'Ai- f -'sv THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE BOROUGH: POEM, m tDentp^fout %ttttt0* BT THE REV. G. CRABBE, LL.B. PAULO MAJORE CANAMUS. VIKGIL. Eontion : PRINTED FOR J. HATCHARD, MOOKSELLER TO HER MAJESTY, 190, OPFOSITE ALBANY, PICCADILLY. 1810. Brttua and Co. PrinUrt, W*n*U>(trrc t, Gulden-tquare, l^omUn. PR DEDICATION. TO m^ 4 HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF RUTLAND ^ MARQUIS OF GRAXB Y ; RECORDER OF CAMBRIDGE AND SCARBOROUGH ; LORD -LIEUTENANT AND CUSTOS -ROTULORUM OF THE COUNTY OF LEICESTER; K.G. & LL.D* My Lord ; Ihe Poem^ for which I have ventured to solicit your Grace's attention^ was composed in a situation so near to Belvoir Castle, that the author had all the advantage to be derived from prospects extensive and beautiful,^ 11GGS05 Tl DEDICATION. and from works of grandeur and sublimity : and though nothing of the influence arising from such situation should be discernible in these verses, either from want of adequate powers in the writer, or because his subjects do not assimilate with such views, yet would it be natural for him to indulge a wish, that he might inscribe his labours to the Lord of a scene which perpetually ex- cited his admiration, and he would plead the propriety of placing the titles of the House of Rutland at the entrance of a volume written tt the Vale of Belyoir. But, MY Lord, a motive much more powerful than a sense of propriety^ a grateful remembrance of benefits conferred by the noble family in which you preside, has been the great inducement for me to wish that I might be permitted to inscribe this work to your Grace : the honours of that time were to me unexpected, they were unmerited. DEDICATION. vii and the}' were transitory ; but since I am thus allowed to make public my gratitude, I am in some degree restored to the honour of that pe- riod ; I have again the happiness to find myself favoured, and my exertions stimulated, by th condescension of the Dure of Rutland. It was my fortune, in a Poem which yet circu- lates, to write of the virtues, talents, and heroic death of Lord Robert Manners, and to bear wit- ness to the affection of a Brother whose grief was poignant, and to be soothed only by remembrance of his worth whom he so deeply deplored. In a Patron thus favourably predisposed, my Lord, I might look for much lenity, and could not fear th severity of critical examination : from your Grace, who, happily, have no such impediment to justice, I must not look for the same kind of indulgence. I am assured, by those whose situation gave them opportunity for knowledge, and whose abilities vm P;dication, and aitentiou guarded tlicm from error^ that I must, not expcsqt. my failings will escape detec- tion from want of, discernment, neither am I to fear that any merit will be undistinguished through deiiciency of taste : It is from this information^ MY LoRD^ and a consciousness of much which needs forgiveness, that I entreat your Grace to leadi my verses, with a wish, I had almost ad- ded, with a purpose to be pleased, and to make every possible allowance for subjects not always pleasing, for manners sometimes gross, and for language too frequently incorrect. b Hi .1) ' IKitb; the fullest confidence in your Grace's ability and favour ; in the accuracy of your judg- ment and ihe lenity of your decision, with grate- ful remembrance of benefits received, and due consciousness of the little I could merit, with prayers that your Grace may long enjoy the dignities of the House of Rutland, and con- ^. DEDICATION. ix tinue to dictate improvement for the surrounding country ; I terminate an address^ in which a fear of offending your Grace has made me so cau- tious in my expressions,, that I may justly fear to offend many of my readers, who will think that something more of animation should have been excited by the objects I view, the benevolence I honour, and the gratitude I profess. 1 have the honour to be. My Lord, Your Grace's most obliged and obedient humble servant, GEORGE CRABBE. I o^ PREFACE. Whether^ if I had not been encouraged bj T^ Q^ some proofs of public favour, I should have written the Poem now before the reader, is a question which I cannot positively determine ; but I will venture to assert, that I should not, in that case, have committed the work to the press ; I should not have allowed my own opinion of it to have led me into further disappointment, against the voice of judges impartial and indifferent, from whose seulence it had been fruitless to appeal : the success of a late publication, therefore, may fairly be assigned as the principal cause for the ppenrance of this. When the ensuing Letters were so far written, that I could form an opinion of them, and when XU PREFACE. I began to conceive that they niiglit not be unac- ceptable to the public^ I felt myself prompted by duty, as well as interest, to put them to the press ; I considered myself bound by gratitude for the favourable treatment I had already received, to show that I was not unmindful of it ; and, however this might be mixed with other motives, it operated with considerable force upon my mind, acting as a stimulus to exertions naturally tardy, and to expectations easily checked. It must nevertheless be acknowledged, that although such favourable opinion had been formed, I was not able, with the requisite impartiality, to determine the comparative values of an unpub- lished manuscript, and a work sent into the world. Books, like children, when established, have doubt- less our parental affection and good wishes ; wc rejoice to hear that they are doing well, and are received and respected in good company : but it is to manuscripts in the study, as to children in the nursery, that our care, our anxiety, and our ten- derness are prineipaily directed : they are fondled as our endearing companions ; their faults are corrected with the lenity of partial love>. and their good parts are exaggerated by the siren^ii of parental imagination ; nor is it Oaey even 4or, the more cool and reasonable among parents, thus circumstanced, to decide upon the comparative PREFACE. XIU merits of their offspring, whether they be children of the bed or issue of the brain. But_, however favourable iny own opinion may have been, or may still be, I could not venture to commit so long a Poem to the press without some endeavour to obtain the more valuable opi- nion of less partial judges : at the same time, I am willing to confess that I have lost some portion of the timidity once so painful, and that I am encouraged to take upon myself the decision of various points, which heretofore I entreated my friends to decide. Those friends werd then my council, whose opinion I was implicitly to follow ; they are now advisers, whose ideas I am at li- berty to reject. This will not, I hope, seem like arrogance : it would be more safe, it would be more pleasant, still to have that reliance on the judgment of others ; but it cannot always be ob- tained ; nor are they, however friendly disposed, ever ready to lend an helping hand to him whom they consider as one who ought by this time to have cast away the timidity of inexperience, and to have acquired the courage that would enable liim to decide for himself. \Mien it is confessed that I have less assistance from my friends, and that the appearance of this work is, in a great measure, occasioned by the success of a former ; some readers will, I fear. nr PREFACE. entertain the opinion that the book before them was written in ha^te, and published without due examination and revisal : should this opinion be formed, there will doubtless occur many faults which may appear as originating in neglect : Now, readers are, I believe, disposed to treat with more than common severity those writers who have been led into presumption by the approbation bestowed on their diffidence, and into idleness and uncon- cern, by the praises given to their attention. I am therefore even anxious it should be generally known that sufficient time and application were bestowed upon this work, and by this I mean that no ma- terial alteration would be effected by delay : it is true that this confession removes one plea for tlie errors of the book, want of time ; but, in my opi- nion, there is not much consolation to be drawn by reasonable minds from this resource : if a work fails^ it appears to be poor satisfaction when it is observed, that if the author had taken more care, the event had been less disgraceful. When the reader enters into the Poem, he will find the author retired from view, and an imagi- nary personage brought forward to describe his Borough for him : to him it seemed convenient to speak in the first person ; but the inhabitant of a village in the centre of the kingdom, could not appear in the character of a residing burgess in PREFACE. XT a large sea-port ; and when, with this point, was considered what relations were to be given, what manners delineated, and what situations described, no method appeared to be so convenient as that of (borrowing the assistance of an ideal friend : by this means the reader is in some degree kept from view of any particular place, nor will he perhaps be so likely to determine where those persons reside, and what their connections, who are so intimately known to this man of straw. From the title of this Poem, some persons will, J fear, expect a political satire, an attack upon corrupt principles in a general view, or upon the customs and manners of some particular place : of these they will find nothing satirized, nothing related. It may be that graver readers would have preferred a more historical account of so con- siderable a Borough its charter, privileges, trade, public structures, and subjects of this kind ; but I have an apology for the omission of these things, in the difficulty of describing them, and in the utter repugnancy which subsists between the studies and objects of topography and poetry. What I thought I could best describe, that I at- tempted ; the sea, and the country in the imme- diate vicinity; the dwellings, and the inhabitants ; some incidents and characters, with an exhibition of morals and manners, offensive perhaps to thos XYl PREFACE. of extremely delicate feelings, but sometimes, I hope, neither unaniiable nor unafiecting : an elec- tion indeed forms a part of one letter, but the evil there described is one not greatly nor generally deplored, and there are probably many places of this kind where it is not felt. From the variety of relations, characters, and descriptions which a Borough affords. Several were rejected which a reader might reasonably expect to have met with : in this case he is en- treated to believe that these, if they occurred to the author, were considered by him as beyond his ability, as subjects which he could not treat in a manner satisfactory to himself. Possibly the ad- mission of some will be thought to require more apology than the rejection of others : in such variety, it is to be apprehended, that almost every reader will find something not according with his ideas of propriety, or something repulsive to the tone of his feelings ; nor could this be avoided but by the sacrifice of every event, opinion, and even expression, which could be thought liable to pro- duce such effect ; and this casting away so largely of our cargo, through fears of danger, though it might help us to clear it, would render our vessel of little worth when she came into port. I may likewise entertain an hope, tJiat this very variety, which gives scope to objection and censure, will PREFACE. XVU also afford a better chance for approval and satis- faction. Of these objectionable parts many must be to me unknown, of others some opinion may be formed, and for their admission some plea may be stated. In the first letter is nothing which particularly calls for remark, except possibly the last line giving a promise to the reader that he should both smile and sigh in the perusal of the following letters. This may appear vain, and more than ati author ought to promise ; but let it be considered that the character assumed is that of a friend, who gives an account of objects, persons and events to his correspondent, and who was therefore at liberty, without any imputation of this kind, to suppose in what manner he would be affected by such descriptions. Nothing, I trust, in the second letter, which relates to the imitation of what are called wea- ther-stains on buildings, will seem to any invi- dious or ofFensive. I wished to make a com- parison between those minute and curious bodies which cover the surface of some edifices, and those kinds of stain which are formed of boles and ochres, and laid on with a brush. Now, as the work of time cannot be anticipated in such cases, it tnay be very judicious to have recourse to such b XVUl PREFACE. expedients as ^iU give to a recent structure ibe venerable appearance of antiquity ; and in this iluK, thoug-h I m^ht still observe the vast diffe- rence between the living varieties of nature, and the distant imitation of the artist^ yd I would not forbear to make use of his dexterity, because he could not clothe my frec-stie with mucor, lichen and bi/^sus. The wants fend mortifications of a poor Cliergy- man are the subjects of one portion of the third letter ; and he beuf^ represented as a stranger in the Borough, it may be necessary to make some tipology for hib appearance in the Poem. Previous ^ to a late tneetkig of a litertiry society, whose be- nevolent purpose is well known to the public, I was induced by a friend to compose a few verses, in which, with the general commendation of tlie design, should be introduced an hint that the bounty might be farther extended : these verses, a gentleman did me the honour to recite at tlic meeting, and they Were printed as an extract from the Poem, to which in feet they may be called an appendage. I am now arrived ait that part of my work, which I may expect will bring upon me some ani- madversion. Religion is a subject deeply inte- resting to the minds of many, and when these minds are weak, they arc often led by a warmth PREFACE. XIX of feeling into die violence of causeless resent- meui : i ajn therefore anxious that my purpose ehouid be understood ,* and I wish to point out whal things they are which an author may hold up to ridicule and be blameless. In referring to the two principal divisions of enthusiastical teachers, I have denominated tliem_, as I conceive they are generally called, Calvinistic and Arminian Methodists. The Arminians, though divided and perhaps sub-divided, are still, when particular accu- racy is not intended, considered as one body, having had, for many years, one head, who is yet held in high respect by the varying members of the present day : but the Calvinistic societies are to be looked upon rather as separate and independent congre- gations ; and it is to one of these (unconnected, as is supposed, with any other) I more particularly allude. But while I am making use of this divi- sion, I must entreat that I may not be considered as one who takes upon him to censure the religious X)pimous of any society or individual : the reader -will find that the spirit of the enthusiast, and not hk opinions, his manners, and not his creed, have engaged my attention. I have nothing to obs^ve of the Calvinist and Arminian, considered as uch ; but my remarks are pointed at the enthu- siast and the bigot, at their folly and their craft. Xy PREFACE. To those readers who have seen the journals of the first Methodists, or the extracts quoted from them by their opposers* in the early times of this spiritual influenza, are suflSciently known all their leading" notions and peculiarities ; so that I have no need to enter into such unpleasant enquiries in this place ; I have only to observe that their tenets remain the same, and have still the former effect on the minds of the converted : There is yet ^tfaat imagined contention with the powers of dark- ness, that is at once so lamentable and so ludicrous: there is the same offensive familiarity with the Deity, with a full trust and confidence both in the immediate efficacy of their miserably-delivered supplications, and in the reality of numbrrless small miracles wrought at their request and for their convenience : there still exists that delusion, by which some of the most common diseases of the body are regarded as proofs of the malignity of Satan contending for dominion over the soul : and there still remains the same wretched jargon, composed of scriptural language, debased by vul- gar expressions, which has a kind of mystic in- fluence on the minds of the ignorant. It will be * Methodists and Papists compared j Treatise on Grace, by Bishop Warburton, &c. PREFACE. XX i tecollected that it is the abuse of those scriptural .- terms wliich I conceive to be improper : they are doubtless most significant and efficacious when ued with propriety ; but it is painful to the mind of a soberly devout person, when he hears every rise and fall of the animal spirits, every whim and notion of enthusiastic ignorance, expressed in the venerable language of the Apostles and Evan- gelists. The success of these people is great, but not surprising : as the powers they claim are given, and come not of education, many may, and there- fore do, fancy they are endowed with them ; so that they who do not venture to become preachers, yet exert the minor gifts, and gain reputation for the faculty of prayer, as soon as they can address the Creator in daring flights of unpremeditated ab- surdity. The less indigent gain the praise of hos- pitality, and the more harmonious become distin- guished in their choirs : curiosity is kept alive by succession of ministers, and self-love is flattered by the consideration that they are the persons at whom the world wonders : add to this, that, in many of them, pride is gratified by their consequence as new members of a sect whom their conversion pleases, and by the liberty which, as seceders, they take, of speaking contemptuously of the Church and mini- stersj whom they have relinquished. Of those denominated Calvinhtic Methodiiti, I had principally one sect in view, or, to adopt the ierm of Hs founder, a church. This church con- sists of several congregations in town and country, unknown perhaps in many parts of the kingdom, but, where known, the cause of much curiosity and sbme amusfcment. To such of my readers a may judge an enthusiastic teacher and his pecu- liarities to be unworthy any serious attention, I Would observe that there is something unusually daring in the boast of this man, who claims the authority of a messenger setit f>om God, and de- clares without hesitation that his call was imme- diate ; that he is as*istHl by the sensible influence of the Spirit, and that miracles are perpetually wrought in his favour and for his convenience. As it was and continues t6 be my desire to give prbof that I had advanced nothing respecting this extraordinary person, his operations or assertions, which might not be readily justified by quota- tions from his owU writings, I had collected sevc- hil of these, atid disposed therti under certain heads ; but I found that by this means a very dispropor- lidhed share of attention must be given to the fcubject, and Jlfter some consideration, I hav de- iermibed to telinquish the design ; and should any bafc curit)sity to search whether my repnesentation of the temper and di^sitioo, the spirit and iBan> PREFACE. XXU^ iiers, the inawkdge ^nd capg^citj, of j^ very popu- lar teacher be coxreet, he is referred to about fourscwe pamphlets^ whose titles will be found on the covers of the late editions of the ^aM/f of Faith, itself a wonderful performance, which (according to the turn of mind in the re^dey) yi\\\ ei^h^ highly excite, or totally extinguish, curiosity. Ii| Ihese works will be abundantly seen, abuse an4 contempt of the Church of England and its mi- . iiisters ; vengeance and virulent denunciation agaiqst all offenders ; scorn for morality and heathen vir- tue, with that kind of learning which the author possesses, and his peculiar style of composition. " A few of the titles placed below will give some in- formation to the reader respecting the merit and design of those performances*. As many of the preacher's subjects are contro- verted and nice questions in divinity, he has sojne- times allowed himself relaxation from the severity of study, and favoured his admirers with the ef- fects of an humbler kipd of inspiration, viz. that * Barbar, in two parts ; Bond-Child ; Cry of Little- Faith ; Satan's Lawsuit ; Forty Stripes for Satan ; Myrrh and Odour of Saints ; The Naked Bow of God ; Rule and Riddle ; Way and Fare for Wayfaring Men ; UtiUty of the ^Qoks and Excellency of the Parchments j Correspondence between Koctua, Aiirila, (the words so separated,) and Philomela, &c. XXIT PREFACE. of the Muse. It must be confessed that these flights of fancy are very humble, and have nothing of that daring and mysterious nature which the prose of the author leads us to expect. The Di- mcnsions of eternal Love is a title of one of liis more learned productions, with which might have been expected (as a fit companion) The Bounds of infinite Ch^ace ; but no such work appears, and possibly the author considered one attempt of this kind was sufficient to prove the extent and direc- tion of his abilities. Of the whole of this mass of enquiry and de- cision, of denunciation and instruction (could we suppose it read by intelligent persons), different opinions would probably be formed ; the more indignant and severe would condemn the whole as tlie produce of craft and hypocrisy, while the more lenient would allow that such things might originate in the wandering imagination of a dream- ing enthusiast. None of my readers will, I trust, do me so much injustice as to suppose 1 have here any other mo- tive than a vindication of what I have advanced in the verses which describe this kind of character, or that I had there any other purpose than to ex- press (what I conceive to be) justifiable indigna- tion against the assurance, the malignity, and (what is of more importance) the pernicious in- PREFACE, aCtT liuence of such sentiments on the minds of the simple and ignorant, who, if they give credit to his relations, must be no more than tools and in- struments under the controul and management of one called to he their Apostle. Nothing would be more easy for me, as I have observed, than to bring forward quotations such as would justify all I have advanced ; but even had I room, I cannot tell whether there be not something degrading in such kind of attack : the reader might smile at those miraculous accounts, but he would consider them and the language of the au- thor as beneath his further attention : I therefore once more refer him to those pamphlets, which will afford matter for pity and for contempt, by which some would be amused and others astonished not without sorrow, when they reflect that thousands look up to the writer as a man literally inspired, to whose wants they administer with their sub- stance, and to whose guidance they prostrate their spirit and understanding. . Having been so long detained by this letter, I must not permit my desire of elucidating what may seem obscure, or of defending what is liable to mis- construction, any further to prevail over a wish for brevity, and the fear of giving an air of importance ti) subjects which have perhaps little in themselves. PBETACS. The circumstance recorded in Ibe fifth letter it a fact; although it may appear to many almost incredible^ that^ in this country^ and but few years ince^ a close and successful man should be a stranger to the method of increasing money by the loan of it. The minister of the place where the honest Fisherman resided^ has related to me the appreliension and suspicion he witnessed : With trembling hand and dubious look^ the careful man received and surveyed the bond given to him ; and after a sigh or two of lingering mistrust, he placed it in the coflfer whence he had just before taken his cash ; for which, and for whose increase, he now indulged a belief, that it was indeed both promise and security. If the letter which treats of Inns should be found to contain nothing interesting or uncommon ; if it describe things which we behold every day, and some which we do not wish to behold at any time ; let it be considered that this letter is one of the shortest, and that from a Poem whose subject was a Borough, populous and wealthy, tliese places of public accommodation could not, without some impropriety, be excluded. 1 I entertain the strongest, because the most rear sonable hope, that no liberal practitioner in the Law will be offended by (he notice taken of disho- PREFACE. 3XYii nourable and crafty attoroies. The increased diffi- culty of entering into the profession will in time render it much more free than it now is, from those who disgrace it ; at present such persons remain ; and it would not be difficult to give instances of neglect, ignorance, cruelty, oppression, and chica- nery ; nor are they by any means confined to on part of the country : quacks and impostors are indeed in every profession, as well with a license as without one. The character and actions of Swallow might doubtless be contracted by the delineation of an able and upright solicitor, but this letter is of sufficient length, and such persons, without question, are already known to my readers. , When I observe, under the article Physic, that the young and less experienced physician will write rather with a view of makinghimself known, than to investigate and publish some useful fact, I would not be thought to extend this remark to all the publications of such men. I could point out a work, containing experiments the most judicious, and conclusions the most interesting, made by a gentleman, then young, which would have given just celebrity to a man after long practice. The observation is nevertheless generally true : manj opinions have been adopted and many books writ- ten, not that the theory might be well defended, but that a young physician might be better known. XZVIU PREFACE. -iilf I have in one letter praised the good-humour of a man confessedly too inattentive to business^ and, in another, if I have written somewhat sarcastically of " the brick-floor'd parlour which the butcher lets ;" be credit given to me, that in the one case I had no intention to apologize for idleness, nor any design in the other to treat with contempt the resources of the poor. The good-humour is con- sidered as the consolation of disappointment, and the room is so mentioned because the lodger is vain. Most of my readers will perceive this, but I shall be sorry if by any I am supposed to make pleas for the vices of men, or treat their wants and infirmities with derision or with disdain. It is probable, tliat really polite people, with cultivated minds and harmonious tempers, may judge my description of a card-club conversation to be highly exaggerated, if not totally fictitious ; and I acknowledge that the club must admit a par- ticular kind of members to afford such specimens of acrimony and objurgation : yet that such lan- guage is spoken, and such manners exhibited, is most certain, chiefly among those who, being suc- cessful in life without previous education, not very qice in their feelings, or very attentive to impro- prieties, set down to game with no other view than that of adding the gain of the evening to the pro- fits of the day ; whom therefore disappointment PREFACE. XXIX in itself makes angr}% and, when caused by another, resentful and vindictive. The letter on itinerant Players will to some ap- pear too harshly written, their profligacy exagge- rated, and their distresses magnified ; but though the respectability of a part of these people may give us more favourable view of the whole body, though some actors be sober, and some managers prudent ; still there is vice and misery left, more than sufficient to justify my description. But if I could find only one woman who (passing forty years on many stages, and sustaining many princi- pal characters) laments, in her unrespected old age, that there was no work-house to which she could legally sue for admission ; if I could pro- duce only one female, seduced upon the boards, and starved in her lodging, compelled by her poverty to sing, and by her sufferings to weep, without any prospect but misery, or any consolation but death ; if I could exhibit only one youth who sought refuge from parental authority in the licen- tious freedom of a wandering company ; yet, with three such examples, I should feel myself justified in the account I have given : but such characters and sufferings are common, and there are few of these societies which could not show members of this description. To some, indeed, the life has its satisfactions : they never expected to be free from XXX PRETACe. labour^ and their present kind ihey tiiiixk is ii^t : they have no delicate ideas of shame,, aud therefots duns and hisses g;ive ihem no other pain than vVhat arises from the fear of not bdng trusted, joiaed witli the apprehension that tiiey may liavc nothing to subsist upon except tlieir credit. For the Alms-house itself, its GoTcmors and Inhabitants, I have not nmcfa to offer, in favour f the subject orof tiie characters. Onet)f theBe^ Sfr Dffiys Brand, may be considered as too higWj placed for an author (who seldom ventures above middle- life) to delineate; and indeed I had some Hca THE BOROUGH. * ^ THE BOROUGH. LETTER I. GENERAL DESCRIPTION. These did the Ruler of the Deep ordnin. To build proud Navies, aud to rule the Main. Pope's Homer's Iliad, Boole vi. line tltv Such scenes has Deptford, Navj-bullding town, Woolwich and Wappinjr, smellins; strong of pitch; Such Lambeth, euvy of each b^'id and pown. And Twickenham sucli, which fairer scenes enrich. Pope's Imitaticu of Spenseri -Ft cum coelestibns undis ^quores miscentiir aquse : caret ienibus sether, Ceecaque noz premitur tenebris hiem'sque suisque, Diwutient tam'ii has, praebentque micantia lumea f'Hinina : fttlmineU ardescunt ignihua unds. Ovid. Mtamorph. lib. si. ver> 690. THE BOROUGH. The Difficulty of describing Town-Scener}'. A Comparison with certain Views in the Countr>'. The River and Quay. ^The Siiip- pingand Business. Ship-L'uiiding. Sea-Boys and Port-Views. Village and Town Scenery again compared, Walks firon> Town. Cottage and adjoining Heath, &c. House of Sunday Entertainment. ^The Sea : A Summer and Winter View. A Shipwreck at Night, and its Effects on Shore. Evening AnuLse- ments in the Borough. An Apology for the imperfect View which can be given of these Subjects. ti THE BOROUGH. LETTER I. GENERAL DESCRIPTION. " Describe the Borough" though our idle Tribe May love Description, can we so describe, That you shall fairly Streets and Buildings trace. And all that gives distinction to a place ? This cannot be ; yet mov'd by your request, A part I paint let Fancy form the rest. Cities and Towns, the various haunts of men, Require the pencil ; they defy the pen : Could he, who sang so well the Grecian Fleet, So well have sung of Alley, Lane, or Street ? Can raeasur'd lines these various Buildings show, The Town-Hall Turning, or the Prospect Row ? Can I the seats of Wealth and Want explore, And lenghthen out my Lays from door to door? b2 i GENERAL DESCRIPTION. [Ld/Cf 1. Then let thy Fancy aid rae 1 repair From this tall Mansion of our last-year's Mayor, Till we the Out-skirts of the Borouo;h reach, And these half-buried Buildinf^ next the Beach ; Wliere hang at open doors, the Net and Cork, While squallid Sea-Dames mend the meshy work ; Till comes the hour, when fishing through the tide, The weary Husband throws his Freight aside ; A living mass, which now demands the Wife, Th' alternate labours of their humble Life. Can Scenes like these withdraw thee from thy Wood, Thy upland Forest or thy Valley's Flood ? Seek then thy Garden's shrubby bound, and look, As it steals by, upon the bordering Brook ; That winding streamlet, limpid, lingering, slow, Where the Reetls whisper when the Zephyrs blow ; Where in the midst, upon her throne of green, Sits the large Lily * as the Water's Queen ; And makes the Current, forc'd awhile to stay, Murmur and bubble as it shoots away ; Draw then the strongest contrast to that stream, And our broad River will before thee seem. With ceaseless motion comes and goes the Tide, Flowing, it fills the Clnnncl vast and wide ; Then back tj^ Sea, with strong majestic sweep \ It rolls, in ebb yet terrible and deep : The white Water-Lily. Nymphsa alba. Letter I.] general description. 5 Here Sarapire-Banks * and Salt- wort + bound the Flood, There Stakes and Sea-weeds withering on the Mud ; And higher up, a ridge of all things base, Which some strong tide has roll'd upon the place. Thy gentle River boasts its pigmy Boat, Urg'd on by pains, half grounded, half afloat; While at her Stern an Angler takes his stand, And marks the Fish he purposes to land ; From that clear space, where in the cheerful ray Of the warm Sun the scaly People play. Far other Craft our prouder River shows, Hoys, Pinks and Sloops ; Brigs, Brigantines and Snows : Nor Angler we on our wide stream descry But one poor Dredger where his Oysters lie : He cold and wet and driving with the Tide, Beats his weak arms against his tarry side, Then drains the remnant of diluted gin, To aid the warmth that languishes within ; Renewing oft his poor attempts to beat His tingling Fingers into gathering heat. He shall again be seen when Evening comes, And social Parties crowd tiieir favourite rooms ; Where, on the Table Pipes and Papers lie. The steaming Bowl or foaming Tankard by ; 'Tis then, with all these comforts spread around. They hear the painful Dredger's welcome sound ; * The jointed Glasswort. Salicornia, is here meant not the true Sampire, the Crithmum niaritimum. f The Salsola of Botanists. 6 OENEBAL DESCRIPTION. [^Letter 1- And few themselves the savoury boon deny, The food that feeds, the living luxury. Yon is our Quay ! those smaller Hoys from Town, Its various Wares, for Country-Use, bring down; Those laden Waggons, in return, impart The Country-Produce to the City Mart : Hark ! to the Clamour in that miry Road, Bounded and narrow'd by yon Vessels* Load ; The lumbering Wealth she empties round the place. Package and Parcel, Hogshead, Chest and Case: While the loud Seaman and the angry Hind, Mingling in Business, bellow to the Wind. Near these a Crew amphibious in the Docks, Rear, for the Sea, those Castles on the Stocks : See ! the long Keel, whfch soon the Waves must hide, See ! the strong Ribs which form the roomy Side, Bolts yielding slowly to the sturdiest stroke, And Planks * which curve and crackle in the smoke. Around the whole rise cloudy Wreathes, and far Bear the warm pnngence of o'er-boiling Tar. Dabbling on shore half-naked Sea-Boys crowd. Swim round a Ship, or swing upon the Shrowd ; Or in a Boat purloin'd, with Paddles play. And grow familiar with the Watery Way : The curvature of planks for the sTJes of a ihtp, 8cc. is, T aih informed, now gt-nerally made by the powc of steam. Fire is Bcverthcless still used lor boats and resseb of the smaller kind. JLefifT 1.] GENERAL DESCRIPTION. 7 Young though they be, they feel whose Sons they arc. They know what British Seamen do and dare ; Proud of that Fame ; they raise and they enjoy The rustic wonder of the Village-Boy. Before you bid these busy Scenes adieu, Behold the Wealth that lies in public view. Those far-extended heaps of Coal and Coke, Where fresh-fill'd Lime-kilns breathe their stifling Smok. This shall pass ofl', and you behold instead, The Night-fire gleaming on its chalky bed ; When from the Light-house brighter beams will rise, To shew the Shipman where the Shallow lies. Thy Walks are ever pleasant ; every Scene Is rich in beauty, lively, or serene Rich is that varied View with Woods around, Seen from the Seat, within the Shrubb'ry bound ; Where shines the distant Lake, and where appear From Ruins bolting, unmolested Deer ; Lively the Village-Green, the Inn, the Place, Where the good Widow schools her Infant- Race. Shops, whence are heard, the Hammer and the Saw, And Village-Pleasures unreprov'd by Law ; Then how serene ! when in your favourite Room, Gales from your Jasmines soothe the Evening Gloom; When from your upland Paddock you look down, And just perceive the Smoke which hides the Town ; When weary Peasants at the close of Day Walk to their Cots, and part upon the way ; When Cattle slowly cross the shallow Brook, And Shepherds pen their Folds, and rest upon their Crook. 8 . GENEiiAL DESCRIPTION. [^Letter 1. We prune our Hedges, prime our slender Trees, And nothiiior looks untutorM and at ease, On the wide Heath, or in the flow'ry Vale, "We scent the Vapours of the sea>born Gale ; Broad-beaten Paths lead on from Stile to Sfile, And Sewers from Street*, the Road->side Banks defile; Our guardetl Fields a sense of danger show. Where Garden-Crops with Corn and Clover grow ; Fences are form'd of Wreck and plac'd around, (With Tenters tip'd) a strong repulsive bound ; Wide and' deep Ditches by the Gardens run. And there in ambush lie the Trap and Gun ; Or yon broad Buiird, which guards each tempting Prize, " Like a tall Bully, lifts its head and lies." A There stands a Cottage with an open door. Its Garden undefended blooms before; Her Wheel is still, and overturii'd her Stool, While the lone Widow seeks the neighb'ring Pool ; This gives us hope, all views of Town to shun No ! here are tokens of the Sailor-Sou ; That old bluejacket, and that Shirt of Check, And silken Kerchief for the Seaman's neck; Sea-spoils am) Shells from many a distant Shore, And furry Robe from frozen J*abrador. Our busy Streets and Sylvan- Walks between, Fen, Marshes, Bog and llealh all intervene ; Here Pits of (rag, with s|x>ngy, plasliy Ikisc, To some enrich th^ uncuUivaliHl sp^ce ; For there arc Blossoms rare, anil curious Rush, The 6'a/e's rich balm, and Sun-dew^s crimson blush, Letter \.\ general, description. 9 Whose velvet Leaf with radiant beauty dresf, Forms a gay Pillow for the Plover's breast. Not distant fir, an House contimodio'is made, (Lonely yet public stands) for Sundiy-trade ; Thither for this day free, gay P irties go, Their Tea-house Walk, their tipling R(>ndezrous ; There humble Couples sit in Cornor-Rowers Or gaily ramble for th' allotted hours ; Sailors and Ijasses from th(' Town attend, The Servanf-Lover, the Apprentice-Friend ; With all the i lie social Tribes who seek, And find, their humble Pleasures, once a Week. Turn to the watery World ! but who to thee (A wonder yet unview'd) shall paint the Sea ? Various and vast, sublime in all its forms. When lull'd by Zephyrs, or when rous'd by Storms, Its colours changing, when from Clouds and Sun Shades after shades upon the surface run ; Embrown'd and horrid now, and now serene, In limpid blue, and evanescent green ; And oft ihe foirgy Banks on Ocean lie, Lift the far Sail, and cheat th' experienc'd Eye. * Be it the Summer-Noon : a sandy space The ebbing Tide has left upon its place ; Then just the hot and stoney Beech above, Light twinkling Streams in bright confusion move ; * Ot the ellect of these mists, known by the name of fog-banks, wonderful and indeed incredible reLtions are given ; but their pro- perty of appearing to elevate ships at sea, and to bring them in vievr, is, I believe, generally acknowledged. 10 GENERAL DBSCRIPTION. {^LttleT I. (For heated thus, the warmer Air ascends, And with the cooler in its fall contends) Then the broad bosom of the 0<:ean keeps An equal motion ; swellina: as its sleeps, Then slowly sinking ; curlins^ to the Strand, Faint, lazy Waves o'ercreep the ridgy Sand, Or tap the tarry Boat with gentle blow, And back return in silence, smooth and slow. ' Siiips in the Calm seem anchor'd ; for they glide On the still Sea, urg'd solely by the Tide; Art thou not present, this calm Scene before, \ Where all beside is pebbly length of Shore, 5- And far as eye can reach, it can discern no more ? ^ Yet sometimes comes a ru filing Cloud to make The quiet surface of the Ocean shake ; As an awaken'd Giant with a frown, Might shew his wrath, and then to sleep sink down. Tiew now the Winter-Storm ! above, one Cloud, Black and unbroken all the Skies o'ershrowd ; Th' unwieldy Porpoise through the day before, Had roll'd in view of boding men on shore ; And sometimes hid and sometimes shew'd his form. Dark as the cloud, and furious as the storm. All where the eye delights, yet dreads to roam, The breaking Billows cast the flying Foam Upon the Billows rising all the Deep Is restless chani^e ; the Waves so swell'd and steep, Breaking and sinking, and the sunken swells, Nor one, one moment, in its station dwells : Letter 1.] general description. 11 But nearer Land you may the Billows trace, As if contending in their watery ohace ; May watch the mightiest till (he Shoal they reach, Then break and hurry to their utmost stretch ; Curl'd as they come, they strike with furious force, And then re-flowing, take their grating course, Raking the rounded Flints, which ages past Roll'd by their rage, and shall to ages last. Far off the Petrel, in the troubled way Swims witli her Brood, or flutters in the Spray ; She rises often, often drops again, And sports at ease on the tempestuous Main. High o'er the restless Deep, above the reach Of Gunner's hope, vast flights of Wild-Ducks stretch j Far as the eye can glance on either side, In a broad space and level line they glide; All in their wedge-like figures from the North, Day after day, flight after flight go forth. In-shore their passage tribes of Sea-Gulls urge, And drop for Prey within the sweeping Surge ; Oft in the rough opposing Blast they fly -v Far back, then turn and all their force apply, > WhiletotheStorm they givetheir weak complainingcry; ^ Or clap the sleek white Pinion to the breast, And in the restless Ocean dip for rest. Darkness begins to reign ', the louder Wind Appals the weak and awes the firmer mind ; But frights not him, whom Evening and the Spray In part conceal yon Prowler on his way : If! GENERAL DESCRIPTION. [^Letter 1. > Lo! he has soQiethinj^ seen ; he runs apace, As if he fear'd Companion in the chace ; He sees his Prize, and now he turns again. Slowly and sorrowing " Was your search in vain ?" Gruffly he answers, * 'Tis a sorry sight ! * A Seaman's Body : there '11 be more to-night !' \. Hark f to those sounds, they 're from Distress at Sea ! How quick they come ! What terrors may there be ! Yes, 'tis a driven Vessel : I discern Lights, signs of terror, gleaming from the Stern ; Others behold them too, and from the Town, In various parties Seamen hurry down ; Their Wives pursue, and Damsels urg'd by dread, Lest Men so dear be into danger led ; Their head the gown has hooded, and their call In this sad night, is piercing like the squall ; They feel their kinds of power, and when they meet, Chide, fondle, weep, dare, threaten or intreat. See one poor Girl, all terror and alarm. Has fondly seiz'd ufwn her Lover's arm ; *' Thou shalt not venture ;" and he answers * No ! 'I will not' still she cries, " Thou shalt not go." No need of this ; not here the stoutest Boat, Can through such Breakers, o'er such Billows float; Yet may they view these Lights upon the Beach, Which yield them hope, whom help can never reach. From parted Clouds the Moon her radiance throws On the wild Waves and all the danger shows ; Letter 1.] general description* JS But shews them beaming in her shining vest, Terrific splendour ! gloom in glory diest ! This for a moment, and then Clouds again, Hide every beam, and fear and darkness reign. But hear we now those Sounds ? do Lights appear ? I see them not ! the Storm alone I hear : And lo ! the Sailors homeward take their way ; Man must endure let us submit and pray. Such are our Winter- Views : but Night comes on, Now Business sleeps, and daily Cares are gone ; Now Parties form ; and some their Friends assist. To waste the idle hours at sober Whist ; The Tavern's pleasure, or the Concert's charm. Unnumbered moments of their sting disarm ; Play-bills ancl^pen Doors a Crowd invite. To pass off one dread portion of the Night ; And Show and Song and Luxury combin'd, Lift off from Man this burthen of Mankind. Others advent' rous walk abroad and meet Returning Parties pacing through the Street ; When various Voices in the dying Day, Hum in our Walks, and greet us in our way ; When Tavern-Lights flit on from Room to Room, And guide the tippling Sailor staggering home : There as we pass the jingling Bells betray, How Business rises with the closing Day : Now walking silent, by the River's side, The Ear perceives the rimpling of the Tide ; 14- GBNERAL DESCRIPTION. [Letter 1. Or measur'd cadonce of the Lads who tow Some enter'd Hoy, to fix her in her row ; Or hollow sound, which from the Parish-Bell, To some departed Spirit bids farewell ! Thus shall you somethinsr of our Boroogii know, Far as a Verse, with Fancy's aid, can show ; Of Sea or River, of a Quay or Street, The best Description must be incomplete ; f But when an happier Theme succeeds, and when Men are our subjects and the Deeds of Men ; Then may we find the Muse in happier style. And wc may sometimes sigh and sometimes smile. LETTER II. THE CHURCH, Fectinat enim decnrrete velox Mosculus anguiits misercquc brevissima VUiB Portio ! dum bibimu<, dam Fprta, unpruenta, ptteriag Poscimus, obrepit non intellecta senertas. Juvenal, Satir. 