Christians are so heartily despised for superstition; in England, where
the people think themselves so highly enlightened,—in this country of
reason and philosophy, and free enquiry! It is curious to observe how
this age in which we live is denominated by every writer just as its
temper accords with his own views: with the Infidel, it is the Age of
Reason; with the Churchman, the Age of Infidelity; with the Chemist, the
Age of Philosophy; with Rulers, the Age of Anarchy; with the People, the
Age of Oppression,—every one beholding the prospect through a coloured
glass, and giving it sunshine or shade, frost or verdure, according to
his own fancy, none looking round him, and seeing it fairly as it is.
Yet surely if we consider the ignorance of the great majority of the
English, the want of anchorage for their faith, the want of able
directors for their souls, the rapidity with which novelties of any kind
are circulated throughout the country, the eagerness with which the
credulous listen to every new blasphemy, the contemptuous indifference
of the clergy to any blasphemy, provided it does not immediately
threaten themselves, the unlimited toleration shown to Jews, Gentiles,
and Heretics of every description,—above all, if we remember that every
person has the power of comparing these delusive books with the Bible,
of which they are instructed to consider themselves competent
expounders,—we must acknowledge that there never was any age or any
country so favourable to the success of imposture, and the growth of
superstition, as this very age and this very England.
I have to add concerning Joanna, that she prophesies how she and her
believers are to be tried in the ensuing year, and that this awful trial
will be only second to that of our blessed Lord at Pilate's bar! What
new juggle is in preparation I pretend not to divine. Thus much is
certain, that her believers are proof against conviction, and you will
agree with me in thinking no further trial necessary to prove that she
and her abettors ought either to be punished as impostors, or silenced
as lunatics.[25]
[24] See note at the end of the letter.
[25] The Translator has been curious enough to enquire the event of this
trial, which may be related in few words. None but her believers
assembled; they provided an attorney to give their proceedings some of
the ceremonials of legality, examined witnesses to prove the good
character of the prophetess, signed a profession of belief in her,—and
afterwards published an account of all this folly under the title of The
Trial of Joanna Southcott. Joanna had predicted that at this trial she
was to be cast into a trance;—not thinking this convenient when the time
appointed came, she had a revelation to say, that if any of her judges
required it, the Lord would still entrance her, but that it would
certainly be her death: and thus throwing herself upon the mercy of her
own accomplices, it will easily be guessed that none among them insisted
upon the proof. One of the company enquired whether Satan knew he was
cast by this trial; as, in that case, it was to be presumed he would
rage against her and her friends with the utmost of his fury. This
gentleman would have been a good subject for a night-mare.
D. Manuel might well say that nothing but literal transcript could
convey an idea of this woman's vulgarity and nonsense; witness the
passages which he has selected.—TR.
So, learned men, no more contend,
Till you have seen all clear,
The Woman clothed with the Sun
A wonder to you here.
So, in amaze, you all may gaze,
As Adam did at first,
To see the bone to him unknown,
The woman there was placed.
The woe you see, she brought on he,
And the first woe for man;—
But how shall Satan now get free,
She casts her woe on man.—
Though 'twas not she, I must tell ye,
Did cast the woe on man;
The serpent was condemned by she,
And there her woe must come.
It is speaking within compass, to say that she has sent into the world
above twenty thousand of such verses as these, as the dictates of the
Spirit!
What follows is in the words of one of her chosen disciples:—"On Monday
morning Joanna received a letter from Exeter, which informed her she
would have Mr Jones's answer about Mr Pomeroy in the evening; and her
fears for him flung her into a violent agitation; every nerve in her
shook, and she fell sick as though she would have fainted away. She
could not keep in her bed, but laid herself on the floor in agonies, and
said she knew not whether to pity or condemn him; but at last got up in
a rage against the Devil, and said her revenge would be sweet to see the
Devil chained down, and she should like, with a sharp sword to cut him
in pieces. She then got into bed, exclaiming against the clergy, and
asked for a glass of wine; but she brought it up immediately. Soon after
the bason was set upon the bed, she took it up and dashed it violently
across the room, and broke it to pieces. After that she had some lamb
brought up for her dinner; she tried to swallow a mouthful but could
not, but spit it into another bason, and said she could neither swallow
the wine nor the lamb, but found the fury of the Lord break in upon her,
and she dashed the second bason on the floor. She then said she felt
herself happier and easier since she had broken both the basons; for so
would the Lord, in his anger, break the clergy."
