THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE'REV? DOCTOR SYNTAX DOCTOR SYNTAX'S THREE TOURS: IN SEARCH OF THE BY WILLIAM COMBE. THE ORIGINAL EDITION, COMPLETE AND UNABRIDGED, WITH THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE AUTHOR, NOW FIRST WRITTEN, BY JOHN CAUDEN HOTTEN. EIGHTY FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS DRAWN AND COLOURED AFTER THE ORIGINALS BY T. ROWLANDSON. LONDON: JOHN CAMDEN HOTTEN, PICCADILLY. OF teu*t^ Librorv -7 3d IN SEARCH OF THE A P-OEM. . frit; Te caf.n if muffin; rS qrtufrfafH,. .?/ /ftrc n/nni rb&cuntnvt wftt Jisrc su6 ///ce fn qrnjg, nrn fcrrmtfa/ pfacmt sernfl. faec e/ect** / r/>fJ<&i />tafrl>ti Herat Ars, LIST OF THE PLATES. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE, FRONTISPIECE and TITLE- PAGE. [ 3 Dr. Syntax setting out . 3 4 Dr. Syntax losing his Way . 6 5 Dr. Syntax stopped by High- waymen ... 7 6 Dr. Syntax bound to a Tree by Highwaymen . . 8 7 Dr. Syntax disputing his Bill with the Landlady . 12 8 Dr. Syntax copying the Wit of the Window . . 16 9 Dr. Syntax entertained at College . , . . .18 10 Dr. Syntax pursued by a Bull 19 11 Dr. Syntax mistakes a Gentle- man's House for an Inn . 23 12 Dr. Syntax meditating on the Tombs . .26 13 Dr. Syntax tumbling into the Water ... 31 14 Dr. Syntax loses his Money on the Race-Ground . 34 15 Dr. Syntax at a Review . 38 PACK 16 Dr. Syntax with my Lord . 42 17 Dr. Syntax made free of the Cellar . . . . 43 18 Dr. Syntax sketching the Lake .... 46 19 Dr. Syntax drawing after Nature . . . .50 20 Dr. Syntax robbed of his Pro- perty . . . .53 21 Dr. Syntax sells Grizzle . 57 22 Rural Sports . . 62 23 Dr. Syntax and the Dairy Maid .... 64 24 Dr. Syntax at Liverpool . 69 25 Dr. Syntax reading his Tour 74 26 Dr. Syntax preaching . . 76 27 Dr. Syntax and the Bookseller 85 28 Dr. Syntax at Covent Garden Theatre . . . .92 29 The Dream . . . .98 30 Dr. Syntax returned from his Tour . . .106 31 Dr. Syntax taking possession of his living . . . 1 14 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION, 32 Dr. Syntax and his Counter- part .... 117 33 Dr. Syntax lamenting the loss of his Wife . . 121 34 Dr. Syntax at the funeral of his Wife . 127 35 Dr. Syntax setting out on his second Tour . . .138 36 Dr. Syntax and the Gypsies. 151 37 Dr. Syntax loses his Wig . 159 38 The Visit of Doctor Syntax to Widow Hopeful at York 171 IV LIST OF THE PLATES. 39 Dr. Syntax amused with Pat in the Pond . . .181 40 Dr. Syntax in the Glass House 183 41 Dr. Syntax visits Eaton Hall, Cheshire . . .184 42 Dr. Syntax making his Will 189 43 Dr. Syntax in a court of Justice .... 191 44 Dr. Syntax present at a coffee- house quarrel at Bath . 193 45 Dr. Syntax and the superan- ntfated Fox-Hunter . 194 46 Dr. Syntax with the Skim- mington Riders . . . 201 47 Dr. Syntax and the Bees . 209 48 Dr. Syntax visits a Boarding- school for Young Ladies . 212 49 Dr. Syntax making a disco- very .... 217 50 Dr. Syntax painting a Portrait 219 51 Marriage of Dr. Dicky Bend 222 52 Dr. Syntax at an Auction . 225 53 Dr. Syntax and the Bookseller 229 54 Dr. Syntax at Freemasons' Hall . . . . 231 55 Miss Worthy's marriage Dr. Syntax in the Chair . 233 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR IN SEARCH OF A WIFE, 56 Dr. Syntax setting out in search of a Wife . . 235 57 Dr. Syntax soliloquising . 241 58 Dr. Syntax turned Nurse . 250 59 The Banns forbidden . . 271 60 Dr. Syntax with a Blue- Stocking Beauty . .275 61 The Cellar Quartette . . 289 62 Dr. Syntax presenting a Flo- ral Offering . . .293 63 The Billiard Table . . 295 (U Misfortune at Tulip Hall . 295 65 The Harvest Home . . 297 66 The Garden Trio . . .303 67 Dr. Syntax at a Card Party . 305 68 Dr. Syntax Star-gazing . 306 69 Dr. Syntax in the wrong Lodging-House . .317 70 Dr. Syntax received by the Maid instead of the Mis- tress .... 322 71 The Artist's Room . . 324 72 Death of Punch . . .326 73 The Advertisement for a Wife 329 74 Dr. Syntax and the Foundling 331 75 The result of purchasing a Blind Horse . . . 335 76 A noble Hunting Party . 344 77 Introduction to Courtship . 348 78 Dr. Syntax in Danger . . 353 79 The Funeral of Dr. Syntax . 353 THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE AUTHOR OF "DOCTOR. SYNTAX.' IT is somewhat strange that no " Life," or " Memoir," of the most volumi- nous English writer since the days of Defoe, has ever been attempted. William Combe (the English Le Sage, as he has been very aptly styled), wrote and edited between the years 1773 and 1823, upwards of one hundred books, conducted or contributed to a score of journals, and furnished if we may believe his own note-book fully two thousand columns of matter to the newspapers and magazines of the time. But the story of his chequered career the humorous adventures, the joys and sorrows of a life of which the earlier stages were passed in extreme riches, and the later in extreme poverty has been left untold ; and if some of our wretchedly scant Biogra- phical Dictionaries have accorded him a meagre notice of a few lines, from most of them his very name is absent. Even the elder Disraeli, who was a cotemporary, and delighted in gathering anecdotes and scandal of literary eccentricities, appears to have passed over Combe, whose career entitled him in every way to a place in the " Calamities of Au- thors," or in the third volume of the " Curiosities of Literature," pub- lished when Dr. Syntax was at the height of his popularity. The reason of this silence may probably be traced to the fact that Combe was never in a position to write under his own name, and a dozen different aliases somewhat perplexed his brother authors. ~We say " never in a posi- tion," for it must be explained that Combe was generally in debt, and had for many years been an inmate of the King's-Bench Prison, and to have declared himself upon a title-page, would have led to a legal attachment of the profits of the work, or other unpleasantness, jvery readily avoided by using a nom de plume. Gathering together stray facts about this author from a variety of sources, and with the aid of some MS. "Notes" in Combe's own hand- writing, we have made out the following short memoir of an industrious litterateur, whose labours deserve a far more extended notice. vi LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1741-63.] WILLIAM COMBE was born at Bristol, in 1741. His father was a mer- chant of considerable position, who in 1777 stood candidate for the city, but died during the parliamentary canvass. The son was at first instructed by a tutor at home, but afterwards proceeded to Eton, where he was the cotemporary of Thomas Lord Lyttelton and Charles James Fox,* and we believe, also, of Bennet Langton afterwards the friend of Dr. Johnson and of William Beckford, the author of " Yathek," both of them Etonians at this period. In 1760-1 he went to Oxford, where he became better known as a young gentleman of elegant appearance and expensive tastes than as. a laborious student, a character Combe always despised, and which from his ready talents he was never called upon to personate. A story is re- corded of him as it has been of many other university Crichtons that he was never seen to apply himself to study, and yet was never known to fail in a task, a puzzle that doubtless Combe's vanity decided should not be very easily solved. Combe left college somewhat suddenly, and without taking any degree. His friends at home, and his kind uncle Alexander the rich London Alder- man, had kept him very liberally supplied with money, but splendid cloth- ing, hunting parties, and suppers to young lords, quickly emptied the young collegian's purse, and in the midst of the discomforts of fictitious splendour and real debt, Combe availed himself of his uncle's invitation to reside with him for a short time in London. The ready wit and good-nature of the nephew soon made him a favourite with the Alderman, who, if we are to believe the story in Dyce's " Table Talk of Samuel Rogers," always per- sisted in saying that he "ought to have been Combe's father," in other words, that he had once been on the point of marrying his nephew's mother. Combe's liabilities were paid, and a fresh circle of acquaintance in London soon made those little troubles of Debtor and Creditor (petty inconveniences to which every gentleman is liable) things of the past. This was in 1763. After a few months' stay in London, acting upon the wishes of his uncle and at his own desire, he set out for the Continent considered at that time (more perhaps than at present) the great finishing school for persons of fashion and position. Here he lived nearly three years, passing his time principally in France and Italy. It was in the latter country that Combe met with Sterne, who was then making that second tour through Europe, which resulted in the Sentimental Journey. Judging from what we know of the two characters, they must have been * That Fox must have been Combe'a school-fellow, as well as Thomas Lyttelton, we gather from a letter of the first Lord Lyttelton, in 1758 : " Little Tom is at Eton an very happy," and from the fact that the head master of Eton used to say that of the two boys, Fox and Lyttelton, he always thought Lyttelton the quickest." Combe will, therefore, have been at Eton in 1768. 11768.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." vii companions very well suited to each other. The disparity of their ages, and the great difference in their dispositions and natures, made them mutually attractive. Sterne was about fifty years of age, full of a cunning knowledge of the world, a km observer of men and manners, and very fond of telling those little stories which are usually related in a low whisper, ac- companied by a sly wink. To a clever and brilliant young man, whose power of conversation had already become famous in the circles where he was known, his companionship must have been very attractive, especially when the good things said seemed to derive a licence if not full authority from the clerical position and advanced age of their author. Combe had no natural fondness for double entendre, and beyond the amusement of the moment, does not seem to have cared for a style of conversation which was then very popular; certain it is that in all his numerous writings there is nothing of this kind. He had no vicious tastes, and the description of him given by a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, August, 1823 a writer who reflects the true spirit of his time by a hearty contempt for cold water, is no doubt a very true one. He says of Combe : "A love of show and dress, but neither dissipation nor drinking, was the source of his embarrassments. He was, indeed, remarkably abstemious, drinking nothing but water till the last few weeks of his life, when wine was recommended to him as a medicine. But though a mere water-drinker, his spirit at the social board kept pace with that of the company. He pos- sessed musical knowledge and taste, and formerly sung in a very agreeable manner. His conversation was always entertaining and instructive, and he possessed a calm temper with very agreeable manners." No particulars of this casual acquaintance with Sterne, when on his Sen- timental Journey, have been preserved, beyond the few facts mentioned by Mr. Ackerman's correspondent at the time of Combe's death ; but the character and peculiarities of Sterne seem to have made a considerable impression upon Combe, and in all probability prompted him to write those " Letters supposed to have been written by Yorick and Eliza," which appeared ten years after Sterne's death, and were by many believed to be the genuine posthumous productions of the humourist. Combe, too, if we may believe a somewhat doubtful but facetious story of the poet Rogers, used to boast of an ac- quaintance with " Eliza," assuring the latter that it was with him, not with Sterne, that Eliza was in love; that he used to meet her often beside a wind- mill near Brighton ; that he was once surprised in her bedchamber, and fled through the window, leaving one of his shoes behind him : that, some days after, he encountered her as she was walking with a party on what is now the Steyne (at Brighton), and that, as she passed him, she displayed from her muff the toe of his shoe ! viii LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1766-63.] In 1766, Combe returned to England. His uncle, Alderman Alexander, who had been ailing for some time, died soon after this, and the nephew finding himself heir to sixteen thousand pounds (Samuel Rogers used to say it was twenty,) resolved to become a lawyer. "When the necessary arrange- ments were made, Combe entered the office of a Solicitor in the Temple, and after the usual course of study and dinners, was called to the bar. Campbell tells us that although his ambition was to shine as a man of fashon, rather than as a lawyer, yet on one occasion he distinguished himself very credit- ably before the Lord Chancellor Nottingham. For a time matters passed on pleasantly enough. The sixteen thousand pounds was a large sum, so large indeed, that it seemed to promise every- thing its possessor might require. But in the end the uncle's bequest be- came the nephew's ruin. Combe had moved much in society before he left London, when he was in the receipt of a joint allowance from his father and his uncle ; but now that he possessed a fortune, society expected much more from him. A separate establishment had to be kept up. The Court Guides of the time give his address as Bury Street, Saint James's, then as now a very fashionable quarter. Here pleasure parties were given, when his handsome person and mental accomplishments received a very flattering but dangerous approbation. His circle of acquaintance became larger and larger ; with the Duke of Bedford he was on the most intimate terms, and he was one of the very few gentlemen admitted as a visitor to a society, or club, which some of the most fashionable ladies of the day had founded under the title of the " Coterie." Wherever he went, his company was courted and his accomplishments nattered. During the season, too, he visited the fashionable watering places of Tunbridge, Cheltenham, and Bath. His appearance and position in society at this period, maybe gathered from, a paragraph which appeared soon after his death in the Bristol Observer, 1823. The editor had applied " to a gentleman, one" of Combe's cotempora- " ries, for some particulars of this popular humourist and discriminating ob- " server of men and manners," when the following were supplied : " Wil- " Ham Combe, Esq., the author of 'the Philosopher in Bristol,' &c. &c., " came to Bristol Hotwells about the year 1768. He was tall and handsome " in person, an elegant scholar,, and highly accomplished in his manners and " behaviour. He lived in a most princely style, and, though a bachelor, kept " two carriages, several horses, and a large retinue of servants. He had re- " sided abroad for many years. He was generally recognised by the ap- " pellation of ' Count Combe.' " In London, too, at this time, he was often spoken of as " Duke Combe," a fact we gather from a letter wherein the writer says : "In his days of [1768.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." ix prosperity, the splendour of his dress and manage in general, together with his highly aristocratic deportment, gained him the appellation of Duke Combe." But already his false position had become the talk of scandal- loving acquaintance, who saw very clearly that so much show could not be kept up without a purse much longer than Combe possessed. There is a scandalous anecdote* told of him at this date, which if the other records of his life indicate anything of his true character, must at the best, have been an after dinner exaggeration, if not a positive untruth. " Combe was staying at the house^ of Uvedale Price, and the Honour- able Mr. St. John (author of "Mary Queen of Scots,") was there also. The latter one morning missed some bank notes. Price, strongly " sus- pecting who had taken them, mentioned the circumstance to Conrfbe, " and added, ' Perhaps it would be as well if you cut short your visit here.' " 'Oh, certainly,' replied Combe with the greatest coolness, ' allow me just "to ask, whether henceforth we are to be friends or acquaintances?' " ' Acquaintances, if you please,' said Price. Long after this had happened, " I was passing through Leicester Square with Price, when we met Combe; " we both spoke to him ; but from that hour he always avoided me." -f- It was about this period that a coolness occurred between Combe and his father. The uncle's fortune had made the son less dependent upon the Bristol merchant, but his fine company and excessive display alarmed the latter, who although at first proud of his son's success in society, became un- easy when he saw this love of show and splendour increase rather than diminish with age. It was a very fine thing to have your son called " Count" or " Duke," but it was not at all pleasant for a reverse to come, with heavy debts to pay. The father cautioned the young man, and the latter, in umbrage at the counsel, ceased to visit his home, and preferred to follow his own course. The end of it may be easily guessed. Aristocratic gaming was the curse of that day as street betting is of this, and Combe simply did as other gentle- men in society. Combe gambled, not from any love of gaming, but simply because other fine gentlemen threw dice ; he became security for friends and acquaintances, and within four years the sixteen thousand pounds had dwin- dled to worse than nothing, for not only was the principal gone, but a heavy debt was incurred, which the son's pride would not allow^ him to ask his father to pay. Such was Combe's position in 1768, embarrassed by debt and beset by creditors. At first he applied to his fine friends just as they had applied to Dvce's " Recollections of the Table Talk of Samuel Rogers," 1856. f Mr. Dyce Tery properly remarks in a note to this piece of scandal : " From the tone of some letters written by Combe in his old aee, one would certainly n ot suppose that he had on his conscience anything of the kind above alluded to." x LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1770.] him on former occasions, and it was only when he found that he could ohtain no assistance from them that he became conscious of his true position. His house in Bury Street was given up, his office in the Temple was deserted, and, like many other foolish young men who have overrun the constable, he in the extremity of the moment and disgusted with the abandonment of his friends, enlisted as a common soldier. After a few months he was drafted to "Wolverhampton, where he was recognised by an acquaintance crawling through the streets after a long march, dusty and lame, in search of his quarters. "What!" exclaimed the acquaintance, "is it possible I behold my old friend Combe, and bearing a knapsack, too ?" "Pooh!" said the fallen hero, "a philosopher ought to bear anything." This trifling mot exhibits that invariable good humour which never deserted him. Under every circumstance or position he was pretty nearly always the same a gentleman, happy and good-tempered. At the public-house at which he was billeted, his literary acquirements excited such astonishment that the house was nightly filled with people who came to wonder at the soldier who knew Greek. Roger Kemble was then at the same town, with his strolling Company, and gave him a benefit, which furnished the means of obtaining his discharge. On the occasion he spoke an address, in which it was inti- mated he would solve the mystery of his extraordinary situation. After noticing the various rumours respecting him, he concluded thus: "Now, " ladies and gentlemen, I am going to tell you what I am I am, ladies and "gentlemen, your most humble and grateful servant ;" saying which, he quickly put on his hat and disappeared. But the poet Campbell narrates the story* of Combe's connexion with the Kemble family somewhat dif- ferently. He tells us that Roger Kemble Mrs. Siddons' father " remarked " that she had fine natural powers of elocution, and he wished them to be " cultivated by regular tuition. For this purpose, when she was about " fifteen (1770), he engaged a stranger to be her reading preceptor, who " would have undertaken the office if Mrs. Kemble had not interposed her " veto. This individual was William Combe, recently known as the author " of 'Doctor Syntax's Adventures.' This eccentric being, after mis-spend- " ing a handsome fortune, had come to Wolverhampton as a common soldier, " and after obtaining his discharge and pecuniary relief from some friendly " people in the place, had set up as a teacher of elocution. Roger Kemble " had promised him a pupil in his eldest daughter, and went home to boast " of the accomplished tutor he had engaged. But Mrs. Kemble more wisely " determined that such an adventurer should not give lessons to her child." Campbell does not mention the fact that the mother having had occasion * Life of ilrs. Siddons. London, 1834, vol. i., pp. 3946. [1771-3.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xi recently to reprimand her daughter for encouraging the addresses of Mr. , very naturally regarded the tuition of a young and handsome teacher with considerable anxiety. For ever after, Combe remembered this slight of the family, and never failed to speak of Mrs. Siddons' mother, as well as of the actress herself, in the very coldest terms. He used to tell Rogers that he recollected having seen Mrs. Siddons, when a very young woman, standing by the side of her father's stage, and knocking a pair of snuffers against a candlestick, to imitate the sound of a windmill, during the representation of some harlequin piece.* Soon after this a wealthy divine, who had known him in the best London society, recognised him as under- waiter at a tavern (in Swansea, actually tripping about with the napkin under his arm, and staring at him, ex- claimed, "You cannot be Combe?" "Yes, indeed, but I am," was the waiter's answer. Combe was never embarrassed at these salutations of old acquaintances, but took them in the best possible spirit, and with^as much good humour as if misfortune had never befallen him. It was only his family that he studied to avoid, and shortly after, hearing that they were in search of him, he proceeded to the coast, and crossed over to France, where, after numerous adventures, he entered the French army. At another time he (assisted in the refectory of a French monastery Samuel Rogers used to tell a story of Fitzpatrick s meeting him at Douay College and such was his skill in soup-making that it is said Pie was all but prevailed upon to assume the cowl. While the monks were effecting his conversion, and during the requisite probation, news from England came to hand, which made him alter his plans, and shortly after he found his way to London once more. This was the end of " Count Combe's" wild oats. He was in London in 1771 2, and, like many more gentlemen who have failed in other walks^of life he thought he would try literature that wretched profession which is usually deemed a sort of last resting- place for broken-down gentility. Such, indeed, was the idea of one gen- tleman who gave a few reminiscences of Combe to a newspaper just after his death: "Mr. Coombe," [sic], remarks the writer, "possessed great ' ' talents, and a very fine person , as well as a good fortune, which, unhappily, " he soon dissipated among the high connexions to which his talents and at- " tainments introduced him, and he subsequently passed through many vicis- " situdes of life, which at length compelled him to^ resort to literature for " support." ' * Mr. Dyce says in a note to this anecdote, p. 117, " Table-Talk," " Combe had " conceived a violent dislike to Mrs. Siddons, why, I know not. In a passage of hia "best work (" Doctor Syntax"), where ho alludes to the chief living actresses, he stu- diously avoids the mention of her name." Campbell's narrative at once gives us the reason for Combe's pique against the Kemble family. xii LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1773-4.] Combe's acceptance of literary toil was a kind of compromise between his pride and what his better nature plainly told him was his duty. Dis- gusted with the emptiness of fashionable society, which now seemed to him only formed to deceive and ruin such good natures as his own, he at first rushed from it as a moral suicide, but after various experiences and the re- flection that time always brings, he began to see things in a very different light, and eventually came to the conclusion that the most honourable course for him to pursue, would be to turn his talents and taste for literature to profit- able account, and earn a living like a man, if he could not as a gentleman. Combe's history is not less remarkable for the recklessness of his early days, than for the industry of his mature age. His earliest literary pro- ductions that have come down to us were almost entirely of local interest, introducing Bristol characters and incidents, as may be seen in " The Philo- sopher of Bristol;" "The Flattering Milliner, or Modern Half Hour," a little drama, performed at Bristol in 1775. It is more than probable that he contributed to the newspapers and re- views at the outset of his new career, but as we have no evidence to this effect beyond Combe's own assertion that he wrote two thousand columns for the papers, and contributed to so many minor publications that he would not "pretend to even guess at the number," we can only suppose that he passed through the usual apprenticeship of young authors. It has been said and we thought so ourselves until we made a very full inquiry that Combe wrote that admirable satire, " An Heroic Epistle to Sir William Chambers ;" but although there is much to support an argument that he was the author, there are better reasons for giving the authorship to the poet Mason. Combe was related to Mason through the latter's wife, (who was afterwards buried in Bristol Cathedral,) and might have assisted his relative in writing the satire, as the style is certainly not like Mason's, and is very much in Combe's early manner, only for the fact that the latter at this time was away from his friends in poverty and retirement, and Horace Walpole very distinctly speaks of Mason's correspondence with him upon the subject of the poem before publication, and of his having seen the original MS. The late Rev. John Mitford, a very high authority upon all matters relating to the history of poetry, inclined to the belief that Combe wrote the " Heroic Epistle," and the British Museum authorities, still in doubt upon the matter, underline the titles to the different editions in their catalogue, "By W. Mason, or W. Combe [?] " The "Epistle" produced a host of "heroic" pamphlets, and in the following year, 1774, there appeared, " A Familiar Epistle to the Author of the ' Heroic Epistle to Sir "W. Chambers,' " which was quickly followed by, " An Heroic Post- script to the Public, occasioned by their favourable reception of a late [1774-77.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." x iii ' Heroic Epistle to Sir Wm. Chambers :' by the Author of that Epistle, 1774." Either or both of these satires may have been from the pen of Combe, who must have greatly enjoyed the mystification of Mason, who is made first to burlesque Sir W. Chambers, and then himself. The titles of these " Epis- tles " do not appear in Combe's autograph list of his own compositions, but that list can scarcely be depended upon, as it was written off without any sequence, and from an impaired memory. If Mason obtained the assistance of his clever, but bankrupt relative, then we must consider the " Epistles " as coming under that class of works of which Combe remarks in his " Notes," " I should be glad to acknowledge my share of the labour in "them, and they are not a few, but they must be nameless. Such were the " actual or implied conditions of the remuneration I received." These literary successes supposing them all to have proceeded from his pen seem to have further determined Combe in his future career, as he was now, and had been for some time previously, engaged upon the sober task of compiling, " A Description of Patagonia, and the Adjoining Parts of South America," from the papers of T. Falkner, a Jesuit. It was published in 1774, and at once gave him a name as a successful compiler and editor. His next production marks an unfortunate episode in his career. In the midst of his first literary success, Combe had got married ; who the lady was, his friends do not inform us, neither have they given any particulars of the union, except the one prominent fact, that it was a very unhappy match, and that when the lady died, thirty years later, very little sorrow was ex- pressed by the husband. Campbell, however, in his " Life of Mrs. Siddons," tells us who she was: "Combe," he says, "married the mistress of a " noble lord, who promised him an annuity with her, but cheated him ; and " in revenge he wrote a spirited satire, entitled 'The Diaboliad' . . . ." The full title of this poetical effusion was " The Diaboliad, a poem, dedi- cated to the Worst Man in His Majesty's Dominions," 4to, 1777, and it had for a motto, " To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell." MILTOJC. There can be no doubt that Combe had made a serious mistake, but that he had shewn himself the disgraceful character which Campbell describes, may be questioned ; indeed, if it had not been given on so respectable an authority, we should not have thought it worth while to notice this unsup- ported accusation. But biography is often spiced with amusing anecdotes, which are purely fictitious, and this may have been one of them. Another anecdote, with a very different moral, was given in the " Bristol Observer" soon after Combe's death. It was to the effect that : " A gentleman once gave Mr. Combe the friendly hint that his sister-in- xiv LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1777.] " law, a lady possessing a fortune of 40,000, 'might with ease he wooed, " and without pains he won.' But this suggestion ' the Count' spurned from " him contemptuously. The lady soon afterwards became the prize of a sol- " dier, of seemingly more precarious fortune, who, we helieve, still survives " her an example of greater prudence and circumspection than he by whom " she was rejected." It must he acknowledged that Combe's ideas of love and matrimony were of the most noble and chivalrous description. Whenever these topics are introduced in his works, they are always treated from a generous and ele- vated point of view, that borders on the romantic. "Whatever Combe's folly in his early years may have been, he never seems to have lost his respect and tenderness for the opposite sex, and when, at the advanced age of seventy years, he wrote those love-letters to Marianne, which were published after his death, he seems to have united the ardour of a first attachment to the experience and garrulousness of three-score years and ten combining in himself the double character of a lover and a grandfather. We now return to " The Diaboliad." As a composition it was'superior to "the Heroic Epistle," and it at once became the talk of fashionable and literary society. The hero and heroine were a nobleman and a duchess who did not enjoy very enviable reputations at that time. In it Combe gives the anecdote of an Irish nobleman and his son who quarrelled, the hatred between whom grew so intense that the father challenged the son to fight a duel. This the latter refused, alleging that he did so, not because the challenger was his father, but because he was not a gentle- man ! To so bitter a satire Combe," of course, did not dare affix the name of the noble lord whom he styled " the worst man in His Majesty's Dominions," but he finished the dedication to his lordship by saying that he only with- held his name from the title page because it was " to be continually seen in "the annual pages of the blushing Register, and was never suffered to "be erased from the journals of his lordship's tradesmen." Two or three editions of the "Diaboliad" being quickly called for, our author's success prompted him to write other satires on society under very similar titles. Thus there followed in rapid succession : " Additions to the Diaboliad ... by the same Author," 1777. " The Diabo- Lady, or a Match in Hell; a poem, dedicated to the Worst Woman in his Majesty's Dominions; [by Belphegor ; i.e. W. Combe]" 1777: this passed through three or four editions, and produced what pretended to be a reply, under the title 'of " Anti-Diabo-lady . . . calculated to expose the malevolence of the Author of Diabo-lady, &c. ; [by Belphegor, etc.] ;" 1777, 4to. The demand for poetical satires being still unabated, Combe produced, L1777-84.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xv in rapid succession, "The First of April, or the Triumph of Folly;" "A Dialogue in the Shades, between Dr. Dodd (recently executed) and Chase Price," a Welsh M.P.; " Heroic Epistles to a Noble D ;" " Heroic Epistle to Sir Joshua Reynolds ;" "A Letter to the Duchess of Devonshire " on female education; a " Second Letter" to the same lady ; a poem on " The Duchess of Devonshire's Cow;" "An Heroic Epistle to the Noble Author of the Duchess of Devonshire's Cow ;" and several other compositions. All these appeared in 1777. But his " keen humour"* was displayed to even greater advantage in a translation from the French, published in this year, of the celebrated letters ascribed to Pope Ganganelli, and since J discovered to be forgeries. John Cleland, who had gained an infamous notoriety by his licentious novels, had translated these letters from the Italian into French, and from this French translation, Combe re-translated them into English. At first only two volumes appeared, but as the work was eagerly read and bought, two more were invented which led to a detection of the fraud. In 1778 there appeared, from Combe's pen, a " second part" of the original " Diaboliad," but like most second parts, it was inferior to the first in power. Daring this year he wrote several other poetical satires, all of which were popular, and generally passed through two or three editions. Our author at this date seems to have taken quite a practical view of the value of his past experiences, thinking the ladies and gentlemen whom he formerly knew in society especially those who he thought deserved it quite fair game for his pen now he had quitted their company. From 1777 to 1784 he edited, and principally wrote, the "Royal Register," con- taining a series of caustic sketches of political and other well-known charac- ters. No mention of Combe as the editor was made in the work, but we have before alluded to the absence of his name from all the title-pages to his books, and given the reason. One " Heroic Epistle " made some noise at this time. It was addressed to Sir James Wright, whose trading propensities and weaknesses as a Groom of the Bed Chamber to George III., had become the gossip of the fashionable world. Combe seems to have possessed a violent dislike to this man, whom he had doubtless met in society in his better days. Our author accused him of acting as curiosity broker to the king and queen, to whose palaces several cargoes of " trashy Vertu " were sent by Wright when he resided at Venice. Another charge against the Groom was his wearing the left off shirts and small clothes of Royalty ; the king's lace, linen, &c., being yearly di- vided by lot among the gentlemen of the Bed Chamber. " I have been * He [Combe] possesses " much keen humour which he has displayed in his Letters " of Pope GanganeUi," Public Characters, 1823, vol. i., p. 408. Combe does not mention this book in his own list of his works. xvi LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1779-80.] present,'' says Combe, " when a slave of St. James' glowed with importance "from an impudent exposure of the tail of his shirt, to shew an astonished " company the Crown and G. B,. which were worked upon it." In 1779, he produced the "Letters supposed to have been written by Yorick and Eliza." As an attempt at a make-believe correspondence, it was in every way successful. In the same year 'another poem came from his pen, bearing the title, " The World as it Goes." It is to this satire that Horace Walpole alludes in his letter to Mason the Poet.