9. lin. 13Ck. And wben at last th; liove i^hall Ale, Win thou receive his parting breath ? ^Vilt thou repress each straggliof tigh, And chrer with >mtlei the bed of death I Percy. THE CHURCH. Several Meanings of the word Church. ^The Building so called, here intended. Its Antiquity and Grandeur. Columns and Aysles. The Tower : The Stains made by Time compared with the mock Antiquity of the Artist. Progress of Vegeta- tion on such Buildings. Bells. Tombs: One in Decay. Mural Monuments, and the Nature ot their Inscriptions. An Instance in a departed Burgess. Church-yard Graves. Mourners for the Dead. A Story of a betrothed Pair in bum> ble Life, and Effects of Grief in th Surviver. LETTER II. THE CHURCH. What is a Churcli ?" let Truth and Reason speak j They would reply, * The Faithful, Pure and Meek ; * From Christian folds, the one selected race, * Of all Professions, and in every place.' *' What is a Church ?" * A Flock,* our Vicar cries, * Whom Bishops govern and whom Priests advise ; * Wherein are various states and due degrees, * The Bench for Honour, and the Stall for Ease ; * That Ease be mine, which after all his cares, * The pious, peaceful Prebendary shares.' " What is a Church ?^' our honest Sexton tells, * 'Tis a tall Building, with a Tower and Bells ; * Where Priest and Clerk with joint exertion strive ' To keep the ardour of their Flock alive ; * That, by his periods eloquent and grave, * This, by responses, and a well-set stave : * These for the Living ; but when Life be fled, * I toll myself the Requiem for thc^ dead.' c 18 THE CHURCH. \_ Letter 9. *Tis to this Church I call thee, and that place "Where slept our Fathers when they'd run their race : We too shall rest, and then our Children keep Their road in Life, and then, forgotten, sleep; Meanwhile the Building slowly falls away, And like the Builders, will in time decay. The old Foundation but it is not clear When it was laid you care not for the Year; On this, as Parts decayed by Time and Storms, Arose these varied disproportion 'd Forms ; Yet Gothic all, the Leam'd who visit us (And our small Wonders) have decided thus : " Yon noble Gothic Arch," " that Gothic Door:" So have they said ; of proof you'll need no more. Here large plain Columns rise in solemn style, You'd love the Gloom they make in either Aisle ; When the Sun's Rays, enfeebled as they pass (And shorn of splendour) through the storied Glass, Faintly display the Figures on the Floor, Which pleaf.'d distinctly in their place before. But e'er you enter, yon bold Tower survey, Tall and entire and venerably grey. For Time has soften'd what was harsh when new> And now the Stains are all of sober hue ; The living Stains which Nature's hand alone, Profuse of Life, pours forth upon the Stone; For ever growing ; where the common Eye Can but the bare aod rocky Bed descry : Letters.] the church. 19 There Science loves to trace her Tribes minute, The jiiiceless Foliage, and the tasteless Fruit ; There she perceives them round the surface creep, And while they meet, their due distinctions keep ; Mix'd but not blended ; each its name retains, And these are Nature's ever-during Stains. And wouldst thou. Artist ! with thy Tints and Brush, Form Shades like these ? Pretender, where thy Blush ? In three short Hours shall thy presuming Hand Th' effect of three slow Centuries command ? * Thou may'st thy various Greens and Greys contrive, They are not Lichens, nor like aught alive ; But yet proceed, and when thy Tints are lost. Fled in the Shower, or crumbled by the Frost ; When all thy Work is done away as clean As if thou never spread'st thy Grey and Green ; Then may'st thou see how Nature's Work is done, How slowly true she lays her Colours on ; When her least Speck upon the hardest Flint Has Mark and Form and is a living Tint ; And so embodied with the Rock, that few Can the small Germ upoii the Substance view, t * If it should be objected that Centuries are not slower than Hours, because the speed of 'lime must be uniform, I would answer, that 1 understand so much, and mean that they are slower in no other sense, than because they are not finished so soon. f This kind of vegetation, as it begins upon silicious stones, is very thin, and frequently not to be di-ingmshedfrom the surface of the Flint. The By-sus Jolithus of Linnxus (Lepraiia iolifluisof the present System), an adhesive carmine crust on rocks and old g2 20 THfe CHURCH. [^Letter 2' Seeds, to our Eye invisible, will find On the rude Rock the Bed that fits their kind ; There, in the rugged Soil, they safely dwell. Till Showers and Snows the subtle Atoms swell. And spread th' enduring Foliage ; thn we trace The freckled Flower upon the flinty base ; These all increase, till in unnotic'd Years The stoney Tower as grey with age appears ; With coats of Vegetation, thinly spread, Coat above coat, the Living on the Dead : These then dissolve to dust, and make a way For bolder Foliage, nurs'd by their decay : The long-enduring Ferns in time will all Die and depose their dust upon the Wall ; Where the wing'd Seed may rest, till many a Flower Shew JZora's triumph o'er the falling Tower. But ours yet stands, and has its Bells renownM For size magnificent and solemn sound ; Each has its motto i some contriv'd to tell In monkish rhyme^ the uses of a Bell ; * buildings^ was, even by scientific persons, taken for the substance on which it spread. A great variety of these minute vegetables are to be found in some parts of the coast, where the beach, formed of stones of various kind, is undisturbed, and exposed to every change of weather: in this situation, the different species of Lichen, in their differeat stages of growth, have an appearance interesting and agreeable even to those who are ignorant of, and indifferent to the , cause. The several purposes for which bells are used, are fcxprcfsed is two Latia venes of this kind. Letter 2.'] the church. 21 Such wond'rous good, as few conceive could spring From ten loud Coppers when their Clappers swing. Enter'd the Church ; we to a Tomb proceed, Whose Names and Titles few attempt to read ; Old English Letters, and those half pick'd out, Leave us, unskilful Readers, much in doubt ; Our Sons shall see its more degraded state ; The Tomb of Grandeur hastens to its fate ; That marble Arch our Sexton's favourite show. With all those ruffd and painted Pairs below ; The noble Lady and the Lord who rest Supine, as courtly Dame and Warrior drest ; All are departed from their state sublime, Mangled and wounded in their war with Time CoUeagued with Mischief; here a Leg is fled, And lo ! the Baron with but half an Head ; Midway is cleft the Arch ; the very Base Is batter'd round and shifted from its place. Wonder not, Mortal, at thy quick decay See ! Men of Marble piece-meal melt away ; When whose the Image we no longer read. But Monuments themselves Memorial need. * With few such stately proofs of Grief or Pride By Wealth erected, is our Church supplied ; But we have mural Tablets, every size, That Woe could wish, or Vanity devise. * Quandoquidem data sunt ipsis quoque fata sepulchris. Juvenal. Sat. x. 146. 93 THE CHURCH. {^Letter 2. Death levels Man, the Wicked and the Just, The Wise, the Weak, lie blended in the dust ; And by the Honours dealt to every name, The King of Terrors seems to level Fame. See ! here- lamented Wives, and every Wife The pride and comfort of her Husband's life ; Here, to her Spouse, \vi(h every virtue grac'd. His mournful Widow has a Trophy plac'd; And here 'tis doubtful if the duteous Son, Or the good Father, be in praise outdone. This may be Nature ; when our Friends we lose. Our alter'd feelings dictate to our views ; What in their tera|MTs teiz'd us or distress'd, Is, with our an^er and the Dead, at rest ; And much we grieve; no longer trial made. For that impatience which wo then display'd ; Now to their Love and Worth of every kind, A soft compunction turns th' afflicted Mind ; Virtues neglecteil then, ador'd become. And Graces slighted, blossom on the Tomb. *Tis well ; but let not Lpve nor Grief believe. That we assent (who neither lov'd nor grieve) To all that Praise, which on the Tomb is read, To all that Passion dictates for the Dead ; But more indignant, we the Tomb deride. Whose bold inscription Flattery sells to Pride. Read of this Burgess on the Stone appear, How worthy he ! how virtuous ! and how dear I Letter 2.] the church. 23 What wailing ^vas there when his Spirit fled, How mourn'd his Lady for her Lord when dead, And tears abundant through the Town were shed ; See ! he was liberal, kind, religious, wise, And free from all disgrace and all disguise ; His sterling worth which words cannot express, Lives with his Friends, their pride and their distress. All this of Jacob Holmes ? for his the name, He thus kind, liberal, just, religious ? Shame ! What is the truth ? old Jacob married thrice ; He dealt in Coals, and Avarice was his vice ; He rul'd the Borough when his Year came on. And some forget, and some are glad he's gone ; For never yet with shilling could he part, But when it left his hand, it struck his heart. Yet, here will Love its last attentions pay, And place Memorials on these Beds of Clay. Large level Stones lie flat upon the Grave, And half a Century's Sun and Tempest brave ; But many an honest tear and heartfelt sigh, Have fo*tow'd those who now unnotic'd lie : Of these what numbers rest on every side ! Without one token left by Grief or Pride ; Their Graves soon levell'd to the Earth, and then Will other Hillocks rise o'er other Men ; Daily the Dead on the Decay'd are thrust, And Generationy-foUow, " dust ito dust." Yes ! there are real Mourners 1 have seen A fair, sad Girl, mild, sufiFering, and serene ; 9^ THE CHURCH. [Letter 9. Attention (through the day) her duties claim'd, And to be useful as resign'd she aim'd ; Neatly she diest, nor vainly seem'd t' expect Pity for grief, or pardon for neglect ; But when her wearied Parents sunk to sleep, She sought her place to meditate and weep ; Then to her mind was all the past display'd, That faithful Memory brings to Sorrow's aid : For then she thought on one regretted Youth, Her tender trust, and his unqueslion'd truth ; In evVy place she wander'd, where they 'd been, And sadly-sacred held the parting-scene ; Where last for Sea he took his leave that place With double interest would she nightly trace ; For long the Courtship was, and he would say. Each time he sailed, " This once, and then the day :" Yet prudence tarried, but when last he went, He drew from pitying Love a full consent, Happy he sail'd, and great the care she took, That he should softly sleep, and smartly look; White w{is his better linen, and his check Was made more trim than any on the deck ; And every comfort Men at Sea can know. Was her's to buy, to make, and to l>estow : For he to Greenland sail'd, and much she told, How he should guard against the climate's cold ; Yet saw not danger; dangers he 'd withstood, Nor could she trace the Fever in his blood : His Messmates smil'd at flushings in his cheek. And he too smil'd, but seldom would he speak ; I Letter 2.^ the church. 2^ For now he found the danger, felt the pain, With grievous symptoms he could not explain ; Hope was awaken'd, as for home he sail'd, But quickly sank, and never more prevail'd. He eall'd his Friend, and prefac'd with a sigh , A Lover's message " Thomas^ I must die : " Would I could see ray Sallt/^ and could rest " My throbbing temples on her faithful breast, *' And gazing go ! if not, this trifle take, " And say till death I wore it for her sake ; *' Yes ! I must die blow on, sweet breeze, blow on ! *' Give me one look, before my life be gone, " Oh ! give me that, and let me not despair, " One last fond look and now repeat the prayer." He had his wish, had more ; I will not paint The Lovers' meeting : she beheld him taint, With tender fears, she took a nearer view, Her terrors doubling as her hopes withdrew; He tried to smile, and, half succeeding, said, ** Yes! I must die," and hope tor ever fled. Still long she nurs'd him ; tender thoughts meantime Were interchang'd, and hopes and views sublime. To her he came to die, and every day She took some portion of the dread away; With him shc^piay'd, to him his Bible read, Sooth'd the taint heart, and held the aching head : She came with smiles the hour f pain io cheer ; ' Apart she sigh'd ; alone, she shed the tear ; # 415 THE CHURCH. [^Letter 2. Then, as if breakinj^ from a cloud, she gave Fresh light, and gilt the prospect of the grave. One day he lighter seem'd, and they forgot The care, the dread, the anguish of their lot ; They spoke with cheerfulness, and seem'tl to think, Yet said not so * perhaps he will not sink :' A sudden brightness in his look appear'd, A sudden vigour in his voice was heard ; She had been reading in the Book of Prayer, And led him forth and plac'd him in his chair; Lively he seem'd and spoke of all he knew, The friendly many, and the favourite few ; Nor one that day did he to mind recall. But sh^ has treasured, and she loves them all ; When in her way she meets them, they appear Peculiar people death has made them dear. He nam\l his Friend, but then his hand she prest, And fondly wliispcr'd, " Thou must go to rest ;'* * I go,' he said, but as he spoke, she found His hand more cold, and fluttering was tlie sound; Then gaz'd aflTrighten'd ; but she caught a last, A dying look of love, and all was past ! She plac'd a decent Stone his Grave above. Neatly cngrav'd an offering of her Love ; For that she wrought, for that forsook her bed. Awake alike to Duty and the Dcatl ; She would have griev'd, had Friends presum'd to spare The least assistance 'tv^'fc* her projjer care. Letter 2.^ the church. 27 Here will she come and on the Grave will sit, Folding her arms, in long abstracted fit ; But if Observer pass, will take her round, And careless seem, for she would not be found; Then go again, and thus her hour employ, While Visions please her, and while Woes destroy. Forbear, sweet Maid ! nor be by Fancy led, To hold mysjerious converse with the Dead ; For sure at length thy thoughts, thy spirits pain, In this sad conflict will disturb thy brain ; All have their tasks and trials : thine are hard, But short the time and glorious the reward ; Thy patient spirit to thy duties give, Regard the Dead, but to the Living, live.* * It has been observed to me, that in the 'first part of the story I have represented this young woman as resigned and attentive to her duties ; fix>m wbiich it should appear that the concluding advice is unnecessary : but if the reader will construe the expression * to the living live/ into the sense live entirely for them, attend to duties only which are real, and not those imposed by the imagination, I shall have no need to alter the line which terminates the story. LETTER in. THE VICAR THE CURATE, &c. And telling me the sov'reign"st thing on earth Was parmacity for au inward bruise. Shakspeare. Hear; IV. Act So gentle, yet so brisk, so wond'rons sweet. So fit to prattle at a lady's feet. Churchill. Much are the precious hours of Youth mispent. In climhiug Learning's rugged, steep ascent : When to the top the bold Adventurer's got. He reigns vain Monarch of a barren spot ; While in the Vale of Ignorance below, Folly and Vice to rank Luxuriance grow} Honours and Wealth pour in on every side. And proud Preferment rolls her golden tide. CbnrchiM. # VICAR. The lately departed Minister of the Berongh : ^His sootliing and supplicatory Manners. His cool and timid Affections. No Praise due to such negative Virtue. Address to Characters of this kind. The Vicar's Employments. His Talents and mo- derate Ambition. His Dislike of Innovation. His mild but ineffectual Benevolence. A Summary of his Character. CURATE. Mode of paying the Borough-Minister. The Qirate has no such Resources. His Learning and Poverty. Erroneous Idea of bis Parent. His Feelings as an Husband and Father. The dutiful Regard of his numerous Family. His Pleasure as a Writer, how interrupted. No Resource in tlie Press. Vulgar Insult. His Account of a literary Society, and a Fund for the Relief of indigent Authors, &c. ^m LETTER III. THE VICAR. Where ends our Chancel in a vaulted space, Sleep the departed Vicars of the place ; Of most, all mention, memory, thought are past, But take a slight memorial of the last. To what fam'd College we our Vicar owe, To what fair County, let Historians sliow : Few now remember when the mild young Man, Ruddy and fair, his Sunday-Task began ; Few live to speak of that soft soothing look He cast around, as he prepar'd his Book ; It was a kind of supplicating smile, But nothing hopeless of applause, the while ; And when he finish'd, his corrected pride Felt the desert, and yet the praise denied. Thus he his race began, and to the end His constant care was no man to offend : No haughty virtues stir'd his peaceful mind, Nor urg'd the Priest to leave the Flock behind 5 He was his Master's Soldier, but not one, To lead an army of his Martyrs on ; 32 THE vicAH. I Lf Iter 3. Fear was his ruling passion ; yet was Love, Of timid kind, once known his heart to move ; It led his patient Spirit where it paid Its lan Yet our good Priest to Joseph's praise aspir'd, As one rejecting what his h6art desir'd ; *' I am escap'd," he said, when none pursued, When noneattack'd him, " I am unsubdued ;" *' Oh pleasing pangs of Love," he sang again, Cold to the joy, and stranger to the pain. Ev'n in his age would he address the Youngj " I too have felt these t5res, and tliey are strong ;" But from the time he left his favourite Maid, To antient Females his devoirs were paid ; And still they miss him after Morning-Prayer; Nor yei Successor fills the Vicar's chair^ Where kindred Spirits in his praise agree^ An happy few, as mild and cool as he ; The easy followers in the female Train, Led without Love, and Captives without Chain Ye Lilies male! think (as your Tea you sip, While the Town Small-talk flows from lip to lip ; Intrigues half-gather'd, Conversation-scraps, Kitchen-cabals, and Nursery-mishaps,) If the vast World may not some scene produce. Some state where your small Talents might have use \ Within Seraglios you might harmless move, 'Mid ranks of Beauty, and in haunts of Love ; There from too daring Man the Treasures guard, An easy duty and its own reward ; Nature's soit substitutes you there might save. From Crime the Tyrant, and from Wrong the Slave* 34t THE vicA*. [^LetlerS. But let applause be dealt in all we may, Our Priest was cheerful, and in season gaj ; His frequent visits seldom fail'd to please ; Easy himself, he sought his neighbour's case ; To a small Garden with delight he came, And gave successive Flowers a Summer's fame ; These he presented with a grace his own To his fair Friends, and made their beauties known, Not without moral compliment ; how they, " Like Flowers were sweet, and must like Flowers decay. " Simple he was, and lov'd the simple Truth, Yet had some useful Cunning, from his youth ; A Cunning never to Dishonour lent, And rather for Defence than Conquest meant ; 'Twas fear of Power, with some desire to rise, But not enough to make him enemies ; He ever aim'd to please ; and to offend Was ever cautions ; for he sought a friend ; Yet for the friendship never much would pay, Content to bow, be silent, and obey. And by a soothing suff'rance find his way. Fiddling and Fishing were his arts ; at times He alter'd Sermons, and he aim'd at Rhymes ; And his fair Friends, not yet intent on Cards, Oft heamus'd with Riddles and Charardes. Mild were his Doctrines, and not one Discourse But gain'd in softness what it lost in force ; Kind his Opinions; he would not receive An ill report, nor evil act believe ; Letters,'] the vicar. 35 ** If true, 'twas wrong ; but blemish great or small *' Have all Mankind, yea, Sinners are we all." If ever fretful Thought disturb'd his breast, If aught of Gloom that cheerful mind opprest, It sprang from innovation ; it was then He spake of Mischief made by restless Men ; Not by new Doctrines : never in his life ^yould he attend to controversial Strife ; For Sects he car'd not, " They are not of us, *' Nor need we. Brethren, their concerns discuss ; " But 'tis the change, the Schism at home I feel ; " Ills few perceive, and none have skill to heal ; " Not at the Altar our young Brethren read " (Facing their Flock) the Decalogue and Creed ; " But at their Duty, in their Desks they stand, " With naked Surplus, lacking Hood and Band : " Churches are now of holy Song bereft, ** And half our antient Customs chang'd or left ; " Few Sprigs of Ivy are at Christmas seen, " Nor crimson Berry tips the Holly's green ; " Mistaken Choirs refuse the solemn Strain " Of antient Sternhofd, which from ours amain ** Comes flying forth from Aisle to Aisle about " Sweet links of Harmony and long drawn out." These were to him Essentials ; all things new, He deem'd superfluous, useless or untrue ; To all beside indifferent, easy, cold, Here the fire kindled, and the woe was told. Habit with him was all the test of Truth, " It must be right : I've done it from my youth." Xf.jn.n- 36 THE TicAR. [Letters. Questions he answer'd in as brief a way, " It must be wrong it was of yesterday." Though mild Benevolence our Priest possess'd^ *Twas but by wishes or by words express'd : Circles in water as they wider flow The less conspicuous in their progress grow ; And when at last they touch upon the shore, Distinction ceases, and they're view'd no more : His Lore, like that last Circle, all einbrac'd, But with effect that never could be trac'd. Now rests our Vicar They who knew him best^ Proclaim his Life t' have been entirely rest ; Free from all Evils wliich disturb his Mind, Whom Studies vex and Controversies blind. The Rich approv'd of them ih awe he stood ; The Poor admir'd they all believ'd him good ; The Old and Serious of his Habits spoke ; The Frank and Youthful lov'd his pleasant Joke ; Mamma approv'd a saA; contented Guest, And Miss a Friend to back a small Request ; In him his Flock found nothing to condemn ; Him Sectaries lik'd he never troubled them ; No trifles fail'd his yielding Mind to please. And all his Passions sunk in early Ease ; Nor one so old has left this World of Sin, -More like the Being that he enter'd in. Letter 3'] the curate. 37 THE CURATE. Ask you what Lands our Pastor tithes ? alas ! But few our Acres, and but short our Grass ; In some fat Pastures of the Rich indeed. May roll the single Cow or favourite Steed ; Who, stable-fed, is here for Pleasure seen, His sleek sides bathing in the dewy green : But these, our hilly Heath and Common wide Yield a slight portion for the Parish guide ; No Crops luxuriant in our borders stand, For here we plough the Ocean, not the Land ; Still Reason wills that we our Pastor pay, And Custom does it on a certain day ; Much is the duty, small the legal due, And this with grateful minds we keep in view ; Each makes his off 'ring, some by habit led. Some by the thought that all men must be fed ; Duty and Love and Piety and Pride Have each their force, and for the Priest provide. Not thus our Curate, one whom all believe Pious and just, and for whose fate they grieve; All see him poor, but ev'n the Vulgar know He merits love, and their respect bestow. A man so learn'd you shall but seldom see. Nor one so honour'd, so aggriev'd as he Not griev'd by years alone ; though his appear Dark and more dark ; severer on severe ; Not ill his need and yet we all must grant, How painful 'tis for feeling Age to want ; 38 THE ciJiiATE. [^Letter Nor in bis body's sufferings ; yet we know Where Time has ploiigh'd, there Misery loves to sow ; But in the wearied Mind, that all in vain Wars with Distress and struggles with its pain. His Father saw his powers " I'll give," quoth he, " My First-born learning ; 'twill a portion be :" Unhappy gift ! a portion for a Son ! But all he had he learn'd and was undone ! Oh ! had he learn'd to make the Wig he wears, To throw the Shuttle or command the Sheers, Or the strong Bour-skin for the Saddle shap'd. What pangs, what terrors had the Man escap'd. He once had Hope Hope ardent, lively, light ; His Feelings pleasant, and his Prospects bright ; Eager of fame, he read, he thought, he wrote, Weigh 'd the Greek-page, and added Note on Note ; At mom, at evening at his work was he. And dream'd what his Euripides would be. Then Care began ; he lov'd, he woo'd, he wed ; Hope checr'd him still, and Hymen bless'd his bed A Curate's l)ed ! then came the woeful years ; The Husband's terrors, and the Father's tears; A Wife grown feeble, mourning, pining, vex'd, With wants and woes by daily cares perplex'd ; No more an help, a smiling soothing aid, But boding, drooping, sickly and afraid. A kind Physician, and without a fee, Gave his opinion " Send her to the Sea." Letter 3. j the curate. 39 * Alas !' the good Man answer'd, ' can I send * A friendless Woman ? Can I find a friend ? * No ; I must with her, in her need, repair ' To that new place ; the Poor lie every where ; * Some Priest will pay me for my pious Pains :' He said, he came, and here he yet remains. Behold his Dwelling ; this poor Hut he hires, Where he from View, though not from Want, retires ; Where four fair Daughters, and five sorrowing Sons, Partake his Sufferings, and dismiss his Duns ; All join their Efforts, and in patience learn To want the Comforts they aspire to earn ; For the sick Mother something they'd obtain, To soothe her Grief and mitigate her Pain ; For the sad Father something they'd procure. To ease the Burthen they themselves endure. Virtues like these at once delight and press On the fond Father with a proud distress ; On all around he looks with care and love, Griev'd to behold, but happy to approve. Then from his care, his love, his grief he steals, And by himself an Author's pleasure feels ; Each line detains him ; he omits not one, And all the sorrows of his state are gone. Alas ! ev'n then, in that delicious hour, He feels his fortune, and laments its power. Some Tradesman's Bill his wandering eyes engage, Some Scrawl for payment thrust 'twixt page and page; #0 THE CURATE. [Letter 3, Some bold, loud Rapping at his humble door, Some surl^ Message he has heard before, Awake, alarm, and tell him be is poor. An angry Dealer, vulgar, rich, and proud. Thinks of his Bill, and passing, raps aioud ; The elder Daughter meekly makes him way *' I want my money, and I cannot stay : *' My Mill is stopt ; what. Miss ! I cannot grind, " Go tell your Father he must raise the wind :'* Still trembling, troubled, the dejected Maid Says, ' Sir ! my Father I ' and then stops afraid ; Ev'n bis hard heart is soften'd, and he hears Her voice with pify ; he resjxicls her tears ; His stubborn features half admit a smile, And his tone softens " Well ! I'll wait a while." Pity ! a Man, so good, so mild, so meek, At such an age, should have his bread to seek ; And all those rude and fierce attacks to dread, That are more harrowing than the want of bread ; Ah ! w ho shall whisper to that Misery Peace ! And say that Want and Insolence shall cease? * But why not publish ?' those who know too well. Dealers in GrecJc, are fearful 'twill not sell; Then he himself is timid, troubled, slow, * Nor likes his labours nor his griefs to show ; The hope of Fame may in his heart have place. But he has dread and horror of Disgrace ; Nor has he that confiding, easy way, That might his Learning and himself display ; *' Letters.'] the curate, \l But to his Work he from the World retreats, And frets and "rlories o'er the favourite sheets. But see ! the Man himself; and sure I trace Signs of new joy exulting in that face O'er Care tliat sleeps^-we err, or we discern Life in thy looks the reason may we learn ? i " Yes," he replied, " I'm happy, I confess, " To learn that some are pleas'd with happiness, " Which others feel there are who now combine " The worthiest natures in the best design, ** To aid the letter'd Poor, and soothe such ills as mine " We who more keenly feel the World's contempt, *' And from its miseries are the least exempt ; ** Now Hope shall whisper to the wounded breast, " And Grief, in soothing expectation, rest. " Yes, I am taught that Men who think, who feel) *' Unite the Pains of thoughtful Men to heal; *' Not with disdainful Pride, whose bounties make *' The Needy curse the Benefits they take ; " Not with the idle Vanity that knows " Only a selfish joy when it bestows ; " Not with o'erbearing Wealth, that, in disdain, " Hurls the superfluous bliss at groaning Pain ; *' But these are Men who yield such blest relief, " That with the grievance they destroy the grief ; " Their timely aid the need^ Sufierers find, " Their generous manner soothes the suffering Mind ; " Their's is a gracious bounty, form'd to raise " Him whom it aids ; their Charity is praise ; iM THE CURATE. \^LeUer 3. " A common bounty maj relieve distress, " But whom the Vulgar succour, they oppress ; ** This though a favour, is an honour too, *' Though Mercy's duty, yet 'tis Merit's due ; " When our relief from such resources rise, " All painful sense of obligation dies ; " And grateful feelings in the bosom wake, ** For 'tis their Offerings, not their Alms we tike. ** Long may these founts of Charity remain, '* And never shrink, but to be fill'd again ; ** True ! to the Author they are now confin'd, ** To him who gave the Treasures of his Mind, ** His Time, his Health, and thankless found Mankind : ** But there is hope that from these founts may flow ** A side-way stream, and equal good bestow ; ** Good that may reach us, whom the day's distres *' Keeps from the fame and perils of the Press ; " Whom Study beckons from the Ills of Life, <* And they from Study ; melancholy strife ! " Who then can say, but Bounty now so free, " And so difius'd, may find its way to me ? " Yes ! I may see my decent Table yet ** Cheer'd with the Meal that adds not to my Debt ; " May talk of those to whom so much we owe, " And guess their names whom yet we may not know ; ** Blest we shall say are those who thus can give, ** And next who thus upon the bounty live ; " Then shall I close with thanks my humble Meal, " And feci so well Oh ! God ! how I shall feel !'* LETTER IV. SECTS AND PROFESSIONS in RELIGION. Bnt cast your ejes again. And view those errors which new Sects maintain Or which of old disturb'd the Churches' peaceful reign And we can point each period of the time WTien they began, and who begat the crime ; Can calculate how long th' eclipse endur'd; Who interpos'd ; what digits were obscur'd; Of all which are already past away. We knew the rise, the progress, aud decay reign : J Dryden. Hind and Panther, Part II. Oh ! laid the Hind, bow many sons have you Who call yon mother whom you never knew ? But most of them who that relation plead. As such ungracious youths as wish you dead ; They gape at rich revenues which you hold, Aid fain would nibble at your graadame gold. Hiad and Panther. \ SECTS. Are numerous and successivc-^General Effect of false Zeal. Deists. Fanatical Idea of Church Reformers. ^The Church of Rome. Baptists. Swedenburgeans. Universalists. Jews. Methodists of two kinds ; Calvinistic and Armenian. The Preaching of a Calvinistic Enthusiast. His Contempt of Learning. Dislike to sound Morality: Why. His Idea of Conversion. His Success and Pretensions to Humility. The Armenian Teacher of the older Flock. ^Their Notions of the Operations and Power of Satan. Description of his Devices. Their Opinion of regular Ministers. Comparison of these with the Preacher himself. A Rebuke to his Hearers : introduces a Description of the powerful Effects of the Word in the early and awakening Days of Methodism. LETTER IV. SECTS AND PROFESSIONS in RELIGION; t^ECTS in Religion ?" Yes, of every race We nurse some portion in our favour'd place ; Not one warm Preacher of one growing Sect Can say our Borough treats him with neglect ; Frequent as fashions, they with us appear, And you might ask " how think we for the year They come to us as Riders in a Trade, And with much art exhibit and persuade. Minds are for Sects of various kinds decreed, As diff'rent Soils are forra'd for diff'rent Seed ; Some when converted sigh in sore amaze. And some are wrapt in Joy's extatic blaze ; Others again will change to each extreme, They know not why as hurried in a dream ; Unstable they, like water, take all forms, Are quick and stagnant ; have their calms and storms ; High on the hills, they in the sun-beams glow, Then muddily they raovedebas'd and slow; Or cold and frozen rest, and neither rise nor flow. Yet none the Cool and prudent Teacher prize. On him they doat who wakes their extacies ; 46 sBLieious 8ECT8. [Letter 4:. With Passions ready prim'd sucli Guide they meet, And warm and kindle with th' imparted heat ; 'Tis he who wakes the nameless stronj? desire, The melting rapture, and the glowing fire ; 'Tis he who pierces deep the tortur'd breast, And stirs the terrors, never more to rest. Oppos'd to these we have a prouder kind, Rash without heat ! and without raptures blind ; These our Glad Tidings unconcern 'd peruse, Search without awe and without fear refuse ; The Truths, the Blessings found in Sacred Writ, Call forth their spleen, and exercise their wit; Respect from these nor Saints nor Martyrs gain, The Zeal they scorn, and they deride the Pain ; And take their transient, cool, contemptuous view. Of that which must be tried, and doubtless maj/ be true. Friends of our Faith we have, whom Doubts like these, And keen Remarks, and bold Objections please ; They grant such Doubts have weaker Minds opprest. Till sound Conviction gave the Troubled rest. " But still," they cry, *' let none their censures spare, ^ They but confirm the glorious hopes we share ; '^ From doubt, disdain, derision, scorn, and lies, " With five-fold triumph sacred Truth shall rise." Yes ! I allow, so Truth shall stand at last. And gain fresh glory by the conflict past : As Solwaj/-3foss (a barren mass and cold. Death to the Seed and poison to the Fold,) Letter^.'] religtoits sects. 47 The smiling Plain and fertile Valei overlaid, Cliok'd the green Sod, and kill'd the springing Blade ; That, chang'd by Culture, may in time be seen, Enrich 'd by golden Grain, and Pasture green ; ' And these fair Acres rented and enjoy 'd. May those excell by Solwai/-Moss destroy'd. * Still must have mourn'd the Tenant of the day, For Hopes destroyed, and Harvests swept away ; To him the gain of future years unknown. The instant grief and suffering were his own : So must I grieve for many a wounded heart, Chill'd by those Doubts which bolder minds impart ; Truth in the end shall shine divinely clear. But sad the Darkness till those times appear ; Contests for Truth, as Wars for Freedom yield. Glory and Joy to those who gain the field ; But still the Christian must in pity sigh For all who suffer and uncertain die. Here are who all the Church maintains, approve, But yet the Church herself they will not love; In angry speech, they blame the carnal tyc, Which pure Religion lost her spirit by ; What time from prisons, flames and tortures led, She slumber'd careless in a royal bed ; To make, they add, the Churches' glory shine, Should Dioclecian reign, not Constantine. * For an account of this extraordinary and interesting event, I refer my readers to the Journals of the year 1 772. 48 RELIGIOUS sECTSi [Ldtet A. " In Pomp," they cry, " is England's Church array'dj *' Her cool Reformers wrought like men afraid ; " We would have puU'd her gorgeous Temples down, " And spurn'd her Mitre, and defil'd her Gown ; " We would have trotlden low both Bench and Stall, '* Nor left a Tithe remaining, great or small." Let us be serious Should such trials come^ Are they themselves prepar'd for Martyrdom ? i It seems to us that our Refoiraers knew Th* important work they undertook to do ; ^ An equal Priesthood they were loth to try, > Lest Zeal and Care should with Ambition die; To them it seem'd that, take the Tenth away. Vet Priests must eat, and you must feed or pay : Would they indeed, who hold such pay ia sconi, Put on the Muzzle when they tread the Corn ? Would they all, gratis, watch and tend the Fold, Nor take one Fleece to keep them from the cold ? j Men are not equal, and 'tis meet and right That Robes and Titles our respect e:(cite ; Order requires it, 'tis by vulgar Pride That such regard is ccnsur'd and denied ; Or by that false enthusiastic Zeal That thinks the Spirit will the Priest reveal. And shew to all men, by their powerful speech, Who are appointed and inspired to teach : Alas ! could we the dangerous rule believe, Whom for their Teachers should the Crowd receive i Since all the varying kinds demand respect, All press you on to join their chosen Sect, Letter 4.] keligious sects. 49 Although but in this single point agreed, " Desert your Churches and adopt our Creed." We know full well how much our Forms offend The burthen'd Papist and the simple Friend ; Him, who new Robes for every Service takes. And who in Drab and Beaver sighs and stakes ; He on the Priest, whom Hood and Band adorn. Looks with the sleepy eye of silent scorn ; But him I would not for my Friend and Guide, Who views such things with spleen or wears with pride. See next our several Sects, but first behold The Church of Roine^ who here is poor and old : Use not triumphant rail'ry, or at least Let not thy Mother be a whore and beast ; Great was her Pride indeed, in antient times, Yet shall we think of nothing but her Crimes ? Exalted high above all earthly things. She plac'd her Foot upon the Neck of Kings ; But some have deeply since aveng'd the Crown, And thrown her Glory and her Honours down ; Nor Neck nor Ear can she of Kings command, Nor place a Foot upon her own fair Land. Among her Sons, with us a quiet iew. Obscure themselves, her antient State review ; And fond and melancholy glances cast On Power insulted, and on Triumph past : They look, they can but look, with many a sigh, On sacred Buildings doom'd in dust to lie ; K 50 REMGious siECTS. [^Letter 4. '* On Seats" they tell " where Priests mid Tapers dim " Breath'd the warm Prayer, or tunM thcmidnightHymn; *' Where trembling Penitents their Guilt confest, " Where Want had succour, and Contrition rest ; " There weary Men from Trouble found relief, " There Men in Sorrow found repose from Grief: '* To scenes like these the fainting Soul retir'd ; " Revenge and Anger in these cells expir'd ; '* By Pity sooth'd, Remorse lost half her fears, " And soften'd Pride dropt penitential tears. " Then Convent- Walls and Nunnery-Spires arose, " In pleasant spots which Monk or Abbot chose, " When Counts and Barons Saints devoted fed, " And making cheap exchange, had Pray'r for Bread. " Now all is lost, the Earth where Abbeys stood, " Is Layman's Land, the Glebe, the Stream, the Wood ; " His Oxen low where Monks retir'd to eat, '* His Cows repose upon the Prior's Seat ; " And wanton Doves within the Cloisters bill, " Where the chaste Votary war*d with wanton Will." Such is the change they mourn, but they restrain The rage of Grief and passively complain. We've Baptists old and new ; forbear to ask What the distinction I decline the task ; This I perceive, that when a Sect grows old, Converts are few, and the Converted cold ; First comes the hot-bed Heat, and while it glows. The Plants spring up, and each with vigour grows , Letter 4.] religious sects, 51 Then comes the cooler Day, and though awhile The Verdure prospers and the Blossoms smile, Yet poor the Fruit and form'd by long delay, Nor will the Profits for the Culture pay ; The skilful Gard'ner then no longer stops, But turns to other Beds for bearing Crops. Some Swedenhourgeans in our streets are found, Those wandering Walkers on enchanted Ground ; Who in our World, can other Worlds survey, And speak with Spirits though confin'd in Clay : Of Bible- Mysteries they tlie keys possess, Assur'd themselves where wiser Men but guess t Tis theirs io see around, about, above, How Spirits mingle thoughts and Angels move : Those whom our grosser views from us exclude, To them appear an heavenly Multitude ; While the dark Sayings, seal'd to Men like us, Their Priests interpret and their Flocks discuss. But while tliese gifted Men, a favour'd fold, New Powers exhibit and new Woi:lds behold ; Is there not danger lest their Minds confound The Pure above them with the Gross around ? May not these Phacetonsy who thus contrive Twixt Heaven above and Earth beneath to drive, When from their flaming Chariots they descend, The Worlds they visit in their Fancies blend ? Alas ! too sure on both they bring disgrace, Their Earth is crazy, and their Heaven is base. We have, it seems, who treat, and doubtless well. Of a chastizing, not awarding Hell ; 32 REMGious SECT?. [letter ^. Who are assur'tl that an offended God Will cease to use the Thunder and the Rod ; A Soul on Earth, by crime and folly stain'd, When here corrected, has improvement gain'd ; In other state still more improv'd to grow, And nobler Powers in happier World to know ; jNew strength to use in each divine employ, And, more enjoying, looking more to Joy. A pleasing Tision ! could we thus be sure PoUutetl Souls would be at lengtli so pure ; The view is happy, we may think it just, It may be true but who shall add, it must ? To the plain words and sense of Sacred Writ, With all my heart, I rcv'rendly submit ; But where it leaves me doubtful, I'm afraid To call Conjecture to my Reason's aid ; Thy Thoughts, thy Ways, great God ! are not as mine, And to thy Mercy I my Soul resign. Jews are with us, but for unlike to those, Who, led by David, war'd with Israeli Foes ; Unlike to those whom his imperial Son Taught Truths divine the Preacher Solotnon : Nor War nor Wisdom yield our Jews delight, They will not study, and they dare not fight These are with us a slavish, knavish Crew, Shame and dishonour to the name of Jew ; Some may object to this assertion ; to whom I beg leave t answer that 1 do not use the world Jight in the lente of t^ Jew Mendoza. * Letter 4.] religiods sects. 53 The poorest Masters of the meanest Arts, With cunning Heads, and cold and cautious Hearts ; They grope their dirty way to petty Gains, While poorly jxiid for their nefarious Pains. Amazing Race ! depriv'd of Land and Laws, ; A general Tjanguage, and a public Cause ; '^ With a Religion, none can now obey. With a Reproach that none can take away ; A People still, whose common ties are gone, Who, mix'd with every Race, are lost in none. What said their Prophet ? '* Should'st thou disobey, " The Lord shall take thee from thy Land away ; " Thou shalt a bye-word and a proverb be, " And all shall wonder at thy woes and thee ; " Daughter and Son shalt thou, while captive, have, " And see them made the Bond-maid and the Slave ; ' " He, whom thou leav'st, the Lord thij God, shall brinff " War to thy Country on an eagle- wing : " A People strong and dreadful to behold, " Stern to the Young, remorseless to the Old ; ** Masters whose speech thou can'st not Understand, '* By cruel signs shall give the harsh command : " Doubtful of Life shalf thou by night, by day, " For grief and dread and trouble pine away ; " Thy evening wish, would God ! 1 saw the Sun ; " Thy morning sigh, would God ! the Day were done* " Thus shalt thou suffer, and to distant times " R<^ret thy Misery and lament thy Crimes." * See the Book of Deuteronomy, Chaptei*xxvii, and various other places. ft RELiGiotJS SECTS. [^Lcttet At* A part there are whom doubtless Man might trust. Worthy as "wealthy, pure, religious, just ; They who with patience, yet with rapture look On the strong Promise of the Sacred Book : As, unfulfiU'd, th' endearing Words they view, And blind to Truth, yet own their Prophets true ; Well pleas'd they look for Sion's coming state, Nor think of Julian's, boast and Julian's fate.