with particular reflections on him? If +you have the confidence to deny this, 'tis easy to be evinced from a +thousand passages, which I only forbear to quote because I desire they +should die and be forgotten. I have perused many of your papers; and to +show you that I have, the third part of your _No-Protestant Plot_ is +much of it stolen from your dead author's pamphlet called the _Growth +of Popery_; as manifestly as Milton's defence of the English people is +from Buchanan, _de jure regni apud Scotos_; or your first covenant, and +new association, from the holy league of the French Guisards. Anyone, +who reads Davila, may trace your practices all along. There were the +same pretences for reformation and loyalty, the same aspersions of the +King, and the same grounds of a rebellion. I know not whether you will +take the historian's word, who says, it was reported, that Poltrot a +Huguenot murder'd Francis Duke of Guise, by the instigations of +Theodore Beza; or that it was a Huguenot minister, otherwise called a +Presbyterian (for our Church abhors so devilish a tenet) who first +writ a treatise of the lawfulness of deposing and murdering Kings, of a +different persuasion in religion. But I am able to prove from the +doctrine of Calvin, and principles of Buchanan, that they set the +people above the magistrate; which, if I mistake not, is your own +fundamental; and which carries your loyalty no farther than your +liking. When a vote of the House of Commons goes on your side, you are +as ready to observe it, as if it were passed into a law: but when you +are pinch'd with any former, and yet unrepealed, Act of Parliament, you +declare that in some cases you will not be obliged by it. The passage +is in the same third part of the _No-Protestant Plot_; and is too plain +to be denied. The late copy of your intended association you neither +wholly justify nor condemn: but as the Papists, when they are +unoppos'd, fly out into all the pageantries of worship, but, in times +of war, when they are hard pressed by arguments, lie close intrenched +behind the Council of Trent; so, now, when your affairs are in a low +condition, you dare not pretend that to be a legal combination; but +whensover you are afloat, I doubt not but it will be maintained and +justified to purpose. For indeed there is nothing to defend it but the +sword: 'Tis the proper time to say anything, when men have all things +in their power. + +In the meantime, you would fain be nibbling at a parallel betwixt this +association, and that in the time of Queen Elizabeth. But there is this +small difference betwixt them, that the ends of the one are directly +opposite to the other: one with the Queen's approbation and +conjunction, as head of it; the other, without either the consent or +knowledge of the King, against whose authority it is manifestly +design'd. Therefore you do well to have recourse to your last evasion, +that it was contriv'd by your enemies, and shuffled into the papers +that were seized; which yet you see the nation is not so easy to +believe, as your own jury. But the matter is not difficult, to find +twelve men in Newgate, who would acquit a malefactor. + +I have one only favour to desire of you at parting; that, when you +think of answering this poem, you would employ the same pens against +it, who have combated with so much success against Absalom and +Achitophel: for then you may assure yourselves of a clear victory, +without the least reply. Rail at me abundantly; and, not to break a +custom, do it without wit. By this method you will gain a considerable +point, which is, wholly to waive the answer of my argument. Never own +the bottom of your principles, for fear they should be treason. Fall +severely on the miscarriages of Government; for if scandal be not +allowed, you are no free-born subjects. If GOD has not blessed you with +the talent of rhyming, make use of my poor stock and welcome; let your +verses run upon my feet: and for the utmost refuge of notorious +blockheads, reduced to the last extremity of sense, turn my own lines +upon me, and, in utter despair of your own satire, make me satirize +myself. Some of you have been driven to this bay already; but above all +the rest, commend me to the Non-conformist parson, who writ _The Whip +and Key_. I am afraid it is not read so much as the piece deserves, +because the bookseller is every week crying Help, at the end of his +Gazette, to get it off. You see I am charitable enough to do him a +kindness, that it may be published as well as printed; and that so much +skill in Hebrew derivations may not lie for waste-paper in the shop. +Yet I half suspect he went no farther for his learning, than the index +of Hebrew names and etymologies, which is printed at the end of some +English bibles. If Achitophel signify the brother of a fool, the author +of that poem will pass with his readers for the next of kin. And, +perhaps, 'tis the relation that makes the kindness. Whatever the verses +are, buy them up, I beseech you, out of pity; for I hear the +conventicle is shut up, and the brother of Achitophel out of service. + +Now footmen, you know, have the generosity to make a purse, for a +member of their society, who has had his livery pulled over his ears: +and even Protestant flocks are brought up among you, out of veneration +to the name. A dissenter in poetry from sense and English, will make as +good a Protestant rhymer, as a dissenter from the Church of England a +Protestant parson. Besides, if you encourage a young beginner, who +knows but he may elevate his style a little, above the vulgar epithets +of profane and saucy Jack, and atheistic scribbler, with which he +treats me, when the fit of enthusiasm is strong upon him? By which +well-manner'd and charitable expressions, I was certain of his sect, +before I knew his name. What would you have more of a man? He has +damned me in your cause from Genesis to the Revelations; and has half +the texts of both the Testaments against me, if you will be so civil to +yourselves as to take him for your interpreter, and not to take them +for Irish witnesses. After all, perhaps, you will tell me, that you +retained him only for the opening of your cause, and that your main +lawyer is yet behind. Now, if it so happen he meet with no more reply +than his predecessors, you may either conclude, that I trust to the +goodness of my cause, or fear my adversary, or disdain him, or what you +please; for the short on it is, it is indifferent to your humble +servant, whatever your party says or thinks of him. + + + + +DANIEL DEFOE. + +(1661-1734) + + +XXI. INTRODUCTION TO THE TRUE-BORN ENGLISHMAN. + + "The True-born Englishman" was a metrical satire designed to defend + the king, William III., against the attacks made upon him over the + admission of foreigners into public offices and posts of + responsibility. + + + Speak, satire; for there's none can tell like thee + Whether 'tis folly, pride, or knavery + That makes this discontented land appear + Less happy now in times of peace than war? + Why civil feuds disturb the nation more + Than all our bloody wars have done before? + Fools out of favour grudge at knaves in place, + And men are always honest in disgrace; + The court preferments make men knaves in course, + But they which would be in them would be worse. + 'Tis not at foreigners that we repine, + Would foreigners their perquisites resign: + The grand contention's plainly to be seen, + To get some men put out, and some put in. + For this our senators make long harangues, + And florid members whet their polished tongues. + Statesmen are always sick of one disease, + And a good pension gives them present ease: + That's the specific makes them all content + With any king and any government. + Good patriots at court abuses rail, + And all the nation's grievances bewail; + But when the sovereign's balsam's once applied, + The zealot never fails to change his side; + And when he must the golden key resign, + The railing spirit comes about again. + Who shall this bubbled nation disabuse, + While they their own felicities refuse, + Who the wars have made such mighty pother, + And now are falling out with one another: + With needless fears the jealous nation fill, + And always have been saved against their will: + Who fifty millions sterling have disbursed, + To be with peace and too much plenty cursed: + Who their old monarch eagerly undo, + And yet uneasily obey the new? + Search, satire, search; a deep incision make; + The poison's strong, the antidote's too weak. + 'Tis pointed truth must manage this dispute, + And downright English, Englishmen confute. + Whet thy just anger at the nation's pride, + And with keen phrase repel the vicious tide; + To Englishmen their own beginnings show, + And ask them why they slight their neighbours so. + Go back to elder times and ages past, + And nations into long oblivion cast; + To old Britannia's youthful days retire, + And there for true-born Englishmen inquire. + Britannia freely will disown the name, + And hardly knows herself from whence they came: + Wonders that they of all men should pretend + To birth and blood, and for a name contend. + Go back to causes where our follies dwell, + And fetch the dark original from hell: + Speak, satire, for there's none like thee can tell. + + + + +THE EARL OF DORSET. + +(1637-1705.) + + +XXII. SATIRE ON A CONCEITED PLAYWRIGHT. + + The person against whom this attack was directed was Edward Howard, + author of _The British Princess_. + + + Thou damn'd antipodes to common-sense, + Thou foil to Flecknoe, pr'ythee tell from whence + Does all this mighty stock of dulness spring? + Is it thy own, or hast it from Snow-hill, + Assisted by some ballad-making quill? + No, they fly higher yet, thy plays are such, + I'd swear they were translated out of Dutch. + Fain would I know what diet thou dost keep, + If thou dost always, or dost never sleep? + Sure hasty-pudding is thy chiefest dish, + With bullock's liver, or some stinking fish: + Garbage, ox-cheeks, and tripes, do feast thy brain, + Which nobly pays this tribute back again. + With daisy-roots thy dwarfish Muse is fed, + A giant's body with a pigmy's head. + Canst thou not find, among thy numerous race + Of kindred, one to tell thee that thy plays + Are laught at by the pit, box, galleries, nay, stage? + Think on't a while, and thou wilt quickly find + Thy body made for labour, not thy mind. + No other use of paper thou shouldst make + Than carrying loads and reams upon thy back. + Carry vast burdens till thy shoulders shrink, + But curst be he that gives thee pen and ink: + Such dangerous weapons should be kept from fools, + As nurses from their children keep edg'd tools: + For thy dull fancy a muckinder is fit + To wipe the slobberings of thy snotty wit: + And though 'tis late, if justice could be found, + Thy plays like blind-born puppies should be drown'd. + For were it not that we respect afford + Unto the son of an heroic lord, + Thine in the ducking-stool should take her seat, + Drest like herself in a great chair of state; + Where like a Muse of quality she'd die, + And thou thyself shalt make her elegy, + In the same strain thou writ'st thy comedy. + + + + +JOHN ARBUTHNOT. + +(1667-1735.) + + +XXIII. PREFACE TO JOHN BULL AND HIS LAW-SUIT. + + First published as a political pamphlet, this piece had an + extraordinary run of popularity. It was originally issued in four + parts, but these afterwards were reduced to two, without any + omission, however, of matter. They appeared during the years + 1712-13, and the satire was finally published in book form in 1714. + The author was the intimate friend of Swift, Pope, and Gay. The + volume was exceedingly popular in Tory circles. The examples I have + selected are "The Preface" and also the opening chapters of the + history, which I have made to run on without breaking them up into + the short divisions of the text. + + +When I was first called to the office of historiographer to John Bull, +he expressed himself to this purpose: "Sir Humphrey Polesworth[166], I +know you are a plain dealer; it is for that reason I have chosen you +for this important trust; speak the truth and spare not". That I might +fulfil those his honourable intentions, I obtained leave to repair to, +and attend him in his most secret retirements; and I put the journals +of all transactions into a strong box, to be opened at a fitting +occasion, after the manner of the historiographers of some eastern +monarchs: this I thought was the safest way; though I declare I was +never afraid to be chopped[167] by my master for telling of truth. It +is from those journals that my memoirs are compiled: therefore let not +posterity a thousand years hence look for truth in the voluminous +annals of pedants, who are entirely ignorant of the secret springs of +great actions; if they do, let me tell them they will be nebused.[168] + +With incredible pains have I endeavoured to copy the several beauties +of the ancient and modern historians; the impartial temper of +Herodotus, the gravity, austerity, and strict morals of Thucydides, the +extensive knowledge of Xenophon, the sublimity and grandeur of Titus +Livius; and to avoid the careless style of Polybius, I have borrowed +considerable ornaments from Dionysius Halicarnasseus, and Diodorus +Siculus. The specious gilding of Tacitus I have endeavoured to shun. +Mariana, Davila, and Fra. Paulo, are those amongst the moderns whom I +thought most worthy of imitation; but I cannot be so disingenuous, as +not to own the infinite obligations I have to the _Pilgrim's Progress_ +of John Bunyan, and the _Tenter Belly_ of the Reverend Joseph Hall. + +From such encouragement and helps, it is easy to guess to what a degree +of perfection I might have brought this great work, had it not been +nipped in the bud by some illiterate people in both Houses of +Parliament, who envying the great figure I was to make in future ages, +under pretence of raising money for the war,[169] have padlocked all +those very pens that were to celebrate the actions of their heroes, by +silencing at once the whole university of Grub Street. I am persuaded +that nothing but the prospect of an approaching peace could have +encouraged them to make so bold a step. But suffer me, in the name of +the rest of the matriculates of that famous university, to ask them +some plain questions: Do they think that peace will bring along with it +the golden age? Will there be never a dying speech of a traitor? Are +Cethegus and Catiline turned so tame, that there will be no opportunity +to cry about the streets, "A Dangerous Plot"? Will peace bring such +plenty that no gentleman will have occasion to go upon the highway, or +break into a house? I am sorry that the world should be so much imposed +upon by the dreams of a false prophet, as to imagine the Millennium is +at hand. O Grub Street! thou fruitful nursery of towering geniuses! How +do I lament thy downfall? Thy ruin could never be meditated by any who +meant well to English liberty. No modern lyceum will ever equal thy +glory: whether in soft pastorals thou didst sing the flames of pampered +apprentices and coy cook-maids; or mournful ditties of departing +lovers; or if to Maeonian strains thou raisedst thy voice, to record the +stratagems, the arduous exploits, and the nocturnal scalade of needy +heroes, the terror of your peaceful citizens, describing the powerful +Betty or the artful Picklock, or the secret caverns and grottoes of +Vulcan sweating at his forge, and stamping the queen's image on viler +metals which he retails for beef and pots of ale; or if thou wert +content in simple narrative, to relate the cruel acts of implacable +revenge, or the complaint of ravished virgins blushing to tell their +adventures before the listening crowd of city damsels, whilst in thy +faithful history thou intermingledst the gravest counsels and the +purest morals. Nor less acute and piercing wert thou in thy search and +pompous descriptions of the works of nature; whether in proper and +emphatic terms thou didst paint the blazing comet's fiery tail, the +stupendous force of dreadful thunder and earthquakes, and the +unrelenting inundations. Sometimes, with Machiavelian sagacity, thou +unravelledst intrigues of state, and the traitorous conspiracies of +rebels, giving wise counsel to monarchs. How didst thou move our terror +and our pity with thy passionate scenes between Jack Catch and the +heroes of the Old Bailey? How didst thou describe their intrepid march +up Holborn Hill? Nor didst thou shine less in thy theological capacity, +when thou gavest ghostly counsels to dying felons, and didst record the +guilty pangs of Sabbath-breakers. How will the noble arts of John +Overton's[170] painting and sculpture now languish? where rich +invention, proper expression, correct design, divine attitudes, and +artful contrast, heightened with the beauties of clar. obscur., +embellished thy celebrated pieces, to the delight and astonishment of +the judicious multitude! Adieu, persuasive eloquence! the quaint +metaphor, the poignant irony, the proper epithet, and the lively +simile, are fled for ever! Instead of these, we shall have, I know not +what! The illiterate will tell the rest with pleasure. + +I hope the reader will excuse this digression, due by way of condolence +to my worthy brethren of Grub Street, for the approaching barbarity +that is likely to overspread all its regions by this oppressive and +exorbitant tax. It has been my good fortune to receive my education +there; and so long as I preserved some figure and rank amongst the +learned of that society, I scorned to take my degree either at Utrecht +or Leyden, though I was offered it gratis by the professors in those +universities. + +And now that posterity may not be ignorant in what age so excellent a +history was written (which would otherwise, no doubt, be the subject +of its inquiries), I think it proper to inform the learned of future +times, that it was compiled when Louis XIV. was King of France, and +Philip, his grandson, of Spain; when England and Holland, in +conjunction with the Emperor and the Allies, entered into a war against +these two princes, which lasted ten years under the management of the +Duke of Marlborough, and was put to a conclusion by the Treaty of +Utrecht, under the ministry of the Earl of Oxford, in the year 1713. + +Many at that time did imagine the history of John Bull, and the +personages mentioned in it, to be allegorical, which the author would +never own. Notwithstanding, to indulge the reader's fancy and +curiosity, I have printed at the bottom of the page the supposed +allusions of the most obscure parts of the story. + +[Footnote 166: A Member of Parliament, eminent for a certain cant in +his conversation, of which there is a good deal in this book.] + +[Footnote 167: A cant word of Sir Humphrey's.] + +[Footnote 168: Another cant word, signifying deceived.] + +[Footnote 169: Act restraining the liberty of the press, &c.] + +[Footnote 170: The engraver of the cuts before the Grub Street papers.] + + + +XXIV. THE HISTORY OF JOHN BULL. + + The Occasion of the Law-suit. + + +I need not tell you of the great quarrels that have happened in our +neighbourhood since the death of the late Lord Strutt[171]; how the +parson[172] and a cunning attorney got him to settle his estate upon +his cousin Philip Baboon, to the great disappointment of his cousin +Esquire South. Some stick not to say that the parson and the attorney +forged a will; for which they were well paid by the family of the +Baboons. Let that be as it will, it is matter of fact that the honour +and estate have continued ever since in the person of Philip Baboon. + +You know that the Lord Strutts have for many years been possessed of a +very great landed estate, well-conditioned, wooded, watered, with coal, +salt, tin, copper, iron, &c., all within themselves; that it has been +the misfortune of that family to be the property of their stewards, +tradesmen, and inferior servants, which has brought great incumbrances +upon them; at the same time, their not abating of their expensive way +of living has forced them to mortgage their best manors. It is credibly +reported that the butcher's and baker's bill of a Lord Strutt that +lived two hundred years ago are not yet paid. + +When Philip Baboon came first to the possession of the Lord Strutt's +estate, his tradesmen,[173] as is usual upon such occasion, waited upon +him to wish him joy and bespeak his custom. The two chief were John +Bull,[174] the clothier, and Nic. Frog,[175] the linen-draper. They +told him that the Bulls and Frogs had served the Lord Strutts with +drapery-ware for many years; that they were honest and fair dealers; +that their bills had never been questioned, that the Lord Strutts lived +generously, and never used to dirty their fingers with pen, ink, and +counters; that his lordship might depend upon their honesty that they +would use him as kindly as they had done his predecessors. The young +lord seemed to take all in good part, and dismissed them with a deal of +seeming content, assuring them he did not intend to change any of the +honourable maxims of his predecessors. + + + + How Bull and Frog grew jealous that the Lord Strutt intended to + give all his custom to his grandfather, Lewis Baboon. + + +It happened unfortunately for the peace of our neighbourhood that +this young lord had an old cunning rogue, or, as the Scots call it, +a false loon of a grandfather, that one might justly call a +Jack-of-all-Trades.[176] Sometimes you would see him behind his +counter selling broadcloth, sometimes measuring linen; next day he +would be dealing in mercery-ware. High heads, ribbons, gloves, fans, +and lace he understood to a nicety. Charles Mather could not bubble a +young beau better with a toy; nay, he would descend even to the selling +of tape, garters, and shoe-buckles. When shop was shut up he would go +about the neighbourhood and earn half-a-crown by teaching the young men +and maids to dance. By these methods he had acquired immense riches, +which he used to squander[177] away at back-sword, quarter-staff, and +cudgel-play, in which he took great pleasure, and challenged all the +country. You will say it is no wonder if Bull and Frog should be +jealous of this fellow. "It is not impossible," says Frog to Bull, "but +this old rogue will take the management of the young lord's business +into his hands; besides, the rascal has good ware, and will serve him +as cheap as anybody. In that case, I leave you to judge what must +become of us and our families; we must starve, or turn journeyman to +old Lewis Baboon. Therefore, neighbour, I hold it advisable that we +write to young Lord Strutt to know the bottom of this matter." + + + + A Copy of Bull and Frog's Letter to Lord Strutt. + + +My Lord,--I suppose your lordship knows that the Bulls and the Frogs +have served the Lord Strutts with all sorts of drapery-ware time out of +mind. And whereas we are jealous, not without reason, that your +lordship intends henceforth to buy of your grandsire old Lewis Baboon, +this is to inform your lordship that this proceeding does not suit with +the circumstances of our families, who have lived and made a good +figure in the world by the generosity of the Lord Strutts. Therefore we +think fit to acquaint your lordship that you must find sufficient +security to us, our heirs, and assigns that you will not employ Lewis +Baboon, or else we will take our remedy at law, clap an action upon you +of L20,000 for old debts, seize and distrain your goods and chattels, +which, considering your lordship's circumstances, will plunge you into +difficulties, from which it will not be easy to extricate yourself. +Therefore we hope, when your lordship has better considered on it, you +will comply with the desire of + +Your loving friends, + +JOHN BULL. +NIC. FROG. + + +Some of Bull's friends advised him to take gentler methods with the +young lord, but John naturally loved rough play. It is impossible to +express the surprise of the Lord Strutt upon the receipt of this +letter. He was not flush in ready money either to go to law or clear +old debts, neither could he find good bail. He offered to bring matters +to a friendly accommodation, and promised, upon his word of honour, +that he would not change his drapers; but all to no purpose, for Bull +and Frog saw clearly that old Lewis would have the cheating of him. + + + + How Bull and Frog went to law with Lord Strutt about the premises, + and were joined by the rest of the tradesmen. + + +All endeavours of accommodation between Lord Strutt and his drapers +proved vain. Jealousies increased, and, indeed, it was rumoured abroad +that Lord Strutt had bespoke his new liveries of old Lewis Baboon. This +coming to Mrs. Bull's ears, when John Bull came home, he found all his +family in an uproar. Mrs. Bull, you must know, was very apt to be +choleric. "You sot," says she, "you loiter about ale-houses and +taverns, spend your time at billiards, ninepins, or puppet-shows, or +flaunt about the streets in your new gilt chariot, never minding me nor +your numerous family. Don't you hear how Lord Strutt has bespoke his +liveries at Lewis Baboon's shop? Don't you see how that old fox steals +away your customers, and turns you out of your business every day, and +you sit like an idle drone, with your hands in your pockets? Fie upon +it. Up, man, rouse thyself; I'll sell to my shift before I'll be so +used by that knave."[178] You must think Mrs. Bull had been pretty well +tuned up by Frog, who chimed in with her learned harangue. No further +delay now, but to counsel learned in the law they go, who unanimously +assured them both of justice and infallible success of their lawsuit. + +I told you before that old Lewis Baboon was a sort of a +Jack-of-all-trades, which made the rest of the tradesmen jealous, as +well as Bull and Frog; they, hearing of the quarrel, were glad of an +opportunity of joining against old Lewis Baboon, provided that Bull and +Frog would bear the charges of the suit. Even lying Ned, the +chimney-sweeper of Savoy, and Tom, the Portugal dustman, put in their +claims, and the cause was put into the hands of Humphry Hocus, the +attorney. + +A declaration was drawn up to show "That Bull and Frog had undoubted +right by prescription to be drapers to the Lord Strutts; that there +were several old contracts to that purpose; that Lewis Baboon had taken +up the trade of clothier and draper without serving his time or +purchasing his freedom; that he sold goods that were not marketable +without the stamp; that he himself was more fit for a bully than a +tradesman, and went about through all the country fairs challenging +people to fight prizes, wrestling and cudgel-play, and abundance more +to this purpose". + + + + The true characters of John Bull, Nic. Frog, and Hocus.[179] + + +For the better understanding the following history the reader ought to +know that Bull, in the main, was an honest, plain-dealing fellow, +choleric, bold, and of a very unconstant temper; he dreaded not old +Lewis either at back-sword, single falchion, or cudgel-play; but then +he was very apt to quarrel with his best friends, especially if they +pretended to govern him. If you flattered him you might lead him like a +child. John's temper depended very much upon the air; his spirits rose +and fell with the weather-glass. John was quick, and understood his +business very well, but no man alive was more careless in looking into +his accounts, or more cheated by partners, apprentices, and servants. +This was occasioned by his being a boon companion, loving his bottle +and his diversion; for, to say truth, no man kept a better house than +John, nor spent his money more generously. By plain and fair dealing +John had acquired some plums, and might have kept them had it not been +for his unhappy lawsuit. + +Nic. Frog was a cunning, sly fellow, quite the reverse of John in many +particulars; covetous, frugal, minded domestic affairs, would pinch his +belly to save his pocket, never lost a farthing by careless servants or +bad debtors. He did not care much for any sort of diversion, except +tricks of high German artists and legerdemain. No man exceeded Nic. in +these; yet it must be owned that Nic. was a fair dealer, and in that +way acquired immense riches. + +Hocus was an old cunning attorney, and though this was the first +considerable suit that ever he was engaged in, he showed himself +superior in address to most of his profession. He kept always good +clerks, he loved money, was smooth-tongued, gave good words, and seldom +lost his temper. He was not worse than an infidel, for he provided +plentifully for his family, but he loved himself better than them all. +The neighbours reported that he was henpecked, which was impossible, by +such a mild-spirited woman as his wife was. + +[Footnote 171: late King of Spain.] + +[Footnote 172: Cardinal Portocarero.] + +[Footnote 173: The first letters of congratulation from King William +and the States of Holland upon King Philip's accession to the crown of +Spain.] + +[Footnote 174: The English.] + +[Footnote 175: The Dutch.] + +[Footnote 176: The character and trade of the French nation.] + +[Footnote 177: The King's disposition to war.] + +[Footnote 178: The sentiments and addresses of the Parliament at that +time.] + +[Footnote 179: Characters of the English and Dutch, and the General, +Duke of Marlborough.] + + + +XXV. EPITAPH UPON COLONEL CHARTRES. + + Swift was reported to have had a hand in this piece, and indeed for + some time it was ascribed to him. But there is now no doubt that it + was entirely the work of Arbuthnot. + + +Here continueth to rot the body of Francis Chartres; who, with an +inflexible constancy and inimitable uniformity of life, persisted, in +spite of age and infirmities, in the practice of every human vice +excepting prodigality and hypocrisy: his insatiable avarice exempted +him from the first, his matchless impudence from the second. + +Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his manners, +than successful in accumulating wealth. + +For, without trade or profession, without trust of public money, and +without bribe-worthy service, he acquired, or more properly created, a +ministerial estate. + +He was the only person of his time who could cheat without the mask of +honesty, retain his primeval meanness when possessed of ten thousand a +year; and, having daily deserved the gibbet for what he did, was at +last condemned to it for what he could not do. + +O indignant reader, think not his life useless to mankind, providence +connived at his execrable designs, to give to after-ages a conspicuous +proof and example of how small estimation is exorbitant wealth in the +sight of God, by his bestowing it on the most unworthy of all mortals. + + _Joannes jacet hic Mirandula--caetera norunt + Et Tagus et Ganges forsan et Antipodes_. + + Applied to F. C. + + Here Francis Chartres lies--be civil! + The rest God knows--perhaps the devil. + + + + +JONATHAN SWIFT. + +(1667-1745.) + + +XXVI. MRS. FRANCES HARRIS' PETITION. + + Written in the year 1701. The Lord Justices addressed were the + Earls of Berkeley and of Galway. The "Lady Betty" mentioned in the + piece was the Lady Betty Berkeley. "Lord Dromedary", the Earl of + Drogheda, and "The Chaplain", Swift himself. The author was at the + time smarting under a sense of disappointment over the failure of + his request to Lord Berkeley for preferment to the rich deanery of + Derry. + + +TO THEIR EXCELLENCIES THE LORD JUSTICES OF IRELAND. THE HUMBLE PETITION +OF FRANCES HARRIS, WHO MUST STARVE, AND DIE A MAID, IF IT MISCARRIES. +HUMBLY SHOWETH, + + That I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's chamber, because I was cold, + And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, + besides farthings, in money and gold: + So, because I had been buying things for my lady last night, + I was resolved to tell my money, and see if it was right. + Now you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock, + Therefore all the money I have, which God knows, is a very small stock, + I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next my smock. + So, when I went to put up my purse, as luck would have it, + my smock was unript, + And instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipt: + Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed; + And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe as my stupid head! + So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light: + But when I search'd and miss'd my purse, law! I thought I should have + sunk outright. + "Lawk, madam," says Mary, "how d'ye do?" "Indeed," says I, "never worse: + But pray, Mary, can you tell what I've done with my purse?" + "Lawk, help me!" said Mary; "I never stirred out of this place:" + "Nay," said I, "I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain case." + So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm: + However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm. + So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very well think, + But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink. + So I was a-dream'd, methought, that I went and search'd the folks round, + And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's box, tied in a rag the money was found. + So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a-swearing: + Then my dame Wadger came: and she, you know, is thick of hearing: + "Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you know what a loss + I have had?" + "Nay," said she, "my Lord Colway's folks are all very sad; + For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail." + "Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that I ail." + Says Cary, says he, "I've been a servant this five-and-twenty years + come spring, + And in all the places I lived I never heard of such a thing." + "Yes," says the Steward, "I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's, + Such a thing as this happen'd, just about the time of gooseberries." + So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief, + (Now, you must know, of all things in the world I hate a thief,) + However, I was resolved to bring the discourse slily about: + "Mrs. Dukes," said I, "here's an ugly accident has happen'd out: + 'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a mouse; + But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house. + 'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, makes a + great hole in my wages: + Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages. + Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and everybody understands, + That tho' 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands." + "The devil take me," said she (blessing herself), "if ever I saw't!" + So she roar'd like a Bedlam, as tho' I had called her all to nought. + So you know, what could I say to her any more? + I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before. + Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man: + "No," said I, "'tis the same thing, the chaplain will be here anon." + So the chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart, + Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part. + So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd, + "Parson," said I, "can you cast a nativity when a body's plunder'd?" + (Now you must know, he hates to be called _parson_, like the devil.) + "Truly," says he, "Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil; + If your money be gone, as a learned divine says, d'ye see: + You are no text for my handling; so take that from me: + I was never taken for a conjuror before, I'd have you to know." + "Law!" said I, "don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so; + You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a parson's wife, + I never took one in your coat for a conjuror in all my life." + With that, he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say, + "Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away. + Well: I thought I should have swoon'd, "Law!" said I, "what shall I do? + I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!" + Then my Lord called me: "Harry," said my Lord, "don't cry, + I'll give you something towards your loss;" and, says my Lady, + "so will I." + "O, but," said I, "what if, after all, the chaplain won't come to?" + For that, he said, (an't please your Excellencies), I must petition you. + The premises tenderly consider'd, I desire your Excellencies' protection, + And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection: + And, over and above, that I may have your Excellencies' letter, + With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better: + And then your poor petitioner both night and day, + Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray. + + + +XXVII. ELEGY ON PARTRIDGE. + + This was written to satirize the superstitious faith placed in the + predictions of the almanac-makers of the period. Partridge was the + name of one of them--a cobbler by profession. Fielding also + satirized the folly in _Tom Jones_. The elegy is upon "his + supposed death", which drew from Partridge an indignant denial. + + + Well; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd, + Though we all took it for a jest: + Partridge is dead; nay more, he died + Ere he could prove the good 'squire lied. + Strange, an astrologer should die + Without one wonder in the sky! + Not one of his crony stars + To pay their duty at his hearse! + No meteor, no eclipse appear'd! + No comet with a flaming beard! + The sun has rose, and gone to bed, + Just as if Partridge were not dead; + Nor hid himself behind the moon + To make a dreadful night at noon. + He at fit periods walks through Aries, + Howe'er our earthly motion varies; + And twice a year he'll cut the equator, + As if there had been no such matter. + Some wits have wonder'd what analogy + There is 'twixt cobbling and astrology; + How Partridge made his optics rise + From a shoe-sole to reach the skies. + A list the cobbler's temples ties, + To keep the hair out of his eyes; + From whence 'tis plain, the diadem + That princes wear derives from them: + And therefore crowns are nowadays + Adorn'd with golden stars and rays: + Which plainly shows the near alliance + 'Twixt cobbling and the planets science. + Besides, that slow-pac'd sign Bootes, + As 'tis miscall'd, we know not who 'tis: + But Partridge ended all disputes; + He knew his trade, and call'd it boots. + The horned moon, which heretofore + Upon their shoes the Romans wore, + Whose wideness kept their toes from corns, + And whence we claim our shoeing-horns, + Shows how the art of cobbling bears + A near resemblance to the spheres. + A scrap of parchment hung by geometry + (A great refinement in barometry) + Can, like the stars, foretell the weather; + And what is parchment else but leather? + Which an astrologer might use + Either for almanacs or shoes. + Thus Partridge by his wit and parts + At once did practise both these arts: + And as the boding owl (or rather + The bat, because her wings are leather) + Steals from her private cell by night, + And flies about the candle-light; + So learned Partridge could as well + Creep in the dark from leathern cell, + And in his fancy fly as far + To peep upon a twinkling star. + Besides, he could confound the spheres, + And set the planets by the ears; + To show his skill, he Mars could join + To Venus in aspect malign; + Then call in Mercury for aid, + And cure the wounds that Venus made. + Great scholars have in Lucian read, + When Philip king of Greece was dead, + His soul and spirit did divide, + And each part took a different side: + One rose a star; the other fell + Beneath, and mended shoes in hell. + Thus Partridge still shines in each art, + The cobbling and star-gazing part, + And is install'd as good a star + As any of the Caesars are. + Triumphant star! some pity show + On cobblers militant below, + Whom roguish boys in stormy nights + Torment by pissing out their lights, + Or thro' a chink convey their smoke + Inclos'd artificers to choke. + Thou, high exalted in thy sphere, + May'st follow still thy calling there. + To thee the Bull will lend his hide, + By Phoebus newly tann'd and dry'd: + For thee they Argo's hulk will tax, + And scrape her pitchy sides for wax; + Then Ariadne kindly lends + Her braided hair to make thee ends; + The point of Sagittarius' dart + Turns to an awl by heav'nly art; + And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife, + Will forge for thee a paring-knife. + For want of room by Virgo's side, + She'll strain a point, and sit astride, + To take thee kindly in between; + And then the signs will be thirteen. + + + THE EPITAPH. + + Here, five foot deep, lies on his back + A cobbler, star-monger, and quack; + Who to the stars in pure good-will + Does to his best look upward still. + Weep, all you customers that use + His pills, his almanacs, or shoes: + And you that did your fortunes seek, + Step to his grave but once a week: + This earth, which bears his body's print, + You'll find has so much virtue in't, + That I durst pawn my ears 't will tell + Whate'er concerns you full as well, + In physic, stolen goods, or love, + As he himself could, when above. + + + +XXVIII. A MEDITATION UPON A BROOM-STICK. + + The remainder of the title is "According to the Style and Manner of + the Honourable Robert Boyle's _Meditations_", and is intended as a + satire on the style of that philosopher's lucubrations. + + +This single stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying in that +neglected corner, I once knew in a nourishing state in a forest: it was +full of sap, full of leaves, and full of boughs: but now, in vain does +the busy art of man pretend to vie with nature, by tying that withered +bundle of twigs to its sapless trunk. 'Tis now at best but the reverse +of what it was, a tree turned upside down, the branches on the earth, +and the root in the air: 'tis now handled by every dirty wench, +condemned to do her drudgery, and, by a capricious kind of fate, +destined to make other things clean, and be nasty itself. At length, +worn to the stumps in the service of the maids, 'tis either thrown out +of doors, or condemned to the last use of kindling a fire. When I +beheld this, I sighed and said within myself, surely mortal man is a +broom-stick; nature sent him into the world strong and lusty, in a +thriving condition, wearing his own hair on his head, the proper +branches of this reasoning vegetable, till the axe of intemperance has +lopped off his green boughs, and left him a withered trunk. He then +flies to art, and puts on a periwig, valuing himself upon an unnatural +bundle of hairs, all covered with powder, that never grew on his head. +But now should this our broomstick pretend to enter the scene, proud of +those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered with dust, though +the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber, we should be apt to +ridicule and despise its vanity. Partial judges that we are of our own +excellencies, and other men's defaults! + +But a broom-stick, perhaps you will say, is an emblem of a tree +standing on its head; and pray what is man, but a topsy-turvy creature, +his animal faculties perpetually mounted on his rational, his head +where his heels should be, grovelling on the earth! And yet, with all +his faults, he sets up to be an universal reformer and corrector of +abuses, a remover of grievances, rakes into every sluts' corner of +nature, bringing hidden corruptions to the light, and raises a mighty +dust where there was none before, sharing deeply all the while in the +very same pollutions he pretends to sweep away. His last days are spent +in slavery to women, and generally the least deserving; till, worn to +the stumps, like his brother bezom, he is either kicked out of doors, +or made use of to kindle flames, for others to warm themselves by. + + + +XXIX. THE RELATIONS OF BOOKSELLERS AND AUTHORS. + + This piece constitutes Section X. of _The Tale of a Tub_. + + +It is an unanswerable argument of a very refined age the wonderful +civilities that have passed of late years between the nation of authors +and that of readers. There can hardly pop out a play, a pamphlet, or a +poem, without a preface full of acknowledgments to the world for the +general reception and applause they have given it, which the Lord knows +where, or when, or how, or from whom it received. In due deference to +so laudable a custom, I do here return my humble thanks to His Majesty +and both Houses of Parliament, to the Lords of the King's most +honourable Privy Council, to the reverend the Judges, to the Clergy, +and Gentry, and Yeomanry of this land: but in a more especial manner to +my worthy brethren and friends at Will's Coffee-house, and Gresham +College, and Warwick Lane, and Moorfields, and Scotland Yard, and +Westminster Hall, and Guildhall; in short, to all inhabitants and +retainers whatsoever, either in court, or church, or camp, or city, or +country, for their generosity and universal acceptance of this divine +treatise. I accept their approbation and good opinion with extreme +gratitude, and to the utmost of my poor capacity shall take hold of all +opportunities to return the obligation. + +I am also happy that fate has flung me into so blessed an age for the +mutual felicity of booksellers and authors, whom I may safely affirm to +be at this day the two only satisfied parties in England. Ask an author +how his last piece has succeeded, "Why, truly he thanks his stars the +world has been very favourable, and he has not the least reason to +complain". And yet he wrote it in a week at bits and starts, when he +could steal an hour from his urgent affairs, as it is a hundred to one +you may see further in the preface, to which he refers you, and for the +rest to the bookseller. There you go as a customer, and make the same +question, "He blesses his God the thing takes wonderful; he is just +printing a second edition, and has but three left in his shop". You +beat down the price; "Sir, we shall not differ", and in hopes of your +custom another time, lets you have it as reasonable as you please; "And +pray send as many of your acquaintance as you will; I shall upon your +account furnish them all at the same rate". + +Now it is not well enough considered to what accidents and occasions +the world is indebted for the greatest part of those noble writings +which hourly start up to entertain it. If it were not for a rainy day, +a drunken vigil, a fit of the spleen, a course of physic, a sleepy +Sunday, an ill run at dice, a long tailor's bill, a beggar's purse, a +factious head, a hot sun, costive diet, want of books, and a just +contempt of learning,--but for these events, I say, and some others too +long to recite (especially a prudent neglect of taking brimstone +inwardly), I doubt the number of authors and of writings would dwindle +away to a degree most woeful to behold. To confirm this opinion, hear +the words of the famous troglodyte philosopher. "It is certain," said +he, "some grains of folly are of course annexed as part in the +composition of human nature; only the choice is left us whether we +please to wear them inlaid or embossed, and we need not go very far to +seek how that is usually determined, when we remember it is with human +faculties as with liquors, the lightest will be ever at the top." + +There is in this famous island of Britain a certain paltry scribbler, +very voluminous, whose character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger +to. He deals in a pernicious kind of writings called "Second Parts", +and usually passes under the name of "The Author of the First". I +easily foresee that as soon as I lay down my pen this nimble operator +will have stole it, and treat me as inhumanly as he has already done +Dr. Blackmore, Lestrange, and many others who shall here be nameless. I +therefore fly for justice and relief into the hands of that great +rectifier of saddles and lover of mankind, Dr. Bentley, begging he will +take this enormous grievance into his most modern consideration; and if +it should so happen that the furniture of an ass in the shape of a +second part must for my sins be clapped, by mistake, upon my back, that +he will immediately please, in the presence of the world, to lighten me +of the burden, and take it home to his own house till the true beast +thinks fit to call for it. + +In the meantime, I do here give this public notice that my resolutions +are to circumscribe within this discourse the whole stock of matter I +have been so many years providing. Since my vein is once opened, I am +content to exhaust it all at a running, for the peculiar advantage of +my dear country, and for the universal benefit of mankind. Therefore, +hospitably considering the number of my guests, they shall have my +whole entertainment at a meal, and I scorn to set up the leavings in +the cupboard. What the guests cannot eat may be given to the poor, and +the dogs under the table may gnaw the bones.