in the front of my work, done in an editorial attitude, with a
writing-desk before me, and a pen behind my ear; and I am aware that
this is the custom of many gentlemen whom I might be proud to imitate.
Mr. Canning figures in front of the _Microcosm_, and Dr. Peter Morris
presents his goodly physiognomy in the vanguard of “Peter’s Letters.”
And I know, what has often before been remarked, that when the public
sit down to the perusal of a work, it imports them much to be convinced
whether the writer thereof be plump or spare, fair or dark, of an open
or a meditative countenance. Would any one feel an interest in the fate
of Tom Thumb, who did not see a representation of the hero courting
inspection, and claiming, as it were, _in propriâ personâ_, the applause
to which his exploits entitle him? Would any one shudder with horror at
the perilous adventures of Munchausen, who could not count the scars
with which they are engraven on the Baron’s physiognomy? In opposition
to these weighty considerations, I have two motives which forcibly impel
me to adopt a contrary line of conduct. In the first place, I am, as is
known to all my acquaintance, most outrageously modest. I have been so
from my cradle. Before I ever entered upon a public capacity, a few
copies of a caricature came down to our Eton bookseller, one of which
contained a figure of a starved poet. One of my friends carelessly
discovered a resemblance between the said starved poet and your humble
servant, the consequence of which was that your humble servant bought
up, at no inconsiderable expense, all the copies of the said print, and
committed them to the flames. And now, if I were to see my own features
prefixed to my own writings; if I were to imagine to myself your
curiosity, my public, criticizing expression of countenance as well as
expression of thought, and lines of face as well as lines of metre, I
could not endure it--I should faint! Yes, I should positively faint.
I have another reason; another very momentous one. I once heard a lady
criticizing the “Lines to----.” How beautiful were the criticisms; and
how beautiful was the critic! I would have given the riches of Mexico
for such a review, and such a reviewer. But to proceed with my
story--thus were the remarks wound up:--“Now do, Mr. Courtenay, tell me
who is the author? What an interesting looking man he must be!”
From that moment I have been enwrapt in most delightful day-dreams. I
have constantly said to myself, “Peregrine, perhaps at this moment
bright eyes are looking on your effusion; and sweet voices are saying,
‘What a pretty young man Mr. Courtenay must be!’” And shall I publish my
picture, and give them the lie? Oh, no! I will preserve to them the
charity of their conjectures, and to myself the comfort of their
opinion.
And now what rests for me but to express my gratitude to all who have
assisted me by their advice or their support, and to beg, that if, in
discharging my part to the best of my abilities, it has been my
misfortune to give offence to any one of them, he will believe that I
sinned not intentionally, and forgive me as well as he can.
I have also to return thanks to many gentlemen who have honoured me by
marks of individual kindness. It would be painful for me to leave this
spot without assuring them, that in all places, and under all
circumstances, I shall have a lively recollection of the attention they
have shown me, and the interest they have expressed in my success.
But most of all, I have to speak my feelings to him who, at my earnest
solicitations, undertook to bear an equal portion of my fatigues and my
responsibility--to him who has performed so diligently the labours which
he entered upon so reluctantly--to him who has been the constant
companion of my hopes and fears, my good and ill fortune--to him who, by
the assiduity of his own attention, and the genius of the contributors
whose good offices he secured, has ensured the success of the _Etonian_.
I began this letter in a light and jesting vein, but I find that I
cannot keep it up. My departure from Eton and the _Etonian_ is really
too serious a business for a jest or a gibe. I have felt my spirits
sinking by little and little, until I have become downright melancholy.
I shall make haste, therefore, to come to a conclusion. I have done, and
I subscribe myself (for the last time),
CENTER
My dear Public,
Your obliged and devoted servant,
PEREGRINE COURTENAY.
ABDICATION OF THE KING OF CLUBS.
