'M^Mmmmm

 
 BATH CHARACTERS; 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. 
 
 nulled t>y T. 1MV1SU.N, 
 Whitefriart.
 
 (T<Tlee ifitt $atb twites bte 
 
 ; fetfcee,* ^ 
 
 Waide * Ro1im.-.
 
 Characters: 
 
 OR 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. 
 
 BY PETER PAUL PALLET. 
 
 WITH SOME OMISSIONS, 
 
 AND 
 
 MANY ADDITIONS. 
 
 THE THIRD EDITION; 
 EDITED BY TIMOTHY GOOSEQUILL, 
 
 NEPHEW OF THE DECEASED AUTHOR. 
 
 " Let the gall'd jade wince; 
 Our withers are unwrung." 
 
 Stat nominis umbra. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR G. WILKIE AND J. ROBINSON, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1808.
 
 EXTRACT 
 
 FROM THE REGISTRY OF THE CONSISTORIAL PRE- 
 ROGATIVE COURT OF CANTERBURY. 
 
 Codicil to the Will of Zachary Goosequill, late of Grub- 
 Street, St. Giles's, author deceased. 
 
 WHEREAS by my last will and Testa- 
 ment, bearing date the 1 st of April last, 
 (a day of the year in which I have always 
 been accustomed to commence my literary 
 works, and to transact matters of moment 
 and importance,) I have given and be- 
 queathed all my goods, chattels, and cre- 
 dits, consisting, 1st, of the furniture of 
 the garret which I inhabit in Grub-Street, 
 St. Giles's ; 2dly, of the arrears that shall 
 or may be due to me at the time of my de- 
 cease, from the weekly allowance made to 
 me by the booksellers, to whose behoof I 
 
 2038618
 
 VI 
 
 have engaged my talents, as long as I shall 
 live; and Sdly, of my chest of MS. pa- 
 pers, to my loving nephew Timothy Goose- 
 quill, of Petticoat Lane, journeyman-printer j 
 now I do hereby declare, that the said be- 
 quest is not an absolute one, but subject 
 to his performance of the conditions here- 
 after specified ; that is to say, Imprimis, 
 That he faithfully discharge all such of my 
 funeral expences as cannot be included 
 within the allowance made by the parish 
 for my interment. 2dly, That he honestly 
 liquidate any of my debts that may re- 
 main unpaid at the time of my decease ; 
 and which cannot be great or numerous, 
 as no one, save Tom Treacle the chandler, 
 has given me credit, since my removal 
 from the attic to the garret in which I at 
 present reside ; and Sdly, That as soon as 
 conveniently may be after my decease, he 
 publish the third edition of the Bath Cha- 
 racters, a work which I printed last year, 
 under the fictitious name of Peter Paul 
 Pallet, and which he will find in my chest 
 aforesaid prepared for the press, augment-
 
 VI 1 
 
 ed by all such notes and illustrations as I 
 have collected during my long indisposi- 
 tion ; together with any additions he may 
 be capable of making to the same, provi- 
 ded they be such, as will not diminish aught 
 from the merit and reputation of the origi- 
 nal work. And that he may be the better 
 enabled to make such creditable additions 
 to it, I give and bequeath to the said Ti- 
 mothy Goosequill, my full-hot torrid wig, 
 in which, for these twenty years pastel 
 have visited my employers the booksellers, 
 and appeared at the literary table in the 
 cyder-cellar, hoping that the use of it may 
 impart to my said nephew a little of the 
 genius and learning, which its curls have 
 been accustomed to encircle. And lastly, 
 I give and bequeath to the said Timothy 
 Goosequill my silver ink-stand, the gift 
 of my loving grandfather, (and lately 
 rescued from the fangs of the pawnbroker,) 
 trusting, that as often as he dips his pen 
 therein, he will be reminded of the honest 
 labours of his uncle, who preferred a gar- 
 ret, and the cause of truth and virtue, to
 
 VllJ 
 
 purple, fine linen, and daily sumptuous 
 fare, and the prostitution of his talents, 
 in the service of humbug and vice. And 
 it is my earnest and last request to my 
 said dear nephew, that he will more espe- 
 cially direct the powers of the before-men- 
 tioned wig and ink-stand to the correction 
 of the city of Bath, which offers such an 
 ample field for satire and reprehension, and 
 never cease endeavouring the reformation 
 or its manners, till he have effected the 
 following consummations most devoutly 
 to be wished ; viz. cured Ramrod of his 
 solemn foppery, and Rattle of his bare-faced 
 impudence; taught Mrs. Vehicle a little 
 modesty, and infused into Sir Gregory 
 Croaker a scruple of diffidence; purged 
 Signora Rattana of her vanity and affecta- 
 tion, and cleansed Bow-wow from indecen- 
 cy and scurrility; inspired Sir Clerical 
 Orange with a grain of humility, and divest- 
 ed Sour-crout of peevishness and sarcasm ; 
 instructed Borecat in Latin syntax, and 
 stripped Mixum of medical humbug. That 
 my said nephew can effect any reformation
 
 IX 
 
 iii the remaining characters I have no 
 hope ; and therefore I do not make it a 
 condition of this my codicil, or even urge 
 it as my request that he should exhaust 
 his time and labour in endeavouring to at- 
 tain the following impossible objects, viz. 
 to inspire Chip with a sense of decency; to 
 cure Drawcansir of pride, pomp, and bigot- 
 ry, purify Gaffer Smut from the filth of 
 the JVarburtonian school, and teach him 
 candor, chanty, and beneficence; to break 
 Morose of swearing and Scotch snuff; Ve- 
 getable of card-playing, and servility to 
 the great; Sable of democracy and long ser- 
 mons ; and Skipper of petulance, conceit, 
 and Calvinism.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE THIRD EDITION 
 
 ABOUT fifteen years ago, Mr. K , 
 
 of Jezvish fame, published a pamphlet, in 
 answer to Thomas Paine* s celebrated work, 
 called the Rights of Man. The pamphlet, 
 if the title-page might be credited, had 
 experienced an astonishing sale; for no 
 less than tzcelve editions of it appeared, by 
 this manifesto, to have already gone off. 
 Extensive, however, as this circulation 
 must have been, the work did not seem to 
 have attracted any degree of public no- 
 tice, till it became the subject of a law- 
 suit; Type the printer, versus K the 
 
 author. The defendant, more ready to
 
 Xll 
 
 write than to pay, (a case not uncommon 
 with the fraternity of authors) had de- 
 murred most unwisely and unfortunately 
 to the bill of plaintiff, who, probably con- 
 sidering the former as in his power, by the 
 lie in the title-page, had scored him up 
 somewhat too largely for paper and print- 
 ing. Type, on this, arrested the author 
 for the amount of his demand, but, no- 
 thing astounded by so common an event, 
 
 K put in bail, and defended the suit. 
 
 The cause, after the regular, simple, and 
 speedy process of declaration and plea, 
 replication and rejoinder, rebutter and sur- 
 rebutter, motion for deferring trial, &c. 
 &c. &c. came on for determination in the 
 Court of King's Bench, when, after a most 
 admirable opening by Mr. P 1, into " the 
 palpable obscure" of which it was impos- 
 sible for the jury to penetrate; an eloquent 
 
 defence by the honourable Mr. E- , 
 
 which drew tears from the court, (particu- 
 larly that part of his address where he 
 talked so much and so feelingly about 
 himself,) and an honest and impartial sum-
 
 xiii 
 
 ming up by the chief justice, (to which 
 alone the pannel was indebted for any idea 
 of the cause) a verdict was given for the 
 plaintiff, for the whole of the damages. 
 And what dost thou think, gentle reader, 
 the enormous sum amounted to ? 
 
 Tzvelve pounds, fifteen shillings, and four- 
 pence, for the paper and printing of 250 
 copies of the pamphlet in question, being the 
 whole number that had ever been printed of 
 this famous work, which ran through thirteen 
 editions ! ! ! 
 
 Now, reader, lest thou shouldst think 
 that this common trick of the profession 
 has been played off in the present in- 
 stance, I hereby most gravely assure thee, 
 and I call as a witness of my veracity, 
 the literary goddess Minerva, the pa- 
 troness of ancient writers, or (as perchance 
 thou mayest be better acquainted with 
 her) the solemn goddess of dulness, the 
 no less benign inspirer of modern authors, 
 that two large impressions of the following 
 work have already been consumed by the 
 taste, discernment, and curiosity of the
 
 XIV 
 
 public ; and that the present is a veritable 
 third edition, of a work, which I have no 
 doubt will run through as many impressions, 
 as the celebrated almanacks of the astrolo- 
 gical Dr. Moore, or the accurate Mr. Par- 
 tridge. Indeed, as the characters deli- 
 neated in it appear, for the most part, to 
 be resolutely determined against all refor- 
 mation, it will never cease to possess that 
 point and application, which must always 
 ensure popularity to a work of satire; at 
 least as long as its heroes and heroines 
 shall be permitted to continue their career 
 of folly, humbug, and farce, in the great 
 " Limbo of vanity," wherein they at pre- 
 sent make so conspicuous a figure. The 
 very circumstance, too, of these ladies 
 and gentlemen railing at, and preaching 
 against* the work, must inevitably con- 
 
 * Many efforts were made, as I have been informed, 
 by Drawcansir and Vegetable, to preach down the " Bath 
 Characters" and its author) and their pulpits rang for 
 several Sundays after the appearance of the second edi- 
 tion of the book, with affecting discourses on such sub- 
 jects as the ninth commandment, <{ Judge not, and thou
 
 XV 
 
 tinue to give it currency and renown ; 
 though it will in no degree lessen their 
 ingratitude to its author, who has kindly 
 put into the mouth of each, more wit, hu- 
 mour, and learning, than all of them to- 
 gether possess. But every day confirms 
 the truth of the old Greek adage ; 
 
 A/// 
 
 " No sooner is the favor conferred, than the sense of it 
 perishes." 
 
 With respect to my share in the merit of 
 the following sheets, I honestly confess 
 that it is confined to the additipu of a few 
 
 shalt not be judged/' &c. &c. The seraphic Doctor (as 
 the schoolmen called Thomas Aquinas) had commenced 
 an elaborate series of discourses, to prove not only that 
 all scandal, satire, drollery, &c. was very wicked, but 
 that all nice attention to the practices and conduct of 
 our neighbour should be prohibited. His glorious ca- 
 reer, however, was checked by a second visit from Lady 
 Lofty, who suggested that these doctrines were not the 
 most agreeable ones to the ears of his fashionable audi- 
 tors ; as they evidently trenched upon the undoubted 
 privileges of well-bred people, that of chatting scandal 
 of their bosom-friends, and cutting up the reputations of 
 their acquaintance and neighbours.
 
 XVI 
 
 notes, and the omission of some characters, 
 which (though painted to the life) are too 
 horrible to be brought forward in a work 
 intended for general perusal. 
 
 London, June 1st, 1808.
 
 POETICAL INVOCATION 
 
 TWO MASTERS OF THE CEREMONIES AT 
 BATH. 
 
 MONARCHS of etiquette! to whom pertain 
 Sport's glorious rule, and Folly's sacred reign j 
 The proud pre-eminence o'er Fashions crew, 
 Flirts, fops, and coxcombs, beauties old and new j 
 Whose jiat, uncontroulable, can bid 
 The ball's conclusion, tho' the dance amid, 
 And, by the power of the magic watch*, 
 The sprightly sons of capering can catch 
 E'en in the act of springing from thejloor, 
 And bid them capers cut that night no more j 
 Rulers of Tweedle-dum, and Tweedle-dee ! 
 On whose behest depends the hour of tea-, 
 
 * The mode of announcing the fatal hour at which the ball is 
 to conclude at the upper and lower rooms, is, by the M. CX'g 
 holding vp kif watch; when, in a moment, as if the Gorgon's head 
 had been exhibited, every fiddler's arm is arrested, and no furlhtr 
 rtrps taken for the evening. 
 

 
 XV111 
 
 Whose varied sway extends o'er cap and hat, 
 Now orders this, and now prohibits that* ; 
 Commands the lappet\ gracefully to flow 
 From females fine who tread the minuets slow ; 
 And bids, when these are o'er, the troops advance 
 To mingle in the mazy country-dance ; 
 To whom belong the ceaseless, simp'ring smile, 
 The well-bred compliment, devoid of guile; 
 The pliant bow; the ready He ! he ! he ! 
 And all the forms of Bath civility; 
 The soft kid-glove ; the thickly-powder'd crest ; 
 The bright medallion flaming on the breast ; 
 Depending, decent, from the button-hole, 
 With emblems designating high controulj j 
 Protect an humble scribbler, who pursues 
 With timid footstep, j4nstey's\\ deathless muse $ 
 
 * The difference between the dress and fancy balls, as they are 
 called, seems to be this, that at the former, ladies can appear only 
 in particular chalking, at the latter in any cloathing, or none at all, 
 
 f On the benefit nights of the M. C., when the ladies are in- 
 dulged with minuets, such females as wish the distinguished 
 honor of this exhibition, add, to the other decorations of their 
 well-furnished heads, a pair of long laffets. 
 
 % The gold medallion for the M. C. of the upper, rooms dis- 
 plays on one side the figure of Minerva, symbolical of the Wisdom 
 requisite for the office ; with the inscriptions, Decus el lulamen, 
 (signifying his 'being the fountain of honor and guardian of the 
 fair) and Dulce est desipere in loco, or, the rooms are proper places to 
 play the fool in. The medallion worn by the M. C. of the lower 
 rooms, has on the obverse, a Venus almost naked, with the motto, 
 yenus decens, alluding to the degree ofcloat/dng which will be consi- 
 dered as consistent with modesty. 
 
 || The witty author of the New Bath Gvidt.
 
 XIX 
 
 For once regard a poet-aster's call, 
 And smile benign on your admirer Paul. 
 
 But let me individually address 
 With homage due each single mightiness; 
 Nor group such lofty characters together, 
 Like asses coupled with the self -same tether ; 
 Or surly beagles, snarling at the chain 
 That binds, with single link, their collars twain. 
 
 First then, to thou, whose widely-sweeping rule 
 Includes Bath's crimson seats* , and Chelt'nam's humbler 
 
 stool\, 
 
 I lift my lay, thou second lest of kings 1 
 Reigning supreme o'er cold and tepid springs; 
 Presiding, with a kind divided care, 
 O'er female motions here, and female motions there ! 
 
 And thou, who in subordinate career, 
 Direct'st, with equal glory, pleasure's lower sphere ; 
 Ordering, with self-same gravity of face, 
 Th' important points of partners, tune, and place; 
 Whose busy eye, the acth'efeet among, 
 Now tells that this is right, and that is wrong : 
 Who go'st, when Cancer reigns, from Bladud's pomps, 
 To watch, at Margate, ladies wash their . : 
 
 * Alluding to the superb furniture of the up'per rooms, 
 f I am inclined to think that a droll double entendre lies conceal- 
 ed in this word. My uncle was a funny man : he had been at 
 Cheltenham, experienced the efficacy of its waters himself, and 
 seen their influence upon others ; and his mind was full of asso- 
 ciations, produced there by the impressions which had been made 
 upon his different semes by the effects of these salutary springs. 
 
 EDITOR. 
 c2
 
 Moaarcfis of aH tliat's great, andoiV, aiwt/<rov 
 
 Oh ! singly and united, hear my pray'r E 
 
 Complacent on my learned labours look - T 
 
 Bid all your subjects purchase Palkt's book ;. 
 
 Protect its pages from each envious storm,, 
 
 And PATRONIZE THE CHARACTEESYEFORMr
 
 PROCEMIUM, 
 
 TO THE FIRST EDITION- 
 
 READER, 
 
 WE have discovered in our profound 
 literary researches that in attacking folly 
 and vice, ridicule is oftentimes a more use- 
 ful instrument than grave reprehension: 
 
 Ridiculum acri 
 Forties et melius magnas plerumque secatjes^ 
 
 and that the lash of satire will penetrate to 
 the feelings of those whom the most serious 
 remonstrances would not put to the blush. 
 Frequent sojournments in Bath have 
 convinced us, there is no place within the 
 dominions of our liege Lord the King, which 
 so much requires the application of such a 
 caustic, as this populous city; where vanity 
 reigns triumphant; and folly, humbug, and
 
 XX11 
 
 imposture, carry their heads too high to be 
 reached by any other weapon than the shaft 
 of ridicule. 
 
 This conviction has induced us to vo- 
 lunteer our services in the cause, and 
 prompted an endeavour to encourage virtue, 
 by raising the laugh against her adversary. 
 It has emboldened us, to commit, for the 
 first time*, our effusions to the press; and 
 
 * I know not whether it proceeded from the innate 
 modesty of my uncle, who was in truth a very diffident 
 man, or from his fear of encountering the critics in 
 propria persona ; but so it happened, that all the publi- 
 cations with which he favored the world (and, as his pro- 
 fession and sole dependence was authorship, they must 
 have been numerous to have supplied him even with salt 
 and cheese) were dismissed from the press under fict it ious 
 names, and with some little circumstances in the preface, 
 that might interest the compassion of the reader ; such 
 as, " that \tvfash\sjirst effort in print;" that rr he was com- 
 pelled to publish by the intreaty of his friends, &c. &c." 
 Asurly critic might call this proceeding disingenuous; and 
 accuse my relation of a falsity in his first pages. But I 
 will be bold to say, if his Exordiums contained an untruth, 
 they were the only parts of his works to which that 
 charge might be applied; as he scorned the common 
 practice of modern writers in this respect, poets, his- 
 torians, and biographers, that of stuffing every page with
 
 xxiii 
 
 to send them out as adventurers upon the 
 stormy ocean of the world. Not, indeed, 
 without a palpitating heart; for we have 
 often been ready to condemn the rashness 
 of our determination; and to exclaim with 
 the foolish Corydon, 
 
 Eheu! quid volui misero mihi ? Floribus austrum 
 Perditus, et liquidis immisi fontibus apros. 
 
 But as we had entered into a creditable 
 service, and resolved to challenge the same 
 honor which Cleland attributes to Pope, 
 "not to write a line of any man, which 
 through gUilt, through shame, or through 
 fear, through variety of fortune, or change 
 of interest, we should be ever unwilling to 
 own," so we have been able to conquer our 
 alarms, and to present our virgin muse (if 
 there be one whose tutelage extends to 
 dialogues), intacta puella, to the public. 
 Far be it from us, therefore, to deprecate 
 candid criticism, or to crave aught at the 
 hands of the reviewers, save justice seasoned 
 
 sentiments that never were feltj transactions that never 
 happened; and events that never occurred. EDITOR.
 
 XXIV 
 
 with mercy. Against one set of censors only 
 we beg leave to put in our eternal protest 
 the wretched hirelings of the A i J n 
 Review, who have neither sagacity to de- 
 tect blemishes, taste to discover beauties, 
 nor liberality to bestow the fair meed of 
 praise on any writer whose principles are 
 not in unison with their own mean, con- 
 fined, and despicable opinions*. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Though we cannot venture to assert with 
 a great wit, " that the sentiments of our 
 speakers are so peculiar, and the touches of 
 character so masterly, as to preclude the 
 necessity of a key;" yet we flatter ourselves 
 that our sketches bear such a resemblance 
 
 * How offensive is truth to those who have no taste 
 for her charms ! Even this just representation of the 
 publication in question, and its conductors, so inflamed 
 the indignation of the A J reviewers, as to destroy the 
 little good-breeding they possessed, and excite them to 
 give my uncle the lie! But he, good man, only smiled at 
 their incivility, and contented himself with the reflection 
 that the abuse of such men, is the most unqualified praise. 
 
 EDITOR.
 
 XXV 
 
 to their originals, as will enable the reader, 
 without much consideration, to put the cap 
 upon its right owner throughout. Should 
 the likenesses, however, prove less striking 
 to others than to ourselves, we beg that this 
 ill-success of the painter may not be attri- 
 buted to our having accompanied the por- 
 traits with circumstances which do not 
 belong to them ; as we pledge ourselves, 
 that almost every anecdote is legitimately 
 connected with the person of whom it is 
 told, and that most of the incidents intro- 
 duced are genuine facts. 
 
 London, November 1st, 1807.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 Ecce iterum Crispinus. 
 
 IF Peter Paul Pallet were to profess 
 himself otherwise than exceedingly de- 
 lighted at the demand for a second Edition 
 of his Dialogues, he would justly incur the 
 suspicion of having been longer and mofe 
 deeply initiated into the mysteries of author- 
 ship than he affirms himself to be ; and 
 of having acquired that ultimate trick of 
 the profession, 
 
 That last, best refuge of an author's art* j 
 
 an apparent contempt of criticism, whilst its 
 infliction produces the most poignant an- 
 guish; and a seeming indifference about the 
 
 * " That last infirmity of noble minds." 
 
 MILTON.
 
 XXVlll 
 
 fate, of a book, which its writer would give 
 a little finger to hear had become popular, 
 and met with a good sale. 
 
 As Peter however is too great a novice 
 in the triumphs and sorrows of publication, 
 either to feel, or affect an apathy, which 
 nothing but veteran experience can pro- 
 duce, he does not scruple to avow his satis- 
 faction at the success of his first essay, nor 
 to congratulate himself on his having ex- 
 cited that attention in the Bath public, 
 which his correspondents there assure him 
 has been manifested. 
 
 That the Dialogues should have occa- 
 sioned much indignation and bustle in the 
 high-life parties, amongst those things of 
 fashion which throng the more elevated 
 walks of polished society, and disgrace and 
 deform it by their folly and their vice, is 
 indeed a consummation which Peter de- 
 voutly wished; though his modesty (for a 
 young author may be supposed capable of 
 possessing even this quality) would not 
 permit him to expect it. The canvas was 
 intended to present likenesses that should
 
 XXIX 
 
 abash pride, and mortify vanity; and it is 
 no small gratification to the painter, to dis- 
 cover that he has not, in this respect^ 
 failed in his design. The whip was merited; 
 and, " thanks to the gods, its thong has 
 done its duty." But, on the other hand, 
 though he exults in the information that 
 vice and imposture, coxcombs of both 
 sexes, and vain pretenders of all professions, 
 have felt the severity of his satire, yet 
 nothing would have given him more serious 
 uneasiness, than to have been obliged to 
 consider himself as having, in any one 
 instance, put virtue to the blush, or wound- 
 ed, in the slightest degree, the feelings of 
 honest worth. Unknown as Peter is to 
 every one, and the sole depositary of his 
 own secret, he may venture, without the 
 imputation of vanity, to assert *, that he 
 has too true a taste for the charms of moral 
 beauty, in whatever characters they appear, 
 
 * If I am a vain man, my gratification lies within a 
 narrow circle j I am the sole depositary of my own 
 secret, and it shall perish with me. 
 