This is from a book with the following curious title:
MR JOSEPH SOUTHCOTT,
THE BROTHER OF
JOANNA SOUTHCOTT,
WILL NOW COME FORWARD AS DINAH'S BRETHREN DID,
THAT THEY SHALL NOT DEAL WITH HIS SISTER
AS THEY WOULD WITH A HARLOT,
FOR SO THEY ARE NOW DEALING WITH HER.
AND HE WILL PROVE TO THE WORLD WHERE THE
ADULTERY IS COMMITTED, BY MEN WHO ARE
UNCIRCUMCISED IN HEART AND LIFE:
AND NOW HE WILL EXPEND ALL THAT HE HAS
IN THE WORLD, IF REQUIRED, IN THE HONEST
DEFENCE OF HER CHARACTER, TILL HE HAS SLAIN
THE UNCIRCUMCISED PHILISTINES,
AND ENTIRELY FREED HIS SISTER FROM THE
REPROACHES OF THEIR ADULTERY.
A few flowers of infernal eloquence should be added from The Dispute
with the Powers of Darkness. Satan says to her, "Thou infamous b—ch!
thou hast been flattering God that he may stand thy friend. Such low
cunning art I despise.—Thou wheening devil! stop thy d—mn'd eternal
tongue; thou runnest on so fast all the Devils in Hell cannot keep up
with thee.—God hath done something to chuse a b—ch of a woman that will
down-argue the Devil, and scarce give him room to speak."—It may truly
be said, in Joanna's own words, "_If the woman is not ashamed of
herself, the Devil cannot shame her_."
If the language of Joanna herself is grovelling in the very mud and mire
of baseness and vulgarity, one of her elders has soared into the sublime
of frenzy. The passage is long, but deserves insertion, as, perhaps,
there does not exist elsewhere so complete a specimen of a prophet
rampant. The gentleman begins in some plain prose reflections upon the
Fall, and goes on addressing the Devil, till he has worked himself up,
and begins thus to rave in rhythm.
"—Then where's thy ground on earth? receive thy doom, the pit, there
twist in flames, and there thy like deceive!—Then Cain receive thy doom
from Abel's blood. Then where is Pharaoh and his host?—Judge then, need
Moses fear! Where is the Lion fallen? and the pit has oped its
mouth,—the covering's dropt;—the Lamb has nought to fear—then roar no
more to shake the earth and sea. Where now's the eagle and vultur'd
host—thy wings are pluck'd on earth, she stands defenceless, the fatal
net beneath.—The Dove now has protection; she ranges earth and sea, and
soars aloft unhurt, unfeared, to carry peace to all.—The Ark is opened
now, she brings the olive branch,—the floods are past, where's now the
giant race?—Who pressed on Lot? 'Twas thee the proud oppressor! Where
art thou now?—Where is thy pride and city? Knowest thou the words, come
out! come out! let Sodom feel its doom. Where now is Lot? At Zoar safe!