We, Peregrine, by Our own choice, and the public favour, King of Clubs,
and editor of the _Etonian_, in the ninth month of Our reign, being this
day in possession of Our full and unimpaired faculties both of mind and
body, do, by these presents, address Ourselves to all Our loving
subjects, whether holding place and profit under Us, or not.
Inasmuch as We are sensible that We must shortly be removed from this
state of trial, and translated to another life, leaving behind Us all
the trappings of royalty, all the duties of government, all the concerns
of this condition of being, it does seem good to Us, before We are
withdrawn from the eyes of Our dearly beloved friends and subjects, to
abdicate and divest Ourselves of all the ensigns of power and authority
which We have hitherto borne; and We do hereby willingly abdicate and
divest Ourselves of the same.
And be it, by all whom it may concern, remembered, that the cares and
labours of Peregrine, sometime King of Clubs, are henceforth directed to
another world; and that if any one shall assume the sceptre and the
style of Peregrine, the first King of Clubs, such person is a liar and
usurper.
Howbeit, If it shall please Our trusty subjects and counsellors to set
upon Our Throne a rightful and legitimate successor, We will that the
allegiance of Our people be transferred to him; and that he be accounted
supreme over serious and comic, verse and prose; and that the treasury
of Our Kingdom, with all that it shall at such time contain, song, and
sonnet, and epigram, and epic, and descriptions, and nondescripts, shall
be made over forthwith to his charge and keeping.
And for all acts, and writings, made and done during the period of Our
reign, to wit, from the twentieth day of October, anno Domini eighteen
hundred and twenty, to the twenty-eighth day of July, eighteen hundred
and twenty-one, inclusive, we commit them to the memory of men, for the
entertainment of our friends and the instruction of posterity.
Further, If any one shall take upon himself the office of commenting
upon any of the deeds and transactions which have taken place under Our
administration, whether such comment shall go forth in plain drab or in
gaudier saffron and blue, We recommend to such person charity and
forbearance, and in their spirit let him say forth his say.
And be it hereby known, that for all that has been said or done against
Us, during the above-mentioned period, whether by open hostility or
secret dislike, We do this day publish a general and hearty Amnesty: And
We will that all such offences be from henceforth committed to oblivion,
and that no person shall presume to recall to Our recollection such sins
and treasons.
And We also entreat that if, in the course of a long and arduous
administration, it has been Our lot to inflict wounds in self-defence,
or to wound, unknowingly, those who were unconnected with Us, the
forgiveness which We extend to others will be extended by others to Us.
And We do, from this day, release from all bond, duty, and obligation
those who have assisted Us by their counsel and support; leaving it to
all such persons to transfer their services to any other master, as
seemeth to them best.
We decree that Our punchbowl be henceforth consecrated to Our lonely
hours and our pleasant recollections; that no one do henceforth apply
his lips to its margin; and that all future potentates in this state of
Eton do submit to assemble their privy council around a coffee-pot or an
urn.
And We most earnestly recommend to those dear friends, whom We must
perforce leave behind Us, that in all places and conditions they
continue to perform their duties in a worshipful manner, always
endeavouring to be a credit to the Prince whom they have so long
honoured by their service.
And now, as Our predecessor, Charles of Germany, in the meridian of his
glory, laid down the reins of empire, exchanging the court for the
cloister, and the crown for the cowl--even so do We, Peregrine of Clubs,
lay down the pen and the paper, exchanging celebrity for obscurity,
punch for algebra, the printing-office for Trinity College. And We
entreat all those who have Our welfare at heart to remember Us sometimes
in their orisons. And so We depart.
PEREGRINE.
Given in our Club-room, this twenty-eighth
day of July, A.D. 1821.
THE UNION CLUB.
A.D. 1823.
The Union Club, of rhetorical fame,
Was held at the Red Lion Inn,[9]
And there never was Lion so perfectly tame,
Or who made such a musical din.
’Tis pleasant to snore, at a quarter before,
When the Chairman does nothing in state,
But ’tis heaven, ’tis heaven, to waken at seven,
And pray for a noisy debate!