 JUNIUS.
 
 XXX 
 
 ever to contemplate them without admira- 
 tion, or mention them without respect ; 
 and rather than dip his brush in the gall of 
 unmerited censure, or the poison of slander, 
 he would instantly throw it from him for 
 ever. He deeply feels the sentiment of 
 the poet, and cordially joins in his exe- 
 cration of every attack upon moral ex- 
 cellence ; 
 
 " Curs'd be the verse, how well soe'er it flow, 
 Which tends to make one VIRTUOUS MAN my foe." 
 
 If it be thought that he has been too 
 hard on the callings of divinity and physic, 
 let it be remembered, that as these voca- 
 tions are more fully peopled than the other 
 walks of professional life, they therefore 
 present a proportionably greater number of 
 subjects for the application of the satyrist's 
 caustic. The EXEMPLARY DIVINE, and 
 
 the SKILFUL, HONEST, AND HUMANE PHY- 
 SICIAN (and many such may be found in 
 Bath), are, and always have been, sacred 
 and honorable characters, and justly con- 
 sidered, not only as beneficial, but as es,-
 
 XXXI 
 
 seiitially necessary to society; characters 
 too respectable to be exalted by the eulogy 
 of an anonymous author, or rendered ridi- 
 culous by his satire. They carry them- 
 selves far above the reach of the light 
 arrows of wit, and may smile at every vain 
 attempt to diminish their credit or lower 
 their dignity. But not so with the HOCUS 
 POCUS of these professions. The scourge 
 will easily reach them, and they ought .to 
 smart under its infliction. They have no 
 claim to the mercy of the satyrist; nor can 
 they,' bid defiance to his ridicule, because 
 their pretensions are false, and their object 
 is delusion : for as neither POMP nor PRIDE, 
 BIGOTRY nor PROFLIGACY, can constitute 
 the -AMTMJIN IEPET2 or blameless priest; 
 so it is neither DASHING IGNORANCE, nor 
 
 SOLEMN IMPUDENCE ', a WCC bit of SCOTCH 
 
 PHELOSOPHEE; a smattering of HUME'S 
 METAPHYSICS, nor even a large portion of 
 MODERN INFIDELITY, that can convert a 
 stupid, or pert empiric, into an HPH2 
 MAXAflN or excellent medical practitioner*. 
 
 * The author is anxious, also, that it may not be 
 thought he means to ridicule the praise-worthy exertions
 
 XXX11 
 
 Which, in spite of scholiasts and editors, 
 critics and grammarians, he will boldly 
 translate, 
 
 " A good physician is the best of men." 
 
 of modest industry, in any profession or department, by 
 any strokes of satire which occur in the following dia- 
 logues. Men raising themselves from a subordinate to 
 a higher station in society, by a steady attention to the 
 duties of their post in life, are exemplary characters, and 
 will always command the respect and esteem of the good 
 and wise. Neither is it a reproach to any one, that he 
 has not been endowed with the higher gifts of the mind, 
 nor blessed with the advantages of a liberal education ; 
 it is only when success produces insolence that it deserves 
 castigation j when ignorance is pert that it becomes dis 
 gusting j and when dulness assumes importance, that it 
 holds itself out a fair mark for the shaft of ridicule.
 
 POETICAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 SCENE. 
 
 THE PUMP-ROOM. 
 
 Enter the Batk Characters. 
 
 ' 
 
 RAMROD. 
 
 LADIES and gemmen, you're aware 
 Of what has caus'd our meeting here. 
 
 A scribbler vile, with saucy quill, 
 Whose satires eighty pages fill, 
 Has dar'd, with TON to play the fool; 
 And turn'd our sports to ridicule. 
 
 Say then what punishment shall fall 
 On him who has abus'd us all ? 
 
 But that due CEREMONIES may 
 Mark the proceedings of the day, 
 I take the liberty to state, 
 A PRESIDENT should regulate 
 The agitations of debate; 
 d
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Anil beg SIR GREGORY to name, 
 As duly gifted for the same. 
 All. The vote we second, and declare 
 Sir GREGORY must take the chair. 
 
 SIR GREGORY. 
 
 Excuse me, sirs, the envied sitting, 
 You'll find one more the chair befitting. 
 Let Mr. Rattle take it first. 
 Well, if I MUST submit, I MUST. 
 
 RATTLE. 
 
 
 All, Mr. Chairman, I've to say, 
 Is, LAUGH and be LAUGH'D at, that's my way. 
 The dog is droll ; his jokes are true, 
 Tho' he's attack'd both me and you. 
 Then let us join the general roar, 
 And soon of PAUL you'll hear no more. 
 
 MRS. VEHICLE. 
 
 I can't approve of RATTLE'S notion j 
 Nor (spite of sex) REFRAIN a MOTION. 
 Had PAUL steer'd clear of CARDS and PLAY, 
 My vote had been as mild as May ; 
 But since he talks so much of TRICKS, 
 I think he should be drown'd in Styx. 
 To little BUFO of the crescent, 
 The book I sent, by way of present :
 
 XXXV 
 
 And begg'd, for Heaven's sake, he'd try 
 Its reputation to descry*. 
 The pigmy hero hurried down 
 Like light'ning to the lower town, 
 And told, in fury, as he posted, 
 How cruelly his friends were roasted. 
 " Tis wretched Billingsgate," he said j 
 But spite of all the book was read. 
 " Tis most determined defamation:" 
 This only urg'd it's circulation. 
 In LETTKRf then I begg'd he'd hint it : 
 But nobody, alas ! would print it. 
 Since, then, our art's of no avail 
 To crush the book, or spoil it's sale ; 
 The sentence I've pronounc'd should fall 
 On it's most wicked AUTHOR, 
 
 * Many unjustifiable measures were adopted for this purpose, 
 but they all failed of success, as J;he present third edition suffi- 
 ciently testifieth. Repeated provocations will at length stir up 
 the most forbearing spirit, and the persecutors of my work may 
 excite even my inild temper to indignation, and induce me, by 
 their persisting in a course of ungenerous hostility, to change 
 my mode of castigation ; to take a icalping-tnife in the room of a 
 razor, and fay instead of shaving. 
 
 f An anonymous letter, addressed by the pigmy hero to the 
 printer of a Bath Weekly Journal, .containing the monstrous 
 proposition that a work of light satire deserved the judicial cen- 
 sure of the magistracy of the city, was likely to incur the ne- 
 glect and contempt it met with : surely the waiter of it had fop- 
 gotten, that he every week makes it part of his petition that the 
 MAGISTBATES should MAINTAIN (not oppose) the TRUTH. 
 
 d2
 
 .1 
 
 XXXVI 
 SlGNORA RlTTANA. 
 
 Dear madam, surely you're too tender 
 Of such a rude and low offender. 
 I'd tear the wretch's eyes out quite, 
 With vision gone, he'd cease to write, 
 Nor more distinguish- betwixt RED and WHITE 
 
 LADY NETTLE. 
 
 Oh ! for a good sharp cobler's AWL, 
 To PIERCE this persecuting PAUL ! 
 Or Lady's corking-PiN, as large 
 And long, as mast of trading barge j 
 I'd introduce it AT His TAIL, 
 And on it's point the wretch impale. 
 
 SIR CLERICAL ORANGE*. 
 
 Pardon me, ladies, if I raise 
 Objections to your several ways j 
 All modern modes of punishment 
 Are far too mild for his intent. 
 In ancient manuscripts I read 
 That Marsyas alive wasjlay'd. 
 Be this the sentence then, I vote, 
 " To skin him quite from toe to throat j 
 " And, the more torture to produce, 
 " To rub him o'er with LEMON juice." 
 
 * This is a profound antiquary and learned clerk, famous far 
 his intimate acquaintance (if ygu will believe himself) with ancient 
 and modern great gun.
 
 XXXV11 
 
 LADY LOFTY. 
 
 Pray, ladies,, let the reptile dash on, 
 Nor discompose us STARS OF FASHION; 
 We soar above such low-bred elves, 
 For we GIVE LAW UNTO OURSELVES: 
 And disregard the musty rules 
 That bind the minds of vulgar fools. 
 Say, GENTLE DOCTOR, am I right 
 To view the case in such a light ? 
 
 DR. VEGETABLE. 
 
 Might lasting silence seal my tongue, 
 Could it pronounce YOUR LA'SHIP WRONG 1 . 
 No ! in your humble servant's eye, 
 RANK is INFALLIBILITY. 
 
 
 DR. FADDLE; 
 
 A truce with civil protestation, 
 And mind the culprit's accusation. 
 
 The blackguard fancies he's been witty, 
 With DOCTORS, WHELPS, and SPERMACETI. 
 Could we but once in MORTAR fix him, 
 Wouldn't you POUND him, neighbour MrxuM ? 
 
 MIXUM. 
 
 Oh ! should the caitiff chance to pop 
 His head into OUR LITTLE SHOP, 
 With PILL and PURGE I'd soon be at him, 
 And teach him, that without his LATIN,
 
 XXXV111 
 
 1 could administer a DOSE, 
 
 Should soon his merry labours close. 
 
 THE REV. MR. CHIP. 
 
 P x take your doses, drugs, and pills, 
 
 Promoters, more than cures of ills: 
 
 They'd only the curs'd varlet teize^ 
 
 And not eradicate disease. 
 
 For of all maladies (which you delight in, 1 
 
 Because they bring the frequent doit in) 
 
 There's none so bad, as itch of writing. ) 
 
 No ! hand him over to the church, 
 
 And he sha'n't leave us in the lurch. 
 
 We'll properly the Pagan handle, 
 
 And curse him, "with bell, book, and candle*." 
 
 Scoundrel! with sacrilegious eye,- 
 
 To peer into the sanctuary, ^ 
 
 And what he saw behind the veil 
 
 To fabricate into a tale; 
 
 And then expose, in satire pointed, 
 
 The merry tricks of the anointed. 
 
 Did he not know (a stupid beast !) 
 
 The privileges of a priest. 
 
 How, in those blessed Romish times, 
 
 When natural failings were no crimes, 
 
 The parson, tho' a wife forbidden, 
 
 (For reasons that are better hidden) 
 
 Might, like a modern Turkish beau, 
 
 Maintain a -whole seraglio \. 
 
 * Alluding to the ancient ecclesiastical mode of anathema, 
 f It is unnecessary to remind the learned reader of the mon- 
 strous indulgences allowed to the clergy, in this particular,
 
 xxxix 
 
 He thinks, that noble game he's started, 
 
 Because I from my rib have parted, 
 
 And introduc'd, into her room, ' *j 
 
 Two fairer objects to my home. 
 
 The vulgar dog believes a wife 
 
 Must be a burthen for one's life : 
 
 Nor e'er has heard the well-bred cryy 
 
 " Marriage is but a civil tie, 
 
 " That may, \Vhen stale, at any time 
 
 " Be separated without crime.!' 
 
 Since then he's dared to attack the cloth, 
 
 And stained ecclesiastic worth, 
 
 I vote, for conduct so uncivil, 
 
 He strait be tumbl'd to the Devil. 
 
 What ! how now, Bow-wow ? rouze, and try 
 
 To speak for our fraternity. 
 
 Bow-wow. (Hiccups.) 
 
 I wish you'd tried this wicked sinner 
 An hour or two BEFORE MY DINNER. 
 I'd made a speech for the occasion, 
 
 A little FIVE-MINUTE ORATION: 
 
 But now (p x take the wine) I can't 
 Call back a single word I want. 
 Let SABLE then take up the ball, 
 He's GAB enough to serve us all. 
 
 SABLE. 
 
 Yes, chairman, and I think I've reason, 
 Tax'd as I am with PREACHING TREASON ; 
 
 during those centuries which are emphatically called the dark 
 
 '.
 
 xl 
 
 And, what's still worse (confound his tongue) 
 In SERMONS of an HOUR long. 
 
 Would I could meet him, he should try 
 The FORCE of my DIVINITY. 
 I'd dye him quickly to MY hue, 
 And beat him BLACK, as well as blue. 
 
 What tho' the PAGAN dare to quizz 
 My Sable melancholic phizzj 
 What tho' he impudently cry, 
 " Dick preaches foul DEMOCRACY ; 
 " And forces luckless, loyal sinners, 
 " To hear his rant, and spoil their dinners :" 
 On the broad basis I'll rely 
 
 Of "GENUINE CHRISTIANITY." 
 
 Tho' " PLEASURE" still retain her sway, 
 And routes increase from day to day j 
 Tho' still resound " WAR'S" brazen notes, 
 And peaceful cits still wear red coats; 
 Tho' still the nation yearly get 
 A fresh addition to its " DEBT ;" 
 In spite of all my ill-success 
 Such crying evils to redress, 
 I'll still attack with honest rage, 
 The "REIGNING VICES" of the age*. 
 
 But pray, amid this general stir, 
 What says the LAMB-LIKE DRAWCANSIR? 
 
 DRAWCANSIR. 
 
 Oh! for an INQUISITION FIRE 
 To broil this most infernal liar. 
 
 See W r's occasional Sermons.
 
 xli 
 
 YOU GAFFER SMUT should blow the BELLOWS; 
 
 Whilst those two active LITTLE FELLOWS 
 
 The GEMINI, I'd place to guard him, 
 
 And now and then to TURN and LARD him.- 
 
 I! build a CHURCH to SAVE the POOR! 
 And keep an ALM'S-BOX at my door! 
 "Tis false as HELL : my ZEAL I shew 
 In better ways than these, I trow : 
 For, whilst a METHODIST'S alive, 
 And SECTS and MEETING-HOUSES thrive, 
 My thoughts are all employ 'd,. I own, 
 To KNOCK one up, and t'other DOWN. 
 
 Trio. GAFFER SMUT, AND THE GEMINI. 
 
 Whate'er your HOLYNESS should say 
 We'd execute without delay. 
 Proud of zt PATRON so NOTORIOUS; 
 For ZEAL and ORTHODOXY glorious, 
 We'd glad fulfil what you've decreed, 
 Without expecting other MEED, 
 Than, what would all our toil beguile, 
 The favor of your HEAVENLY SMILE. 
 
 COUNSELLOR MOROSE. 
 
 D n n seize ye all for fools! 
 The iron strike before it cools: 
 Drag the dog up to NISI PRIUS, 
 Or, d n him, but he'll roast and fry us. 
 The public think his satire good; 
 And he'll not stop, G d d n his blood,
 
 xlii 
 
 Unless with LATITAT we fright him j 
 Or, what is better still, INDICT HIM. 
 
 DR. SKIPPER. 
 
 Come, come, old CRUSTY, don't be rough: 
 Paul has flogged NONE of you ENOUGH. 
 Yet ALL I see have felt his hits, 
 And hate the CAP, because it FITS. 
 I like his satire for my part, 
 And wish him well with all my heartj 
 Because his arrows he lets fly 
 Only at VICE and VANITY. 
 Let him omit the CATS and EGGS, 
 And HOGSHEAD underneath my legsj 
 With two or three such trifles more ; 
 The market-place, and play-house door * ; 
 
 * Extract from the Bath Herald of Friday, 13th Nov. 1807 
 " Dn. SKIPPER accquaints the author of the BATH CHARACTERS, 
 that he has not stuck to truth always, as he promised in his pre- 
 face. Ridicule is no test of truth; though ridicule sometimes 
 opposes superstition and enthusiasm more forcibly than solid 
 argument. The Doctor is obliged to him for bringing him for- 
 ward as a powerful adversary to DRAWCANSIR; but he does not 
 tell truth when he says, ' he preached in public market-places in 
 Wilts and Somerset, and was pelted with dead cats, dogs, and 
 rotten eggs.' This he never did in the days of his greatest zeal- 
 He has indeed preached seven times a week, for three months to- 
 gether; and four times'a week for four years, at a chapel well known 
 in this city, and an hour at a time ; a good example to his bre- 
 thren, who preach only a quarter of an hour once a week! He 
 never stood near the playhouse, or the rooms, declaring to those 
 who entered it that it was the downward road; but he has ex- 
 horted his hearers not to go to those places of amusement. Here
 
 xliii 
 
 And spite of DRAWCANSIR and YOU, 
 I'll swear that all he says is TRUE. 
 
 he had the laws of God and man on his side; for those places, in 
 times past, might have been presented as illegal at quarter- 
 sessions, and put down; now, indeed, they are licenced; but 
 whether they have mended the morals of the people, Dr. SKIPPER 
 appeals to the judgment of such of his brethren as frequent such 
 places." 
 
 Chapel -Row, Nov. 12.
 
 DIALOGUE THE FIRST; 
 
 SCENE. 
 
 A PORTICO NEAR ALFRfiD STREET, BATH. 
 Enter Mr. Ramrod, and Tom Rattle. 
 
 Raffle. TOLL loll de roll loll de roll, loll 
 de roll loll. 
 
 Ramrod. Do my ears and eyes deceive 
 me, or is it my old friend Tom Rattle 
 whom I now address ? 
 
 Rat. The same in sober truth, my dear 
 Ramrod, " and your poor servant ever." 
 
 Ram. I protest the sight of your phizz 
 is quite a cordial to me ; a very ophthalmic ; 
 a cure for distempered vision. But pr*y- 
 thee, Tom, where hast thou concealed that 
 comical face of thiue for these last three
 
 years past; and from what region dost 
 thou now come ? 
 
 Rat. [sings] " Oh I've been td countries rare ; 
 Seen such sights 'twould mak* you stare." 
 
 I come, Ramrod, from rambles to which 
 the travels of the wandering Jew \vere but 
 a morning's lounge, and the journeying* 
 of the tempest-tostUlysses only an evening's 
 saunter Surfeited with fiddling and cas- 
 sino ; meagre petit soupees, and stupid fa- 
 mily-dinners; withMonday's lies, and every 
 day's scandal ; with Tragedy torn to rags, 
 and Comedy turned Billingsgate ; with po- 
 litical preachers, and preaching politicians; 
 with pert vanity, and impudent ignorance; 
 I turned my horses' heads, one morning 
 about three years ago, towards the moun- 
 tains of Wales ; with the determination to 
 breathe for a while a pure invigorating 
 aether, and to court the charms of unso- 
 phisticated nature, upon my jointure farms 
 in Glamorgan, and amongst the simple 
 tenantry who cultivate them.
 
 3 
 
 And have you slumbered ever 
 since, with the cattle of your pin-fold, and 
 the poultry of your farm-yard ? 
 
 Rat. Oh, no ! believe it not ; the dull 
 jokes of the vicar, and the stale news of 
 the apothecary, soon drove me from my 
 retreat. I escaped one morning from the 
 threatened persecution of these assassins of 
 all patience, who had anticipated my hos- 
 pitality, and invited themselves to dine with 
 me ; and crossing St. George's channel in a 
 cock-boat, at the hazard of my life, I land- 
 ed safely in my own dear country, which I 
 had not visited for almost half a century. 
 But oh, poor Milesia ! how wast thou chang- 
 ed in the interval? What with suckling 
 her mother on the other side of the water, 
 and being squeezed and milched by her 
 children at home, her landlords and parsons; 
 what with internal complaints which con- 
 vulsed her bowels, and external bruises 
 from the hands of her ungrateful parent, she 
 was so chop-fallen, woe-begone, and debi- 
 litated, that the very sight of her threw me 
 into a fit of the blue devils, and obliged 
 B 2
 
 me again to decamp, almost as soou M I 
 had set my foot on my native shore. 
 
 Ram. And whither did you bend your 
 Course, when you quitted our poor, dear, 
 unfortunate country? 
 
 Rat. "To SaM'ney's land I then repaired/' 
 and mortified my flesh for a few months 
 on oatmeal and haggis. But faugh ! my 
 olfactory nerves have scarcely yet been 
 purified from the mephitic effluvium of 
 " sweet Edinburgh oh 1" The laddies are, 
 however, upon the whole, a gude people ; 
 merry as crickets in spite of their pheh")' 
 phee; and abundantly hospitable, for you 
 are ever right welcome to their houses, if 
 your errand there be not to beg or borrow. 
 Their ceveleete too is proverbial, and every 
 one's spine is incurvated by continual 
 booing *, 
 
 * My uncle has here, I think, been rather too hard 
 upon a nation, which, in its moral character, as well as 
 in its 'natural scenery, presents much both to admire, 
 and to praise. Frequent opportunities of studying the 
 Scots, as individuals, and in their collective capacity, 
 have induced me to form a very different opinion of them
 
 Ram. Ha ! ha ! ha ! The same facetious 
 fellow as ever, I find. Tom Rattle to the 
 end of the chapter. But did your Scotch 
 expedition finish the ramble ? 
 
 to that which my venerable kinsman entertained. I 
 have full often witnessed their benevolence, and more 
 than once felt their kindness j and am compelled both 
 by observation and experience to declare, there is a great 
 deal amiable, estimable, and excellent in their character. 
 Where shall we find another people amongst whom lite- 
 rature is so generally diffused, religion so nationally re- 
 spected, and morality so universally practised, as by the 
 Scots. It is true their history, like the history of other 
 kingdoms, presents acts of public atrocity, and scenes 
 of national disgrace. They have disowned a Mary, and 
 betrayed a Charles ; but such eclipses of national glory 
 have been rare and transient ; and should be forgotten 
 In that blaze of fame which their love of liberty and 
 virtue throws round their public character. If Caledo- 
 nia produce the unseemly thistle, she can also boast her 
 tulips and her lilies } her gallant chiefs and her lovely 
 virgins : and let it never be forgotten, that though she 
 
 has given birth to a Lord V 1 M e, and an 
 
 old G e R e, yet she has made ample amends 
 
 to the world for this monstrous progeny, in the splendid 
 crowd of heroes, philosophers, historians, and poets, of 
 past and present tiroes, who hail her for a mother. 
 
 EDITOR.
 