[180] This I understand for +a more generous proceeding than to turn the company's stomachs by +inviting them again to-morrow to a scurvy meal of scraps. + +If the reader fairly considers the strength of what I have advanced in +the foregoing section, I am convinced it will produce a wonderful +revolution in his notions and opinions, and he will be abundantly +better prepared to receive and to relish the concluding part of this +miraculous treatise. Readers may be divided into three classes, the +superficial, the ignorant, and the learned, and I have with much +felicity fitted my pen to the genius and advantage of each. The +superficial reader will be strangely provoked to laughter, which clears +the breast and the lungs, is sovereign against the spleen, and the most +innocent of all diuretics. The ignorant reader (between whom and the +former the distinction is extremely nice) will find himself disposed to +stare, which is an admirable remedy for ill eyes, serves to raise and +enliven the spirits, and wonderfully helps perspiration. But the reader +truly learned, chiefly for whose benefit I wake when others sleep, and +sleep when others wake, will here find sufficient matter to employ his +speculations for the rest of his life. It were much to be wished, and I +do here humbly propose for an experiment, that every prince in +Christendom will take seven of the deepest scholars in his dominions +and shut them up close for seven years in seven chambers, with a +command to write seven ample commentaries on this comprehensive +discourse. I shall venture to affirm that, whatever difference may be +found in their several conjectures, they will be all, without the +least distortion, manifestly deducible from the text. Meantime it is my +earnest request that so useful an undertaking may be entered upon (if +their Majesties please) with all convenient speed, because I have a +strong inclination before I leave the world to taste a blessing which +we mysterious writers can seldom reach till we have got into our +graves, whether it is that fame being a fruit grafted on the body, can +hardly grow and much less ripen till the stock is in the earth, or +whether she be a bird of prey, and is lured among the rest to pursue +after the scent of a carcass, or whether she conceives her trumpet +sounds best and farthest when she stands on a tomb, by the advantage of +a rising ground and the echo of a hollow vault. + +It is true, indeed, the republic of dark authors, after they once found +out this excellent expedient of dying, have been peculiarly happy in +the variety as well as extent of their reputation. For night being the +universal mother of things, wise philosophers hold all writings to be +fruitful in the proportion they are dark, and therefore the true +illuminated (that is to say, the darkest of all) have met with such +numberless commentators, whose scholiastic midwifery hath delivered +them of meanings that the authors themselves perhaps never conceived, +and yet may very justly be allowed the lawful parents of them, the +words of such writers being like seed, which, however scattered at +random, when they light upon a fruitful ground, will multiply far +beyond either the hopes or imagination of the sower. + +And therefore, in order to promote so useful a work, I will here take +leave to glance a few innuendos that may be of great assistance to +those sublime spirits who shall be appointed to labour in a universal +comment upon this wonderful discourse. And first, I have couched a very +profound mystery in the number of o's multiplied by seven and divided +by nine. Also, if a devout brother of the Rosy Cross will pray +fervently for sixty-three mornings with a lively faith, and then +transpose certain letters and syllables according to prescription, in +the second and fifth section they will certainly reveal into a full +receipt of the _opus magnum_. Lastly, whoever will be at the pains to +calculate the whole number of each letter in this treatise, and sum up +the difference exactly between the several numbers, assigning the true +natural cause for every such difference, the discoveries in the product +will plentifully reward his labour. But then he must beware of Bythus +and Sige, and be sure not to forget the qualities of Acamoth; _a cujus +lacrymis humecta prodit substantia, a risu lucida, a tristitia solida, +et a timore mobilis_, wherein Eugenius Philalethes[181] hath committed +an unpardonable mistake. + +[Footnote 180: The bad critics.] + +[Footnote 181: A name under which Thomas Vaughan wrote.] + + + +XXX. THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE POSTERITY. + + The following is the famous dedication of _The Tale of a Tub_. The + description of "the tyranny of Time" was regarded by Goethe as one + of the finest passages in Swift's works. + + +SIR, + +I here present your Highness with the fruits of a very few leisure +hours, stolen from the short intervals of a world of business, and of +an employment quite alien from such amusements as this; the poor +production of that refuse of time which has lain heavy upon my hands +during a long prorogation of Parliament, a great dearth of foreign +news, and a tedious fit of rainy weather. For which, and other reasons, +it cannot choose extremely to deserve such a patronage as that of your +Highness, whose numberless virtues in so few years, make the world look +upon you as the future example to all princes. For although your +Highness is hardly got clear of infancy, yet has the universal learned +world already resolved upon appealing to your future dictates with the +lowest and most resigned submission, fate having decreed you sole +arbiter of the productions of human wit in this polite and most +accomplished age. Methinks the number of appellants were enough to +shock and startle any judge of a genius less unlimited than yours; but +in order to prevent such glorious trials, the person, it seems, to +whose care the education of your Highness is committed, has resolved, +as I am told, to keep you in almost an universal ignorance of our +studies, which it is your inherent birthright to inspect. + +It is amazing to me that this person should have assurance, in the face +of the sun, to go about persuading your Highness that our age is almost +wholly illiterate and has hardly produced one writer upon any subject. +I know very well that when your Highness shall come to riper years, and +have gone through the learning of antiquity, you will be too curious to +neglect inquiring into the authors of the very age before you; and to +think that this insolent, in the account he is preparing for your view, +designs to reduce them to a number so insignificant as I am ashamed to +mention; it moves my zeal and my spleen for the honour and interest of +our vast flourishing body, as well as of myself, for whom I know by +long experience he has professed, and still continues, a peculiar +malice. + +It is not unlikely that, when your Highness will one day peruse what I +am now writing, you may be ready to expostulate with your governor upon +the credit of what I here affirm, and command him to show you some of +our productions. To which he will answer--for I am well informed of +his designs--by asking your Highness where they are, and what is become +of them? and pretend it a demonstration that there never were any, +because they are not then to be found. Not to be found! Who has mislaid +them? Are they sunk in the abyss of things? It is certain that in their +own nature they were light enough to swim upon the surface for all +eternity; therefore, the fault is in him who tied weights so heavy to +their heels as to depress them to the centre. Is their very essence +destroyed? Who has annihilated them? Were they drowned by purges or +martyred by pipes? Who administered them to the posteriors of ----. But +that it may no longer be a doubt with your Highness who is to be the +author of this universal ruin, I beseech you to observe that large and +terrible scythe which your governor affects to bear continually about +him. Be pleased to remark the length and strength, the sharpness and +hardness, of his nails and teeth; consider his baneful, abominable +breath, enemy to life and matter, infectious and corrupting, and then +reflect whether it be possible for any mortal ink and paper of this +generation to make a suitable resistance. Oh, that your Highness would +one day resolve to disarm this usurping _maitre de palais_ of his +furious engines, and bring your empire _hors du page_! + +It were endless to recount the several methods of tyranny and +destruction which your governor is pleased to practise upon this +occasion. His inveterate malice is such to the writings of our age, +that, of several thousands produced yearly from this renowned city, +before the next revolution of the sun there is not one to be heard of. +Unhappy infants! many of them barbarously destroyed before they have so +much as learnt their mother-tongue to beg for pity. Some he stifles in +their cradles, others he frights into convulsions, whereof they +suddenly die, some he flays alive, others he tears limb from limb, +great numbers are offered to Moloch, and the rest, tainted by his +breath, die of a languishing consumption. + +But the concern I have most at heart is for our Corporation of Poets, +from whom I am preparing a petition to your Highness, to be subscribed +with the names of one hundred and thirty-six of the first race, but +whose immortal productions are never likely to reach your eyes, though +each of them is now an humble and an earnest appellant for the laurel, +and has large comely volumes ready to show for a support to his +pretensions. The never-dying works of these illustrious persons your +governor, sir, has devoted to unavoidable death, and your Highness is +to be made believe that our age has never arrived at the honour to +produce one single poet. + +We confess immortality to be a great and powerful goddess, but in vain +we offer up to her our devotions and our sacrifices if your Highness's +governor, who has usurped the priesthood, must, by an unparalled +ambition and avarice, wholly intercept and devour them. + +To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned and devoid of writers in +any kind, seems to be an assertion so bold and so false, that I have +been sometimes thinking the contrary may almost be proved by +uncontrollable demonstration. It is true, indeed, that although their +numbers be vast and their productions numerous in proportion, yet are +they hurried so hastily off the scene that they escape our memory and +delude our sight. When I first thought of this address, I had prepared +a copious list of titles to present your Highness as an undisputed +argument for what I affirm. The originals were posted fresh upon all +gates and corners of streets; but returning in a very few hours to take +a review, they were all torn down and fresh ones in their places. I +inquired after them among readers and booksellers, but I inquired in +vain; the memorial of them was lost among men, their place was no more +to be found; and I was laughed to scorn for a clown and a pedant, +devoid of all taste and refinement, little versed in the course of +present affairs, and that knew nothing of what had passed in the best +companies of court and town. So that I can only avow in general to your +Highness that we do abound in learning and wit, but to fix upon +particulars is a task too slippery for my slender abilities. If I +should venture, in a windy day, to affirm to your Highness that there +is a large cloud near the horizon in the form of a bear, another in the +zenith with the head of an ass, a third to the westward with claws like +a dragon; and your Highness should in a few minutes think fit to +examine the truth, it is certain they would be all changed in figure +and position, new ones would arise, and all we could agree upon would +be, that clouds there were, but that I was grossly mistaken in the +zoography and topography of them. + +But your governor, perhaps, may still insist, and put the question, +What is then become of those immense bales of paper which must needs +have been employed in such numbers of books? Can these also be wholly +annihilated, and so of a sudden, as I pretend? What shall I say in +return of so invidious an objection? It ill befits the distance between +your Highness and me to send you for ocular conviction to a jakes or an +oven, to the windows of a bawdyhouse, or to a sordid lantern. Books, +like men their authors, have no more than one way of coming into the +world, but there are ten thousand to go out of it and return no more. + +I profess to your Highness, in the integrity of my heart, that what I +am going to say is literally true this minute I am writing; what +revolutions may happen before it shall be ready for your perusal I can +by no means warrant; however, I beg you to accept it as a specimen of +our learning, our politeness, and our wit. I do therefore affirm, upon +the word of a sincere man, that there is now actually in being a +certain poet called John Dryden, whose translation of Virgil was lately +printed in large folio, well bound, and if diligent search were made, +for aught I know, is yet to be seen. There is another called Nahum +Tate, who is ready to make oath that he has caused many reams of verse +to be published, whereof both himself and his bookseller, if lawfully +required, can still produce authentic copies, and therefore wonders why +the world is pleased to make such a secret of it. There is a third, +known by the name of Tom Durfey, a poet of a vast comprehension, an +universal genius, and most profound learning. There are also one Mr. +Rymer and one Mr. Dennis, most profound critics. There is a person +styled Dr. Bentley, who has wrote near a thousand pages of immense +erudition, giving a full and true account of a certain squabble of +wonderful importance between himself and a bookseller; he is a writer +of infinite wit and humour, no man rallies with a better grace and in +more sprightly turns. Further, I avow to your Highness that with these +eyes I have beheld the person of William Wotton, B.D., who has written +a good-sized volume against a friend of your governor, from whom, alas! +he must therefore look for little favour, in a most gentlemanly style, +adorned with utmost politeness and civility, replete with discoveries +equally valuable for their novelty and use, and embellished with traits +of wit so poignant and so apposite, that he is a worthy yoke-mate to +his fore-mentioned friend. + +Why should I go upon farther particulars, which might fill a volume +with the just eulogies of my contemporary brethren? I shall bequeath +this piece of justice to a larger work, wherein I intend to write a +character of the present set of wits in our nation; their persons I +shall describe particularly and at length, their genius and +understandings in miniature. + +In the meantime, I do here make bold to present your Highness with a +faithful abstract drawn from the universal body of all arts and +sciences, intended wholly for your service and instruction. Nor do I +doubt in the least, but your Highness will peruse it as carefully and +make as considerable improvements as other young princes have already +done by the many volumes of late years written for a help to their +studies. + +That your Highness may advance in wisdom and virtue, as well as years, +and at last outshine all your royal ancestors, shall be the daily +prayer of, + +Sir, +Your Highness's most devoted, &c. +_Decem_. 1697. + + + + +SIR RICHARD STEELE. + +(1672-1729.) + + +XXXI. THE COMMONWEALTH OF LUNATICS. + + This paper forms No. 125 of _The Tatler_, January 26th, 1709. + + +From my own apartment, _January_ 25. + +There is a sect of ancient philosophers, who, I think, have left more +volumes behind them, and those better written, than any other of the +fraternities in philosophy. It was a maxim of this sect, that all those +who do not live up to the principles of reason and virtue are madmen. +Everyone who governs himself by these rules is allowed the title of +wise, and reputed to be in his senses: and everyone, in proportion as +he deviates from them, is pronounced frantic and distracted. Cicero, +having chosen this maxim for his theme, takes occasion to argue from +it very agreeably with Clodius, his implacable adversary, who had +procured his banishment. A city, says he, is an assembly distinguished +into bodies of men, who are in possession of their respective rights +and privileges, cast under proper subordinations, and in all its parts +obedient to the rules of law and equity. He then represents the +government from whence he was banished, at a time when the consul, +senate, and laws had lost their authority, as a commonwealth of +lunatics. For this reason he regards his expulsion from Rome as a man +would being turned out of Bedlam, if the inhabitants of it should drive +him out of their walls as a person unfit for their community. We are +therefore to look upon every man's brain to be touched, however he may +appear in the general conduct of his life, if he has an unjustifiable +singularity in any part of his conversation or behaviour; or if he +swerves from right reason, however common his kind of madness may be, +we shall not excuse him for its being epidemical; it being our present +design to clap up all such as have the marks of madness upon them, who +are now permitted to go about the streets for no other reason but +because they do no mischief in their fits. Abundance of imaginary great +men are put in straw to bring them to a right sense of themselves. And +is it not altogether as reasonable, that an insignificant man, who has +an immoderate opinion of his merits, and a quite different notion of +his own abilities from what the rest of the world entertain, should +have the same care taken of him as a beggar who fancies himself a duke +or a prince? Or why should a man who starves in the midst of plenty be +trusted with himself more than he who fancies he is an emperor in the +midst of poverty? I have several women of quality in my thoughts who +set so exorbitant a value upon themselves that I have often most +heartily pitied them, and wished them for their recovery under the same +discipline with the pewterer's wife. I find by several hints in ancient +authors that when the Romans were in the height of power and luxury +they assigned out of their vast dominions an island called Anticyra as +an habitation for madmen. This was the Bedlam of the Roman empire, +whither all persons who had lost their wits used to resort from all +parts of the world in quest of them. Several of the Roman emperors were +advised to repair to this island: but most of them, instead of +listening to such sober counsels, gave way to their distraction, until +the people knocked them on the head as despairing of their cure. In +short, it was as usual for men of distempered brains to take a voyage +to Anticyra in those days as it is in ours for persons who have a +disorder in their lungs to go to Montpellier. + +The prodigious crops of hellebore with which this whole island abounded +did not only furnish them with incomparable tea, snuff, and Hungary +water, but impregnated the air of the country with such sober and +salutiferous steams as very much comforted the heads and refreshed the +senses of all that breathed in it. A discarded statesman that, at his +first landing, appeared stark, staring mad, would become calm in a +week's time, and upon his return home live easy and satisfied in his +retirement. A moping lover would grow a pleasant fellow by that time he +had rid thrice about the island: and a hair-brained rake, after a short +stay in the country, go home again a composed, grave, worthy gentleman. + +I have premised these particulars before I enter on the main design of +this paper, because I would not be thought altogether notional in what +I have to say, and pass only for a projector in morality. I could quote +Horace and Seneca and some other ancient writers of good repute upon +the same occasion, and make out by their testimony that our streets are +filled with distracted persons; that our shops and taverns, private and +public houses, swarm with them; and that it is very hard to make up a +tolerable assembly without a majority of them. But what I have already +said is, I hope, sufficient to justify the ensuing project, which I +shall therefore give some account of without any further preface. + +1. It is humbly proposed, That a proper receptacle or habitation be +forthwith erected for all such persons as, upon due trial and +examination, shall appear to be out of their wits. + +2. That, to serve the present exigency, the college in Moorfields be +very much extended at both ends; and that it be converted into a +square, by adding three other sides to it. + +3. That nobody be admitted into these three additional sides but such +whose frenzy can lay no claim to any apartment in that row of building +which is already erected. + +4. That the architect, physician, apothecary, surgeon, keepers, nurses, +and porters be all and each of them cracked, provided that their frenzy +does not lie in the profession or employment to which they shall +severally and respectively be assigned. + +_N.B._ It is thought fit to give the foregoing notice, that none may +present himself here for any post of honour or profit who is not duly +qualified. + +5. That over all the gates of the additional buildings there be figures +placed in the same manner as over the entrance of the edifice already +erected, provided they represent such distractions only as are proper +for those additional buildings; as of an envious man gnawing his own +flesh; a gamester pulling himself by the ears and knocking his head +against a marble pillar; a covetous man warming himself over a heap of +gold; a coward flying from his own shadow, and the like. + +Having laid down this general scheme of my design, I do hereby invite +all persons who are willing to encourage so public-spirited a project +to bring in their contributions as soon as possible; and to apprehend +forthwith any politician whom they shall catch raving in a +coffee-house, or any free-thinker whom they shall find publishing his +deliriums, or any other person who shall give the like manifest signs +of a crazed imagination. And I do at the same time give this public +notice to all the madmen about this great city, that they may return to +their senses with all imaginable expedition, lest, if they should come +into my hands, I should put them into a regimen which they would not +like; for if I find any one of them persist in his frantic behaviour I +will make him in a month's time as famous as ever Oliver's porter was. + + + + +JOSEPH ADDISON. + +(1672-1719.) + + +XXXII. SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY'S SUNDAY. + + This piece represents the complete paper, No. 112 of _The + Spectator_, July 9th, 1711. + + +I am always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and think, if +keeping holy the seventh day were only a human institution, it would be +the best method that could have been thought of for the polishing and +civilizing of mankind. It is certain the country people would soon +degenerate into a kind of savages and barbarians, were there not such +frequent returns of a stated time in which the whole village meet +together with their best faces and in their cleanliest habits to +converse with one another upon indifferent subjects, hear their duties +explained to them, and join together in adoration of the supreme Being. +Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes +in their minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes +upon appearing in their most agreeable forms and exerting all such +qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. A +country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard as a +citizen does upon the Change, the whole parish politics being generally +discussed in that place either after sermon or before the bell rings. + +My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has beautified the inside +of his church with several texts of his own choosing; he has likewise +given a handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the communion table at his +own expense. He has often told me that at his coming to his estate he +found his parishioners very irregular; and that in order to make them +kneel and join in the responses he gave every one of them a hassock and +a common-prayer book: and at the same time employed an itinerant +singing-master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to +instruct them rightly in the tunes of the psalms, upon which they now +very much value themselves, and indeed out-do most of the country +churches that I have ever heard. + +As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in +very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it besides himself; +for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon +recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he sees +anybody else nodding either wakes them himself or sends his servants to +them. Several other of the old knight's particularities break out upon +these occasions: sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the +singing-psalms half a minute after the rest of the congregation have +done with it: sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of his +devotion, he pronounces Amen three or four times to the same prayer; +and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to +count the congregation or see if any of his tenants are missing. + +I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midst +of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was +about and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews it seems is +remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking his +heels for his diversion. This authority of the knight, though exerted +in that odd manner which accompanies him in all circumstances of life, +has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to +see anything ridiculous in his behaviour; besides that the general good +sense and worthiness of his character makes his friends observe these +little singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good +qualities. + +As soon as the sermon is finished nobody presumes to stir till Sir +Roger is gone out of the church. The knight walks down from his seat in +the chancel between a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing to +him on each side; and every now and then inquires how such an one's +wife, or mother, or son, or father do, whom he does not see at church, +which is understood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent. + +The chaplain has often told me that upon a catechizing day, when Sir +Roger has been pleased with a boy that answers well, he has ordered a +Bible to be given him next day for his encouragement; and sometimes +accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger has +likewise added five pounds a year to the clerk's place; and that he may +encourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the church +service, has promised upon the death of the present incumbent, who is +very old, to bestow it according to merit. + +The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his chaplain, and their +mutual concurrence in doing good, is the more remarkable because the +very next village is famous for the differences and contentions that +rise between the parson and the squire, who live in a perpetual state +of war. The parson is always preaching at the squire, and the squire to +be revenged on the parson never comes to church. The squire has made +all his tenants atheists and tithe-stealers; while the parson instructs +them every Sunday in the dignity of his order, and insinuates to them +in almost every sermon that he is a better man than his patron. In +short, matters are come to such an extremity that the squire has not +said his prayers either in public or private this half year; and that +the parson threatens him, if he does not mend his manners, to pray for +him in the face of the whole congregation. + +Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the country, are very +fatal to the ordinary people, who are so used to be dazzled with riches +that they pay as much deference to the understanding of a man of an +estate as of a man of learning, and are very hardly brought to regard +any truth, how important soever it may be, that is preached to them +when they know there are several men of five hundred a year who do not +believe it. + + + + +EDWARD YOUNG. + +(1681-1765.) + + +XXXIII. TO THE RIGHT HON. MR. DODINGTON. + + This is justly regarded as one of the finest satires in the English + language. It is taken from Dr. Young's _Series of Satires_ + published in collected form in 1750. Dodington was the famous "Bubb + Dodington", satirized as Bubo by Pope in the "Prologue to the + Satires". + + + Long, Dodington, in debt, I long have sought + To ease the burden of my graceful thought: + And now a poet's gratitude you see: + Grant him two favours, and he'll ask for three: + For whose the present glory, or the gain? + You give protection, I a worthless strain. + You love and feel the poet's sacred flame, + And know the basis of a solid fame; + Though prone to like, yet cautious to commend, + You read with all the malice of a friend; + Nor favour my attempts that way alone, + But, more to raise my verse, conceal your own. + An ill-tim'd modesty! turn ages o'er, + When wanted Britain bright examples more? + Her learning, and her genius too, decays; + And dark and cold are her declining days; + As if men now were of another cast, + They meanly live on alms of ages past, + Men still are men; and they who boldly dare, + Shall triumph o'er the sons of cold despair; + Or, if they fail, they justly still take place + Of such who run in debt for their disgrace; + Who borrow much, then fairly make it known, + And damn it with improvements of their own. + We bring some new materials, and what's old + New cast with care, and in no borrow'd mould; + Late times the verse may read, if these refuse; + And from sour critics vindicate the Muse. + "Your work is long", the critics cry. 'Tis true, + And lengthens still, to take in fools like you: + Shorten my labour, if its length you blame: + For, grow but wise, you rob me of my game; + As haunted hags, who, while the dogs pursue, + Renounce their four legs, and start up on two. + + Like the bold bird upon the banks of Nile + That picks the teeth of the dire crocodile, + Will I enjoy (dread feast!) the critic's rage, + And with the fell destroyer feed my page. + For what ambitious fools are more to blame, + Than those who thunder in the critic's name? + Good authors damn'd, have their revenge in this, + To see what wretches gain the praise they miss. + + Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak, + Like an old Druid from his hollow oak, + As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries, + "Ten thousand worlds for the three unities!" + Ye doctors sage, who through Parnassus teach, + Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach. + + One judges as the weather dictates; right + The poem is at noon, and wrong at night: + Another judges by a surer gage, + An author's principles, or parentage; + Since his great ancestors in Flanders fell, + The poem doubtless must be written well. + Another judges by the writer's look; + Another judges, for he bought the book: + Some judge, their knack of judging wrong to keep; + Some judge, because it is too soon to sleep. + Thus all will judge, and with one single aim, + To gain themselves, not give the writer, fame. + The very best ambitiously advise, + Half to serve you, and half to pass for wise. + + Critics on verse, as squibs on triumphs wait, + Proclaim the glory, and augment the state; + Hot, envious, noisy, proud, the scribbling fry + Burn, hiss, and bounce, waste paper, stink, and die. + Rail on, my friends! what more my verse can crown + Than Compton's smile, and your obliging frown? + + Not all on books their criticism waste: + The genius of a dish some justly taste, + And eat their way to fame; with anxious thought + The salmon is refus'd, the turbot bought. + Impatient art rebukes the sun's delay + And bids December yield the fruits of May; + Their various cares in one great point combine + The business of their lives, that is--to dine. + Half of their precious day they give the feast; + And to a kind digestion spare the rest. + Apicius, here, the taster of the town, + Feeds twice a week, to settle their renown. + + These worthies of the palate guard with care + The sacred annals of their bills of fare; + In those choice books their panegyrics read, + And scorn the creatures that for hunger feed. + If man by feeding well commences great, + Much more the worm to whom that man is meat. + + To glory some advance a lying claim, + Thieves of renown, and pilferers of fame: + Their front supplies what their ambition lacks; + They know a thousand lords, behind their backs. + Cottil is apt to wink upon a peer, + When turn'd away, with a familiar leer; + And Harvey's eyes, unmercifully keen, + Have murdered fops, by whom she ne'er was seen. + Niger adopts stray libels; wisely prone, + To cover shame still greater than his own. + Bathyllus, in the winter of threescore, + Belies his innocence, and keeps a ----. + Absence of mind Brabantio turns to fame, + Learns to mistake, nor knows his brother's name; + Has words and thoughts in nice disorder set, + And takes a memorandum to forget. + Thus vain, not knowing what adorns or blots + Men forge the patents that create them sots. + + As love of pleasure into pain betrays, + So most grow infamous through love of praise. + But whence for praise can such an ardour rise, + When those, who bring that incense, we despise? + For such the vanity of great and small, + Contempt goes round, and all men laugh at all. + Nor can even satire blame them; for 'tis true, + They have most ample cause for what they do + O fruitful Britain! doubtless thou wast meant + A nurse of fools, to stock the continent. + Though Phoebus and the Nine for ever mow, + Rank folly underneath the scythe will grow + The plenteous harvest calls me forward still, + Till I surpass in length my lawyer's bill; + A Welsh descent, which well-paid heralds damn; + Or, longer still, a Dutchman's epigram. + When, cloy'd, in fury I throw down my pen, + In comes a coxcomb, and I write again. + + See Tityrus, with merriment possest, + Is burst with laughter, ere he hears the jest: + What need he stay? for when the jest is o'er, + His teeth will be no whiter than before. + Is there of thee, ye fair! so great a dearth, + That you need purchase monkeys for your mirth! + + Some, vain of paintings, bid the world admire; + Of houses some; nay, houses that they hire: + Some (perfect wisdom!) of a beauteous wife; + And boast, like Cordeliers, a scourge for life. + + Sometimes, through pride, the sexes change their airs; + My lord has vapours, and my lady swears; + Then, stranger still! on turning of the wind, + My lord wears breeches, and my lady's kind. + + To show the strength, and infamy of pride, + By all 'tis follow'd, and by all denied. + What numbers are there, which at once pursue, + Praise, and the glory to contemn it, too? + Vincenna knows self-praise betrays to shame, + And therefore lays a stratagem for fame; + Makes his approach in modesty's disguise, + To win applause; and takes it by surprise. + "To err," says he, "in small things, is my fate." + You know your answer, "he's exact in great". + "My style", says he, "is rude and full of faults." + "But oh! what sense! what energy of thoughts!" + That he wants algebra, he must confess; + "But not a soul to give our arms success". + "Ah! that's an hit indeed," Vincenna cries; + "But who in heat of blood was ever wise? + I own 'twas wrong, when thousands called me back + To make that hopeless, ill-advised attack; + All say, 'twas madness; nor dare I deny; + Sure never fool so well deserved to die." + Could this deceive in others to be free, + It ne'er, Vincenna, could deceive in thee! + Whose conduct is a comment to thy tongue, + So clear, the dullest cannot take thee wrong. + Thou on one sleeve wilt thy revenues wear; + And haunt the court, without a prospect there. + Are these expedients for renown? Confess + Thy little self, that I may scorn thee less. + + Be wise, Vincenna, and the court forsake; + Our fortunes there, nor thou, nor I, shall make. + Even men of merit, ere their point they gain, + In hardy service make a long campaign; + Most manfully besiege the patron's gate, + And oft repulsed, as oft attack the great + With painful art, and application warm. + And take, at last, some little place by storm; + Enough to keep two shoes on Sunday clean, + And starve upon discreetly, in Sheer-Lane. + Already this thy fortune can afford; + Then starve without the favour of my lord. + 'Tis true, great fortunes some great men confer, + But often, even in doing right, they err: + From caprice, not from choice, their favours come: + They give, but think it toil to know to whom: + The man that's nearest, yawning, they advance: + 'Tis inhumanity to bless by chance. + If merit sues, and greatness is so loth + To break its downy trance, I pity both. + + Behold the masquerade's fantastic scene! + The Legislature join'd with Drury-Lane! + When Britain calls, th' embroider'd patriots run, + And serve their country--if the dance is done. + "Are we not then allow'd to be polite?" + Yes, doubtless; but first set your notions right. + Worth, of politeness is the needful ground; + Where that is wanting, this can ne'er be found. + Triflers not even in trifles can excel; + 'Tis solid bodies only polish well. + + Great, chosen prophet! for these latter days, + To turn a willing world from righteous ways! + Well, Heydegger, dost thou thy master serve; + Well has he seen his servant should not starve, + Thou to his name hast splendid temples raised + In various forms of worship seen him prais'd, + Gaudy devotion, like a Roman, shown, + And sung sweet anthems in a tongue unknown. + Inferior offerings to thy god of vice + Are duly paid, in fiddles, cards, and dice; + Thy sacrifice supreme, an hundred maids! + That solemn rite of midnight masquerades! + + Though bold these truths, thou, Muse, with truths like these, + Wilt none offend, whom 'tis a praise to please; + Let others flatter to be flatter'd, thou + Like just tribunals, bend an awful brow. + How terrible it were to common-sense, + To write a satire, which gave none offence! + And, since from life I take the draughts you see. + If men dislike them, do they censure me? + The fool, and knave, 'tis glorious to offend, + And Godlike an attempt the world to mend, + The world, where lucky throws to blockheads fall, + Knaves know the game, and honest men pay all. + How hard for real worth to gain its price! + A man shall make his fortune in a trice, + If blest with pliant, though but slender, sense, + Feign'd modesty, and real impudence: + A supple knee, smooth tongue, an easy grace. + A curse within, a smile upon his face; + A beauteous sister, or convenient wife, + Are prizes in the lottery of life; + Genius and Virtue they will soon defeat, + And lodge you in the bosom of the great. + To merit, is but to provide a pain + For men's refusing what you ought to gain. + + May, Dodington, this maxim fail in you, + Whom my presaging thoughts already view + By Walpole's conduct fired, and friendship grac'd, + Still higher in your Prince's favour plac'd: + And lending, here, those awful councils aid, + Which you, abroad, with such success obey'd! + Bear this from one, who holds your friendship dear; + What most we wish, with ease we fancy near. + + + + +JOHN GAY. + +(1685-1732.) + + +XXXIV. THE QUIDNUNCKIS. + + The following piece was originally claimed for Swift in the edition + of his works published in 1749. But it was undoubtedly written by + Gay, being only sent to Swift for perusal. This explains the fact + of its being found amongst the papers of the latter. The poem is + suggested by the death of the Duke Regent of France. + + + How vain are mortal man's endeavours? + (Said, at dame Elleot's,[182] master Travers) + Good Orleans dead! in truth 'tis hard: + Oh! may all statesmen die prepar'd! + I do foresee (and for foreseeing + He equals any man in being) + The army ne'er can be disbanded. + --I with the king was safely landed. + Ah friends! great changes threat the land! + All France and England at a stand! + There's Meroweis--mark! strange work! + And there's the Czar, and there's the Turk-- + The Pope--An India-merchant by + Cut short the speech with this reply: + All at a stand? you see great changes? + Ah, sir! you never saw the Ganges: + There dwells the nation of Quidnunckis + (So Monomotapa calls monkeys:) + On either bank from bough to bough, + They meet and chat (as we may now): + Whispers go round, they grin, they shrug, + They bow, they snarl, they scratch, they hug; + And, just as chance or whim provoke them, + They either bite their friends, or stroke them. + There have I seen some active prig, + To show his parts, bestride a twig: + Lord! how the chatt'ring tribe admire! + Not that he's wiser, but he's higher: + All long to try the vent'rous thing, + (For power is but to have one's swing). + From side to side he springs, he spurns, + And bangs his foes and friends by turns. + Thus as in giddy freaks he bounces, + Crack goes the twig, and in he flounces! + Down the swift stream the wretch is borne; + Never, ah never, to return! + Zounds! what a fall had our dear brother! + Morbleu! cries one; and damme, t'other. + The nation gives a general screech; + None cocks his tail, none claws his breech; + Each trembles for the public weal, + And for a while forgets to steal. + Awhile all eyes intent and steady + Pursue him whirling down the eddy: + But, out of mind when out of view, + Some other mounts the twig anew; + And business on each monkey shore + Runs the same track it ran before. + +[Footnote 182: Coffee-house near St. James's.] + + + + +ALEXANDER POPE. + +(1688-1744.) + + +XXXV. THE DUNCIAD--THE DESCRIPTION OF DULNESS. + + One of the most scathing satires in the history of literature. Pope + in the latest editions of it rather spoilt its point by + substituting Colley Gibber for Theobald as the "hero" of it. Our + text is from the edition of 1743. The satire first appeared in + 1728, and other editions, greatly altered, were issued in 1729, + 1742, 1743. + + + The mighty mother, and her son, who brings + The Smithfield muses[183] to the ear of kings, + I sing. Say you, her instruments the great! + Called to this work by Dulness, Jove, and fate: + You by whose care, in vain decried and curst, + Still Dunce the second reigns like Dunce the first; + Say, how the goddess bade Britannia sleep, + And poured her spirit o'er the land and deep. + In eldest time, ere mortals writ or read, + Ere Pallas issued from the Thunderer's head, + Dulness o'er all possessed her ancient right, + Daughter of chaos and eternal night: + Fate in their dotage this fair idiot gave, + Gross as her sire, and as her mother grave + Laborious, heavy, busy, bold, and blind, + She ruled, in native anarchy, the mind. + Still her old empire to restore she tries, + For, born a goddess, Dulness never dies. + O thou! whatever title please thine ear, + Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver! + Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air, + Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair, + Or praise the court, or magnify mankind,[184] + Or thy grieved country's copper chains unbind; + From thy Boeotia though her power retires, + Mourn not, my Swift, at aught our realm acquires, + Here pleased behold her mighty wings outspread + To hatch a new Saturnian age of lead. + Close to those walls where folly holds her throne, + And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, + Where o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand,[185] + Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand; + One cell there is, concealed from vulgar eye, + The cave of poverty and poetry, + Keen, hollow winds howl through the bleak recess, + Emblem of music caused by emptiness. + Hence bards, like Proteus long in vain tied down, + Escape in monsters, and amaze the town. + Hence miscellanies spring, the weekly boast + Of Curll's chaste press, and Lintot's rubric post:[186] + Hence hymning Tyburn's elegiac lines,[187] + Hence journals, medleys, mercuries, magazines; + Sepulchral lies, our holy walls to grace, + And new-year odes,[188] and all the Grub Street race. + In clouded majesty here Dulness shone; + Four guardian virtues, round, support her throne: + Fierce champion fortitude, that knows no fears + Of hisses, blows, or want, or loss of ears: + Calm temperance, whose blessings those partake + Who hunger, and who thirst for scribbling sake: + Prudence, whose glass presents the approaching jail: + Poetic justice, with her lifted scale, + Where, in nice balance, truth with gold she weighs, + And solid pudding against empty praise. + Here she beholds the chaos dark and deep, + Where nameless somethings in their causes sleep, + Till genial Jacob,[189] or a warm third day, + Call forth each mass, a poem, or a play: + How hints, like spawn, scarce quick in embryo lie, + How new-born nonsense first is taught to cry, + Maggots half-formed in rhyme exactly meet, + And learn to crawl upon poetic feet. + Here one poor word an hundred clenches makes, + And ductile dulness new meanders takes + There motley images her fancy strike, + Figures ill paired, and similes unlike. + She sees a mob of metaphors advance, + Pleased with the madness of the mazy dance; + How tragedy and comedy embrace; + How farce and epic get a jumbled race; + How Time himself[190] stands still at her command, + Realms shift their place, and ocean turns to land. + Here gay description Egypt glads with showers, + Or gives to Zembla fruits, to Barca flowers; + Glittering with ice here hoary hills are seen, + There painted valleys of eternal green; + In cold December fragrant chaplets blow, + And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow. + All these and more the cloud-compelling queen + Beholds through fogs, that magnify the scene. + She, tinselled o'er in robes of varying hues, + With self-applause her wild creation views; + Sees momentary monsters rise and fall, + And with her own fools-colours gilds them all. + 'Twas on the day when Thorold rich and grave,[191] + Like Cimon, triumphed both on land and wave: + (Pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces, + Glad chains, warm furs, broad banners, and broad faces) + Now night descending, the proud scene was o'er, + But lived in Settle's numbers one day more.