* " I heard t'other day of the ' World as it Goes,' a poem published last " spring, but which I had never seen. It is by that infamous Combe, the "author of the 'Diaboliad.' It has many easy poetic lines, imitates " Churchill, and is full as incoherent and absurd in its plan as the worst of " the latter's. I do not wonder that it made no noise." Walpole had his own reasons for speaking thus unfavourably of Combe, for the satirist had written somewhat sharply of Strawberry Hill and its dilet- tante proprietor. "The World as it Goes" passed through three editions, and there is good reason for believing that it answered the author's purpose quite as well as any of his other and better known satirical hits. Combe's success as a literary man does not seem to have removed his liabilities, and although we have good reason to believe that he did all that lay in his power to pay his creditors at this time, still his former debts were of such a size and nature that he became an inmate of the King's Bench Prison, in Southwark, some time before 1780. In that year he produced " The Fast Day a Lambeth Eclogue," but whether he then lived in the Bench Prison, or resided within its rules, we cannot now ascertain. It is very probable that at the date of this publication he was living at Jfo. 12, Lam- beth Road, the house in which he resided until his death, nearly half a century later. In this same year appeared his well-known " Letters of the late Lord Lyt- telton." This was Thomas, the second Baron Lyttelton, better known as " the wicked Lord Lyttelton," remarkable for his talents and profligacy, and for the romantic circumstances attending his death, which, he said, had been foretold by an apparition, but which it is now believed was an act of suicide. Combe personated the character of this dissolute nobleman with whom he had been at school at Eton and the spurious letters are marked by ease, elegance, and occasional force of style. In after life during his fashionable days Combe frequently met his Lordship in society not always with very pleasant results, if we may believe a little story, somewhat differently told * Horace Walpole to the Eev. William Mason, Oct. 21, 1779. [Peter Cunning- ham's Edition, vii., 262.] [1780.] AUTHOR OF "DOCTOR SYNTAX." xvn by two poets, Thomas Moore and Thomas Campbell. As a comparison of both narratives may amuse the reader, we give them side by side : Thomas Moore. " Combe kicked Lord Lyttelton ' ' downstairs at some watering-place, " for having ridiculed Lady Archer " by calling her a drunken peacock, " on account of the sort of rainbow- " feathers and dress she wore. Lord " L. also had rolled a piece of blanc- " mange into a ball, and covering it "with variegated comfits, said, " ' This is the sort of egg a drunken "peacock would lay.' "* Thomas Campbell. "Some of the most exclusive "ladies of fashion had instituted a " society which was called the Cote- "rie, to which gentlemen were ad- "mitted as visitors. Among this "favoured number was the Duke " Combe. One evening, Lady Archer, "who was a beautiful woman, but " too fond of gaudy colours, and who ' ' had her face always lavishly rouged, "was sitting in the Coterie, when "Lord Lyttelton, the graceless son "of an estimable peer, entered the "room evidently intoxicated, and " stood before Lady Archer for seve- " ral minutes, with his eyes fixed on "her. The lady manifested great " indignation, and asked why he thus " annoyed her. ' I have been think- " ing,' said Lord Lyttelton, ' what I " can compare you to, in your gaudy " colouring, and you give me no idea "but that of a drunken peacock.' " The lady returned a sharp answer, tl on which he threw the contents of "a glass of wine in her face. All "was confusion in a moment, but " though several noblemen and gen- "tlemen were present, none of them "took up the cause of the insulted " female, till Mr. Combe came for- "ward, and by his resolute beha- " viour, obliged the offender to toit/t- * The Diary of Thomas Moore, Vol. II., p. 201. f Campbell's Life of Airs. Siddons. London, 1834, Yol. I., p. 42. xviii LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1780-89.] It would scarcely have been national for the Irish poet, in his short, graphic account of the quarrel, to have described its summary conclusion in the polite terms used by Campbell. Combe seems to have retained a lively recollection of his Lordship's peculiarities, and to have thrown into the assumed "Letters" the full strength of his imitative power. The family, of course, denied their authen- ticity, but they were such admirable imitations of the Peer's style, and con- tained so many good things, that fully one half of the literary world believed them to be genuine productions, and they found such a ready sale, that a second edition was published in 1782, and a third some time afterwards. An attempt was made in the " Quarterly Review " for December, 1851, to prove that these letters were genuine, and that Lyttelton was also the author of " Junius's Letters." The evidence was wholly inconclusive; and the " Quar- terly " denied in terms unnecessarily harsh, we think, Combe's claim to their composition. The reviewer says : " These letters have been attributed to the pen of William Combe, " the well-known author of Dr. Syntax. That he gave them to the press as "he was, we believe, at one time known to Thomas Lyttelton is likely " enough ; and it is probable also that he tampered with them in a very un- " warrantable manner. Indeed we do not think it would be difficult to dis- " tinguish his buffoonish interpolations. But that the letters are substantially " genuine, we make no manner of doubt. It would lead us too far out of our " way to establish at this point our assertion by particular proofs. Suffice it " for the present to say that the general style and matter of the letters are far "above any powers Combe ever possessed." Shortly after the appearance of this disdainful notice of the author of " Doctor Syntax," Combe's own autograph " Notes" were published by Mr. Cole, in the " Gentleman's Ma- gazine," which conclusively proved that the so-called " Lord Lyttelton' s Let- ters" actually came from his pen. From 1780 to 1785, Combe was mainly engaged upon the periodical press, and only one short poem by him received the honour of a separate publication. In 1787 there appeared the first volume of the great work on " The Origin of Commerce," professedly by Adam Anderson, but mainly written and compiled by Combe. It extended to four volumes, one of which was published each succeeding year. Not only was it the most extensive, it was by far the most important, work upon this subject which had ap- peared in English literature up to this date. Combe appears to have done comparatively little literary work about this time : with the exception of compiling " Anderson's Commerce " for the booksellers, and a satirical poem, entitled " Justification," we find no separate publication by him until 1789, when he appeared in a new character that [1789-1890.1 AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xix of a political pamphleteer. "We have witnessed his success in the field of poetical satire, from which other, and more daring, pens had driven him ; we now find him busy in an entirely new sphere, that of an energetic party- writer. Peter Pindar had then become the rage, and after producing, to the intense merriment of the town, no less than five-and-twenty satirical " Odes," all more or less directed against the well-known weaknesses of George the Third, he caused a general roar of laughter by his " Lousiad, a Heroic- Comic Poem," which had its foundation in the fact that an obnoxious insect either of the garden or the body had been discovered on the King's plate amongst some green peas, which discovery produced a solemn decree that all the servants in the royal kitchen were forthwith to have their heads shaved. Combe had been bitter enough in his " Diaboliad," but he had never dared to go the length of Wolcot, and the latter in consequence eclipsed the former as a popular satirist. It has been suspected that Combe's connexion with the Pitt ministry commenced about this date ; this is the paid connexion alluded to by him in his letter to Lord Mulgrave, given further on. Sayers and other carica- turists had been subsidised by Pitt ; and ready writers, of Combe's powers, were secured as opportunity oflered. Our author's first attempt in this new line was a " Letter from a Country Gentleman to a Member of Parliament." It appeared in 1789, quickly passed through five editions, and was replied to by more than one writer on the Fox side. The end of it was an " Answer" to Combe's own pamphlet, from Combe's own pen a common trick with the party- writers of that day. The state of the nation at this time was most unsatisfactory. The King was insane, with but a poor prospect of speedy recovery, and the debts and intrigues of the Prince of Wales were the common gossip of all classes, and formed the principal topics of the caricatures of Gilray and his brother artists. George the Third's happy recovery, towards the end of 1789, and the Prince of "Wales's first interview with his royal parent after his somewhat premature acceptance of the Regency, formed the subject of Combe's next party-pamphlet. It bore the title of " The Royal Interview ; a Fragment," and was anything but complimentary to the Prince. The good fortune of his former pamphlet also attended this, which passed through several editions. In the following year Combe issued " Meares' Voyage from China to America," an extensive work, together with his well-known " Devil upon Two Sticks in England, a Continuation of Le Sage." The latter work, at first in four, and afterwards in six volumes, was exceedingly popular. Al- though in prose, it was more after the style of Combe's early satires than his more recent publications, and people will always love to see fashionable follies and scandals whipped by a skilful hand. In it the author has intro- b xx LIFE AND ADVENTUEES OF THE [1791.] duced many very distinguished public characters, and a cotemporary of Comhe remarks of it : "If we may judge from our knowledge of the history of some of the " individuals whose portraits are transferred to the pages of Mr. Combe's " novel of ' The Devil upon Two Sticks in England,' that work may be taken " as conveying his view of the characteristics of the circle of society in which " he was himself an actor, with no common resources for writing a history of " the Fashionable World of his own times." It was well known at this period, 1791, that Pitt and the Prince of Wales were on unfriendly terms. Gilray had satirised the Prince under the title of a " Voluptuary," and Combe doubtless acting upon Ministerial instructions followed up the engraving with " The Royal Dream; or, the P in a Panic." There is, however, good reason for believing that most of our author's compositions in this, and the three following years, were in the form of contributions to the public journals. The French Devolution was then agitating politics abroad, and at home party spirit was increasing in violence, in view of the approaching dissolution of Parliament. Combe pre- pared several " Considerations" on this latter subject, with" Some Account of the Existing Parties," and the pamphlet was issued by the Ministerial pub- lisher. He followed this up with " A Word to the Traders" a protectionist pamphlet, that showed him no mean proficient in political economy. Combe's next publication was upon a subject entirely different from any that he had written upon before. It was a " Critique on the Royal Academy," and the knowledge of the fine arts and nice discrimination dis- played in it recommended him to Alderman Boydell, for whom he wrote the descriptive text to Farington's beautiful views of the Thames. This work, in Combe's hands, assumed the form of a " History," and extended to six hundred pages of letter-press. A large work on "The British Embassy in China," " Colnett's Voyage to the South Atlantic," and a translation from the German of " Suwarow's Campaign," with several political pamphlets, in- dicate his labours up to the close of the century. The editors of the " Asiatic Register" having discovered Combe's talents for treating foreign literary subjects, secured his services for that publication. Domestic trials fell heavily upon Combe in the first year of the present century. His wife with whom he had never been happy now showed symptoms of insanity, and these increased to such an alarming extent, that she had to be placed under the care of a Mr. Casey, with whom she re- mained until her death, in January, 1814. These troubles, however, do not seem -to have stayed Combe's industrious pen, and two important transla- tions " Sonnini's Travels in Egypt," with numerous illustrations, and 11801-6.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xxi " Ripaud's Antiquities of Egypt" were both published during the year. In 1801 Combe prepared Mackenzie's " Voyages in North America" a very important work ; Viscount Grant's " History of the Mauritius," and some more political pamphlets. As some relaxation from graver compositions, we find him engaged on a very strange work, with a long, puffing title, from notes and suggestions which had been supplied to him by one " Captain Hanger," a harum-scarum gentleman, who seems to have lived quite as much in low as in high society. It is well that he did not put his name to the book, for its catch-penny character seems quite incompatible with the official and historical works then proceeding from his pen. His next pro- duction was a translation of the important correspondence which resulted in the Treaty of Rastadt, and this was followed by " Anderson's Secret Ex- pedition to Egypt." In 1803 Combe's reputation as a political writer had attracted the atten- tion of the conductors of the " Times," and a position upon that journal was offered him. The Addington Ministry being now in power, Combe was no longer in the receipt of 200 a year from the Pitt party, and he at once accepted the proposal. Knowing his versatility, we may readily suppose that his labours in this new field were of a very general character, but his favourite subject was the politics of the hour, and the usual signature under which he wrote was "Valerius." A flaming broadside "Address to the People of England," on Bonaparte's threatened invasion, which appeared upon the walls of London, signed "Valerius," attracted con- siderable attention. In the following year his " Letters" to the " Times " on the state of parties, the war with France, the 300,000 Volunteers who had rushed forth to the defence of the country, and other matters, were published in a separate form. Besides the contributions to the " Times," Combe had found time to conduct a periodical entitled " The Pic-Nic." In 1804, on Pitt's re-accession to power, Combe was again employed by the Ministry to write on their behalf. As various allusions are made to late hours at the "Times" office in the " Letters to Marianne," there is good reason for believing that he was still, and remained for some time after- wards, engaged upon the staff of that newspaper. There is the better reason for coming to this conclusion, because from 1804 to 1808 no separate publications were issued by him. On the death of Pitt, in January, 1806, the conduct of the Government was placed in the hands of Lord Grenville, with Fox as Minister of Foreign Affairs. Combe's salary of 200 per annum was again stopped, and it was in the hope that he would find favour with the new Ministry, and retain his former annual allowance or, at least, have his arrears of salary secured to xxii LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1806.] him that he wrote the following long letter to Lord Mulgrave,* whom he appears to have known in the days of the Pitt administration : [March, 1806.J " MY DEAR LORD, " I shall not make any apology for this letter, as it is a letter of "justification; because it is impossible for Mr. S. B.f to have acted towards " me as he has done, without having some charge to make against me, or en- " tertaining the most perfect contempt for me. " As I was introduced to him, my Lord, by your favour, and under your " sanction, I think myself entitled to offer to your patience a representation " of the circumstances to which I allude. " The letter addressed by Mr. B. to your Lordship on my subject, and " which I saw when you did me the honour to call upon me, particularly spe- " cified that the Treasury was willing to receive me into its service on the " same terms on which I had been engaged by Mr. Pitt's former administra- " tion. These were, to obey such instructions as were given me, and when I " had no instructions to act from myself and my own judgment, as the occa- " sion offered ; 200 was the stipulated salary. By Mr. L.'sJ obliging and " friendly behaviour personally to myself, and the letters which he sometimes " wrote to me, I have the best reasons to believe that he was satisfied^with " my conduct. " On my first visit to Mr. B. he received me with great civility ; but the ' ' few times I saw him afterwards his disposition was evidently changed, and ' it rather surprised me, when I was honoured with your Lordship' sprotec- * tion, any inferior person should treat me with the distance which he did. ' When I possessed so much of the central heat of the system I did not ex- ' pect to find such a repulsive coldness at its extremities ; but so it was. At ' length one of the most deplorable events that could happen to any country ' distressed our own ; we lost the greatest man in it ; and the ministry of ' which he was the head, and Lord Mulgrave a very distinguished part, ' immediately terminated ; but I could not suppose it possible that, while the ' elements were dissolving, my small claim upon it would melt into nothing. ' But so it appears. " I thought it would be respectful to wait Mr. B.'s leisure, and not to in- ' terrupt him with my trifling concerns while engaged in the busy avocations ' of quitting his office. " I did not call upon him till last Thursday, when he told me that, in the ' first place, I was in the case of a tenant-at-will, who, if he is turned out ' before quarter-day, is not obliged to pay the rent for that quarter ; but, my ' Lord, I am not a tenant (I beg your Lordship will not laugh at the non- ' sense, for I am very serious), but a servant at will, without a warning to ' quit, and with the wages of two quarters fully due. I was then told that ' if I had come earlier I might probably have received my money, but that * This interesting 1 letter came into the hands of Mr. Robert Cole, F.S.A., with, other papers of Combe's, some years after the death of the latter. It was first pub- lished in the Gentleman's Magazine, for May, 1852. h Sturges Bourne. J Mr. Long. AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xxiii ' now it was too late. It must therefore appear to you, my Lord, that I lose ' by a becoming, gentlemanly, and respectful conduct what might have been ' obtained by illiberal importunity, by daily waiting in the Treasury lobbies ' and whisking my cards from thence into the Treasury chamber ; but if it ' had been asked me what I had done, I should have frankly answered of late ' very little. The latter months did not admit of my venturing my own un- ' authorised opinions ; but I never hesitated when 1 saw my way clear before ' me. I wanted instruction and I did not receive it. To use a phrase fami- ' liar to your Lordship, I looked for sense and it was not communicated. ' Those who are familiar with the conduct of my life, well know that I am ' not in the habit of sparing myself; and, after all, the service for which I ' was engaged, and was ever ready to perform, was no evil to me. I was ' always at my post. I was ready to receive instructions and to obey com- ' mands ; but, my Lord, permit me to say, that a man may according to his ' measure be as useful in detailing or opposing opinions in his personal com- ' munications with mankind, as in writing them. You will also, I doubt 1 not, agree with me, when I add that the great art in all contests, is the ' waiting for and seizing occasions. You, my Lord, are a good soldier, as ' well as an able statesman, and well know how to appreciate this sentiment ' in the field or in the debate. " I am now too old, and have seen too much, to justify my being as- " tonished at anything ; but it was not possible for me, when my moistened " eye followed the remains of Mr. Pitt to his ever-honoured sepulchre, and " my heart became cold within me, as if it were to be entombed there, it " was not possible for me to imagine that after so many years of zealous, " faithful, and in some degree disinterested service to his administration, the " wages of the last half-year would be withheld from me ! I really feel a " very painful mortification, nor shall I hesitate to add, that in my situation " the deficiency of an hundred pounds which I expected to receive must be " attended with disappointment and inconvenience. But let that pass. " When Mr. Long quitted the Treasury, he, without any application on " my part, sent me a letter of kindness, and enclosed what was due tome at " the moment, and which he called a debt ; and, further, when my services " were subsequently offered, xinder Mr. Long's sanction, to the administration " that succeeded, Mr. Addington stated his reasons for not receiving them in " the handsomest manner, and presented me with half a year's salary, that " the suddenness of my dismission might not prove an inconvenience to me. " I have some reason to believe, though I cannot at present prove it, that " I am sacrificed to Mr. Redhead York. That person's talents may be very " superior to mine ; that they may, at least, be rendered more useful, I have " no doubt; but his appointment was not accompanied with my dismission, " and therefore I was no less a servant in the Treasury household, though " Mr. Redhead York, and fifty convicted, recorded, and, God bless 'em, con- " verted Jacobins had been admitted into it. The conversion of enemies is " no uncommon policy, but it is the policy of little minds, when it risks the " loyalty of friends. " I held myself accountable to your Lordship, under the circumstances " which I have stated, and I have written this letter ; but your trouble is " now at an end. It is not even necessary for you to acknowledge the re- " ceipt of it, for I have put its delivery beyond the reach of accident. I have " been at your door and delivered it myself. xxiv LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1806.] " One word more, my Lord, and I have done. " I am truly grateful to your Lordship for all your kindness, and for the " last instance, though it has concluded in a manner so mortifying to me. I " say, my Lord, that I am grateful for your kindness, and you will find that " I have been just to many other of your qualities, after I am gone whither " I am unreluctantly hastening. Quo pius JEneas, quo dives Tullus et Ancus. " I do not wish you honour, for you possess and will maintain it ; and " where honour is, a predominant constituent of happiness is not far off. I " have only to beg that you will accept of my assurance that I am, with great " regard, my dear Lord, " Tour most obliged and faithful humble servant, " WM. COMBE. " 12, Lambeth Road, Surrey." This letter had evidently been preceded by others upon the same business. What were the reasons for declining the re-engagement of Combe, do not very readily appear, but some personal squabbles with the principal officers of the Treasury, Messrs. Bourne and Long, appear to have inclined them towards Mr. Redhead York, an active political writer of that day, who re- ceived Combe's appointment. Lord Mulgrave's reply was as follows : " Harley Street, March 13th, 1806. " DEAR SIR, " It would be superfluous to assure yoii that I sincerely regret your " disappointment, as you know how readily I undertook to promote your " views ; but I am desirous of reconciling you to that disappointment, as far " as I can do so, by assuring you that I am perfectly convinced Mr. Sturges " Bourne entertains none of those sentiments respecting you to which you " attribute his having quitted office without considering the state of your " claims upon the Treasury. I am fully persuaded that the omission has '" arisen from oversight and not from neglect ; unfortunately, from whatever " source the evil has arisen, the remedy is now out of reach. As to any pre- " ference Mr. S. Bourne may have shown to Mr. Redhead York, or to any " other person, I can say nothing, having never inquired into the literary ar- " rangements of the late Administration, nor in any way interfered in them, " with the exception of your single instance. I sincerely wish it had been in 11 my power to prevent the disappointment with which that interference has " terminated. " I am, dear Sir, your very faithful and obedient servant, " MULGRAVE." This correspondence affords a curious insight into the distribution of the secret service money of that day, when each party in power thought it fair game to employ the national funds to keep the other out of office. Combe does not seem to have succeeded in his application to Lord Mulgrave, if we may judge by the following letter* : * Gentleman's Magazine, nil supra. The letter has neither address nor signature. [1806-a] AUTHOR OF "DOCTOR SYNTAX:' .M..V1-J, 1800. " MY DKAR Sill, 44 While I was this morning engaged in reading Lord H. Petty's speech in the House of Commons, last night, on bringing forward a mea- sure of the most beneficial nature to the country, it struck me that several boards were to be established to carry it into effect. It occurred to me also, 4 that these boards will want secretaries and under-secretaries, and other sub- 4 ordinate persons ; and it further suggested itself to me, that I could render * myself extremely useful in one or other of these employments. As the ob- 4 ject of this very important arrangement is to prevent in future that pro- 4 fusion which was the master-vice of Mr. Pitt's administration, and of 4 course to cut away those jobberies which are the rank suckers of that 4 branchy tree, Lord H.* will consequently look to qualification alone, in 4 those whom he employs to aid him in that salutary reform. If therefore 4 a long experience of the world, an enlarged view of its affairs, the habits 4 of diligence and intellectual toil, a mind not wholly unstored, a versatile ' faculty in constant practice, with a decorum of manners that suits conduct 4 to situation, be qualifications, I trust you will not impute to me an over- 4 weening self-love if I say that I am qualified for the object to which I have 4 just thought of directing my attention. 44 1 do not look to be among the first in any proposed arrangement, nor 4 would I consent to be among the last. I should most willingly obey a 4 master ; but at sixty years of age, and with the remembrance of better 4 days, I should hope to hold a respectable rank among my fellow-servants. 44 As Lord H. P. knows me not, I have to request the favour of you to " enclose this letter to him, and to say that you know me, and that you 44 submit this account of myself to his attention merely in compliance with 41 my desire. This will be a sufficient passport for me without another word. 44 1 am never very sanguine in my hopes of anything that relates to " myself. At the same time, I shall add, that I should be proud of Lord 44 Henry's patronage, and grateful for his favours. If while he appoints 44 others to lop off the rotten and perishing branches from the tree, he should 44 employ me to pick them up, to bind them into faggots and consign them 44 to the fire, my wintry day would grow warm from the blaze." Notwithstanding Combe's fault-finding with the administration of his old master, William Pitt, his flowery phrases, and accommodating offers of ser- vice, it is very clear that he failed to obtain a re-appointment under the new government. He seems, however, to have continued his connexion with the political press issuing on one occasion a pamphlet upon 44 The King's Ill- ness " up to the year 1808, when he turned his attention to another, and a very different kind of literature. This was theology. In Combe's day, as in our own, there were hundreds of clergymen too lazy or too ignorant to compose their own sermons, and these reverend gentlemen were generally supplied by poor curates, parsons out of Orders, or versatile writers like Wil- liam Combe. As our author was not a hypocrite at heart, we may readily * Lord Henry Petty held the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer. xxvi LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1809-10.] suppose that his pecuniary affairs were in a very depressed condition indeed, before he consented to turn clergyman's hack. He was now sixty-eight years of age, and indifferent health, with which he had latterty been afflicted, did not make his future prospects of the brightest. In his "Notes" he specially alludes to these sermons, informing us that there were seventy- three of them in all, and that some actually received the honours of publi- cation. Other literary job-work, too, he appears to have undertaken at this time, such as memorials to public boards, and biographical sketches for the- newspapers, or any journal that might accept such compilations. It was whilst engaged in this way, and when his fortune was at a very low ebb, that he was sent for by Mr. R. Ackerman, the then well known, printseller of the Strand. This must have been early in the year 1810. llowlandson, it appears, had offered to Mr. Ackerman a number of draw- ings, representing an old clergyman and schoolmaster, who felt, or fancied himself, in love with the fine arts, quixotically travelling during his holi- days in quest of the picturesque ; and as the publisher was about starting a new "Poetical Magazine," or rhyming miscellany for the then fashionable romantic verses, with [pictures to increase their attraction, [it occurred to- him that Rowlandson's illustrations would suit the "Magazine" very well, if a narrative in verse could be got to accompany them. Combe readily fell in with the idea, and a bargain was at once concluded, by which it was arranged that the artist was to furnish a coloured sketch each month, and Combe was to " write the text up to it" as this literary accommodation is technically styled in Paternoster Row. Such was the origin of DOCTOR SYNTAX or " The Schoolmaster's Tour," as the work was first called in. the monthly pages of the " Poetical Magazine." Campbell, in his " Life of Mrs. Siddons," tells the history very differently. He says that it was Row- landson who first called upon Combe at his Lambeth lodgings, as Acker- man had .declined to insert the illustrations until a poetical story could be obtained, and that it was " the author's procrastinating temper" which in- duced the bookseller to leave but one drawing at a time. But as Combe himself, in a preface to the second edition narrates the correct circumstances of Syntax's origin, we cannot do better than to quote him. He says : " The designs to which this volume is so greatly indebted, I was informed " would follow in a Series, and it was proposed to me to shape out a story " from them. An etching or a drawing was accordingly sent to me every " month, and I composed a certain proportion of pages in verse, in which, " of course, the subject of the design was included : the rest depended upon " what would be the subject of the second ; and in tfiis manner, in a great " measure, the artist continued designing, and I continued writing every " month for two years, till a work containing near ten thousand lines was " produced : the artist and the writer having no personal communication. [1810.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xxvii " with, or knowledge of each other. This vast collection of verses, however, appeared to advance the purposes of the Magazine in which they grew into such an unexpected accumulation. MR. ACKERMAN was satisfied with my , and I was satisfied with the remuneration of it. 1 felt no parental fondness for the work, though it was written at that very advanced period of life, when we are apt to attach importance to any little unexpected ex- ertion of decaying strength." A writer in the " London Cyclopaedia,"* who formerly knew Combe, says that he used " regularly to pin up the sketch against a screen of his " apartment in the King's Bench, and write off his verses as the painter " wanted them." The rhyming story of "The Schoolmaster," or, as we now know it, " Doctor Syntax," made its appearance in the first monthly number of the Magazine, May, 1810, with this short introduction : " In the tour, with the first part of which u-e here present our readers, ' the author carries his hero through a ijreat variety of whimsical adventures 1 to the lakes and back again. As tours are a fashionable article in the litera- 1 ture of the present day, we trust that the poetical per eurinai ions of Dr. $yn- ' tax will come in for a same share, at least, of tJie public-applause, to which 1 ice conceive it to be entitled. The lover of humour will not be displeased to 1 be informed that it will be accompanied with a considi rable number ofillus- " trative engravings." The " Tour" proved a capital hit, and soon formed the main attraction in the Magazine. The good-natured, moralising Syntax at once became a public character and a general favourite. His distinctive portrait was quite as well kept up by the author as by the artist, and his singular fea- tures, as drawn by Rowlandson, were as unmistakable as his perpetual good-humour, in the midst of troubles and mishaps, described by Combe. The creation was a success, and as Paul Pry gave a name to all sorts of objects ten years later, so Syntax was the popular title in his day. There were Syntax hats, Syntax wigs, and Syntax coats. The publisher was so well pleased with his new author, that the latter was allowed to contribute just what he pleased to the Magazine, and thus were given those " assistances in verse to illustrate the principal plates, chiefly views of places," which Combe speaks of in his "Notes." Ackerman had a short time previously commenced the publication of a magnificently illustrated work, under the title of the "Microcosm of London," and although the text to the first and second volumes had been written by another hand, the third was placed in Combe's charge. Another splendid work upon the river Thames, with engravings by "W. B. Cooke, the well-known artist, was then in pre- paration by the same publisher, and the task of writing the entire text * Vol. vi., i . l.r. 18f9. xxviii LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1811-12.] was also placed in Combe's hands. All these engagements were the result of the success of " Doctor Syntax," and it is surprising to know that they were most satisfactorily performed, at the rate of six long quarto pages each day, not reckoning editorial duties, correcting proofs, and work for other booksellers, by a man seventy years of age. The work upon the Thames extended to two volumes, and was published in 1811. In this same year a Life of Arthur Murphy, the dramatic writer, was pub- lished. It bore the name of Jesse Foot as its author, but it was in reality written by Combe. The variety of subjects which our author wrote upon is almost as in- credible as the number of his compositions. History, theology, politics, topography, humour all seemed to suit his pen, and he wrote verse with as much ease as prose in truth, it was this "fatal facility" of composition which gave to his writings a sudden, rather than an enduring popu- larity. The great work upon London had succeeded so well, that Acker- man commissioned its author to prepare descriptive text for an extensive "book on Westminster Abbey. This appeared in 1812, in two large volumes, with eighty-three coloured engravings. Combe's relations with Ackerman seem to have been most satisfactory to "both parties. It has been said that "the money side of this publisher's " ledger would, if evidence were wanting, furnish a constructive record of " the period of his death; " for, as that gentleman is alleged to have observed, " he ceased not to draw till he ceased to breathe." Such was the confidence which subsisted between them, that no contract was ever made as to the price of Combe's labours. " Send me a twenty-pounder," or " a thirty-pounder," as the want might be, was all that ever passed. "He was," wrote Mr. Ackerman, jun., in 1838, " supplied liberally, his works were profitable, "and the publisher satisfied." In an early page of this short Memoir, we stated that Combe, as a prisoner for debt, occupied lodgings in the Lambeth Road, within the requisite distance of the King's Bench. The "rules" of this prison were once jocularly asserted, by a Judge, to reach to the East Indies. In Combe's case they certainly extended to the Strand ; for he was a frequent visitor at Mr. Ackerman's table, where, though he showed con- siderable epicurism in his eating, his drink, as usual, was only water. The " Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque" having been finished in monthly parts, was first published in a complete form in 1812. It contained thirty-one coloured plates, by Rowlandson, and the price was one guinea. In its complete form the work was even more popular than when it appeared in detachments. The entire issue was quickly sold off, and within twelve months it passed through five large editions : the original plates having been worn out, copies of the artist's [1814]. AITIIOR OF "DOCTOR SYNTAX." xxix drawings had to be made, with the inscription " After Rowlandson" in the left-hand comer of the plates. Combe next wrote some " Poems" to illustrate the Princess- Elizabeth's designs, and this was followed by two large volumes upon the " History of Oxford," illustrated with numerous beautifully coloured engravings. In January, 1814, Combe received intelligence of his wife's death. The match was at no period a happy one, and for several years past Mrs. Combe had been an inmate of a private lunatic asylum. If we are to be- lieve some statements which have been made about Combe's private life at this time, he did not altogether deny himself the pleasures of female society. We know that he indulged in a correspondence of a very warm character with a young lady whom he styled " Marianne," and we have his letter, in which, at the same time that he avows his attachment, he upbraids her for her faithlessness, and finally bids her good-bye. Another auto- graph letter, too, exists, dated March 2nd, 1810, addressed to a Miss Har- riet Gouldsmith, but that its contents are of the most proper character, may be gathered from the fact that it is entirely devoted to religion, and extends to three close 4to. pages in length ! "We remember that in one part the writer discusses the Doctrine of Election, and styles it " fatalism of the " most horrid, because of the most blasphemous kind." This, it must be confessed, was scarcely a subject to lead young ladies astray with. The discussion, however, of this, at the worst, platonio affection, we shall leave for an after page, but another statement, which we have not now the means of positively verifying or disproving, has been made, to the effect that he married his second wife, Charlotte Hatfield, the beautiful sister of the equally beautiful Mrs. Cos way, during the lifetime of his first wife. Considering that Combe was in the greatest poverty for some time previous to the year 1810, and that for three years after his fortunate hit with " Doctor Syntax" he kept up an extensive correspondence with a young lady, for whom he seems to have experienced a most ardent friend- ship we may even go the length of calling it a most respectful attach- ment all the time working harder than he had ever done before, and at seventy-two years of age, it is not very likely that he found the leisure even supposing him to have felt the inclination for arranging any such ille- gal union. There are, therefore, good reasons for believing that Combe did not become acquainted with Miss Hatfield until after 1810, when she was about forty years of age ; and there are still better reasons for believing that he was not married to her until after the death of his first wife. M i-s Hatfield, afterwards Mrs. Combe, was the daughter of the proprietor of the English inn, or auberge, at Leghorn. Her sister became the wife of Cosway, the Royal Academician, but such were her talents, that she very soon rivalled xxx LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1814-23.] her husband as an artist. Mrs. Cosway' s beauty was known far and wide. "Men and women of the first rank and talent in the country," we are told,* "pressed forward to be introduced to the fair Italian. The Prince " of Wales and the Duchess of Devonshire shone in the list of her friends, "and it became a fashion to purchase her works at any price." Unfor- tunately, however, both Mrs. Combe and Mrs. Cosway were afiiicted with fits of melancholy, which led many of their friends to believe that they were upon such occasions " careless of existence." Their great personal attractions had caused them to be much flattered, and they seemed satiated with and tired of human pleasures. Such women do not gene- rally make their husbands very happy, and this was the case in both the present instances. Mrs. Combe lived apart from her husband, and Mrs. Cosway entered a convent at Lyons, of which she became the canoness.f It is said that the latter, who once held great influence over her younger sister, had made a vow to the nurse attending her during a very diffi- cult confinement, that if the babe lived, both the child and herself should become Catholics which vow she considered was rendered doubly sacred when the nurse confessed on her death-bed that she had poisoned her previous children, because she was horror-struck at so many heretics coming into the world ! The following letter, from Mrs. Cosway to Combe, shows the unsettled disposition of his wife, and how her friends rather aided than checked her roving disposition. Mrs. Cosway, tired of convent life, and recently returned from England, was now residing at Lodi. She does not seem to have forgotten her husband, J although separated from him for more than twenty years : " Lodi, 24th January, 1823. "DEAR SIR, " It was not my intention to trouble you, as I thought I should 1 hear of you from Charlotte, and that also she would communicate to you 1 what I was anxious about before my departure from England ; but I find ' from her last that there must be a very great misunderstanding between ' us, which has much distressed me. When we talked of having some Me- 1 moires written on Mr. Cosway, and agreed no one more able than yourself, ' I was happy to see you undertook it. At the same time we talked of pub- "' lishing a correspondence, &c., and travelles, &c. of myself, of which I felt ' somewhat awkward about, and talking of it with some persons, what they ' observed on it discouraged me, and made me think not to press that part, f though it might have been announced for a future opportunity ; my deli- ' cacy was also on account of some of those persons being living. With ' this determination, I told Charlotte to return me my letters, and those * Public Characters of 1805. p. 299. + Ibid, p. 305. J He died July 4, 1821. [1823.