 Jftat. Yes like Linco, in the song, tired 
 of wanderings that furnished me with no* 
 thing so pleasant as what I had left behind, 
 I resolved to return to my former quarters, 
 which, after all, " is the only place in the 
 world," as Quin used to say, " for an old 
 cock to go to roost in." Here I commenc- 
 ed my campaign about ten days ago ; and 
 have already made the tour of all that's to 
 be seen, save the dominions with which 
 you have been invested by the abdication, 
 of their former monarch. 
 
 Ram. Well : and what improvements do 
 you find to have taken place amongst us 
 {luring your absence? The CLUB* 
 
 * From some loose papers which I discovered at the 
 bottom of my uncle's chest, I have reason to apprehend, 
 he had meditated a distinct work on the havoc made on 
 the happiness of society, by these fashionable places of 
 resort ; or, as he strongly described them, " these as- 
 semblies of mingled knaves and fools." The papers 
 contain many excellent observations on that destruction 
 of conjugal felicity j those breaches of family-comfort ; 
 that ruin of domestic peace ; and that beggary of help- 
 less children, which so frequently result from gentlemen 
 attending these houses of 'public pillage ; as well as many
 
 Rat. Oh ! name it not for pity's sake 
 Nothing but long faces and empty pock- 
 interesting anecdotes to prove the truth of his observa- 
 tions, and an animating appeal to the magistracy of the 
 country to put in execution thoselaws against them, which 
 the wisdom of the legislature has provided for their sup- 
 pression. As the papers, however, are too voluminous, 
 and too unconnected to be here transcribed, I shall 
 merely insert two facts from them, which appear to 
 relate to the club in question. I remember, says my 
 uncle, some years ago, the chearful and amiable Hila- 
 rio, a generous West Indian, with a heart as warm as 
 his native sun. Seven children surrounded his table, 
 which was always crowned with plenty, and ever offered 
 a hearty welcome. A friend, in evil hour, persuaded 
 Hilario to accompany him to the club, that cave of 
 death. He played, and was successful. He went 
 again, and was again a winner. His attendance became 
 now regular ; and after the play of two seasons, he 
 found himself a ruined man, and was compelled to 
 quit his house and country ; to forego the fair hopes that 
 had opened upon his rising family j and retire to the 
 small portion of his West India estates, which an ad- 
 verse run of luck had left him, that he might by careful 
 industry and rigid frugality regain a small portion of 
 that wealth, of which he had robbed his children by his 
 folly and imprudence. Florio was gay and expensive, 
 and had already involved himself in debt by his dissipa- 
 tion, when he, too, by hii cawdxmon, was introduced to the
 
 ets- "a waste and howling wilderness," 
 naked as Eastern Prussia, and drained as 
 dry as Holland. Every rook pigeoned ; 
 and every knowing-one taken in. Lord 
 Patterboard had just paid his friends there 
 a visit, and introduced a new jerk of the 
 elbow of his own invention ; thrown six-ace 
 nine times running ; swept the table with 
 the rapidity of one of Buonaparte's marches ; 
 and set off again for London in his post* 
 chaise and four, carrying away in his pocket 
 eVery rouleau the house could muster. 
 
 Ram. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Diamond cut dia- 
 mond, with a vengeance. The NEW THEA 
 TRE, however, would not be so barren of 
 amusement to you. 
 
 dub. After two nights* amusement, the plunderers car- 
 ried off almost every shilling he possessed. He found, 
 means, indeed, to satisfy most of his debts of honour, 
 but his just creditors clamoured in vain for payment. 
 Being a member of the senate, he was secure from ar- 
 rests till the dissolution of Parliament, when, not being 
 again returned, he found himself compelled to seek re 
 fuge in a foreign land from a host of debtors, to which 
 his ill fortune at the club will for ever prevent him fronj| 
 doing justice.
 
 9 
 
 Rat. Worse and worse, a very Fanto- 
 pini. Punch and his puppets in a gilded 
 shew-box. With all these attractions, how- 
 ever, it was " desolate as the dwelling of 
 Morna;" but though I caught an ague 
 from the damp solitude of the place, I 
 could not help applauding the taste of your 
 townsmen, for leaving this royal company 
 of comedians to my exclusive entertainment. 
 Oh! sacred spirit of Henderson! andthou, 
 laughter-moving shade of the elder Edwin, 
 whose talents were unfolded on the then 
 genial stage of Bath! how would rising 
 choler convert your own ambrosia into 
 bile, could ye behold your buskin and your 
 sock usurped by pigmies, and degraded by 
 buffoons; old women sporting Euphrasias; 
 and pert misses personating tragedy queens! 
 I mean to suggest to the manager, who 
 have wisely chosen the immortal Mr. 
 jlockton for their model, to get up a 
 tragedy, with kittens for the Dramatis 
 Persona; and to engage the merryandrews 
 of all the neighbouring mountebanks, 
 for the fighter pieces brought forward
 
 at their houses. In pure vexation of 
 spirit at my disappointment, I oscillated 
 from the play-house to the church, and 
 have run the gauntlet through all the public 
 places of this description in the city. 
 
 Ram. With equal edification and en- 
 tertainment, I doubt not. Here I think 
 \ve can boast 
 
 Rat. Oh! in truth, a great deal that 
 could not be found elsewhere Croaking' 
 ravens; chattering jays; and devouring 
 cormorants Black-headed fanatics, and 
 white-headed " dreamers of dreams." The 
 aqua-fortis of mob politics; and the mawk- 
 ish slip-slop of modern divinity. Rank 
 Cayenne-pepper, and, genuine powder of 
 post. No, Jack; in this too, as in every 
 thing else, you are on the descent; 
 
 parentum pejor avis tulit 
 Nos nequiores, mox daturos 
 Pi-ogeniem vitiosiorem. 
 
 'Twas bad enough in former days : 
 Tis worse now, ten times over. 
 
 If the next race don't mend their ways, 
 No one will bear their bother.
 
 11 
 
 Ram. A melancholy picture indeed of 
 our present state and future prospects. 
 But your old favourites the jair, would 
 make amends for the decline of every thing 
 else amongst us. 
 
 Rat. You say right, Jack: all my favo- 
 rites, now, are old. Hinc illce lachrymce : 
 hence this long face. Grey hairs, my friend, 
 maugre high spirits, are powerful non elec- 
 tricks; bad conductors of the subtle flame. 
 No; I must be content to sing, with one 
 of Ossian's heroes, " Gone is my strength 
 in the war, and fallen my pride amongst 
 women." There was a time, indeed, when 
 I made a figure with the sex, and could 
 select from my list of conquests a fair 
 specimen of every degree of rank, from 
 the duchess to the spouse of the squire. 
 But -fuimus Jack ! all my credit for suc- 
 cessful gallantry has been extinguished, and 
 my ardour in the chase been gradually 
 evaporating, ever since that very unseason- 
 able phlebotomical operation, which was per- 
 formed upon me by Dick Merryman, some 
 years ago. A little Linnet, you know, was 
 the subject of our dispute. We went out
 
 to settle it; he pinked my doublet as full 
 of holes as a school-girl's sampler, and 
 completed my obligations to him by carry- 
 ing off the bird to his own nest. But, d n 
 it, don't make me melancholy by recalling 
 past grievances to my recollection. I'd 
 fain turn to gayer subjects; and, in the 
 first place, congratulate you, Jack, on 
 your translation from the nether to the 
 higher sphere from the nadir to the 
 zenith; from the Cercle le Bas, to the Cercle 
 de la 'Haute; from the ill- dressed squabs, 
 and old-fashioned quizzes of the lower 
 town, to the jewelled dowagers, and naked 
 beauties of the upper regions. All hail ! 
 thou worthy successor of a long list of 
 kings, extend ing from old Bladud to thyself 
 inclusive. May'st thou rival the immortal 
 Nash in popularity; and may thy reign 
 surpass in fame, splendor, and profit (which 
 though last, is not least, I presume, in your 
 estimation) the most prosperous of the 
 august princes who have swayed before 
 thee the imperial sceptre of Bath. Oh! 
 how I envy thee the smiles of the misses.
 
 13 
 
 and the good word of their mammas. Oh! 
 how delightful must be 
 
 Ram. Fair and softly, my dear Tom! 
 This is not the first time that your fancy 
 has played the fool with your reason; and 
 your imagination left poor reality in the 
 back ground. All is not gold that glitters, 
 Rattle. 'Tis true, 
 
 " I am monarch of all I survey; 
 My right there is none to dispute:" 
 
 but, alas! I, like other sovereigns, find 
 that the lap of dignity is not " a bed of 
 roses," nor royal power the path to ease 
 and peace. Besides, my kingdom is an 
 elective one; with revenues entirely de- 
 pending on the pleasure of a turbulent and 
 dissatisfied people. It is held, too, on the 
 terms of a complete accommodation to the 
 public will; and I am every moment liable 
 to deposition by a convention of the Tier 
 Etats. Our American campaigns, Tom, 
 were sport to the labours which are now 
 heaped upon my shoulders, by the return 
 of every season " Smiles of the misses,
 
 u 
 
 and good words of their mammas," for- 
 sooth Why, man, 'tis as much as I can 
 do to preserve myself from being some- 
 times tossed in a blanket by these caprici- 
 ous dames. If men happen not to be as 
 thick as hops; or, if they vote a back front 
 to thejire instead of dancing, the girls im- 
 mediately grow glumpy, and vent their 
 spleen on poor Pilgarlic. On the other 
 hand, should young miss, because she's as 
 ugly as a horse, or as clumsy as an elephant, 
 find no one so blind or good-natured as to 
 offer his hand for the evening, the mother 
 lays the blame on me; bridles up like a 
 turkey-cock, and protests / am the most 
 inattentive ill-bred wretch alive. Smiles 
 of the misses, indeed ! Why these little 
 devils are the greatest plagues I have. 
 They acquire such a cursed share of impu* 
 dence, amongst other advantages of a Bath 
 education, that 'tis only by the most des- 
 potic exercise of my kingly authority, I 
 can keep them in any degree of order : 
 I've tried to put them out of countenance* 
 but the devil himself could not do that, I
 
 15 
 
 believe. Aye, this comes of their children'* 
 balls as they are called, Tom; where from 
 eight to eighteen years of age, they are 
 brought out annually to be stared at, like 
 a horse at TattersaFs, or a picture at the 
 exhibition*. You see they are almost 
 
 * My uncle has not exaggerated in his account of 
 the havock produced on the natural diffidence of the 
 female character, by the children's balls of this elegant 
 city. Two or three years ago, a family party were 
 amongst the large crowd that assembled at Sidney 
 gardens, on the morning of a public breakfast. In the 
 general bustle of the place, the daughter of this worthy 
 citizen and his wife, a fine girl of twelve years old, had 
 separated from her anxious parents, and was not to be 
 found. After searching for her for some time, they ob- 
 served a large circle gathered round the orchestra : fear- 
 ful that some accident had happened to their darling, 
 and that this might be the scene of it, they hurried to 
 the place, and forcing themselves through the crowd, 
 they beheld, to their astonishment and confusion, the 
 young lady herself, footing away to the music (in the 
 midst of the applauding circle), with the utmost sang" 
 froid t the very figure-dance which she had exhibited at 
 the upper-rooms on the preceding evening. My uncle, 
 it seems, had always entertained a strong antipathy to a 
 Bath education for females ; in which phrase, he did not 
 include the mere routine of the scholastic discipline, but
 
 16 
 
 as naked as Titian's Venus. The 
 mlse and petticoat have been long dis- 
 
 that introduction into life, as it is called, which makes a 
 part of this system : in other words, the initiation of 
 young ladies into fashionable company, expensive 
 gaities, and public dissipation, at a time of life when 
 their passions are most uncontroulable, and their judg- 
 ment most weak ; a plan, which, in his opinion, wa 
 fraught with the most fatal consequences to the female 
 character. It cannot be denied, indeed, that the manners 
 of the place, which facilitate, in an unexampled degree, 
 the intercourse between the sexes j the variety, spirit, 
 and uninterrupted recurrence of its amusements ; and 
 the circumstance of diversion being the occupation of 
 every one's time, and the subject of every one's conver- 
 ation, in this great temple of pleasure, combine to 
 endanger a girl's principles, destroy her delicacy, efface 
 her modesty, weaken her morals, and render her every 
 thing she ought not to be. That these were almost the 
 necessary effects produced on females, even by a tem- 
 porary sojournment (much more by a regular education) 
 in the place, unless under the careful eye of cautious and 
 well-principled parents, was deeply impressed upon my 
 uncle's mind; a conviction, which, the following anec- 
 dote, to which he was eye-witness, assisted, probably, 
 to strengthen. A few years ago a particular friend of 
 his, who had made and saved a large fortune in Cheap- 
 side, by industry and parsimony, was advised to send his 
 wife, a great invalid, to Baih, for the benefit of its waters.
 
 17 
 
 carded; and the most decently dressed 
 amongst them, can't boast of more than 
 half a dozen yards of muslin to cover her. 
 
 Sophia, their only child, accompanied her mother iij 
 the expedition. The beHs were rung on their arrival; 
 the cards of the masters of the ceremonies were left j 
 and, after a few days of repose, Miss Lutestring was 
 taken to the ball. A worthy knight of Tipperary, 
 having ascertained her birth, parentage and education j 
 present possessions, and future expectations, solicited her 
 hand for the evening, under the sanction of an intro- 
 duction by his friend, the master of the medallion. Miss 
 granted his request, and was delighted with her partner. 
 Tuesday morning he met her on the Crescent Promenade, 
 and begged to attend her in the evening at the play. 
 The concert on Wednesday evening afforded him another 
 interesting interview. She could not miss the cotillion 
 ballon. Thursday; nor be absent from the dress bull, at 
 the Lower Rooms, on Friday. As all tht, world would be 
 at the play on Saturday, Miss Lutestring must of course 
 attend it also; and the Grand Chapel on Sunday, the 
 very hot-bed of assignations, afforded the attentive 
 Hibernian an admirable opportunity of another appoint- 
 ment. By this time he had made great progress in th 
 lady's affections; and Sophia began to be persuaded, 
 there could be no happiness but in the arms and dare 
 country of sir Murdoch O'Flam. In short, the pre- 
 liminaries of an elopement were adjusted, when my 
 uncle, who happened to be in Bath at thf time, and bad 
 C
 
 18 
 
 Rat. Aye, Jack, I do see 'em; and if I 
 hadn't ceased to blush ever since I was five 
 years old, my colour would rise at the 
 sight. It wasn't so when we were young. 
 The women then left something to the ima- 
 gination. Fancy was permitted to supply 
 a little; and a Bath ball-room didn't ex^ 
 hi bit the appearance of a butcher's sham- 
 bles, with nothing to be seen but naked 
 joints. D n it, I think it would be a 
 good plan to raise a fund by subscription, 
 in order to enable you monarchs of pleasure 
 to supply your subjects with clothes. 
 
 Ram. Why, man, they wou'dn't wear a 
 rag of 'em, if I were to import all the articles 
 of Mon mouth-street here. A worthy gentle- 
 man from the north of England, who 
 
 watched the proceedings of the gallant, dispatched an ex- 
 press to town, beseeching his friend, if he wished to save 
 his daughter from transportation, to come instantly to 
 Bath, and trundle her back to London. The affrighted 
 mercer immediately set off; heard the particulars of his 
 daughter's amour j and put her into a post-chaise for 
 Cheapside, on the very morning that sir Murdoch had 
 intended to have treated her with an excursion to Gretna- 
 green. EDITOR.
 
 19 
 
 shivered at the sight of so many unclothed 
 beauties, tried last season to work some 
 reformation in this respect; but without 
 any good effect. To be sure his plan for 
 the purpose was neither very delicate, nor 
 very likely to succeed. He marked those 
 who most nearly resembled Eve in her 
 state of innocence, and stealing slyly be- 
 hind them, distilled a little saliva upon their 
 uncovered backs. Zounds ! I thought 
 ' l chaos was come again," when the fair 
 ones felt the shower; and what increased 
 the confusion was, not a. pocket-handkerchief 
 could be found. 
 
 Rat. Why, what the devil had become 
 of them ? 
 
 Ram. Oh ! our female fashionables have 
 rejected these superfluities for more than a 
 year past. Some few, indeed, there are, 
 who do not yet entirely renounce them: 
 but, as they wear no pockets, they are obliged 
 toctfrn/them in their hands whilst walking; 
 arid most delicately to secure them when 
 sitting, under that part from whence they 
 can with least ease be stolen. In the gene- 
 c 2
 
 ral confusion that ensued in consequence 
 of the Scotchman's attack, the few pocket- 
 handkerchiefs possessed by the company 
 had been purloined ; and I was obliged, ex 
 officio, to supply the suffering fair ones with 
 iny own ball-night cambric one. But to go 
 on with the inconveniences and perplexi- 
 ties which my lately-acquired dignity has 
 accumulated upon me. All mistakes in 
 precedence are mortal sins ; to prevent 
 which, I am under the necessity of study- 
 ing the red-book daily for two or three 
 hours. Nor does this close my diurnal 
 labours. When I go out, I must know 
 every body; smile at every body; and bow 
 to every body, I meet; so that I suffer the 
 tortures of perpetual rheumatism in my 
 shoulder, from the incessant motion of my 
 hand to my hat; and find the utmost dif- 
 ficulty in preserving my military perpen- 
 dicularity from the innumerable obeisances 
 which my post demands from me. Oh! 
 that I were the inhabitant of a wig- warn, 
 and a hunter of beavers amongst the un-' 
 civilized Esquimeaux! Believe me, dear
 
 21 
 
 Tom, it would be a state of luxury and 
 ease compared with the severe services 
 which my present honors exact. But don't 
 you recollect some of your old cronies 
 amongst those who are coming in? 
 
 Rat. Yes, surely, Jack, a great many; 
 and none better than that tun of beauty, 
 dear Mrs. Vehicle, who is sailing up the 
 passage, supported like a nobleman's coat 
 of arms by her amiable sisters, the virtu- 
 ous widow on one side, and the angelic 
 Miss Speakplain on the other. By my 
 soul, the same roses play upon her cheeks 
 now that bloomed there three winters ago; 
 the natural tint of that identical patent 
 rouge which she has enamelled her face 
 with for these twenty years past. Her gait 
 and presence, too, are still the same Vera 
 incessu patuit Dea; she yet boasts the en- 
 chanting waddle of a Dutch Venus; and 
 the modest brow of a Tower-hill Diana. 
 Ah! Jack, would you but take a few les- 
 sons from my old friend, at the science of 
 shuffle and cut, you would not rise so fre- 
 quently from the board of' green tfoth as
 
 you now do, with pockets in which the 
 Devil might dance a saraband without in- 
 juring his shins against their contents 
 I have known her be so fortunate as to deal 
 four honours nine trumps to herself, three 
 times in the course of one rubber; and not 
 cut a higher card to her adversary than a 
 three, during the whole evening. Sensible 
 of her talents, and of the impropriety of 
 hiding them in a napkin, she chose Bath, 
 independence, and the profits of her own 
 good luck, in preference to a country par- 
 sonage, conjugal controul, and limited pin- 
 money. Her caro sposo meanwhile wisely 
 retired to his living; and now blesses him- 
 self on his escape from false deals, odd tricks, 
 and nothing by honours. 
 
 Ram. Why, Tom, thou art as unsparing 
 as an angry Mohawk. Do, for heaven's 
 sake, let me lay this spirit of satire, and 
 bring thee into good humour, by the sight 
 of something that shall unbend thy risible 
 muscles. 
 
 Rat. What! my little self-sufficient ac- 
 quaintance Sir Gregory Croaker; the inti-
 
 mate friend of Pshaw Allum (who, by the 
 bye, used him but scurclly in the end), and 
 perpttnal chairman of all the meetings into 
 which he can thrust himself. And pray 
 who so fit to manage the business of others, 
 as he who took such admirable care of his 
 own? I once attended a poor committee in 
 the times of scarcity, when this diffident 
 little gentleman had, as usual, with infinite 
 difficulty, been prevailed upon to accept the 
 office of president. " Order," cried he 
 in the voice of a frog afflicted with a cold 
 " Gentlemen, we are met for the purpose 
 of considering on the means of providing 
 the poor with a sufficient supply of a cer- 
 tain necessary article called bread. Now 
 I believe we must all be convinced that 
 the scarcity of this article arises from a 
 wicked monopoly of \vheat. But don't be 
 in too much hurry on the occasion. Evils 
 of this nature, as I am convinced by my 
 own experience, will cure themselves. All 
 we have to do in the business is to prevail 
 with the poor to act on the defensive, and 
 to fast for one short fortnight. The
 
 24 
 
 monopolist will take fright at the deadness 
 of the market, which this suspension of 
 consumption will induce. He must pour 
 in his stock, in order to get rid of it. The 
 price will tumble to nothing, and the poor 
 may then fall to, and fill themselves upon 
 their own terms." 
 
 Ram. A truce to anecdote for a moment, 
 whilst I direct your attention to the noblest 
 Tuscan pillar of our Irish church. 
 
 Rat. What, my jolly old crony, Doctor 
 Mixall; rosy as a ripe tomata, and round as 
 his own right orthodox wig; 
 
 " With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear 
 The weight of mightiest monarchies 1" 
 
 Awful and huge he treads the ground, like 
 one of Bruce's moving pillars of sand ! What 
 a dark and deep abyss he carries before 
 him ! the grave insatiate of turtle and tur- 
 bot; red mullet and John Dories; haunches 
 and pasties; claret, port, and home-brew 'd 
 ale! But his good-humour alone would 
 keep him at twenty stone, were he to cease
 
 larding himself for a month to come. Well, 
 peace betide thee, worthy, kind, facetious 
 Doctor. May thine appetite hold out 
 another half century ; and when at length 
 thou art united to thy parent earth, may 
 the turf lie lightly on thy stomach, 
 
 Tenuem et sine pondere terram 
 Spirantesque crocos et in Urna perpetuum verj 
 
 may'st thou melt gently into rich ma- 
 nure ; 
 
 ' And fat be the gander that feeds on thy grave." 
 
 Ram. Amen, I say with all my heart ; 
 for when he's gone " we ne'er shall see 
 his like again." But lower the tone of 
 thy voice, Tom, and soften thyself into 
 sighs and gentleness. Dost thou not see 
 who is approaching us ? 
 