[192] + Now mayors and shrieves all hushed and satiate lay, + Yet ate, in dreams, the custard of the day; + While pensive poets painful vigils keep, + Sleepless themselves, to give their readers sleep. + Much to the mindful queen the feast recalls + What city swans once sung within the walls; + Much she revolves their arts, their ancient praise, + And sure succession down from Heywood's[193] days. + She saw, with joy, the line immortal run, + Each sire impressed, and glaring in his son: + So watchful Bruin forms, with plastic care, + Each growing lump, and brings it to a bear. + She saw old Prynne in restless Daniel[194] shine, + And Eusden eke out[195] Blackmore's endless line; + She saw slow Philips creep like Tate's poor page, + And all the mighty mad[196] in Dennis rage. + In each she marks her image full exprest, + But chief in Bays's monster-breeding breast, + Bays, formed by nature stage and town to bless, + And act, and be, a coxcomb with success. + Dulness, with transport eyes the lively dunce, + Remembering she herself was pertness once. + Now (shame to fortune!) an ill run at play + Blanked his bold visage, and a thin third day: + Swearing and supperless the hero sate, + Blasphemed his gods, the dice, and damned his fate; + Then gnawed his pen, then dashed it on the ground, + Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound! + Plunged for his sense, but found no bottom there; + Yet wrote and floundered on in mere despair. + Round him much embryo, much abortion lay, + Much future ode, and abdicated play; + Nonsense precipitate, like running lead, + That slipped through cracks and zigzags of the head; + All that on folly frenzy could beget, + Fruits of dull heat, and sooterkins of wit, + Next, o'er his books his eyes began to roll, + In pleasing memory of all he stole, + How here he sipped, how there he plundered snug, + And sucked all o'er, like an industrious bug. + Here lay poor Fletcher's half-eat scenes, and here + The frippery of crucified Moliere; + There hapless Shakespeare, yet of Tibbald sore, + Wished he had blotted for himself before. + The rest on outside merit but presume, + Or serve (like other fools) to fill a room; + Such with their shelves as due proportion hold, + Or their fond parents dressed in red and gold; + Or where the pictures for the page atone, + And Quarles is saved by beauties not his own. + Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great; + There, stamped with arms, Newcastle shines complete: + Here all his suffering brotherhood retire, + And 'scape the martyrdom of jakes and fire: + A Gothic library! of Greece and Rome + Well purged, and worthy Settle, Banks, and Broome. + +[Footnote 183: Smithfield is the place where Bartholomew Fair was kept, +whose shows and dramatical entertainments were, by the hero of this +poem and others of equal genius, brought to the theatres of Covent +Garden, Lincolns-Inn-Fields, and the Haymarket, to be the reigning +pleasures of the court and town. This happened in the reigns of King +George I. and II.] + +[Footnote 184: _Ironice_, alluding to Gulliver's representations of +both.--The next line relates to the papers of the Drapier against the +currency of Wood's copper coin in Ireland, which, upon the great +discontent of the people, his majesty was graciously pleased to +recall.] + +[Footnote 185: Mr. Caius Gabriel Cibber, father of the poet laureate. +The two statues of the lunatics over the gates of Bedlam Hospital were +done by him, and (as the son justly says of them) are no ill monuments +of his fame as an artist.] + +[Footnote 186: Two booksellers. The former was fined by the Court of +King's Bench for publishing obscene books; the latter usually adorned +his shop with titles in red letters.] + +[Footnote 187: It was an ancient English custom for the malefactors to +sing a psalm at their execution at Tyburn; and no less customary to +print elegies on their deaths, at the same time or before.] + +[Footnote 188: Made by the poet laureate for the time being, to be sung +at court on every New Year's Day.] + +[Footnote 189: Jacob Tonson the bookseller.] + +[Footnote 190: Alluding to the transgressions of the unities in the +plays of such poets.] + +[Footnote 191: Sir George Thorold, Lord Mayor of London in the year +1720. The procession of a Lord Mayor was made partly by land, and +partly by water.--Cimon, the famous Athenian general, obtained a +victory by sea, and another by land, on the same day, over the Persians +and barbarians.] + +[Footnote 192: Settle was poet to the city of London. His office was to +compose yearly panegyrics upon the Lord Mayors, and verses to be spoken +in the pageants: but that part of the shows being at length abolished, +the employment of the city poet ceased; so that upon Settle's death +there was no successor appointed to that place.] + +[Footnote 193: John Heywood, whose "Interludes" were printed in the +time of Henry VIII.] + +[Footnote 194: The first edition had it,-- + + "She saw in Norton all his father shine": + +Daniel Defoe was a genius, but Norton Defoe was a wretched writer, and +never attempted poetry. Much more justly is Daniel himself made +successor to W. Pryn, both of whom wrote verses as well as politics. +And both these authors had a semblance in their fates as well as +writings, having been alike sentenced to the pillory.] + +[Footnote 195: Laurence Eusden, poet laureate before Gibber. We have +the names of only a few of his works, which were very numerous. + +Nahum Tate was poet laureate, a poor writer, of no invention; but who +sometimes translated tolerably when assisted by Dryden. In the second +part of Absalom and Achitophel there are about two hundred lines in all +by Dryden which contrast strongly with the insipidity of the rest.] + +[Footnote 196: John Dennis was the son of a saddler in London, born in +1657. He paid court to Dryden; and having obtained some correspondence +with Wycherley and Congreve he immediately made public their letters.] + + + +XXXVI. SANDYS' GHOST; OR, A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE NEW OVID'S +METAMORPHOSES, AS IT WAS INTENDED TO BE TRANSLATED BY PERSONS OF QUALITY. + + This satire owed its origin to the fact that Sir Samuel Garth was + about to publish a new translation of Ovid's _Metamorphoses_. + George Sandys--the old translator--died in 1643. + + + Ye Lords and Commons, men of wit, + And pleasure about town; + Read this ere you translate one bit + Of books of high renown. + + Beware of Latin authors all! + Nor think your verses sterling, + Though with a golden pen you scrawl, + And scribble in a Berlin: + + For not the desk with silver nails, + Nor bureau of expense, + Nor standish well japanned avails + To writing of good sense. + + Hear how a ghost in dead of night, + With saucer eyes of fire, + In woeful wise did sore affright + A wit and courtly squire. + + Rare Imp of Phoebus, hopeful youth, + Like puppy tame that uses + To fetch and carry, in his mouth, + The works of all the Muses. + + Ah! why did he write poetry + That hereto was so civil; + And sell his soul for vanity, + To rhyming and the devil? + + A desk he had of curious work, + With glittering studs about; + Within the same did Sandys lurk, + Though Ovid lay without. + + Now as he scratched to fetch up thought, + Forth popped the sprite so thin; + And from the key-hole bolted out, + All upright as a pin. + + With whiskers, band, and pantaloon, + And ruff composed most duly; + The squire he dropped his pen full soon, + While as the light burnt bluely. + + "Ho! Master Sam," quoth Sandys' sprite, + "Write on, nor let me scare ye; + Forsooth, if rhymes fall in not right, + To Budgell seek, or Carey. + + "I hear the beat of Jacob's drums, + Poor Ovid finds no quarter! + See first the merry P---- comes[197] + In haste, without his garter. + + "Then lords and lordlings, squires and knights, + Wits, witlings, prigs, and peers! + Garth at St. James's, and at White's, + Beats up for volunteers. + + "What Fenton will not do, nor Gay, + Nor Congreve, Rowe, nor Stanyan, + Tom Burnett or Tom D'Urfey may, + John Dunton, Steele, or anyone. + + "If Justice Philips' costive head + Some frigid rhymes disburses; + They shall like Persian tales be read, + And glad both babes and nurses. + + "Let Warwick's muse with Ashurst join, + And Ozell's with Lord Hervey's: + Tickell and Addison combine, + And Pope translate with Jervas. + + "Lansdowne himself, that lively lord, + Who bows to every lady, + Shall join with Frowde in one accord, + And be like Tate and Brady. + + "Ye ladies too draw forth your pen, + I pray where can the hurt lie? + Since you have brains as well as men, + As witness Lady Wortley. + + "Now, Tonson, 'list thy forces all, + Review them, and tell noses; + For to poor Ovid shall befall + A strange metamorphosis. + + "A metamorphosis more strange + Than all his books can vapour;" + "To what" (quoth squire) "shall Ovid change?" + Quoth Sandys: "To waste paper". + +[Footnote 197: The Earl of Pembroke, probably.--_Roscoe_.] + + + +XXXVII. SATIRE ON THE WHIG POETS. + + This is practically the whole of Pope's famous Epistle to + Arbuthnot, otherwise the _Prologue to the Satires_. The only + portion I have omitted, in order to include in this collection one + of the greatest of his satires, is the introductory lines, which + are frequently dropped, as the poem really begins with the line + wherewith it is represented as opening here. + + + Soft were my numbers; who could take offence, + While pure description held the place of sense? + Like gentle Fanny's was my flowery theme, + A painted mistress, or a purling stream. + Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill;-- + I wished the man a dinner, and sat still. + Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret; + I never answered,--I was not in debt. + If want provoked, or madness made them print, + I waged no war with Bedlam or the Mint. + Did some more sober critic come abroad; + If wrong, I smiled; if right, I kissed the rod. + Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence, + And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense. + Commas and points they set exactly right, + And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite. + Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel graced these ribalds, + From slashing Bentley down to pidling Tibalds: + Each wight, who reads not, and but scans and spells, + Each word-catcher, that lives on syllables, + Even such small critic some regard may claim, + Preserved in Milton's or in Shakespeare's name. + Pretty! in amber to observe the forms + Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms! + The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare, + But wonder how the devil they got there. + Were others angry: I excused them too; + Well might they rage, I gave them but their due. + A man's true merit 'tis not hard to find; + But each man's secret standard in his mind, + That casting-weight pride adds to emptiness, + This, who can gratify? for who can guess? + The bard whom pilfered pastorals renown, + Who turns a Persian tale for half-a-crown,[198] + Just writes to make his barrenness appear, + And strains, from hard-bound brains, eight lines a-year; + He, who still wanting, though he lives on theft, + Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left: + And he, who now to sense, now nonsense leaning, + Means not, but blunders round about a meaning: + And he, whose fustian's so sublimely bad, + It is not poetry, but prose run mad: + All these, my modest satire bade translate, + And owned that nine such poets made a Tate.[199] + How did they fume, and stamp, and roar, and chafe! + And swear, not Addison himself was safe. + Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires + True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; + Blest with each talent and each art to please, + And born to write, converse, and live with ease: + Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, + Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne. + View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, + And hate for arts that caused himself to rise; + Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, + And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; + Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, + Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike; + Alike reserved to blame, or to commend, + A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend; + Dreading even fools, by flatterers besieged, + And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged; + Like Cato, give his little senate laws, + And sit attentive to his own applause; + While wits and templars every sentence raise, + And wonder with a foolish face of praise:-- + Who but must laugh, if such a man there be? + Who would not weep, if Atticus[200] were he? + Who though my name stood rubric on the walls, + Or plaistered posts, with claps, in capitals? + Or smoking forth, a hundred hawkers' load, + On wings of winds came flying all abroad?[201] + I sought no homage from the race that write; + I kept, like Asian monarchs, from their sight: + Poems I heeded (now be-rhymed so long) + No more than thou, great George! a birthday song. + I ne'er with wits or witlings passed my days, + To spread about the itch of verse and praise; + Nor like a puppy, daggled through the town, + To fetch and carry sing-song up and down; + Nor at rehearsals sweat, and mouthed, and cried, + With handkerchief and orange at my side; + But sick of fops, and poetry, and prate, + To Bufo left the whole Castillan state. + Proud as Apollo on his forked hill, + Sat full-blown Bufo, puffed by every quill;[202] + Fed with soft dedication all day long, + Horace and he went hand in hand in song. + His library (where busts of poets dead + And a true Pindar stood without a head), + Received of wits an undistinguished race, + Who first his judgment asked, and then a place: + Much they extolled his pictures, much his seat, + And flattered every day, and some days eat: + Till grown more frugal in his riper days, + He paid some bards with port, and some with praise + To some a dry rehearsal was assigned, + And others (harder still) he paid in kind, + Dryden alone (what wonder?) came not nigh, + Dryden alone escaped this judging eye: + But still the great have kindness in reserve, + He helped to bury whom he helped to starve. + May some choice patron bless each gray goose quill! + May every Bavias have his Bufo still! + So, when a statesman wants a day's defence, + Or envy holds a whole week's war with sense, + Or simple pride for flattery makes demands, + May dunce by dunce be whistled off my hands! + Blest be the great! for those they take away, + And those they left me; for they left me Gay; + Left me to see neglected genius bloom, + Neglected die, and tell it on his tomb: + Of all thy blameless life the sole return + My verse, and Queensbury weeping o'er thy urn! + Oh, let me live my own, and die so too! + (To live and die is all I have to do:) + Maintain a poet's dignity and ease, + And see what friends, and read what books I please; + Above a patron, though I condescend + Sometimes to call a minister my friend. + I was not born for courts or great affairs; + I pay my debts, believe, and say my prayers; + Can sleep without a poem in my head; + Nor know, if Dennis be alive or dead. + Why am I asked what next shall see the light? + Heavens! was I born for nothing but to write? + Has life no joys for me? or (to be grave) + Have I no friend to serve, no soul to save? + "I found him close with Swift"--"Indeed? no doubt," + (Cries prating Balbus) "something will come out." + 'Tis all in vain, deny it as I will. + No, such a genius never can lie still; + And then for mine obligingly mistakes + The first lampoon Sir Will,[203] or Bubo[204] makes. + Poor guiltless I! and can I choose but smile, + When every coxcomb knows me by my style? + Cursed be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, + That tends to make one worthy man my foe, + Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear, + Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear! + But he who hurts a harmless neighbour's peace, + Insults fallen worth, or beauty in distress, + Who loves a lie, lame slander helps about, + Who writes a libel, or who copies out: + That fop, whose pride affects a patron's name, + Yet absent, wounds an author's honest fame: + Who can your merit selfishly approve, + And show the sense of it without the love; + Who has the vanity to call you friend, + Yet wants the honour, injured, to defend; + Who tells whate'er you think, whate'er you say, + And, if he lie not, must at least betray: + Who to the Dean, and silver bell can swear,[205] + And sees at canons what was never there; + Who reads, but with a lust to misapply, + Make satire a lampoon, and fiction, lie. + A lash like mine no honest man shall dread, + But all such babbling blockheads in his stead. + Let Sporus[206] tremble-- + _A_. What? that thing of silk, + Sporus, that mere white curd of ass's milk? + Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel? + Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel? + _P_. Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings, + This painted child of dirt, that stinks and stings; + Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, + Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys: + So well-bred spaniels civilly delight + In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. + Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, + As shallow streams run dimpling all the way. + Whether in florid impotence he speaks, + And, as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks + Or at the ear of Eve, familiar toad, + Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad, + In puns, or politics, or tales, or lies, + Or spite, or smut, or rhymes, or blasphemies. + His wit all see-saw, between that and this, + Now high, now low, now master up, now miss, + And he himself one vile antithesis. + Amphibious thing! that acting either part, + The trifling head or the corrupted heart, + Fop at the toilet, flatterer at the board, + Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord. + Eve's tempter thus the Rabbins have exprest, + A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest; + Beauty that shocks you, parts that none will trust; + Wit that can creep, and pride that licks the dust. + Not fortune's worshipper, nor fashion's fool, + Not lucre's madman, nor ambition's tool, + Not proud, nor servile;--be one poet's praise, + That, if he pleased, he pleased by manly ways: + That flattery, even to kings, he held a shame, + And thought a lie in verse or prose the same. + That not in fancy's maze he wandered long, + But stooped to truth, and moralized his song: + That not for fame, but virtue's better end, + He stood the furious foe, the timid friend, + The damning critic, half-approving wit, + The coxcomb hit, or fearing to be hit; + Laughed at the loss of friends he never had, + The dull, the proud, the wicked, and the mad; + The distant threats of vengeance on his head, + The blow unfelt, the tear he never shed; + The tale revived, the lie so oft o'erthrown, + The imputed trash, and dulness not his own; + The morals blackened when the writings scape, + The libelled person, and the pictured shape; + Abuse, on all he loved, or loved him, spread, + A friend in exile, or a father, dead; + The whisper, that to greatness still too near, + Perhaps, yet vibrates on his sovereign's ear:-- + Welcome for thee, fair virtue! all the past; + For thee, fair virtue! welcome even the last! + _A_. But why insult the poor, affront the great? + _P_. A knave's a knave, to me, in every state: + Alike my scorn, if he succeed or fail, + Sporus at court, or Japhet in a jail, + A hireling scribbler, or a hireling peer, + Knight of the post corrupt, or of the shire; + If on a pillory, or near a throne, + He gain his prince's ear, or lose his own. + Yet soft by nature, more a dupe than wit, + Sappho can tell you how this man was bit; + This dreaded satirist Dennis will confess + Foe to his pride, but friend to his distress; + So humble, he has knocked at Tibbald's door, + Has drunk with Cibber, nay, has rhymed for Moore. + Full ten years slandered, did he once reply? + Three thousand suns went down on Welsted's lie. + To please a mistress one aspersed his life; + He lashed him not, but let her be his wife. + Let Budgel charge low Grub Street on his quill, + And write whate'er he pleased, except his will. + Let the two Curlls of town and court, abuse + His father, mother, body, soul, and muse + Yet why? that father held it for a rule, + It was a sin to call our neighbour fool: + That harmless mother thought no wife a whore: + Hear this, and spare his family, James Moore! + Unspotted names, and memorable long! + If there be force in virtue, or in song. + Of gentle blood (part shed in honour's cause, + While yet in Britain honour had applause) + Each parent sprung-- + _A_. What fortune, pray?-- + _P_. Their own, + And better got, than Bestia's from the throne. + Born to no pride, inheriting no strife, + Nor marrying discord in a noble wife, + Stranger to civil and religious rage, + The good man walked innoxious through his age, + No courts he saw, no suits would ever try, + Nor dared an oath, nor hazarded a lie. + Unlearned, he knew no schoolman's subtle art, + No language, but the language of the heart. + By nature honest, by experience wise, + Healthy by temperance, and by exercise; + His life, though long, to sickness passed unknown, + His death was instant, and without a groan. + O, grant me, thus to live, and thus to die! + Who sprung from kings shall know less joy than I. + O, friend! may each domestic bliss be thine! + Be no unpleasing melancholy mine: + Me, let the tender office long engage, + To rock the cradle of reposing age, + With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, + Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death, + Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, + And keep awhile one parent from the sky! + On cares like these if length of days attend, + May heaven, to bless those days, preserve my friend, + Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene, + And just as rich as when he served a queen. + _A_. Whether that blessing be denied or given, + Thus far was right, the rest belongs to heaven. + +[Footnote 198: Ambrose Philips translated a book called the _Persian +Tales_.] + +[Footnote 199: Nahum Tate, the joint-author with Brady of the version +of the Psalms.] + +[Footnote 200: Addison.] + +[Footnote 201: Hopkins, in the 104th Psalm.] + +[Footnote 202: Lord Halifax.] + +[Footnote 203: Sir William Yonge.] + +[Footnote 204: Bubb Dodington.] + +[Footnote 205: Meaning the man who would have persuaded the Duke of +Chandos that Pope meant to ridicule him in the Epistle on _Taste_.] + +[Footnote 206: Lord Hervey.] + + + +XXXVIII. EPILOGUE TO THE SATIRES. + + The following piece represents the first dialogue in the Epilogue + to the Satires. Huggins mentioned in the poem was the jailer of the + Fleet Prison, who had enriched himself by many exactions, for which + he was tried and expelled. Jekyl was Sir Joseph Jekyl, Master of + the Rolls, a man of great probity, who, though a Whig, frequently + voted against the Court, which drew on him the laugh here + described. Lyttleton was George Lyttleton, Secretary to the Prince + of Wales, distinguished for his writings in the cause of liberty. + Written in 1738, and first published in the following year. + + + _Fr_[_iend_]. Not twice a twelvemonth you appear in print, + And when it comes, the court see nothing in 't. + You grow correct, that once with rapture writ, + And are, besides, too moral for a wit. + Decay of parts, alas! we all must feel-- + Why now, this moment, don't I see you steal? + 'Tis all from Horace; Horace long before ye + Said, "Tories called him Whig, and Whigs a Tory"; + And taught his Romans, in much better metre, + "To laugh at fools who put their trust in Peter". + But Horace, sir, was delicate, was nice; + Bubo observes, he lashed no sort of vice: + Horace would say, Sir Billy served the crown, + Blunt could do business, Huggins knew the town; + In Sappho touch the failings of the sex, + In reverend bishops note some small neglects, + And own, the Spaniard did a waggish thing, + Who cropped our ears, and sent them to the king. + His sly, polite, insinuating style + Could please at court, and make Augustus smile: + An artful manager, that crept between + His friend and shame, and was a kind of screen. + But 'faith your very friends will soon be sore: + Patriots there are, who wish you'd jest no more-- + And where's the glory? 'twill be only thought + The great man never offered you a groat. + Go see Sir Robert-- + P[_ope_]. See Sir Robert!--hum-- + And never laugh--for all my life to come? + Seen him I have, but in his happier hour + Of social pleasure, ill exchanged for power; + Seen him, uncumbered with the venal tribe, + Smile without art, and win without a bribe. + Would he oblige me? let me only find, + He does not think me what he thinks mankind. + Come, come, at all I laugh he laughs, no doubt; + The only difference is, I dare laugh out. + _F_. Why yes: with Scripture still you may be free: + A horse-laugh, if you please, at honesty; + A joke on Jekyl, or some odd old Whig + Who never changed his principle or wig. + A patriot is a fool in every age, + Whom all Lord Chamberlains allow the stage: + These nothing hurts; they keep their fashion still, + And wear their strange old virtue, as they will. + If any ask you, "Who's the man, so near + His prince, that writes in verse, and has his ear?" + Why, answer, Lyttleton, and I'll engage + The worthy youth shall ne'er be in a rage; + But were his verses vile, his whisper base, + You'd quickly find him in Lord Fanny's case. + Sejanus, Wolsey, hurt not honest Fleury,[207] + But well may put some statesmen in a fury. + Laugh then at any, but at fools or foes; + These you but anger, and you mend not those. + Laugh at your friends, and, if your friends are sore, + So much the better, you may laugh the more. + To vice and folly to confine the jest, + Sets half the world, God knows, against the rest; + Did not the sneer of more impartial men + At sense and virtue, balance all again. + Judicious wits spread wide the ridicule, + And charitably comfort knave and fool. + _P_. Dear sir, forgive the prejudice of youth: + Adieu distinction, satire, warmth, and truth! + Come, harmless characters, that no one hit; + Come, Henley's oratory, Osborne's wit! + The honey dropping from Favonio's tongue, + The flowers of Bubo, and the flow of Yonge! + The gracious dew of pulpit eloquence, + And all the well-whipped cream of courtly sense, + That first was H----vy's, F----'s next, and then + The S----te's and then H----vy's once again.[208] + O come, that easy Ciceronian style, + So Latin, yet so English all the while, + As, though the pride of Middleton[209] and Bland, + All boys may read, and girls may understand! + Then might I sing, without the least offence, + And all I sung shall be the nation's sense; + Or teach the melancholy muse to mourn, + Hang the sad verse on Carolina's[210] urn, + And hail her passage to the realms of rest, + All parts performed, and all her children blest! + So--satire is no more--I feel it die-- + No gazetteer more innocent than I-- + And let, a' God's name, every fool and knave + Be graced through life, and flattered in his grave. + _F_. Why so? if satire knows its time and place, + You still may lash the greatest--in disgrace: + For merit will by turns forsake them all; + Would you know when? exactly when they fall. + But let all satire in all changes spare + Immortal Selkirk[211], and grave De----re. + Silent and soft, as saints remove to heaven, + All ties dissolved and every sin forgiven, + These may some gentle ministerial wing + Receive, and place for ever near a king! + There, where no passion, pride, or shame transport, + Lulled with the sweet nepenthe of a court; + There, where no father's, brother's, friend's disgrace + Once break their rest, or stir them from their place: + But passed the sense of human miseries, + All tears are wiped for ever from all eyes; + No cheek is known to blush, no heart to throb, + Save when they lose a question, or a job. + _P_. Good heaven forbid, that I should blast their glory, + Who know how like Whig ministers to Tory, + And, when three sovereigns died, could scarce be vext, + Considering what a gracious prince was next. + Have I, in silent wonder, seen such things + As pride in slaves, and avarice in kings; + And at a peer, or peeress, shall I fret, + Who starves a sister, or forswears a debt?[212] + Virtue, I grant you, is an empty boast; + But shall the dignity of vice be lost? + Ye gods! shall Gibber's son, without rebuke, + Swear like a lord, or Rich out-whore a duke? + A favourite's porter with his master vie, + Be bribed as often, and as often lie? + Shall Ward draw contracts with a statesman's skill? + Or Japhet pocket, like his grace, a will? + Is it for Bond, or Peter (paltry things), + To pay their debts, or keep their faith, like kings? + If Blount dispatched himself, he played the man, + And so mayest thou, illustrious Passeran! + But shall a printer, weary of his life, + Learn, from their books, to hang himself and wife? + This, this, my friend, I cannot, must not bear; + Vice thus abused, demands a nation's care; + This calls the Church to deprecate our sin, + And hurls the thunder of the laws on gin. + Let modest Foster, if he will, excel + Ten metropolitans in preaching well; + A simple Quaker, or a Quaker's wife, + Outdo Llandaff in doctrine,--yea in life: + Let humble Allen, with an awkward shame, + Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. + Virtue may choose the high or low degree, + 'Tis just alike to virtue, and to me; + Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king, + She's still the same, beloved, contented thing. + Vice is undone, if she forgets her birth, + And stoops from angels to the dregs of earth: + But 'tis the fall degrades her to a whore; + Let greatness own her, and she's mean no more; + Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess; + Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless; + In golden chains the willing world she draws, + And hers the gospel is, and hers the laws, + Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, + And sees pale virtue carted in her stead. + Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car, + Old England's genius, rough with many a scar, + Dragged in the dust! his arms hang idly round, + His flag inverted trails along the ground! + Our youth, all liveried o'er with foreign gold, + Before her dance: behind her crawl the old! + See thronging millions to the Pagod run, + And offer country, parent, wife, or son! + Hear her black trumpet through the land proclaim, + That not to be corrupted is the shame. + In soldier, churchman, patriot, man in power, + 'Tis avarice all, ambition is no more! + See, all our nobles begging to be slaves! + See, all our fools aspiring to be knaves! + The wit of cheats, the courage of a whore, + Are what ten thousand envy and adore; + All, all look up, with reverential awe, + At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the law; + While truth, worth, wisdom, daily they decry-- + "Nothing is sacred now but villainy ". + Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain) + Show, there was one who held it in disdain. + +[Footnote 207: Cardinal: and Minister to Louis XV.] + +[Footnote 208: This couplet alludes to the preachers of some recent +Court Sermons of a florid panegyrical character; also to some speeches +of a like kind, some parts of both of which were afterwards +incorporated in an address to the monarch.] + +[Footnote 209: Dr. Conyers Middleton, author of the _Life of Cicero_.] + +[Footnote 210: Queen Consort to King George II. She died in 1737.] + +[Footnote 211: A title given to Lord Selkirk by King James II. He was +Gentleman of the Bed-chamber to William III., to George I., and to +George II. He was proficient in all the forms of the House, in which he +comported himself with great dignity.] + +[Footnote 212: Referring to Lady M.W. Montagu and her sister, the +Countess of Mar.] + + + + +SAMUEL JOHNSON. + +(1709-1784.) + + +XXXIX. THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. + + Published in January, 1749, in order, as was reported, to excite + interest in the author's tragedy of _Irene_. The poem is written in + imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal. + + + Let observation, with extensive view, + Survey mankind from China to Peru; + Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, + And watch the busy scenes of crowded life; + Then say, how hope and fear, desire and hate, + O'erspread with snares the clouded maze of fate, + Where way'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride, + To tread the dreary paths without a guide, + As treach'rous phantoms in the mist delude, + Shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good; + How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, + Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice; + How nations sink, by darling schemes oppress'd, + When Vengeance listens to the fool's request. + Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, + Each gift of nature, and each grace of art; + With fatal heat impetuous courage glows, + With fatal sweetness elocution flows; + Impeachment stops the speaker's pow'rful breath, + And restless fire precipitates on death. + But, scarce observ'd, the knowing and the bold + Fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold; + Wide wasting pest! that rages unconfin'd, + And crowds with crimes the records of mankind: + For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws, + For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws: + Wealth heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety buys, + The dangers gather as the treasures rise. + Let Hist'ry tell where rival kings command, + And dubious title shakes the madded land. + When statutes glean the refuse of the sword, + How much more safe the vassal than the lord; + Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of power, + And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tower, + Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, + Though Confiscation's vultures hover round. + The needy traveller, serene and gay, + Walks the wild heath, and sings his toil away. + Does envy seize thee? crush th' upbraiding joy; + Increase his riches, and his peace destroy; + Now fears in dire vicissitude invade, + The rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring shade; + Nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief, + One shows the plunder, and one hides the thief. + Yet still one gen'ral cry the skies assails, + And pain and grandeur load the tainted gales; + Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care, + Th' insidious rival and the gaping heir. + Once more, Democritus, arise on earth, + With cheerful wisdom and instructive mirth, + See motley life in modern trappings dress'd, + And feed with varied fools th' eternal jest: + Thou who could'st laugh where want enchain'd caprice, + Toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece; + Where wealth, unlov'd, without a mourner dy'd; + And scarce a sycophant was fed by pride; + Where ne'er was known the form of mock debate, + Or seen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state; + Where change of fav'rites made no change of laws, + And senates heard before they judg'd a cause; + How would'st thou shake at Britain's modish tribe, + Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe? + Attentive truth and nature to descry, + And pierce each scene with philosophic eye, + To thee were solemn toys, or empty show, + The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe: + All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain, + Whose joys are causeless, and whose griefs are vain. + Such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's mind, + Renew'd at ev'ry glance on human kind; + How just that scorn ere yet thy voice declare, + Search ev'ry state, and canvass ev'ry pray'r: + Unnumber'd suppliants crowd Preferment's gate, + A thirst for wealth, and burning to be great; + Delusive Fortune hears th' incessant call, + They mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall. + On ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend, + Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end. + Love ends with hope, the sinking statesman's door + Pours in the morning worshipper no more; + For growing names the weekly scribbler lies, + To growing wealth the dedicator flies, + From ev'ry room descends the painted face, + That hung the bright palladium of the place: + And, smok'd in kitchens, or in auctions sold, + To better features yields the frame of gold; + For now no more we trace in ev'ry line + Heroic worth, benevolence divine: + The form distorted, justifies the fall, + And detestation rides th' indignant wall. + But will not Britain hear the last appeal, + Sign her foes' doom, or guard her fav'rites' zeal? + Through Freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings, + Degrading nobles, and controlling kings; + Our supple tribes repress their patriot throats, + And ask no questions but the price of votes; + With weekly libels and septennial ale, + Their wish is full to riot and to rail. + In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand, + Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand: + To him the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign. + Through him the rays of regal bounty shine, + Turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows, + His smile alone security bestows: + Still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r, + Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r: + Till conquest unresisted ceas'd to please, + And rights submitted, left him none to seize. + At length his sov'reign frowns--the train of state + Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate. + Where'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye, + His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly; + Now drops at once the pride of awful state, + The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate, + The regal palace, the luxurious board, + The liv'ried army, and the menial lord. + With age, with cares, with maladies oppress'd, + He seeks the refuge of monastic rest. + Grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings, + And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. + Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine, + Shall Wolsey's wealth, with Wolsey's end, be thine? + Or liv'st thou now, with safer pride content, + The wisest justice on the banks of Trent? + For, why did Wolsey, near the steeps of fate, + On weak foundations raise th' enormous weight? + Why but to sink beneath misfortune's blow, + With louder ruin to the gulfs below? + What gave great Villiers to th' assassin's knife, + And fix'd disease on Harley's closing life? + What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde, + By kings protected, and to kings ally'd? + What but their wish indulg'd in courts to shine, + And pow'r too great to keep, or to resign? + When first the college rolls receive his name, + The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; + Resistless burns the fever of renown, + Caught from the strong contagion of the gown: + O'er Bodley's dome his future labours spread, + And Bacon's mansion[213] trembles o'er his head. + Are these thy views? Proceed, illustrious youth, + And Virtue guard thee to the throne of Truth! + Yet, should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat + Till captive Science yields her last retreat; + Should Reason guide thee with her brightest ray, + And pour on misty Doubt resistless day; + Should no false kindness lure to loose delight, + Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; + Should tempting Novelty thy cell refrain, + And Sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain; + Should beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, + Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart; + Should no disease thy torpid veins invade, + Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade; + Yet hope not life from grief or danger free, + Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee: + Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, + And pause awhile from Letters, to be wise; + There mark what ills the scholar's life assail, + Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. + See nations, slowly wise, and meanly just, + To buried merit raise the tardy bust. + If dreams yet flatter, once again attend, + Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end. + Nor deem, when Learning her last prize bestows, + The glitt'ring eminence exempt from woes; + See, when the vulgar 'scape, despis'd or aw'd, + Rebellion's vengeful talons seize on Laud. + From meaner minds though smaller fines content, + The plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent; + Mark'd out by dang'rous parts, he meets the shock, + And fatal Learning leads him to the block: + Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep, + But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep. + The festal blazes, the triumphal show, + The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe, + The senate's thanks, the Gazette's pompous tale, + With force resistless o'er the brave prevail. + Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd, + For such the steady Romans shook the world; + For such in distant lands the Britons shine, + And stain with blood the Danube or the Rhine; + This pow'r has praise that virtue scarce can warm, + Till fame supplies the universal charm. + Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal game, + Where wasted nations raise a single name; + And mortgag'd states their grandsires' wreaths regret, + From age to age in everlasting debt; + Wreaths which at last the dear-bought right convey, + To rust on medals, or on stones decay. + On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, + How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide; + A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, + No dangers fright him, and no labours tire; + O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, + Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain; + No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, + War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field; + Behold surrounding kings their pow'r combine, + And one capitulate, and one resign; + Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; + "Think nothing gain'd," he cries, "till nought remain, + On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, + And all be mine beneath the polar sky". + The march begins in military state, + And nations on his eye suspended wait; + Stern Famine guards the solitary coast, + And Winter barricades the realm of Frost; + He comes, nor want nor cold his course delay; + Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's day: + The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, + And shows his miseries in distant lands; + Condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait, + While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. + But did not Chance at length her error mend? + Did no subverted empire mark his end? + Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? + Or hostile millions press him to the ground? + His fall was destin'd to a barren strand, + A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; + He left the name, at which the world grew pale + To point a moral, or adorn a tale. + All times their scenes of pompous woes afford, + From Persia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord. + In gay hostility and barb'rous pride, + With half mankind embattled at his side, + Great Xerxes comes to seize the certain prey + And starves exhausted regions in his way; + Attendant Flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er, + Till counted myriads soothe his pride no more; + Fresh praise is try'd till madness fires his mind, + The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind, + New pow'rs are claim'd, new pow'rs are still bestow'd, + Till rude Resistance lops the spreading god; + The daring Greeks deride the martial show, + And heap their valleys with the gaudy foe; + Th' insulted sea with humbler thoughts he gains, + A single skiff to speed his flight remains; + Th' incumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast, + Through purple billows and a floating host. + The bold Bavarian, in a luckless hour, + Tries the dread summits of Caesarian pow'r, + With unexpected legions bursts away, + And sees defenceless realms receive his sway; + Short sway! fair Austria spreads her mournful charms, + The queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms; + From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze + Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise; + The fierce Croatian, and the wild Hussar, + With all the sons of ravage crowd the war; + The baffled prince, in honour's flatt'ring bloom + Of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom; + His foes' derision, and his subjects' blame, + And steals to death from anguish and from shame. + Enlarge my life with multitude of days! + In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays: + Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know, + That life protracted is protracted woe. + Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, + And shuts up all the passages of joy: + In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour, + The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r; + With listless eyes the dotard views the store, + He views, and wonders that they please no more: + Now pall the tasteless meats and joyless wines, + And Luxury with sighs her slave resigns. + Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain, + Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain: + No sounds, alas! would touch th' impervious ear, + Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus near; + Nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend, + Nor sweeter music of a virtuous friend; + But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, + Perversely grave, or positively wrong. + The still returning tale, and ling'ring jest, + Perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd guest. + While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer, + And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear; + The watchful guests still hint the last offence; + The daughter's petulance the son's expense, + Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill, + And mould his passions till they make his will. + Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade, + Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade; + But unextinguish'd Av'rice still remains, + And dreaded losses aggravate his pains; + He turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands, + His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands; + Or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, + Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. + But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime + Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime; + An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay, + And glides in modest innocence away; + Whose peaceful day Benevolence endears, + Whose night congratulating Conscience