[Illustration:
_The GIANT FACTOTUM amusing himself_
]
POETRY
OF
THE ANTI-JACOBIN:
COMPRISING THE CELEBRATED
POLITICAL AND SATIRICAL POEMS,
OF
THE RT. HONS. G. CANNING, JOHN HOOKHAM FRERE, W. PITT, THE MARQUIS
WELLESLEY, G. ELLIS, W. GIFFORD, THE EARL OF CARLISLE, AND OTHERS.
EDITED, WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES, ETC.
BY
CHARLES EDMONDS,
EDITOR OF THE “PYTCHLEY HUNT, PAST AND PRESENT,” ETC., ETC.
_THIRD EDITION, CONSIDERABLY ENLARGED, WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES
GILLRAY._
NEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS.
LONDON: SAMPSON LOW & CO., _Limited_.
1890.
EDITOR’S PREFACE.
The fate which usually attends political and satirical writings that owe
their origin to passing events, has in no way affected the POETRY OF THE
ANTI-JACOBIN, which, after a lapse of more than ninety years, still
continues to interest and amuse. Public opinion never fails, sooner or
later, to arrive at a just conclusion as to the merits both of
individuals and actions; and though it may often neglect to preserve a
meritorious work, never perpetuates a worthless one. Poetry which lashed
with so remorseless a hand the patriotic proceedings, and held up to
ridicule the persons and habits, of the most distinguished Whig leaders,
must have possessed no common merit to have won the encomiums of such
liberal politicians and such critics as MACKINTOSH and JEFFREY, MOORE
and BYRON.
MOORE, in his _Life of Sheridan_, observes: “_The Rolliad_ and _The
Anti-Jacobin_ may, on their respective sides of the question, be
considered as models of that style of political satire whose lightness
and vivacity give it the appearance of proceeding rather from the
wantonness of wit than of ill-nature, and whose very malice, from the
fancy with which it is mixed up, like certain kinds of fire-works,
explodes in sparkles”. This criticism might be applied to some of his
own political squibs.
As the poems refer to occurrences long since past, a rapid glance at the
state of events at that time (1797–8) may render them more intelligible
to the generality of readers.
The affairs of England were then in a critical position. The ministry of
PITT was carrying on a fierce war with republican France, the necessity
for which had split the public into two great parties. The liberal party
alleged, that “the whole misfortunes of Europe and all the crimes of
France had arisen from the iniquitous coalition of kings to overturn its
infant freedom;—that, if its government had been left alone, it would
neither have stained its hands with innocent blood at home nor pursued
plans of aggrandizement abroad; and that the Republic, relieved from the
pressure of external danger, and no longer roused by the call of
patriotic duty, would have quietly turned its swords into pruning-hooks,
and, renouncing the allurements of foreign conquests, thought only of
promoting the internal felicity of its citizens”.
These sentiments, though supported by the extraordinary eloquence of
FOX, SHERIDAN, ERSKINE, and others, had but little weight with the
minister or the great body of the public. It was impossible to deny that
the power of the French Republic was daily increasing, and threatened
the subjugation of the greater part of Europe. BUONAPARTE had overrun
Italy, and broken the power of Austria, which, by the treaty of Leoben,
was compelled to cede the Netherlands to France, allow the free
navigation of the Rhine, and recognise the independence of the
newly-erected Italian republics. Spain, also, had declared war against
Britain, which was thus left to contend singly against the power of
France; for the Directory had refused the basis of peace proposed by
LORD MALMESBURY, that of a mutual restitution of conquests. To add to
these embarrassments, during the year 1797 credit became affected, and
the Bank of England suspended cash payments; mutinies broke out in the
fleets at Spithead and the Nore; and Ireland was on the verge of
rebellion. But the talents of PITT were equal to the occasion, and his
power rose higher than ever, when his prognostications were shortly
after (in December, 1797) confirmed by the unprovoked attack upon
Switzerland by the French. The impolicy of this proceeding was equal to
its infamy; for nothing ever done by the revolutionary government
contributed so powerfully to cool the ardour of its partisans in Europe,
and to open the eyes of the intelligent and respectable classes in every
other country to its ultimate designs. Its effect on the friends of
freedom in England may be judged of from the indignant protest of SIR
JAMES MACKINTOSH, himself once a warm admirer of the French Revolution,
who, in his defence of JEAN PELTIER, in 1803, for a libel on BUONAPARTE,
declared, “the invasion and destruction of Switzerland an act, in
comparison with which all the deeds of rapine and blood perpetrated in
the world are innocence itself”. Even before this, the true character of
the revolution had been detected by the democratic COLERIDGE, who gave
public utterance to his feelings of horror and disgust in that noble
_Ode to France_ written in February, 1797. In a word, to say nothing of
her other conquests, France, at the beginning of 1798, had three
affiliated republics at her side, the Batavian, Cisalpine, and the
Ligurian; before its close she had organized three more, the Helvetic,
the Roman, and the Parthenopeian.
PITT’S influence was further increased by the threatened invasion of
Great Britain by the French, a proceeding which, as it affected every
class in the country, raised the national enthusiasm to the highest
pitch, inflamed as it already was by the recent glorious victories off
Cape St. Vincent and Camperdown. That they were likely to be in earnest
had been already shown by their expeditions to Bantry Bay and
Pembrokeshire, and BUONAPARTE’S boast at Geneva, that “he would
democratize England in three months,” proved how much he relied upon the
support of the malcontents both in Great Britain and Ireland. The
estimates and preparations for defence were, enormous; taxes, to an
extent utterly unknown before, were laid on; the Volunteer Bill was
passed (SHERIDAN assisting), by which, in addition to the regular army,
a hundred and fifty thousand volunteers were, in a few weeks, in arms;
THE KING was authorized by another bill, in the event of an invasion, to
call out the levy, _en masse_, of the population; the Alien Bill was
reenacted; and the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act continued for
another year.
But the genius of one man, however great, can effect but little, unless
suitably supported by others. The sagacious mind of PITT had long seen
that his party in Parliament were, with very few exceptions, no match
for his numerous opponents, powerful both in talent and social position;
among whom were FOX, SHERIDAN, ERSKINE, HORNE TOOKE, WHITBREAD,
NICHOLLS, COURTENAY, FITZPATRICK, the DUKES of NORFOLK and BEDFORD, LORD
STANHOPE, the DUCHESS of DEVONSHIRE, and others. He was always anxious,
therefore, to secure whatever available talent presented itself, and
immediately on their appearance enlisted under his banners CANNING,
JENKINSON, HUSKISSON, and CASTLEREAGH, all men of the same standing, for
the first three were born in 1770, and the last in 1769.
The important assistance of CANNING was immediately felt, for he was, in
the words of BYRON, “a genius—almost a universal one; an orator, a wit,
a poet, a statesman”. Though he entered Parliament at the early age of
23 (in 1793), and attained the post of Under-Secretary of State for the
Foreign Department two years after, he was by no means inexperienced
either as a writer or as an orator; for while a student at Eton he had
won distinction by his contributions to _The Microcosm_, a weekly paper
published by the more advanced Etonians, and also in the discussions of
their Debating Society, which were conducted with strict regard to
parliamentary usages. And afterwards, while studying for the law, he
took an active part in the proceedings of the debating societies of the
metropolis, in which he achieved so much reputation as to lead to his
introduction to PITT, whose party he unhesitatingly joined.
CANNING early saw the necessity of the Government’s possessing some
literary engine, which, like the Whig _Rolliad_, published some years
before, should carry confusion into the ranks of its enemies. In a lucky
hour he conceived the idea of _The Anti-Jacobin_, a weekly newspaper,
interspersed with poetry, the avowed object of which was to expose the
vicious doctrines of the French Revolution, and to turn into ridicule
and contempt the advocates of that event, and the sticklers for peace
and parliamentary reform. The editor was WILLIAM GIFFORD, whose vigorous
and unscrupulous pen had been already shown in his _Baviad_ and
_Mæviad_; and among the regular writers were: JOHN HOOKHAM FRERE,
JENKINSON (afterwards EARL OF LIVERPOOL), GEORGE ELLIS (who had
previously contributed to the Whig _Rolliad_), LORD CLARE, LORD
MORNINGTON (afterwards MARQUIS WELLESLEY), LORD MORPETH (afterwards EARL
OF CARLISLE), BARON MACDONALD, and others. These gentlemen entered upon
their task with no common spirit. Their purpose was to blacken their
adversaries, and they spared no means, fair or foul, in the attempt.
Their most distinguished countrymen, whose only fault was their being
opposed to government, were treated with no more respect than their
foreign adversaries, and were held up to public execration as traitors,
blasphemers, and debauchees. So alarmed, however, became WILBERFORCE and
others of the more moderate supporters of ministers at the boldness of
the language employed, that PITT was induced to interfere, and, after an
existence of eight months, _The Anti-Jacobin_ (in its original form)
ceased to exist.
_The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_ is not exclusively political. _The
Loves of the Triangles_, a parody on DR. DARWIN’S _Loves of the Plants_,
is, in the opinion of a celebrated critic (Lord Jeffrey) of the highest
degree of merit; as is also _The Progress of Man_, a parody on PAYNE
KNIGHT’S _Progress of Civil Society_; and _The Rovers_, a burlesque on
the German dramas then in vogue, the extraordinary plots of which, as
well as their language, alternately ultrasentimental and domestically
bathotic, well marked them out for ridicule, is distinguished by sharp
wit and broad humour of the happiest kind. CANNING and his coadjutors in
this piece did a real service to literature, and assisted in a
purification which GIFFORD, by his demolition of the Della Cruscan
school of poetry, had so well begun. Of _The Friend of Humanity and the
Knife-grinder_ it is unnecessary to speak; perhaps no lines in the
English language have been more effective, or oftener quoted.
But CANNING’S greatest power is shown in _New Morality_, which, being
the last of the series, seems to have been reserved as a concentrating
medium for his pent-up scorn and contempt of the Whigs and their
adherents. So that their blows fall thick (for he was powerfully
seconded by Frere, Gifford, and Ellis), they care little who suffer from
them, and the modern reader is surprised to find CHARLES LAMB and other
non-intruders into politics, figuring as congenial conspirators with TOM
PAINE!
It is somewhat difficult to regard PITT in the character of a Wit and a
Poet, as from the narrative of most of his biographers, he might be
considered as uniformly cold, stiff, and unbending; but his intimate
friend WILBERFORCE, in his _Memoirs_, thus describes him: “PITT, when
free from shyness, and amongst his intimate companions, was the very
soul of merriment and conversation. He was the wittiest man I ever knew,
and what was quite peculiar to himself, had at all times his wit under
entire controul. Others appeared struck by the unwonted association of
brilliant images; but every possible combination of ideas seemed always
present to his mind, and he could at once produce whatever he desired. I
was one of those who met to spend an evening in memory of Shakespeare,
at the Boar’s Head, Eastcheap. Many professed wits were present, but
PITT was the most amusing of the party, the readiest and most apt in the
required allusions.” It is not, therefore, at all unlikely, that he now
and then contributed witty verses to _The Anti-Jacobin_, in addition to
those which the Editor has, on probable grounds, ascribed to him in the
present volume.
“Critical commentary,” says a critic of the previous edition, “on the
merits of _The Anti-Jacobin_, would be superfluous. Its satire is
distinguished for the terse language of its poignant personality, which
was often excessively stinging, but seldom offensively coarse. Its best
contributors, CANNING and FRERE, were not mere pamphleteers in verse,
like the writers for _The Rolliad_. They had poetical inspiration and a
sprightly joyousness springing from a genial play of the mental
faculties. They were ‘Conservatives’ not only in their politics but in
their loyal adherence to the ordinances and traditions of classical
English literature. False sentiment, tumid diction, mawkish cant, were
chastised by them with exemplary efficacy. On the fourth edition of the
complete work (1799, 2 Vols. 8vo, containing both prose and poetry),
they placed the epigraph, _Sparsosque recolligit ignes_; and in the very
last paper (No. 36), the motto on discontinuance was exquisitely happy:—
“‘We shall miss thee;
But yet thou shalt have freedom.
So to the elements
Be free; and fare thou well!’
“And these lines, taken from _The Tempest_ (probably by CANNING), have
been prophetic of the popularity of their witty verse, still quoted and
admired by all lovers of the genius that is airily elegant and strong.”
CHARLES EDMONDS.
WATER ORTON, BIRMINGHAM.
ADDITIONS TO THE PRESENT EDITION.
Numerous new Biographical and other Notes.
Additions and Corrections to the List of presumed AUTHORS of “THE
POETRY”.
Selections from the PROSE portion of the work, written by the RT. HON.
G. CANNING and his coadjutors.
Account of the various EDITIONS of _The Anti-Jacobin_, and its
successors.
Enlarged articles on the opposition NEWSPAPERS abused by _The
Anti-Jacobin_ writers.
The curious ABUSIVE AND SATIRICAL INDEX to _The Anti-Jacobin_; and
specimens of a similar Index to _The Anti-Jacobin Review and
Magazine_.
Selections from _The Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine_—the successor
to _The Anti-Jacobin_—showing that though written by a different
body of Authors, both works were animated by the same spirit.
EDITIONS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN;
AND ITS SUCCESSORS.
THE ANTI-JACOBIN, or WEEKLY EXAMINER. Sparsosque recolligit ignes.
From Nov. 20, 1797, to July 9, 1798. 4to.
London.
Nos. 1 to 36; with a Prospectus (complete).
—— The Same. Second and third editions, in 4to.
—— The Same. Fourth edition, revised and corrected. 2 vols. 8vo.
London, 1799.
Every Number contained Poetry, the presumed Names of the Authors of
which will be found in the Table of Contents of the present volume.
* * * * *
THE POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN. 4to.
London, 1801.
This volume includes the whole of the POETRY contained in the original
_Anti-Jacobin_, with a few verbal corrections. Previous to its
publication, it was announced that it would be illustrated by 40 plates
expressly designed by GILLRAY; but they never appeared. Numerous
editions in 12mo subsequently appeared, but without any additions, till
those mentioned below.
* * * * *
THE POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN. A New Edition, with Explanatory Notes
by CHARLES EDMONDS. 12mo.
London, 1852.
—— The Same. Second edition, by CHARLES EDMONDS; with additional
Notes, the original Prospectus (by the Rt. Hon. G. CANNING), and a
complete List of the Authors. Illustrated by six etchings after
the designs of JAS. GILLRAY. 12mo.
London, 1854.
* * * * *
THE ANTI-JACOBIN REVIEW AND MAGAZINE; or Monthly Political and
Literary Censor. From the commencement in July, 1798, to its close
in 1821. (_The first few vols. contain engravings by Gillray and
others, and much_ POETRY _is scattered through the volumes_.) 61
vols. 8vo.
London, 1798–1821.
For reasons stated on a previous page, CANNING and other political
friends of PITT thought it prudent to withdraw themselves from the
original _Anti-Jacobin_, but by a preconcerted arrangement it was
determined that the spirit which had pervaded that work, and which had
had so powerful an effect on the popular mind, and thereby, in
connection with Gillray’s caricatures, so undoubtedly strengthened the
hands of the Ministry, should not die, if it could be kept alive by
other and congenial writers. In the words of MR. FOX BOURNE (in his
valuable work on _English Newspapers_, 1887): “Though _The Anti-Jacobin_
made its last appearance on July 9, 1798, there was started a few days
before a monthly _Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine_ of the same
politics, but much less brilliant, and more ponderous. Strange to say,
it also was edited by a GIFFORD, or one who so called himself. JOHN
RICHARDS GREEN was a bold and versatile adventurer, who, having to fly
from his creditors in 1782, returned from France in 1788, as JOHN
GIFFORD, and was connected with several newspapers [including the
establishment of _The British Critic_], besides editing _The
Anti-Jacobin Review_. [He also wrote a _History of France_, and other
works.] Befriended in many ways by PITT, he wrote a four-volume pamphlet
[3 vols. 4to, and also 6 vols. 8vo, both dated 1809], styled the _Life
of William Pitt_, after his patron’s death. JAMES MILL, the friend and
associate of JEREMY BENTHAM, was glad to earn money in his struggling
days by writing non-political articles for _The Anti-Jacobin Review_.
WILLIAM GIFFORD, it is hardly necessary to state, besides editing Ben
Jonson’s Works, and other useful occupations, was the first editor of
_The Quarterly Review_ in 1809.”
In the British Museum are two copies of _The Anti-Jacobin Review and
Magazine_. In one of them the first six vols. contain the Names of the
Authors of most of the articles, among whom are the REV. JOHN WHITAKER,
author of _The History of Manchester_, the REV. SAM. HENSHALL, author of
works on Domesday Book, the REV. C. E. STEWART, a copious poetaster,
etc., and many other clergymen.
* * * * *
THE NEW ANTI-JACOBIN REVIEW. Delenda est Carthago.
Nos. 1 to 3 seem to be all that were published, and appeared May 6, June
9, and June 23, 1827; price two shillings each.
No. 2 includes what is called a _Patriot Portrait Exhibition_, which is
continued in No. 3. In the latter No. is also an article entitled
_Canningiana_. Published by Saunders and Otley.
* * * * *
THE NEW ANTI-JACOBIN; a Monthly Magazine of Politics, Commerce,
Science, Literature, Art, Music, and the Drama.
Consists of only Nos. 1 and 2. Published by Smith, Elder, & Co., and
Carpenter & Son; dated respectively April and May, 1833.
No. 2 contains _Horace in Parliament_; an Ode to William Cobbett; being
a Parody on Horace—_In Barinen_, Ode 4, Lib. 2. It is accompanied by a
full-length portrait of Cobbett.
The above two works, in accordance with their titles, advocate high Tory
principles; but though written with great spirit they had but a very
short existence. Copies of both will be found in the British Museum.
* * * * *
ENGLISH ACTORS IN THE FRENCH REVOLUTION, AND EYE-WITNESSES OF THE
SAME.
The most complete details hitherto furnished on these interesting
subjects will be found in the Nos. for October, 1887, and July, 1888, of
_The Edinburgh Review_, the work of MR. JOHN G. ALGER, the Paris
correspondent of _The Times_. They have since been published in a
volume. (_Englishmen in the French Revolution_: Low & Co., 1889.)
[Illustration]
CONTENTS OF THE POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN,
WITH THE NAMES OF THE AUTHORS.
The following notices of the writers of the POETRY OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN
are derived from the copies mentioned below, and each name is
authenticated by the initials of the authority upon which each piece is
ascribed to particular persons:—
C. CANNING’S own copy of the Poetry.
B. LORD BURGHERSH’S copy.
W. WRIGHT the publisher’s copy.
U. Information of W. UPCOTT, amanuensis.
[Although many of the pieces in the following list are attributed to
wrong authors, it has been thought more convenient to reprint them as
they stood in the previous edition, in order to insert any corrections,
as far as FRERE is concerned. These are derived from the information of
FRERE himself given to his nephews, who afterwards edited his works in
1872. They are therefore placed beneath the Title of the piece—between
brackets.
The pieces, printed in _Italics_—between brackets—appear for the first
time in an edition of _The Poetry_.—ED.]
PAGE. AUTHORS.
PROSPECTUS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN 1 Canning.
Introduction 12 Canning.
Inscription for the Apartment in Chepstow
Castle, where Henry Marten, the Regicide, 16 Southey.
was imprisoned thirty years
Inscription for the Door of the Cell in
Newgate, where Mrs. Brownrigg, the 16 Canning, C.
Prentice-cide, was confined previous to Frere, C.
her execution
The Friend of Humanity and the Knife 23 Frere, C.
Grinder Canning, C.
The Invasion; or, the British War Song 25 Hely Addington, W.
La Sainte Guillotine: a New Song, attempted Canning, C.
from the French 29 Frere, C.
Hammond, B.
[By _Canning_ and _Frere_ only.]
[_Meeting of the Friends of Freedom_] 32 Claimed by Frere.
Canning, C.
The Soldier’s Friend 38 Frere, C.
Ellis, B.
[By _Canning_ and _Frere_ only.]
Sonnet to Liberty. 39 Lord Carlisle, B.
Quintessence of all the Dactylics that ever 41 Canning, B.
were, or ever will be, written Gifford, W.
Latin Verses, written immediately after the 43 Marq. Wellesley, U.
Revolution of the Fourth of September
Translation of the above 45 Frere, B.
[PEARCE, in his _Memoirs of the Marquis Wellesley_, gives the credit of
this translation to the sixth EARL of CARLISLE.]
The Choice; imitated from _The Battle of
Sabla_, in Carlyle’s Specimens of Arabian 48 G. Ellis, B.
Poetry
The Duke and the Taxing Man 52 Bar. Macdonald, C.,
B.
Epigram on the Paris Loan, called the Loan 54 Frere, B.
upon England
[Not claimed by _Frere_.]
Ode to Anarchy 55 Lord Morpeth, B.
Song, recommended to be sung at all
_convivial_ meetings convened for the 58 Frere, B.
purpose of opposing the Assessed Tax Bill
[By _Canning_, _Ellis_, and _Frere_.]
Lines written at the close of the year 1797 61
Translation of the New Song of _The Army of 63
England_
Epistle to the Editors of _The 68
Anti-Jacobin_
[This _Epistle_ is now known to have been written by the HON. WM. LAMB,
(afterwards second VISCOUNT MELBOURNE, and Prime Minister). He was then
only in his nineteenth year.]
To the Author of the _Epistle to the 71 Canning, C.
Editors of the Anti-Jacobin_ Hammond, B.
Ode to Lord Moira 78 G. Ellis, C., B.
A Bit of an Ode to Mr. Fox 83 G. Ellis, C.
Frere, B.
Acme and Septimius; or, the Happy Union. 88 G. Ellis, C.
[_Mr. Fox’s Birth-Day_] 90
To the Author of the Anti-Jacobin 95 Mr. Bragge,
afterwards Bathurst.
Lines written under the Bust of Charles Fox 99 Frere, B.
at the Crown and Anchor
Lines written by a Traveller at Czarco-zelo
under the Bust of a certain Orator, once 99 G. Ellis, B.
placed between those of Demosthenes and
Cicero
[JAS. BOSWELL, jun., asserts, on the authority of the nephew of the
great statesman, that the above lines were written by PITT. This is not
improbable: see Note on page 101.]
Canning, C.
The Progress of Man. Didactic Poem 102 Gifford, W.
Frere, B.
[Cantos 1 and 2 by _Canning_ only; and Canto 23 by _Canning_ and
_Frere_ only.]
The Progress of Man, _continued_ 107 Canning, C.
Hammond, B.
Imitation of Bion. Written at St. Anne’s 111 G. Ellis, B.
Hill Gifford, W.
The New Coalition: Imitation of Horace, 114
Lib. 3, Carm. 9
[_The Honey-Moon of Fox and Tooke_, another
version of the same by the REV. C. E. 116
STEWART; published in the _Anti-Jacobin
Review_, vol. i.]
Imitation of Horace, Lib. 3, Carm. 25 119 Canning, C.
Chevy Chase 125 Bar. Macdonald, C.,
B.
Ode to Jacobinism 129
Canning, C.
The Progress of Man, _continued_ 133 Frere, C.
G. Ellis, B.
The Jacobin 141 Nares, W.
The Loves of the Triangles. A Mathematical 150 Frere, C.
and Philosophical Poem Canning, B.
[All but the last three lines _Frere’s_.]
The Loves of the Triangles, _continued_ 158 G. Ellis, C., W.
Canning, B.
[Down to “Twine round his struggling heart,” by _Ellis_. From “Thus,
happy France,” to “And folds the parent-monarch,” by _Canning_,
_Ellis_, and _Frere_. The next twelve lines, which were not in the
_first_ edition, 1798, were added by _Canning_.]
Brissot’s Ghost 165 Frere, B.
[Not claimed by _Frere_.]
Canning B., W., C.
The Loves of the Triangles, _continued_ 170 Gifford C.
Frere C.
[By _Canning_, _Ellis_, and _Frere_.]
A Consolatory Address to his Gun-Boats. By 182 Lord Morpeth, B.
Citizen Muskein
Canning, B., C.
Elegy on the Death of Jean Bon St. André 185 Gifford, C.
Frere, C.
[By _Canning_, _Ellis_, and _Frere_.]
Frere, C.
Ode to my Country, MDCCXCVIII 193 B. B., C.
Hammond, B.
[This is not claimed by _Frere_.]
Ode to the Director Merlin 199 Lord Morpeth, B.
Frere, C.
The Rovers; or, the Double Arrangement 205 Gifford, C.
G. Ellis, C.
Canning B., C.
[Act 1, Sc. 1 and 2, by _Frere_—Song by _Canning_ and _Ellis_; Act 2,
Sc. 1 and 3, and Act 3, by _Canning_; Act 2, Sc. 2, and Act 4, by
_Frere_. The preliminary prose by _Frere_ and _Canning_.]
Frere B., C.
The Rovers; or, the Double Arrangement, 224 Gifford C.
_continued_ Ellis, C.
Canning, C.
An Affectionate Effusion of Citizen Muskein 236 Lord Morpeth, B.
to Havre-de-Grace
Translation of a Letter from Gifford, C., B.
Bawba-dara-adul-phoola, to 242 Ellis, C., B.
Neek-awl-aretchid-kooez Canning, C., B.
Frere, C., B.
[By _Canning_, _Ellis_, and _Frere_.]
[_Buonaparte’s Letter to the Commandant at 248
Zante_]
Ode to a Jacobin 251
Ballynahinch; A New Song 255 Canning, C.
De Navali Laude Britanniæ 257 Canning, B.
[Translation of the above 260 The late A. F.
Westmacott.]
[_Valedictory Address_] 263
Canning, B. C.
New Morality 271 Frere, C.
Gifford, C.
G. Ellis, C.
LINE.
1 From Mental Mists Frere, W.
15 Yet venial Vices, &c. Canning, W.
Bethink thee, Gifford, &c. These lines were
29 written by CANNING some years before he had
any personal acquaintance with GIFFORD.
71 Awake! for shame! Canning, W.
158 Fond Hope! Frere, W.
168 Such is the liberal Justice Canning, W.
Frere, W.
249 O! Nurse of Crimes! Canning, W.
G. Ellis, W.
261 See Louvet Canning, W.
287 But hold, severer Virtue Frere, W.
Canning, W.
Frere, W.
302 To thee proud Barras bows Canning, W.
Ellis, W.
318 Ere long, perhaps Gifford, W.
Ellis, W.
328 Couriers and Stars Frere, W.
Canning, W.
356 Britain, beware Canning, W.
372 So thine own Oak attributed to W.
Pitt.
“WRIGHT, the publisher of the _Anti-Jacobin_, lived at 169, Piccadilly,
and his shop was the general morning resort of the friends of the
ministry, as DEBRETT’S was of the oppositionists. About the time when
the _Anti-Jacobin_ was contemplated, OWEN, who had been the publisher of
BURKE’S pamphlets, failed. The editors of the _Anti-Jacobin_ took his
house, paying the rent, taxes, &c., and gave it up to WRIGHT, reserving
to themselves the first floor, to which a communication was opened
through WRIGHT’S house. Being thus enabled to pass to their own rooms
through WRIGHT’S shop, where their frequent visits did not excite any
remarks, they contrived to escape particular observation.”
“Their meetings were most regular on Sundays, but they not unfrequently
met on other days of the week, and in their rooms were chiefly written
the poetical portions of the work. What was written was generally left
open upon the table, and as others of the party dropped in, hints or
suggestions were made; sometimes whole passages were contributed by some
of the parties present, and afterwards altered by others, so that it is
almost impossible to ascertain the names of the authors. Where, in the
above notes, a piece is ascribed to different authors, the conflicting
statements may arise from incorrect information, but sometimes they
arise from the whole authorship being assigned to one person, when, in
fact, both may have contributed. If we look at the references, 167, 185,
we shall see CANNING naming several authors, whereas LORD BURGHERSH
assigns all to one author. CANNING’S authority is here more to be relied
upon. _New Morality_ CANNING assigns generally to the four contributors.
WRIGHT has given some interesting particulars by appropriating to each
his peculiar portion.”
“GIFFORD was the working editor, and wrote most of the refutations and
corrections of the _Lies_, _Mistakes_, and _Misrepresentations_.”
“The papers on finance were chiefly by PITT: the first column was
frequently kept for what he might send; but his contributions were
uncertain, and generally very late, so that the space reserved for him
was sometimes filled up by other matter. He only once met the editors at
WRIGHT’S.”
“W. UPCOTT, who was at the time assistant in WRIGHT’S shop, was employed
as amanuensis, to copy out for the printer the various contributions,
that the author’s handwriting might not be detected.”—_E. Hawkins._
“THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE CANNING AS A MAN OF LETTERS.”
[The following is part of a review, under the above title, of the
present editor’s previous edition of _The Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin_,
and appeared in _The Edinburgh Review_ of July, 1858. It is reprinted in
the _Biographical and Critical Essays_ of A. HAYWARD, Esq., Q.C., 2
vols., 8vo., 1873. It is introduced here as throwing some additional
light on the _Writers of the various pieces_.]
“... We can hardly say of CANNING’S satire what was said of SHERIDAN’S,
that—
“‘His wit in the combat, as gentle as bright,
Never carried a heart-stain away on its blade’.
But its severity was redeemed by its buoyancy and geniality, whilst the
subjects against which it was principally aimed gave it a healthy tone
and a sound foundation. Its happiest effusions will be found in _The
Anti-Jacobin_, set on foot to refute or ridicule the democratic rulers
of revolutionary France and their admirers or apologists in England,
who, it must be owned, were occasionally hurried into a culpable degree
of extravagance and laxity by their enthusiasm....”
“We learn from MR. EDMONDS that almost all his authorities practically
resolve themselves into one, the late MR. W. UPCOTT, and that he never
saw either of the alleged copies on which his informant relied. As
regards the principal one, CANNING’S own, after the fullest inquiries
amongst his surviving relatives and friends, we cannot discover a trace
of its existence at any period. LORD BURGHERSH (the late EARL OF
WESTMORELAND) was under fourteen years of age during the publication of
_The Anti-Jacobin_; and we very much doubt whether either the publisher
or the amanuensis (be he who he may) was admitted to the complete
confidence of the contributors, or whether either the prose or poetry
was composed as stated. In a letter to the late MADAME DE GIRARDIN, _à
propos_ of her play, _L’École des Journalistes_, JULES JANIN happily
exposes the assumption that good leading articles ever were, or ever
could be, produced over punch and broiled bones, amidst intoxication and
revelry. Equally untenable is the belief that poetical pieces, like the
best of _The Anti-Jacobin_, were written in the common rooms of the
confraternity, open to constant intrusion, and left upon the table to be
corrected or completed by the first comer. The unity of design
discernible in each, the glowing harmony of the thoughts and images, and
the exquisite finish of the versification, tell of silent and solitary
hours spent in brooding over, maturing, and polishing a cherished
conception; and young authors, still unknown to fame, are least of all
likely to sink their individuality in this fashion. We suspect that
their main object in going to WRIGHT’S was to correct their proofs and
see one another’s articles in the more finished state. Their meetings,
if for these purposes, would be most regular on Sundays, because the
paper appeared every Monday morning. The extent to which they aided one
another may be collected from a well-authenticated anecdote. When FRERE
had completed the first part of _The Loves of the Triangles_, he
exultingly read over the following lines to CANNING, and defied him to
improve upon them:—
“‘Lo, where the chimney’s sooty tube ascends,
The fair TROCHAIS from the corner bends!