 Rat. Ah ! the queen of love, by all 
 that's enchanting. 
 
 Where'er she turns, the graces homage pay. 
 With arms sublime that float upon the air, 
 In gliding state she wins her easy way :
 
 O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move 
 
 The bloom of young desire, and purple light of love." 
 
 And so they have clone, you'll tell me, for 
 these five and thirty years past; for so long 
 has the divine Signora Rattana been the 
 cynosure of Bath circles; the queen of 
 hearts and diamonds ; the patroness of solos, 
 duettos, trios, concertos, and full pieces ; 
 the rallying point of singers and fiddlers; 
 fluters and harpers; players upon the trum- 
 pet, sackbut, dulcimer, and all kinds oj 'in- 
 struments*. See with what sweet sere- 
 
 * This lady claims the high praise of being first upon 
 the list of those worthies, the generous patrons and patron- 
 esses of music, who have diffused a sort of harmonic mania 
 through Bath, and converted it into one grand orchestra. 
 Solfa la is how become the epidemic disease of the place; 
 insomuch that it is observed, that they who have breathed 
 its atmosphere for any time (like the unfortunate Abde- 
 rites, who, when once infected by the fever which Lucian 
 mentions, continued till the next winter, under the in- 
 fluence of a tragedy madness, atfa.vTe$ yap t; r/ja/yw&ay 
 jfa.pKivsvTo %f< e X t l J ' w '''-) become so impassioned 
 with the gamut, as to talk, think, and dream, as long as 
 they remain there, of nothing but concerts and musical
 
 nity of feature, with what unmoved tran- 
 quillity of muscle, she, swan-like, sails 
 
 pieces ; singing men and singing women ; the powers of 
 Signer Wiggonini ; and the dirine shake of Madame 
 Catsqualli. Had the taste of Rattana and her associates 
 in the cultivation of the ti-ti-dum science been pure and 
 correct enough to lead them to the encouragement of 
 that species of it (of which the works of the ancient 
 masters would have supplied both the theory and the 
 example) which elevates by its grandeur, and charms 
 by its simplicity, it had been well. They might then 
 have congratulated themselves in having given a manly 
 tune of character to a place which they have now con- 
 verted into a second fybaris, where the rumpled rose-leaf 
 is sufficient to disturb repose; and the noise of a hearty 
 laugh, to overpower the nerves, and produce hysterics. 
 My uncle, who reprobated in the strongest terms the 
 corruption of modern music, and like Plato, Aristoxe- 
 nus, and Plutarch of old, bitterly complained of it as the 
 copious fountain of national effeminacy, immorality, 
 and vice, had prepared a note on the subject amongst 
 bis papers, which probably was to have been introduced 
 into this edition of the Bath Characters. For what part 
 it was intended I know not ; but as it will dore-tail 
 very well into the present note, I will without further 
 ceremony incorporate it therein. " The power of mu- 
 sic, in forming, or at least influencing character, is uni- 
 versally observed ; and it is equally well known, that 
 the inordinate cultivation of this art has a tendency Jo
 
 along ! Ha ! ha ! ha! You know the cause, 
 Jack, I suppose, of this inflexible steadi- 
 
 degrade the individual, and corrupt, effeminate, and vi- 
 tiate even nations which are too much addicted to it. 
 These effects were sufficiently exemplified in ancient 
 Athens under the last periods of her history ; and are 
 now to be seen in modern Italy. It was from a con- 
 templation of this tendency of music to emasculate the 
 mind, and rob the character of its manliness and dig- 
 nity, that Plato banished it from his republic ; and the 
 ancient Egyptians prohibited it by their laws : uj$ av SK- 
 fyAvvKtrav ftvv atfyxv ^V^OLS, Diod. Sic. " because it con- 
 verted men into women." The frivolity of manners and 
 effeminate spirit of dissipation which characterize Bath, 
 may perhaps be traced to a similar cause j to that pas- 
 sion for music, that unexampled patronage of ihejidd!e- 
 stick, which renders this place the completest menagerie 
 in Europe, of performers on every musical instrument, 
 from the organ to the Jew's harp. Conversant, as I am, 
 with the folly of human nature, I have really been 
 struck with wonder to observe the sacrifices of time, 
 money, and good sense, that are here made at the shrine 
 of harmony. Of. en have I seen the health of young 
 people ruined, and their forms distorted, in acquiring a 
 longer shake in alt, or a quicker movement of the fin- 
 gers, than their equals in age and situation had attained, 
 whilst every species of mental improvement, and all ac- 
 quirements that could render them either useful or re- 
 spectable, were in the mean time wholly neglected or
 
 29 
 
 ness of face ? For gad, my boy, 'tis com- 
 pulsory : 
 
 " Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, 
 Compel" her to preserve this look demure. 
 
 A laugh would inevitably crack the enamel 
 of her face into fifty " chasms, dire, dis- 
 continuous;" and the gentle dew of tears 
 would dissolve (not the hearts of the be- 
 holders, but) the various dyes which be- 
 spread her countenance ; mingle them into 
 the most horrible confusion of tints; and 
 produce a complexion, unmatched by any 
 of the varieties of hues which are to be 
 found in either hemisphere. She was, 
 
 despised. As I was one day complimenting a" celebra- 
 ted military musical amateur in Bath on the execution 
 of one of his daughters on the piano-forte ; (< Yes," re- 
 plied he; "the girl certainly plays well j and indeed 
 she ought to do so, as she and her sister have, for these 
 last six years, practised seren hours every day." Strange, 
 thought I, that so large a portion of their lives should be 
 thrown away in acqniring an art, which, if they do not 
 marry, will soon cease to attract, and if they do, will be 
 speedily forgotten.
 
 30 
 
 however, once known to shed the precious 
 drops of sorrow, maugre the ruin of her 
 facial crust. A fit of the cholic had at- 
 tacked her lap-dog. "Send for Dr. Faddle 
 instantly," cried the distracted fair one. 
 " Oh, my dear doctor, I am ruined for 
 ever: behold the sick Fidel !" Faddle 
 [aside] : " Curse this little son of a bitch, 
 this is the second time I've been call'd out of 
 my bed to prescribe for him. Never dis- 
 tress yourself, my dear madam ; a purge 
 and a blister, a bleeding and clyster, a so- 
 lution of stlex, and a blast of phlogiston, 
 will again set all to rights." " Ah ! no, 
 doctor ; 'tis too late, I fear. Even your 
 skill is ineffectual. Behold the suffering 
 angel ! See, he struggles, kicks, and 
 oh, oh, oh !" Faddle [aside] : " Gad so, 
 I verily believe here's another of my pa- 
 tients gone. D me if I know how to 
 break the event to her. Here, water ; 
 hartshorn ; brandy ; aqua-fortis ! Look 
 up, I beseech you, my dear madam : be 
 comforted ; be composed, I have still 
 consolation in store for you. Believe me,
 
 31 
 
 it is not in vain that I have studied the ar- 
 cana of chemistry. Know, by its power, 
 madam, I can convert the departed Fidel 
 into a lump of spermaceti the chandler 
 will manufacture it into tapers and you 
 will thus have the happy opportunity of 
 lightening the gloom of affliction, whenever 
 its clouds shall overcast your mind." Ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! But do I not see the dear Mrs. 
 Broadbottorn coming towards us? She 
 seems in a most tempestuous state ; wlfat 
 can possibly have ruffled the customary 
 harmony of her spirits ? 
 
 Ram. Oh ! she's recounting to Mrs. 
 Tattle an adventure which befel her in my 
 headquarters here last week ; and converted 
 them into a scene of disorder that equall'd 
 the confusion of Virgil's cave of ^Eolus, or 
 Milton's realms " of chaos and ancient 
 night." Lady Nettle had secured a seat 
 for herself and her absent friend, which she 
 was carefully preserving by her petticoat 
 spread over the vacant corner of the bench. 
 Mrs. Broadbottom in the mean while, who 
 had been in all parts of the room fifty times
 
 in the course of the evening, tired with the 
 weight of her own charms (for you know 
 she is a Haerlem beauty), popped herself 
 suddenly into the reserved seat, in defiance 
 of the index of its being pre-engaged. 
 " Madam, I must beg you to rise," said 
 Lady Nettle; "this seat belongs to an- 
 other lady." " Madam, it was empty be- 
 fore I occupied it." " That may be, ma- 
 dam, but I am keeping it for my friend, 
 and insist upon your leaving it." (t Ma- 
 clam, I shall not relinquish that which is 
 mine by the law of possession." " Then 
 curse me, madam, but I'll dislodge you." 
 So saying, Lady Nettle plucked a pin from 
 her waist, and, quick as thought, lodged 
 it, hilt-high, \\\\.o .that part of Mrs. Broad- 
 bottom which had most offended, but which 
 being unprovided with the organs oj vision, 
 was unable to secure its soft and penetrable 
 surface from the dire attack. The injured 
 lady started up with the agility of a flea ; 
 screamed loudly ; and fell into a succes- 
 sion of faintings and hysterics : whilst the 
 company having examined .the uvund, and
 
 33 
 
 heard the aggression, formed themselves 
 into two different parties of pinners and 
 rumpers, and like the Guelphs and Ghibe- 
 lines of old, disputed the cause of their 
 respective heroines with so much noise, 
 acrimony, and violence, that it was with 
 the. utmost difficulty I could save my do- 
 minions from all the horrors of a civil war. 
 Rat. Ha ! ha ! ha ! I don't know, Jack, 
 which of the ladies had most justice on her 
 side ; but it's manifest that Lady Nettle was 
 the better logician of the two ; since she 
 had certainly taken the broadest ground 
 for her argument ; and enforced it by the 
 most pointed reasonings. It is not the first 
 dispute, indeed, that has been settled by 
 deductions a posteriori. But pr'ythee, dear 
 Jack, step a little on one side; or you'll 
 be involved in the atmosphere of Scotch 
 snuff that always floats around the serene, 
 benign, and sweet-featured countenance of 
 counsellor Morose, whom I see just coming 
 in. My last conversation with him, though 
 a short one, had well nigh occasioned my 
 death, from the convulsive sternutation 
 D
 
 which was produced by the cursed impal- 
 pable powder that he throws up his nostrils 
 by spoonfuls. " My dear friend," said I, 
 " I am happy to see you." " Fair and 
 softly, Mr. Rattle," replied he; "I have 
 been man and boy now for 70 years, and 
 yet I never met with any one who, in my 
 judgment, had a right to address me by 
 that title." And I firmly believe he spoke 
 the truth ; for, from infancy to age, he has 
 been like a porcupine, with a quill pointed 
 in every direction, and ready to be dis- 
 charged against any one who approached 
 him. His father begot him in a thunder- 
 storm ; and his mother produced him dur- 
 ing a hurricane. His first articulate words 
 were an execration ; and at the age of nine 
 months he deprived his old nurse, by a 
 blow, of her only remaining front tooth. 
 He chose the law as a profession, because 
 it promised him the pleasure of eternal 
 opposition; and, after half a century of 
 squabbling, left the bar, because he dis- 
 covered that he was become ridiculous, 
 instead of continuing to be only irritating.
 
 S5 
 
 He is such an admirer of primitive sim- 
 plicity in speech and appearance, that he 
 was never yet known to say a civil thing 
 to any one ; nor to be seen clean, even by 
 accident, during the whole course of his 
 life : and he is so earnest for the character 
 of veracity, as never to advance the most 
 simple proposition without confirming it 
 on oath. To bear the scales of justice, 
 however, with an even hand, and <c give 
 the devil his due," it is but fair to mention, 
 that he was once betrayed into a smile, by 
 the repartee of a client. Being concerned 
 in the defence of a celebrated character 
 indicted for sedition, he had just put his 
 hand into his bag for the brief, and was 
 rising to reply to the counsel for the crown, 
 when, to his astonishment, the prisoner 
 handed him over a note, saying that he 
 had determined to plead his awn cause. 
 Morose, with his usual conciliating way, 
 answered the billet in this argumentative 
 manner ; " If you do, you'll be hanged ;" 
 to which the prisoner, struck with the co- 
 gent reasoning of the barrister, quickly
 
 retorted in a third billet, " I'll be banged 
 if I do." To tbe surprise of the court, 
 the muscles of Morose's visage were re- 
 laxed with a smile; he rose up in some- 
 thing bordering upon good humour, plead- 
 ed the defence, and the prisoner was ac- 
 quitted. 
 
 Ram. Well said, Tom ; a story never 
 loses any thing by your being the relater 
 of it. 
 
 Rat. Nay, T protest to you 'tis every 
 tittle true, as old Hircus, who is shambling 
 this way, could inform you, would you but 
 consent to the application of his mouth to 
 your ear for one short quarter of an hour. 
 All hail ! thou honour to the priesthood ; 
 sin in canonicals, and gallantry at 86 ! 
 
 Servetur ad imum 
 
 Qualis ab incepto processerat. 
 
 Who could suppose that " this lean and 
 slipper'd pantaloon, 
 
 With hose a world too wide 
 
 For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice 
 
 Tun'd once again to childish treble,"
 
 should still be the votary of the Venus 
 publica, and as deep in promiscuous in- 
 trigue as any rakehell of 25 ! But pray, 
 my dear Jack, who is that portly lady just 
 stepping out of her chair ? 
 
 Ram. Oh ! the empress of the upper 
 crescent ; Madam de Villarois : proud as 
 Lucifer, and vain as a monkey in a scarlet 
 coat. She had nearly excited an insurrec- 
 tion amongst my subjects some time ago, 
 because on my night I inadvertently intro- 
 duced a London hair-dresser in disguise to 
 her daughter, as a partner ; and suffered 
 her son to dance with a lady's maid, who 
 had borrowed for the evening her mis- 
 tress's clothes. But I must be at my post 
 to receive her, or she'll kick up another 
 devil of a dust. 
 
 Rat. Allons done. Toll loll de roll loll 
 <le roll, loll de roll doll. 

 
 DIALOGUE THE SECOND. 
 
 SCENE. 
 
 THE LOBBY OF THE GRAND CHAPEL IN BATH. 
 
 f~ 
 
 Enter Dr /Vegetable, and John Snorum his clerk. 
 
 Dr. Snorum ! 
 
 Sno. Your reverence ! 
 
 Dr. Has Lady Lofty yet been here ? 
 
 Sno. No, your reverence. I have only 
 seen Fringe the upholsterer, who called in 
 just now with some patterns of Brussels' 
 carpets for the recesses by the altar. The 
 postman also left this letter as he passed. 
 
 Dr. Humph ! Drawl's hand, I perceive. 
 As usual, I suppose, a request to remit him 
 his half year's salary a month before it's 
 due. Let me see. [Reads.]
 
 " To the Rev. Dr. Vegetable, rector of Fat lands, Somer- 
 set j vicar of Pencrag in the Wolds ; and proprietor 
 of the grand chapel in Bath. 
 
 " Humbly sheweth ; 
 
 " That your petitioner has been now 
 fifteen years curate of the said parish of 
 Pen-crag ; an office which he has served 
 with diligence and fidelity. That during 
 this period he has preached 390 sermons, 
 and as often read prayers ; married eleven 
 couples; christened 63 natural, and 14 
 legitimate children ; churched 7 women ; 
 and buried 20 corpses. That in the said 
 service he has walked 7090 miles; worn 
 out 30 pair of shoes ; 28 pair of yarn hose ; 
 and 5 pair of buck-skin breeches ; to say 
 nothing of the wear and tear of sundry 
 hats, coats, waistcoats, and shirts. That 
 in recompence of said labours he has re- 
 ceived the sum of 80/. 18s. 3d. (including 
 his annual stipend of five guineas, and 
 I/. 18s. 3d. surplice fees.) That from the 
 commencement of his service as curate to 
 the present time, his family has increased 
 from two to thirteen children ; a burthen 
 which he finds himself unable to maintain,
 
 40 
 
 notwithstanding he has enjoyed for several 
 years the advantages of three other cu- 
 racies as lucrative as that of Pen-crag. 
 That he has gradually heen obliged to 
 banish ev.ery thing from his table, except 
 oat-cakes, potatoes, and butter-milk ; but 
 is concerned to find it is entirely out of his 
 power to provide his family longer with 
 these comforts, unless the reverend gentle- 
 men who employ him shall be graciously 
 pleased to make some little advance in his 
 wages. That, in consideration of these cir- 
 cumstances, he takes the liberty of humbly 
 craving an addition offorfy shillings per 
 annum to his stipend, as curate of Pen-crag; 
 for whicli advance, if his intreaty be com- 
 plied with, your petitioner will ever consi- 
 der himself as bound to be grateful. 
 
 " SIMON DRAWL." 
 
 [Aside] What an impudent extortioner 
 the fellow is. He thinks, I believe, that I 
 am made of money ; or pick up gold as I 
 walk the streets. Forty shillings, forsooth! 
 a pretty advance in times like these ! how- 
 ever, the chap's too useful to me for a
 
 41 
 
 trifle to separate us ; I must be content 
 therefore to split the difference. But, Sno- 
 rum, has Varnish finished the job ? 
 
 Sno. Yes, your reverence; but he wished 
 to see you before he went. He has a pretty 
 device, which he thinks will give the 
 chapel a gay and chearful air, fit for its 
 quality congregation : to run a border of 
 carmine (for this, he says, will harmonize 
 with the ladies complexions) round the inside 
 of the cupola, and relieve it underneath 
 by a wreath of myrtle leaves, done after 
 nature (an allusion, he ordered me to tell 
 you, to the Venmes below} ; or if you dis- 
 like this, he recommends a cornice in the 
 Egyptian or Etruscan styles, as he calls 
 them ; a sort of ornament now all the go 
 in drawing-rooms and clining-saloons ; and 
 which, he says, was very common in places 
 of worship also, a great while ago, in coun- 
 tries a great way off. 
 
 Dr. A cunning rogue ; he's more an 
 eye-to the length of his own bill, I believe, 
 than to the gaiety and chearful ness of my 
 chapel. No, Snoruin ; these are not times 
 lor more expence in decoration than the
 
 42 
 
 refined taste of my audience absolutely 
 compels me to incur. When taxes are so 
 pressing; poor-rates so high; and curates 
 demands so exorbitant ; we must have some 
 regard to ceconomy in our proceedings. 
 Indeed, I have been thinking, Snorum, 
 that as all places of public amusement 
 have raised their terms of admission, a very 
 fair precedent is before me of adding some- 
 what to the present moderate prices of ac- 
 commodation here. Let me look at one of 
 our cards of invitation. Ay ; [Reads.'] 
 
 " Single sittings at the grand chapel. 
 
 Recesses \v\\hjires. 
 Year, 3 3 0. Six months, 2 10 O. One month, 12s. 
 
 All other recesses. 
 Year, 2 2 0. Six months, 1 16 0. One month, 8s. 
 
 Pews. 
 Year, l 5 0. Six months, l 1 0. One month, 6s. 
 
 A few pews in the gallery. 
 Year, l 1 O. Six months, 15 0. One month, 5s. 
 
 Benches. 
 Year, 050 Month, 1 6.
 
 43 
 
 N. B. The half of all yearly sittings to be paid every 
 eix months. Sittings for any shorter period to be paid 
 for at the time of taking them. 
 
 N. B. That the company may be perfectly select, no 
 tradesmen, livery-servants, or poor people, admitted." 
 
 Yes ; I think I may conscientiously follow 
 the example of the managers of the New 
 Theatre, and lift up my prices a little ; and 
 as my very loyal audience cannot possibly 
 object to any hint adopted from govern- 
 ment, we will e'en clap ten per cent, upon 
 our present prices, and alter our cards ac- 
 cordingly. But, heark'e ! that's Lady 
 Lofty 's knock ; open the door immediately, 
 and shew her into the chapel. 
 
 Enter Lady Lofty*. 
 
 Lady L. Your servant, Dr. Vegetable. 
 
 Dr. Madam, I am your Ladyship's most 
 obsequious, obedient, and very humble 
 servant. I have been anxiously expecting 
 your Ladyship's arrival for the last half 
 hour, that I might submit to the refined 
 
 * This character represents a species, rather than an 
 individual.
 
 44 
 
 taste of your Ladyship, before I opened 
 my chapel to the public gaze, some little 
 alterations already adopted ; as well as in- 
 treat your Ladyship's valuable opinion on a 
 few further ornaments and additions. Your 
 Ladyship will perceive that a much more 
 becoming light than heretofore is now thrown 
 into the chapel, which we may call (if you 
 will allow the pun) the new light ; he, he, 
 he ! that the softened hues of the coloured 
 parts are now more favorable to ihejemale 
 face; that the car-pets we of the best Brussels' 
 manufacture; the sophas stuffed with eider- 
 down; and thejire-places so contrived as to 
 preclude all noise or interruption to the 
 preacher, how often soever they may be 
 stirred during the service. Not however 
 that I would arrogate to myself' the merit of 
 such admirable additions to the accommo- 
 dations of my chapel. No, far be it from 
 me, basely to steal the palm of genius from 
 another's brow, and place it on my own ; 
 or to conceal from your Ladyship, that I 
 am indebted for these ideas to the ex- 
 quhite taste of Thomas Hope, Esq. who, in 
 his late valuable ten guinea folio on the
 
 45 
 
 important subject of household furniture, 
 has furnished me with every hint which 
 your Ladyship perceives to have been lately 
 adopted and em bodied in my improvements. 
 Oh ! 'tis a most ingenious work ; truly ac- 
 ceptable to the learned world ; and marks 
 the lofty mind, and grand conceptions of 
 its author, who in these times of safety, 
 content, and peace, can turn a deaf ear to 
 the voice of pleasure that echoes round the 
 land, and scorning low concerns and trifling 
 topics^ lift his aspiring thoughts to subjects 
 so august, sublime, and edifying*. 
 
 Lady L. Why, truly, doctor, I must 
 candidly acknowledge that I am acquaint- 
 ed with no place of worship which is so 
 well calculated for genteel people to say 
 their prayers in as your chapel. Here is 
 every contrivance for warmth, ease, and 
 repose; and the company is select, well- 
 
 * Vide Edinburgh Review for a masterly account of 
 this wretched mass of pompous absurdity. O / si tic 
 temper! Oh, if it were always so ; if they would let fail 
 their heavy thong only on solemn foppery, dull pedantry, 
 and perverted taste. 
 