cheers; + The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend; + Such age there is, and who shall wish its end? + Yet ev'n on this her load Misfortune flings, + To press the weary minutes' flagging wings; + New sorrow rises as the day returns, + A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. + Now kindred Merit fills the sable bier, + Now lacerated Friendship claims a tear; + Year chases year, decay pursues decay, + Still drops some joy from with'ring life away; + New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage, + Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage, + Till pitying Nature signs the last release, + And bids afflicted worth retire to peace. + But few there are whom hours like these await, + Who set unclouded in the gulfs of Fate. + From Lydia's monarch should the search descend, + By Solon caution'd to regard his end, + In life's last scene what prodigies surprise, + Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise! + From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, + And Swift expires a driv'ller and a show. + The teeming mother, anxious for her race, + Begs for each birth the fortune of a face; + Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring; + And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king. + Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, + Whom Pleasure keeps too busy to be wise; + Whom joys with soft varieties invite, + By day the frolic, and the dance by night; + Who frown with vanity, who smile with art, + And ask the latent fashion of the heart; + What care, what rules, your heedless charms shall save, + Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave? + Against your fame with fondness hate combines, + The rival batters, and the lover mines. + With distant voice neglected Virtue calls, + Less heard and less, the faint remonstrance falls; + Tir'd with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry reign, + And Pride and Prudence take her seat in vain. + In crowd at once, where none the pass defend, + The harmless freedom, and the private friend. + The guardians yield, by force superior ply'd, + To Int'rest, Prudence; and to Flatt'ry, Pride. + Here Beauty falls betray'd, despis'd, distress'd, + And hissing Infamy proclaims the rest. + Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find? + Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? + Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, + Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? + Must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, + No cries invoke the mercies of the skies? + Inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain + Which Heav'n may hear, nor deem Religion vain. + Still raise for good the supplicating voice, + But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choice. + Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar + The secret ambush of a specious pray'r; + Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, + Secure, whate'er he gives, he gives the best. + Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, + And strong devotion to the skies aspires, + Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, + Obedient passions and a will resigned; + For love, which scarce collective man can fill; + For patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill; + For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, + Counts death kind Nature's signal of retreat: + These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain, + These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain; + With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, + And makes the happiness she does not find. + +[Footnote 213: There is a tradition, that the study of Friar Bacon, +built on an arch over the bridge, will fall when a man greater than +Bacon shall pass under it. To prevent so shocking an accident, it was +pulled down many years since.] + + + +XL. LETTER TO THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD. + + Though perhaps scarcely a professedly satirical production in the + proper sense of the word, there are few more pungent satires than + the following letter. In Boswell's _Life of Johnson_ we read, "When + the Dictionary was on the eve of publication. Lord Chesterfield, + who, it is said, had flattered himself with expectations that + Johnson would dedicate the work to him, attempted in a courtly + manner to soothe and insinuate himself with the sage, conscious, as + it would seem, of the cold indifference with which he had treated + its learned author, and further attempted to conciliate him by + writing two papers in the _World_ in recommendation of the work.... + This courtly device failed of its effect. Johnson despised the + honeyed words, and he states 'I wrote him a letter expressed in + civil terms, but such as might show him that I did not mind what he + said or wrote, and that I had done with him'." + + +February 7, 1755. + +"MY LORD, + +"I have been lately informed by the proprietor of _The World_ that two +papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were +written by your lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour which, +being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well +how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. + +"When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I +was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your +address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself _Le +vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre_;--that I might obtain that regard +for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so +little encouraged that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to +continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in public, I had +exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar +can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to +have his all neglected, be it ever so little. + +"Seven years, my lord, have now past since I waited in your outward +rooms or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been +pushing on my work through difficulties of which it is useless to +complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, +without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile +of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron +before. + +"The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found +him a native of the rocks. + +"Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man +struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, +encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take +of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been +delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, +and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is +no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit +has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider +me as owing that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to do for +myself. + +"Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any +favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should +conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long +wakened from that dream of hope in which I once boasted myself with so +much exultation. + +"MY LORD, + +"Your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant, + +"SAM JOHNSON." + + + + +OLIVER GOLDSMITH. + +(1728-1774.) + + +XLI. THE RETALIATION. + + The origin of the following satire is told by Boswell (who was + prejudiced against Goldsmith) in this wise: "At a meeting of a + company of gentlemen who were well known to each other and + diverting themselves among other things with the peculiar oddities + of Dr. Goldsmith, who would never allow a superior in any art, from + writing poetry down to dancing a hornpipe, Goldsmith, with great + eagerness, insisted on matching his epigrammatic powers with + Garrick's. It was determined that each should write the other's + epitaph. Garrick immediately said his epitaph was finished, and + spoke the following distich extempore: + + "'Here lies Nolly Goldsmith, for shortness called Noll, + Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll'. + + "Goldsmith would not produce his at the time, but some weeks after, + read to the company this satire in which the characteristics of + them all were happily hit off." + + + Of old, when Scarron his companions invited, + Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united; + If our landlord supplies us with beef and with fish, + Let each guest bring himself, and he brings a good dish: + Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains; + Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains; + Our Will shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour; + And Dick with his pepper shall heighten their savour; + Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain, + And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain: + Our Garrick a salad, for in him we see + Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree: + To make out the dinner, full certain I am + That Ridge is anchovy, and Reynolds is lamb; + That Hickey's a capon; and, by the same rule, + Magnanimous Goldsmith a gooseberry-fool. + At a dinner so various, at such a repast, + Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last? + Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm able, + Till all my companions sink under the table; + Then, with chaos and blunders encircling my head, + Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead. + Here lies the good Dean, reunited to earth, + Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth; + If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt, + At least in six weeks I could not find them out; + Yet some have declared, and it can't be denied them, + That Slyboots was cursedly cunning to hide them. + Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, + We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; + Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, + And to party gave up what was meant for mankind: + Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat + To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote: + Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining, + And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining; + Tho' equal to all things, for all things unfit, + Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; + For a patriot too cool; for a drudge disobedient; + And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. + In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd or in place, sir, + To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor. + Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, + While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't; + The pupil of impulse, it forced him along, + His conduct still right, with his argument wrong; + Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam, + The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home: + Would you ask for his merits? alas, he had none! + What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own. + Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at, + Alas, that such frolic should now be so quiet! + What spirits were his, what wit and what whim, + Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb! + Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball, + Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all! + In short, so provoking a devil was Dick, + That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick, + But, missing his mirth and agreeable vein, + As often we wish'd to have Dick back again. + Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts, + The Terence of England, the mender of hearts; + A flattering painter, who made it his care + To draw men as they ought to be, not what they are. + His gallants are all faultless, his women divine, + And Comedy wonders at being so fine; + Like a tragedy-queen he has dizen'd her out, + Or rather like tragedy giving a rout. + His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd + Of virtues and feelings, that folly grows proud; + And coxcombs, alike in their failings alone, + Adopting his portraits, are pleased with their own. + Say, where has our poet this malady caught? + Or wherefore his characters thus without fault? + Say, was it, that vainly directing his view + To find out men's virtues, and finding them few, + Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, + He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself? + Here Douglas retires from his toils to relax, + The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks. + Come, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines, + Come, and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclines + When satire and censure encircled his throne, + I fear'd for your safety, I fear'd for my own: + But now he is gone, and we want a detector, + Our Dodds shall be pious, our Kenricks shall lecture; + Macpherson write bombast, and call it a style; + Our Townshend make speeches, and I shall compile; + New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross over, + No countryman living their tricks to discover: + Detection her taper shall quench to a spark, + And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheat in the dark. + Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can? + An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man; + As an actor, confessed without rival to shine; + As a wit, if not first, in the very first line; + Yet with talents like these, and an excellent heart, + The man had his failings, a dupe to his art; + Like an ill-judging beauty his colours he spread, + And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red. + On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting: + 'Twas only that when he was off he was acting; + With no reason on earth to go out of his way, + He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day: + Tho' secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick + If they were not his own by finessing and trick; + He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, + For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back. + Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, + And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame; + Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, + Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. + But let us be candid, and speak out our mind: + If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. + Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave, + What a commerce was yours, while you got and you gave! + How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you raised, + When he was be-Roscius'd and you were bepraised! + But peace to his spirit, wherever it flies, + To act as an angel, and mix with the skies! + Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill, + Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will; + Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love, + And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above. + Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature, + And Slander itself must allow him good-nature: + He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper: + Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. + Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser? + I answer, no, no, for he always was wiser. + Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat? + His very worst foe can't accuse him of that. + Perhaps he confided in men as they go, + And so was too foolishly honest? Ah no! + Then what was his failing? Come, tell it, and burn ye,-- + He was, could he help it? a special attorney. + Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, + He has not left a wiser or better behind: + His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand: + His manners were gentle, complying, and bland; + Still born to improve us in every part, + His pencil our faces, his manners our heart: + To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, + When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing: + When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, + He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff. + + + +XLII. THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. + + This piece was first printed in _The Busy Body_ in 1759, in direct + imitation of the style of Swift. It was, therefore, improperly + included in the Dublin edition of Swift's works, and in the edition + of Swift edited by Sir Walter Scott. + + + Logicians have but ill defined + As rational the human mind, + Reason they say belongs to man, + But let them prove it if they can, + Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius + By ratiocinations specious + Have strove to prove with great precision, + With definition and division, + _Homo est ratione preditum_; + But for my soul I cannot credit 'em. + And must in spite of them maintain, + That man and all his ways are vain: + And that this boasted lord of nature + Is both a weak and erring creature. + That instinct is a surer guide + Than reason, boasting mortals' pride; + And that brute beasts are far before 'em, + _Deus est anima brutorum_. + Who ever knew an honest brute + At law his neighbour prosecute. + Bring action for assault and battery, + Or friend beguile with lies and flattery? + O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd. + No politics disturb the mind; + They eat their meals, and take their sport, + Nor know who's in or out at court; + They never to the levee go + To treat as dearest friend, a foe; + They never importune his Grace, + Nor ever cringe to men in place; + Nor undertake a dirty job, + Nor draw the quill to write for Bob: + Fraught with invective they ne'er go + To folks at Pater-Noster Row: + No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters, + No pickpockets, or poetasters, + Are known to honest quadrupeds, + No single brute his fellows leads. + Brutes never meet in bloody fray, + Nor cut each other's throats for pay. + Of beasts, it is confess'd, the ape + Comes nearest us in human shape. + Like man he imitates each fashion, + And malice is his ruling passion; + But both in malice and grimaces, + A courtier any ape surpasses. + Behold him humbly cringing wait + Upon the minister of state; + View him soon after to inferiors + Aping the conduct of superiors: + He promises with equal air, + And to perform takes equal care. + He in his turn finds imitators, + At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters, + Their master's manners still contract, + And footmen, lords and dukes can act, + Thus at the court both great and small + Behave alike, for all ape all. + + + +XLIII. BEAU TIBBS, HIS CHARACTER AND FAMILY. + + Johnson always maintained that there was a great deal of + Goldsmith's own nature and eccentricities portrayed in the + character of Beau Tibbs. The following piece constitutes Letter 54 + of the _Citizen of the World_. + + +I am apt to fancy I have contracted a new acquaintance, whom it will be +no easy matter to shake off. My little beau yesterday overtook me again +in one of the public walks, and slapping me on the shoulder, saluted me +with an air of the most perfect familiarity. His dress was the same as +usual, except that he had more powder in his hair, wore a dirtier +shirt, a pair of temple spectacles, and his hat under his arm. + +As I knew him to be an harmless, amusing little thing, I could not +return his smiles with any degree of severity: so we walked forward on +terms of the utmost intimacy, and in a few minutes discussed all the +usual topics preliminary to particular conversation. + +The oddities that marked his character, however, soon began to appear; +he bowed to several well-dressed persons, who, by their manner of +returning the compliment, appeared perfect strangers. At intervals he +drew out a pocket-book, seeming to take memorandums before all the +company, with much importance and assiduity. In this manner he led me +through the length of the whole walk, fretting at his absurdities, and +fancying myself laughed at not less than him by every spectator. + +When we were got to the end of our procession, "Blast me," cries he, +with an air of vivacity, "I never saw the park so thin in my life +before; there's no company at all to-day; not a single face to be +seen." "No company," interrupted I, peevishly; "no company where there +is such a crowd! why man, there's too much. What are the thousands +that have been laughing at us but company!" "Lard, my dear," returned +he, with the utmost good-humour, "you seem immensely chagrined; but +blast me, when the world laughs at me, I laugh at all the world, and so +we are even. My Lord Trip, Bill Squash, the Creolian, and I sometimes +make a party at being ridiculous; and so we say and do a thousand +things for the joke. But I see you are grave, and if you are a fine +grave sentimental companion, you shall dine with me and my wife to-day, +I must insist on't; I'll introduce you to Mrs. Tibbs, a lady of as +elegant qualifications as any in nature; she was bred, but that's +between ourselves, under the inspection of the Countess of All-night. A +charming body of voice, but no more of that, she will give us a song. +You shall see my little girl too, Carolina Wilhelma Amelia Tibbs, a +sweet pretty creature; I design her for my Lord Drumstick's eldest son, +but that's in friendship, let it go no farther; she's but six years +old, and yet she walks a minuet, and plays on the guitar immensely +already. I intend she shall be as perfect as possible in every +accomplishment. In the first place I'll make her a scholar; I'll teach +her Greek myself, and learn that language purposely to instruct her; +but let that be a secret." + +Thus saying, without waiting for a reply, he took me by the arm, and +hauled me along. We passed through many dark alleys and winding ways; +for, from some motives, to me unknown, he seemed to have a particular +aversion to every frequented street; at last, however, we got to the +door of a dismal-looking house in the outlets of the town, where he +informed me he chose to reside for the benefit of the air. + +We entered the lower door, which ever seemed to lie most hospitably +open, and I began to ascend an old and creaking staircase, when, as he +mounted to show me the way, he demanded whether I delighted in +prospects, to which answering in the affirmative, "Then," says he, "I +shall show you one of the most charming in the world out of my windows; +we shall see the ships sailing, and the whole country for twenty miles +round, tip top, quite high. My Lord Swamp would give ten thousand +guineas for such an one; but as I sometimes pleasantly tell him, I +always love to keep my prospects at home, that my friends may see me +the oftener." + +By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would permit us to +ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the +first floor down the chimney; and knocking at the door, a voice from +within demanded, who's there? My conductor answered that it was him. +But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again repeated the +demand: to which he answered louder than before; and now the door was +opened by an old woman with cautious reluctance. + +When we were got in, he welcomed me to his house with great ceremony, +and turning to the old woman, asked where was her lady? "Good troth," +replied she, in a peculiar dialect, "she's washing your two shirts at +the next door, because they have taken an oath against lending out the +tub any longer." "My two shirts," cries he in a tone that faltered with +confusion, "what does the idiot mean!" "I ken what I mean well enough," +replied the other, "she's washing your two shirts at the next door, +because--" "Fire and fury! no more of thy stupid explanations," cried +he. "Go and inform her we have got company. Were that Scotch hag to be +for ever in the family, she would never learn politeness, nor forget +that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or testify the smallest specimen +of breeding or high life; and yet it is very surprising too, as I had +her from a parliament man, a friend of mine, from the highlands, one +of the politest men in the world; but that's a secret." + +We waited some time for Mrs. Tibbs' arrival, during which interval I +had a full opportunity of surveying the chamber and all its furniture; +which consisted of four chairs with old wrought bottoms, that he +assured me were his wife's embroidery; a square table that had been +once japanned, a cradle in one corner, a lumbering cabinet in the +other; a broken shepherdess, and a mandarin without a head, were stuck +over the chimney; and round the walls several paltry, unframed +pictures, which, he observed, were all his own drawing. "What do you +think, sir, of that head in a corner, done in the manner of Grisoni? +There's the true keeping in it; it's my own face, and though there +happens to be no likeness, a countess offered me an hundred for its +fellow. I refused her, for, hang it, that would be mechanical, you +know." + +The wife at last made her appearance, at once a slattern and a +coquette; much emaciated, but still carrying the remains of beauty. She +made twenty apologies for being seen in such odious dishabille, but +hoped to be excused, as she had stayed out all night at the gardens +with the countess, who was excessively fond of the horns. "And, indeed, +my dear," added she, turning to her husband, "his lordship drank your +health in a bumper." "Poor Jack," cries he, "a dear good-natured +creature, I know he loves me; but I hope, my dear, you have given +orders for dinner; you need make no great preparations neither, there +are but three of us, something elegant, and little will do; a turbot, +an ortolan, or a--" "Or what do you think, my dear," interrupts the +wife, "of a nice pretty bit of ox-cheek, piping hot, and dressed with a +little of my own sauce."--"The very thing," replies he, "it will eat +best with some smart bottled beer: but be sure to let's have the sauce +his grace was so fond of. I hate your immense loads of meat, that is +country all over; extreme disgusting to those who are in the least +acquainted with high life." + +By this time my curiosity began to abate, and my appetite to increase; +the company of fools may at first make us smile, but at last never +fails of rendering us melancholy; I therefore pretended to recollect a +prior engagement, and after having shown my respect to the house, +according to the fashion of the English, by giving the old servant a +piece of money at the door, I took my leave; Mr. Tibbs assuring me that +dinner, if I stayed, would be ready at least in less than two hours. + + + + +CHARLES CHURCHILL. + +(1731-1764.) + + +XLIV. THE JOURNEY. + + Churchill devoted himself principally to satirical attacks upon + actors and the stage as a whole. His _Rosciad_ created quite a + panic among the disciples of Thespis, even the mighty Garrick + courting this terrible _censor morum_. His own morals were but + indifferent. + + + Some of my friends (for friends I must suppose + All, who, not daring to appear my foes, + Feign great good-will, and not more full of spite + Than full of craft, under false colours fight) + Some of my friends (so lavishly I print) + As more in sorrow than in anger, hint + (Tho' that indeed will scarce admit a doubt) + That I shall run my stock of genius out, + My no great stock, and, publishing so fast, + Must needs become a bankrupt at the last. + Recover'd from the vanity of youth, + I feel, alas! this melancholy truth, + Thanks to each cordial, each advising friend, + And am, if not too late, resolv'd to mend, + Resolv'd to give some respite to my pen, + Apply myself once more to books and men, + View what is present, what is past review, + And my old stock exhausted, lay in new. + For twice six moons (let winds, turn'd porters, bear + This oath to Heav'n), for twice six moons, I swear, + No Muse shall tempt me with her siren lay, + Nor draw me from Improvement's thorny way; + Verse I abjure, nor will forgive that friend, + Who in my hearing shall a rhyme commend. + It cannot be--Whether I will, or no, + Such as they are, my thoughts in measure flow. + Convinc'd, determin'd, I in prose begin, + But ere I write one sentence, verse creeps in, + And taints me thro' and thro': by this good light, + In verse I talk by day, I dream by night; + If now and then I curse, my curses chime, + Nor can I pray, unless I pray in rhyme, + E'en now I err, in spite of common-sense, + And my confession doubles my offence. + Here is no lie, no gall, no art, no force; + Mean are the words, and such as come of course, + The subject not less simple than the lay; + A plain, unlabour'd Journey of a day. + Far from me now be ev'ry tuneful Maid, + I neither ask, nor can receive their aid. + Pegasus turn'd into a common hack, + Alone I jog, and keep the beaten track, + Nor would I have the Sisters of the Hill + Behold their bard in such a dishabille. + Absent, but only absent for a time, + Let them caress some dearer son of rhyme; + Let them, as far as decency permits, + Without suspicion, play the fool with wits, + 'Gainst fools be guarded; 'tis a certain rule, + Wits are false things, there's danger in a fool. + Let them, tho' modest, Gray more modest woo; + Let them with Mason bleat, and bray, and coo; + Let them with Franklin, proud of some small Greek, + Make Sophocles disguis'd, in English speak; + Let them with Glover o'er Medea doze; + Let them with Dodsley wail Cleone's woes, + Whilst he, fine feeling creature, all in tears, + Melts, as they melt, and weeps with weeping peers; + Let them with simple Whitehead, taught to creep + Silent and soft, lay Fontenelle asleep;[214] + Let them with Browne contrive, to vulgar trick, + To cure the dead, and make the living sick;[215] + Let them in charity to Murphy give + Some old French piece, that he may steal and live; + Let them with antic Foote subscriptions get, + And advertise a Summer-house of Wit. + Thus, or in any better way they please, + With these great men, or with great men like these, + Let them their appetite for laughter feed; + I on my Journey all alone proceed. + If fashionable grown, and fond of pow'r, + With hum'rous Scots let them disport their hour: + Let them dance, fairy-like, round Ossian's tomb; + Let them forge lies, and histories for Hume; + Let them with Home, the very prince of verse, + Make something like a Tragedy in Erse; + Under dark Allegory's flimsy veil + Let them with Ogilvie spin out a tale + Of rueful length; Let them plain things obscure, + Debase what's truly rich, and what is poor + Make poorer still by jargon most uncouth; + With ev'ry pert, prim prettiness of youth + Born of false Taste, with Fancy (like a child + Not knowing what it cries for) running wild, + With bloated style, by affectation taught, + With much false colouring, and little thought, + With phrases strange, and dialect decreed + By reason never to have pass'd the Tweed, + With words which Nature meant each other's foe, + Forc'd to compound whether they will or no; + With such materials let them, if they will, + To prove at once their pleasantry and skill, + Build up a bard to war 'gainst Common-Sense, + By way of compliment to Providence; + Let them with Armstrong, taking leave of Sense, + Read musty lectures on Benevolence, + Or con the pages of his gaping Day, + Where all his former fame was thrown away, + Where all but barren labour was forgot, + And the vain stiffness of a letter'd Scot; + Let them with Armstrong pass the term of light, + But not one hour of darkness; when the night + Suspends this mortal coil, when Memory wakes, + When for our past misdoings Conscience takes + A deep revenge, when by Reflection led, + She draws his curtain, and looks Comfort dead, + Let ev'ry Muse be gone; in vain he turns + And tries to pray for sleep; an Etna burns, + A more than Etna in his coward breast, + And Guilt, with vengeance arm'd, forbids him rest: + Tho' soft as plumage from young zephyr's wing, + His couch seems hard, and no relief can bring. + Ingratitude hath planted daggers there, + No good man can deserve, no brave man bear. + Thus, or in any better way they please, + With these great men, or with great men like these, + Let them their appetite for laughter feed + I on my Journey all alone proceed. + +[Footnote 214: See _The School for Lovers_, by Mr. Whitehead, taken +from Fontenelle.] + +[Footnote 215: See _The Cure of Saul_, by Dr. Browne.] + + + + +JUNIUS. + +(1769-1770-1771.) + + +XLV. TO THE KING. + + The following is the famous letter which appeared in the _Public + Advertiser_ for December 20th, 1769. This is also the one on which + the advocates of the theory that George, Lord Sackville, was the + writer of the _Letters of Junius_ lay such stress. + + +_To the Printer of the "Public Advertiser_". + +December 19, 1769. + +SIR, + +When the complaints of a brave and powerful people are observed to +increase in proportion to the wrongs they have suffered, when, instead +of sinking into submission, they are roused to resistance, the time +will soon arrive at which every inferior consideration must yield to +the security of the sovereign, and to the general safety of the state. +There is a moment of difficulty and danger at which flattery and +falsehood can no longer deceive, and simplicity itself can no longer be +misled. Let us suppose it arrived; let us suppose a gracious, +well-intentioned prince, made sensible at last of the great duty he +owes to his people, and of his own disgraceful situation; that he looks +round him for assistance, and asks for no advice but how to gratify the +wishes and secure the happiness of his subjects. In these +circumstances, it may be matter of curious _speculation_ to consider, +if an honest man were permitted to approach a king, in what terms he +would address himself to his sovereign. Let it be imagined, no matter +how improbable, that the first prejudice against his character is +removed; that the ceremonious difficulties of an audience are +surmounted; that he feels himself animated by the purest and most +honourable affections to his king and country; and that the great +person whom he addresses has spirit enough to bid him speak freely, and +understanding enough to listen to him with attention. Unacquainted with +the vain impertinence of forms, he would deliver his sentiments with +dignity and firmness, but not without respect. + +Sir, + +It is the misfortune of your life, and originally the cause of every +reproach and distress which has attended your government, that you +should never have been acquainted with the language of truth until you +heard it in the complaints of your people. It is not, however, too late +to correct the error of your education. We are still inclined to make +an indulgent allowance for the pernicious lessons you received in your +youth, and to form the most sanguine hopes from the natural benevolence +of your disposition. We are far from thinking you capable of a direct, +deliberate purpose to invade those original rights of your subjects on +which all their civil and political liberties depend. Had it been +possible for us to entertain a suspicion so dishonourable to your +character, we should long since have adopted a style of remonstrance +very distant from the humility of complaint. The doctrine inculcated by +our laws, _That the king can do no-wrong_, is admitted without +reluctance. We separate the amiable, good-natured prince from the folly +and treachery of his servants, and the private virtues of the man from +the vices of his government. Were it not for this just distinction, I +know not whether your Majesty's condition, or that of the English +nation, would deserve most to be lamented. I would prepare your mind +for a favourable reception of truth by removing every painful, +offensive idea of personal reproach. Your subjects, Sir, wish for +nothing but that, as _they_ are reasonable and affectionate enough to +separate your person from your government, so _you_, in your turn, +should distinguish between the conduct which becomes the permanent +dignity of a king and that which serves only to promote the temporary +interest and miserable ambition of a minister. + +You ascended the throne with a declared--and, I doubt not, a +sincere--resolution of giving universal satisfaction to your subjects. +You found them pleased with the novelty of a young prince whose +countenance promised even more than his words, and loyal to you, not +only from principle, but passion. It was not a cold profession of +allegiance to the first magistrate, but a partial, animated attachment +to a favourite prince, the native of their country. They did not wait +to examine your conduct nor to be determined by experience, but gave +you a generous credit for the future blessings of your reign, and paid +you in advance the dearest tribute of their affections. Such, Sir, was +once the disposition of a people who now surround your throne with +reproaches and complaints.--Do justice to yourself. Banish from your +mind those unworthy opinions with which some interested persons have +laboured to possess you.--Distrust the men who tell you that the +English are naturally light and inconstant; that they complain without +a cause. Withdraw your confidence equally from all parties--from +ministers, favourites, and relations; and let there be one moment in +your life in which you have consulted your own understanding. + +When you affectedly renounced the name of Englishman, believe me, Sir, +you were persuaded to pay a very ill-judged compliment to one part of +your subjects at the expense of another. While the natives of Scotland +are not in actual rebellion, they are undoubtedly entitled to +protection; nor do I mean to condemn the policy of giving some +encouragement to the novelty of their affections for the House of +Hanover. I am ready to hope for everything from their new-born zeal, +and from the future steadiness of their allegiance, but hitherto they +have no claim to your favour. To honour them with a determined +predilection and confidence, in exclusion of your English subjects, who +placed your family, and, in spite of treachery and rebellion, have +supported it, upon the throne, is a mistake too gross even for the +unsuspecting generosity of youth. In this error we see a capital +violation of the most obvious rules of policy and prudence. We trace +it, however, to an original bias in your education, and are ready to +allow for your inexperience. + +To the same early influence we attribute it that you have descended to +take a share, not only in the narrow views and interests of particular +persons, but in the fatal malignity of their passions. At your +accession to the throne the whole system of government was altered, not +from wisdom or deliberation, but because it had been adopted by your +predecessor. A little personal motive of pique and resentment was +sufficient to remove the ablest servants of the Crown; but it is not in +this country, Sir, that such men can be dishonoured by the frowns of a +king. They were dismissed, but could not be disgraced. Without entering +into a minuter discussion of the merits of the peace, we may observe, +in the imprudent hurry with which the first overtures from France were +accepted, in the conduct of the negotiation, and terms of the treaty, +the strongest marks of that precipitate spirit of concession with which +a certain part of your subjects have been at all times ready to +purchase a peace with the natural enemies of this country. On _your_ +part we are satisfied that everything was honourable and sincere; and, +if England was sold to France, we doubt not that your Majesty was +equally betrayed. The conditions of the peace were matter of grief and +surprise to your subjects, but not the immediate cause of their present +discontent. + +Hitherto, Sir, you had been sacrificed to the prejudices and passions +of others. With what firmness will you bear the mention of your own? + +A man, not very honourably distinguished in the world, commences a +formal attack upon your favourite, considering nothing but how he might +best expose his person and principles to detestation, and the national +character of his countrymen to contempt. The natives of that country, +Sir, are as much distinguished by a peculiar character as by your +Majesty's favour. Like another chosen people, they have been conducted +into the land of plenty, where they find themselves effectually marked +and divided from mankind. There is hardly a period at which the most +irregular character may not be redeemed. The mistakes of one sex find a +retreat in patriotism, those of the other in devotion. Mr. Wilkes +brought with him into politics the same liberal sentiments by which his +private conduct had been directed, and seemed to think that, as there +are few excesses in which an English gentleman may not be permitted to +indulge, the same latitude was allowed him in the choice of his +political principles, and in the spirit of maintaining them. I mean to +state, not entirely to defend, his conduct. In the earnestness of his +zeal he suffered some unwarrantable insinuations to escape him. He said +more than moderate men would justify, but not enough to entitle him to +the honour of your Majesty's personal resentment. The rays of royal +indignation, collected upon him, served only to illuminate, and could +not consume. Animated by the favour of the people on the one side, and +heated by persecution on the other, his views and sentiments changed +with his situation. Hardly serious at first, he is now an enthusiast. +The coldest bodies warm with opposition, the hardest sparkle in +collision.