Where is his wife? Is she not salt all?—The writing's on the wall.—Thou
lewdly revellest with the bowls of God.—Thy kingdom's past away—Now see
my Daniel rise—Who cast him in the den?—'Twas thee—Thou rolledst the
stone, thou sealedst his doom—the roaring Lion thee! Then let the stone
return, the seal be broke, and go thou in his stead. Where is the image
gold and Bel? Where is proud Babel's builder? Confusion is thy name:
confusion is thy doom! Let Bel asunder burst! the pitch, and tar, and
walls of wood expose thy make, deceit and craft, and pass in flames
away. The God of Daniel stands—Daniel, rise up!—Six days are past—the
seventh now is here—seven times refined and purified—in innocency
come.—The emerald, unhurt in fire, displays great Judah's son.—Let
Urim's Light and Thummim shine in bright perfection's day. The twelve
men stand upon the plate—the fourth denotes great Judah's son, who is
the rightful heir. The stones denote old Jacob's sons, their light and
quality—they shine as stars in Jesus' crown upon the Woman's head.—The
sun unveil'd shall now arise—The Moon from scarlet shall emerge—The
stars from darkness now appear to light the midnight hour—Then where art
thou, O Satan! Where are thy heads, and horns, and dragon's tail, which
slew and hurt the living stars? Where are thy rays of fire—thy watery
floods—behold they are past away—The woman's fears of thee are o'er—the
wilderness receives her child, whose iron rod now feel. The pit has oped
its mouth—thou now art cast, shut up and sealed—the saints now judge the
earth. The Omnipotent is here in power and spirit in the word—The sword,
white horse, and King of Kings has drawn the flaming sword! Rejoice, ye
saints, rejoice! The Beast and Dragon, mountain, tree, no more shall
hurt, devour, becloud, the Saint, the gold, and vine. The gold and gems
appear—The mighty earthquake now displays the hidden Son of God. The rod
and smitten rock gush forth, and smite and slay, and make alive, now
saves and now destroys. The cloud and glory, Jonah's sign, display the
virtues of the word, the light and darkness shews. The Gospel brings the
light, and life, and death—and death as men obey or mock. The six
denotes the suffering time to shew the Son of Man—The sign within the
Sun—The fowls now feast on thee! Then where's thy former reign? Beneath
the rod of Moses see thy fall from Heaven's height. Son of the Morning,
Lucifer, no more oppress—be thou a fallen star! Great Gog and Agag,
where are ye? The walls of Jericho art thou; fall flat! Joshua's ram's
horns, the seven and twelve, pass Jordan's stream.—Where is the Lion,
Bear, Goliath huge, but in the centre thee. David appears, a stripling
youth, now tears, and slays, and slings the stone, and smites thy
dragon's head. Now see great David's reign—The temple's stones, unhewed
by man in those days, unite, the King of Peace amidst the seven in oil
unite, and in a stone with seven eyes appears. The stately fabric now is
laid, founded and topped with gems of every hue. The ark of Moses now is
built—The words, the laws, the sceptre, all unite, and Aaron's budded
rod—He now is chosen; eat the bread, prepare the sacrifice. John eats
the book which sweet and bitter is—He prophesies; the temple metes, and
stands before the Lamb. The temple measures, and anoints, and Moses's
tabernacle. The witnesses, Matthew and John, as olive trees appear.—The
broken stones of Moses now uplift, renewed in books arise from death—The
Lord's anointed reigns—The rods, or laws, of Ephraim ten, unite in one
and hold by Judah's skirt—The Son of Man o'er Israel reigns—The dry
bones now arise—Here ends thy earthly reign—The bond of union now is
come—The marriage ring appears—The Bride is come—The Bridegroom now
receives the marriage seal—The Law and Gospel now unite—The Moon and Sun
appear—Caleb and Joshua pass the stream in triumph to restore. Where
now, thou Canaanite, art thou? Where all thy maddened crew?—
"Hittites, be gone! no more appear to hurt or to annoy:
Now Israel's sons in peace succeed, and Canaan's land enjoy.
Behold from Edom I appear with garments dipt in blood;
My sons are freed and saved, and wash'd amidst the purple flood.
The law, or moon, imperfect was to save—
But now the star points dead men to the grave.
"Mercy benign appears—The Gospel Son embraces all—The Spirit and the
Bride invite, and offer wine and milk—but not to mockers here. Infinity
of love and grace! Gentiles and Jews unite, no more from love to part.
Six days are past—Peter, and James, and John, behold my glory in my word.
"The Law and Prophets now are seen with Jesus' word to shine,
But what hast thou, thou serpent here, to do with love benign?
"Tremble and flee,'tis done. The seals are burst—the vials pour and end
thy destiny.
"These are a small part of the thoughts of the judgments of God
pronounced on Satan," concludes the writer, who is a gentleman of vast
respectability.
One of her books has the title printed on the last page, because it was
ordered that the book should contain neither more nor less than
forty-eight pages. Another has a seal in the middle of it, bearing the
letters J. C.—the J., it is said, being meant for Jesus and Joanna!!
LETTER LXXI.
_The Coxcomb.—Fashionables.—Fops—Egyptian Fashions.—Dances.—Visiting.—
Walkers.—The Fancy.—Agriculturists.—The Fat Ox.—The Royal Institution.—
Metaphysics._
Whether the Coxcomb be an animal confined to Europe I know not, but in
every country in Christendom he is to be found with the same generic
character.