 * x
 
 bred, and well-dressed*. In general, too, 
 the mode of performing the service isgrace- 
 
 * That the most exemplary precautions are adopted 
 in order to prevent the genteel hearers of these fashion- 
 able preachers from being offended by the presence of 
 vulgar society, the following fact will sufficiently mani- 
 fest. In a certain theatrical chapel situated in one of 
 the rectories of Bath, the offerings made at the altar 
 were so considerable, that the rector (who, by the bye, 
 should not be mentioned without a tribute of respect to 
 his amiable and exemplary character) deeming | it to be 
 both his right and his duty to see to their proper applica- 
 tion, insisted upon it, that the churchwardens of the 
 parish in which the chapel stood should attend at. it 
 whenever the sacrament was administered there, to re- 
 ceive the alms and oblations, and distribute them 
 amongst their legitimate objects, the poor of the parish. 
 A seat was accordingly provided for these church-officers 
 in the chapel, in which they and their wives were ac- 
 commodated at every monthly sacrament. The spouse 
 of one of them, being desirous of gratifying a neigh- 
 bour with a sight so much out of the common way as a 
 fashionable chapel, invited her to accompany her thither 
 one Sunday. Her friend, an industrious tradesman's 
 wife, accepted the invitation gladly, curious to learn 
 what sort of rites were performed in these magnificent 
 pagodas. Wonder at the ttian of silk, and his shea-box, 
 and surprise at the odd toty/ in which the fine people said
 
 47 
 
 ful, agreeable, and judicious. No violence; 
 no scolding; no terrifying stories about 
 hell and the devil, as one meets with in 
 vulgar parish-churches; but a gentlemanly 
 softness in. manner, and a tender respect 
 
 their prayers, effectually prevented any serious associa- 
 tions from rising in her mind. She sat, however, till 
 the congregation was dismissed with a benediction, a 
 graceful botu, and a sweet smile ; and then returned to 
 her own dwelling, fully resolved never to put her foot 
 into the doctor's fashionable chapel again. It was un- 
 necessary, however, for her to have formed any deter- 
 mination on the subject. A prohibition against her 
 intrusion had been issued from another quarter j 
 for, on the ensuing morning, the doctor waited upon 
 the churchwarden's wife, and thus addressed her: 
 " You are sensible, Mrs. So-and-so, that you enjoy a 
 seat in my chapel, in right of your husband, who is 
 churchwarden, for the time being, of the parish of 
 
 St. M . So fac all is well, and I have no objection 
 
 to your presence there once a month. But I must insist 
 upon it that you do not introduce any plebeian company 
 into the pew. I don't know that my nerves ever re- 
 ceived so severe a shock as yesterday morning, when I 
 saw your friend Mrs. Toyman as one of my hearers ; 
 and beheld my congregation petrified with astonishment 
 and horfour, at the unusual phenomenon, of a person in 
 trade amongst an audience, that is never contaminated 
 with vulgar society."
 
 48 
 
 for polite ears in language, highly be- 
 coming your situation as proprietor of a 
 fashionable chapel. I must, however, take 
 the liberty of informing you there have 
 been some exceptions to the usual tenor of 
 pour performing the functions of your 
 office here. More than once have my ears 
 been shocked by harsh animadversions on 
 certain trifling irregularities in high life ; 
 and by unfounded censures levelled at the 
 haughtiness of the' great. For my own 
 part, I never could see any great harm in 
 they<ZM,r pas of a fashionable husband, or 
 wife, who are never even suspected of hav- 
 ing a grain of attachment for each other ; 
 nor perceive that people of rank were more 
 proud than the Jilt hy canaille. 
 
 Dr. I am inexpressibly sorry to have 
 incurred your Ladyship's disapprobation 
 even in the slightest degree, and would 
 rather have been dumb for ever ; nay, 
 what is still a greater sacrifice, would soon- 
 er renounce the dear delights, and deli- 
 cious refreshments*, of. Mrs. Vehicle's 
 
 * It may seem strange that a venerable doctor should 
 enumerate these " delicious refreshments," route-cakes,
 
 public nights ; the interesting agitations of 
 cassino; ami the exquisite reverses of my 
 favorite whist* j than wittingly utter any 
 
 macaroons, and such like fal-lals, amongst the serious 
 attractions of a card-party. But be it known to m'y 
 readers, that the gravest divines may have a sweet tooth, 
 and sometimes even sacrifice consistency for a sugar- 
 plumb. To illustrate this, take the following anecdote. 
 In the times of scarcity, a certain doctor had preached a 
 sermon, in aid of a charitable fund to be applied to the 
 benefit of the poor. He had eloquently described their 
 sufferings j forcibly appealed to the compassion of his 
 audience j and recommended them in the strongest 
 manner to restrain their own luxuries ; to oeconomiza 
 their tables j to be frugal in the use of flour ; and not 
 to consume this great necessary in expensive niceties, and 
 fashionable delicacies. On the ensuing night, the di- 
 vine, as usual, was planted at the first card-table of Mrs. 
 Vehicle's party ; when, to the astonishment of some 
 of his auditors (who were present) and the inter- 
 ruption of all around him, he was heard at every inter- 
 val of the rubber, continually vociferating, " Why 
 don't you bring the cakes to this table ? We have had 
 no macaroons for this half-hour : I believe they don't 
 mean to bring a single jelly to us to-night !" 
 
 * The 75th canon prohibits ministers from play- 
 ing at dice, cards, &c. under pain of ecclesiastical cen- 
 sures. 
 

 
 sentiment that could give your Ladyship 
 the least offence. Cards and routs; plays 
 and balls; and all the innocent amusements 
 of the gay world, which ill-bred fanatics 
 denounce with so much harshness, your 
 Ladyship knows I carefully abstain from 
 the mention of. If I have been guilty, of 
 ]ate, of such a breach of good manners as 
 your Ladyship alludes to, it must have 
 been purely accidental, as these are topics 
 which I had determined to avoid, ever 
 since the commencement of the last season, 
 when I received an anonymous note on the 
 subject (to which, if the hand be genteel, I 
 always pay implicit deference) and resolved, 
 from that moment, no cause of complaint, 
 on the same score, should thenceforth be 
 given. Your Ladyship cannot doubt my 
 attachment to those elegant visitors, who 
 do me the honor to be my hearers ; or my 
 earnest desire to give them every satis- 
 faction in my power. Your Ladyship 
 knows that I have more than once offered 
 to comply so far with common prejudice^ as 
 to have my chapel consecrated, but your
 
 51 
 
 Ladyship and others thought it would 
 savour too much of vulgar superstition. 
 Your Ladyship is aware too, that in order 
 to cut off all possibility of offence, I pro- 
 posed, some time since, to adopt in the 
 performance of my functions the practice 
 which obtains with the preachers at the 
 theatrical chapels in the west end of the 
 metropolis, that of using no text, but what 
 had previously been chosen by a certain 
 number of the heads of their congregation ; 
 nor delivering any discourse, unless it had 
 first passed the revision and purgation of 
 this select committee. 
 
 Lady L. Pardon me, Doctor ; I give 
 you ample credit for the very best inten- 
 tions to please us; but, at the same time, 
 lament that jour judgment does not always 
 second your wishes. What but an entire 
 absence of that faculty can account for 
 your having neglected the rules of prece- 
 dence in the ordinance of last Sunday morn- 
 ing, and attended to Lady Carmine before 
 me, who am her superior in rank. 
 
 Dr. Again I have to beg your Ladyship 
 E 2
 
 ten thousand pardons. Till this moment 
 I really thought that Lady Carmine's name 
 preceded that of your Ladyship's in the 
 court calender. Your Ladyship must knotf 
 that I am exceedingly particular in this 
 respect also. On that very morning I had 
 passed by four commoners, to give that 
 preference to your Ladyship which is so 
 justly your due: and you may also recol- 
 lect, that antecedently to adopting my 
 regulations for excluding the candille y when 
 an insolent tradesman was approaching the 
 table before your Ladyship, I put him 
 back, saying; " Stand on one side, fellow, 
 and let your betters be first served*." 
 
 Lady L. [simpering.'] Yes, Doctor, I 
 well recollect that instance of your good 
 breeding; and request what I have now 
 said to you may rather be considered as a 
 Mnt than a reproof. As such I trust you 
 
 * A circumstance of this kind happened, a few years 
 ago, to one Burchall, a carver and gilder in Bath. " The 
 sturdy rogue took it in dudgeon," and published an ac- 
 count of the transaction, accompanied by a ludicrous 
 caricature.
 
 53 
 
 will take it, and beg leave to wish you a 
 good day. 
 
 Dr. Your Ladyship is all goodness. I 
 am penetrated with the sincerest gratitudes 
 and shall always consider myself as your 
 Ladyship's most obsequious, obliged, and 
 very humble servant.
 
 DIALOGUE THE THIRD. 
 
 SCENE. 
 
 AN APOTHECARY'S SHOP. 
 Enter Dr. Eorecat, to Mr. Mixum. 
 
 Mlvum. (Pounding in a mortar and 
 singing) 
 
 Here I go up, up, up, 
 Here I go down, down, downy; 
 Here I go backwards and forwards, 
 And here I go round, round, roundy. 
 
 Borecat. Adad, Mr. Mixum, I am hap- 
 py to catch you at home ; I was exceed- 
 ingly anxious to see you. 
 
 Mixum. Why, you are somewhat for- 
 tunate in that respect, my dear Doctor. J 
 am seldom to be found compounding in 
 the shop. I have done with that branch 
 of the profession for some years, and am,
 
 55 
 
 like yourself, a visiting medical gentleman, 
 though without a formal permission from 
 the college of Aberdeen. Still, however, 
 I put my hand to any thing, as occasion 
 may require ; and the present delightful 
 weather has so filled us with business, that 
 all our apprentices and journeymen are at 
 this moment running over the town in 
 every direction, loaded with emulsions; 
 fever-draughts ; electuaries ; drastics, &c. 
 &c. &c. ; so that there is no one but myself 
 to make up a prescription of my young ^ 
 Ulster friend's, Dr. Sourcrout, for his 
 solitary patient Lady Choleric, who has 
 just ruptured a blood vessel in giving her 
 daily scolding to her Abigail. But what a 
 blessed season is this, my dear boy ! A 
 beautiful Scotch mist for twenty-eight days 
 successively; with the wind at the east, 
 and blowing like the devil. Nothing to 
 be heard but sneezing and wheezing; 
 coughing, hawking, and spitting; nor any 
 thing to be seen but swelled jaws, running 
 noses, and blood-shot eyes. 1 can't go out 
 of doors but I've the pleasure of hearing
 
 .56 
 
 every body complaining; and finding that 
 catarrhs and rheumatisms are multiplying 
 as quickly as maggots in a lump of putrid 
 flesh. I'm sure if we men of business had 
 time to say our prayers, we ought to fall 
 down on our knees and thank Providence 
 for his particular interposition, as it should 
 seem, in our favour. Why, 'tis as produc- 
 tive as if he had sent us the genuine Phila- 
 delphian fever; or given us the advantage, 
 for a month, of the Sirocco, Samiel, or Har- 
 mattan. Good luck to an easterly wind, say 
 I. [Pounding and singing'] (( Here I go up } 
 up, up; here I go down, down, downy." 
 I feel myself in such high spirits when 
 every body's nerves are out of order, and 
 all my friends devoured by the blue devils, 
 that I scarcely know what I am about. 
 But pray, my dear Doctor, how can I serve 
 you? You appear to me to be under some 
 agitation. Pray 
 
 Borecat. .Agitation, Mr. Mixum! I be- 
 lieve I am, indeed, and with very good 
 reason, I think. Adad, sir, for what J 
 know you may have killed a patient of
 
 57 
 
 mine; and I stand a good chance, not only 
 of losing all my business (however that's a 
 trifle), but of being hanged for a murder 
 of your committing. 
 
 Mixum. Do, my dear Doctor, be cool, 
 and explain to me more particularly the 
 cause of your discomposure; for I protest, 
 as yet, I know not what you mean. 
 
 Borecat. Mean, sir! why I mean that 
 you have made up a dose of my prescrib- 
 ing with ten times as much laudanum in it 
 as I had ordered, and thereby thrown an 
 old lady into so deep a slumber, as I thought 
 would never have been disturbed till the 
 sounding of the last trump. 
 
 Mixum. Oh! is that all, my dear Doctor? 
 Never disturb yourself about such a trifle 
 These mistakes frequently happen in the 
 hurry of business; but no harm ensues. 
 The patient tips off, and nobody is ever the 
 wiser about the cause of his exit. Besides, 
 had the old lady slept her last, there would 
 have been no great reason for your dis- 
 tressing yourself on the occasion. It was 
 high time, for her to go, I presume; and
 
 she could not have had a more composed 
 departure. Recollect, also, you might have 
 made her exit turn to some account; for 
 Shroud, the undertaker, would have gladly 
 tipped you a five pound note for your re- 
 commendation to the job. Why, Doctor, 
 GUT furnishers of funerals at Bath bribe as 
 high for the possession of a dead carcase, 
 as a candidate does for a vote in a con- 
 tested borough. 
 
 Borecat. A truce with your jokes, sir, 
 if you please, for a moment. Such cases 
 as these may be common for what I know, 
 Mr. Mixum : but as my practice is not 
 very extensive, they do not occur suffici- 
 ciently often to me, to prevent my surprise 
 and disturbance on the present occasion. 
 Besides, the rank and fashion of the patient 
 made the accident a matter of the highest 
 importance. Why, she's as well known as 
 the obelisk in Queen's-square ; and her 
 death would have broken up one of the 
 most regular and elegant card-assemblies in 
 all Bath. You know Lady Orange, I sup- 
 pose?
 
 59 
 
 . Ay, to be sure I do : " not to 
 know her would argue myself unknown." 
 I remember her many years ago, when she 
 came hither to console herself on the loss 
 of her first husband with Bath-waters and 
 cassino. She'd a good house and a thump- 
 ing jointure, and was soon assaulted by a 
 host of those generous Irish gentlemen, who 
 are always willing to befriend a solitary j/f / 
 widow with a heavy dower. Sir Clerical 
 Orange heard of the persecution, and offer- 
 ed to be her champion. The lady assented 
 to his proposal, and followed him to the 
 altar. Nor was the world surprised at his 
 volunteering such a service. Every body 
 knew he had weighty reasons for the step. 
 Sir Clerical had always been a devoted ad- 
 mirer of antiques; and his present ancient 
 gem was set in gold. 
 
 Borecat. You are very amusing, Mr. 
 Mixum; but I must beg you to be serious 
 for a few moments whilst I relate the par- 
 ticulars of this unfortunate business. I 
 was brushing through a street in the upper 
 town the night before last, when a livery
 
 60 
 
 servant bolted out of a house, and running 
 smack against me, almost knocked me 
 down. " Bless me, sir," said he, " I beg 
 your pardon ; but I was sent out on a sud- 
 den to look for a Doctor" " No apolo- 
 gies, my friend," replied I; " here is one at 
 your service." <f Oh, sir," continued he, 
 " my mistress is, I verily believe, kicking 
 the bucket. She was seized with a fit whilst 
 disputing about an odd trick; fell back in 
 her chair; and has never spoken since. I've 
 been out for Dr. Turbot, but he's laid up 
 with the gout; Dr. Foetus, her other phy- 
 sician, is attending a labour ; and Mr. 
 Gripes, the apothecary, can't be found. 
 Do sir, for heaven's sake, step in." In I 
 went accordingly, but never so frightened 
 in all my life! Eleven card-tables; and 
 the room stuffed with fine people. "Alas,'' 
 cried one, " I fear she's dead : I think, 
 my Lord, that you'd no honor" " Oh, 
 heavens," exclaimed another, "our dear 
 friend is certainly gone: Miss Scarecrow, 
 you won't forget that you've renounced 
 hearts" Up marched I to the patient,
 
 with a palpitating heart. She was black 
 in the face as my hat; foaming at the 
 mouth like a cask of new beer; hands so 
 clenched that I could hardly get the cards 
 out of them; and, in short, as pretty a 
 specimen of apoplexy as one would wish 
 to see. 
 
 Mixum. Zounds, Doctor, my mouth 
 quite waters at the description ! what a 
 lucky dog to have such a charming case 
 drop so accidentally into your hands. How 
 good Providence is ! 
 
 Borecat. Well, sir, you shall hear. After 
 an hour of hard work, rubbing, scrubbing, 
 bleeding, purging, blistering, and sweating, 
 I brought the patient completely to herself, 
 and left her to repose; writing first the pre- 
 scription you made up, as a sedative, and 
 receiving for my trouble the noble foe of 
 one pound one. Precisely at 12 next day, 
 called again upon my patient. " Well, Sir 
 Clerical, has your lady slept comfortably ?'' 
 <{ Yes, Doctor," replied he, with a stifled 
 laugh (for I fancy he thought it was her 
 last slumber), " very soundly; and I hope 
 she'll continue so to do, for it seems to be
 
 of infinite service to her. She has not 
 waked since you left her." My heart leap- 
 ed into my throat at this intelligence, and 
 it immediately occurred to me that the 
 laudanum had dished her. A glance at the 
 old lady confirmed my suspicion; however 
 to work I went again : and in spite of Sir 
 Clerical's repeated objections to my disturb- 
 ing her repose., after another hour's labour, 
 I made her open her eyes, and again gave 
 her the use of her tongue. She rattled 
 away gibberish for a few minutes ; but soon 
 becoming more composed, I had an oppor- 
 tunity of examining the remainder of the 
 dose she had taken (for I confess I was 
 surprised at the serious effects it had pro- 
 duced) j when, putting it to my tongue, I 
 found that instead of eighteen drops, the 
 quantity prescribed, you had put into the 
 phial, at least, half an ounce of laudanum! 
 
 Mixum. Eighteen drops, Doctor, why, 
 d n it, your prescription ordered eighty. 
 Oh! here it is, Guttce octoginta. 
 
 Borecat. Well, sir, and what's the Eng- 
 lish for octoginta? Eighteen, is it not? 
 
 Mixum, Eighteen, indeed ! I thank hea-
 
 63 
 
 ven I have not been so many years con- 
 versant with medical Latin, as not to know 
 the meaning of a prescription, either when 
 it's written in words at length, or in those 
 convenient abbreviations which the profes- 
 sion have invented to cover their ignorance 
 of s}'ntax. There, sir, look at the Dic- 
 tionary; you see octoginta is eighty, and 
 octodecim eighteen. 
 
 Borecat. Upon my word, Mr. Mixum, 
 I heartily beg your pardon for laying that 
 blame at your door which I ought to have 
 taken to myelf. To be sincere with you, 
 my good sir, I am indeed somewhat defi- 
 cient in that most essential branch of my 
 profession, the faculty of writing prescrip- 
 tions in Latin; and have more than once 
 lamented that my father, when he was 
 bringing me up, had not added a few more 
 pounds to the expence of my education, to 
 give me a smattering of the dead lan- 
 guages. 
 
 MLvum. The dead languages, indeed ! 
 how absurdly you talk. Why, Doctor, 
 they are of no more use to a medical man 
 at Bath, than the drugs in our shop are to
 
 the patients (God help them !) for whom 
 they are pr&cribed ; nay, I believe, in ge- 
 neral, that, like them, they do more harm 
 than good. Do you think, Doctor, that 
 the ladies care a pin more for a physician 
 who knows the dead languages, than for 
 one who can't construe a prescription which 
 he has written. No, no ; they want some- 
 thing more lively, brisk, and smirking than 
 a bookworm. There's my worthy neigh- 
 bour Dr. Vellum ; look at him for an ex- 
 ample of what I say. If his stiff honesty 
 had permitted him to study hum-bug as 
 much as he has pored over those d-d old* 
 fashioned languages ; to read the weak side 
 of mankind, as attentively as he has read 
 the musty volumes of the ancients ; and to 
 learn to chatter small talk as fast as he can 
 pour out Latin and Greek, sense and sci- 
 ence, I should not have had it to say, that 
 our little shop books more in one week, 
 than he, with all his scholarship, gets in a 
 month. 
 
 Borecat. Well, Mr. Mixum, but a littfe 
 learning 
 
 Mixum. I tell you, Doctor, that learn-
 
 65 
 
 ing, whether little or much, is both a dan- 
 gerous and an useless thing in our profes- 
 sion. Tis a Will-o-the-Whisp that leads 
 medical men astray. We have had learned 
 physicians who, in their love for a parcel 
 of old fools of antiquity, have asserted 
 te there were only two intestines, the colon 
 and the aic/ios; who believed that the mo- 
 derns had lengthened the channel of their 
 guts by gluttony, and diminished their li- 
 vers by hard drinking ; that the blood of 
 the ancients had a flux and reflux from the 
 heart, like a tide ; and that the circulation 
 of that fluid was but comparatively a mo- 
 dern thing. There's Dr. Harmony, too, as 
 good a creature as ever breathed ; a poet 
 and a man of taste ; and as full as a tick 
 of the dead languages, as you call them. 
 I heard him say the other day (and laugh^ 
 ed in my sleeve at the time), that he was of 
 the old school, and did not think the worse 
 of any one of his brethren for his being 
 able to read Hip-pock-rates (an old Greek 
 author, Doctor, who wrote on nervous dis- 
 orders, and another complaint), in the ori-.
 
 66 
 
 ginal. Lord help thy poor head, thought 
 I, if thou didst but know that our shop 
 clears 4)000 per annum \vithout the as- 
 sistance of a single letter from the Greek 
 alphabet, thou wouldst n.ot long hold those 
 cursed cramp hieroglyphics in such high 
 estimation as thou now dost. 
 
 Borecat. But the danger of mistakes 
 like the present, Mr. Mixum 
 
 Mixum. Oh! that's easily prevented. 
 Come to me for <m hour tomorrow morn- 
 ing, and I'll engage to give you as much 
 professional Latin as may serve your turn 
 for any case that shall occur to you. I 
 myself learned all that I possess in two 
 lessons, from the clerk of the parish. About 
 three dozen words will do the business ; 
 and by ringing proper changes upon these, 
 you will easily contrive to make as good 
 a shew in prescribing, as Montagne the 
 Frenchman would have done, who was 
 taught Latin in his nurse's arms, and not 
 suffered to hear a word in his mother 
 tongue till he could converse in the lan- 
 guage of ancient Rome. Greek and Latin,
 
 67 
 
 forsooth, necessary for a Bath physician ! 
 Ha, ha, ha ; you have brought strange 
 notions with you from the country, my 
 friend. 
 