“What’s the question?”--“Reform.” “What! the old story!”--“Yes, the old
story; the common good against the Commons’ House; speechifying _versus_
starvation!” “Oh, but you’re a red-hot Radical?”--“Yes, that’s my key;
every man is red-hot who is deep read!” “Reform in Parliament?”--“Yes,
the only thing men are agreed upon; for the Outs can’t carry it, and the
Ins can’t bear it.” “Infamous! split me!”--“Order, order! Gentlemen will
be so good as to take their seats. The question for this evening’s
debate is: ‘Would Reform in Parliament have been conducive to the
welfare of the country at any period previous to the year 1800?’ To be
opened by Mr. Pattison of St. John’s.”
And the honourable opener immediately mounts his hobby, and proceeds at
a rapid rate over a level road, panting and blowing like a courier. Off
he goes! Mounts at Magna Charta, breakfasts with the Long Parliament,
dines with William and Anne, and finds himself comfortably at home in
the state of the nation.
[10]“We have heard of a time, Mr. President, when England was the envy
and the terror of the whole world; we have heard of a time when commerce
flourished, and the quartern loaf was sold for a penny-halfpenny; but
these things are now altered; bread has risen, as stocks have fallen; we
lose time in debates, and we lose men in battle; and are not all these
things owing to Mr. Pitt? Unfortunate man! he had it in his power to
make his country happy, and he has left it miserable; all of it
encumbered with penury and taxation, and half of it fettered by a
damnable religious restriction. Yes, Mr. President, from the fear of
rebellion and revolution, the Protestants are wretched and spied upon;
and from the dread of the Holy Alliance, the Pope, the Pretender, the
Arch-Fiend Napoleon, and the Devil, the Catholics are oppressed and
persecuted.”
Here the honourable member is jerked from his hobby by an orthodox hiss
from the corner, and he sits down among the comments of the crowd. “What
do you think of the opener?”--“Why, I think he’s all
Public debts,
Epithets,
Foul and filthy, good and great,
Glorious wars,
British tars,
Beat and bruise
Parlez-vous,
Frenzy, frown,
Commons, Crown,
Ass and pannier,
Rule Britannia!--
How I love a loud debate!”
Then the Church shakes her rattle, and sends forth to battle
The terror of Papist and sinner,
Who loves to be seen as the modern Mæcenas,
And asks all the poets to dinner.
[11]“Mr. President,--I rise to express my dissent from the honourable
opener with regard to the Catholics. With respect to the question of
debate, my sentiments are entirely those of the late Charles James Fox.
He was a man adorned by every manly virtue that can adorn and dignify a
man--_Propria quæ maribus tribuuntur, mascula dicas_. But with regard to
the Catholics, when I remember the times of the Bloody Queen Mary, when
I call to mind the horrible massacres she perpetrated--the helpless old
women that were depopulated--I cannot sufficiently restrain my feelings
to hear the Catholics commended without expressing my dissent.”
Then the gentleman Attic, with tales Asiatic
And body that bends with a grace,
The maker of jeers that led us for years,
The prime Staple-Ton of the place.
[12]“Mr. President,--From the look of virtuous indignation with which
the honourable gentleman arose from his seat, I expected to have heard
something worthy of a Blair or a Benson, a Confucius or a
Nebuchadnezzar; but lo! when my hopes were wrought up to the highest
pitch, the honourable gentleman has suddenly reseated himself, and I do
not even understand the purport of his sudden ebullition. Once upon a
time a sudden darkness overspread the town of Ching-Chong-Foo; the sun
and the moon and the stars were hidden, all business was suspended, all
hearts were astounded. The mathematician Sing-Su said it was an eclipse;
the Bishop Chit-Quong said it was the Devil; and the Chancellor Hum-lum
said that he doubted: when suddenly there flew down from the skies,
extending his wings over all the city, a stupendous cock; he soared
majestically down--sullenly--slowly; and when they expected from him the
voice of Azrael the Destroyer, or the Mandate of Mahomet the Prophet, he
said--nothing, Mr. President, but Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
“Why the devil do you laugh?”--“Laugh! why because it’s all
Indian Stories,
Damn the Tories,
None but he can rule the State,
Wise magicians,
Politicians,
Foreign lands,
Kings and wands,
Fiends and fairies,
Dromedaries,
Laugh at Boodle’s,
Cock-a-doodles--
How I love a loud debate!”