--There is a holy, mistaken zeal in politics as well as +religion. By persuading others, we convince ourselves. The passions are +engaged, and create a material affection in the mind, which forces us +to love the cause for which we suffer. Is this a contention worthy of a +king? Are you not sensible how much the meanness of the cause gives an +air of ridicule to the serious difficulties into which you have been +betrayed? The destruction of one man has been now, for many years, the +sole object of your government; and, if there can be anything still +more disgraceful, we have seen, for such an object, the utmost +influence of the executive power, and every ministerial artifice, +exerted without success. Nor can you ever succeed, unless he should be +imprudent enough to forfeit the protection of those laws to which you +owe your crown, or unless your minister should persuade you to make it +a question of force alone, and try the whole strength of government in +opposition to the people. The lessons he has received from experience +will probably guard him from such excess of folly, and in your +Majesty's virtues we find an unquestionable assurance that no illegal +violence will be attempted. + +Far from suspecting you of so horrible a design, we would attribute his +continued violation of the laws, and even the last enormous attack upon +the vital principles of the constitution, to an ill-advised, unworthy, +personal resentment. From one false step you have been betrayed into +another, and, as the cause was unworthy of you, your ministers were +determined that the prudence executed should correspond with the +wisdom and dignity of the design. They have reduced you to the +necessity of choosing out of a variety of difficulties; to a situation +so unhappy that you can neither do wrong without ruin, nor right +without affliction. These worthy servants have undoubtedly given you +many singular proofs of their abilities. Not contented with making Mr. +Wilkes a man of importance, they have judiciously transferred the +question from the rights and interests of one man to the most important +rights and interests of the people, and forced your subjects from +wishing well to the cause of an individual to unite with him in their +own. Let them proceed as they have begun, and your Majesty need not +doubt that the catastrophe will do no dishonour to the conduct of the +piece. + +The circumstances to which you are reduced will not admit of a +compromise with the English nation. Undecisive, qualifying measures +will disgrace your government still more than open violence, and, +without satisfying the people, will excite their contempt. They have +too much understanding and spirit to accept of an indirect satisfaction +for a direct injury. Nothing less than a repeal, as formal as the +resolution itself, can heal the wound which has been given to the +constitution, nor will anything less be accepted. I can readily believe +that there is an influence sufficient to recall that pernicious vote. +The House of Commons undoubtedly consider their duty to the Crown as +paramount to all other obligations. To us they are only indebted for an +accidental existence, and have justly transferred their gratitude from +their parents to their benefactors, from those who gave them birth to +the minister from whose benevolence they derive the comforts and +pleasure of their political life, who has taken the tenderest care of +their infancy and relieves their necessities without offending their +delicacy. But if it were possible for their integrity to be degraded +to a condition so vile and abject that, compared with it, the present +estimation they stand in is a state of honour and respect, consider, +Sir, in what manner you will afterwards proceed. Can you conceive that +the people of this country will long submit to be governed by so +flexible a House of Commons? It is not in the nature of human society +that any form of government, in such circumstances, can long be +preserved. In ours, the general contempt of the people is as fatal as +their detestation. Such, I am persuaded, would be the necessary effect +of any base concession made by the present House of Commons, and, as a +qualifying measure would not be accepted, it remains for you to decide +whether you will, at any hazard, support a set of men who have reduced +you to this unhappy dilemma, or whether you will gratify the united +wishes of the whole people of England by dissolving the Parliament. + +Taking it for granted, as I do very sincerely, that you have personally +no design against the constitution, nor any view inconsistent with the +good of your subjects, I think you cannot hesitate long upon the choice +which it equally concerns your interests and your honour to adopt. On +one side you hazard the affection of all your English subjects, you +relinquish every hope of repose to yourself, and you endanger the +establishment of your family for ever. All this you venture for no +object whatsoever, or for such an object as it would be an affront to +you to name. Men of sense will examine your conduct with suspicion, +while those who are incapable of comprehending to what degree they are +injured afflict you with clamours equally insolent and unmeaning. +Supposing it possible that no fatal struggle should ensue, you +determine at once to be unhappy, without the hope of a compensation +either from interest or ambition. If an English king be hated or +despised, he _must_ be unhappy; and this, perhaps, is the only +political truth which he ought to be convinced of without experiment. +But if the English people should no longer confine their resentment to +a submissive representation of their wrongs; if, following the glorious +example of their ancestors, they should no longer appeal to the +creature of the constitution, but to that high Being who gave them the +rights of humanity, whose gifts it were sacrilege to surrender, let me +ask you, Sir, upon what part of your subjects would you rely for +assistance? + +The people of Ireland have been uniformly plundered and oppressed. In +return they give you every day fresh marks of their resentment. They +despise the miserable governor you have sent them, because he is the +creature of Lord Bute, nor is it from any natural confusion in their +ideas that they are so ready to confound the original of a king with +the disgraceful representation of him. + +The distance of the colonies would make it impossible for them to take +an active concern in your affairs, if they were as well affected to +your government as they once pretended to be to your person. They were +ready enough to distinguish between you and your ministers. They +complained of an act of the legislature, but traced the origin of it no +higher than to the servants of the Crown; they pleased themselves with +the hope that their sovereign, if not favourable to their cause, at +least was impartial. The decisive personal part you took against them +has effectually banished that first distinction from their minds. They +consider you as united with your servants against America, and know how +to distinguish the sovereign and a venal parliament on one side from +the real sentiments of the English people on the other. Looking forward +to independence, they might possibly receive you for their king; but, +if ever you retire to America, be assured they will give you such a +covenant to digest as the presbytery of Scotland would have been +ashamed to offer to Charles the Second. They left their native land in +search of freedom, and found it in a desert. Divided as they are into a +thousand forms of policy and religion, there is one point in which they +all agree: they equally detest the pageantry of a king and the +supercilious hypocrisy of a bishop. + +It is not, then, from the alienated affections of Ireland or America +that you can reasonably look for assistance; still less from the people +of England, who are actually contending for their rights, and in this +great question are parties against you. You are not, however, destitute +of every appearance of support: you have all the Jacobites, Non-jurors, +Roman Catholics, and Tories of this country, and all Scotland, without +exception. Considering from what family you are descended, the choice +of your friends has been singularly directed; and truly, Sir, if you +had not lost the Whig interest of England, I should admire your +dexterity in turning the hearts of your enemies. Is it possible for you +to place any confidence in men who, before they are faithful to you, +must renounce every opinion and betray every principle, both in church +and state, which they inherit from their ancestors and are confirmed in +by their education; whose numbers are so inconsiderable that they have +long since been obliged to give up the principles and language which +distinguish them as a party, and to fight under the banners of their +enemies? Their zeal begins with hypocrisy, and must conclude in +treachery. At first they deceive, at last they betray. + +As to the Scotch, I must suppose your heart and understanding so +biassed from your earliest infancy in their favour that nothing less +than _your own_ misfortunes can undeceive you. You will not accept of +the uniform experience of your ancestors; and, when once a man is +determined to believe, the very absurdity of the doctrine confirms him +in his faith. A bigoted understanding can draw a proof of attachment to +the House of Hanover from a notorious zeal for the House of Stuart, and +find an earnest of future loyalty in former rebellions. Appearances +are, however, in their favour: so strongly, indeed, that one would +think they had forgotten that you are their lawful king, and had +mistaken you for a pretender to the crown. Let it be admitted, then, +that the Scotch are as sincere in their present professions as if you +were in reality, not an Englishman, but a Briton of the North. You +would not be the first prince of their native country against whom they +have rebelled, nor the first whom they have basely betrayed. Have you +forgotten, Sir, or has your favourite concealed from you, that part of +our history when the unhappy Charles (and he, too, had private virtues) +fled from the open, avowed indignation of his English subjects, and +surrendered himself at discretion to the good faith of his own +countrymen? Without looking for support in their affections as +subjects, he applied only to their honour as gentlemen for protection. +They received him, as they would your Majesty, with bows and smiles and +falsehood, and kept him until they had settled their bargain with the +English parliament, then basely sold their native king to the vengeance +of his enemies. This, Sir, was not the act of a few traitors, but the +deliberate treachery of a Scotch parliament representing the nation. A +wise prince might draw from it two lessons of equal utility to himself. +On one side he might learn to dread the undisguised resentment of a +generous people who dare openly assert their rights, and who in a just +cause are ready to meet their sovereign in the field. On the other side +he would be taught to apprehend something far more formidable: a +fawning treachery against which no prudence can guard, no courage can +defend. The insidious smile upon the cheek would warn him of the canker +in the heart. + +From the uses to which one part of the army has been too frequently +applied, you have some reason to expect that there are no services they +would refuse. Here, too, we trace the partiality of your understanding. +You take the sense of the army from the conduct of the guards, with the +same justice with which you collect the sense of the people from the +representations of the ministry. Your marching regiments, Sir, will not +make the guards their example either as soldiers or subjects. They feel +and resent, as they ought to do, that invariable, undistinguishing +favour with which the guards are treated, while those gallant troops, +by whom every hazardous, every laborious service is performed, are left +to perish in garrisons abroad, or pine in quarters at home, neglected +and forgotten. If they had no sense of the great original duty they owe +their country, their resentment would operate like patriotism, and +leave your cause to be defended by those on whom you have lavished the +rewards and honours of their profession. The Praetorian bands, enervated +and debauched as they were, had still strength enough to awe the Roman +populace, but when the distant legions took the alarm they marched to +Rome and gave away the empire. + +On this side, then, whichever way you turn your eyes, you see nothing +but perplexity and distress. You may determine to support the very +ministry who have reduced your affairs to this deplorable situation; +you may shelter yourself under the forms of a parliament, and set the +people at defiance; but be assured, Sir, that such a resolution would +be as imprudent as it would be odious. If it did not immediately shake +your establishment, it would rob you of your peace of mind for ever. + +On the other, how different is the prospect! How easy, how safe and +honourable, is the path before you! The English nation declare they are +grossly injured by their representatives, and solicit your Majesty to +exert your lawful prerogative, and give them an opportunity of +recalling a trust which they find has been scandalously abused. You are +not to be told that the power of the House of Commons is not original, +but delegated to them for the welfare of the people, from whom they +received it. A question of right arises between the constituent and the +representative body. By what authority shall it be decided? Will your +Majesty interfere in a question in which you have, properly, no +immediate concern? It would be a step equally odious and unnecessary. +Shall the Lords be called upon to determine the rights and privileges +of the Commons? They cannot do it without a flagrant breach of the +constitution. Or will you refer it to the judges? They have often told +your ancestors that the law of parliament is above them. What part then +remains but to leave it to the people to determine for themselves? They +alone are injured, and since there is no superior power to which the +cause can be referred, they alone ought to determine. + +I do not mean to perplex you with a tedious argument upon a subject +already so discussed that inspiration could hardly throw a new light +upon it. There are, however, two points of view in which it +particularly imports your Majesty to consider the late proceedings of +the House of Commons. By depriving a subject of his birthright they +have attributed to their own vote an authority equal to an act of the +whole legislature, and, though perhaps not with the same motives, have +strictly followed the example of the Long Parliament, which first +declared the regal office useless, and soon after, with as little +ceremony, dissolved the House of Lords. The same pretended power which +robs an English subject of his birthright may rob an English king of +his crown. In another view, the resolution of the House of Commons, +apparently not so dangerous to your Majesty, is still more alarming to +your people. Not contented with divesting one man of his right, they +have arbitrarily conveyed that right to another. They have set aside a +return as illegal, without daring to censure those officers who were +particularly apprised of Mr. Wilkes' incapacity, not only by the +declaration of the House, but expressly by the writ directed to them, +and who, nevertheless, returned him as duly elected. They have rejected +the majority of votes, the only criterion by which our laws judge of +the sense of the people; they have transferred the right of election +from the collective to the representative body; and by these acts, +taken separately or together, they have essentially altered the +original constitution of the House of Commons. Versed as your Majesty +undoubtedly is in the English history, it cannot escape you how much it +is your interest as well as your duty to prevent one of the three +estates from encroaching upon the province of the other two, or +assuming the authority of them all. When once they have departed from +the great constitutional line by which all their proceedings should be +directed, who will answer for their future moderation? Or what +assurance will they give you that, when they have trampled upon their +equals, they will submit to a superior? Your Majesty may learn +hereafter how nearly the slave and tyrant are allied. + +Some of your council, more candid than the rest, admit the abandoned +profligacy of the present House of Commons, but oppose their +dissolution, upon an opinion, I confess, not very unwarrantable, that +their successors would be equally at the disposal of the treasury. I +cannot persuade myself that the nation will have profited so little by +experience. But if that opinion were well founded, you might then +gratify our wishes at an easy rate, and appease the present clamour +against your government, without offering any material injury to the +favourite cause of corruption. + +You have still an honourable part to act. The affections of your +subjects may still be recovered. But before you subdue their hearts you +must gain a noble victory over your own. Discard those little, personal +resentments which have too long directed your public conduct. Pardon +this man the remainder of his punishment; and, if resentment still +prevails, make it what it should have been long since--an act, not of +mercy, but of contempt. He will soon fall back into his natural +station, a silent senator, and hardly supporting the weekly eloquence +of a newspaper. The gentle breath of peace would leave him on the +surface, neglected and unremoved. It is only the tempest that lifts him +from his place. + +Without consulting your minister, call together your whole council. Let +it appear to the public that you can determine and act for yourself. +Come forward to your people. Lay aside the wretched formalities of a +king, and speak to your subjects with the spirit of a man and in the +language of a gentleman. Tell them you have been fatally deceived. The +acknowledgment will be no disgrace, but rather an honour, to your +understanding. Tell them you are determined to remove every cause of +complaint against your government, that you will give your confidence +to no man who does not possess the confidence of your subjects, and +leave it to themselves to determine, by their conduct at a future +election, whether or no it be in reality the general sense of the +nation that their rights have been arbitrarily invaded by the present +House of Commons, and the constitution betrayed. They will then do +justice to their representatives and to themselves. + +These sentiments, Sir, and the style they are conveyed in, may be +offensive, perhaps, because they are new to you. Accustomed to the +language of courtiers, you measure their affections by the vehemence of +their expressions, and when they only praise you indifferently, you +admire their sincerity. But this is not a time to trifle with your +fortune. They deceive you, Sir, who tell you that you have many +friends, whose affections are founded upon a principle of personal +attachment. The first foundation of friendship is not the power of +conferring benefits, but the equality with which they are received and +may be returned. The fortune which made you a king forbade you to have +a friend. It is a law of nature which cannot be violated with impunity. +The mistaken prince who looks for friendship will find a favourite, and +in that favourite the ruin of his affairs. + +The people of England are loyal to the House of Hanover, not from a +vain preference of one family to another, but from a conviction that +the establishment of that family was necessary to the support of their +civil and religious liberties. This, Sir, is a principle of allegiance +equally solid and rational, fit for Englishmen to adopt, and well +worthy of your Majesty's encouragement. We cannot long be deluded by +nominal distinctions. The name of Stuart, of itself, is only +contemptible; armed with the sovereign authority, their principles are +formidable. The prince who imitates their conduct should be warned by +their example, and, while he plumes himself upon the security of his +title to the crown, should remember that, as it was acquired by one +revolution, it may be lost by another. + + + + +ROBERT BURNS. + +(1759-1796.) + + +XLVI. ADDRESS TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. + + My son, these maxims make a rule, + And lump them aye thegither; + The Rigid Righteous is a fool, + The Rigid Wise anither; + The cleanest corn that ere was dight + May ha'e some pyles o' caff in; + So ne'er a fellow-creature slight + For random fits o' daffin'.--_Solomon_.--Eccles. vii. 16. + + This undoubtedly ranks as one of the noblest satires in our + literature. It was first published as a broadside, and afterwards + incorporated in the Kilmarnock and Edinburgh editions. + + + Oh ye wha are sae guid yoursel', + Sae pious an' sae holy, + Ye've nought to do but mark an' tell + Your neebour's fauts an' folly! + Whase life is like a weel-gaun[216] mill, + Supplied wi' store o' water, + The heaped happer's[217] ebbing still, + An' still the clap plays clatter. + + Hear me, ye venerable core, + As counsel for poor mortals, + That frequent pass douce Wisdom's door, + For glaiket[218] Folly's portals; + I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes, + Would here propone defences, + Their donsie[219] tricks, their black mistakes + Their failings an' mischances. + + Ye see your state wi' theirs compar'd, + An' shudder at the niffer[220], + But cast a moment's fair regard, + What mak's the mighty differ? + Discount what scant occasion gave + That purity ye pride in, + An' (what's aft mair than a' the lave) + Your better art o' hiding. + + Think, when your castigated pulse + Gi'es now an' then a wallop, + What ragings must his veins convulse, + That still eternal gallop. + Wi' wind an' tide fair i' your tail, + Right on ye scud your sea-way; + But in the teeth o' baith to sail, + It makes an unco lee-way. + + See social life an' glee sit down, + All joyous an' unthinking, + Till, quite transmugrified, they're grown + Debauchery an' drinking: + Oh would they stay to calculate + Th' eternal consequences; + Or your more dreaded hell to state, + Damnation of expenses! + + Ye high, exalted, virtuous dames, + Tied up in godly laces, + Before ye gi'e poor frailty names, + Suppose a change o' cases; + A dear loved lad, convenience snug, + A treacherous inclination-- + But, let me whisper i' your lug[221], + Ye'er aiblins[222] nae temptation. + + Then gently scan your brother man, + Still gentler sister woman; + Though they may gang a kennin' wrang, + To step aside is human: + One point must still be greatly dark, + The moving why they do it: + An' just as lamely can ye mark, + How far perhaps they rue it. + + Who made the heart, 'tis He alone + Decidedly can try us, + He knows each chord--its various tone, + Each spring--its various bias: + Then at the balance let's be mute, + We never can adjust it; + What's done we partly may compute, + But know not what's resisted. + +[Footnote 216: well-going.] + +[Footnote 217: hopper.] + +[Footnote 218: idle.] + +[Footnote 219: unlucky.] + +[Footnote 220: exchange.] + +[Footnote 221: ear.] + +[Footnote 222: perhaps.] + + + +XLVII. HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER. + + The hero of this daring exposition of Calvinistic theology was + William Fisher, a farmer in the neighbourhood of Mauchline, and an + elder in Mr. Auld's session. He had signalized himself in the + prosecution of Mr. Hamilton, elsewhere alluded to; and Burns + appears to have written these verses in retribution of the rancour + he had displayed on that occasion. Fisher was afterwards convicted + of appropriating the money collected for the poor. Coming home one + night from market in a state of intoxication, he fell into a ditch, + where he was found dead next morning. The poem was first published + in 1801, along with the "Jolly Beggars". + + + Oh Thou, wha in the heavens dost dwell, + Wha, as it pleases best thysel', + Sends ane to heaven, an' ten to hell, + A' for thy glory, + An' no for ony guid or ill + They've done afore thee! + + I bless an' praise thy matchless might, + Whan thousands thou hast left in night, + That I am here afore thy sight, + For gifts an' grace + A burnin' and a shinin' light + To a' this place. + + What was I, or my generation, + That I should get sic exaltation, + I wha deserve sic just damnation, + For broken laws, + Five thousand years 'fore my creation, + Thro' Adam's cause? + + When frae my mither's womb I fell, + Thou might ha'e plunged me deep in hell, + To gnash my gums, to weep an' wail, + In burnin' lake, + Whare damned devils roar an' yell, + Chain'd to a stake. + + Yet I am here, a chosen sample; + To show thy grace is great an' ample; + I'm here a pillar in thy temple, + Strong as a rock, + A guide, a buckler, an example, + To a' thy flock. + + But yet, oh Lord! confess I must, + At times I'm fash'd[223] wi' fleshly lust; + An' sometimes, too, wi' warldly trust, + Vile self gets in: + But Thou remembers we are dust, + Defil'd in sin. + + Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn + Beset thy servant e'en an' morn + Lest he owre high an' proud should turn, + 'Cause he's sae gifted; + If sae, Thy ban' maun e'en be borne, + Until Thou lift it. + + Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place, + For here Thou hast a chosen race: + But God confound their stubborn face, + And blast their name, + Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace + And public shame. + + Lord, mind Cawn Hamilton's deserts, + He drinks, and swears, and plays at cartes[224], + Yet has sae mony takin' arts, + Wi' grit an' sma'[225], + Frae God's ain priests the people's hearts + He steals awa'. + + And whan we chasten'd him therefore, + Thou kens how he bred sic a splore[226], + As set the warld in a roar + O' laughin' at us,-- + Curse Thou his basket and his store, + Kail and potatoes. + + Lord, hear my earnest cry and pray'r + Against the Presbyt'ry of Ayr; + Thy strong right hand, Lord, mak' it bare + Upo' their heads, + Lord, weigh it down, and dinna spare, + For their misdeeds. + + Oh Lord my God, that glib-tongu'd Aiken, + My very heart and saul are quakin', + To think how we stood groanin', shakin', + And swat wi' dread, + While he wi' hingin' lips and snakin', + Held up his head. + + Lord, in the day of vengeance try him, + Lord, visit them wha did employ him, + And pass not in thy mercy by 'em, + Nor hear their pray'r; + But for thy people's sake destroy 'em, + And dinna spare, + + But, Lord, remember me and mine, + Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine, + That I for gear[227] and grace may shine, + Excell'd by nane, + And a' the glory shall be thine, + Amen, amen! + + +EPITAPH ON HOLY WILLIE. + + + Here Holy Willie's sair-worn clay + Tak's up its last abode; + His saul has ta'en some ither way, + I fear the left-hand road. + + Stop! there he is, as sure's a gun, + Poor, silly body, see him; + Nae wonder he's as black's the grun', + Observe wha's standing wi' him. + + Your brunstane[228] devilship, I see, + Has got him there before ye; + But haud your nine-tail cat a wee, + Till ance you've heard my story. + + Your pity I will not implore, + For pity ye ha'e nane; + Justice, alas! has gi'en him o'er, + And mercy's day is gane. + + But hear me, sir, de'il as ye are, + Look something to your credit; + A coof[229] like him wad stain your name, + If it were kent ye did it. + +[Footnote 223: troubled.] + +[Footnote 224: cards.] + +[Footnote 225: great and small.] + +[Footnote 226: row.] + +[Footnote 227: wealth.] + +[Footnote 228: brimstone.] + +[Footnote 229: fool.] + + + + +CHARLES LAMB. + +(1775-1835.) + + +XLVIII. A FAREWELL TO TOBACCO. + + Published originally in 1811 in _The Reflector_, No. 4. As Lamb + himself states, it was meditated for two years before it was + committed to paper in 1805, but not published until six years + afterwards. + + + May the Babylonish curse + Straight confound my stammering verse, + If I can a passage see + In this word-perplexity, + Or a fit expression find, + Or a language to my mind + (Still the phrase is wide or scant), + To take leave of thee, Great Plant! + Or in any terms relate + Half my love, or half my hate: + For I hate yet love thee so, + That, whichever thing I show, + The plain truth will seem to be + A constrained hyperbole, + And the passions to proceed + More from a mistress than a weed. + + Sooty retainer to the vine, + Bacchus' black servant, negro fine; + Sorcerer, that mak'st us dote upon + Thy begrimed complexion, + And, for thy pernicious sake, + More and greater oaths to break + Than reclaimed lovers take + 'Gainst women: thou thy siege dost lay + Much too in the female way, + While thou suck'st the lab'ring breath + Faster than kisses or than death. + + Thou in such a cloud dost bind us, + That our worst foes cannot find us, + And ill fortune, that would thwart us, + Shoots at rovers, shooting at us; + While each man, through thy heightening steam, + Does like a smoking Etna seem, + And all about us does express + (Fancy and wit in richest dress) + A Sicilian fruitfulness + + Thou through such a mist dost show us, + That our best friends do not know us, + And, for those allowed features, + Due to reasonable creatures, + Liken'st us to fell Chimeras-- + Monsters that, who see us, fear us; + Worse than Cerberus or Geryon, + Or, who first loved a cloud, Ixion. + + Bacchus we know, and we allow + His tipsy rites. But what art thou, + That but by reflex canst show + What his deity can do, + As the false Egyptian spell + Aped the true Hebrew miracle? + Some few vapours thou may'st raise, + The weak brain may serve to amaze. + But to the reins and nobler heart + Canst nor life nor heat impart. + + Brother of Bacchus, later born, + The old world was sure forlorn + Wanting thee, that aidest more + The god's victories than before + All his panthers, and the brawls + Of his piping Bacchanals. + These, as stale, we disallow, + Or judge of _thee_ meant: only thou + His true Indian conquest art; + And, for ivy round his dart, + The reformed god now weaves + A finer thyrsus of thy leaves. + + Scent to match thy rich perfume + Chemic art did ne'er presume + Through her quaint alembic strain, + None so sovereign to the brain. + Nature, that did in thee excel, + Framed again no second smell. + Roses, violets, but toys + For the smaller sort of boys, + Or for greener damsels meant; + Thou art the only manly scent. + + Stinking'st of the stinking kind, + Filth of the mouth and fog of the mind, + Africa, that brags her foison, + Breeds no such prodigious poison, + Henbane, nightshade, both together, + Hemlock, aconite-- + Nay, rather, + Plant divine, of rarest virtue; + Blisters on the tongue would hurt you. + 'Twas but in a sort I blamed thee; + None e'er prospered who defamed thee; + Irony all, and feigned abuse, + Such as perplexed lovers use + At a need, when, in despair + To paint forth their fairest fair, + Or in part but to express + That exceeding comeliness + Which their fancies doth so strike, + They borrow language of dislike, + And, instead of Dearest Miss, + Jewel, Honey, Sweetheart, Bliss, + And those forms of old admiring, + Call her Cockatrice and Siren, + Basilisk, and all that's evil, + Witch, Hyena, Mermaid, Devil, + Ethiop, Wench, and Blackamoor, + Monkey, Ape, and twenty more; + Friendly Trait'ress, Loving Foe,-- + Not that she is truly so, + But no other way they know + A contentment to express, + Borders so upon excess, + That they do not rightly wot + Whether it be pain or not. + + Or as men, constrained to part + With what's nearest to their heart, + While their sorrow's at the height, + Lose discrimination quite, + And their hasty wrath let fall, + To appease their frantic gall, + On the darling thing whatever + Whence they feel it death to sever, + Though it be, as they, perforce + Guiltless of the sad divorce. + + For I must (nor let it grieve thee, + Friendliest of plants, that I must) leave thee. + For thy sake, Tobacco, I + Would do anything but die, + And but seek to extend my days + Long enough to sing thy praise. + But, as she who once hath been + A king's consort is a queen + Ever after, nor will bate + Any title of her state, + Though a widow or divorced, + So I, from thy converse forced, + The old name and style retain, + A right Katherine of Spain; + And a seat, too, 'mongst the joys + Of the blest Tobacco Boys; + Where, though I, by sour physician, + Am debarred the full fruition + Of thy favours, I may catch + Some collateral sweets, and snatch + Sidelong odours, that give life + Like glances from a neighbour's wife; + And still live in the byplaces + And the suburbs of thy graces, + And in thy borders take delight, + An unconquered Canaanite. + + + + +THOMAS MOORE. + +(1779-1852.) + + +XLIX. LINES ON LEIGH HUNT. + + Suggested by Hunt's _Byron and his Contemporaries_. + + + Next week will be published (as "Lives" are the rage) + The whole Reminiscences, wondrous and strange, + Of a small puppy-dog that lived once in the cage + Of the late noble lion at Exeter 'Change. + + Though the dog is a dog of the kind they call "sad", + 'Tis a puppy that much to good breeding pretends; + And few dogs have such opportunities had + Of knowing how lions behave--among friends. + + How that animal eats, how he moves, how he drinks, + Is all noted down by this Boswell so small; + And 'tis plain, from each sentence, the puppy-dog thinks + That the lion was no such great things after all. + + Though he roar'd pretty well--this the puppy allows-- + It was all, he says, borrow'd--all second-hand roar; + And he vastly prefers his own little bow-wows + To the loftiest war-note the lion could pour. + + 'Tis indeed as good fun as a cynic could ask, + To see how this cockney-bred setter of rabbits + Takes gravely the lord of the forest to task, + And judges of lions by puppy-dog habits. + + Nay, fed as he was (and this makes it a dark case) + With sops every day from the lion's own pan, + He lifts up his leg at the noble beast's carcase, + And--does all a dog, so diminutive, can. + + However the book's a good book, being rich in + Examples and warnings to lions high-bred, + How they suffer small mongrelly curs in their kitchen, + Who'll feed on them living, and foul them when dead. + + + + +GEORGE CANNING. + +(1770-1827.) + + +L. EPISTLE FROM LORD BORINGDON TO LORD GRANVILLE. + + Published in _Fugitive Verses_, and thence included among Canning's + works. + + + Oft you have ask'd me, Granville, why + Of late I heave the frequent sigh? + Why, moping, melancholy, low, + From supper, commons, wine, I go? + Why bows my mind, by care oppress'd, + By day no peace, by night no rest? + Hear, then, my friend, and ne'er you knew + A tale so tender, and so true-- + Hear what, tho' shame my tongue restrain, + My pen with freedom shall explain. + Say, Granville, do you not remember, + About the middle of November, + When Blenheim's hospitable lord + Received us at his cheerful board; + How fair the Ladies Spencer smiled, + Enchanting, witty, courteous, mild? + And mark'd you not, how many a glance + Across the table, shot by chance + From fair Eliza's graceful form, + Assail'd and took my heart by storm? + And mark'd you not, with earnest zeal, + I ask'd her, if she'd have some veal? + And how, when conversation's charms + Fresh vigour gave to love's alarms, + My heart was scorch'd, and burnt to tinder, + When talking to her at the _winder_? + These facts premised, you can't but guess + The cause of my uneasiness, + For you have heard, as well as I, + That she'll be married speedily; + And then--my grief more plain to tell-- + Soft cares, sweet fears, fond hopes,--farewell! + But still, tho' false the fleeting dream, + Indulge awhile the tender theme, + And hear, had fortune yet been kind, + How bright the prospect of the mind. + O! had I had it in my power + To wed her--with a suited dower-- + And proudly bear the beauteous maid + To Saltrum's venerable shade,-- + Or if she liked not woods at Saltrum, + Why, nothing easier than to alter 'em,-- + Then had I tasted bliss sincere, + And happy been from year to year. + How changed this scene! for now, my Granville, + Another match is on the anvil. + And I, a widow'd dove, complain, + And feel no refuge from my pain-- + Save that of pitying Spencer's sister, + Who's lost a lord, and gained a Mister. + + + +LI. REFORMATION OF THE KNAVE OF HEARTS. + + This is an exquisite satire on the attempts at criticism which were + current in _pre-Edinburgh Review_ days, when the majority of the + journals were mere touts for the booksellers. The papers in + question are taken from Nos. 11 and 12 of the _Microcosm_, + published on Monday, February 12th, 1787--when Canning was + seventeen years of age. + + +The epic poem on which I shall ground my present critique has for its +chief characteristics brevity and simplicity. The author--whose name I +lament that I am, in some degree, prevented from consecrating to +immortal fame, by not knowing what it is--the author, I say, has not +branched his poem into excrescences of episode, or prolixities of +digression; it is neither variegated with diversity of unmeaning +similitudes, nor glaring with the varnish of unnatural metaphor. The +whole is plain and uniform; so much so, indeed, that I should hardly be +surprised if some morose readers were to conjecture that the poet had +been thus simple rather from necessity than choice; that he had been +restrained, not so much by chastity of judgment, as sterility of +imagination. + +Nay, some there may be, perhaps, who will dispute his claim to the +title of an epic poet, and will endeavour to degrade him even to the +rank of a ballad-monger. But I, as his commentator, will contend for +the dignity of my author, and will plainly demonstrate his poem to be +an epic poem, agreeable to the example of all poets, and the consent of +all critics heretofore. + +First, it is universally agreed that an epic poem should have three +component parts--a beginning, a middle, and an end; secondly, it is +allowed that it should have one grand action or main design, to the +forwarding of which all the parts of it should directly or indirectly +tend, and that this design should be in some measure consonant with, +and conducive to, the purposes of morality; and thirdly, it is +indisputably settled that it should have a hero. I trust that in none +of these points the poem before us will be found deficient. There are +other inferior properties which I shall consider in due order. + +Not to keep my readers longer in suspense, the subject of the poem is +"The Reformation of the Knave of Hearts". It is not improbable that +some may object to me that a knave is an unworthy hero for an epic +poem--that a hero ought to be all that is great and good. The objection +is frivolous. The greatest work of this kind that the world has ever +produced has "the Devil" for its hero; and supported as my author is by +so great a precedent, I contend that his hero is a very decent hero, +and especially as he has the advantage of Milton's, by reforming, at +the end, is evidently entitled to a competent share of celebrity. + +I shall now proceed to the more immediate examination of the poem in +its different parts. The beginning, say the critics, ought to be plain +and simple--neither embellished with the flowers of poetry, nor turgid +with pomposity of diction. In this how exactly does our author conform +to the established opinion! He begins thus: + + "The Queen of Hearts + She made some tarts". + +Can anything be more clear! more natural! more agreeable to the true +spirit of simplicity? Here are no tropes, no figurative expressions, +not even so much as an invocation to the Muse. He does not detain his +readers by any needless circumlocution, by unnecessarily informing them +what he _is_ going to sing, or still more unnecessarily enumerating +what he _is not_ going to sing; but, according to the precept of +Horace:-- + + _In medias res, + Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit--_ + +That is, he at once introduces us and sets us on the most easy and +familiar footing imaginable with her Majesty of Hearts, and interests +us deeply in her domestic concerns. But to proceed-- + + "The Queen of Hearts + She made some tarts, + All on a summer's day". + +Here indeed the prospect brightens, and we are led to expect some +liveliness of imagery, some warmth of poetical colouring; but here is +no such thing. There is no task more difficult to a poet than that of +rejection. Ovid among the ancients, and Dryden among the moderns, were +perhaps the most remarkable for the want of it. The latter, from the +haste in which he generally produced his compositions, seldom paid much +attention to the _limae labor_, "the labour of correction", and seldom, +therefore, rejected the assistance of any idea that presented itself. +Ovid, not content with catching the leading features of any scene or +character, indulged himself in a thousand minutiae of description, a +thousand puerile prettinesses, which were in themselves uninteresting, +and took off greatly from the effect of the whole; as the numberless +suckers and straggling branches of a fruit-tree, if permitted to shoot +out unrestrained, while they are themselves barren and useless, +diminish considerably the vigour of the parent stock. Ovid had more +genius but less judgment than Virgil; Dryden more imagination but less +correctness than Pope; had they not been deficient in these points the +former would certainly have equalled, the latter infinitely outshone +the merits of his countryman. Our author was undoubtedly possessed of +that power which they wanted, and was cautious not to indulge too far +the sallies of a lively imagination. Omitting, therefore, any mention +of sultry Sirius, sylvan shade, sequestered glade, verdant hills, +purling rills, mossy mountains, gurgling fountains, &c., he simply +tells us that it was "All on a summer's day". For my own part I confess +that I find myself rather flattered than disappointed, and consider the +poet as rather paying a compliment to the abilities of his readers, +than baulking their expectations. It is certainly a great pleasure to +see a picture well painted; but it is a much greater to paint it well +oneself. This, therefore, I look upon as a stroke of excellent +management in the poet. Here every reader is at liberty to gratify his +own taste, to design for himself just what sort of "summer's day" he +likes best; to choose his own scenery, dispose his lights and shades as +he pleases, to solace himself with a rivulet or a horse-pond, a shower +or a sunbeam, a grove or a kitchen-garden, according to his fancy. How +much more considerate this than if the poet had, from an affected +accuracy of description, thrown us into an unmannerly perspiration by +the heat of the atmosphere, forced us into a landscape of his own +planning, with perhaps a paltry good-for-nothing zephyr or two, and a +limited quantity of wood and water. All this Ovid would undoubtedly +have done. Nay, to use the expression of a learned brother +commentator--_quovis pignore decertem_, "I would lay any wager", that +he would have gone so far as to tell us what the tarts were made of, +and perhaps wandered into an episode on the art of preserving cherries. +But _our_ poet, above such considerations, leaves every reader to +choose his own ingredients, and sweeten them to his own liking; wisely +foreseeing, no doubt, that the more palatable each had rendered them to +his own taste, the more he would be affected at their approaching loss. + + "All on a summer's day." + +I cannot leave this line without remarking that one of the Scribleri, a +descendant of the famous Martinus, has expressed his suspicions of the +text being corrupted here, and proposes instead of "all on" reading +"alone", alleging, in favour of this alteration, the effect of solitude +in raising the passions. But Hiccius Doctius, a high Dutch commentator, +one nevertheless well versed in British literature, in a note of his +usual length and learning, has confuted the arguments of Scriblerus. In +support of the present reading he quotes a passage from a poem written +about the same period with our author's, by the celebrated Johannes +Pastor[230], intituled "An Elegiac Epistle to the Turnkey of Newgate", +wherein the gentleman declares that, rather indeed in compliance with +an old custom than to gratify any particular wish of his own, he is +going-- + + "All hanged for to be + Upon that fatal Tyburn tree ". + +Now, as nothing throws greater light on an author than the concurrence +of a contemporary writer, I am inclined to be of Hiccius' opinion, and +to consider the "All" as an elegant expletive, or, as he more aptly +phrases it _elegans expletivum_. The passage therefore must stand +thus:-- + + "The Queen of Hearts + She made some tarts + All on a summer's day." + +And thus ends the first part, or beginning, which is simple and +unembellished, opens the subject in a natural and easy manner, excites, +but does not too far gratify our curiosity, for a reader of accurate +observation may easily discover that the hero of the poem has not, as +yet, made his appearance. + +I could not continue my examination at present through the whole of +this poem without far exceeding the limits of a single paper. I have +therefore divided it into two, but shall not delay the publication of +the second to another week, as that, besides breaking the connection of +criticism, would materially injure the unities of the poem. + +Having thus gone through the first part, or beginning of the poem, we +may, naturally enough, proceed to the consideration of the second. + +The second part, or middle, is the proper place for bustle and +business, for incident and adventure:-- + + "The Knave of Hearts + He stole those tarts". + +Here attention is awakened, and our whole souls are intent upon the +first appearance of the hero. Some readers may perhaps be offended at +his making his _entree_ in so disadvantageous a character as that of a +thief. To this I plead precedent. + +The hero of the Iliad, as I observed in a former paper, is made to +lament very pathetically that "life is not like all other possessions, +to be acquired by theft". A reflection, in my opinion, evidently +showing that, if he _did_ refrain from the practice of this ingenious +art, it was not from want of an inclination that way. We may remember, +too, that in Virgil's poem almost the first light in which the pious +AEneas appears to us is a deer-stealer; nor is it much excuse for him +that the deer were wandering without keepers, for however he might, +from this circumstance, have been unable to ascertain whose property +they were, he might, I think, have been pretty well assured that they +were not his. + +Having thus acquitted our hero of misconduct, by the example of his +betters, I proceed to what I think the master-stroke of the poet. + + "The Knave of Hearts + He stole those tarts, + And--took them--quite away!!" + +Here, whoever has an ear for harmony and a heart for feeling must be +touched! There is a desponding melancholy in the run of the last line! +an air of tender regret in the addition of "quite away!" a something so +expressive of irrecoverable loss! so forcibly intimating the _Ad +nunquam reditura!_ "They never can return!" in short, such an union of +sound and sense as we rarely, if ever, meet with in any author, ancient +or modern. Our feelings are all alive, but the poet, wisely dreading +that our sympathy with the injured Queen might alienate our affections +from his hero, contrives immediately to awaken our fears for him by +telling us that-- + + "The King of Hearts + Called for those tarts". + +We are all conscious of the fault of our hero, and all tremble with +him, for the punishment which the enraged monarch may inflict: + + "And beat the Knave full sore!" + +The fatal blow is struck! We cannot but rejoice that guilt is justly +punished, though we sympathize with the guilty object of punishment. +Here Scriblerus, who, by the by, is very fond of making unnecessary +alterations, proposes reading "score" instead of "sore", meaning +thereby to particularize that the beating bestowed by this monarch +consisted of twenty stripes. But this proceeds from his ignorance of +the genius of our language, which does not admit of such an expression +as "full score", but would require the insertion of the particle "a", +which cannot be, on account of the metre. And this is another great +artifice of the poet. By leaving the quantity of beating indeterminate, +he gives every reader the liberty to administer it, in exact proportion +to the sum of indignation which he may have conceived against his hero, +that by thus amply satisfying their resentment they may be the more +easily reconciled to him afterwards. + + "The King of Hearts + Called for those tarts, + And beat the Knave full sore." + +Here ends the second part, or middle of the poem, in which we see the +character and exploits of the hero portrayed with the hand of a master. + +Nothing now remains to be examined but the third part, or end. In the +end it is a rule pretty well established that the work should draw +towards a conclusion, which our author manages thus:-- + + "The Knave of Hearts + Brought back those tarts". + +Here everything is at length settled; the theft is compensated, the +tarts restored to their right owner, and poetical justice, in every +respect, strictly and impartially administered. + +We may observe that there is nothing in which our poet has better +succeeded than in keeping up an unremitted attention in his readers to +the main instruments, the machinery of his poem, viz. the _tarts_; +insomuch that the afore-mentioned Scriblerus has sagely observed that +"he can't tell, but he doesn't know, but the tarts may be reckoned the +heroes of the poem". Scriblerus, though a man of learning, and +frequently right in his opinion, has here certainly hazarded a rash +conjecture. His arguments are overthrown entirely by his great +opponent, Hiccius, who concludes by triumphantly asking, "Had the tarts +been eaten, how could the poet have compensated for the loss of his +heroes?" + +We are now come to the _denouement_, the setting all to rights: and our +poet, in the management of his moral, is certainly superior to his +great ancient predecessors. The moral of their fables, if any they +have, is so interwoven with the main body of their work, that in +endeavouring to unravel it we should tear the whole. Our author has +very properly preserved his whole and entire for the end of his poem, +where he completes his main design, the reformation of his hero, thus-- + + "And vowed he'd steal no more". + +Having in the course of his work shown the bad effects arising from +theft, he evidently means this last moral reflection to operate with +his readers as a gentle and polite dissuasive from stealing. + + "The Knave of Hearts + Brought back those tarts, + And vowed he'd steal no more!" + +Thus have I industriously gone through the several parts of this +wonderful work, and clearly proved it, in every one of these parts, and +in all of them together, to be a "due and proper epic poem", and to +have as good a right to that title, from its adherence to prescribed +rules, as any of the celebrated masterpieces of antiquity. And here I +cannot help again lamenting that, by not knowing the name of the +author, I am unable to twine our laurels together, and to transmit to +posterity the mingled praises of genius and judgment, of the poet and +his commentator. + +[Footnote 230: More commonly known, I believe, by the appellation of +Jack Shepherd.] + + + + +POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN. + +(1797-1798.) + + +LII. THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER. + + The _Anti-Jacobin_ was planned by George Canning when he was + Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He secured the + collaboration of George Ellis, John Hookham Frere, William Gifford, + and some others. The last-named was appointed working editor. The + first number appeared on the 20th November, 1797, with a notice + that "the publication would be continued every Monday during the + sitting of Parliament". A volume of the best pieces, entitled _The + Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_, was published in 1800. It is almost + impossible to apportion accurately the various pieces to their + respective authors, though more than one attempt has been made so + to do. The following piece is designed to ridicule the extravagant + sympathy for the lower classes which was then the fashion. + + + _Friend of Humanity_. + + Needy knife-grinder! whither are you going? + Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order-- + Bleak blows the blast; your hat has got a hole in't, + So have your breeches! + + Weary knife-grinder! little think the proud ones, + Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike- + Road, what hard work 'tis crying all day, "Knives and + Scissors to grind O!" + + Tell me, knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives? + Did some rich man tyrannically use you? + Was it the squire? or parson of the parish? + Or the attorney? + + Was it the squire for killing of his game? or + Covetous parson for his tithes distraining? + Or roguish lawyer made you lose your little + All in a lawsuit? + + (Have you not read the _Rights of Man_, by Tom Paine?) + Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, + Ready to fall as soon as you have told your + Pitiful story. + + _Knife-grinder_. + + Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir, + Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers, + This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were + Torn in the scuffle. + + Constable came up for to take me into + Custody; they took me before the Justice, + Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish + Stocks for a vagrant. + + I should be glad to drink your honour's health in + A pot of beer, if you would give me sixpence; + But, for my part, I never love to meddle + With politics, sir. + + _Friend of Humanity_. + + _I_ give thee sixpence! I will see thee damned first-- + Wretch! whom no sense of wrong can rouse to vengeance-- + Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded, + Spiritless outcast! + +[_Kicks the knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport +of republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy_.] + + + +LIII. SONG BY ROGERO THE CAPTIVE. + + This is a satirical imitation of many of the songs current in the + romantic dramas of the period. It is contained in the _Rovers, or + the Double Arrangement_, act i. sc. 2, a skit upon the dramatic + literature of the day. + + + Whene'er with haggard eyes I view + This dungeon, that I'm rotting in, + I think of those companions true + Who studied with me in the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen. + [_Weeps, and pulls out a blue 'kerchief, with which + he wipes his eyes; gazing tenderly at it, he + proceeds_. + + Sweet 'kerchief check'd with heavenly blue, + Which once my love sat knotting in, + Alas, Matilda then was true, + At least I thought so at the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen. + [_At the repetition of this line Rogero clanks + his chain in cadence_. + + Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift ye flew, + Her neat post-waggon trotting in! + Ye bore Matilda from my view; + Forlorn I languish'd at the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen. + + This faded form! this pallid hue! + This blood my veins is clotting in, + My years are many--they were few + When I first entered at the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen. + + + There first for thee my passion grew, + Sweet; sweet Matilda Pottingen! + Thou wast the daughter of my tutor, + Law Professor at the U- + -niversity of Gottingen-- + -niversity of Gottingen + + Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu, + That kings and priests are plotting in; + Here doom'd to starve on water-gruel, + never shall I see the U- + -niversity of Gottingen!