Her coal-black eyes upturned, incessant mark
The eddying smoke, quick flame, and volant spark;
Mark with quick ken, where flashing in between,
Her much-loved _Smoke-Jack_ glimmers through the scene;
Mark, how his various parts together tend,
Point to one purpose,—in one object end;
The spiral grooves in smooth meanders flow,
Drags the long chain, the polished axles glow,
While slowly circumvolves the piece of beef below:’
“CANNING took the pen and added—
“‘The conscious fire with bickering radiance burns,
Eyes the rich joint, and roasts it as it turns’.
“These two lines are now blended with the original text, and constitute,
we are informed on the best authority, the only flaw in FRERE’S title to
the sole authorship of the First Part. The Second and Third Parts were
by CANNING.
“By the kindness of [the late] LORD HATHERTON, we have now before us a
bound volume containing all the numbers of _The Anti-Jacobin_ as they
originally appeared, eight pages quarto, with double columns, price
sixpence. On the fly-leaf is inscribed: ‘This copy belonged to the
Marquess Wellesley, and was purchased at the sale of his library after
his death, January, 1842. H.’ On the cover is pasted an engraved label
of the arms and name of a former proprietor, CHARLES WILLIAM FLINT, with
the pencilled addition of ‘Confidential Amanuensis’. In this copy
CANNING’S name is subscribed to (amongst others) the following pieces,
which are also assigned to him (along with a large share in the most
popular of the rest) by the most trustworthy rumours and
traditions:—_Inscription for the Door of the Cell in Newgate where Mrs.
Brownrigg, the Prenticide, was confined previous to her execution; The
Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder_; the lines addressed _To the
Author of the Epistle to the Editors of The Anti-Jacobin_; _The Progress
of Man_ (all three parts); and _New Morality_.[1]
“With the single exception of _The Friend of Humanity and the
Knife-Grinder_, no piece in the collection is more freshly remembered
than the _Inscription for the Cell of Mrs. Brownrigg_, who
“‘Whipp’d two female ’prentices to death,
And hid them in the coal-hole’.
“The Answer to _The Author of the Epistle to the Editors of The
Anti-Jacobin_ is less known, and it derives a fresh interest from the
fact, recently [_c._ 1854] made public, that _The Epistle_ (which
appeared in _The Morning Chronicle_ of January 17, 1798) was the
composition of WILLIAM LORD MELBOURNE. The beginning shows that the veil
of incognito had been already penetrated.
“‘Whoe’er ye are, all hail!—whether the skill
Of youthful CANNING guides the ranc’rous quill;
With powers mechanic far above his age,
Adapts the paragraph and fills the page;
Measures the column, mends whate’er’s amiss,
Rejects THAT letter, and accepts of THIS;
Or HAMMOND, leaving his official toil,
O’er this great work consume the midnight oil—
Bills, passports, letters, for the Muses quit,
And change dull business for amusing wit.’
“After referring to ‘the poetic sage, who sung of Gallia in a headlong
rage,’ _The Epistle_ proceeds:—
“‘I swear by all the youths that MALMESBURY chose,[2]
By ELLIS’ sapient prominence of nose—
By MORPETH’S gait, important, proud and big—
_By Leveson Gower’s crop-imitating wig_,
That, could the pow’rs which in those numbers shine,
Could that warm spirit animate my line,
Your glorious deeds which humbly I rehearse—
Your deeds should live immortal as my verse;
And, while they wonder’d whence I caught my flame,
Your sons should blush to read their fathers’ shame’.
“Happily the eminent and accomplished sons of these fathers will smile,
rather than blush, at this allusion to their sires, and smile the more
when they remember from which side the attack proceeded. It is clear
from the Answer, that, whilst the band were not a little ruffled, they
had not the remotest suspicion that their assailant was a youth in his
nineteenth year. Amongst other prefatory remarks they say:—
“‘We assure the author of the epistle, that the answer which we have
here the honour to address to him, contains our genuine and undisguised
sentiments upon the merits of the poem.
“‘Our conjectures respecting the authors and abettors of this
performance may possibly be as vague and unfounded as theirs are with
regard to the EDITORS of _The Anti-Jacobin_. We are sorry that we cannot
satisfy their curiosity upon this subject—but we have little anxiety for
the gratification of our own.
“‘It is only necessary to add, what is most conscientiously the truth,
that this production, such as it is, is _by far the best_ of all the
attacks that the combined wits of the cause have been able to muster
against _The Anti-Jacobin_.’
“The Answer opens thus:—
“‘BARD of the borrow’d lyre! to whom belong
The shreds and remnants of each hackney’d song;
Whose verse thy friends in vain for wit explore,
And count but _one good line_, in eighty-four!
Whoe’er thou art, all hail! Thy bitter smile
Gilds our dull page, and cheers our humble toil!’
“The ‘one good line’ was ‘By Leveson Gower’s crop-imitating wig,’ but
the Epistle contains many equally good and some better. The speculations
as to its authorship afforded no slight amusement to the writer and his
friends....
“_New Morality_ is commonly regarded as the master-piece of _The
Anti-Jacobin_; and, with the exception of a few lines, the whole of it
is by CANNING. It appeared in the last number, and he is said to have
concentrated all his energies for a parting blow. The reader who comes
fresh from DRYDEN or POPE, or even CHURCHILL, will be disappointed on
finding far less variety of images, sparkling antithesis, or condensed
brilliancy of expression. The author exhibits abundant humour and
eloquence, but comparatively little wit; _i.e._, if there be any truth
in SYDNEY SMITH’S doctrine ‘that the feeling of wit is occasioned by
those relations of ideas which excite surprise, and surprise _alone_’.
We are commonly prepared for what is coming, and our admiration is
excited rather by the justness of the observations, the elevation of the
thoughts, and the vigour of the style, than by a startling succession of
flashes of fancy. If, as we believe, the same might be said of JUVENAL,
and the best of his English imitators, JOHNSON, we leave ample scope for
praise; and _New Morality_ contains passages which have been preserved
to our time and bid fair to reach posterity. How often are the lines on
_Candour_ quoted in entire ignorance or forgetfulness of their
author....
“The drama of _The Rovers_, or _Double Arrangement_, was written to
ridicule the German Drama, then hardly known in this country, except
through the medium of bad translations of some of the least meritorious
of SCHILLER’S, GOETHE’S, and KOTZEBUE’S productions. The parody is now
principally remembered by Rogero’s song, of which, Mr. Edmonds states,
the first five stanzas were by CANNING. “Having been accidentally seen,
previously to its publication, by PITT, he was so amused with it that he
took a pen and composed the last stanza on the spot....”
“CANNING’S reputed share in _The Rovers_ excited the unreasoning
indignation, and provoked the exaggerated censure, of a man who has
obtained a world-wide reputation by his historical researches, most
especially by his skill in separating the true from the fabulous, and in
filling up chasms in national annals by a process near akin to that by
which CUVIER inferred the entire form and structure of an extinct
species from a bone. The following passage is taken from NIEBUHR’S
_History of the Period of the Revolution_ (published from his Lectures,
in two volumes, in 1845):—
“‘CANNING was at that time (1807) at the head of foreign affairs in
England. History will not form the same judgment of him as that formed
by contemporaries. He had great talents, but was not a great Statesman;
he was one of those persons who distinguish themselves as the squires of
political heroes. He was highly accomplished in the two classical
languages, but without being a learned scholar. He was especially
conversant with Greek writers. He had likewise poetical talent, but only
for Satire. At first he had joined the leaders of opposition against
PITT’S ministry: LORD GREY, who perceived his ambition, advised him,
half in joke, to join the ministers, as he would make his fortune. He
did so, and was employed to write articles for the newspapers and
satirical verses, which were often directed against his former
benefactors.
“‘Through the influence of the ministers he came into Parliament. So
long as the great eloquence of former times lasted, and the great men
were alive, his talent was admired; but older persons had no great
pleasure in his petulant, epigrammatic eloquence and his jokes, which
were often in bad taste. He joined the Society of the Anti-Jacobins,
which defended everything connected with existing institutions. This
society published a journal, in which the most honoured names of foreign
countries were attacked in the most scandalous manner. German literature
was at that time little known in England, and it was associated there
with the ideas of Jacobinism and revolution. CANNING then published in
_The Anti-Jacobin_ the most shameful pasquinade which was ever written
against Germany, under the title of _Matilda Pottingen_. Göttingen is
described in it as the sink of all infamy; professors and students as a
gang of miscreants; licentiousness, incest, and atheism as the character
of the German people. Such was CANNING’S beginning: he was at all events
useful, a sort of political Cossack’ (_Geschichte des Zeitalters der
Revolution_, vol. ii., p. 242).
“‘Here am I,’ exclaimed RALEIGH, after vainly trying to get at the
rights of a squabble in the courtyard of the Tower, ‘employed in writing
a true history of the world, when I cannot ascertain the truth of what
happens under my own window.’ Here is the great restorer of Roman
history—who, by the way, prided himself on his knowledge of
England—hurried into the strangest misconception of contemporary events
and personages, and giving vent to a series of depreciatory
misstatements, without pausing to verify the assumed groundwork of his
patriotic wrath. His description of ‘the most shameful pasquinade,’ and
his ignorance of the very title, prove that he had never seen it. If he
had, he would also have known that the scene is laid at Weimar, not at
Göttingen, and that the satire is almost exclusively directed against a
portion of the dramatic literature of his country, which all rational
admirers must admit to be indefensible. The scene in _The Rovers_, in
which the rival heroines, meeting for the first time at an inn, swear
eternal friendship and embrace, is positively a feeble reflection of a
scene in GOETHE’S _Stella_; and no anachronism can exceed that in
SCHILLER’S _Cabal und Liebe_, when Lady Milford, after declaring herself
the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk who rebelled against Queen
Elizabeth, is horrified on finding that the jewels sent her by the Grand
Duke have been purchased by the sale of 7000 of his subjects to be
employed in the American war.[3]
“Amongst the prose contributions to _The Anti-Jacobin_, there is one in
which, independently of direct evidence, the peculiar humour of CANNING
is discernible,—the pretended report of the meeting of the Friends of
Freedom at the Crown and Anchor Tavern.[4] The plan was evidently
suggested by TICKELL’S _Anticipation_, in which the debate on the
Address at the opening of the Session was reported beforehand with such
surprising foresight, that some of the speakers, who were thus
forestalled, declined to deliver their meditated orations.
“At the meeting of the Friends of Freedom, ERSKINE, whose habitual
egotism could hardly be caricatured, is made to perorate as follows,
&c.... A long speech is given to MACKINTOSH, who, under the name of
_Macfungus_, after a fervid sketch of the Temple of Freedom which he
proposes to construct on the ruins of ancient establishments, proceeds
with kindling animation, &c....[5]
“The wit and fun of these imitations are undeniable, and their injustice
is equally so. ERSKINE, with all his egotism, was, and remains, the
greatest of English advocates. He stemmed and turned the tide which
threatened to sweep away the most valued of our free institutions in
1794; and (we say with LORD BROUGHAM) ‘Before such a precious service as
this, well may the lustre of statesmen and orators grow pale’.
MACKINTOSH was pre-eminently distinguished by the comprehensiveness and
moderation of his views; nor could any man be less disposed by temper,
habits, or pursuits towards revolutionary courses. His lectures on _The
Law of Nature and Nations_ were especially directed against the new
morality in general, and GODWIN’S _Political Justice_ in particular.
“At a long subsequent period (1807) CANNING, when attacked in Parliament
for his share in _The Anti-Jacobin_, declared that ‘he felt no shame for
its character or principles, nor any other sorrow for the share he had
had in it than that which the imperfection of his pieces was calculated
to inspire’. Still, it is one of the inevitable inconveniences of a
connection with the Press that the best known writers should be made
answerable for the errors of their associates; and the license of _The
Anti-Jacobin_ gave serious and well-founded offence to many who shared
its opinions and wished well to its professed object. In WILBERFORCE’S
_Diary_ for May 18, 1799, we find ‘PITT, CANNING, and PEPPER ARDEN came
in late to dinner. I attacked CANNING on indecency of _Anti-Jacobin_.’
COLERIDGE, in his _Biographia Literaria_, complains bitterly of the
calumnious accounts given by _The Anti-Jacobin_ of his early life, and
asks with reason, ‘Is it surprising that many good men remained longer
than perhaps they otherwise would have done adverse to a party which
encouraged and openly rewarded the authors of such atrocious calumnies?’
“Mr. Edmonds says that PITT got frightened, and that the publication was
discontinued at the suggestion of the Prime Minister. It is not unlikely
that CANNING, now a member of the House of Commons and Under-Secretary
of State for Foreign Affairs, found his connection with it embarrassing,
as his hopes rose and his political prospects expanded. Indeed, it may
be questioned whether a Parliamentary career can ever be united with
that of the daily or weekly journalist without compromising one or both.
At all events, the original _Anti-Jacobin_ closed with the number
containing _New Morality_, and CANNING had nothing to do with the
_monthly review_ started under the same name.”
THE _ANTI-JACOBIN_ AS AN AID TO GOVERNMENT.
[Considering _The Anti-Jacobin_ from a national as well as a
literary point of view, we cannot do better than use a portion of an
Essay on English Political Satires by the late JAS. HANNAY, in the
_Quarterly Review_, April, 1857.]
“... In the case of _The Anti-Jacobin_, what are we to say? A hundred
opinions may be adopted respecting the French Revolution. Some hate it
with unmitigated hatred. Some regret it, but accept its consequences as
beneficial to mankind on the whole. Some cherish its memory as a new
political revelation of which they hope to see still further results.
But a candid man of any of these persuasions must remember that the aim
of _The Anti-Jacobin_ was to keep _Britain_ from revolution during
1797–8. It was therefore necessary to fight as our soldiers afterwards
did in Spain—to wage such a _literary_ war as suited the agitated spirit
of Europe. While we blame CANNING, therefore, for speaking as he did of
MADAME ROLAND, we must not forget the indecorum of her Memoirs, or that
it was from persons of her party that vile aspersions were cast upon the
character of MARIE ANTOINETTE. There were men quite ready to begin the
same work over here that had been done in France, and that in a spirit
of vulgar imitation, and under quite different circumstances. They had
to be shot down like mad dogs; for a cur, though contemptible in
ordinary cases, becomes tragic when he has hydrophobia.
“For _The Anti-Jacobin_ must be claimed an honour which can be claimed
for scarce one of the works we have passed under review. Let us waive
the question how much we may have owed it for helping to inspire that
unity and stout insular self-confidence which carried us through the
great war,—whole within and impervious without. Let us consider it only
in a literary point of view, and we shall find it enjoying the rare
distinction that its best Satires live in real popular remembrance. The
_Knife-Grinder_, with his
“‘_Story! God bless you, I have none to tell, sir_,’
is almost as widely known as our nursery rhymes.
“But if _The Anti-Jacobin_ excels all similar works in popularity, and
in the eminence of its contributors, it also excels them in another
important particular. It contains on the whole a greater number of
really good things than any one of them. The _Loves of the Triangles_,
in which,
“‘Th’ obedient Pulley strong Mechanics ply,
And wanton Optics roll the melting eye!’
is an irresistible parody, and likely to keep the original of Darwin
[_Loves of the Plants_] in remembrance. Gray’s Odes have survived the
burlesques of Colman; and the _Country and City Mouse_ of Prior and
Montague is neglected by nine-tenths of those who read with admiration
the _Hind and the Panther_. But Darwin’s case is peculiar. Other poems
live in spite of ridicule; and his _Loves of the Plants_ in consequence
of it. The Attic salt of his enemies has preserved his reputation.
“There is always a purpose in _The Anti-Jacobin’s_ view something more
important than the mere persiflage that teases individuals. Like the
blade of Damascus, which has a verse of the Koran engraved on it, its
fine wit glitters terribly in the cause of sacred tradition.”
DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES.
THE GIANT FACTOTUM AMUSING HIMSELF. (FRONTISPIECE.)
PITT, with his right hand is playing at cup and
ball; the latter being a globe to denote his
influence over foreign countries as well as at home.
His right foot is supported by DUNDAS and
WILBERFORCE, and is extended to be submissively
kissed by his ministerial followers, foremost of
whom is CANNING. With his left foot he has crushed
the Opposition. On the same side is a document
labelled “Resources for supporting the War,” with a
collection of coin, evidently destined for foreign
subsidies. On his right side are various official
returns of volunteers, seamen, regulars, and
militia. He is thus prepared to carry on the war
abroad, and maintain tranquillity at home.
THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER. Page 23
Scene, the Borough of Southwark, with a portrait of
GEORGE TIERNEY, its able and radical representative.
Published Dec. 4, 1797, as a graphic illustration of
the Parody of Southey’s poem, _The Widow_.
LORD LONGBOW, THE ALARMIST, DISCOVERING THE MISERIES OF
IRELAND. Page 78
A characteristic portrait of the gallant and
excellent EARL OF MOIRA, afterwards MARQUIS OF
HASTINGS, and Governor-General of India. The
engraving is in ridicule of his complaint, in the
House of Lords, of the cruelties exercised by the
Government troops on the Irish Rebels. In the
distance is seen Moll Coggin, an Irish witch,
mounted on a black Ram with a blue tail, and on the
hill an Oak-boy, carrying an uprooted oak, on the
branches of which are numerous swans—in allusion to
the unfounded nature of his charges.
THE LOYAL TOAST. Page 94
Representing the DUKE OF NORFOLK giving at a dinner
at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in honour of the
birth-day of FOX his famous toast, “Our Sovereign’s
Health—The Majesty of the People”. On the left is
JOHN NICHOLLS, Member for Tregony; next to him is
the DUKE OF BEDFORD; on the other side of the table
are SHERIDAN and FOX.
DESIGN FOR THE NEW GALLERY OF BUSTS AND PICTURES. Page 99
The statue of FOX was placed between those of
Demosthenes and Cicero, by the EMPRESS CATHERINE OF
RUSSIA, as a compliment to him for having
successfully opposed the sending of the armament
prepared by PITT, in conjunction with Prussia and
Holland, to compel her to give up Ockzakow which she
had seized. As this caricature, including the
verses, was originally published in March, 1793, the
latter in _The Anti-Jacobin_ must have been
suggested by them.
THE REPUBLICAN RATTLESNAKE FASCINATING THE BEDFORD
SQUIRREL. Page 285
In allusion to the influence exercised by FOX over
FRANCIS, fifth DUKE OF BEDFORD, who had become one
of the most zealous of the popular party.
PROSPECTUS
OF
THE ANTI-JACOBIN;
OR,
WEEKLY EXAMINER,
The FIRST NUMBER of which will be published on MONDAY, the 20th of
NOVEMBER, 1797, to be continued every Monday during the sitting of
Parliament. Price 6d.
——_Possit quid vivida virtus
Experiare, licet: nec longe scilicet hostes
Quærendi._
At a moment, when whatever may be the habits of inquiry and the anxiety
for information upon subjects of public concern diffused among all ranks
of people, the vehicles of intelligence are already multiplied in a
proportion nearly equal to this encreased demand, and to the encreased
importance and variety of matter, some apology may perhaps be necessary
for the obtrusion of a new Paper upon the World; and some account may
reasonably be expected of the views and principles on which it founds
its pretensions to notice, before it can hope to make its way through
the crowd of competitors which have gotten the start of it in the race
for public favour.
[As this _Prospectus_ was written by MR. CANNING, and it has been
prefixed only to the former edition of the _Poetry_ by the present
Editor, it is again considered an interesting addition to the
present one.]
The grounds upon which such pretensions have usually been rested by
those who have engaged in undertakings of this kind, are accuracy,
variety, and priority of Intelligence, connections at home,
correspondence abroad, and, above all, a profession of impartial and
unprejudiced attention to all opinions, and to all parties and
descriptions of men.
On none of these Topicks is it Our intention to enlarge.
Of Our means of information, and of the use which We make of them, our
readers will, after a very short trial, be enabled to form their own
opinion. And to that trial We confidently commit ourselves: professing,
however, at the same time, that if the only advantage which We were
desirous of holding out to our Readers, were that of having it in our
power to apprize them an hour or a day sooner than those Journals, which
are already in their hands, of any event however important—We should
bring to the undertaking much less anxiety for success, and should state
our claims on public attention with much less boldness, than We are
disposed to do in the consciousness of higher purposes, and more
beneficial views.
Novelty indeed We have to announce. For what so new in the present state
of the daily and weekly PRESS (We speak generally, though there are
undoubtedly exceptions which we may have occasion to point out
hereafter) as THE TRUTH? To this object alone it is that Our labours are
dedicated. It is the constant violation, the disguise, the perversion of
the Truth, whether in narrative or in argument, that will form the
principal subject of our WEEKLY EXAMINATION: and it is by a diligent and
faithful discharge of this duty—by detecting falsehood, and rectifying
error, by correcting misrepresentation, and exposing and chastising
malignity—that We hope to deserve the reception which We solicit, and to
obtain not only the approbation of the Country to our attempt, but its
thanks for the motives which have given birth to it.
These are strong words. But We are conscious of intending in earnest
what they profess. How far the execution of our purpose may correspond
with the design, it is for others to determine. It is ours to state that
design fairly, and in the spirit in which we conceive it.
Of the utility of such a purpose, if even tolerably executed, there can
be little doubt, among those persons (a very large part of the
community) who must have found themselves, during the course of the last
few years, perplexed by the multiplicity of contradictory accounts of
almost every material event that has occurred in that eventful and
tremendous period; and who must anxiously have wished for some public
channel of information on which they could confidently rely for forming
their opinion.
But before We can expect sufficient credit from persons of this
description, to enable us to supply such a defect, and to assume an
office so important, it is natural that they should require some
profession of our principles as well as of our purposes; in order that
they may judge not only of our ability to communicate the information
which We promise, but of our intention to inform them aright.
To that freedom from _partiality_ and _prejudice_, of which We have
spoken above, by the profession of which so many of our Contemporaries
recommend themselves, We make little pretension—at least in the sense in
which those terms appear now too often to be used.
We have not arrived (to our shame perhaps we avow it) at that wild and
unshackled freedom of thought, which rejects all habit, all wisdom of
former times, all restraints of ancient usage, and of local attachment;
and which judges upon each subject, whether of politicks or morals, as
it arises, by lights entirely its own, without reference to recognized
principle, or established practice.
We confess, whatever disgrace may attend such a confession, that We have
not so far gotten the better of the influence of long habits and early
education, not so far imbibed that spirit of liberal indifference, of
diffused and comprehensive philanthropy, which distinguishes the candid
character of the present age, but that We have our feelings, our
preferences, and our affections, attaching on particular places,
manners, and institutions, and even on particular portions of the human
race.
It may be thought a narrow and illiberal distinction—but We avow
ourselves to be _partial_ to the COUNTRY _in which we live_,
notwithstanding the daily panegyricks which we read and hear on the
superior virtues and endowments of its rival and hostile neighbours. We
are _prejudiced_ in favour of _her_ Establishments, civil and religious;
though without claiming for either that ideal perfection, which modern
philosophy professes to discover in the other more luminous systems
which are arising on all sides of us.
The safety and prosperity of _these kingdoms_, however unimportant they
may seem in abstract contemplation when compared with the more
extensive, more beautiful, and more productive parts of the world, do
yet excite in our minds a peculiar interest and anxiety; and will
probably continue to occupy a share of our attention by no means
justified by the proportional consequence which speculative reasoners
may think proper to assign to them in the scale of the universe.
We should be averse to hazarding the smallest part of the practical
happiness of _this Country_; though the sacrifice should be recommended
as necessary for accomplishing throughout the world an uniform and
beautiful system of theoretical liberty: and We should at all times
exert our best endeavours for upholding its constitution, even with all
the human imperfections which may belong to it, though We were assured
that on its ruins might be erected the only pillar that is yet wanting
to complete the “_most glorious fabrick which the Integrity and Wisdom
of man have raised since the Creation_”.
If, as Philosopher MONGE[6] avers, in his eloquent and instructive
address to the Directory, “_The Government of England and the French
Republick cannot exist together_,” We do not hesitate in our choice;
though well aware that in that choice we may be much liable, in the
opinion of many critics of the present day, to the imputation of a want
of candour or of discernment.
Admirers of military heroism, and dazzled by military success in common
with other men, We are yet even _here_ conscious of some qualification
and distinction in our feelings: We acknowledge ourselves apt to look
with more complacency on bravery and skill, when displayed in the
service of our Country, than when We see them directed against its
interests or its safety; and, however equal the claims to admiration in
either case may be, We feel our hearts grow warmer at the recital of
what has been atchieved by HOWE, by JERVIS, or by DUNCAN, than at the
“_glorious victory of Jemappe_,” or “_the immortal battle of the bridge
of Lodi_”.
In MORALS We are equally old-fashioned. We have not yet learned the
modern refinement of referring in all considerations upon human conduct,
not to any settled and preconceived principles of right and wrong, not
to any general and fundamental rules which experience, and wisdom, and
justice, and the common consent of mankind have established, but to the
internal admonitions of every man’s judgment or conscience in his own
particular instance.
We do not dissemble,—that We reverence LAW,—We acknowledge USAGE,—We
look even upon PRESCRIPTION without hatred or horror. And we do not
think these, or any of them, less safe guides for the moral actions of
men, than that new and liberal system of ETHICS, whose operation is not
to bind but to loosen the bands of social order; whose doctrine is
formed not on a system of reciprocal duties, but on the supposition of
individual, independent, and unconnected rights; which teaches that all
men are pretty equally honest, but that some have different notions of
honesty from others, and that the most received notions are for the
greater part the most faulty.
We do not subscribe to the opinion, that a sincere conviction of the
truth of no matter what principle, is a sufficient defence for no matter
what action; and that the only business of moral enquiry with human
conduct is to ascertain that in each case the principle and the action
agree. We have not yet persuaded ourselves to think it a sound, or a
safe doctrine, that every man who can divest himself of a moral sense in
theory, has a right to be with impunity and without disguise a scoundrel
in practice. It is not in our creed, that ATHEISM is as good a faith as
CHRISTIANITY, provided it be professed with equal sincerity; nor could
We admit it as an excuse for MURDER, that the murderer was in his own
mind conscientiously persuaded that the murdered might for many good
reasons be better out of the way.
Of all these and the like principles, in one word, of JACOBINISM in all
its shapes, and in all its degrees, political and moral, public and
private, whether as it openly threatens the subversion of States, or
gradually saps the foundations of domestic happiness, We are the avowed,
determined, and irreconcileable enemies. We have no desire to divest
ourselves of these inveterate prejudices; but shall remain stubborn and
incorrigible in resisting every attempt which may be made either by
argument or (what is more in the charitable spirit of modern reformers)
by force, to convert us to a different opinion.
It remains only to speak of the details of our PLAN.
It is our intention to publish Weekly, during the Session of Parliament,
a Paper, containing,
First, An Abstract of the important events of the week, both at home and
abroad.
Secondly, Such Reflections as may naturally arise out of them: and,
Thirdly, A contradiction and confutation of the falsehoods and
misrepresentations concerning these events, their causes, and their
consequences, which may be found in the Papers devoted to the cause of
SEDITION and IRRELIGION, to the pay or principles of FRANCE.
This last, as it is by far the most important, will in all probability
be the most copious of the three heads; and is that to which, above all
others, We wish to direct the attention of our Readers.
We propose diligently to collect, as far as the range of our own daily
reading will enable us, and We promise willingly to receive, from
whatever quarter they may come, the several articles of this kind which
require to be thus contradicted or confuted; which will naturally divide
themselves into different classes, according to their different degrees
of stupidity or malignity.
There are, for instance (to begin with those of the highest order), the
LIES of the Week; the downright, direct, unblushing falsehoods, which
have no colour or foundation whatever, and which must at the very moment
of their being written, have been known to the writer to be wholly
destitute of truth.
Next in rank come MISREPRESENTATIONS which, taking for their groundwork
facts in substance true, do so colour and distort them in description,
as to take away all semblance of their real nature and character.
Lastly, The most venial, though by no means the least mischievous class,
are MISTAKES; under which description are included all those Hints,
Conjectures, and Apprehensions, those Anticipations of Sorrow and
Deprecations of Calamity, in which Writers who labour under too great an
anxiety for the Public Welfare are apt to indulge; and which, when
falsified by the event, they are generally too much occupied to find
leisure to retract or disavow:—A trouble which We shall have great
pleasure in taking off these Gentlemen’s hands.
To each of these several articles We shall carefully affix the name and
date of the Publication from which We may take the liberty of borrowing
it.
With regard to the PROCEEDINGS IN PARLIAMENT, We shall not fail to mark
to Our Readers the progress of the public business; though it does not
enter into our Plan to give a regular detail of the Debates: nor would
the limits of our Paper allow of it.
We have a further reason for not occupying this province, which will
equally account for our determination, not to receive Advertisements—our
earnest desire not to lessen the circulation of any existing Public
Print.
It is obvious upon every ground of fairness and of policy, that We must
entertain this desire very strongly with regard to the respectable
Papers which are directed by principles and attachments like our own: an
attachment (We have no wish to disguise it) to the cause of a
GOVERNMENT, with whose support, whose popularity and consequent means of
exertion, the circumstances of the present times have essentially
connected the existence of THIS COUNTRY as an independent Nation.
As little should we wish to circumscribe the sale of those JOURNALS,
upon whose errors or perverseness, upon whose false statements and
pernicious doctrines We reckon for the main support, as they have been
the principal cause of our undertaking. These We would entreat to
proceed with fresh vigour and increased activity. It is our wish to be
seen together, and to be compared with them. Every week of
misrepresentation will be followed by its weekly comment; and with this
corrective faithfully administered, the longest course of MORNING
CHRONICLES or MORNING POSTS, of STARS or COURIERS, may become not only
innocent but beneficial.