Then up gets a youth with a visage of truth,
An omen of good to our islands,
Who promises health and abundance of wealth
To our Oatlands, and Wheatlands, and Ryelands.
[13]“Mr. President,--I had not intended to address you on the present
question; but some observations which have been made on the character of
George the Third prevent me from remaining silent. If I use any strong
expressions, I trust they will be attributed to the violence of my
feelings.” (Refers to a paper.) “When I remember, Sir, that in the reign
of George the Third the purest blessings of Heaven were shed upon us,
and that Mr. Pitt was Prime Minister; that the powers of darkness were
scattered before us, and that the combined fleets of France and Spain
were defeated--above all, when I reflect that all the nine Muses
migrated from Pindus to England, and that Mr. Southey was the Poet
Laureate--I cannot help saying that George the Third, who reigned so
gloriously, and lived to an advanced period of life, was very wise, very
prudent, and very triumphant. In short, Sir, I do not fear to affirm
that he was very good.”
And the honourable gentleman halts as systematically as a posthorse
knocked up or a timepiece run down. “Very perfect in his lesson!”--“Oh,
very! but it’s all
Sigh and simper,
Whine and whimper,
Kings and princes, Church and State;
Cut and dried,
Ill applied,
Nightly taper,
Pen and paper,
Audience dozing,
How composing!
Would ’twere shorter!
Milk and water!--
How I love a loud debate!”
But the favourite comes, with his trumpets and drums,
And his arms and his metaphors crossed;
And the audience--Ο dear!--vociferate “Hear!”
Till they’re half of them deaf as a post.
And the honourable gentleman, after making the grand tour in a hand
canter, touching cursorily upon Rome, Constantinople, Amsterdam,
Philadelphia, and the Red Sea; with two quotations, two or three hundred
similes, and two or three hundred thousand metaphors, proceeds to the
tune of
[14]“We, Mr. President, have indeed awful examples to direct us or
deter. Have we not seen the arms of the mighty overpowered, and the
counsels of the wise confounded? Have not the swords of licentious
conquest, and the fasces of perverted law, covered Europe with blood,
and tears, and mourning? Have not priests and princes and nobles been
driven in beggary and exile to implore the protection of rival thrones
and hostile altars? Where is the sacred magnificence of Rome? Where the
wealth and independence of Holland? Where the proud titles of the German
Cæsars? Where the mighty dynasty of Bourbon? But is there yet one nation
which has retained unimpaired its moral and political strength? One
nation, whose shores have ever been accessible to a suppliant, and never
to an enemy? One nation which, while the banners of her foes have been
carried in triumph to half the capitals of the world, has seen them only
suspended over her shrines as trophies? One nation, which, while so many
cities have been a prey to hostile fires, has never seen her streets
lighted up but with the blaze of victorious illumination? History and
posterity will reply, ‘That country was England.’ Let them not talk to
us of their philosophy and their philanthropy, their reason and their
rights! We know too well the oratory of their Smithfield meetings, and
the orgies of their midnight clubs! We have seen the weapons which arm,
and the spirit which nerves them. We have heard the hyæna howl, till the
raving which excited dismay provokes nothing but disgust. Amid the
railings of disappointed ambition, and the curses of factious hate;
amid the machinations of the foully wicked, and the sophistries of the
would-be wise, we will cling to our fathers’ banner--we will rally round
our native rock. Mr. President, that banner is the Charta of our
rights--that Rock is the British Constitution!”