 Borecat. I protest, Mr. Mixum, your 
 account is very encouraging, and operates 
 upon my spirits like a nervous cordial. I 
 assure you they had fallen to a very low 
 ebb of late. A thousand times have I 
 cursed that foolish ambition which induced 
 me to leave my pretty business in the 
 country; go to the expence of <\5 for 
 an Aberdeen diploma; and settle at Bath 
 as a physician. You'll hardly believe I 
 should be so mad as to quit a practice that 
 cleared me above 200 per annum (all ly- 
 ing within a circumference of sixty miles 
 too), and come here upon speculation. Yes, 
 Mr. Mixum ; 1 do assure you I had been 
 established for 12 years in one of the best 
 spots in the hundreds of Essex for quartan 
 agues and putrid fevers ; had all the busi- 
 ness of the squire's family, and the run of 
 the stewards table at Lord Glwstly's ; with 
 no rival within 15 miles of me; no surgeon 
 F 2
 
 68 
 
 but the village-farrier ; no dispenser of 
 medicine but his Lordship's housekeeper ; 
 and not a soul in the neighbourhood that 
 could tell the difference between damaged 
 and genuine drugs. When I have reflected 
 upon this advantageous situation, and com- 
 pared it with my present one ;--" chance 
 half-guinea fees, and half my time no fees 
 at all ; the sneers of my more fortunate 
 brethren; and the jealousy of those who 
 are upon the same lay with myself;" I 
 have more than once resolved to put my 
 parchment in the fire; quit my present 
 character and abode ; and go back to my 
 old sign of the pestle and mortar in the 
 village of Rattleguts. 
 
 Mixum, Pho, pho ! man, never despair! 
 Only look round you, and see how many 
 of your more fortunate brethren as you call 
 them, who started here with no better 
 prospects before them than yours, are now 
 making fortunes, and rolling about in their 
 carriages. Have a little patience, Doctor, 
 and you must succeed. Remember you 
 have to play upon the fears and flap follies
 
 69 
 
 of mankind ; and with such instruments 
 before you, if you don't contrive to bring 
 out the notes, you must be a sorry artist 
 indeed. Why, man, even the inventing 
 of a lozenge is a certain passport to fame 
 and fortune amongst the wise folks at Bath. 
 I know, at this moment, a worthy citizen, 
 who, by the help of a little mother-wit, a 
 good share of impudence, a certain quan- 
 tity of treacle, flower, and syrup of poppies ', 
 rolled up into the form of a lead pencil, 
 cut into bits, put into boxes, and called 
 lozenges for a cold, has in a few years 
 feathered his nest as warmly as you could 
 have done, had you remained at Rattleguts 
 till you were of the age of Methuselah. 
 Rome, as they say, was not built in a day ; 
 nor can a medical man, particularly in a 
 place which swarms as thickly with the 
 profession as a field of battle does with 
 vultures, hope to leap into full practice in 
 the course of a week. Just take me as an 
 example of what may be done by managing 
 matters judiciously. My father was a pa- 
 rish clerk in Glamorganshire, and would
 
 70 
 
 fain have brought me up to the trade of 
 sol fa; whilst my uncle, the excise-man, 
 wished to qualify me for the same respect- 
 able office under government with his own. 
 But I had higher viezvs than both. Well ; 
 they sent me to school, and the master was 
 ordered to teach me Latin. With all his 
 flogging, however, I got no further than 
 my A*** in prcesento ; and tired at length 
 of study and hard knocks, I ran away one 
 morning, and came to Bath. Determined 
 to become a professional many I hired my- 
 self to an apothecary, to brush shoes, 
 clean knives, water the shop, and run on 
 errands. After a time, I was promoted to 
 the counter; and by degrees, as my know- 
 ledge of pharmacy increased, was intrusted 
 with a little of the business ; spread plas- 
 ters ; bled servants and country people ; 
 and made up medicines for vulgar custom- 
 ers. Some years having elapsed in these 
 subordinate occupations, my master, satis- 
 fied with my skill and diligence, took me 
 into partnership. I now dressed graver, 
 and talked more sedately than before;
 
 71 
 
 visited quality patients; and got into the 
 corporation. 
 
 Borecat. Bless me ! how did you con- 
 trive tkaf, Mr. Mixum ? 
 
 Mixum. Oh ! nothing more easy, my 
 good friend. I began with being very 
 civil to the corporate body ; pulled off my 
 hat when I met the mayor, aldermen, or 
 any of the common council. Laughed 
 heartily at the jokes of his worship For the 
 time being, at city-feasts, and corpora- 
 tion-breakfasts. Praised the public spirit 
 of the municipality. Talked loudly of 
 their political independence. Admired their 
 disinterestedness. Applauded their patriot* 
 ism*, and got all their loyal addresses by 
 
 * I know not whether my uncle spoke ironically here 
 or not j but if he wiere serious, I can only sfly, that the 
 
 B corporation exhibits qualities, which are not to 
 
 be found in other societies of a similar nature. For 
 though the members of these monopolies of civil and po- 
 litical rights, as individuals, be ever so irreproachable, 
 yet in their consolidated capacity, they are seldom the 
 objects of praise or gratitude. A gentleman in the 
 neighbourhood of Norwich, who had some reason to 
 consider himself as ill used by the corporation of that
 
 72 
 
 heart; though, to be sure, cursed work 
 this part of the business was to me, for 
 there's never a pain in 'the bowels, or a na- 
 tural removal of it (as we say in the shop) 
 at St. James's, but up flies an address of 
 condolence, or congratulation. Then, 
 
 city, invited, a few years since, the whole body to an 
 admirable dinner. Having drank largely of -his wines 
 (for they were excellent) the mayor and his brethren 
 made a motion to depart. " Stay, my friends," cried 
 the host, " till the bottles are finished." Saying this, 
 he very coolly emptied the remains of Champaigne and 
 Burgundy, claret and port, white and red, into a large 
 punch-bowl, and filled out a glass of the mixture to 
 each of the company. " Well," resumed he, <e here's 
 to our next merry meeting," and swallowed the con- 
 tents of his goblet. The mayor and his suite could do 
 no less than pledge their generous entertainer, and dis- 
 patch their glasses also. "Hey-day!" cried the gentle- 
 man, seeing a general distortion of countenance amongst 
 his guests, " what the d 1's the matter with you all ? 
 I thought you had liked my wines." " Yes, Sir," re- 
 turned the mayor, <f when we drink them one at a time, 
 but not 'when they are all mixed together." "Well, 
 Mr. Mayor," returned the host, " you have now an 
 exact type of yourselves. Taken singly, you are as ho- 
 nest fellows as any I know ; but acting together, take 
 my word for it, you are a d 'd bad set." EDITOR.
 
 73 
 
 Sir, I had the advantage of belonging to 
 their favorite profession. 
 
 Borecat, Favorite profession ! What do 
 you mean, Mr. Mixum ? 
 
 Mixum. Why, man, I mean, that I 
 was a son of His-skull-ape-us, a great apo- 
 thecary of the last century j and the cor- 
 porate body always give the preference to 
 physic, in its different branches, whenever 
 a contest happens fora vacant place amongst 
 them. Three-fourths, indeed, of the 
 number have ever consisted of medical 
 gentlemen, and good reason is there 
 why it should be so. The boiling waters 
 of the city, (the grand cure of every hu- 
 man complaint, inside and outside ; wounds 
 and fractures; humours and whims; low* 
 spirits and barrenness;) are put under the 
 protection, and secured to the exclusive 
 profit of the corporation ; who then are so 
 proper to regulate the use of these wonder- 
 work ing streams, as we medical gentle- 
 men ? Who can so nicely proportion the 
 doses to visitors and patients; by making 
 them drink just enough to acquire com-
 
 plaints, if they come to us without any ? 
 or by restraining invalids from swallowing 
 so much as will rescue them too soon out of 
 our hands ? 
 
 Borecat. Very reasonable indeed, Mr. 
 Mixum, that these precious springs should 
 be at the disposal of gentlemen, who fully 
 understand their value, and manage them 
 so well; who can give such a good account 
 as I find you do, of where they come 
 from, what they are, and to what uses 
 they may be applied. I must, however, at 
 the same time say, that you retail them out 
 at rather too high a price, Sixpence a glass 
 for a draught of warm water, is confound- 
 edly dear in these times, Mr. Mixum, when 
 from the prosperous state of our taxes, 
 three-fourths of the people can afford to 
 drink nothing else but the " limpet stream, " 
 as the poet says. I remember about thirty 
 years ago, when I was sent by my master 
 to Bath, to take lodgings for Sir Roger 
 Porpoise, one of his patients, I might 
 have drunk as much of the water as would 
 have thrown me into a dropsy, without
 
 paying a farthing. Sixpence a glass, in- 
 deed ! 
 
 Mixum. Oh, my good friend, a mere 
 war-tax ; nothing more, upon my honour. 
 When hostilities cease, the corporation 
 will make water as before. The war at pre- 
 sent operates as a sort of stricture on the 
 springs, (as we say in the shop,) but as 
 soon as peace visits us again, (and I have 
 such confidence in our wise government, 
 as assures me this will be the case in the 
 course of the present century,) we'll re- 
 duce our water to its intrinsic value, and 
 original price, and let it flow freely, and 
 for nothing. Like the higher powers with 
 respect to the war, we think an advanced 
 price upon the staple commodity of the 
 city both just and necessary ; and like 
 them too, shall continue to think it just, as 
 long as it is necessary to our revenues; and 
 necessary as long as it preserves this cha- 
 racter of justice. But you can't deny, 
 doctor, that we dispose as liberally of the 
 profits of our water, as they flow into our 
 chest. Our improvements
 
 Borecat. Oh, far be it from me, Mr. 
 Mixum, to tax you with parsimony in the 
 application of your revenues. I know no 
 men who could make a better use of them 
 than you medical corporate gentlemen. 
 Gad, Sir, you seem to understand the art 
 of feeding, as well as you do that of purg- 
 ing, for your dinners beat every thing of 
 that kind I ever saw or heard of. That of 
 which I had the honour of partaking last 
 Saturday could only be equalled, I think, 
 by Belshazzar's feast. The dinner at my 
 Lord Ghastly's, when his eldest son came 
 of age, was mere bread and cheese to it. 
 
 Mixum. Why, that's very true, my 
 dear friend. Indeed we never spare our 
 bill of fare upon these occasions ; but, be- 
 tween ourselves, it's all with an eye to the 
 trade. Did you never hear the old saying, 
 " The feast's a better friend to the physi- 
 cian than the plague" Never a dinner but 
 pays us tenfold, in surfeits, indigestions, 
 bilious cholics, and constipations. Let me 
 see ! what were the beneficial consequences 
 of last Saturday's entertainment to our shop
 
 77 
 
 alone? Aye, here it is, (looking into bis 
 pocket-book) " Sunday morning. Vomit- 
 ing Mr. Slender, the staymaker, who had 
 eaten himself into a fever the day before ; 
 attending Mr. Buckram, the tailor, who 
 being a little overtaken with liquor, at the 
 mayor's feast, bad dislocated his shoulder 
 in a fray with a blacksmith, occasioned by 
 his calling Buckram the ninth part of a man. 
 Bleeding the Rev. Mr. Guttle, who had 
 been seized with apoplexy, in consequence 
 of too hearty a meal on broiled salmon 
 and venison-pasty at the guild-hall on the 
 preceding day." 
 
 Borecat. Faith, I don't wonder at your 
 hospitality, Mr. Mixum, if it turn to such 
 a good account as this. But pray, Sir, 
 wasn't that same Rev. Mr. Guttle your 
 mayor about three or four years ago? 
 
 Mixum. Mayor, forsooth ! I believe 
 riot, indeed. No, no, doctor, we know 
 better than to let in parsons amongst us. 
 Why, man, we've got half a dozen fat pieces 
 of church-preferment in our gift ; and if we 
 were not to keep the cloth out of our so-
 
 78 
 
 ciety, we should have as much quarrelling 
 anxl fighting for these sops in the pan, when 
 any of them were to be disposed of, as 
 there is amongst a gang of robbers, on 
 their division of the plunder which they 
 have taken. 
 
 Borecat. But don't you shut out all 
 men of. learning, as they call 'em, Mr. 
 Mixum, by thus excluding the clergy ? J 
 remember, when I lived at the village of 
 Rattleguts, the curate was said to know 
 more Latin, than even Lord Ghastly him- 
 self. 
 
 Mixum. " Latin" indeed, " still harp- 
 ing upon my daughter," as the gravedigger 
 in Hamlet says. What the devil have cor- 
 porations to do with any Latin, except 
 what's in their charter ? But if you mean 
 men of letters, Sir, we have no occasion to 
 he obliged to the church for them. There's 
 Mr. Type, the printer, for instance, who, 
 independently of the articles of his trade, 
 spins what he calls poetry, and manufac- 
 tures fine paragraphs, of which he is the 
 HERALD as well as the composer, and
 
 79 
 
 generously gives them to the public, all 
 for sixpence. Then there's But d n it, 
 time would fail me if I were to attempt to 
 enumerate all the clever men belonging to 
 our body ; and 1 should forget to relate to 
 you the other steps by which I got on, in 
 this very mushroom-bed of the profession. 
 To return, therefore, to my story : After 
 having enrolled myself on the list of the 
 corporation, the next thing I did was to 
 secure the good opinion of the ladies. 
 
 Borecat. And pray, my dear sir, how did 
 you compass that most difficult matter? 
 
 Mirum. Difficult, forsooth! Nothing so 
 easy, Doctor: gently squeezed their hands 
 when I felt their pulse found out their 
 wishes, and prescribed accordingly silent 
 as death about their secrets always agreed 
 in opinion with them picked up all the 
 news I could rake together, and, if a dearth 
 of it, made a little myself for their enter- 
 tainment carefully inspected the night- 
 tables, and gravely examined the urinals 
 before I changed a medicine where they 
 had no disease, found out symptoms for
 
 80 
 
 them pitied their sufferings when they had 
 never an ache -and admired their patience,, 
 though they were as crabbed as the devil. 
 Then I took care also to establish a good 
 London connection. 
 
 Borecat. A good London connection, Mr- 
 Mixum, what may that be? 
 
 Mirum. Why, sir, 'tis a thing as neces^ 
 sary for you as your diploma. A London 
 connection is half the battle for a Bath me- 
 dical knight errant. It is the good will 
 and interest of sorhe famous town practi- 
 tioner, who, when he thinks it necessary to 
 amuse his patients by a little change of 
 place and system, orders them to Bath, and 
 recommends them to Dr. So-and-so, as the 
 most able physician out of London; and to 
 Mr. What-d'ye-call-'em, as the best possible 
 substitute for their own confidential apothe- 
 cary. We accordingly take them in hand; 
 levy our tribute'upon them; and then pass 
 them on to our friends at the different wa- 
 tering-places. Some caution, however, is 
 necessary in carrying on our operations, 
 lest a rat should be smelt) and the gttd-
 
 81 
 
 geon escape: as was the case with a Dr. 
 iheecem here many years ago. Sir Timothy 
 Humbug, a practitioner of note in London, 
 had recommended to this gentleman, in 
 the way of trade, an old female patient of 
 his, with a chronic complaint upon her, 
 which had netted to Sir Timothy an an- 
 nuity of ^150 for several years. Willing 
 to give a turn to her thoughts, as she began 
 to wonder that she did not mend under his 
 hands, he advised her to try the Bath 
 waters, and gave her a letter of introduction 
 to his friend Dr. Fleecem. The doctor 
 read the epistle, and put it in his pocket; 
 felt the patient's pulse; asked the proper 
 questions; in short proceeded second-hum 
 artem, as we say; took hisjfee, and then his 
 leave. But, unfortunately, in pulling out 
 his handkerchief at the door, the letter fell 
 upon the floor, unperceived by the doctor; 
 which the old lady, after he was gone, took 
 up, and, with the natural curiosity of one 
 of Eve's daughters, eagerly perused. It 
 was couched in these words.
 
 " Dear Doctor, 
 
 " I send you herewith an old fat goose, 
 whom I have long been in the habit of plucking : one wing I 
 reserve for myself; the other is at the service of my friends. 
 " Yours truly, 
 " Tim. Humbug." 
 
 On the following morning Fleecem, with 
 all proper professional attention, called 
 upon his patient ; and was going mechani- 
 cally to apply his finger to her pulse, when, 
 she "thanked him for his kind intention 
 to strip her of her remaining feathers ; but 
 observed, that though she might possibly 
 be an old goose, she was not so far advanced 
 in her dotage as to suffer such harpies as 
 Sir Timothy and himself to prey longer on 
 her unfortunate carcase." Ha, ha, ha! 
 But to be serious, Doctor. Just take 
 the hints I have given you: don't be dis- 
 heartened by a little temporary ill-success; 
 keep the field; and my word for it, in time, 
 you'll conquer. 
 
 Borecat. My dear Mr. Mixum, I am 
 bound ever to pray for you. You have 
 opened a new world to me. D n the
 
 83 
 
 village of Rattleguts; the squire's family; 
 and the steward's table at Lord Ghastly's. 
 I feel myself a new man ; and will not quit 
 Bath whilst one of his majesty's subjects 
 remains alive in the place. Good morning 
 to you, my dear sir! 
 
 Mixum. [Pounding."} Bravo, my little 
 Galen. Heaven grant you all success; 
 and may your commission to burn, sink, 
 and destroy, be crowned with the triumph 
 of a Copenhagen expedition. 
 
 " Here I go up, up, up, 
 Here I go down, down, downy, 
 Here I go backwards and forwards, 
 And here I go round, round, round/.'*
 
 DIALOGUE THE FOURTH. 
 
 / . 
 
 SCENE. 
 
 A DINING-ROOM. 
 
 Parson Bow-wow, and Mr. Resin, sitting at a table, witli 
 bottles and glasses. 
 
 Bwv-wow. Come, Resin, drink your glass ; 
 d n me if ever I was t&te-h-tile with such 
 a milksop before. 
 
 Resin. Pon my vord, Mr. Bow-wow, I 
 cannot keep up vid you. You ave de 
 hardest head I ever met vid. 
 
 Bow-wow. Aye, Resin; and isn't that 
 better than a thick one, like most of my 
 brethren. Have it by inheritance, my boy; 
 by birth, parentage, and education ; nor 
 ever omitted an opportunity of improving 
 and strengthening so valuable a possession.
 
 85 
 
 The Jew's-harp public-house in Swansea, 
 has been in our family for 150 years; and 
 descended regularly from father to son, 
 through nine generations. I first saw the 
 light in a small room behind the bar; and 
 was not only early accustomed to the smell 
 of ale, but long before they weaned me 
 had acquired a taste for it also. As ser- 
 vitor of Jesus college, I lost none of my 
 relish for the tap; and improved mightily 
 in my faculty of guzzling. A minor-cau- 
 non-ship kept me tightly to the practice of 
 wetting my whistle ; though it obliged me 
 to change my beverage, and booze a more 
 gentlemanly liquor than that to which I 
 had hitherto been accustomed. At length 
 J was transplanted to Bath, where, as fac- 
 totum to the Glee-club, I have ever since 
 enjoyed the best opportunities of making 
 myself a complete proficient in the Ars 
 bibendi. 
 
 Resin. Pray, Mr. Bow-wow, vat may 
 factotum be. 
 
 Bow-wow. Factotum, Resin; why its 
 its its ^factotum d n the word, I hardly
 
 86 
 
 know how to define it. It is a sort of sub- 
 secretary ; sub-treasurer ; sub-president ; 
 sub-every thing. In short, the factotum is 
 to do all things; upon all occasions; in att 
 manners; &n&&t all times; according to the 
 directions of the committee. As factotum t 
 to the club, I drive bargains with per- 
 formers, vocal and instrumental ; lay in 
 music; keep the piano-forte in tune; sketch 
 out the bill of fare for the ladies entertain- 
 ments; and a thousand other little neces- 
 sary jobs. As factotum, I conducted an 
 action in the King's Bench, on behalf of 
 the society, against a band of refractory 
 singers, who acting in concert, all struck on 
 one night, and would not give us a single 
 stave for our money. The law, however, 
 whose object you know is general harmony, 
 adjudged they should either sing or pay; a 
 verdict which put them so cursedly out of 
 tune, as obliged 'em to settle it by Abraham 
 Newland's notes instead of their own. But 
 now that we're upon the subject of musical 
 discords, do tell me, Resin, how the devil 
 you ventured to play such a trick on
 
 87 
 
 the amateurs the other clay, by hum- 
 bugging them as you did about Mad in e 
 Catsqualli? I uas too much in for it to be 
 at the concert myself, but I am told it' it 
 h id n't been for your good friend Signora 
 Rattana, who interfered in your behalf, the 
 women would have served you the same 
 trick that some viragoes of old played off 
 upon your ancestor, master Orpheus, and 
 sent you home shorter by the head. 
 
 Resin. Ver afflicting circumstance, I 
 assure you, Mr. Bow-wow, and give me 
 most poignant concern*. Though I must 
 
 * This is the pathetic language in which the hand-bill 
 was couched, that announced the second disappointment 
 of Catsqualli's singing to the Bath public. " It is," how- 
 '* ever, a bad wind, indeed, that blows nobody good;" and 
 what brought shame and sorrow with it to poor Resin 
 (who was really not to blame in the business), wafted 
 success and joy upon its wings to a u-dgtdy hero, whose 
 benefit had been fixed for the same night with Catsquulli's 
 concert. With a quickness that did credit to his inven- 
 tion, he immediately perceived the advantage to which 
 he might convert the circumstance of her non-attend- 
 ance; and directly issued out another set of hand-bills in 
 the following words. " CATSQUALLI'S INDISPO- 
 SITION. In consequence of the disappointment which
 
 88 
 
 say I vas not at all to blame, as Madame 
 Catsqualli humbugged me, as vel as de ladie 
 
 the nobility and gentry of this city will experience in 
 Madame C. not being able to give her intended concert, 
 Mr. A. with additional confidence, invites his friends to 
 this evening's dramatic entertainment, appropriated for 
 his benefit, &c." But the confusion which attended her 
 not keeping the appointment she had made, rested not 
 here. The eccentric motions of this musical comet, dis- 
 turbed and deranged the whole system of Bath diversions j 
 and disorganized, for a time, even the immemorial regu- 
 larity of the UPPER-ROOMS. The extent of this de- 
 parture from ancient rules ; the solemnity with it was 
 determined on ; and the awful precautions taken to pre- 
 vent succeeding deviations, will be best understood from 
 the following royal proclamations ; which reflect an 
 equal lustre on the addresser and the addressed. 
 