With these views then We commence our undertaking. Whatever may be the
success or the merit of its execution in our hands, the want of
something like it has so long been felt and deplored by all thinking and
honest men, that We cannot doubt of the approbation and encouragement
with which the attempt will be received.
We claim the support, and We invite the assistance, of ALL, who think
with US that the circumstances and character of the age in which We live
require every exertion of every man, who loves his COUNTRY in the old
way, in which till of late years the LOVE of one’s COUNTRY was professed
by most men, and by none disclaimed or reviled; of ALL who think that
the PRESS has been long enough employed principally as an engine of
destruction, and who wish to see the experiment fairly tried whether
that engine, by which many of the States which surround us have been
overthrown, and others shaken to their foundations, may not be turned
into an instrument of defence for the one remaining COUNTRY which has
ESTABLISHMENTS to protect, and a GOVERNMENT with the spirit, and the
power, and the wisdom to protect them; of ALL who look with respect to
public honour, and with attachment to the decencies of private life; of
ALL who have so little deference for the arrogant intolerance of
JACOBINISM as still to contemplate the OFFICE and the PERSON of a KING
with veneration, and to speak reverently of RELIGION, without
apologizing for the singularity of their opinions; of ALL who think the
blessings which we enjoy valuable, and who think them in danger; and
who, while they detest and despise the principles and the professors of
that NEW FAITH by which the foundations of all those blessings are
threatened to be undermined, lament the lukewarmness with which its
propagation has hitherto been resisted, and are anxious, while there is
yet time, to make every effort in the cause of their COUNTRY.
* * * * *
Published by J. WRIGHT, No. 169, opposite Old Bond Street,
Piccadilly: by whom Orders for the Papers, and all Communications of
Correspondents, addressed to the Editor of the ANTI-JACOBIN, or
WEEKLY EXAMINER, will be received. Sold also by all the Booksellers
and Newsmen in Town and Country.
POETRY
OF
THE ANTI-JACOBIN.
No. I.
INTRODUCTION.
Nov. 20, 1797.
In our anxiety to provide for the amusement as well as information of
our readers, we have not omitted to make all the inquiries in our power
for ascertaining the means of procuring poetical assistance. And it
would give us no small satisfaction to be able to report that we had
succeeded in this point precisely in the manner which would best have
suited our own taste and feelings, as well as those which we wish to
cultivate in our readers.
But whether it be that good Morals, and what we should call good
Politics, are inconsistent with the spirit of true Poetry—whether “_the
Muses still with freedom found_” have an aversion to _regular_
governments, and require a frame and system of protection less
complicated than king, lords, and commons:—
“Whether primordial _nonsense_ springs to life[7]
In the wild war of _democratic_ strife,”
and there only—or for whatever other reason it may be, whether physical,
or moral, or philosophical (which last is understood to mean something
more than the other two, though exactly _what_, it is difficult to say),
we have not been able to find one good and true Poet, of sound
principles and sober practice, upon whom we could rely for furnishing us
with a handsome quantity of sufficient and approved verse—such verse as
our readers might be expected to get by heart, and to sing; as the
worthy philosopher MONGE describes the little children of Sparta and
Athens singing the songs of Freedom, in expectation of the coming of
_the Great Nation_.
In this difficulty we have had no choice but either to provide no poetry
at all—a shabby expedient—or to go to the only market where it is to be
had good and ready made, that of the _Jacobins_—an expedient full of
danger, and not to be used but with the utmost caution and delicacy.
To this latter expedient, however, after mature deliberation, we have
determined to have recourse; qualifying it at the same time with such
precautions as may conduce at once to the safety of our readers’
principles, and to the improvement of our own poetry.
For this double purpose, we shall select from time to time from among
those effusions of the _Jacobin_ Muse which happen to fall in our way,
such pieces as may serve to illustrate some one of the principles on
which the poetical as well as the political doctrine of the NEW SCHOOL
is established—prefacing each of them, for our readers’ sake, with a
short disquisition on the particular tenet intended to be enforced or
insinuated in the production before them—and accompanying it with an
humble effort of our own, in imitation of the poem itself, and in
further illustration of its principle.
By these means, though we cannot hope to catch “_the wood-notes wild_”
of the Bards of Freedom, we may yet acquire, by dint of repeating after
them, a more complete knowledge of the secret in which their greatness
lies than we could by mere prosaic admiration; and if we cannot become
poets ourselves, we at least shall have collected the elements of a
_Jacobin_ Art of Poetry for the use of those whose genius may be more
capable of turning them to advantage.
It might not be unamusing to trace the springs and principles of this
species of poetry, which are to be found, some in the exaggeration, and
others in the direct inversion of the sentiments and passions which have
in all ages animated the breast of the favourite of the Muses, and
distinguished him from the “vulgar throng”.
The poet in all ages has despised riches and grandeur.
The _Jacobin_ poet improves this sentiment into a hatred of the rich and
the great.
The poet of other times has been an enthusiast in the love of his native
soil.
The _Jacobin_ poet rejects all restriction in his feelings. _His_ love
is enlarged and expanded so as to comprehend all human kind. The love of
all human kind is without doubt a noble passion: it can hardly be
necessary to mention that its operation extends to _freemen_, and them
only, all over the world.
The old poet was a warrior, at least in imagination; and sung the
actions of the heroes of his country in strains which “made Ambition
Virtue,” and which overwhelmed the horrors of war in its glory.
The _Jacobin_ poet would have no objection to sing battles too—but _he_
would take a distinction. The prowess of Buonaparte, indeed, he might
chant in his loftiest strain of exultation. _There_ we should find
nothing but trophies and triumphs and branches of laurel and olive,
phalanxes of Republicans shouting victory, satellites of despotism
biting the ground, and geniuses of Liberty planting standards on
mountain-tops.
But let his own country triumph, or her allies obtain an advantage:
straightway the “beauteous face of war” is changed; the “pride, pomp,
and circumstance” of victory are kept carefully out of sight, and we are
presented with nothing but contusions and amputations, plundered
peasants, and deserted looms. Our poet points the thunder of his blank
verse at the head of the recruiting serjeant, or roars in dithyrambics
against the lieutenants of pressgangs.
But it would be endless to chase the coy Muse of _Jacobinism_ through
all her characters. _Mille habet ornatus._ The _Mille decenter habet_ is
perhaps more questionable. For in whatever disguise she appears, whether
of mirth or of melancholy, of piety or of tenderness; under all
disguises, like _Sir John Brute_ in woman’s clothes, she is betrayed by
her drunken swagger and ruffian tone.
In the poem which we have selected for the edification of our readers
and our own imitation this day, the principles which are meant to be
inculcated speak so plainly for themselves, that they need no previous
introduction.
INSCRIPTION[8]
_For the Apartment in Chepstow Castle, where Henry Marten, the Regicide,
was imprisoned thirty years._
For thirty years secluded from mankind
Here MARTEN lingered. Often have these walls
Echoed his footsteps, as with even tread
He paced around his prison: not to him
Did Nature’s fair varieties exist;
He never saw the sun’s delightful beams,
Save when through yon high bars he pour’d a sad
And broken splendour. Dost thou ask his crime?
He had REBELL’D AGAINST THE KING, AND SAT
IN JUDGMENT ON HIM; for his ardent mind
Shaped goodliest plans of happiness on earth,
And peace and liberty. Wild dreams! but such
As Plato loved; such as with holy zeal
Our Milton worshipp’d. Blessed hopes! awhile
From man withheld, even to the latter days
When Christ shall come, and all things be fulfill’d!
IMITATION.
INSCRIPTION
_For the Door of the Cell in Newgate, where Mrs. Brownrigg, the
’Prentice-cide, was confined previous to her Execution._
For one long term, or e’er her trial came,
Here BROWNRIGG linger’d. Often have these cells
Echoed her blasphemies, as with shrill voice
She screamed for fresh Geneva. Not to her
Did the blithe fields of Tothill, or thy street,
St. Giles, its fair varieties expand;
Till at the last, in slow-drawn cart she went
To execution. Dost thou ask her crime?
SHE WHIPP’D TWO FEMALE ’PRENTICES TO DEATH,
AND HID THEM IN THE COAL-HOLE. For her mind
Shaped strictest plans of discipline. Sage schemes!
Such as Lycurgus taught, when at the shrine
Of the Orthyan goddess he bade flog
The little Spartans; such as erst chastised
Our Milton when at college. For this act
Did Brownrigg swing. Harsh laws! But time shall come
When France shall reign, and laws be all repeal’d!
[HENRY MARTEN was one of the most interesting and remarkable of the
Regicides, not only from his abilities and consistent honesty, but
from the elegance of his manners, his wit, and the fascinating
gaiety of his conversation; and, moreover, from his humane
disposition and generosity to fallen foes. His private life,
however, was disgraced by the most reckless debauchery, which might
seem more appropriate in such libertines as Rochester and Sedley
than in a coadjutor of the strict Puritan party. But from a note in
Grey’s edition of _Hudibras_, pt. ii., ch. i., p. 313, it would
appear that the general opinion at that time was that profligacy of
a pronounced character was indulged in privately by more than a few
of that sanctimonious sect.
He was the son of Sir Henry Marten, LL.D., a loyal Judge of the
Admiralty. After receiving a learned education at Oxford, he entered
one of the Inns of Court, and travelled in France. Having a stake in
Berkshire—for he inherited a property of £3000 a year, besides
several thousand pounds in money—he was elected, 1640, one of the
members for the county in the last two Parliaments of King Charles
I. His chief seat was at Becket, in the parish of Shrivenham. He
afterwards obtained a grant of £1000 a year to him and his heirs out
of the forfeited estates of the Duke of Buckingham. His early
marriage with a rich widow, selected by his father, but not affected
by himself, also benefited his finances.
From the commencement of the Civil Wars he was a violent Republican;
and as early as 1643 openly expressed his opinion of the
desirability of the destruction of the King and his children, for
which rather premature advice he was expelled from the House of
Commons, and underwent a short imprisonment in the Tower. He was
appointed by the House of Commons a Colonel of Horse and Governor of
Reading, but made less mark as a soldier than as a rapacious spoiler
of the adherents of the King, which earned him the opprobrious
nickname of “Plunder-master General”.
Being empowered to dispose of the Regalia and royal trappings, he
once invested GEORGE WITHER—who had been made one of Cromwell’s
Major-Generals—with them, and so accoutred induced the old Poet to
strut up and down Westminster Abbey to the scandal of right-thinking
people.
To him also were referred the alterations in the public arms, the
Great Seal, and the legends upon the money. Upon the latter was a
shield bearing the cross of St. George, encircled by a palm and
olive branch, and inscribed _The Commonwealth of England_, and on
the reverse, _God with us, 1648_; which occasioned the remark “that
God and the Commonwealth were not on the same side”.
Nothing apparently could damp the ill-timed jocosity too often
prevalent in those troublous times, for at MARTEN’S trial, 16th
October, 1660, Ewer, who had been his servant, swore that “at the
signing of the warrant for the King’s execution he did see a pen in
Mr. CROMWELL’S hand, and he marked Mr. MARTEN in the face with it,
and Mr. MARTEN did the like to him”. But many of his excesses were
condoned in the eyes of both his friends and enemies by his generous
and humane spirit.
D’ISRAELI, in his _Commentaries on the life and Reign of Charles
I._, describes the ingenious way in which MARTEN saved the life of
DAVID JENKINS, a loyal and obstinate Welsh judge, who, when brought
to the bar of the House of Commons to answer for imprisoning several
persons for bearing arms against the King, peremptorily disowned
their jurisdiction, and defied them in the following bold terms:
“‘But, Mr. Speaker, since you and this House have renounced your
allegiance to your Sovereign, and are become a den of thieves,
should I bow myself in this House of Rimmon the Lord would not
pardon me’. The whole House were electrified.... He was voted guilty
of high treason without any trial. The day of execution was then
debated. HARRY MARTEN, who had not yet spoken, rose, not to dissent
from the vote of the House, he observed, but he had something to say
about the time of the execution. ‘Mr. Speaker,’ said he, ‘everyone
must believe that this old gentleman here is fully possessed in his
head resolved to die a martyr in his cause, for otherwise he would
never have provoked the House by such biting expressions. If you
execute him, you do precisely that which he hopes for, and his
execution will have a great influence over the people, since he is
condemned without a jury. I therefore move that we should suspend
the day of execution, and in meantime force him to live in spite of
his teeth.’ The drollery of the motion put the House into better
humour, and he was reprieved. After being kept in various prisons
for eleven years, he was released by Cromwell, and died in 1663,
aged eighty-one.”
Another instance may be given of MARTEN’S felicitous humour and
humane temper. When the Commons had rid themselves of the Sovereign,
_they voted the Lords to be dangerous and useless_. But MARTEN
proposed an amendment in their favour; namely, that _they were
useless, but not dangerous_.
His speeches in the House were represented to have been not long,
“but wondrous poynant, pertinent, and witty. He was exceedingly apt
in apt instances; he alone hath sometimes turned the whole House.”
He wrote several tracts on parliamentary subjects, and _Verses on
the Death of his Nephew, Charles Edmonds, 7th July, 1661, æt. 30_.
But the most amusing of the publications bearing his name is one
entitled _Familiar Letters to his Lady of Delight; also her kinde
Returnes: with his Rivall R. Pettingall’s Heroicall Epistles_.
Printed by Edmundus de Speciosâ Villâ [_i.e._, EDMUND GAYTON].
_Bellositi Dobunorum_ [Oxford], 1662 and 1663, 4to. Another edition,
with additions, appeared in 1685. “These epistles,” says D’ISRAELI,
“paint to the life the loose habits and _espiègleries_ of this witty
profligate; and I think they have been referred to by some
inconsiderate writers as a _genuine_ correspondence.” They were
probably altogether concocted by GAYTON. He was severely attacked in
various scurrilous lampoons, some of which are printed among the
_Rump Songs_, 1662.
On his trial he was found guilty and sentenced to death; but the
good feeling created among many who had in his prosperous days
enjoyed his society and hospitality, and even among many of his
former opponents by his generous treatment of them when in danger,
stood him in good stead, and it was by a well-timed and humorous
appeal to the Judges—such as he himself might have used—that his
life was saved. Henry, fourth Viscount FALKLAND, whose virtuous and
heroic father fell at the first Battle of Newbury while fighting for
the King, said to the Judges: “Gentlemen, ye talk here of making a
_sacrifice_: it was old law that all sacrifices were to be without
spot or blemish; and now you are going to make an old rotten rascal
a sacrifice”. This piece of wit pleased his Judges, and his sentence
was commuted to imprisonment for life. He was confined in Chepstow
Castle, Monmouthshire, for twenty years, and died in September,
1680, aged seventy-eight.
He must have felt some contrition for his vicious life, for some
time before his death he made this epitaph, by way of _acrostic_, on
himself:
H ere, or elsewhere (all’s one to you, to me),
E arth, air, or water gripes my ghostly dust,
N one knowing when brave fire shall set it free.
R eader, if you an oft tryed rule will trust,
Y ou’ll gladly do and suffer what you must.
M y life was worn with serving you and you,
A nd now death’s my pay, it seems, and welcome too.
R evenge destroying but itself, while I
T o birds of prey leave my old cage, and fly.
E xamples preach to the eye, care (then mine says)
N ot how you end, but how you spend your days.
“In Cromwell’s time CHEPSTOW CASTLE served as a place of
imprisonment for Jeremy Taylor; and, after the Restoration, it
received a less illustrious occupant in the person of HARRY MARTEN,
the Regicide, whose imprisonment here has attracted more than its
share of notice in consequence of the foolish lines written by
SOUTHEY in his days of republicanism and pantisocracy, but which are
as untrue in _fact_ as they are mischievous in _sentiment_. As to
the _fact_, it is notorious that MARTEN—at all events after the
first few years of his imprisonment—was little more than a prisoner
on parole; allowed to visit the neighbouring gentry, and occupying
at Chepstow Castle, with his family and servants, spacious and
comfortable apartments in the tower which still bears his name. As
to the _sentiment_, the lines received their best antidote in the
clever parody of Canning and Frere in _The Anti-Jacobin_.”—_Annals
of Chepstow Castle_, by J. F. Marsh, 1883; 4to.]
[Mrs. Elizabeth Brownrigg was executed at Tyburn on Monday, 14th
Sept., 1767, for murdering one of her apprentices, Mary
Clifford.—ED.]
[Illustration]
No. II.
Nov. 27, 1797.
In the specimen of JACOBIN POETRY which we gave in our last number was
developed a principle, perhaps one of the most universally recognised in
the Jacobin creed; namely, “that the animadversion of _human law_ upon
_human actions_ is for the most part nothing but _gross oppression_; and
that, in all cases of the administration of _criminal justice_, the
truly benevolent mind will consider only the _severity of the
punishment_, without any reference to the _malignity of the crime_”.
This principle has of late years been laboured with extraordinary
industry, and brought forward in a variety of shapes, for the
edification of the public. It has been inculcated in bulky quartos, and
illustrated in popular novels. It remained only to fit it with a
poetical dress, which had been attempted in the INSCRIPTION for CHEPSTOW
CASTLE, and which (we flatter ourselves) was accomplished in that for
MRS. BROWNRIGG’S CELL.
Another principle, no less devoutly entertained, and no less sedulously
disseminated, is the _natural and eternal warfare of the_ POOR _and the_
RICH. In those orders and gradations of society, which are the natural
result of the original difference of talents and of industry among
mankind, the Jacobin sees nothing but a graduated scale of violence and
cruelty. He considers every rich man as an oppressor, and every person
in a lower situation as the victim of avarice, and the slave of
aristocratical insolence and contempt. These truths he declares loudly,
not to excite compassion, or to soften the consciousness of superiority
in the higher, but for the purpose of aggravating discontent in the
inferior orders.
A human being, in the lowest state of penury and distress, is a treasure
to the reasoner of this cast. He contemplates, he examines, he turns him
in every possible light, with a view of extracting from the variety of
his wretchedness new topics of invective against the pride of property.
He, indeed (if he is a true Jacobin), refrains from _relieving_ the
object of his compassionate contemplation; as well knowing that every
diminution from the general mass of human misery must proportionably
diminish the force of his argument.
This principle is treated at large by many authors. It is versified in
sonnets and elegies without end. We trace it particularly in a poem by
the same author [SOUTHEY] from whom we borrowed our former illustration
of the Jacobin doctrine of crimes and punishments. In this poem, the
pathos of the matter is not a little relieved by the absurdity of the
metre. We shall not think it necessary to transcribe the whole of it, as
our imitation does not pretend to be so literal as in the last instance,
but merely aspires to convey some idea of the manner and sentiment of
the original. One stanza, however, we must give, lest we should be
suspected of painting from fancy, and not from life.
The learned reader will perceive that the metre is SAPPHIC, and affords
a fine opportunity for his _scanning_ and _proving_, if he has not
forgotten them.
Cōld wăs thē nīght wīnd; drĭftĭng fāst thĕ snōws fĕll;
Wīde wĕre thē dōwns, ānd shĕltĕrlēss ănd nākēd:
Whēn ă poōr wānd’rēr strŭgglĕd ōn hĕr joūrnĕy,
Wēāry ănd wāy-sōre.[9]
[Illustration: ]
This is enough; unless the reader should wish to be informed how
Fāst o’ĕr thē blēāk hēāth răttlĭng drōve ă chārīōt;
Or how, not long after,
Loūd blĕw thē wīnd, ūnhēārd wăs hēr cŏmplāinĭng—
Ōn wĕnt thĕ hōrsemān.
We proceed to give our IMITATION, which is of the _Amœbæan_ or
_Collocutory_ kind.
SAPPHICS.
THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER.
FRIEND OF HUMANITY.[10]
“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
Scissars 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 a scuffle.
“Constables 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 will 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 wrongs 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._]
No. III.
Nov. 30, 1797.
We have received the following from a loyal correspondent, and we shall
be very happy at any time to be relieved, by communications of a similar
tendency, from the drudgery of Jacobinical imitations.
THE INVASION;[11]
OR, THE BRITISH WAR SONG.
_To the Tune of_ “Whilst happy in my native land”.
I.
Whilst happy in our native land,
So great, so famed in story,
Let’s join, my friends, with heart and hand
To raise our country’s glory:
When Britain calls, her valiant sons
Will rush in crowds to aid her—
Snatch, snatch your muskets, prime your guns,
And crush the fierce invader!
Whilst every Briton’s song shall be,
“O give us Death—or Victory!”
II.
Long had this favour’d isle enjoy’d
True comforts, past expressing,
When _France_ her hellish arts employ’d
To rob us of each blessing:
These from our hearths by force to tear
(Which long we’ve learned to cherish)
Our frantic foes shall vainly dare;
We’ll keep ’em or we’ll perish—
And every day our song shall be,
“O give us Death—or Victory!”
III.
Let France in savage accents sing
Her bloody Revolution;
We prize our country, love our king,
Adore our constitution;
For these we’ll every danger face,
And quit our rustic labours;
Our ploughs to firelocks shall give place;
Our scythes be changed to sabres;
And clad in arms, our song shall be,
“O give us Death—or Victory!”
IV.
Soon shall the proud invaders learn,
When bent on blood and plunder,
That British bosoms nobly burn
To brave their cannon’s thunder:
Low lie those heads, whose wily arts
Have plann’d the world’s undoing!
Our vengeful blades shall reach those hearts
Which seek our country’s ruin;
And night and morn our song shall be,
“O give us Death—or Victory!”
V.
When, with French blood our fields manured,
The glorious struggle’s ended,
We’ll sing the dangers we’ve endured,
The blessings we’ve defended:
O’er the full bowl our feats we’ll tell,
Each gallant deed reciting;
And weep o’er those who nobly fell
Their country’s battle fighting—
And ever thence our song shall be,
“’Tis VALOUR leads to VICTORY”.
* * * * *
[The following Song which furnished the hints for the one above was
written by MILES PETER ANDREWS, M.P. for Bewdley, and a dealer in
gunpowder; but his Plays, Prologues, Verses, &c., by no means
resemble so active a composition. He, with other members of the
“_Della Crusca_,” was savagely attacked and extinguished by W.
Gifford in “_The Baviad_”. His song was set to music by Sir HENRY
BISHOP. He died in 1814.
I.
Whilst happy in my native land
I boast my country’s charter,
I’ll never basely lend my hand
Her liberties to barter.
The noble mind is not at all
By poverty degraded;
’Tis guilt alone can make us fall,
And well am I persuaded,
Each free-born Briton’s song should be,
“Oh! give me Death or Liberty!”
II.
Though small the pow’r which Fortune grants,
And few the gifts she sends us,
The lordly hireling often wants
That freedom which defends us.
By law secur’d from lawless strife,
Our house is our _castellum_;
Thus, blessed with all that’s dear in life,
For lucre shall we sell ’em?
No,—ev’ry Briton’s song should be,
“Oh! give me Death or Liberty!”
ED.]
[Illustration]
No. IV.
Dec. 4, 1797.
We have been favoured with the following specimen of Jacobin Poetry,
which we give to the world without any comment or imitation. We are
informed (we know not how truly) that it will be sung at the meeting of
the Friends of Freedom; an account of which is anticipated in our
present paper.[12]
LA SAINTE GUILLOTINE.
=A New Song.=
ATTEMPTED FROM THE FRENCH.
_Tune_—“O’er the vine-covered hills and gay regions of France”.
I.
From the blood-bedew’d valleys and mountains of France,
See the Genius of Gallic INVASION advance!
Old ocean shall waft her, unruffled by storm,
While our shores are all lined with the “_Friends of Reform_”.[13]
Confiscation and Murder attend in her train,
With meek-eyed Sedition, the daughter of PAINE;[14]
While her sportive _Poissardes_ with light footsteps are seen
To dance in a ring round the gay _Guillotine_.[15]
II.
To _London_, “the rich, the defenceless”[16] she comes—
Hark! my boys, to the sound of the Jacobin drums!
See Corruption, Prescription, and Privilege fly,
Pierced through by the glance of her blood-darting eye.
While patriots, from prison and prejudice freed,
In soft accents shall lisp the Republican creed,
And with tri-colour’d fillets, and cravats of green,
Shall crowd round the altar of _Saint Guillotine_.
III.
See the level of Freedom sweeps over the land—
The vile Aristocracy’s doom is at hand!
Not a seat shall be left in a House _that we know_,
But for _Earl_ BUONAPARTE and _Baron_ MOREAU.
But the rights of the Commons shall still be respected,
Buonaparte himself shall approve the elected;
And the Speaker shall march with majestical mien,
And make his three bows to the grave _Guillotine_.
IV.
Two heads, says the proverb, are better than one,
But the Jacobin choice is for Five Heads or none.
By Directories only can Liberty thrive;
Then down with the ONE, Boys! and up with the FIVE!
How our bishops and judges will stare with amazement,
When their heads are thrust out at the _National Casement_![17]
When the _National Razor_[17] has shaved them quite clean,
What a handsome oblation to _Saint Guillotine_!
[The following _Lines_ were written by an ardent reformer, W.
ROSCOE, the accomplished author of the “Life of Leo X.,” and other
works, to commemorate the taking of the Bastille (14th July, 1789),
and the publication by the National Assembly (on 20th August
following) of the famous “Declaration of Rights”—a manifesto which
became the creed of the Revolution, and which promulgated, as the
basis of social government, the specious but impracticable doctrines
of _liberty_, _equality_, and _the sovereignty of the people_
exercised by universal suffrage. How the hopes and anticipations of
moderate reformers, as embodied in these lines, were falsified by
the spoliations and massacres which rapidly followed are but too
well known.
When, therefore, the _Anti-Jacobin_ was established to combat the
principles of the Revolution, these _Lines_ were, for party
purposes, maliciously referred to, and significantly recommended to
be “recited on the anniversary of the 14th August”. To make this
allusion more clear, it must be remembered that on the 10th August,
1792, after frightful massacres, the Hotel de Ville was seized and
the Tuileries stormed. On the 13th the king and family were
imprisoned in the Temple. His deposition, the dismissal of the
Ministers, and the formation of a National Convention, on more
popular principles than the Legislative Assembly, were decreed by
the victors. On the 14th Le Brun became Minister for Foreign
Affairs, Danton for Justice, and Monge for Marine; while the
Girondist Ministers, Roland, Servan, and Clavière, resumed their
former functions as Ministers of the Interior, War, and Finance
respectively.
The Song, _La Sainte Guillotine_, was evidently written as a
_Contrast_, and not as a _Parody_—a few lines at the beginning only
excepted, which serve as an introduction to verses on another
promised phase of the Revolution, the invasion of England.—ED.]
LINES.
Written for the purpose of being recited on the Anniversary of the 14th
of August. By WILLIAM ROSCOE, Esq.
O’er the vine-covered hills and gay regions of France,
See the day-star of liberty rise;
Through the clouds of detraction unsullied advance,
And hold its new course through the skies!
An effulgence so mild, with a lustre so bright,
All Europe with wonder surveys;
And, from deserts of darkness and dungeons of night,
Contends for a share of the blaze.
Ah! who ’midst the horrors of night would abide,
That can breathe the pure breezes of morn?
Or who, that has drunk the pure crystalline tide,
To the feculent flood would return?
When the bosom of Beauty the throbbing heart meets,
Ah, who can the transport decline?
Or who, that has tasted of Liberty’s sweets,
The prize but with life would resign?
Let Burke like a bat from its splendour retire,
A splendour too strong for his eyes;
Let pedants and fools his effusions admire,
Entrapt in his cobwebs like flies.
Shall insolent Sophistry hope to prevail
Where Reason opposes her weight,
When the welfare of millions is hung in the scale,
And the balance yet trembles with fate?
But ’tis over—high Heaven the decision approves,
Oppression has struggled in vain,
To the hell she has form’d Superstition removes,
And Tyranny bites his own chain.
In the records of Time a new era unfolds,
All nature exults in its birth;
His creation benign the Creator beholds,
And gives a new charter to earth.
Oh! catch the high import, ye winds, as ye blow;
Oh! hear it, ye waves, as ye roll,
From regions that feel the sun’s vertical glow,
To the farthest extremes of the Pole.
_Equal rights, equal laws_, to the nations around,
Peace and friendship its precepts impart,
And wherever the footsteps of man shall be found,
He shall bind the decree on his heart.
* * * * *
[The Account of what was “anticipated to take place at the _Meeting
of the Friends of Freedom_”—alluded to on page 29—duly appeared in
_The Anti-Jacobin_, but has never hitherto formed a part of the
collection of its Poetry. As it is marked by much ability, and has
been often quoted, it appears to the editor desirable to introduce
some portion of it into the present edition of the _Poetry_.
MEETING OF THE FRIENDS OF FREEDOM.
The _House of Russell_ being given, LORD JOHN and LORD WILLIAM both
rose at once.
LORD JOHN made a very neat, and LORD WILLIAM a very appropriate
speech.
ALDERMAN COOMBE made a very impressive speech.
MR. TIERNEY made a very pointed speech.
MR. GREY made a very fine speech. He described the ministers as
“bold bad men”—their measures he repeatedly declared to be not only
“weak, but wicked”.
MR. BYNG said a few words.
GENERAL TARLETON and the _Electors of Liverpool_ being given, the
General, after an eulogium on Mr. Fox, begged to anticipate their
favourite concluding toast, and to give “_The Cause of Freedom all
over the World_”. This toast unfortunately gave rise to an
altercation which threatened to disturb the harmony of the evening.
Olaudah Equiano, the African, and Henry Yorke, the mulatto, insisted
upon being heard; but as it appeared that they were entering upon a
subject which would have entirely altered the complexion of the
Meeting, they were, though not without some difficulty, withheld
from proceeding further.
MR. ERSKINE rose, in consequence of some allusions which had been
made to Trial by Jury. He professed himself to be highly flattered
by the encomiums which had been lavished upon him; at the same time
he was conscious that he could not, without some degree of reserve,
consent to arrogate to himself those qualities which the partiality
of his friends had attributed to him. He had, on former occasions,
declared himself to be clothed with the infirmities of man’s nature;
and he now begged leave in all humility to reiterate that
confession; he should never cease to consider himself as a feeble,
and with respect to the extent of his faculties in many respects, a
finite being—he had ever borne in mind, and he hoped he should ever
continue to bear in mind, those words of the inspired Penman, “Thou
hast made him less than the angels, to crown him with glory and
honour”. These lines were indeed applicable to the state of man in
general, but of no man more than himself; they appeared to him
pointed and personal, and little less than prophetic; they were
always present to his mind; he could wish to wear them in his breast
as a sort of amulet against the enchantment of public applause, and
the witcheries of vanity and self-delusion; yet if he were indeed
possessed of those superhuman powers—all pretensions to which he
again begged leave most earnestly to disclaim—if he were endowed
with the eloquence of an angel, and with all those other faculties
which we attribute to angelic natures, it would be impossible for
him to do justice to the eloquence with which the Honourable
Gentleman who opened the meeting had defended the Cause of Freedom,
identified as he conceived it to be with the persons and government
of the DIRECTORY. In his present terrestrial state he could only
address it as a prayer to God and as counsel to Man that the words
which they had heard from that Honourable Gentleman might work
inwardly in their hearts, and in due time, produce the fruit of
Liberty and Revolution.