“Bravo!” “Can’t say I quite caught the line of argument.” “Argument!
Fiddlestick! Quite gone out except for opponencies; and then for the
language, and the feeling, and the style, and all that sort of
thing--oh! nobody can deny that it was all
Oratoric,
Metaphoric,
Similes of wondrous length;
Illustration,
Conflagration,
Ancient Romans,
House of Commons,
Clever Uriel
And Ithuriel,
Good old king,
Everything!--
How I love a loud debate!”
With his sayings and saws, his hems and his haws,
Another comes up to the scratch;
While Deacon and Law unite in a yaw! [_Yawning._
And the President looks at his watch.
And the honourable gentleman, after making a long journey and plunging
up to his knees in dirt, bog, and quagmire; after taking up many strong
positions and much valuable time, after bruising the Bishops and the
table, and twisting his argument and his sleeve in twenty different
ways, proceeds to wake the members with a joke.
[15]“Mr. President,--I am out of all patience when I hear the poor
abused because they wish to reform the Constitution. Why, when you have
taken from them all they have got, and all they hope to get, what can
they do? Why, they complain, to be sure; and as soon as they complain,
like the poor fellow who was tried for stealing a pair of leather
breeches, and found guilty of manslaughter, the unfortunate
rabble--though why they are called rabble the Attorney-General only
knows, I’m sure I don’t--but, as I said before, the unfortunate rabble
are prosecuted upon _ex officio_ informations, or persecuted by a Bridge
Street gang, which I look upon as a combination of fiends against our
Constitution--that is, what we’ve got left of it, which to be sure is
but little, whatever the honourable gentlemen opposite may think, who
seem to be very much amused at the idea--but as I said before, the
unfortunate rabble, like the poor fellow who was tried for stealing a
pair of leather breeches and found guilty of manslaughter, is tried for
high treason and found guilty of being ragged, and so is hung, fined,
imprisoned, or sent to Botany Bay, or Australasia as the Vice-Chancellor
calls it, according to the will and pleasure of His Majesty’s Attorney
and Solicitor-General. But the honourable gentleman would let the poor
starve, while the rich take coffee and snuff, talk religion, and buy
into the stocks; provided my Lord this and my Lord that may keep their
mistresses and their boroughs, all the scum, all the _canaille_ may be
cut down by the dozen. The honourable gentleman cares no more for the
poor than the country gentleman did--a good, honest, well-meaning
man--who lost so many turnips that he wanted to make turnip-stealing a
capital offence. The country gentleman and the honourable gentleman
argue on the same ground--they are on the same bench--there they are!”
“Bravo!” “Bravo!” “Pray, Sir, how long has that young gentleman been on
his legs?”--“Really I can’t tell, 1 was so much amused at his
Admirable,
Bang the table,
‘Sir, although its getting late,’
Opposition,
Repetition,
Endless speeches,
Leather breeches,
Taxes, hops,
Turnip-tops,
Leather ’em, lather ’em,
Omnium-gatherum--
How I love a loud debate!”
Mr. Punnett, whose vows are put up for the House
As if he was born to the trade,
Would chafe if we close with the ayes and the noes,
And break up before we have--prayed!
And accordingly, after the honourable gentleman has abused, _ad
libitum_, all persons not freeholders who wish to have votes, and told
us, “as for such people, now we have got ’em down, keep ’em down;” he is
succeeded by the laureate jester of the society. The honourable
gentleman plunges into a sea of puns, passes a few modest strictures on
the freedom of the press, likens Frederick the Great to a thief, and Mr.
Bartholomew to the devil; and at last betakes himself, like all poets,
to abusing his friends.