Pien di smorfiose grazie,
E mastro assai profondo
Nelle importanti inezie,
Nei nulli del bel mondo;
E in quella soavissima
Arte tanto eloquente,
Che sa si lungo spazio
Parlar senza dir niente.
Con tratti di malizia,
A spese altrui festivo;
Sempre in bocca risuonagli
Quel tuono decisivo,
Quell' insolenza amabile,
Che con egual franchezza
Con un' occhiata rapida
O tutto loda, o sprezza.[26]
There is however no country in which there are so many varieties of the
animal as in England, none where he flourishes so successfully, makes
such heroic endeavours for notoriety, and enjoys so wide a sphere of it.
The highest order is that of those who have invented for themselves the
happy title of Fashionables. These gentlemen stand highest in the scale
of folly, and lowest in that of intellect, of any in the country,
inasmuch as the rivalry between them is which shall excel his
competitors in frivolity. There was a man in England half a century ago
well known for this singular kind of insanity, that he believed his soul
had been annihilated within him, while he was yet living. What this poor
maniac conceived to have been done by his soul, these gentlemen have
successfully accomplished for themselves with their intellect. Their
souls might be lodged in a nutshell without incommoding the maggot who
previously tenanted it; and if the whole stock of their ideas were
transferred to the maggot, they would not be sufficient to confuse his
own. It is impossible to describe them, because no idea can be formed of
infinite littleness: you might as reasonably attempt to dissect a
bubble, or to bottle moonshine, as to investigate their characters: they
prove satisfactorily the existence of a vacuum: the sum total of their
being is composed of negative quantities.
One degree above or below these are the fops who appear in a tangible
shape; they who prescribe fashions to the tailor, that the tailor may
prescribe them to the town; who decide upon the length of a
neck-handkerchief, and regulate the number of buttons at the knees of
their breeches. One person has attained the very summit of ambition by
excelling all others in the jet varnish of his boots. Infinite are the
exertions which have been made to equal him,—the secret of projection
could not be more eagerly desired than the receipt of his blacking; and
there is one competitor whose boots are allowed to approach very near to
the same point of perfection;—still they only approach it. This
meritorious rival loses the race of fame by half a neck, and in such
contests it is _aut Cæsar, aut nihil_. To have the best blacked boots in
the world, is a worthy object of successful emulation,—but to have only
the second-best, is to be Pompey in the Pharsalia of Fashion.
During one period of the French Revolution the Brutus head-dress was the
mode, though Brutus was at the same time considered as the Judas
Iscariot of political religion, being indeed at this day to an orthodox
Anti-Jacobin what Omar is to the Persians; that is, something a great
deal worse than the Devil. "I suppose, sir," said a London hair-dresser
to a gentleman from the country,—"I suppose, sir, you would like to be
dressed in the Brutus style." "What style is that?" was the question in
reply. "All over frizzley, sir, like the Negers,—They be Brutes you
know." If Apollo be the model of the day, these gentlemen wear stays; if
Hercules, the tailor supplies breasts of buckram, broad shoulders, and
brawny arms. At present, as the soldiers from Egypt have brought home
with them broken limbs and ophthalmia, they carry an arm in a sling, or
walk the streets with a green shade over the eyes. Every thing now must
be Egyptian: the ladies wear crocodile ornaments, and you sit upon a
sphinx in a room hung round with mummies, and with the long black
lean-armed long-nosed hieroglyphical men, who are enough to make the
children afraid to go to bed. The very shopboards must be metamorphosed
into the mode, and painted in Egyptian letters, which, as the Egyptians
had no letters, you will doubtless conceive must be curious. They are
simply the common characters, deprived of all beauty and all proportion
by having all the strokes of equal thickness, so that those which should
be thin look as if they had the elephantiasis.