He had not the advantage of being personally acquainted with any of
the Gentlemen of the DIRECTORY; he understood, however, that one of
them (MR. MERLIN) previous to the last change, had stood in a
situation similar to his own—he was, in fact, nothing less than a
leading Advocate and Barrister in the midst of a free, powerful and
enlightened people.
The conduct of the DIRECTORY with regard to the exiled Deputies had
been objected to by some persons on the score of a pretended rigour.
For his part he should only say that having been, as he had been,
both a Soldier and a Sailor, if it had been his fortune to have
stood in either of those two relations to the DIRECTORY—as a Man and
as a Major-General he should not have scrupled to direct his
artillery against the National Representation:—as a Naval Officer he
would undoubtedly have undertaken for the removal of the Exiled
Deputies; admitting the exigency, under all its relations, as it
appeared to him to exist, and the then circumstances of the times,
with all their bearings and dependencies, branching out into an
infinity of collateral considerations, and involving in each a
variety of objects political, physical, and moral; and these again
under their distinct and separate heads, ramifying into endless
subdivisions which it was foreign to his purpose to consider.
Having thus disposed of this part of his subject, MR. ERSKINE passed
in a strain of rapid and brilliant allusions over a variety of
points characteristic of the conduct and disposition of the present
Ministry; Mr. Burke’s metaphor of “the Swinish Multitude,” Mr.
Reeves’ metaphor of the “Tree of Monarchy,” “the Battle of Tranent,”
“the March to Paris,” the phrase of “Acquitted Felons,” and the
exclamation of “Perish Commerce”—which last expression he declared
he should never cease to attribute to Mr. Windham; so long, at
least, as it should please the Sovereign Dispenser to continue to
him the power of utterance and the enjoyment of his present
faculties. He condemned the expedition to Quiberon, he regretted the
“Fate of Messrs. Muir and Palmer,” he exulted in the “Acquittal of
Citizens Tooke, Hardy, Thelwall, Holcroft and others,” and he
blessed that Providence to which (as it had been originally allotted
to him (Mr. Erskine) the talents which had been exerted in their
defence) the preservation of those Citizens might perhaps be
indirectly attributed. He then descanted on the captivity of La
Fayette, and the Dividend on the Imperial Loan.
After fully exhausting these subjects, MR. ERSKINE resumed a topic
on which he had only slightly glanced before. In a most delicate and
sportive vein of humour he contended, that if the people were a
Swinish Multitude, those who represented them must necessarily be a
Swinish Representation. It would be in vain to attempt to do justice
to the polite and easy pleasantry which pervaded this part of MR.
ERSKINE’S speech. Suffice it to say that the taste of the Audience
showed itself in complete unison with the genius of the Orator, and
the whole of this passage was crowned with loud and reiterated
plaudits. After a speech of unexampled exertion, MR. ERSKINE now
began to enter much at length into a recital of select passages from
our most approved English authors, concluding with a copious extract
from the several Publications of the late MR. BURKE; but such were
the variety and richness of his quotations which he continued to an
extent far exceeding the limits of this paper, that we found
ourselves under the necessity, either of considerably abridging our
original matter, or omitting them altogether, which latter
alternative we adopted the more readily as the greater part of these
brilliant citations have already passed through the ordeal of a
public and patriotic auditory; and as there is every probability
that the circumstances of the times will again call them forth on
some future emergency.
MR. ERSKINE concluded by recapitulating, in a strain of agonizing
and impressive eloquence, the several more prominent heads of his
speech:—He had been a Soldier and a Sailor, and had a son at
Winchester school—He had been called by Special Retainers, during
the summer, into many different and distant parts of the
country—travelling chiefly in Post-chaises—He felt himself called
upon to declare that his poor faculties were at the service of his
Country—of the free and enlightened part of it at least—He stood
here as a Man—He stood in the Eye, indeed in the Hand of GOD—to whom
(in the presence of the Company and Waiters) he solemnly appealed—He
was of Noble, perhaps, Royal Blood—He had a house at Hampstead—was
convinced of the necessity of a thorough and radical Reform—His
Pamphlet had gone through Thirty Editions—skipping alternately the
odd and even numbers—He loved the Constitution, to which he would
cling and grapple—And he was clothed with the infirmities of man’s
nature—He would apply to the present French Rulers (particularly
BARRAS and REUBEL) the words of the poet:—
“Be to their Faults a little blind;
“Be to their Virtues very kind,
“Let all their ways be unconfin’d,
“And clap the Padlock on their mind!”
And for these reasons, thanking the Gentlemen who had done him the
honour to drink his Health, he should propose “MERLIN, _the late
Minister of Justice, and Trial by Jury!_” MR. ERSKINE here concluded
a speech which had occupied the attention and excited the applause
of his Audience during a space of little less than three hours,
allowing for about three quarters of an hour, which were occupied by
successive fits of fainting, between the principal subdivisions of
his discourse.—MR. ERSKINE descended from the Table, and was
conveyed down stairs by the assistance of his friends. On arriving
at the corner of the Piazzas, they were surprized by a very
unexpected embarrassment. MR. ERSKINE’S horses had been taken from
the carriage, and a number of able Chairmen engaged to supply their
place; but these fellows having contrived to intoxicate themselves
with the money which the Coachman had advanced to them on account,
were become so restive and unruly, so exorbitant in their demands
(positively refusing to abide by their former engagement) that MR.
ERSKINE deemed it unsafe to trust himself in their hands, and
determined to wait the return of his own more tractable and less
chargeable animals. This unpleasant scene continued for above an
hour.
MR. SHERIDAN’S health was now drunk in his absence and received with
an appearance of general approbation;—when in the midst of the
applause MR. FOX arose, in apparent agitation, and directed the
attention of the Company to the rising, manly virtues of MR.
MACFUNGUS.
MR. MACFUNGUS declared that to pretend he was not elated by the
encomiums with which MR. FOX had honoured him was an affectation
which he disdained;—such encomiums would ever form the proudest
recompense of his patriotic labours—he confessed they were cheering
to him—he felt them warm at his heart—and while a single fibre of
his frame preserved its vibration, it would throb in unison to the
approbation of that Honourable Gentleman. The applause of the
Company was no less flattering to him—he felt his faculties
invigorated by it, and stimulated to the exertion of new energies in
the race of mind. Every other sensation was obliterated and absorbed
by it; for the present, however, he would endeavour to suppress his
feelings, and concentre his energies for the purpose of explaining
to the Company why he assisted now for the first time at the
celebration of the Fifth Revolution which had been effected in
regenerated France. The various and extraordinary talents of the
Right Hon. Gentleman—his vehement and overpowering perception, his
vigorous and splendid intuition would for ever attract the
admiration of all those who were in any degree endowed with those
faculties themselves or capable of estimating them in others; as
such, he had ever been among the most ardent admirers, and on many
occasions, among the most ardent supporters of the Right Hon.
Gentleman—he agreed with him in many points—in his general love of
Liberty and Revolution; in his execration of the War; in his
detestation of Ministers; but he entertained his doubts, and till
those doubts were cleared up, he could not, consistently with his
principles, attend at the celebration of any Revolution whatever.
These doubts, however, were now satisfactorily done away. A pledge
had been entered into for accomplishing an effectual radical
Revolution; not for the mere overthrow of the present System, nor
for the establishment of any other in its place; but for the
effecting such a series of Revolutions as might be sufficient for
the establishment of a Free System.
MR. MACFUNGUS continued he was incapable of compromising with first
principles, of acquiescing in short-sighted temporary palliative
expedients: if such had been his temper he should assuredly have
rested satisfied with the pledge which that Right Hon. Gentleman had
entered into about six months ago on the subject of Parliamentary
Reform, in which pledge he considered the promise of that previous
and preliminary Revolution, to which he had before alluded, as
essentially implicated.
“Whenever this Reform takes place,” exclaimed MR. MACFUNGUS, “the
present degraded and degrading system must fall into dissolution; it
must sink and perish with the corruptions which have supported it.
The national energies will awake, and shaking off their lethargy as
their fetters drop from them, they will follow the Angel of their
Revolution, while the Genius of Freedom soaring aloft beneath the
orb of Gallic Illumination will brush away as with the wing of an
Eagle all the cobwebs of Aristocracy. But before the Temple of
Freedom can be erected in their place, the surface which they have
occupied must be smoothed and levelled—it must be cleared by
repeated Revolutionary Explosions from all the lumber and rubbish
with which Aristocracy and Fanaticism will endeavour to encumber it,
and to impede the progress of the holy work.—The sacred level, the
symbol of Fraternal Equality, must be passed over the whole.—The
completion of the Edifice will indeed be the more tardy, but it will
not be the less durable for having been longer delayed—Cemented with
the blood of tyrants, and the tears of the Aristocracy, it will rise
a monument for the astonishment and veneration of future ages. The
remotest posterity, with our children yet unborn, and the most
distant portions of the Globe, will crowd around its Gates and
demand admission into its Sanctuary.—The Tree of Liberty will be
planted in the midst of it, and its branches will extend to the ends
of the Earth, while the Friends of Freedom meet and fraternize and
amalgamate under its consolatory shade. There our Infants shall be
taught to lisp in tender accents the Revolutionary Hymn—there with
wreaths of myrtle, and oak, and poplar, and vine and olive and
cypress and ivy; with violets and roses and daffodils and dandelions
in our hands we will swear respect to childhood and manhood and old
age, and virginity and womanhood and widowhood; but above all to the
Supreme Being.—There we will decree and sanction the Immortality of
the Soul.—There pillars and obelisks, and arches and pyramids, will
awaken the love of Glory and of our Country.—There Painters and
Statuaries, with their chisels and colours, and Engravers with their
engraving tools will perpetuate the interesting features of our
Revolutionary Heroes; while our Poets and Musicians, with an
honourable emulation, strive to immortalize their memory. Their
bones will be entombed in the Vault below, while their sacred Shades
continue hovering over our Heads—those venerated Manes which from
time to time will require to be appeased by the blood of the
remaining Aristocrats.—Then Peace and Freedom, and Fraternity and
Equality will pervade the whole Earth—while the Vows of
Republicanism, the Alter of Patriotism, and the Revolutionary
Pontiff, with the thrilling volcanic Sympathies, whether of Holy
Fury or of ardent Fraternal Civism, uniting and identifying, produce
as it were an electric Energy.”
MR. MACFUNGUS here paused for a few moments, seemingly overpowered
by the excess of Sensibility, and the force of the ideas which he
was labouring to convey.—The whole Company appeared to sympathize
with his unaffected emotions. After a short interval, he recovered
himself from a very impressive silence, and continued as follows:
“These prospects, Fellow-Citizens, may possibly be deferred. The
Machiavelism of Governments may for the time prevail, and this
unnatural and execrable contest may yet be prolonged; but the hour
is not far distant; Persecution will only serve to accelerate it,
and the blood of Patriotism streaming from the severing axe will
call down vengeance on our oppressors in a voice of Thunder. I
expect the contest, and I am prepared for it.—I hope I shall never
shrink nor swerve nor start aside wherever duty and inclination may
place me. My services, my life itself, are at your disposal—Whether
to act or to suffer, I am yours—With HAMPDEN in the field, or with
SIDNEY on the scaffold. My example may be more useful to you than my
talents: and this head may perhaps serve your cause more
effectually, if placed on a pole on Temple Bar, than if it was
occupied in organizing your Committees, in preparing your
Revolutionary Explosions, and conducting your Correspondence.”
MR. MACFUNGUS said he should give, as an unequivocal test of his
sentiments, “BUONAPARTE AND A RADICAL REFORM”.
The conclusion of MR. MACFUNGUS’S speech was followed by a
simultaneous burst of rapturous approbation from every part of the
room. The applause continued for several minutes, during which MR.
MACFUNGUS repeatedly rose to express his feelings.
The conversation now became more mixed and animated; several
excellent Songs were sung, and Toasts drank, while the progressive
and patriotic festivity of the evening was heightened by the vocal
powers of several of the most popular Singers. A new Song written by
Captain MORRIS received its sanction in the warmest expression of
applause. The whole company joined with enthusiasm in their old
favourite Chorus of Bow! Wow!! Wow!!!]
* * * * *
[MACFUNGUS stands for SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH, who, after studying
medicine in Edinburgh, settled in London, and wrote for the
opposition newspapers, particularly the _Morning Post_, Daniel
Stuart, the proprietor, being his father-in-law. The first work that
brought him into notice was his _Vindiciæ Gallicæ_ (1791), in reply
to Burke’s _Reflections_ on the French Revolution, which splendid
philippic it greatly surpassed in philosophic thought, sound
feeling, and common sense. It was enthusiastically received by the
Liberal party, whose leaders eagerly sought his acquaintance and
co-operation; and when the _Association of the Friends of the
People_ was formed, he was appointed Secretary. His subsequent
successful career as an Advocate, Indian Judge, Member of
Parliament, Minister under Lord Grey, and as an English historian,
bore out the promise of his youth. He was born in 1765 and died in
1832.—ED.]
No. V.
Dec. 11, 1797.
We have already hinted at the principle by which the followers of the
Jacobinical sect are restrained from the exercise of their own favourite
virtue of charity. The force of this prohibition, and the strictness
with which it is observed, are strongly exemplified in the following
poem. It is the production of the same author [SOUTHEY] whose happy
effort in English Sapphics we presumed to imitate; the present effusion
is in Dactylics, and equally subject to the laws of Latin Prosody.
THE SOLDIER’S WIFE.
Wēāry̆ wăy-wāndĕrĕr, lānguĭd ănd sĭck ăt hĕart,
Trāvĕllĭng pāinfŭlly̆ ōvĕr thĕ rūggĕd roăd;
Wīld vĭsăg’d wāndĕrĕr—āh fŏr thy̆ hēavy̆ chănce.
We think that we see him fumbling in the pocket of his blue pantaloons;
that the splendid shilling is about to make its appearance, and to
glitter in the eyes, and glad the heart of the poor sufferer. But no
such thing—the bard very calmly contemplates her situation, which he
describes in a pair of very pathetical stanzas; and after the following
well-imagined topic of consolation, concludes by leaving her to
Providence.
Thy husband will never return from the war again;
Cold is thy hopeless heart, _even as charity_;
Cold are thy famished babes—_God help thee_, widow’d one!
We conceived that it would be necessary to follow up this general rule
with the particular exception, and to point out one of those cases in
which the embargo upon Jacobin bounty is sometimes suspended;[18] with
this view we have subjoined the poem of
THE SOLDIER’S FRIEND.
DACTYLICS.
Come, little Drummer Boy, lay down your knapsack here:
I am the soldier’s friend—here are some books for you;
Nice clever books by TOM PAINE, the philanthropist.[19]
Here’s half-a-crown for you—here are some handbills too—
Go to the barracks, and give all the soldiers some.
Tell them the sailors are all in a mutiny.
_Exit Drummer Boy, with handbills and half-a-crown.—Manet Soldier’s Friend._
Liberty’s friends thus all learn to amalgamate,
Freedom’s volcanic explosion prepares itself,
Despots shall bow to the fasces of liberty.
Reason, philosophy, “fiddledum diddledum,”
Peace and fraternity, higgledy, piggledy,
Higgledy, piggledy, “fiddledum diddledum”.
_Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera._
SONNET.—TO LIBERTY.
Just Guardian of man’s social bliss! for thee
The paths of danger gladly would I tread:
For thee! contented, join the glorious dead,
Who nobly scorn’d a life that was not free!
But worse than death it pains my soul to see
The Lord of Ruin, by wild Uproar led,
Hell’s first-born, ANARCHY, exalt his head,
And seize thy throne, and bid us bow the knee!
What though his iron sceptre, blood-imbrued,
Crush half the nations with resistless might;
Never shall this firm spirit be subdued:
In chains, in exile, still the chanted rite,
O LIBERTY! to thee shall be renew’d:
O still be sea-girt ALBION thy delight! D.
No. VI.
Dec. 18, 1797.
We cannot enough congratulate ourselves on having been so fortunate as
to fall upon the curious specimens of classical metre and correct
sentiment which we have made the subject of our late Jacobinical
imitations.
The fashion of admiring and imitating these productions has spread in a
surprising degree. Even those who sympathise with the principles of the
writer selected as our model, seem to have been struck with the ridicule
of his poetry.
There appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_ of Monday a _Sapphic Ode_,
apparently written by a friend and associate of our author, in which he
is however travestied most unmercifully. And to make the joke the more
pointed, the learned and judicious editor contrived to print the ode _en
masse_, without any order of lines, or division of stanza; so that it
was not discovered to be _verse_ till the next day, when it was
explained in a hobbling _erratum_.
We hardly know which to consider as the greater object of compassion in
this case—the original _Odist_, thus parodied by his friend, or the
mortified _Parodist_ thus mutilated by his printer. “_Et tu, Brute!_”
has probably been echoed from each of these worthies to his murderer, in
a tone that might melt the hardest heart to pity.
We cordially wish them joy of each other, and we resign the modern
_Lesbian lyre_ into their hands without envy or repining.
Our author’s DACTYLICS have produced a second imitation (conveyed to us
from an unknown hand), with which we take our leave of this species of
poetry also.
THE SOLDIER’S WIFE.[20]
DACTYLICS.
“Wēāry̆ wăy-wāndĕrĕr,” &c. &c.
IMITATION.
DACTYLICS.
_Being the quintessence of all the Dactylics that ever were, or ever
will be written._
HUMBLY ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR OF THE ABOVE.
Wearisome Sonnetteer, feeble and querulous,
Painfully dragging out thy demo-cratic lays—
Moon-stricken Sonnetteer, “ah! for thy heavy chance!”
Sorely thy Dactylics lag on uneven feet:
Slow is the syllable which thou wouldst urge to speed,
Lame and o’erburthen’d, and “screaming its wretchedness!”
. . . . . . . . .[21]
Ne’er talk of ears again! look at thy spelling-book;
_Dilworth_ and _Dyche_[22] are both mad at thy quantities—
DACTYLICS, call’st thou ’em—“God help thee, silly one!”
[The following is the _Sapphic Ode_ alluded to above, which was
intended by the poet of the _Morning Chronicle_ as a “retort
courteous” to the _Friend of Humanity_. The printer of that paper,
unfortunately, being new to “such branches of learning,” and not
dreaming it could be intended for _poetry_, printed it as below. The
mistake seems to have been immediately discovered, for it
re-appeared next day (Dec. 12) in the guise of verse.—ED.]
THE COLLECTOR AND THE HOUSEHOLDER.
_The Hint taken from the Anti-Jacobin, “Needy Knife-Grinders”_
_H._ Greedy Collector, whither are you going, thus with your
inkhorn in your buttonhole, and ledger so snugly underneath
your coat? Say, greedy Collector.
_C._ Much I rejoice that I have met you here, friend: turn back,
I pri’thee, ’tis with you I want to speak; I am come on
business of importance—gentle Householder.
_H._ Greedy Collector, well I know your business, ’tis for my
taxes you are come to dun me; well! ’tis the last time you
will have a right to ask me for money. Buggy, no longer do
I drive a smart one; smash went my gig, as long [ago] as
Easter; down Highgate hill we tumbled altogether, horse,
wife, and I, Sir. One broke his knees, and[23] another
broke his collar-bone; there’s an end of pleasuring on
Sundays. Take my last payment; there is your two pounds
twelve shillings and ninepence.
_C._ Gentle householder, much are you mistaken; Order, Religion,
Constitution, Laws, and rational freedom, all demand from
you a—triple assessment.
_H._ Triple Assessment! What beside the old tax?
_C._ Certainly: come, deposit, I’m a waiting.
_H._ Wait and be damned. What is it you are after?
_C._ Ten pounds eleven.
_H._ Ten pounds eleven! have I not informed thee gig I have none?
I’ve sent it to the hammer; Pay for a gig and not [to] have
it!
_C._ But you had one at Easter!
_H._ Easter is past and gone. I’ll never pay thee.
_C._ Gentle Householder, then I must proceed to shew thee a
little bit of parchment, called a writ of distringer [for
_distringas_].
[_Exit_ Collector to take possession of the Householder’s
bed and furniture.
The verses which we here present to the public were written immediately
after the Revolution of the 4th of September. We should be much obliged
to any of our classical and loyal correspondents for an English
translation of them.
LATIN VERSES
_Written immediately after the Revolution of the 4th of September._
Ipsa mali Hortatrix scelerumque uberrima Mater
In se prima suos vertit lymphata furores,
Luctaturque diù secum, et conatibus ægris
Fessa cadit, proprioque jacet labefacta veneno.
Mox tamen ipsius rursúm violentia morbi
Erigit ardentem furiis, ultróque minantem
Spargere bella procul, vastæque incendia cladis,
Civilesque agitare faces, totumque per orbem
Sceptra super Regum et Populorum subdita colla
Ferre pedem, et sanctas Regnorum evertere sedes.
Aspicis! Ipsa sui bacchatur sanguine Regis,
Barbaraque ostentans feralis signa triumphi,
Mole giganteâ campis prorumpit apertis,
Successu scelerum, atque insanis viribus audax.
At quà Pestis atrox rapido se turbine vertit,
Cernis ibi, priscâ morum compage solutâ,
Procubuisse solo civilis fœdera vitæ,
Et quodcunque Fides, quodcunque habet alma verendi
Religio, Pietasque et Legum fræna sacrarum.
Nec spes Pacis adhuc—necdum exsaturata rapinis
Effera Bellatrix, fusove expleta cruore.
Crescit inextinctus Furor, atque exæstuat ingens
Ambitio, immanisque irâ Vindicta renatâ
Reliquias Soliorum et adhuc restantia Regna
Flagitat excidio, prædæque incumbit opimæ.
Una etenim in mediis Gens intemerata ruinis
Libertate probâ, et justo libramine rerum,
Securum faustis degit sub legibus ævum;
Antiquosque colit mores, et jura Parentum
Ordine firma suo, sanoque intacta vigore,
Servat adhuc, hominumque fidem, curamque Deorum.
Eheu! quanta odiis avidoque alimenta furori!
Quanta profanatas inter spoliabitur aras
Victima! si quando versis Victoria fatis
Annuerit scelus extremum, terrâque subactâ
Impius Oceani sceptrum fædaverit Hostis!
[Illustration]
No. VII.
Dec. 25, 1797.
We have been favoured with a translation of the Latin verses inserted in
our last Number. We have little doubt that our readers will agree with
us, in hoping that this may not be the last contribution which we shall
receive from the same hand.[24]
Parent of countless crimes, in headlong rage,
War with herself see frantic _Gallia_ wage,
Till worn and wasted by intestine strife,
She falls—her languid pulse scarce quick with life.
But soon she feels through every trembling vein,
New strength collected from convulsive pain:
Onward she moves, and sounds the dire alarm,
And bids insulted nations haste to arm;
Spreads wide the waste of war, and hurls the brand
Of civil discord o’er each troubled land,
While desolation marks her furious course,
And thrones subverted bow beneath her force.
Behold! she pours her Monarch’s guiltless blood,
And quaffs with savage joy the crimson flood;
Then, proud the deadly trophies to display
Of her foul crimes, resistless bursts away,
Unaw’d by justice, unappall’d by fear,
And runs with giant strength her mad career.
Where’er her banners float in barbarous pride,
Where’er her conquest rolls its sanguine tide,
There, the fair fabric of establish’d law,
There social order, and religious awe,
Sink in the general wreck; indignant there
Honour and Virtue fly the tainted air;
Fly the mild duties of domestic life
That cheer the parent, that endear the wife,
The lingering pangs of kindred grief assuage,
Or soothe the sorrows of declining age.
Nor yet can Hope presage th’ auspicious hour,
When Peace shall check the rage of lawless Power;
Nor yet th’ insatiate thirst of blood is o’er,
Nor yet has Rapine ravaged every shore.
Exhaustless Passion feeds th’ augmented flame,
And wild Ambition mocks the voice of Shame;
Revenge, with haggard look and scowling eyes,
Surveys with horrid joy th’ expected prize;
Broods o’er each remnant of monarchic sway,
And dooms to certain death his fancied prey.
For midst the ruins of each falling state,
ONE FAVOUR’D NATION braves the general fate—
One favour’d nation, whose impartial laws
Of sober Freedom vindicate the cause;
Her simple manners, midst surrounding crimes,
Proclaim the genuine worth of ancient times;
True to herself, unconquerably bold,
The rights her valour gain’d she dares uphold;
Still with pure faith her promise dares fulfil,
Still bows submission to th’ Almighty will.
Just Heav’n! how Envy kindles at the sight!
How mad Ambition plans the desperate fight!
With what new fury Vengeance hastes to pour
Her tribes of rapine from yon crowded shore!
Just Heav’n! how fair a victim at the shrine
Of injured Freedom shall her life resign,
If e’er, propitious to the vows of hate,
Unsteady Conquest stamp our mournful fate,
If e’er proud France usurp our ancient reign,
And ride triumphant o’er th’ insulted main!
· · · · ·
Far hence th’ unmanly thought—the voice of Fame
Wafts o’er th’ applauding deep her DUNCAN’S name.
What though the Conqueror of th’ Italian plains
Deem nothing gain’d, while this fair isle remains;
Though his young breast with rash presumption glow,
He braves the vengeance of no vulgar foe:
Conqueror no more, full soon his laurel’d pride
Shall perish—whelm’d in Ocean’s angry tide;
His broken bands shall rue the fatal day,
And scatter’d fleets proclaim BRITANNIA’S sway.
[Illustration]
No. VIII.
Jan. 1, 1798.
A correspondent has adapted the beautiful poem of the BATTLE OF SABLA,
in “Carlyle’s Specimens of Arabian Poetry,” to the circumstances of the
present moment. We shall always be happy to see the poetry of other
times and nations so successfully engaged in the service of our country,
and of the present order of society.
THE CHOICE.
(FROM THE BATTLE OF SABLA, BY JAAFER BEN ALBA.)
I.
Hast thou not seen th’ insulting foe
In fancied triumphs crown’d?
And heard their frantic rulers throw
These empty threats around?
“Make now YOUR CHOICE! The terms we give,
Desponding Britons, hear!
These fetters on your hands receive,
Or in your hearts the spear.”
Can we forget our old renown;
Resign the empire of the sea;
And yield at once our sovereign’s crown,
Our ancient laws and liberty?
Shall thus the fierce destroyer’s hand
Pass unresisted o’er our native land?
Our country sink, to barb’rous force a prey,
And _ransom’d_ ENGLAND bow to _Gallic_ sway?
II.
“Is then the contest o’er?” we cried,
“And lie we at your feet?
And dare you vauntingly decide
The fortune we shall meet?
A brighter day we soon shall see;
No more the prospect lours;
And Conquest, Peace, and Liberty
Shall gild our future hours.”
Yes! we will guard our old renown;
Assert our empire o’er the sea;
And keep untouch’d our sovereign’s crown,
Our ancient laws and liberty.
Not thus the fierce destroyer’s hand
Shall scatter ruin o’er this smiling land;
No barb’rous force shall here divide its prey;
Nor _ransom’d_ ENGLAND bow to _Gallic_ sway.
III.
The foe advance. In firm array
We’ll rush o’er Albion’s sands—
Till the red sabre marks our way
Amid their yielding bands!
Then as they lie in death’s cold grasp,
We’ll cry, “OUR CHOICE IS MADE!
These hands the sabre’s hilt shall clasp,
Your hearts shall feel the blade”.
Thus Britons guard their ancient fame,
Assert their empire o’er the sea,
And to the envying world proclaim,
One nation still is brave and free—
Resolv’d to conquer or to die,
True to their KING, their LAWS, their LIBERTY:
No barb’rous foe finds here an easy prey—
_Un-ransom’d_ ENGLAND spurns all foreign sway.[25]
The following poem has been transmitted to us, without preface or
introduction, by a gentleman of the name of IRELAND.[26] We apprehend
from the peculiarities of the style, that it must be the production of a
remote period. We are likewise inclined to imagine, that it may contain
allusions to some former event in English history. What that event may
have been, we must submit to the better judgment and superior
information of our readers, from whom we impatiently expect a solution
of this interesting question. The editor has been influenced solely by a
sense of its poetical merit.
[JA’FAR SON OF ’ULBAH, OF THE BANU-L-HÂRITH.
The Poet, with two companions, went forth to plunder the herds of
’Ukail, a neighbour-tribe, and was beset on his way back by detached
parties of that tribe in the valley of Sahbal, whom he overcame and
reached home safely.
That even when under Sahbal’s twin peaks upon us drave
the horsemen troop after troop, and the foemen pressed us sore—
They said to us—“Two things lie before you: now must ye choose—
the points of the spears couched at you, or, if ye will not,
chains”.
We answered them—“Yea, this thing may fall to you after fight,
when men shall be left on ground, and none shall arise again;
But we know not, if we quail before the assault of Death,
how much may be left of life: the goal is too dim to see”.
We strode to the strait of battle: there cleared us a space around
the white swords in our right hands which the smiths had furbished
fair.
To them fell the edge of my blade on that day of Sahbal dale,
and mine was the share thereof whereover my fingers closed.
ED.]
THE DUKE AND THE TAXING-MAN.[27]
Whilome there liv’d in fair Englonde
A Duke of peerless wealth,
And mickle care he took of her
Old Constitution’s health.
Full fifty thousand pounds and more
To him his vassals paid,
But ne to King, ne Countree, he
Would yield th’ assessment made.
The taxing-man, with grim viságe
Came pricking on the way;
The taxing-man, with wrothful words,
Thus to the Duke did say:
“Lord Duke, Lord Duke, thou’st hid from me,
As sure as I’m alive,
Of goodly palfreys _seventeen_,
Of varlets _twenty-five_”.
Then out he drew his gray goose quill,
Ydipp’d in ink so black,
And sorely to SURCHARGE the Duke,
I trowe, he was ne slack.
Then ’gan the Duke to looken pale,
And stared as one astound,
Twaie coneynge Clerks[28] eftsoons he spies
Sitting their board around.
“O woe is me,” then cried the Duke,
“Ne mortal wight but errs!
I’ll hie to yon twaie coneynge Clerks,
Yclept Commissioners.”