[16]“Not being disposed, Mr. President, to pun it in a decidedly
personal manner through any more of the honourable gentleman’s speech, I
proceed to say a few words in reply to my honourable friend who preceded
him. But I conceive, Mr. President, when I see how much the table of the
House has suffered from the fist of the honourable gentleman, I may be
somewhat afraid of the knock-down arguments of my honourable friend. Let
him not commit violence on our persons or our property; let him not
frighten the freshman or annihilate the Soph. He is already the Ord of
this House, let him not make himself the Lord of it; we give him an
inch, let him not take an ‘L.’ But I conceive, Sir, that my honourable
friend will attend to no suggestion of mine. He is a Republican, a
Radical, a Revolutionist, a Fury, a Firebrand; but, however hot may be
the doctrines he now advocates, I would whisper in his ear: ‘You were
once something far more reasonable; yes, though you may now be a rioter
or a regicide, yet, as the poet says, You were a Whig, and thereby hangs
a tale!’ I have detained the House too long, and will make haste to
conclude. I have been censured for mixing too much of the ludicrous with
the debates of the House. It has been said of me that the thread of my
argument is drawn from the tassel of my cap, that the point of my jokes
is drawn from the belles of Barnwell. Mr. President, I plead guilty to
the charges, and the House must be well aware that the insignia of my
profession were never anything but the cap and bells!”
Quite divine
Peregrine,
Never shall we see his mate;
Fun and flams,
Epigrams,
Leering, lying,
Versifying,
Nodding, noting,
Quibbling, quoting,
‘Thief!’ and ‘Bore!’
‘Lie!’ no more--
How I love a loud debate!”
Then up gets the glory of us and our story,
Who does all by logic and rule,
Who can tell the true diff’rence ’twixt twopence and threepence,
And prove Adam Smith quite a fool.
[17]“Mr. President,--I had intended to have addressed the meeting at
considerable length, but as the ground I meant to occupy has been
entirely and successfully anticipated by my honourable friends, I shall
not dwell upon the crying and terrible demand there is for Parliamentary
Reform, but shall confine my observations to the existing aggression of
France upon Spain. For it is not so much the question whether France or
Spain shall be victorious; it is not so much the question whether that
‘alter Achilles,’ the Duke d’Angoulême, with his miserable and
half-starved myrmidons, or General Mina and his patriots, shall be
vanquished; the question is, whether the nefarious and accursed
principles of foreign aggression and tyranny, the principles of
despotism and usurpation, shall triumph eternally over the principles of
freedom; whether worse than Scythian ignorance and barbarism shall crush
the progress of science and enlightened understanding; whether that holy
knot of confederated despots (who I trust in heaven will ere long meet
their well-earned reward of the halter)--whether they are to dictate
laws and constitutions to the rest of mankind; whether that hellish
power which has crushed the freedom and trampled on the genius of Italy
shall crush the freedom and trample on the genius of the rest of the
world; whether we, who boast ourselves freeborn Englishmen, shall tamely
look on and see the rights of nations and the rights of man assaulted
and violated; whether we are to listen with submission and humility to
the insolent decrees of the Autocrat of the Russias; whether we are to
cringe and subscribe to the proclamation of a semi-barbarian who dares
to issue his mandate to the world--a mandate which is nothing but an
ignorant tissue of Syrio-Calmuc jargon and cacophony.”
But Lord! Sir, you ask a more difficult task
That aught in the son-shop of Burchill,
If you ask me to dish up, like many a Bishop,
The eminent words of the Church-ill!
[18]“Mr. President,--The honourable opener of this debate called Mr.
Pitt an unfortunate man; now I think him a very fortunate man. He went
about, like Jeremy Diddler, borrowing sixpence from every one who was
fool enough to lend him, and died before he was called on to refund. We
have heard the prosperous state of the country referred to. Now, Sir,
everybody that can pay for his passage is going to the Cape; for though
a man likes his bed, he leaves it when he finds it full of fleas. The
distresses of England have also been alluded to. Now, Sir, with regard
to Lord George Gordon’s riots, they were like Tom Thumb’s giants--the
Minister made the riots first, and then he quelled them.”