* More might I add ; I might describe the Flocks Made by Seceders from tlic autient Stocks; Those who will not to any Guide submit, Nor find one Creed to their Conceptions fit True Independants : while they Calvin hate, They heed as little what Socinians state ; They judge Arfninians, Anlinominns stray, Nor England's Church, nor Church on Eartli obey ; But for themselves they carve out Creed and Laws, And weigh their Atoms and divide their Straws. A Sect remains, which though divided long In hostile Parties, both are fierce and strong, , And into each inlists a warm and zealous throng. Soon as they rose in fame, the strife arose, The Calvinistic these, th' Arminian those ; With Weillet/ some remained, the remnant l^ hitfield chose. Now various Leaders both the Parties take, And the divided Hosts their new Divisions make. * His boast, that he would rebuild the Temple at Jerusalem ; his fiite (whatever bccome*of the miraculous part of the story), that he died before the foundation was laid. Letter 4.] religious sects. ^5 Sec yonder Preacher ! to his People pass, Born up and swell'd by Tabernacle-Gas ; Much he discourses, and of various points, All unconnected, void of limbs and joints ; He rails, persuades, explains, and moves the will, By fierce bold Words, and strong mechanic Skill. " That Gospel Paul with zeal and love maintain'd, *' To others lost, to you is now explain'd ; " No worldly Learning can these points discuss, " Books teach them not as they are taught to us ; " Illiterate call us ! let their wisest Man " Draw forth his thousands as your Teacher can : " They give their Moral Precepts ; so, they say, " Did Epictetus once and Seneca : " One was a Slave, and Slaves we all must be, ** Until the Spirit comes and sets us free. '* Yet hear you nothing from such Men but Works, " They make the Christian Service like the Turks. " Hark to the Churchman ; day by day he cries, " ' Children of Men, be virtuous and be wise ; " Seek Patience, Justice, Temp'rance, Meekness, Truth ; " In age be courteous, be sedate in youth.' " So they advise, and when such things be read, " How can we wonder that their Flocks are dead ? " The Heathens wrote of Virtue ; they could dwell " On such light points, in them it might be well ; " They might for Virtue strive, but I maintain, " Our Strife for Virtue would be proud and vain : " When Samson carried Gaza's Gates so far, '^ Lack'd he an helping hand to bear the bar ? RELieiOUS SECTS. [LeHiT i. *' Thus the most virtuous raust in bondage jrroan : *' Samson is grace and carries all alone.* ** Hear jou not Priests their feeble spirits spend, " In bidding Sinners turn to God and mend ; *' To check their Passions, and to walk arisrht, ** To run the Race, and fight the glorious Fight : " Nay more to pray, to study, to improve, *' To grow in goodness, to advance in love ? " Oh ! Babes and Suckliugs, dull of heart and slow, " Can Grace be gradual ? can Conversion grow ? " The work is done by instantaneous call, '* Converts at once are made or not at all ; *' Nothing is left to grow, reform, amend, " The first Emotion is the Movement's end : " If once forgiven. Debt can be no more ; *' If once adopted, will the Heir be poor ? *' The Man who gains the Twenty-thousand Prize, " Does he by little and by little r|se ? *' There can no Fortune for the Soul l)c made, " By peddling cares and savins^s in her trade. ** Why are our Sins forgiv'n : Priests reply, " ' Because by Faith on Mercy we rely ; *' Because, believing, we repent and pray.' " Is this their Doctrine .'then they go astray : * Whoever has attended to the l^ooks op Preacliing of tliese en- thusiastiQ Pepple, imst have observed much of this kind of absurd and foolish applicatioo of Scripture History : it seems to tbem as reasoning. Letter 4:.^ religious sects. 5t " We're pardon'd neither for Belief nor Deed, " For Faith nor Practice, Principle nor Creed ; " Not for our Sorrow for our former Sin, " Nor for our Fears when better Thoughts begin ; " Nor Prayers nor Penance in the cause avail, " All strong Remorse, all soft Contrition fail ; " It is the Call ! 'till that proclaims us free, " In Darkness, Doubt, and Bondage we must be ; " 'Till that assures us, we've in vain endur'd, *' And all is over when we're once assur'd. " This is Conversion First there comes a Cry " AVhich utters, ' Sinner, thou'rt condemn'd to die ;' " Then the struck Soul to every aid repairs, " To Church and Altar, Ministers and Prayers ; " In vain she strives, involv'd, ingulph'd in Sin, " She looks for Hell, and seems already in : " When in this Travail the New Birth comes on, " And in an instant every pang is gone ; " The mighty work is done without our pains, " Claim but a part, and not a part remains. " All this Experience tells the Soul, and yet -v " These moral Men their pence and farthings set > " Against the terrors of the countless Debt ; J " But such Compounders, when they come to Jail, " Will find that Virtues never serve as Bail. ** So much to Duties : now to Learning look, " And see their Priesthood piling Book on Book ; " Yea, Books of Infidels, we're told, and Plays, " Put out by Heathens in the wink'd-on days ; 3$ BELiGious SECTS. [Le//er4. ** The very Letters are of crooked kind, ** And shew the strange perverseness of their Mind. " Havel this Learning? When tlic Lord would speak, ** Think ye he needs the Latin or the Greek ? ** And lo I with all their Learning, when they rise *' To preach, in view the ready Sermon lies ; " Some low-priz'd stuff they purchas'd at the Stalls, *' And more like Seneca s than Mine or Paulas : ** Children of Bondage, how should they explain " The Spirit's Freedom, while they wear a Chain ? ** They study Words for Meanings, grow perplex'd, *' And slowly hunt for Truth from Text to Text, ** Through Greek and Hebrew : we the meaning seek ** Of that within, who every Tongue can speak : *' This all can witness ; yet the more I know, " The more a meek and humble Mind I show. *' No ! let the Pope, the high and mighty Priest, *' Lord to the Poor, and Servant to the Beast ; ** Let Bishops, Deans, and Prebendaries swell " With Pride and Fatness till their Hearts rebel : " I'm meek and modest If I could be proud, ** This crowded Meeting, lo I th' amazing Crowd ! *' Your mute Attention, and your meek Respect, ** My Spirit's Fervour, and my Word's Effect, ** Might stir th' unguarded Soul ; and oft to nie " The Tempter speaks, whom I compel to flee ; " He goes in fear, for he my force has tried, ** Such is my power ! but can you call it pride ? " No, Fellow-Pilgrims ! of the things I've shewn ** I might be proud, were they indeed my own ! I Letter 4:.'] religious sects, 5^ " But they ardent ; and well you know the Source " Of all that's mine, and must confide of course ; " Mine ! no, I err ; 'tis but consigned to me, ' And I am nought but Steward and Trustee*" Far other Doctrines yon Arminian speaks, '' Seek Grace," he cries, " for he shall find who seeks.*' This is the antient Stock by Westlei/ led. They the pure Body, he the reverend Head ; All Innovation they with dread decline, Their John the Elder, was the John divine ; Hence, still their moving Prayer, the melting Hymn, The varied Accent, and the active Limb ; Hence that implicit faith in Satan's Might, And their own matchless Prowess in the fight. In every act they see that lurking Foe Let loose awhile, about the World to go ; A Dragon flying round the Earth to kill The heavenly hope, and prompt the carnal will ; Whom sainted Knights attack in Sinners' cause, And force the wounded Victim from his Paws ; Who but for them would Man's whole race subdue, For not an Hireling will the Foe pursue. " Shew me one Churchman who will rise and pray \ i( Through half the night, though lab'ring all the day, > " Always abounding shew me him I say :" ^ Thus cries the Preacher, and he adds, " their Sheep " Satan devours at leisure, as they sleep. Cb miLiGiocs' iiCTK. [Letter 4. " Not so with us ; we drive him from the Fold, '* For over l)arking and for ever bold : " While they securely slumber, all his schemes " Take fall effect, the Devil never dreams: ** Watchful and changeful through the World he goes, ** And few can trace this deadliest of their Foes ; ** But I detect, and at his work surprise " The subtle Serpent under all disguise. ** Thus io Man's Soul, the Foe of Souls will speak, " * A Saint elect, you can have naught io seek ; ** Why all this labour in so plain a case, *' Such care to run when certain of the race ?' * All this he urges to the cirnal will, " lie knows you're slothful, and would have you still : *' Be this your answer,' Satan, I will keep ** Still on the watch till you are laid asleep.' *' Thus too the Christian's progress he'll retard : " * The Gates of Mercy are for ever barr'd ; ** And that with Bolts so driven and so stont, * Ten thousand Workmen cannot wrench them out.* *' To this deceit you have but one reply, " Give to the Father of all Lies, the lie. " A Sister's weakness he'll by fits surprise, " His her wild laughter, his her piteous cries ; ^^ And should a Pastor at her side attend, " He'll use her organs to abuse her Friend : '* These are possessions unbelieving Wits " Impute them all to Nature ; ' They're her Fits, ** Caus'd by commotions in the. Nerves and Brains,' " Vain Talk ! but they'll be tittetl for their jxiins. Le//C'4.] RELIGIOUS SECTS. (^ " These are in part tlie Ills the Foe has wrought, " And these the Churchman thinks not worth liis thought; " They bid the Troubled try for peace and rest, ** Compose their Minds and be no more distrest : " As well might they command the passive Shore " To keep secure, and be o'crflow'd no more ; " To the wrong subject is their Skill applied, " To act like Workmen they should stem the Tide. " These are the Church-Physicians ; they are paid " With noble fees for their advice and aid ; " Yet know they not the inward pulse to feel, " To case the anguish, or the wound to heal. *' With the sick Sinner, thus their work begins, " ' Do you repent you of your former Sins ? *' Will you amend if you revive and live ? " And, pardon seeking, will you pardon give ? " Have you belief in what your Lord has done, " And are you thankful ? all is well, my son.' (( " A way far different ours we thus surprise A Soul with questions, and demand replies : " * How dropt you first,' I ask, * the legal Yoke ? " What the first word the living Witness spoke ? " Perceiv'd you Thunders roar, and Lightnings shine, " And Tempests gathering e'er the Birth divine ? " Did Fire, and Storm, and Earthquake all appear " Before that still small voice, What dost thou here ? " Hast thou by day and night, and soon and late " Waited and watch'd before Admission-Gate ; " And so a Pilgrim and a Soldier past ^* To Sion\ Hill through battle and through blast ? W KELIGIOUS SECTS. [Letter i. Thea in fhy way did'st thou thy Foe attack, And mad'st thou proud ApoUyon turn his back ?* *' Heart-searching things are these, and shake the Mind, Yea, like the rustling of a mighty Wind. " Thus would I ask : * Nay, let me question now, '* How sink my Sayings in your Bosoms ? how ? *^ Feel you a quickening ? drops the subject deep ? " Stupid and stoney, no I you're all asleep ; *' Listless and lazy, waiting for a close, ** As if at Church Do I allow repose ? *' Am I a legal Minister ? do I ** With form or rubrick, rule or rite comply ? " Then whence thb quiet, tell me, I beseech ? ** One might believe you heard your Rector preach, ** Or his assistant Dreamer oh ! return, *' Ye times of burning, when the Heart would burn ; *' Now Hearts are Ice, and you, my freezing Fold, *' Have Spurits sunk and sad, and Bosoms stoney-cold.* " Oh ! now again for those prevailing Powers, *' Which once began this mighty work of ours ; '* When the wide field, God's Temple, was the place, ** And Birds flew by to catch a breath of Grace ; *' Wh6n mid his timid Friends and threat'ning Foes, **- Our zealous Chief as Paul at Athens rose ; *' When with infernal spite and knotty clubs " The Ill-One arm'd his Scoundrels and his Scrubs; ** And there were flying all around the spot " Brands at the Preacher, but they touch'd him not ; *' Stakes brought to smite him, threat'ned in his cause, " And Tongues, attun'd to curses roar' applause ; Letter i:.^ religious sects. 6^ " Louder and louder grew his aweful tones, ** Sobbing and sighs were heard, and rueful groans ; " Soft Women fainted, prouder Man exprest " Wonder and woe, and Butchers smote the breast ; " Eyes wept, Ears tingled ; stiff 'ning on each Head, *' The Hair drew back, and Satan howl'd and fled. " In that soft Season when the gentle Breeze " Rises all round and swells by slow degrees ; ti 'piu Tempests gather, when through all the Sky ** The Thunders rattle, and the Lightnijigs fly ; " When Rain in torrents. Wood and Vale deform, " And all is Horror, Hurricane, and Storm : " So, when the Preacher in that glorious time, *' Than Clouds more melting, more than Storm sublime, ** Dropt the new Word, there came a charm around ; " Tremors and terrors rose upon the sound ; *' The stubborn Spirits by his force he broke, ** As the fork'd Lightning rives the knotted Oak : *' Fear, Hope, Dismay, all signs of Shame or Grace, " Chain'd every Foot, or featur'd every Face ; " Then took his sacred Trump a louder swell, ' " And now they groan'd, they sicken'd, and they fell ; " Again he sounded, and we heard the cry " Of the Word-wounded, as about to die ; " Further and further spread the conquering Word, " As loud he cried * the Battle of the LordJ* " Ev'n those apart who were the Sound denied, " Fell down instinctive, and in Spirit died. " Nor staid he yet his Eye, his Frown, his Speech, " His very Gesture had a power to teach ; 64 BELiGious SECTS. [Letter i:. " With out-strctch'd Arms, strong Voice, and piercing Call, ** He won the Field, and made the Dagons fall, *^ And thus in triumph took his glorious way, ** Through scenes of horror, terror, and dismay." LETTER V. ELECTIONS. Say then, which class to greater follies ^toop. The great in promise, or the poor in hope ? fte brave, for yonr Leader is brave, and vows Reformation ; there shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny ; and the three-hooped pot hall have ten hoops. I will make it felony to drink small-beer: all shall eat and drink on my score, and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they fliay agree like brothers ; and they shall all worship me as their Lord. Shakspeare's Heary VI> V^E ELECTIOl^. The Evils of the Contest, and how in part to be avoided. ^llie Miseries endured by a Friend of the Candidate. The various Liberties taken with hina, who has no personal Interest in the Success. The unreasonable Expectation! of Voters. Th< Censures of the opposing Party. ^The Vices as well as Follies shewn in such time of Contest. Plans and Cunning of Elec- tors. Evils which remain after the Decision, opposed in vain by the Efforts of the Friendly : and of the Successful ; among whom is the Mayor. Story of his Adrancement till he was raised to the Government of the Borough. ^Tbese Evils not to be placc>d in balance with the Libert}' of tke Peopie> but are yet Subjects of just Complaint LETTER V. T.HE ELECTION X ES, our Election's pasft, and we've been free, Somewhat as Madmen without Keepers be ; And such desire of Freedom has been shown, That both the Parties wish'd her all their own : All our free Smiths and Coblers in the Town, Were loth to lay such pleasant Freedom down ; To put the Bludgeon and Cockade aside, And let us pass unhurt and undefied. Triie ! j'ou might then your Party's Sign produce, And so escape with only half th' abuse ; With half the danger as you walk'd along, With rage and thrcat'ning but from half the throng: This you might do, and not your Fortune mend, For where you lost a Foe, you gain'd a Friend ; And to distress you, vex you, and expose, Election-Friends {ire worse than any Foes ; The Party-Curse is with the Canvass past, But Party-Friendship, for your grief, will last. f2 68 THE ELBCTioif. [^Letter 5. Friends of all kinds ; the Ciril and the Rude, Who humbly wish, or boldly dare t' intrude; These ben^ or take a liberty to come, [home ; (Friends should be free,) and make your House their They know that warmly you their Cause espouse, And come to make their boastings and their bows : You scorn their manners, you their words mistrust,- But you must hear them, and they know you must. One plainly sees a Friendship firm and true, Between the noble Candidate and you ; So humbly begs (and states at large the Case), " You'll think of Bobbj/ and the little Place." Stifling his shame by drink, a wretch will come, And prate your Wife and Daughter from the room ; In pain you hear him, and at heart despise. Yet with heroic mind your pangs disguise ; And still in patience to the Sot attend, To shew what Man can bear to serve a Friend. One enters hungry not to be denied, And takes bis place and jokes" We're of a Side." Yet worse, the Proser who, upon the strength Of his one Vote, has Tales of three hours' length ; This sorry Rogue you bear, yet with surprise Start at his Oaths, and sicken at his Lies. Then comes there one, and tells in friendly way What the Opponents in their anger say ; All that through life has vex'd you, all Abuse, Will this kind Friend in pure regard produce ; Letter d."] the election. 89 And having through your own Offences run, Adds (as appendage) what your Friends have done. Has any female Cousin made a trip To Gretna-Green, or more vexatious slip ? Has your Wife's Brother, or your Uncle's Son Done aught amiss, or is he thought t' have done ? Is there of all your Kindred some who lack Vision direct, or have a gibbous Back ? From your unlucky Name may Quips and Puns Be made by these upbraiding Goths and Huns ? To some great public Character have you Assign'd the fame to Worth and Talents due, Proud of your Praise ? In this, in any case, Where the Brute-SpiVit may affix disgrace, These Friends will smiling bring it, and the while You silent sit, and practise for a smile. Vain of their power, and of their value sure, They nearly guess the tortures you endure ; Nor spare one pang for they perceive your Heart Goes with the Cause; you'd die before you'd "start ; Do what they may, they're sure you'll not, offend, Men who have pledg'd their Honours to your Friend. Those Friends indeed, who start as in a Race, May love the sport, and laugh at this disgrace; They have in view the Glory and the Prize, Nor heed the dirty steps by which they rise : But we their poor Associates lose the Fame, Though more than Partners in the Toil and Shame. TO THE ELicTiojfi [JLeffef 5. Were this the "whole, and did the time liroducc But Shame and Toil, but Riot and Abuse ; We might be then from serious Griefs exempt, And view the whole with Pitj and Contempt- Alas ! but here the vilest Passions rule, It is Seduction's, is Temptation*s School ; ^^ Where Vices mingle in the oddest ways, 1|^ H The grossest Slander and the dirtiest Praise ; Flattery enough to make the vainest sick, And clumsy Stratagem, and scoundrel Trick : Nay more, jour Anger and Contempt to cause, TJiese, while they fish for Profit, claim Applause ; Brib'd, bought and bound, they banish Shame and Fear ; Tell you they're sfanch, and have a Soul sincere; Then talk of Honour, and if doubt 's exprest. Show where it lies, and smite upon the Breast. Among these Worthies some at first declare For whom they vote ; for then he's most to spare ; * Others hang off when coming to the Post Is spurring Time, and then he'll spare the most : While some demurring, wait, and find at last The Bidding languish, and the Market past; These will affect all Bribery to condemn, And be it Satan laughs, he laughs at them. Some .too are plbo^ One desir'd the Lord To teach him whrt-e " ib drop his little word ; " To lend his toi^f tshere it ^ould profit best; ** Promotion ttfeme not from Ihe East or West ; " But an their Freedom had pfdmotetl some, " He slu>uld be glad to know \thich way 'twould come : Lettei' 5.] the election. 71 " It was a naughty World, and where to sell ^^ His precious Charge, was more than he could tell." * But you succeeded ?' true, at mighty Cost, And our good Friend, I fear, will think he 's lost ; Inns, Horses, Chaises, Dinners, Balls and Notes ; What fill'd their Purses, and what drench'd their Throats; The private Pension, and indulgent Lease, Have all been granted to these Friends who fleece ; Friends who will hang like Burrs upon his Coat, And boundless judge the value of a Vote. And though the Terrors of the Time be past, There still remain the Scatterings of the Blast ; The Boughs are parted that entwin'd before. And antient Harmpny exists no more ; The gusts of Wrath our peaceful Seats deform, And sadly flows the sighing of the Storm : Those who have gain'd, are sorry for the Gloom, But they who lost, unwilling Peace should come ; There open Envy, here supprest Delight, Yet live till Time shall better Thoughts excite, And so prepare us by a six-years' Truce, Again for Riot, Insult, and Abuse. Our worthy Mayor, on the victorious part, Cries out for Peace, and cries with all his heart ; He, civil Creature ! ever does his best. To banish Wrath from every Voter's breast ; *' For where," says he, with reason strong and plain, " Where is the Profit ? what will Anger gain ?" His short stout Person he is wont to brace In good brown Broad-Cloth, edg'd with two-inch Lace, 72 THE ELECTION. [^Letter 5, When in his Seat ; and still the Coat seems new, Prcserv'd bj common use of Seauiaif s blue. He vfoi a Fisher from his earliest day, And plac'd his Nets within the Borough's Bay ; Where by his Skates, his Herrinijs, and his Soles, He liv'd, nor drcam'd of Corporation- Doles ; * But toiling sav'd, and saving, never ceas'd Till he had box'd up Twelve Score Pounds at least : He knew not Money's power, but judg'd it best Safe in his Trunk to let his Treasure rest ; Yet to a Friend complain'd : " Sa(^ charge, to keep * So many Pounds, and then I cannot sleep :" Then put it out,' replied the Friend " What, give ' My Money up ? why then 1 could not live :" Nay, but for Interest place it in his hands. Who '11 give you Mortgage on his House or Lands :' * Oh but," said Daniel, *' that's a dangerous plan, ' He may be robb'd like any other Man ;" Still he is bound, and you may be at rest. More safe the Money than within your Chest ; And you'll receive, from all deductions clear, Five Pounds for every Hundred, every Year.' * I am informed that some explanation is here necessary, though I am ignorant for what class of my readers it can be required. Some corporate bodies have actual property, as appears by their re- ceiving rents; and they obtain money on the admission of members into their society : this they may lawfully share perhaps. There are, moreover, other doles, of still greater value, of which it is not necessary for me to explain the nature or to enquire into the legality. Letter 5.2 the election. 73 " What good in that ?" quoth Daniel, " for 'tis plain, " If part 1 take there can but part remain :" ' What you, my Friend, so skill'd in gainful things, ' Have you to learn what Interest Money brings ?* *' Not so," said Daniel, " perfectly 1 know, " He 's the most Interest who has most to show." * True ! and he'll show the more, the more he lends ; ' Thus he his weight and consequence extends ; * For they who borrow must restore each sum, ' And pay for use What, Daniel, art thou dumb ?* In fact the Fisher was amaz'd ; as soon Could he have judg'd Gold issued from the Moon ; But being taught, he griev'd with all his heart. For lack of knowledge in this precious art : " Five Pounds for every Hundred will he give ? " And then the Hundred ? I begin to live." So he began, and other means he found, As he went on, to multiply a Pound : Though blind so long to Interest, all allow That no Man better understands it now : Him in our Body-Corporate we chose, And once among us, he above us rose ; Stepping from post to post, he reach'd the Chair, And there he now reposes that's the Mayor. But 'tis not he, 'tis not the kinder Few, The Mild, the Good, who can our Peace renew,; A peevish humour swells in every Eye, The Warm are angry, and the Cool are shy ; There is no more the social Board at Whist, The good old Partners are with scorn dismiss'd ; No more with Dog and Lantern comes the Maid, To guide the Mistress when the Rubber's play'd; 'H THE ELECTIOX. [L^fCT* 5. Sad shifts are made lest Hibbons blue and sfreen, Should at one Table, at one time be seen ; On Care and Merit none will now rely, Tis Party sells, what Party Friends must bny ; The warmest Burgess wears a Bodger's Coat, And Fashion gains less Interest than a Vote ; Uncheck'd the Vintner still his Poison Tends, For he too Totes, and can command his Friends. But this admitted ; be it still agreed. These ill Effects from noble Cause proceed ; Though like some vile Excrescences they be, ^ The Tree they spring from is a sacred Tree, > And its true produce, Strength and Liberty. 5 Yet if Vfe could th' attendant Ills suppress, If we could make the sum of Mischief less ; If we could warm and angry Men persuade, No more Man's common Comforts to invade ; And that old Ease and Harmony re-seat, In all our Meetings, so in Joy to meet ; Much would of Glory to the Muse ensue, And our good Vicar would have less to do. LETTER VI. PROFESSIONS LAW. * Quid leges sine moribni . Vans proficittnt ? Horace. Vs ! misero mibi, mea nunc faclnora Apperluntor, clam quas speravi fore. Majiflius. THE PROFESSION OF LAW. Trades and Professions of every kind to be found in the Borough. Its Seamen and Soldiers. Law, the Danger of the Subject. Coddrington's Offence. Attornies increased ; their splendid Appearance, bow supported. Some worthy Exceptions. Spirit of Litigation, how stirred up. A Boy articled as a Clerk; his Ideas. How this Profession perverts the Judgment. ^Actions appear through this medium in a false light. Suc- cess from honest Application. ^Archer a worthy Character. Swallow a Character of different kind. His Origin, Progress, and Success, ice. LETTER VI. PROFESSIONS -LAW. X RADEs and Professions" ^theseare Themes the Muse, Left to her freedom, would forbear to choose ; But to our Borough they in truth belong. And we, perforce, must take them in our Song. Be it then known that we can boast of these In all Denominations, Ranks, Degrees ; All who our numerous Wants through Life supply, ^ Who soothe us sick, attend us when we die, > Or for the Dead their various talents try. 5 Then have we those who live by secret arts, By hunting Fortunes, and by stealing Hearts ; Or who by nobler means themselves advance ; Or who subsist by Charity and Chance. Say, of our native Heroes shall I boast. Born in our Streets, to thunder on our Coast, Our Borough Seamen ? Could the timid Muse More Patriot-Ardour in their Breasts infuse ; Or could she paint their Merit or their Skill, She wants not Lore, Alacrity, or Will ; But needless all, that Ardour is their own, And for their Deeds, themselves have made them known. 78 tAW. [Letter 6. Soldiers in Arms ! Defenders of our Soil ! ^ Who from Destruction save us ; who from Spoil > Protect the Sons of Peace, who traffic^ or who toil ; J "Would I could duly praise you ; that each Deed Your Foes might honour, and your Friends might read : This too is needless; youVe imprinted well Your Powers, and told what I should feebly tell ; Beside, a Muse like mine, to Satire prone, Would fail in Themes, where there is Praise alone. Laa? shall I sing, or what to Law belongs ? Alas ! there may be danger in such Songs ; A foolLsb Rhyme, 'tis said, a trifling thing, The Law found Treason, for it touch'd the King, But Kings have Mercy, in these happy Times, Or surely One had suffer'd for his Rhymes ; Our glorious Edwards and our Henrys bold, ' So touch'd, had kept the Reprobate in hold; But he escap'd, nor fear, thank Heav'n, have !> Who love my King, for such offence to die. But I am taught the Danger would be much, If these poor Lines should one Attorney touch (One of those Limbs of Law who 're always here ; The Heads coma down to guide them twice a Year.) I might not swing indeed, but he in sport Would whip a Rhymer on from Court to Court ; Stop him in each, and make him pay for all The long Proceedings in that dreaded Hall : Then let my Numbers flow discreetly on, Wam'd by the fate of luckless Coddrington, * * The account f Coddrington occurs in " TJic Mirrour Jor Mv^lulroUs :" be suffered in the reign of Ricltard III. Let^r 6.] law. 79 Ix^st some Attorned/ (pardon me the name) Should wound a jwor Socililor for Fame. One Man of Law in George the Second's reigoj Was all our frutral Fathers -would maintain ; He too was kept for Forms ; a Man of Peace, To frame a Contract, or to draw a Lease : He had a Clerk, with whom he us'd to write All the Day long, with whom he drank at Ni^bt | Spare was his Visage, raoderatehis Bill, And he so kind. Men doubted of his Skill. Who thinks of this, with some amazement sees, For Man so poor, three flourishing at ease ; Nay, one in splendour ! see that Mansion tall, That lofty Door, that far-resounding Hall ; Well-furnish'd Rooms, Plate shining on the Boardj Gay liveried Lads, and Cellar proudly stor'd : Then say how comes it that such Fortunes crown These Sons of Strife, these Terrors of the Town ? Lo ! that small Office ! there th' incautious Guest Goes blindfold in, and that maintains the rest; There in his Web, th' observant Spider lies, And peers about for fat intruding Flies ; Doubtful at first, he hears the distant hum. And feels them flutt'ring as they nearer come ; They buz and blink, and doubtfully they tread On the strong Bird-lime of the utmost thread ; But when they're, once entanglal by the Gin, With what an eager clasp he draws them in i Nor shall they 'scape, till after long delay, And all that sweetens Life is drawn away. 80 LAW. [Letter 6. ** Nay, this," you cry, " is common-place, the tale " Of petty Tradesmen o'er their Evening-Ale ; " There are who, living by the legal Pen, ** Are held in honour, ' honourable Men.' " Doubtless there are who hold manorial Courts, Or whom the trust of powerful Friends supports ; Or who, by labouring through a length of time, Have pick'd their way, unsullied by a crime. These are the few In this, jn every place. Fix the litigious rupture-stirring Race ; Who to Contention as to Trade are led. To whom Dispute and Strife are Bliss and Bread. There is a doubtful Pauper, and we think Tis not with us to give him Meat and Drink : A Child is born ; il is not mighty clear. Whether the Mother liv'd with us a Year : A Road's indicted, and our Seniors doubt If in our proper Boundary or without ; But what says our Attorney ? He our Friend Tells us 'tis just and manly to contend. " What ! to a neighbouring Parish yield your Cause ? ** While you have Money, and the Nation Laws ? " What ! lose without a Trial, that which tried, " May nay it must be given on our side ; " All Men of Spirit would contend ; such Men " Than lose a Pound would rather hazard ten ; " What, be impos'd on ? no ! a British Soul " Despises Imposition, hates Controul ; ** The Law is open ; let them, if they dare, ^^ Support their Cause ; the ]iowug\i need not spare : Letter 6.^ law. 81 " All I advise is vigoar and good-will : " Is it agreed then ? Shall I file a Bill ?" ' The Trader, Grazier, Merchant, Priest and all, Whose Sons aspiring, for Professions call, Choose from their Lads some bold and subtle Boy, And judge him fitted for this grave employ : Him a keen old Practitioner admits, To write five Years and exercise his Wits : Tiie Youth has heard it is in fact his Creed ; Mankind dispute, that Lawyers may be fee'd : Jails, Bailiffs, Writs, all terms and threats of Law, Grow now familiar as once Top and Taw ; Rage, Hatred, Fear, the Mind's severer ills, All bring Employment, all augment his Bills ; As feels the Surgeon for the mangled Limb, The mangled Mind is but a Job for him : Thus taught to think, these legal Reasoners draw Morals and Maxims from their views of Law ; They cease to judge by Precepts taught in Schools, By Man's plain Sense, or by religious Rules ; No I nor by Law itself, in Truth discern'd. But as its Statutes may be warp'd and turn'd ; How they should judge of Man ; his Word and Deed, They in their Books and not their Bosoms read : Of some good Act you speak with just applause, " No ! nb !" says lie, " 'twould be a losing Cause :" Blame you some Tyrant's Deed ? he answers, " Nay, " He'll get a Verdict ; heed you what you say." Thus to Conclusions from Examples led, The Heart resigns all Judgment to the Head ; o 9t LAW. [LftftfrG. Law, Law alone for ever kept in view, His Measures guides, and rules his Conscience too : Of Ten Commandments, he confesses three Are jet in force, and tells yau which they be, As Law instructs him, thus: '* Your Neighbour's Wife '* You must not take, his Chattels, nor his Life ; " Break these Decrees, for Damage you must iy, " These you must reverence, and the rest you may." Law was designed to keep a S He bow'd politely low, and bade them all adieu. 3 But lives the Man by whom such Deeds are done ? Yes, many such but Swallow^s Race is run ; His Name is lost, for though his Sons have Name, It is not his, they all escape the shame ; Nor is there vestige now of all he had, His Means are wasted, for liis lloir was mad : Still we of Swallow as a Monster speak. An hard bad Man, who prey'd upon tlie Weak. i'h LETTER VII. PROFESSIONS PHYSIC. Finirent muUi letho mala; creilula vitam Spes alit, et melius eras fore semper ait. TibttlllJ*.^ He fell to juggle, cant, and cheat For as those fowls tliat live in water Are never wet, he did but smatter; Whate'er he labour'd to appear. His understanding still was clear. A paltry wretch he had half-starv'd That him in plac of zany strv'd Sutler's Hudibrai. PHYSIC. The Worth and Excellence of the true Physician. Merit not the sole caus of Success. Modes of advancing Reputation. MotivB of Medical Men for publishing their Works. ^The great Evil of Quackery. Present State of advertising Quacks. ^Thdr Hazard. Some fail, and why. Causes of Success. How Men of Understanding are prevailed upon to have recourse to Empiricks ; and to permit their Names to be advertised. Evils of Quackery: to nervous Females: to Youth : to Infants. History of an advertising Enipirick, &c. LETTER VIL P II Y S i C. Jr ROM Law to Physic stepping' at our ease, We find a way to finish by dej^rees ; Forgive the quibble, and in graver style, Wc '11 sing of these with whom we seldom smile Helpers of Men* ihey 're call'd, and we confess Theirs the deep Study, theirs the lucky Guess ; We own that numbers join with Care and Skill, A temperate Judgment, a devoted Will ; Men who suppress their Feelings, but who feel The painful Symptoms they delight to heal ; Patient in all their trials, they sustain The starts of Passion, the reproach of Pain ; With Hearts affected, but with Looks serene. Intent they wait through all the solemn Scene ; Glad if an hope should rise from Nature's Strife To aid their Skill and save the lingering Life ; But this must Virtue's generous effort be. And spring from nobler motives than a Fee : * Opiferque per orbem dicor. 114 PHYSIC. [^Letter 7. To the Physician of the Soul, and these, Turn the Distress'd for Safety, Hope, and Ease. But as Physicians of that nobler kind Have their warm Zealots, and their Sectaries blind ; So among these for Knowledge most renown'd, Are Dreamers strange, and stubborn Bigots found : Some too, admitted to this honoured name. Have, without Learning, found a way to Fame ; And- some by Learning young Physicians write. To set their Merit in the fairest light ; With them a Treatise is a Bait that draws Approving Voices 'tis to gain A pplause. And to exalt them in the public view, More than a Life of worthy Toil could do. When 'tis propos'd to make the Man renown'd In every Age, convenient Doubts abound ; Convenient Themes in every Periotl start, Which he may treat with all the Pomp of Art ; Curious Conjectures he may always make. And either side of dubious Questions take : He may a System broach, or, if he please. Start new Opinions of an old Disease ; Or may some Simple in the Woodland trace, And be its Patron, till it runs its llace ; As rustic Damsels from their Woods are won, And live in Splendour till their Race be run ; It weighs not much on wliat their Powers be shown. When all his Purpose is to make them known. To show the World what long Experience gains, Requires not Courage, though it calls for Pains ; Letter 7.] physic. 95 But at Life's outset to inform Mankind, Is a bold effort of a valiant Mind. The great good Man, for noblest Cause, displays What many Labours taught, and many Days ; These sound Instruction from Experience give, The others show us how they mean to live ; That they have Genius, and they hope Mankind Will to its Efforts be no longer blind. There are beside, whom powerful Friends advance, Whom Fashion favours. Person, Patrons, Chance : So Merit suffers, while a Fortune 's made By daring Rashness or by dull Parade. But these are trifling evils ; there is one Which walks uncheck'd, and triumphs in the Sun : There was a time, Avhen we beheld tlie Quack, On public Stage, the licenc'd Tribe attack ; He made his labour'd Speech with poor parade ; And then a laughing Zany lent him aid : Smiling we past him, but we felt the while Pity so much, that soon we ceas'd to smile ; Assur'd that fluent Speech and flow'ry Vest Disguis'd tlie Troubles of a Man distress'd. But now our Quacks are Gamesters, and they play With Craft and Skill to ruin and betray ; With monstrous Promise they delude the Mind, And thrive on all that tortures Human-kind. Void of all Honour, avaricious, rash, The daring Tribe compound their boasted Trash ^ 'Jmrn- [Letter 7. Tiiicliire or Syrup, Lolion, Drop or.Pill ; All tempt the Sick to trust the Ijin^ Bill ; And twenty Names of Coblers tuin\i to Squires, Aid the bold Language oC- these blushless Lyars. There are amonp: them those who cannot reul, And yet they Ml buy a Pateut, anil succeixl ; Will dare to promise dying Suflercrs aid, For who, -when dead, can threaten or upbraid ? With cruel Avarice still they recommend More Draughts, more Syrup to the Journey's end : ** I feel it not;"^ * Then take it every hour :' *' It makes me worse;" ' Whj' then it shows its power :* *' I fear to die ;" ' Let not your Spirits sink, * You 're always safe, while you believe and drink.' How strange to add, in this nefarious Trade, That Men of Parts are Dupes b\' Dimces made; That Creatures, Nature meant should clean our Streets, Have purchas-d Lands and Mansions, Parks and Seats ; W^ retches with Conscience so obtuse, they leave Their untaught Sons their Patents to deceive ; And wlien they 're laid upon their dying Bed, No thought of Murder comes into the head ; Nor one revengeful Ghost to them appears. To fill the Soul with penctenlia! Fears. Yet not the whole of this imposing Train, Their Gardens, Seats, and Carriages obtain ; Chiefly, indeed, they to the Robbers fall, Who are most fitted to disgrace them all : But there is hazard Patents must 1^ bought, Venders and Puffers for the Poison sought; Letter '7,1 physic. 97 And then in many a Paper through the Year, Must Cures and Cases, Oaths and Proofs appear ; . Men snatch'd from Graves, as they were dropping in, TheirLungs cough'd up, their Bones pierc'd through their The Liver all one Schirrus, and the Frapie [Skin ; Poison'd with Evils which they dare not name; Men who spent all upon Physicians' Fees, Who never slept, nor had a moment's ease, Are now as Roaches sound, and all as brisk as Bees. J If the sick Gudgeons to the Bait attend. And come in shoals, the Angler gains his end ; But should the advertising Cash be spent, E'er yet the Town has due attention lent, Then bursts the Bubble, and the hungry Cheat Pines for the Bread he ill deserves to eat ; It is a Lottery, and he shares perhaps The rich Man's Feast, or begs the Pauper's Scraps. From pow'rful Causes spring th' Empirick's Gains, Man's love of Life, his Weakness, and his Pains; These first induce him the vile Trash to try. Then lend his Name, that other Men may buy : Tliis love of Life, which in our Nature rules. To vile Imposture makes us Dupes and Tools ; Then Pain compels the impatient Soul to seize On prom is 'd Hopes of instantaneous Ease ; And Weakness too with every wish complies, Worn out and won by importunities. Troubled with something in your Bile or Blood, You think your Doctor docs you little good ; 98 PHYSIC. [Letter 7. Aud grown iniiiatient, you require in haste The nervous Cordial, nor dislike the Taste ; It comforts, heals, and strengthens; nay, you think It makes you better every time you drink ; ** Then lend your Name" you *re loth, but yet confess Its Powers are great, and so you acquiesce : 'Vet think a moment e'er your Name you lend. With whose 'tis plac'd, and what you recommend ; "Who tipples Brandy will some comfort feel, But will he (o the Med'cine set his Seal ? Wait, and you'll find the Cordial you admire Has added fewel to your Fever's fire : Say, should a Bobber chance your Purse to spare. Would you the Honour of the Man declare? Would you assist his Purpose ? swell his Crime ? Besides, he might not spare a second time. Compassion sometimes sets the fatal sign. The Man was poor, and humbly Ixjg'd a line ; Else how should noble Names and Titles back The spreading Praise of some advent'rous Quack ? But he the moment watches, and intreats Your Honour's Name, ^your Honour joins the Cheats ; You judg'd the Med'cine harmless, and you lent What iielp you could, and with the best intent ; But can it please you thus, to league with all Whom he can beg or bribe to swell the Scrawl ? Would you these Wrappers with your Name adorn, Which hold the Poison for the yet unborn ? No Class escapes them from the poor Man's Pay, The Nostrum takes no trifling^ part awaj ; i Letter 7.] physic. 99 See ! those square patent Bottles from the Shop, Now Decoration to the Cup-board's top ; And there a favourite Hoard you'll find within, Companions meet! the Julep and the Gin. Time too with Casli is wasted ; 'tis the fate Of real Helpers to be call'd too late ; This find the Sick (when Time and Patience gone), Death with his ten-fold Terror hurries on. Suppose the Case surpasses human Skill, There comes a Quack to flatter Weakness still ; W^hat greater Evil can a Flatterer do, Than from himself to lake the Sufferer's view ? To turn from sacred Thoughts his reasoning Powers, And rob a Sinner of his dying Hours ? Yet this they dare, and, craving to the last, Jn Hope's strong bondage hold their Victim fast : For Soul or Body no concern have they. All their enquiry, " Can the Patient pay ? " And will he swallow Draughts until his dying day av?" > Observe what Ills to nervous Females flow, "When the Heart flutters and the Pulse is low ; If once induc'd these cordial Cups to try, All feel the Ease, and few the Danger fly ; For while obtain'd, of Drams they 've all the force, And when denied, then Drams are the resource. Nor these the only Evils there are those Who for the troubled Mind prepare repose ; H 2 100 PHYSIC. [Letler 7. They write : the Youn are tenderly address'd, Much Danrcr hinted, much Concern exprcss'd ; They dwell on Freedoms Lads are prone to take, Which makes the Doctor tremble for their sake ; Still if the youthful Patient will but trust In one so kind, so pitiful, and just ; If he will tnke the Tonic all the time. And hold but modenite intercourse with Crime ; The Sage will gravely give his honest word. That Strength and Spirits shall be both rcstor'd ; In plainer English if you mean to sin, Fly to the Drops, and insUmtly Ixigin. Who would not lend a sympathising sigh. To hear yon Infant's pity-moving Cry ? That feeble Sob, unlike the new-born Note, Which came with vigour from the op'nin^f Throat ; When Air and Light first rush'd on Lungs and Eyes, And there was Life and Spirit in the Cries ; Now an abortive, faint attempt to weep, Is all we hear ; Sensation is asleep : The Boy was healthy, and at first exprest His Feelings loudly, when he fail'd to rest; When cramm'd with Food, and tightened every Limb, To cry aloud, was what pertain'd to him ; Then the good Nurse (who, had she borne a Brain, Had sought the Cause that made her Babe complain) Has all her efforts, loving Soul ! applied, To set the Cry and not the Cause, aside ; She gave her powerful Sweet without remorse, J7ie sleeping Cordial she had tried its force, LetterlT] physic. 