-- + -niversity of Gottingen! + + [_During the last stanza Rogero dashes his head + repeatedly against the walls of his prison; + and, finally, so hard as to produce a visible + contusion. He then throws himself on the + floor in an agony. The curtain drops--the + music still continuing to play till it is wholly + fallen_. + + + + +COLERIDGE AND SOUTHEY. + +(1772-1834.) (1774-1843.) + + +LIV. THE DEVIL'S WALK. + + Originally written in an album belonging to one of the Misses + Fricker, the ladies whom the two poets married. What was the extent + of the collaboration of the respective writers in the poem is + unknown, but the fact is beyond a doubt that it was written by them + in conjunction. + + + From his brimstone bed at break of day + A-walking the Devil is gone, + To visit his snug little farm upon earth, + And see how his stock goes on. + + Over the hill and over the dale, + And he went over the plain, + And backward and forward he switched his long tail, + As a gentleman switches his cane. + + And how, then, was the Devil drest? + Oh, he was in his Sunday best; + His jacket was red, and his breeches were blue, + And there was a hole where his tail came through. + + He saw a lawyer killing a viper + On a dunghill hard by his own stable; + And the Devil smiled, for it put him in mind + Of Cain and his brother Abel. + + He saw an apothecary on a white horse + Ride by on his own vocations; + And the Devil thought of his old friend + Death in the Revelations. + + He saw a cottage with a double coach-house, + A cottage of gentility; + And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin + Is the pride that apes humility. + + He went into a rich bookseller's shop, + Quoth he! we are both of one college, + For I myself sate like a cormorant once, + Fast by the tree of knowledge. + + Down the river there plied, with wind and tide, + A pig, with vast celerity, + And the Devil looked wise as he saw how the while + It cut its own throat. There! quoth he, with a smile, + Goes "England's commercial prosperity". + + As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he saw + A solitary cell; + And the Devil was pleased, for it gave him a hint + For improving his prisons in hell. + + General Gascoigne's burning face + He saw with consternation; + And back to hell his way did take, + For the Devil thought by a slight mistake + It was a general conflagration. + + + + +SYDNEY SMITH. + +(1771-1845.) + + +LV. THE LETTERS OF PETER PLYMLEY--ON "NO POPERY". + + In 1807 the _Letters of Peter Plymley_ to his brother Abraham on + the subject of the Irish Catholics were published. "The letters", + as Professor Henry Morley says, "fell like sparks on a heap of + gunpowder. All London, and soon all England, were alive to the + sound reason recommended by a lively wit." The example of his + satiric force and sarcastic ratiocination cited below is the Second + Letter in the Series. + + +DEAR ABRAHAM, + +The Catholic not respect an oath! why not? What upon earth has kept him +out of Parliament, or excluded him from all the offices whence he is +excluded, but his respect for oaths? There is no law which prohibits a +Catholic to sit in Parliament. There could be no such law; because it +is impossible to find out what passes in the interior of any man's +mind. Suppose it were in contemplation to exclude all men from certain +offices who contended for the legality of taking tithes: the only mode +of discovering that fervid love of decimation which I know you to +possess would be to tender you an oath "against that damnable doctrine, +that it is lawful for a spiritual man to take, abstract, appropriate, +subduct, or lead away the tenth calf, sheep, lamb, ox, pigeon, duck", +&c., and every other animal that ever existed, which of course the +lawyers would take care to enumerate. Now this oath I am sure you would +rather die than take; and so the Catholic is excluded from Parliament +because he will not swear that he disbelieves the leading doctrines of +his religion! The Catholic asks you to abolish some oaths which oppress +him; your answer is that he does not respect oaths. Then why subject +him to the test of oaths? The oaths keep him out of Parliament; why, +then, he respects them. Turn which way you will, either your laws are +nugatory, or the Catholic is bound by religious obligations as you are; +but no eel in the well-sanded fist of a cook-maid, upon the eve of +being skinned, ever twisted and writhed as an orthodox parson does when +he is compelled by the gripe of reason to admit anything in favour of a +dissenter. + +I will not dispute with you whether the Pope be or be not the Scarlet +Lady of Babylon. I hope it is not so; because I am afraid it will +induce His Majesty's Chancellor of the Exchequer to introduce several +severe bills against popery, if that is the case; and though he will +have the decency to appoint a previous committee of inquiry as to the +fact, the committee will be garbled, and the report inflammatory. +Leaving this to be settled as he pleases to settle it, I wish to inform +you, that, previously to the bill last passed in favour of the +Catholics, at the suggestion of Mr. Pitt, and for his satisfaction, the +opinions of six of the most celebrated of the foreign Catholic +universities were taken as to the right of the Pope to interfere in the +temporal concerns of any country. The answer cannot possibly leave the +shadow of a doubt, even in the mind of Baron Maseres; and Dr. Rennel +would be compelled to admit it, if three Bishops lay dead at the very +moment the question were put to him. To this answer might be added also +the solemn declaration and signature of all the Catholics in Great +Britain. + +I should perfectly agree with you, if the Catholics admitted such a +dangerous dispensing power in the hands of the Pope; but they all deny +it, and laugh at it, and are ready to abjure it in the most decided +manner you can devise. They obey the Pope as the spiritual head of +their Church; but are you really so foolish as to be imposed upon by +mere names? What matters it the seven-thousandth part of a farthing who +is the spiritual head of any Church? Is not Mr. Wilberforce at the head +of the Church of Clapham? Is not Dr. Letsom at the head of the Quaker +Church? Is not the General Assembly at the head of the Church of +Scotland? How is the government disturbed by these many-headed +Churches? or in what way is the power of the Crown augmented by this +almost nominal dignity? + +The King appoints a fast-day once a year, and he makes the bishops: and +if the government would take half the pains to keep the Catholics out +of the arms of France that it does to widen Temple Bar, or improve Snow +Hill, the King would get into his hands the appointments of the titular +Bishops of Ireland. Both Mr. C----'s sisters enjoy pensions more than +sufficient to place the two greatest dignitaries of the Irish Catholic +Church entirely at the disposal of the Crown. Everybody who knows +Ireland knows perfectly well that nothing would be easier, with the +expenditure of a little money, than to preserve enough of the +ostensible appointment in the hands of the Pope to satisfy the scruples +of the Catholics, while the real nomination remained with the Crown. +But, as I have before said, the moment the very name of Ireland is +mentioned, the English seem to bid adieu to common feeling, common +prudence, and common sense, and to act with the barbarity of tyrants +and the fatuity of idiots. + +Whatever your opinion may be of the follies of the Roman Catholic +religion, remember they are the follies of four millions of human +beings, increasing rapidly in numbers, wealth, and intelligence, who, +if firmly united with this country, would set at defiance the power of +France, and if once wrested from their alliance with England, would in +three years render its existence as an independent nation absolutely +impossible. You speak of danger to the Establishment: I request to know +when the Establishment was ever so much in danger as when Hoche was in +Bantry Bay, and whether all the books of Bossuet, or the arts of the +Jesuits, were half so terrible? Mr. Perceval and his parsons forget all +this, in their horror lest twelve or fourteen old women may be +converted to holy water and Catholic nonsense. They never see that, +while they are saving these venerable ladies from perdition, Ireland +may be lost, England broken down, and the Protestant Church, with all +its deans, prebendaries, Percevals, and Rennels, be swept into the +vortex of oblivion. + +Do not, I beseech you, ever mention to me again the name of Dr. +Duigenan. I have been in every corner of Ireland, and have studied its +present strength and condition with no common labour. Be assured +Ireland does not contain at this moment less than 5,000,000 people. +There were returned in the year 1791 to the hearth tax 701,000 houses, +and there is no kind of question that there were about 50,000 houses +omitted in that return. Taking, however, only the number returned for +the tax, and allowing the average of six to a house (a very small +average for a potato-fed people), this brings the population to +4,200,000 people in the year 1791: and it can be shown from the +clearest evidence (and Mr. Newenham in his book shows it), that Ireland +for the last 50 years has increased in its population at the rate of +50,000 or 60,000 per annum; which leaves the present population of +Ireland at about 5,000,000, after every possible deduction for +_existing circumstances, just and necessary wars, monstrous and +unnatural rebellions_, and all other sources of human destruction. Of +this population, two out of ten are Protestants; and the half of the +Protestant population are dissenters, and as inimical to the Church as +the Catholics themselves. In this state of things thumbscrews and +whipping--admirable engines of policy as they must be considered to +be--will not ultimately avail. The Catholics will hang over you; they +will watch for the moment, and compel you hereafter to give them ten +times as much, against your will, as they would now be contented with, +if it were voluntarily surrendered. Remember what happened in the +American war, when Ireland compelled you to give her everything she +asked, and to renounce, in the most explicit manner, your claim of +sovereignty over her. God Almighty grant the folly of these present men +may not bring on such another crisis of public affairs! + +What are your dangers which threaten the Establishment? Reduce this +declamation to a point, and let us understand what you mean. The most +ample allowance does not calculate that there would be more than twenty +members who were Roman Catholics in one house, and ten in the other, if +the Catholic emancipation were carried into effect. Do you mean that +these thirty members would bring in a bill to take away the tithes from +the Protestant, and to pay them to the Catholic clergy? Do you mean +that a Catholic general would march his army into the House of Commons, +and purge it of Mr. Perceval and Dr. Duigenan? or, that the +theological writers would become all of a sudden more acute or more +learned, if the present civil incapacities were removed? Do you fear +for your tithes, or your doctrines, or your person, or the English +Constitution? Every fear, taken separately, is so glaringly absurd, +that no man has the folly or the boldness to state it. Everyone +conceals his ignorance, or his baseness, in a stupid general panic, +which, when called on, he is utterly incapable of explaining. Whatever +you think of the Catholics, there they are--you cannot get rid of them; +your alternative is to give them a lawful place for stating their +grievances, or an unlawful one: if you do not admit them to the House +of Commons, they will hold their parliament in Potatoe Place, Dublin, +and be ten times as violent and inflammatory as they would be in +Westminster. Nothing would give me such an idea of security as to see +twenty or thirty Catholic gentlemen in Parliament, looked upon by all +the Catholics as the fair and proper organ of their party. I should +have thought it the height of good fortune that such a wish existed on +their part, and the very essence of madness and ignorance to reject it. +Can you murder the Catholics? Can you neglect them? They are too +numerous for both these expedients. What remains to be done is obvious +to every human being--but to that man who, instead of being a Methodist +preacher, is, for the curse of us and our children, and for the ruin of +Troy and the misery of good old Priam and his sons, become a legislator +and a politician. + +A distinction, I perceive, is taken by one of the most feeble noblemen +in Great Britain, between persecution and the deprivation of political +power; whereas, there is no more distinction between these two things +than there is between him who makes the distinction and a booby. If I +strip off the relic-covered jacket of a Catholic, and give him twenty +stripes ... I persecute; if I say, Everybody in the town where you live +shall be a candidate for lucrative and honourable offices, but you, who +are a Catholic ... I do not persecute! What barbarous nonsense is this! +as if degradation was not as great an evil as bodily pain or as severe +poverty: as if I could not be as great a tyrant by saying, You shall +not enjoy--as by saying, You shall suffer. The English, I believe, are +as truly religious as any nation in Europe; I know no greater blessing; +but it carries with it this evil in its train, that any villain who +will bawl out, "_The Church is in danger!_" may get a place and a good +pension; and that any administration who will do the same thing may +bring a set of men into power who, at a moment of stationary and +passive piety, would be hooted by the very boys in the streets. But it +is not all religion; it is, in great part, the narrow and exclusive +spirit which delights to keep the common blessings of sun and air and +freedom from other human beings. "Your religion has always been +degraded; you are in the dust, and I will take care you never rise +again. I should enjoy less the possession of an earthly good by every +additional person to whom it was extended." You may not be aware of it +yourself, most reverend Abraham, but you deny their freedom to the +Catholics upon the same principle that Sarah, your wife, refuses to +give the receipt for a ham or a gooseberry dumpling: she values her +receipts, not because they secure to her a certain flavour, but because +they remind her that her neighbours want it:--a feeling laughable in a +priestess, shameful in a priest; venial when it withholds the blessings +of a ham, tyrannical and execrable when it narrows the boon of +religious freedom. + +You spend a great deal of ink about the character of the present prime +minister. Grant you all that you write--I say, I fear he will ruin +Ireland, and pursue a line of policy destructive to the true interest +of his country: and then you tell me, he is faithful to Mrs. Perceval, +and kind to the Master Percevals! These are, undoubtedly, the first +qualifications to be looked to in a time of the most serious public +danger; but somehow or another (if public and private virtues must +always be incompatible), I should prefer that he destroyed the domestic +happiness of Wood or Cockell, owed for the veal of the preceding year, +whipped his boys, and saved his country. + +The late administration did not do right; they did not build their +measures upon the solid basis of facts. They should have caused several +Catholics to have been dissected after death by surgeons of either +religion; and the report to have been published with accompanying +plates. If the viscera, and other organs of life, had been found to be +the same as in Protestant bodies; if the provisions of nerves, +arteries, cerebrum, and cerebellum, had been the same as we are +provided with, or as the dissenters are now known to possess; then, +indeed, they might have met Mr. Perceval upon a proud eminence, and +convinced the country at large of the strong probability that the +Catholics are really human creatures, endowed with the feelings of men, +and entitled to all their rights. But instead of this wise and prudent +measure, Lord Howick, with his usual precipitation, brings forward a +bill in their favour, without offering the slightest proof to the +country that they were anything more than horses and oxen. The person +who shows the lama at the corner of Piccadilly has the precaution to +write up--_Allowed by Sir Joseph Banks to be a real quadruped_, so his +Lordship might have said--_Allowed by the bench of Bishops to be real +human creatures_.... I could write you twenty letters upon this +subject; but I am tired, and so I suppose are you. Our friendship is +now of forty years' standing; you know me to be a truly religious man; +but I shudder to see religion treated like a cockade, or a pint of +beer, and made the instrument of a party. I love the king, but I love +the people as well as the king; and if I am sorry to see his old age +molested, I am much more sorry to see four millions of Catholics +baffled in their just expectations. If I love Lord Grenville and Lord +Howick, it is because they love their country; if I abhor ... it is +because I know there is but one man among them who is not laughing at +the enormous folly and credulity of the country, and that he is an +ignorant and mischievous bigot. As for the light and frivolous jester, +of whom it is your misfortune to think so highly, learn, my dear +Abraham, that this political Killigrew, just before the breaking up of +the last administration, was in actual treaty with them for a place; +and if they had survived twenty-four hours longer, he would have been +now declaiming against the cry of No Popery! instead of inflaming it. +With this practical comment on the baseness of human nature, I bid you +adieu! + + + + +JAMES SMITH. + +(1775-1839.) + + +LVI. THE POET OF FASHION. + + From the famous _Rejected Addresses_. + + + His book is successful, he's steeped in renown, + His lyric effusions have tickled the town; + Dukes, dowagers, dandies, are eager to trace + The fountain of verse in the verse-maker's face: + While, proud as Apollo, with peers _tete-a-tete_, + From Monday till Saturday dining off plate, + His heart full of hope, and his head full of gain, + The Poet of Fashion dines out in Park Lane. + + Now lean-jointured widows who seldom draw corks, + Whose tea-spoons do duty for knives and for forks, + Send forth, vellum-covered, a six-o'clock card, + And get up a dinner to peep at the bard; + Veal, sweetbread, boiled chickens, and tongue crown the cloth, + And soup _a la reine_, little better than broth. + While, past his meridian, but still with some heat, + The Poet of Fashion dines out in Sloane Street, + + Enrolled in the tribe who subsist by their wits, + Remember'd by starts, and forgotten by fits, + Now artists and actors, the bardling engage, + To squib in the journals, and write for the stage. + Now soup _a la reine_ bends the knee to ox-cheek, + And chickens and tongue bow to bubble-and-squeak. + While, still in translation employ'd by "the Row" + The Poet of Fashion dines out in Soho. + + Pushed down from Parnassus to Phlegethon's brink, + Toss'd, torn, and trunk-lining, but still with some ink, + Now squat city misses their albums expand, + And woo the worn rhymer for "something off-hand"; + No longer with stinted effrontery fraught, + Bucklersbury now seeks what St. James's once sought, + And (O, what a classical haunt for a bard!) + The Poet of Fashion dines out in Barge-yard. + + + + +WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. + +(1775-1864.) + + +LVII. BOSSUET AND THE DUCHESS OF FONTANGES. + + This is taken from Landor's _Imaginary Conversations_, and is one + of the best examples of his light, airy, satiric vein. + + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle, it is the King's desire that I compliment you +on the elevation you have attained. + +_Fontanges_, O monseigneur, I know very well what you mean. His Majesty +is kind and polite to everybody. The last thing he said to me was, +"Angelique! do not forget to compliment Monseigneur the Bishop on the +dignity I have conferred upon him, of almoner to the Dauphiness. I +desired the appointment for him only that he might be of rank +sufficient to confess you, now you are Duchess. Let him be your +confessor, my little girl." + +_Bossuet_. I dare not presume to ask you, mademoiselle, what was your +gracious reply to the condescension of our royal master. + +_Fontanges_. Oh, yes! you may. I told him I was almost sure I should be +ashamed of confessing such naughty things to a person of high rank, who +writes like an angel. + +_Bossuet_. The observation was inspired, mademoiselle, by your goodness +and modesty. + +_Fontanges_. You are so agreeable a man, monseigneur, I will confess to +you, directly, if you like. + +_Bossuet_. Have you brought yourself to a proper frame of mind, young +lady? + +_Fontanges_. What is that? + +_Bossuet_. Do you hate sin? + +_Fontanges_. Very much. + +_Bossuet_. Are you resolved to leave it off? + +_Fontanges_. I have left it off entirely since the King began to love +me. I have never said a spiteful word of anybody since. + +_Bossuet_. In your opinion, mademoiselle, are there no other sins than +malice? + +_Fontanges_. I never stole anything; I never committed adultery; I +never coveted my neighbour's wife; I never killed any person, though +several have told me they should die for me. + +_Bossuet_. Vain, idle talk! Did you listen to it? + +_Fontanges_. Indeed I did, with both ears; it seemed so funny. + +_Bossuet_. You have something to answer for, then? + +_Fontanges_. No, indeed, I have not, monseigneur. I have asked many +times after them, and found they were all alive, which mortified me. + +_Bossuet_. So, then! you would really have them die for you? + +_Fontanges_. Oh, no, no! but I wanted to see whether they were in +earnest, or told me fibs; for, if they told me fibs, I would never +trust them again. + +_Bossuet_. Do you hate the world, mademoiselle? + +_Fontanges_. A good deal of it: all Picardy, for example, and all +Sologne; nothing is uglier--and, oh my life! what frightful men and +women! + +_Bossuet_. I would say, in plain language, do you hate the flesh and +the devil? + +_Fontanges_. Who does not hate the devil? If you will hold my hand the +while, I will tell him so.--I hate you, beast! There now. As for flesh, +I never could bear a fat man. Such people can neither dance nor hunt, +nor do anything that I know of. + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle Marie-Angelique de Scoraille de Rousille, +Duchess de Fontanges! do you hate titles and dignities and yourself? + +_Fontanges_. Myself! does anyone hate me? Why should I be the first? +Hatred is the worst thing in the world: it makes one so very ugly. + +_Bossuet_. To love God, we must hate ourselves. We must detest our +bodies, if we would save our souls. + +_Fontanges_. That is hard: how can I do it? I see nothing so detestable +in mine. Do you? To love is easier. I love God whenever I think of him, +he has been so very good to me; but I cannot hate myself, if I would. +As God hath not hated me, why should I? Beside, it was he who made the +King to love me; for I heard you say in a sermon that the hearts of +kings are in his rule and governance. As for titles and dignities, I do +not care much about them while His Majesty loves me, and calls me his +Angelique. They make people more civil about us; and therefore it must +be a simpleton who hates or disregards them, and a hypocrite who +pretends it. I am glad to be a duchess. Manon and Lizette have never +tied my garter so as to hurt me since, nor has the mischievous old La +Grange said anything cross or bold; on the contrary, she told me what a +fine colour and what a plumpness it gave me. Would not you rather be a +duchess than a waiting-maid or a nun, if the King gave you your choice? + +_Bossuet_. Pardon me, mademoiselle, I am confounded at the levity of +your question. + +_Fontanges_. I am in earnest, as you see. + +_Bossuet_. Flattery will come before you in other and more dangerous +forms: you will be commended for excellences which do not belong to +you; and this you will find as injurious to your repose as to your +virtue. An ingenuous mind feels in unmerited praise the bitterest +reproof. If you reject it, you are unhappy; if you accept it, you are +undone. The compliments of a king are of themselves sufficient to +pervert your intellect. + +_Fontanges_. There you are mistaken twice over. It is not my person +that pleases him so greatly: it is my spirit, my wit, my talents, my +genius, and that very thing which you have mentioned--what was it? my +intellect. He never complimented me the least upon my beauty. Others +have said that I am the most beautiful young creature under heaven; a +blossom of Paradise, a nymph, an angel; worth (let me whisper it in +your ear--do I lean too hard?) a thousand Montespans. But His Majesty +never said more on the occasion than that I was _imparagonable_! (what +is that?) and that he adored me; holding my hand and sitting quite +still, when he might have romped with me and kissed me. + +_Bossuet_. I would aspire to the glory of converting you. + +_Fontanges_. You may do anything with me but convert me: you must not +do that; I am a Catholic born. M. de Turenne and Mademoiselle de Duras +were heretics: you did right there. The King told the chancellor that +he prepared them, that the business was arranged for you, and that you +had nothing to do but get ready the arguments and responses, which you +did gallantly--did not you? And yet Mademoiselle de Duras was very +awkward for a long while afterwards in crossing herself, and was once +remarked to beat her breast in the litany with the points of two +fingers at a time, when everyone is taught to use only the second, +whether it has a ring upon it or not. I am sorry she did so; for people +might think her insincere in her conversion, and pretend that she kept +a finger for each religion. + +_Bossuet_. It would be as uncharitable to doubt the conviction of +Mademoiselle de Duras as that of M. le Marechali. + +_Fontanges_. I have heard some fine verses, I can assure you, +monseigneur, in which you are called the conqueror of Turenne. I should +like to have been his conqueror myself, he was so great a man. I +understand that you have lately done a much more difficult thing. + +_Bossuet_. To what do you refer, mademoiselle? + +_Fontanges_. That you have overcome quietism. Now, in the name of +wonder, how could you manage that? + +_Bossuet_. By the grace of God. + +_Fontanges_. Yes, indeed; but never until now did God give any preacher +so much of his grace as to subdue this pest. + +_Bossuet_. It has appeared among us but lately. + +_Fontanges_. Oh, dear me! I have always been subject to it dreadfully, +from a child. + +_Bossuet_. Really! I never heard so. + +_Fontanges_. I checked myself as well as I could, although they +constantly told me I looked well in it. + +_Bossuet_. In what, mademoiselle? + +_Fontanges_. In quietism; that is, when I fell asleep at sermon-time. I +am ashamed that such a learned and pious man as M. de Fenelon should +incline to it, as they say he does. + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle, you quite mistake the matter. + +_Fontanges_. Is not then M. de Fenelon thought a very pious and learned +person? + +_Bossuet_. And justly. + +_Fontanges_. I have read a great way in a romance he has begun, about a +knight-errant in search of a father. The King says there are many such +about his court; but I never saw them nor heard of them before. The +Marchioness de la Motte, his relative, brought it to me, written out in +a charming hand, as much as the copybook would hold; and I got through, +I know not how far. If he had gone on with the nymphs in the grotto, I +never should have been tired of him; but he quite forgot his own +story, and left them at once: in a hurry (I suppose) to set out upon +his mission to Saintonge in the _pays de d'Aunis_, where the King has +promised him a famous _heretic-hunt_. He is, I do assure you, a +wonderful creature: he understands so much Latin and Greek, and knows +all the tricks of the sorceresses. Yet you keep him under. + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle, if you really have anything to confess, and if +you desire that I should have the honour of absolving you, it would be +better to proceed in it, than to oppress me with unmerited eulogies on +my humble labours. + +_Fontanges_. You must first direct me, monseigneur: I have nothing +particular. The King assures me there is no harm whatever in his love +toward me. + +_Bossuet_. That depends on your thoughts at the moment. If you abstract +the mind from the body, and turn your heart toward heaven-- + +_Fontanges_. O monseigneur, I always did so--every time but once--you +quite make me blush. Let us converse about something else, or I shall +grow too serious, just as you made me the other day at the funeral +sermon. And now let me tell you, my lord, you compose such pretty +funeral sermons, I hope I shall have the pleasure of hearing you preach +mine. + +_Bossuet_. Rather let us hope, mademoiselle, that the hour is yet far +distant when so melancholy a service will be performed for you. May he +who is unborn be the sad announcer of your departure hence![231] May he +indicate to those around him many virtues not perhaps yet full-blown in +you, and point triumphantly to many faults and foibles checked by you +in their early growth, and lying dead on the open road you shall have +left behind you! To me the painful duty will, I trust, be spared: I am +advanced in age; you are a child. + +_Fontanges_. Oh, no! I am seventeen. + +_Bossuet_. I should have supposed you younger by two years at least. +But do you collect nothing from your own reflection, which raises so +many in my breast? You think it possible that I, aged as I am, may +preach a sermon on your funeral. We say that our days are few; and +saying it, we say too much. Marie Angelique, we have but one: the past +are not ours, and who can promise us the future? This in which we live +is ours only while we live in it; the next moment may strike it off +from us; the next sentence I would utter may be broken and fall between +us.[232] The beauty that has made a thousand hearts to beat at one +instant, at the succeeding has been without pulse and colour, without +admirer, friend, companion, follower. She by whose eyes the march of +victory shall have been directed, whose name shall have animated armies +at the extremities of the earth, drops into one of its crevices and +mingles with its dust. Duchess de Fontanges! think on this! Lady! so +live as to think on it undisturbed! + +_Fontanges_. O God! I am quite alarmed. Do not talk thus gravely. It is +in vain that you speak to me in so sweet a voice. I am frightened even +at the rattle of the beads about my neck: take them off, and let us +talk on other things. What was it that dropped on the floor as you +were speaking? It seemed to shake the room, though it sounded like a +pin or button. + +_Bossuet_. Leave it there! + +_Fontanges_. Your ring fell from your hand, my Lord Bishop! How quick +you are! Could not you have trusted me to pick it up? + +_Bossuet_. Madame is too condescending: had this happened, I should +have been overwhelmed with confusion. My hand is shrivelled: the ring +has ceased to fit it. A mere accident may draw us into perdition; a +mere accident may bestow on us the means of grace. A pebble has moved +you more than my words. + +_Fontanges_. It pleases me vastly: I admire rubies. I will ask the King +for one exactly like it. This is the time he usually comes from the +chase. I am sorry you cannot be present to hear how prettily I shall +ask him: but that is impossible, you know; for I shall do it just when +I am certain he would give me anything. He said so himself; he said but +yesterday-- + + 'Such a sweet creature is worth a world': + +and no actor on the stage was more like a king than His Majesty was +when he spoke it, if he had but kept his wig and robe on. And yet you +know he is rather stiff and wrinkled for so great a monarch; and his +eyes, I am afraid, are beginning to fail him, he looks so close at +things. + +_Bossuet_. Mademoiselle, such is the duty of a prince who desires to +conciliate our regard and love. + +_Fontanges_. Well, I think so too, though I did not like it in him at +first. I am sure he will order the ring for me, and I will confess to +you with it upon my finger. But first I must be cautious and particular +to know of him how much it is his royal will that I should say. + +[Footnote 231: Bossuet was in his fifty-fourth year; Mademoiselle de +Fontanges died in child-bed the year following; he survived her +twenty-three years.] + +[Footnote 232: Though Bossuet was capable of uttering and even of +feeling such a sentiment, his conduct towards Fenelon, the fairest +apparition that Christianity ever presented, was ungenerous and unjust. + +While the diocese of Cambray was ravaged by Louis, it was spared by +Marlborough, who said to the Archbishop that, if he was sorry he had +not taken Cambray, it was chiefly because he lost for a time the +pleasure of visiting so great a man. Peterborough, the next of our +generals in glory, paid his respects to him some years afterward.] + + + + +GEORGE, LORD BYRON. + +(1788-1824.) + + +LVIII. THE VISION OF JUDGMENT. + + _The Vision of Judgment_ appeared in 1822, and created a great + sensation owing to its terrible attack on George III., as well as + its ridicule of Southey, of whose long-forgotten _Vision of + Judgment_ this is a parody. + + + I. + + Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate; + His keys were rusty, and the lock was dull, + So little trouble had been given of late: + Not that the place by any means was full, + But since the Gallic era "eighty-eight", + The devils had ta'en a longer, stronger pull, + And "a pull all together", as they say + At sea--which drew most souls another way. + + II. + + The angels all were singing out of tune, + And hoarse with having little else to do, + Excepting to wind up the sun and moon, + Or curb a runaway young star or two, + Or wild colt of a comet, which too soon + Broke out of bounds o'er the ethereal blue, + Splitting some planet with its playful tail, + As boats are sometimes by a wanton whale. + + III. + + The guardian seraphs had retired on high, + Finding their charges past all care below; + Terrestrial business fill'd nought in the sky + Save the recording angel's black bureau; + Who found, indeed, the facts to multiply + With such rapidity of vice and woe, + That he had stripp'd off both his wings in quills, + And yet was in arrear of human ills. + + IV. + + His business so augmented of late years, + That he was forced, against his will no doubt + (Just like those cherubs, earthly ministers), + For some resource to turn himself about, + And claim the help of his celestial peers, + To aid him ere he should be quite worn out + By the increased demand for his remarks: + Six angels and twelve saints were named his clerks. + + V. + + This was a handsome board--at least for heaven; + And yet they had even then enough to do, + So many conquerors' cars were daily driven, + So many kingdoms fitted up anew; + Each day, too, slew its thousands six or seven, + Till at the crowning carnage, Waterloo, + They threw their pens down in divine disgust, + The page was so besmear'd with blood and dust. + + VI. + + This by the way; 'tis not mine to record + What angels shrink from: even the very devil + On this occasion his own work abhorr'd, + So surfeited with the infernal revel: + Though he himself had sharpen'd every sword, + It almost quench'd his innate thirst of evil. + (Here Satan's sole good work deserves insertion-- + 'Tis that he has both generals in reversion.) + + VII. + + Let's skip a few short years of hollow peace, + Which peopled earth no better, hell as wont, + And heaven none--they form the tyrant's lease, + With nothing but new names subscribed upon't: + 'Twill one day finish: meantime they increase, + "With seven heads and ten horns", and all in front, + Like Saint John's foretold beast; but ours are born + Less formidable in the head than horn. + + VIII. + + In the first year of freedom's second dawn + Died George the Third; although no tyrant, one + Who shielded tyrants, till each sense withdrawn + Left him nor mental nor external sun: + A better farmer ne'er brush'd dew from lawn, + A worse king never left a realm undone! + He died--but left his subjects still behind, + One half as mad--and t'other no less blind. + + IX. + + He died! his death made no great stir on earth: + His burial made some pomp: there was profusion + Of velvet, gilding, brass, and no great dearth + Of aught but tears--save those shed by collusion. + For these things may be bought at their true worth; + Of elegy there was the due infusion-- + Bought also; and the torches, cloaks, and banners, + Heralds, and relics of old Gothic manners, + + X. + + Form'd a sepulchral melodrame. Of all + The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show, + Who cared about the corpse? The funeral + Made the attraction, and the black the woe, + There throbb'd not there a thought which pierced the pall; + And when the gorgeous coffin was laid low, + It seem'd the mockery of hell to fold + The rottenness of eighty years in gold. + + XI. + + So mix his body with the dust! It might + Return to what it _must_ far sooner, were + The natural compound left alone to fight + Its way back into earth, and fire, and air, + But the unnatural balsams merely blight + What nature made him at his birth, as bare + As the mere million's base unmummied clay-- + Yet all his spices but prolong decay. + + XII. + + He's dead--and upper earth with him has done; + He's buried; save the undertaker's bill, + Or lapidary's scrawl, the world has gone + For him, unless he left a German will. + But where's the proctor who will ask his son? + In whom his qualities are reigning still, + Except that household virtue, most uncommon, + Of constancy to a bad, ugly woman. + + XIII. + + "God save the King!" It is a large economy + In God to save the like; but if He will + Be saving, all the better; for not one am I + Of those who think damnation better still; + I hardly know, too, if not quite alone am I + In this small hope of bettering future ill + By circumscribing, with some slight restriction, + The eternity of hell's hot jurisdiction. + + XIV. + + I know this is unpopular; I know + 'Tis blasphemous; I know one may be damn'd + For hoping no one else may e'er be so; + I know my catechism: I know we 're cramm'd + With the best doctrines till we quite o'erflow; + I know that all save England's church have shamm'd; + And that the other twice two hundred churches + And synagogues have made a _damn'd_ bad purchase. + + XV. + + God help us all! God help me too! I am, + God knows, as helpless as the devil can wish, + And not a whit more difficult to damn, + Than is to bring to land a late-hooked fish, + Or to the butcher to purvey the lamb; + Not that I'm fit for such a noble dish, + As one day will be that immortal fry + Of almost everybody born to die. + + XVI. + + Saint Peter sat by the celestial gate, + And nodded o'er his keys; when lo! there came + A wondrous noise he had not heard of late-- + A rushing sound of wind, and stream, and flame; + In short, a roar of things extremely great, + Which would have made all save a saint exclaim; + But he, with first a start and then a wink, + Said, "There's another star gone out, I think!" + + XVII. + + But ere he could return to his repose, + A cherub flapp'd his right wing o'er his eyes-- + At which Saint Peter yawn'd and rubb'd his nose; + "Saint porter," said the angel, "prithee rise!" + Waving a goodly wing, which glow'd, as glows + An earthly peacock's tail, with heavenly dyes; + To which the Saint replied, "Well, what's the matter? + Is Lucifer come back with all this clatter?" + + XVIII. + + "No," quoth the cherub; "George the Third is dead." + "And who _is_ George the Third?" replied the apostle; + "_What George? What Third?_" "The King of England," said + The angel. "Well, he won't find kings to jostle + Him on his way; but does he wear his head? + Because the last we saw here had a tussle, + And ne'er would have got into heaven's good graces, + Had he not flung his head in all our faces. + + XIX. + + "He was, if I remember, King of France, + That head of his, which could not keep a crown + On earth, yet ventured in my face to advance + A claim to those of martyrs--like my own. + If I had had my sword, as I had once + When I cut ears off, I had cut him down; + But having but my _keys_, and not my brand, + I only knock'd his head from out his hand. + + XX. + + "And then he set up such a headless howl, + That all the saints came out and took him in; + And there he sits by St. Paul, cheek by jowl; + That fellow Paul--the parvenu! The skin + Of Saint Bartholomew, which makes his cowl + In heaven, and upon earth redeem'd his sin + So as to make a martyr, never sped + Better than did that weak and wooden head. + + XXI. + + "But had it come up here upon its shoulders, + There would have been a different tale to tell; + The fellow-feeling in the saints' beholders + Seems to have acted on them like a spell; + And so this very foolish head heaven solders + Back on its trunk: it may be very well, + And seems the custom here to overthrow + Whatever has been wisely done below." + + XXII. + + The angel answer'd, "Peter! do not pout: + The king who comes has head and all entire, + And never knew much what it was about-- + He did as doth the puppet--by its wire, + And will be judged like all the rest, no doubt: + My business and your own is not to inquire + Into such matters, but to mind our cue-- + Which is to act as we are bid to do." + + XXIII. + + While thus they spake, the angelic caravan, + Arriving like a rush of mighty wind, + Cleaving the fields of space, as doth the swan + Some silver stream (say Ganges, Nile, or Inde, + Or Thames, or Tweed), and 'midst them an old man + With an old soul, and both extremely blind, + Halted before the gate, and in his shroud + Seated their fellow-traveller on a cloud. + + XXIV. + + But bringing up the rear of this bright host, + A Spirit of a different aspect waved + His wings, like thunder-clouds above some coast + Whose barren beach with frequent wrecks is paved; + His brow was like the deep when tempest-toss'd; + Fierce and unfathomable thoughts engraved + Eternal wrath on his immortal face, + And _where_ he gazed, a gloom pervaded space. + + XXV. + + As he drew near, he gazed upon the gate + Ne'er to be enter'd more by him or Sin, + With such a glance of supernatural hate, + As made St. Peter wish himself within: + He patter'd with his keys at a great rate, + And sweated through his apostolic skin: + Of course his perspiration was but ichor, + Or some such other spiritual liquor. + + XXVI. + + The very cherubs huddled all together, + Like birds when soars the falcon; and they felt + A tingling to the tip of every feather, + And form'd a circle like Orion's belt + Around their poor old charge; who scarce knew whither + His guards had led him, though they gently dealt + With royal manes (for by many stories, + And true, we learn the angels all are Tories). + + XXVII. + + As things were in this posture, the gate flew + Asunder, and the flashing of its hinges + Flung over space an universal hue + Of many-color'd flame, until its tinges + Reach'd even our speck of earth, and made a new + Aurora Borealis spread its fringes + O'er the North Pole, the same seen, when ice-bound, + By Captain Perry's crew, in "Melville's Sound". + + XXVIII. + + And from the gate thrown open issued beaming + A beautiful and mighty Thing of Light, + Radiant with glory, like a banner streaming + Victorious from some world-o'erthrowing fight: + My poor comparisons must needs be teeming + With earthly likenesses, for here the night + Of clay obscures our best conceptions, saving + Johanna Southcote, or Bob Southey raving. + + XXIX. + + 'Twas the archangel Michael: all men know + The make of angels and archangels, since + There's scarce a scribbler has not one to show, + From the fiends' leader to the angels' prince. + There also are some altar-pieces, though + I really can't say that they much evince + One's inner notions of immortal spirits; + But let the connoisseurs explain _their_ merits. + + XXX. + + Michael flew forth in glory and in good, + A goodly work of Him from whom all glory + And good arise: the portal pass'd--he stood + Before him the young cherubs and saints hoary-- + (I say _young_, begging to be understood + By looks, not years, and should be very sorry + To state, they were not older than St. Peter, + But merely that they seem'd a little sweeter). + + XXXI. + + The cherubs and the saints bow'd down before + That archangelic hierarch, the first + Of essences angelical, who wore + The aspect of a god; but this ne'er nursed + Pride in his heavenly bosom, in whose core + No thought, save for his Maker's service, durst + Intrude, however glorified and high; + He knew him but the viceroy of the sky. + + XXXII. + + He and the sombre silent Spirit met-- + They knew each other both for good and ill; + Such was their power that neither could forget + His former friend and future foe; but still + There was a high, immortal, proud regret + In either's eye, as if't were less their will + Than destiny to make the eternal years + Their date of war, and their _champ clos_ the spheres. + + XXXIII. + + But here they were in neutral space: we know + From Job, that Satan hath the power to pay + A heavenly visit thrice a year or so; + And that "the sons of God", like those of clay, + Must keep him company; and we might show + From the same book, in how polite a way + The dialogue is held between the powers + Of Good and Evil--but 'twould take up hours. + + XXXIV. + + And this is not a theologic tract, + To prove with Hebrew and with Arabic, + If Job be allegory or a fact, + But a true narrative; and thus I pick + From out the whole but such and such an act, + As sets aside the slightest thought of trick. + 'Tis every tittle true, beyond suspicion, + And accurate as any other vision. + + + +LIX. THE WALTZ. + + Published in 1813 and described by its author as an "Apostrophic + Hymn". + + + Muse of the many-twinkling feet! whose charms + Are now extended up from legs to arms; + Terpsichore!