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xxxi ' which regarded only myself and were not of use to you, as I had a ' particular objection to her taking them to Ireland. Had she remained ' in London (since she seemed determined not to come with me) who could ' 1 put my trust to better hands? However, whatever she was offended ' or hurt on the sake of her friends, she return'd a box w"hich I never ' open'd for want of time. I am positively sure she said she had taken 1 to translate those you had chosen and were necessary ; and I thought ' this settled, and told her I had several journals and letters here that ' I should send by the first opportunity. I was anxious to know if ' you went on. In her first letter (for I have had but two) she told ' me a long history about Mrs. Udny*s letters, and of a visit she had from ' a gentn. on the subject, which I thought as absurd as extraordinary ; ' for Charlotte might nave said she had distroid them. Now, sir, after all ' this detail, whether I have or not well explain'd, I hope you will iudge ' that I must feel uncertain on the subject, which induces me to address ' myself to you. I have been looking for an engraver to give those portraits ' and sketches which I thought would illustrate the work. I left to Char- ' lotte's care the only small plates etched by Mr. C. himself which I thought ' would be interesting. In short, what could I do more ? I wished much ' to see you before I set out ; I told her so ; but the uncertainty of your ' being able to come, not knowing how to contrive it, and the many things " I had to do in those last days, made me lose this satisfaction. I may be " mistaken, but I always thought that her friends have ingrossed so much " on her good nature, and they have used such means to keep her to them- " selves, as she is very use full to them, that the feelings of blood and *' friendship in me go for nothing. I said and did all I could to induce her " to come with me, but could go no farther when 1 found more attraction " on the other side. May it be for the best; but I beg, sir, that this may " rest entre nous, and that you will never mention to her what I have said. ' Was it not natural that two sisters should end their life together ? that I 4 should look on her as my only relative ? But this is what her friends ' fear'd, and made me promise not to take her away. All these things ' prayed on my mind, which induced me to do what I have said above ; but ' still I repeat this has nothing to do with what was agreed to be done ' about Mr. Cosway. If you will favour me with few lines you will much ' oblige me, or intrust any message to Mr. Taylor or Prince Hoare. To ' both I give a message for you. Believe me, dear Sir, yours sincerely, " MARIA COSWAY. " My address is Madame Cosway, a Lodi, via Milan." [London postmark, 8 Feb. 1823.] In the few records that have come down to us about "William Combe, it is curious to note the widely different statements of even cotemporaries. The writer in the " London Cyclopaedia," who knew him, says he lived most unhappily with his second wife, whilst the poet Campbell, in his " Life of Mrs. Siddons," assures us " After his first wife's death, Mr. Combe " made a more creditable marriage, with the sister of Mr. Cosway, the " artist, and much of the distress which his imprudence entailed upon him " was mitigated by the assiduities of this amiable woman." What became xxxii LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1815-21.] of her, we cannot now ascertain, and it is only from a stray mention of her husband in a newspaper, after, his death, that we learn the fact that she survived him. We now return to " Doctor Syntax." Its continued popularity had suggested to Mr. Ackerman, and its author, other poetical compositions, illustrated in a similar way. Rowlandson was called in, and designs for an " English Dance of Death" were decided upon. Combe wrote the text, and the work was published in monthly numbers, of about one thousand lines in each part. It was issued complete, in 1815 16, in two volumes. Although it was not nearly so successful as "Syntax," it was better illustrated than its more popular predecessor, and obtained sufficient patronage to prompt the undertaking, in the following year, of a " Dance of Life," the text and illustrations to which proceeded from the same pen and pencil. This also was published in monthly numbers. A part of Combe's literary work for the year 1816 was a history of several of our Public Schools, which formed the chief portion of the text to a large illustrated volume that Mr. Ackerman was then issuing. Of the difficulty of discovering all the books that Combe actually did write, we are reminded by an entry in the poet Moore's " Diary," where he says : " Oct. 22, 1818. Talked of Combe, said to be the writer of Mac " Leod's ' Loo-Choo,' as he certainly was of Lord Lyttelton's ' Letters,' and " many other books of other peoples." Now no mention of this work is made in Combe's own " List," but the composition is exactly in his style, and as the work was published in 1817, it may explain what Combe was doing from 1816 to 1818, in which latter year he completed " The Antiquities of York," an elegant work, with illustrations by H. Cave. The demand for " Doctor Syntax" having somewhat fallen off, after an extraordinary run of eight years, it was arranged that Rowlandson and Combe should prepare a Second Series, to be entitled "DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR IN SEARCH OF CONSOLATION," the termagant wife being decently buried in the early part of the new volume, in order that the Doctor might have a good reason for travelling abroad a second time. The monthly parts, in which it was issued, were completed in 1820, and although not so successful as the First Tour, it quickly passed through several editions. The demand for it was such that Mr. Acker- man at once requested both the artist and author to prepare a Third Tour this time " IN SEARCH OF A WIFE." Like the preceding, it was issued in monthly parts, and attracted immediate attention. The pictures were, if anything, more droll than those in the preceding volumes, the designs to "An Advertisement for a Wife," "The Result of Purchasing a Blind Horse," and the figure of the veterinary surgeon in the death of poor [1821-2.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xxxiii " Punch," being amusing in the extreme. This Third Tour appeared in 1821, along with new editions of the First and Second series. Combe had to suffer the penalty of all successful inventors. His titlewas un- blushingly copied both at home and abroad, and there appeared in London the " Tour of Doctor Syntax through London," "Doctor Syntax in Paris, ia rh of the Grotesque," "Dr. Syntax's Life of Napoleon," and " Doctor Prosody ;" whilst in Germany one Fred. Hempel wrote under the pseu- donym of "Peregrinus Syntax," and the " Tour in Search of the Pic- turesque" was translated under the title of " Die Reise des Doktor Syntax, ins Deutsche uber-tragen," Berlin, 1822. But the most impudent imita- tion of " Syntax" was a book in verse, entitled " The Adventures of Doctor CWiicus," (probably a play upon Combe's name), by a Modern Syntax, with coloured imitations of Rowlandson's designs. In it the principal scenes in Combe's First Tour were parodied, our author's own words being- used in many places, but generally twisted to bear a vulgar meaning. Combe was now eighty years of age, but, old as he was, he felt he must make some remonstrance against the impudence of his own countrymen^ even if the foreign appropriations might be taken as so many compliments ; accordingly in the preface to the third edition of the " Second Tour," 1820, he says : " It has been the opinion of many whose superior judgment commanded 1 my submission, that I was called upon to separate the work written by ' me as the biographer of ' Doctor Syntax' from those which have been ' palmed upon the public by others who have pilfered that title. This- ' book, the ' First Tour of Doctor Syntax in Search of the Picturesque* 1 the ' Dance of Death, 1 and the ' Dance of Life, 1 are the only works, ia ' this style of composition, which have been written by me." Combe's literary career was now rapidly drawing to a close. His failing health, however, had not prevented him from undertaking a " History of Madeira," for which his friend Mr. Ackerman had prepared some very beautiful coloured engravings. This work appeared in 1821. Our author's last work, published in 1822, was something afterthe style of the " Syntax"' series, and was entitled " Johnny Qme Genus, or the Little Foundling." It was illustrated with twenty-four coloured plates, by Rowlandson, and appeared in monthly parts, the same as " Doctor Syntax." As a literary performance, it is the poorest of all Combe's compositions of this peculiar character, and the author probably felt this quite as much as his readers, for he wrote nothing afterwards. The active imagination that had, without intermission, directed the pen for over fifty years, found itself becoming weaker and weaker. That very few of Combe's acquaintances ever visited him at xxxiv LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1823.] his lodgings, on the other side of Westminster Bridge, and near the Bethlam Hospital, we' have good reason for believing, as nearly all the notices of him written by cotemporaries describe him as living in the King's Bench Prison, whereas it was at No. 12, Lambeth Road, within the distance allowed by the prison authorities to out-door prisoners, that he resided. Another error, too, which it does not appear that Combe ever took the pains to correct, was the length of time he was a prisoner for debt. His acquaintances invariably speak of " twenty years," at least, the poets Campbell and Rogers, Mr. Ackerman, jun., and others, have told us such was the length of time, whereas Combe was residing " within the rules of the Bench" as early as 1780, and was still there at the time of his death. Campbell gives the anecdote which has been variously told of Combe's preference for prison life : " Pecuniarv difficulties brought him to a permanent residence in the ' King's Bench, where he continued about twenty years, and for the latter ' part of them a voluntary inmate. One of his friends offered to .effect a ' compromise with his creditors, but he refused the favour. ' If I com- ' pounded with my creditors,' said Mr. Combe, ' I should be obliged to ' sacrifice the little substance which I possess, and on which I subsist in ' prison. These chambers, the best in the Bench, are mine at the rent of ' a few shillings a week, in right of my seniority as a prisoner. My habits ' are become so sedentary, that if I lived in the airiest Square of London, ' I should not walk round it once in a month. I am contented in my cheap 'quarters."* Another writerf says that, although a prisoner, he used "to enjoy much " excellent society," and lived contented " in the midst of an extensive li- brary, his time being constantly exercised for his own profit and the " gratification of the world." And he utters the lament : " Could the age "of George III. have boasted of a single Meca?nas, the living father of " English literature would not have been suffered to spend a long life under " such irksome and adverse circumstances !" The writer in the " London Cyclopaedia," who knew Combe personally, says that " a portion of this restraint was voluntary, and with a view to " secure some property to a younger branch of his family." J The poet Rogers, however, who also knew Combe, used to say of him, spitefully, that it was ^n error to suppose " he had taken refuge in the King's Bench in order to cheat his creditors because he did not leave enough to pay 'the ex- penses of his funeral." Although Combe had been dissipated in his youth, and up to his latest work gave no evidence of any particular seriousness, he always believed * Campbell's " Life of Mrs. Siddons," 1834. Vol. I., p. 43. t Public Characters of all Nations, 1823, Vol. I., p. 408. t " London Cyclopedia," Vol. VI., p. 427, 1829. Djce's " Eecollections of the " Table Talk of Samuel Rogers," p. 115. [1823.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." xxxv himself to be a good Christian, and in the long preface to his " Syntax," is careful to impress the reader that " though on a first view of some of the " prints, it may appear as if the clerical character was treated with levity, " he is confident in announcing a very opposite impression after a perusal " of the work." Indeed, a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine, in the course of a few remarks upon Combe's career, assures us that he " ought not to conclude them without bearing testimony to the firm "reliance which Mr. Coombe (sic) placed in the divine origin of the Chris- " tian religion, and a future existence, and to the fortitude and resigna- " tion with which he supported his full conviction of the near approach of "his final release from all sublunary troubles."* All descriptions of Combe agree that he was invariably cheerful, and " always gentlemanly and very interesting in his conversation." Even Rogers acknowledges that " he was possessed of extraordinary powers." As an example of his talent for conversation, an anecdote is recorded by Dr. Estiin, of Bristol, that a friend of his " once met Coombe ('r) walking in Tyndall's " Park, with a young lady under each arm if we heard the anecdote cor- " rectly, Miss Galton and Miss Hannah Moreboth of whom were in tears. " ' In the name of heaven ! Coombe,' exclaimed his friend at their next "meeting, 'what had you been saying to those poor girls with whom I "met you the other day, to produce so much distress ?' ' What distress Y " when?' inquired 'the Count,' in a tone of alarm at the imputation. On " his memory being brought home to the fact, he rejoined, 'Oh! nothing " at all some melancholy tale of imagination, trumped up to suit their pa- " late and diversify the scene. But of the pearly drops I was not so keen " an observer as yourself. "f On the 8th of June, 1823, Mr. Ackerman wrote to Combe : " I have a " favour to ask of you it is a list of all the works you have wrote or sent to " the press ; no use will be made of it in your lifetime without consent." Mr. Ackerman knew that his aged friend would not last much longer, and desired that the secret of so much literary history should not die with him. Almost immediately the old man wrote out the long list, J and sent it as requested. He survived Mr. Ackerman's letter only eleven days. In the catalogue of Combe's works, given further on, we have included every work contained in his own MS. list, adding the titles of several others, which he appears to have forgotten. Gentleman's Magazine, August, 1823. + The Bristol Observer, 1823. J It was first published by Mr. Eobert Cole, in the Gentleman' t Magazine for Mar, 1862. Mr. Cole possessed three lists of Combe's writings, all of which have been used in our corrected catalogue at the end of this Memoir. c xxxvi LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1823.] Combe's last moments were strangely occupied. It appears that in Ms old age he had adopted a youth, and having no children of his own, he had intended bequeathing him, as a legacy, the MS. " Autobiography" of his long and strange career, which he had prepared for publication after his decease. But the young man offended Combe irretrievably, by falling in love with, and marrying, a daughter of the famous Olivia Serres, the soi- disant Princess Olive of Cumberland. From that moment Combe resolved to disinherit him, and to burn his manuscripts.* So large was the collec- tion, that it took a week to destroy them, and that week was the last week of his life. For seven days and seven nights the candle he employed in this conflagration was never extinguished and as the weary and heart- broken humourist applied leaf after leaf, with his eager but wasted hands, to the nickering flame, his own life was also burning to ashes like the story of it or, like the taper wasting to its socket, soon to be extinguished, and give place to impenetrable darkness. Combe died on the 19th of June, 1823, in the eighty-second year of his age. What became of the bulk of Combe's papers after his death, is not known. A Common-place book, scraps of poetry, some letters, and three lists of his works, were preserved, and a few years ago passed into the hands of Mr. R. Cole, the well-known autograph collector. Amongst his papers was found the following Epitaph, f written by Combe upon himself, and accompanied by this short note : " Whether there will be any desire, " or rather means, of suspending a piece of marble over my grave, I have "my doubts." WILLIAM COMBE'S EPITAPH ON HIMSELF. YlR FUIT NEC SINE DOCTKINA K"EC SINE SERMONUM AC MORUM SUAVITATE ; VlXIT NEC SINE PIETATE ERGA DEUM NEC SINE HONESTA DE NUMINE EJUS OPINIONS : NEC VERO SINE PECCATIS MULTIS NEC TAMEN SINE SPE SALTJTIS A DOMINO CLEMENTISSIMO IMPETRAND.E. * M. L. B. in " The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction," January 3rd, 1835, vol. xxv., p. 3. f Literary Gazette, Sept. 27, 1823. [1823.] AUTHOR OF " DOCTOR SYNTAX." A FEW weeks after Combe's death, there appeared a small volume with this title : "LETTERS TO MARIANNE," by William Combe, Esq., Author of " Doctor Syntax" $c. 12mo. London, 1823. It professed to be a collection of the Love Letters written by Combe to a young lady, in the year 1813 14, and was doubtless issued for the sole purpose of making money out of the scandal which their publication would raise over the author's grave. The friends of Combe were most indignant at this proceeding. Mr. Jerdan the veteran journalist is still living wrote in his paper* that the so-called " Letters to Marianne" " pourtray " the individual, known in a better light through the medium of his works, "in a point of view which affords no room for the display of talent, but " rather exhibits a man in the decline of years sillily lavishing all the foolery " of a platonic affection on a young girl." A fortnight after, another writer took up the cudgels in the same journal : " Poor Combe," he writes, " could " he rise from his grave and witness this exposure of human frailty in the " injudicious publication of the love-letters of a man of seventy, would " assuredly be disposed to join sincerely in the wish ' God deliver me from " my friends !' "f And the Ackerman family, disgusted at the rapacity which prompted the publication, reprinted Combe's excellent " Letters to Amelia," J to counteract the n^fair influence which the other book might create. In their preface they speak of the great damage done to a man's character by a certain class of posthumous publications, and remark that : " Among works of such an injurious tendency we cannot help classing a ' small volume of Private Letters, said to be from the pen of Mr. Combe, ' published apparently with an inconsiderate avidity of profit since his ' death, but which can scarcely have fulfilled the expectations of the parties ' by whom they were thrust forward. From our personal knowledge of the ' writer, we are certain that no man would have deprecated more stronply ' the publication of those Letters than he he who, as it is correctly 1 stated in the volume in question, soothed his last moments with the ro- ' flection that all his literary productions had espoused the cause of morality, ' virtue, and religion, and that, with the exception of a satirical poein, ' which was among the earliest of his performances, there was not one ox ' which he regretted to have been the author." The person most pained by the publication of this correspondence was, of course, Mrs. Combe. There was nothing improper in the letters them- The Literary Gazette, Sept. 27, 1823. t A correspondent of the Literary Gazette, under the signature of " Birch Bod," Oct. 18, 1823. J " Letters to Amelia," by William Combe. 12mo. 1824. XXXV111 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF THE [1823.] selves, supposing them all to have been written by Combe, it was only the fact of their being published at that particular time, and for the avowed purpose of directing public attention to the private letters of an old man who had written youthfully to a young girl, that made the publication a scandal. Had all the letters been published, they would have told their own tale, which was, that ten years previously the female had been dis- carded by .Combe for "her deceit and folly," and the very man his name was Birch whose "warm attentions to Marianne served to cool the affection, and finally lost her the heart of her venerable admirer,"* was the actual editor of these precious "Letters," and published them to the world. The book itself is now not easily obtained. There is no copy in our great National library, but from different sources we have obtained transcripts of two short compositions included in the " Letters," which will be found rather pleasing than otherwise : ODE. Ah, who has power to say, To-morrow's sun shall warmer glow, And o'er this gloomy vale of woe Diffuse a brighter ray ? Ah, who is ever sure, Thp' all that can the soul delight This hour enchants the wondering sight, These raptures will endure ? Is there in life's dull toil One certain moment of repose, One ray to dissipate our woes, And bid reflection smile P We seek hope's gentle aid ; We think the lovely phantom pours Her balmy incense on those flowers Which blossom but to fade. We court love's thrilling dart ; And when we think our joy supreme, We find its raptures but a dream, Its boon a wounded heart. We pant for glittering fame ; And when pale envy blots the page That might have charm'd a future age, We find 'tis but a name. We toil for paltry ore, And when we gain the golden prize, And death appears, with aching eyes We view the useless store. How frail is beauty's bloom ! The dimpled cheek, the sparkling eye, Scarce seen before their wonders fly To decorate a tomb. Then, since this fleeting breath Is but the zephyr of a day, Let conscience make each minute gay, And brave the shafts of death. And let the generous mind With pity view the erring throng Applaud the right, forgive the wrong, And feel for all mankind !f * A correspondent who signs himself " Birch Bod," in Literary Gazette, Oct. 18, 1823. t (Printed in " Letters to Marianne." By William Combe, Esq., author of " Doc- tor Syntax," &c. 12mo., pp. 85. London, 1823. T. Soys.) AUTHOR OF "DOCTOR SYNTAX." TO MABIANNE. XXXIX I/BT others boast of hoarded ore, Or riot 'midst their golden store ; Give me, kind heaven, I'll ask no more, Giro me the table-flap, the mutton-bone, and Mary. Ambition's heights are nought to me, Unmoved its glittering towers I see ; Prom these proud scenes I'd gladly flee, To find the table-flap, the mutton-bone, and Mary. Thro' pleasure's maze while others stray, And fancy gilds each varying day, I'd ever wish at home to stay When I've the table-flap, the mutton -bone, and Mary. Should fortune blow with fickle wind, If former friends should prove unkind, My lot I'd bear with cheerful mind, So I've the table-flap, the mutton-bone, and Mary. But when death aims the pointed dart, Whose fatal blow will rive my heart, Oh ! what a pang 'twill be to part With the dear table-flap, the mutton-bone, and Mary. But another poem, sent by Combe to Marianne, was carefully omitted in the little volume. It was as follows : THE PARTING. Since, Mary, we are doom'd to part, Since I must tear you from my heart, That faithful heart which will, I fear, Too long your lovely image bear, A moment your attention lend, And hear the counsels of a friend. When first I saw those beamy eyes, When first I saw those blushes rise, When first I saw the ringlets break In jetty beauty on your neck ; When first I heard your lips dispense The strain of modest eloquence Oh! how I wish'd that I could move The beauteous charming maid to love ! And when you heard me tell my flame, And when you said you felt the same, And when possess' d of charms like thine, H o happiness could equal mine. But soon the gaudy dream was o'er, The painted phantom was no more, And in the place of Virtue's charms, Deceit and Folly fill'd my arms. What tortures did my bosom move, What pangs of disappointed love, When to my hopes I bid adieu, And turn'd away from love and you I " From love," said I P how vain the boast I Tho' by the foulest mischief crost, My coward heart still pants for you, And knows not how to say Adieu ! Thus the poor moth around the light, Tho' scorch'd its wings, renews its flight, Nor wounded from the foe retires, But in the very flame expires. BIBLIOGEAPHICAL LIST OF THE WOEKS WEITTEN BY WILLIAM COMBE. Those titles to which an asterisk* is prefixed are somewhat doubtful. All the works were published in London, unless stated to the contrary. 1773-74. *AN HEROIC EPISTLE to Sir Win. Chambers, Kt., Comptroller-Gene- ral of His Majesty's Works, and author of late Dissertation on Ori- ental Gardening, 4to., Is. Almon. "By W. Mason or W. Combe?" It passed through eleven editions, if not more, the first year of its publication. 1774. *AN HEROIC POSTSCRIPT to the Pub- lic, occasioned by their favourable reception of a late Heroic Epistle to Sir Win. Chambers. By the author of that Epistle. 4to. " By W. Mason or W. Combe?" It went through at least seven editions in the year of its publication. *A FAMILIAR EPISTLE to the Author of the " Heroic Epistle to Sir Wm. Chambers;" and of the "Heroic Postscript to the Public," 4to., Is. 6d. Wilkie. Most probably by Combe. If Combe was the author of the preceding, at least a dozen other " Second Parts," " Replies," " Postscripts," and " Supple- ments," must have come from the same pen. for the lucky publisher persisted in adver- tising them all as by the author of the " Heroic Epistle." A DESCRIPTION OF PATAGONIA and the adjoining Parts of South Ame- rica ; containing an Account of the Soil, Produce, Animals, Vales, Mountains, Eivers, Lakes, &c., of these countries ; the Religious Go- vernment, Policy, Customs, Dress, &o., of the Inhabitants, and some particulars relating to the Falk- land Islands. With a new map, 4to., 7s. 6d. Hereford. Combe wrote this work " from the papers of the Jesuit James (Thomas) Falkener, who had resided in Patagonia for forty years." 1775. THE FLATTERING MILLINER; or, a Modern Half-Hour, represented at the Bristol Theatre, llth Septem- ber, 1775, for the benefit of Mr. Henderson. Not printed. In a MS. copy Combe's autogi-aph the author says : " This little performance was written in one evening and part of the succeeding morning." 1776. THE DIABOLIAD, a Poem, dedicated to the Worst Man in His Majesty's Dominions. 4to. Kearsley. This very popular satire, by Combe, was published at Is. 6d., and passed through several editions in 1777 and 1778. In the latter year a Second Part appeared. *HEROIC EPISTLE to the Right Hon. the Lord Craven, on his delivering the sentence " I will have it known there is respect due to a Lord !" 4to. J. Wheeble. *THE HEROIC EPISTLE, answered by the R H Lord C . "Out! DunghiU! dar'st thou brave a Nobleman ?" Shakespeare. 4to. Wilkie. The compilers of the British Museum Catalogue believe this poem to have com from Combe's pen. It is a spirited bur- WORKS WRITTEN BY WILLIAM COMBE. xli lesque reply to the preceding, and com- mences " Hiss on, hiss on, re needy wags 'Tis but to shake my money-bags ;" and ends with " Then, Poet, with thy Brother Elves, Take Worth and Honour to yourselves ; Enough for me to strut a Peer, With i ull Twelve Thousand Pounds a year !" 1777. ADDITIONS TO THE "DIABOLIAD." By the same author. 4to. Kearsley. THE DIABO LADY ; or, a Match in Hell ; a Poem, dedicated to the Worst Woman in Her Majesty's Dominions. 4to. The dedication is subscribed " Belphegor." This, like the "Diaboliad," gives the names of noted living characters in initials and asterisks, which it was the fashion to fill in with a pen at the time. It passed through three or four editions. ANTl-DlABO-LADY .... calculated to expose the Malevolence of the Author of " Diabo-Lady." 4to. Although it professes to be an attack, the Introduction is signed " Belphegor," just the same as the preceding. THE FIRST OF APRIL, or the Tri- umph of Folly ; a Poem, dedicated to a celebrated Duchess, by the author of the " Diaboliad." 4to., 2s. 6d. J. Bew. An edition also appeared in 1782. A DIALOGUE IN THE SHADES, be- tween an Unfortunate Divine and a Welch Member of Parliament, lately deceased. 4to., Is. J. Bew. Combe only remembered this poem by the title of "Dialogue in the Shades be- tween Dr. Dodd and Chase Price." There is good reason to believe that Combe also wrote the following : OBSERVATIONS ON the CASE OF MR. DODD. 8vo., Is. Bew. HEROIC EPISTLE TO A NOBLE D . 4to. AN HEROIC EPISTLE TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 4to. A LETTER TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 4to. Fielding and Co. On Female Education. A SECOND LETTER TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 4to. Fielding and Co. *INTERF.STING LETTERS of Pope Cle- ment XIV. (Ganganelli), to which are prefixed Anecdotes of his Life, &c. Translated from the French. 12mo., with a portrait, 4 vols. See Lady M. \V. Montagu's Works, 1803, vol. i. Although it is believed that Combe only translated the " Letters," they were stigmatised so sharply when the for- gery was discovered, that he never acknow- ledged his connection with them. THE DUCHESSOFDEVONSHIRE'SCOW; a Poem. 4to. Two editions. Bew. Combe, having previously written a satire on the same subject for another pub- lisher, it is supposed that he produced this for the " Noble Author" alluded to in the following : AN HEROIC EPISTLE TO THE " NOBLB AUTHOR" OF THE "DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE'S Cow." 4to. Bew. 1777-84. ROYAL REGISTER, The ; or, Observa- tions on the Principal Characters of the Church, State, Court, &c., &c., Male and Female, \vith An- notations by Another Hand. 12mo., 9 vols., 2s. 6d. each. J. Bew. Containing characteristic sketches, often caustic or satirical, of public characters, especially the Lords and Commons. The names are given in initials, but are, for the most part, not difficult to decipher. 1778. PERTECTION; a Poetical Episfle, calmly addressed to the greatest Hvpocrite in England [John Wes- ley.] 4to., 2s. J. Bew. A satire upon the Love Feasts of the Methodists, and their doctrine of Perfec- tion. THE DIABOLIAD ; a Poem, Dedicated to the Worst Man in His Majesty's Dominions. Part II. By the author of Part I. 4to. xlii THE JUSTIFICATION ; aPoem. " quis erit vitae, scribam, color." Horace. 4to., 2s. 6d. J. Bew. " A new edition" of this, " by the same author," is advertised at the end of the third edition of " The Diaboliad," 1778. THE AUCTION ; a Town Eclogue, by the Honourable Mr. . Dedi- cated to Lady V rs. 4to., Is. Bew. Combe gives 1780 as the date, but "Watt mentions an edition -with the date 1812. A copy bearing date 1778 is in the British Museum. AN INTERESTING LETTER TO THE DUCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE. 4to. Bew. This produced "Desultory Thoughts upon reading ' An Interesting Letter to the Duchess of Devonshire.' " 4to. Long- man and Co., 1785. AN HEROIC EPISTLE TO SIR JAMES WRIGHT. 4to., Is. 6d. Bew. AN HEROIC EPISTLE to an Unfor- tunate Monarch [Geo. III.], by Peregrine the Elder, enriched with Explanatory Notes. 4to., Is. 6d. This occurs in the published list of works by the author of " The Diaboliad." It is a panegyric in praise of George III., and his stubborn defence of his colonies against those who desired to make them free. The author says : " Thy Boston feats employ the tongue of Fame, And Bunker's echoes, thunder rebel shame. The ragamuffins run ! The Yankees yield ! See Gage, and conquest lighten o'er the field! Two thousand warriors weltering on the plain, A monument of fatal pride remain." THE PHILOSOPHER IN BRISTOL. 2 vols., small 8vo. Robinson. 1779. LETTERS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY YORICK AND ELIZA. 2 vols., 12mo. THE WORLD AS IT GOES ; a Poem. 4to., 2s. 6d. J. Bew. Alluded to by Walpole in his Letter to Mason, Oct. 21, 1779. Although pub- BIBLIOGRAPHICAL LIST OF lished anonymously, it appears to have been tolerably well known at the time that it came from Combe's pen. 1780. THE FAST DAT ; a Lambeth Eclogue. By the author of " The Auction." 4to., Is. 6d. J. Bew. This poem gives evidence that Combe was then a resident in this parish in other words, that he resided within " the Buies of the Bench Prison." 1780-82. LETTERS OF THE LATE LORD LYT- TELTON. 2 vols., SvO. Another edition appeared in 1806. 1781. THE TRAITOR ; a Poem. 4to. 1784. FASHIONABLE FOLLIES; a Novel, containing the History of a Puri- tan Family. 2 vols., 6s. Dodsley. Combe, in his " Notes," states this work to have been written by a Mr. Vaughan, and that it was only the third volume, pub- lished some time afterwards, which came from his pen. 1785. LETTERS between a Lady of Quality and a Person of Inferior Bank. 2 vols., 12mo. 1787. THE JUSTIFICATION; a Poem. By the author of "The Diaboliad." 4to., 2s. 6d. J. Bew. Combe gives 1777 as the date of this poem, but the "London Catalogue of Books" says 1787. 1787-1801. ANDERSON (ADAM). The Origin of Commerce from the Earliest Ac- counts. Carefully revised, cor- rected, and continued to the pre- sent time. 4 vols., 4to. Several editions of this celebrated and valuable work were published. Latterly it was superseded by Macpherson's " Annals of Commerce," but for many years it was the standard work upon the subject. Combe, in his " Notes," says : " The first three volumes corrected and enlarged, and the whole of the four volumes compiled, arranged, and written out by me." WORKS WRITTEN BY WILLIAM COMBE. xliii 1789. LETTER from a Country Gentleman to a Member of Parliament, on the Present State of the Nation. 8vo., 2s. Kearsley. This passed through five editions, and was replied to in " An Answer," also by Cumbc. AN ANSWER to " A Country Gentle- man's Letter to a Member of Par- liament." 8vo., 2s. Kearsley. 1789-93. THE ROYAL INTERVIEW; a Frag- ment. By the author of " A Let- ter from a Country Gentleman to a Member of Parliament." 8vo., 2s. Walter, 178993. Passed through two or three editions. 1790. MEARES' (LIEUT. JOHN) VOYAGES made in the Years 1788 and 1789, from China to the North-west Coast of America. To which is prefixed a Narrative of a Voyage from Bengal, 1786 ; on the North- west Passage, &c. 4to. Compiled from the notes of Lieut. Meares, by Combe, who seems to have for- gotten both the title and author's name in Eis "Notes," for it is there entered as " Vojago of Captain Neares to North- west Coast of America." A second edi- tion, in 8vo., was published in 1790. 1790-1810. THE DEVIL UPON Two STICKS IN England, being a Continuation of "Le Diable Boiteux," of Le Sage. 4 vols., 12mo. A second edition was published in 1791. The third edition, issued in 1810, Combe states in his " Notes," "contains consider- able additions." This was in six volumes. 1791. THE ROYAL DREAM ; or, the P in a Panic : an Eclogue. 4to., 2s. Farres. Combe gives 1785 as the date of this publication, but he may have confused it with " The Academic Dream," a poem, which was issued in 1785, and published by Combe's publisher, Bew. CONSIDERATIONS on the Approaching Dissolution of Parliament, ad- dressed to the Elective Body of the People ; with some Account of the Existing Parties. 4to., 2s. Walter. 1792. A REVIEW of the Law Case (Chan- cery) between Mackreth and Fox Lane. Not published. A WORD IN SEASON to the Traders, Manufacturers, &c. 4to. 1794. A CRITIQUE on the Exhibition of the Royal Academy. 4to. THE Schola Salerni, or Economy of Health. 8vo. This is a translation of the original work which appeared in 1790. 1794-96. THE HISTORY of the River Thames. 2 vols., folio. Boy dell. These volumes coutain coloured plates from drawings by D. Tarington, K.A. The two volumes contain more than 600 pages of descriptive letter-press from Combe's pen. 1795. ANDERSON'S (JENEAS) NARRATIVE of the British Embassy to China, in 1792-4. 4to. The facts were supplied by Anderson, and Combe arranged and edited them. An abridgement in 8vo. was also published. LETTER to a Retired Officer on the Opinions and Sentence of a Gene- ral Court-Martial, held at the Horse Guards, November 27th, 1795, and on many subsequent days, for the Trial of Colonel J. F. Cawthorne, of the Westminster Regiment of Middlesex Militia. 4to., 2s. Debrett. Two WORDS OF COUNSEL and One of Comfort. 8vo. A political composition. 1796. CARMEN SECULARS; an Ode, in- scribed to the President and Mem- bers of the Royal Academy. By a Muse more than Peter Pindar's. 8vo. Faulder. xliv BIBLIOGRAPHICAL LIST OF Combe, in his " Notes," speaks of this publication as "On the Disputes of the Royal Academy." 1798. COLNETT'S (CAPTAIN JAMES) VOYAGE to the South Atlantic, and Hound Cape Horn, into the Pacific Ocean. 4to., 9s. This voyage was undertaken for the pur- pose of extending the Spermaceti Whale fisheries. Upon Captain Colnett's return the facts were all placed in the hands of Combe, who worked them up into a very valuable narrative. 1799. ANTHING'S (FREDERICK) HISTORY of the Campaigns of Count Alex- ander Suwarow Rymnikski, Field- Marshal General, in the Service of His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of all the Russias; and a Pre- liminary Sketch of his Private Life and Character. Translated from the German. 2 vols., 8vo. 1799-1810. ASIATIC ANNUAL REGISTER. 8vo. Campbell was the editor. Combe con- tributed "several articles in two of the volumes, particularly the Life and Charac- ter of Governor Holwell." 1800. TRANSLATION from the French of " Ripaud's (Librarian to the Insti- tute of Egypt) Commission of Arts to the first Consul Bonaparte, on the Antiquities of Upper Egypt, and the Present State of all the Palaces, Temples, Obelisks, Statues, Tombs, Pyramids, Heliopoles, &c., from the Cataracts of the Nile to Cairo, with an Accurate Descrip- tion of the Pictures with which they are decorated." 4to. TRANSLATION from the French of " Sonnini's (C. S.) Travels in Upper and Lower Egypt, imdertaken by Order of the Old Government of France ; illustrated by Portraits, Views, Plans, Antiquities, Plants, Animals, &c., drawn on the spot, under the Author's inspection ; with Map." 4to., 52s. 6d. 1801. SIR ALEXANDER MACKENZIE'S VOY- AGES from Montreal, on the River St. Laurence, through the Con- tinent of North America, to the Frozen and Pacific Oceans, 1789 93 ; with Account of the Fur Trade. 4to., 1 11s. 6d. Compiled by Combe, from Mackenzie's Notes. The book was considered a very valuable addition to Geographical science, and was translated and published in Paris during the following year. GRANT (Charles Viscount de Vaux). The History of the Mauritius, or the Isle of France and the Neigh- bouring Islands, from their First Discovery to the Present Time, 4to., maps. This work passed through three editions. It was compiled by Combe, principally from the papers and letters of Viscount Grant, and was considered a valuable work. LETTER to the Right Hon. Wm. Pitt, on the Influence of the Stop- page of Issues in Specie ; on the Prices on Provisions, and other Commodities. 8vo., 3s. 6d. Written under the nom de plume of "Walter Boyd." PLAIN THOUGHTS submitted to Plain Understandings, upon a Prevalent Custom, dangerous to the Estab- lishment. 8vo., Is. Rivingtons. Combe, in his MS. list, seems to have forgotten both the title and date of this pamphlet, which he remembered as " Plain Thoughts of a Plain Man, &c., 1797." CAPTAIN HANGER'S LIFE, Adven- tures, and Opinions ; written by himself. With Advice to Prelates and Legislators, how to Correct the Immorality and Jacobinism of the Present Age, and at the same time to Increase the Revenue. Advice to the Lovely Cyprians, and to the Fair Sex in General, how to pass their Lives in future to their better Satisfaction, and to enjoy with WORKS WRITTEN BY WILLIAM COMBE. xlv Discretion the three Cardinal Vir- tues ; on Matrimony, Compulsive Wedlock, and on Polygamy; on the Misery of Female Prostitu- tion, &c., &c. 2 vols., 8vo. %* Combe, in his private " Notes," snys he wrote this vork from " Hanger's Papers and Suggestions." 1802. OFFICIAL CORRESPONDENCE between His Excellency Count Metternich, Minister Plenipotentiary of the Emperor, the Deputies of the Em- pire, and Citizens Treilhard, Bou- nier, Roberjot, and Jean de Bry, Ministers Plenipotentiary of the French Republic, assembled at Rastadt, for the Purpose of Nego- ciating a Peace with those Powers. 8vo. Wright. ANDERSON'S (ADAM) Journal of the Forces which Sailed from the Downs, in April, 1800, on a Secret Expedition, under Lieut.-General Pigot. 4to. Combe, in his " Notes," remembers his labours upon this work as " Anderson's Account of the Campaign in Egypt." Anderson supplied the material, and Combe wrote and edited the work. 1803. VALERIUS' ADDRESS to the People of England. Folio, a single sheet. A broadside on the threatened Invasion, issued as a handbill, or poster. There arc good grounds for believing that Combe wrote a great many similar appeals, but he doubtless reckoned them as amongst " the minor contributions, the number of which he would not presume to guess at." CLIFTON ; a Poem, in Imitation of Spenser. 4to. Bristol. Tire " Pic-Nic." Edited by Combe. A Periodical Publication. Folio. 1804. THE LETTERS OF VALERIUS on the State of Parties, the War, the Volunteer System, and most of the Political Topics which have lately been under Public Discussion. Originally published in the Times. newspaper. 8vo. Combe, at this period, was on the staff of the Times. TRANSLATION of General Gordon's Defence of his Conduct during the French Revolution. 8vo. 1808. STERNE. Fragments after Sterne. By Isaac Brandon (W. Combe). 12mo. 1809-10. A REVIEW of an Important Period, involving the State Proceedings on the late King's first Illness. 8vo. 1809-11. POETICAL MAGAZINE, with Coloured Designs by Rowlandson. 4 vols., 8vo. Ackerman. ' Largely contributed to by Combe. Syn- tax's first Tour appeared here, under the title of " The Schoolmaster's Tour." 1810. ACKERMAN' s Microcosm of London. 3 vols., 4to. A very splendid work, containing an im- mense number of fine plates by eminent artists. Combe wrote all the text to the third volume. 1811. THE THAMES ; or, Graphic Illustra- trations of Seats, Villas, Public Buildings, and Picturesque Scenery on the Banks of that noble River. The engravings executed by W. B. Cooke, from Original Drawings by Samuel Owen. (The letter-press descriptions entirely from the pen of W. Combe). 2 vols., royal 8vo. Ackerman. THE LIFE of Arthur Murphy, Esq., (the Dramatic Author). By Jesse Foot, Esq., his. Executor. 4to. Combe, in his " Notes," states that ho wrote this work from papers, suggestions, and criticisms furnished by Foot. 1812. THE HISTORY of the Abbey Church of St. Peter's, Westminster, its xlvi BIBLIOGRAPHICAL LIST OF Antiquities and Monuments. 2 vols., 4to., with 83 coloured plates, 15 15s. Ackerman. A work upon which Combe must have bestowed a great amount of labour. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S Tour in Search, of the Picturesque. A Poem. With 31 coloured plates, by Rowland- son, royal 8vo., 1 Is. Ackerman. Combe's best known performance. It quickly passed through a great many edi- tions, the British Museum copy being of the fourth edition, and bearing the date 1813. It first appeared in monthly instal- ments, in " Ackerman's Poetical Maga- zine," 1809. 1813. Six POEMS, Illustrative of Engra- vings by H.R.H. the Princess Elizabeth. 4to. Combe had forgotten the title of this book, and remembered it as " Poetical Il- lustrations of Drawings, by," &c. 1814. A HISTORY of the University of Oxford, its Colleges, Halls, and Public Buildings. With 100 co- loured plates, 2 vols., 4to., 16 16s. Ackerman. A splendid work. Combe wrote the descriptive text from other books, aided by the recollections of his college days. 1815-16. THE ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH, from the Designs of T. Rowland- son, with Metrical Illustrations by the author of "Doctor Syntax," (i.e., W. Combe). 