101 Repeating}: oft : the Infant, frec'd from Pain, Rejected Food, but took the Dose again, Sinking to sleep ; while she licr joy exprest, That her dear Charge could sweetly take his rest : Soon may she spare her Cordial ; not a doubt Remains, but quickly he will rest without. Til is moves our grief and pity, and we sigh To think what numbers from tliese causes die ; But what contempt and ang**r sliould we show, Did we the Lives of these Impostors know. E'er for the World's I left the Cares of School, One I remember who assum'd the Fool ; A part well suited when the idler Boys "Would shout around him, and he lov'd the noise f They call'd him Nedd^, Neddy had the art To play with skill his ignominious part ; When he his Trifles would for sale display, And act the Mimic for a School-boy's Pay. For many Years he plied his humble Trade, And us'd his Tricks and Talents to persuade ; The Fellow barely read, but chanc'd to look Among the Fragments of a tatter'd Book ; Where after many efforts made to spell One puzzling word, he found it Oxymel ; A potent Thing, 'twas said to cure the Ills Of ailing Lungs the Oxymel of Squills : Squills he procur'd, but found the Bitter strong, And most unpleasant ; none would take it long ; But the pure Acid and the Sweet would make A Med'cinc numbers would for pleasure take, 102 PHYSIC. \_Letter 7. There was a Fellow near, aii artful Knave, Who knew the plan, and much assistance gave ; He wrote the Puffs, and every Talent plied To make it sell : it sold, and then he died. Now all the Profit fell to NecTs controul, And Pride and Av'rice quarrcl'd for his Soul ; When mighty Profits by the Trash were made, Pride built a Palace, Avarice groan'd and paid ; Pride plac'd the signs of Grandeur all about. And Avarice bar'd his Friends and Children out. Now see him Doctor ! yes, the idle Fool, The Butt, the Robber of the Lads at School ; Who then knew nothing, nothing since acquir'd, Became a Doctor, honour'd and admir'd ; His Dress, his Frown, his Dignity were such, Ev'nsome who'd knownhimthougljt his Knowledge much; Nay, Men of Skill, of Apprehension quick. Spite of their Knowledge, trusted him when sick: Though he could neither reason, write nor spell, "^ They yet had hope his Trash would make them well ; > And while they scorn'd his Paris, they took his Oxyrael. J Oh ! when his Nerves had once receiv'd a shock. Sir Isaac Nezi'ton might have gone to Rock* : Hence Impositions of the grossest kind, Hence Thought is feeble, Understanding blind ; Hence Sums enormous by these Cheats are made, And Deaths unnumber'd by their dreadful Trade. * Au cinp'trick who flourished at the same time with this great man. Letter 7.] physic. 103 Alas ! in vain is my contempt exprest, To stronger Passions are their words addrest ; To Pain, to Fear, to Terror their Appeal, To those who, weakly reasoning, strongly feel. AVhat then our Hopes ? perhaps there may by Law Be method found, these Pests to curb and awe ; Yet in this Land of Freedom, Law is slack With any Being to commence attack ; Then let us trust to Science there are those Who can their Falsehoods and their Frauds disclose All their vile Trash detect, and their low Tricks expose Perhaps their Numbers may in time confound Their Arts as Scorpions give themselves the Wound ; For when these Curers dwell in every Place, While of the Cur'd we not a Man can trace, Strong Truth may then the public Mind persuade, And spoil the Fruits of this nefarious Trade. J I LETTER VIII. TRADES. Kon possideiitem multa vocaveris Kecte beatura : rectiiis occupet Nomen Beati qui Deonim Muneribus sapienter uti, Duramque callet pauperiem pati. Hor. lib, od. i. Non uxor salvum te vuU, dod filius; omnes Vicini oderunt ; iioti pueri atque puellsB ; Mirariscuni tu argento post omnia poaas, Si nemo prsestet, quern noa merearis, amorem. Hor. Sat. lib. 1. Non propter vitam faciunt patrimonia quidecn, Sed csci vitio propter patrimoniam vivunt. Juvenal. Sat4 19 ,^ 11 a a: n t TRADES. No extensive Manufactories in the Borough : yet considerable Fortunes made there. III Judgment of Parents in disposing of their Sons. ^The best educated not the most liicely to succeed. Instance. ^Want of Success compensated by the lenient power of some Avocations. ^The Naturalist. ^The Weaver an Entomologist, &c. Hunting Butterflies, &c. A Prize-Flower. Story of Walter and William. LETTER Vlir. TRADES. Of Manufactures, Trade, Inventions rare, Steam-towers & Looms you'd know our Borough's share Tis small : we boast not those rich Subjects here, Who hazard thrice ten thousand Pounds a Year ; We've no huge Buildings, where incessant noise Is made by Springs and Spindles, Girls and Boys ; Where, mid such thundering sounds, the Maiden's Song Is " Harmony in uproar" * all day long. Still common Minds with us in common Trade, Have gain'd more Wealth than ever Student made ; And yet a Merchant, when he gives his Son His College-Learning, thinks his Duty done; A way to Wealth he leaves his Boy to find, Just when he's made for the Discovery blind. Jones and his Wife perceiv'd their elder Boy Took to his Learning, and it gave them joy ; This they encourag'd, and were blest to see Their Son a Fellow with an high Degree ; The title of a short piece of humour by Arbuihnot. 108 TRADES. \_LetterS. A Livinfi: fell, he married, and his Sire Derlar'd 'twas all a Father could require ; Children then blest Ihcmj and when Letters came. The Parents proudly told each Grandchild's Name. Meantime the Sons at home in Trade were plac'd, Money their object just the Father's taste ; Saving he liv'd and lonff, and^^cn he died lie gave them all his Fortune to divide : ** Martin," said lie, " at vast exigence was taught, " He gain'd his wish, and has the ease he sought." Thus the good Priest (the Christian-Scholar !) find* Th' estimate that 's made by vulgtir Minds ; lie sees his Brothers, who had every gift Of thriving, now assisted in their thrift ; While he whom Learning, Habits, all prevent, Is largely mulct for each impediment. Yet let us own that Trade has much of Chance, Not all the Careful by their Care advance ; With the same Parts and Prospects, one a Seat Builds for himself; one finds it in the Fleet. Then to the Wealthy, you will see denied. Comforts and Joys that with the Poor abide ; There arc who labour through the Year, and 3'et No more have gain'd than not to be in Debt ; Who still maintain the same laborious course. Yet Pleasure hails them from some favourite source; Ami Health, Amusements, Children, Wife or Friaid, With Life's dull views their Consolations blend. Letters.] trades. 109 Nor these alone possess the lenient power Of soothing Life in the desponding liour ; Some favonrite Studies, some delightful Cure, The Mind, with Trouble and Distresses, share ; And by a Coin, a Flower, a Verse, a Boat, The stagnant Spirits have been set afloat ; They plcas'd at first, and then the habit grew, Till the fond Heart no higher Pleasure knew ; Till (from all Cares and other Comforts frce'd) Th' important Nothing took in Life the lead. With all his Phlrgm, it broke a Dutchman's Heart, At a vast Price, with one lov'd Root to part ; And Toys like these fill many a British Mind, Although theii: Hearts are found of firmer kind. Oft have I smil'd the happy Pride to see Of humble Trasdesmen, in their Evening Glee ; When of some pleasing, fancied Good possest, Each grew alert, was busy, and was blest ; Whether the Cfl//-Bird yield the Hour's delight, Or, magnified in Microscope, the Mite ; Or whether Tumbles^ Croppers, Carriers seize The gentle Mind, they rule it and they please. There is my Friend the Weaver ; strong desires Reign in his breast ; tis Beauty he admires : See ! to the sliady Grove he wings his way. And feels in hope the Raptures of the Day Eager he looks ; and soon, to glad his eyes, "v From the sweet Bower, by Nature form'd, arise > Bright troops of virgin Moths and fresh-born Butterflies; j 110 TRADES. \^Lettei'S, Who broke that Mornincrfrom their half-year's Sleep, To fly o'er Flow'rs where they were wont to creep. Above the sovereign Oak, a Sovereign skims. The purple Enrp^ror^ strong in Wing and Limbs j There fair Camilla takes her Flight serene, Adonis blue, and Paphia silver-queen ; With every filmy Fly from Mead or Bower, And hungry Sphinx who threads the honey'd Flower j She o'er the Larkspur's Betl, where Sweets abound. Views ev'ry Bell, and hums th' approving Sound ; Pois'd on her busy Plumes, with Feeling nice She draws from every Flower, nor tries a Floret twice. He fears no Bailiff's wrath, no Baron's blame, His is untax'd and undisputed Game ; Nor less the place of curious Plant he knows * ; He both his Flora and his Fauna shows ; For him is blooming in its rich array. The glorious Flower which bore the palm away ; In vain a Rival tried his utmost art, His was the Prize, and joy o'erflow'd his heart. " This, this! is Beauty ; cast, I pray, your eyes " On this my Glory ! see the Grace, the Size ! ** Was ever Stem so tall, so stout, so strong, '* Exact in breadth, in just proportion, long ; ** These brilliant Hues are all distinct and clean, *^ No kindred Tint, uo blending Streaks between ; * In botanical language " the habitat,** the favourite soil or ituation of the more scarce species. Letters.'} trades. Ill " This is no shaded, ruii-ofF*, pin-ey'd + thin^, " A King of Flowers, a Flower for England's King : " I own ray pride, and tlmnk (lie favouring Star " Which shed such beauty on my fair Bizarre :|:." Thus may the Poor the cheap Indulgence seize, While the most Wealthy pine and pray for Ease ; Content not always waits upon Success, And more may he enjoy who profits less. Waltei' and William took (their Father dead) Jointly the Trade to which they both were bred ; When fix'd, thiey married, and they quickly found With due success their honest labours crown'd : Few were their Losses, but although a few, Walter was vex'd and somewhat peevish grew ; ' You put 3'our trust in every pleading Fool,' Said he to William^ and grew strange and cool. " Brother, forbear," he answered, *' take your due, " Nor let my lack of caution injure you :" * This, it must be acknowledged, is contrary to the opinion of Thomson, and I believe of some other poets who, in describing the varj'ing hues of our most beautiful flowers, have considered them a lost and blended with each other ; whereas tlieir beauty, in tlie eye of a florist (and I conceive in tliat of the uninitiated also), depends upon the distinctness of their colours : the stronger the bounding line, and the less they break into the neighbouring tint, so much tlie richer and more valuable is the flower esteemed. t Pin-ey'd An auricula, or any other single flower, is so called when the stigma (the part which arises from the seed-vessel) is pro- truded beyond the tube of the flower, and becomes visible. X This word, so far as it relate^ to flowers, means those variegated with three or more colours irregularly and indeterminately. T12 TRADES. {_Letfn 9. Half Friends lliey partctl, IwUer so to close, Than longer wait to jMirt entirely Foes. Trailer had Knowledge, Prudence, jealous Qire ; He let no idle Views his Bosom share ; He never thought nor felt for oilier Men * I^etone mind one, and all are minded then/ Friends he respected, and believ'd them just, But they were Men, and he would no Man trust ; He tried and watch'd his People day and nighf, The Good il harm'd not ; for the BjuI 'twas liglit ; He could their humours l)ear, nay disresi)cct, But he could yield no pardon to neglect ; That all about him were of hira afraid * Was right,' he said ' so should we be obey'd.' These Merchanl-maxims, much Good-fortune too, ^ And ever keeping one grand Point in view, > To vast Amount his once small Portion drew. 3 IVillinm was kind and easy ; he comi)lied With all requests, or griev'd when he denied ; To please his Wife he made a costly Trip, To please his Child he let a Bargain slip ; Prone to compassion, mild with the Distn-ss'd, n He bore w itii all who Poverty profest, > And some Avould he assist, nor one would he arrest : j He had some lo>s at Sea, bad Debts at Land, -^ His Clerk absconded with some Bills in hand, > And Plans so often fail'd that he no longer plann'd. J To a small House (his Brother's) he withdrew, At easy Rent the Man was not a Jew ; Letters.] trades. JJS And there his Losses and his Cares he bore, Nor found that want of Wealth could make him poor. No, he in fact was rich, nor could he more, But he was follow'd by the looks of Love ; All he had sufFer'd, every former Grief, Made those around more studious in relief; He saw a cheerful Smile in every Face, And lost all thoughts of Error and Disgrace. Pleasant it was to see them in their Walk Round their small Garden, and to hear them talk ; Free are their Children, but their Love refrains From all Offence none murmurs, none complains ; Whether a Book amus'd them, Speech or Play, Their looks were lively, and their Hearts were gay : There no forc'd efforts for Delight were made, Joy came with Prudence, and without Parade ; Their common Comforts they had all in view, Light were their Troubles and their Wishes few : Thrift made them easy for the coming Day, Religion took the dread of Death away ; A cheerful Spirit still insur'd Content, And Love smil'd round them whcresoe'er they went. Walter, meantime, with all his Wealth's increase, Gain'd many Points, but could not purchase Peace ; When he withdrew from Business for an hour, Some fled his Presence, all confess'd his Power ; He sought Affection, but received inste As sleeping to invite, or threatning to devour : 5 'Tis tills which gives us all our choicest Views, And dull the Mind they never can amuse. See ! those fair Nymphs upon that rising Strand, Yon long salt Lake has parted from the Land ; Letter^.'] amusements. 121 Well pleas'd to press that Path, so clean, so pure. To seetn in Danger, yet to feel secure ; Trifling with Terror, while they strive to shun The curling Billows ; laughing as they run ; They know the Neck that joins the Shore and Sea, Or, ah ! ho'w chang'd that fearless Laugh would be. Observe how various Parties take their way, By Sea-side Walks, or make the Sand-hills gay ; There grouped are laughing Maids and sighing Swains, And some apart wlio feel unpitied Pains ; Pains from Diseases, Pains which those who feel, To the Physician, not the Fair, reveal ; For Nymphs (propitious to the Lover's Sigh) Leave these poor Patients to complain and die. Lo ! where on that huge Anchor sadly leans That sick tall Figure, lost in other Scenes ; He late from India's Clime impatient sail'd. Where, as his Fortune grew, his Spirits fail'd ; For each Delight, in search of Wealth he went, For Ease alone, the Wealth acquir'd is spent And spent in vain ; enrich'd, aggriev'd, he sees The envied Poor possess'd of Joy and Ease : And now he flies from Place to Place, to gain Strength for Enjoyment, and still flies in vain : Mark ! with what Sadness, of that pleasant Crew, Boist'rous in Mirth, he takes a transient View ; And fixing then his Eye upon the Sea, Thinks what has been aud what must shortly be : Is it not strange that Man should Health destroy, For Joys that come when he is dead to Joy ? iWt AMVSEMBurTg. [^Letter 9. Now is it pleasant in the Summer-Eve, When a broad Shore retirinj^ Waters leave, Awhile to wait upon the firm fair Sand, When all is calm at Sea, all still at Land ; And there the Ocean's Produce to explore, As floating by, or rolling on the Shore ; Those living Jellies * which the Flesh inflame, Fierce as a Nettle, and from that its Name ; Some in huge masses, some that you may bring In the small compass of a Lady's ring ; Figured by Hand divine there's not a Gem Wrought by Man's Art to be compar'd to thera ; Soft, brilliant, tender, through the Wave they glow. And make the Moon-beam brighter where they flow. Involv'd in Sea-wrack, here you find a race, Which Science doubting, knows not where to place ; On Shell or Stone is dropt the Embryo-Seed, And quickly vegetates a vital Breed t. * Some of the smaller species of the Medusa (sea-nettle) are ex- quisitely beautiful : their form is nearly oval, varied with serrated longitudinal lines; they are extremely tender, and, by no means which I am acquainted with, can be preserved, for they soon dis- solve in either spirit of wine or water, and lose every vestige of their shape, and indeed of their substance : tlie larger species are found in misshapen masses of many pounds weight ; these, when handled, liave the effect of the nettle, and the stinging is often ac- companied or succeeded by the more unpleasant feeling, perhaps in a slight degree resembling that caused by the torpedo. f Various tribes and species of marine vermes are here meant: that which so nearly resembles a vegetable in its form, and perhaps in some ilegree, manner of growth, is the coralline called by natu- ralists Sertularia, of which there are many specfes in almost every Letter 9.] amusements. 123 While thus with pleasing wonder you inspect Treasures the Vulgar in their scorn reject, See as they float along th' entangled Weeds Slowly approach, upborn on bladdery Beads ; Wait till they land, and you shall then behold The fiery Sparks those tangled Frons' infold, Myriads of living Points * ; th' unaided Eye Can but the Fire and not the Form descry. And now your view upon the Ocean turn. And there the Splendour of the Waves discern ; Cast but a Stone, or strike them with an Oar, And you shall Flames within the Deep explore ; Or scoop the Stream phosphoric as you stand. And the cold Flame shall flash along your Hand ; When lost in wonder, you shall walk and gaze On Weeds that sparkle and on Waves that blaze.f The Ocean too has Winter- Views serene, When all you see through densest Fog is seen ; When you can hear the Fishers near at hand Distinctly speak, yet see not where they stand ; Or sometimes them and not their Boat discern, Or half-conceal'd some Figure at the Stern ; part of the coast. The animal protrudes its many claws (appa- rently in search of prey) from certain pellucid vesicles which pro- ceed from an horny, tenacious, branchy stem. * These are said to be a minute kind of animal of the same class; when it does not shine it is invisible to the naked eye. f For the cause or causes of this phenomenon, which is some- times, though rarely observed on our coasts, I must refer the reader to tlie writers on natural philosophy and natural history. ISA AMUSEMENTS. [Letter 9 The View 's all bounded, and from side to side Your utmost Prospect but a few ells wide ; Boys who, on Shore, to Sea the Pebble cast, "Will hear it strike against the viewless Mast ; While the stern Boatman growls his fierce disdain. At whom he knows not, whom he threats in vain. 'Tis pleasant then to view the Nets float past, Net after Net till you have seen the last ; And as you wait till all beyond you slip, A Boat comes gliding from an anchor'd Ship, Breaking the silence with the dipping Oar, And their own Tones, as labouring for the Shore ; Those measur'd Tones which with the Scene agree, And give a Sadness to Serenity. All Scenes like these the tender Maid should shun, Nor to a misty Beech in Autumn run ; Much should she guard against the Evening Cold, And her slight Shape with fleecy Warmth infold ; This she admits, but not with so much ease Gives up the Night- Walk when th' Attendants please : Her have I seen, pale, vapour'd through the Day, With crowded Parties at the midnight Play ; Faint in the Morn ; no powers could she exert, At Night with Pam delighted and alert ; In a small Shop she 's raflled with a Crowd, Breatird the thick Air, and cough'd and laugh'd aloud ; She who will tremble if her Eye explore ** The smallest monstrous Mouse that creeps on Floor ;" Whom the kind Doctor charg'd with shaking Head, At early Hour to quit the Beaux for Bed : Letter 9.] amusements. 125 She has, contemning Fear, gone down the Dance, Till she perceiv'd the rosy Morn advance ; Then has she wonder'd, fainting o'er her Tea, Her Drops and Julep should so useless be ; Ah ! sure her Joys must ravish every Sense, Who buys a portion at such vast Expence. Among those Joys 'tis one at Eve to sail On the broad River with a favouring Gale ; When no rough Waves upon the Bosom ride, But the Keel cuts, nor rises on the Tide ; Safe from the Stream the nearer Gunwale stands, Where playful Children trail their idle Hands, Or strive to catch long grassy Leaves that float On either side of the impeded Boat : What time the Moon arising shows the Mud, A shining Border to the silver Flood ; When by her dubious Light, the meanest Views, Chalk, Stones and Stakes obtain the richest Hues ; And when the Cattle as they gazing stand. Seem nobler Objects than when view'd from Land ; Then anchor'd Vessels in the way appear, And Sea-boys greet them as they pass " What cheer ?" The sleeping Shell-ducks at the sound arise, And utter loud their unharraonious Cries ; Fluttering they move their weedy Beds among. Or instant diving, hide their plumeless Young. Along the Wall, returning from the Town, The weary Rustic homeward wanders down ; Who stops and gazes at such joyous Crew, And feels this Envy rising at the View ; W AMUSEMENTS. ^Letter 9. He the light Speech and Laugh indignant hears, And feels more prest by Want, more vex'd by Fears, Ah ! go in peace, good Fellow, to thine Home, Nor fancy these escape the general Doom ; Gay as they seem, be sure with them are Hearts With Sorrow trietl ; there's Sadness in their Parts : If thou could'st see them when they think alone. Mirth, Music, Friends, and these Amusements gone; Could'st thou discover every secret 111 That pains their Spirit or resists their Will ; Could'st thou behold forsaken Love's Distress, Or Envy's Pang at Glory and Success, Or Beauty, conscious of the Spoils of Time, Or Guilt alarm'd when Memory shows the Crime ; All that gives Sorrow, Terror, Grief and Gloom ; Content would cheer thee trudging to thine Home *. There are, 'tis true, who lay their Cares aside. And bid some Hours in calm Enjoyment glide ; Perchance some Fair-one to the sober Night Adds (by the Sweetness of her Song) Delight ; And as the Music on the Waters float, ' Some bolder Shore returns the soften 'd Note : Then, Youth, beware, for all around conspire To banish Caution and to wake Desire ; * This is not oflfered as a reasonable source of contentment, but as one motive for resignation : there would aot be so much envy if there were more discernment. Letter 9.] amusements. 127 The Day's Amusement, Feasting, Beauty, Wine, -v These Accents sweet and this soft Hour combine, > When most unguarded then, to win that Heart of thine : j But see, tliey land ! the fond Enchantment flies, And in its place Life's common Views arise. Sometimes a Party, row'd from Town, will land On a small Islet form'd of shelly Sand, Left by the Water when the Tides are low. But which the Floods in their return o'erflow ; There will they anchor, pleas'd awhile to view The watery Waste, a Prospect wild and new ; The now receding Billows give them space, On either side the growing Shores to pace ; And then returning, they contract the Scene, Till small and smaller grows the Walk between ; As Sea to Sea approaches, Shores to Shores, Till the next Ebb the sandy Isle restores. Then what alarm ! what danger and dismay, If all their trust, their Boat should drift away ; And once it happen'd Gay the Friends advanc'd, They walk'd, they ran, they play'd,they sang,they danc'd; The Urns were boiling, and the Cups went round, And not a grave or thoughtful Face was found ; On the bright Sand they trod with nimble Feet, Dry shelly Sand that made the Summer-seat ; The wondering Mews flew fluttering o'er the Head, And Waves ran softly up their shining Bed. Some form'd a Party from the rest to stray, Pleas'd to collect the Trifles in their way ; ^ JliB AMUSEMENTS. [^Letter 9. These to behold they call their Friends around, No Friends can hear or hear another sound ; Alarm'd, they hasten, yet perceive not why, But catch the Fear that quickens as they fly. For lo ! a Lady sage, who pac'd the Sand "With her fair Children, one in either hand. Intent on home, had turn'd, and saw the Boat Slipt from her Moorini^s and now far afloat ; She gaz'd, she trembled, and though faint her call, It seem'd, like thunder, to confound them all. Their Sailor-Guides, the Boatman and his Mate, Had drank and slept regardksa of their stale ; *' Awake," tliey cried aloud ! " Alarm the Shore ! " Shout all, or never shall we reach it more !" Alas! no Shout the distant Land can reach. Nor Eye behold them from the (oggy Beacli ; Again they join in one loud powerful Cry, % Then cease, and eager listt n for reply, > None came the rising Wind blew sadly by : ^ They shout once more, and then they turn aside. To see how quickly flow'd the coming Tide ; Between each Cry tliey find the W aters steal On their strange Prison, and new Horrors feel ; Foot after foot on the contracted Ground The Billows fall, and dreadful is the sound ; JjCss and yet less the sinking Lie became, And there was WaiUng, W eeping, Wrath and Blame. Had one been there, with Spirit strong and high, Who could observe, as he prepar'd to die, He might have seen of Hearts the varying kind. And traced the movement of each different Mind : Letter 9.'] amusements. 129 He might have seen, that not the identic Maul Was more than stern and haughty Man afraid ; Such calmly-errievirig, will their Fears suppress, And silent Prayers (o Mercy's Throne address ; While fiercer Minds, impatient, angry, loud. Force their vain Grief on the reluctant Crowd : TJie Party's Patron, sorely sighing, cried, " Why would you urge me ? I at first denied." Fiercely they answer'd, ' Why will you complain, * Who saw no Danger, or was warn'd in vain ?' A few essay 'd the troubled Soul to calm, But Dread prevail'd, and Anguish and Alarm. Now rose the Water through the lessening Sand, And they seem'd sinking while they yet could stand ; The Sun went down, they look'd from side to side, Nor aught except the gathering Sea descry'd ; Dark and more dark, more wet, more cold it grew, And the most lively bade 1o Hope adieu j Children by Love, then lifted from the Seas, Felt not the Wafers at the Parents' knees. But wept aloud ; the Wind increas'dthe sound, And the cold Billows as they broke around. " Once more, yet once again, with all our strength, " Cry to the Land we may be heard at length." Vain hope if yet unseen ! but hark ! an Oar, That sound of bliss ! comes dashing to their Shore ; Still, still the Water rises, " Haste!" they cry, " Oh ! hurjy, Seamen, in delay we die :" (Seamen Mere these who in their Ship perceiv'd The drifted Boat, and thus her Crew rcliev'd.) K 130 AMUSEMENTi. ^Letter 9. And now the Keel just cuts the covered Sand, Now to the Gunwale stretches every Hand ; With trembling Pleasure all confus'd embark, And kiss the Tackling of their welcome Ark ; While the most giddy, as they reach the Shore, Think of their Danger, and their God adore. LETTER X. CLUBS AND SOCIAL MEETINGS. Non inter lances mensasque nitentei Cam stupet iusanis acies fnlgroribus, et citm Acclivii falsis animus meliora recusal ; Vermn hie impraosi mecum disqatrite. Hor. Sat. S. O prodiga reram Luzaries, nnnquam parvo contenta paratu, Et qnzsitorum terr^ pelagoque ciborum Ambitiosa fames et lauts gloria mensz. Lacan. lib. i. Et qase non prMunt singula, juucta juyant* Rofticns aj^ricolam, miles fera bella gerentem, Kectorem dubia navita puppis amat. evid. Pont. lib. 2. CLUBS AND SOCIAL MEETINGS. Desire of Country Gentlemen for Town Associations. Book- clubs. Too much of literary Character expected from them. Literary Conversation prevented : by Feasting : by Cards. Good, notwithstanding, results. Card-Club with eagerness resorted to. Players. Umpires at the Whist- 'J'able. = Petulences of Temper there discovered. Frce- and-Easy Club : not perfectly easy or free. Freedom how mterrupted. The superior Member. Termination of the Evening. Drinking and Smoking Clubs. The Midnight Conversation of the delaying Members. Society of the poorer Inhabitants : its Use : gives Pride and Consequence to the humble Character. Pleasant Habitations of tlie frugal Poor. Sailor returning to his Family. Free-Masons' Club. The Mystery. What its Origin. Its professed Ad- vantages. Griggs and Gregorians. A kind of Masons. Kcilcctions on these various Socictits. LETTER X. CLUBS AND SOCIAL MEETINGS. X ou say you envy in your calm Retreat Our social Meetings ; 'tis with joy we meet : In these our Parties you are pleas'd to find Good Sense and Wit, with Intercourse of Mind ; Compos'd of Men who read, reflect and write, Who, when they meet, must yield and share Delight To you our Book-Cluh has peculiar charm, For which you sicken in your quiet Farm j Here you suppose us at our leisure plac'd, Enjoying Freedom, and displaying Taste ; With Wisdom cheerful, temperately gay, Pleas'd to enjoy, and willing to display. If thus your Envy gives your Ease its Gloom, Give Wings to Fancy and among us come. We 're now assembled ; you may soon attend I'll introduce you " Gentlemen, my Friend." *' Now are you happy ? you have past a night " In gay Discourse, and rational Delight." ISl CLUBS AND SOCIAL MEETINGS. {^Letter 10. * Alas, not so ; for how can Mortals tbink, * Or Thoughts exchange, if thus they eat and drink ? * No ! I confess, when we had fairly din'd, ' That was no time for Intercourse of Mind ; * There was each Dish prepar'd with Skill t' invite * And to detain the struggling Appetite ; * On such occasions Minds with one consent' * Are to the Comforts of the Body lent ; ' There was no pause the Wine went quickly round, ' Till struggling Fancy was by Bacchus bound ; * Wine is to Wit as Water thrown on Fire, ' By duly sprinkling both are rais'd the higher ; * Thus largely dealt, the vivid Blaze they choke, * And all the genial Flame goes off in Smoke.' ' But whcu no more your Boards these Loftds contain, * When Wine no more o'erwhelms the labouring Brain, ' But serves, a gentle stimulus ; we know, ' How Wit must sparkle, and how Fancy flow.' It might be so, but no such Club-days come, Wc always find these Darnpers in the Room : If to converse were all that brought us here, A few odd Members would in turn appear ; Who dwelling nigh, would saunter in and out, O'erlook the List, and toss the Books about ; Or yawning read them, walking up and down, Just as the Loungers in the Shops in Town ; Till fancying nothing would their Minds amuse, They 'd push them by, and go in search of News. But our Attractions area stronger sort, The earliest Dainties and the oldest Port ; Letter 10.] clubs and social meetings. 135 All enter then with glee in every look, And not a Member thinks about a Book. Still let me own, there are some vacant Hours, When Minds might Avork and Men exert their Powers E'er Wine to Folly spurs the giddy Guest, But gives to Wit its vigour and its zest ; Then might we reason, might in turn display Our several Talents, and be wisely gay ; We might but who a tame Discourse regards, When Whist is nam'd, and we behold the Cards ? We from that time are neither grave nor gay. Our Thought, our Care, our Business is to play ; Fix'd on these Spots and Figures, each attends Much to his Partners, nothing to his Friends. Our public Cares, the long, the warm Debate, That kept our Patriots from their Beds so late ; War, Peace, Invasion, all we hope or dread, Vanish like Dreams when Men forsake their Bed ; And groaning Nations and contending Kings Are all forgotten for these painted Things : Paper and Paste, vile Figures, and poor Spots, Level all Minds, Philosophers and Sots ; And give an equal Spirit, Pause and Force, Join'd with peculiar. Diction, to Discourse : * Who deals ? you led we're three by Cards had you * Honour in hand ?' " Upon my Honour two." Hour after hour. Men thus contending sit. Grave without Sense, and pointed without Wit. 136 CLUtiS AND SOCIAL MEETINGS. [LetlfT 10. Tbus it appears these envied Clubs possess No certain means of social Happiness : Yet there 's a ^ootl tliat flows from Scenes like these, Man meets with Man at leisure and at ease; We to our Neighbours and our J>jur\ls come, And rub off Pride that Man contracts at home ; For there, admitted Master, he is prone To claim Attention and io talk alone ; But here he meets with neither Son nor Spouse, No humble Cousin to his biddins: Bows ; To his raised Voice his Neighbours' Voices rise, 'Jo his high Look as lofty liook replies ; When much he speaks, he finds that Ears are clos'd, And certain Signs inform him when he's pros'd ; Here all the value of a Listener know, And claim, in turn, the Favour they bestow. No Pleasure gives the Speech, when all would speak. And all in vain a civil Hearer seek. To Chance alone we owe the free Discourse, Jn vain you purpose what you cannot force ; ' Tjs when the favourite Themes unbidden spring, That Fancy soars with such unwearied Wing ; Then may you call in aid the moderate Glass, But let it slowly and unprompte SOCIAL MEETINGS. [Letter 10. Here Avarice first, the keen desire of Gain, Rules in esicli Heart and works in every Brain ; Alike the Veteran-Dames and Virjjins feel, Nor care what Grey-beards or what Striplings deal : Sex, Aj^e, and Station, vanish from their view, And Gold, theirsov'rei^^ ?ood, the minsjled Crowd pursue. Hence they are jealous, and as Rivals, keep A watchful Eye on the beloved Heap ; Meantime Discretion bids the Tongue be still. And mild Good-humour strives with strong Ill-will : Till Prudence fails ; when, all impatient grown. They make their Grief, by their Suspicions, known. " Sir, I protest, were Job himself at play, '* He 'd rave to see you throw your Cards away ; " Not that 1 care a button not a pin ** For what 1 lose ; but we had Cards to win : '^ A Saint in Heaven would grieve to see such Hand " Cut up by one who will not understand." * Complain of me ! aad so you might indeed, * If I had vcntur'd on that foolish I^ead, That fatal Heartbut 1 forgot your Play * Some Folk have ever thrown their Hearts away.' *^ Yes, and their Diamonds : 1 have heard of one " Who made a Beggar of an only Son." * Better a Beggar, than to see him tied * To Art and Spite, to Insolence and Pride.* \ Letter lO.J clubs and social meetings. 1S9 " Sir, were I you, I 'd strive to be polite, " Agaiust my Nature, for a single Night." * Against their Nature they might show their Skill ' With small Success, AvhoVe Maids against (heir will/ Is this too much ? alas ! my bashful Muse Cannot with half their Virulence abuse. And hark ! at other Tables Discord reigns, With feign'd Contempt for Losses and for Gains ; Passions awhile are bridled ; then they rage. In waspish Youth, and in resentful Age ; With scraps of Insult " Sir, when next you play, " Reflect whose Money 'tis you throw away. *' No one on Earth can less such things regard, ' But when one's Partner does'nt know a Card " * I scorn Suspicion, Ma'am, but while you stand ' Behind that Lady, pray keep down your Hand.' ' Good Heav'n revoke ! remember, if the Set * Be lost, in honour you should pay the Debt.' " There, there's your Money ; but, while I have life, " I'll never more sit down with Man and Wife ; " They snap and snarl indeed, but in the heat " Of all their Spleen, their Understandings meet ; '* They are Free- Masons, and have many a Sign, " That we, poor devils ! never can divine : " May it be told, do ye divide th' Amount, " Or goes it all to Family Account ?" 140 CLUBS AND SOCIAL MEETINGS. [^ZjCtteT 10. Next is the Club, where to their Friends in Town, Our country Neighbours once a Month come down ; We term it Free- and- East/, and yet we Find it no easy matter to be free : Ev'n in our small Assembly, Friends among, Are Mintls perverse, there 's somethintj will be wrong ; Men are not equal ; some will claim a right To be the Kings and Heroes of the Night ; Will their own favourite Themes and Notions starl^ And you must hear, offend them, or depart. There comes Sir Thomas from his Village-Seal, Happy he tells us all his Friends to meet ; He brings the ruin'd Brother of his Wife, Whom he sup]K)rts, and niakes him sick of Life ; A ready Witness whom he can produce Of all his Deeds a Butt for his Abuse : Soon as he enters, has the Guests espied, Drawn to the Fire, and to the Glass applied " Well, what's the Subject ? what arc you about ? ** The News, I take it come, I'll help you out ;" And then, without one Answer, he bestows Freely upon us all he hears and knows ; Gives us Opinions, tells us how he votes, Recites the Speeches, adds to them his Notes, And gives old ill-told Talcs for new-born Anecdotes Yet cares he nothing what we judge or think, Our only Duty 's to attend and drink : * M length, admonish'dby his Gout, he ends The various Speech, and leaves at peace his Friends 3 But now, alas ! we Ve lost the pleasant Hour, And Wisdom flies from Wine's superior power. J Letter 10.] clubs and social meetings, 141 Wine, like the rising Sun, Possession .^ains, And drives the raist of Dulness from the Brains ; The gloomy Vapour from the Spirit flies, And views of Gaiety and Gladness rise : Still it proceeds ; till from the glowing Heat, The Prudent calmly to their Shades retreat ; Then is the Mind o'ercast in wordy Rage And loud Contention angry Men engage ; Then Spleen and Pique, like Fire-works, thrown in spite, To Mischief turn the Pleasures of the Night ; Anger abuses, Malice loudly rails. Revenge awakes, and Anarchy prevails : Till Wine, that rais'd the Tempest, makes it cease, And maudlin Love insists on instant Peace ; He, noisy Mirth and roaring 3ong commands, Gives idle Toasts, and joins unfriendly Hands ; Till fuddled Friendship vows Esteem and weeps, And jovial Folly drinks and sings and sleeps. A Club there is of Smokers Dare you come To that close, clouded, hot, narcotic Room ? When Midnight past, the very Candles seem Dying for Air and give a ghastly Gleam ; When curling Fumes in lazy Wreaths arise, And prosing Topers rub their Avinking Eyes ; When the long Tale, renew'd when last they met, Is splic'd anew, and is unfinish'd yet ; When but a few are left the House to tire. And they half-sleeping by the sleepy Fire ; Ev'n the poor ventilating Vane, that flew Of late so fast, is now grown drowsy too j 142 CLVBS AND 80CIAL MEETINGS. [^Letter 10. When sweet, cold, clammy Pauch its aid bestows, Then thus the Midnight Conversation flows : " Then, as I said, and mind m& as I say, " At our last Meeting you remember'* * Aye ;' " Well, very well then freely as I drink ** I spoke my Thought you take me what I think : " And Sir," said I, *' If I a Freeman be, *' It is my bounden Duty to be free." * Aye, there you pos'd him : I respect the Chair, * But Man is Man, although the Man's a Mayor : * If Muggins live no, no ! if Muggins die, * He '11 quit his Office Neighbour, shall I try ?' " I 'II speak my Mind for here are none but Friends : " Tliey 're all contending for their private ends ; No public Spirit once a Vote would bruig, I say a Vote was then a pretty thing. It made a Man to serve his Country and his King But for that Place, that Muggins must resign, You 'vc my advice 'tis no affair of mine." } The Poor-Man has his Club, he comes and spends His hoarded Pittance with his chosen Friends; Nor this alone, a Monthly Dole he pays, To be assisted when his Health decays ; Some part his Prudence, from the Day's Supply, For Cares and Troubles in his Age, lays by ; The printed Rules he guards with painted Frame, And shows his Children where to read his Name ; lletter 10.] clubs and social meetings. 143 Those simple Words his honest Nature move, That Bond of Union tied by Laws of Love : This is his Pride, it gives to his Employ New Value, to his Home another Joy ; While a religious Hope its balm applies For all his Fate inflicts and all his State denies. \ Much would it please you, sometimes to explore The peaceful Dwellings of our Borough Poor ; To view a Sailor just return'd from Sea, His Wife beside ; a Child on either Knee, And others crowding near, that none may lose The smallest Portion of the welcome News ; What Dangers past, " when Seas ran Mountains high, *' When Tempests rav'd, and Horrors veil'd the Sky ; " When Prudence fail'd, when Courage grew dismayed, *' When the Strong fainted, and the Wicked pray'd, " Then in the yawning Gulph far down we drove, " And gaz'd upon the billowy Mount above ; * Till up that Mountain, swinging with the Gale, " We view'd the Horrprs of the watery Vale." The trembling Children look with stedfast Eyes, And panting, sob involuntary Sighs : Soft Sleep awhile his torpid touch delays, And all is Joy and Piety and Praise. Masons are ours. Free- Masons but, alas ! To their own Bards I leave the mystic Class ; In vain shall one, and not a gifted Man, Attempt to sing of this enlightened Clan : 144 CLUBS AND sooiAL MEETINGS. {^Letter 10. I know no Word, boast no directing Sign, And not one Token of tljc Race is mine ; Wlietlicr with Hiram, that wise Widow's Son, Thcj came from Tjp'e io royal Sohmon, Two Pillars raising by their skill profound, Boaz and Jachin through the East renownM : Whether the sacred Books their Rise express, Or Books profane, 'tis vain for me to guess ; It may be, lost in Date remote and high, They know not what their own Antiquity ; It may be too, deriv'd from Cause so low, They have no wish their Origin to show : If, as Crusaders, they combiii'd to wrest From heathen Lords the Land (hry long posscss*d ; Or were at first some harmless Club who made Their idle Meetings solemn by Parade ; Is but conjecture for the Task imfit, Awe-struck and mu(e, the puzzling Theme I quit : Yet, if such Blessing from their Order flow. We should be glad their Moral Code to know ; Trowels of Silver are but simple things. And Aprons worthless as their Apron-Strings ; But if indeed you have the Skill to teach A social Spirit, now beyond our reach ; li Man's warm Passions you can guide and bind, And plant the Virtues in the wayward Mind; If you can wake to Christjan-Love the Heart, In mercy, something of your Powers impart. But as it seems we Masons must become To know the Secret, and must then be dumb ; And as we venture for uncertain Gains, Perhaps the Profit is not worth the Pains. Letter 10.^ clubs and social meetings. 145 When Bruce, that dauntless Traveller, thought he stood On Nile^s first Risie ! the Fountain of the Flood, And drank exulting in the sacred Spring, The Critics told him it was no such thing ; That Springs unnumber'd round the Country ranj But none could show him where the first began: So might we feel, sliould we our time bestow, To gain these Secrets and these Signs to know ; Might question still if all the Truth we found, And firmly stood upon the certain Ground ; We might our Title to the Mystery dread. And fear we drank not at the River-head. Griggs and Gregorians here their Meetings hold, Convivial Sects, and Bucks alert and bold ; A kind of Masons, but without their Sign ; The bonds of Union Pleasure, Song, and Wine : Man, a gregareous Creature, loves to fly Where he the Trackings of the Herd can spy ; Still to be one with many he desires j Although it leads him throuarh the Thorns and Briers. *& A few ! but few there are, who in the Mind Perpetual source of Consolation find ; The weaker many to the World will come. For Comforts seldom to be found from home* When the faint Hands no more a Brimmer hold, When Flannel-wreaths the useless Limbs infold, The Breath impeded, and the Bosom cold ; 146 CLUBS AHD SOCIAL MEETINSS. [Letter 10. When half (he pillow'd Man the Palsy chains, And the Blood falters in the bloated Veins, Then as our Friends no further Aid supply, Than IIoixj's cold Phrase and Courtesy's soft Sigh, We should that Comfort for ourselves ensure, Which Friends could not, if we could Friends, procure. Early in Life, when we can laugh aloud. There's sometliing plensant in a Social Crowd, Who laugh with us but will such Joy remain, When we lie struggling on the Bctl of Pain ? When our Physician tells us with a Sigh, No more on Hope and Science to rely. Life's Staff is useless then ; with labouring Breath Wc pray for Hope divine the Staff of Death This is a Scene which few Companions grace. And where the Heart's first Favourites yield their Place. Here all the Aid of Man to Man must end. Here mounts the Soul to her eternal Friend ; The tenderest Love must here its tye resign, And give th' aspiring Heart to Love divine. Man feels his Weakness, and to Numbers run, Himself to strengthen, or himself to shun ; But though to this our Weakness may be prone, Let's learn to live, for we must die aluue. LETTER XI. INNS. ALL the Comforts of Life ia a Tavera are koown, ''lis his Home who possesst^ not one of hU own ; And to him who has rather too much of that oui-, Tis the House of a Fiieml where he's welcome to run: The iustaut jou enter my Door you're my Lord, With whose Taste and whose Pleasure I'm proud to accord; And the louder you call and the longer you stay. The more I am happy to serve and obey. To the House of a Friend if you're pleas'd to retire. You must alt thios^s admit, yoa mu.