The Duke he hied him to the board,
And straight ’gan for to say,
“A seely[29] wight I am, God wot,
Ne ken I the right way.
“These varlets twenty-five were ne’er
_Liveried in white and red_;
Withouten this, what signifie
Wages, and board, and bed?
“And by St. George, that stout horseman,
My palfreys _seventeen_,
For two years, or perchance for three,
I had forgotten clean.”
“Naie,” quoth the Clerk, “both horse and foot
To hide was thine intent,
Ne seely wight be ye, but didst
With good advisament.[30]
“Surcharge, surcharge, good Taxing-man,
Anon our seals we fix,
Of sterling pounds, Lord Duke, you pay
Three hundred thirty-six.”[31]
EPIGRAM ON THE PARIS LOAN,[32]
CALLED
THE LOAN UPON ENGLAND.
The Paris cits, a patriotic band,
Advance their cash on British freehold land.
But let the speculating rogues beware—
They’ve bought the _skin_, but who’s to kill _the bear_?
No. IX.
Jan. 8, 1798.
ODE TO ANARCHY.
BY A JACOBIN.
(BEING AN IMITATION OF HORACE, ODE XXXV. BOOK I.)
_O Diva, gratum quæ regis Antium!_
Goddess, whose dire terrific power
Spreads from thy much-loved Gallia’s plains
Where’er her blood-stain’d ensigns lower,
Where’er fell Rapine stalks, or barb’rous Discord reigns!
Thou, who canst lift to fortune’s height
The wretch by truth and virtue scorn’d,
And crush with insolent delight,
All whom true merit rais’d, or noble birth adorn’d!
Thee, oft the murd’rous band implores,
Swift darting on its hapless prey:
Thee, wafted from fierce Afric’s shores,
The Corsair Chief invokes to speed him on his way.
Thee, the wild Indian Tribes revere;
Thy charms the roving Arab owns;
Thee, kings, thee tranquil nations fear,
The bane of social bliss, the foe to peaceful thrones.
For, soon as thy loud trumpet calls
To deadly rage, to fierce alarms,
Just Order’s goodly fabric falls,
Whilst the mad people cries, “To arms! to arms!”
With thee Proscription, child of strife,
With Death’s choice implements, is seen,
Her Murderer’s gun, Assassin’s knife,
And, “last not least in love,” her darling _Guillotine_.
Fond Hope is thine,—the hope of Spoil,
And Faith,—such faith as ruffians keep:
They prosper thy destructive toil,
That makes the Widow mourn, the helpless Orphan weep.
Then false and hollow friends retire,
Nor yield one sigh to soothe despair;
Whilst crowds triumphant Vice admire,
Whilst Harlots shine in robes that deck’d the Great and Fair.
Guard our famed Chief to Britain’s strand!
Britain, our last, our deadliest foe:
Oh, guard his brave associate band!
A band to slaughter train’d, and “nursed in scenes of woe”.
What shame, alas! one little Isle
Should dare its native laws maintain!
At Gallia’s threats serenely smile,
And, scorning her dread power, triumphant rule the main.
For this have guiltless victims died
In crowds at thy ensanguined shrine!
For this has recreant Gallia’s pride
O’erturned Religion’s Fanes, and braved the Wrath Divine!
What Throne, what Altar, have we spared
To spread thy power, thy joys impart?
Ah! then, our faithful toils reward!
And let each falchion pierce some loyal Briton’s heart.
[THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSLATION, BY DUNCOMBE, OF
HORACE’S ODE TO FORTUNE,
_Of which the above Ode is a parody_.
O Goddess, whose propitious sway
Thy Antium’s favourite sons obey;
Whose voice from depth of woe recalls
The wretch, and triumphs turns to funerals;
From Thee, rich crops the needy swain
Implores. Thee, sovereign of the main,
The mariner invokes, who braves
In a Bithynian bark the Cretan waves;
Thee, Scythians, wandering far and near,
And unrelenting Dacians, fear:
The warlike sons of Italy;
Cities, and realms, and empires, worship Thee.
Mothers of barbarous monarchs dread,
And purple tyrants, lest thou tread
With spurning foot, and scatter round
The sculptured column on th’ encumbered ground;
And lest the fickle crowd should break
Their bonds; and with loud clamours wake
The peaceful to assert their right
By force of arms, and quell usurping might.
Ruthless necessity prepares
The way for Thee; and ever bears
Huge nails in her strong hands of brass
The wedge, the hook, and lead’s hot molten mass.
Thee Hope and white robed Faith, adore,
So rarely found!—She, when no more
Thou smil’st, attends the fallen great
Stript of his gay attire and stately seat.
But venal crowds and harlots fly:
And, if the flowing casks are dry,
When to the dregs the wine they drink,
From friendship’s yoke the false associates shrink.
Thy aid for Cæsar Rome implores,
Conduct him safe to Britain’s shores,
The limits of the world; and lead
Our new-raised bands against the trembling Mede.
Alas! we mourn our crimes, our scar
And brethren slain in civil wars:
How oft have Roman youth embrued
Their savage hands in streams of social blood!
What has this Iron Age not dared?
What Gods revered? What Altars spared?
O! point again the blunted steel,
And let the Massagete our vengeance feel!—ED.]
* * * * *
The following Song is recommended to be sung at all _Convivial_
Meetings, convened for the purpose of opposing the Assessed-Tax Bill.
The correspondent who has transmitted it to us informs us that he has
tried it with great success among many of his well-disposed neighbours,
who had been at first led to apprehend that the 1–20th part of their
income was too great a sacrifice for the preservation of the remainder
of their property from French Confiscation.
You have heard of REWBELL,[33]
That demon of hell,
And of BARRAS, his brother Director;
Of the canting LEPAUX,
And that scoundrel MOREAU,
Who betray’d his old friend and protector.
Would you know how these friends,
For their own private ends,
Would subvert our Religion and Throne?—
Do you doubt of their skill
To change Laws at their will?—
You shall hear how they treated their own.
’Twas their pleasure to look,
In a little blue book,
At the Code of their famed legislation,
That with truth they might say,
In the space of one day
They had broke every Law of the Nation.
The first law that they see,
Is “_the Press shall be free_!”
The next is “_the Trial by Jury_”:
Then, “_the People’s free Choice_”;
Then, “_the Members’ free Voice_”—
When REWBELL exclaim’d in a fury—
“On a method we’ll fall
For infringing them all—
We’ll seize on each Printer and Member:
No period so fit
For a desperate hit,
As our bloody month of _September_.
“We’ll annul each election
Which wants our correction,
And name our own creatures instead.
When once we’ve our will,
No blood we will spill,
(But let CARNOT be knock’d on the head).
“To _Rochefort_ we’ll drive
Our victims alive,
And as soon as on board we have got ’em,
Since we destine the ship
For no more than one trip,
We can just make a hole in the bottom.
“By this excellent plan,
On the _true Rights of Man_,
When we’ve founded our _fifth Revolution_,
Though _England’s_ our foe,
An army shall go
To _improve_ HER corrupt Constitution.
“We’ll address to the Nation
A fine Proclamation
With offers of friendship so warm:
Who can give BUONAPARTE
A welcome so hearty
As the friends of a THOROUGH REFORM?”
[Illustration]
No. X.
Jan. 15, 1798.
For the two following poems we are indebted to unknown correspondents.
They could not have reached us at a more seasonable period.
The former, we trust, describes the feelings common to every inhabitant
of this country. The second, we know too well, is expressive of the
sentiments of our enemies.
LINES,
WRITTEN AT THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR 1797.
Loud howls the storm along the neighbouring shore;
BRITAIN indignant hears the frantic roar:
Her generous sons pour forth on every side,
Firm in their country’s cause—their country’s pride!
See wild Invasion threats this envied land:
Swift to defend her, springs each Social Band:
Her white rocks echoing to their cheerful cry,
“GOD AND OUR KING!”—“ENGLAND AND VICTORY!”
Yes! happy BRITAIN, on thy tranquil coast
No trophies mad Philosophy shall boast!
Though thy disloyal sons, a feeble band,
Sound the loud blast of treason through the land;
Scoff at thy dangers with unnatural mirth,
And execrate the soil which gave them birth;
With jaundiced eye thy splendid triumphs view,
And give to FRANCE the palm to BRITAIN due:
Or,—when loud strains of gratulation ring,[34]
And lowly bending to the ETERNAL KING,
Thy SOVEREIGN bids a nation’s praise arise
In grateful incense to the fav’ring skies—
Cast o’er each solemn scene a scornful glance,
And only sigh for ANARCHY and FRANCE.
Yes! unsupported _Treason’s_ standard falls,
_Sedition_ vainly on her children calls,
While Cities, Cottages, and Camps contend,
Their King, their Laws, their Country to defend.[35]
Raise, BRITAIN, raise thy sea-encircled head;
Round the wide world behold thy glory spread;
Firm as thy guardian oaks thou still shalt stand,
The dread and wonder of each hostile land;
While the dire fiends of discord idly rave,
And, mad with anguish, curse the severing wave.
QUEEN of the OCEAN, lo! she smiles serene,
’Mid the deep horrors of the dreadful scene;
With heartfelt piety to Heav’n she turns—
From Heav’n the flame of British courage burns—
She dreads no power but HIS who rules the ball,
At whose “great bidding” empires rise and fall;
In HIM, on peaceful plain, or tented field,
She trusts, secure in HIS protecting shield—
GALLIA, thy threats she scorns—BRITAIN SHALL NEVER YIELD.
AN ENGLISHWOMAN.
TRANSLATION OF THE NEW SONG
OF THE
“ARMY OF ENGLAND”.
WRITTEN BY THE CI-DEVANT BISHOP OF AUTUN.[36]
WITH NOTES BY THE TRANSLATOR.
Good Republicans all,
The Directory’s call
Invites you to visit JOHN BULL;
Oppress’d by the rod
Of a King, and a God,[37]
The cup of his misery’s full.
Old JOHNNY shall see
What makes a man FREE;
Not parchments, nor Statutes on Paper;
And stripp’d of his riches,
Great Charter, and breeches,
Shall cut a FREE Citizen’s caper.
Then away, let us over
To _Deal_, or to _Dover_—
We laugh at his talking so big;
He’s pamper’d with feeding,
And wants a sound bleeding—
_Par Dieu!_ he shall bleed like a pig!
JOHN, tied to the stake,
A grand baiting will make,
When worried by mastiffs of France;
What REPUBLICAN FUN,
To see his blood run,
As at _Lyons_, _La Vendée_, and _Nantz_![38]
With grape-shot discharges,
And plugs in his barges,
With _National Razors_ good store,
We’ll pepper and shave him,
And in the _Thames_ lave him—
How sweetly he’ll bellow and roar!
What the villain likes worse,
We’ll vomit his Purse,
And make it the guineas disgorge;
For your RAPHAELS and RUBENS
We would not give two-pence;
Stick, stick to the PICTURES OF GEORGE.
No Venus of stone,
But of good flesh and bone,
Will do for a true Democrat;
When weary with slaughter,
With JOHN’S Wife and Daughter,
We’ll join in a little _chit-chat_.
The Shop-keeping hoard,
The Tenant and Lord,
And the Merchants,[39] are excellent prey:
At our cannon’s first thunder,
_Rape_, _pillage_, and _plunder_
The _Order_ shall be _of the day_.
French fortunes and lives,
French daughters and wives,
Have _five honest men_ to defend ’em!
And BARRAS and Co.
When to _England_ we go,
Will kindly take JOHN’S _in commendam_.
[Illustration]
No. XI.
Jan. 22, 1798.
We have said in another part of our paper of this day, “that though we
shall never begin an attack, we shall always be prompt to repel it”.
On this principle, we could not pass over in silence the EPISTLE TO THE
EDITORS OF THE _Anti-Jacobin_, which appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_
of Wednesday, and from which we have fortunately been furnished with a
motto for this day’s paper.
We assure the author of the epistle, that the answer which we have here
the honour to address to him, contains our genuine and undisguised
sentiments upon the merits of the poem.
Our conjectures respecting the authors and abettors of this performance
may possibly be as vague and unfounded as theirs are with regard to the
EDITORS of the _Anti-Jacobin_. We are sorry that we cannot satisfy their
curiosity upon this subject—but we have little anxiety for the
gratification of our own.
It is hardly to be expected, that the character of the epistle should be
taken on trust from the editors of this volume; it is thought best,
therefore, to subjoin the whole performance as it originally appeared—a
mode of hostility obviously the most fair, and in respect to the
combatants in the cause of Jacobinism, by much the most effectual. They
are always best opposed by the arms which they themselves furnish.
Jacobinism shines by its own light.
To the respectable names which the author of the following address has
thought proper to connect with the “ANTI-JACOBIN,” no apology is made
for thus preserving this otherwise perishable specimen of dulness and
defamation. He who has been reviled by the enemies of the
“ANTI-JACOBIN,” must feel that principles are attributed to him, of
which he need not be ashamed: and when the abuse is conveyed in such a
strain of feebleness and folly, he must see that those principles excite
animosity only in quarters of which he need not be afraid.
It is only necessary to add, what is most conscientiously the truth,
that this production, such as it is, is _by far the best_ of all the
attacks that the combined wits of the cause have been able to muster
against the “ANTI-JACOBIN”.
EPISTLE TO THE EDITORS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.[40]
_Hic Niger est; hunc tu, Romane, caveto!_
To tell what gen’rals did, or statesmen spoke,
To teach the world by truths, or please by joke;
To make mankind grow bold as they peruse,
Judge on existing things, and—weigh the news;
For this a PAPER first display’d its page,
Commanding tears and smiles through ev’ry age!
Hail, justly famous! who in modern days
With nobler flight aspire to higher praise;
Hail, justly famous! whose discerning eyes
At once detect MISTAKES, MIS-STATEMENTS, LIES;[41] 10
Hail, justly famous! who with fancy blest,
Use fiend-like virulence for sportive jest;
Who only bark to serve your private ends—
Patrons of Prejudice, Corruption’s friends!
Who hurl your venom’d darts at well-earned fame—
Virtue your hate, and Calumny your aim!
Whoe’er ye are, all hail!—whether the skill
Of youthful CANNING guides the ranc’rous quill;
With powers mechanic far above his age,
Adapts the paragraph and fills the page; 20
Measures the column, mends whate’er’s amiss,
Rejects THAT letter, and accepts of THIS;
Or HAMMOND,[42] leaving his official toil,
O’er this great work consume the midnight oil—
Bills, passports, letters, for the Muses quit,
And change dull business for amusing wit:—
His life of labour at one gasp is o’er,
His books forgot—his desk beloved no more!
Proceed to prop the Ministerial cause;
See consequential MORPETH[43] nods applause; 30
In ev’ry fair one’s ears at balls and plays
The gentle GRANVILLE LEVESON[44] whispers praise:
Well-judging Patrons, whom such works can please;
Great works, well worthy Patrons such as these!
Who heard, not raptured, the poetic Sage
Who sung of Gallia in a headlong rage,
And blandly drew with no uncourtly grace
The simple manners of our English race—
Extoll’d great DUNCAN, and, supremely brave,
Whelm’d BUONAPARTE’S pride beneath the wave? 40
I swear by all the youths that MALMESBURY[45] chose,
By ELLIS’[46] sapient prominence of nose,
By MORPETH’S gait, important, proud, and big—
By LEVESON GOWER’S crop-imitating wig,
That, could the pow’rs which in those numbers shine,
Could that warm spirit animate my line,
Your glorious deeds which humbly I rehearse—
Your deeds should live immortal as my verse;
And, while they wonder’d whence I caught my flame,
Your sons should blush to read their fathers’ shame! 50
Proceed, great men!—your office is not done;
Proceed with what you have so well begun:
Load FOX (if you by PITT would be preferr’d),
With ev’ry guilt that KENYON ever heard—
Adult’rer, gamester, drunkard, cheat and knave,
A factious demagogue and pension’d slave!
Loose, loose your cry—with ire satiric flash:
Let all the Opposition feel your lash;
And prove them to these hot and partial times,
A combination of the worst of crimes! 60
But softer numbers softer subjects fit:
In liquid phrases thrill the praise of PITT;
Extol in eulogies of candid truth
The Virgin Minister—the Heav’n-born Youth;
The greatest gift that fate to England gave,
Created to support and born to save;
Prompt to supply whate’er his country lacks—
Skilful to GAG, and knowing how to TAX!
With him companions meet in order stand—
A firm, compact, and well-appointed band; 70
Skill’d to advance or to retreat, DUNDAS,[47]
And bear thick battle on his front of brass;
GRENVILLE with pond’rous head, which match’d we find
By equal ponderosity behind.——
But hold, my Muse; nor farther these pursue!—
Great Editors, we have digress’d from you;
From you, to whom our trivial lays belong,
From you, the sole inspirers of our song!
Proceed:—urge on the same vindictive strain,
To gain the applauses of great MALMESBURY’S train; 80
With jaundiced eyes the noblest patriot scan:
Proceed—be more opprobrious if you can;
Proceed—be more abusive ev’ry hour;
To be more stupid is beyond your power.
TO THE AUTHOR OF THE EPISTLE TO THE EDITORS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.
_Nostrorum sermonum candide judex!_
Bard of the borrow’d lyre! to whom belong
The shreds and remnants of each hackney’d song;
Whose verse thy friends in vain for wit explore,
And count but _one good line_ in eighty-four!
Whoe’er thou art, all hail! Thy bitter smile
Gilds our dull page, and cheers our humble toil!
For _yet_—though firm and fearless in the cause
Of pure Religion, Liberty, and Laws,—
Though TRUTH approved, though fav’ring VIRTUE smiled,
Some doubts remained: WE _yet_ were _unreviled_. 10
Thanks to thy zeal! those doubts at length are o’er!
Thy suffrage crowns our wish!—WE ask no more
To stamp with sterling worth each honest line,
Than Censure, cloth’d in vapid Verse like thine!
But say—in full blown honours dost thou sit
’Midst BROOKES’S ELDERS[48] on the BENCH OF WIT,
Where HARE,[49] chief-justice, frames the stern decree,
While with their learned brother, sages three,
FITZPATRICK,[50] TOWNSHEND,[51] SHERIDAN, agree?
Or art thou One—THE PARTY’S flattered fool,[52] 20
Train’d in _Debrett’s_, or _Ridgway’s_ civic school—
One, who with rant and fustian daily wears,
Well-natured RICHARDSON![53] thy patient ears;—
Who sees nor Taste nor Genius in these times,
Save PARR’S[54] _buzz_ prose,[55] and COURTENAY’S[56] kidnapp’d
rhymes?[57]
Or is it he,—the youth,[59] whose daring soul
With _half a mission_ sought the Frozen Pole;—
And then, returning from the unfinish’d work,
Wrote _half a letter_,—to demolish BURKE?
Studied Burke’s manner,—aped his forms of speech; 30
Though when he strives his metaphors to reach,
One luckless slip his meaning overstrains,
And loads the blunderbuss with BEDFORD’S brains.[60]
Whoe’er thou art—ne’er may thy patriot fire,
Unfed by praise or patronage, expire!
Forbid it, Taste!—with Compensation large
Patrician hands thy labours shall o’ercharge![61]
BEDFORD and WHITBREAD shall vast sums advance,
The _Land_ and _Malt_ of Jacobin Finance!
Whoe’er thou art—before thy feet we lay, 40
With lowly suit, our _Number of to-day_!
Spurn not our offering with averted eyes!
Let thy pure breath revive the extinguished _Lies_!
_Mistakes, Mis-statements_, now so oft o’erthrown,
Rebuild, and prop with nonsense of thy own!
Pervert our meaning, and misquote our text—
And _furnish us a motto for the next_!
[Illustration: _LORD LONGBOW, the Alarmist, discovering the Miseries of
IRELAND.——with the puffing out of the little farthing Rush-light, & ye
story of Moll Coggin._]
ODE TO LORD MOIRA.
I.
If on your head[62] some vengeance fell,
MOIRA, for every tale you tell,
The listening Lords to cozen;[63]
If but one whisker lost its hue,
Changed (like Moll Coggin’s tail) to blue,
I’d hear them by the dozen.
II.
But still, howe’er you draw your bow,[64]
Your charms improve, your triumphs grow,
New grace adorns your figure;
More stiff your boots, more black your stock, 10
Your hat assumes a prouder cock,
Like Pistol’s (if ’twere bigger).
III.
Tell then your stories, strange and new,[65]
Your Fathers fame[66] shall vouch them true;
So shall the _Dublin Papers_;
Swear by the stars[67] that saw the sight,
That infant thousands die each night,[68]
While troops _blow out their tapers_.
IV.
SHUCKBURGH[69][70] shall cheer you with a smile,
MACPHERSON[71][71] simpering all the while, 20
With BASTARD[71][72] and with Bruin:[73]
And fierce NICHOLL,[74] who wields at will
Th’ emphatic stick, or powerful quill,
To prove his country’s ruin.
V.
Each day new followers[75] crowd your board,
And lean expectants hail my Lord
With adoration fervent:
Old THURLOW,[76] though he swore by G—
No more to own a master’s nod,
Is still your humble servant. 30
VI.
Old PULTENEY[77][78] too, your influence feels,
And asks from you th’ Exchequer Seals,
To tax and save the nation:
TOOKE trembles,[79] lest your potent charms
Should lure CHARLES FOX from _his_ fond arms,
To YOUR Administration.[81] 36
[TRANSLATION OF HORACE, BOOK II., ODE VIII.
BY ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.
Avenger of insulted truth,
Had Heaven, Barine, dimm’d one tooth;
Or bade, in justice bade, thee wail
A speck upon a single nail—
I’d trust thee: but ere well the vow
Has passed those treacherous lips, there glow
New beauties mantling o’er thy cheek;
And thee the youth, thee only seek.
It profits thee to be forsworn
By thy dead mother’s hallowed urn;
By heaven, and each mute nightly sign,
And every deathless power divine.
Yes: Venus laughs well-pleased, and lo!
The gentle Nymphs are laughing too;
And Cupid, who his burning darts
Whets with fresh blood from lovers’ hearts.
Boyhood is rising to thy sway,
Thy train of slaves augments: e’en they,
Who swore thy threshold to forsake,
Hug the fond chain they cannot break.
Thee for their sons pale mothers fear,
The frugal father for his heir:
And plighted maidens, lest thy charms
Keep the false truants from their arms.—ED.]
NOTES TO THE ODE TO LORD MOIRA.
[This Ode, written by GEORGE ELLIS, refers to the wish of a “Third
Party” in the House of Commons, who were dissatisfied with the conduct
of the war, the embarrassed state of the finances, and the alarming
situation of the country, to have an interview with LORD MOIRA, with a
view to effect a change of Ministry. The following extracts from a
letter from his Lordship to COL. M‘MAHON, dated June 15, 1797, will
throw some light on this negotiation. “They requested that I would
endeavour, on the assurance of their support, to form an administration,
on the principle of excluding persons, who had on either side made
themselves obnoxious to the public. I strenuously recommended them to
form an alliance with MR. FOX’S party, that might be satisfactory to
themselves, and reduce to strict engagement the extent of the measures,
which MR. FOX, when brought into office by themselves, would propose.
Hitherto nobody has been designated to any particular office but SIR
WILLIAM PULTENEY. The gentleman had said that he was the person whom
they should be most gratified in seeing CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, and
I had professed to them and to him that there was not any person with
whom I could act more confidently. I added, the introduction of LORD
THURLOW, SIR W. PULTENEY, and myself, into the Cabinet, would not assure
the public of a change of system.”—ED.]
[Illustration]
No. XII.
Jan. 29, 1798.
The following Ode[A] was dropped into the letterbox in our Publisher’s
window. From its title—“A BIT OF AN ODE TO MR. FOX”—we were led to
imagine there was some mistake in the business, and that it was meant to
have been conveyed to Mr. Wright’s neighbour, Mr. Debrett, whom we
recollected to have been the Publisher of the “Half of a Letter” to the
same gentleman, which occasioned so much noise (of horse-laughing) in
the world. Our politics certainly do not entitle us to the honourable
distinction of being made the channel for communicating such a
production to the public. But, for our parts, as we are “not at war with
genius,” on whatever side we find it, we are happy to give this Poem the
earliest place in our Paper; and shall be equally ready to pay the same
attention to any future favours of the same kind, and from the same
quarter.
The Poem is a free translation, or rather, perhaps, imitation, of the
twentieth Ode of the second Book of HORACE. We have taken the liberty to
subjoin the passages of which the parallel is the most striking.
A BIT OF AN ODE TO MR. FOX.[82]
I.
On[83] grey goose quills sublime I’ll soar
To metaphors unreach’d before,
That scare the vulgar reader:
With style well form’d from Burke’s best books—
From rules of grammar (e’en HORNE TOOKE’S)
A bold and free Seceder.
II.
I[84] whom, dear Fox, you condescend
To call your “Honourable Friend,”
Shall live for everlasting:
That[85] Stygian Gallery I’ll quit,
Where printers crowd me, as I sit
Half-dead with rage and fasting.
III.
I[86] feel! the growing down descends,
Like goose-skin, to my fingers’ ends—
Each nail becomes a feather:
My cropp’d head[87] waves with sudden plumes,
Which erst (like Bedford’s, or his groom’s)
Unpowder’d, braved the weather.[88]
IV.
I mount, I mount into the sky,
“Sweet[89] bird,” to[90] _Petersburg_ I’ll fly;
Or, if you bid, to _Paris_;
Fresh missions of the _Fox and Goose_
Successful Treaties may produce;
Though PITT in all miscarries.
V.
Scotch,[91] English, Irish _Whigs_ shall read
The Pamphlets, Letters, Odes I breed,
Charm’d with each bright endeavour:
_Alarmists_[92] tremble at my strain,
E’en[93] PITT, made candid by champaign,
Shall hail ADAIR “_the clever_”.
VI.
Though criticism assail my name,
And luckless blunders blot my fame,[94]
O![95] make no needless bustle;
As vain and idle it would be
To waste one pitying thought on me,
As to[96] “unPLUMB a RUSSELL”.[97]
[LYRICS OF HORACE, BOOK II., ODE XX.
TRANSLATED BY ARCHDEACON WRANGHAM.
Borne on no weak or vulgar wing,
Upward through air, two-form’d, I’ll spring;
Nor longer grovel here, but soar
Where Envy shall pursue no more.
Not I, from humble lineage sprung,
Not I, dear Patron, whom thy tongue
Summons to fame, will fear to die,
Or bound by Styx’s fetters lie.
A rougher skin my legs assume;
My upward limbs the cygnet’s plume
Invests; my shoulders, fingers feel
The feathery softness o’er them steal.
Fleeter than Icarus now I’ll haste,
A tuneful swan, to Libya’s waste,
And heaving sands, where Bospor’s wave
Tosses, or Arctic tempests rave.
Me Colchis, Dacia me shall learn,
Who hides her fear of Marsian stern;
Me Scythia’s hordes, the well-trained son
Of Spain, and he who quaffs the Rhone.
From my mock bier be far away
The loud lament, the funeral lay;
And, tribute to my fancied doom,
Far the vain honours of the tomb!—ED.]
[The charge of FOX’S having sent ADAIR to St. Petersburg, to
counteract the measures of PITT’S government, first broached in Mr.
Burke’s “Letter on the Conduct of the Minority,” has been vigorously
contradicted, yet so late as April, 1854, it was alluded to as a
fact by Lord Malmesbury in the House of Peers. It was, however, on
this occasion again authoritatively denied by LORD CAMPBELL, who
took occasion to observe that SIR ROBERT ADAIR was “now in his 90th
year, and for many years had served his country with great assiduity
and fidelity. He had been sent by successive ministers [Mr. Fox,
Lord Grey, _Mr. Canning_ (who assisted in libelling him so often in
the pages of the present work), Lord Wellesley, Lord Palmerston, the
Duke of Wellington] to Vienna, to Constantinople, to Brussels, and
to Berlin, and had represented the Crown of England upon some
occasions of very great importance, in which he had uniformly
acquitted himself to the satisfaction of the Government and for the
benefit of his country. He believed a more honourable man had not
lived in this country at any time.”
The following denial by Sir Robert Adair himself is copied from his
autograph statement, prefixed to the _Life of Wilberforce_,
published in 1838:—“This idle story is here accredited by Mr.
Wilberforce, and inserted by his sons, without due examination. It
was grounded on a journey I made to Vienna and St. Petersburg in
1791. Doctor Prettyman [_sic_], Bishop of Winchester, in a work
entitled _The Life of the Right Hon. William Pitt_, published by him
in 1823, brought forward the fact of my having gone upon this
journey as a criminal charge against Mr. Fox, who, as he pretends,
sent me upon it with the intent of counteracting some negociations
then carrying on between Great Britain and Russia at St. Petersburg.
I answered his accusation, I trust successfully, in two letters
published by Longman & Co. [_Two Letters from Mr. Adair to the Bp.
of Winchester, in answer to the charge of a High Treasonable
Misdemeanour brought by his Lordship against Mr. Fox and himself in
his Life of the Rt. Hon. W. Pitt_, 8vo., 1821], and explained the
circumstances which induced me in my travels in 1791 to visit the
two capitals above mentioned.—ROBERT ADAIR: 1838.”
The “Mission” was, however, firmly believed in, and PITT was urged,
but in vain, by the Duke of Richmond and others of the Government,
to arrest FOX for high treason.
The following extract from the _Political Memoranda of Francis,
fifth Duke of Leeds, now first printed from the Originals in the
British Museum; edited by Oscar Browning, for the Camden Society_,
1884, is an illustration of the rumours current at the time, and
many years after.
“Saty. 24 Novr. 1792. LORD ST. HELENS dined with me. After the
Ladies were gone upstairs we conversed, for some time on Foreign
affairs.... Speaking of the Russian business of last year he
reprobated in the strongest terms the conduct of FOX in sending an
agent, MR. ADAIR, to Petersburg to counteract the negociations of
this Court at that of Russia. He told me he knew for certain that
MR. ADAIR had shewn to some English merchants at Petersburg the
Empress’ Picture set in diamonds which had been given to him. That
it was not one of the sort usually given, but of much greater value,
being set round with large Brilliants, and the whole Picture covered
with a Table Diamond instead of Chrystal. That this was a present
seldom made but on some very particular occasion or to some great
favorite (I remember to have seen such a one in the possession of P.
Orlow). LD. ST. H. thought it must have been worth six or seven
thousand pounds, and of too much value probably to have been meant
for MR. ADAIR. The conclusion we both very naturally drew from this
circumstance was not very favorable to MR. FOX.”
The following additional particulars relating to the connection
between FOX and ADAIR may not be thought out of place here. They are
extracted from the highly interesting and important _Croker Papers,
being the Correspondence and Diaries, 1809–1830, of the Rt. Hon._ J.