Men are tempted to make themselves notorious in England by the ease with
which they succeed. The newspapers, in the dearth of matter for filling
their daily columns, are glad to insert any thing,—when one lady comes
to town, when another leaves it, when a third expects her
_accouchement_; the grand dinner of one gentleman, and the grand supper
of another are announced before they take place; the particulars are
given after the action, a list of the company inserted, the parties who
danced together exhibited like the characters of a drama in an English
bill of the play, and the public are informed what dances were called
for, and by whom. There is something so peculiarly elegant and
appropriate in the names of the fashionable dances, that it is proper to
give you a specimen. Moll in the Wad is one;—you must excuse me for not
translating this, for really I do not understand it. Drops of Brandy,
another; and two which are at present in high vogue are, The Devil among
the Tailors, and Go to the Devil and shake yourself. At these balls, the
floors are chalked in colours in carpet patterns, a hint taken from the
lame beggars who write their petitions upon the flag-stones in the
street. This is so excellently done, that one should think it would be
painful to trample on and destroy any thing so beautiful, even though
only made to be destroyed. These things indicate the same sort of want
of feeling as the ice-palaces of Russia, and the statue of snow made by
Michel Angelo at Pietro de Medici's command. We are surrounded in this
world with what is perishable, that we may be taught to set our hearts
and hopes upon the immutable and everlasting;—it is ill done, then, to
make perishableness the food of pride.
The system of visiting in high life is brought to perfection in this
country. Were a lady to call in person upon all the numerous
acquaintance whom she wishes sometimes to crowd together at her Grand
Parties, her whole time would be too little to go from door to door.
This, therefore, being confessedly impossible, the card-currency of
etiquette was issued, and the name dropt by a servant, allowed to have
the same saving virtue of civility as the real presence. But the
servants began to find this a hard duty, and found out that they were
working like postmen without any necessity for so doing; so they agreed
at last to meet at certain pot-houses, and exchange cards, or leave them
there as at a post-office, where each in turn calls to deposit all with
which he is charged, and to receive all which are designed for him.
I have spoken elsewhere of the Turf, a road to fame always, and
oftentimes to ruin; but for this so large a fortune is required, that
the famous must always be few. A man, however, of moderate, or of no
fortune, may acquire great glory by riding a score of horses almost or
quite to death, for the sake of showing in how short a time he can go
fifty leagues. Others, with a nobler ambition, delight in displaying
their own speed. I know not whether Christoval de Mesa would have said
of this sort of walking or of running, as he did of the game of _pelota_:
Es el que mas a la virtud se llega,
que ni entorpece, ni el ingenio embota,
antes da ligereza y exercita,
y pocos que la juegan tienen gota.[27]
I know not whether he would have said this of their exercise; but this I
know, that some of the English gentlemen would make the best running
footmen in the world.
Another school—to borrow a term from the Philosophers—is that of the
Amateurs of Boxing, who call themselves _the Fancy_. They attend the
academies of the two great professors Jackson and Mendoza, the Aristotle
and Plato of pugilism,—bring up youths of promise from the country to be
trained, and match them according to their wind, science, and bottom.
But I am writing to the uninitiated,—bottom means courage, that sort of
it which will endure a great deal. Too much vivacity is rather against a
man; if he indulges in any flourishes or needless gesticulations he
wastes his wind, and though he may be admitted to be _a pleasant
fighter_, this is considered as a disadvantage. When the champion comes
off victor, after suffering much in the contest, he is said to be _much
punished_. There is something to be attended to besides science, which
is the body: it is expedient to swallow raw eggs for the wind, and to
feed upon beef as nearly raw as possible: they who do this, and practise
with weights in their hands, are said to _cultivate the muscles_. Upon
the brutality of this amusement I have already said something, nor is it
needful to comment upon what is so apparent;—but it is just that I
should now state what may truly be said in its defence. It is alleged,
that in consequence of this custom, no people decide their quarrels with
so little injury to each other as the English. The Dutch slice each
other with their snickersnees; we know how deadly the knife is employed
in our country;—the American twists the hair of his enemy round his
thumb, and scoops out an eye with his finger;—but in England a
boxing-match settles all disputes among the lower classes, and when it
is over they shake hands, and are friends. Another equally beneficial
effect is the security afforded to the weaker by the laws of honour,
which forbid all undue advantages; the man who should aim a blow below
the waist, who should kick his antagonist, strike him when he is down,
or attempt to injure him after he had yielded, would be sure to
experience the resentment of the mob, who, on such occasions, always
assemble to see what they call fair play, which they enforce as rigidly
as the Knights of the Round Table did the laws of chivalry.