-'t alt things admire; You mufobles, whom the Crowd correct. Wealthy Men, whom Duns pursue; Beauties, shrinking from the View Of the Daj's detecting Rye ; Ijovers, who with much ado liong-forsaken Damsels woo, Aod heave the ill-feign-d Sigfa. These are Misers craving Means Of Existence through the Day, Famous Scholars, conning Scenes Of a dull bewildering Play; Ragged Beaux and Misses ^rey. Whom the Rabble praise and blame ; Proud and mean, and sad and gay. Toiling after Fase are they, Infemous*, and boasting Fame. \ SroUtng Playert are thus tuld in a legal tense. M PLAYERS. They arrive in the Borough. Welcomed by their former Friends. Are better fitted for Comic than Tragic Scenes : yet better approved in the latter by one part of their Audience. ^Their general Character and Pleasantry. Particular Dis- tresses and Labours. ^Their Fortitude and Patience. A private. Rehearsal. The Vanity of the aged Actress. An Heroine from the Milliner's Shop. A deluded Tradesman. Of what Per- sons the Company is composed. Character and Adventures of Frederic Thompson. LETTER Xlf. PLAYERS. Urawh by the annual Call, we now behold Our Troop Dramatic, Heroes known of old, ^ And those, since last they march'd, inlisted and enroU'd : Mounted on Hacks or borne in Waggons some, The rest on Foot (the humbler Brethren) come. Three favour'd Places, an unequal Time, Join to support this Company sublime ; Ours for the longer Period see how light Yon Parties move, their former Friends in sight, Whose Claims are all allow'd, and Friendship glads I the Night. Now public Rooms shall sound with Words divine, And private Lodgings hear how Heroes shine ; No talk of Pay shall yet on Pleasure steal. But kindest Welcome bless the friendly Meal ; While o'er the social Jug and decent Cheer, Shall be describ'd the Fortunes of the Year. Peruse tliese Bills and see what each can do, Behold ! the Prince, the Slave, the Monk, the Jew ; 164 ' PLAYEiis. [Letter 12. Chanfi^ but the Garment, and they 'II all engage To take each Part, and act in every Age : Cull'd from all Houses, what an House are they ! Swept from all Barns, our Borough-Critics say ; But with some Portion of a Critic's Ire, We all endure them : there are some admire ; They might have Praise, confin'd to Farce alone, Full well they grin, they should not try to groan ; But then our -Servants' and our Seamen's Wives Love all that Rant and Rapture as their Lives ; He who Squire RichardTs Fart could well sustain. Finds as King Richard he must roar amain ** My Horse ! my Horse !" Lo ! now to their Abodes, Come Lords and Lovers, Empresses and Gods. The Master-mover of these Scenes has made No trifling Gain in this adventurous Trade ; Trade we may term it, for he duly buys Arms out of use and undirected Eyes ; These he instructs, and guides them as he can, And vends each Night the manufactur'd Man : Long as our Custom lasts, they gladly stay, Then strike their Tents, like Tartars ! and away ! The Place grows bare where they too long remain, Dui Grass will rise e'er they return again. Children of Thespis, welcome ! Knights and Queens ! Counts! Barons! Beauties! when before your Scenes, And mighty Monarchs thund'ring from your Throne ; Then step behind, and all your Glory's gone : Of Crown and Palace, Throne and Guards bereft. The Pomp is vanish'd, and the Care is left. Yet strong and lively u the Joy they feel, WbcD the full House secures the plenteous Meal ; Letter 12.] players. 165 Flatt'ring and flatter'd ; each attempts to raise A Brother's Merits for a Brother's Praise : For never Hero shows a prouder Heart, Than he who proudly acts an Hero's Part ; Nor without Cause ; tlie Boards, we know, can yield Place for fierce Contest, like the tented Field. Graceful to tread the Stage, to be in turn The Prince we honour and the Knave we spurn ; Bravely to bear the Tumult of the Crowd, The Hiss tremendous, and the Censure loud ; These are their Parts, and he who these sustains, Deserves some Praise and Profit for his Pains. Heroes at least of gentler kind are they, Against whose Swords no weeping Widows pray, No Blood their Fury sheds, no Havock marks their | Way. Sad happy Race ! soon rais'd and soon deprest, Your Days all past in Jeopardy and Jest ; Poor without Prudence, with Afflictions vain, Not warn'd by Misery, not enrich'd by Gain; Whom Justice pitying, chides from Place to Place, A wandering, careless, wretched, merry Race, Who cheerful Looks assume, and play the Parts Of happy Rovers with repining Hearts ; Then cast off Care, and in the mimic Pain Of tragic Woe, feel Spirits light and vain, Distress and Hojse the Mind's, the Body's Wear, The Man's Affliction, and the Actor's Tear : Alternate times of Fasting and Excess Are yours, ye smiling Children of Distress. 166 PLAYERS. {^Letter 12. Slavesthough joubc, yourWaiiderincrFrccdom seems, \ And with your varying Views and restless Schemes, > Your Griefs are transient, as your Joys are Dreams. 5 Yet keen those Griefs ah ! what avail thy Charms, Fair Juliet ! what that Infnnt in thine Arras ; What those heroic Li?ies lly Patience learns, What all the Aid thy present Romeo earns. Whilst thou art crowdetl in that lumbering Wane, With all thy plaintive Sisters to complain ? Nor is there hick of Labour To rehearse, Day after Day, poor Scraps of Prose and Verse ; To bear each other's Spirit, Pride and Spite ; To hide in Rant the Heart-ach of the Night ; To dress in gaudy Patch-work, and to force The Mind to think in the appointed Course; This is laborious, and may be dcfin'd The bootless Labour of the thriftless Mind. There is a veteran Dame ; I see her stand Intent and pensive with her Book in hand ; Awhile her Thoughts she forces on her Part, Then dwells on Objects nearer to the Heart ; Across the Room she paces, gets her Tone, And fits her Features for the Danish Throne ; To-night a Queen I mark her Motion slow, I hear her Speech, and HanileCa Mother know. Methinks Ui^ pityful to see her try, For strength of Arms and energy of Eye ; With Vigour lost, and Spirits worn away, Her Pomp and Pride she labours (o display ; Ijetter 12. j playeus. 167 And when awhile she 's tried her Part to act, To find her Tlioughts arrested by some Fact ; When Struggles more and more severe are seen, In the plain Actress than the Danish Queen, At length she feels her Part, she finds Delight, And fancies all the Plaudits of the Night : Old as she is, she smiles at every Speech, And thinks no youthful Part beyond her reach ; But as the Mist of Vanity again Is blown away, by press of present Pain, Sad and in doubt she to her I'urse applies For cause of Comfort, where no Comfort lies ; Then to her Task she sighing turns again, *' Oh ! Hamlet.^ thou hast cleft my Heart in twain." And who that poor, consumptive, withcr'd thing. Who strains her slender Throat and strives to sing ? Panting for Breath, and forc'd her Voice to drop, And far unlike the Inmate of the Shop, Where she, in Youth and Health, alert and gay, Laugh 'd off at Night the Labours of the Day ; With Novels, Verses, Fancy's fertile Powers, And Sister-Converse past the Evening-Hours ; But Cynthia's Soul was soft, her Wishes strong, Her Judgment weak, and her Conclusions wrong : The Morning-call and Counter were her Dread, And her Contempt the Needle and the Thread : But when she read a gentle Damsel's Part, Her Woe, her Wish ! she had them all by heart. At length the Hero of the Boards drew nigh, Who spake of Love till Sigh re-echoed Sigh ; 168 PLAYERS. \^Letter If. He told in honey 'd Words his deathless Flame, And she his own by tender Vows became ; Nor Ring nor Licence needed Souls so fond, Alphonso^s Passion was his Cj/nthias Bond : And thus the simple Girl, to Shame bctray'd. Sinks to the Grave forsaken and dismay'd. Sick without Pity, sorrowing without Hope, See her ! the Grief and Scandal of the Troop ; A wretched Martyr to a childish Pride, Her Woe insulted, and her Praise denied : Her humble Talents, though derided, us'd, Her Prosj)ects lost, her Confidence abus'd ; All that remains for she not long can brave Increase of Evils is an early Grave : Ye gentle Ci/ntkias of the Shop, take heed What Dreams ye cherish and what Books ye read. A decent Sura had Peter Noilage made. By joining Bricks to him a thriving Trade : Of his Employment Master and his Wife, Tfiis humble Tradesman led a lordly Life ; The House of Kings and Heroes lack'd Repairs, And Peter, though reluctant, scrv'd the Players: Connected thus, he heard in way polite, " Come, Master Nottage, see us play to-night." At first 'twas Folly, Nonsense, idle Stuff*, But seen for nothing it grew well enough ; Anil better now now best, and every Night, In this Fool's Paradise he drank Delight ; And as he felt the Bliss, he wish'd to know Whence all this Rapture and these Joys could flow ; Letter 12.] playeiis. 169 For if the seeing could such Pleasure bring, What must the feeling ? feeling like a King ? In vain his Wife, his Uncle and his Friend Cried *^ Peter! Peter! let such Follies end ; " 'Tis well enough these Vagabonds to see, " But would you Partner with a Showman be ?" * Showman !' said Peter ^ * did not Quin and Clive^ ' And Roscius-Garrick by the Science thrive ? ' Showman ! 'tis Scandal ; I 'm by Genius led * To join a Class who've Shakspeare at their head.* Poor Peter thus by easy steps became A dreaming Candidate for scenic Fame, And, after Years consum'd, infirm and poor, He sits and takes the Tickets at the Door. Of various Men these marching Troops are made, Pen-spurning Clerks, and Lads contemning Trade ; Waiters and Servants by Confinement teiz'd, And Youths of Wealth by Dissipation eas'd ; AVith feeling Nymphs, who, such resource at hand. Scorn to obey the rigour of Command ; Some, who from higher Views by Vice are won, And some of either Sex by Love undone ; The greater Part lamenting as their Fall, What some an Honour and Advancement call. There are who Names in Shame or Fear assume, And hence our Bevilles and our Savilles come ; It honours him, from Taylor's Board kick'd down, As Mister Dormer to amuse the Town ; Falling, he rises : but a kind there arc Who dwell on former ProspectiJ, and dcspiiir ; Justly but vainly they their Fate deplore, And mourn their Fall who fell to rise no more. Our Merchant Thompson^ with his Sons around, Most Mind and Talent in his Frederic found : He was so lively, that his Mother knew, If he were taught, that Honour must ensue ; It was not quite within the Merchant's line To think of College, but the Boy would shine Then should he go he 'd prosper, none could doubr. And School-boy Stigmas would be all wash'd out ; For there were marks upon his youthful Face, 'Twixt Vice and Error a neglected case These would submit to Skill ; a little time, And none could trace the Error or the Crime ; Then let him go, and once at College, he Might clioose his Station what would Frederic he : 'Twas soon determin'd lie could not descend To Pedant-Iiaws and Lectures without end ; And then the Chapel Night and Morn to pray, Or mulct and threatened if he kept away ; No ! not to be a Bikhop so he swore. And at his College lie was seen no more. His Debts all paid, the Father with a sigh, Plac'd him in Olhcc: " Do, my Frederic^ try ; ** Confine thyself a few short Months, and then ' He tried a Fortnight, and threw down the Pen. Letter 12.2 players. 171 Again Demands were hush'd : " My Son, you 're free, " But you 're unsettled ; take your chance at Sea :" So in few Days the Midshipman equip'd, Receiv'd the Mother's Blessing and was ship'd. Hard was her Fortune ! soon compell'd to meet The wretched Stripling staggering through the Street; For, rash, impetuous, insolent and vain, The Captain sent him to his Friends again : About the Borough rov'd th' unhappy Boy, And ate the Bread of every Chance-employ ; Of Friends he borrow'd, and the Parents yet In secret Fondness authoriz'd the Debt ; The younger Sister, still a Child, was taught To give with feign'd Affright the Pittance sought ; For now the Father cried ' It is too late ' For Trial more I leave him to his Fate,' Yet left him not ; and with a kind of Joy The Mother heard of her desponding Boy : At length he sicken'd, and he found, when sick, All Aid was ready, all Attendance quick ; A Fever seiz'd him, and at once was lost The thoughts of Trespass, Error, Crime and Cost ; Th' indulgent Parents knelt beside the Youth, They heard his Promise and believ'd his Truth ; And when the Danger lessen'd on their View, They cast off Doubt, and Hope Assurance grew ; Nurst by his Sisters, cherish 'd by his Sire, Beg'd to be glad, encourag'd to aspire, His Life, they said, would now all Care repay, And he might date his Prospects from that Day ; A Son, a Brother to his Home receiv'd, i They hop'd for all things, and in all believ'd. 172 PLAYERS. [Lcllcr IS. And now will Pardon, Comfort, Kindness, draw The Youth from Vice ? will Honour, Duly, Law ? Alas ! not all : the more the Trials lent, The less he seem'd to ponder and repent ; Headstrong, determin'd in his own Career, He thought Reproof unjust and Truth severe ; The Soul's Disease was to its crisis come. He first abus'd and then abjur'd his Home ; And when he chose a Vagabond to be. He made his Shame his Glory " I'll be free." Vice, dreadful habit ! when assum'd so long, Becomes at length inveterately strong ; As more indulg'd, it gains the Strength we lose. Maintains its Conquests and extends its Views ; Till the whole Soul submitting to its Chains, It takes possession, and for ever reigns. Friends, Parents, Relatives, Hope, Reason, Love, With anxious Ardour for that Empire strove; In vain their Strife, in vain the Means applied, They had no Comfort, but that all were tried ; One strong vain Trial made, the Mind to move, Was the last effort of Parental Love, Ev'n then he watch'd his Father from his Home, And to his Mother would for Pity come, Where, as he made her tender Terrors rise, Hetalk'd of Death, and threaten 'd for Supplies. Against a Youth so vicious and undone. All Hearts were clos'd, and every Door but one : Letter 12. J players. 173 The Players rcceiv'd him, they with open Heart Gaveliim his Portion and assign'd his Part; And e'er three Days were added to his Life, He found an Home, a Duty, and a Wife. His present Friends, though they were nothing nice, Nor ask'd how vicious he, or what his Vice, Still they expected he should now attend To the joint Duty as an useful Friend ; The Leader too declar'd, with Frown severe, That none should pawn a Robe that Kings might wear ; And mucli it raov'd him when he Hamlet play'd, To see his Father's Ghost so drunken made : Then too the Temper, the unbending Pride Of this Ally would no Reproof abide : So leaving these, he march 'd away and join'd Another Troop, and other Goods purloin'd ; And other Characters, botli gay and sage. Sober and sad, made stagger on the Stage ; Then to Rebuke, with arrogant Disdain, He gave Abuse, and sought an Home again. Thus changing Scenes, but with unchanging" Vice, Engag'd by many, but with no one twice : Of this, a last and poor Resource bereft. He to himself, unhappy Guide ! was left And who shall say where guided ? to what Seats Of starving Villany ? of Thieves and Cheats ? Jn that sad Time of many a dismal Scene Had he a Witness (not inactive) been ; Had leagued with petty Pilferers, and had crept Where of each Sex degraded Numbers slept : IT4 PLAYERS. {Letter 12. With sucli Associates he -was long allied, ' x Where his Capacity for 111 was tried, > And that once lost, the Wretch was cast aside : ^ For now, though willing with the worst to act, He wante And bis small Boon with clieerful Frankness dealt : 5 Letter 12.] players. , 175 Then made Enquiries of the unhappy Youth, Who told, nor Shame forbade him, all the Truth. " Young Frederic Thompson^ to a Chandler's Shop " By Harlots ordered, and afraid to stop ! " What ! our good Merchant's Favourite, to be seert " In State so loathsome and in Dress so mean ?" So thought the Seaman as he bade adieu, And, when in Port, related all he knew. But Time was lost. Enquiry came too late, Those whom he serv'd knew nothing of his Fate ; No ! they had sciz'd on what the Sailor gave, Nor bore Resistance from their abject Slave ; The Spoil obtain'd, they cast him from the Door, Robb'd, beaten, hungry, pain'd, diseas'd, and poor. Then Nature (pointing to the only Spot Which still had Comfort for so dire a Lot), Although so feeble, led him on the Way, And Hope look'd forward to an happier Day : He thought, poor Prodigal ! a Father yet His Woes would pity and his Crimes forget ; Nor had he Brother who with Speech severe, Would check the Pity or refrain the Tear : A lighter Spirit in his Bosom rose. As near the Road he sought an hour's Repose. And tlierc he found it : he had left the Town, But Buildings yet were scatter'd up and down ; 1V PLATERS. {Leller 12. To one of these, half-ruin'd and half-built, Was trac'd this Child of Wretcliedness and Guilt ; There on the Remnant of a Beggar's Vest, Thrown by in scorn ! the Sufferer sought for Rest ; There was this Scene of Vice and Woe to close, And there the wretclied Body found Repose. LETTER XIII. THE ALMS-HOUSE AND TRUSTEES. Bo good by stealtb, and blush to $od it Fan*. There are a sort of Men whose visages Do cream and mantle lilie a standiog pool. And do a wilful stillness entertain : With purpose to be drest in an opinion. As who should say, ' I am Sir Oracle, * And when I ope my lip* let no dog bark.' Merchant of Venic> Sam felix ; quis eaim neget ? felizque manebo ; Hoc quoqoe qnis dubitt ? Tutora mt oopia fecit. THE ALMS-HOUSE AND TRUSTEES. The frugal Merchant. Rivalship in Modes of Frugality. Pri- vate Exceptions to the general Manners. Ahns-Housc built. Its Description. Founder dies. Six Trustees. Sir Denys Brandy a principal. His Eulogium in the Chronicles of the Day. I ruth reckoned invidious on these Occasions. An Explanation of the Magnanimity and Wisdom oi Sir Dcnys. His kinds of Moderation and Humility. Z^ug/j/on, his Suc- cessor, a planning, ambitious, wealthy Man. Advancement in Life his pt-rpetual Object, and all Things made the Means of it. His Idea of Falsehood. His Resentment dangerous: how removed. Success produces Love of Flattery : his daily Gratification. His Merits and Acts of Kindness. His proper Choice- of Almsmen. In this respect meritorious. His Pre- decessor not so cautious. LETTER XIII. THE ALMS-HOUSE AND TRUSTEES JLiEAVE now our Streets, and in yon Plain behold Those pleasant Seats for the Reduc'd and Old ; A Merchant's Gift, whose Wife and Children died, When he to saving all his Powers applied ; He wore his Coat till every Thread was bare, And fed his Body with the meanest Fare : He had a female Cousin, who with care Walk'd in his Steps and learn'd of him to spare; With Emulation and Success they strove, Improving still, still seeking to improve, As if that useful Knowledge they would gain How little Food would human Life sustain : No Pauper came their Table's Crumbs to crave. Scraping they liv'd, but not a Scrap they gave ; When Beggars saw the frugal Merchant pass. It moved their Pity, and they said " Alas! " Hard is thy Fate, my Brother," and they felt A Beggar's Pride as they that Pity dealt : The Dogs, who learn of Man to scorn the Poor, Bark'd him away from evVy decent Door; ISO THE ALMS-HOUSE [^Letter 13. While they nvbosaw him bare, but thought him rich, To show Respect or Scorn, they knew not which. But while our Merchant secm'U so base and mean, He had his Wanderings, sometimes ** not unseen ,-" To give in secret was a favorite act, Yet more than once they took him in the&ct: Haunts have been trac'd to which be nightly wcni. And serious Sums in private Pleasures spent: Oft has he clicer'd the Wretched, at a rate For which he daily might have din'd on Plate ; He has been seen his Hair all silver-white, Shaking and sinning as he stole by Night, To feed uncnvied on his still Delight. A two-fold Taste he had ; to give and spare, Both were his Duties, and had equal care; It was his Joy, to sit alone and fast, Then send a Widow and her Boys Repast : Tears in his Eyes would, spite of him, appear. But he from other Eyes has kept the Tear : All in a wintry Nigiit from far heaimc, To soothe the Sorrows of a suft'ring Dame ; Whow' Husband rob'd him, and to whom he meant A ling'ring, but reforming Pimishment: Home then he walk'd, and found his Anger rise, When Fire and Rush-light met his troubled FJyes; But these extinguish 'd, and his Praver addrest To Heaven in hope, he calmly sank to rest. His seventieth Year was past, and then was seen A Building rising on the Northern Grectj : There was no blinding all his Ncighbourb' Fyo, Or surely no one would have seen it rise ; Letter.13.} and trustees. 181 Twelve Rooms contiguous stood, and six were near, There Men were plac'd, and sober Matrons liere ; There were behind, small useful Gardens made, - Benches before and Trees to give them shade ; In the first Room were seen, above, below, Some marks of Taste, a few attempts at Show ; The Founder's Picture and his Arms were there, (Not till he left us) and an elbow'd Chair ; There, mid these signs of his superior Place, Sat the mild Rulr of this humble Race. Within tlie Row are Men who strove in vain, Through Years of Trouble, Wealth and Ease to gain ; Less must they have than an appointed Sum, And Freemen been, or hither must not come ; They should be decent and command Respect (Though neetling Fortune), whom these Doors protect, And should for thirty dismal Years have tried For Peace unfelt and Competence denied. Strange! that o'er Men thus train'd in Sorrow's School, Power must be held and they must live by Rule ; infirm, corrected by Misfortunes, old, Their Habits settled and their Passions cold ; Of Health, Wealth, Power, and worldly Cares, bereft. Still must they not at Liberty be left ; There must l^e one to rule them, to restrain And guide the Movements of hi;s erring Train. If then Controul imperious, Check severe, B His Words were iwwerful and decisive all. But his slow Reasons came for no Man's call. *' 'Tis thus," he cried, no doubt with khid intent, To give Results and spare all Argument : *' hei it be spafd all Men at least agree ' Sir Denr/s Brand had Magnanimity : " His were no vulgar Charities ; none saw ' Him like the Merchant io the Hut withdraw ; i ' He left io meanc*r Minds the simple Deed, " By which the Houseless rest, the Hungry feed; " His was a public Bounty vast and grand, * 'Twas not in him io work with viewl.s hand ; " He rais'd the Room that towers above the Street, " A public Room where ijratcful Parties meet-, " He first the Life-boat plan'd ; to hin> the Place ' Is deep in Debt 'twas he reviv'd the Race; ' To every public Act this hearty Friend ' Would give with freedom or with frankness lend "' His Money built the Jail, nor Prisoner yet " Sits at his Ease, but he must fcel the Debt; * To these let Candour add his vast Display, ^ '' Around hi Mansion all is grand or gay, > " And this is Bounty with the name of Pay." j Letter 13.^ and trustees. J85 And yet they tell us, when Sir Dent/s died, That not a Widow in the Borough sigh'd ; Great were his Gifts, his mighty Heart I own, But why describe wliat all the World has known ? The rest is petty Pride, the useless art Of a vain Mind to hide a swelling Heart: Small is his private Room : you 'd find him there By a plain Table on a paltry Chair; A wretched Floor-cloth, and some Prints around, The easy purchase of a single Pound : These humble Trifles and that Study small Make a strong contrast with the Servants' Hall ; There barely Comfort, here a proud Excess, The pompous Seat of pamper'd Idleness, Where the sleek Rogues with one consent declare^ They would not live upon his Honour's Fare; He daily took but one half hour to dine, On one poor Dish and some three sips of Wine; Then he 'd abuse thwn for their sumptuous Feasts, And say, " My Friends ! you make yourselves like Beasts ; " One Dish suffices any Man to dine, " But you are greedy as an herd of Swine ; " Learn to be temperate." Had they dirr'd t'obey. He would have prais'd and turn'd them all away. You'd meet Sir Denj/s in a morning Ride, And be convinc'd he'd not a spark of Pride ; For that grey Coat, not new for many a Year, Hides all that would like decent Dress appear ; An old brown Poney 'twas his will to ride, WhoshHifled onward, and from side to side; 188 TUB ALMRWHOUSE [.ef/(T 13. A fivc-poiind purchase, but so fat and sleek, His very Plenty made the Creature weak. ** Sir Dent/s Brand! and on so poor a Steed !" * Poor ! it may be such thin^rs I never heed :' And who that Youth behind, of pleasant mien. Equipt as one Avho wishes to be seen ; Upon an Horse, twice Victor for a Plate, A noble Hunter, bought at dearest rate? Him the Lad fearing, yet rcsolv'd to guide, He curbs his Spirit, while he strokes his Pride. ** An handsome "^'oulh. Sir T>cmjs ; and an Horse *' Of finer figure never tnxl the Course, ** Yours, without question ?" * Yes ! I think a Groom ' Bought me the Beast ; 1 cannot say the Sum : * 1 ride him not, it is a foolish pride * Men have in Cattle ^but my People ride ; * The Boy is hark ye, Sirrah ! what's your Name? * k-^t^ Jacobs yes! 1 recollect (he same ; ' As I bethink me now, a Tenant's Son * I think a Tenant is your Father one?" There wns an idle Hoy who ran about, And found his Master's humble Spirit out: He would at awful dibtance snatch a look, Then run away aiid hide him in some nook ; " For oh !" quoth he, " I dare not fix my sight '* On him, his Gramlour puts me in a fright ; " Oh! Mister Jacob, when you wait on him, *' Do you not quake and tremble every limb :" Letter 13.] and xnustEES. 187 The Steward soon had Orders * Summer's, see That Sam be cloath'd, and let himwait on me.' Sir Den?/s died, bequeathing all Affairs In trust to Laughton's long-experienc'd Cares ; Before a Guardian, and Sir Dem/s dead, All Rule and Power devolv'd upon his Head : Numljers are call'd to govern, but in fact Only the powerful and assuming act. Ijaughton, too wise to be a dupe to Fame, Car'd not a whit of what Descent he came, 'Till he was rich ; he then conceiv'd the thought To fish for Pedigree, but never caught: All his desire, when he was young and poor, Was to advance ; he never car'd for more ; " Let me buy, sell, be Factor, take a Wife, " Take any Road, to get along in Life." Was lie a Miser then ? a Robber? Foe To those who trusted ? a Deceiver .' No ! He was ambitious ; all his Powers of Mind Were to one end controul'd, improv'd, combin'd; Wit, Learning, Judgment, were, by his account^ Steps for the Ladder he design'd to mount : Such step was Money : Wealth was but his Slave, For Power he gain'd it, and for Power he gave; Full well tlie Borough knows that he'd the art Of bringing Money to the surest Mart ; Friends too were Aids, they led to certain ends, Increase of Power aud Claim on other Friends. s 1S8 THE ALMS-1IOT78E \_Leher 13- A favourite step was Marriage ; then he gain'd Seat in onr Hall, and o'er his Party reign'd ; r Houses and Lands he bought, and long'd to buy, But never drew the Springs of Purchase dry, And thus at last they answer'd every call, The Failing found him ready for their Fall : He walks along the Street, the Mart, the Quay, And looks and mutters *' This belongs to me.'* His Passions all partook the general bent, ^ Interest inform'd him when he should resent. How long resist and on what terms relent : In points where he detcrmin'd to succeed, In vain might Reason or Compassion plead ; But, gain'd his point, he was the best of Men, *Twas loss of Time to be vexatious then : Hence he was mild to all Men whom he led. Of all, whodar'd resist, the Scourge and Dread. Falsehood in him was not the useless Lie Of boasting Pride or laughing Vanity; It was the gainful, the persuading Art, That made its way and won the doubting Heart, Which argued, soften'd, humbled, and prevail'd ? Nor was it try'd till cv'ry Truth had fail'd : No Sage on Earth could more tlian he despise Degrading, poor, unprofitable Lies. Though fond of Gain, and griev'd by wanton Waiite, To social Parties lie had no distaste ; With oiic presiding purpo^ie in his view, He sometimes could descend to trifle too ! Yet, in these moments, he had still the art To ope the Looks and close the guarded Heart ; Letter \3.~[ and trustees. 189 And, like the public Host, has sometimes made A grand Repast, for which the Guests have paid. At length, with Power endued and wealthy grown, Frailties and Passions, long supprest, were shown ; Then to provoke him was a dangerous thing, His Pride would punish and his Temper sting; His powerful Hatred sought th' avenging hour, And his proud Vengeance struck with all his Power, Save when th' Offender took a prudent way The rising Storm of Fury to allay : This might he do, and so in safety sleep, By largely casting to the angry Deep ; Or, better yet (its swelling Force t' asswage). By pouring Oil of Flattery on its Rage. And now, of all the Heart approved, possess'd, Fear'd, favour'd, follow'd, dreaded and caress'd, He gently yields to one mellifluous Joy, The only Sweet that is not found to cloy Bland Adulation ! other Pleasures pall On the sick Taste, and transient are they all ; But this one Sweet has such enchanting power, The more we take, the faster we devour ; Nauseous to those who must the dose apply, And most disgusting to the Standers-by ; Yet in all Companies will Laughton feed, Nor care Iiow grossly Men perform the deed. As gapes the Nursling, or, what comes more near, Some Friendlj/'Island-(^\nef^, for hourly Cheer; When Wives and Slaves, attending round his Seat, Prepare by turns the masticated Meat; 190 TQE ALMS-HOUSE. [Letter J*. So for this Master, Husband, Parent, Friend, His ready Slaves* their various efforts blend, And, to their Lord still eagerly inclin'd. Pour the crude trash of a dependent Mind. But let the Muse assign the Man his due : Worth he possess'd, nor were his Virtues few ; He sometimes help'd the Injur'd in their Cause; His Power and Purse have back*d the failing Laws j He for Religion has a due respect, And all his serious notions are correct ; Although he pray'd and languish 'd for a Son, He grew resign'd when Heaven denied him one; He never io this quiet Mansion sends Subject unfit, in compliment to Friends : Not so Sir Denysy who would yet protest He always chose the worthiest and the best ; Not Men in Trade by various Loss brought down, But those whose Glory once amaz'd the Town, Who their last Guinea in their Pleasures spent. Yet never fell so low as to rejient ; To these his Pity he could largely deal, Wealth they had known, and therefore Want could feel. Three Seats were vacant while Sir Denys reign 'd, And three such Favourites their Admission gain'd j These let us view, still more to understand The moral Feelings of Sir Deni/s Brand, LETTER XIV. INHABITANTS OF THE ALMS-HOUSE. BLANEY. Sed quia csecns inest vitiU amor, omne futnrnm Despicitur; suailent brevein prssentia fructum, Et ruit in vetitum daroai secura libido. Claudian. in Eutrop. Nunquam parvo contenta peracta Et qnssitorum terra pelagoque ciborum Ambitiosa fames et lautse gloria mensiB. Et Ijoxim, popniator opam, tibi semper adbterens lufeliz faumili gressu comitatur Egestas. Claudian. in Roiinuin. Rebold what Blisiing Wealth to Life can lend ! Popcw LIFE OF BLANEY. ' _ Jilanei/, a wealthy Heir, dissipated, and reduced to Poverty. His Fortune restored by Marriage : again consumed His Manner of living in the West Indies Recalled to a larger Inheritance. His more refined and expensive Luxuries. His Method of quieting Conscience. Death of his Wifec Again become poor. His Method of supporting Existence. Hi Ideas of Religion. His Habits and Connecttops when old. Admitted into the Aims-House. LETTER XIV. INHABITANTS OF THE ALMS-HOUSEJ. BLANEY. Observe that tall pale Veteran ! what a look Of Shame and Guilt ! who cannot read that Book ? Misery and Mirth are blended in his Face, Much innate Vileness and some outward Grace ; There Wishes strong and stronger Griefs arc seen, Looks ever chang'd, and never one serene : Show not that Manner, and these Features all, The Serpent's Cunning and the Sinner's Fall ? Hark to that Laughter ! 'tis the way he takes To force Applause for each vile Jest he makes ; Such is yon Man by partial Favour sent To these calm Seats to ponder and repent. Blanej/f a wealthy Heir at twenty-one, At twenty-five was ruin'd and undone : These Years with grievous Crimes we need not load. He found his Ruin in the common Road ; Gam'd without Skill, without Enquiry bought, Lent without Love, and borrow'd without Thought, 194 INHABITANTS OF THE [Letter 14. But, gay and handsome, he had soon the Dower Of a kind, wealthy Widow in his power; Then he aspir'd to loftier flights of Vice, To singing Harlots of enormous price: He took a Jockey in his Gig to buy An Horse, so valued, that, a Duke was shy : To gain the Plaudits of the knowing few, Gamblers and Grooms, what Would not Blanej/ do? His dearest Friend, at that improving age, Was Iloinislozi) Dick, who drove the Western Stage. Cruel he was not If he left his Wife, He left her to her own Pursuits in Life ; Deaf to Reports, to all K.vpcuces blind. Profuse not just, and careless but not kind. Yet thus assisted ten long Winters past, in wasting Guineas e'er he saw his last. Then he b^an to reason and to feel He could n6t dig, nor had he Icarn'd to steal; And should he beg as long ,is he might live, He justly fear'd that Nobody would give : But he coukl charge a Pistol, and at will, All that was mortal, by a I5ullct kill : And he was taught by those whom he would call Man's surest Guides that he was mortal all. While ihus he thought, still waiting for the Day, When hei*hould dare to blow his Brains away, A Place fur him a kind Relation found. Where England\ Monarch rul'd, but far from English firotmd : Lata' 14.] ALMS-HOUSE BLANEY. 195 He gave Employ that might for Bread suffice, Correct his Habits and restrain his Vice. Here Blaney try'd (what such- Man's Miseries teach) To find what Pleasures were withiif his reach ; These he enjoy'd, though not in just the style He once possess'd them in his native Isle ; Congenial Souls he found in every Place, Vice in all Soils, and Charms in every Race : His Lady took the same amusing way. And laught at Time 'till he had turned them grey : At length for England once again they steer'd, By antient Views and new Designs endear'd ; His Kindred died, and Blaney now became An Heir to one who never heard his Name. What could he now ? the Man had tried before The Joys of Youth, and they were Joys no more ; To vicious Pleasure he was still iuclin'd. But Vice must now be season'd and refin'd ; Then as a Swine he would on Pleasure seize, Now common Pleasures had no power to please ; Beauty alone has for the Vulgar Charms, He wanted Beauty trembling with Alarms : His was no more a youthful Dream of Joy, The Wretch desir'd to ruin and destroy ; He bouglit Indulgence with a boundless price. Most pleas'd when Decency bow'd down to Vice, When a fair Dame her Husband's Honour sold, And a frail Countess play'd for Blanet/'s Gold. ' But did not Conscience in her Anger rise?'- Yes ! and he learn'd her Terrors to despise ; 196 INHABITANTS Ot THE [XcW(?/ 14. When stung by Thou2:ht, ,to soothinir Books lie fled, And grew com pos'd and Imrden'd as he read; Talcs of Voltaire, and Essays gny and slii^ht, Pleas'd him and shone with their phosphoric light ; Which, though it rose from objects vile and base, Where'er it came threw Splendour on the place, And was that Light which the deluded Youth, And this grey Sinner, deem'd the Light of Truth. He different \N'orks for different ciusc admir'd, Some fixed his Judgment, some his Passions fir'd ; To cheer the Mind and raise a dormant Flame, He had the Books, decreed to lasting Shame, Which those who read are careful not to name : These won to vicious act the yielding Heart, And then the cooler Rcasoncrs sooth'd the smart. He *d h<^Td of Blount and MandccUlc, and Chubb, How they the Doctors of their Day would drub ; How Hume had dwelt on Miracles so well. That none could now believe a Miracle ; And though he car'd not Works so grave to read, He caught their Faith and sign'd the Sinner's Creed. Thus was he pleas'd to join the laughing Side> Nor ceas'd the Laughter when his Lady died ; Yet was he kintl and careful of her Fame, And on her Tomb inscrib'd a virtuous Name ; " A tender Wife, respected, and so forth," The Marble still bears witness to the worth. He has some Children, but he knows not where. Something they cost, but neither Love nor Care; Letter 14. J AtMS-iiousE blaney. 197 A Father's Feelings he has never known, His Jojs, his Sorrows have been all his own. He now would biiikl and lofty Seat he built, And sought, in various wa^'s, relief from Guilt. Restless, for ever anxious to obtain Ease for the Heart by Ramblings of the Brain, He would have Pictures, and of course a Taste, And found a thousand means his Wealth to waste ; Nezomarket Steeds he bought at mighty cost. They sometimes won, but Blaney always lost. Quick came liis Ruin, came \yhen he had still For Life a relish and in Pleasure skill : By his own idle reckoning he suppos'd His Wealth would last him 'till his Life was clos'd ; But no ! he found this final Hoard was spent. While he had Years to suffer and repent. Yet at the last, his noble Mind to show. And in his Misery how he bore the Blow, He view'd his only Guinea, then supprest. For a short time, the Tumults in his Breast, And, mov'd by Pride, by Habit and Despair, Gave it an Opera-Bird to hum an Air. Come ye ! who live for Pleasure, come, behold A Man of Pleasure when he 's poor and old ; When he looks back through Life and cannot find A single Action to relieve his Mind ; When he looks forward, striving still to keep A steady Prospect of eternal Sleep ; When not one Friend is left of all the Train, Whom 'twas his Pride and Boast to entertain, I9d ' INHABITANTS OF THE [^Letter 14. Friends now employ *d from House to House to nin, And say " Alas ! poor Blanej/ is undone !" Those whom he 'd daily shaken by the hand, By whom he stood as long as he could stand, Who secm'd to him from all Deception clear, And who, more strange! might think themselves sincere. Lo ! now the Hero shuffling through the Town, To hunt a Dinner and to beg a Crown ; To tell an idle Tale, that Boys may smile; To bear a Stnimpet's Billedcux a mile ; To cull a Wanlon for a Youth of Wealth, (With rererend view to both his Taste and Health); To be an useful, needy thing between Fear and Desire the Pander and the Screen ; To flatter Pictures, Houses, Horses, Dress, The wildest Fashion or the worst Excess ; To be the grey Seducer, and entice Unbearded Folly into acts of Vice ; And then, to level every Fence which Law And Virtue fix to keep the Mind in awe, He first inveigles Youth to walk astray. Next prompts and soothes them in their fatal way. Then vindicates the Deed, and makes the Mind hisi prey. Unhappy Man ! what pains he takes to state (Proof of his Fear!) That all below is Fate; That all procectl in one appointed Track, Where none can stop, or take their Journey back ; Then what is Vice or Virtue ? Yet he '11 rail At4*riei)ts 'till Memory and Quotation fail ; Letter 14.J alms-house blaney. }99 He'll even read to learn the III they Ve done, And calls them Vipers, every Mother's Son. He is the Harlot's Aid, who wheedling tries To move her Friend for Vanity's Supplies ; To weak Indulgence he'll dispose the Mind, Loth to be dup'd, but willing to be kind; And if successful what the Labour pays ? He gets the Friend's Contempt and Chloe's Praise, Who, in her Triumph, condescends to say, " What a good creature Blaney was today." Hear the poor Daemon when the Young attend, And willing Ear to vile Experience lend ; When he relates (with laughing, leering eye) The Tale licentious, mix'd with Blasphemy : No genuine Gladness his Narrations cause, The frailest Heart denies sincere Applause ; And many a Youth has tum'd him half aside, And laugh 'd aloud, the sign of Shame to hide. Blanei/^ no aid in his vile Cause to lose, Buys Pictures, Prints, and a licentious Muse; He borrows every Help from every Art, To stir the Passions and mislead the Heart ; But from the Subject let us soon escape, Nor give this Feature all its ugly sliape ; Some to their Crimes, Escape from Satire owe, Who shall describe .what Blanej/ dares to show i While thus the Man, to Vice ajid Passion slave, Was, with his Follies, moving to the Grave, Sdb ALM8-HOU8E BLANEY. [Letter 14. The antient Ruler of this Mansion died, And Blanei/ boldlj' for the Seat applied : Sir Dent/s Brand, then Guardian, join'd his Suit, * Tis true,' said he, * the Fellow's quite a Brute * A very Beast; but yet, with all his Sin, SHehas a Manner let the Devil in.' They half complied, they gave the wish'd Retreat, But rais'd a worthier to the vacant Seat, Thus forc'd on ways unlike each former way, Thus led to Prayer without an Heart to pray. He quits the Gay and Rich, the Young and Free, Among the Badge-men with a Badge to be: He sees an humble Tradesman rais'd to rule The grey-beard Pupils of this moral School ; Where he himself, an old licentious Boy, Will nothing learn, and nothing can enjoy; In temp'rate Measures he must eat and drink. And, Pain of Pains! must live alone and think. In vain, by Fortune's Smiles, thrice affluent made, Still has he Debts of antient date unpaid ; Thrice into Penury by Error thrown. Not one right Maxim has he made his own ; The Old- Men shun him, some his Vices hate, And all abhor his Principles and Prate ; Nor Love nor Care for him will Mortal show, Save a frail Sister in the female Row. LETTER XV. INHABITANTS OF THE ALMS-HOUSE. CLELIA. She pari; found herself mistress of berseir. All she did was right: all she said was admired. Early, very early did she dismiss blusliet^ from her cheek. She conid not blu^^h, because she could not doubt ; and silence, whatever was the subject, was as much a stranger to her as diffidence. Richardson. Qad fnpt Venus ? heu '. Qaoque color ? decent Qu6 motus ? Quid liabea illias, illius Quae spirabat amores, Qirse me turpuerat mihi ? Horatiue. lib. i, od. 13. CLELIA. Her lively and pleasant Manners, Her Reading and Decision. Her Intercourse with ditfereut Classes of Society. Her kind of Character. ^The favoured Lover. Her Management of,him : his of her. ^After one Period Clelia with an Attorney : her Manner and Situation there. Another such Period, wlien her Fortune still declines. Mistress of an Inn. A Widow. Ano- ther such Interval : She becomes ix)or and in/lrni, but still vain and frivolous. The fallen Vanity. Admitted into tlie House : meets Blattey. LETTER XV. INHABITANTS OF THE| ALMS-HOUSE, CLELIA. We had a sprightly Nymph in every Town Are some such Sprights, who wander up and down; She had her useful Arts, and could contrive, In Time's despite, to stay at twenty-five; " Here will I rest ; move on, thou lying Year, . *' This is raihe Age, and I will rest me here." Arch was her Look, and she had pleasant ways Your good Opinion of her Heart to raise ; Her Speech was lively, and with ease exprest. And well she judg'd the Tempers she addrest ; If some soft Stripling had her Keenness felt, She knew the way to make his Anger melt : Wit was allow'd her, though but few could bring Direct example of a witty thing ; *Twas that gay, pleasant, smart, engaging Sjieech, Her Beaux admir'd, and just within their reach ; Not indiscreet perhaps, but yet more free Than prudish Nymphs allow their Wit to be. 201 INHABITANTS OF THE [Letter 15. Novels and Plays, and Poems, old and new, Were all the Books our Nymph attended to ; Yet from the Press no Treatise issued forth, But she would speak precisely of its worth. She with the London-Stage familiar grew, And every Actor's Name and Merit knew ; She told how this or that their Part mistook. And of the rival Romeos gave the look ; Of either House 'twas hers the Strength to see, Then judge with candour ' Drury-Lanc for rae.* What made this Knowledge, what this Skill complete? A Fortnight's Visit in Whiteciiai>el-Street. Her Place in Life was rich and poor between, With those a Favourite, and with these a Queen; She could her Parts assume, and condescend To Friends more hamble while an humble Friend ; And thus a welcome, lively Guest could pass. Threading her pleasant way from Class to Class. * Her Reputation ?' That was like her Wit, Ami sccm'd her Manner and her State to fit ; Something there was, what, none prcsum'd to say, Clouds lightly passing on a smiling Day, WhisiKTs and Hints which went from ear to ear. And mix'd Reports no Judge on Earth could clear. But of each Sex a friendly numl^er prest To joyous Banquets this alluring Guest : There, if indulging Mirth, and freed from Awe, If pleasing all, and plcas'd with all she saw, Letter 15.2 alms-house clelia. W5 Her Speecli were free, and such as freely dwelt Oh the same Feelings all around ber felt ; Or if some fond presuming Favourite tried To come so near as once to be denied ; Yet not with Brow so stern or Speech so nice, But that he ventur'd on denial twice : If these have been, and so has Scandal taught, Yet Malice never found the proof she sought. But then came one, the Lovelace of his Day, Rich, proud, and crafty, handsome, brave, and gay; Yet lov'd he not those labour'd Plans and Arts, But left the Business to the Ladies' Hearts, And when he found them in a proper train, He thought all else superfluous and vain : But in that training he was deeply taught, And rarely foil'd of gaining all he sought ; He knew how far directly on to go, How to recede and dally to and fro' ; How to make all the Passions his Allies, And, when he saw them in Contention rise, To watch the wrought-up Heart, and conquer by sur-| prise. Our Heroine fear'd him not ; it was her Part, To make sure Conquest of such gentle Heart Of one so mild and humble ; for she saw In HenrTi/% eye a Love chastis'd by Awe, Her thoughts of Virtue were not all suljlime. Nor virtuous all her Thoughts ; 'twas now her time To bait each Hoolt, in every way to please, And the rich Prize with dext'rous Hand to seize. ffi INHABITANTS OF THE [^LcttCT 15. She had no Virgin-Terrors ; she could stray In all Love's maze, nor fear to lose her way; Nay, could go near the Precipice, nor dread A failing Caution or a giddy Head ; She 'd fix her eyes upon the roaring Flood, And dance upon the Brink where Danger stood. 