W. CROKER, _M.P., Edited by Louis J. Jennings. M.P._, 3 vols., 8vo.,
1884.
The first is in these terms: “When ADAIR, whose father was a
surgeon, went as FOX’S Ambassador to Russia, LORD WHITWORTH, then
the King’s Minister, made a good joke, which tended not a little to
lower ADAIR, and defeat his object. ‘Est-ce un homme très
considérable, ce M. d’Adair?’ asked the EMPRESS. ‘Pas trop, Madame,’
replied Lord Whitworth, ‘quoique son père était grand seigneur
[saigneur].’” The other is taken from a very long statement on
various matters, made by K. George IV., when Prince of Wales, to
Croker personally. Adair’s wife, the Prince said, was a Frenchwoman
with whom ANDREOSSI, when here as Buonaparte’s Minister, intrigued.
THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE told him—the Prince of Wales—that Mrs.
Adair had offered her a bribe of £10,000 down, and as much more
whenever she might want it, if she would communicate the Cabinet
secrets, with which the French thought she could not fail to be
acquainted, through her intimacy with all the leaders of the
Government. This caused a breach between FOX and ADAIR. But the
former could only tell ADAIR that an obstacle—which he could neither
reveal nor overcome, but which did not affect or alter FOX’S
personal regard for him—prevented his appointment to be FOX’S
Under-Secretary of State.—_Croker Papers_, i. 293.—ED.]
[Illustration]
No. XIII.
Feb. 5, 1798.
ACME AND SEPTIMIUS; OR, THE HAPPY UNION
CELEBRATED AT THE CROWN AND ANCHOR TAVERN.
FOX,[98] with TOOKE to grace his side,
Thus address’d his blooming bride—
“Sweet! should I e’er, in power or place,
Another Citizen embrace;
Should e’er my eyes delight to look
On aught alive save JOHN HORNE TOOKE,
Doom me to ridicule and ruin,
In the coarse hug[99] of _Indian_ Bruin!”
He spoke;[100] and to the left and right,
NORFOLK hiccupp’d with delight.
TOOKE,[101] his bald head gently moving,
On the sweet patriot’s drunken eyes
His wine-empurpled lips applies,
And thus returns in accents loving:
“So, my dear[102] CHARLEY, may success
At length my ardent wishes bless,
And lead, through discord’s low’ring storm,
To one grand RADICAL REFORM!
As, from this hour I love thee more
Than e’er I hated thee before!”
He spoke, and to the left and right,
NORFOLK hiccupp’d with delight.
With this good omen they proceed;[103]
Fond toasts their mutual passion feed;
In FOX’S breast HORNE TOOKE prevails
Before[104] rich _Ireland_ and _South Wales_;[105]
And FOX (unread each other book),
Is Law and Gospel to HORNE TOOKE.
When were such kindred souls united?
Or wedded pair so much delighted?
[ACME AND SEPTIMIUS. FROM CATULLUS.
SEPTIMIUS said, and fondly prest
The doating ACME to his breast:—
“My Acme, if I prize not thee
With love as warm as love can be,
With passion spurning any fears
Of growing faint in length of years,
Alone may I defenceless stand
To meet, on Lybia’s desert sand,
Or under India’s torrid sky,
The tawny lion’s glaring eye!”
LOVE, before who utter’d still
On the left-hand omens ill,
As he ceased his faith to plight
Laugh’d propitious on the right.
Then ACME gently bent her head,
Kiss’d with those lips of cherry red
The eyes of the delightful boy,
That swam with glistening floods of joy;
And whisper’d as she closely prest—
“SEPTIMIUS, soul of ACME’S breast,
Let all our lives and feelings own
One lord, one sovereign, Love alone!
I yield to love, and yield to thee,
For thou and love are one to me.
Though fond thy fervent heart may beat,
My feelings glow with greater heat,
And madder flames my bosom melt
Than all that thou hast ever felt.”—ED.]
[The following account of the celebration of FOX’S Birth-day,
printed in the _Anti-Jacobin_, has not hitherto appeared in the
editions of the _Poetry_. _The Song by Mr. Fox_ refers to the
Subscription raised, after a meeting at the Crown and Anchor, in the
summer of 1793, for relieving him in his then present need, and
purchasing an Annuity for him. A Caricature by GILLRAY on this
meeting was published on the 12th June, 1793.
MR. FOX’S BIRTH-DAY.
The public, distracted with the various accounts of the celebration
of Mr. Fox’s Birth-day, naturally turn to us for an authentic detail
of that important event—from a recollection of the correct and
impartial statement we gave in a former Number, of what passed at a
MEETING OF THE FRIENDS OF FREEDOM [page 32].
To justify their confidence, we have had recourse to the _Morning
Post_ and _Morning Chronicle_ (the _Courier_ being too stupid for
our purpose), whose statements we have carefully read, and corrected
from the information of several gentlemen who were present. We are
thus enabled to lay before our readers a genuine narrative of the
whole proceeding, which we defy the tongue of Slander to controvert
in any material point.
As Mr. Fox’s reputation had been for some time on the decline, it
was thought necessary by the party (who are in great want of a
_Head_) to make as respectable an appearance as possible on the
present occasion. It was therefore suggested (at a previous meeting
of confidential friends) that if the unfortunate shyness which
subsisted between the _Whig Club_ and the _Corresponding Society_
could be opportunely removed by a few unimportant concessions on the
part of the former, such a number of citizens might be readily
procured from that respectable body as would serve to give the day
an _éclat_ it had not experienced since the fatal schism of 1792.
This hint, so reasonable in itself, was immediately adopted, and Sir
FRANCIS BURDETT, who was well acquainted with their haunts, was
ordered into the neighbourhood of Smithfield with a competent number
of tickets. He was on the point of setting out, when the Editor of
the _Morning Post_ observed, that _forgery_[106] was so common at
present, that he hardly thought it prudent to admit all who might
come with a bit of scribbled paper: on this it was determined to
distribute the price of admission amongst a certain number of people
to be selected by the Envoy:—these, it was rightly concluded, would
not fail to appear, from motives of vanity, as they could have no
other possible chance of dining with the Premier Dupe, we would say
Duke, in England. It now remained to determine the sum: this, after
a short discussion, was fixed at Eight Shillings and Sixpence per
head, “which,” said the Editor of the _Morning Post_, “will shew we
cannot he persons of mean rank, since we can afford, in hard times,
to give so much for a dinner”;[107] and Citizen BOSVILLE was desired
to advance the money upon the credit of the Whig Fund.
Previous to the meeting, the chairman dispatched a note to Sir
WILLIAM ADDINGTON, requesting that the Crown and Anchor might be
exempted from the visitation of his runners during the morning of
the 24th [Jan., 1798]. To this Sir WILLIAM assented, on condition
that it should be recommended to the gentlemen, to leave their
pocket-books and watches at home, that there might be as little
temptation as possible to break the peace. Thus everything was
arranged with a precaution that seemed to set accident at defiance.
Before four o’clock the passage to the LARGE ROOM was crammed, when,
on a hint that dinner was on the point of being served, one of the
head waiters advanced to the great door, and opened a wicket for the
admission of the company, as fast as they paid down their money. Two
or three had already passed in good order, when Mr. John Nicholls
advanced, and instead of 8s. 6d., produced to the astonished
receiver, _seventeen_ of his PRINTED SPEECHES, which, valuing them
at sixpence a-piece, he contended would make up the sum required.
These “_assets_” however, were absolutely rejected; and a violent
dispute was on the point of commencing, when Sir CHRISTOPHER HAWKINS
stept forward, and whispering a few words, which we did not hear,
obtained leave for his friend to pass. The Speeches were therefore
deposited, and Mr. NICHOLLS was already got within the wicket, when
the man suddenly pulled him back by the coat, and the dispute
recommenced with more violence than ever. Upon inquiry into the
cause of this new tumult, we found that a wag (whom we afterwards
discovered to be Mr. JEKYLL) had played the member for Tregony a
trick; having taken an opportunity, in the crowd, of extracting the
_genuine_ speeches from the pocket of the Honourable Member, and
replacing them by the same number of the _spurious_ ones, printed
for Mr. WRIGHT, the publisher of this Paper. These the waiter very
properly refused to receive, alleging, and indeed truly, that
instead of _six_ pence a-piece, the whole seventeen were not worth
_six_ farthings.
This altercation continued so long, that the company grew impatient;
and Mr. BRYAN EDWARDS, a little ashamed of his friend, who still
continued obstinate, offered to furnish his quota. Harmony now
seemed to be restored, when all at once a cry of astonishment broke
forth that beggars all description. On putting his hand into his
pocket for the price of admission, Mr. E. suddenly turned pale, and
exclaimed, “by G—, gentlemen, some of you have picked my pockets!” A
hundred voices instantly repeated the same cry, and a dreadful scene
of confusion and uproar took place.
Ardebant cuncta et fracta compage ruebant.
What the consequence would have been, it is impossible to say, had
not the waiter, with an air of authority, commanded the doors to be
shut at each end of the passage, and every man to exhibit the
contents of his pocket. A faint cry of No! No! was over-ruled; and
Sir FRANCIS BURDETT produced an old Red Cap from the bosom of his
shirt, which he put into the hands of the Duke of BEDFORD, who was
appointed collector-general _by acclamation_. With this his Grace
went, from man to man, executing his duty with the utmost fairness
and impartiality; and when he had finished, poured out the contents
of the cap before them all. These, it must be confessed, were a
little heterogeneous, consisting, besides a large sum of money, of a
brass knocker (this was immediately claimed by the landlord), a
pewter pot squeezed together, a pair of pattens, a pint decanter, a
duck ready trussed for dressing, a great quantity of potatoes, and a
vinegar cruet. What was most extraordinary was, that though, as his
Grace afterwards declared, the money was found in very unequal
portions, yet the total sum, which was £222, 5s. 6d., being divided
among the company, amounting to 523 persons, produced 8s. 6d. for
each individual, with the exception of the _Member_ for _Tregony_,
who brought nothing but his speech, and Capt. MORRIS, who pays for
everything with a Song.
Nothing material occurred during the Dinner, which was allowed to be
excellent of its kind, and where no such dish as Cow-heel (as
maliciously reported in _The True Briton_) made its appearance.
As soon as the cloth was removed, the Duke of NORFOLK took the Chair
amidst repeated plaudits,[108] and addressed the Company in these
words:
“Three virtuous Men, Citizens, have stood up in defence of
Liberty—MAXIMILIAN ROBESPIERRE, COLLOT D’HERBOIS, and CHARLES JAMES
FOX:—The first is guillotined; the second transported to _Cayenne_;
and the third”——Here all eyes were immediately upon Mr. FOX, who now
entered the room, supported by Citizens JOHN GALE JONES and JOHN
HORNE TOOKE—“As the Right Hon. Gentleman (resumed the Duke, a little
peevishly) has mistaken his cue, and appeared sooner than he ought,
I shall spare his modesty the panegyric I was preparing, and shortly
conclude with proposing the health of CHARLES JAMES FOX.”—This was
drank with three times three.
As soon as the clamour had subsided, Mr. FOX arose and said, “That
language, at least any which he could boast, was inadequate to the
exquisite feelings of gratitude which at once delighted and
oppressed him, at the sight of so numerous and so respectable a body
of free and independent Citizens, met for a purpose which would make
this the proudest and the happiest day of his life”. Having dwelt a
little on this idea, Mr. FOX observed, “that he would not interrupt
the conviviality of the day by a long Speech: he knew there were
several present who came to hear him make a long Speech, but he
would not make a long Speech—to what purpose should he do it?—what
could he add to the Speech lately delivered by him, and so
faithfully recorded in the ANTI-JACOBIN, a contemptible Publication,
but one to which the praise of Accuracy could not be denied. The new
and extraordinary circumstances of the times called for new and
extraordinary measures: he would, therefore, if they pleased,
compress what he had to say into a _Song_—(_loud applauses_)—One
word only.—He owed both the _burden_ and the _idea_ of this Song to
the _Morning Chronicle_. He had yesterday, the 23rd, found there A
BEGGING ADDRESS to the Nation, with DATE OBOLUM BELISARIO prefixed
to it as a Motto. This had pleased him much, and this morning at
breakfast he had endeavoured to adapt it, _mutatis mutandis_, to his
own circumstances: he should now have the honour of giving it.”
SONG BY MR. FOX.
_To the Tune of_
“Good People of England, and all who love Ale.”
Good People of England, of every degree,
Lords, Commoners, listen, O! listen to me;
Republicans, Royalists, all—mark my ditty—
You’ll find I’ve a number of claims on your pity—
Date Obolum Belisario.
Ye who heard me assert that Lord NORTH, now so mourn’d,
Was a _beast_ to be shunn’d, was a _fool_ to be scorn’d,
Yet who saw me, with real or fancied alarms,
Take the _fool_ to my councils, the _beast_ to my arms,
Date Obolum Belisario.
Ye who heard me declare the SUBSCRIBERS of REEVES
Were a scoundrel collection of cut-throats and thieves,
Yet who saw me immediately after repair,
And SUBSCRIBE at the Long-Room in Hanover Square,
Date Obolum Belisario.
Ye who heard—when Invasion was close at our door,
And _Parker_ and Liberty rul’d at the _Nore_—
Ye who heard—no; I mean, who DID NOT HEAR me speak,
While SHERIDAN,[109] damn him! affected to squeak,
Date Obolum Belisario.
Ye who heard me repeat that Resistance, at length,
Was reduc’d, by PITT’S Bill, to a question of _Strength_,
And that _prudence_ alone——
We know not how far Mr. FOX might have proceeded, had he not been
interrupted by a jangling of bells from the Side-table which
immediately drew all eyes that way. This proceeded from Capt.
MORRIS, who had fallen asleep during Mr. FOX’S Song, and was now
nodding on his chair, with a large paper Cap on his head, ornamented
with gilt tassels and bells, which one of the company had
dexterously whipped on unperceived. The first motion was that of
indignation; but the stupid stare of the unconscious Captain, who
half opened his eyes at every sound of the bells as his head rose or
fell, and immediately closed them again, _somno vinoque gravatus_,
had such a powerful effect on the risible faculties of the Company,
that they broke, as if by consent, into the most violent and
convulsive fits of laughter; Mr. FOX himself not being exempt from
the general contagion.
As soon as the Captain was made sensible of the cause of this
uproar, he attempted to pull off the Cap, but was prevented by a
Citizen from the _Corresponding Society_, who maintained that the
Company had a right to be amused by the Captain in what manner they
pleased; and that, as he seemed to amuse them more effectually in
_that state_ than in any other, he insisted, for one, on his
continuing to wear the Cap. This was universally agreed to, with the
exception of the Duke of NORFOLK. The Captain was therefore led to
the upper table, with all his “jangling honours loud upon him!”
Here, as soon as he was seated, his Noble Friend called upon him for
a Song.
The Captain sang the “PLENIPO” in his best manner.
This was received with great applause; and then the Duke gave “The
Defenders—of Ireland”—(_three times three_).
Captain MORRIS then began
“And all the Books of Moses”;—
but was interrupted, before he had finished the first line, by Mr.
TIERNEY, who declared he would not sit there and hear anything like
ridicule on the Bible.[110]—(_Much coughing and scraping_.)—Mr.
Erskine took God to witness, that he thought the Captain meant no
harm;—and a gentleman from Cambridge, whose name we could not learn,
said, with great _naïveté_, that it was no more than was done every
day by his acquaintance. Mr. TIERNEY, however, persisted in his
opposition to the Song, and Captain MORRIS was obliged to substitute
“Jenny Sutton” in the place of it.
But the good humour of the company was already broken in upon, and
Mr. TIERNEY soon after left the room (to which he did not return)
with greater marks of displeasure in his face than we ever remember
to have seen there.
The Duke now gave RADICAL REFORM (_three times three, followed by
continued shouts of applause_).
A Counsellor JACKSON attempted to sing “Paddy Whack,” but was soon
silenced, on account of his stupid perversion of the words, and his
bad voice.
Citizen GALE JONES then rose and said—that he was no Orator, though
he got his living by oratory, being Chairman of a Debating Society.
He had also written a book—which he was told had some merit. He did
not rise to recommend it, but he thought it right to _hint_, that
those who wished for Constitutional information might be supplied
with it at the Bar; the price was trifling—Eighteen-pence was
nothing to the majority of the Company;—to himself, indeed—(here Mr.
HORNE TOOKE called out Order! Order! with some marks of
impatience)—He begged pardon, he would say no more—there was no one
whom he valued like Mr. TOOKE, there was no one indeed to whom he
was under such obligations; the very shoes he had on were charged by
Citizen HARDY to Mr. TOOKE’S account—Mr. TOOKE was also a great
friend to a Radical Reform—he loved a Radical Reform himself; the
Poor must always love Radical Reforms—he should therefore beg leave
to propose the health of Mr. JOHN HORNE TOOKE.—(_Three times
three._)
Mr. TOOKE rose, and spoke nearly as follows: “You all know,
Citizens, in what detestation I once held the Man whose Birth-day we
are now met to commemorate. You cannot yet have forgot the ‘TWO PAIR
OF PORTRAITS’ I formerly published, nor the glaring light in which I
hung up him and his father to the execration of an indignant
posterity. You must also be apprized of the charges of Corruption,
Insurrection, and Murder (_much hissing and applause, the latter
predominant_) which I brought against him, justly, as I must still
think, at a former Election for Westminster. How happens it then,
you will say, that I now come forward to do him honour? I will tell
you. At the last Election for Westminster, I had still my suspicions
of his sincerity; he appeared too anxious to preserve measures with
the spruce and powdered Aristocrats who usually attended him to the
Hustings; nor was it till the fourth or fifth day before the close
of the Poll, that those suspicions were removed. Aware that he was
losing ground among the People, he determined to make one great
effort to re-establish his popularity. He therefore came forward,
and addressed the free and independent Electors in front of the
Hustings, in a Speech, of which the remembrance yet warms my heart.
From that moment, I marked him as my own! Retractation was
impossible; and the panegyric he lately delivered on a Radical
Reform, in a House which I despise too much to name, was the natural
and inevitable consequence of that day’s declaration. You may
remember, that when I addressed my Friends, I only said, ‘Gentlemen,
Mr. FOX has spoken my sentiments; he has even gone beyond them—but I
thank him’.—What I then said I now repeat, with regard to his Speech
on a late occasion—‘I AM MOST PERFECTLY SATISFIED WITH HIS CONDUCT;
NOR DO I WISH TO ADVANCE ONE STEP IN THE CAUSE OF REFORM, BEYOND
WHAT MR. FOX HAS PLEDGED HIMSELF TO GO!!!’”[111]
Mr. TOOKE then begged leave to propose Mr. FOX’S health for the
second time, and sat down amidst a thunder of applause.[112]
The Duke of NORFOLK observed to the Company, that as they had drunk
the health of a Man dear to the People, he would now call upon them
to drink the health of their Sovereign[113]—here a hiccup
interrupted his Grace, and a most violent cry of “No Sovereign! no
Sovereign!” resounded through the room, and continued for several
minutes, notwithstanding the earnest entreaties of the Duke to be
heard. Order was, however, restored at length, when his Grace gently
chid the Company for taking advantage of a slight infirmity of
nature, to impute a design to him which was wholly foreign from his
heart—(_loud applause_). He augured well, however, of their
patriotism, and would now afford them an opportunity of repairing
the injury they had done him, by giving the Toast as he
intended—“THE HEALTH OF OUR SOVEREIGN—THE MAJESTY OF THE
PEOPLE”.[114]—(_Loud and incessant shouts of applause._)
A disgusting scene of uproar and confusion followed, which we shall
not attempt to detail. The Chairman sank under the table in a state
of stupefaction, and the rest of the Company, maddened alike with
noise and wine, committed a thousand outrages, till they were
literally turned into the streets by the Waiters. As many of them as
could speak were conducted home by the watchmen; others were
conveyed “in silent majesty” to the Round-house; and not a few of
them slept out the remainder of the night upon the steps of the
neighbouring houses. The Reporters of the Jacobin Papers were sought
out, and conveyed home by the pressmen, devils, &c., and one poor
youth, whom we afterwards found to be a Writer in the _Morning
Chronicle_ (hired for the day by _The True Briton_)[115] had his
pockets picked of a clean white Handkerchief and a Notebook, after
being severely beaten for deserting his former Employers.
[Illustration: '_The]
No. XIV.
Feb. 12, 1798.
It has been our invariable custom to suppress such of our
correspondents’ favours as conveyed any compliments to ourselves; and we
have deviated from it in the present instance, not so much out of
respect to the uncommon excellence of the Poem before us, as because it
agrees so intimately with the general design of our paper—to expose the
deformity of the French Revolution, to counteract the detestable arts of
those who are seeking to introduce it here, and above all, to invigorate
the exertions of our countrymen against every Foe, foreign and domestic,
by showing them the immense and inexhaustible resources they yet possess
in British Courage and British Virtue!
TO
THE AUTHOR OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.
FOE TO THY COUNTRY’S FOES! ’tis THINE to claim
From Britain’s genuine sons a British fame—
Too long French manners our fair isle disgraced;
Too long French fashions shamed our native taste.
Still prone to change, we half-resolved to try
The proffered charms of FRENCH FRATERNITY.
Fair was her form, and FREEDOM’S honour’d name
Conceal’d the horrors of her secret shame:
She claim’d some kindred with that guardian pow’r,
Long worshipp’d here in Britain’s happier hour:
Virtue and Peace, she said, were in her train,
The long-lost blessings of ASTRÆA’S reign—
But soon the vizor dropp’d—her haggard face
Betray’d the FURY lurking in the GRACE—
The false attendants that behind her press’d,
In vain disguised, the latent guilt confess’d:
PEACE dropt her snow-white robe, and shudd’ring show’d
AMBITION’S mantle reeking fresh with blood;
Presumptuous FOLLY stood in REASON’S form,
Pleased with the power to ruin,—not reform;
PHILOSOPHY, proud phantom, undismay’d,
With cold regard the ghastly train survey’d;
Saw PERSECUTION gnash her iron teeth,
While _Atheists_ preach’d the _eternal sleep of death_;
Saw ANARCHY the social chain unbind,
And DISCORD sour the blood of human kind;
Then talk’d of Nature’s Rights, and Equal Sway;
And saw her system safe—AND STALK’D AWAY!
Foil’d by our ARMS, where’er in ARMS we met,
With ARTS LIKE THESE the foe assails us yet.
Hopeless the fort to storm, or to surprise,
More secret wiles his envious malice tries;
Diseas’d himself, spread wide his own despair,
Pollutes the fount, and taints the wholesome air.
While many a Chief, to glory not unknown,
Alarms each hostile shore, and guards our own,
’Tis THINE, the latent treachery to proclaim;
An humbler warfare, but the cause the same.
In vain had POMPEY crush’d the PONTIC HOST,
And chas’d the pirate swarm from every coast;
The crew that leagu’d their country to o’erthrow;
The base confederates of a GALLIC[116] foe;
Had not the Civic Consul’s watchful eye
Track’d through the windings of conspiracy,
Exposed, confounded, shamed, and forced away,
The “JACOBIN REFORMER[117] of his day”.
’Tis THINE a subtler mischief to pursue,
And drag a deeper, darker, plot to view;
Whate’er its form, still ready to engage,
Detect its malice, or resist its rage;
Whether it whispers low, or raves aloud,
In sneers profane, or blasphemies avow’d;[118]
Insults its King, reviles its Country’s cause,
And, ’scaped from Justice, braves the lenient Laws:
Whate’er the hand in desperate faction bold,
By native hate inspired, or foreign gold;
Traitors absolved, and libellers released,
The recreant Peer, or renegado Priest;[119]
The _Sovereign-people’s_ cringing, crafty slave,
The dashing fool, and instigating knave,
Each claims thy care; nor think the labour vain—
VERMIN HAVE SUNK THE SHIP THAT RULED THE MAIN.
’Tis THINE, with Truth’s fair shield to ward the blow,
And turn the weapon back upon the foe:
To trace the skulking fraud, the candid cheat,
That can retract the falsehood, yet repeat;
To wake the listless, slumb’ring as they lie,
Lapt in th’ embrace of soft security;
To rouse the cold, re-animate the brave,
And shew the cautious all they have to save.
Erect that standard ALFRED first unfurl’d,
Britain’s just pride, the wonder of the world;
Whose staff is Freedom’s spear, whose blazon’d field
Beams with the CHRISTIAN CROSS, the REGAL SHIELD;
That standard which the PATRIOT BARONS bore,
Restored, from RUNIMEDE’S resounding shore;
Which since consign’d to WILLIAM’S guardian hand,
Waved in new splendour o’er a grateful land;
Which oft in vain by force or fraud assail’d,
Has stood the shock of ages—and prevail’d.
Yes! the BRIGHT SUN OF BRITAIN yet shall shine—
The clouds are earth-born, but his fire divine;
That temperate splendour, and that genial heat,
Shall still illume, and cherish Empire’s Seat;
While the red Meteor, whose portentous glare
Shot plagues infectious through the troubled air;
Admired, or fear’d no more, shall melt away,
Lost in the radiance of HIS BRIGHTER DAY!
[Illustration: '_DESIGN]
LINES.
_Written under the Bust of Charles Fox at the Crown and Anchor._
I’ll not sell Uncle NOLL, Charles Surface cries;—
I’ll not sell CHARLEY FOX, John Bull replies:
Sell him, indeed! who’ll find me such another?—
Fox is above all price; so hold your pother.
_Morning Post, Feb. 6._
To make our readers some amends for this miserable doggrel, we will
present them, in our turn, with some lines written _under a bust_, NOT
_at the Crown and Anchor_, by an ENGLISH TRAVELLER just returned from
Petersburgh. We believe they are more just; we are certain they are more
poetical.
LINES.
_Written by a Traveller at Czarco-zelo under the Bust of a certain
Orator, once placed between those of Demosthenes and Cicero._
I.
THE GRECIAN Orator of old,
With scorn rejected PHILIP’S laws,
Indignant spurn’d at foreign gold,
And triumph’d in his country’s cause.
II.
A foe to every wild extreme,
’Mid civil storms, the Roman Sage
Repress’d Ambition’s frantic scheme,
And check’d the madding people’s rage.
III.
Their country’s peace, and wealth and fame,
With patriot zeal their labours sought,
And Rome’s or Athens’ honoured name
Inspired and govern’d every thought.
IV.
Who now, in this presumptuous hour,
Aspires to share the Athenian’s praise?
—The advocate of foreign power,
The Æschines of later days.
V.
What chosen name to Tully’s join’d,
Is thus announced to distant climes?
—Behold, to lasting shame consign’d,
The _Catiline_ of modern times![120]
[Illustration]
No. XV.
Feb. 19, 1798.
THE PROGRESS OF MAN.[121]
=A Didactic Poem,=
IN FORTY CANTOS, WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY: CHIEFLY OF A
PHILOSOPHICAL TENDENCY.
DEDICATED TO R. P. KNIGHT, ESQ.
CANTO FIRST.
CONTENTS.—The Subject proposed.—Doubts and Waverings.—Queries not to
be answered.—Formation of the stupendous Whole.—Cosmogony; or the
Creation of the World:—the Devil—Man—Various Classes of
Being:—ANIMATED BEINGS—Birds—Fish—Beasts—the Influence of the Sexual
Appetite—on Tigers—on Whales—On Crimpt Cod—on Perch—on
Shrimps—on Oysters.—Various Stations assigned to different
Animals:—Birds—Bears—Mackerel.—Bears remarkable for their
fur—Mackerel cried on a Sunday—Birds do not graze—nor Fishes fly—nor
Beasts live in the Water.—Plants equally contented with their
lot:—Potatoes—Cabbage—Lettuce—Leeks—Cucumbers.—MAN only
discontented—born a Savage; not choosing to continue so, becomes
polished—resigns his Liberty—Priest-craft—King-craft—Tyranny of Laws
and Institutions.—Savage Life—description thereof:—The Savage
free—roaming Woods—feeds on Hips and Haws—Animal Food—first notion
of it from seeing a Tiger tearing his prey—wonders if it is
good—resolves to try—makes a Bow and Arrow—kills a Pig—resolves to
roast a part of it—lights a fire—APOSTROPHE to fires—Spits and Jacks
not yet invented.—Digression.—CORINTH—SHEFFIELD.—Love, the most
natural desire after Food.—Savage Courtship.—Concubinage
recommended.—Satirical Reflections on Parents and Children—Husbands
and Wives—against collateral Consanguinity.—FREEDOM the only
Morality, &c. &c. &c.
Whether some great, supreme o’er-ruling Power
Stretch’d forth its arm at Nature’s natal hour,
Composed this mighty whole with plastic skill,[122]
Wielding the jarring elements at will?
Or whether, sprung from Chaos’ mingling storm, 5
The mass of matter started into form?
Or Chance o’er earth’s green lap spontaneous fling
The fruits of autumn and the flowers of spring?
Whether material substance unrefined,
Owns the strong impulse of instructive mind, 10
Which to one centre points diverging lines,
Confounds, refracts, invig’rates, and combines?[123]
Whether the joys of earth, the hopes of heaven,
By man to God, or God to man, were given?[124]
If virtue leads to bliss, or vice to woe? 15
Who rules above, or who reside below?[125]
Vain questions all—shall man presume to know?
On all these points, and points obscure as these,
Think they who will,—and think whate’er they please!
Let us a plainer, steadier theme pursue— 20
Mark the grim savage scoop his light canoe;
Mark the dark rook, on pendent branches hung,
With anxious fondness feed her cawing young.—
Mark the fell leopard through the desert prowl,
Fish prey on fish, and fowl regale on fowl;— 25
How Lybian tigers’ chawdrons[126] love assails,
And warms, ’midst seas of ice, the melting whales;—[127]
Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts,
Shrinks shrivell’d shrimps, but opens oysters’ hearts;—[128]
Then say, how all these things together tend 30
To one great truth, prime object, and good end?
First—to each living thing, whate’er its kind,
Some lot, some part, some station is assign’d.
The feather’d race with pinions skim the _air_—[129]
Not so the mackerel, and still less the bear;[130] 35
_This_ roams the _wood_, carniv’rous for his prey![131]
_That_ with soft roe pursues his _watery_ way:[132]
_This_, slain by hunters, yields his shaggy hide;[133]
_That_, caught by fishers, is on _Sundays_ cried.—[134]
But each contented with his humble sphere, 40
Moves unambitious through the circling year;
Nor e’er forgets the fortune of his race,
Nor pines to quit, or strives to change his place.