--too long misdeem'd a maid-- + Reproachful term--bestow'd but to upbraid-- + Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine, + The least a vestal of the virgin Nine. + Far be from thee and thine the name of prude; + Mock'd, yet triumphant; sneer'd at, unsubdued; + Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly, + If but thy coats are reasonably high; + Thy breast, if bare enough, requires no shield: + Dance forth--_sans armour_ thou shalt take the field, + And own--impregnable to _most_ assaults, + Thy not too lawfully begotten "Waltz". + + Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young huzzar, + The whisker'd votary of waltz and war, + His night devotes, despite of spurs and boots; + A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes: + Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz! beneath whose banners + A modern hero fought for modish manners; + On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's fame, + Cock'd, fired, and miss'd his man--but gain'd his aim: + Hail, moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast + Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest. + Oh, for the flow of Busby or of Fitz, + The latter's loyalty, the former's wits, + To "energize the object I pursue", + And give both Belial and his dance their due! + + Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine + (Famed for the growth of pedigree and wine), + Long be thine import from all duty free, + And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee; + In some few qualities alike--for hock + Improves our cellar--_thou_ our living stock. + The head to hock belongs--thy subtler art + Intoxicates alone the heedless heart: + Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims, + And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs. + + O Germany! how much to thee we owe, + As heaven-born Pitt can testify below. + Ere cursed confederation made thee France's, + And only left us thy d--d debts and dances! + Of subsidies and Hanover bereft, + We bless thee still--for George the Third is left! + Of kings the best, and last not least in worth, + For graciously begetting George the Fourth. + To Germany, and highnesses serene, + Who owe us millions--don't we owe the queen? + To Germany, what owe we not besides? + So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides: + Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood, + Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud; + Who sent us--so be pardon'd all our faults-- + A dozen dukes, some kings, a queen--and Waltz. + + But peace to her, her emperor and diet, + Though now transferr'd to Bonaparte's "fiat!" + Back to thy theme--O Muse of motion! say, + How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way? + + Borne on thy breath of hyperborean gales + From Hamburg's port (while Hamburg yet had _mails_), + Ere yet unlucky Fame, compelled to creep + To snowy Gottenburg was chill'd to sleep; + Or, starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise, + Heligoland, to stock thy mart with lies; + While unburnt Moscow yet had news to send, + Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend. + She came--Waltz came--and with her certain sets + Of true despatches, and as true gazettes: + Then flamed of Austerlitz the blest despatch, + Which _Moniteur_ nor _Morning Post_ can match; + And, almost crush'd beneath the glorious news, + Ten plays, and forty tales of Kotzebue's; + One envoy's letters, six composers' airs, + And loads from Frankfort and from Leipsic fairs: + Meiner's four volumes upon womankind, + Like Lapland witches to ensure a wind; + Brunck's heaviest tome for ballast, and, to back it, + Of Heyne, such as should not sink the packet. + + Fraught with this cargo, and her fairest freight, + Delightful Waltz, on tiptoe for a mate, + The welcome vessel reach'd the genial strand, + And round her flock'd the daughters of the land. + Not decent David, when, before the ark, + His grand _pas-seul_ excited some remark, + Not love-lorn Quixote, when his Sancho thought + The knight's fandango friskier than it ought; + Not soft Herodias, when, with winning tread, + Her nimble feet danced off another's head; + Not Cleopatra on her galley's deck, + Display'd so much of _leg_, or more of _neck_, + Than thou ambrosial Waltz, when first the moon + Beheld thee twirling to a Saxon tune! + + To you, ye husbands of ten years whose brows + Ache with the annual tributes of a spouse; + To you of nine years less, who only bear + The budding sprouts of those that you _shall_ wear, + With added ornaments around them roll'd + Of native brass, or law-awarded gold: + To you, ye matrons, ever on the watch + To mar a son's, or make a daughter's match; + To you, ye children of--whom chance accords-- + _Always_ the ladies, and _sometimes_ their lords; + To you, ye single gentlemen, who seek + Torments for life, or pleasures for a week; + As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide, + To gain your own, or snatch another's bride;-- + To one and all the lovely stranger came, + And every ball-room echoes with her name. + + Endearing Waltz! to thy more melting tune + Bow Irish jig and ancient rigadoon. + Scotch reels, avaunt! and country dance forego + Your future claims to each fantastic toe! + Waltz, Waltz alone, both legs and arms demands, + Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands; + Hands which may freely range in public sight + Where ne'er before--but--pray "put out the light". + Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier + Shines much too far, or I am much too near; + And true, though strange, Waltz whispers this remark, + "My slippery steps are safest in the dark!" + But here the Muse with due decorum halts, + And lends her longest petticoat to Waltz. + + Observant travellers of every time! + Ye quartos publish'd upon every clime! + Oh, say, shall dull Romaika's heavy round, + Fandango's wriggle, or Bolero's bound; + Can Egypt's Almas--tantalizing group-- + Columbia's caperers to the warlike whoop-- + Can aught from cold Kamschatka to Cape Horn + With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be borne? + Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt's, + Each tourist pens a paragraph for "Waltz". + + Shades of those belles whose reign began of yore, + With George the Third's--and ended long before!-- + Though in your daughters' daughters yet you thrive, + Burst from your lead, and be yourselves alive! + Back to the ball-room speed your spectred host; + Fools' Paradise is dull to that you lost. + No treacherous powder bids conjecture quake; + No stiff-starch'd stays make meddling fingers ache + (Transferr'd to those ambiguous things that ape + Goats in their visage, women in their shape): + No damsel faints when rather closely press'd, + But more caressing seems when most caress'd; + Superfluous hartshorn and reviving salts; + Both banished, by the sovereign cordial, "Waltz". + + Seductive Waltz!--though on thy native shore + Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore: + Werter--to decent vice though much inclined, + Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blind-- + Though gentle Genlis, in her strife with Stael, + Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball; + The fashion hails--from countesses to queens, + And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes; + Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads, + And turns--if nothing else--at least our _heads_; + With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce, + And cockneys practise what they can't pronounce. + Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts, + And rhyme finds partner rhyme in praise of "Waltz!" + + Blest was the time Waltz chose for her _debut_: + The court, the Regent, like herself, were new, + New face for friends, for foes some new rewards; + New ornaments for black and royal guards; + New laws to hang the rogues that roar'd for bread; + New coins (most new) to follow those that fled; + New victories--nor can we prize them less, + Though Jenky wonders at his own success; + New wars, because the old succeed so well, + That most survivors envy those who fell; + New mistresses--no, old--and yet 'tis true, + Though they be _old_, the _thing_ is something new; + Each new, quite new--(except some ancient tricks), + New white-sticks, gold-sticks, broom-sticks, all new sticks! + With vests or ribbons, deck'd alike in hue, + New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue; + So saith the muse! my ----, what say you? + Such was the time when Waltz might best maintain + Her new preferments in this novel reign; + Such was the time, nor ever yet was such: + Hoops are _no more_, and petticoats _not much_: + Morals and minuets, virtue and her stays, + And tell-tale powder--all have had their days. + The ball begins--the honours of the house + First duly done by daughter or by spouse, + Some potentate--or royal or serene-- + With Kent's gay grace, or sapient Glo'ster's mien, + Leads forth the ready dame, whose rising flush + Might once have been mistaken for a blush, + From where the garb just leaves the bosom free, + That spot where hearts were once supposed to be; + Round all the confines of the yielded waist, + The stranger's hand may wander undisplaced; + The lady's in return may grasp as much + As princely paunches offer to her touch. + Pleased round the chalky floor how well they trip, + One hand reposing on the royal hip: + The other to the shoulder no less royal + Ascending with affection truly loyal! + Thus front to front the partners move or stand, + The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand; + And all in turn may follow in their rank, + The Earl of--Asterisk--and Lady--Blank; + Sir--Such-a-one--with those of fashion's host, + For whose blest surnames--_vide Morning Post_ + (Or if for that impartial print too late, + Search Doctors' Commons six months from my date)-- + Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow, + The genial contact gently undergo; + Till some might marvel, with the modest Turk, + If "nothing follows all this palming work". + True, honest Mirza!--you may trust my rhyme-- + Something does follow at a fitter time; + The breast thus publicly resign'd to man + In private may resist him--if it can. + + O ye who loved our grandmothers of yore, + Fitzpatrick, Sheridan, and many more! + And thou, my prince! whose sovereign taste and will + It is to love the lovely beldames still! + Thou ghost of Queensbury! whose judging sprite + Satan may spare to peep a single night, + Pronounce--if ever in your days of bliss + Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this; + To teach the young ideas how to rise, + Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes; + Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame, + With half-told wish and ill-dissembled flame; + For prurient nature still will storm the breast-- + _Who_, tempted thus, can answer for the rest? + + But ye, who never felt a single thought, + For what our morals are to be, or ought; + Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap, + Say--would you make those beauties quite so cheap? + Hot from the hands promiscuously applied, + Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side, + Where were the rapture then to clasp the form + From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm? + At once love's most endearing thought resign, + To press the hand so press'd by none but thine; + To gaze upon that eye which never met + Another's ardent look without regret; + Approach the lip which all, without restraint, + Come near enough--if not to touch--to taint; + If such thou lovest--love her then no more, + Or give--like her--caresses to a score; + Her mind with these is gone, and with it go + The little left behind it to bestow. + + Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme? + The bard forgot thy praises were his theme. + Terpsichore, forgive!--at every ball + My wife _now_ waltzes--and my daughters _shall_; + _My_ son--(or stop--'tis needless to inquire-- + These little accidents should ne'er transpire; + Some ages hence our genealogic tree + Will wear as green a bough for him as me)-- + Waltzing shall rear, to make our name amends, + Grandsons for me--in heirs to all his friends. + + + +LX. "THE DEDICATION" IN DON JUAN. + + Southey as Poet Laureate was a favourite target for satirical quips + and cranks on the part of Byron. This "Dedication" was not + published until after the author's death. + + + I. + + Bob Southey! You're a poet--Poet-laureate, + And representative of all the race; + Although 'tis true that you turn'd out a Tory + Last--yours has lately been a common case-- + And now, my Epic Renegade! what are ye at? + With all the Lakers, in and out of place? + A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye + Like "four-and-twenty Blackbirds in a pie; + + II. + + "Which pie being open'd they began to sing" + (This old song and new simile holds good), + "A dainty dish to set before the King", + Or Regent, who admires such kind of food-- + And Coleridge, too, has lately taken wing, + But like a hawk encumber'd with his hood-- + Explaining metaphysics to the nation-- + I wish he would explain his Explanation. + + III. + + You, Bob, are rather insolent, you know + At being disappointed in your wish + To supersede all warblers here below, + And be the only blackbird in the dish; + And then you overstrain yourself, or so, + And tumble downward like the flying fish + Gasping on deck, because you soar too high, Bob, + And fall, for lack of moisture quite a-dry, Bob! + + IV. + + And Wordsworth, in a rather long "Excursion" + (I think the quarto holds five hundred pages), + Has given a sample from the vasty version + Of his new system to perplex the sages; + 'Tis poetry--at least by his assertion, + And may appear so when the dog-star rages-- + And he who understands it would be able + To add a story to the Tower of Babel. + + V. + + You--Gentlemen! by dint of long seclusion + From better company, have kept your own + At Keswick, and, through still continued fusion + Of one another's minds, at last have grown + To deem as a most logical conclusion, + That Poesy has wreaths for you alone; + There is a narrowness in such a notion, + Which makes me wish you'd change your lakes for ocean. + + VI. + + I would not imitate the petty thought, + Nor coin my self-love to so base a vice, + For all the glory your conversion brought, + Since gold alone should not have been its price, + You have your salary; was't for that you wrought? + And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise! + You're shabby fellows--true--but poets still, + And duly seated on the immortal hill. + + VII. + + Your bays may hide the baldness of your brows-- + Perhaps some virtuous blushes, let them go-- + To you I envy neither fruit nor boughs, + And for the fame you would engross below, + The field is universal, and allows + Scope to all such as feel the inherent glow; + Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe, will try + 'Gainst you the question with posterity. + + VIII. + + For me, who, wandering with pedestrian Muses, + Contend not with you on the winged steed, + I wish your fate may yield ye, when she chooses, + The fame you envy and the skill you need; + And recollect a poet nothing loses + In giving to his brethren their full meed + Of merit, and complaint of present days + Is not the certain path to future praise. + + IX. + + He that reserves his laurels for posterity + (Who does not often claim the bright reversion) + Has generally no great crop to spare it, he + Being only injured by his own assertion; + And although here and there some glorious rarity + Arise like Titan from the sea's immersion, + The major part of such appellants go + To--God knows where--for no one else can know. + + X. + + If, fallen in evil days on evil tongues, + Milton appealed to the Avenger, Time, + If Time, the Avenger, execrates his wrongs, + And makes the word "Miltonic" mean "_sublime_", + _He_ deign'd not to belie his soul in songs, + Nor turn his very talent to a crime; + _He_ did not loathe the sire to laud the son, + But closed the tyrant-hater he begun. + + XI. + + Think'st thou, could he--the blind old man--arise, + Like Samuel from the grave, to freeze once more + The blood of monarchs with his prophecies, + Or be alive again--again all hoar + With time and trials, and those helpless eyes, + And heartless daughters--worn--and pale--and poor: + Would _he_ adore a sultan? _he_ obey + The intellectual eunuch Castlereagh? + + XII. + + Cold-blooded, smooth-faced, placid miscreant! + Dabbling its sleek young hands in Erin's gore, + And thus for wider carnage taught to pant, + Transferr'd to gorge upon a sister shore, + The vulgarest tool that Tyranny could want, + With just enough of talent, and no more, + To lengthen fetters by another fix'd. + And offer poison long already mix'd. + + XIII. + + An orator of such set trash of phrase + Ineffably--legitimately vile, + That even its grossest flatterers dare not praise, + Nor foes--all nations--condescend to smile; + Not even a sprightly blunder's spark can blaze + From that Ixion grindstone's ceaseless toil, + That turns and turns to give the world a notion + Of endless torments and perpetual motion. + + XIV. + + A bungler even in its disgusting trade, + And botching, patching, leaving still behind + Something of which its masters are afraid, + States to be curb'd, and thoughts to be confined, + Conspiracy or Congress to be made-- + Cobbling at manacles for all mankind-- + A tinkering slave-maker, who mends old chains, + With God and man's abhorrence for its gains. + + XV. + + If we may judge of matter by the mind, + Emasculated to the marrow _It_ + Hath but two objects, how to serve, and bind, + Deeming the chain it wears even men may fit, + Eutropius of its many masters,--blind + To worth as freedom, wisdom as to wit, + Fearless--because _no_ feeling dwells in ice, + Its very courage stagnates to a vice. + + XVI. + + Where shall I turn me not to _view_ its bonds, + For I will never _feel_ them:--Italy! + Thy late reviving Roman soul desponds + Beneath the lie this State-thing breathed o'er thee-- + Thy clanking chain, and Erin's yet green wounds, + Have voices--tongues to cry aloud for me. + Europe has slaves--allies--kings--armies still, + And Southey lives to sing them very ill. + + XVII. + + Meantime, Sir Laureate, I proceed to dedicate, + In honest simple verse, this song to you. + And if in flattering strains I do not predicate, + 'Tis that I still retain my "buff and blue"; + My politics as yet are all to educate: + Apostasy's so fashionable, too, + To keep _one_ creed's a task grown quite Herculean: + Is it not so, my Tory, Ultra-Julian? + +VENICE, September 16, 1818. + + + + +THOMAS HOOD. + +(1798-1845.) + + +LXI. COCKLE _v_. CACKLE. + + This is not meant as a "cut" at that standard medicine named + therein which has wrought such good in its day; but is a satire on + quack advertising generally. The more worthless the nostrum, the + more universal the advertising of it, such is the moral of Hood's + satire. + + + Those who much read advertisements and bills, + Must have seen puffs of Cockle's Pills, + Call'd Anti-bilious-- + Which some physicians sneer at, supercilious, + But which we are assured, if timely taken, + May save your liver and bacon; + Whether or not they really give one ease, + I, who have never tried, + Will not decide; + But no two things in union go like these-- + Viz.--quacks and pills--save ducks and pease. + Now Mrs. W. was getting sallow, + Her lilies not of the white kind, but yellow, + And friends portended was preparing for + A human pate perigord; + She was, indeed, so very far from well, + Her son, in filial fear, procured a box + Of those said pellets to resist bile's shocks, + And--tho' upon the ear it strangely knocks-- + To save her by a Cockle from a shell! + But Mrs. W., just like Macbeth, + Who very vehemently bids us "throw + Bark to the Bow-wows", hated physic so, + It seem'd to share "the bitterness of Death": + Rhubarb--Magnesia--Jalap, and the kind-- + Senna--Steel--Assa-foetida, and Squills-- + Powder or Draught--but least her throat inclined + To give a course to boluses or pills; + No--not to save her life, in lung or lobe, + For all her lights' or all her liver's sake, + Would her convulsive thorax undertake, + Only one little uncelestial globe! + + 'Tis not to wonder at, in such a case, + If she put by the pill-box in a place + For linen rather than for drugs intended-- + Yet for the credit of the pills let's say + After they thus were stow'd away, + Some of the linen mended; + But Mrs. W. by disease's dint, + Kept getting still more yellow in her tint, + When lo! her second son, like elder brother, + Marking the hue on the parental gills, + Brought a new charge of Anti-tumeric Pills, + To bleach the jaundiced visage of his mother-- + Who took them--in her cupboard--like the other. + + "Deeper and deeper still", of course, + The fatal colour daily grew in force; + Till daughter W. newly come from Rome, + Acting the self-same filial, pillial, part, + To cure Mamma, another dose brought home + Of Cockles;--not the Cockles of her heart! + These going where the others went before, + Of course she had a very pretty store; + And then--some hue of health her cheek adorning, + The medicine so good must be, + They brought her dose on dose, which she + Gave to the up-stairs cupboard, "night and morning". + Till wanting room at last, for other stocks, + Out of the window one fine day she pitch'd + The pillage of each box, and quite enrich'd + The feed of Mister Burrell's hens and cocks,-- + A little Barber of a by-gone day, + Over the way + Whose stock in trade, to keep the least of shops, + Was one great head of Kemble,--that is, John, + Staring in plaster, with a Brutus on, + And twenty little Bantam fowls--with crops. + Little Dame W. thought when through the sash + She gave the physic wings, + To find the very things + So good for bile, so bad for chicken rash, + For thoughtless cock, and unreflecting pullet! + But while they gathered up the nauseous nubbles, + Each peck'd itself into a peck of troubles, + And brought the hand of Death upon its gullet. + They might as well have addled been, or ratted, + For long before the night--ah woe betide + The Pills! each suicidal Bantam died + Unfatted! + + Think of poor Burrel's shock, + Of Nature's debt to see his hens all payers, + And laid in death as Everlasting Layers, + With Bantam's small Ex-Emperor, the Cock, + In ruffled plumage and funereal hackle, + Giving, undone by Cockle, a last Cackle! + To see as stiff as stone, his un'live stock, + It really was enough to move his block. + Down on the floor he dash'd, with horror big, + Mr. Bell's third wife's mother's coachman's wig; + And with a tragic stare like his own Kemble, + Burst out with natural emphasis enough, + And voice that grief made tremble, + Into that very speech of sad Macduff-- + "What!--all my pretty chickens and their dam, + At one fell swoop!-- + Just when I'd bought a coop + To see the poor lamented creatures cram!" + + After a little of this mood, + And brooding over the departed brood, + With razor he began to ope each craw, + Already turning black, as black as coals; + When lo! the undigested cause he saw-- + "Pison'd by goles!" + + To Mrs. W.'s luck a contradiction, + Her window still stood open to conviction; + And by short course of circumstantial labour, + He fix'd the guilt upon his adverse neighbour;-- + Lord! how he rail'd at her: declaring how, + He'd bring an action ere next Term of Hilary, + Then, in another moment, swore a vow, + He'd make her do pill-penance in the pillory! + She, meanwhile distant from the dimmest dream + Of combating with guilt, yard-arm or arm-yard, + Lapp'd in a paradise of tea and cream; + When up ran Betty with a dismal scream-- + "Here's Mr. Burrell, ma'am, with all his farmyard!" + Straight in he came, unbowing and unbending, + With all the warmth that iron and a barbe + Can harbour; + To dress the head and front of her offending, + The fuming phial of his wrath uncorking; + In short, he made her pay him altogether, + In hard cash, very _hard_, for ev'ry feather, + Charging of course, each Bantam as a Dorking; + Nothing could move him, nothing make him supple, + So the sad dame unpocketing her loss, + Had nothing left but to sit hands across, + And see her poultry "going down ten couple". + + Now birds by poison slain, + As venom'd dart from Indian's hollow cane, + Are edible; and Mrs. W.'s thrift,-- + She had a thrifty vein,-- + Destined one pair for supper to make shift,-- + Supper as usual at the hour of ten: + But ten o'clock arrived and quickly pass'd, + Eleven--twelve--and one o'clock at last, + Without a sign of supper even then! + At length the speed of cookery to quicken, + Betty was called, and with reluctant feet, + Came up at a white heat-- + "Well, never I see chicken like them chicken! + My saucepans, they have been a pretty while in 'em! + Enough to stew them, if it comes to that, + To flesh and bones, and perfect rags; but drat + Those Anti-biling Pills! there is no bile in 'em!" + + + + +LORD MACAULAY. + +(1800-1859.) + + +LXII. THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN'S TRIP TO CAMBRIDGE. + + This is one of the numerous _jeux d'esprit_ in which Macaulay, in + his earlier years, indulged at election times. It was written in + 1827. + + + As I sate down to breakfast in state, + At my living of Tithing-cum-Boring, + With Betty beside me to wait, + Came a rap that almost beat the door in. + I laid down my basin of tea, + And Betty ceased spreading the toast, + "As sure as a gun, sir," said she, + "That must be the knock of the Post". + + A letter--and free--bring it here, + I have no correspondent who franks. + No! yes! can it be? Why, my dear, + 'Tis our glorious, our Protestant Bankes. + "Dear sir, as I know you desire + That the Church should receive due protection + I humbly presume to require + Your aid at the Cambridge election. + + "It has lately been brought to my knowledge, + That the Ministers fully design + To suppress each cathedral and college, + And eject every learned divine. + To assist this detestable scheme + Three nuncios from Rome are come over; + They left Calais on Monday by steam, + And landed to dinner at Dover. + + "An army of grim Cordeliers, + Well furnish'd with relics and vermin, + Will follow, Lord Westmoreland fears, + To effect what their chiefs may determine. + Lollards' tower, good authorities say, + Is again fitting up as a prison; + And a wood-merchant told me to-day + 'Tis a wonder how faggots have risen. + + "The finance-scheme of Canning contains + A new Easter-offering tax: + And he means to devote all the gains + To a bounty on thumb-screws and racks. + Your living, so neat and compact-- + Pray, don't let the news give you pain? + Is promised, I know for a fact, + To an olive-faced padre from Spain." + + I read, and I felt my heart bleed, + Sore wounded with horror and pity; + So I flew, with all possible speed, + To our Protestant champion's committee. + True gentlemen, kind and well bred! + No fleering! no distance! no scorn! + They asked after my wife who is dead, + And my children who never were born. + + They then, like high-principled Tories, + Called our Sovereign unjust and unsteady, + And assailed him with scandalous stories, + Till the coach for the voters was ready. + That coach might be well called a casket + Of learning and brotherly love: + There were parsons in boot and in basket; + There were parsons below and above. + + There were Sneaker and Griper, a pair + Who stick to Lord Mulesby like leeches; + A smug chaplain of plausible air, + Who writes my Lord Goslingham's speeches. + Dr. Buzz, who alone is a host, + Who, with arguments weighty as lead, + Proves six times a week in the _Post_ + That flesh somehow differs from bread. + + Dr. Nimrod, whose orthodox toes + Are seldom withdrawn from the stirrup. + Dr. Humdrum, whose eloquence flows, + Like droppings of sweet poppy syrup; + Dr. Rosygill puffing and fanning, + And wiping away perspiration; + Dr. Humbug, who proved Mr. Canning + The beast in St. John's Revelation. + + A layman can scarce form a notion + Of our wonderful talk on the road; + Of the learning, the wit, and devotion, + Which almost each syllable show'd: + Why, divided allegiance agrees + So ill with our free constitution; + How Catholics swear as they please, + In hope of the priest's absolution: + + How the Bishop of Norwich had barter'd + His faith for a legate's commission; + How Lyndhurst, afraid to be martyr'd, + Had stooped to a base coalition; + How Papists are cased from compassion + By bigotry, stronger than steel; + How burning would soon come in fashion, + And how very bad it must feel. + + We were all so much touched and excited + By a subject so direly sublime, + That the rules of politeness were slighted, + And we all of us talked at a time; + And in tones, which each moment grew louder, + Told how we should dress for the show, + And where we should fasten the powder, + And if we should bellow or no. + + Thus from subject to subject we ran, + And the journey pass'd pleasantly o'er, + Till at last Dr. Humdrum began: + From that time I remember no more. + At Ware he commenced his prelection, + In the dullest of clerical drones: + And when next I regained recollection + We were rumbling o'er Trumpington stones. + + + + +WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED. + +(1802-1839.) + + +LXIII. THE RED FISHERMAN; OR, THE DEVIL'S DECOY. + + Published in Knight's _Annual_. + + + The Abbot arose, and closed his book, + And donned his sandal shoon, + And wandered forth alone, to look + Upon the summer moon: + A starlight sky was o'er his head, + A quiet breeze around; + And the flowers a thrilling fragrance shed + And the waves a soothing sound: + It was not an hour, nor a scene, for aught + But love and calm delight; + Yet the holy man had a cloud of thought + On his wrinkled brow that night. + He gazed on the river that gurgled by, + But he thought not of the reeds + He clasped his gilded rosary, + But he did not tell the beads; + If he looked to the heaven, 'twas not to invoke + The Spirit that dwelleth there; + If he opened his lips, the words they spoke + Had never the tone of prayer. + A pious priest might the Abbot seem, + He had swayed the crozier well; + But what was the theme of the Abbot's dream, + The Abbot were loth to tell. + + Companionless, for a mile or more, + He traced the windings of the shore. + Oh beauteous is that river still, + As it winds by many a sloping hill, + And many a dim o'erarching grove, + And many a flat and sunny cove, + And terraced lawns, whose bright arcades + The honeysuckle sweetly shades, + And rocks, whose very crags seem bowers, + So gay they are with grass and flowers! + But the Abbot was thinking of scenery + About as much, in sooth, + As a lover thinks of constancy, + Or an advocate of truth. + He did not mark how the skies in wrath + Grew dark above his head; + He did not mark how the mossy path + Grew damp beneath his tread; + And nearer he came, and still more near, + To a pool, in whose recess + The water had slept for many a year, + Unchanged and motionless; + From the river stream it spread away + The space of half a rood; + The surface had the hue of clay + And the scent of human blood; + The trees and the herbs that round it grew + Were venomous and foul, + And the birds that through the bushes flew + Were the vulture and the owl; + The water was as dark and rank + As ever a Company pumped, + And the perch that was netted and laid on the bank + Grew rotten while it jumped; + And bold was he who thither came + At midnight, man or boy, + For the place was cursed with an evil name, + And that name was "The Devil's Decoy"! + + The Abbot was weary as abbot could be, + And he sat down to rest on the stump of a tree: + When suddenly rose a dismal tone,-- + Was it a song, or was it a moan?-- + "O ho! O ho! + Above,--below,-- + Lightly and brightly they glide and go! + The hungry and keen on the top are leaping, + The lazy and fat in the depths are sleeping; + Fishing is fine when the pool is muddy, + Broiling is rich when the coals are ruddy!"-- + In a monstrous fright, by the murky light, + He looked to the left and he looked to the right; + And what was the vision close before him + That flung such a sudden stupor o'er him? + 'Twas a sight to make the hair uprise, + And the life-blood colder run: + The startled Priest struck both his thigh, + And the abbey clock struck one! + + All alone, by the side of the pool, + A tall man sat on a three-legged stool, + Kicking his heels on the dewy sod, + And putting in order his reel and rod; + Red were the rags his shoulders wore, + And a high red cap on his head he bore; + His arms and his legs were long and bare; + And two or three locks of long red hair + Were tossing about his scraggy neck, + Like a tattered flag o'er a splitting wreck. + It might be time, or it might be trouble, + Had bent that stout back nearly double, + Sunk in their deep and hollow sockets + That blazing couple of Congreve rockets, + And shrunk and shrivelled that tawny skin, + Till it hardly covered the bones within. + The line the Abbot saw him throw + Had been fashioned and formed long ages ago, + And the hands that worked his foreign vest + Long ages ago had gone to their rest: + You would have sworn, as you looked on them, + He had fished in the flood with Ham and Shem! + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he took forth a bait from his iron box. + Minnow or gentle, worm or fly,-- + It seemed not such to the Abbot's eye; + Gaily it glittered with jewel and jem, + And its shape was the shape of a diadem. + It was fastened a gleaming hook about + By a chain within and a chain without; + The Fisherman gave it a kick and a spin, + And the water fizzed as it tumbled in! + + From the bowels of the earth, + Strange and varied sounds had birth; + Now the battle's bursting peal, + Neigh of steed, and clang of steel; + Now an old man's hollow groan + Echoed from the dungeon stone; + Now the weak and wailing cry + Of a stripling's agony!-- + Cold by this was the midnight air; + But the Abbot's blood ran colder, + When he saw a gasping knight lie there, + With a gash beneath his clotted hair, + And a hump upon his shoulder. + And the loyal churchman strove in vain + To mutter a Pater Noster; + For he who writhed in mortal pain + Was camped that night on Bosworth plain-- + The cruel Duke of Glo'ster! + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he took forth a bait from his iron box. + It was a haunch of princely size, + Filling with fragrance earth and skies. + The corpulent Abbot knew full well + The swelling form, and the steaming smell; + Never a monk that wore a hood + Could better have guessed the very wood + Where the noble hart had stood at bay, + Weary and wounded, at close of day. + + Sounded then the noisy glee + Of a revelling company,-- + Sprightly story, wicked jest, + Rated servant, greeted guest, + Flow of wine, and flight of cork, + Stroke of knife, and thrust of fork: + But, where'er the board was spread, + Grace, I ween, was never said!-- + Pulling and tugging the Fisherman sat; + And the Priest was ready to vomit, + When he hauled out a gentleman, fine and fat, + With a belly as big as a brimming vat, + And a nose as red as a comet. + "A capital stew," the Fisherman said, + "With cinnamon and sherry!" + And the Abbot turned away his head, + For his brother was lying before him dead, + The Mayor of St. Edmund's Bury! + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he took forth a bait from his iron box. + It was a bundle of beautiful things,-- + A peacock's tail and a butterfly's wings, + A scarlet slipper, an auburn curl, + A mantle of silk, and a bracelet of pearl, + And a packet of letters, from whose sweet fold + Such a stream of delicate odours rolled, + That the Abbot fell on his face, and fainted, + And deemed his spirit was half-way sainted. + + Sounds seemed dropping from the skies, + Stifled whispers, smothered sighs, + And the breath of vernal gales, + And the voice of nightingales: + But the nightingales were mute, + Envious, when an unseen lute + Shaped the music of its chords + Into passion's thrilling words: + "Smile, Lady, smile!--I will not set + Upon my brow the coronet, + Till thou wilt gather roses white + To wear around its gems of light. + Smile, Lady, smile!--I will not see + Rivers and Hastings bend the knee, + Till those bewitching lips of thine + Will bid me rise in bliss from mine. + Smile, Lady, smile!--for who would win + A loveless throne through guilt and sin? + Or who would reign o'er vale and hill, + If woman's heart were rebel still?" + + One jerk, and there a lady lay, + A lady wondrous fair; + But the rose of her lip had faded away, + And her cheek was as white and as cold as clay, + And torn was her raven hair. + "Ah ha!" said the Fisher, in merry guise, + "Her gallant was hooked before;" + And the Abbot heaved some piteous sighs, + For oft he had blessed those deep blue eyes, + The eyes of Mistress Shore! + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he took forth a bait from his iron box. + Many the cunning sportsman tried, + Many he flung with a frown aside; + A minstrel's harp, and a miser's chest, + A hermit's cowl, and a baron's crest, + Jewels of lustre, robes of price, + Tomes of heresy, loaded dice, + And golden cups of the brightest wine + That ever was pressed from the Burgundy vine. + There was a perfume of sulphur and nitre + As he came at last to a bishop's mitre! + + From top to toe the Abbot shook, + As the Fisherman armed his golden hook, + And awfully were his features wrought + By some dark dream or wakened thought. + Look how the fearful felon gazes + On the scaffold his country's vengeance raises, + When the lips are cracked and the jaws are dry + With the thirst which only in death shall die: + Mark the mariner's frenzied frown + As the swaling wherry settles down, + When peril has numbed the sense and will + Though the hand and the foot may struggle still: + Wilder far was the Abbot's glance, + Deeper far was the Abbot's trance: + Fixed as a monument, still as air, + He bent no knee, and he breathed no prayer + But he signed--he knew not why or how-- + The sign of the Cross on his clammy brow. + + There was turning of keys, and creaking of locks, + As he stalked away with his iron box. + "O ho! O ho! + The cock doth crow; + It is time for the Fisher to rise and go. + Fair luck to the Abbot, fair luck to the shrine! + He hath gnawed in twain my choicest line; + Let him swim to the north, let him swim to the south, + The Abbot will carry my hook in his mouth!" + + The Abbot had preached for many years + With as clear articulation + As ever was heard in the House of Peers + Against Emancipation; + His words had made battalions quake, + Had roused the zeal of martyrs, + Had kept the Court an hour awake + And the King himself three quarters: + But ever from that hour, 'tis said, + He stammered and he stuttered + As if an axe went through his head + With every word he uttered. + He stuttered o'er blessing, he stuttered o'er ban, + He stuttered, drunk or dry; + And none but he and the Fisherman + Could tell the reason why! + + + +LXIV. MAD--QUITE MAD. + + Originally published in the _Morning Post_ for 1834; afterwards + included in his _Essays_. + + + Great wits are sure to madness near allied.--_Dryden_. + +It has frequently been observed that genius and madness are nearly +allied; that very great talents are seldom found unaccompanied by a +touch of insanity, and that there are few Bedlamites who will not, +upon a close examination, display symptoms of a powerful, though ruined +intellect. According to this hypothesis, the flowers of Parnassus must +be blended with the drugs of Anticyra; and the man who feels himself to +be in possession of very brilliant wits may conclude that he is within +an ace of running out of them. Whether this be true or false, we are +not at present disposed to contradict the assertion. What we wish to +notice is the pains which many young men take to qualify themselves for +Bedlam, by hiding a good, sober, gentlemanlike understanding beneath an +assumption of thoughtlessness and whim. It is the received opinion +among many that a man's talents and abilities are to be rated by the +quantity of nonsense he utters per diem, and the number of follies he +runs into per annum. Against this idea we must enter our protest; if we +concede that every real genius is more or less a madman, we must not be +supposed to allow that every sham madman is more or less a genius. + +In the days of our ancestors, the hot-blooded youth who threw away his +fortune at twenty-one, his character at twenty-two, and his life at +twenty-three, was termed "a good fellow", "an honest fellow", "nobody's +enemy but his own". In our time the name is altered; and the +fashionable who squanders his father's estate, or murders his best +friend--who breaks his wife's heart at the gaming-table, and his own +neck at a steeple-chase--escapes the sentence which morality would pass +upon him, by the plea of lunacy. "He was a rascal," says Common-Sense. +"True," says the World; "but he was mad, you know--quite mad." + +We were lately in company with a knot of young men who were discussing +the character and fortunes of one of their own body, who was, it seems, +distinguished for his proficiency in the art of madness. "Harry," said +a young sprig of nobility, "have you heard that Charles is in the +King's Bench?" "I heard it this morning," drawled the Exquisite; "how +distressing! I have not been so hurt since poor Angelica (his bay mare) +broke down. Poor Charles has been too flighty." "His wings will be +clipped for the future!" observed young Caustic. "He has been very +imprudent," said young Candour. + +I inquired of whom they were speaking. "Don't you know Charles Gally?" +said the Exquisite, endeavouring to turn in his collar. "Not know +Charles Gally?" he repeated, with an expression of pity. "He is the +best fellow breathing; only lives to laugh and make others laugh: +drinks his two bottles with any man, and rides the finest mare I ever +saw--next to my Angelica. Not know Charles Gally? Why, everybody knows +him! He is so amusing! Ha! ha! And tells such admirable stories! Ha! +ha! Often have they kept me awake"--a yawn--"when nothing else could." +"Poor fellow!" said his lordship; "I understand he's done for ten +thousand!" "I never believe more than half what the world says," +observed Candour. "He that has not a farthing," said Caustic, "cares +little whether he owes ten thousand or five." "Thank Heaven!" said +Candour, "that will never be the case with Charles: he has a fine +estate in Leicestershire." "Mortgaged for half its value," said his +lordship. "A large personal property!" "All gone in annuity bills," +said the Exquisite. "A rich uncle upwards of fourscore!" "He'll cut him +off with a shilling," said Caustic. + +"Let us hope he may reform," sighed the Hypocrite; "and sell the pack," +added the Nobleman; "and marry," continued the Dandy. "Pshaw!" cried +the Satirist, "he will never get rid of his habits, his hounds, or his +horns." "But he has an excellent heart," said Candour. "Excellent," +repeated his lordship unthinkingly. "Excellent," lisped the Fop +effeminately. "Excellent," exclaimed the Wit ironically. We took this +opportunity to ask by what means so excellent a heart and so bright a +genius had contrived to plunge him into these disasters. "He was my +friend," replied his lordship, "and a man of large property; but he was +mad--quite mad. I remember his leaping a lame pony over a stone wall, +simply because Sir Marmaduke bet him a dozen that he broke his neck in +the attempt; and sending a bullet through a poor pedlar's pack because +Bob Darrell said the piece wouldn't carry so far." "Upon another +occasion," began the Exquisite, in his turn, "he jumped into a +horse-pond after dinner, in order to prove it was not six feet deep; +and overturned a bottle of eau-de-cologne in Lady Emilia's face, to +convince me that she was not painted. Poor fellow! The first experiment +cost him a dress, and the second an heiress." "I have heard," resumed +the Nobleman, "that he lost his election for ---- by lampooning the +mayor; and was dismissed from his place in the Treasury for challenging +Lord C----." "The last accounts I heard of him," said Caustic, "told me +that Lady Tarrel had forbid him her house for driving a sucking-pig +into her drawing-room; and that young Hawthorn had run him through for +boasting of favours from his sister!" "These gentlemen are really too +severe," remarked young Candour to us. "Not a jot," we said to +ourselves. + +"This will be a terrible blow for his sister," said a young man who had +been listening in silence. "A fine girl--a very fine girl," said the +Exquisite. "And a fine fortune," said the Nobleman; "the mines of Peru +are nothing to her." "Nothing at all," observed the Sneerer; "she has +no property there. But I would not have you caught, Harry; her income +was good, but is dipped, horribly dipped. Guineas melt very fast when +the cards are put by them." "I was not aware Maria was a gambler," +said the young man, much alarmed. "Her brother is, sir," replied his +informant. The querist looked sorry, but yet relieved. We could see +that he was not quite disinterested in his inquiries. "However," +resumed the young Cynic, "his profusion has at least obtained him many +noble and wealthy friends." He glanced at his hearers, and went on: "No +one that knew him will hear of his distresses without being forward to +relieve them. He will find interest for his money in the hearts of his +friends." Nobility took snuff; Foppery played with his watch-chain; +Hypocrisy looked grave. There was long silence. We ventured to regret +the misuse of natural talents, which, if properly directed, might have +rendered their possessor useful to the interests of society and +celebrated in the records of his country. Everyone stared, as if we +were talking Hebrew. "Very true," said his lordship, "he enjoys great +talents. No man is a nicer judge of horseflesh. He beats me at +billiards, and Harry at picquet; he's a dead shot at a button, and can +drive his curricle-wheels over a brace of sovereigns." "Radicalism," +says Caustic, looking round for a laugh. "He is a great amateur of +pictures," observed the Exquisite, "and is allowed to be quite a +connoisseur in beauty; but there," simpering, "everyone must claim the +privilege of judging for themselves." "Upon my word," said Candour, +"you allow poor Charles too little. I have no doubt he has great +courage--though, to be sure, there was a whisper that young Hawthorn +found him rather shy; and I am convinced he is very generous, though I +must confess that I have it from good authority that his younger +brother was refused the loan of a hundred when Charles had pigeoned +that fool of a nabob but the evening before. I would stake my existence +that he is a man of unshaken honour--though, when he eased Lieutenant +Hardy of his pay, there certainly was an awkward story about the +transaction, which was never properly cleared up. I hope that when +matters are properly investigated he will be liberated from all his +embarrassments; though I am sorry to be compelled to believe that he +has been spending double the amount of his income annually. But I trust +that all will be adjusted. I have no doubt upon the subject." "Nor I," +said Caustic. "We shall miss him prodigiously at the Club," said the +Dandy, with a slight shake of the head. "What a bore!" replied the +Nobleman, with a long yawn. We could hardly venture to express +compassion for a character so despicable. Our auditors, however, +entertained very different opinions of right and wrong! "Poor fellow! +he was much to be pitied: had done some very foolish things--to say the +truth was a sad scoundrel--but then he was always so mad." And having +come unanimously to this decision, the conclave dispersed. + +Charles gave an additional proof of his madness within a week after +this discussion by swallowing laudanum. The verdict of the coroner's +inquest confirmed the judgment of his four friends. For our own parts +we must pause before we give in to so dangerous a doctrine. Here is a +man who has outraged the laws of honour, the ties of relationship, and +the duties of religion: he appears before us in the triple character of +a libertine, a swindler, and a suicide. Yet his follies, his vices, his +crimes, are all palliated or even applauded by this specious _facon de +parler_--"He was mad--quite mad!" + + + + +BENJAMIN DISRAELI (LORD BEACONSFIELD). + +(1805-1881.) + + +LXV. POPANILLA ON MAN. + + This racy piece of satire is taken from Lord Beaconsfield's + mock-heroic romance--written in imitation of _Gulliver's + Travels,--The Voyage of Captain Popanilla_, of which it forms the + fourth chapter. + + +Six months had elapsed since the first chest of the cargo of Useful +Knowledge destined for the fortunate Maldives had been digested by the +recluse Popanilla; for a recluse he had now become. Great students are +rather dull companions. Our Fantasian friend, during his first studies, +was as moody, absent, and querulous as are most men of genius during +that mystical period of life. He was consequently avoided by the men +and quizzed by the women, and consoled himself for the neglect of the +first and the taunts of the second by the indefinite sensation that he +should, some day or other, turn out that little being called a great +man. As for his mistress, she considered herself insulted by being +addressed by a man who had lost her lock of hair. When the chest was +exhausted, Popanilla was seized with a profound melancholy. Nothing +depresses a man's spirits more completely than a self-conviction of +self-conceit; and Popanilla, who had been accustomed to consider +himself and his companions as the most elegant portion of the visible +creation, now discovered, with dismay, that he and his fellow-islanders +were nothing more than a horde of useless savages. + +This mortification, however, was soon succeeded by a proud +consciousness that he, at any rate, was now civilized; and that proud +consciousness by a fond hope that in a short time he might become a +civilizer. Like all projectors, he was not of sanguine temperament; but +he did trust that in the course of another season the Isle of Fantaisie +might take its station among the nations. He was determined, however, +not to be too rapid. It cannot be expected that ancient prejudices can +in a moment be eradicated, and new modes of conduct instantaneously +substituted and established. Popanilla, like a wise man, determined to +conciliate. His views were to be as liberal as his principles were +enlightened. Men should be forced to do nothing. Bigotry and +intolerance and persecution were the objects of his decided +disapprobation; resembling, in this particular, all the great and good +men who have ever existed, who have invariably maintained this opinion +so long as they have been in the minority. + +Popanilla appeared once more in the world. + +"Dear me! is that you, Pop?" exclaimed the ladies. "What have you been +doing with yourself all this time? Travelling, I suppose. Everyone +travels now. Really you travelled men get quite bores. And where did +you get that coat, if it be a coat?" + +Such was the style in which the Fantasian females saluted the +long-absent Popanilla; and really, when a man shuts himself up from the +world for a considerable time, and fancies that in condescending to +re-enter it he has surely the right to expect the homage due to a +superior being, the salutations are awkward. The ladies of England +peculiarly excel in this species of annihilation; and while they +continue to drown puppies, as they daily do, in a sea of sarcasm, I +think no true Englishman will hesitate one moment in giving them the +preference for tact and manner over all the vivacious French, all the +self-possessing Italian, and all the tolerant German women. This is a +clap-trap, and I have no doubt will sell the book. + +Popanilla, however, had not re-entered society with the intention of +subsiding into a nonentity, and he therefore took the opportunity, a +few minutes after sunset, just as his companions were falling into the +dance, to beg the favour of being allowed to address his sovereign only +for one single moment. + +"Sire!" said he, in that mild tone of subdued superciliousness with +which we should always address kings, and which, while it vindicates +our dignity, satisfactorily proves that we are above the vulgar passion +of envy. "Sire!" But let us not encourage that fatal faculty of oratory +so dangerous to free states, and therefore let us give the "substance +of Popanilla's speech".