'Twas Nature all, she judg'd, in one so young, To drop the Eye and falter in the Tongue ; To be about to take, and then command His daring Wish, and only view the Hand: Yes ! all was Nature; it became a Maid Of gentle Soul t' encourage Love afraid ; He, so unlike tlie confident :md bold, Would fly in mule Dcs|Kiir to find her cold : The young and tender Germ requires the Sun To make it spread ; it must be smil'd upon. Thus the kind Virgin gentle means devis'd, To gain an Heart so fond, an Hand so priz*d ; i cifi ^ More gentle still she grew, to change her way, i vv^^ Would cause Confusion, Danger, and Delay : Thus (an incrc:ise of Gentleness her mode). She took a plain, unvaried, certain road. And every hour Ijelicv'd Success was near, 'Till there was nothing left to hope or fear. It must be own'd that in this Strife of Hearts, Man has Advantage lias superior Arts : The Lover's Aim is to the Nymph unknown, Nor is she always ccrlain of her own ; Or has hir Fears, nor these can so disguitie, ^ But he who searches, reads them in her Eyes, > In the avenging Frown, in the regretting Sighs: ^ Letter 15. J alms-house clelia. These are his signals, and he learns to steer The straiter course, whenever they appear. * Pass we ten Years, and what was CkUd!s fate ?*- At an Attorney's Board alert she sate, Not legal Mistress : he with other Men Once sought her Hand, but other views were then ; And when he knew he might the Bliss command, He other Blissing sought, without the Hand ; For still he felt alive the lambent Flame, And offer'd her an Home, and home she came. .\ There, though her higher Friendships liv'd no more. She lov'd to speak of what she shar'd before " Of the dear Luci/^ Heiress of the Hall, " Of good Sir Peter ^ of their annual Ball, " And the fair Countess ! Oh ! she lov'd them all ! The humbler Clients of her Friend would stare. The knowing smile, but neither caus'd her care ; She brought her Spirits to her humbled State, And sooth 'd with idle Dreams her frowning Fate. ' Ten Summers past, and how was Clelia then .^' A. Alas! she suffer'd in this trying Ten; -> The Pair had parted : who to him attend. Must judge the Nymph unfaithful to her Friend ; But who on her would equal faith bestow. Would think him rash, and surely she must know. 208 INUABITANTS OP THB [XcWer 13. Then as a Matron Clelia taught a School, But Nature gave not Talents fit for Rule : Yet now, though Marks of wasting Years were seen, Some touch of Sorrow, some attack of Spleen ; Still there was Life, a Spirit quick and gay, And lively Speech and elegant Array. The Griffin's Landlord these allur'd so far, He made her Mistress of his Heart and Bar ; He had no idle retrospective whim, Till she was his her Deeds concern'd not hira : So far was well, but Clelia thought not fit (In all the Griffin needed) to submit : Gaily to dress and in the Bar preside, Sooth 'd the jx)or spirit of degraded Pride ; But cooking, waiting, welcoming a Crew Of noisy Guests, were arts she never knew: Hence daily Wars, with temporary Truce, His Vulgar Insult, and her keen Abuse; And as their Spirits wasted in the Strife, Both took the Griffin's ready aid of Life; But she with greater prudence, Harry try'd More powerful aid, and in the trial died; Yet drew down Vengeance : in no distant time, Th' insolvent Griffin struck his wings sublime ; Forth from her Palace walk'd th' ejected Queen, And show'd to frowning Fate a look serene : . Gay spite of Time, though poor, yet well attir'd. Kind without love, and vain if not adraii'd. Letter 15.] alms-house clelia. 209 Another Term is past ; ten otber Years In various Trials, Troubles, Views, and Fears : Of these some past in small attempts at Trade ; Houses she kept for Widowers lately made; For now she said, " They '11 miss th' endcarini^ Friend, " And I'll be there the soffen'd Heart to bend :" And true a part was done as Clelia plan'd The Heart was soften'd, but she miss'd the Hand. She wrote a Novel, and Sir Denj/s said. The Dedication was the best he read ; But Edgezcorlhs, Smiths and lladcliffes so engross'd The public Ear, that all her Pains were lost. To keep a Toy-shop was attempt the last, There too she fail'd, and Schemes and Hopes were past. Now friendless, sick and old, and wanting Bread, The first-born Tears of fallen Pride were shed True, bitter Tears ; and yet that wounded Pride, Among the Poor, for poor Distinctions sigh'd. Though now her Tales were to her Audience fit ; Thouglj loud her Tones, and vulgar grown her Wit ; Though now her Dress (but let me not explain The piteous Patch- work of the needy- vain, The flirtish Form to coarse materials lent, And one poor Robe through fifty fashions sent); Though all within was sad, without was mean, Still 'twas her wish, her comfort to be seen : She would to Plays on lowest terms resort. Where once her Box was to the Beaux a Court ; And, strange delight! to that same House^ where she .Join'd in the Dance, all gaiety and glee, Now with the Menials crowding to the wall. She'd see, not share, the Pleasures of the Ball, p 210 ALMS-nousE CLELIA. [Leller 15. And with degraded Vanity unfold, How slie too triumph'd in the Years of old. To her poor Friends 'tis now her Pride to tell On what an heiglit she stood before she fell ; At Church she points to one tall Scat, and " There *' We sat," she cries, " when my Papa was Mayor." Not quite correct in what she now relates, She alters Persons, and she forges Dates ; And finding Memory's weaker help decay'd, She boldly calls Invention to her aid. Touch 'd by the Pity he had felt before, For her Sir Denys op'd tlie Alms-house Door; " With all her Faults," he said, " the Woman kne\r *' How to distinguish had a Manner too; f^ And, as they say, she is allied to some *' In deceijt station let the Creature come*." Here she and Blaney meet, and take their view Of all the Pleasures they would still pursue : Hour after hour they sit, and nothing hide Of Vices past ; their Follies arc their pride; What to the Sober and the Cool are Crimes, They boast exulting in those happy Times; The darkest Deeds no fndignation raise. The purest Virtue never wins their praise ; But still they on their antient Joys dilate, ^ Still with regret departed Glories slate, ^ [Fate. > And mourn (heir grievous Fall, and curse their rigorous 5 LETTER XVJ. INHABITANTS OF THE ALMS-HOUSE. BENBOW. Thou art the kniglit of the burning larap If fbou wast any nay given to Tirtue, I would swear by thy face ; my oath should be by this fire. Oh ! tboa'rt a per)>etual triumph, thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking in a night betwixt tavern and tavern. Shakpeare. FTbriotas tibi fida comee, tibi Inxus, et atris Circa le semper voUtans infamia pennif. SiliQs Kallcu* BENBOW. An improper Companion for the Badgemen of the Ahns-house. He resembles Bardolph. Left in Trade by his Father. Con- tracts useless Friendships. His Friends drink with him, and employ others. Called wprthy and honest ! Why. Effect of VV^ine on the Mind of Man. Benbotv^s common Subject the Praise of departed Friends and Patrons. 'Squire AsgiU, at the Grange: His Manners, Servants, Friends. ^I'rue to his Church : ought therefore to be spared. His Son's different Conduct. Vexation of the Father's Spirit if admitted to see the Alteration. Captain Dmvling, a boon Companion, ready to drink at all Times, and with any Company : famous in his Club-room. His easy Departure. Dolly Murreij, a Maiden advanced in Years: abides by Ratafia and Cards. Her free Manners. Her Skill in the Game. Her Preparatioji and Pc9!i\i.Benbofw, how interrupted : his Submission. LETTER XVf. INHABITANTS OF THE ALMS-HOUSE. BENBOW. Oee ! yonder Badgeman, with that glowing Face^ A Meteor shining in tliis sober Place ; Vast Sums were paid, and many Years were past, E'er Gems so rich around their Radiance cast ! JSuch was the fiery Front that Bardolpk wore, Guiding his Master to the Tavern-Door ; There first that Meteor rose, and there alone, In its due Place, the rich Effulgence shone ; But this strange Fire the Seat of Peace invades, And shines portentous in these solemn Shades. Benbow^ a boon Companion, long approv'd By jovial Sets, and (as he thought) belov'd. Was ju^dg'd as one to Joy and Friendship prone, And deem'd injurious to himself alone : Gen'rous and free, he paid but small regard To Trade, and fail'd ; and some declar'd " 'twas hard :" These were his Friends his Foes conceiv'd the case Of common kind ; he sought and found Disgrace : 1 214 INHABITANTS OF THE [^LdUr 16, The reasoning few, who neither scorn'd norlov'd, His Feelings pitied and his Fanlts reprov'd. BenboWf the Father, left Possessions fiiir, A worthy Name and Business to his Heir; 3enhoxL\ the Son, those fair Possessions sold. And lost his Credit, wliile he spent the Gold : He was a jovial Trader : Men enjoy 'd The Night with him ; his Day was unemploy'd : So when his Credit and his Cash were spent, Here, by mistaken Pity, he was sent ; Of late he came, with Passions unsubdued, And sliar'd and curs'd the hated Solitude, , Where gloomy Thoughts arise, where grievous Cares ( intrude. ^ Known but in Drink, he found an easy Friend, Well pleas'd his Worth and Honour to commend; And thus inform'd, the Guardian of the Trust Heard the Applause and said the Claim was just ; A worthy Soul! unfitted for the Strife, Care and Contention of a busy Life ; Worthy, and why? that o'er the Midnight bowl He made his Friend the Partner of his Soul, And any Man his Friend : then thus in glee, " I speak my Mind, I love the Truth," quoth he ; Till 'twas his fate that useful Truth to find, ^is sometimes prudent not to s()cak the Mind. With Wine inflated, Man is all upblown, And feels a Power which he believes hu own ; With Fancy soaring to the Skies, he tliinks tib all the Virtues all the while he drinks^ Letter 16.] alms-house benbow. 215 But when the Gas from the Balloon is gone, When soljer Thoughts and serious Cares come on, Where then the Worth that in himself he found ? Vanish'd and he sank scrov'iino: on the Ground. ! Still some Conceit will Benbozo's Mind inflate, Poor as he is, 'tis pleasant to relate The Joys he once possess'd it soothes his present State; Seated with some grey Beadsman, he regrets His former Feasting, though it swell'd his Debts ; Topers once fam'd, his Friends in earlier days. Well he describes, and thinks Description Praise ; Each Hero's Worth with much delight he paints, Mariyrs they were, and he would make them SaintSi " Alas 1 alas ! Old England now may say " My Glory withers ; it has had its Day : " We're fallen on evil Times ; Men read and think ; *' Our bold Forefathers lov'd to fight and drink. *' Then liv'd the good ^Squire Asgillyvhat a change! *' Has Death and Fashion shown us at the Gfrange ? ** He bravely thought it best became his rank, " That all his Tenants'and his Tradesmen drank ; ** He was delighted from his favourite Room *' To see them 'cross the Park go daily home, *^ Praising aloud the Liquor and the Host, " And striving who should venerate him most^ 216 INHABITANTS ov THE \Leiler 10. '* No pridcfhad he, and there was difference small ^ " Between the Master's and the Servants' Hall : \, *' And here or there the Guests were welcome all. y *' Of Heaven's free Giffs he took no special care, <* He never quarrel'd for a simple Hare ; *' But sought, by givini^ Sport, a Sportsman's name, " Himself a Poacher, though at other Game : " He never planted nor inclos'd his Trees " Grew like himself, untroubl'd and at ease : " Bounds of all kinds he hated, and had felt " Chok'd and im prison 'd in a modern Belt, " Which some rare Genius now has twin'd about " The good old House, to keep old Neighbours out i *' Along his Vallies, in the Evening-Hours, " The Borough-Damsels stray'd to gather Flowers, " Or, by the Brakes and Brushwood of the Park, " To take their pleasant Rambles in the dark. " Some Prudes, of rigid kind, forebore to call '^ On the kind Females Favourites at the Hall ; *' But better Natures saw, with much delight, " The different Orders of Mankind unite ; '* 'Twas schooling Pride to see the Footman wait, *' Smile on his Sister and receive her Plate. ** His Worship ever was a Churchman true, " He held in scorn the Mcthodistic Crew ; " May God defend the Churchy and save the Kingj ** He 'd pray devoutly and divinely sing. '^ Admit that he the holy Day would spend *' As Priests approved not, still lie was a Friend : Ldier 16.] alms-house benbovv. 217 " Much then T blame the Preacher, as too nice, ** To call such Trifles by the name of Vice; " Hinting, though gently and with cautious Speech. " Of good Example 'tis their Trade to preach : " But still 'twas pity, when the worthy 'Squire *' Stuck to the Church ; what more could they require ? " 'Twas almost joining that fanatic Crew, '^ To throw such Morals at his Honour's Pew ; ** A weaker Man, had he been so revil'd, " Had left the Place he only swore and smil'd. ** But think, yc Rectors and ye Curates, think *' Who are your Friends, and at their Frailties wink ; *' Conceive not mounted on your Sunday-Throne, " Your Fire-brands fall upon your Foes alone ; " They strike your Patrons and, should all witlidraw, " In whom your Wisdoms may discern a flaw, " You would the Flower of all your Audience lose, *' And spend your Crackers on their empty Pews. " The Father dead, the Son has found a Wife, ** And lives a formal, proud, unsocial Life ; ** The Lands are now inclos'd ; the Tenants all, ** Save at a Rent-day, never see the Hall ; ** No Lass is suffer'd o'er the Walks to come, " And if there's Love, they have it all at Home. " Oh ! could the Ghost of our good 'Squire arige, " And see such Change; 'twould not believe its Eyes : " 'Twould sadly glide about from place to place, " And mourn the Manners of a feebler Race : 218 INHABITANTS OF THE ^Letter Id, ** At that long Table, where the Servants found *' Mirth and Abundance while the Year went roimd i <' Where an huge Pollard on the Winter Fire, ** At an huge distance made them all retire j *' Where not a Measure in the Room was kept, *' And but onfe Rule they tippl'd till they slept, *' There would it see a pale old Hag preside, *' A thing made up of Stinginess and Pride ; *^ Who carves the Meat, as if the Flesh could feel, <* Careless whose Flesh must miss the plenteous Meal i *' Here would the Ghost a small Coal-Fire behold, ** Not fit to keep one Body from the Cold ; ** Then would it flit to higher Rooms, and stay *' To view a dull, drest Company at play : " All the old Comfort, all the genial Fare ** For ever gone ! how sternly would it stare ; *' And though it might not to their view appear, ** 'Twould cause among them Lassitude and Fear ; *' Then wait to see where he Delight has seen ** The dire effect of Fretfulness and Spleen. " Such were the Worthies of these better Days ; ** We had their Blessings they shall have our Praise, *' Of Captain Dowling would you hear rac speak? ** I 'd sit and sing his Praises for a Week : *' He was a Mail) and manlike all his Joy,* ** I 'm led to question was he ever Boy ? ** Beef was his Breakfasts if from Sea and salt) It relish 'd better with his Wine of Malt ; " Then, till he din'd, if walking in or out, ** Whether the Gravel teiz'd him or the Gout^ Letter 16.] alms-house benbow. S19 ** Though short in Wind and flannel'd every Limb, " He drank with all who had Concerns with him : *' Whatever Trader, Agent, Merchant, came, *' They found him ready, every hour the same; *' Whatever Liquors might between them pass, " He took them all and never balked his Glass ; " Nay, with the Seamen working in the Ship, *' At their request, he'd share the Grog and Flip : " But in the Club-room was his chief delight, *' And Punch the favourite liquor of the night; " Man after Man they from the trial shrank, ** And DowUng ever was the last who drank : *' Arriv'd at home, he, e'er he sought his Bed, *' With Pipe and Brandy would compose his Head ; '* Then half an hour was o'er the News beguil'd, *' When he retir'd as harmless as a child. *' Set but aside the Gravel and the Gout, " And breathing short his Sand ran fairly out. ** At fifty-five we lost him after that \*' Life grows insipid and its Pleasures flat : " He had indulg'd in all that Man can have, *' He did not drop a Dotard to his Grave; * ' Still to the last, his Feet upon the Chair, *' With ratling Lungs now gone beyond repair ; " When on each feature Death had fix'd his stamp, " And not a Doctor could the Body vamp; " Still at the last, to his beloved Bowl *' He clung, and cheer'd the sadness of his Soul ; " For though a Man may not have much to fear, *' Yet Death looks ugly, when the view is near : Inhabit A!?TS op the [^LetteriS. ** ' I go/ he said, * but still my Friends shall say, ** 'Twas as a Man I did not sneak away ; ** An honest life, with worthy Souls I 've spent, ** Come, fill my glass :' he took it and he went. *' Poor DoHf/ Mifrref/ ! I might live to see *' My hundredth year and not such Lass as she. ** Easy by nature, in her Humour gay, *' She chose her comforts. Ratafia and Play: ** She lov'd the social Game, the decent Glass, " And was a jovial, friendly, laughing Lass ; ** We sat not then at WJiist demure and still, ** But past the pleasant hours at gay Quadrille : ** Lame in her Side, we plac'd her in her seat, ** Her Hands were free, she car'd not for her Feet ; ** As the Game ended, came the Glass around, *' (So was the Loser cheer'd, the Winner crown 'd). ** Mistress of Secrets, both the Young and Old *' In her confided not a Talc she told ; " Love never made impression on her Mind, *' She held him babish and his Captives blind ; *' She sufFer'd no Man her free Soul to vex, ** Her Sexe's Pattern, without thoughts of Sex ; " Our timid Girls and Lovers half afraid, " All shunn'd the Speeches of the frank old Maid/ " Once in her chair we 'd plac*d the good old LasS, ** Where first she took her Preparation-Glass ; " By lucky thought she'd been that day at Prayers,' " And long before had fix'd her small Affairs ; ** So all was easy on her Cards she cast * A smiling look ; I saw the thought that past : Letter 16.] alms-house^benbow. 221 *' * A King,' she call'd though conscious of her skill, " * Do more,' I answer'd ' More,' she said, * I will ;' '* And more she did Cards answer'd to her call, *' She saw the mighty to her mightier fall : *' ' A vole ! a vole !' she cried, * 'tis fairly won, " My Game is ended and my Work is done;' " This said, she gently, with a single sigh, " Died as one taught and practis'd how to die. " Such were the Dead-departed ; I survive, *' To breathe in pain among the Dead-alive." The Bell then call'd these antient Men to pray, " Again," said Benbow, " tolls it every Day ? " Where is the Life I led ?" He sigh'd and walk'd hisi way. LETTER XVII. THE HOSPITAL AND GOVERNORS. Blessed he the man who providetb for the sick and oeedj-; the Lord shall deliver him in time of trouble. Quas dederis, solas semper habebU opes. Martial. Nil negat, et sese vel non potceotlbas oiTert. Claadian. Decipias alios verbis vnltnqucbeni^o; Ham mihi jam notus dissimulatoi eris. Martial. THE HOSPITAL AND GOVERNORS. Christian Charity anxious to psovide for future as well as present Miseries. Hence the Hospital for the Diseased. Description of a recovered Patient. The Building: how erected. The Patrons and Governors. Eusehius. ^The more active Mana- ger of Business: a moral and correct Contributor. One of different Description^r-^^ood, the Result, however intermixed with Imperfectioa. LETTER XVII. THE HOSPITAL AND GOVERNORS. An ardent Spirit dwells with Christian Love, The Eagle's vigour in the pitying Dove ; 'Tis not enough that we with sorrow sigh, That we the Wants of pleading Man supply ; That we in sympathy with Sufferers feel, Nor hear a Grief without a wish to heal : Not these suffice to Sickness, Pain, and Woe, The Christian Spirit loves with aid to go ; Will not be sought, waits not for want to plead, But seeks the Duty nay, prevents the Need; Her utmost Aid to every III applies, And plans Relief for coming Miseries. Hence yonder Building rose ; on either side Far stretch'd the Wards, all airy, warm and wide ; And ever}' Ward has Beds by Comfort spread. And smooth'd for him who suffers on the Bed : There all have Kindness, most Relief, for some Is Cure complete, it is the Sufferer's Home : Fevers and chronic Ills, corroding Pains, Each accidental mischief Man sustains ; Q S98 THB HOSPITAL ILettcT 17. Fractures and Wounds, and witlier'd Limbs and lame, With all that, slow or sudden, vex our Frame, Have here attendance Here the Sufferers lie, \ (Where Love and ScieRce every aid apply,) [die. > And Iicard with Rapture live, or sooth'd by CJomfort^ See ! one reliev'd from Anguish, and to-day Allowed to walk and look an hour away ; Two months confin'd by Fever, Frenzy, Pain, He comes abroad and is himsclt" again : *Twas in the Spring, whea carried to the place, The Snow fell down and melted in his face. 'Tts Summer now 4 all Objccls gay and new> Smiling alike the Viewer and the View : He stops as one unwilling to advance Without another and another glance ; With what a pure and simple joy he sees Those Sheep and Cattle browzing at their ease ; Easy himself, there *s nothing breathes or moves, But he would cherish all that lives he loves : Observing every Ward as round he goes, He thinks what Pain, what Danger they inclose ; Warm in his wish for all who suffer there, At every view he meditates a Prayer : iKo evil Counsels in his Breast abide, There Joy and Love, and Gratitude reside. The wish that Roman Necks in one were found. That he who form'd the wish might deal the wound, This Man has never heard ; but of the kind, Is tliat desire >vlucU rises in his Mind ; Letter 17.] and cover nohjs. JMlt He'd have all EnffHsh Hands (for further he Cannot conceive extends our Charity), All but bis own, in one rij^ht hand to grow, And then what hearty shake would he bestow. *' How rose the Building ?" Piety first laid A strong Foundation, but she wanted aid ; To Wealth unwieldy was her prayer addresf, Who largely gave, and she the Donor blest : Unwieldy Wealth then to his couch withdrew, And took the sweetest sleep he ever knew. Then busy Vanity sustain'd her part, *' And much," she said, " it mov'd her tender Heart ; ** To her all kinds of Man's Distress were known, *' And all her Heart adopted as its own.'* Then Science came his talents he display'd, f And Charity with joy the Dome survey'd ; [ Skill, Wealth, and Vanity, obtain the fame, . And Piety, the joy that makes no claim. Patrons there are, and Governors, from whom The greater Aid and guiding Orders come ; Who voluntary Cares and Labours take, The Sufferers' Servants for the Service' sake : Of these a part I give you but a part, Some Hearts are hidden, some have not an Heart. First let me praise for so I best shall paint That pious Moralist, that reasoning Saint ! Can I of worth like thine, Eusebius, speak ? The Man is willing, but the Muse is weak ; ^ THE HOSPITAL [Lclter 17. *Tis thine to wait on Woe ! to soothe ! to heal! With Learning social and polite with Zeal: In ihy pure Breast, although the Passions dwell, They're train'd by Virtue and no more rebel; But have so long been active on her side, That Passion now might be itself tlic Guide. Law, Conscience, Honour, all obey'd ; all give Tir approving voice, and make it bliss to live ; While Faith, when Life can nothing more supply, Shall strengthen Hope and make it bliss to die. He preaches, speoks and writes with manly Sense, No weak Neglect, no labour'd Eloquence ; Goodness and Wisdom are in all his ways, The Rude revere him and the Wicked praise. Upon Humility his Virtues grow, And tower so high because so fix'd below ; As wider spreads the Oak his boughs around, When deeper with his roots he digs the solid ground. By him, from Ward to Ward, is every aid The Sufferer needs with every care couvey'd ; Like the good Tree he brings his Treasure forth, And, like the Tree, unconscious of his worth : Meek as the poorest Publican is he. And strict as lives the straitcst Pharisee ; Of both, in him unite the better part, The blameless Conduct and the humble Heart. Yet he escapes not ; lie, witli some, is wise In carnal things, and loves to moralize : Letter \7,^ and governors. 9S9 Others can doubt, if all that Christian Care Has not its price there's something he may share : But this and ill severer he sustains, As Gold the fire, and as unhurt remains ; When most revil'd, although he feels the smart, It wakes to nobler Deeds the wounded Heart, As the rich Olive, beaten for its fruit. Puts fortli at every bruize a bearing shoot. A second Friend we Iiave, whose Care and Zeal But few can equal few indeed can feel : He liv'd a Life obscure, and Profits made In the coarse habits of a vulgar Trade. His Brother, Master of an Hoy, he lov'd So well, that he the calling disapprov'd: " Alas J Poor To7n /" the Landman oft would sigh, When the Gale freshen'd and the Waves ran high. And when they parted, with a tear he'd say, " No more Adventure ! here in safety stay." Nor did he feign ; with more than half he had, He would have kept the Seaman, and been glad. Alas ! how few resist, when strongly tried A rich Relation's nearer Kinsman died ; He sicken'd, and to him the Landman went, And all his hours with Cousin Ephraim spent. This Thomas heard, and car'd not : " I," quoth he, " Have one in Port upon the watch for me." So Ephraim died, and when the Will was shown, Isaac ^ the Landman, had the whole his own : Who to his Brother sent a moderate Purse, Which he return'd, in anger, with his Curse ; |99 THE HOfPlTAL fLetto' IT. Then went fo Sea, and made his Grog so strong, He died before he could forgive the wrong. The rich Man built an House, both large and high, He enter'd in and set hiin down to sigh ; He planted ample AVomls and Gardens fair. And walk'd with Anguish and Compunction there; The rich Man's Pines, to Qvery Friend a treat, He saw with pnin and he refus'd to eat; His daintiest Food, liis richest Wines, were all Turn'd by Kemorse to V^intgar and Gall : The softest Down, by living body prcst. The rich Man bought and try'd io take his rest; But Care had thorns upon his Pillow spread. And scat ter'd Sand and Nettles in his Bed: Nervous he grew, would often sigh and groan, He talk'd bnt little, and he walk'd alone; Till by his Priest convinc'd, that from one Deed Of genuine Love would Joy and Health proceed; He from that time with Care and Zeal began To seek and soothe the grievous ills of Man ; And as his Hands their aid to Grief apply, He learns to smile and he forgets to sigh. Now he can drink his Wine and taste his Food, And feel the Blessings, Hcav'n has deidt, are good ; And since the Snflcring seek the rick Man's Door, He sleeps as soundly as when young and poor. Here much he gives is urgent more to gain ; He begs rich Beggars st'Idom sue in vain : Preachers most fara'd, he moves, the Crowd to move, And never wearies in the work of Love : Letter 17.] and governoiw. 31 He rules all Business, settles all Affairs, He makes Collections, he directs Repairs; And if he wrong'd one Brother, Heav'n forgive The Man by whom so many Brethren live ! Then, mid our Signatures, a Name appears, Of one for Wisdom fam'd above his Years ; And these were forty : he was from his Youth A patient Searcher after useful Truth : To Language little of his time he gave, To Science less, nor was the Muse's Slave ; Sober and grave, his College sent him down, A fair Example for his native Town. Slowly he speaks, and with such solemn air, You 'd think a Socrates or Solon there ; For though a Christian, he 's dispos'd to draw His Rules from Reason's and from Nature's Law. " Know," he exclaims, " my fellow- Mortals, know, " Virtue alone is Happiness below : " And what is Virtue ? Prudence first to choose ** Life's real good, the evil to refuse ; *' Add Justice then, the eager hand to hold, " To curb the lust of Power and thirst of Gold ; " Join Temp'rance next, that cheerful Health insures, *' And Fortitude unmov'd, that conquers or endures." He speaks, and lo ! the very Man you see, Prudent and temperate, just and patient he. By Prudence taught his worldly Wealth to keep, Ko Folly wastes, no Avarice swells the heap : THE HOSPITAL \_Letter IT, He no Man's Debtor, no Man's Patron lives ; ' 5 Save sound Advice, he neither asks nor gives ; 4 By no vain Thoughts or erring Fancy sway'd, f. His Words are weighty, or at least are weigh'd ; Tenip'rate in every Place abroad, at liome, Thence will Applause, and hence will Profit come; And Health from either he in time prepares For Sickness, Age, and their attendant Cares, But not for Fancy's Ills ; he never grieves For Love that wounds or Friendship that deceives ; His patient Soul endures what Heav'n ordains, But neither ftdls nor fears ideal Pains. ** Is aught then wanted in a Man so wise ?" Alas! I think he wants Infirmities; He wants the Tyes that knit us to our kind The cheerful, tender, soft, complacent Mind, That would the Feelings, which he dreads, excite, And make the Virtues he approves delight; What dying Martyrs, Saints and Patriots feel. The strength of Action and the warmth of Zeal. Again attend ! and see a Man w hose cares Are nicely plac'd on cither World's AtTuirs, Merchant and ^aint ; 'tis doubtful if he knows To which account he most regard bestows ; Of both he keeps his Ledger : there he reads Of gainful Ventures and of godly Deeds ; There all he gets or loses find a place, A lucky Bargain and a lack of Grace. The Joys above this prudent Man invite Jo pay his tax Devotion ! day and night i Letter 17.J and governors. f" 233 The Pains of Hell his timid Bosom awe, And force Obedience to the Church's Law : Hence that continual Thought, that solemn Air, Those sad good Works, and that laborious Prayer. All these (when Conscience, waken'd and afraid. To think how Avarice calls and is obey'd) He in his Journal finds, and for his Grief Obtains the transient Opium of Relief. '* Sink not, my Soul ! my Spirit, rise and look " O'er the fair Entries of this precious Book : " Here are the Sins, our Debts; this fairer side " Has what to Carnal Wish our Strength denied; " Has those religious Dlities, every day '' " Paid, which so few upon the Sabbat !i pay ; " Here too are Conquests over frail Desires, " Attendance due on all the Church requires ; " Then Alms I give for I believe the Word " Of Holy Writ, and lend unto the Lord, " And if not all th' importunate Demand, " The fear of Want restrains my ready Hand ; *' Behold ! what Sums I to the Poor resign, *' Suras writ in Heaven's own Book, as well as mine : *' Best then, ray Spirit ! Fastings, Prayers and Alms, " Will soon suppress these idly-rais'd Alarms, " And, weigh'd against our Frailties, place in view *' A noble Balance in our favour due : ** Add, that I yearly here affix my Name, *' Pledge for large Payment not from love of Fame, " But to make Peace within ; that Peace to make, " What Sums I lavish ! and what Gains forsake ! f54r THE HOSriTAli AND GOVEBNORS. ILdtef 17* *' Cheer up, niy Heart! let's cast off every doubt, ** Pray without dread, and place our Money out." Such the Religion of a Mind that steers Its way to Bliss, between its Hopes and Fears ; Whose Passions in due bouiids oach other keep. And thus sulxlued, they murmur till they sleep; >T "Whose Virtues all their certain limits know, Like well-dry'd Herbs that neither fade nor grow ; Who for Success and Safety ever tries, And with both Worlds alternatly complies* Such are the Guardians of this blest Estate, Whate'er without, they 're prais'd within the Grate ; That they are Men, aiKl have their Faults, is true. But here their Worth alone appears in view : The Muse indeed, who reads the very Breast, Has something of the Secrets there cxprest. But yet in Charity ; and when she sees Such means for Joy or Gomfi)rt, Health or Ease, And knows how much united Minds effect, She almost dreads their Failings to detect ; But Truth ccmmands : in Maai's erroneous kind. Virtues aud Frailties mingle in the Mind, Happy ! when Fears to ])ubiic Spirit move, And even Vice's do the work of l<.ove. LETTER XVIII. THE POOR AND THEIR DWELLINGS. Bene Paupertat Hamili tecto conteuta latet. Seneca. Omne qnibn'* res sunt mtnu' seconds, magp snnt nescio quo nvxla Rnspiciosi : ad conturaeliam nmiiia acdpiuut ma^ie; Propter suam impoteatiam' se semper cre.lunt negli^ Tereot. in Adelph. AoU , Seen, i Show not to the Poor thj pride. Let their home a cottage be; Jfor the feeble boUv hide In a palace fit for thee ; liet him not about bim see Lofty clelin^s ample halU, Or a gate his boundary be, Wfaere nor frienil or kinsman esUi. Let him not one walk beholil. That oul}' one which be must tread. Nor a eliamker larpe and cold. Where the a;'d anil sick are led : Better far his humble shed. Humble sheds of neighbours by. And the old ao4l tattered bed, Where he sleeps and hopes to die. To quit of torpid sluggishness the cave. And from the pow'rful arms of sloth %e free, 'Tis rising from the dead Alas! it cannot be. Thomson's Castle of Indoleoea. THE POOR AND THEIR DWELLINGS. The Method of treating the Borough Paupers. Many main- tained at their own Dwellings. Some Characters of the Poor. ^The Schoolmistress, when aged. ^The Idiot. ^Tlie poor Sailor. ^ITie declined Tradesman and his Companion. This contrasted with the Maintenance of the Poor in a common Mansion erected by the Hundred. The Ob't'ction* to this Method : Not Want, nor Cruelty, but the necessary Evils of this Mode. What they are. Instances of the Evil. A Return to the Borough-Poor. ^The Dwellings of these. The Lanes and Bye-Ways. No Attention liere paid to Conve- nience. ^The Pools in the Patli-Ways. Amusements of Sea-port Children.-The Town-Flora. Herbs on Walls and vacant Spaces. A female Inhabitant of an Alley. A large Building let to several poor Inhabitants. -Their Manners and Habits. LETTER XVIII. THE POOR AND THEIR DWELLINGS. X ES ! we've our Borougli- Vices, and I know How far they spread, how rapidly they grow ; Yet think not Virtue quits the busy Place, Nor Charity, the Virtues' Crown and Grace. * Our Poor, how feed we?' To the most we give A weekly Dole, and at their Homes they live ; Others together dwell, but when they come To the low Roof, they see a kind of Home, A social People whom they've ever known, With their own Thoughts and Manners like their own. At her old House, her Dress, her Air the same, I see mine antieni Letter-loving Dame : * Learning, my Child," said she, " shall Fame cora- " mand ; " Learning is better worth than House or Land " For Houses perish. Lands arc gone and spent ; " In Learning iLeu excel, for that's most excellent." S3S THE POOR [Letter 18. * And what her Learning ?* Tis with awe to look In every Verse throughout one sacred Book ; From this her Joy, her Hope, her Peace is sought; This she has learn'd, and she is nobly taught. If aught of mine have gain'd the public Ear ; If Rutland deigns these humble Tales to hear; If Critics pardon, what my Friends approv'd ; " Can I mineantient Widow pass unmov'd ? Shall I not think what pains the Matron took, When first I trembled o'er the gilded Book ? flow she, all patient, both at Eve and Morn, Her Needle pointed at the guarding Horn ; And how she sooth'd me, when with Study sad I labour'd on to reach the final Zad ? Shall I not grateful still the Dame surrey, And ask tlie Muse the Poet's Debt to pay ? Nor I alone, who hold a Trrfler's Pen, But half OUT Bench of wealthy, weighty Men, Who rule out Boronjjh, who enforce our Laws : s They own the Matron as the leading Cause, > And feel the pleasing Debt, and pay the just Applause : ^ To her own House is borne the Week's Supply; There she in credit lives, there hopes in peace to die. With her an harmless Idiot we behold, Who hoards np Silver Shells for shining Gold ; These he preserves, witli unremitted care, To buy a Seat, and reign the Borough's Mayor : Alas ! who could th' ambitious Cliatigeling telT, That what he sought our Rulers dar'd to sell ? Letter 18.] and theiu dwellings. S9 Near these a Sailor, in that Hut of Thatch (A Fish-Boat's Cabin is its nearest match), Dwells, and the Dungeon is to him a Seat, Large as he wishes in his view complete: A lockless Coffer and a lidless Flutch That hold his Stores, have room for twice as much : His one spare Shirt, long Glass and Iron Box, Lie all in view; no need has he for Locks : Here he abides, and, as our Strangers pass. He shows the Shipping, he presents the Glass^; He makes (unask'd) their Ports and Business known, And (kindly heard) turns quickly to his own, Of noble Captains, Heroes every one, You might as soon have made the Steeple run : And then his Mess-mates, if you 're pleas'd to stay, "' '/tl He '11 one by one the gallant Souls display, And as the Story verges to an end. He 'U wind from Deed to Deed, from Friend to Friend ; He'll speak of those long lost, the Brave of old, As Princes gen'rous and as Heroes bold ; Then will his Feelings rise, till you may trace Gloom, like a Cloud, frown o'er his manly Face, And then a Teaf or two, which sting his Pride ; These he will dash indignantly aside And splice his Tale; now take him from his Cot, And for some cleaner Birth exchange his Lot, How will he all that cruel Aid deplore? His Heart will break and he will tiffht no more. Here is the poor old Merchant : he declin'd, 4|id, as they say, is not in perfect Mind ; 40 THE POOR ,, . \_Leilcrl9. Jn his poor House, -with one poor maiden Friend, Quiet be paces to his Journey's end. ^ Rich in his Youth, he traded and lie fail'd i,,_ Afijain he tried, again his Fate prevail'd ; His Spirits low and his Exertions small. He fell perforce, he scem'd decreed to fall ; Like the gay Knight, unapt to rise was he, But downward sank with sad alacrity. . ^ ^,. ,, -^,j A Borough-Place we gain'd hira in disgraotf j i Still none their Spirits nor their Speech restrain ; r They sigh at case, 'mid Comforts they complain. ^ Letter 18.] and their dwellings. Sll The Poor will grieve, the Poor will weep and sigh, Both when they know and when they know not why; But we our Bounty with such care bestow, That cause for grieving they shall seldom know. Your Plan I love not ; with a number you Have plac'd your Poor, your pitiable few ; There, in one House, throughout their Lives to be, The Pauper-Palace which they hate to see : That Giant-Building, that high bounding Wall, Those bare-worn Walks, that lofty thund'ring Hall t That large loud Clock, which tolls each dreaded Hour, Those Gates and Locks, and all those Signs of Power : It is a Prison, with a milder name, Which few inhabit without dread or shame. Be it agreed the Poor who hither come, Partake of Plenty, seldom found at home ; That airy Rooms and decent Beds are meant, To give the Poor by day, by night, Content ; That none are frighten'd, once admitted here, By the stern Looks of lordly Overseer : Grant that the Guardians of the Place attend, And ready ear to each Petition lend ; That they desire the grieving Poor to show, What Ills they feel, what partial Acts they know. Not without Promise, nay Desire to heal Each Wrong they suffer and each Woe they feel. Alas ! their Sorrows in their Bosoms dwell. They've much to suffer, but have nought to tell; They have no Evil in the Place to state, And dare not say, it is the House they hate : K SI2 THE POOR [Lelier 18. Thry own there 's granted all such Place can give, But live repining, for '(is there they live. Grandsircs are there, who now no more must see, y No more must nurse upon tlie trembling kiiec > The lost lov'd Daughter's infant Progeny : J Like Death's dread Mansion, this allows not place For joyful Meetings of a kindred Race. Is not the Matron there, to whom the Son "Was wont at each declining day to run ; He (when his toil was over) gave delight. By lilting up the latch, and one *' Good Night" ? Yes; she is here, but nightly to her door The Son, still lab'ring, can return no more. "Widows are here, who in their Huts were left. Of Husbands, Children, Plenty, Ease bereft ; Yet all that Grief within the humble Shal Was soflen'd, soften 'd in the humble Bed : But here, in all its force, remains the Grief, And not one soft'ning object for relief. Who can, when here, the social Neighbour meet ? Who learn the Story current in the Street ? Who to the long-known Intimate impart Facts they have learn'd or Feelings of the Heart ? They talk indeed, but who can choose a Friend, Or seek Companions at their Journey's end ? Here arc not those whom thcj', when Infants, knew ; Who, with like Fortune, up to Manhood grew ; Letter 18.] and their dwellings. 24S Who, with like Troubles, at old Age arriv'd ; Who, like theniselves, the Joy of Life surviv'd ; Whom Tirae and Custom so familiar made. That Looks the Meaning i^i the Mind convey'd : But here to Strangers, Words nor Looks impart The various Movements of the suffering Heart ; Nor will that Heart with those Alliance own, To whom its Views and Hopes are all unknown. What, if no grievous Fears their Lives annoy, Is it not worse no Prospects to enjoy ? 'Tis cheerless living in sucli bounded View, With nothing dreadful, but with nothing new ; Nothing to bring them Joy, to make them weep, The Day itself is, like the Night, asleep : Or on the Sameness, if a break be made, 'Tis by some Pauper to his Grave convey 'd; By smuggled News from ncighb'ring Village told, News never true, or Truth a twelve-montli old ; By some new Inmate doom'd with them to dwell, Or Justice come to see that all goes well ; Or change of Room, or hour of Leave to crawl S On the black Foot- way winding with the Wall, > 'Till the etern Boll forbids, or Master's sterner Call. J Here too the Moth- r sees her Children train'd. Her Voice ex^cluded ami her Feelings pain'd : Who goverii here, by general Rules must move. Where ruthless Custom rends the Bond of Love. Nations we know hdve Nature's Law transgrcss'd, And snatch'd the Infant froraHhe Parent's breast ; But still for public good the Boy was train'd, The Mother suft'cr'd, but the Matron gain'd ; t4 THE POOH [Letter 18. Here Nature's oiitra^sre serves no cause lo aid, The 111 is felt, but not the Spartan made. Then too I own, it grieves me to behold Those ever virtuous, helpless now and old. By all for Can* and Industry approv'd, For Truth respected, and for Temper lov'd ; And who, by Sickness and Misfortune try 'd, Gave Want its worth and Poverty its pride: I own it griev<'s me to behold them sent From their old Home ; 'tis Pain, 'tis Punishment, To leave each Scene familiar, every Face, For a new People and a stranirer Race ; For those who, sunk in Sloth and dead to Shame, From Scenes of Guilt with daring Spirits came ; Men, just Jind iruileless, at such Manners start, And bless their God that Time has fenc'd their Heart, Confirm'd their V'irlue, and expell'd (he Fear Of Vice in Minds so simple and sincere. Here the fijood Pauper, losing all the Praise By worthy Deeds acquir'd in Ix^tter days, J3reathes a few Months, then to his Chamber led, Expires, while Strangers prattle round his Bed. The grateful Hunter, when his Horse is old. Wills not the useless Favourite to be sold ; He knows his formitr Worth, and gives him place In some fair Pasfure, 'till he's runhi>Ilacei But has the Labourer, has thi* Seaman done Less worthy Service, though not dealt to one? Shall wc not then contribute to their Itasc, In their old Ilaunls where antient Objects please ? i Letter 18.] and their dwellings. 