Ah! who has seen the mailed lobster rise,
Clap her broad wings, and soaring claim the skies?[135] 45
When did the owl, descending from her bow’r,
Crop, ’midst the fleecy flocks, the tender flow’r;
Or the young heifer plunge, with pliant limb,
In the salt wave,[136] and fish-like strive to swim?
The same with plants[137]—potatoes ’tatoes breed—[138] 50
Uncostly cabbage springs from cabbage seed;
Lettuce to lettuce, leeks to leeks succeed;
Nor e’er did cooling cucumbers presume
To flow’r like myrtle, or like violets bloom.
—Man, only,—rash, refined, presumptuous man, 55
Starts from his rank, and mars creation’s plan.
Born the free heir of nature’s wide domain,
To art’s strict limits bounds his narrow’d reign;
Resigns his native rights for meaner things,
For faith and fetters—laws, and priests, and kings. 60
(_To be continued._)
We are sorry to be obliged to break off here. The remainder of this
admirable and instructive Poem is in the press, and will be continued
the first opportunity.
THE EDITOR.
[The following is the commencement of Knight’s poem:—
Whether primordial motion sprang to life
From the wild war of elemental strife;
In central chains the mass inert confined,
And sublimated matter into mind:
Or, whether one great all-pervading soul
Moves in each part and animates the whole;
Unnumbered worlds to one great centre draws,
And governs all by pre-established laws:
Whether in fates’ eternal fetters bound,
Mechanic nature goes her endless round:
Or ever varying, acts but to fulfil
The sovereign mandates of Almighty will;—
Let learned folly seek, or foolish pride,
Rash in presumptuous ignorance, decide.—ED.]
[Eminent as Richard Payne Knight was as a classical scholar and
archæologist, his poetical powers were not highly appreciated by his
literary contemporaries, as is amusingly shown in a letter from
Horace Walpole, dated 22nd March, 1796, to the Rev. W. Mason, in
which he declares how much he is “offended and disgusted by Mr.
Knight’s new, insolent, and self-conceited poem”. He winds up thus:
“I send you a parody on two lines of Mr. Knight, which will show you
that his poem is seen in its true light by a young man of allowed
parts, MR. CANNING, whom I never saw. The originals are the two
first lines at the top of page 5:”—
“Some fainter irritations seem to feel,
Which o’er its languid fibres gently steal”.—KNIGHT.
“Cools the crimp’d cod, to pond-perch pangs imparts,
Thrills the shelled shrimps, and opens oysters’ hearts.”—CANNING.
It is evident from this that Canning had thought of parodying the
poem immediately after its publication, and that Walpole had seen a
specimen in manuscript, nearly two years before its publication in
the _Anti-Jacobin_, in which the two lines (28, 29) are thus
altered:—
“Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts,
Shrinks shrivell’d shrimps, but opens oysters’ hearts”.
By an oversight, Peter Cunningham, in his edition of Walpole’s
Letters, attributes the latter’s attack to a previous production of
Knight’s, published in 1794, entitled _The Landscape: a didactic
Poem in three Books_, a work which had excited Walpole’s high
indignation by expressing opinions opposed to his own.—ED.]
No. XVI.
Feb. 26, 1798.
The specimen of the poem on the “Progress of Man,” with which we
favoured our Readers in our last Number, has occasioned a variety of
letters, which we confess have not a little surprised us, from the
unfounded, and even contradictory charges they contain. In one, we are
accused of Malevolence, in bringing back to notice a work that had been
quietly consigned to oblivion;—in another, of Plagiarism, in copying its
most beautiful passages;—in a third, of Vanity, in striving to imitate
what was in itself inimitable, &c., &c. But why this alarm? has the
author of the “_Progress of Civil Society_” an exclusive patent for
fabricating _Didactic_ poems? or can we not write against Order and
Government without incurring the guilt of Imitation? We trust we were
not so ignorant of the nature of a didactic poem (so called from
_didaskein_, to teach, and _poema_, a poem; because it teaches nothing,
and is not poetical) even before the _“Progress of Civil Society”_
appeared, but that we were capable of such an undertaking.
We shall only say further, that we do not intend to proceed regularly
with our Poem; but having the remaining thirty-nine Cantos by us, shall
content ourselves with giving, from time to time, such extracts as may
happen to suit our purpose.
The following passage, which, as the reader will see by turning to the
Contents prefixed to the head of the Poem, is part of the First Canto,
contains so happy a deduction of MAN’S present state of Depravity, from
the first slips and failings of his Original State, and inculcates so
forcibly the mischievous consequences of _social_ or _civilized_, as
opposed to _natural_ society, that no dread of imputed imitation can
prevent us from giving it to our readers.
PROGRESS OF MAN.
Lo! the rude savage, free from civil strife,[139]
Keeps the smooth tenour of his guiltless life;
Restrain’d by none, save Nature’s lenient laws,
Quaffs the clear stream, and feeds on hips and haws.
Light to his daily sports behold him rise! 65
The bloodless banquet health and strength supplies.[140]
Bloodless not long—one morn he haps to stray[141]
Through the lone wood—and close beside the way
Sees the gaunt tiger tear his trembling prey;
Beneath whose gory fangs a leveret bleeds, 70
Or pig—such pig as fertile China breeds.[142]
Struck with the sight, the wondering savage stands,
Rolls his broad eyes, and clasps his lifted hands!
Then restless roams—and loaths his wonted food;
Shuns the salubrious stream, and thirsts for blood. 75
By thought matured, and quicken’d by desire,[143]
New arts, new arms, his wayward wants require.
From the tough yew a slender branch he tears,
With self-taught skill the twisted grass[144] prepares;
Th’ unfashioned bow, with labouring efforts bends 80
In circling form, and joins th’ unwilling ends.
Next some tall reed he seeks—with sharp-edg’d stone
Shapes the fell dart, and points with whiten’d bone.[145]
Then forth he fares. Around in careless play,
Kids, pigs, and lambkins unsuspecting stray; 85
With grim delight he views the sportive band,
Intent on blood, and lifts his murderous hand.
Twangs the bent bow—resounds the fateful dart,
Swift-wing’d, and trembles in a porker’s heart.
Ah, hapless porker! what can now avail[146] 90
Thy back’s stiff bristles, or thy curly tail?
Ah! what avail those eyes so small and round,
Long pendent ears, and snout that loves the ground?[147]
Not unreveng’d thou diest!—in after times[148]
From thy spilt blood shall spring unnumber’d crimes. 95
Soon shall the slaught’rous arms that wrought thy woe,
Improved by malice, deal a deadlier blow;[149]
When _social_ man shall pant for nobler game,
And ’gainst his fellow man the vengeful weapon aim.
As love, as gold, as jealousy inspires,[150] 100
As wrathful hate, or wild ambition fires,
Urged by the statesman’s craft, the tyrant’s rage,
Embattled nations endless wars shall wage,
Vast seas of blood the ravaged field shall stain,
And millions perish—that a _king_ may reign! 105
For blood once shed, new wants and wishes rise;[151]
Each rising want invention quick supplies.
To roast his victuals is man’s next desire,
So two dry sticks he rubs, and lights a fire.
Hail fire, &c. &c.
[Illustration]
No. XVII.
March 5, 1798.
We are obliged to a learned correspondent for the following ingenious
imitation of BION.—We will not shock the eyes of our fair readers with
the original Greek, but the following _Argument_ will give them some
idea of the nature of the Poem here imitated.
ARGUMENT.
Venus is represented as bringing to the Poet, while sleeping, her son
Cupid, with a request that he would teach him Pastoral Poetry—Bion
complies, and endeavours to teach him the rise and progress of that
art:—Cupid laughs at his instructions, and in his turn teaches his
master the Loves of Men and Gods, the Wiles of his Mother,
&c.—“Pleased with his lessons,” says BION, “I forgot what I lately
taught Cupid and recollect in its stead only what Cupid taught me.”
IMITATION, &c.[152]
WRITTEN AT ST. ANNE’S HILL.
Scarce had sleep my eyes o’erspread,
Ere Alecto sought my bed;
In her left hand a torch she shook,
And in her right led JOHN HORNE TOOKE.
O thou! who well deserv’st the bays,
Teach him, she cried, Sedition’s lays—
She said, and left us; I, poor fool,
Began the wily priest to school;
Taught him how MOIRA sung of lights,
Blown out by troops o’ stormy nights;[153]
How ERSKINE, borne on rapture’s wings,
At clubs and taverns sweetly sings
Of _self_—while yawning Whigs attend—
_Self_ first, last, midst, and without end;[154]
How BEDFORD piped, ill-fated Bard;[155]
Half-drown’d, in empty Palace-yard;
How LANSDOWNE, nature’s simple child,
At BOWOOD trills his wood-notes wild—[156]
How these and more (a phrenzied choir)
Sweep with bold hand Confusion’s lyre,
Till madding crowds around them storm
“FOR ONE GRAND RADICAL REFORM!”
TOOKE stood silent for a while,
Listening with sarcastic smile;
Then in verse of calmest flow,
Sung of treasons, deep and low,
Of rapine, prisons, scaffolds, blood,
Of war against the great and good;
Of Venice, and of Genoa’s doom,
And fall of unoffending Rome;
Of monarchs from their station hurl’d,
And one waste desolated world.
Charm’d by the magic of his tongue,
I lost the strains I lately sung,
While those he taught, remain impress’d
For ever on my faithful breast.
DORUS.
[BION. IDYLLIUM III. THE TEACHER TAUGHT.
TRANSLATED BY FAWKES.
As late I slumbering lay, before my sight
Bright VENUS rose in visions of the night:
She led young Cupid; as in thought profound
His modest eyes were fixed upon the ground;
And thus she spoke: “To thee, dear swain, I bring
My little son; instruct the boy to sing”.
No more she said; but vanished into air,
And left the wily pupil to my care:
I,—(sure I was an idiot for my pains),
Began to teach him old bucolic strains;
How PAN the pipe, how PALLAS formed the flute,
PHŒBUS the lyre, and MERCURY the lute:
LOVE, to my lessons quite regardless grown,
Sang lighter lays, and sonnets of his own,
Th’ amours of men below, and gods above,
And all the triumphs of the queen of love.
I, sure the simplest of all shepherd swains,
Full soon forgot my old bucolic strains;
The lighter lays of LOVE my fancy caught,
And I remembered all that Cupid taught.—ED.]
* * * * *
Something like the same idea seems to have dictated the following
Stanzas, which appear to be a loose imitation of the beautiful Dialogue
of Horace and Lydia, and for which, though confessedly in a lower style
of poetry, and conceived rather in the _slang_, or _Brentford_ dialect,
than in the classical Doric of the foregoing Poem, we have many thanks
to return to an ingenious academical correspondent.
THE NEW COALITION.[157]
I.
FOX.—When erst I coalesced with North
And brought my _Indian bantling_ forth[158]
In place—I smiled at faction’s storm,
Nor dreamt of _radical reform_.
II.
TOOKE.—While yet no patriot project pushing,
Content I thump’d old Brentford’s cushion,
I pass’d my life so free and gaily;
Not dreaming of that d——d _Old Bailey_.
III.
FOX.—Well! now my favourite preacher’s _Nickle_,[159]
He keeps for PITT a rod in pickle;
His gestures fright th’ astonish’d gazers,
His sarcasms cut like Packwood’s razors.
IV.
TOOKE.—_Thelwall’s_[160] my man for state alarm;
I love the rebels of _Chalk Farm_;
Rogues that no statutes can subdue,
Who’d bring the French, and head them too.
V.
FOX.—A whisper in your ear, JOHN HORNE,[161]
For _one great end_ we both were born,
Alike we roar, and rant, and bellow—
Give us your hand, my honest fellow.
VI.
TOOKE.—Charles, for a shuffler long I’ve known thee:
But come—for once, I’ll not disown thee;
And since with patriot zeal thou burnest,
With thee I’ll live—or hang _in earnest_.
[HORACE. BOOK III., ODE IX.
HORACE.—Whilst I was fond, and you were kind,
Nor any dearer youth, reclined
On your soft bosom, sought to rest,
Not Persia’s monarch was so blest.
LYDIA.—Whilst you adored no other face,
Nor loved me in the second place,
Your Lydia’s celebrated fame
Outshone the Roman Ilia’s name.
HORACE.—Me _Chloe_ now possesses whole;
Her voice and lyre command my soul:
Nor would I death itself decline,
Could I redeem her life with mine.
LYDIA.—For me young lovely _Calaïs_ burns,
And warmth for warmth my heart returns.
Twice would I life for him resign,
Could _his_ be ransomed thus with _mine_.
HORACE.—What if the God, whose bands we broke,
Again should tame us to the yoke!
What if my _Chloe_ cease to reign,
And _Lydia_ her lost power regain!
LYDIA.—Though Phosphor be less fair than _he_;
_Thou_ wilder than the raging sea;
Lighter than down; yet gladly I
With _thee_ would live, with _thee_ would die.—ED.]
* * * * *
[Another version of this Ode published in the _Anti-Jacobin Review_,
vol. 1, pp. 597–8 (the successor to the _Anti-Jacobin_), may perhaps
not be considered out of place here. It was written by the Rev. C.
E. Stewart, a constant contributor to the former journal.
THE HONEY-MOON OF FOX AND TOOKE.
_Donec gratus eram tibi._
FOX.—Since Fox of his Tooke is possest,
No sorrows my bosom can harass;
What Director was ever so blest?
I’m greater, far greater than Barras.
TOOKE.—If Fox to his consort is true,
And this blest Coalition sincere,
I’ll engage as a private with you,
Nor envy thy fame, Robespierre.
FOX.—You once were the worst of my foes,
E’en Pitt I detested not more,
When you dar’d my Election oppose,
And eternal antipathy swore.
TOOKE.—Not to you was my hatred confin’d,
Your father I styled “The Defaulter,”
Drew a portrait of both, and consign’d
Both father and son to the halter.
FOX.—Drive these hated reflections away;
For you I would gladly resign.
Jockey Norfolk, big Bedford, and Grey;
But they answer your purpose and mine.
TOOKE.—Whate’er you attempt or intend,
I am yours, and will bring at your call,
Binns, Gurney, Scott, Ferguson, Frend,
Corresponding Society—all.
BOTH.—Thus reconcil’d, fond, and delighted,
Together we’ll ride in the storm,
While Jacobin Clubs, all united,
Make a radical, perfect Reform.—ED.]
[Illustration]
No. XVIII.
March 12, 1798.
We are indebted for the following exquisite imitation of one of the most
beautiful Odes of Horace, to an unknown hand. All that we can say is,
that it came to us in a blank cover sealed with a ducal coronet, and
that it appears evidently to be the production of a mind not more
classical than convivial.
ODE.
Whither, O Bacchus, in thy train,[162]
Dost thou transport thy votary’s brain
With sudden inspiration?
Where dost thou bid me quaff my wine,
And toast new measures to combine
The _Great_ and _Little Nation_?
Say, in what tavern I shall raise[163]
My mighty voice in Charley’s praise,
And dream of future glories,
When FOX, with salutary sway
(Terror the Order of the Day),
Shall reign o’er King and Tories?
My mighty feelings must have way![164]
A toast I’ll give—a thing I’ll say,
As yet unsaid by any,—
“OUR SOV’REIGN LORD!”—let those who doubt
My honest meaning, hear me out—
“HIS MAJESTY—THE MANY!”
Plain folks may be surprised, and stare,[165]
As much surprised as BOB ADAIR
At Russia’s wooden houses;
And Russian snows, that lie so thick;[166]
And Russian boors[167] that daily kick,
With barbarous foot, their spouses.
What joy, when drunk, at midnight’s hour,[168]
To stroll through Covent Garden’s bow’r,
Its various charms exploring;
And, ’midst its shrubs and vacant stalls,
And proud Piazza’s crumbling walls,
Hear trulls and watchmen snoring!
Parent of wine, and gin, and beer,[169]
The nymphs of Billingsgate you cheer;
Naiads robust and hearty;
As Brookes’s chairmen fit to wield
Their stout oak bludgeons in the field,
To aid our virtuous party.
Mortals! no common voice you hear;[170]
_Militia Colonel, Premier Peer,
Lieutenant of a County_!
I speak high things! yet, god of wine,
For thee, I fear not to resign
These gifts of royal bounty.
[HORACE. BOOK III., ODE XXV. TO BACCHUS.
TRANSLATED BY FRANCIS.
Whither in sacred ecstasy,
BACCHUS, when full of thy divinity,
Dost thou transport me? To what glades?
What gloomy caverns, unfrequented shades?
In what recesses shall I raise
My voice to sacred Cæsar’s deathless praise,
Amid the stars to bid him shine,
Ranked in the councils of the powers divine?
Some bolder song shall wake the lyre,
And sounds unknown its trembling strings inspire.
Thus o’er the steepy mountains’ height,
Starting from sleep, thy priestess takes her flight:
Amazed, behold the Thracian snows,
With languid streams where icy Heber flows
Or Rhodopé’s high-towering head,
Where frantic choirs barbarian measures tread.
O’er pathless rocks, through lonely groves,
With what delight my raptured spirit roves!
O thou, who rul’st the Naiad’s breast;
By whom the Bacchanalian maids, possessed
With sacred rage inspired by thee,
Tear from the bursting glebe th’ uprooted tree;
Nothing or low, or mean, I sing,
No mortal sound shall shake the swelling string.
The venturous theme my soul alarms;
But warmed by thee the thought of danger charms.
When vine-crowned Bacchus leads the way,
What can his daring votaries dismay?—ED.]
[The preceding Ode, written in the character of Charles Howard,
eleventh DUKE OF NORFOLK, refers to the famous toast, “Our
Sovereign’s health—THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE,” proposed by his Grace
at a Banquet at the “Crown and Anchor Tavern,” Strand, on the 24th
January, 1798, given to celebrate the birth-day of C. J. FOX. For
this toast and other sentiments promulgated at the meeting, his
Grace a few days after received notice of his dismissal from the
Lord-Lieutenancy of the West Riding of Yorkshire and his Colonelcy
in the Militia, and on the 6th of February Earl Fitzwilliam was
gazetted to the former office, vice the Duke of Norfolk, _resigned_.
But sixteen years earlier, this _Toast_ was not considered
seditious; for in the _General Advertiser_ of the 13th of April,
1782, then edited by Perry (afterwards the eminent proprietor of the
_Morning Chronicle_), we find an account of a dinner of the electors
of Westminster held the preceding day at the Shakespeare Tavern,
_Earl Fitzwilliam_ in the chair. The first toast given by his
Lordship was, “THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE”. It was drunk by the Earl
of Effingham, the Earl of Surrey (afterwards Duke of Norfolk, and
the subject of the present remarks), Mr. Secretary Fox, Burke,
Windham, Dean Jebb, J. Churchill, Brand Hollis, Dr. Brocklesby, &c.
Thus the identical toast was proposed and drunk by the Earl of
Fitzwilliam, to whom the Lord-Lieutenancy now taken from the Duke of
Norfolk was given. It is not a little remarkable that Lord
Fitzwilliam himself was dismissed by his new Tory allies, Oct. 23,
1819, from the same Lord-Lieutenancy of the West Riding of
Yorkshire, having signed the requisition for the York meeting, at
which resolutions were passed condemning the measures of Ministers
(Lords Liverpool, Eldon, Bathurst, Castlereagh, Palmerston, &c.),
respecting the Manchester Reform Meeting, called by Henry Hunt, on
16th August, at which occurred what is known as the “Peterloo
Massacre”.—ED.]
[“THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE,” AS GIVEN ON FOX’S BIRTH-DAY.
The company was a very large one, but the estimated number of 2000
diners is surely an error. The Duke of Norfolk presided, supported
by the Duke of Bedford, the Earls of Lauderdale and Oxford,
Sheridan, Tierney, Erskine, Capt. Morris (who produced three new
songs for the occasion), and Horne Tooke; the latter became
reconciled to Fox by the explanation the latter gave of his
sentiments on parliamentary reform. On the cloth being removed, he
rose and said, “We are met in a moment of most serious difficulty to
celebrate the birth of a man dear to the friend of freedom. I shall
only recall to your memory that not twenty years ago, the
illustrious GEORGE WASHINGTON had not more than two thousand men to
rally round him when his country was attacked. America is now free.
This day full two thousand men are assembled in this place. I leave
the application to you. I propose to you the health of CHARLES JAMES
FOX.”
In the course of the evening the Duke’s health was drunk with great
enthusiasm. He returned thanks, and concluded his speech with these
words, “Give me leave to call on you to drink, Our Sovereign’s
health,
“THE MAJESTY OF THE PEOPLE”.
After this toast had been drunk and warmly applauded, the Duke gave
successively, “The Rights of the People,” “Constitutional Redress of
the Wrongs of the People,” “A speedy and effectual Reform in the
Representation of the People in Parliament,” “The genuine Principles
of the British Constitution,” “The People of Ireland, and may they
be speedily restored to the Blessings of Law and Liberty”.
On the 6th of February, the next monthly meeting of the _Whig Club_
was held at the London Tavern, Ludgate Hill. The DUKE OF NORFOLK
presided. He gave as a toast, “The Man who dares be honest in the
worst of times—
“CHARLES JAMES FOX”.
FOX returned thanks, and then toasted
“THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE”.
He subsequently proposed the health of the Duke of Norfolk in a most
powerful speech. He adverted to the dismissal of the DUKE. “No
reason had been officially assigned; it was, however, generally
understood that it had arisen from the eulogium pronounced on
GENERAL WASHINGTON. Was it to be wondered at, that the noble Duke,
who had uniformly opposed the American war, should have done so?
What Englishman, what man of any country, whose heart was animated
with a love of freedom, did not venerate the name of that
illustrious patriot? It seems also “a toast” has given offence—the
Majesty of the People. I do not know upon what times we are fallen,
but the sovereignty of the people of Great Britain is surely a thing
not new to the language, to the feelings, nor the hearts of
Englishmen. It is the basis of the whole system of our Government.
It is an opinion, which if it be not true, King William was an
usurper. By what right did the glorious and immortal King William
the Third, whose portrait is placed on our chair, come to the throne
of these realms, if not by that of the sovereignty of the people?...
The King holds his title by an Act of Parliament. Who called that
Parliament? King William the Third. By what right did he obtain it?
By a Convention representing the sovereignty of the people. The
Convention of Representatives in fact did the thing. It is whimsical
enough to deprive the noble Duke of his appointments for an offence
which, if he had not committed during the reigns of George I. and
George II., would have subjected him to the charge of being a
Jacobite, and an adherent of the exiled family.... Of the persons of
his Majesty’s Ministers I will not say a word. There are several of
them to whom I may fairly say this sentiment is not new. One member
of the Cabinet (the Duke of Portland) is still a member of this
club; another (Mr. Windham) was a member; and a third (Earl Spencer)
long gloried in holding the same tenets. How often with the two
first have we drunk the sentiment in this room! What did they mean
when they drank the Sovereignty of the People? What, but that they
recognised by this approved and customary method a truth which
belongs to all people in reality, but is the avowed basis of the
Government of England, that the people of every country are its
legitimate Sovereign, and that all authority is delegated from and
for them? I should be ashamed, on account of my old respect for
those persons, if they did not honestly avow this to be their sense
of the sentiment.”
While adverting, on this occasion, to the dismissal of the DUKE OF
NORFOLK from his Lord-Lieutenancy and Colonelcy of Militia, FOX
remarked, “I have nothing the Ministers can take from me. I am still
indeed a Privy Councillor, at least I know nothing to the contrary;
and if this sentiment entitles the Noble Duke to this animadversion,
I shall certainly feel that I am equally entitled to this mark of
his Majesty’s displeasure.” This anticipation was verified shortly
afterwards.
On the 1st of May following, at the Freemasons’ Tavern, another
dinner of the _Whig Club_ took place. FOX was in the chair, and
gave, as the first toast—
“THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE PEOPLE OF GREAT BRITAIN”.
The Duke of Norfolk proposed “The Health of the Man who dares be
Honest in the worst of Times—
“CHARLES JAMES FOX”.
FOX responded in a most impressive speech. He said: “On any other
occasion, he should have contented himself with returning thanks,
but in the very peculiar embarrassments in which the country was now
plunged, he thought it necessary to say a few words in the only
place in which he thought it might be useful for him to deliver his
sentiments. The circumstances and events of public affairs of late
had induced him and many of his friends to abstain from their usual
assiduous attendance in Parliament. Their exertions for the
preservation of the Constitution had been of no avail; two years ago
they had seen the repeal of the Bill of Rights carried by a
triumphant majority; they had seen the functions of the
Constitutional Law suspended, on alarm created by the Ministers
themselves; and however well-founded the alarm might now be, he
scorned the idea that it was necessary for him to attend in his
place in the House of Commons, for the purpose only of vindicating
himself from the vulgar calumny that he was not an enemy to a
foreign invasion. It would be an insult on his whole life if such a
declaration could be expected from him. He believed there was not a
voice in the assembly he addressed which was not in unison with his
own—namely, that every man who heard him was both ready and willing
to stand forth in defence of his country, with the spirit that
belongs to Englishmen. He found no fault with those who thought it
necessary to make these professions elsewhere. Thus much only would
he say in this place for himself. _The present Government of the
country, he had no hesitation in saying, was a Government of
Tyranny. They had adopted the principles of Robespierre, and their
object was to establish tyranny in England._ Look at the situation
of the Sister Kingdom; our own will soon be the same. He had no
remedy to recommend but that the friends of freedom should be united
and firm, and wait for better times. Tyranny was now the order of
the day in every country in Europe. Notwithstanding the arbitrary
proceedings of our own Ministers, he was persuaded the unanimous
feeling of the country, the universal determination of every man in
it was to be ready to take the field against a foreign foe; and,
indeed, they had a powerful motive to do so, for if they were
united, they had a better chance to get rid of the tyranny of their
own Ministers than they could possibly have by the success of a
foreign invasion. Even in his present retirement he should be ready
to come forward, in every constitutional effort, to regain our lost
liberties; and he should be in the foremost of the ranks to repel
the invasion of a daring enemy.”
This speech led to a most important consequence—the erasing from the
Privy Council Book the name of one of the most illustrious statesmen
which had ever adorned it. FOX’S name was struck out by the King on
the 9th of May.
On the 6th of June, after the dinner at the _Whig Club_, the DUKE OF
BEDFORD proposed “THE HEALTH OF CHARLES FOX,” and remarked in severe
terms on Ministers having caused the King to strike his name out of
the list of the Privy Council. FOX said: “It would be most unfit for
him to say a word respecting the Noble Duke’s allusion to a
circumstance personal to himself. Would to God the time of the
Ministers had been always employed in such _frivolous fooleries_ as
settling who should be _Honourable_ and who _Right Honourable_, and
deliberating on the titles most befitting their friends and
supporters.” FOX, with some of his supporters, seceded from
Parliament in 1797, and returned to the House of Commons in 1802 to
defend the Peace of Amiens, and he was persuaded to continue his
parliamentary attendance by the urgent request of friends, with
whose wishes he felt himself bound to comply.—ED.]
No. XIX.
March 19, 1798.
For the authenticity of the enclosed Ballad we refer our readers to a
volume of MS. Poems discovered upon the removal of some papers, during
the late alterations which have taken place at the Tax-office, in
consequence of the Reports of the Finance Committee.
It has been communicated to our printer by an ingenious friend of his,
who occasionally acts for the Deputy Collector of the Parish of St.
Martin in the Fields; but without date, or any other mark, by which we
are enabled to guess at the particular subject of the composition.
CHEVY CHASE.[171]
God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all:
A woeful story late there did
In Britain’s Isle befall.
DUKE SMITHSON, of NORTHUMBERLAND,
A vow to God did make,
The choicest gifts in fair England,
For him and his to take.
“Stand fast, my merry men,” he cried,
“By MOIRA’S Earl and me,
And we will gain place, wealth and pow’r,
As arm’d neutrality.
“Excise and Customs, Church and Law,
I’ve begg’d from _Master_ ROSE;
The Garter too—but still _the Blues_
I’ll have, or I’ll oppose.”
“Now God be with him,” quoth the KING,
“Sith ’twill no better be;
I trust we have within our realm
Five hundred good as he.”
The DUKE then join’d with Charley FOX,
A leader ware and tried,
And ERSKINE, SHERIDAN, and GREY
Fought stoutly by his side.
Throughout the English Parliament,
They dealt full many a wound;
But in his king’s and country’s cause,
PITT firmly stood his ground.
And soon a law like arrow keen,
Or spear, or curtal-axe,
Struck poor DUKE SMITHSON to the heart,
In shape of _Powder-tax_.[172]
Sore leaning on his crutch, he cried,
“Crop, crop, my merry men all;
No guinea for your head I’ll pay,
Though Church and State should fall.”
Again the taxing-man appear’d—
No deadlier foe could be;
A schedule of a cloth-yard long,
Within his hand bore he.
“Yield thee, DUKE SMITHSON, and behold
The assessment thou must pay;
Dogs, horses, houses, coaches, clocks,
And servants in array.”
“Nay,” quoth the DUKE, “in thy black scroll
Deductions I espye—
For those who, poor, and mean, and low,
With children burthen’d lie.
“And though full sixty thousand pounds
My vassals pay to me,
From Cornwall to _Northumberland_,
Through many a fair countée;
“Yet England’s church, its king, its laws,
Its cause, I value not,
Compar’d with this, my constant text,
_A penny sav’d, is got_.
“No drop of princely _Percy’s_ blood
Through these cold veins doth run;
With _Hotspur’s_ castles, blazon, name,
I still am _poor_ SMITHSON.
“Let England’s youth unite in arms,
And every liberal hand,
With honest zeal, subscribe their mite,
To save their native land:
“I at _St. Martin’s_ Vestry Board,
To swear shall be content,
That I have children eight, and claim
_Deductions ten per cent._”
God bless us all from factious foes,
And French fraternal kiss;
And grant the king may never make
Another _Duke_ like this.[173]
[Illustration]
No. XX.
ODE TO JACOBINISM.
March 26, 1798.
I.
Daughter of Hell, insatiate power,
Destroyer of the human race,
Whose iron scourge and madd’ning hour
Exalt the bad, the good debase;
Thy mystic force, despotic sway,
Courage and innocence dismay,
And patriot monarchs vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone!
II.
When first to scourge the sons of earth,
Thy sire his darling child design’d,
Gallia receiv’d the monstrous birth—
VOLTAIRE inform’d thy infant mind;
Well-chosen nurse! his sophist lore
He bade thee many a year explore!
He mark’d thy progress, firm though slow,
And statesmen, princes, leagued with their invet’rate foe.
III.
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 gen’rous foe.—
Traitors to God and man avow’d,
By thee now rais’d aloft, now crush’d beneath the crowd.