 " New Assembly-rooms. 22d March, 1808. 
 " A representation having been made to the Master of 
 the CEREMONIES by several ladies and gentlemen, 
 subscribers to the FANCY BALL, that in consequence 
 of an unexpected alteration in the arrangement for 
 Madame C.'s concert, it would be a general accommodation 
 to change the ball to Saturday (ALTHOUGH BY NO 
 MEANS TO BE CONSIDERED AS A PRECEDENT 
 ON ANY FUTURE OCCASION,) he informs the 
 subscribers that the FANCY BALL will be on Saturday 
 the 2d April." " In consequence of the above afflictive 
 and unexpected circumstance (Madame C's indisposi-
 
 89 
 
 arid gentlemen. But you shall hear. She 
 come down to Bath to give a concert at de 
 moderate price of von guinea a ticket*. 
 
 tion), the MASTER of the CEREMONIES announces 
 the FANCY BALL for this evening, March 31st j and 
 the PRACTICE at two o'clock." 
 
 Risum teneatis amid? Can ye avoid convulsions of 
 laughter at this " much ado about nothing," at this grate 
 foppery, and solemn nonsense about a hop, skip, and jump f 
 or rather, does not your honest indignation kindle and 
 glow as you read of "precedents not to be established for 
 the change of a ball" of cotillions to be practised by grown 
 gentlemen and ladies in the forenoon," at a time when 
 the civil and political order of the world is in a state of 
 disturbance and mutation ? when kings are tumbling 
 from their thrones; ancient governments changing their 
 forms; and nations disappearing from the map of inde- 
 pendent states ? When the longer duration of our own 
 existence and dignity amongst the kingdoms of the earth, 
 is almost problematical ? and when a war is still contest- 
 ing that threatens to undo the civilization of mankind? 
 
 * It is no matter of surprize, that, by the aid of such 
 generosity as this, Madame C. should have been able to 
 scrape together, in the course of the last year, the sum of 
 16,700, if the author of " the Opera-glass" may be 
 depended upon. Far be it from me to be angry with 
 fools, for throwing away their money according to their 
 own fancies; all I object to in the transaction between 
 Madame C, and her dupes, is, that she insults their un-
 
 90 
 
 De room vas crouded; and every body ex- 
 pect some delightful notes in return for 
 
 derstandings, while she picks their pockets; by asserting 
 that she gives a concert, when in fact she is all the while 
 receiving their coin, and making no other return than, 
 vox et precterea nihil The language, however, is not 
 peculiar to Catsqualli. A fashionable musical club at 
 Bath has adopted it in its public advertisements, where it 
 invites the ladies to an entertainment which it professes 
 to give them : and gallantly charges them, at the same 
 i\me,Jifteen shillings for each ticket. 
 
 Amidst the many triumphs of impudence and humbug 
 which the present " age of wisdom" exhibits, the honest 
 mind is now and then gratified by the sight of the biter 
 bitten, and the knowing one taken in. The following 
 anecdote is a case in point, and appropriate to the subject 
 of the present note. Catsqualli had received frequent 
 invitations to the country seat of a noble musical ama- 
 teur, but as he had made no specific offer of remunera- 
 tion for the honor, she had civilly declined accepting it. 
 Being on one of her musical jaunts, however, with her 
 caro spoxo, and passing within a few miles of his lord- 
 ship's villa, she determined upon a call of speculation. 
 The elegant owner of the mansion received her with the 
 utmost respect and politeness ; and for two days and a 
 half nothing but harmony reigned around, to the great 
 delight of the large party assembled at the chateau. To 
 wards the afternoon of the third day, Catsqualli and her 
 consort announced their intention of departing j the
 
 91 
 
 deir gold. Madame enter de room ; de 
 company clap, and she courtesy and smile. 
 
 chariot and four drove to the door, and the lady stepped 
 into it, amidst a shower of compliments and regrets. 
 The husband, in the mean time, requests the honor of 
 his lordship's ear for a moment ; and after a short ex- 
 planation of the inconvenience which his lady and him- 
 self had experienced in quitting the direct road, and 
 tarrying at his mansion, presented a charge of 500, for 
 Madame Catsqualli's performances for twodays and a half. 
 Astonished as his lordship must have been at this unex- 
 pected and moderate demand, he was too-well bred a 
 man to express any surprize, and stepping into his study, 
 returned in a moment with another strip of paper, con- 
 taining a charge of 6OO for three flays entertainment of 
 Madame Catsqualli and her suit* observing, whilst he put it 
 into Monsieur's hand, that in consideration of the reason- 
 ableness of her bill, he could not think of accepting the 
 odd lOO which was due to him, upon the balance of 
 accounts; and begged therefore they might quit scores. 
 One trait more of this noble pair, and we consign them 
 to oblivion. Another fiddling peer had engaged Cat- 
 squalli for his musical party. Her husband, as usual, at- 
 tended her, to take care of his wife, and receive her 
 money. Whilst the company were delighted, enchanted, 
 and ravished by her vocal powers, the frigid spouse 
 lolled upon a sopha, picking his teeth with the most list- 
 less indifference. During an interval of the entertain- 
 ment, one of the royal brothers approached the great
 
 I sigh vid pleasure, touch de instrument, 
 and she try to sing: but, ah Dio! vat a 
 sound ! her voice like de humble bee; and 
 not a note to be heard ! 1 look at her, and 
 she try again. But vorse and vorse; ajrog 
 vould have made better song. In a mo- 
 ment dere vas general chorus of uproar 
 through de room. Col. Mitten he curse 
 and swear : Mr. Squintum he look all man- 
 ner of vays; and I wring my hand, and cry. 
 Madame smile at de confusion, and get 
 de man who sing bass (de strongest voice 
 in de orchestra) to speak for her. He 
 say, " her cold vas so bad, dat she could 
 not sing to-night; but if dey vould go 
 quietly home, she vould pay dem vid an 
 old song on Friday morning. Bath people 
 
 man, and paid him an handsome compliment upon the 
 exquisite taste, and unequalled powers of his lady. 
 Monsieur, without changing his posture, or deigning an 
 answer, simply smiled, and nodded assent. A bye- 
 stander, shocked at his rudeness and indecorum, ex- 
 claimed, " Do you not know, sir, to whom you are 
 talking?" " Out, Monsieur." " Sir, he is one of the 
 royal princes." " Cela pcut etre; mais il n'est pas mem 
 prince"
 
 be ver good-natured, and so go avay. But 
 her troat get more sore, and her voice more 
 hoarse, so dat she be forced to go to London 
 to get cured; but promise to come down 
 again, ven she vould make up for disap- 
 pointment, by taking some more of deir 
 money, and treating dem vid a shake. 
 Veil ; de town talk of noting for a veek 
 after she vas gone, but de sorrow at not 
 hearing her sing; and of noting for de veek 
 before she vas expected again, but de plea- 
 sure dey should receive ven she vas come 
 back ; vich make ver agreable employment 
 for de ladie and gentlemen for fat fortnight . 
 De great day now approach; all de ticket 
 sold; all de places taken; and many ladie 
 engage to breakjast in de concert-room^ 
 dat dey might be in time to hear Cat- 
 squalli sing; ven, at eleven o'clock on de 
 night before de concert, as I vas prac- 
 tising vid Signora Kattana, come an ex- 
 press from London to say, dat madame 
 got a little more money by staying dert, 
 dan by coming done to Bath, and derefore 
 beg me to make de apologie to good people,
 
 94 
 
 and tell dem she vod defer her visit till 
 anoder year. Ah, Dio ! I cannot tink of it 
 yet, vidout my stomach being disordered. 
 
 Bow-wow. Ha! ha! ha! well, d n it, 
 don't mind, man; tisn't the first, nor will it 
 be the last time, that the wise folks of 
 Gotham have been humbugged. Let's 
 change the subject ; come, fill your glass, 
 and drink a bumper to your favorite Signora. 
 Ha ! you sly dog, you ; a very snug thing 
 of it you have there! [Drinks.'] 
 
 Resin. Pon my vord, Mr. Bow-wow, I'll 
 drink de lady vid all my heart; for I have 
 varm regard for her. Aye, you may look 
 cunning if you please, but, pon my onor, 
 our friendship is only Platonique. Any 
 ting else vould be quite out of my vay. Our 
 taste ver similar; our pleasures de same. 
 She charmed *id my evqueseet touch. I 
 admire her delightful notes. She amused 
 vid my instrument I vid de sound of her 
 guineas ; and so both ver well satisfied. 
 I beg, derefore, Mr. Bow-wow, I may not 
 hear any more joke of dis kind. You may 
 jun de risk of an action for defamation if
 
 95 
 
 you indulge your tongue in such libertie as 
 dese. 
 
 Bow-wow. Oh ! d n it, my dear fellow, 
 don't hint at such a thing. It sets me all on 
 a tremble. I have as tender a conscience 
 as my friend Drawcansir, on the article 
 of slander ; and, like him, feel no ambition 
 to hear the opinion of twelve honest men 
 on that subject, a second time*. Why, I've 
 
 * My uncle alludes, probably, to the result of a late 
 trial at Taunton, which afforded the most heartfelt satis- 
 faction to every man of honor and feeling. If a wanton 
 attack, and that of the most atrocious nature, upon the 
 fair fame of a virtuous and estimable character, ever 
 justified the eloquent and bitter censure of an able advo- 
 cate, the general indignation of a crowded court, and the 
 heavy damages of an enlightened jury, the one above 
 alluded to may be considered as doing so in a peculiar 
 way. Would to heaven that the discipline of the ancient 
 church was restored, as far as it respected -wicked clerks: 
 we should then have fewer examples than now present 
 themselves of violations of decency, in an order that 
 ought to be examples to their jiocks. It is gratifying, 
 however, to reflect that a congregation should have the 
 good sense, and proper spirit to express their odium of a 
 slanderous clergyman, in the most pointed and affecting 
 way in which it could be manifested, by rising from the 
 altar when he was about to administer the elements to them*
 
 96 
 
 dreamt of nothing but damages for " plain- 
 tiff," and " costs of suit" for this month 
 past; and dread another " summing up to 
 the jury," as the devil does a pater-noster. 
 Believe me, my dear Resin, I meant nothing 
 more than an innocent joke in what I said. 
 You know I have too great a respect for the 
 lady in question, even to entertain a thought 
 to her disadvantage. 
 
 Resin. I do not know vat respect you 
 may have for de lady, but I tink dat you, 
 and your broders of de black, did not use 
 her vid de politesse due to her, ven you 
 abuse her lifel Sunday concert, and oblige 
 her to confine her music, like de canaille, to 
 'week days. 
 
 Bow-wow. I abuse her Sunday-concerts! 
 That's a good one. Why, man, 'twould be 
 " the pots' calling the kettle ." You 
 know, Resin, that I very frequently have 
 them myself. 'Tis not likely, therefore, 
 
 and going to another part of the rail, where another minister 
 officiated! II Will not this awful reproof produce some 
 good effect? EDITOR.
 
 97 
 
 that / should have joined in a puritanical 
 cry against your friend on this account. 
 
 Resin. Ver true, Mr. Bow-wow ; I ave 
 often heard dat your litel Sunday evening 
 parties are ver agreable ; but ave vondered, 
 at de same time, you vould venture to give 
 dem. Indeed, I ave sometime thought you 
 vould make offence to de higher powers by 
 being so genteel in dis and other respects ; 
 and ave your apointement take avay. Ve 
 should be ver sorry to lose so good a feedel. 
 
 Bow-wow. [Drinks."] Ha, ha, ha ! No 
 fear of that, my dear fellow. Licensed. 
 Firm as a rock Can't be displaced. His 
 lordship, too, a good kind of man; brought 
 up at court; and knows how to be civil to 
 every body. Besides, he's passionately 
 fond of music; and makes great allowances 
 for good spirits. Talk of my liberties, in- 
 deed ! what are they to the rigs and pranks 
 of other gemmen of the cloth ? Why, there's 
 Mr. Chip, who lives in a neighbouring vil- 
 lage, a brother ^ddle, as well as brother 
 parson ; he beats me hollow in tricks and 
 gallantries. Two strings to his bow, my
 
 98 
 
 boy; fcco mistresses in his house at the 
 same time; children by both; and his wife 
 turned out of doors ; and yet, Resin, he 
 is still permitted to instruct his parishioners 
 by his exhortations, and improve them by 
 his example*. I think, Resin, [hiccups] I 
 think it's about two years ago, coming 
 from the club early one morning, a little 
 in for it [hiccups'] I ran foul of some of 
 the d 'd rascals, who had refused to sing 
 to us the week before. My blood was up; 
 I rowed them well; and they, in return, 
 jawed me. At last to it we went ; I got a 
 couple of black eyes, and beat one of them 
 to a jelly. Well, they complained to his 
 lordship ; but I had been beforehand with 
 
 * By the Royal injunctions of 1694, it is directed 
 that " the bishops shall look well to the lives and man* 
 ners of their clergy, that they may be in all things regu- 
 lar and exemplary according to the 7 th canon." Will 
 you believe me, reader, when I assure you, that Mr. 
 Chip, with all these flaming imperfections on his head/ 
 has the assurance regularly to attend the annual visita- 
 tion ; and is permitted to partakeof the substantial din- 
 ner that succeeds this ceremony, in company with his 
 reverend brethren of the archdeaconry ?
 
 99 
 
 them, and already told him my men story ; 
 so that all the answer they got, was, " That 
 Mr. Bow-wow could not be thought to 
 blame in the business. In endeavouring 
 to reduce them to order, he was only la- 
 bouring in his vocation, as factotum of the 
 Glee-club ; and that they deserved all that 
 had happened to them for being abroad at 
 such an unseasonable hour, when only gen- 
 tlemen had a right to be up." 
 
 Resin. But, indeed, my dear Mr. Bow- 
 wow, you must make von litel alteration 
 in your vay of going on ; or all your other 
 good qualitie vil not be able to save you, 
 for de old ladies complain you gallop so 
 fast, dat vid de assistance of deir best 
 spectacle, dey cannot keep up vid you. 
 
 Bow-wow. [Drinks,'] Why, I believe I 
 do tip 'em the go-by now and then ; for I 
 can't bear to muz and hum-drum, like some 
 of my brethren. Noj twenty-five minutes 
 for the services, and eleven for the sermon, 
 including prayer, text, and blessing, is an 
 ample allowance. Indeed, I once went 
 through the whole (for a bet of a bottle of 
 
 H 2
 
 100 
 
 port) in half an hour to a second ; and have 
 ever since been known by the name of 
 parson Jehu. But it was too much for my 
 wind it quite blerv me*. No, no, Resin, 
 I'm not like Dick Sable, of the lower town, 
 who thinks people can never be tired of 
 his prate ; roars treason to his congrega- 
 tion till he has almost cracked their ears 
 and his own lungs ; and obliges them to 
 listen to his rant, whether they will or no, 
 by locking them into their pews till the bene- 
 diction is givenf ; nor do I follow the ex- 
 
 * My uncle had the satisfaction of hearing before his 
 death, that one good result had followed the publication 
 of his work j and that Bow-wow was converted into a 
 deliberate and decent reader of the church-service. 
 
 EDITOR. 
 
 f This alludes to a very ridiculous circumstance which 
 
 Occurred at St. J church, Bath, on the fast-day of 
 
 the 17th of last February. It seems, that on a preced- 
 ing solemnity appointed two years ago by the wisdom of 
 government, for the same profitable purposes as the last 
 day of national humiliation, Sable had preached a sermon 
 exceedingly offensive to the delicate ears of two of his 
 auditors, a sage physician, and a fierce military com- 
 mander. In this unfortunate discourse, in enumerating 
 and reprobating the black catalogue of national crimes,
 
 101 
 
 ample of your chapellers, who cant cursed 
 nonsense by the hour-glass, and pray till 
 
 he had declaimed against that passion for -war, which he 
 conceived had characterized the country, and influenced 
 its external political system for some years past. The 
 man of physic, and the man of tear, (authorized as the 
 one was by his diploma, to put to death in a regular way, 
 and as the other was by his commission, to burn, sink, 
 and destroy, by any methods) immediately apprehend- 
 ing (like the silversmiths of .^.phesus) that their craft 
 was endangered, and their respective employments dis- 
 credited by such antichristian doctrine, rose from their 
 seats, (with the same expedition as if the one had been 
 summoned to give a pass to a dying patient, and the 
 other had been ordered to ait his cables), and rushed in- 
 dignantly from the church. Sable, no wise disturbed at 
 the moving effect of his discourse, took no notice of it 
 at the time, but thundered on to the conclusion of his 
 subject. He bore, however, the circumstance in his 
 recollection, manet alia mente repostum, and resolved, 
 at a future opportunity, to have his revenge. On the 
 succeeding year the same solemnity again occurred ; and 
 Sable having prepared another dose of Cayenne pepper 
 for the occasion, gave the sexton directions to observe 
 the seats in which these two fastidious gentlemen placed 
 themselves, and when th,ey were fairly housed, to turn 
 the key upon them, and put it into his pocket. In the 
 interval, however, either a lack oj patients, or toe much 
 success in the art of human destruction, had driven the
 
 102 
 
 their candles are burnt into the nozzles of 
 their sockets. Not I, indeed; I know the 
 value of my own time, and that of my 
 hearers, better than this comes to. But, 
 d n it, I think we grow dull, Resin. I'll 
 give you a song to cheer our spirits, my 
 boy. Tis a little lyric of my awn composing, 
 and intended to be sung on the last ladies' 
 
 physician from Bath, so that the hero (who had been 
 put upon the yellow list, and condemned to confine his 
 mild and gentle command to his own household) remain- 
 ed alone to face the enemy. Sable began to thunder as 
 usual upon his favorite topic ; to paint the curses of war, 
 and the wickedness of the nation in still pursuing its 
 system of hostilities. The captain coloured ; knit his 
 brow j bit his lips j rose up j seized his hat, and deter- 
 mined again to express his disapprobation, by marching 
 out in the face of the congregation. But vain were his 
 attempts to open the door j the sexton had double-locked 
 it, and retired to a corner where he could not be ob- 
 served, so that the prisoner was compelled to be an 
 auditor for another hour, and what was still worse, 
 when liberated, and permitted to go home, had no other 
 means left of venting his spleen than his usual resource 
 under disappointments, that of cursing his wife, beat- 
 ing his children, kicking his servants, and pouring out 
 all the rich variety of oaths, with which the productive 
 hotbed of a forecastle had supplied him.
 
 103 
 
 night. The stewards indeed refused it, 
 because it was too free, forsooth, for the 
 women. I laughed at their objection, and 
 began it in the room; the milk-sops, how- 
 ever, cried it down, and the girls lost their 
 amusement. I'll be sworn it would have 
 made ten times more fun than the namby- 
 pamby lines of Billy Sonnet (the poet-la urea t 
 of the club), which he fitted up for the oc- 
 casion. You know Billy Sonnet, I sup- 
 pose. 
 
 Resin. Yes, yes ; I ave heard of him, 
 I see his name and his verses too, at de 
 bottom of de pound of butter dat come 
 from de grocer every Saturday morning. 
 Signora Rattana say he ver sweet writer : 
 she tell me too he make great noise in the 
 vorld, and lately publish Poop*. 
 
 Bow-wow. Ha ! ha ! ha ! well said, Re- 
 sin. Yes, yes, he publish Poop, as you 
 say, and has made foul work of it, if we 
 may believe the Edinburgh Review. 
 
 Resin. Signora Rattana never read his 
 
 * I presume Resin here means Pope.
 
 104 
 
 sonnet vid de dry eye ; he ave so much 
 fine sentiment, and so much of de tender 
 feeling. 
 
 Bozv-wow. Yes ; the fine sentiment of a 
 horse-block, and the tender feelings of an 
 oyster. D n me if it doesn't make me 
 sick, to hear such lullaby -jingle called 
 poetry ; and cant and nonsense mistaken 
 for genius and sensibility. Why, man, 
 there is nothing so easy as to snivel in a 
 sonnet. Tis only to be childish and ob- 
 scure, and the business is done. Not so 
 with the manly path of poetry which / 
 tread. My compositions are all Dithyram- 
 bics, odes dedicated to Bacchus ; and jolly 
 Anacreontics, which celebrate nothing but 
 love and wine. .For instance : 
 
 Aeys<nv au yvvcuxsg 
 
 &c. 
 
 The women tell me I am growing old, 
 And say my head is bald, my heart is cold j 
 But give me wine and fair ones, and I'll prove 
 I still can deeply drink, and warmly love. 
 
 But confound the maukish taste of the
 
 105 
 
 present times, say I, which prefers the 
 puny lines of a baby sonneteer ("muling 
 and puking in his nurse's arms") to the 
 sprightly strains that sing of yielding girls 
 and sparkling champagne. But, to go on 
 with the story I was telling you, Billy 
 Sonnet had found in the trash of Taylor 
 the water poet, (for he has a rare spirit of 
 discovery about him when he's in search of 
 any thing to adopt as his own: and, like 
 the immortal Gibber, his antitype in office, 
 genius, and manners, 
 
 *' He here can sip, and there can plunder snug, 
 And suck all o'er like an industrious bug j") 
 
 I say, Resin, he'd found in honest Taylor 
 a few stanzas which he thought might be 
 cut down into an appropriate ode. But he 
 so much diluted the poor bard's verses 
 with lopping, and tacking, and furbishing, 
 and modernizing, that before it was half 
 sung, the greatest part of the women were 
 sound asleep. If my song had been given 
 'em this wouldn't have been the case. But 
 you shall hear it. [Drinks and sings.]
 