2 vols., 8vo., 3 3s. Ackerman. The success of "Doctor Syntax" prompt- ed this, and similar works. It was originally issued in monthly numbers, of about one thousand lines in each part. Rowlandson supplied the illustration during the first half of the month preceding publication, and Combe wrote the text between the 16th and 30th, describing the artist's de- signs. 1816-17. THE HISTORY of the Colleges of Win- chester, Eton, and Westminster, with the Charter House, the Free Schools of St. Paul's, Merchant Taylors', Harrow, and Rugby, and the School of Christ Hospital. 4to. Ackerman. Originally published in twelve monthly parts, at 12s. each. It was illustrated by numerous coloured engravings. From Combe's " Notes" we gather that the whole of the text to this work came from his pen, " except the account of "Winchester, Har- row, and Bugby." THE DANCE OF LIFE ; a Poem. By the author of "Doctor Syntax. ' With 26 Illustrations by T. Row- landson, 8vo., 1 Is. Ackerman. Originally issued in monthly parts, and under similar circumstances to the " Dance of Death." 1817. *M'LEOD's (John) Narrative of a Voyage in His Majesty's late ship AJccste along the Coast of Corea to the Island of Loo Choo, with ac- count of her subsequent shipwreck. 8vo. Not mentioned in Combe's List, but al- luded to as from his pen by the poet Moore. 1818. ANTIQUITIES OF YORK, drawn and etched by H. Cave. Imp. 4to. The letter-press was written by Combe. 1820. SECOND TOUR of Doctor Syntax in Search of Consolation, a Poem, with 24 coloured plates, after Rowland- son. Royal 8vo., 1 Is. Ackerman. Originally issued in monthly parts, and passed through several editions, but was never so popular as the First Tour. It is strange that no copy is to be found in our great national collection at the British -Museum ! 1821. THIRD TOUR of Doctor Syntax, in Search of a Wife, a Poem, with 25 coloured plates, by T. Rowlandson. Royal 8vo., 1 Is. Ackerman. Like the preceding, it was originally is- sued in monthly parts. It passed through several editions. A HISTORY of Madeira, with 27 co- loured engravings. 4to. Ackerman, The text solely written by Combe. WORKS WRITTEN BY WILLIAM COMBE. 1822. DIE REISE des Doktor Syntax, ins Deutsche ubertragen. 8vo. Berlin. Translation of Syntax's First Tour. JOHNNY Q,VJE GENUS, or the little Foundling; 24 coloured plates by Rowlandson. l Is. Royal 8vo. Ackerman. Originally issued in monthly parts, the same aa J' Doctor Syntax." 1823. LETTERS to " Marianne," by William Combe, Esq., author of "Dr. Syn- tax," &c. 12mo. T.Boys. Combe's friends were very indignant at this publication, as it gave his private let- ters to a young lady for whom he had shown some affection. It was looked upon at the time as a mere attempt at money- making, which end, however, it does not seem to have attained. No copy is in the British Museum. 1824. LETTERS between Amelia in London and her Mother in the Country, written by the late William Combe, Esq., author of " The Three Tours of Dr. Syntax." 16mo. Ackerman. Published as a sort of answer to " The Letters of Marianne." In the preface apparently from the pen of Mr. Ackerman himself we are told that "this amusing correspondence between a young lady of fashion in town and her mother in the country, was expressly written for the Repository of Arts, issued monthly, and that the letters were now published in a collective form, in fulfilment of the re- peated wishes of their author." 1826. THE THREE TOURS of Dr. Syntax, with 80 illustrations by T. Row- landson. 3 vols., 16mo. Ackerman. The popularity of " Dr. Syntax " con- tinued to such an extent long after the author's decease, that the owner of the copyright issued a small pocket edition, with all the plates reduced one-fourth their original size. The 3 vols. were published at Oiw Guinea. 1827. POMPEII ILLUSTRATED, with pictu- resque views, engraved by W. B. Cooke, from drawings by Lieut. - Col. Cockburn, with descriptive letter-press to each plate by T. L. Donalson [i. e. W. Combe]. Imp. folio, 2 vols., 16 16s. Ackerman. This work does not occur in Combe's List. It is included here on the authority of the British Museum Catalogue. 1838. DR. SYNTAX'S TOUR in Search of the Picturesque, with illustrations by Alfred Crowquill. 12mo. Ackerman. This edition of the First Tour was illus- trated by Mr. Alfred Forrester, under the worn de plume of " Alfred Crowquill." The publisher desired to revive the popularity of the work by adding illustrations from a new, and at that time rising artist, but all that is amusing and noticeable in the fresh designs are simply copies from Bowlandson. Books without dates. LETTERS as to the Boundaries of the Rhine. Mentioned in Combe's List, but no work with such a title can be traced. LETTERS of an Italian Nun and an English Gentleman. 2 vols., small 8vo. Professedly a translation from Kpusseau. SIR ALEXANDER MACKENZIE'S Voy- age to South America. No such printed work can be traced, but Combe may have written the book, although for some reason or other it was not pub- lished. It is given in the author's list. TRANSLATION of Alfred von Deul- man. This title occurs in Combe's autograph list. The name has in all probability been mis-spelt, as no trace of such an author can be found. xlviii WORKS WRITTEN BY WILLIAM COMBE. At the end of Combe's List of his |"Writings, supplied by him to Mr. Ackerman, were the following notes of the author's miscellaneous con- tributions to English Literature. " Miscellanies. " About thirty articles in different reviews. " Not less than two thousand columns in newspapers. " The minor contributions I do not presume to guess at the number. " I have memoranda of seventy memorials, &c., to public bodies, &c., with state- *' ments, some of them of great length. " About 200 biographical sketches, &c. " Seventy-three sermons, some of which have been printed. " Assistances in verse to illustrate the principal plates, chiefly views of places, in " Ackerman's Poetical Magazine, besides Dr. Syntax, which first appeared in that " publication. " For several years I was a contributor to Ackerman's LITERABT REPOSITORY : * " 1st. A series of Letters from a young Lady of Fortune on a visit in London, to " a sick Mother in the Country. Mr. A. did not think them lively enough for " his purpose, and I did not bring them to a conclusion. " 2nd. The Modern Spectator, in monthly numbers. " 3rd. The Female Tatter succeeded, and was more particularly confined to female " subjects. But from the intrusion of other things I fear that I took the " liberty of too frequently obtaining contributions, if not occasionally stealing, " from others, though on these occasions it is not improbable that I supplied my " deficiency with something better than I should have myself produced. " I could also name some works of no inconsiderable size and reputation in which I *' have been sought to act as pioneer by clearing away what appeared to me to be superfluous, to be entrusted with the task of improvement, either as to mode or to matter, to render reasoning more perspicuous, and to strew the path of truth with, flowers. Of this I have been thought capable by those whose favourable opinion in any branch of literature would justify a rational pride ; but such labours must be con- fined to my own bosom, and these works, in which I should be glad to acknowledge my share of the labour, and they are not a few, must be nameless. Such was the actual or implied condition of the remunerations I received from those whose names they bear, or to whom they are attributed. " Most of these publications went through multiplied editions, and the writer had no reason to be dissatisfied with the public reception of any of them, and, as near as it may be thought possible, and I believe I am, in a great measure, rigidly correct, I had not the assistance of a dot to an i from any amanuensis. I trusted to my own ' exertins and talents, such as they are knowledge, &c. My pen asked for no aid." * Repository of Arts. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. CANTO I. THE School was done, the hus'ness o'er, When tired of Greek and Latin lore, Good SYNTAX sought his easy chair, And sat in calm composure there. His wife was to a neighbour gone, To hear the chit-chat of the town ; And left him the unfrequent power Of brooding through a quiet hour, Thus, while he sat, a busy train Of images, besieged his brain. Of Church-preferment he had none ; Nay, all his hope of that was gone : He felt that he content must be "\Vith drudging in a curacy. Indeed, on ev'ry Sabbath-day, Through eight long miles he took his way, To preach, to grumble, and to pray : To cheer the good, to warn the sinner, And, if he got it, eat a dinner : To bury these, to christen those, And marry such fond folks as chose To change the tenor of their life, And risk the matrimonial strife. Thus were his weekly journeys made, 'Neath summer suns and wintry shade, And all his gains, it did appear. Were only thirty pounds a year. Besides th' augmenting taxes press To aid expense and add distress ; Mutton and beef and bread and beer, And ev'ry thing was grown so dear ; The boys too always prone to eat Delighted less in books than meat ; So that when holy Christmas came, His earnings ceased to be the same ; And now, alas, could do no more, Than keep the wolf without the door. E'en birch, the pedant master's boast, Was so increas'd in worth and cost, That oft, prudentially beguil'd To save the rod he spar'd the child. Thus, if the times refus'd to mend, He to his school must put an end. How hard his lot ! how blind his fate! What shall he do to mend his. state P Thus did poor Syntax ruminate. When, as the vivid meteors fly, And instant light the gloomy sky, A sudden thought across him came, And told the way to wealth and fame; DOCTOR SYNTAX: s TOUR And as th' expanding vision grew "Wider and wider to his view, The painted fancy did beguile His woe-worn phiz into a smile. But, while he pao'd the room around, Or stood immers'd in thought pro- found, The Doctor, 'midst his rumination, "Was waken'd by a visitation "Which troubles many a poor man's life, The visitation of his wife. Good Mrs. Syntax was a lady Ten years, perhaps, beyond her hey- day ; But though the blooming charms had flown That grac'd her youth, it still was known, The love of power she never lost, As Syntax found it to his cost : For as her words were used to flow, He but replied or YES or NO. Whene'er enrag'd by some disaster, She'd shake the boys and cuff the master : Nay, to avenge the slightest wrong, She could employ both arms and tongue, And, if we list to country tales, She sometimes would enforce her nails- Her face was red, her form was fat, A round-about and rather squat ; And when in angry humour stalking, Was like a dumpling set a-walking. 'Twas not the custom of this spouse To suffer long a quiet house : She was among those busy wives Who hurry - scurry through their lives; And make amends for fading beauty By telling husbands of their duty. 'Twas at this moment, when inspir'd, And by his new ambition fir'd, The pious man his hands uprear'd, That Mrs. Syntax re-appear'd : Amaz'd she look'd, and loud she shriek'd, Or, rather like a pig she squeak' d, To see her humble husband dare Thus quit his sober ev'ning chair, And pace, with varying steps, about, Now in the room, and now without. At first she did not find her tongue, (A thing which seldom happened long,) But soon that organ grew unquiet, To ask the cause of all this riot. The Doctor smil'd, and thus address'd The secrets of his lab'ring breast " Sit down, my love, my dearest dear, Nay, prithee do, and patient hear ; Let me, for once, throughout my life, Receive this kindness from my wife ; It will oblige me so : in troth, It will, my dear, oblige us both ; For such a plan hath come athwart me, Which some kind sprite from heav'n hath brought me, That if you will your counsels join, To aid this golden scheme of mine, New days will come new times appear, And teeming plenty crown the year : We then on dainty bits shall dine, And change our home-brew' d ale for wine: On summer days, to take the air, We'll put our Grizzle to a chair ; While you, in silks and muslins fine, The grocer's wife shall far outshine, Andneighb'ring folks be forc'd to own, In this fair town you give the ton." " Oh ! tell me," cried the smiling dame, " Tell me this golden road to fame. You charm my heart, you quite de- light it." "I'll make a TOUR and then I'll WHITE IT. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. You well know what my pen can do, And I'll employ my pencil too : I'll ride and write, and sketch and print, And thus create a real mint ; I'll prose it here, I'll verse it there, And picturesque it everywhere. I'll do what all have done before ; I think I shall and somewhat more. At Doctor Pompous give a look ; He made his fortune by a book : And if my volume does not beat it, When I return, I'll fry and eat it. Next week the boys will all go home, And I shall have a month to come. My clothes, my cash, my all prepare; Let Ralph look to the grizzle mare ; Tho' wond'ring folks may laugh and scoff, By this day fortnight I'll be off; And when Old Time a month has run Our bus'ness, Lovey, will be done. I will in search of fortune roam, "While you enjoy yourself at home." The story told, the Doctor eas'd Of his grand plan, and Madam pleas'd, No pains were spar'd by night or day To set him forward on his way : She trimmed his coat she mended all His various clothing, great and small ; And better still a purse was found With twenty notes of each a pound. Thus furnish' d and in full condition To prosper in his expedition ; At length the ling' ring moment came That gave the dawn of wealth and fame. Incurious Ralph, exact at four, Led Grizzle, saddled, to the door ; And soon, with more than common state, The Doctor stood before the gate. Behind him was his faithful wife ; " One more embrace, my dearest life!" Then his grey palfrey he bestrode, And gave a nod, and off he rode. " Good luck ! good luck !" she loudly cried, "Yale! Vale !" he replied. CANTO II. THE farewell ceremony o'er, Madam went in and bang'd the door: No woeful tear bedew'd her eye, Nor did she heave a single sigh ; But soon began her daily trade, To chide the man and scold the maid ; While Syntax, with his scheme be- sotted, Along the village gently trotted. The folks on daily labour bent, Whistled and caroll'd as they went ; But as the Doctor pass'd along, BoVd down their heads, and ceas'd their song. He gravely nodded to the people ; Then looking upwards to the steeple, He thus, in mutt'ring tones express'd The disappointments of his breast. " That thankless parent, Mother Church, Has ever left me in the lurch ; And while so many fools are seen To strut a Rector or a Dean, DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Who live in ease, and find good cheer On ev'ry day of ev'iy year, So small her share of true discerning, She turn' d her back on all my learning. I've in my vineyard labour 'd hard, And what has been my lean reward ? I've dug the ground, while some rich Yicar [liquor ; Press'd the ripe grape, and drank the I've fed the flock, while others eat The mutton's nice, delicious meat ; I've kept the hive, and made the honey, "While the drones pocketed the money. But now, on better things intent, On far more grateful labours bent, New prospects open to my view : So, thankless Mother Church, adieu!" Thus, having said his angry say, Syntax proceeded on his way. The morning lark ascends on high, And with its music greets the sky : The blackbird whistles, and the thrush Warbles his wild notes in the bush ; While ev'ry hedge and ev'ry tree Resound with vocal minstrelsy. But Syntax, wrapt in thought pro- found, Is deaf to each enliv'ning sound : Revolving many a golden scheme, And yielding to the pleasing dream, The reins hung loosely from his hand ; While Grizzle, senseless of command, Unguided, pac'd the road along, Nor knew if it were right or wrong. Through the deep vale, and up the hill, By rapid stream or tinkling rill, Grizzle her thoughtful master bore, Who, counting future treasure o'er, And, on his weighty projects bent, Observ'd not whither Grizzle went. Thus did kind Fancy's soothing power Cheat him of many a fleeting hour ; Nor did he know the pacing Sun Had half his daily circuit run. Sweet, airy sprite, that can bestow A pleasing respite to our woe, That can corroding care beguile, And make the way-worn face to smile ! But ah ! too soon the vision passes, Confounded by a pack of asses ! The donkeys bray 'd; andlo! the sound Awak'd him from his thought pro- found; And as he star'd and look'd around, He said or else he seem'd to say " I find that I have lost my way. Oh what a wide expanse I see, Without a wood, without a tree ; No one at hand, no house is near, To tell the way, or give good cheer ; For now a sign would be a treat, To tell us we might drink and eat ; But sure there is not in my sight The sign of any living wight ; And all around upon this common I see not either man or woman ; Nor dogs to bark, nor cocks to crow, Nor sheep to bleat, nor herds to low ; Nay, if these asses did not bray, And thus some signs of life betray, I well might think that I were hurl'd Into some sad, unpeopled world. How could I come, misguided wretch, To where I cannot make a sketch "r" Thus as he ponder'd what to do, A guide-post rose within his view : And, when the pleasing shape he spied, He prick'd his steed, and thither hied : But some unheeding, senseless wight, Who to fair learning ow'd a spite, Had cv'ry letter'd mark defac'd, Which once its several pointers grac'd ! The mangled post thus long had stood, An uninforming piece of wood ; IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. Like other guides, as some folks say, Who neither lead nor tell the way. The Sun, as hot as he was bright, Had got to his meridian height : 'Twas sultry noon for not a breath Of cooling zephyr fann'd the heath ; When Syntax cried '"Tis all in vain To find my way across the plain ; So here my fortune I will try, And wait till some one passes by : Upon that bank awhile I'll sit, And let poor Grizzle graze a-bit ; But, as my time shall not be lost, I'll make a drawing of the post ; And tho' a flimsy taste may flout it, There's something picturesque about it: 'Tis rude and rough, without a gloss, And is well cov'red o'er with moss ; And I've aright (whodares deny it?) To place yon group of asses by it. Aye ! this will do : and now I'm thinking, That self-same pond where Grizzle's drinking, If hither brought 'twould better seem, And faith I'll turn it to a stream ; I'll make this flat a shaggy ridge, And o'er the water throw a bridge : I'll do as other sketchers do Put anything into the view ; And any object recollect, To add a grace, and give effect. Thus, though from truth I haply err, The scene preserves its character. What man of taste my right will doubt, To put things in, or leave them out ? 'Tis more than right, it is a duty, If we consider landscape beauty : He ne'er will as an artist shine, Who copies Nature line by line : Whoe'er from Nature takes a view, Must copy and improve it too. To heighten ev'ry work of art, Fancy should take an active part : Thus I (which few I think can boast) Have made a Landscape of a Post. " So far, so good but no one passes, No living creature but these asses ; And, should I sit and hear them bray, I were as great a beast as they : So I'll be off; from yonder down I may, perhaps, descry a town ; Or some tall spire among the trees, May give my way-worn spirits ease." Grizzle again he soon bestrode, And wav'd his whip and off he rode ; But all around was dingy green, No spire arose, no town was seen. At length he reach'd a beaten road : How great the joy the sight bestowed! So on he went in pleasant mood, And shortly gain'd a stately wood, Where the refreshing zephyrs play'd And cool'd the air beneath the shade. Oh ! what achange, how great the treat, To fanning breeze from sultry heat ! But ah ! how false is human joy ! When least we think it, ills annoy : For now, with fierce impetuous rush, Three ruffians issued from a bush ; One Grizzle stopp'd, and seiz'd the reins, [brains. While they all threat the Doctor's Poor Syntax, trembling with affright, Itesists not such superior might, Butyields him to their savage pleasure, And gives his purse, with all its trea- sure. Fearing, howe'er, the Doctor's view Might be to follow and pursue ; The cunning robbers wisely counted That he, of course, should be dis- mounted ; And still that it would safer be, If he were fastened to a tree. s DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Thus to a tree they quickly bound him; The cruel cords went round and round him : And, having of all power bereft him, They tied him fast and then they left him. CANTO III. BY the road side, within the wood, In this sad state poor Syntax stood; His bosom heav'd with many a sigh, And the tears stood in either eye. "What could he do ? he durst not bawl ; His noise the robbers might recall : The villains might again surround him^ And hang him up where they had bound him. Sure never was an hapless wight In more uncomfortable plight ; Nor was this all ; his pate was bare, Unshelter'd by one lock of hair : For when the sturdy robbers took him, His hat and peruke both forsook him. The insect world were on the wing, Whose talent is to buzz and sting ; And soon his bare-worn head they sought, By instinct led, by nature taught ; And dug their little forks within The tender texture of his skin. He rag'd and roar'd, but all in vain, No means he found to ease his pain ; The cords, which to the tree had tied him, All help from either hand denied him : He shook his head, he writh'd his face "With painful look, with sad grimace, And thus he spoke his hapless case ! "Ah ! miserable man," he cried, " "What perils do my course betide ! In this sad melancholy state, Must I, alas, impatient wait, Till some kind soulshallhaplyfindme, And with his friendly hands unbind me? Nay, I throughout the night may stay, 'Tis such an unfrequented way : Tho' what with hunger, thirst and fright, I ne'er shall last throughout the night; And could I e'en these ills survive, The flies will eat me up alive. "What mad ambition made me roam ! Ah ! wherefore did I quit my home ! For there I liv'd remote from harm ; My meals were good, my house was warm ; And, though I was not free from strife, "With other ills that trouble life, Yet I had learn'd full well to bear The nightly scold, the daily care ; And, after many a season past, I should have found repose at last : Fate would have sign'd my long release, And Syntax would have died in peace ; Nor thus been robb'd, and tied and beaten, And all alive by insects eaten." But while he thus at Fate was railing, And Fortune's angry frown bewailing, A dog's approaching bark he hears ; 'Twas sweet as music to his ears ; And soon a sure relief appears. For, tho' it bore that gen'ral form, "Which oft at home foretold a storm, It now appear'd an angel's shape That promis'd him a quick escape : Nor did La Mancha's val'rous Knight* Feel greater pleasure at the sight, "When overwhelm'd withloveandawe, His Dulcinea first he saw : For on two trotting palfreys came, And each one bore a comely dame : IN SEARCH OF THE P ICTVRE SQ, UE. They started as his form they view ; The horses also started too : The dogwithinsultseem'dtotreathim, And look'd as if he long'd to eat him. In piteous tones he humhly pray'd They'd turn aside, and give him aid : When each leap'd quickly from her To join in charitable deed. [steed, They drew their knives to cut the noose, And let the mournful pris'ner loose ; With kindest words his fate bewail, While grateful Syntax tells his tale. The rustic matrons soothe his grief, Nor offer, but afford relief ; And, turning from the beaten road, Their well-lin'd panniers they unload ; When soon upon the bank appear'd A sight his fainting spirits cheer'd : They spread the fare with cheerful grace, And gave a banquet to the place. Most haply, too, as they untied him : He saw his hat and wig beside him : So, thus bewigg'd and thus behat ted, Down on the grass the Doctor squatted ; When he uplifted either eye, With grateful accents to the sky. "'Tis thus,"he humblysaid, "weread In sacred books of heavenly deed : And thus, I find, in my distress, The Manna of the Wilderness : 'Tis Hermit's fare ; but thanks to Heaven, [given." And those kind souls, by whom 'tis 'Tis true that bread, and curds, and fruit, Do with the pious Hermit suit ; But Syntax surely was mistaken To think their meals partake of bacon ; Or that those reverend men regale, As our good Doctors do with ale ; And these kind dames, innothing loth> Took care that he partook of both. At length 'twas time to bid adieu, And each their diff 'rent way pursue : A kind farewell, a kiss as kind, [mind : He gave them both with heart and Then off he trudg'd, and, ashewalk'd, Thus to himself the Parson talk'd. " 'Tis well, I think, it is no worse, For I have only lost my purse : With all their cruelty and pains, The rogues have got but trifling gains; Poor four-and- four-pence is the mea- sure Of all their mighty pilfer'd treasure ; For haply there was no divining I'd a snug pocket in my lining ; And, thanks to Spousy, ev'ry note Was well sew'd up within my coat. But where is Grizzle ? Never mind her ; [her." I'll have her cried, and soon shall find Thus he pursued the winding way, Big with the evils of the day : Though the good Doctor kept in view The favour of its blessings too. Nor had he pac'd it half an hour Before he saw a parish tow'r, And soon, with sore fatigue opprest, An Inn receiv'd him as its guest. But still his mind with anxious care, Ponder'd upon his wand'ring mare ; He therefore sent the Bell-man round To see if Grizzle might be found. Grizzle, ungrateful to her master, And careless of his foul disaster, Left him tied up and took her way, In hopes to meet with corn or hay ; But, as that did not come to pass, She sought a meadow full of grass : The farmer in the meadow found her, And order'd John, his man, to pound her. Now John was one of those droll folk, Who oft take mischief for a joke ; TO DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR And thought 'twould make the master stare, When he again heheld his mare, (Perhaps the Gem'man might be shockt) To find her ready cropt and dockt : At all events, he played his fun : No sooner was it said than done. But Grizzle was a patient beast, And minded nought if she could feast : Like many others, prone to think The best of life was meat and drink ; Who feel to-day nor care nor sorrow, If they are sure to feast to-morrow. Thus Grizzle, as she pac'd around The purlieu of the barren pound. In hungry mood might seem to neigh " If I had water, corn, and hay, I should not thus my fate bewail, Nor mourn the loss of ears or tail." In the mean time, securely hous'd, The Doctor booz'd it, and carous'd. The Hostess spread her fairest cheer, Her best beef- steak, her strongest beer; And sooth' d him with her winning chat, Of "Pray eat this and now take that. Your Rev'rence, after all your fright, Wants meat and drink to set you right." His Rev'rence prais'd the golden rule, Nor did he let his victuals cool : And, having drank his liquor out, He took a turn to look about ; When to the folks about the door He told the dismal story o'er. The country-people on him gaz'd, And heard his perils all amaz'd ; How the thieves twin'd the cords around him : How to a tree the villains bound him! What angels came to his relief, [grief ! To loose his bonds, and soothe his His loss of cash, and what was worse, His saddle, saddle-bags, and horse. Thus as their rude attention hung Upon the wonders of his tongue, Lo ! Grizzle's altered form appears, With half its tail, and half its ears ! "Is there no law ?" the Doctor cries : "Plenty," a Lawyer straight replies: "Employ me, and those thieves shall swing On gallows-tree, in hempen-string: And, for the rogue, the law shall flea him, Who maim'd your horse, as now you see him." [P ra 7> " No," quoth the Don, " your pardon I've had enough of thieves to-day : I've lost four shillings and a groat, But you would strip me of my coat ; And ears and tail won't fatten you, You'll want the head and carcase too." He chuckled as he made the stroke, And all around enjoy' d the joke ; But still it was a sorry sight To see the beast in such a plight : Yet what could angry Syntax do ? 'Twas all in vain to fret and stew: His well stuff' d bags, with all their hoard Of sketching-tools, were safe restor'd ; The saddle too, which he had sought, For small re ward was quickly brought ; He therefore thought it far more sage To stop his threats and check his rage ; So to the ostler's faithful care He gave his mutilated mare ; And while poor Grizzle, free from dan- ger, [manger, Cropp'd the full rack and clean'd the Syntax, to ease his aching head, Smok'd out his pipe, and went to bed. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. ii CANTO IV. BLESS'D be the man, said he of yore AVho (iuixote's lance and target bore! Bless'd be the man who first taught sleep Throughout our wearied frames to creep, And kindly gave to human woes The oblivious mantle of repose ! Hail! balmy power! that canst repair The constant waste of human care; To the sad heart afford relief, And give a respite to its grief; Canst calm, through night's compos- ing hours, [low'rs; The threat'ning storm that daily On the rude flint the wretched cheer, And to a smile transform the tear ? Thus wrapt in slumber, Syntax lay Forgot the troubles of the day: So sound his sleep, so sweet his rest, By no disturbing dreams distrest ; That, all at ease, he lay entranc'd, Till the fair morn was far advanc'd. At length, the hostess thought it wrong He should be left to sleep so long; So bid the maid to let him know, That breakfast was prepar'd below. Betty then op'd the chamber door, And, tripping onwards'cross the floor, Undrew the curtains, one by one ; When, in a most ear-piercing tone, Such as would grace the London cries, She told him it was time to rise. The noise his peaceful slumbers broke ; He gave a snort or two and 'woke. Now as the Doctor turn'd his head, Betty was court' sying by the bed: " What brought you here, fair maid, I pray?" "To tell you, Sir, how wears the day ; And that it is my special care To get your Worship's morning fare. The kettle boils, and I can boast No small renown for making toast. There's coffee, Sir, and tea, and meat, And surely you must want to eat; For ten long hours have pass'd away Since down upon this bed you lay!" The Doctor rubb'd his op'ning eyes, Then stretch'd his arms, and 'gan to But Betty still demurely stands, [rise : To hear him utter his commands. "Begone," he cried, "get something nice, And I'll be with you in a trice." Behold him then, renew'd by rest, His chin well shav'd,his peruke dress'd, Conning with solemn air the news, His welcome breakfast to amuse; And when the well-fed meal was o'er, Grizzle was order'd to the door : Betty was also told to say, The mighty sum there was to pay: Betty, obedient to his will, Her court' sy makes, and brings the bill. Down the long page he cast his eye, Then shook his head, andheav'dasigh. "What! am I doom'd, where'er I go, In all I meet to find a foe? Where'er I wander to be cheated, To be bamboozled and ill-treated!" Thus, as he read each item o'er, The hostess op'd the parlour door; When Syntax 'rose in solemn state, And thus began the fierce debate. 12 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR SYNTAX. "Good woman; here, your bill retake, And, prithee, some abatement make: I could not such demands afford, Were I a Bishop or a Lord: And though I hold myself as good As any of my brotherhood, [crown'd, Howe'er, by bounteous Fortune In wealth and honours they abound ; It is not in my power to pay Such long-drawn bills as well as they. The paper fills me with affright ; I surely do not read it right : For at the bottom here, I see Th' enormous total one pound three!" HOSTESS. "The charges all are fairly made; If you will eat, I must be paid. My bills have never found reproaches From Lords and Ladies, in their coaches. [Crown, This house that's call'd the Royal Is the first Inn throughout the town: The best of gentry, ev'ry day, Become my guests, and freely pay: Besides, I took you in at night, Half- dead, with hunger and affright* Just 'scap'd from robbers." SYNTAX. "That's most true, And now I'm to be robb'd by you." HOSTESS. " Sir, you mistake ; and did not I Disdain rude words, I'd say you lie. I took you in last night, I say." SYNTAX. " 'Tis true ; and if this bill I pay You'll take me in again to-day." HOSTESS. " I gave you all my choicest cheer, The best of meat, the best of beer ; And then you snor'd yourself to rest In the best bed I say the best. You've had such tea as few can boast, With a whole loaf turn'd into toast." SYNTAX. " And for your beef, and beer and tea, You kindly charge me one pound three!" HOSTESS. " 'Tis cheap as dirt for well I know How things with country Curates go: And I profess that I am loth To deal unkindly with the cloth : Nay, oft and oft, as I'm a sinner, I've given hungry Clerks a dinner." SYNTAX. " And there's a proverb, as they say, That for the Clerks the Parsons pay; Which you, I trow, can well fulfil, Whene'er you make a Parson's bill. Why, one pound three, the truth I speak, Would keep my household for a week. Dear Mrs. Syntax how she'd vapour Were she to read this curious paper !" HOSTESS. " If that's your living, on my life, You starve your servants and your SYNTAX. [wife." ' ' I wish my wife were here to meet you , In your own fashion she would greet you: With looks as fierce, and voice as shrill, She'd make you, mistress, change your HOSTESS. [bill." "Think you, besides, there's nought to For all your horse's corn and hay ? [pay And ointments too, to cure the ail Of her cropp'd ears and mangled tail?" SYNTAX. "I wish the wight would bring the shears [those ears, Which dock'd that tail and cropp'd And just exert the self- same skill To crop and dock your monstrous bill ! IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURE SQ, UE. Bat, I'm in haste to get away, Though one-pound three I will not pay: So, if you'll take one half th' amount, We'll quickly settle the account. There is your money, do you see P And let us part in charity." HOSTESS. "Well, as a charitahle deed, I'll e'en consent so mount your steed. And on your journey straight proceed: Butwell you know, where'er you roam, That Charity begins at home." CANTO V. THE Doctor smil'd, the bill was paid, The hostess left him to the maid ; When Betty stood in humble guise, With expectation in her eyes, That he was surely so good-hearted, To give her something ere they parted. Now, Nature in her wanton freaks, Had given Betty rosy cheeks ; And caused her raven locks to break In native ringlets on her neck : The roving bee might wish to sip The sweetness of her pouting lip ; So red, so tempting to the view, 'Twas what the Doctor long'd to do. " You're a nice girl," he smiling said. " Am I ?" replied the simp' ring maid. " I swear you are, and if you're will- ing To give a kiss, I'll give a shilling." " If 'tis the same thing, Sir, to you, Make the gift two-fold and take two." [sure, He grimly grinn'd with inward plea- And instant seiz'd the purchas'd trea- sure, [honey : " Your lips, my dear, are sweet as So one smack more and there's your money." This charming ceremony o'er, The parson strutted to the door ; Where his poor wounded mare appears In cruel state of tail and ears. The neighbours all impatient wait To see him issue from the gate ; For country-town or village-green, Had seldom such a figure seen. Labour stood still to see him pass, While ev'ry lad and every lass Ran forward to enjoy the feast, To jeer the Sage, and mourn the beast. But one and all aloud declare 'Twas a fit sight for country-fair ; Far better than a dancing bear. At length escap'd from all the noise Of women, men, and girls and boys, In the recesses of a lane He thus gave utt'rance to his pain. " It seems to be my luckless case, At ev'ry point, in ev'ry place, To meet with trouble and disgrace. But yesterday I left my home, In search of fancied wealth to roam ; And nought, I think, but ills betide me; Sure some foul spirit runs beside me : Some blasting demon from the east, A deadly foe to man and beast, That loves to riot in disaster, [ter. And plague alike both horse and mas- Grizzle, who full five years, and more, A trumpeter in triumph bore ; Who had in hard-fought battle been, And many a bloody conflict seen ; Who, having'scap'd with scarce a scar, 'Mid all the angry threats of war; DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR When her best days are almost past, Feels these ignoble wounds at last. Ah ! what can thy fond master do, He's cut and slash' d as well as you ! But, though no more with housing gay. And prancing step you take your way ; Or, with your stately rider lead The armed troop to warlike deed ; While you've a leg, you ne'er shall To bear the minister of peace, [cease Long have you borne him nor e'er grumbled, Nor ever started, kick'd or stumbled." But mildest natures sometimes err From the strict rules of character : The tim'rous bird defends its young, And beasts will kick when they are stung. 'Twas burning hot, and hosts of flies, With venom'd stings around them rise: They seiz'd on Grizzle's wounded part, Who straight began to snort and start; Kick'd up behind, rear'd up before, And play'd a dozen antics more : The Doctor coax'd, but all in vain, She snorted, kick'd, and rear'd again: " Alas !" said Syntax, " could I pop Just now upon a blacksmith's shop, Whose cooling unguents would avail To save poor Grizzle's ears and tail !" When scarce had he his wishes spoke, Than he beheld a cloud of smoke, That from a forge appear' d to rise, And for a moment veil'd the skies ; While the rude hammers to his ear, Proclaim'dtheaid he wish'd was near. By the way-side the cottage rose, Around it many a willow grows, Where Syntax, in a tone of grief, Shew'd Grizzle's wounds, and pray'd relief. The sooty Galen soon appear'd, And with fair hopes the Doctorcheer'd. " Trust me, good Sir, I've got a plas- ter, Will cure the beast of her disaster ; And while the dressing I prepare, With all becoming skill and care, You in that arbour may regale With a cool pipe and jug of ale, I've long a two-fold trade profess'd, And med'cine sell for man and beast." Syntax now sought the cooling shade, [made : While Galen's dame the banquet She well knew how her guests to please, [cheese : And added meat, and bread and Besides, she told the village-tale Who came to drink her home-brew'd ale; How that the laughter-loving Vicar Would sometimes walk to taste their liquor ; That their gay landlord was renown'd, For hunting fox with horn and hound ; That he'd a daughter passing fair, Who was his Honour's only heir ; But she was proud, nor could a'Squii e Approach to tell his am'rous fire ; A Lord alone, as it was said, She would receive into her bed. Throughout the village, ev'ry name Became a subject for the dame ; And thus she play' d her chatt' ring part, Till Syntax thought it time to start. And now poor Grizzle re-appears, Withplaster'd tail, and plaster'd ears, Which thus cas'd up, might well defy The sharpest sting of gnat or fly. The Doctor having had his fill, Without a word discharg'd his bill : But, as it was the close of day, He trotted briskly on his way ; IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. And e'er the sun withdrew his light, An Inn receiv'd him for the night. Hisframefatigu'd,his mind oppress'd, He tiiTd his punch, and went to rest. The morning came, when he arose In spirits from his calm repose ; And while the maid prepar'd the tea t lie look'd around the room to see What story did the walls disclose, Of human joys, of human woes. The window quickly caught his eye, On whose clear panes he could descry The motley works of many a Muse : There was enough to pick and choose ; And, " Faith," said he, " I'll strive to hook Some of these lines into my hook : For here there are hoth grave and witty, And some, I see, are rather pretty." From a small pocket in his coat He drew his tablets, when he wrote Whate'er the pregnant panes pos- sess'd ; And these choice lays among the rest. " If my fond hreast were made of glass, And you could see what there doth pass , Kitty, my ever charming fair ! You'dseeyourownsweetimage there." " I once came here a free-hooting, And on this fine manor went shooting, And if the 'Squire this truth denies, This glass shall tell the 'Squire he lies." " Dolly's as fat as any sow, And, if I'm not mistaken, Dolly is well disposed, I trow, To trim her husband's bacon." "Dear Jenny, while your name I hear, No transient glow my bosom heats; And when I meet your eye, my dear, My flutt'ring heart no longer beats. I dream, but I no longer find Your form still present to my view; I wake, but now my vacant mind No longer waking dreams of you. I can find maids, in ev'ry rout, With smiles as false, and forms as fine; But youmusthuntthe world through- out, To find a heart as true as mine." " I hither came down From fair London town With Lucy so mild and so kind ; But Lucy grew cool, And call'd me a fool, So I started and left her behind." But as he copied, quite delighted, All that the muse had thus indited, A hungry dog, and prone to steal, Ran off with half his breakfast meal; While Dolly, ent'ring with a kettle, Was follow'd by a man of mettle, Who swore he'd have the promis'd kiss ; And, as he seiz'd the melting bliss, From the hot, ill-pois'd kettle's spout, The boiling stream came pouring out, And drove the Doctor from the Muse, By quickly filling both his shoes. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR CANTO VI. WHAT various evils man await, In this strange, sublunary state! No sooner is he cheer'd by joy, Than sorrows come, and pains annoy ; And scarce his lips are op'd to bless The transient gleam of happiness, Than some dark cloud obscures the sky, And grief's sad moisture fills his eye. Thus, while the Doctor smiling stole From the clear glass each witty scroll, He felt to interrupt the treat, The scalding torment in his feet : And, thus awaken'd from his trance, Began to skip, and jump, and dance. " Take off my shoes," he raving cried, " And let my gaiters be untied." When Dolly with her nimble hand, Instant obey'd the loud command ; And as he loll'd upon the chair, His feet and ancles soon were bare. Away th' impatient damsel run, To cure the mischief she had done ; And quick return'd with liquid store, To rub his feet and ankles o'er : Nor was the tender office vain, That soon assuag'd the burning pain. A tear was seen on Dolly's cheek ; Who sigh'd as if her heart would break. " Be not, my girl, with care oppress'd; I'm now," says Syntax, " quite atrest: My anger's vanish'd with the pain ; No more, my dear, shall I complain, Since to get rid of my disaster, So fair a maid presents the plaister." Thus did he Dolly's care beguile, And turn'd her tears into a smile : But, while she cool'd the raging part, She somehow warm'd the Doctor's heart ; And, as she rubb'd the ointment in, He pinched her cheeks and chuck'd her chin ; [shanks, And, when she had re-dress'd his He with a kiss bestow'd his thanks : While gentle Dolly, nothing loth, Consenting smil'd, and tookthemboth. "Ithink," saidshe, "you'd better stay, Nor travel further on to-day :" And though she said it with a smile, His steady purpose to beguile, The Doctor clos'd the kind debate, By ord'ring Grizzle to the gate. Now, undisturb'd, he took his way, And travell'd till the close of day ; When, to delight his wearied eyes, Before him Oxford's tow'rs arise. " 0, Alma Mater !" Syntax cried, " My present boast, my early pride : To whose protecting care I owe All I've forgot, and all I know : Deign from your nursling to receive The homage that his heart can give. Hail ! sacred, ever-honour'd shades Where oft I woo'd th' immortal maids ; Where strolling oft, at break of day, My feet have brush' d the dews away ! By Isis and by Cherwell's stream, How oft I wove the classic dream, Or sought the Cloisters dim, to meet Pale Science in her lone retreat ! The sight of you, again inspires My bosom with its former fires : I feel again the genial glow That makes me half forget the woe JN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. And all my aching heart could tell, Since last I bid these scenes farewell." Thus Syntax mov'd in sober pace, Beset with academic grace ; While Grizzle bore him up the town, And at the Mitre set him down. The night was pass'd in sound repose, And as the clock struck nine he 'rose. The barber now applies his art, To share him clean, and make him smart: From him he learn'd that Dicky Bend, His early academic friend, As a reward for all his knowledge, "Was made the provost of the College ; And fame deolar'd that he had clear, At least twelve hundred pounds a year. " ho !" says Syntax, " if that's true, I cannot surely better do Than further progress to delay, And with friend Dicky pass a day." Away he hied, and soon he found him, With all his many comforts round him. The Provost hail'd the happy meeting, And, after kind and mutual greeting, To make inquiries he began : And thus the conversation ran. PROVOST. " Good Doctor Syntax, I rejoice Once more to hear your well-known voice ; To dine with us I hope you'll stay, And share a college feast to-day. Full many a year is gone and past Since we beheld each other last : Fortune has kindly dealt with me, As you, my friend, may plainly see ; Andprayhowhasshedea.lt with thee?" SYNTAX. "Alas! alas ! I've play'd the fool I took a wife, and keep a school ; And while on dainties you are fed, I scarce get butter to my bread." PROVOST. " For mypart, I have never married, And grieve to hear your plans mis- carried: I hope then, my old worthy friend, Your visit here your fate will mend. My services you may command ; I offer them with heart and hand ; And while you think it right to stay, You'll make this house your home, I SYNTAX. [pray-" " I'm going further, on a scheme, Which you may think an idle dream ; At the fam'd Lakes to take a look, And of my Journey make a Book." PROVOST. [store " I know full well that you have Of modern as of classic lore : [ing, And , surely , with your weight of learn- And all your critical discerning, You might produce a work of name, To fill your purse and give you fame, How oft have we together sought Whate'er the ancient sages taught !" SYNTAX. "I now perceive that all your know- ledge Is pent, my friend, within your college I Learning's become a very bore That fashion long since has been o'er. A Bookseller may keep his carriage ; And ask ten thousand pounds in mar- riage; May have his mansion in a square, And build a house for country air ; And yet 'tis odds the fellow knows If Horace wrote in verse or prose. Could Doctor G in chariot ride, And take each day his wine beside, If he did not contrive to cook, Each year, his Tour into a book ; A flippant, flashy, flow'ry style, A lazy morning to beguile ; 2 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR With ev'ry other leaf, a print Of some fine view in aqua tint ? Such is the book I mean to make, And I've no doubt the work will take : For though your wisdom may decry it, The simple folk will surely buy it. I will allow it ia but trash, But then it furnishes the cash." PROVOST. [fear, " Why things are not the same, I As when we were both scholars here ; But still I doubt not your success, And wish you every happiness ; Myself, and my whole college tribe, Depend upon it, will subscribe." At length the bell began to call To dinner in the college-hall ; Nor did the guests delay to meet, Lur'd by the bounty of the treat. The formal salutations over, [cover : Each drew his chair and seiz'd his The Provost, in collegiate pride, Plac'd Doctor Syntax by his side ; And soon they heard the hurrying feet Of those that bore the smoking meat. Behold the dishes due appear Fish in the van, beef in the rear ; But he who the procession led, By some false step or awkward tread, Or curs'd by some malignant pow'r, Fell headlong on the marble floor ! Ah, heedless wight! ah, hapless dish! Ah ! all the luxury of fish ! Thus in a moment spoil' d and wasted ', Ah! never, never to be tasted ! But one false step begets another, So they all tumbled one o'er t'other : And now the pavement was bestrew' d With roast and boil'd, and fried and stew'd. The waiters squall' d, their backs be- spatter'd [ter'd With scalding sauce ; the dishes clat- In various discord ; while the brawl Re-echo'd through th' astonish'd hall. " Well," said a Don, " as I'm a sin- ner, We must go elsewhere for a dinner." " 'Tis no such thing," the Head re- plied, " You all shall soon be satisfied : We are but ten : and sure there's plenty ; I order' d full enough for twenty. I see, my friends, the haunch unspoil'd, With chicken roast, and turkey boil'd; The ven'son pasty is secure, The marrow puddings safe and sure ; With ham, and many good things more, And tarts, and custards, full a score. Sure, here's enough to cut and carve; To-day, I think we shall not starve: But still I'll make the boobies pay For the good things they've thrown away." Thus ev'ry eye was quickly cheer'd With all the plenty that appear'd ; They eat, they drank, they smok'd, they talk'd, And round the college-gardenwalk'd : But the time came (for time will fly) When Syntax was to say "good- bye." [tell, His tongue could scarce his feeling Could scarce pronounce the word, " farewell !" The Provost too, whose gen'rous heart In those same feelings bore a part, Told him, when he should want a friend, To write, or come, to Dicky Bend. Next morning, at an early hour, Syntax proceeded on his Tour ; And as he saunter'd on his way, The scene of many a youthful day, IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. He thought 'twould give his book an air, If Oxford were well painted there : And, as he curious look'd around, He saw a spot of rising ground, From whence the turrets of the city "\Vould make a picture very pretty : Where Radcliff's dome would inter- vene, And Magd'len tower crown the scene. So Grizzle to a hedge he tied, And onward then impatient hied ; But, as he sought to chuse a part "Where he might best display his art, A wicked bull no sooner view'd him, Then loud he roar'd, and straight pursu'd him. The Doctor finding danger near, Flew swiftly on the wings of fear, And nimbly clamber' d up a tree, That gave him full security : But as he ran to save his bacon, By hat and wig he was forsaken ; His sketch-book too he left behind, A prey to the unlucky wind : While Grizzle, startled by the rout, Broke from the hedge, and pranc'd about. Syntax, still trembling with affright, Clung to the tree with all his might ; He call'd for help and help was near, For dogs, and men, and boys appear; So that his foe was forc'd to yield, And leave him master of the field. No more of roaring bulls afraid, He left the tree's protecting shade ; And as he pac'd the meadow round, His hat, his wig, his book he found. " Come, my old girl," the Doctor said; The faithful steed the call obey'd. So Grizzle once more he bestrode, Nor look'd behind but off he rode. CANTO VII. FIX'D in cogitation deep, Adown the hill and up the steep, Along the moor and through the wood, Syntax his pensive way pursu'd: And now his thoughts began to roam To the good woman left at home; How she employ'd the passing day When her fond mate was far away: For they possess'd, with all their pother, A sneaking kindness for each other. Proud of her husband's stock of learn- ing. His classic skill and deep discerning, No tongue she suffer' d to dethrone His fond importance but her own. Besides, she was a very bee In bustle and in industry ; And though a pointed sting she bore, That sometimes made the Doctor sore, She help'd to make the household thrive, And brought home honey to the hive. He too had not forgot her charms, When first he took her to his arms ; For, if report relates the truth, She was a beauty in her youth : The charming Dolly was well known To be the toast of all the town ; And, though full many a year was gone Since this good dame was twenty-one, She still retain' d the air and mien Of the nice girl she once had beeu. For these and other charms beside, She was indeed the Doctor's pride ; 22 20 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Nay, he would sometimes on her gaze "With the fond looks of former days ; And, whatsoe'er she did or said, He kept his silence and ohey'd. Besides his mind he thus consol'd ; " 'Tis classical to be a scold : For, as the ancient tomes record, Zantippe's tongue was like a sword: She was about my Dolly's age, And the known help-mate of a sage. Thus Socrates, in days of yore, The self- same persecution bore : Nor shall I blush to share the fate Of one so good of one so great." 'Twas now five days since they had parted, And he was ever tender-hearted : Whene'er he heard the wretched sigh, He felt a Christian sympathy ; For though he play'd the demi-god Among his boys, with rule and rod ; What ! though he spoke in pompous phrase, And kept the vulgar in amaze ; Though self- important he would stride Along the street with priestly pride; Though his strange figure would pro- voke The passing smile, the passing joke ; Among the high, or with the low, Syntax had never made a foe ; And, though the jest of all he knew, Yet, while they laugh'd they lov'd him too : No wonder then, so far from home, His head would shake, the sigh would come. Thus he went gently on his way, Till the sun mark'd declining day. But Thought as well as grief is dry, And, lo! a friendly cot was nigh, Whose sign, high dangling in the air, Invites the trav'ller to repair, Where he in comfort may regale, With cooling pipe and foaming ale. The Doctor gave the loud command, And sees the Host beside him stand ; Then quits his steed with usual state, And passes through the wicket-gate ; The Hostess opes the willing door, And then recounts the humble store Which her poor cottage could afford, To place upon the frugal board. The home-spun napkin soon was laid, The table all its ware display'd: The well-broil'd rasher then appear'd, And with fresh eggs his stomach cheer 'd ; The crusty pie, with apples lin'd, Sweeten'd the feast on which he din'd, And liquor, that was brew'd at home, Among the rest was seen to foam. The Doctor drank the Doctor eat, Well pleas' d to find so fair a treat; Then to his pipe he kindly took, And with a condescending look, Call'd on the Hostess to relate What was the village name and state ; And to whose oifice it was given To teach them all the way to Heav'n. HOSTESS. The land belongs to 'Squire Bounty, No better man lives in the county: I wish the Rector were the same ; One Doctor Squees'em is his name ; But we ne'er see him more's the shame ? And while in wealth he cuts and carves, The worthy Curate prays and starves. SYNTAX. I truly wish that he were here To take a pipe and share my beer ; I know what 'tis as well as he, To serve a man I never see. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 21 Just as he spoke, the Curate came : ' ' This, this is he !" exclaim' d the dame. Syntax his brother Parson greeted, And begg'd him to be quickly seated ; "Come,takeapipe, and taste the liquor, 'Tis good enough for any Yicar." CURATE. Alas ! Sir, I'm no Vicar: I, BOB id to an humble Curacy, With all my care can scarce contrive To keep my family alive. While the fat Rector can afford To eat and drink like any Lord: But know, Sir, I'm a man of letters, And ne'er speak evil of my betters. SYNTAX. That's good ; but when we suffer pain, ' Tis Nature's office to complain ; And when the strong oppress the weak, Justice, though blind, will always speak. Tell me, have you explain' d your case, With due humility and grace ? The great and wealthy must be flat- ter'd, [ter'd : They love with praise to be bespat- Indeed, I cannot see the harm, If thus you can their favour charm ; If by fine phrases you can bend The pride of Power to be your friend. CURATE. Iwrote, I'm sure, in humblest style, And prais'd his goodness all the while: I begg'd, as things had grown so dear, He'd raise my pay ten pounds a year; And, as I now had children five, The finest little bairns alive, While their poor, fond and faithful mother Would soon present me with another; And, as the living brought him, clear, At least a thousand pounds a year, He'd grant the favour I implore, Nor let me starve upon threescore. SYNTAX. Now I should like without delay, To hear what this rich man could say; For I can well perceive, my friend, That you did not obtain your end. CURATE. The postman soon a letter brought, Which cost me sixpence and a groat: Nor can your friendly heart suggest The rudeness which the page express'd. "Such suits as yours may well mis- carry, For beggars should not dare to marry ; At least, for I will not deceive you, I never, never will relieve you ; And if you trouble me, be sure You shall be ousted from the Cure." But I shall now, good Sir, refrain, Because I know 'twould give you pain, From telling all that in his spite, The arch old scoundrel chose to write; For know, Sir, I'm a man of letters, And never will abuse my betters. SYNTAX. [swear, Zounds! 'tis enough to make one Nor can I such a monster bear: But,think,myfriend,onthat greatday Of strict account, when he must pay For all his cruelty and lies: Then he shall sink, and you will rise. CURATE. [civil, The terms, I own, are not quite But he's the offspring of the devil; And, when the day of life is past, He'll with his father dwell at last ; But know, Sir, I'm a man of letters, And ne'er wish evil to my betters. 'Twas thus they talk'd and drank their ale, Till the dim shades of eve prevail ; 22 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR When Syntax settled each demand : And, while he held the Curate's hand, Bid him he stout, and not despair: " The poor are God's peculiar care: You're not the only one, my friend, "Who has with evil to contend : Resign yourself to what is given : Be good, andleave the rest to Heaven." Syntax, we've said, was tender heart- ed; He dropp'd a tear, and then departed. The evening lower'd, a drizzly rain Had spread a mist o'er all the plain : Besides, the home-hrew'd heer began To prey upon the inward man : And Syntax, muddled, did not know Or where he was, or where to go. An active horseman by him trotted, And Syntax was not so besotted But he could hiccup out, " My friend, Do tell me if this way will tend To bring me to some place of rest ?" " Yes," 'twas replied "thevery best Of all our inns, within a mile, Will soon your weariness beguile." Who should thisbebut'SquireBounty, So much belov'd throughout the county, And he resolv'd, by way of jest, To have the Parson for his guest ; So on he gallopp'd to prepare His people for the friendly snare. The Doctor came in tipsy state ; The 'Squire receiv'd him at the gate, And to a parlour led him straight ; Then plac'd him in an easy chair, And ask'd to know his pleasure there. SYNTAX. Landlord, I'm sadly splash'd with mire And chill'd with rain, so light a fire; And tell the ostler to take care Of that good beast, my Grizzle mare ; And what your larder can afford, Pray place it quickly on the board. 'SQUIRE. We've butcher's meat of ev'rykind; But, if that is not to your mind, There's poultry, Sir, and if you please, Our cook excels in fricasees. SYNTAX. Tell me, my honest friend, I pray, What kind of fowl or fish are they ? Besides, my very civil Host, I wish to know what they will cost ; For a poor Parson can't afford To live on dainties like a Lord. 'SQUIRE. TheClergy, Sir, whenhere they stay, Are never, never ask'd to pay : I love the Church, and, for its sake, I ne'er make bills or reck'nings take : Proud if its ministers receive The little that I have to give. SYNTAX. [dull ; Why, then, my friend, you' re never Your inn, I trow, is always full : 'Tis a good rule must be confest, But, though I blink, I see a jest. 'SQUIRE. No, Sir; you see the cloth is laid, And not a farthing to be paid. SYNTAX. I find my head's not very clear ; My eyes see double, too, I fear ; For all these things can never be Prepar'd for such a guest as me : A banquet it must be allow'd, Of which Olympus might be proud. Thus Syntax eat and drank his fill, Regardless of the morrow's bill ; He rang the bell, and call'd the wait- ers, To rid him of his shoes and gaiters. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. " Go, tell the maid to shew the bed, Where I may lay my aching head ; Here, take my wig, and bring a cap ; My eye -lids languish for a nap : No court'sying, pray; I want no fawning, [in?-" For I shall break my jaws with yawn- Now, Kitty, to adorn his crown, Brought him a night-cap of her own ; And, having put it on, she bound it With a pink ribbon round and round it. In this fine guise was Syntax led Up the best stairs, and put to bed. Though mirth prevailed the house throughout, Though it was all one revel rout, He heard it not, nor did he know The merriment he caus'd below ; For, with fatigue and wine oppress'd, He grunted, groan'd, and went to rest. But when the sun in Thetis' lap, Had taken out his usual nap, Syntax awoke, and, looking 'round, The sight his senses did confound. He saw that he had laid his head Within a fine -wrought, silken bed : A gaudy carpet, grac'd the floor And gilded mouldings deck'd the door, Xor did the mirror fail to shew His own sweet form from top to toe. "If I," said he, "remember right, I was most lordly drunk last night : And, as the Tinker in the play Was taken, when dead- drunk he lay, And made a lord for half a day ; I think that some one has made free To play the self-same trick with me : But I'll contrive to be possest Of this same secret when I'm drest : To find it out I'll ring the bell ; The chamber-maid the truth may tell." She soon appear'd, and court'sying low, Requested his commands to know, " When and how did I come here ? You'll be so good to say, my dear." " You came List night not very late, About the time the clock struck eight; And I have heard the servants say, They thought that you had lost your way." ' ' Inform me, also, how you call This noble inn?" " Tia Welcome Hall." "And pray who have you in the house ?" "We've' Squire Bounty and his spouse ; With Lady and Sir William Hearty, And, you, good Sir, may join the party; Indeed, I'm order'd to request Thatyouwillbe their morning guest."' To question more he did not stay, But bid the damsel shew the way. ! 'twas a very pleasant meeting : The Landlord gave a hearty greeting, And plac'd the Doctor in a chair, Between two ladies young and fair. Syntax, well-pleas'd, began to prate, And all his history to relate ; While mirth and laughter loud pre- vail, As he let forth the curious tale. At length the 'Squire explain' d the joke : spoke : When thus the Doctor quaintly " I beg, Sir, no excuse you'll make, Your merriment I kindly take ; And only wish the gods would give Such jesting ev'ry day I live." The ladies press' d his longer stay, But Syntax said he must away : So Grizzle soon her master bore, Some new adventure to explore. DOCTOR SYNTAX: s TOUR CANTO VIII. T N ev'ry way, in every sense, A Man is the care of Providence ; And whensoe'er he goeth wrong, The errors to himself belong : Nor do we always judge aright Of Fortune's favours, or her spite. How oft with pleasure we pursue Some glitt'ring phantom in our view; Not rightly seen or understood, We chace it as a real good : At length the air-horn vision flies, And each fond expectation dies ! Sometimes the clouds appear to low'r, And threat misfortune's direful hour: We tremble at the approaching blast : Each hope is fled we look aghast ; When lo ! the darkness disappears, The glowing sun all nature cheers ; The drooping heart again acquires Its former joys, its former fires. Last night I wander'd o'er the plain, Through unknown ways and beating rain, Nor thought 'twould be my lot to fall On such an inn as Welcome Hall ; Indeed with truth I cannot say When there I came I lost my way, For all was good, and nought to pay." Thus Syntax, with reflection fraught, Soliloquiz'd the moral thought : While Grizzle, all alive and gay, Ambled along the ready way. Last night she found it no disaster To share the fortune of her master ; She, 'mong the finest hunters stood, And shar'd with them the choicest food: In a fine roomy stable plac'd, With ev'ry well-trimm'd clothing grac'd, Poor Grizzle was as fair a joke To all the merry stable-folk, As the good Doctor's self had been, To the kind gentry of the Inn. Enrap't in Contemplation's pow'r, Syntax forgot the fleeting hoxir ; Till looking round, he saw the sun Had pass'd his bright meridian run. A shepherd-boy he now espied, Strolling along the highway side ; And, on his wand'ring flock intent, The stripling whistled as he went. " My honest lad, perhaps you know What distance I shall have to go, Before my eager eyes may greet Some place where I may drink and eat." " Continue, master, o'er the Down, And soon you'll reach the neighb'ring town : In less, I think, than half an hour, You'll pass by yonder lofty tow'r : Keep onward by the churchyard wall, And you will see an house of call ; The sign's a Dragon there you'll find Eating and drinking to your mind." Across the Down the Doctor went, And towards the church his way he bent, [hurl'd "Thus," Syntax said, " when man is Upwards and downwards in the world ; When some strong impulse makes him stray From Virtue's path to Folly's way, The Church, Religion's holy seat, Will guide to peace his wand' ring feet ! But, hark! the death-bell's solemn Tells the departure of a soul ; [toll The Sexton too I see prepares The place where end all human cares: IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. And, lo, a crowd of tombs appear ! I may find something curious here ; For oft poetic flowers are found To flourish in sepulchral ground. I'll just walk in and take a look, And pick up matter for my book : The living, some wise man has said, Delight in reading of the dead. What golden gains my book would boast, If I could meet a chatty ghost, Who would some news communicate Of its unknown and present state : Some pallid figure in a shroud, Or sitting on a murky cloud, Or kicking up a new-made grave, And screaming forth some horrid stave ; Or bursting from the hollow tomb, To tell of bloody deeds to come ; Or adverse skeletons embattling, With ghastlygrins and bones a rattling; Something to make the misses stare, And force upright their curly hair; To cause their pretty forms to shake, And make them doubt if they're awake : And thus to tonish folks present, The Picturesque of Sentiment ! But 'tis, I fear, some hours too soon Ghosts slumber all the afternoon : I'll ask the Sexton, if, at night, I may perchance, pick up a sprite." The Doctor in canonic state, Nowop'datoncethe church-yard gate; While Grizzle too, thought tit to pass, Who knew the taste of church- yard grass. " Sir," cried the Sexton, "let me say, That you must take your mare away, Or else, believe me, I am bound To lead her quickly to the pound." ' ' You do mistake, my honest friend 'Tis a foul wrong that you intend : A Parson's mare will claim a right In a church-yard to take a bite ; And, as I come to meditate Among these signs of human fate, I beg you will not make a riot, But let the poor beast feed in quiet." No more the conscious Sexton said, But urg'd his labours for the dead ; While Syntax cull'd, with critic care, What the sad muse had written there. EPITAPHS. Here lies poor Thomas and his wife, Who led a pretty jarring life ; But all is ended, do you see ? lie hold his tongue, and so docs she. If drugs and physic could but save Us mortals from the dreary grave, 'Tis known that I took full enough Of the Apothecary's stuff, To have prolong'd life's busy feast To a full century at least ; But, spite of all the Doctor's skill, Of daily draught and nightly pill, Header, as sure as you're alive, I was sent here at twenty-five. Within this tomb a lover lies, Who fell an early sacrifice To Dolly's unrelenting eyes. For Dolly's charms poor Damon burn'd Disdain the cruel maid return'd : But, as she danc'd in May-day pride, Dolly fell down, and Dolly died, And now she lays by Damon's side. Be not hard-hearted, then, ye fairl Of Dolly's hapless fate beware! For sure you'd better go to bed, To one alive than one who's dead. 26 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Beneath the sod the soldier sleeps, Whom cruel war refus'd to spare ; Beside the grave the maiden weeps, And Glory plants the laurel there. Honour is the warrior's meed, Or spar'd to live or doom'd to die ; Whether 'tis his lot to bleed, Or join the shout of Victory ; Alike the laurel to the truly brave ; That binds the brow, or consecrates the grave. Beneath this stone her ashes rest, Whose memory fills my aching breast! She sleeps unconscious of the tear That tells the tale of sorrow here ; But still the hope allays my pain That we may live and love again: Love with a pure seraphic fire, That never, never, shall expire. Syntax the Sexton now address'd, As on his spade he lean'd to rest. SYNTAX. [trade ; "We both, my friend, pursue one I for the living, you the dead. For whom that grave do you prepare With such keen haste,, and cheerful air?" SEXTON. " An' please your Rev'rence, Law- yer Thrust, [dust : Thank HeaVn, will moulder here to Never before did I take measure Of any grave with half the pleasure : And when within this hole he's laid, I'll ram the earth down with my spade: I'll take good care he shall not rise, Till summon' d to the last assize ; And, when he sues for Heaven's grace, I would not wish to take his place. He once on cruel deed intent, Seiz'd on my goods for want of rent ; Nay, I declare, as I'm a sinner, He took away the children's dinner : For, as they sat around the table, Eating as fast at they were able, He seiz'd the dishes great and small, The children's bread and milk, and all; The urchins cried, the mother pray'd, I begg'd his rigour might be stay'd Till I could on our Parson call, Who would engage to pay it all ; But he disdain'd a Parson's word, And mock'd the suit which I preferr'd. He knew a better way to thrive ; To pay two pounds by taking five. Bursting with rage, I knock'd him down, And broke the cruel rascal's crown ; For which in county-gaol I lay, Half-starving many a bitter day. But our good Parson brought relief, And kindly sooth'd a mother's grief u He, while in prison I remain'd, My little family sustain'd ; And when I was from durance free, Made me his Sexton, as you see. But Doctor Worthy, he is gone ; You'll read his virtues on the stone That's plac'd aloft upon the wall, Where you may see the ivy crawl. The good man's ashes rest below ; He's gone where all the righteous go. I dug his grave with many a moan, And almost wish'd it were my own. I daily view the earthy bed, Where Death has laid his rev'rend head; And when I see a weed appear, I pluck it up and shed a tear. The parish griev'd, for not an eye In all its large extent was dry, Save one : but such a kindly grace Ne'er deck'd the Lawyer's iron face. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. The aged wept a friend long known, The young a parent's loss bemoan : While we, alas ! shall long deplore The bounteous patron of the poor." The Doctor heard, with tearful eye, The Sexton's grateful eulogy : [tread, Then sought the stone with gentle As fearing to disturb the dead, And thus, in measur'd tones, he read : " For fifty years the Pastor trod The way commanded by his God ; For fifty years his flock he fed With that divine celestial bread Which nourishes the better part And fortifies man's failing heart. His wide, his hospitable door, Was ever open to the poor ! While he was sought, for counsel sage, By ev'ry rank and eVry age. That counsel sage he always gave, To warn, to strengthen, and to save : He sought the sheep that went astray, And pointed out the better way : But while he with his smiles approv'd The virtue he so dearly lov'd, He did not spare the harsher part, To probe the ulcer to the heart : He sternly gave the wholesome pain That brought it back to health again. Thus, the commands of Heav'n his guide, He liv'd, and then in peace he died." SYNTAX. [succeeds "Pray tell me, friend, who now This Pastor, f am' d for virtuous deeds ?' ' SEXTON. " A very worthy, pious rn.-m, Who does us all the good he can ; But he, good Sir, has got a wife ;" SYNTAX. "Who mayperhaps disturb his life ; A tongue sometimes engenders strife," SEXTON. " No: she's a worthy woman too ; But then they've children not a few : I think it is the will of Heav'u Thattheyare bless'd with sixor seven; And then you will agree with me, That home's the scene of charity." SYNTAX. [preach "'Tistrue nor can your Parson A sounder doctrine than you teach. And now, good Sexton, let me ask, While you perform your mortal task, As day and night you frequent tread The dreary mansions of the dead, If you, in very truth can boast, That you have ever seen a ghost ?" SEXTON. " Your Rev'rence, no ; tho' some folks say That such things have been seen as Old women talk, in idle chat, [they. Of ghosts and goblins, and all that ; While roand the glimm'ring fire at night, They fill their hearers with affright. 'Tis said that Doctor Worthy walks, And up and down the church-yard stalks ; [bright, That often, when the moon shines His form appears all clad in white ; But to his soul it is not given [ven. To walk on earth for that's in Hea- All hours I have cross' d this place, And ne'er beheld a spirit's face. Once, I remember, late at night, I something saw, both large and white, Which made me stop, and made me stare, But 'twas the Parson's grizzle mare. Such things as these, I do believe, The foolish people oft deceive ; And then the parish gossips talk How witches dance, and spectres walk. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR SYNTAX. " Your reasoning I much commend ; So fare you well, my honest friend. If we act right we need not dread Either the living or the dead : The spirit that disturbs our rest Is a had conscience in our breast ; "With that a man is doubly curst :" SEXTON. " That spirit haunted Lawyer SYNTAX. [Thrust." " His race is run, his work is o'er The wicked man can sin no more ; He's gone where justice will be done To all who live beneath the sun : And, though he wrong' d you when alive, Let not your vengeance thus survive : Forgive him, now he's laid so low Nor trample on a fallen foe. Once more farewell ! But ere we part, There's something that will cheer your heart." SEXTON. [time yet " Your Rev'rence, 'twill be some Ere I forgive ; but to forget No, no, for though I may forgive, I can't forget him while I live, [bless, For your good gift, kind Heaven I And wish you health and happiness: I thank my God, each coming day, For what He gives and takes away : And now I thank Him good and just That he has taken Lawyer Thrust." Syntax along the village pass'd, And to the Dragon came at last ; Where, as the shepherd-boy had said, There seem'd to be a busy trade : And, seated in an easy chair, He found that all he wish'd was there. CANTO IX. ALONG the varying road of Life, In calm content, in toil or strife ; At morn or noon, by night or day, As time conducts him on his way, How oft doth man, by Care oppress'd, Find in an Inn a place of rest ? Whether intent on worldly views, He, in deep thought, his way pursues ; Whether by airy pleasure led, Or by Hope's fond delusions fed, He bids adieu to home, and strays Through unknown paths and distant ways; Where'er his fancy bids him roam, In ev'ry Inn he finds a home, [wind, Should Fortune change her fav'ring Though former friends should prove unkind, Will not an Inn his cares beguile, Where on each face he sees a smile ? When cold winds blow, and tempests lower, And the rain pours in angry shower, The dripping trav'ller looks around, To see what shelter may be found : Then on he drives through thick and To the warm shelter of an Inn. [thin. Whoe'er would turn their wand'ring feet, Assur'd the kindest smiles to meet: Whoe'er would go, and not depart But with kind wishes from the heart, let them quit the world's loud din, And seek the comforts of an Inn : And as the Doric SIIENSTONE sung, With plaintive music on his tongue^- 7-V SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 29 "Whoe'er has travell'd Life's dull round, [been, Where'er his changeful tour has Will sigh to think how oft he found [His warmest welcome at an Inn." 'Twas at an Inn, in calm repose, Heedless of human joys or woes, That Syntax passed a quiet night In pleasing dreams and slumbers light ;- But in the morn the thunder roar'd, The clouds their streaming torrents pour'd ; The angry winds impetuous blew, The rattling casement open flew. Scar'd at the noise, he rear'd his head ; Then, starting quickly from the bed, " Is it," he cried, " the day of doom?" As he bestrode the trembling room. The houses' tops with water stream'd, The village-street a river seem'd : While, at the tempest all amaz'd, The rustics from their windows gaz'd. " I'm not," he said, " dispos'd to fear, But 'tis not time to loiter here ; I'll change the scene, and quick retire From flaming flash to kitchen fire ; Nay, while rude Nature's threats pre- vail, I'll lose the storm in toast and ale." Half-dress'd, he made a quick retreat, And in the kitchen took his seat, Where an old woman told the host What by the lightning she had lost ; How a blue flash her sow had struck, Had kill'd a cock and lam'd a duck ! With open mouth another came, To tell a rick was in a flame ; And then declar'd that on the spire He saw the weathercdck on tire : Nay, that so loud the winds were singing They'd set the peal of bells a -ringing ! A dripping tailor enter'd next And preach'd upon the self-same text: He swore, that, sitting on his board, While the wind blew and thunder roar'd, A kind of fiery flame came pop, And bounc'd and ran about his shop; Now here, now there, so quick and nimble, It sing'd his finger through his thira- That all about his needles ran, [ble If there was any truth in man ; While buttons, at least half-a-score, Were driven through the kitchen door! The Sexton, with important mien, Gave his opinion on the scene ; And, to the Doctor drawing near, Thus gently whisper'd in his ear : " The Devil himself his cell has burst, To fly away with Lawyer Thrust." Now, having with due patience heard The story which each wight preferrM, Syntax was to the parlour shown, Where he might breakfast all alone. " I see," said he, " I here must stay And at the Dragon pass the day : And this same Dragon, on my life, Just hints that I have got a wife ; Nor can I pass the morning better Than to indite this wife a letter." He paus'd and sigh'd ere he began, When thus the fond epistle ran. " My dearest Doll, full many aday From you and home I've been away ; But, though we thus are doom'd % to part, You're ever present to my heart: Whene'er my pray'rs to Heav'n arise, At morn or ev'ning sacrifice, Whene'er for Heaven's care they sue, I ask it for my Dolly too. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR My Journey, like Life's common road, Has had its evil and its good : But I've no reason to complain, When pleasure has outweigh'd the pain. "With flatt'ring Fortune in my view, Glad I the toilsome way pursue ; For I've no fear to make a book, In which the world will like to look ; Nor do I doubt will prove a Mine For my own comfort and for thine ! But should all fail, I've found a friend In my old school-mate, DICKY BEND; "Who, kind and wealthy, will repay, If hope should cheat me on the way, My ev'ry loss I may sustain, And ease ill-fortune of its pain: He has engag'd to glad our home, With promise of much good to come. Particulars of what I've seen, What I have done where I have I shall reserve for my return, [been, When, as the crackling faggots burn, I will in all domestic glory, Smoke out my pipe, and tell my story: But, be assur'd, I'm free from danger, To the world' s tricks I'm not a stranger : Whatever risks I'm forc'd to run, I shall take care of number one; While you, at home, will keep in view, The self-same care of number two. To my kind neighbours I commend The wishes of their distant friend: Within ten days, perhaps a week, I shall YORK'S famous city seek. Where at the post, I hope to find A line from Dolly ever kind. And, if you will the pleasure crown, Tell me the prattle of our town ; Of all that's passing, and has past, Since your dear Hub beheld it last ; And now the truth which I impart, The offspring of my honest heart, That wheresoe'er I'm doom'd to roam, I still shall find that Home is Home : That true to Love and nuptial vows, I shall remain your loving spouse. Such are the tender truths I tell ; Conjux carissima farewell !" Thus he his kindest thoughts re- veal'd But scarce had he the letter seal'd, When straight appear'd the trembling Host, Looking as pale as any ghost : " A man's just come into the town, Who says the castle's tumbled down : And that, with one tremendous blow, The lightning's force has laid it low." "What castle, friend?" the Doctor cried. ' ' The castle by the river side ; A famous place, where, as folks say, Some great king liv'd in former day: But this fine building long has been A sad and ruinated scene, [dwell, Where owls, and bats, and starlings And where, alas, as people tell, At the dark hour when midnight reigns, [chains." Ghosts walk, all arm'd, and rattle " Peace, peace," said Syntax, " peace, my friend, Nor to such tales attention lend. But this new thought I must pur- A castle, and a ruin too ; [sue : I'll hasten there, and take a view." The storm was past, and many a ray Of Phcabus now reviv'd the day, When Grizzle to the door was brought, And this fam'd spot the Doctor sought. Upon a rock the castle stood, Three sides environ'd by a flood, Where confluent streams uniting lave The craggy rift with foaming wave, IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. Around the moss-clad walls he walk'd, Then through the inner chambers stalk'd ; [found, And thus exclaim'd with look pro- The echoes giving back the sound. " Let me expatiate here awhile : I think this antiquated pile Is, doubtless in the Saxon style. This was a noble, spacious hall, But why the chapel made so small ? I fear our fathers took more care Of festive hall than house of prayer. I find these barons fierce and bold, Who proudly liv'd in days of old, To pray'r preferr'd a sumptuous treat, Nor went to pray when they could eat. Here all along the banners hung ; And here the welcome minstrels sung: The walls with glitt'ring arms bedight Display'd an animating sight : Beneath that arch-way, once a gate, With helmed crest, in warlike state The bands march'd forth, nor fear'd the toil Of bloody war that gave the spoil. But now, alas ! no more remains Than will reward the painter's pains ; The palace of the feudal victor Now serves for nought but for a pic- ture. Plenty of water here I see, But what's a view without a tree ? There's something grand in yonder tower, But not a shrub to make a bower ; Howe'er I'll try to take the view, As well as my best art can do." An heap of stones the Doctor found, Which loosely lay upon the ground, To form a seat where he might trace The antique beauty of the place : But, while his eye obseiVd the line That was to limit the design, The stones gave way, and sad to tell, Down from the bank he headlong fell. The slush collected for an age, Receiv'd the venerable Sage ; For, at the time, the ebbing flood Was just retreating from the mud : So, after floundering about, Syntax contriv'd to waddle out, Half-stunn'd, amaz'd, and oover'd o'er As seldom wight had been before. O'erwhelm'd with mud, and stink, and grief, He saw no house to give relief; So thus, amid the village din, He ran the gauntlet to the inn. An angler threw his hook so pat, He caught at once the Doctor's hat : A bathing boy, who naked stood, Dash'd boldly in the eddying flood, And swimming onward like a grig, Soon overtook the Doctor's wig. Grizzle had trac'd the barren spot, Where not a blade of grass was got : And, finding noughttotempt her stay, She to the Dragon took her way. The ostler cried, " Here's some dis- aster [tor !" The mare's return'd without her mas- But soon he came amid the noise Of men and women, girls and boys : Glad in the inn to find retreat From the rude insult of the street, [bed, Undress'd, well-wash'd, and put to With minddisturb'd, andachinghead, In vain poor Syntax sought repose, But lay and counted all his woes. The friendly Host, with anxious care, Now hastes the posset to prepare : The cordial draught he kindly gives ; Which Syntax with a smile receives : Then seeks, in sleep, a pause from sorrow, In hopes of better fate to-morrow. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR CANTO X. POOR mortal man, in ev'ry state, What troubles and what ills await ! His transient joy is chas'd by sorrow, To-day he's blest ; a wretch to-mor- row. "When in the world he first appears, He hails the light with cries and tears : A school-boy next, he fears the nod Of pedant pow'r, and feels the rod : When to an active stripling grown, When Passions seize him as their own ; Now lead him here, now drive him there, The alternate sport of Joy and Care ; Allure him with their glitt'ring trea- sure, Or give the brimming cup of pleasure ; While one eludes his eager haste, The other palls upon the taste. The pointed darts from Cupid's quiver, Wound his warm heart and pierce his liver ; While charm'd by fair Belinda's eyes, He dines on groans, and sups on sighs. If from this gay and giddy round He should escape both safe and sound, Perhaps, if all things else miscarry, He takes it in his head to marry ; And in this lottery of life, If he should draw a scolding wife, With a few children, eight or ten ( For such things happen now and then) , Poor hapless man ! he knows not where To look around without a care. Ambition, in its airy flight, May tempt him to some giddy height ; But, ere the point he can attain, He tumbles, ne'er to rise again. Pale Av'rice may his heart possess, The bane of human happiness, Which never feels for others' woe, Nor ever does a smile bestow ; A wretched, meagre, griping elf, A foe to all, and to himself, [train, Then comes Disease, with baneful And the pale family of Pain : Till Death appears in awful state, And calls him to the realms of Fate. How oft is Virtue seen to feel The woeful turn of Fortune's wheel, While she with golden stores awaits The wicked in their very gates. But Virtue still the value knows Of honest deeds, and can repose Upon the flint her naked head ; While Vice lays restless on the bed Of softest down, and courts in vain The opiate to relieve its pain. It was not Vice that e'er could keep Dear Syntax from refreshing sleep ; For no foul thought, no wicked art, In his pure life e'er bore a part : Some ailment dire his slumbers broke, And, e'er the sun 'rose, he awoke ; When such a tremor o'er him pass'd ; He thought that hour would prove his last. His limbs were all besieg'd by pain ; He now grew hot, then cold again : His tongue was parch'd, his lips were And, heaving the unbidden sigh, [dry, He rang the bell and call'd for aid, And groan'd so loud, th' affrighted maid [house ; Spread the alarm throughout the When straight the landlord and his spouse IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 33 Made all dispatch to do their best And ease the sufferings of their guest. " Have you a doctor !" Syntax said ; " If not, I shortly shall be dead." " yes ; a very famous man ; He'll cure you, Sir, if physic can. I'll fetch him quick ; amanrenown'd For his greatskill the country round." The Landlord soon the Doctor brought, [were thought : Whose words were grave, whose looks By the bed-side he took his stand, And felt the patient's burning hand ; Then, with a scientific face, He told the symptoms of the case. " His frame's assail' d with fev'rish heats: His pulse with rapid movement beats ; And now, I think, 'twould do him good, Were he to lose a little blood : Some other useful matters too, To ease his pain, I have in view. I'll just step home, and, in a trice, Will bring the fruits of my advice ; In the mean time, his thirst assuage With tea that's made of balm or sage." Hesoonreturn'd, his skill applied, From the vein floVd the crimson tide : And as the folk behind him stand, He thus.declar'd his stern command : " At nine these powders let him take ; At ten this draught, the phial shake ; And you'll remember at eleven, Threeof thesepills must then be given: This course you'll carefully pursue, And give, at twelve, the bolus too : If he should wander, in a crack Clap this broad blister on his back ; And after he has had the blister, Within an hour apply the clyster. I must be gone ; at three or four I shall return with something more." Now Syntax "and his fev'rish state Became the subject of debate. The mistress said she was afraid No medicine would give him aid ; For she had heard the screech-owl scream, And had besides a horrid dream. Last night the candle burn'd so blue ; While from the fire a coffin flew ; And, as she sleepless lay in bed, She heard a death-watch at her head. The maid and ostler too declar'd That noises strange they both had heard. [tend " Aye," cried the Sexton, " these por- To the sick man a speedy end ; And, when that I have drank my li- quor, [Vicar." I'll e'en go straight and fetch the The Vicar came, a worthy man, And, like a good Samaritan, Approach'd in haste the stranger'sbed, Where Syntax lay with aching head ; And, without any fuss or bother, He offer' d to his rev'rend brother His purse, his house, and all the care Which a kind heart could give him there. Says Syntax, in a languid voice, " You make my very soul rejoice ; For, if within this house I stay, My flesh will soon be turned to clay : For the good Doctor means to pop Into my stomach all his shop. I think, dear Sir, that I could eat, And physic's but a nauseous treat : If all that stuff's to be endur'd, I shall be kill'd in being cur'd." " 0," said the Vicar, " never fear ; We'll leave the apparatus here. Come, quit your bed I pray you come, My arm shall bear you to my home, 3 34 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Where I, and my dear mate will find Med'cine more suited to your mind." Syntax now rose, but feeble stood, From want of food and loss of blood ; But still he ventur'd to repair To the good Yicar's house and care ; And found at dinner pretty picking, In pudding boil'd and roasted chicken. Again, 'twas honest Grizzle's fate To take her way through church-yard gate; And, undisturb'd, once more to riot In the green feast of church-yard diet. The Yicar was at Oxford bred, And had much learning in his head ; But, what was far the better part, He had much goodness in his heart : The Vicar also had a wife The pride and pleasure of his life ; A loving, kind and friendly creature, As blest in virtue as in feature, Who, without blisters, drugs, or pills, Her patient cur'd of all his ills. Three days he stay'd a welcome guest, And eat and drank of what was best : When on the fourth, inhealth renew'd, His anxious journey he pursu'd. In two days more before his eyes The stately towers of York arise. "But what," said he, "can all this mean? What is yon crowded busy scene ? Ten thousand souls I do maintain Are scatter'd over yonder plain." " Aye, more than that," a man replied, Who trotted briskly by his side, ' ' And if you choose, I'll be your guide : For sure you will not pass this way, And miss the pleasure of the day : These are the races, to whose sport iXobles and gentry all resort." Thought Syntax I'll just take a look ; 'Twill give a subject to my book. So on they went; the highway friend His services did oft commend. " I will attend you to the course, And tell the name of ev'ry horse ; But first we'll go and take a whet, And then I'll teach you how to bet : I'll name the horse that's doomed to win We'll take the knowing fellows in." Just as he spoke, the sports began ; The jockies whipp'd, the horses ran ; And, when the coursers reach'd the post, [has lost : The man scream'd out " Your horse I've had the luck I've/won the day, And you have twenty pounds to pay." Syntax look'd mid the man said " Zounds ! You know you betted twenty pounds ; So pay them down , or you'll fare worse, For I will flog you off the course." The Doctor rav'd, and disavow'd The bold assertion to the crowd. Whatwould have been his hapless fate, In this most unexpected state, May well be guess'd. But, lo! a friend Fortune was kind enough to send : Anhonest'Squire,whosmok'dthe trick, Appear'd well-arm'd with oaken stick, And placing many a sturdy blow Upon the shoulders of the foe, " It is with all my soul I beat This vile, this most notorious cheat," The 'Squire exclaimed ; " and you good folk, Who sometimes love a pleasant joke, As I am partly tired of thumping, Should treat the scoundrel with a pumping." [pleas'd The crowd with their commission Rudely the trembling Black-leg seiz'd, Who, to their justice forc'd to yield, Soon ran off" dripping from the field. IN SEARCH OF TEE PICTURESQUE. 35 Syntax his simple story told, The 'Squire, as kind as he was bold, His full protection now affords, And cheer'd him both with wine and words, " I love the Clergy from my heart, And always take a Parson's part. My father, Doctor, wore the gown A better man was never known : But an old uncle, a poor elf, "Who to save riches, starved himself, By his last will bequeathed me clear At least two thousand pounds a year, And sav'd me all the pains at college, To pore o'er books and aim at know- ledge : Thus free from care, I live at ease ; Go where I will, do what I please ; Pursue my sports, enjoy my pleasure, Nor envy Lords their splendid treasure. I have an house at York beside, [side : "Where you shall go and straight re- And ev'ry kindness shall be shown, Both for my Dad's sake, and yourown : For know, good Sir, I'm never loth To mark my friendship for the Cloth. Hearty's my name, and you shall find A welcome, Doctor, to your mind : And I've a wife so blithe and gay, "Who ne'er says yes when I say nay." Syntax observed, "That was a blessing A man might boast of in possessing." At length arrived, a lady fair Received them with a winning air. "Ah," said the 'Squire, "I always come, My dearest girl, with pleasure home : You see a rev'rend Doctor here, So give him of your choicest cheer :" "Yes," she replied, "0 yes, my dear." " Nor fail all kindness to bestow :" " no, my dear," she said, " no." Thus happy Syntax joined the party Of Madam and of 'Squire Hearty. CANTO XI. IN this sad, variegated life, Evil and good, in daily strife, Contend we find, which shall be mas- ter : [ter Now fortune smiles then sad disas- Assumes in turn, its frowning power, And gives to man his chequer'd hour. With chequer'd hours good Syntax thought, [fraught, And well he might, his journey But still he hop'd, when all was past, That he should comfort find at last. Thus, with unlook'd-for kindness blest, No fears alarm his tranquil breast ; He eats, and drinks, and goes to rest : And when the welcome morrow came, The 'Squire and Madam were the same. Just as the Minster-clock struck nine, Coffee and tea, and fowl and chine, Appear'd in all their due array, To give the breakfast of the day. The 'Squire then the talk began, And thus the conversation ran. 'SQUIRE HEARTY. " Doctor, you truly may believe The pleasure which I now receive In seeing you, as you sit there, On what was once my father's chair. I pray you think this house your home, Aye, though it were three months to come. Here you will find yourself at ease May read or write just as you please. 3-2 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR At nine we breakfast, as yon see, Dinner is always here at three ; At six my wife will give you tea." MRS. HEARTY. [long, " And should you find the evening I'll play a tune, and sing a song." 'SQUIRE HEARTY. " Besides, you'll range the country round ; [found : Some curious things may there be Your genius, too, may chance to trace, Within this celebrated place, Some ancient building worth a look, That may, perhaps, enrich your book. I'm a true Briton, as you see : I love good cheer and liberty ; And what I love myself, I'll give To others, while I'm doom'd to live. This morning I intend to go To see the military show. The light dragoons now quarter'd here, Will all in grand review appear : They are a regiment of renown, And some great Gen'ral is come down To see them all, in bright array, Act the fierce battle of the day. If you should like such sights as these : If warlike feats your fancy please, We'll to the common take a ride, And I myself will be your guide : So, if you please, within an hour Our nags shall be before the door." SYNTAX. " I will be ready to attend The summons of my worthy friend. The laurell'd Hero's my delight, With plumed crest and helmet bright: E'en when a boy, at early age, I read in Homer's lofty page How the stout Greeks in time of yore, Brought havoc to the Phrygian shore; I revell'd in that ancient story, And burn'd with ardent love of glory. Whene'er I trac'd the Fields of Troy My heart beat high with martial joy. 'Tis true, I pray that war may cease, And Europe hail returning Peace ; Yet still I feel my bosom glow When British heroes meet the foe ; When our arm'd legions make him fly, And yield the palm of Victory : Or when our naval thunders roar, And terrify the Gallic shore. This grand review will give me plea- sure, And I shall wait upon your leisure." But, as no time was to be lost, Syntax now hasten'd to the post : The post obey'd his loud command, And gave a letter to his hand. With eager haste the seal he broke, And thus the fond epistle spoke. " My dearest husband, on my life I thought you had forgot your wife : While she to her affection true, Was always thinking, Love, on you. By this time I presume you've made No small advancement in your trade: I mean, my dear, that this same book, To which I with impatience look, Is full of promise ; and I'm bold To hope for a return in gold. I have no doubt that ample gains Will well reward your learned pains, And will with bounteous store, re- pay Your anxious toil of many a day ; For well, my dearest friend, I know Where'er you are compell'd to go, You still must sigh that you should be So long away from Love and me. I truly say my heart doth burn With ardent wish for your return ; And that I may my Syntax greet With all due honour when we meet, IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 37 The milliner is now preparing A. dress that will be worth the wear- ing; Just such an one as I have seen In Ackermann's last Magazine, Where by the skilful painter's aid, Each fashion is so well display* d. A robe of crape with satin bodice, Will make me look like any goddess: A mantle too, is all the ton, And therefore I have order' d one : I've also got a lilac bonnet, And plac'd a yellow feather on it : Thus I shall be so very smart, 'Twill vex Miss Raisin to the heart ; Oh! it will make me burst with laughter, [daughter ; To plague the purse-proud grocer's While through the town asyou shall see No one will be so tine as me. Oh ! with what pleasure and delight I shall present me to your sight ; How shall I hug you, dearest honey, When you return brimfull of money." Syntax exclaim'd, in accents sad, " The woman's surely gone stark mad! To ruin, all her airs will tend; But I'll read on, and see the end." " As to the news, why you must know, Things in their usual order go : Jobson the Tanner's run away, And has not left a doit to pay : Bet Bumkin was last Thursday mar- ried, And Mrs. Stillborn has miscarried. In the High-street, the other day, Good Mrs. Squeamish swoon'd away, And was so ill, as it is said, That she was borne away for dead : But Mother Gossip, who knows all The neighbours round, both great and small, Has hinted to me, as she thinks, That pious Mrs. Squeamish drinks. There is a lady just come down, A dashing, frisky dame from town, To visit Madam Stapleton ; She's said to be a London toast, But has no mighty charms to boast : For it is clear to my keen sight, That she lays on both red and white. She drives about in chaise and pair, And, I have heard, can curse and swear : But I mind not these things, not I, I never deal in calumny. So fare you well, my dearest life, And I remain your loving wife." POSTSCRIPT. " But if you fear that you shall come Without a bag of money home, "I were better far that you should take A leap at once into the Lake : I'd rather hear thatyou were drown'd, Than that you should my hopes con- found." These tender lines did not impart Much comfort to the Doctor's heart ; He therefore thought it would be better To lay aside this pretty letter ; Nor sufler its contents to sour The pleasure of the present hour. The 'Squire now became his guide, So oft' they trotted, side by side ; And, ere they pass'd a mile or two, Beheld the scene of the review. The troops drawn up in proud array, An animating sight display ; The well-fonn'd squadrons wheel around; [sound; The standards wave, the trumpet* When Grizzle, long inur'd to war, And not without an honour'd scar, 38 Found all her former spirits glow As when she used to meet the foe : No ears she prick'd, for she had none : Nor cock'd her tail, for that was gone : But still she snorted, foam'd and flounc'd ; Then upsherear'd, and off shebounc'd; And having play' d these pretty pranks, Dash'd all at once into the ranks ; While Syntax, though unus'd to fear, Suspected that his end was near. But though his courage 'ganto addle, He still stuck close upon his saddle ; While to the trumpets on the hill, Grizzle sped fast, and then stood still: With them sheclos'd her warlike race, And took with pride her ancient place; For Grizzle, as we've told before, Once to the wars a trumpet bore. At length, recover'd from his fright, The Doctor stay'd and view'd the sight; And then,' with heart as light as cork, He with his friend jogg'd back to York, Where was renew' d the friendly fare, And ev'ry comfort promis'd there. The time in chit-chat pass'd away, Till the chimes told the closing day : "And now," says pleasant Madam Hearty, " What think you if our little party Should each to sing a song agree ? 'Twill give a sweet variety. Thus let the passing moments roll, Till Thomas brings the ev'ning bowl; The Doctor, sure, will do his best And kindly grant my poor request." The Doctor, though by nature grave, And rather form'd to tune a stave, Whene'er he got a little mellow, Was a most merry pleasant fellow ; Would sing a song, or tell a riddle, Or play a hornpipe on the fiddle ; DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR And, being now a little gay, Declar'd his wishes to obey. "Then I'll begin," 'Squire Hearty said, [made, " But though by land my tours are Whene'er I tune a song, or glee, I quit the land, and go to sea." THE 'SQUIRE'S SONG. The signal given, we seek the main, Where tempests rage, and billows Nor know we if we e'er again [roar : Shall anchor on our native shore. But, as through surging waves we sail, And distant seas and isles explore, Hope whispers that some future gale Will waft us to our native shore. When battle rages all amain, [pour, And hostile arms their vengeance We British sailors will maintain The honour of our native shore. But, should we find a wat'ry grave, A nation will our loss deplore ; And tears will mingle with the wave That breaks .upon our native shore. And after many a battle won, When ev'ry toil and danger's o'er, How great the joy, each duty done, To anchor on our native shore. MRS. HEARTY'S SONG. CUPID, away! thy work is o'er: Go seek Idalia's flow'ry grove ! Your pointed darts will pain no more ; HYMEN has heal'd the wounds of Love. HYMEN is here, and all is rest ; To distant flight thy pinions move : No anxious doubts, no fears molest ; HYMEN has sooth'd the pangs of Love. IN SEARCH OF TEE PICTURESQUE. 39 CUPID, away ! the deed is done ! Away, 'mid other scenes to rove : For Ralph and Isabel are one, And HYMEN guards the home of Love. The Doctor now his rev'rence made, And Madam's smiling nod obey'd. "Your songs," said he, "have giv'n me pleasure, As well in subject as in measure ; But, in some modern songs, the taste Is far, I'm sure, from being chaste : They do not make the least pretence To poetry or common sense. Some coarse conceits, a lively air, With a da capo, here and there, Of uncouth words, which ne'er were found In any language above ground : And these set off with some strange phrase, Compose our sing-song now-a-days. The dancing-master of my school In this way oft will play the fool, And make one laugh one knows not why, But we had better laugh than cry. The song, which you're about to hear Will of this character appear ; From London it was sent him down, As a great fav'rite through the town." DOCTOR SYNTAX'S soxo. I've got a scold of a wife, The plague and storm of my life ; 0! were she in coal-pit bottom, And all such jades, 'od rot 'em ! My cares would then be over, And I should live in clover ; With harum scarum, horum scorum Stew'd prunes for ever ! Stew'd prunes for ever I Brother Tom's in the codlin-tree, As blithe as blithe can be : While Dorothy sits below, Where the daffodillies grow ; And many a slender rush, And blackberries all on a bush ; With harum scarum, &c. &c. We'll to the castle go Like grenadiers all of a row, While the horn and trump shall sound As we pace the ramparts round, Where many a lady fair Comes forth to take the air, With harum scarum, &c. &c. The vessel spreads her sails To catch the rising gales, And dances o'er the wave ; While many a love lorn slave To his mistress tells his tale, Far off in the distant vale ; With harum scarum, &c. &c. When the dew is on the rose, And the wanton zephyr blows ; When lilies raise their head, And harebells fragrance shed Then I to the rocks will hie, And sing a lullaby ; With harum scarum, &c. &c. By fam'd Ilyssus stream How oft I fondly dream, When I read in classic pages Of all the ancient sages ; But they were born to die ! And so were you and I ; With harum scarum, horum scorum Stew'd prunes for ever ! Stew'd prunes for ever I Thus, with many a pleasant lay, The party clos'd th' exhausted day. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR CANTO XII. LIFE is a journey, on we go [woe Through many a scene of joy and Time flits along and will not stay, Nor let us linger on the way : [course Like as a stream, whose varying Now rushes with impetuous force ; Now in successive eddies plays, Or in meanders gently strays, It still moves on, till spreading wide, It mingles with the briny tide ; And, when it meets the ocean's roar, The limpid waves are seen no more. Such, such is Life's uncertain way ; Now the sun wakes th' enliv'ning day : The scene around enchants the sight ; To cool retreat the shades invite ; The blossoms balmy fragrance shed ; The meads a verdant carpet spread ; While the clear rill reflects below The flowers that on its margin grow, And the sweet songsters of the grove Attune to harmony and love. But lo ! the clouds obscure the sky, And tell the bursting tempest nigh : The livid flash, the pelting storm, Fair Nature's ev'ry grace deform ; While their assailing powers annoy The pensive pilgrim's tranquil joy : But, though no tempests should molest The bower where he stops to rest, Care will not let him long remain, But sets him on his way again. Thus Syntax, who the 'Squire had press'd [rest, For three whole months to take his Sigh'd jwhen he found he could not To loiter through another day : [stay "No," he exclaim'd, " I must away: I have a splendid book to make, To form a Tour, to paint a Lake ; And, by a well projected Tome, To carry fame and money home : And, should I fail, my loving wife Will lead me such a precious life, That I had better never more Approach my then forbidden door." 'Twas thus he ponder'd as he lay, When the sun told another day, Nor long the downy couch he press'd, Where busy thought disturbed his rest ; [heart, But quick prepar'd, with grateful From this warm mansion to depart. The 'Squire to his professions true, Thus spoke at once his kind adieu. 'SQUIKE. " I'm sorry, Sir, with all my heart, That you and I so soon must part : Tour virtues my regard engage ; I venerate the rev'rend sage ; And, though I've not the mind to toil In Learning's way, by midnight oil, Yet still I feel the rev'rence due To all such learned men as you : Nor can I urge your longer stay, When Science calls you far away : But still I hope you'll not refuse My friendly tribute to the Muse ; And, when again you this way come, Again you'll find this house a home. Besides, I mean to recommend Your labours to a noble friend, Who well is known to rank as high In learning, as in quality ; Who can your merits well review ; A statesman and a poet too : He will your genius truly scan, And though a Lord, a learned man, For C****** is an honour'd name, Whose virtue and unsully'd fame IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. Will decorate th' historic page, And live through ev'ry future age. That courteous Lord doth condescend To know me for a faithful friend ; And, when you to his Lordship give The letter which you now receive, Expect, on his right noble part, A welcome that will cheer your heart. To then repair, And Honour will attend you there. Nor fear, my friend, that gilded state Will frown upon your humble fate ; My Lord is good as he is great." SYNTAX. " Your kindness, surely, knows no You are in truth a real friend ; [end Nor can my feeble tongue express This unexpected happiness : For if this noble Lord should deign My feeble labours to sustain, With the all-cheering, splendid rays Of his benign, protecting praise, My fortune will at once be made, And I shall bless the author's trade." Thus, as he spoke, 'Squire Hearty gave The letter Syntax longed to have ; And with it a soft silky note, [wrote ; On which two coal-black words were The sight of which his sense confounds, For these said words were Ctocntji Ipounfcs. " Check," said the 'Squire, " your wond'ring look; 'Tis my subscription to your book ; And when 'tis printed, you will send A copy to your Yorkshire friend ; Besides, I'll try to sell a score Among my neighbours here, or more." The Doctor's tongue made no reply, But his heart heav'd a grateful sigh : Nor, as he sits, can we do better Than to repeat the promised letter. "MY LORD, This liberty I take, For Laughter and for Merit's sake ; And when the bearer shall appear In your fine mansion's atmosphere, His figure will your spirits cheer. You need no other topic seek ; He'll furnish laughter for a week : But still I say, and tell you true, You'll love him for his merit too. You'll see, at once, in this Divine, Quixote and Parson Adams shine : An hero well combin'd you'll view For FIELDING and CERVANTES too : Besides, my Lord, if I can judge, In classic lore he's us'd to drudge. do but hear his simple story ; Let him but lay it all before you ; And you will thank me for my letter, And say that you aro HEARTY'S debtor : Nay, when your sides are tir'd with mirth, Your heart will feel his real worth. 1 know your kindness will receive him, And to your favour thus I leave him. So I remain, with zeal most fervent, Your Lordship's true and hearty ser- vant. YORK, Thursday. R. H." The Doctor now prepared to go, With heart of joy and look of woe ; He silent squeez'd the 'Squire's hands, And ask'd of Madam her commands. The 'Squire exclaim'd, " why so re- miss? She bids you take a hearty kiss ; And if you think that one won't do, I beg, dear Sir, you'll give her two" "Nay, then," says Syntax, "you shall see;" And straight he gave the Lady three. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Nor did he linger to exclaim, " He ne'er had kiss'd a fairer dame." The Lady blushing thank' d him too, And in soft accents, said "Adieu." Syntax, since first he left his home, Had no such view of good to come, As now before his fancy rose To bid him laugh at future woes. " Fortune," he cried, " is kind at last, And I forgive her malice past : Clad in C 's benignant form, Her power no more will wake the Nor e'en again her anger shed [storm, In frequent showers upon my head." Now, after a short morning's ride, In eager Hope and Fancy's pride, The Doctor views, with conscious smile, Fair 's splendid pile. Not Versailles makes a finer show, As, passing o'er the lofty brow, The stately scene is view'd below. My Lord receiv'd him with a grace Which marks the sov'reign of the place ; Nor was poor Syntax made to feel The pride which fools so oft reveal ; Who think it a fine state decorum, When humble merit stands before 'em : But here was birth from folly free ; Here was the true nobility, Where human kindness gilds the crest ; The first of virtues, and the best. An hour in pleasant chit-chat past, The welcome dinner came at last : And now the hungry Syntax eats Of high ragouts and dainty meats : Nor was the good man found to shrink Whenever he was ask'd to drink. MY LORD. [show " What think you, Doctor, of the Of pictures that around you glow !" STNTAX. " I'll by-and-by enjoy the treat : But now, my Lord, I'd rather eat." MY LORD. " What say you to this statue here ? Does it not flesh and blood appear ?" SYNTAX. " I'm sure, my Lord, 'tis very fine ; But I, just now, prefer your wine." SIR JOHN. " I wonder you can keep your eye From forms that do with Nature vie ; Nay, in my mind, my rev'rend friend, Nature's best works they far transcend. Look at that picture of the Graces, What lovely forms ! what charming faces !" SYNTAX. " Their charms, Sir John, I shall discover, I have no doubt, when dinner's over : At present, if to judge I'm able, The finest worl:s are on the table. I should prefer the cook j ust now, To Rubens or to Gerard Dow." MY LORD. " I wish to judge, by certain rules, The Flemish and Italian schools ; And nicely to describe the merits Or beauties which each school in- herits." SYNTAX. " Tho', in their way they're both bewitching ; I now prefer your Lordship's kitchen." The dinner done, the punch appears, And many a glass their spirits cheers, The festive hours thus pass'd away, Till time brought on the closing day : The Doctor talk'd, nor ceas'd his quaffing, [laughing. While all around were sick with MY LORD. " Again the subject I renew, And wish you would the pictures view." IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. SYNTAX. " To view them now would be a trouble, For faith, my Lord, my eyes see double." MY LOUD. " To bed then we had best repair, I give you to the Butler's care ; A sage grave man, who will obey Whate'er your Rev'rence has to say." The sage grave man appear'd, and bow'd : " I am of this good office proud ; But 'tis the custom of this place, From country -yeoman to his Grace, Whene'er a stranger guest we see, To make him of the cellar free. To you the same respect we bear, And therefore beg to lead you there ; When ev'ry noble butt doth claim The honour of some titled name." The servants waited on the stairs, With cautious form and humble airs : "Leadon," saysSyntax, "I'll not stay, But follow where you lead the way." The Butler cried, " You'll under- stand It is our noble Lord's command To give this rev'rend Doctor hero A sample of our strongest beer ; So tap her Grace of Devonshire." At length the potent liquor flows, Which makes poor man forget his woes. Syntax exclaim'd, " Here's Honour's boast ; The health of our most noble Host And let fair Devon crown the toast." The cups were cheer'd with loyal song; But cups like these ne'er lasted long : And Syntax stammer'd, ' ' Do you see ? Now I'm of this fani'd cellar free, I wish I might be quickly led T* enjoy my freedom in a bed." He wish'd but once, and was obey 'd, And soon within a bed was laid, Where, all the day's strange bus'ness o'er, He now was left to sleep and snore. CANTO XIII. HOW oft, as through Life's vale we stray, Doth fancy light us on our way ! How oft, with many a vision bright, Doth she the wayward heart delight, And, with a fond enliv'ning smile, The heavy hour of care beguile ! But though so oft she scatters flowers, To make more gay our waking hours, Night is the time when o'er the soul She exercises full control. While Life's more active functions pause, And sleep its sable curtain draws, 'Tis then she waves her fairy wand, And strange things rise at her com- mand : She then assumes a motley reign, And man lives o'er his life again ; While many an airy dream invites Herwizard masks, her wanton sprites : Through the warm, brain the phan- toms play, And form a visionary day. [prest, Thus Syntax, while the bed he And pass'd the night in balmy rest, Was led in those unconscious hours, By Fancy, to her fairy bowers, 44 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR "Where the light spirits wander free In whimsical variety. No more an humble Curate now, He feels a mitre on his brow ; The mildew'd surplice, thus with- drawn, Yields to the fine, transparent lawn ; And peruke, that defied all weather, Is nicely dress'd to ape a feather. Grizzle no more is seen to wail, Her mangled ears and butcher 'd tail : Six Grizzles now, with ev'ry ear, And all their flowing tails appear ; When, harness'd to a light barouche, The ground they do not seem to touch ; While onward whirl' d in wild surprise, The air-blown Prelate thinks he flies. Now through the long cathedral aisle Where vergers bow and virgins smile, With measured step and solemn air, He gains at length the sacred chair : And to the crowd, with look profound, Bestows his holy blessing round. Above the pealing organs blow, To the respondent choir below ; When, bending to religion's shrine, He feels an energy divine, [clutches, Now, 'scaped from Dolly's angry He thinks he's married to a Duchess, And that her rank and glowing beauty Enliven his prelatic duty. Thus Fancy, with her antic train, Pass'd nimbly through the Doctor's brain : Cut, while she told her varying story Of short-liv'dpomp and fading glory, A voice upon the vision broke When Syntax gave a grunt and 'woke. ' ' And may it please you, I've a word To tell your Rev'rence, frommy Lord." " A Lord," he cried, " why, to be free, I've been as good a Lord as he : Throughout the night, I've been as As any Lord, with all his state ; [great But now that fine-drawn scene is o'er, And I'm poor Syntax as before, [tain, You spoil'd my fortune, 'tis most cer- The moment you withdrew the curtain ; So, if you please, my pretty maid, You'll tell me what my Lord has said." " My Lord has sent to let you know That breakfast is prepared below." " Let my respects upon him wait, And say that I'll be with him straight." Out then he bounced upon the floor : The maid ran shouting through the door, So much the figure of the Doctor, In his unrob'd condition shock'd her. Syntax now hasten'd to obey The early summons of the day. He humbly bow'd and took his seat ; Nor did his Lordship fail to greet With kindest words his rev'reiid guest As how he had enjoy'd his rest : Hop'd ev'ry comfort he had found ; That his night's slumbers had been sound; And that he was prepar'd to share With keen regard, his morning's fare. The Doctor smil'd, and soon made free With my Lord's hospitality : Then told aloud his golden dream, Which prov'd of mirth afruitful theme. " 'Tis true," he said, " when I awoke, The charm dissolv'd, the spell was broke ; The mitre and its grand display, With my fine wife, all pass'd away : Th' awak'ning voice my fortune cross' d : [ op'd my eyes, and all was lost ; 3ut still I find to my delight, I have not lost my appetite." IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 45 SIR JOHN. " As for the mitre and the gold, Which Fancy gave you to behold, They, to a mind with learning fraught, Do not deserve a passing thought ; But I lament that such a bride Should thus be stolen from your side." SYNTAX. [roam ; " For that choice good I need not I've got, Sir John, a wife at home, Who can from morn to night contrive To keep her family alive : Such sprightly measures she can take That no one sleeps when she's awake. For me, if Fortune would but show'r Some portion of her wealth and pow'r, I would forgive her, on my life, Though she forgot to add a wife. Indeed, Sir John, we don't agree, Nor join in our philosophy ; [knows. For did you know what that man Had you e'er felt his cutting woes, "Who has of taunts a daily plenty, Whose head is comb'd, whose pocket's empty ; [trash, You ne'er would call those shiners Whose touch is life whose name is MY LORD. [Cash." " A truce, I pray, to your debate ; The hunters all impatient wait ; And much I hope our learned Clerk Will take a gallop in the Park." SYNTAX. [take, " Your sport, my Lord, I cannot For I must go and hunt a lake ; And while you chace the flying deer, I must fly off to Windermere, 'Stead of hallooing to a fox, I must catch echoes from the rocks ; With curious eye and active scent, I on the picturesque am bent ; This is my game, I must pursue it, And make it where I cannot view it, Though in good truth, but do not flout me, I bear that self same thing about me, If in man's form you wish to see The picturesque, pray look at me ; I am myself without a flaw, The very picturesque I draw. A Rector, on whose face so sleek In vain you for a wrinkle seek ; In whose fair form, so fat and round, No obtuse angle's to be found ; On such a shape no man of taste Would his fine tints or canvas waste : But take a curate who's so thin, [skin, His bones seem peeping through his Make him to stand, or walk, or sit, In any posture you think fit, [him, And, with all these nice points about No well-taught painter e'er would scout him : For with his air, and look and mien, He'd give effect to any scene. In my poor beast, as well as me, A fine example you may see : She's so abrupt in all her parts what fine subjects for the arts ! Thus, though we travel on together, With gentle gale or stormy weather ; And, though we trot along the plains, Where one dead level ever reigns, Or pace where rocks and mountains rise, [skies ; Who lift their heads, and brave the I, Doctor Syntax, and my horse, Give to the landscape double force. I have no doubt I shall produce A volume of uncommon use, That will be worthy to be plac'd Beneath the eye of men of taste ; And I should hope, my Lord, that you Will praise it and protect it too ; Will let your all-sufficient name The two-fold patronage proclaim : 4 6 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR That time may know, till time doth end, [friend." That C was my honour'd SIR JOHN. " And can you, learned Doctor, see When that important hour shall be ?" SYNTAX. " Sir Knight, that was not wisely spoke ; The point's too serious for a joke ; And you must know, by Heav'n's de- cree, That hour will come to you and me, And then succeeds Eternity." MY LORD. " Peace, peace, Sir John, and let me tell The Doctor that I wish him well. I doubt not but his work will prove, Most useful to the arts I love. But pray, good Sir, come up to town, That seat of wealth and of renown : Come up to town, nor fear the cost, Nor time nor labour shall be lost. I'll ope my door and take you in- You've made me laugh, and you shall win : "We'll then consult how I can best Advance your real interest : And here this piece of writing take ; You'll use it for the donor's sake ; I mean, you see, that it shall crown Your wishes while you stay in town : But you may, as it suits you, use it, No one, I fancy, will refuse it." The Doctor, whenhe view'd the paper. Instead of bowing cut a caper. My Lord now sought the expected And Syntax in his usual pace, [chace, When four long tedious days had past, The town of Keswick reach'd at last, Where he his famous work prepar'd, Of all his toil the hop'd reward. Soon as the morn began to break, Old Grizzle bore him to the Lake, Along the banks he gravely pac'd, And all its various beauties trac'd ;. When, lo, a threat'ning storm ap- pear' d ! Phoebus the scene no longer cheer'd ; The dark clouds sunk on ev'ry hill ; The floating mists the valleys fill : Nature, transform'd, began to lour, And threaten'd a tremendous show'r. "I love," he cried, "to hear the rattle, When elements contend in battle ; For I insist, though some may flout it, Who write about it, and about it, That we the picturesque may find In thunder loud, or whistling wind : As often, as I fully ween, It may be heard as well as seen : For, though a pencil cannot trace A sound as it can paint a place, The pen, in its poetic rage, Can make it figure on the page." A fisherman, who pass'd that way, Thought it civility to say " An' please you, Sir, 'tis all in vain To take your prospects in the rain ; On horseback too you'll ne'er be able 'Twere better sure to get a table." " Thanks," Syntax said, " for your . advice, And faith I'll take it in a trice ; For, as I'm moisten'd to the skin, I'll seek a table at the Inn :" But Grizzle, in her haste to pass, Lur'd by a tempting tuft of grass, A luckless step now chanc'd to take, And sous'd the Doctor in the Lake ; But, as it prov'd, no worse disaster Befel poor Grizzle and her master, Than both of them could well endure, And a warm Inn, would shortly cure. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 47 To that warm Inn they quickly hied, Where Syntax, by the fire-side, Sat in the Landlord's garments clad, But neither sorrowful nor sad : Nor did he waste his hours away, But gave his pencil all its play, And traced the landscapes of the day. CANTO XIV. < ( XT ATURE, dear Nature, is my I \l goddess, "Whether arrayed in rustic bodice, Or when the nicest touch of Art Doth to her charms new charms impart: But still I, somehow, love her best, When she's in ruder mantle drcst: I do not mean in shape grotesque, But when she's truly picturesque." Thus the next morn ing as he stray 'd, And the surrounding scene survey'd, Syntax exclaim'd. A party stood Just on the margin of the flood, Who were, in ttatu quo, to make A little voyage on the Lake. The Doctor forward stepp'd to show The wealth of his port-folio : The Indies were quite pleas'd to view Such pretty pictures as he drew ; While a young man, a neighbouring 'Squire, Expressed a very warm desire, Which seem'd to come from honest heart, That of their boat he'd take a part. Now from the shore they quickly sail'd; And soon the Doctor's voice prevail'd. " This is a lovely scene of nature ; But I've enough of land and water : I want some living thing to show IIow far the picturesque will go." LADY. ' ' See, Sir, how swift the swallowsfly ; And lo, the lark ascends on high ; We scarce can view him in the sky. Behold the wild fowl, how they spread Upon the Lake's expansive bed : The kite sails through the airy way, Prepar'd to pounce upon its prey : The rooks, too, from their morning food, Pass cawing to the distant wood." SYNTAX. " When with a philosophic eye The realms of Nature I descry, And view the grace that she can give To all the varying forms that live ; I feel with awe the plastic art That doth such wond'rous pow'rs im- part To all that wing the air, or creep Along the earth, or swim the deep. I love the winged world that flies Through the thin azure of the skies ; Or, not ordain'd those heights to scan, Live the familiar friends of man, And, in his yard or round his cot, Enjoy, poor things! their destin'd lot: But though their plumes are gay with dyes, In endless bright diversities, What, though such glowing tints pre- vail, [tail ; When the proud peacock spreads his What, though the nightingales prolong Through the charm' d night th' en- chanting song ; [thrush What, though the blackbird and the Make vocal ev'ry verdant bush ; Not one among the winged kind Presents an object to my mind : 4 8 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Their grace and beauty's nought to In all their vast variety [me ; The picturesque I cannot see. A carrion fowl tied to a stake Will a far better picture make, When as a scare-crow 'tis display'd To make all thievish birds afraid, Than the white swan, in all its pride, Sailing upon the crystal tide. As a philosopher I scan [man ; Whate'er kind Heav'n has made for I feel it a religious duty To bless its use land praise its beauty; I care not whatsoe'er the creature, Whate'er its name, its form and fea- ture, So that fond Nature will aver The creature doth belong to her. But though indeed, I may admire The greyhound's form, and snake's attire, They neither will my object suit Like a good shaggy, ragged brute. I will acknowledge that a goose Is a fine fowl of sov'reign use : But for a picture she's not fitted The bird was made but to be spitted. The pigeon, I'll be bound to show it, Is a fine subject for a poet ; In the soft verse his mate he woos, Turns his gay neck, and bills and coos, And as in am'rous strut he moves, Soothes the fondheartof him who loves : But I'll not paint him, no, not I I like him better in a pie, Well rubb'd with salt and spicy dust, And thus embody' d in a crust. Howmany abird thathaunts the wood, Howmanyafowl that cleaves the flood, With their sweet songs enchant my ear, Or please my eye as they appear, When in their flight, or as they row, Delighted on the lake below ; But still, whate' er their form or feather, You cannot make them group together; For let them swim or let them fly, The picturesque they all defy. The bird that's sitting quite alone Is fit but to be carv'd in stone ; And any man of taste 'twould shock To paint those wild geese in a flock : Though I like not a single figure, Whether 'tis lesser or 'tis bigger : That fisherman so lean and lank, Who sits alone upon the bank, Tempts not the eye ; but, doff his coat, And quickly group him with a boat, You then will see the fellow make A pretty object on the Lake. If a boy's playing with a hoop, 'Tis something, for it forms a group. In painter's eyes what a joke To place a bird upon an oak : At the same time, 'twould help the jest, Upon the branch to fix a nest. A trout, with all its pretty dyes Of various hues, delights the eyes ; But still it is a silly whim To make him on a canvas swim : Yet, I must own, that dainty fish Looks very handsome in a dish ! And he must be a thankless sinner Who thinks a trout a paltry dinner. " The first, the middle, and the last, In picturesque is bold contrast ; And painting has no nobler use Than this grand object to produce. Such is my thought, and I'll pursue it; There's an example you shall view it. Look at that tree then take a glance At its fine, bold protuberance ; Behold those branches how their shade Is, by the mass of light, display'd : Look at that light, and see how fine The backward shadows make it shine : IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 49 The sombre clouds that spot the sky, Make the blue vaulting twice as high ; And where the sunbeams warmly glow They make the hollow twice as low. The Flemish painters all surpass In making pictures smooth as glass : In Cuyp's best works there's pretty painting ; But the bold picturesque is wanting. " Thus, though I leave the birds to sing, Or cleave the air with rapid wing Thus, though I leave the fish to play Till the net drags them into day Kind Nature, ever bounteous mother ! Contrives it in some way or other, Our proper wishes to supply In infinite variety. The world of quadrupeds displays The painter's art in various ways ; But, 'tis some shaggy, ragged brute That will my busy purpose suit ; Or such as, from their shape and make, No fine-wrought, high-bred semblance take. A well-fed horse, with shining skin, Form'd for the course, and plates to win, May have his beauties, but not those That will my graphic art disclose : My raw-bon'd mare is worth a score Of those fine pamper'd beasts, and To give effect to bold design, [more, And decorate such views -as mine. To the fine steed you sportsmen bow, But picturesque prefers a cow ; On her high hips and horned head How true the light and shade are shed : Indeed, I should prefer by half, To a fine colt, a common calf ; The un-shorn sheep, the shaggy goat, The ass with ragged, rugged coat, Would to a taste-inspired mind, Leave the far-fam'd Eclipse behind : In a grand stable he might please, But ne'er should graze beneath my trees." ['Squire Caught by his words, the northern Fail'd not his learning to admire : But yet he had a wish to quiz The Doctor's humour and his phiz. "I have a house," he said, " at hand, Where you my service may command; There I have cows and asses too, And pigs, and sheep, Sir, not a few ; Where you, at your untroubled leisure, May draw them as it suits your plea- sure, [mare, You shall be welcome, with your And find a country 'Squire's fare : If a few days with us you pass, We'll give you meat and give hw grass." [shore, Thus 'twas agreed ; they came on The party saunter'd on before ; But ere they reach'd the mansion fair, Grizzle had borne her master there. It was indeed a pleasant spot That this same country 'Squire had got; And Syntax now the party join'd With salutation free an 1 kind. 'SQUIRE. " This, Doctor Syntax, is my sister : Why, my good Sir, you have not kiss'd her." SYNTAX. " Do not suppose I'm such a brute As to diflflm'n the sweet salute." 'SQUIRE. " And this, Sir, is my loving wife, The joy and honour of my life." SYNTAX. " A lovely Lady to the view ! And with your leave, I'llkiaa her too." 5 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Thus pleasant words the converse cheer'd Till dinner on the board appear'd ; Where the warm welcome gave a zest To all the plenty of the feast. The Doctor eat, and talk'd and quaff" d; The good Host smil'd, the Ladies 'SQUIKE. [laugh'd. " As you disdain both fowl and fish, Think you your art could paint that dish ?" ' . SYNTAX. [lief, " Though 'twill to hunger give re- There's nothing picturesque in beef : But there are artists if you'll treat 'em; ['em." Will paint your dinners ; that is eat 'SQUIRE. [mand " But sure your pencil might com- Whate'er is noble, vast and grand, The beasts, forsooth, of Indian land ; Where the fierce, savage tiger scowls, And the fell, hungry lion growls." SYNTAX. [fit ; " These beasts may all be subjects But, for their likeness, will they sit ? I'd only take a view askaunt, From the tall back of elephant ; With half an hundred Indians round me, [confound me. That such sharp claws might not But now, as we have ceas'd to dine, And I have had my share of wine, I should be glad to close the feast By drawing some more harmless beast." The Doctor found a quick consent, And to the farm their way they bent. A tub inverted, form'd his seat ; The animals their painter meet : Cows, asses, sheep, and ducks and geese, Present themselves to grace the piece : Poor Grizzle, too, among the rest. Of the true picturesque possest, Quitted the meadow to appear, And took her station in the rear : The sheep all baa'd, the asses bray'd, The moo-cows low'd, and Grizzle neigh'd ! [glee ; " Stop, brutes," he cried, " your noisy [ do not want to hear but see ; Though by the picturesquish laws, You're better too with open jaws." The Doctor now, with genius big, First drew a cow, and next a pig : A sheep now on the paper passes, And then he sketched a group of asses: Nor did he fail to do his duty In giving Grizzle all her beauty. "And now," says Miss (a laughing elf) [self." " I wish, Sir, you would draw your- " With all my heart," the Doctor said, " But not with horns upon my head." " And then I hope you'll draw my face." '[trace " In vain, fair maid, my art would Those winning smiles,, that native grace. The beams of beauty I disclaim ; The picturesque's my only aim : My pencil's skill is mostly shown In drawing faces like my own, Where time, alas, and anxious Care, Have placed so many wrinkles there." Now all beneath a spreading tree They chat and sip their evening tea, Where Syntax told his various fate ; His studious life and married state ; And that he hoped his Tour would tend His comforts and his purse to mend. At length they to the house re treated, And round the supper soon were seated ; When the time quickly pass'd away, And gay good humour clos'd the day. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. CANTO XV. < < "\ 7 IRTUE embraces ev'ry state ; V And, while it gilds the rich and great, It cheers their heart who humbly stray Along Life's more sequester'd way : While, from beneath the portals proud, [crowd, Wealth oft relieves the suppliant The wayworn pilgrim smiles to share, In lowly homes, the welcome fare. In splendid halls and painted bow'rs Plenty may crown the festive hours ; Yet still within the secret dell The hospitable Virtues dwell ; And in this Isle, so brave and fair, Kind Charity is ev'rywhere. Within the city's ample bound Her stately piles are seen around ; Where ev'ry want, and every pain That in man's feeble nature reign, Where the sad air of piuing grief May, bless' d be Heaven! obtain relief: While, on the humble village-green, How oft the low-roof d pile is seen, Where poverty forgets its woes, And wearied age may find repose. " Thrice happy Britons! while the Of furious, unrelenting War [car Leaves the dire track of streaminggore On many a hapless, distant shore, While a remorseless tyrant's hand Deals mis'ry, through each foreign land, And fell destruction, from the throne To him who doth the cottage own, Peace beams upon your sen -j: it Isle, Where the bright virtues ever smile ; Where hostile shoutings ne'er molest The happy inmate's genial rest. Where'er it is his lot to go, He will not meet an armed foe ; Nay, wheresoe'er his way doth tend, He sure may chance to find a friend." Thus, having rose at early day, As through the fields he took his way, The Doctor did his thoughts rehearse, And, as the Muse inspir'd, in verse : For, while with skill each form he His Eev'rence was a poet too. [drew, But soon a bell's shrill, tinkling sound, Ite-echo'd all the meads around, And said as plain as bell could say " Breakfast is ready come away." The welcome summons he obey'd, And found an arbour's pleasing shade, Where, while the plenteous meal was spread, The woodbine flaunted o'er his head. " Ah ! little do the proud and great Amid the pomp and toil of state, Know of those simple, real joys, With which the bosom never cloys ! ! what a heart reviving treat 1 find within this rural seat ! All that can please the quicken' d taste, Is ofi'er'd in this fair repast. The flowers, on their native bed, Around delicious odours shed : A bloom that with the flow'ret vies On those fair cheeks, attracts my eyes ; And what sweet music greets my ear, Whenthatvoicebidsme welcome here! Indeed, each sense combines to bless The present hour of happiness." Thus Syntax spoke, nor spoke in vain; The Ladies felt the flatt'ring strain ; 4-2 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Nor could they do enough to please The Doctor for his courtesies. " All that you see, if that's a charm, Is, Sir, the produce of our farm : The rolls are nice, our oven bakes 'em ; ['em. Those oat cakes too, my sister makes The cream is rich, pray do not save it ; The brindled cow you drew, Sir, gave it; And here is some fresh-gathered fruit, I hope it will your palate suit : 'Tis country fare which you receive, But 'tis the best we have to give." " !" said the 'Squire, " the Doc- tor jokes : With us poor harmless country folks : I wonder that with all his sense, And such a tickling eloquence, He has not turn'd an humble priest Into a good fat dean at least. "We know how soon a Lady's ear Will list the honey 'd sound to hear : At the same time, I'm free to say, I think the men as vain as they. How happens it, my learned friend, That you have not attained your end ; That all your figures and your tropes Have not fulfill'd your rightful hopes? I should suppose your shining parts, And above all your flatt'ring arts, Would soon have turn'd your grizzly mare Into a handsome chaise and pair. I live amidst my native groves, And the calm scene my nature loves ; But still I know, and often see, What gains are made by flattery." " That may be true," the Doctor said: " But flattery is not my trade. Indeed, dear Sir, you do me wrong No sordid interest guides my tongue ; Honour and Virtue I admire, Or in a Bishop or a 'Squire ; But falsehood I most keenly hate, Tho' gilt with wealth, or crown'd with state. For TR UTH I'm like a lion bold ; And a base lie I never told : Indeed, I know too many a sinner Will lie by dozens for a dinner; But, from the days of earliest youth, I've worshipp'd, as I've practis'd "Truth : Nay, many a stormy, bitter strife I've had with my dear, loving wife, Who often says she might have seen Her husband a fine, pompous Dean ; Indeed, she sometimes thinks her spouse Might have a mitre on his brows, If, putting scruples out of view, He'd do as other people do. No I will never lie nor fawn, Nor flatter, to be rob'd in lawn. I too, can boast a certain rule Within the precincts of my school : Whatever faults I may pass by, I never can forgive a lie. I hate to use the birchen rod ; But, when a boy forswears his God ; When he in purpos'd falsehood deals, My heavy stroke the culprit feels. Vice I detest, whoever shows it, And, when I see it, I'll expose it : But, to kind hearts my homage due I willing pay, and pay to you ; Nor will you, Sir, deny the share That's due to these two Ladies fair." The' Squire replied, ( ' I e'en must yield, And leave you master of the field : These Ladies will, I'm sure, agree That you have fairly conquer'd me : But, be assur'd, all joke apart, I feel your doctrine from my heart. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 53 Your free-born conduct I commend, And shall rejoice to call you friend ; ! how it would my spirits cheer If you were hut the Rector here. Our Parson, I'm concern'd to say, Had rather drink and game than pray : [swear, He makes no bones to curse and In any rout to take a share, [a hare. And what's still worse, he'll springe I wish his neck he would but break, Or tumble drunk into the Lake ! For, know the Living's mine to give, And you should soon the cure receive : The Benefice, I'm sure, is clear, At least three hundred pounds a-year." " I thank you, Sir, with all my heart," " [part." Said Syntax, "but we now must The fair ones cry'd " We beg you'll And pass with us another day." [stay, " Ladies, I would 'twere in my But I can't stay another hour : [pow'r, I feel your kindness to my soxU, And wish I could my fate control : "Within ten days the time will come When I shall be expected home ; Nor is this all for, strange to say, I must take London in my way." Thus converse kind the moments cheer'd, Till Grizzle at the gate appear'd. " Well," said the 'Squire, " since you must go, Our hearty wishes we bestow : And if your genius bids you take Another journey to the Lake, Remember Worthy-Hall, we pray, And come and make a longer stay : Write too, and tell your distant friends With what success your journey ends. We do not mean it as a bribe, But to your work we must subscribe." The Ladies too, exclaim'd " Repeat Your visit to our northern seat." Poor Syntax knew not how to tell The gratitude he felt so well : [bye," And, when at length he said " Good A tear was bright in either eye. The Doctor pac'd along the way Till it drew nigh the close of day, When the fair town appear'd in sight, Where he propos'd to pass the night : But as he reach'd the destin'd Inn, The landlord, with officious grin, At once declar'd he had no bed Where Syntax could repose his head ; At least, where such a rev' rend guest Would think it fit to take his rest: A main of cocks had fought that day, And all the gentry chose to stay. "Observe, my friend, I mind not cost," Says Syntax to his cringing host ; " But still, at least, I may be able To sleep with Grizzle in the stable ; And many a Doctor after all, Is proud to slumber in a stall : In short, I only want to sleep Where neither rogue nor knave can creep : I travel not with change of coats, But in these bags are all my notes : Which, should I lose, would prove my ruin, And be for ever, my undoing." Thus as he spoke, a lively blade, With dangling queue and smart cock- ade, Reply'd at once, " I have a room ; The friend I look'd for is not come ; And of two beds where we may rest, You, my good Sir, shall have the best; So you may sleep without alarm : No living wight shall do you harm : You may depend upon my word ; I serve the King, and wear a sword." 54 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR " Your offer, Sir, I kindly greet," Says Syntax, " but you'll let me treat "With what is best to drink and eat ; And I request you will prepare, To your own taste, the bill of fare." The Doctor and the Captain sat, Till tir'd of each other's chat, They both agreed it would be best To seek the balmy sweets of rest. Syntax soon clos'd his weary eye, Nor thought of any danger nigh : While, like the ever-watchful snake, His sharp companion lay awake. Impatient to assail his prey ; When, soon as it was dawn of day, He gently seiz'd the fancied store ; But, as he pass'd the creaking door, Syntax awoke, and saw the thief ; When, loudly bawling for relief, He forward rush'd in naked state, And caught the culprit at the gate : Against that gate his head he beat, Then kick' d h im headlong to the street. The ostler from his bed arose, In time to hear and see the blows. Says Syntax, " I'll not make a riot ; I've sav'd my notes, and I'll be quiet. The rascal, if I'm not mistaken, Will ask his legs to save his bacon : But what a figure I appear ! I must not stand and shiver here ; So take me back into the room, From whence in this strange way I've come." The ostler then the Doctor led, To the warm comforts of his bed : Into that bed he quickly crept, . Beneath his head his bags he kept, And on that pillow safely slept. CANTO XVI. FAIR Virtue is its own reward, For Heaven remains its con- stant guard ; And it becomes us all to trust [just. In this grand truth that Heaven is Whatever forms the human lot, Whether in palace or in cot, In the calm track or frequent strife, Man leads his variegated life ; Whether he feasts his smiling hours In stately halls or painted bow'rs ; Whether he labours through the day In Winter cold, or Summer's ray ; Or, in long nights of tort'ring pain, He strives to close his eyes in vain ; Comfort will on his lot attend If virtue be his bosom friend. In youth, when Love's creative pow'r Forms the young Passion's roseat bow'r ; When, life matur'd, the eager game That hunts for wealth or seeks for fame, Is subtly play'd, with various art, To seize the mind and fill the heart : When Pleasure doth its charms dis- play, And Syrens sing but to betray ; If Virtue's call'd, it will defy Th' attack of ev'ry enemy. When age comes on with stealing pace, And the crutch marks the closing race, Virtue supports her champion's cause, And cheers him with her fond ap- plause ', Nay, e'en at Death's resistless hour, She still displays a conscious pow'r ; Nor fails to make the flow'rets bloom Round the dark confines of the tomb. IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 55 Thus Syntax pondered when around Hishead he turn'd, and grateful found His bags and notes all safe and sound ; Pleas'd with the prospect, he was fain To yawn and go to sleep again. But, while he still enjoy'dhis dream, His story was the gen'ral theme Of ev'ry tongue, and made a din Through all the purlieus of the Inn. The ostler told it to the maid, And she the whole, and more betray'd Nay, in her idle, eager prate, Mistook the window for the gate : For, though she lay all sntig and quiet, And, slept unconscious of the riot, She swore that, all within her view, The Parson from the window threw A full grown man into the street, Who haply lighted on his feet, And then ran off through all the dirt, With night-cap on, and half a shirt. The barber caught the story next, Who stuck no closer to the text : But left a face half-shav'd, and ran To tell it to the clergyman. " ! bless me, Sir," he cried, " I fear To utter what you now must hear : At the Blue Bell there's been such doing The house, I'm certain, it must ruin; Nay, as I live, I'll tell no further, A Bishop has committed murther ! He seiz'd a Captain by the pate, And dash'd it so against the gate, That all the planks are cover'd o'er With scatter'dbrains and human gore. His lordship gave him such a bang- in [ing. That he will scarce escape with hang- They quarrell'd, Sir, as it was said, About the colours black and red ; The Captain manfully profess'd That the bright scarlet was the best ; And they, who that fine colour wore, The first of all professions bore ; While black (it was not very civil) Was the known liv'ry of the deviL Thus soon a loud dispute arose, Which from hard words went on to blows ; And ended in this bloody strife, Which robb'd the Captain of his life: And, if fair justice does not falter, She'll deck the Bishop with a halter." The Parson smil'd and bid the calf Go home and shave the other half : But when he came the lather'd elf, Had shav'd the other half himself. The Tailor laid aside his needle j To hear the story from the Beadle, Who swore he had strange news to tell Of what had happen'd at the Bill : " Would you believe it, that, last night, A highwayman, a man of might, Down in his bed a Lawyer bound, And robb'd him of a thousand pound ; Then gagg'd him that he might not rouse The people sleeping in the house." "No,no," saysSnip, "however strong, No gag will stop a Lawyer's tongue ; And, after all, the stolen pelf, Is what, I'm sure, he stole himself ; For, if the real truth we knew, He's the worst villain of the two ! They're thieves in grain they never alter Attornies all deserve a halter. If that is all, I'll mind my stitches, Nor lay aside John Bumkin's breeches." [stay'd The Blacksmith, while a trav'ller That a new horse-shoe might be made, DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Infonn'd him that a reVrend Clerk Last night was strangled in the dark, No one knew how 'twas at the Sell, The murd'rer not a soul could tell. The justice though would make a rout, And try to find the fellow out. Thus Rumour spread the simple case, In ev'iy form throughout the place. The Doctor now unclos'd his eyes, And thought that it was time to rise: So up he got, and down he went, To scold the Landlord fully bent ; Who, pale, and trembling with affright At what had happen' d in the night, Approach'd with such an humble look, The Doctor's rage at once forsook His Christian breast; and, with a voice That did the poor man's heart rejoice, He bid him soon as he was able, To let the coffee grace the table. " I do aver," the Landlord said, " That since I've carried on my trade, Since I've been master of the Bell, As all throughout the town can tell, (And that is now ten years or more) I ne'er knew such mishap before. The fellow, Sir, upon my word, Let loose his money like a Lord. I receive all who come this way, And care not, Sir, how long they stay, So they but eat and drink and pay. I ask not from whence people come, What is their name, or where their home. That he's a rogue I think is clear, Nor e'er again shall enter here. He is some sharper, I suppose, Who round about the country goes : While to assist his lawless game, He takes the soldier's noble name. I understand the rogue you bang'd, And in good time, Sir, he'll be hang'd; I hope that all your notes you've found, [pound." I'm told they're worth a thousand "Prove that," said Syntax, "my dear honey, And I will give you half the money. Think not, my friend, I'm such a fool, That I have been so late at school, To put my bank-notes in a bag That hangs across my Grizzle nag ; No, they were notes to make a book ; The thief my meaning, friend, mis- took ; [found For know the man would not have Them worth to him a single pound: Though much I hope that they will be The source of many a pound to me." Thus Syntax cheer'd the Landlord's heart 'Till the time warn'd him to depart ; When soon along the beaten road, Poor Grizzle bore her rev'rend load. The Doctor's pleasant thoughts be- guile The journey onward many a mile ; For many a mile he had not seen But one unvarying, level green ; Nor had the way one object brought That wak'd a picturesqnish thought. A spire, indeed, across the down, Seem'dto denote aneighbouringtown ; And that he view' d with some delight For there he hop'd to pass the night. A farmer now, so blithe and gay, Came trotting briskly on his way. " Will you," says Syntax, " tell me, friend, If to yon town this way doth tend ?" " This road, good Sir, will take you there; You're surely going to the fair ; 'Tis the first mart both far and near, For horses, cows, and such like gear ; SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 57 And, from the beast I've in my eye, You're going, Sir, a nag to buy : I think, if I the truth may tell, You have not got a nag to sell ; For not a person in the fair Will give ten shillings for your mare." Syntax, who dearly lov'd a joke, And long had liv'd'mong countryfolk, Thought he could work a little mirth Out of this rustic son of earth ; So thus the conversation flow'd, As they jogged on the beaten road. SYNTAX. " Believe me, Farmer, long to- gether, In sun-shine, and in stormy weather, My mare and I have trotted on, Nor is as yet our labour done : And, though her figure you despise, Did you but know her qualities, You would not rate her quite so low As now you seem dispos'd to do." FARMER. " I'll lay a pound, if you are will- ing, [ing." She does not fetch you twenty shill- 8YNTAX. " First, my good friend, one truth I'll tell ; I do not want my mare to sell : While to lay wagers I am loth : The practice would disgrace my cloth : Nor ever, while Life's path I trace, Will I my sacred rank disgrace : Hut yet I think you under-rate Poor Grizzle's qualities and state. 'Tis true, she's past the age of beauty ; Yet still the old girl does her duty ; And some one surely will be found To think, at least she's worth a pound : Nay, to amuse the country folk, We'll put her up by way of joke, But no one must the wager smoke ; And I propose, that if you lose, (No Christian will the bet refuse) The money to the poor you'll give, 'Twill be a Christian donative : And if my old and faithful mare Should be so treated in the fair, That not a person would be willing To offer for her twenty shilling, On honour I will do the same, As sure as Syntax is my name. Such are the terms that I propose, So let us now the bargain close." "Give me your hand," the farmer said, [made." "The terms I'll keep, the bargain's They thus rode on and reach'd the town : The pipe and bowl the ev*ning crown. The 'morrow came, and through the fair The Farmer led the grizzle mare. Says one, " I would not bid a pound; She's only fit to feed a hound ; But would a hound the gift receive, For she has nought but bones to give? Where must we look her ears to find? And faith, she's left her tail behind !" " Why," says another, " view her scars : [wars." She must have got them in the As a warm Yeoman pass'd along, He heard the jeerings of the throng, And felt a strong desire to know What pleas'd the laughing people so. "A Parson, Sir," says one, "dis- tress'd, [beast ; Would sell that poor, that wretched And asks, I hear, a pound or two : I think he'll ne'er get that from you." "If that's the case," the Yeoman said, " I'll ease his heart, and buy the jade. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR I'll bid two pounds, my friend, that's plain, And give him back his beast again." The Farmer own'd the wager lost, And op'd his bag to pay the cost : " No, Sir," says Syntax, " 'tis to you To pay where'er you think it due : But, as we pass'd the Common o'er, I saw beside a cottage door, A woman with a spinning-wheel, "Who turn'd her thread around the reel, While joyful frolick'd by her side Three children, all in Nature's pride ; And I resign it to your care To leave the welcome bounty there." The Yeoman, when he heard the joke, In friendly words to Syntax spoke. " I, Sir, an humble mansion own, About five furlongs from the town ; And there your Rev'rence I invite To go and dine and pass the night. To-day I give an annual feast, Where you will be a welcome guest. I love the cloth, and humbly crave That we may there your blessing have. Come, then, and bring your mare along ; [song ; Come, share the feast, and hear the And in the ev'ning will be seen The merry dancers on the green." "With joy," said Syntax, "I receive The invitation which you give ; In your kind feast I'll bear a part, And bring with me a grateful heart." "I," said the Yeoman, "must be gone: But shall expect you, Sir, at one." Nor did the Doctor long delay : To the farm-house he took his way ; And chang'd the bustle of the fair, For a kind, noiseless welcome there. CANTO XVII. YE Courtesies of life, all hail : Whether along the peaceful vale, Where the thatch'd cot alone is seen, The humble mansion of the green, Or in the city's crowded way, Man mortal man, is doom'd to stray ; You <,Ive to joy an added charm, And woe of half its pangs disarm, How much in ev'ry state he owes To what kind Courtesy bestows ; To that benign engaging art Which decorates the human heart, And free from jealousy and strife, Gilds all the charities of life. To ev'ry act it gives a grace ; It adds a smile to ev'ry face ; And Goodness' self we better see When dress'd by gentle Courtesy. Thus Syntax, as the house he sought, [thought ; Indulg'd the grateful, pleasing And soon he stepp'd the threshold o'er, Where the good Farmer went before : Plenty appear' d, and many a guest Attended on the welcome feast. The Doctor then, with solemn face, Proceeded to th' appointed place, And, in due form, pronounc'd the grace. That thankful ceremony done, The fierce attack was soon begun ; While meat and pudding, fowl and fish , All vanish' d from each ample dish ; The dinner o'er, the bowl appear'd : Th' enliv'ning draughts the spirits cheer 'd : AV SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 59 Nor did the pleasant Doctor fail, Between the cups of foaming ale, To gain the laugh by many a tale. But it so happ'd among the rest The Farmer's Landlord was a guest ; A buckish blade, who kept a horse, To try his fortune on the course ; Was famous for his fighting cocks, And his staunch pack to chase the fox : Indeed, could he a booby bite, He'd play at cards throughout the night ; Nor was ho without hopes to get Syntax to make some silly bet. " I never bet," the Doctor said, While a deep frown his thoughts be- tray'd : " Your gold I do not wish to gain, And mine shall in my purse remain : No tempting card, no gambling art, Shall make it from my pocket start. Gaming, my worthy Sir, I hate ; It neither suits my means nor state : 'Tis the worst passion, I protest, That's known to haunt the human breast ! Of all vile habitudes the worst ; The most delusive and accurst ; And, if you please, I'll lay before you A very melancholy story ; Such as, I think, will wring your heart, And wound you in the tend'rest part ; That will in. striking colours show The bitter pangs the bitter woe, That do, too oft, from gaming flow." "Nay," said the 'Squire, " I don't deny I often like my luck to try : And no one here, I'm sure, will say That when I lose I do not pay But as yon think it such a sin, Pray try to cure me and begin." SYNTAX. " How many of the human kind, Who to their common honour blind Look not in any path to stray But where fell passion leads the way ; Who, born to ev'ry real claim To wear the fairest wreath of Fame, Reject the good by Nature given, And scoff at ev'ry boon of Heaven ! Yes ; such there are, and such we find At ev'ry point that gives the wind : But, when among the crowd we see One whom, in prodigality, Fortune and Nature had combin'd To fill his purse and form his mind ; Whose manly strength is grac'd with ease, And has the happy pow'r to please ; Whose cooler moments never heard The frantic vow to Heav'n preferr'd ; And near whose steps Repentance bears The vase of purifying tears ; When such a victim we behold, Urg'd by the rampant lust of gold, Yielding his health, his life, his fame, As off'rings to the god of game ; The tear grows big in Virtue's eye, Pale Reason heaves the poignant sigh ; The guardian spirit turns away, And hell enjoys a holiday. " Is there on earth a hellish vice ? There is, my friend, 'tis avarice : Has avarice a more hellish name ? It has, my friend the lust of game. All this, perhaps, you'll thus deny : ' There's no one, with more grace than I, Lets shillings drop and guineas fly ! To the dejected hapless friend My door I ope, my purse I lend ; To purchase joy my wealth I give, And like a man of fashion live.' 6o DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR This may be tme but still your breast Is with the love of gold possest. Why watch whole nights the fatal card, Or look to dice for your reward ? "Why risk your real wealth with those Whom you know not, and no one knows ; With maggots whom foul fortune's ray Has rais'd from dunghills into day ; Who would in your misfortune riot, And seek your ruin for their diet ? Pleasure it cannot be, for pains Will mingle with your very gains Will hover round the golden store, Which, ere the passing moment's o'er, May, horrid chance ! be yours no more. " As yet, you cannot use the plea Of beggar'd men necessity ; Plenty as yet adorns your board, And num'rous vassals own you Lord : Your woods look fair their trunks increase, The Hamadryades live in peace ; But cards and dice, more powerful far Than e'en the sharpest axes are, At one dire stroke have oft been found To level forests with the ground : Have seiz'd the mansion's lofty state, And turn'd its master from the gate. "A youth, in wealth and fashion bred, But by the love of gaming led, Soon found that ample wealth decay ; Farm after farm was play'd away, Till, the sad hist'ry to complete, His park, his lawns, his ancient seat, Were all in haste and hurry sold, To raise the heaps of ready gold. They, like the rest soon pass'd away, The villain's gain, the sharper's prey ; While he, alas ! resolv'd to shun The arts by which he was undone, Sought by hard labour, to sustain His weary life of woe and pain ; But Nature soon refus'd to give The strength by which he strove to live; And nought was left him but to try What casual pity would supply ; To stray where chance or hunger led, And humbly ask for scanty bread. One day, to his despairing eyes, He saw a stately mansion rise ; Nor looked he long before he knew Each wood and copse that round it grew; For all the scene that seem'd so fair, Once knew in his a master's care. Struck with the sight, and sore op- press'd, He sought a bank whereon to rest ; There long he lay, and sigh' d his grief ; Tears came but did not bring relief. At last he took his tott'ring way Where once he lov'd so well to stray, And, press'd by hunger, sought the gate Where suppliant Want was used to wait Where suppliant Want was ne'er denied The morsel left by glutted Pride. But, ah ! those gen'rous times were o'er, And suppliant Wantreliev'd no more. The mastiff growl'd the liv'ried thief With insolence denied relief: The wretch, dissolving in a groan, Turn'd from the portal, once his own ; But ere he turn'd, he told his name, And curs'd once more the love of game ; Then sought the lawn, for Nature fail' d, And sorrow o'er his strength prevail' d. Beneath an oak's wide-spreading shade His weary limbs he careless laid ; IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 61 Thencall'don Heaven; (the bitter pray'r Of Mis'ry finds admittance there !) And ere the sun with parting ray, Had heighten'd the last blush of day, Sunk and worn out with want and grief, lie found in death a kind relief. " The oak records the doleful tale, Which makes the conscious reader pale; And tells' In this man's fate behold The love of play the lust of gold.' No moral, Sir, I shall impart ; I trust you feel it in your heart. " ' You're young,' you'll say, ' and must engage In the amusements of the age.' Go then, and let your mountain bare, The forest's verdant liv'ry wear ; Let Parian marble grace your hall, And Titian glow upon your wall ; Its narrow channels boldly break, And swell your riv'let to a lake : To richer harvests bend your soil, While labour fattens in the toil : Encourage Nature, and impart The half ^transparent veil of Art. Let Music charm your melting breast, And soothe each passion into rest : Let Genius from your hand receive The bounty that can make it live ; And call the Muses from on high, To give you immortality. To these the hardy pleasures join, Where Exercise and Health combine : At the first op'ning of the morn, O'er hill and dale, with hound and horn, Boldly pursue the subtle prey, And share the triumphs of the day : Nor let the evening hours roll Unaided by the social bowl : Nor should fair Friendship be away, But crown with smiles the festive day. Say, need I add the joys they prove Who live in bonds of virtuous love ? Where fond affection fills the heart, The baser passions shall depart. While the babe hangs on Beauty's breast, While in a parent's arms caress'd, Each low-bred thought, all vicious aims, The pure domestic mind disclaims. Virtue inspires his ev'ry sense, Who looks on cherub innocence : Then seek a shield 'gainst passion's strife In the calm joys of wedded life. " This is to live, and to enjoy Those pleasures which our pains de- stroy : This is to live, and to receive The praises which the good will give : This is to make that use of wealth Which heightens e'en the flush of health; Improves the heart, and gives a claim To a fair, fragrant wreath of Fame." " I thank you, Sir," the Farmer said; " 'Tis a sad tale you have display'd. How I the poor man's lot deplore ! The more I think, I feel the more : And much I wish my Landlord too Would keep his wretched fate in view; But while my poor good woman weeps, Behold how very sound he sleeps. I beg that we may change the scene, And join the dancers on the green." Salnowexclaim'd, "The people say Ralph is so drunk he cannot play." " Then I'll be Fiddler," Syntax cried ; " By me his place shall be supplied ! 