IV.
Revenge, in blood-stain’d robe arrayed,
Immersed in gloomy joy profound;
Ingratitude, by guilt dismay’d,
With anxious eye wild glancing round,
Still on thy frantic steps attend:
With Death, thy victim’s only friend,
Injustice, to the truth severe,
And Anguish, dropping still the life-consuming tear.
V.
Oh swiftly on my country’s head,
Destroyer, lay thy ruthless hand;
Nor yet in Gallic terrors clad,
Nor circled by the _Marseilles band_,
(As by th’ initiate thou art seen),
With thund’ring cannon, _guillotine_,
With screaming Horror’s funeral cry,
Fire, Rapine, sword, and chains, and ghastly Poverty.
VI.
Thy sophist veil, dread goddess, wear,
Falsehood insidiously impart;
Thy philosophic train, be there,
To taint the mind, corrupt the heart;
The gen’rous virtues of our isle,
Teach us to hate and to revile;
Our glorious Charter’s faults to scan,
Time-sanction’d truths despise, and preach THY RIGHTS OF MAN.
AN ENGLISH JACOBIN.
[The original poem, of which the above is an imitation, is
subjoined:—
HYMN TO ADVERSITY.
BY THOMAS GRAY.
Daughter of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge, and torturing hour,
The bad affright, afflict the best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan,
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.
When first thy sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, designed,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade thee form her infant mind,
Stern, rugged nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What sorrow was, thou bad’st her know,
And from her own she learnt to melt at others’ woe.
Scared at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing Folly’s idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer friend, the flattering foe;
By vain prosperity received,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
Wisdom, in sable garb arrayed,
Immersed in rapturous thought profound,
And Melancholy, silent maid,
With leaden eye that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend:
Warm Charity, the general friend,
With Justice, to herself severe,
And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.
O, gently on thy suppliant’s head,
Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand!
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band
(As by the impious thou art seen),
With thundering voice, and threatening mien,
With screaming Horror’s funeral cry,
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.
Thy form benign, O goddess! wear,
Thy milder influence impart,
Thy philosophic train be there,
To soften not to wound my heart.
The generous spark extinct revive;
Teach me to love and to forgive;
Exact my own defects to scan,
What others are, to feel, and know myself a man.—ED.]
[Illustration]
No. XXI.
April 2, 1798.
We promised in our Sixteenth Number, that though we should not proceed
regularly with the publication of the Didactic Poem, the PROGRESS OF
MAN,—a work which, indeed, both from its bulk, and from the erudite
nature of the subject, would hardly suit with the purposes of a Weekly
Paper,—we should, nevertheless, give from time to time such extracts
from it as we thought were likely to be useful to our readers, and as
were in any degree connected with the topics or events of the times.
The following extract is from the 23rd Canto of this admirable and
instructive Poem;—in which the author (whom, by a series of accidents,
which we have neither the space, nor indeed the liberty, to enumerate at
present, we have discovered to be MR. HIGGINS, of _St. Mary Axe_)
describes the vicious refinement of what is called civilized society, in
respect to marriage; contends with infinite spirit and philosophy
against the factitious sacredness and indissolubility of that
institution; and paints in glowing colours the happiness and utility (in
a moral as well as political view) of an arrangement of an opposite
sort, such as prevails in countries which are yet under the influence of
pure and unsophisticated nature.
In illustration of his principles upon this subject, the author alludes
to a popular production of the German Drama, the title of which is the
“REFORMED HOUSEKEEPER” [_The Stranger_], which he expresses a hope of
seeing transfused into the language of this country.
THE PROGRESS OF MAN.
CANTO TWENTY-THIRD.
CONTENTS.
ON MARRIAGE.—Marriage being indissoluble the cause of
its being so often unhappy.—Nature’s laws not consulted
in this point.—Civilized nations mistaken.—OTAHEITE:
Happiness of the natives thereof—visited by Captain
Cook, in his Majesty’s Ship _Endeavour_—Character of
Captain Cook.—Address to Circumnavigation.—Description
of His Majesty’s Ship _Endeavour_—Mast, rigging, sea-sickness,
prow, poop, mess-room, surgeon’s mate—History of one.—Episode
concerning naval chirurgery.—Catching a Thunny Fish.—Arrival
at Otaheite—cast anchor—land—Natives
astonished.—Love—Liberty—Moral—Natural—Religious—Contrasted
with European manners.—Strictness—License—Doctor’s
Commons.—Dissolubility of MARRIAGE recommended—Illustrated by a game
at Cards—Whist—Cribbage—Partners changed—Why not the same in
Marriage?—Illustrated by a River.—Love free.—Priests, Kings.—German
Drama.—KOTZEBUE’S “Housekeeper Reformed”.—Moral employments of
Housekeeping described—Hottentots sit and stare at each other—Query,
WHY?—Address to the Hottentots—History of the Cape of Good
Hope.—Resumé of the Arguments against Marriage.—Conclusion.
PROGRESS OF MAN.
EXTRACT.
Hail! beauteous lands[174] that crown the Southern Seas;
Dear happy seats of Liberty and Ease!
Hail! whose green coasts the peaceful ocean laves,
Incessant washing with its watery waves!
Delicious islands! to whose envied shore
Thee, gallant COOK! the ship _Endeavour_[175] bore.
There laughs the sky, there zephyr’s frolic train,
And light-wing’d loves, and blameless pleasures reign:
There, when two souls congenial ties unite,
No hireling _Bonzes_ chant the mystic rite;
Free every thought, each action unconfin’d,
And light those fetters which no rivets bind.
There in each grove, each sloping bank along,
And flow’rs and shrubs and odorous herbs among,
Each shepherd clasp’d, with undisguis’d delight,
His yielding fair one,—in the Captain’s sight;
Each yielding fair, as chance or fancy led,
Preferr’d new lovers to her sylvan bed.[176]
Learn hence, each nymph, whose free aspiring mind
Europe’s cold laws,[177] and colder customs[178] bind—
O! learn, what Nature’s genial laws decree—
What Otaheite[179] is, let Britain be!
· · · · ·
Of WHIST or CRIBBAGE mark th’ amusing game—
The partners _changing_, but the SPORT the _same_.
Else would the gamester’s anxious ardour cool,
Dull every deal, and stagnant every pool.
—Yet must _one_[180] Man, with one unceasing Wife,
Play the LONG RUBBER of connubial life.
Yes! human laws, and laws esteem’d divine,
The generous passion straiten and confine;
And, as a stream, when art constrains its course,
Pours its fierce torrent with augmented force,
So, Passion[181] narrowed to one channel small,
_Unlike_ the former, does not flow at all.
—For Love _then_ only flaps his purple wings,
When uncontroll’d by priestcraft or by kings.
Such the strict rules, that, in these barbarous climes,
Choke youth’s fair flow’rs, and feelings turn to crimes;
And people every walk of polish’d life[182]
With that two-headed monster, MAN and WIFE.
Yet bright examples sometimes we observe,
Which from the general practice seem to swerve;
Such as presented to Germania’s[183] view,
A KOTZEBUE’S bold emphatic pencil drew:
Such as, translated in some future age,
Shall add new glories to the British stage;
—While the moved audience sit in dumb despair,
“Like Hottentots,[184] _and at each other stare_”.
With look sedate, and staid beyond her years,
In matron weeds a _Housekeeper_ appears.
The jingling keys her comely girdle deck—
Her ’kerchief colour’d, and her apron _check_.
Can that be Adelaide, that “soul of whim,”
_Reform’d_ in practice, and in manner prim?
—On household cares intent,[185] with many a sigh
She turns the pancake, and she moulds the pie;
Melts into sauces rich the savoury ham;
From the crush’d berry strains the lucid jam;
Bids brandied cherries,[186] by infusion slow,
Imbibe new flavour, and their own forego,
Sole cordial of her heart, sole solace of her woe!
While, still responsive to each mournful moan,
The saucepan simmers in a softer tone.
· · · · ·
[The following extracts will give some idea of PAYNE KNIGHT’S poem.
Hail! happy States, that fresh in vigour rise
From Europe’s wrecks beneath Atlantic skies!
Long may ye feel the blessings ye bestow;
Nor e’er your parents’ sickly symptoms know!
But when that parent, crush’d beneath the weight
Of debts and taxes, yields herself to fate;
May you her hapless fugitives receive,
Comfort their sorrows, and their wants relieve!
For come it will—th’ inevitable day,
When Britain must corruption’s forfeit pay,
Beneath a despot’s, or a rabble’s sway.
After a glowing description of the amours of a shepherd and
shepherdess, he thus speaks of _Marriage_:—
Bless’d days of youth, of liberty, and love!
How short, alas! your transient pleasures prove!
Just as we think the sweet delights our own,
We strive to fix them, and we find them flown:—
For fix’d by laws, and limited by rules,
Affection stagnates and love’s fervour cools;
Shrinks like the gather’d flower, which, when possess’d,
Droops in the hand, or withers on the breast:
Feels all its native bloom and fragrance fly,
And death’s pale shadows close its purple dye.
While mutual wishes form love’s only vows,
By mutual interests nursed, the union grows;
Respectful fear its rising power maintains,
And both preserve, when each may break, its chains.
But when in bands indissoluble join’d,
Securely torpid sleeps the sated mind;
No anxious hopes or fears arise, to move
The flagging wings, or stir the fires of love:
Benumb’d, the soul’s best energies repose,
And life in dull unvaried torpor flows;
Or only shakes off lethargy to teaze
Whom once its only pleasure was to please.—ED.]
In illustration of these peculiar doctrines of Love and Marriage,
the authors of the present Parody introduced into the first twenty
lines of the preceding “Extract,” the very free statements on these
subjects which appear in Chapters 8, 12, 14, 16, 17, of the
narrative of Cook’s First Voyage to the Pacific in the “Endeavour,”
in 1768, derived, by the editor, Dr. John Hawkesworth, from the
Diary of Mr. (afterwards Sir Joseph) Banks, who accompanied Captain
Cook.—ED.]
[LORD ERSKINE, after dinner, inveighed bitterly against Marriage;
and smarting, I suppose, under the recollection of his own
unsuccessful choice, concluded by saying that a wife was _a tin
canister tied to a man’s tail_, which very much excited the
indignation of Lady Ann Culling Smith, who was of the party. “Monk”
Lewis took a sheet of paper, and wrote the following neat epigram on
the subject, which he presented to Her Royal Highness [the Duchess
of York]:—
“Lord Erskine at marriage presuming to rail,
Says, _a wife’s a tin canister tied to ones tail_;
And the fair Lady Ann, while the subject he carries on,
Feels hurt at his Lordship’s degrading comparison.
But wherefore degrading? if taken aright,
A tin canister’s useful, and polished, and bright,
And if dirt its original purity hide,
’Tis the fault of the puppy to whom it is tied.”
—_Journal of T. Raikes_, ii.
56.—ED.]
[RICHARD PAYNE KNIGHT, eminent as he was as a classical scholar and
archæologist, was not successful as a poet or moralist, and this is
shown in an amusing manner in a letter from Horace Walpole to the
Rev. W. Mason, dated 22nd March, 1796, in which he declares how much
he is offended and disgusted by Knight’s “_new_ insolent and
self-conceited poem,” alluding to his _Progress of Civil
Society_,—the former one being “_The Landscape_, a didactic poem in
three books,” 4to, pub. 1794, of which mention has already been
made.
In 1816 he was examined before a Select Committee of the House of
Commons on the proposed purchase by the Government of the Elgin
Marbles; but his estimate of their value as works of the highest art
was much below that of other artistic witnesses, such as Flaxman,
Westmacott, Chantrey, B. West, and others. For these statements he
was severely criticised in vol. 14 of the _Quarterly Review_, and in
a squib, reprinted in the _New Whig Guide_ in 1819. He valued the
collection at £25,000; Gavin Hamilton’s estimate was £60,800, and
Lord Aberdeen’s £35,000; for which latter sum they were obtained by
the Government. He bequeathed his collection of ancient Bronzes,
Greek Coins, &c.—valued at £50,000—to the British Museum.
He represented Ludlow till 1806. He was a supporter of FOX, upon
whom he wrote a Monody. He was never married, and he was succeeded
in his fine property, including Downton Castle, near Ludlow, &c., on
his death in 1824, by his brother, Thomas Andrew Knight, one of the
most scientific of horticulturists, and he in turn was succeeded by
his grandson, Andrew Johnes Rouse Boughton, second son of the late
Sir W. E. Rouse Boughton, Bart., who added by royal license in 1856
the name of Knight to his patronymic.—ED.]
[The drama (here nicknamed _The Reformed Housekeeper_), but entitled
by the author “_Misanthropy and Repentance_,” was produced at Drury
Lane Theatre, Sheridan being then lessee, as “_The Stranger_,” on
the 24th March, 1798. The following was the cast:—_The Stranger_, J.
P. Kemble; _Baron Steinfort_, John Palmer; _Francis_, R. Palmer;
_Peter_, Suett; _Tobias_, J. Aikin; _Solomon_, Wewitzer; _Count
Wintersen_, Barrymore; _Mrs. Haller_, Mrs. Siddons; _Countess
Wintersen_, Mrs. Goodall; _Charlotte_, Miss Stuart. It was
considered by competent authorities as one of Kemble’s finest
efforts, and was performed on twenty-six successive nights. Some of
our most eminent actors and actresses have essayed the principal
parts. Miss O’Neill made her last appearance on the stage in the
character of Mrs. Haller, 13th of July, 1818.
The acting version purported to be altered from the German by Benj.
Thompson (afterwards Count Rumford), but it is likely that all or
most of the alterations came from the skilful hands of Sheridan,
assisted by Kemble. The pathetic song introduced, “_I have a silent
sorrow here_,” was written by the former. Two other versions of the
drama appeared in the year 1798—one by A. Schinck, and the other by
G. Papendick—but neither has been acted.
Kotzebue tells us in his _Autobiography_ that this play of his was
acted at the Imperial Palace of _The Hermitage_, St. Petersburg,
under his superintendence while manager of the Imperial Company of
German Comedians, and excited visible emotion in the Emperor Paul.
He himself saw it acted at Tobolsk during his exile in Siberia. The
vast and splendid palace of _The Hermitage_ is now given up to the
Arts. It contains the enormous collection of Pictures accumulated by
the Russian sovereigns (including the Houghton Gallery formed by Sir
Robert Walpole), together with a Gallery of Sculpture, one of the
finest assortments of Antique Gems in the world, a museum of Grecian
and Etruscan Antiquities, and a library of rare Books and
Manuscripts.
An awful event took place during the performance of this play a
short time after its production. John Palmer, an eminent comedian,
while acting the principal character, at Liverpool, on the 2nd of
August, 1798, expired on the stage. He had recently suffered severe
domestic bereavements, which are supposed to have given a painful
application to some passages in the third act in which he had to
utter the words: “There is another and a better world”. In the first
scene of the fourth act, his agitation increased; he fell into the
arms of the performer of the part of Baron Steinfort, and died
without a groan. A narrative of this shocking event, published
immediately afterwards, by the same performer, disposes of the
generally-received but more emotional tradition that Palmer’s
earthly career was terminated while pronouncing the above words. He
was in his fifty-seventh year.
This is not the only instance of so impressive an end, for a similar
death-stroke overtook Joseph Peterson, an excellent actor, in
October, 1758, while representing _The Duke_ in _Measure for
Measure_. In act 3, sc. 1, in reciting the words—
“—Reason thus with life:
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art—”
he dropped into the arms of Moody, who personated _Claudio_, and
never spoke more!—ED.]
[“One other noted character we visited—the one who, according to
William Taylor of Norwich, was the greatest of all. This was AUGUST
VON KOTZEBUE, the very popular dramatist, whose singular fate it was
to live at variance with the great poets of his country, while he
was the idol of the mob. He was at one time (about this time (1801)
and a little later) a favourite in all Europe. One of his plays,
_The Stranger_, I have seen acted in German, English, Spanish,
French, and, I believe, also Italian. He was the pensioner of
Prussia, Austria, and Russia. The odium produced by this
circumstance, and the imputation of being a spy, are assigned as the
cause of his assassination by [C. L. Sand] a student of Jena, a few
years after our visit [March 3, 1819]. He was living, like Goethe,
in a large house and in style. I drank tea with him, and found him a
lively little man, with small black eyes. He had the manners of a
_petit-maître_.”—_Crabb Robinson’s Diary_ (1801), i. 115.—ED.]
[Illustration]
No. XXII.
April 9, 1798.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.
SIR,—I saw, with strong approbation, your specimen of ancient Sapphic
measure in English, which I think far surpasses all that Abraham
Fraunce, Richard Stanyhurst, or Sir Philip Sidney himself, have produced
in that style—I mean, of course, your sublime and beautiful
_Knife-Grinder_, of which it is not too high an encomium to say, that it
even rivals the efforts of the fine-eared democratic poet, Mr. Southey.
But you seem not to be aware, that we have a genuine Sapphic measure
belonging to our own language, of which I now send you a short specimen.
THE JACOBIN.
I am a hearty Jacobin,
Who own no God, and dread no sin,
Ready to dash through thick and thin
For freedom:
And when the teachers of Chalk-Farm
Gave Ministers so much alarm,
And preach’d that kings did only harm,
I fee’d ’em.
By BEDFORD’S cut I’ve trimm’d my locks,
And coal-black is my knowledge-box,
Callous to all, except hard knocks
Of thumpers;
My eye a noble fierceness boasts,
My voice as hollow as a ghost’s,
My throat oft washed by factious toasts
In bumpers.
Whatever is in France, is right;
Terror and blood are my delight;
Parties with us do not excite
Enough rage.
Our boasted laws I hate and curse,
Bad from the first, by age grown worse,
I pant and sigh for univers-[187]
al suffrage.
WAKEFIELD[188] I love—adore HORNE TOOKE,
With pride on JONES[189] and THELWALL[190] look,
And hope that they, by hook or crook,
Will prosper.
But they deserve the worst of ills,
And all th’ abuse of all our quills,
Who form’d of strong and _gagging Bills_[191]
A cross pair.
Extinct since then each speaker’s fire,
And silent ev’ry daring lyre,[192]
Dum-founded they whom I would hire
To lecture.
Tied up, alas! is ev’ry tongue
On which, conviction nightly hung,[193]
And THELWALL looks, though yet but young,
A spectre.[194]
B. O. B.
[Illustration]
No. XXIII.
April 16, 1798.
We cannot better explain to our readers the design of the poem from
which the following extracts are taken, than by borrowing the
expressions of the author, Mr. HIGGINS, of _St. Mary Axe_, in the letter
which accompanied the manuscript.
We must premise, that we had found ourselves called upon to remonstrate
with Mr. H. on the freedom of some of the positions laid down in his
other didactic poem, the “Progress of Man”; and had in the course of our
remonstrance hinted something to the disadvantage of the _new
principles_ which are now afloat in the world, and which are, in our
opinion, working so much prejudice to the happiness of mankind. To this
Mr. H. takes occasion to reply—[195]
“What you call the _new principles_ are, in fact, nothing less than
_new_. They are the principles of primeval nature, the system of
original and unadulterated man.
“If you mean by my addiction to _new principles_ that the object which I
have in view in my larger work [meaning the ‘Progress of Man’] and in
the several other _concomitant_ and _subsidiary_ didactic poems which
are necessary to complete my plan, is to restore this first, and pure
simplicity; to rescue and to recover the interesting nakedness of human
nature, by ridding her of the cumbrous establishments which the folly,
and pride, and self-interest of the worst part of our species have
heaped upon her;—you are right. Such is my object. I do not disavow it.
Nor is it mine alone. There are abundance of abler hands at work upon
it. _Encyclopedias_, _Treatises_, _Novels_, _Magazines_, _Reviews_, and
_New Annual Registers_, have, as you are well aware, done their part
with activity and with effect. It remained to bring the _heavy_
artillery of a didactic poem to bear upon the same object.
“If I have selected your paper as the channel for conveying my labours
to the public, it was not because I was unaware of the hostility of your
principles to mine, of the bigotry of your attachment to ‘things as they
are,’ but because, I will fairly own, I found some sort of cover and
disguise necessary for securing the favourable reception of my
sentiments; the usual pretexts of humanity, and philanthropy, and fine
feeling, by which we have for some time obtained a passport to the
hearts and understandings of men, being now worn out or exploded. I
could not choose but smile at my success in the first instance, in
inducing _you_ to adopt my poem as your own.
“But you have called for an explanation of these principles of ours, and
you have a right to obtain it. Our first principle is, then—the reverse
of the trite and dull maxim of Pope—‘_Whatever is, is right_’. We
contend, that ‘_Whatever is, is wrong_’; that institutions, civil and
religious, that social order (as it is called in _your_ cant) and
regular government, and law, and I know not what other fantastic
inventions, are but so many cramps and fetters on the free agency of
man’s _natural intellect_ and _moral sensibility_; so many badges of his
degradation from the primal purity and excellence of his nature.
“Our second principle is, the ‘_eternal and absolute perfectibility of
man_’. We contend, that if, as is demonstrable, we have risen from a
level with the _cabbages of the field_ to our present comparatively
intelligent and dignified state of existence, by the mere exertion of
our own _energies_; we should, if these _energies_ were not repressed
and subdued by the operation of prejudice, and folly, by KING-CRAFT and
PRIEST-CRAFT, and the other evils incident to what is called civilized
society, continue to exert and expand ourselves in a proportion
infinitely greater than anything of which we yet have any notion:—in a
_ratio_ hardly capable of being calculated by any science of which we
are now masters: but which would in time raise man from his present
biped state to a rank more worthy of his endowments and aspirations; to
a rank in which he would be, as it were, _all_ MIND; would enjoy
unclouded perspicacity and perpetual vitality; feed on _oxygene_, and
never die, but _by his own consent_.
“But though the poem of the PROGRESS OF MAN alone would be sufficient to
teach this system and enforce these doctrines, the whole practical
effect of them cannot be expected to be produced, but by the gradual
perfecting of each of the sublimer sciences;—at the husk and shell of
which we are now nibbling and at the kernel whereof, in our present
state, we cannot hope to arrive. These several sciences will be the
subjects of the several _auxiliary_ DIDACTIC POEMS which I have now in
hand (one of which, entitled THE LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES, I herewith
transmit to you), and for the better arrangement and execution of which,
I beseech you to direct your bookseller to furnish me with a handsome
Chambers’s Dictionary; in order that I may be enabled to go through the
several articles alphabetically, beginning with _Abracadabra_, under the
first letter, and going down to _Zodiac_, which is to be found under the
last.
“I am persuaded that there is no science, however abstruse, nay, no
trade or manufacture, which may not be taught by a didactic poem. In
that before you, an attempt is made (not unsuccessfully, I hope) to
_enlist the imagination under the banners of Geometry_. _Botany_ I found
done to my hands. And though the more rigid and unbending stiffness of a
mathematical subject does not admit of the same appeals to the warmer
passions, which naturally arise out of the _sexual_ (or, as I have heard
several worthy gentlewomen of my acquaintance, who delight much in the
poem to which I allude, term it, by a slight misnomer no way difficult
to be accounted for—the _sensual_) system of Linnæus;—yet I trust that
the range and variety of illustration with which I have endeavoured to
ornament and enlighten the arid truths of Euclid and Algebra, will be
found to have smoothed the road of Demonstration, to have softened the
rugged features of Elementary Propositions, and, as it were, to have
strewed the _Asses’ Bridge_ with flowers.”
Such is the account which Mr. HIGGINS gives of his own undertaking, and
of the motives which have led him to it. For our parts, though we have
not the same sanguine persuasion of the _absolute perfectibility_ of our
species, and are in truth liable to the imputation of being more
satisfied with _things as they are_, than Mr. HIGGINS and his
associates;—yet, as we are, in at least the same proportion, less
convinced of the practical influence of didactic poems, we apprehend
little danger to our readers’ morals from laying before them Mr.
HIGGINS’S doctrine in its most fascinating shape. The poem abounds,
indeed, with beauties of the most striking kind,—various and vivid
imagery, bold and unsparing impersonifications; and similitudes and
illustrations brought from the most ordinary and the most extraordinary
occurrences of nature—from history and fable—appealing equally to the
heart and to the understanding, and calculated to make the subject of
which the poem professes to treat rather amusing than intelligible. We
shall be agreeably surprised to hear that it has assisted any young
student at either University in his mathematical studies.
We need hardly add, that the plates illustrative of this poem (the
engravings of which would have been too expensive for our publication)
are to be found in Euclid’s Elements, and other books of a similar
tendency.
LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.[196]
ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST CANTO.
Warning to the profane not to approach—Nymphs and Deities of
Mathematical Mythology—Cyclois of a pensive turn—Pendulums, on the
contrary, playful—and why?—Sentimental Union of the Naiads and
Hydrostatics—Marriage of Euclid and Algebra.—Pulley the emblem of
Mechanics—Optics of a licentious disposition—distinguished by her
telescope and green spectacles.—Hyde-Park Gate on a Sunday
morning—Cockneys—Coaches.—Didactic Poetry—Nonsensia—Love delights
in Angles or Corners—Theory of Fluxions explained—Trochais, the
Nymph of the Wheel—Smoke-Jack described—Personification of
elementary or culinary Fire.—Little Jack Horner—Story of
Cinderella—Rectangle, a Magician, educated by Plato and
Menecmus—in love with Three Curves at the same time—served by
Gins, or Genii—transforms himself into a Cone—the Three Curves
requite his passion—Description of them—Parabola, Hyperbola, and
Ellipsis—Asymptotes—Conjugated Axes.—Illustrations—Rewbell,
Barras, and Lepaux, the three virtuous Directors—Macbeth and the
Three Witches—the Three Fates—the Three Graces—King Lear and his
Three Daughters—Derby Diligence—Catherine Wheel.—Catastrophe of
Mr. Gingham, with his Wife and Three Daughters overturned in a
One-horse Chaise—Dislocation and Contusion two kindred Fiends—Mail
Coaches—Exhortation to Drivers to be careful—Genius of the
Post-Office—Invention of Letters—Digamma—Double Letters—Remarkable
Direction of one—Hippona the Goddess of Hack-horses—Parameter and
Abscissa unite to overpower the Ordinate, who retreats down the
Axis-Major, and forms himself in a Square—Isosceles, a Giant—Dr.
Rhomboides—Fifth Proposition, or Asses’ Bridge—Bridge of
Lodi—Buonaparte—Raft and Windmills—Exhortation to the recovery of
our Freedom—Conclusion.
THE LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.
A Mathematical and Philosophical Poem,
INSCRIBED TO DR. DARWIN.
CANTO I.
Stay your rude steps, or e’er your feet invade[197]
The Muses’ haunts, ye sons of War and Trade!
Nor you, ye legion fiends of Church and Law,
Pollute these pages with unhallow’d paw!
Debased, corrupted, grovelling, and confined, 5
No DEFINITIONS[198] touch _your_ senseless mind;
To _you_ no POSTULATES[199] prefer their claim,
No ardent AXIOMS[200] _your_ dull souls inflame;
For _you_ no TANGENTS[201] touch, no ANGLES meet,
No CIRCLES[202] join in osculation[203] sweet! 10
For _me_, ye CISSOIDS,[204] round my temples bend
Your wandering curves; ye CONCHOIDS[205] extend;
Let playful PENDULES quick vibration feel,
While silent CYCLOIS rests upon her wheel;
Let HYDROSTATICS,[206] simpering as they go, 15
Lead the light Naiads on fantastic toe;
Let shrill ACOUSTICS[207] tune the tiny lyre;
With EUCLID sage fair ALGEBRA[208] conspire;
The obedient pulley[209] strong MECHANICS ply,
And wanton OPTICS roll the melting eye! 20
I see the fair fantastic forms appear,
The flaunting drapery, and the languid leer;
Fair sylphish forms[210]—who, tall, erect, and slim,
Dart the keen glance, and stretch the length of limb;
To viewless harpings weave the meanless dance, 25
Wave the gay wreath, and titter as they prance.
Such rich confusion[211] charms the ravish’d sight,
When vernal Sabbaths to the Park invite.
Mounts the thick dust, the coaches crowd along,
Presses round Grosvenor Gate th’ impatient throng; 30
White-muslined misses and mammas are seen,
Linked with gay cockneys, glittering o’er the green:
The rising breeze unnumbered charms displays,
And the tight ankle strikes th’ astonished gaze.
But chief, thou Nurse of the Didactic Muse, 35
Divine NONSENSIA, all thy soul infuse;
The charms of _Secants_ and of _Tangents_ tell,
How Loves and Graces in an _Angle_[212] dwell;
How slow progressive _Points_[213] protract the _Line_,
As pendent spiders spin the filmy twine; 40
How lengthened _Lines_, impetuous sweeping round,
Spread the wide _Plane_, and mark its circling bound;
How _Planes_, their substance with their motion grown,
Form the huge _Cube_, the _Cylinder_, the _Cone_.
Lo! where the chimney’s sooty tube ascends, 45
The fair TROCHAIS[214] from the corner bends!
Her coal-black eyes upturned, incessant mark
The eddying smoke, quick flame, and volant spark;
Mark with quick ken, where flashing in between,
Her much-loved _Smoke-Jack_ glimmers thro’ the scene; 50
Mark, how his various parts together tend,
Point to one purpose,—in one object end;
The spiral _grooves_ in smooth meanders flow,
Drags the long _chain_, the polished axles glow,
While slowly circumvolves the piece of beef below; 55
The conscious fire[215] with bickering radiance burns,
Eyes the rich joint, and roasts it as it turns.
So youthful Horner rolled the roguish eye,
Cull’d the dark plum from out his Christmas pie,
And cried, in self-applause—“How good a boy am I”. 60
So she, sad victim of domestic spite,
Fair Cinderella, pass’d the wintry night,
In the lone chimney’s darksome nook immured,
Her form disfigured, and her charms obscured.
Sudden her godmother appears in sight, 65
Lifts the charmed rod, and chants the mystic rite.
The chanted rite the maid attentive hears,
And feels new ear-rings deck her listening ears;[216]
While ’midst her towering tresses, aptly set,
Shines bright, with quivering glance, the smart aigrette; 70
Brocaded silks the splendid dress complete,
And the Glass Slipper grasps her fairy feet.
Six cock-tailed mice[217] transport her to the ball,
And liveried lizards wait upon her call.
Alas! that partial Science should approve
The sly RECTANGLE’S too licentious love!
For _three_ bright nymphs, &c., &c.
(_To be continued._)
[Illustration]
No. XXIV.
April 23, 1798.
THE LOVES OF THE TRIANGLES.
A Mathematical and Philosophical Poem.
(_Continued._)