245 That, till their Sight shall fail them, they may trace The well-known Prospect and the long-lov'd Face* The noble Oak, in distant -Ages seen, With far-stretch'd Bows and Foliage fresh and green, Thougli now its bare and forky Branches show How much it lacks the vital Warmth below, The stately Ruin yet our Woader gains, Nay, moves our Pity, without thought of Pains : Much more shall real Wants and Cares of Age Our gentler Passions in their cause engage ; Drooping and burthen'd with a weight of Years, What venerable ruin Man appears ! How worthy Pity, Love, Respect, and Grief He claims Protection he compels Relief; And shall we send him from our view, to brave The Storms abroad, whom we at home might save. And let a Stranger dig our antient Brother's Grave ? No ! we will shield him from the Storm he fears, And when he falls, embalm him with our Tears. I Farewell to these ; but all our Poor to know, I^t 's seek the -winding Lane, the narrow Row, Suburbian Prospects, where the Traveller stops To see the sloping Tenement on props, W ith building Yards imraix'd, and humble Sheds and Shops ; Where the Cross-Kej/s and Plumber s- Arms invite Laborious Men to taste their coarse Delight ; Where the low Porches, stretching from the Door, Gave some Distinction in the Days of Yore, ii^ THE P60R [Letter \9. Yet now neglected, more offend the eye, By Gloom and Ruin tbnn the Cottage by : Places like these the no!)lest Town endures, The gayest Palace 4ias its Sinks and Sewers. Here is no Pavement, no inviting Shop, To give us shelter when compeU'cl to stop ; But plashy Puddles stand along the Way, Fill'd by the Rain of one tempestuous Day; And these so closely to the Buildings run, That you mukt ford them, for you cannot shun ; Though here and (here convenient Bricks are laid, And door-side IlcapsaObrd their dubious aid. Lo ! yonder Sheass, We fear to breathe the putrifying Mass : But fearless yonder Matron; she disdains To sigh for Zephyrs from ambrosial Plains ; But mends her Meshes torn, and ponrs her Lay All in i\\e stifling Fervour of the Day. Her naked Children round the Alley run, And FoU'd in Dust, are bronz'd beneath the Sun ; Or gamble round the Dame, who, loosely drest, Woos the coy Breeze to fan the oj^n Breast : She, once an Handmaid, strove by decent art To charm her Sailor's Eye and touch his Heart; Her Bosom then was veil'd in Kerchief clean, And Fancy left to form the Charms unseen. But when a Wife, she lost her former Care, Nor thought on Charms, nor time for Dress could spare; Careless she found her Friends who dwelt beside, No rival Beauty kept alive her Pride : Still in her bosom Virtue keeps her place. But Decency is gone, the Virtue's Guard and Grace.. See that long boarded Building! by these Stairs Each humble Tenant to that Home repairs By one large Window lighted it was made For some bold Project, some design in Trade : Thisfaird, and one, an Humourist in his way, (III was the humour,) bought it in decay ; Lttter 18.J and thbir dwellings. 249 Nor will he sell, repair, or take it down, 'Tis his, what cares he for the talk of Town : " No! he will let it to the Poor ; an Home ** Where he delights to see the Creatures come :" * They may be Thieves;' " Well, so are richer Men ;" Or Idlers, Cheats, or Prostitutes ;' " What then ?" * Outcasts pursued by Justice, vile and base,' " They need the more his Pity and the Place:" Convert to System, his vain Mind has built) He gives Asylum to Deceit and Guilt. In this vast Room, each Place by habit fixed, Are Sexes, Families, and Ages mixt, To union forc'd by Crime, by Fear, by Need, And all in Morals and in Modes agreed ; Some ruin'd Men, who from Mankind remove, Some ruin'd Females, who yet talk of Love, And some grown old in Idleness the prey To vicious Spleen, still railing through the Day ; And Need and Misery, Vice and Danger bind In sad Alliance each degraded Mind. That Window view ! oil'd Paper and old Glass Stain the strong Rays, which, though impeded, pass, And give a dusty Warmth to tliat huge Room, The conquered Sunshine's melancholy gloom ; When all those Western Rays, without so bright, Within become a ghastly glimmering Light, As pale and faint upon the Floor they fall. Or feebly gleam on the opposing Wall : That Floor, once Oak, now piec'd with Fir unplan'd. Or, where not piec'd, in places bor'd and stain'd ; 250 THE POOR \_Ldter 18. That Wall once whilen'd, now an odious si^ht, Stain'd with all Hues, except its antient White ; The only Door is fasten'd by a Pin, Or stubborn Bar, that none may hurry in : For this poor Room, like Rooms of greater pride, At times contain what prudent Men would hide. Where'er the Floor allows an even space. Chalking and Marks of various Games have place ; Boys, without foresight, pleas'd in Halters swing ; On a fix'd Hook Men cast a flying Ring ; While Gin and Snuff their female Neighbours share, And the black Beverage in the fractur'd Ware, On swuiging Shelf are things incongruous stor'd, Scraps of their Food, the Cards and Cribbage-board, With Pipes and Pouches; while on Peg below, Hang a lost Member's Fiddle and its Bow : That still reminds them how he 'd dance and play, E'er sent untimely to the Convicts' Bay. Hereby a Curtain, by a Blanket there, Are various Beds concealed, but none with care; Where some by Day and some by Night, as best Suit their Employments, seek uncertain Rest ; The drowsy Children at their pleiisure creep To the known Crib and there securely sleep. Each end contains a Grate, and these beside Are hung Utensils for their boil'd and fry'd All used at any hour, by Night, by Day, As suit the Purse, the Person, or the Prey. Letter 18.] and their dwellings. 251 Above the Fire, the Mantel-Shelf contains Of China- Ware some poor unmatch'd remains ; There many a Tea- cup's gaudy fragment stands, All plac'd by Vanity's unwearied hands ; For here she lives, e'en here she looks about, To find some small consoling Objects out : Nor heed these Spartan Dames their House, nor sit *Mid Cares domestic, they nor sew nor knit ; But of their Fate discourse, their Ways, their Wars, With arra'd Authorities, their 'Scapes and Scars : These lead to present Evils, and a Cup, If Fortune grant it, winds Description up. High hung, at either end, and next the Wall, Two ancient Mirrors show the forms of] all, In all their force ; these aid them in their Dress, ^ But with the Good, the Evils too express, > Doubling each look of Care, each token of Distress. 3 LETTER XIX. THE POOR OF THE BOROUGH. THE PARISH CLERK. Nam dives qui fieri volt, Et cito vnlt fieri i setl qute reverei.tia leffura, Ouis raetus aut pudor est uiiquam properaiitis avari ? ^ Juvenal. Sat. U. Nocte hrevem si forti indnlit cura soporem, Et toto versata f oio jam membra quieucunt, Coatinno templum et vio'iti Numini aras, Et quod praicipuis mentim sudoribus urset, Te videt ia somnis, fua sacra et major imago Homaiia turbat pavidunr, cds"* fateri. Juvenal. Sat. is. THE PARISH CLERK Began his Duties with the Iste Vicar, a grave and austere Man; one fully orthodox; a Dctecter and Opposer of tlie Wilts of Satan. His Opinion of his own Fortitude. ^Ihc more Frail offended by these Professions. His good Advice gives further Provocation. They invent Stratagems to overcome his Virtue. His 'ir'uniph He is yet not invulnerable : is assaulted by Fear of Want and Avarice. He gradually yields to tlie Se- duction. He reasons with himself and is persuaded. He offends, but v ith Terror ; -repeats his Offence ; grows familiar with Crime; is detv cted. His Sufferhigs and Death. LETTER XIX. THE POOR OF THE BOROUGH. THE PARISH CLERK. With our late Vicar, and his Age the same, His Clerk, hight Jachin, to his Office came; The like slow Speech was his, the like tall slender I Frame : But Jachin was the gravest Man on ground, And heard his Master's Jokes with look profound ; For worldly Wealth this Man of Letters sigh'd, And had a sprinkling of the Spirit's Pride : But he was sober, chaste, devout and just, One whom his Neighbours could believe and trust : Of none suspected, neither Man nor Maid By him were wrong'd, or were of him afraid. There was indeed a frown, a trick of State In Jachin /.formal was his Air and Gait ; But if he seera'd more solemn and less kind. Than some light Men to light Affairs confin'd, Still 'twas allow'd that he should so behave As in higli Seat, and be severely grave. 556 POOR OF THE borough: [^Letter \9. This book-laugbt Man, with ready Mind rcceiv'd More than Church commanded or believ'd ; He held that Satan, since the World began, In ever J act, hatl Strife with every Man ; That never evil Deed on Earth was done, But of the acting Parties he was one ; Tlie flattering Guide to make ill Prospects clear ; To smooth rough Ways, the constant Pioneer ; The ever-tempting, soothing, softening Power, Ready to cheat, seduce, deceive, devour. JI ** Me has the sly Seducer oft withstood," Said pious Jacfii/i, " but he gets no good ; "I pass the House where swings the tempting Sign, *' And pointing, tell him, * Solan, that is thine:' *' I pass the Damsels pacing down the Street, *' And look more grave and solemn when we meet ; ** Nor doth it irk me to rebuke their Smiles, ** Their wanton Ambling and their watchful Wiles : *' Nay, like the good John Bunj/an, when I view *' Those forms, 1 'm angry at the ills they do ; *' That I could pinch and spoil, in Sin's despite, " Beauties! which frail and evil Thoughts excite.* *^ At Feasts and Banqtiets seldom am I foimd, ** And (save at Church) abhor a tuneful Sound ; ** To Plays and Shows I run not io and fro', " And where my Master goes, forbear to go." * John Btatyan, in one of the many productions of his zeal, has ventured to make public this extraorciiiiar^- sentiment, which the frigid piety of our CUrk so readily adopted. Letter 19.^ the parish clerk. 257 No wonder Satan took the thing amiss, To be oppos'd by such a Man as this A Man so grave, impof'tant, cautious, wise, Who dar'd not trust his Feeling or liis Eyes ; No wonder he should lurk and lie in wait, Should fit his Hooks and ponder on his Bait, Should on his Movements ke<;p a watchful eye, For he 'd a Fish to catch who led the fry. With his own Peace our Clerk was not content, He tried, good Man ! to make his Friends repent. *' Nay, nay, my Friends, from Inns and Taverns fly, *' You may suppress your thirst, but not supply : " A foolish Proverb says, the DetiVs at home^ " But he is there, and tempts in every Room : " Men feel, they know not why, such places please ; *' His are the Spells they 're Idleness and Ease ; " Magic of fatal kind he throws around, " Where Care is banish 'd but the Heart is bound. " Think not of Beauty ; when a Maid you meet, " Turn from her view and step across the Street : " Dread all the Sex ; their very Look's a Charm, " A Sjnile should fright you and a Word alarm : " E'en I myself, with all my watchful care, " Have for an instant felt th' insidious snare^ *' And caught my sinful eyes at th' endangering stare ' 'Till I was forc'd to smite my bounding breast " With forceful blow and bid the bold-one rest. } " Go not with Crowds when they to Pleasure ru;i, But public Joy in private safety khun ; 1/58 pooa or th* Isorodor : [LeWw 19. " When I3olls, divcrtcil from " To hear or raakc loni^ Speei-h in Parliament ; 3 " What time, the many, that unruly beast " Roars its rough Joy and shares the final Feast ; *' Then heed my Counsel, shut thine ears anil eyes, " A few will hear me tor the few arc wise." Not Satan's Friends, nor Satati^ self could lx?ai The cautious Man who took of Souls such cure ; An Interloper, one who, out of place, Had volurtteer'd upon the side of Grace : There was his Master ready once a week To give Advice ; what further need he seek ? " Amen, so be it" what had he to do With more than this ? 'twas insolent and new : And srtme determin'd on a way to see How frail he was, that so it might not be. First they cssay'd to tempt our Saint to sin. By points of Doctrine argued at an Inn ; Where he might warmly reason, deeply drink^ Then lose all power to argue and to think. In vain they try'd ; he took the Question up, Clear'd every Doubt, and barely touch'd the Cup : By many a Text he prov'd his Doctrine sound, And look'd in triumph on the Temptens round. Next 'twas their care an artful Loss to find, Who might consult him, as perplex'd in Mind ; She they concciv'd might put her Case with fears, With tender tremblings and seducing tears; Letter 19.] the parish clerk. 259 She might such Charms of various kind display, That he would feel their force and melt away : For why of Nymphs such caution and such dread, Unless he felt, and fear'd to be misled. She came, she spake : he calmly heard her Case, And plainly told her 'twas a want of Grace ; Bade her " such Fancies and Affections check, " And wear a thicker Muslin on her Neck." Abash'd, his human Foes (he Combat fled, And the stern Clerk yet higher held his Head. They were indeed a weak, impatient Set, But their shrewd Prompter had his Engines yet; Had various means to make a Mortal trip. Who shun'd a flowing Bowl and rosy Lip ; And knew a thousand ways his Heart to move, Who flies from Banquets and who laughs at Love. Thus far the playful Muse has lent her aid. But now departs, of graver theme afraid ; Her may we seek in more appropriate time, There is no jesting with Distress and Crime. Our worthy Clerk had now arriv'd at Fame, Such as but few in his degree miglit claim ; But he was poor, and wanted not the sense That lowly rates the Praise without the Pence : He saw the common Herd with reverence treat The weakest Burgess whom they clianc'd to meet; While few respected his exalted Views, And all beheld his Doublet and his Shoes : None, when they meet, would to his Parts allow (Save his poor Boyk) an hearing or a bow : POOR OF TUB BoEouii: [^LeUor 19* To this false Judgment of the vula^ar Mind^ He was not fully? as a Saint, resitjii'd ; He found it much his j(sdous J?oul aftect, To fear Derision and to Hud Neglect. The Year was bad, the Christen ins-Fees were small. The Weddings few, the Parties Pauj)crs all : Desire of Cain Avith fear of VV^lnt coaibin'd, Rais'd sad Commotion in his woiraded Mind ; Wealth was in all his Tlionghts, his Views, his Dreams. And prompted base Desires and baseless Se hemes. Alas ! how often erring Mortals keep The strongest Watch agiiinst the P'oes wJio shrp : While the more wakeful, bold and artful Foe Is sufi'er'd, guardless and unmark'd, to go. ; igtA Once in a month the Sacramei>tal Bread Our Clerk with W^inc upon the Table spread ; The Custom this, that, as the Vicar reads, lie for our Ofl 'rings round the Church protow ; Letter 19.J the parish cleuk. 261 " But thoui^h they know not, these remain tlie same, " And are a stroni^, altliough a secret claim : '* To me, alas ! the Want and Worth are known, " Why then, in fact, 'tis but to take my own." Thought afterthought pour'd in, a tempting train, " Suppose it done, who is it could complain ? *' How could tlie Poor ? for they such Trifles share, " As add no Comfort, as suppress no Care; " But many a Pittance makes a worthy Heap, " What says the Law ? that Silence puts to sleep : " Nought then forbids, the danger could we shun, " And sure the business may be safely done. ** But am I earnest? earnest? No. I say, " If such my Mind, that I could plan a way, " Ijet me reflect ; 1 've not allow'd me time " To purse the Pieces, and if dropt they'd chime :" Fertile is Evil in t!ie soul of Man, He paus'd said Jachin, " They may drop on Bran. " Why then 'tis safe and (all considered) just, " The Poor receive it, 'tis no breach of Trust ; " The Old and Widows may their Trifles miss, *' There must be IJvil in a Good like this: But I '11 be kind, the Sick 1 '11 visit twice, *' When now but once, and freely give Advice. " Vet let me think again :" Again he tried, ^ For stronger Reasons on his Passion's side, > And quickly these were found, yet slowly he complied. 3 The Morning came : the common Service done, .^liut every Duor, the solemn Uite begun, S62 POOB OF T^E BOROUGH : [LdtCT 19. And, as the Priest the sacred Sayings read, The Clerk went forward, tromblin^ as he tread ; O'^r the tall Pew he held the Box, and heard The ofFer'd Piece, rejoicing as he fear'd : Just by the Pillar, as he cautious tripf, And turn'd the Aisle, he then a Pf)rtion slipt From the full Store, and to the Pocket sent, But held a moment and then down it went. I The Priest read on, on walk'd the Min afraid, 'Till a gold Offering in the Plate was laid ; Trembling he took it, for a moment stopt. Then down it fell and sounded as it dropt : Amaz'd he started, for th'affrighti d Man, Lost and bcwilder'd, thought not of the Bran ; But all were silent, all on things intent Of high concern, none ear to Money lent ; So on he walk'd, more cautious than l)efore. And gain'd the purposed Sum and one Piece more. Practice makes perfect ; when the Month came round, He dropt the Cash nor lisfen'd for a Sound ; But yet, when last of all th' assembled Flock, He ate and drank, it gave th' electric Shock : Oft was he forc'd his Reasons to repeat, EVt he could kneel in quiet at his Seat ; But Custom sooth 'd him e'er a single Year All this was done without Restraint or Fear: Cool and collected, easy ai|d compos'd. He was correct 'till all the St;rvicc clos'd ; Then to his Home, without a groan or sigh. Gravely he went and laid his Treasure by. Letter 19.] the parish cleuk. 263 Want will complain : some Widows had exprcst A doubt if they were favour'd like the rest; The rest describ'd with like regret their Dole, And thus from ])arts they reason'd to the whole ; When all agreed some Evil must be done, Or rich Men's Hearts grew harder than a Stone. Our easy Vicar cut the matter short, He would not listen to such vile Report. All Avere not tlius there govern 'd in that Year x A stern stout Churl, an angry Overseer; S- A Tyrant fond of Power, loud, lewd, and most severe: ^ Him the mild Vicar, him the graver Clerk, Advis'd, reprovVl, but nothing would he mark. Save the Disgrace, " and that, my Friends," said he, *' Will I avenge, whenever time may be." And now, alas ! 'twas time ; from Man to Man Doubt and Ala'rm and shrewd Suspicions ran. With angry spirit and with sly intent. This Parish Ruler to the Altar went ; A private Mark he fix'd on Shillings three, And but one Mark could in the Money see ; B'-sides, in peering round, he chanc'd to note A sprinkling slight on Jnchinh Sunday-Coat : All doubt was over : when the Flock were blest, In wrath he rose, and thus his Mind exprest. " Foul Deeds are here!" and saying this, he took The Clerk, whose Conscience, in her cold-fit, shook ; H is Pocket then was emptied on the place ; All saw hih Guilt : all witness'd his Discjrace: 564 poott OF THE iioRoufiii : [Letter 19. He fell, be faintocl, not a ^roan, a look Escap'd the Culprit ; 'twas a final stroke A dcath-wourtd never to be hejil'd a fall That all had \yitness\l, and auiu//d were all. As he recovery to his Mind, it came, ^* I owe to Satafi this Disoraccand Shame :" All the Seduction now apixsu'd in view, ** Let me wi'.hdraw," be sai No charms she now can boasl,' 'tis true. But othtT clurraers wither too; ' And she is old,' tlie fact I know, And old will other heruloes grow: But not like them has sbu been laid, In ruin'd castle, sore dismj^'d; Where naugrhty man and ghostly spright Filfd her pure mind with awe and dread, Stalk'd round the room, put out the light. And shook the curtaitu round her bed. No cruel uncle kept her land. No tyrant father forc'd her hand ; She bad no vixen-virgin aunt. Without whose aid she could not cat. And yet who poison'd all her meat. With gibe and sneer and taunt. Yet of the heroine sheM a share. She sav'd a lover from despair. And granted all his wish, in spite Of what she knew ami felt was right ; But heroine then no more, _ She own'd the fault, and wept a!l pray'd. And humbly took the parish aid. And dwelt among the poor. ELLEN ORFORD. The Widow's Cottage. Blind Ellen one. Hers not the Sorrows or Adventures of Heroines. What these are, first described. Deserted Wives; rash Lovers; courageous Damsels: iu desolated Mansions ; in grievous Perplexity. These Evils, however severe, of short Duration. EUen't Story. Her Ein- plovment in Childhood. First Love; first Adventure; its miserable Termination. An idiot Daughter An Husband. Care in Business without Success. ^The Men's Despondency and its Effect.- Their Children : how disposed of. One par- ticularly unfortunate. Fate of the Daughter. ElUn keeps a School and is happy. Becomes blind: loses her School. Her Consolations. LETTER XX. THE POOR OF THE BOROUGH. ELLEN ORFORD. V/bserve jQn Tenement, apart and small, Where the wet Pebbles shine upon the Wall ; Where the low Benches lean beside the Door, , And the red Palini^ bounds the Space before ; Where Tlirift and Lavender, and Lad's-love* bloom, That humble Dwelling is the Widow's Home: There live a Pair, for various Fortunes known, But the blind Ellen will relate her own ; Yet e'er we hear the Story she can tell, On prouder Sorrows let us briefly dwell. I 've often raarvel'd, when bj night, by day, I Ve mark'd the Manners moving in my way. And heard the Language and beheld the Lives Of Lass and Lover, Goddesses and Wives, That Books, which promise much of Life to give. Should show so little how we truly live. * The lad's or boy's love of some counties is the plant Souther- wood, the Artimisia Abrotanum of Botanists. 270 POOR OP THE BOROUGH: [^Lclter 20. To me it seems tbeir Females and their Men Arc but the Creatures of the Author's Pen ; Nay, Creatures borrow'd and a^in convey 'd From Book to Book the Shadows of a Sliadc : Life, if they 'd search, would show them many a cliange; The Roin sudden and the Misery strange ! With more of grievous, base and dreadful things, Than Novelists relate or Poet sings: But they, who ought to look the World around. Spy out a single Spot in Fairy-Ground ; Where all, in turn, ideal Forms behold, And Plots are laid and Histories are told. Time have I lent f would their Debt were less To flow'ry Pages of sublime Distress ; And to the Heroine's Soul-distracting Fears 1 early gsyc my Sixpences and Tears : Oft have I travcl'd in these tender Talcs, To Dam/j/' Cottages and Maple- Vales, And watch'd tlie Fair-one from the first-born sigh. When Ilenr// past and gaz'd in passing by ; Till I beheld them j>acing in the Park, Close by a Coppice where 'twas cold and dark : When such Aflection with such Fate appeared, Want and a Father to be shun'd and fear'd. Without Employment, Prospect, Cot, or Cash, That I have judg'd Ih' heroic Souls were rash. Now shifts the Scene, the Fair in Tower confiuM, Ib11 things sutTers but in change of M'hh\ ; Now woo'd by Greatnen to a Bed of Slate, Now deeply thrcaten'd with a Dungeon's Grate ; -Letter 20.] ellen 6AfoJii>. 2Tl Till suffering much and being Irv'd enough, She shines, triumphant Maid! Temptation-proof. Then was I led to vengeful Monks, who mix With Nymphs and Swains, and play nnpriestly tricks; Then view'd Banditti^ who in Forest wide, And Cavern vast, indignant Virgins liide ; Who, hem'd with bands of sturdiest Rogues about, Find some strange Succour, and come Virgins out. I 've watch'd a wintry Night on CastJe- Walls, I 've stalk'd by Moonlight through deserted Halls, And when the weary World was sunk to rest, I 've had such Sights as may not be exprest. Lo ! that Chateux, the western Tower dccay'd, The Peasants shun it, they are all afraid ; For there was done a Deed ! could Walls reveal, Or Timbers tell it, how the Heart would feel ! Most horrid was it ; for, behold, the Floor Has Stain of Blood, and will be clean no more : Hark to the Winds ! which through the wide Saloon And the long Passage send a dismal Tune, Music thut Ghosts delight in : and now heed Yon beauteous Nymph, who must unmask the Deed ; See ! with majestic Sweep she swims alone Through Rooms all dreary, guided by a Groan : Though Windows rattle, and thougli Tap'stries shake, And the Feet falter every step they take, 'Mid Moans and gibing Sprights slie silent goes, \ To find a something, which will soon expose 5- The Villanics and ^\ ilcs of her dcterrain'd f-'oes: 7 979 POOR OF THE borough: [^T^dtar20. And, having thus advcnturM, thus cmlur'd, Fame, Wealth, and Lover, are for Life secur'd. Mucli have I fcar'd, but am no more afraid, When some chaste Beauty, by some Wretch bctray'd, Is drawn away with such distracted speed, That she anticipatts a dreadful Deed : Not so do I Let solid Walls impound The captive Fair, and di; a Moat around ; Ix*t there be brazen Locks and Bars of steel, And Keepers cruel, such i\s never feel ; With not a single Note tle Purse supply, And wljcn she begs, let Men and Maids deny ; Be Windows those from which she dares not fall, And Help so distant, 'tis in vain to call ; Still means of Freedom will some ]xwer devise, And from the baffled Rulhun snatch his prize. To Northern Wales, in some sequcster'd Spot, I Ve follow 'd fair Louisa to her Cot ; Where then a wretcheil and desert etl Bride, The injur'd Fair-one wish'd from Man to hide; Till by her fond repenting Belville found, 3y some kind chance the straying of an Houud, Heat her Feet era v'd Mercy, nor in vain, For the relenting Dove flew back agiiin. There's sonK'thIng rapturous in Distress, or, oh Coultl Clementina bear her lot of Wtx; ? Or what she underwent, could Maiden urulergo ? The Day was fix'd ; for so the Lover sigh'd, St> knelt and crav'd, he couldn 't be denied ; Letter^.'] ellen orford. 278 When, Tale most dreadful ! every Hope adieu, For the fond Lover is the Brotlier too : All other Griefs abate ; this monstrous Grief Has no Remission, Comfort, or Relief; Four ample Volumes, through each page disclose, Good Heaven, protect us ! only Woes on Woes ; 'Till some strange Means afford a sudden view Of some vile Plot, and every Woe adieu !* Now should we grant these Beauties all endure Severest Pangs, they've still the speediest Cure; Before one Charm be wither'd from the Face, Except the Bloom, which shall again have place. In Wedlock ends each wish, in Triumph all Disgrace; And Life to come, we fairly may supposcj One light, bright Contrast to these wild dark Woes. These let us leave and at her Sorrows lookj Too often seen, but seldom in a Book ; * As this incident points out the work alluded to, I wish it to be remembered, that the gloomy tenor, the querulous melancholy of the story, is all I censure. The language of the writer is often ani- mated, and is, I believe, correct ; the characters well drawn, and the manners described from real life ; but the perpetual occurrence of sad events, the protracted list of teazing and perplexing mis- chances, joined with much waspish invective, unallayed by plea- santry or sprightliness, and these continued through many hundred pages, render publications intended for amusement and executed with ability, heavy and displeasing : You find your favourite per- sons happy in the end, but they have teazed you so much with their perplexities by the way, that you were frequently disposed tw quit them in their distresses. T 274 POOR or the borough: [Letter ZO. Let her who felt, relate them : on her chair '^ The Heroine sits in former Years, the Fair, Now ag'd and poor ; but Ellen Orford knows, That we should humbly take what Heav*n bestows. " My Father died again my Mother wed, '* And found the Comforts of her Life were fled ; " Her angry Husband, vcx'd through half his Years ** By Loss and Troubles, fiU'd her Soul with fears : ** Their Children many, and *twas my poor place *^ To nurse and wait on all the Infant Race; " Labour and Hunger were indeed my part, " And should have strengthened an erroneous Heart. *' Sore was the GJrief to see him angry come, ** And, teiz'd with Business, make Distress at home ; " The Father's Fury and the Children's Cries ** I soon could bear, but not my Mother's Sighs ; " For she look'd back on Comforts and would say, *' * I wrong'd thee, Ellen,'' and then turn away : \ " Thus, for my Age's good, my Youth was trial, ^* And tliis my Fortune till my Mother died. - " So, amid Sorrow much and little Cheer *' A common case, I past my twentieth Year ; ** For these are frecjuent Evils ; thousands share ** An equal Grief the like domestic Care. ^* Then in my days of Bloom, of Health and Youth, *' One, much above me, vow'd his Love and Truth : *' Wc often met, lie drea^ling to be seen, ^' And much I question'd what such dread might mean ; Letter ^0.'] ellen orford. 275 *' Yet I believ'd him true ; my simple Heart ** And undirected Reason took his part. " Can he who loves me^ whom I love, deceive ? ** Can I such Wrong of one so kind believe, ** Who lives but in my Smile, who trembles when 1 " grieve ? ** He dar'd not marrj', but we met to prove " What sad Encroachments and Deceits has Love: ** Weak that I was, when he, rebuk'd withdrew, " I let him sec that I was wretched too ; " When less my Caution, I had still the Pain *' Of his or mine own Weakness to complain. ** Happy the Lovers, class'd alike in Life, *' Or happier yet the rich endowing Wife ; " But most aggriev'd the fond believing Maid, ** Of her rich Lover tenderly afraid : " You judge th' Event ; for grievous was my Fate, ** Painful to feel and shameful to relate : ** Ah ! sad it was my Burthen to sustain, ** When the least Misery was the dread of Pain; *' When I have grieving (old him my Disgrace, " And plainly mark'd Indifierence in his Face. ** Hard ! with these Fears and Terrors to behold " The cause of all, the faithless Lover cold; *[ Impatient grown at every wish denied, '*' And barely civil, sooth 'd and gratified ; *' Peevish when urg'd to think of Vows so strong, " And aD^ry when I sp^ike of Crime and Wronj^. 276 POOR OF THE BOsouGH : [Letler^. " All this f felt, and still the Sorrow grew, ** Because I felt thai I deserv'd it too, *' And beg'd my infant Stranger to forgive " The Mother's Shame, which in herself must live. ** When known that Shame, I, soonexpcll'd from Home, *' With a frail Sister shar'd an Hovel's gloom ; ** There barely fed (what could I more request ?) ** My infant Slumlx^rer sleeping at my breast. *' I from my Window saw his blooming Bride, ** And my Seducer smiling at her side : *' Hope liv'd till then ; I sank upon the Floor, *' And Grief and Thought and Feeling were no more : " Although rcviv'd, I jiulg'd that Life would close, ** And went to rest, to wonder that I rose : " My Dreams were dismal, wheresoe'er I stray'd, ** I seom'd asham'd, alarm'd, despis'd, betray'd ; " Always in grief, in guilt, disgrac'd, forlorn, ** Mourning that one so weak, so vile was bom ; " The Earth a Desert, Tumult in the Sea, \ " The Birds afTrighten'd fled from Tree to Tree, > " Obscur'tl the setting Sun, and every thing like me : ^ " But Heav'n had Mercy, and my Need at length . *' Urg'd me to labour and rencw'd my Strength. " I strove for Patience as a Sinner must, * Yet felt th' Opinion of the World unjust ; " There was my Lover, in his Joy, esteem 'd, *' And 1, in my Distress, as guilty decra'd; ** Yet sure, not all the Guilt and Shame belong ** To her who feels and suffers for the Wrong : " The Cheat at play may use the Wealth he's won, *' But is not honour'd for the Mischief done j Letter^.] ellen orford. 277 " Tlie Cheat in love may use each Villain-art, " And boast the Deed that breaks the Victim's Heart. "Four Years were past ; I might again have found '' Some erring Wish, but for another wound : " Lovely my Daughter grew, her Face was fair, '* But no Expression ever brighten'd there ; " I doubted long and vainly strove to make " Some certain Meaning of the Words she spake ; *' But Meaning there Avas none, and I survey'd " W^ith dread the Beauties of my Idiot- Maid. " Still I submitted ; Oh ! 'tis meet and fit '* In all we feel to make the Heart submit ; " Gloomy and calm my Days, but I had then, " It seem'd. Attractions for the Eyes of Men : " The sober Master of a decent Trade " O'erlook'd my Errors and his offer made ; " Reason assented : true, my Heart denied, " ' But thou,' I said, * shalt be no more my Guide.' f " When wed, our Toil and Trouble, Pains and Care, " Of means to live procur'd us humble Share; " Five were our Sons, and we, though careful, found " Our Hopes declining as the Year came round ; ** For I perceiv'd, yet would not soon perceive, " My Husband stealing from my view to grieve ; " Silent he grew, and when he spoke he sigh'd, *' And surly look'd and peevishly replied : **' Pensive by nature, he had gone of late '' To those who preach'd of Destiny and Fate, " Of Things fore-doom'd, and of Election-Grace, " And how in vain we strive to run our race; 878 POOR o* THE BORotTGH i \^Lefier 20. " That all by Works and moral Worth we gain, ** Is to perceive our Care and Labour vain ; / ** That still the more we pa^, our Debts the moreC ** remain ; *^ That he who feels not the mysterious Call, *' Lies bound in Sin, still grov*lin<^ from the Fall, *' My Husband felt not : our Persuasion, Prayer, ** And our best Reason, darken'd his Despair ; " His very Nature chang'd ; he now revil'd *' My former Conduct, he reproach'd my Child: *' Hetalk'd of Bastard Slips, and curs'd his Bed, *' And from our Kindness to Concealment fled ; *' Forever to some evil Change inclinM, ** To every gloomy Thought he lent his Mind, " Nor Rest would give to us, nor Rest himself could "find; ** His Son suspended saw him, long bereft " Of Life, nor prospect of Revival left. " With him died all our Prospects, and once more < I shar'd th' Allotments of the Parish Poor; ** They took my Children too, and this I know ** Was just and lawful, but 1 felt the Blow : ** My Idiot-Maid and one unhealthy Boy * Were left, a Mother's Misery and her Joy, " Three Sons I followed to the Grave, and one " Oh ! can I speak of that unhappy Son ? ** I would all Memory of his Fate were fled, " He was our second Child, our darling Nrd; ** Before the World seduc'd him, what a grace * And smile of Gladness shone upon his Face : } ietter20.J ELLEN ORFORD. 279 *' Then he had Knowledge ; liuely would he write, " Study to liira was Pleasure and Delight ; , " Great was his Courage, and but few could stand " Against the Slight and Vigour of his Hand : " The Maidens lov'd him; -when he came to die, " No, not the coldest could suppress a Sigh : *' Here I must cease how can I sa}^, ray Child " Was by the bad of either Sex beguil'd ? " Worst of the Bad they taught him that the Laws " Made Wrong and Riglit ; there was no other Cause ; " That all Religion was the Trade of Priests, " And Men, when dead, must perish like the Beasts ; " And lie, so lively and so gay before, ^ Ah ! spare a Mother I can tell no more. " Interest was made that they should not destroy *' The comely Form of my deluded Boy " But Panlon came not; damp the Place and deep ** Where he was kept, as they'd a Tyger keep; " For he, unhappy ! had before them all " Vow'd he'd escape, whatever might befal. *' He W means of Dress, and drest beyond his Means, *' And so to see him, in such dismal Scenes, " I cannot speak it cannot bear to tell *' Of that sad Hour I heartl the Pasing-Boll, *' Slowly they went ; he smil'd and look'd so smart, *' Yet sure he shudder'd when lie saw the Cart, ." And gave a Look until my dying Day, *' That Look will never from my Mind away; '* Oft as I sit, and ever in my Dreams, ** I see t^iat I*ook and they have heard my Screams. 280 POOR OP THE BoRoUGn : ILetter 20. " Now let me speak no more yet all declar'd ** That one so young in piome shall depi^ from the faith, giving beed to ieduciag spiriti and doctrines of devils. Epistle to Timothj. ABEL KEENE. jibel, a poor Man, Teacher of a School of the lower Order ; is placed in the Office of a Merchant ; is alarmed by Discourses of the Clerks ; unable to reply ; becomes a Convert ; dresses, drinks, and ridicules his former Conduct The Remonstrance of bis Sister, a devout Maiden. Its Effect. The Merchant dies Abel returns to Poverty unpitied ; but relieved. His abject Condition. His Melancholy. He wanders about: is found. His own Account of hirasdf and the Revolutions in his Mind. bfHt LETTER XXr. THE POOR OF THE BOROUGH. ABEL KEENE. A. QUIET simple Man was Abel Keene, He meant no harm, nor did he often mean ; He kept a School of loud rebellious Boys, And growing old, grew nervous with the Noise, When a kind Merchant hir'd his useful Pen, And made him happiest of accompting Men; With glee he rose to every easy Day, When half the Labour brought him twice the Pay. There were young Clerks, and there the Merchant's Son, Choice Spirits all, who wish'd him to be one ; It must, no question, give them lively Joy, Hopes long indulged, to combat and destroy; At these they level'd all their Skill and Strength, He fell not quickly, but he fell at length : They quoted Books, to him both bold and new, And scom'd as Fables all he held as true; 286 POOR OF THE BORotTGH : [^Letter 21. * Such Monkish Stories and such Nursery Lies/ That he was struck with Terror and Surprise. -^ ** What! all his Life had he the Laws obey'd, ** Which they broke through and were not once afraid ? ** Had he so long his evil Passions check'd, ** And yet at last had nothing to expect ? ** While they their Lives in Joy and Pleasure led, ^ " And then had nothing, at the end, to dread ? ** Was all his Priest with so much zeal conveyed, ** A Part ! a Speech ! for which the Man was paid ? *' And were his pious Books, his solemn Prayers, ** Not worth one Tale of the admir'd Voltaire's ? " Then was it time, while yet some Years remained, '* To drink untroubled and to think unchain'd, *^ And on all Pleasures, which his Purse could give, " Freely to seise, and, while he liv'd, to live." Much tijue he past in this important Strife, The Bliss or Bane of his remaining Life ; For Converts all are made with Care and Grief, g^ ^ And Pangs attend the Birth of Uiil)elief ; Nor pass they soon ; with Awe and Fear he te^ The flowVy way, and cast back many a look. The Youths applauded much his wise Design, With weighty Heai>uniiig o'er their Evoning Wine j And much in private 'twould thir Mirth improve. To hear how Abel spake of Life and Love ; To hear him owa what grievous Pains it cost. E'er the old Saint was iu the Siaucr lost, E'er his poor Mjuad, with ewry Deed alarm 'd, By Wit was settled ajid by Vipe w^s ch^u'i^'til- % % Letter 91.'] abel keeuik. 287 For Abel enter'd in his bold Career, Like Boys on Ice, with Pleasure and with Fear ; Lingering, yet longing for tlic Joy, he went, Repenting now, now dreading to repent ; With aukward Pace, and with himself at war, Far gone, yet frighten'd that he went so far ; Oft for his Efforts he'd solicit Praise, And then proceed with Blunders and Delays : The Young more aptly Passion*s Calls pursue, But Age and Weakness start at Scenes so new. And tremble when they 've done, for all they dar'd* to do. At length Example AbeVs dread reraov'd, With small concern he sought the Joys he lov'd j Not resting here, he claim'd his share of Fame, And first their Votary, then their Wit became : His Jest was bitter and his Satire bold. When he his Tales of formal Brethren told ; What time with pious Neighbours he discuss'd Their boasted Treasure and their boundless Trust : *' Such were our Dreams," the jovial Elder cried; " Awake and live," his youthful Friends replied. Now the gay Clerk a modest Drab despis'd. And clad him smartly as his Friends advis'd ; So fine a Coat upon his Back he threw. That not an Alley-Boy Old Abel knew ; Broad polish'd Buttons blaz'd that Coat upon, And just beneath the Watch's Trinkets siione A splendid Watch, that pointed out the Time, To fly from Business and make free with Crime : POOR OP THE borough: {^Letter 9\. The crimson Waistcoat and tlie silken Hose Rank'd the lean Man among the Borough Beaux ; His raven Hair he crept with fierce disdain, And light elastic Locks encas'd his Brain : More pliant Pupil who could hope to find, So deck'd in Person and so changed in Mind ? When Abel walk'd the Streets, with pleasant mein He met his Friends, delighted to be seen ; And wlicn he rode along the public Way, No Beau so gaudy and no Youth so gay. His pious Sister, now an antient Maid, For Abel fearing, . first in secret pray'd ; Then thus in Love and Scorn her Notions she <:on- vey'd : , *' Alas ! my Brother ! can I see thoe pace ** Hood-wink'd to Hell, and not lament thy Case, ** Nor stretch my feeble Hand to stop thy headlong! " Race ? '^ Lo ! thou art bound ; a Slarc in Satati's Chain, ** The righteous Abel tum'd the wretched Cain ; *' His Brother's Blood against the Murderer cried, *' Against thee thine, unhappy Suicide! " Are all our pious Nights and peaceful Days, ** Our Evening Headings and our Morning Praise, ** Our Spirits' Comfort in the Trials sent, *' Our Hearts' Rejoicings i^^ the Blessings lent, ** All that o'er Grief a cheering Influence shed, ** Are these for ever oud for ever fled ? Letter 21.^ abel keene. 89 " When in the Years gone by, the trying Years " When Faith and Hope had Strife with Wants and " Fears, ' Thy Nerves have trembled till tliou could'st not eat ' (Drest by this Hand) thy Mess of simple Meat; ' When, griev'd by Fastings, gall'd by Fates severe, ' Slow past the Days of the successless Year ; ' Still in these gloomy Hours, ray Brother then ' Had glorious Views, unseen by prosperous Men : * And Avhen thine Heart has felt its wish denied, ' What gracious Texts hast thou to Grief applied; ' 'Till thou hast enter'd in thine humble Bed, ' By lofty Hopes and heavenly JMusings fed; ' Then I have seen thy lively Looks express ' The Spirit's Comforts in the Man's Distress. " Then didst thou cry, exulting, * Yes, 'tis fit, ^ ' 'Tis meet and right, my Heart ! that we submit :' ' And wilt thou, Abel, thy new Pleasures weigh ''' ' ' Against such Triumphs ? Oh I repent and jiray. " What are thy Pleasures ? with the Gay to sit, ' And thy poor Brain torment for awkward Wit ; A -^ ' All thy good Thoughts (thou had'st them) to restrain, ' And give a wicked Pleasure to the Vain ; ' Thy long lean Frame by fashion to attire, ' That Lads may laugh and Wantons may admire; ' To raise the mirth of Boys, and not to see, ' Unhappy Maniac ! that they laugh at thee. " These boyish Follies, which alone the Boy ' Can idly act or gracefully enjoy, POOR ov TH ftOKouou : [^Letter 2\, " Atld new reproaches to thy fiiilcn state, i* And make Men scorn >f hat thcy >*ould only hate. *' What Pains, my Brother, dost (hou take to prove ** A taste for Follies which thou canst not love? ** Why do thy stiflf' ning Limbs tho Steed bestride *' Thai Lads may lauijh to see thou canst not ride ? ** And why (1 feel the crimson tinc^e my cheek) ^* Dost thou by night in Diamond- Alley sueakf <* TaTewefl ! the Parish will thy Sisivv no decent Book ; Him founf\ the Merchant pmictual at his task, And that perform'd, he'd nothing more to ask ; Letter Ql.^ abel kbenc. 291 He car'd not how old Abel play'd the fool, No Master he, beyond the hours of School : Thusthej^ proceeding, had their Wine and Joke, 'Till Merchant Dixon felt a warning stroke, And, after struo^^ling half a gloomy week. Left his poor Clerk another Friend to seek. Alas ! the Son, who led the Saint astray, Forgot the Man whose Follies made him gay ; He car'd no more for Abel in his need. Than Abel car'd about liis hackney Steed; He now, alas ! had all his Earnings spent, And thus was left to languish and repent; No School nor Clerkship found he in the place, Now lost to Fortune, as before to Grace. For Town Relief the grieving Man applied, And beg'd with tears, what some with scorn denied ; Others look'd down upon the glowing Vest, And frowning, ask'd him at what Price he drest? Happy for him his Country's Laws are mild. They must support him, though they still revil'd ; Griev'd, abject, scorn'd, insulted, and betray 'd, Of God unmindful, and of Man afraid, No more he talk'd ; 'twas pain, 'twas shame to speak, His Heart was sinking and his Frame was weak. His Sister died with such serene delight, He once again began to think her right ; Poor like himself, the happy Spinster lard, And sweet Assurance blest the dying Maid : Poor like the Spinster, he, when Death was nigh, Assur'd of nothing, fclt afraid to die. 292 POOR OF THE -borough: [_LtterQl. The cheerful Clerks who sometimes past the door, Juhi mcntion'd " AbelV and then thought no more. So Abel pondering on liis state forlorn, Look'd round for Comfort, and Avas chased by Scorn. And now we saw him on the Beach rcclin'd. Or causeless walking in the wintry Wind ; And when it rais'd a loud and angry Sea, He stood and gaz'd, in wretched reverie: He heeded not the Frost, the liain, the Snow, Close by the Sea he walk'd alone and slow : Sometimes his Frame through many an hour he spread Upon a TombStone, moveless as the dead ; And was there found a sad and silent place, There would he creep with slow and measur'd pace ; Then would he wander by the River's side, And fix his eyes upon the falling Tide; The deep dry Ditch, the Q,ushes in the Fen, And mossy Crag-Pits were his Lodgings then : There, to his discontented Thoughts a prey, The melancholy Mortal pin'd away. The neighb'ring Poor at length began to speak Of AbePs Ramblings he'd been gone a week; They knew not where, and little care they took For one so friendless and so poor to look : At last a Stranger, in a Pedlar's Shed, Beheld him hanging he had long been dead. He left a Paper, pen'd at sundry times. Entitled thus** My Groanings and my Crimes! *' I was 9 Christian Man, and none could Uiy <* Aught to my charge ; 1 walk'd the iVarrow VVay : Letter 21.] abel keene. S93 ** All then was simple Faith, serene and pure, " My Hope was stedfast and my Prospects sure; *' Then was I tried by Want and Sickness sore, ^ " But these I clapt my Shield of Faith before, > " And Cares and Wants and Man's Rebukes I bore : ^ " Alas! new Foes assail'd me; I was vain, " They stung my Pride and they confus'd my Brain ; " Oh ! these Deluders ! with what glee they saw " Their simple Duj^e transgress the righteous Law; " 'Twas joy to them to view that dreadful Strife, " When Faith and Frailty war'd for more than Life: " So with their Pleasures they beguil'd the Heart, " Then with their Logic they allay'd the smart ; " They proved (so thought I then) with Reasons strong, " That no Man's Feelings ever lead him wrong : " And thus I went, as on the varnish'd Ice, " The smooth Career of Unbelief and Vice. " Oft would the Youths, with sprightly Speech and bold, " Their witty Tales of naughty Priests unfold ; " ' 'Twas all a Craft,' they said, ' a cunning Trade, " ' Not she the Priests, but Priests' Religion made:' " So I believ'd :" No, ^&e// to thy grief, So thou relinquish'd all that was Belief: ** I grew as very flint, and when the rest " Laugh 'd at Devotion, I enjoy'd the jest; " But this all vanish'd like the Morning dew, ^ *' When unemploy'd, and fKJor again I grew; > " Yea! I was doubly poor, for I was wicked too. J " The Mouse that trespass'd and the Treasure stole, " Found his lean Body fitted to the Hole ; ^t POOR OF THE borough: [Letter 21. ** Till having fattetl, be was forc*d to stay, ** And, fasting:, starve his stolen Bulk away : *> Ah ! worse for me grown poor, I yet remain ** In sinful Bonds, and pray and fast in vain. ** At length I thought, although these Friends of Sin '* Have spreatl their Net and caught their Prey therein ; " Though my hard Heart could not for Mercy call, ** Because, though great my Grief, my Faith was small ; " Yet, as the Sick on skilful Men rely, " The Soul, diseas'd, may to a Doctor fly. ** A famous one there was, whose Skill had wrought ** Cures past belief, and him the Sinners sought ; *' Numbers there weredcfird by Mire and Filth, ** Whom he recoverM by his goodly Tilth ; ** * Come then,' I said, * let me the Man l^ehold, 1* * And tell my case' I saw him and I told. " * Oh ! please your Rcv'rence,* rev'rendly I said, '* ' I once belicv'd and I was then misled ; " * And now such Doubts ray sinful Soul beset, " * I dare not si\y that I 'm a Christian yet : " * Canst thou, good Sir, by thy superior Skill, " * Inform my Judgment and direct my Will ? " * Ah ! give thy Cordial ; let my Soul have rest,* **/* And be the otttward Man alone distress'd ; ^*.'