62 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Ne'er fear, my lasses, you shall soon Be ambling to some pretty tune, And in a measur'd time shall beat The green-sod with your nimble feet. While Virtue o' er your pleasure reigns, You're welcome to my merry strains ; While Virtue smiles upon your joy, I'll gladly my best skill employ ; For, sure, 'twill give me great delight To be your Fiddler through the night. I know full well I do not err From any point of character : To Heav'n I cannot give offence While I enliven innocence : For thus to virtuous man 'tis given To dance, and sing, and go to Heaven. Your merry minstrelsy prolong, And to your dances add the song : E'en while you caper, loudly sing In honour of your noble King." CHORUS OF PEASANTS. " Strike, strike the lyre ! awake the sounding shell ! [dwell ! How happy we who in these valleys How blest we live beneath his gentle sway, Whom mighty realms and distant seas obey ! Make him, propitious Heaven ! your choicest care ! make him happy as his people are !" "I was thus they fiddled, danc'd, and sung ; With harmless glee the village rung ; At length dull midnight bid them close A day of joy, with calm repose. CANTO XVIII. LET Grandeur blush, and think how few Of all the many-colour'd crew, The motley group of fools and knaves, Who hourly proves themselves its slaves, However Fashion gilds the dress, Attain the expected happiness ! Let Grandeur blush, and blushing own How seldom is to greatness known, That pure and unimbitter'd lot Which often cheers the peasant's cot ; The hallo w'd bliss, the nameless charm, That decorates the fertile farm. Thus Syntax ponder'd as his eye Survey'd the cheerful family : Who round the breakfast- table seated, With one accord his entrance greeted : At the same time, they all express'd Much sorrow that their rev'rend guest Had order' d Grizzle to the door In order to pursue his Tour. " Doctor, I'm grieved so soon to part," Burst from the Yeoman's friendly heart ; [come, "Yet hope, whene'er you this way You'll not forget this is your home : You see how we poor farmers live, A welcome's all we have to give ; But that's sincere so come and try." A few kind words were the reply. Syntax once more his beast bestrode: He bade farewell, and off he rode. Now Nature's beauties caught his Array'd in gay simplicity : [eye, And as he pass'd the road along, The blackbird's note, the thrush' s song, With musical and native mirth, Seem'd to do homage to his worth : The vary'd landscape here combin'd To fascinate the eye and mind, IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. To charm the gazer's ev'ry sense From the commanding eminence. Th' expanding plain, with plenty crown'd, Diffuses health and fragrance round ; "While, on a lofty, craggy height, A castle rises to the sight, Which in its day of strength and pride, The arms of threat'ning foes defy'd. Beneath the mouldering abode In mazy course a riv'let flow'd : And, free from the tempestuous gale, Its silent stream refresh d the vale : The vale the scatter'd hamlet cheer'd, And many a straw-roof 'd cot appear'd ; While smiling groups at ev'ry door Spoke grief a stranger to the poor. With pious thought and eye serene, Syntax survey'd th' enchanting scene, And thus in grateful mood began : " So deals th' Omnipotent with man. Such are thy gifts, all gracious Power, To us, the creatures of an hour ! And yet how oft we barter these, How oft we risk our health and ease, Thy best bequest, thy choicest trea- sure, [sure : For follies which we misname plea- And slaves to vanity and art Check the best feelings of the heart. How the scene charms the ravish'deye ; I cannot, will not, pass it by !" He said, and from his pocket took His pencil, and his sketching book ; While Grizzle, in contented mood, Close by her busy master stood : When, clouds of dust proclaim' d th' approacli Of something Syntax deem'd a coach, Four wheels in truth it had to boast, Although what it resembled most Were hard to say : suffice, this tub Was built in London, where a club, Yclept Four-horte, is now the rage, And fam'd for whims in equipage. Dashers ! who once a month assemble ; Make creditors and coachmen tremble: And, dressed in colours vastly fine, Drive to some public-house to dine : There game, and drink, and swear, and Drive in disorder back again, [then Now Syntax, with some kind of fear, Beheld the vehicle draw near ; And, like her master, Grizzle too Was far from happy at the view ; For a long whip had caught her eye Moving about most rapidly ; Though little thought the hapless nag, The joke which the exalted wag, Who held the reins with skilful hand, Against both mare and master plann'd. But now the curious Doctor spied The emblem of Patrician pride, Which on the panels of the coach, Proclaim'd a noble Lord's approach : Nay, (for the facts will plainly prove it) It was a noble Lord who drove it : For 'tis well known to men of rank That Lords will sometimes play a prank, And thus indulge themselves in jokes As low as those of vulgar folks. But 'tis not easy to express The wild surprise, the deep distress, Which Syntax felt, when this same Lord Aim'd at his back the flaunting cord ; And when the whip, with skilful turn, Was well applied to Grizzle's stern ; That stern, enough to make one shudder, [rudder ; Which we all know had lost its Her rage appear'd in either eye, And then she neigh'd indignantly. Such seem'd she as wlu-i; eit she bore A trumpeter to fields of gore ; 6 4 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR "When, in the battle's heat, at large, She led whole squadrons to the charge WhileSyntax, as she scour'dthe plain Indulged the moralizing strain. " Can I, in this foul conduct scan The Peer, or well-bred Gentleman ? Or rather must not virtue frown On such a high-born, titled clown ? Thus, then, do Nobles play the fool ? A conduct which in my poor school, If 'mong my boys it dare appear ; If they should ape that monkey there ; They for their fun should pay full dearly ; [verely. I'd whip the blackguards most se- But I'll not waste another word Upon this vulgar, booby Lord ; For I have something else to do, And Grizzle, what's become of you ?" A farmer's well-stor'd barn, hard by, Attracted her observing eye, Where many a truss of fragrant hay Induced the prudent beast to stay. Meanwhile, her discontented master, Reflecting on the late disaster, Pac'd slowly on, brimful of care, And wonder'd who had got his mare. Indeed he fear'd she might be found Within the precincts of a pound ; But soon his quadruped he saw, Up to her girths in hay and straw ; While he, who own' d the neighb' ring farm, Prepar'd to raise his weighty arm ; And, having just observ'd the theft, Brandish'd a horsewhip right and left, (Alas ! it cannot be denied,) To lay about on Grizzle's hide. Syntax beheld the harsh intent : " Forbear," he cried, "the punish- ment ! [thong ? Why make her feel the chast'ning She knows not she is doing wrong. Forgive my warmth, but truly, Sir, This suits not "with the character Of one who treads on British ground, A land for justice so renown'd: I'll pay for all the straw that's wasted, And all the hay that she has tasted : Your courtesy I now invoke, So name the cost, and spare the stroke." The Farmerpaus'd as by acharm And dropp'd at once th' uplifted arm : " Forgive me, Sir, for what," he cried, " Cannot, indeed, be justified : But for my haste, I'll make amends : And let us now, good Sir, be friends : That, is my house : you'll enter there ; And, Thomas, take the Doctor's mare. Come, rev'rend Sir, I'll lead the way :" The Doctor did not disobey, And soon was met with welcome glee, By all the Farmer's family. At length some bus'ness of the day Summon'd the honest host away ; So Syntax thought he'd look about, To find some curious object out : When, lo ! a dairy met his view, Where, full of cream, in order due, The pans, the bowls, the jugs were plac'd, Which tempted the Divine to taste, But he found something better there : A village damsel young and fair Attracted his admiring eye ; Who, as he enter'd, heaved a sigh. Now Syntax, as we all must know, Ne'er heard a sigh or tale of woe, But instant wish'd to bring relief, To dry the tear and soothe the grief. "Come here, sweetgirl,"hesoftly said ; ' Tell me your cares nor be afraid : Come here, and seat you by my side ; You'll find in me a friendly guide, ilelate your sorrows, tell the truth J What is it ? does some perjur'd youth IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. Unfaithful to his promise prove, Nor make the fond return of love ? 'Tis so, I see ; but raise your eye : On me, my pretty girl, rely : You have my tend'rest sympathy. Again, I say, your grief impart ; You've gain'd an int'rest in my heart : For well I know the pangs they prove Who grieve for unrequited love." The list'ning mother, who had heard Love talk'd of, kindled at the word ; And, rushing in, express'dher rage : " For shame ! for shame ! while hoary age Whitens your head, I see your eye Is beaming with iniquity. Begone, you old, you wanton goat, Your heart is black as is your coat ! A Parson too ! may heaven forgive The wicked age in which we live ! I'll go and tell my honest sponso The snake he harbours in his house : He'll give such hypocrites their due, I'll warrant it ;" and off she flew. The Host arriv'd, but by that time The false alarm, th* imputed crime, Nancy had ventur'd to unfold, I And mother now had ceas'd to scold ; I While, the rude anger turn'dtomirth, l They all confess the Doctor's worth. Dinner was soon upon the table, And Grizzle feeding in the stable ; While joyful Syntax, once again, Forgot past accidents and pain ; And, when night came, repos'd hishead In peace, upon the welcome bed : I But ne'er did he to sleep consign j His weary limbs, till to the shrino I Of Heaven, he hadaddress'd the prayer Which ever finds admittance there. CANTO XIX. THE Sun arose in all its pride ! "Hail the bright orb," the Doctor cried, [gl w > " That makes the distant mountains And clears the misty vales below ; ! let me bless the Power divine That bade its splendid fires to shine, Invigorating warmth to give To all that grow, and all that live : Which, in the bowels of the earth, Brings the rich metal into birth ; Or, piercing through the secret mine, Makes rubies blush, and di'monds shine : While man, the first, the head of all That breathes upon this earthly ball, As freely feels its force as they Of insect tribe, who, in its ray, Pass their short hour, and pass away. 0, what a picture greets my sight ! | How my heart revels in delight, ! While I behold th' advancing day O'er the wide scene its power display ! I While as I gaze, th' enchanted eye Drinks in the rich variety ! [tower ! How the gleam brightens yonder How deep the shade within the bower! The spreading oak and elm between, How fine those blushes intervene ! Those brilliant lights! they would demand Claude's pencil, or a Titian's hand ! E ? en while the distant hills I view, Their orient colours change to blue. The stream, within whose silver wave, Poets might see the Naiads lave, Now, lost in shade, no more is seen To flow among the alders green : 66 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR But, let the eye its course pursue, Again it brightens in the view : Reflecting, as its current flows, Each flower that on the margin blows. "Hail, favour'd casement! where the sight Is courted to enjoy delight ; T' ascend the hill, and trace the plain, Where lavish Nature's proud to reign ! Unlike those pictures that impart The windows of Palladian art, From whence no other object's seen But gravel- walk, or shaven green ; Plann'd by the artist on his desk ; Pictures that are not picturesque. But I should not perform my duty Did I relinquish all this beauty ; Nor snatch, from this expansive view, Somte pretty little scene or two. " The cot that's all bewhiten'd o'er, "With children playing at the door : A peasant hanging o'er the hatch, And the vine mantling on the thatch ; While the thick coppice, down the hill, Throws its green umbrage o'er the rill, Whose stream drives on the busy mill, In pleasing group their forms combine, And suit a pencil such as mine. Nor shall I miss the branchy screen Of those fine elms that hide the green, O'er which the tap'ring spire is seen. I'll add no more for to my mind, The scene's complete and well de- sign'd. There are, indeed, who would insert Those pigs, which wallow in the dirt ; And though I hold a pig is good Upon a dish, prepar'd for food, I do not fear to say the brute Does not my taste in painting suit ; For I most solemnly aver, That he from genuine taste must err, Who flouts at grace or character ; And there's as much in my old wig As can be found about a pig. For, to say truth, I don't inherit This self-same picturesquish spirit, That looks to nought but what is rough, [enough. And ne'er thinks Nature coarse Their system does my genius shock, Who see such graces in a dock ; Whose eye the picturesque admires In straggling brambles, and in briers 5 Nay, can a real beauty see In a decay'd and rotten tree. I hate with them the trim of Art : But from this rule I'll ne'er depart ; In grandame Nature's vast collection, To make a fair and tit selection, Which, when in happy contrast join'd, Delights th' informed, well-judging mind." But lo ! the Farmer, at the gate, Proclaim'd aloud, the hour of eight ; And Syntax now in haste descends To join his kind, expecting friends. " Well," said his Host, " another day I trust your Reverence will stay." " I thank you for the offer made, But it can't be," the Doctor said : " I have a weary way to go, And much to see, and more to know ; Indeed so far I've got to roam, A fortnight scarce will take me home ; And thanking you for all your care, I must beg leave to seek my mare." Grizzle was quickly to be found ; And, as the good folks stood around, Syntax thought proper to discourse Upon the virtues of his horse ; Nor did he fail at large to tell That she had served him passing well : While he forgot not to bewail Her loss of ears and loss of tail : IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. Bat though among the passing folk, His beast created many a joke, And though the foul and sad disaster Oft forced a laugh against the master, They should not part while he was able To keep himself and keep a stable ; Nay, to the last he'd cut and carve, That his poor Grizzle might not starve. Thus, as his hist'ry he recounted, Into the saddle up he mounted, And there for sometime haying sat, He clos'd at length his farewell chat. He thought it best t' avoid caressing ; So gave no kiss, but gave his blessing. On home, on book, on fame, intent, The Doctor ponder'd as he went : At night he look'd his papers o'er, And added to the learned store : But the next morn, another scene, The vast expanse of liquid green, The ocean's self broke on his eye, In inexpressive majesty. There, as he look'd, full many a sail Gave its white canvas to the gale, And many a freighted vessel bore Its treasure to the British shore. When, as he trac'd the winding coast, In praise and admiration lost, Up-rising in the distant view, Half-seen through the ethereal blue, A city's stately form appear*d ; Upon the shore the mass was rear'd, With glistening spires, while below Masts like a forest seemed to grow. 'Twas Liverpool, that splendid mart, Imperial London's counterpart, Where wand'ring Mersey's rapid streams Rival the honours of the Thames, And bear on each returning tide, Whate'er by commerce is supplied ; Whate'er the winds can hurry o'er From ev'ry clime and distant shore. Thus Syntax pac'd along the strand, Through this fine scene of sea and land. But nearer now the town appears, The hum of men salutes his ears : And soon, amid the noisy din, He found the comforts of an Inn.' He eat, he drank, his pipe he smok'd, And with the Landlord quaintly jok'd; But ere he slept, he pass'd an hour In adding something to his Tour ; Then sought his couch, in hopes the morn [adorn. Would with new thoughts the page The morning came ho sallied out To breathe the air, and look about. Where'er he turn'd, his ev'ry sense Grasp'd one vast scene of opulence : In all he saw there was display'd The proud magnificence of trade. Syntax, an humble scholar bred, With nought but learning in bis head ; Profound, indeed, in classic art, And goodness reigning in his heart, Yet forty pounds a year was all He could his fix'd revenue call : For which, on ev'ry Sabbath-day, Hewenteightmiles to preach and pray. His school, too, brought but little gains, And scarce repaid him for his pains ; It gave, 'tis true, to drink and eat, It furnish'd him with bread and meat, And kept the wolf without the door, But Syntax still was very poor. His wife, indeed, had got the art, To keep herself a little smart, Yet he, good man, was always seen With scanty coat, and figure mean ; Yet still he never threw aside The pedant's air the pedant's pride. Thus, through the streets of this rich place, He strutted with his usual grace ; 52 68 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR And thus he walked about the town, As if its wealth had been his own : But of his wealth he could not va- pour Twelve guineas and a piece of paper (The present of a noble Lord,) Was all his pockets did afford : Though still the lining of his coat Secreted 'Squire Hearty's note. And now he thought 'twould not be rash To turn the paper into cash. Thus, at his breakfast, while he sat, And social join'd the common chat, He took occasion to enquire Who would comply with his desire : Who would his anxious wish fulfil, And give him money for his bill. An arch young sprig, a banker's clerk, Resolv'd to hoax the rev'rend spark, And counsell'd him to take a range Among the Merchants on the 'Change. " Some one, perhaps, may want to send A payment to a London friend ; He'll in your wishes gladly join, And take the draft and pay the coin." The Barber now the Doctor shear'd, And soon whipp'd off his three-days' beard, His wig, which had not felt a comb, Not once since he had quitted home, Was destin'd now, with friz and twirl, To be tormented into curl : His coat, which had long ta'en the rust, Was soon depriv'd of all its dust ; His gaiters too, were fresh japann'd ; Such were the Doctor's stern com- mand : And now with spirits fresh and gay, To the Exchange he took his way, To try in this commercial town A little commerce of his own. Th' Exchange soon met his wond'ring sight ; The structure fill'd him with delight. " Such are the fruits of trading know- ledge ! [college ! Learning," he cried, " builds no such Indeed, I entertain a notion, [tion,) (I speak the thought with true devo- Though we in Holy Scripture read That Tyre and Sidon did exceed In wealth, the cities of the world, Where ships their wand'ring sails unfurl'd, That e'en her merchants bore the bell In eating and in drinking well ; Were richer than the lordly great, And vied with princes in their state ; Yet, with all their power and rule, I think that they ne'er went to school In such a 'Change as Liverpool." He enter'd now and heard within The crowded mart a buzzing din A sound confus'd the serenade Of ardent gain, and busy trade : At length his penetrating eye Was thrown about him, to descry Some one in whose sleek, smiling face, He could the lines of kindness trace ; And soon a person he address'd, Whose paunch projected from his breast ; [fraught, Who looking with good humour Appear'd the very man he sought ; When, with an unassuming grace, To him he thus disclos'd his case. " I beg this paper you'll peruse ; And then, perhaps, you'll not refuse The favour which I ask to grant, And give the money that I want ; The draft is good and, on my word, It was a present from a Lord." MERCHANT. [fear, " That may be true : but Lords, I Will meet but little credit here : IN SEARCH OF THE PICTUSESQUE. 69 'Tis a fair draft upon the view- Tea ! he's a Lord bat who are you ?" SYNTAX. " Look, and an honest man you'll A Doctor in Divinity, [see, Whose word's his bond ; nor e'er was known To do a deed he would not own." MI K( HAM. " Fve nought to say all this may But have you no security ? [be Pray, Doctor, can't you find a friend To answer for what you pretend ?" SYNTAX. "No, I have none! I am not known Within the precincts of this town." MERCHANT. " And do you come to Liverpool To find a poor good-natur'd fool P With all your learning and your worth, Pray have you travell'd so far north, To think we have so little wit, As by such biters to be bit P To learning we make no pretence : But, Doctor, we have common sense. For learned men we do not seek : And if I may with freedom speak, I take you for a very Greek." SYNTAX. " To know the Greek I do profess 'Tig my delight and happiness ; And Homer's page I oft have read, Through the long night, with aching When my wife wanted me in bed." MERCHANT. " Then go to Homer, if you will, And see if he'll discount your bill. But the clock strikes, Good bye, old Sinner 1 'Tis time for me to go to dinner." " You want the monies !" said an- other, A bearded, Israelitish brother. '"Tis a suspected bill, I find ; But you look poor, and I am kind. Well, we must take the chance of trade ; For twenty pounds the draft is made: It is too much, as I'm alive, But give it me and, here, take five." "Patience, good Heaven I" the Doctor said; [trade! "Is this the boast and pride of Each man, they do not know, to treat As an incorrigible cheat ; And, when he does his want prefer, To play the base extortioner P Commerce, I envy not thy gains, Thy hard-corn' d wealth, thy golden pains, [with ease, (For that's hard-earn'd, though gain'd Where Honour's sacred functions cease). The dangers which thy vof ries run, Or to undo, or be undone ; Whose hungry maws are daily bent On the fine feast of cent per cent ; Whose virtue, talents, knowledge, health, [wealth. Are all combin'd in that word Tis a proud scene of monoy'd strife Forms this magnificence of life : Hut poor and rich, with all they have, Will find at length a common grave. Continue, bounteous Heav'n ! to me, A feeling heart, and poverty. These wights despise me, 'cause I'm poor! But yet the wretched seek my door I I fear no Duns, I'm not in debt, I tremble not at the Gazette : 'Twould to my profit be, and fame, Did but its page display my name ; DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Can these proud merchants say the same ?" More he had said but now his bell The Beadle rang aloud, to tell That the good folks should vanish straight, As he must shut the pond'rous gate. But Syntax did not seem to hear So the man rang it in his ear. SYNTAX. " I pray, my friend, what's all this rout With your fierce beU ?" BEADLE. " To ring you out." SYNTAX. " I've been used to hear the din Of bells that always rang me in." BEADLE. " All I've to say, for you to know, I'll shut the gate if you don't go. I sure shall leave you in the lurch, For now, good Sir, you're not at church." SYNTAX. "Indeed, my friend, you speak most true : I know all that as well as you. This is no temple ; for 'tis clear I find no money-changers here : Nor will I say my mind conceives It may be call'd a den of thieves. Howe'er, I'll quit these sons of pelf, And keep my paper to myself : They shall no more at Syntax scoff; Grizzle and I will soon be off. Thanks to my stars, I've got enough Of that same yellow, useful stuff, As will my ev'ry want befriend, And bear me to my journey's end. Arriv'd in town, my noble Lord, Will welcome me to bed and board ; When it will make his Lordship sport, As I these trading tricks report ; How near I was the being cheated ; And how his ancient name was treated." CANTO XX. r T > HUS as he spoke, there pass'd I along, Among the crowding, grinning throng, One who was in full fashion drest, In coat of blue and corded vest, And seem'd superior to the rest. His small- clothes sat so close and tight ; His boots, like jet, were black and bright, [steel, While the gilt spur, well-arm'd with Is seen to shine on either heel. Loaded with seals, and all bespangled, A watch-chain from his pocket dangled ; His hat a smiling face o'erspread, And almost hid his well-cropp'd head : He swung his whip about to greet His friends who hurried through the street ; When, as he pass'd all big with rage, Syntax appear'd upon the stage, And still continued talking loud For the amusement of the crowd. The well-dress'd man now stopp'd, to know What work'd the angry Doctor BO ; And, in a pleasant friendly way, Demanded where his grievance lay ; IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. "When, Syntax bowing, on they walk'd, And thus the social strangers talk'd. SYNTAX. " These traders, Sir, I can't admire : You, I presume, Sir, are a 'Squire." MR* ' "I have (and here there pass'd an oath), To say the truth, a spice of both : For now you have within your view A trader and a 'Squire too. Here I can some importance claim, And i is my well known name, Nay, there are few within this town Of more substantial renown. My house of trade is in this street ; A few miles off my country seat : Where I most frequently reside 'Mid all the charms of rural pride ; And I'll be if e'er you see A Lord who better lives than me." SYNTAX. " Fie, fie, good Sir, I cannot bear To hear a fellow-christian swear ; You must well know such profanation Is a foul trick in ev'ry station ; And will draw down celestial ire, Or on a trader, or a 'Squire : Nay, 'tis the duty of my cloth, Whene'er I hear, to check an oath. I'm a poor Parson very poor I keep a school, and hold a cure ; But when I'm in the parish church, Or when at home I wield the birch, I know the dignities that wait pon the power of either state ; I keep them always in my view Aye, Sir, and I maintain them too : Nay, in your 'Change, where riches reign, I did that dignity maintain ; In that proud place, where, I am told, There sometimes pour down showers of gold : But not like that we read of Jove, For that, you know, was pour'd for And nothing like it did I see ; [love : Nor love, nor e'en civility : I only ask'd a common grace, When the man mock'd me to my face : Had I an arrant swindler been, He could not with more scornful mien Have my polite proposal greeted : Indeed, I was most foully treated ; And by this dolt was made a joke Among the rude surrounding folk. Thus was I work'd into a stew, By Turk, by Gentile, and by Jew : How bless'd am I to meet with you ! For know, Sir, I've the art to scan The well-bred, finish'd gentleman ; And, therefore, I shall lay before you Some items of my honest story. The object of the Tour I make Is chiefly for the profit sake ; At the same time, I trust my name May find some literary fame : You, if you please, may take a look At what I've finished of my Book : A noble Peer doth condescend To be my patron, and my friend : I saw him late in York's fair county, And was the object of his bounty. This draft, with most becoming grace, The smile of goodness in his face, He soft convey'd unto my touch, He said, indeed, it was not much ; But could I visit him in town, He'd make his further friendship known: And, here, alas ! I was so rash To try to get it chang'd for cash : For which, myself and this great Peer, Of these rude raffs, became the jeer. DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Permit me, Sir, to show the paper That made these purse-proud trades- men vapour : To its full value you'll accord ; Perhaps, Sir, you may know my Lord." ME. " I know him well, 'tis his hand- writing It is his Lordship's own inditing : I'll give the coin : Why, blood and 'ounds ! I wish 'twere for five hundred pounds ! He is a Lord of great discerning : His friendship proves your store of learning ; [birth, He's not more known for ancient Than for the charm of private worth ; For all that elegance and grace "Which decorates a noble race ; Come here with me, and you shall find At least one trader to your mind." Syntax now smooth'd his angry look, [Book. And straight prepar'd to show his In a fine room he soon was seated ; With all attention he was treated ; And while they at their luncheon sat, Ten minutes pass'd in friendly chat. At length the bus'ness was arrang'd, The deed was done, the draft was chang'd ; And, as the Doctor plac'd his note In a small pouch within his coat, "There," said the 'Squire, "there's another : I've match'd it with its very brother, The Bank of England is their mother ; And when they're offer' d to her eye, She'll own them as her progeny. So tell my Lord, that I, for one, Am proud to do as he has done : Nor is this all, my learned friend ; Here our acquaintance must not end: My carriage and my servants wait, All in due order at the gate : So you shall go along and see My rural hospitality. For a few days we will contrive To keep our spirits all alive ; I'll send a groom to fetch your mare, So laugh at thought and banish care." Thus off they went and four-in-hand , Dash'd briskly tow'rds the promis'd land: Syntax first told his simple story, And then the 'Squire detail' d his glory. MK. " Now we're away in chaise-and- four, I am a Merchant, Sir, no more, At least, whene'er I thus retire, To flourish as a country 'Squire ; And you will see how I prepare An opiate for mercantile care. In learned labours some proceed, But I prepare the racing steed : Some to Ambition's heights ascend ; I to the Racing-course attend : In study I ne'er wander far ; Mine is the Racing Calendar. While with keen eye the Heralds see The long-trac'd line of ancestry, Give me a Horse's pedigree. Others some pow'rful station boast ; But let me gain the winning post. It may be sweet with babes to play, But I prefer the Filly's neigh. You talk of men of wit and parts, Of the deep sciences and arts ; Give me the science that will teach The knowing-one to over-reach : And, as for pictures and such things, Which taste from foreign countries brings; A brood-mare, in maternal pride, With a colt trotting by her side, IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 73 Is to my eye more pleasing far Than Hero in triumphant car, Or sea-born Venus weeping o'er Adonis, wounded by a boar." SYNTAX. "These points, good Sir, I can't discuss ; I know no steed but Pegasus." MR. [horse "Cut off his wings, I've got a Shall run him o'er the Beacon Course : And, though Apollo should bestride him, [him." I'll back my horse for I will ride Thus as he spoke, a row of trees, Which a full age had felt the breeze, And half that time, at least, had made A long cathedral aisle of shade, Appear'd in view, and mark'd the road Which led to this brave 'Squire's abode, Whose stately chambers soon possest The Doctor as a welcome guest. The dinner came a sumptuous treat ; Nor did the Parson fail to eat In the same way he us'd to do As much as any other two. The cakes he munch'd the wine he quaffd, His tale he told the Ladies laugh'd ; And thus the merry moments pass'd, Till cap and slippers came at last. At length his balmy slumbers o*er, Morn smil'd, as it had smil'd before, And as, without our care or pain, It will not fail to smile again ; When Syntax, having proved as able At breakfast, as at dinner table, Begg'd leave, with due respect, to say He must pursue his anxious way. " No," said the 'Squire, "before you g, I shall my 'stud of racers show." So off they went ; from stall to stall He show'd the steeds, and nam'd them all; Describ'd their beauty and their birth ; Their well-earn' d fame and golden worth: The various feats they all had done, With plates which they had lost and won. At length the astonish'd 'Squire saw Poor Grizzle to her girths in straw. " That, Sir," said Syntax, " is my steed; But though I can't detail her breed, I sure can tell what she has won Those scars by Frenchman's sabre done. I cannot brag what she has cost ; But you may see what she has lost." " Where," said the 'Squire, " are her ears P" [shears ; Quoth Syntax, "You must ask the And now, perhaps, her switchy tail Hangs on a barn-door, from a nail !" The Doctor then began to state Poor Grizzle's character and fate. " Who was her dam, or who her sire, I care not," says the merry 'Squire : " But well I know, and you shall see, Who will her noble husband be ; Yon fam'd grey horse, of Arab birth, A princely steed, of nameless worth." " The mateh is very grand indeed," Says Syntax, " but it won't succeed ; Our household is not form'd to breed. My dearest Dorothy and I Have never had a progeny : Our fortune has more wisely carv'd ; Had she born babes they must have starv'd ; What should we do with such dear elves, [selves 1" Who scarce know how to keep our- 74 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR "I'll hear no more," the 'Squire replied ; [tried, "The scheme shall be this moment Grizzle shall he young Match'em's You are a very worthy man, [bride. And may the depths of learning scan ; But in these things you're quite a dolt; You'll get a hundred for the colt. I'll have my whim it shall be car- ried :" [ried. So Grizzle was that morning mar- And now the 'Squire invites the stay Of Syntax for another day. [send " Your mare," he said, " we'll onward Ty'd to the London waggon's end : "When she's got forty miles, or more, We'll follow in a chaise-and-four : At the Dun Cow, upon the road, Grizzle shall safely be bestow'd ; And there, my friend, or soon or late, Her master's coming may await : You'll neither lose nor time nor space Your way I'm going to a race, "Where I've a famous horse to run ; And if you do not like the fun, "Why you may then proceed to town With my best wishes that renown And profit may your labours crown. To-morrow, by the close of day, We shall find Grizzle on the way." ' ' Just as you please," the Doctor said : " Your kind commands shall be obey'd ; I think myself supremely bless'd By noble minds to be caress'd : The kind protection you impart Pours oil of gladness on my heart." The Ladies now desir'd to see His journey's pictur'd history : The book he show'd, which prov'd a bribe For those kind fair ones to subscribe ; And, while they felt the gen'rous pleasure Of adding to his growing treasure, The 'Squire to keep the joke alive, Had bade his stable folk contrive, Ere the good Doctor's grizzle -mare Was given to the carrier's care ; Ere on her voyage she set sail, To furnish her with ears and tail. Grizzle was soon a crop no more, As she had been some weeks before ; Nor was it long before her stump Felt all the honours of the rump : And thus equipp'd with specious art, She pac'd behind the carrier's cart. Their breakfast done, the following day, [away ; The 'Squire and Syntax bounc'd And, ere the sun had set at eve, The Dun Cow did the sage receive ; Where Grizzle, her day's journey o'er, Had a short time arriv'd before. Syntax now felt a strong desire, To smoke his pipe by kitchen fire, Where many a country neighbour sat, Nor did he fail to join the chat ; When, having supp'd and drank his And silence seeming to prevail, [ale, He slowly from his pocket took, His trav'lling memorandum book ; And, as he turn'd the pages o'er, Revolving on their curious lore, Th' exciseman, a right village sage, (For he could cast accounts and gage,) Spoke for the rest who would be proud To hear his Rev'rence read aloud. He bow'd assent, and straight began To state what beauty is in man ; Or on the surface of the earth, Or what finds, in its entrails, birth : With all things in their due degrees, That live in air or love the seas ; IN SEARCH OF THE PICTURESQUE. 75 In all the trees and plants that grow, In all the various flowers that blow ; Of all things in the realms of nature, Of senseless forms, or living creature : In short he thus profess'd to show, Through all the vast expanse below, From what concenter'd state of things The varying form of beauty springs. But, as he read, though full of grace, Though strong expression mark'd his face, Though his feet struck the sounding floor, And his voice thunder'd through the door, Each hearer as th' infection crept O'er his numb'd sense, unconscious slept I One dropp'd his pipe another snor'd, His bed of down an oaken board : The cobbler yawn'd, then sunk to rest, His chin reclining on his breast : All slept at length but Tom and Sue, For they had something else to do. Syntax heard nothing ; the enraptur'd elf Saw and heard nothing but himself: But, when a swineherd's bugle sounded, [founded, The Doctor then amaz'd con- Beheld the death-like scene about him ; [him, And, thinking it was form'd to flout He frown'd disdain then struck his head, Caught up a light, and rush'd to bed. CANTO XXI. O LEEP, to the virtuous ever kind, Soon hush'd the Doctor's turbid mind, [dew, And, when the morning shed its He 'rose his journey to pursue. Of tea and toast he took his nil, Then told the Host to bring the bill ; But when it came, it made him stare To see some curious items there. 41 Go tell your Ostler to appear ; 1 wish to see the fellow here." The Ostler now before him stands, And bows his head, and rubs his hands. " In this same bill, my friend, I see You're witty on my mare and me : For all your corn, and beans, and hay, 'Tis a fair charge which I shall pay : But here a strange demand appears 4 For cleaning of her tail and ears !' Now know, my lad, if this be done On me to play your vulgar fun, (For ears and tail my mare has none,) I'll make this angry horse-whip crack In all directions on your back." The man deny'd all ill intent ; He knew not what his Rev*rence meant. So thought it best to say no more, But bring up Grizzle to the door. Of painted canvas were her ears ; Upon her stump a tail appears ; So chang'd she was, so gay, so smart, Deck'd out with so much curious art, That even Syntax hardly dare To claim his metamorphos'd mare. He said no more he knew the joke Was not the sport of vulgar folk ; ' So trotted off and kindly lent i His smile to aid the merriment. 7 6 DOCTOR SYNTAX'S TOUR Now, as his journey he pursu'd, He thus broke forth in solemn mood : " Though time draws on when those at home Expect that I should cease to roam, (Though I have objects in my view Which are of great importance too,) Yet, as this is the day of rest Appointed both for man and beast, To the first church I will repair, And pay my solemn duties there." Thus as he spoke, a village chime Denoted it was service time : And soon a ruddy Curate came, To whom he gravely told his name, His rank, and literary fame ; And said as he'd been us'd to teaching, He'd give him half an hour's preach- ing. This was accepted with a smile, And they both strutted up the aisle ; When, in due time, and with due grace, Syntax display'd his preaching face. And in bold tones, though somewhat hoarse, He gave the following discourse : " The subject I shall now rehearse, Is JOB the fifth, the seventh verse : " ' As sparks rise upwards to the sky So man is born to misery.' " This is a truth we all can tell ; In ev'ry state we know it well : The infant in his cradle lies, And marks his trouble as he cries : From his young eyes the water flow, The emblems of his future woe : His cheeks the varying scenes display That mark a changeful April day : Symbols of joy and hope appear, And now a smile, and then a tear. The years of puling childhood o'er, The nurse's care he knows no more : To learning's discipline resign'd, The Tutor forms his early mind ; And hopes and fears alternate rise In all their strange varieties. How oft, disdainful of restraint, His voice lifts up the loud complaint, While stern correction's pow'rful law Keep's the young urchin-mind in awe, And some dark cloud for ever low'rs, To shade his bright and playful hours. Nor, when fair Reason's steady ray Begins to light Life's early day ; Though the thick mistitinstant clears, It dries not up the source of tears ; Nay, 'tis its office, as we know, Sometimes to make those tears to flow. For now the Passions will impart Their impulse to th' unconscious heart ; Will mingle in Youth's ardent hours, And plant the thorns amid theflow'rs ; While Fancy, in its various guise, With plumage of a thousand dyes, Flits round the mind in wanton play, To bear each serious thought away. The Pleasures seldom tempt in vain To join their gay, deluding train ; Courting the easy hearts to stray From Reason's path, and Wisdom's way. And oh I how oft the senses cloy With what is call'd the height of Joy! While pale Repentance comes at last, To execrate the Pleasure past ! At length to finish'd manhood grown, The world receives him as its own. Life's active busy scenes engage Each moment of maturer age : Here Pleasure courts him to her bow'rs, Where serpents lurk beneath the flow'rs. f 5 ; ' I >< *#