[233] He commenced his address in a manner +somewhat resembling the initial observations of those pleasing +pamphlets which are the fashion of the present hour, and which, being +intended to diffuse information among those who have not enjoyed the +opportunity and advantages of study, and are consequently of a gay and +cheerful disposition, treat of light subjects in a light and polished +style. Popanilla, therefore, spoke of man in a savage state, the origin +of society, and the elements of the social compact, in sentences which +would not have disgraced the mellifluous pen of Bentham. From these he +naturally digressed into an agreeable disquisition on the Anglo-Saxons; +and, after a little badinage on the Bill of Rights, flew off to an airy +_apercu_ of the French Revolution. When he had arrived at the Isle of +Fantaisie he begged to inform His Majesty that man was born for +something else besides enjoying himself. It was, doubtless, extremely +pleasant to dance and sing, to crown themselves with chaplets, and to +drink wine; but he was "free to confess" that he did not imagine that +the most barefaced hireling of corruption could for a moment presume to +maintain that there was any utility in pleasure. If there were no +utility in pleasure, it was quite clear that pleasure could profit no +one. If, therefore, it were unprofitable, it was injurious, because +that which does not produce a profit is equivalent to a loss; therefore +pleasure is a losing business; consequently pleasure is not pleasant. + +He also showed that man was not born for himself, but for society; that +the interests of the body are alone to be considered, and not those of +the individual; and that a nation might be extremely happy, extremely +powerful, and extremely rich, although every individual member of it +might at the same time be miserable, dependent, and in debt. He +regretted to observe that no one in the island seemed in the slightest +degree conscious of the object of his being. Man is created for a +purpose; the object of his existence is to perfect himself. Man is +imperfect by nature, because if nature had made him perfect he would +have had no wants; and it is only by supplying his wants that utility +can be developed. The development of utility is therefore the object of +our being, and the attainment of this great end the cause of our +existence. This principle clears all doubts, and rationally accounts +for a state of existence which has puzzled many pseudo-philosophers. + +Popanilla then went on to show that the hitherto received definitions +of man were all erroneous; that man is neither a walking animal, nor a +talking animal, nor a cooking animal, nor a lounging animal, nor a +debt-incurring animal, nor a tax-paying animal, nor a printing animal, +nor a puffing animal, but a _developing animal_. Development is the +discovery of utility. By developing the water we get fish; by +developing the earth we get corn, and cash, and cotton; by developing +the air we get breath; by developing the fire we get heat. Thus the +use of the elements is demonstrated to the meanest capacity. But it was +not merely a material development to which he alluded; a moral +development was equally indispensable. He showed that it was impossible +for a nation either to think too much or to do too much. The life of +man was therefore to be passed in a moral and material development +until he had consummated his perfection. It was the opinion of +Popanilla that this great result was by no means so near at hand as +some philosophers flattered themselves, and that it might possibly +require another half-century before even the most civilized nation +could be said to have completed the destiny of the human race. At the +same time, he intimated that there were various extraordinary means by +which this rather desirable result might be facilitated; and there was +no saying what the building of a new University might do, of which, +when built, he had no objection to be appointed Principal. + +In answer to those who affect to admire that deficient system of +existence which they style simplicity of manners, and who are +perpetually committing the blunder of supposing that every advance +towards perfection only withdraws man further from his primitive and +proper condition, Popanilla triumphantly demonstrated that no such +order as that which they associated with the phrase "state of nature" +ever existed. "Man", said he, "is called the masterpiece of nature; and +man is also, as we all know, the most curious of machines. Now, a +machine is a work of art; consequently the masterpiece of nature is the +masterpiece of art. The object of all mechanism is the attainment of +utility; the object of man, who is the most perfect machine, is utility +in the highest degree. Can we believe, therefore, that this machine was +ever intended for a state which never could have called forth its +powers, a state in which no utility could ever have been attained, a +state in which there are no wants, consequently no demand, consequently +no supply, consequently no competition, consequently no invention, +consequently no profits; only one great pernicious monopoly of comfort +and ease? Society without wants is like a world without winds. It is +quite clear, therefore, that there is no such thing as Nature; Nature +is Art, or Art is Nature; that which is most useful is most natural, +because utility is the test of nature; therefore a steam-engine is in +fact a much more natural production than a mountain. + +"You are convinced, therefore," he continued, "by these observations, +that it is impossible for an individual or a nation to be too +artificial in their manners, their ideas, their laws, or their general +policy; because, in fact, the more artificial you become, the nearer +you approach that state of nature of which you are so perpetually +talking." Here observing that some of his audience appeared to be a +little sceptical, perhaps only surprised, he told them that what he +said must be true, because it entirely consisted of first principles. + +After having thus preliminarily descanted for about two hours, +Popanilla informed His Majesty that he was unused to public speaking, +and then proceeded to show that the grand characteristic of the social +action of the Isle of Fantaisie was a total want of development. This +he observed with equal sorrow and surprise; he respected the wisdom of +their ancestors; at the same time, no one could deny that they were +both barbarous and ignorant; he highly esteemed also the constitution, +but regretted that it was not in the slightest degree adapted to the +existing want of society; he was not for destroying any establishments, +but, on the contrary, was for courteously affording them the +opportunity of self-dissolution. He finished by re-urging, in strong +terms, the immediate development of the island. In the first place, a +great metropolis must be instantly built, because a great metropolis +always produces a great demand; and, moreover, Popanilla had some legal +doubts whether a country without a capital could in fact be considered +a state. Apologizing for having so long trespassed upon the attention +of the assembly, he begged distinctly to state that he had no wish to +see His Majesty and his fellow-subjects adopt these new principles +without examination and without experience. They might commence on a +small scale; let them cut down their forests, and by turning them into +ships and houses discover the utility of timber; let the whole island +be dug up; let canals be cut, docks be built, and all the elephants be +killed directly, that their teeth might yield an immediate article for +exportation. A short time would afford a sufficient trial. In the +meanwhile, they would not be pledged to further measures, and these +might be considered "only as an experiment". Taking for granted that +these principles would be acted on, and taking into consideration the +site of the island in the map of the world, the nature and extent of +its resources, its magnificent race of human beings, its varieties of +the animal creation, its wonderfully fine timber, its undeveloped +mineral treasures, the spaciousness of its harbours, and its various +facilities for extended international communication, Popanilla had no +hesitation in saying that a short time could not elapse ere, instead of +passing their lives in a state of unprofitable ease and useless +enjoyment, they might reasonably expect to be the terror and +astonishment of the universe, and to be able to annoy every nation of +any consequence. + +Here, observing a smile upon His Majesty's countenance, Popanilla told +the king that he was only a chief magistrate, and he had no more right +to laugh at him than a parish constable. He concluded by observing +that although what he at present urged might appear strange, +nevertheless, if the listeners had been acquainted with the characters +and cases of Galileo and Turgot, they would then have seen, as a +necessary consequence, that his system was perfectly correct, and he +himself a man of extraordinary merit. + +Here the chief magistrate, no longer daring to smile, burst into a fit +of laughter, and, turning to his courtiers, said: "I have not an idea +what this man is talking about, but I know that he makes my head ache. +Give me a cup of wine, and let us have a dance." + +All applauded the royal proposition; and pushing Popanilla from one to +another, until he was fairly hustled to the brink of the lagoon, they +soon forgot the existence of this bore; in one word, he was cut. When +Popanillo found himself standing alone, and looking grave while all the +rest were gay, he began to suspect that he was not so influential a +personage as he previously imagined. Rather crestfallen, he sneaked +home; and consoled himself for having nobody to speak to by reading +some amusing "Conversations on Political Economy". + +[Footnote 233: _Substance of a speech_, in Parliamentary language, +means a printed edition of an harangue which contains all that was +uttered in the House, and about as much again.] + + + + +ROBERT BROWNING. + +(1812-1890.) + + +LXVI. CRISTINA. + + From _Dramatic Lyrics_; written in 1842. + + + I. + + She should never have looked at me if she meant I should not love her. + There are plenty ... men, you call such, I suppose ... she may discover. + All her soul to, if she pleases, and yet leave much as she found them; + But I'm not so, and she knew it when she fixed me, glancing round them. + + II. + + What? To fix me thus meant nothing? But I can't tell (there's my + weakness) + What her look said!--no vile cant, sure, about "need to strew the + bleakness + Of some lone shore with its pearl-seed, that the sea feels"--no + "strange yearning + That such souls have, most to lavish where there's chance of least + returning". + + III. + + Oh, we're sunk enough here, God knows! but not quite so sunk that + moments, + Sure tho' seldom, are denied us, when the spirit's true endowments + Stand out plainly from its false ones, and apprise it if pursuing + Or the right way or the wrong way, to its triumph or undoing. + + IV. + + There are flashes struck from midnights, there are fire-flames + noondays kindle, + Whereby piled-up honours perish, whereby swollen ambitions dwindle, + While just this or that poor impulse, which for once had play unstifled, + Seems the sole work of a life-time that away the rest have trifled. + + V. + + Doubt you if, in some such moment, as she fixed me, she felt clearly, + Ages past the soul existed, here an age 'tis resting merely, + And hence fleets again for ages: while the true end, sole and single, + It stops here for is, this love-way, with some other soul to mingle? + + VI. + + Else it loses what it lived for, and eternally must lose it; + Better ends may be in prospect, deeper blisses (if you choose it), + But this life's end and this love-bliss have been lost here. Doubt you + whether + This she felt as, looking at me, mine and her souls rushed together? + + VII. + + Oh, observe! Of course, next moment, the world's honours, in derision, + Trampled out the light for ever. Never fear but there's provision + Of the devil's to quench knowledge, lest we walk the earth in rapture! + --Making those who catch God's secret, just so much more prize their + capture! + + VIII. + + Such am I: the secret's mine now! She has lost me, I have gained her; + Her soul's mine: and thus, grown perfect, I shall pass my life's + remainder. + Life will just hold out the proving both our powers, alone and blended: + And then, come next life quickly! This world's use will have been ended. + + + +LXVII. THE LOST LEADER. + + From _Dramatic Lyrics_; written in 1845. + + + I. + + Just for a handful of silver he left us, + Just for a riband to stick in his coat-- + Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, + Lost all the others, she lets us devote; + They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, + So much was theirs who so little allowed: + How all our copper had gone for his service! + Rags--were they purple, his heart had been proud! + We that had loved him so, followed him, honoured him, + Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, + Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, + Made him our pattern to live and to die? + Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, + Burns, Shelley, were with us,--they watch from their graves! + He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, + He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves! + + II. + + We shall march prospering,--not thro' his presence; + Songs may inspirit us,--not from his lyre; + Deeds will be done,--while he boasts his quiescence, + Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade aspire. + Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more, + One task more declined, one more footpath untrod, + One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for angels, + One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! + Life's night begins: let him never come back to us! + There would be doubt, hesitation and pain, + Forced praise on our part--the glimmer of twilight, + Never glad confident morning again! + Best fight on well, for we taught him--strike gallantly, + Menace our heart ere we master his own; + Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us + Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne! + + + + +WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. + +(1811-1863.) + + +LXVIII. PISCATOR AND PISCATRIX. + + Published among Thackeray's "Ballads" under the sub-heading "Lines + written to an Album Print". + + + As on this pictured page I look, + This pretty tale of line and hook, + As though it were a novel-book, + Amuses and engages: + I know them both, the boy and girl; + She is the daughter of the Earl, + The lad (that has his hair in curl) + My lord the County's page is. + + A pleasant place for such a pair! + The fields lie basking in the glare; + No breath of wind the heavy air + Of lazy summer quickens. + Hard by you see the castle tall; + The village nestles round the wall, + As round about the hen its small + Young progeny of chickens. + + It is too hot to pace the keep; + To climb the turret is too steep; + My lord the Earl is dozing deep, + His noonday dinner over: + The postern warder is asleep + (Perhaps they've bribed him not to peep): + And so from out the gate they creep; + And cross the fields of clover. + + Their lines into the brook they launch; + He lays his cloak upon a branch, + To guarantee his Lady Blanche + 's delicate complexion: + He takes his rapier from his haunch, + That beardless, doughty champion staunch; + He'd drill it through the rival's paunch + That question'd his affection! + + O heedless pair of sportsmen slack! + You never mark, though trout or jack, + Or little foolish stickleback, + Your baited snares may capture. + What care has _she_ for line and hook? + She turns her back upon the brook, + Upon her lover's eyes to look + In sentimental rapture. + + O loving pair! as thus I gaze + Upon the girl who smiles always, + The little hand that ever plays + Upon the lover's shoulder; + In looking at your pretty shapes, + A sort of envious wish escapes + (Such as the Fox had for the Grapes) + The Poet, your beholder. + + To be brave, handsome, twenty-two; + With nothing else on earth to do, + But all day long to bill and coo: + It were a pleasant calling. + And had I such a partner sweet; + A tender heart for mine to beat, + A gentle hand my clasp to meet;-- + I'd let the world flow at my feet, + And never heed its brawling. + + + +LXIX. ON A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE. + + This is one of the most popular of the famous Roundabout Papers + written by Thackeray for the _Cornhill Magazine_, of which he was + the first editor. + + +Where have I just read of a game played at a country house? The party +assembles round a table with pens, ink, and paper. Some one narrates a +tale containing more or less incidents and personages. Each person of +the company then writes down, to the best of his memory and ability, +the anecdote just narrated, and finally the papers are to be read out. +I do not say I should like to play often at this game, which might +possibly be a tedious and lengthy pastime, not by any means so amusing +as smoking a cigar in the conservatory; or even listening to the young +ladies playing their piano-pieces; or to Hobbs and Nobbs lingering +round the bottle and talking over the morning's run with the hounds; +but surely it is a moral and ingenious sport. They say the variety of +narratives is often very odd and amusing. The original story becomes so +changed and distorted that at the end of all the statements you are +puzzled to know where the truth is at all. As time is of small +importance to the cheerful persons engaged in this sport, perhaps a +good way of playing it would be to spread it over a couple of years. +Let the people who played the game in '60 all meet and play it once +more in '61, and each write his story over again. Then bring out your +original and compare notes. Not only will the stories differ from each +other, but the writers will probably differ from themselves. In the +course of the year the incidents will grow or will dwindle strangely. +The least authentic of the statements will be so lively or so +malicious, or so neatly put, that it will appear most like the truth. I +like these tales and sportive exercises. I had begun a little print +collection once. I had Addison in his nightgown in bed at Holland +House, requesting young Lord Warwick to remark how a Christian should +die. I had Cambronne clutching his cocked hat, and uttering the +immortal _La Garde meurt et ne se rend pas_. I had the _Vengeur_ going +down, and all the crew hurraying like madmen. I had Alfred toasting the +muffin: Curtius (Haydon) jumping into the gulf; with extracts from +Napoleon's bulletins, and a fine authentic portrait of Baron +Munchausen. + +What man who has been before the public at all has not heard similar +wonderful anecdotes regarding himself and his own history? In these +humble essaykins I have taken leave to egotize. I cry out about the +shoes which pinch me, and, as I fancy, more naturally and pathetically +than if my neighbour's corns were trodden under foot. I prattle about +the dish which I love, the wine which I like, the talk I heard +yesterday--about Brown's absurd airs--Jones's ridiculous elation when +he thinks he has caught me in a blunder (a part of the fun, you see, is +that Jones will read this, and will perfectly well know that I mean +him, and that we shall meet and grin at each other with entire +politeness). This is not the highest kind of speculation, I confess, +but it is a gossip which amuses some folks. A brisk and honest +small-beer will refresh those who do not care for the frothy +outpourings of heavier taps. A two of clubs may be a good handy little +card sometimes, and able to tackle a king of diamonds, if it is a +little trump. Some philosophers get their wisdom with deep thought, and +out of ponderous libraries; I pick up my small crumbs of cogitation at +a dinner-table; or from Mrs. Mary and Miss Louisa, as they are +prattling over their five-o'clock tea. + +Well, yesterday at dinner, Jucundus was good enough to tell me a story +about myself, which he had heard from a lady of his acquaintance, to +whom I send my best compliments. The tale is this. At nine o'clock on +the evening of the 31st of November last, just before sunset, I was +seen leaving No. 96 Abbey Road, St. John's Wood, leading two little +children by the hand, one of them in a nankeen pelisse, and the other +having a mole on the third finger of his left hand (she thinks it was +the third finger, but is quite sure it was the left hand). Thence I +walked with them to Charles Boroughbridge's, pork and sausage man, No. +29 Upper Theresa Road. Here, whilst I left the little girl innocently +eating a polony in the front shop, I and Boroughbridge retired with the +boy into the back parlour, where Mrs. Boroughbridge was playing +cribbage. She put up the cards and boxes, took out a chopper and a +napkin, and we cut the little boy's little throat (which he bore with +great pluck and resolution), and made him into sausage-meat by the aid +of Purkis's excellent sausage-machine. The little girl at first could +not understand her brother's absence, but, under the pretence of taking +her to see Mr. Fechter in _Hamlet_, I led her down to the New River at +Sadler's Wells, where a body of a child in a nankeen pelisse was +subsequently found, and has never been recognized to the present day. +And this Mrs. Lynx can aver, because she saw the whole transaction with +her own eyes, as she told Mr. Jucundus. + +I have altered the little details of the anecdote somewhat. But this +story is, I vow and declare, as true as Mrs. Lynx's. Gracious goodness! +how do lies begin? What are the averages of lying? Is the same amount +of lies told about every man, and do we pretty much all tell the same +amount of lies? Is the average greater in Ireland than in Scotland, or +_vice versa_--among women than among men? Is this a lie I am telling +now? If I am talking about you, the odds are, perhaps, that it is. I +look back at some which have been told about me, and speculate on them +with thanks and wonder. Dear friends have told them of me, have told +them to me of myself. Have they not to and of you, dear friend? A +friend of mine was dining at a large dinner of clergymen, and a story, +as true as the sausage story above given, was told regarding me, by one +of those reverend divines in whose frocks sit some anile chatterboxes, +as any man who knows this world knows. They take the privilege of their +gown. They cabal, and tattle, and hiss, and cackle comminations under +their breath. I say the old women of the other sex are not more +talkative or more mischievous than some of these. "Such a man ought not +to be spoken to", says Gobemouche, narrating the story--and such a +story! "And I am surprised he is admitted into society at all." Yes, +dear Gobemouche, but the story wasn't true: and I had no more done the +wicked deed in question than I had run away with the Queen of Sheba. + +I have always longed to know what that story was (or what collection of +histories), which a lady had in her mind to whom a servant of mine +applied for a place, when I was breaking up my establishment once, and +going abroad. Brown went with a very good character from us, which, +indeed, she fully deserved after several years' faithful service. But +when Mrs. Jones read the name of the person out of whose employment +Brown came, "That is quite sufficient", says Mrs. Jones. "You may go. I +will never take a servant out of _that_ house." Ah, Mrs. Jones, how I +should like to know what that crime was, or what that series of +villainies, which made you determine never to take a servant out of my +house! Do you believe in the story of the little boy and the sausages? +Have you swallowed that little minced infant? Have you devoured that +young Polonius? Upon my word you have maw enough. We somehow greedily +gobble down all stories in which the characters of our friends are +chopped up, and believe wrong of them without inquiry. In a late serial +work written by this hand, I remember making some pathetic remarks +about our propensity to believe ill of our neighbours--and I remember +the remarks, not because they were valuable, or novel, or ingenious, +but because, within three days after they had appeared in print, the +moralist who wrote them, walking home with a friend, heard a story +about another friend, which story he straightway believed, and which +story was scarcely more true than that sausage fable which is here set +down. _O mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!_ But though the preacher trips, +shall not the doctrine be good? Yea, brethren! Here be the rods. Look +you, here are the scourges. Choose me a nice, long, swishing, buddy +one, light and well-poised in the handle, thick and bushy at the tail. +Pick me out a whip-cord thong with some dainty knots in it--and now--we +all deserve it--whish, whish, whish! Let us cut into each other all +round. + +A favourite liar and servant of mine was a man I once had to drive a +brougham. He never came to my house, except for orders, and once when +he helped to wait at dinner, so clumsily that it was agreed we would +dispense with his further efforts. The (job) brougham horse used to +look dreadfully lean and tired, and the livery-stable keeper complained +that we worked him too hard. Now, it turned out that there was a +neighbouring butcher's lady who liked to ride in a brougham; and +Tomkins lent her ours, drove her cheerfully to Richmond and Putney, +and, I suppose, took out a payment in mutton-chops. We gave this good +Tomkins wine and medicine for his family when sick--we supplied him +with little comforts and extras which need not now be remembered--and +the grateful creature rewarded us by informing some of our tradesmen +whom he honoured with his custom, "Mr. Roundabout? Lor' bless you! I +carry him up to bed drunk every night in the week". He, Tomkins, being +a man of seven stone weight and five feet high; whereas his employer +was--but here modesty interferes, and I decline to enter into the +avoirdupois question. + +Now, what was Tomkin's motive for the utterance and dissemination of +these lies? They could further no conceivable end or interest of his +own. Had they been true stories, Tomkin's master would, and reasonably, +have been still more angry than at the fables. It was but suicidal +slander on the part of Tomkins--must come to a discovery--must end in a +punishment. The poor wretch had got his place under, as it turned out, +a fictitious character. He might have stayed in it, for of course +Tomkins had a wife and poor innocent children. He might have had bread, +beer, bed, character, coats, coals. He might have nestled in our little +island, comfortably sheltered from the storms of life; but we were +compelled to cast him out, and send him driving, lonely, perishing, +tossing, starving, to sea--to drown. To drown? There be other modes of +death whereby rogues die. Good-bye, Tomkins. And so the night-cap is +put on, and the bolt is drawn for poor T. + +Suppose we were to invite volunteers amongst our respected readers to +send in little statements of the lies which they know have been told +about themselves: what a heap of correspondence, what an exaggeration +of malignities, what a crackling bonfire of incendiary falsehoods, +might we not gather together! And a lie once set going, having the +breath of life breathed into it by the father of lying, and ordered to +run its diabolical little course, lives with a prodigious vitality. You +say, _Magna est veritas et proevalebit_. Psha! great lies are as great +as great truths, and prevail constantly, and day after day. Take an +instance or two out of my own little budget. I sit near a gentleman at +dinner, and the conversation turns upon a certain anonymous literary +performance which at the time is amusing the town. "Oh," says the +gentleman, "everybody knows who wrote that paper: it is Momus's." I was +a young author at the time, perhaps proud of my bantling: "I beg your +pardon," I say, "it was written by your humble servant." "Indeed!" was +all that the man replied, and he shrugged his shoulders, turned his +back, and talked to his other neighbour. I never heard sarcastic +incredulity more finely conveyed than by that "Indeed". "Impudent +liar," the gentleman's face said, as clear as face could speak. Where +was Magna Veritas, and how did she prevail then? She lifted up her +voice, she made her appeal, and she was kicked out of court. In New +York I read a newspaper criticism one day (by an exile from our shores +who has taken up his abode in the Western Republic), commenting upon a +letter of mine which had appeared in a contemporary volume, and wherein +it was stated that the writer was a lad in such and such a year, and in +point of fact, I was, at the period spoken of, nineteen years of age. +"Falsehood, Mr. Roundabout," says the noble critic: "you were then not +a lad; you were six-and-twenty years of age." You see he knew better +than papa and mamma and parish register. It was easier for him to think +and say I lied, on a twopenny matter connected with my own affairs, +than to imagine he was mistaken. Years ago, in a time when we were very +mad wags, Arcturus and myself met a gentleman from China who knew the +language. We began to speak Chinese against him. We said we were born +in China. We were two to one. We spoke the mandarin dialect with +perfect fluency. We had the company with us; as in the old, old days, +the squeak of the real pig was voted not to be so natural as the squeak +of the sham pig. O Arcturus, the sham pig squeaks in our streets now to +the applause of multitudes, and the real porker grunts unheeded in his +sty! + +I once talked for some little time with an amiable lady: it was for the +first time; and I saw an expression of surprise on her kind face which +said as plainly as face could say, "Sir, do you know that up to this +moment I have had a certain opinion of you, and that I begin to think I +have been mistaken or misled?" I not only know that she had heard evil +reports of me, but I know who told her--one of those acute fellows, my +dear brethren, of whom we spoke in a previous sermon, who has found me +out--found out actions which I never did, found out thoughts and +sayings which I never spoke, and judged me accordingly. Ah, my lad! +have I found _you_ out? _O risum teneatis_. Perhaps the person I am +accusing is no more guilty than I. + +How comes it that the evil which men say spreads so widely and lasts so +long, whilst our good kind words don't seem somehow to take root and +bear blossom? Is it that in the stony hearts of mankind these pretty +flowers can't find a place to grow? Certain it is that scandal is good +brisk talk, whereas praise of one's neighbour is by no means lively +hearing. An acquaintance grilled, scored, devilled, and served with +mustard and cayenne pepper, excites the appetite; whereas a slice of +cold friend with currant jelly is but a sickly, unrelishing meat. + +Now, such being the case, my dear worthy Mrs. Candour, in whom I know +there are a hundred good and generous qualities: it being perfectly +clear that the good things which we say of our neighbours don't +fructify, but somehow perish in the ground where they are dropped, +whilst the evil words are wafted by all the winds of scandal, take root +in all soils, and flourish amazingly--seeing, I say, that this +conversation does not give us a fair chance, suppose we give up +censoriousness altogether, and decline uttering our opinions about +Brown, Jones, and Robinson (and Mesdames B., J., and R.) at all. We may +be mistaken about every one of them, as, please goodness, those +anecdote-mongers against whom I have uttered my meek protest have been +mistaken about me. We need not go to the extent of saying that Mrs. +Manning was an amiable creature, much misunderstood; and Jack Thurtell +a gallant unfortunate fellow, not near so black as he was painted; but +we will try and avoid personalities altogether in talk, won't we? We +will range the fields of science, dear madam, and communicate to each +other the pleasing results of our studies. We will, if you please, +examine the infinitesimal wonders of nature through the microscope. We +will cultivate entomology. We will sit with our arms round each other's +waists on the _pons asinorum_, and see the stream of mathematics flow +beneath. We will take refuge in cards, and play at "beggar my +neighbour", not abuse my neighbour. We will go to the Zoological +Gardens and talk freely about the gorilla and his kindred, but not talk +about people who can talk in their turn. Suppose we praise the High +Church? we offend the Low Church. The Broad Church? High and Low are +both offended. What do you think of Lord Derby as a politician? And +what is your opinion of Lord Palmerston? If you please, will you play +me those lovely variations of "In a cottage near a wood"? It is a +charming air (you know it in French, I suppose? _Ah! te dirai-je, +maman?_) and was a favourite with poor Marie Antoinette. I say "poor", +because I have a right to speak with pity of a sovereign who was +renowned for so much beauty and so much misfortune. But as for giving +any opinion on her conduct, saying that she was good or bad, or +indifferent, goodness forbid! We have agreed we will not be censorious. +Let us have a game at cards--at _ecarte_, if you please. You deal. I +ask for cards. I lead the deuce of clubs.... + +What? there is no deuce! Deuce take it! What? People _will_ go on +talking about their neighbours, and won't have their mouths stopped by +cards, or ever so much microscopes and aquariums? Ah, my poor dear Mrs. +Candour, I agree with you. By the way, did you ever see anything like +Lady Godiva Trotter's dress last night? People _will_ go on chattering, +although we hold our tongues; and, after all, my good soul, what will +their scandal matter a hundred years hence? + + + + +ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. + +(1819-1861.) + + +LXX. SPECTATOR AB EXTRA. + + As I sat at the Cafe I said to myself, + They may talk as they please about what they call pelf, + They may sneer as they like about eating and drinking, + But help it I cannot, I cannot help thinking + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + I sit at my table _en grand seigneur_, + And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor, + Not only the pleasure itself of good living, + But also the pleasure of now and then giving: + So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So pleasant it is to have money. + + They may talk as they please about what they call pelf, + And how one ought never to think of one's self, + How pleasures of thought surpass eating and drinking, + My pleasure of thought is the pleasure of thinking + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + + LE DINER. + + Come along, 'tis the time, ten or more minutes past, + And he who came first had to wait for the last; + The oysters ere this had been in and been out; + While I have been sitting and thinking about + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + A clear soup with eggs; _voila tout_; of the fish + The _filets de sole_ are a moderate dish + _A la Orly_, but you're for red mullet, you say: + By the gods of good fare, who can question to-day + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + After oysters, Sauterne; then Sherry; Champagne, + Ere one bottle goes, comes another again; + Fly up, thou bold cork, to the ceiling above, + And tell to our ears in the sound that we love + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + I've the simplest of palates; absurd it may be, + But I almost could dine on a _poulet-au-riz_, + Fish and soup and omelette and that--but the deuce-- + There were to be woodcocks, and not _Charlotte Russe_! + So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So pleasant it is to have money. + + Your Chablis is acid, away with the hock, + Give me the pure juice of the purple Medoc; + St. Peray is exquisite; but, if you please, + Some Burgundy just before tasting the cheese. + So pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So pleasant it is to have money. + + As for that, pass the bottle, and hang the expense-- + I've seen it observed by a writer of sense, + That the labouring classes could scarce live a day, + If people like us didn't eat, drink, and pay. + So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So useful it is to have money. + + One ought to be grateful, I quite apprehend, + Having dinner and supper and plenty to spend, + And so suppose now, while the things go away, + By way of a grace we all stand up and say + How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! + How pleasant it is to have money. + + + PARVENANT. + + I cannot but ask, in the park and the streets, + When I look at the number of persons one meets, + Whate'er in the world the poor devils can do + Whose fathers and mothers can't give them a _sous_. + So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + I ride, and I drive, and I care not a d--n, + The people look up and they ask who I am; + And if I should chance to run over a cad, + I can pay for the damage, if ever so bad. + So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So useful it is to have money. + + It was but this winter I came up to town, + And already I'm gaining a sort of renown; + Find my way to good houses without much ado, + Am beginning to see the nobility too. + So useful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So useful it is to have money. + + O dear what a pity they ever should lose it, + Since they are the people who know how to use it; + So easy, so stately, such manners, such dinners; + And yet, after all, it is we are the winners. + So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + It is all very well to be handsome and tall, + Which certainly makes you look well at a ball, + It's all very well to be clever and witty. + But if you are poor, why it's only a pity. + So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + There's something undoubtedly in a fine air, + To know how to smile and be able to stare, + High breeding is something, but well bred or not, + In the end the one question is, what have you got? + So needful it is to have money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + And the angels in pink and the angels in blue, + In muslins and moires so lovely and new, + What is it they want, and so wish you to guess, + But if you have money, the answer is yes. + So needful, they tell you, is money, heigh-ho! + So needful it is to have money. + + + + +C.S. CALVERLEY. + +(1831-1884.) + + +LXXI. "HIC VIR, HIC EST." + + The subtle mingling of pathos and satire in this poem evoked the + warm admiration of Mr. J. Russell Lowell. This is published by + special permission of Messrs. G. Bell & Sons, to whom thanks are + tendered. + + + Often, when o'er tree and turret, + Eve a dying radiance flings, + By that ancient pile I linger, + Known familiarly as "King's". + And the ghosts of days departed + Rise, and in my burning breast + All the undergraduate wakens, + And my spirit is at rest. + + What, but a revolting fiction, + Seems the actual result + Of the Census's inquiries, + Made upon the 15th ult.? + Still my soul is in its boyhood; + Nor of year or changes recks, + Though my scalp is almost hairless, + And my figure grows convex. + + Backward moves the kindly dial; + And I'm numbered once again + With those noblest of their species + Called emphatically "Men"; + Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime, + Through the streets, with tranquil mind, + And a long-backed fancy-mongrel + Trailing casually behind. + + Past the Senate-house I saunter, + Whistling with an easy grace; + Past the cabbage stalks that carpet + Still the beefy market-place; + Poising evermore the eye-glass + In the light sarcastic eye, + Lest, by chance, some breezy nursemaid + Pass, without a tribute, by. + + Once, an unassuming Freshman, + Thro' these wilds I wandered on, + Seeing in each house a College, + Under every cap a Don; + Each perambulating infant + Had a magic in its squall, + For my eager eye detected + Senior Wranglers in them all. + + By degrees my education + Grew, and I became as others; + Learned to blunt my moral feelings + By the aid of Bacon Brothers; + Bought me tiny boots of Mortlock, + And colossal prints of Roe; + And ignored the proposition, + That both time and money go. + + Learned to work the wary dogcart, + Artfully thro' King's Parade; + Dress, and steer a boat, and sport with + Amaryllis in the shade: + Struck, at Brown's, the dashing hazard; + Or (more curious sport than that) + Dropped, at Callaby's, the terrier + Down upon the prisoned rat. + + I have stood serene on Fenner's + Ground, indifferent to blisters, + While the Buttress of the period + Bowled me his peculiar twisters: + Sung, "We won't go home till morning"; + Striven to part my backhair straight; + Drunk (not lavishly) of Miller's + Old dry wines at 78/:-- + + When within my veins the blood ran, + And the curls were on my brow, + I did, oh ye undergraduates, + Much as ye are doing now. + Wherefore bless ye, O beloved ones:-- + Now into mine inn must I, + Your "poor moralist", betake me, + In my "solitary fly". + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENGLISH SATIRES*** + + +******* This file should be named 16126.txt or 16126.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/1/2/16126 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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