* For at my state I tremble.* ' Tremble more,* *^Said the gooil Man, ' and then rejoice therefore ; " * 'Tis good to tremble. Prospects then are fair, " * MMien the lost Soul is plung'd in deep Dc's))air: " * Once thou wert simply honest, just and pure, *' * Whole as thou thought'it and never wish 'd a Cure; tetter Sl.^ abel keene. 295 ** * Now llioii bast plung'd in Folly, Shame, Disgrace; ** * Now! thou'rt an Object meet Tor hoalinij Grace : " ' No Merit thine, no Virtue, Hope, Belief, 1 *^ * Nothing hast thou, but Misery, Sin, and Grief, r "*Tliebest, the only titles to Relief.' ^ *' ' What must I do,' 1 said, ' my Soul to free V ** ' Do nothing, Man ; it will be done for thee.* ** * But must I not, my reverend Guide, believe ?' *' * If thou art call'd, thou wilt the Faith receive:' *' ' But I repent not :' Angry he replied, *' * If thou art call'd, thou needest nought beside: " ' Attend on us, and if 'tis Heaven's Decree, *' * The Call will come, if not, ah ! woe for thee.' *' There then I waited, ever on the watch, *' A spark of Hope, a ray of Light to catch ; " His Words fell softly like the flakes of Snow, *' But I could never find mine Heart o'erfiow : " He cried aloud, 'till in the Flock began *' The Sigh, the Tear, as caught from Man to Man; " They wept and they rejoic'd, and there was I ** Hard as a Flint, and as the Desert dry : *' To me no Tokens of the Call would come, " I felt my Sentence and receiv'd my Doom ; " But I complain'd * Let thy Repinings cease, ^ ** ' Oh ! Man of Sin, for they thy Guilt increase; > " * It bloweth where it listeth die in peace.' X *' * In peace, and perish ?' 1 replied ; ' impart *' * Some better Comfort to a burthen'd Heart.' * * Alas !' the Priest return'd, ' can I direct " < The heavenly Call ? Do I proclaim th' Elect? 396' ABEL REENE. [^Letter 21. " * Raise not thy Voice against th' Eternal Will, * But take thy part with Sinners and be still.' *' Alas ! for rac, no more the times of Peace '* Are mine on Earth in Death my Pains may cease. *' Foes to my Soul ! ye young Seducers, know, ** What serious Ills from your Amusements flow; ** Opinions, you with so much ease profess, ** O'crwhelm the Simple and *' Meantime the Fish and In its hot slimy Channel slowly glide ; J 30(i POOR OF THE BOROUGH: {Letter 2i, Where the small Eels that left the deeper way For the warm Shore, within the Shallows play ; Where gaping Muscles, left upon the Mud, Slope their slow passage to the fallen Flood ; Here dull and hopeless he 'd lie down and trace How side-long Grabs had scrawVd their crooked race ; Or sadly listen to the tuneless cry Of fishing Gull or clanging Golden-Eye ; What time the Sea-Birds to the Marsh would come, \ And the loud Bittern^ from the BuU-rusli home, ? Gave from tlic Salt-ditch side the bellowing Boom : y He nurst the Feelings these dull Scenes protluce. And lov'd to stop beside the opening Sluice ; Where the smidl Stream, confin'd in narrow l)ound, *Ran with a dull, unvaried, sad'ning sound ; Where all presented to the Eye or Ear, Oppress'd the Saul! with Misery, Grief and Fear. Besides these objects, there were places threcy Which Peter seem'd with certain dread to see ; When he drew near them he would turn from each, And loudly whistle till he past the Reach* A change of Scene to him brouglit no relief. In Town, 'twas plain, Men took liini for a Thief: The Sailors' Wives would stop him in the Street, And say, " Now, Peter j thou 'st no Boy to beat :" The reaches in a liver are those parts wiiich extend from point to point. Johnson has not Uic word precisely in this sense, but it it very common, and I believe used wheresoever a navigable river can Le found in this couAtry. Ldter 22.J peter grims. 307 Infants at play, \vhen they perceiv*d him, ran, Warning each other " That 's the wicked Man :'* He growl'd an oath, and in an angry tone Curs'd the whole Place and wish'd to be alone. Alone he was, the same dull Scenes in view, And still more gloomy in his sight they grew : Though Man he hated, yet employ'd alone At bootless labour, he would swear and groan^ Cursing the Shoals that glided by the spot. And Gulls that caught them when his arts could not. Cold nervous Tremblings shook his sturdy Frame, And strange Disease he couldn't say the name ; Wild were his Dreams, and oft he rose in fright, Wak'd by his view of Horrors in the Night, Horrors that would the sternest Minds amaze, Horrors that Dnemons might be proud to raise : And though he felt forsaken, griev'd at heart, ^ To think he liv*d from all Mankind apart ; > Yet, if a Man approach'd, in terrors he would start. ^ A Winter past since Peter saw the Town, And Summer Lodgers were again come down ; These, idly-curious, with their glasses spied The Sliips in Bay as anchor'd for the Tide, The River's Craft, the bustle of the Quay, And Sea-port views, whicli Landmen love to see. One, up the River, had a Man and Boat Seen day by day, now anchor'd, now afloat ; 308 POOR OP THE BOROUGH: [Letter S'S. Fisher he scem'd, yet us'd no Net nor Hook, ^ Of Sea-fowl swimming by, na heed he took, > But on the c:liding Waves still fix'd his lazy look : 5 At certain stations he would view the Stream, As if he stood bewilder'd in a Dream, Or that some Power had chaiu'd him for a time, To feel a Curse or meditate on Crime. This known, some curious^ some in pity went. And others question'd " Wretch, dost thou repent 2" He iKsird, he trembled, and in fear resign'd His Boat : new terror fiU'd his restless Mind ; Furious he grew and up the Country ran, And there tlicy seiz'd him a distempcr'd Man : Him we receiv'd, and to a Parish-bed, Follow 'd and curs'd, the groaning Man was led. Here when they saw him, whom they us'd to shun, A lost, lone Man, so harass'd and undone ; Onr gentle Females, ever prompt to feel, Pcrceiv'd Compassion on their Anger steal ; His Crimes they couldn't from their Memories blot, But they were griev'd and trembled at his Lot. A Priest too came, k> whom his words are told, And all the signs they shuddcr'd to behold. " Ix)ok ! look !" they cried ; " his Limbs with horror " shake, * Anil as he grinds his Teeth, what noise they make ! " How glare his angry Eyes, and yet he's not awake : ! Letter 22.] peter grimes. 309 '^ See ! what cold drops upon liis Forehead stand, " And how he clenches that broad bony Hand." The Priest attending, found he spoke at times As one alluding; to his Fears and Crimes: " li was the fall," he mutter'd, " I can show *' The manner how I neyer struck a blow:" And then aloud " Unhand me, free my Chain ; " On Oath, he fell it struck him to the lirain : --- " Why ask my Father? that old Man will swear " Against my Life; besides, he wasn't there :--- " What, all agreed ? Am I to die to-day ? " My Lord, in Mercy, give me time to pray." Then as they watch'd him, calmer he became. And grew so weak he couldn't move his Frame, But murmuring spake, while they could see and hear The start of Terror and th groan of Fear ; See the large Dew-beads on his Forehead rise. And the cold Death-pdrop glaze his sunken Eyes ; Nor yet he died, but with unwonted force, Seera'd with some fancied Being to discourse : He knew/not us, or with accustom'd art He hid the knowledge, yet expos'd his Heart ; 'Twas part Confession and the rest Defence, A Madman's Tale, with gleams of waking Sense. ** m tell you all," he said, *' the very day " When the old Man first plac'd them in my way : ** My Father's Spirit he who always tried ** To give me trouble, when he liv'd and died ** When he was gone, he could not be content " To see my Days in painful Labour spent, 3\0 POOR OF THE uoRouGii : [ Letter 2i. " But wouUl appoint his Meetings, and he made , " Mc watch at these, and so ntglect my Trade. " *Twas one hot Noon, all silent, still, serene, *' No living Being liad 1 lately seen ; ** I paddled up and down and dipt my Net, " But (such his pleasure) I could nothing set,- *' A Father's ple^isure ! when his Toil was done, *' To plague and torture thus an onlj- Son ; " And so I sat and look'd upon the Stream, " How it ran on, and felt as in a Dream : " But Dream it was not ; No ! I fix'd my Eyes " On the raid Stream and saw the Spirits rise ; *' I saw my Father on the Water stand, *' And hold a thin pale Boy in either hand ; " And there they glided ghastly on the top " Of the salt Flood and never t: *' He and those Boys ; I humbled me aiul pray'd *' They would be gone ; they heeded not, but stayM ** Nor could I turn, nor would the Boat go b^-, ** But gazing on the Spirits, there was I ; ** They bade me leap to death, but I wa^loth to die; " And every day, as sure as day arose, " Would these three Spirits- meet me 'ccr the close j *' To hear and mark them daily was my doom, '* ^Ind * Gome,' they said, with weak, sad voices, ' come.' t I \ Letter 22.^ peter grimes, 311 " To row awaj with all ray strength I try'd, *' But there were they, hard by mc in the Tide, " The three unbotlied Forms and ' Corae,* still ' come,' " they cried. " Fathers should pity but this old* Man shook " His hoary Locks and froze me by a Look : " Thrice, when I struck them, tlirough the water came " An liollow Groan, that wcakjen'd all my Frame: " ' Father!' said I, ' have Mercy:' He replied, " I know not what the angry Spirit lied, " * Didst thou not draw thy Knifc?' said he: 'Twas " true, " But I had Pity and my Arm withdrew : '^ He cried for Mercy, which I kindly gave, " But he has no Comptission in his Grave. *' There were three places, where they ever rose, - " The whole long River has no! such as those, ** Places accurs'd, where, if a Man remain, " He '11 see the things which strike him io the Brain ; *' And there they mace me on my Paddle lean, " And look at them for hours ; accursed Scene ! *' When they would glide to that smooth Eddy-space, " Then bid mc leap and join them in the place ; " And at my Groans each little villain Sprite " Enjoy 'd my Pains and vanish'd in delight.. " In one fierce Summer-day, when mj^ poor Brain *' Was buming-hot and cruel was my Pain, * Then came this Father-foe, and tliere he stood " With his two Boys again upon the Flotwl; 312 PETER GRIMES. [Letter 9^' * There was more Mischief in their Eyes, more Glee " III their pale Faces when they glar'd at me : *' Still did they force me on the Oar to rest, ** And when (hey saw me fainting and opprest, ** lie, with his Hand, the old Man, scoop'd the Flood, " And there came Flame about him mix'd with Blood ; ** He bade me stoop and look n|)oii the place, ** Then flung the hot-red Liquor in my Face; " Burning it blaz'd, and then I roar'd for Pain, *' I thought the Daemons would have turn'd my Bmin. ** Still there they stood, and forc'd me to behold " A place of Horrors they cannot be toU! ** Where the Flood open'd, there 1 heard the Shriek *' Of tortur'd Guilt no earthly Tongue can speak : " * All Days alike! for ever !* did they say, *' * And unremitted Torments every Day' ** Yes, so tliey said :" But here he ceas'd and gnzM On all around, affrighten'd and amaz'd ; And still he try'd to speak and look'd in iocte dieque suum gesture in pectorc testum. Juvenal. Sat. 13.1. 10 ; Think my former Flatc an hr.ppy droam, From which awak'd, tin; truth of what we are, Sbow<; US but this, I am sworn brother now 'I'o ir'ixa Necessity, and he and I "VViU keep a leagne till death, Cirfaard U. I'HlbON'S. The Mind of Man accommodates itself to all Sitiiation And wheresoe'er began, all here was sure to end : J And there she sits as thoughtless and as gay, As if she 'd Means, or not a Debt to pay Or knew to-morrow she 'd be call'd away Or felt a Shilling and couUl dine to-day. While thus observing, I began to trace The sober'd Features of a well-known Face Looks once familiar, Manners form'd to pletise, And all illurain'd by an Heart at ease : But Fraud and Flattery everfclaim'd a part (Still imresisted) of that easy Heart ; But he at length beholds me ' Ah ! my Friend ! ' And have thy Pleasures this unlucky end ?* " Too sure," he said, and smiling as he sigh'd ; *' I went astray, though Prudence seem'd my Guide; *' All she propos'd I hi my heart approy'd, " And she was honour'd, but my Pleasure lov'd *' Pleasure, the Mistress to whose arms I fled, *' From Wife-like Lectures angry Prudence read. " Why speak the Madness of a Life like mine, " The powers of Beauty, Novelty, and Wine ? *' Why paint the wanton Smile, the venal Vow, *' Or Friends whose worth 1 can appreciate now ? " Oft I perceiv'd my Fate, and then would say, ** I '11 think to-morrow, I must live to-day : *' So am I here I own the Laws are just " And here, wliere Thought is painful, think I must : S20 PR1SONS4 [^Letter 23. " But Speech is pleasant, this Discourse with thee ** Brings to my Mind the sweets of Liberty, ^* Bn>aksoa the sameness of the place, and gives *' The doubtful Heart Conviction that it lives. " Let me describe my Anguish in the hour " When Law detain'd me and I felt its power. *' When in that Shipwreck, this I found my Shore, * And join'd the Wretched, who were wreck'd before; * When 1 perceiv'd each Feature in the Face *' Pinched through Neglect or turbid by Disgrace ; *' When in these wasting Forms Affliction stood " In ray afflicted view, it chill'd my Blood ; " And forth I rush'd, a quick Retreat to make, " Till a loud Laugh proclaim'd the dire Mistake: " But when the Groan h.id settled to a Sigh, " When Gloom became familiar to the Eye, ** Wlien I perceive liow others seem to rest, *' With every Evil rankling in my Breast, *' I^ by Example, I put on the Man, ** Sing off my Sighs and trifle as I qui. " Homrr ! nay Pope ! (for never will I seek " Applause for I.ear, ** Thou art not worthy to be Inmate here : " Go to thy World, and to the Young declare ** What we, our Spirits and Employments are ; '* Tell them how wc the Ills of Life endure, '* Our l^rapiic stable and our State secure; ^* Our Drc?s, our Diet, for their use describe, '* And bid them haste to join the gen'rous Tribe ; " Go to thy World, and leave us here to dwell, ^* Who to its Joys and Comforts bid farewell." Farewell to these ; but other Scenes I view, And other Griefs and Guilt of deejx^r hue ; Where Conscience gives to outward Ills her Pain, Gloom to the Night and Pressure to the Chain : Here separate Cells awhile in Misery keep Two doom*d to suffer : there they strive for Sleep; By day indu?i!^*d, in larger Space they range. Their Bondage certain but their Bounds have change, , One was a Female, who had grievous ill Wrought in llevengr, and she cnjoy'd it still ; With Dcalh Ijcfore her and her Fate in view, Unsafcd Vengeance in her Bosom grew : Sullen she was and thrcatning ; in her Eye Glar'd the stem Triumph that she dar'd to die; But first a Being in the World must leave *Twas once lleproach ; 'twas now a short Ilcpricve. She was a Pauper bound, who early gave Her Mind to Vice and doubly was a Slave ; Upbraided, beaten, held by rough Controul, Revenge sustain'd, inspir'd and fill'd her Soul : Later 25.] prisons. 32S. She fir'd a full-stor'd Barn, confcss'd the fact, And laugh 'd at Law and justified the act : Our gentle Vicar tried his powers in vain, She answer'd not, or answer'd with disdain ; Th' approaching Fate she heard without a sigh, And neither car'd to live nor fear'd to die. Not so he felt, who with her was to pay The forfeit, Lifc with dread he view'd the Day, And that short Space which yet for him rcmain'd. Till with his Limbs his Faculties were chain'd : He pac'd his narrow Bounds some Ease to find, But found it not, no Comfort reach'd his Mind : Each Sense was palsied ; when he tasted Food, He sigh 'd and said, " Enough 'tis very good." Since his dread Sentence, nothing secra'd to be As once it was he seeing could not see, Nor hearing, hear aright : when first I came Within his view, I fancied there was Shame, 1 judg'd Resentment ; I mistook the Air, These fainter Passions live not with Despair; Or but exist and die : Hope, Fear and Love, Joy, Doubt and Hate, may other Spirits move, But touch not his, who every waking hour Has one fix'd Dread, and always feels its power* " But will not Mercy ?" No ! she cannot plead For such an Outrage ; 'twas a cruel Deed : He stop'd a timid Traveller ; to his Breast, With Oaths and Curses, was the Danger prcst: No ! he must sufler ; Pity we may find For one Man's Pangs, ])ut must not wrong Mankind. SSt PiwsoHf. [^Letter ^3. Still I behold him, every Thought employ 'd On one dire View ! all others are destroy 'd ; This makes his Features j^hastly, gives the tone Of his few words resemblance to a gjroan : lie takes his tasteless Food, and when 'tis done, Counts up his Meals, now lessen'd by that one ; For Expectation is on Time intent, Whether he brings us Joy or Punishment. Yes ! e'en in sleep th' impressions all remain, lie hears the Sentence and he feels the Chain ; He sees the Judge and Jurj', when he shakes. And loudly cries, " Not guilty," and awakes : Then chilling Tremblings o'er his Body creep, Till worn-out Nature is compell'd to sleep. Now comes the Dream again : it shows each Scene, With each small Circumstance that comes between The Call to SuiFering and the very Deed There Crowds go with him, follow and precexle; Some heartless shout, some pity, all condemn, While he in fancied Envy looks at them : He seems the Place for that sad Act to see. And dreams the very Thirst which then will be; A Priest attends it seems the one he knew Jn his best days, beneath whose care he grew. At this his Terrors take a sudden flight. He sees his native Village with delight; The House, the Chamix;r, where he once array 'd His youthful Person ; where he knelt and pray'd : Then too the Comforts he enjoy 'd at home. The Days of Joy ; the Joys themselves are come; ^ Letter 23.] pRisoxs. 325 The Hours of Innocence ; the timid Look Of his lov'd Miiid, when first her hand he took And told his hope ; her trembling Joy appears, Herforc'd Reserve and his retreating Fears. All now is present ; 'tis a moment's gleam Of former Sunshine stay, delightful Dream ! Let him within his pleasant Garden walk, Give him her Arm, of Blessings let them talk. Yes ! all are with him now, and all the while Life's early Prospects and his Fanni/'s Smile : Then come his Sister and his Village Friend, And he will now the sweetest Moments spend Life has to yield : ^No ! never Avill he find Again on Earth such Pleasure in his Mind : He goes through shrubby Walks these Friends among, Love in their Looks and Honour on the Tongue ; Nay, there's a Charm beyond what Nature shows. The Bloom is softer and more sweetly glows ; Pierc'd by no Crime, and urg'd by no desire For more than true and honest Hearts require. They feel the calm Delight, and thus proceed Through the green Lane, then linger in the Mead, Stray o'er the Heath in all its purple bloom, And pluck the Blossom where the Wild-bees hum ; Then through the broomy Bound with ease they pass, And press the sandy Sheep-walk's slender Grass, Where dwarfish Flowers among the Gorse are spread, And the Lamb bronzes by the Linnet's Bed ; Then 'cross the bounding Brook they make their way O'er its rough Bridge and tUere behold the Bay !~ pRisom. ^^Letter 23. The Ocean smilin? to the fervid Sun The Waves that faintly fall and slowly run The Ships at distance and the Boats at hand : And now they walk upon the Sea-sitle Sand, Gjunting the number and what kind they be, Ships softly sinking in the sleepy Sea : Now arm in arm, now jmrted, they behold The gUtt'ring Waters on the Shingles roU'd : The timid Girls, half dreading their design. Dip the small Foot in the retarded Brine, And search for crimson Weeds, which spreading flow, Or lie like Pictures on the Sand below ; With all those bright red Pebbles, that the Sun Through the small Waves so softly shines upon ; And those live lucid Jellies which the eye Delights to trace as they swim glitt'ring by : Pearl-shells and rubied Star-fish they admire, And will arrange above the Parlour-fire, Tokens of Bliss ! " Oh ! horrible ! a Wave . " Roars as it rises save mo, Edward! save!" She cries : Alas ! the Watchman on his way Calls and lets in Truth, Terror, and the Day. LETTER XXIV. SCHOOLS. Tu quoque ne metuas quamvis ScJiola verbere multo Increpet et tracnlenta senex geret ora magiiter; Degeuerej animos timor arguit : at tibi consta Intrepidus, aec te clamor plagsqiie sonantes, Nee matntinis agitet formido sub horis, Quud scpptrum vibrat ferulae quod mult? <^upeUeX Virpea, quod mollis scnticam prstexit aluta, Qudd fervent trepido subsellia veslra tumulta Pompa loci, et vani fugiatur sceiia timoris. Ausonius in Protreptico ad Kepotem. Be it a weakneas, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days ; The scene is toucliing', and the heart is stone That ftels not at that sight and feels at none : The wall on which we tried our graving skill. The very name we carvM subsisting still ; The bench on which we sat while deep employ'd. Though mangled, hack'd, and bew'd, yet not destroy'd. Tlie little ones unbatton'd, glowing hot. Playing ou' games and on the very spot; As happy as we once to kneel and draw The chalky ring and knuckle down at taw. This fond attachment to the well-known place. When first we started into life's long race. Maintains its hold with Buch unfailing sway, We feel it e'en in age and at our latest day. Cow per. SCHOOLS. Every kind to be found in the Borough. ^The School for In- fants. Ihe School preparatory' : the Sagacity of the Mistress in foreseeing Character. Day-Schools of the lower kind A Master with Talents adapted to such Pupils: oneofsaperior Qualifications. Boirding-Schools: that for young Ladies; one going first to the Governess, one finally returning home. School for Youth : Master and Teacher ; various Disposi- tions and Capacities. ^The Miser-Boy. ^The Boy-Bully. Sons of Farmers : how amused. What Study will effect examined. A College Life : One sent from bis College to a Benefice ; one retained there in Dignity. The Advantages in either Case not considerable. Where then the good of a literary Life .'Answered. Conclusion. LETTER XXIV. SCHOOLS. X O every Class we have a School assign'd, Rules for all Ranks and Food for every Mind; Yet one there is that small regard to Rule Or Study pays, and still is deem'd a School : That, where a deaf, poor, patient Widow sits, And awes some thirty Infants as she knits ; Fnfants of humble, busy Wives, who pay Some trifling Price for Freedom through the day. At this good Matron's Hut the Children meet. Who thus becomes the Mother of the Street ; Her Room is small, they cannot widely stray, Her Threshold high, they cannot run away : Though deaf, she sees the Rebel-Heroes shout, Though lame, her white Rod nimbly walks about ; With Band of Yarn she keeps Offenders in, And to her Gown the sturdiest Rogue can pin : Aided by these, and Spells and tell-tale Birds, Her Power they dread and reverence her Words. To Learning's second Seats we now proceed, Where humming Students gilded Primers read ; 330 SCHOOLS. [^Letter 91. Or Books with Letters large and Pictures gay, To make their Reading but a kind of Play ** Reading raaile Easy," so the Titles tell. But they who read must first begin to spell : There may be Profit in these Arts, but still Learning is Labour, call it what you will ; Upon the youthful Mind an he.;/y Load, Nor must we hope to find the Royal Road. Some w ill their easy steps to Science show, And some to Hetiven itself their By-way know ; Ah ! trust them not, who Fame or Bliss would share, Must learn by Labour, and must live by Care. Another iVIatron of superior kind. For higher Schools prepares the rising Miml ; Preparatory she her Learning calls, The step first made to Colleges and Halls. She early sees to what the Mind will grow. Nor abler Judge of Infant-Powers I know; She sees what soon the lively will impede. And how the steadier will in turn succeed ; Observes tlie dawn of Wisdom, Fancy, Taste, And knows what Parts will wear and what will waste ; She marks the Mind too lively, and at once Sees the gay Coxcomb and the rattling Dunce. Long has she liv'd, and much she lores to trace Her former Pupils, now a lordly race ; Whom when slie sees rich Robes and Furs bedeck, She marks the Pride which once she strove to check : A Burgess comes, ami she remembers well liow hard her task to make his Worship spelt ; JLetterSi.'l schools. 331 Cold, selfish, dull, inaniniate, unkind, 'Twas but by Anger he display 'd a Mind : Now civil, smiling, complaisant, and gay. The World has worn th' unsocial Crust away ; That sullen Spirit now a softness wears. And, save by fits, e'en Dulness disappears : But still the Matron cafi? the Man behold. Dull, selfish, hard, inanimate and cold. A Merchant passes, " Probity and Truth, *' Prudence and Patience, mark'd thee from thy Youth.*' Thus she observes, but oft retains her Fears For him, who now with Name unstain'd appears ; Nor hope relinquishes, for one who yet Is lost in Error and involv'd in Debt ; For latent Evil in that Heart she found, More open here, but here the Core was sound. Various our Day-Schools : here behold we one Empty and still; the Morning Duties done, Soil'd, tatter'd, .worn, and thrown in various heaps. Appear their Books, and there Confusion sleeps ; TJie Workmen all are from the Babel fled. And lost their Tools, till the return they dread : Meantime the Master, with his wig awry. Prepares his Books for business by and by : Now all th' Insignia of the Monarch laid Beside him rest, and none stand by afraid ; He, while his Troop light-hearted leap and play, Is all intent on Duties of the Day ; No m^re the Tyrant stern or J udge severe, He feels the Father's and the Husband's Fear. ILetter 9L Ah! liflle think the timid tremblinsf Crowcf, That one so wise, so pow'rful, and so proud. Should feel himself, and dread (he humble ills Of Rent-day Charcjes and of Coalman's Bills ; That while they Mercy from their Judi^ implore, He fears himself a knockincr at the Door ; And feels the Burthen us his \eis:hbour states His humble Portion to the Parish-Rates. They sit th' allotted Hours, then easrcr run. Rushing to Pleasure when the Duty's done : H is Hour of Leisure is of diflerent k ind. Then Cares domestic rush upon his ^fi^(l, Arid half the Elase and Comfort he enjoys, Js when surrounded by Slates, Books, and Boys. Poor Reuben Dixon has the noisiest School Of ragged Lads, who ever bow'd to Rule ; Low in his Pricfr the Men who heave our Coals, And clean our Causeways, send him Bo7;s in shoals : To see poor licuheu, with his Fry licside, Their half-check'd Rudeness and his half-sconi'il Pride, Their Room, the Sty in which th' Assembly meet, Jn the close Lane behind the North gate-Street ; T' observe his vain Attempts io keep the Peace, Till tolls the Bell, and Strife on both Sides cease, Calls for our praise; his Labour Praise deserves, But not our Pity ; Reuben has no Nerves : JVlid Noise and Dirt, and Stench and Play and Prate, He calmly cuts the Pen or views the Slate. Letter 24t. J schools, 333^ But Leonard! Yes, for Leonard^ Fate I grieve, Who loalhs (he Station which he dares not leave ; He cannot dig, he will not beg his Bread, All his dependence rests upon Jiis Head ; And deeply skilPd in Sciences and Arts, On vulgar Lads he wastes superior Pajrts. Alas! what Grief that feeling Mind sustains, In guiding Hands and stirring torpid Brains ; He whose proud Mind from Pole to Pole will move. And view the Wonders of the Worlds above ; Who thinks and reasons strongly : hard his Fate, Confin'd for ever to the Pen and Slate ; True, he submits, and when the long dull Day Has slowly past, in weary Tasks, away, To other Worlds with cheerful view he looks. And parts the Night between Repose and Books. Amid his Labours, he has sometimes tried To turn a little from his Cares aside ; Pope, Milton, Dryden^ with delight has seized, His Soul engag'd and of liis Trouble eas'd ; When, with an heavy Eye and ill-done Sum, No part conceiv'd, a stupid Boy will come : Then Leonard (first subdues the rising frown) And bids the Blockhead lay his Blunders down ; O'er which disgusted he will turn his Eye, To his sad Duty his sound Mind apply, And, vex'd in Spirit, throws his Pleasures by. } Turn we to Schools which more than these afford The sound Instruction aud the wholesome Board ; 55 SCHOOLS. [Letter 9i. And first our School for Ladies : Pity calls For one soft Si<^h, when vrc behold these Walls, Plac'd near the Town, and where, from Window high, The Fair, confin'd, may our free Crowds espy, With many a Stranger ^zing up and down, And all the envied Tumult of the Town ; May, in the smiling Sumnior-Eve, when they Are sent to sleep the pleasant hours away, Behold the Poor (whom they conceive the blest) Eraploy'd for hours, and griev'd they cannot rest. Here the fond Girl, whose days are sad and few Since dear Mamma pronoiinc'd the last Adieu, Looks to the Road, and fondly thinks she hears The Carriage-wheels and struggles with her Tears : All yet is new, the Misses great and small. Madam herself, and Teachers, odious all; From Laughter, Pity, nay Command, she turns, But melts in softness, or with anger burns ; Nauseates her Food, and wonders who can sleep On such mean Beds, where she can only weep : She scorns Condolence but to all she hates Slowly at length her Mind accommodates ; Then looks on Bondage with the same concern As others felt, and finds that she must learn As others Icarn'd tlie common Lot to share. To search for Comfort and submit to Care. i There are, 'tis said, who on these Seats attend. And to these ductile Minds Destruction vend ; Wretches to Virtue, Prace, and Nature, Foes To tlie soft Minds, their wicked Trash expose; Letter 24.] schools. . 335 Seize on the Soul, ere Passions take the sway, And lead the Heart, ere yet it feels, astray : Smugglers obscene I and can there be who take Infernal pains, the sleeping Vice to wake ? Can there be those, by whom the Thought defd'd Enters the spotless Bosom of a Child ? By whom the III is to the Heart convey 'd, % Who lend the Foe, not yet in Arms, their Aid, > And sap the City-walls before the Siege l3e laid ? ^ Oh ! rather skulking in the By-ways steal, And rob the poorest Traveller of his Meal ; Burst through the humblest Trader's bolted Door; Bear from the Widow's Hut her Winter-Store; With stolen Steed, on Highways take your stand. Your Lips with Curses arm'd, with Death your Hand ; Take all but Life the Virtuous more would say, ^ Take Life itself, dear as it is, away, r" Rather than guilty thus the guileless Soul betray. ^ Years pass away let us suppose them past, Th* accomplish'd Nymph for Freedom looks at last ; All Hardship over, which a Scliool contains, The Spirit's Bondage and the Body's Pains ; Where Teachers make the heartless, trembling set Of Pupils suffer for their own regret ; Where Winter's Cold, attack'd by one poor Fire, Chills the fair Child, commanded to retire ; She felt it keenly in the Morning Air, Keenly she felt it at the Evening Prayer. More pleasant Summer ; but tlu;n Walks were made, Not a sweet R'm ble, but a slow Parade ; SCHOOLS. [Letter 24. TLey inov'd by Pairs beside Ibe Hawthorn-hedge, Only to set their Fceliii<^ on an edge ; And now at Eve, when all their Spirits rise, Are sent to rest, and all their Pleasure dies ; Where yet they all the Town alert can see, And distant Plough-boys pacing o'er the Lea. These and the Tasks successive Masters brought The French thpycon'd,thccurious Works they wrought; The hours they made their taper Fingers strike, Note after Note, all dull to them alike ; Thtfir Drawings, Dancings on appointed days, Playing with Globes, and getting Parts of Plays; The tender Friendships made 'twixt Heart and Heart, When the dear Friends had nothing to impart: \ All ! all ! are over ; now th'accomplish'd Maid ^ngs for the World, of nothing there afraid : Dreams of Delight invade her gentle Breast, And fancied Lovers rob the Heart of rest; At the paternal Door a Carriage stands. Love knits their Hearts and Ut/mai joins their Haadk. Ah ! World unknown ! how charming is thy View, Thy Pleasures many, and each Pleasure new : Ah ! Worlil experienc'd ! what of thee is told ? How few tby Pleasures, and those few how old. Within a silent Street, and far apart From Noise of Basiness, from a Quay or Mart, Stands an old spacious Building, and the Din You hear without explains the Work within; Letter 9^.2 schools. 537 Unlike the ivhisperinc^ of the Nymphs, this noise Loudly proclaims a *' Boardinsr-School for Boys :" The Master heeds it not, for thirty years Have render'd all familiar to his ears ; He sits in comfort, 'mid the various sound Of mingled tones for ever flowing round ; Day after day he to his task attends, Unvaried toil, and care that never ends : Boys in their works proceed ; while his employ Admits no change, or changes but the Boy ; Yet time has made it easy ; he beside Has Power supreme, and Power is sweet to Pride : But grant him Pleasure; what can Teachers feel, Dependent Helpers always at the Wheel ? Their Power despis'd, their Compensation small, Their Labour dull, their Life laborious all ; Set after set the lower Lads to make Fit for the Class which their superiors take ; The Rc>ad of Learning for a time to track In roughest state, and then again go back : Just the same way on other Troops to wait, Attendants fix'd at Learning's lower Gate. The Day-tasks now are over, to their Ground Rush the gay Crowd with joy-comiielling sound : Glad to illude the Burdens of the day. The eager Parties hurry to their Play : Then in these hours of Liberty we find The native bias of the opening Mind ; They yet possess not skill the Mask to place, And hide the Passions glowing in the Face; Yet some are found the close, the sly, the mean, Who know already all must not be seen. z 838 iCMooLs. lLetfer2i. Lo ! one wbo walks apart, although so young, lie lays restraint upon his ejre and tongue ; ' Kor will he into scraj>es or dans^crs get, And half the School are in the Stripling's ddbt : Suspicious, timid) he is moch afraid Of Trick and Plot: ^he dreads to be betray'd ; He shuns all Friendships, for ho Hiids they lend. When Lads begin to call each otiier Friend : Yet Sflf with Self has war ; the tempting sight Of Fruit on sale provokes his Appetite; See! how he walks the sweet Seduction by, ^ That he is tempted, costs him first a sigh, > *Tis dangerous to indulge! 'tis grievous to deny : i!* This he will choose, and whispering asks the Price, ' The Purchase dreadful, but the Portion nice; Within the Pocket be explores the Pence, Without, Temptation strikes on either Sense, The Sight, the Smell ; but then he thinks agaia, Of Money wasted! when no taste remain. Meantime there comes an eager thoughtless Boy, Who gives ihe Price and only feels the Joy : Kxample dire ! the youthful Miser stops, And slowly back the treasur'd Coinage drops : Heroic deed ! for should he now comply, Can he to-morrow's Appetite deny ? Beside, these Spendthrifts who so freely live, Cloy*d with their Purchase, will a portion give: Here ends Debate, he buttons up his Store, And feels the comfort that it bums no more. Unlike to him the Tyrant-Boy, whose sway AH ne?M-ts acknowledge; him the Crowds obey t Letter 24.] schools. 33? At his Comm;\ncl they break throu:h every Rule ; Whoever governs, he controuls (he School : 'Tis not the distant Emperor moves their fear, But the proud Viceroy who is ever near. Verves could do that mischief in a day, For which not Rome, in all its power, could pay ; And these Boy-Tyrants will their Slaves distress, And do the wrons^s no Master can redress : The Mind ihey load with fear ; it feels disdain '\ For its own baseness ; yet it tries in vain ("again : > To shake th' admitted power ; the Coward comes J *Tis more than present pain these Tyrants give, Long as we've Life some strong impressions live ; And these young Rufhans in the Soul will sow Seeds of all Vices that on weakness grow. Hark ! at his word the trembling Younglings flee. Where he is walking none must walk but he; Sec ! from the Winter-Fire the Weak retreat. His the warm Corner, his the favourite Seat, Save when he yields it io some Slave to keep Awhile, then back, at his return, to creep: At his command his poor Dependants fly, And humbly bribe him as a proud Ally ; Flatter'd by all, the notice he bestows Is gross abuse, and bantering and blows ; Yet he's a Dunce, and spite of all his fame Without the Desk ; within he feels his shame : For there the weaker Boy who felt his scorn, For him corrects the Blunders of the Morn; And he is taught, unpleasant truth ! to fmd Tbe trembling Body lias the prouder Mind. IW) SCHOOLS. [LeWtff 24. Hark ! fo that shout, that burst of empty noise, From a rude set of bluff, obstrepiTous Boys ; They who, like Colts let loose, with vigour bound, And thoughtless spirit, o'er the beaten ground ; Fearless they leap, and every Youngster feels His Alma active in his hands and heels. These are the Sons of Farmers, and they come With partial ibndncss for the Joys of Home ; Their Minds are coursing in their Fathers' Fields, And e'en the Dream a lively pleasure yields ; They, much enduring, sit th' allotted hours. And o'er a Grammar waste their sprightly powers : They dance ; but them can raeasur'd steps delight, Whom Horse and Hounds to daring deeds excite ? Nor could they l>ear to wait from meal to meal, Did they not slily to the chamber steal, And -there the produce of the basket seize. The Mother's Gift ! still studious of their ease. Poor Alma, thus opprest, forbears to rise. But rests or revels in the arms and thighs. ^ s_3^|^i '* But is it sure tliat Study will repay " The more attentive and forlxraring ?" Nay ! The Farm, the Ship, the humble Shop have each Gains wiiich severest Studies seldom reach. At College 'place a A'outh, who means to raise His State \iy merit and his Name by praise; Still much he hazards; there is serious strife In tlie contentions of a Scholar's life: Not all the Mind's attention, cjire, distress, Nor diligence itself ensure success; Letter 9i.'] schools. 341 His jealous heart a Rival's powers may dread, Till ils sjtrong feelings have confus'd his head, And, after days and months, nay, years of pain, He finds just lost the object he would gain. But grant him this and all such Life can give, For other Prospects he begins to live ; Begins to feel that Man was form'd to look. And long for other object than a Book : In his Mind's eye his House and Glebe he sees, And farms and talks with Farmers at his ease; And Time is lost, till Fortune sends him forth To a rude World unconscious of his worth ; There in some petty Parish to reside, The College-boast, then turn'd the Village-guide ; And though awhile his Flock and Dairy please, He soon reverts to former Joys and Ease, Glad when a Friend shall come to break his rest, And speak of all the Pleasures they possest, Of Masters, Fellows, Tutors, all with whom They shar'd those Pleasures, never more to come ; Till both conceive the times by Bliss endcar'd, Which once so dismal and so dull appear'd. But fix our Scholar, and suppose him crown'd With all the Glory gain'd on Classic ground ; Suppose the World without a sigh resign'd, And to his College all his care confin'd ; Give him all Honours that such states allow, The Freshman's terror and the Tradesman's bow; Let his Apjwtments with his taste agree. And all his Views be those he loves to see; Let him eadi day behold the savory treat, For which he pays not, but is paid to e^t; 342 SCHOOLS. \_Lttter9i, These Jojs and (jllories soon delight no more, Although withheld, the Mind is vex'd and sore : The Honour too is to the place confin'd, Abroad they know not each superior Mind : Strangers no Wranf^lers in these Figures see, Nor give they Worship to an high degree ; Unlike the Prophets is the Scholar's case, His Honour all is in his Dwelling-place : And there such Honours are familiar things. What is a Monarch in a crowd of Kings ? Like other Sovereigns he 's by forms adilrest. By Statutes govern'd, and with Rules opprest. When all these Forms and Duties die away, And the day passes like the former day, Tlien of exterior things at once bereft, He's to himself and one Attendant left ; Nay, John too goes ; nor aught of Service more Remains for him ; he gladly quits the door, And, as he whistles to the College-fjate, He kindly pities his poor Master's fate. Books cannot always please, however good ; Minds are not ever craving for their Food ; But Sleep will soon the weary Soul prepare For Cares to-morrow, that were this day's Care; For Forms, for Feasts, that sundry times have past, And formal Feasts that will for ever last. * But then from Study Tvill no Comforts rise ?' Yes ! such as studious Minds alone can prize ; Comforts, yea! Joys ineffable they find, Who seek the prouder Pleasures of the Mind : Letter 24.] schools. $|| The Soul, collected in those happy hours, Then makes her efforts, then enjoys her powers ; And in those seasons feels herself repaid. For Labours past and Honours long delay'd. No ! 'tis not wordly Gain, althdtiofh by chance The Sons of Learning may to Wealth advance ; Nor Station high, though in some favouring hour The Sons of Learning may arrive at Power ; Nor is it Glory, though the public Voice Of honest Praise will make the Heart rejoice : But 'tis the Mind's own Feelings give the Joy, Pleasures she gathers in her own employ Pleasures that Gain or Praise cannot bestow. Yet can dilate and raise them when thoy flow. For this the Poet looks the World around, Where Form and Life and reasoning Man are found ; He loves the Mind, in all its modes, to trace, And all the Manners of the changmg Race ; Silent he walks the Road of Life along, And views the aims of its tumultuous throng : He finds what shapes the Proteus- k''assions take. And what strange waste of Life and Joy tliey make, And loves to show them in their varied ways, With honest Blame or with unflattering Praise : 'Tis good to know, 'tis pleasant to impart. These turns and movements of the human Heart 5 The stronger features of the Soul to paint. And make distinct the latent and the faint ; Man as he is, to place in all men's view, Yet none with rancour, none with scorn pursue : 344 scuooL?. [Lf/<^24. Nor be it ever of my Portraits told " Here the stronfir lines of Malice wc behold." This let me hope, tliat when in public view I bring my Pictures, Men may feel tliem true; ** This is a Likeness," may they all declare, *' And I have seen him, but I know not where:" For I should mourn the mischief 1 had done, If as the Likeness all would fix on One. Man's Vice and Crime I combat as I can. But to his God and Conscience leave the Man ; I search (a Qaixotte!) all the Land alx)uf. To find its Giants and Enchanters out, (The Giant-Folly, tlie Enchanter-Vice, "Whom doubtless I shall vanquish in a trice:) But is there Man whom I would injure ? No ! I am to him a Fellow, not a Foe, A Fellow-Sinner, who must rather dread The Bolt than hurl it at another's head. No ! let the Guiltless, if there such be found, I^auDch ^rth the Spear, and deal the deadly Wound j How can I so the cause of Virtue aid, WhoamTOysdf attaintetl and afraid ? Yet as I can, I point the powers of Rhyme, And, sparing Criminals, attack the Crime. FINIS. Brettellaad Co. Prntett, MnlMU.trMt, Col