 106 
 
 " Amo, amas, I loved a lass, 
 As a cedar tall and slender ; 
 Amaa, amat, and all that " 
 
 Ccetera desunt; not being decent. 
 
 Resin* Ver funny, pon my onor; but I 
 am ver sorry I must now leave your agre- 
 able company, and bid you farewel. 
 
 Bow-wow. D n it, Resin, n-fi-fmish 
 the bottle [Hiccups.] 
 
 Resin. Pon my onor, no. Signora Rat- 
 tana expect me to make von at her litel 
 circle dis evening; and if I drink more of 
 your vine, I am sure I shall not be able to 
 perform. 
 
 Bow-wow. But, zounds, man, le-e-et me 
 light you out. I want to star-g-a-a-aze a 
 little. [Hiccups.] 
 
 Resin walks off; 
 
 tf Whilst Bow-wow, fall'n beside his neighbour's sink, 
 Seems to mere mortals but a priest in drink.'' 
 
 DUNCIAD.
 
 DIALOGUE THE FIFTH. 
 
 SCENE. 
 
 THE PUMP-ROOM. 
 Enter Mr. Drawcansir, and Doctor Skipper. 
 
 Drawcansir. " Hast thou found me, oh, 
 my enemy?" 
 
 Skipper. <f Yes; I have found thee;" 
 and don't mean to part with you till I've 
 made you acquainted with a little of my 
 mind. Nay, don't look big, Mr. Pompous; 
 a frog is not a whit the more formidable 
 because he's swelled. 
 
 Draw. Sir, you're beneath my notice. 
 
 Skip. Why, truly, Mr. Swaggerer, I am 
 not so high by six inches as your reverence;
 
 108 
 
 nor do I carry my head as if I intended to 
 brush away the stars with it. But the old 
 proverb says, " a cat may look at a king;" 
 and, if so, I don't see any great harm in an 
 honest man holding a little confab with a 
 priest. So, you've been at us again, I see. 
 Charge after charge ; shot upon shot ; can't 
 let the blue aprvned men alone, it seems. 
 But, habent suajata lihelli; your labours 
 will find in due time their proper MEED 
 (nay, don't start at the word, Sir !) ; be 
 condemned to cover the bottoms of patty- 
 pans ; or reserved for more necessary pur- 
 poses and posterior honors. 
 
 Draw. Sir, you're cracked, and not qua- 
 lified for rational converse. 
 
 Skip. So much the better, Mr. Puff; 
 for " cracks let in light, you know;" a light 
 that has enabled me to detect the false di- 
 rections of your " Guide;" the perverted 
 evidence of your trial; and the appro- 
 priate odium theologicum that seasons your 
 vindicitf. A light, by which I have dis- 
 covered errors, mistakes, and misrepre- 
 sentations in your works, as thick as mites
 
 109 
 
 In a rotten cheese : wherein Bishop Cleaver % 
 is represented as maintaining the non-cal- 
 vinism of Nowell's catechism, although 
 that prelate has distinctly admitted it to 
 be Calvinistic; wherein, by the reiterated 
 omission of an emphatic NOT, in an ex- 
 tract from the Homilies, you attribute to 
 our reformers sentin cuts directly the reverse 
 of what they entertained ; wherein you. 
 refer to Strype as your authority for assert- 
 ing that Bradford's treatise on election did 
 not obtain the sanction of Cranmcr, Ridley, 
 and Lathner, although Strype affirms that 
 it aid obtain their approbation; wherein 
 you quote the same author, to prove that 
 our reformers did not employ Calvin as 
 their counsel, although that annalist dis- 
 tinctly states that Cranmer did apply to 
 Calvin for counsel ; wherein you adduce 
 the preface to Archbishop Parker's Bible, 
 as furnishing decisive evidence of the de~ 
 sign'td exclusion of Calvin from the church, 
 although the notes to that Bible, as well as 
 the catechism inserted in it, are in the 
 highest degree Calvinistic, and wherein, in
 
 opposition to existing testimony, you con- 
 tend that King James, and the English 
 delegates to the Synod of Dort, preferred 
 the sentiments of Arminius to those of 
 Calvin. What can you say to these misre- 
 presentations, Mr. Pompous? or how can 
 you defend your popish principle of exclu- 
 sive salvation ? A pretty joke, indeed ! to 
 confine the character of the only sound 
 church, to the worm-eaten fabric of the 
 establishment ; and shut the doors of Hea- 
 ven against all those who have not a bishop, 
 as master of the ceremonies to introduce 
 them there. 
 
 Draw. It is not worth my while to an- 
 swer you, sir; you are no theologian. 
 
 Skip. What! have I lived to this age 
 to be told that I am no theologian ? By 
 one, too, Avho has " scarcely saluted the 
 thresh-hold of divinity ?" Surely, after such 
 a daring assertion, I may say of thee with 
 the prophet, that " thy neck is iron, and 
 thy brow is brass" Why, man, I was cir- 
 cumnavigating the stormy ocean of pole- 
 mical divinity long before your " mother's
 
 Ill 
 
 milk was moist upon your lip." For more 
 than half a century, have almost all my 
 waking hours been devoted to controversial 
 theology. Many a time, and oft, have " I 
 outwatched the Bear," in untwisting a 
 knotty point of Biblical disputation; or 
 conquering the intricacies of a scholastic 
 divine ; and, " ere the lark had tuned her 
 matin song," might I, for months together, 
 have been seen, half-buried amongst the 
 moth-eaten records of ecclesiastical history. 
 The elaborate works of the Christian fa- 
 thers, from the epistles of Barnabas, to the 
 five ponderous tomes of John de Lyra, are 
 as familiar to me as my horn- book. The 
 constitutions of the eastern and western 
 churches are at my finger's ends. I have 
 by heart the acts of every oecumenical 
 council ; the decrees of every provincial 
 synod ; and the resolutions of every gene- 
 ral assembly, from the orthodox council 
 of Nice in the time of Constantine, to the 
 heteredox assembly of divines in the reign 
 of Charles the first. 
 
 Draw. Well, sir, and, after all, what
 
 112 
 
 has this to do with the quinquarticular 
 controversy, the grand pillar of my repu- 
 tation ? 
 
 Skip. The quinquarticular controversy! 
 why, man, this is my strongest point. Here, 
 I believe, I may challenge any man into 
 the field of battle. Six times have I read 
 over the whole history of the reformation ; 
 its beginnings, its progress, and its conse- 
 quences ; nicely analyzed the differences 
 of opinion amongst the different denomi- 
 nations of the reformed ; the differences 
 of the Lutherans and the Calvinists from 
 one another ; and the differences of the va- 
 rious subdivisions of the Lutherans, and 
 the various subdivisions of the Calvinists 
 amongst themselves. For four long years 
 did I study the controversial writings of 
 Luther, on the one side, and Erasmus, on 
 the other, on the subjects of original sin, 
 free will, and sovereign grace. Twice 
 have I transcribed the confessions of faith 
 of the different reformed churches ; and 
 made quires of extracts from the excellent 
 discussions of the learned and enlightened
 
 113 
 
 Mdancthon. Not a page of the two great 
 metaphysical fathers, St. Austin of the La- 
 tin, and Joint Damascenus of the Greek, 
 church, has escaped my diligent investiga- 
 tion ; and that I might make myself com- 
 plete master of the question, and thorough- 
 ly understand the subject, I have read 
 over and over again whatever the sages 
 of the Academy, and the Porch, have writ- 
 ten on the order of the divine decrees, and 
 of the TC TT^WTOV and the TO <T;C<XTO>, the first, 
 and the last, in the energies of the divine 
 mind. To these excmplaria Graca did I 
 dedicate, for six successive years, the 
 light of the day, and the silence of the 
 night, in exact obedience to the rule pre- 
 scribed by one of the first masters of study 
 that ever existed \ nocturnd versare mami, 
 versare diurna. 
 
 Draw. All this may be true, sir, but 
 still it is below my dignity to hold conver- 
 sation with you, for you cannot deny that 
 you are an heretic and an apostate. 
 
 Skip. An heretic, quotha ! That is as 
 much as to say, because I don't look 
 
 i
 
 114 
 
 through your spectacles, I can't see at all. 
 You have not lived to these years, I sup- 
 pose, without knowing what the difference 
 is between orthodoxy and heterodoxy; that 
 the one is my own doxy y and the latter, 
 another man's doxy*. So much for heresy : 
 and, with respect to apostacy ) was I to 
 
 * A laughable circumstance occurred two or three 
 years ago amongst the orthodox divines at Bath, which, 
 puts their claim to infallibility upon nearly as respectable 
 a foundation as that of Lord Peter himself. An honest 
 curate, more conscientious than politic, had given no 
 little disgust to his rector, and his right-hand man, 
 Drawcansir, by a style of preaching, which, from its 
 earnestness, they chose to call mefhodistical. Like the 
 high-priests and scribes of old, they had taken the pre- 
 caution of emptying hearers who might entrap Inm in 
 his -words. A sermon, at length, was reported to them 
 of a most culpable nature, and full of methodistical 
 abomination. At the instigation of Drawcamir, th 
 unfortunate discourse was demanded by the rector. 
 Fag, the curate, submitted to the requisition-. A synod 
 was held upon its spirit and tendency. Judgment was 
 pronounced upon it, and the curate informed, that it 
 should be immediately transmitted to the diocesan. He 
 made no objection to the appeal, but requested that a 
 strip of pdper might be sent to his Lordship at the same 
 time, which contained a, reference to tie works of
 
 115 
 
 blame, think you, for quitting a company 
 of which I had been long ashamed* f 
 Could I have remained in such society with 
 a quiet conscience, depend upon it I should 
 have knowil my own interest better than 
 to have left it. But I was too honest to 
 be paid for the performance of duties which 
 I hired another person to fulfil ; and to 
 preach doctrines which were contrary to 
 the articles of the churck\. No, no, I'm 
 
 feishop Hopkins, where might be found, verbatim et li- 
 teratim, the whole of the anathematized sermon ! So 
 much for orthodoxy ! 
 
 * There are those who ill-naturedly insinuate that 
 this was not a disinterested resignation. I hey tell us, 
 that the doctortoad incurred no less than eleven penalties 
 on the qiii tarn act, for non- residence ; and as the pa- 
 rishioners threatened to sue for them if he did not resign, 
 he chose the lesser evil of the two, and gave up a living 
 that was hardly worth holding, rather than incur the 
 heavy mulct of the statute. EDITOR. 
 
 f- One very favorite topic of declamation with this 
 petulant little divine is, as I am informed, the fault* 
 and errors of the clergy of the establishment, and the 
 defects of the system itself. Being permitted, a few 
 months ago, to ascend the pulpit of Lady Huntingdon's 
 chapel, (the wretched ranters of which generally keep 
 
 I 2
 
 It6 
 
 not like one of your own fraternity, who 
 is well known to entertain the same senti- 
 
 up the same senseless cry,) he dared to befoul the cloth 
 with the most impertinent censures, to calumniate the 
 stablishment, and speak evil of its dignities Now, 
 though I am far from being the champion of the church- 
 ministry in every respect ; though I cannot attempt to 
 excuse the rapacity of some, in the matter of tythts ; 
 the want of conscience of others, in absenting themselves 
 from their livings; the priestly pride, pomp, ambition, 
 and intolerance of 'a third set j though I do not say a 
 word in favour of clerical proprietors of fashionable 
 chapels; fox-hunting parsons ; card-playing doctors ; or 
 drunken curates ; yet this I will be bold to assert, that, 
 take the English clergy as an aggregate, no other pro- 
 fession, or body of men, will be able to produce so 
 many examples, as they can produce, of piety of life, 
 pureness of manners, extent, variety, and depth of 
 learning ; soundness of philosophy ; and what crowns 
 the whole, liberality of sentiment. It seems, also, that 
 the doctrines of the established ministry, as they are 
 generally delivered from our pulpits, are the frequent 
 subjects of this pert doctor's ridicule and reprehension^ 
 If, indeed, rationality and simplicity ; mildness and 
 temperance j freedom from the impiety of Calvinism j 
 the wildness of enthusiasm ; and the dismal darkness of 
 fanaticism, characterize anlichristian doctrines, I am 
 willing to concede that the great body of English Ar~ 
 minian divines are the most heterodox set of men in the
 
 117 
 
 ments with myself, and yet continues to 
 make one of the herd which he continually 
 
 world j but if, on the other hand, it be the duty of the 
 ministers of religion, to unfold to their hearers the pure, 
 simple, and rational truths of the gospel; to irradiate 
 their minds with the cheering, comfortable, and re- 
 freshing beams of its heavenly light $ to press upon 
 their consciences the obligation of fulfilling its beautiful 
 precepts ; to kindle their love by representations of the 
 divine goodness ; to awaken their gratitude by views of 
 God's compassion j to inflame their piety, and confirm 
 their virtue by plain and forcible recitals of the terms of 
 salvation; then 1 think I may fairly assume, that no 
 body of spiritual teachers under Heaven can boast so 
 conscientious a fulfilment of their pastoral duties as the 
 established clergy of this land. The doctor in question, 
 I understand, professes an intimate acquaintance with 
 the fathers of the church. I, also, in my time, have 
 dabbled a little with this venerable fraternity ; and many 
 passages from their writings remain on my recollection 
 which were imprinted there, by the good sense and 
 liberal spirit by which, when I read them, they ap- 
 peared to me to have been dictated. I submit them to 
 his attention, that, haply, he may lower the tone of 
 his high doctrines, and lessen that conceit in the infallibi- 
 lity of his own notions, which, I am well informed, he 
 entertains. St. Jerome. Sola script urarum ars est quam 
 sibi omnes passim vc ndicant ; hance garrula anus, hanc 
 DELIRUS SENEX, hanc sopJiista, verbosus, hunc vniverfi
 
 118 
 
 abuses. However, nothing better could 
 be expected from the tender conscience oF 
 
 pr&sumant, lacerant, docent antequam Jiscunt. To teach 
 religion seems to be the only art which does not require 
 common sense in the exercise of it ; hence it happens 
 that every old woman, aged dotard, and noisy declaimer, 
 take upon them to instruct others in what they do not 
 themselves understand ; and the consequence of it is, as 
 he observes in another place, Quicquid dixerint hoc legem 
 Dei putant; that, whatsoever they assert, they think (or 
 pretend) has been dictated by the spirit of God. Such 
 men as these (according to St. Basil), zv vpto-ifoirjtrou 
 ^W r i' eu} f ra zo-vtv rt&F svffafyturiv ; " pretending to in- 
 terpret, only palm upon us their own conceits." " There 
 are persons," says Isidorus Pclusiota, roc. yap py avrcv 
 eipy^evy, exfiiafyusvoi, KKI ra a<o<rrw sipr^sva, wifoirlev- 
 ffera< Tracacrxeuasstriv ; " who, forcing the scriptures 
 to talk nonsense on some points, render them suspected 
 in all j" and who thus put a means of injuring religion 
 into the bands of its enemies, which they would not 
 possess, if these unwise believers did not themselves 
 supply them ; sx sv ?oi$ eawfcuv 8uyy,o.<n rijv i<r%vy %ov- 
 Tf f AX* ev ?oi$ r t i^Tspu;v om&ftof raunjv bttfftnvnf ; as 
 Nazienzen remarks. And to close the whole, let me 
 recommend the following passage of St. Austin ; and as 
 one part of it applies to his air-balloon doctrines, so I 
 trust he will learn from the other, the praise-worthy 
 diffidence and modesty of the venerable father. Mallem 
 quidem eorura. quae a me quajsivisti habere scientiaxn
 
 119 
 
 Doctor Vineyards, who, entrusted to hold 
 the living of lusfrietid (and that, too, his 
 only property) for the use of his son, when 
 the youth came of age to receive it, was 
 suddenly seized with such qualms against 
 the commission of a simoniacal act, as 
 compelled him, unwillingly, to keep the 
 preferment for himself. The world, in- 
 deed, which did not sympathize with the 
 delicate feelings, nor understand the nice 
 scruples of the holy Doctor, would proba- 
 bly have sent him to Coventry for this sa- 
 crifice to his conscience, had not his pa- 
 troness given JflOOO, hush-money y to the 
 disappointed party ; for the doctor was too 
 valuable a preacher to be silenced ; a great 
 theologian like some other people; with 
 lungs as tough and durable as your own ; 
 
 quam ignorantiam ; sed quia id non potui, magis eligo 
 cautam ignorantiam corifiteri, quara falsam scientiam 
 profited. " I should be glad to answer the abstruse 
 points you submit to me, if I were able ; but as I can- 
 not do it, I had rather acknowledge an excusable igno- 
 rance, than affect a knowledge I did not possess," And 
 so much for Dr. Skipper !
 
 120 
 
 Apostate, indeed ! and pray, sir, might not 
 I, with equal justice, call another person a 
 rebel to his old mother the church, and a 
 traitor to her protectress the government, 
 for endeavouring in his publications to ' 
 defraud the one of some of her most essen- 
 tial doctrines, and for flying in the face of 
 the other, hy refusing to read on a. fast day 
 a part of the service appointed by the law 
 of the land to be read, because it breathed 
 the spirit of Christian charity towards his 
 dissenting brethren* ? 
 
 Tantura Religio potuit suadere malorum ? 
 
 Is this the orthodox mode of manifesting 
 religion and loyalty ? 
 
 * <{ Give us grace to put away from us all rancour of 
 religious dissension ; that we, who agree in the essentials 
 of our most holy truth, and look for pardon through the 
 merits and intercessions of a Saviour, may, notwith- 
 standing our differences upon points of doubtful opinion, 
 still be united in the bonds of Christian charity, and fulfil 
 thy blessed Son's commandment of loving one another 
 as he hath loved us,"
 
 121 
 
 Draw. Sir, I insist upon it that you 
 treat with more respect a church-dignitary, 
 a man of tried zeal in the cause of the 
 faith. 
 
 Skip. Zeal, forsooth ! Ha, ha, ha ! a 
 pretty abuse of words, indeed. Is it zeal 
 that teaches a dignitary to neglect the 
 duties of his office, and a pastor the in- 
 terest of his flock, by residing out of the 
 diocese, which confers upon him his honors* 
 and furnishes him with his tythes? Is it 
 zeal which impels him to leave his sheep to 
 hirelings and wolves, whilst he's waging a 
 distant war, and pouring out abuse against 
 the poor dissenters, calling one blockhead, 
 and another rogue, as spleen may suggest : 
 
 Hunc Furiam, hunc aliud, jussit quod splendida bills ? 
 
 What is such zeal as this, when compared 
 with mine? I, who have for twenty years 
 together preached three sermons, on three 
 days of every week, at places 20 miles, 
 distant from each other? I, who have held 
 forth for two hours upon a stretch, from
 
 122 
 
 the top of an empty hogshead, to crowded 
 piarkets, in half the towns of Somerset and 
 Wilts? I, who have 50 times planted my- 
 self at the doors of those deoifs drawing 
 rooms, the play-houses, card-houses, and 
 music-houses here in Bath, and exhorted 
 them who were entering therein to turn 
 their backs upon these pits of destruction ? 
 I, who have as often triumphed over the 
 attack of dead cats, rotten eggs, and every 
 other unseemly shot, discharged at my 
 head whilst I was haranguing the mob, and 
 at length silenced the noise of the unruly 
 multitude by the persevering strength of 
 jny unconquerable lungs? 
 
 Draw. But, have I not built a church? 
 Have I not 
 
 Skipk Fair and softly, your reverence. 
 He " who builds a church to God, and 
 not tQ fame," has a just claim to the praise 
 of zeal; but where the principle has been 
 reversed, the pretension cannot be admit- 
 ted. If the builder have raised the fabrick 
 merely as a stage for his own acting; as a 
 plaything to soothe his pride and gratify
 
 123 
 
 his vanity; that he may sit on one of its 
 gilded thrones, squat like the Teeshoo Lama 
 in his pagoda; or, like his own proper pro- 
 totype the pope, cajoling the people from 
 the chair of St. Peter; wr* avrov ? rov vaov 
 T& Ofa wj Qtov xaOKrai onroStiMovroi KXVTOV ort f<rr* 
 fiw?: if contributions to hospitals, dispen- 
 saries, and charity-schools, be taxed for 
 the purchase of all this finery; we may 
 depend upon it, that the honest public will 
 attribute the erection of the fabrick to any 
 thing but the zeal of the architect. 
 
 Draw. 'Tis false, thou base detractor; 
 the suffrage of the world is in my favor. A 
 large party 
 
 Skip. Aye, aye, so you say; but that 
 does not make it a whit the more true. I 
 don't doubt, indeed, there are some who 
 toss up their hats, and shout " Drawcansir, 
 the zealous theologian, for ever!" but, de^ 
 pend upon it, man, this is not the cry of* 
 the general voice. You will have your 
 deserts from your contemporaries, and pos- 
 terity will not be unjust to your real merits; 
 < f Buum quique decus rependit posteritas."
 
 124 
 
 It little matters what such men as the ci~ 
 divant illuminati brothers, and your friend 
 and admirer, Ga far Smut (who follow you, 
 as Aristotle tells us the tiger does the 
 rhinoceros, to eat up what drops from his 
 tail), shall say in your behalf, because the 
 world, I believe, does not rate them beyond 
 their value, and, consequently, their good 
 word will not pass for much. Indeed, I 
 often feel surprised that a man of your 
 shrewdness should encourage such adhe- 
 rents. Don't you see, that the little gemini 
 are merely endeavouring to escape from 
 their native insignificance, and raise them- 
 selves into temporary notice, by uniting 
 their name with that of a man who makes 
 some noise in the world ? and cannot you 
 discover, that your reverend partizan clings 
 to you at present, only that he may have 
 an excuse for catching at your mantle, when 
 you are translated (not to heaven, like 
 Elijah,) but to the dignities and profits of 
 a comfortable see? You know, I suppose, 
 that it would not be the first time of his 
 feeding off the crumbs that fell from an
 
 episcopal table; or of his having made a 
 meal on the leavings of a bishop I 
 
 Draw. Read the Anti-jacobin Review, 
 thou reviler of dignities, and blush (if thou 
 hast grace enough in thee to be ashamed 
 of any thing) at thy slander of a man, 
 whom these unquestioned judges of merit 
 have clothed with every excellence, and 
 pronounced to be most worthy of a mitre. 
 
 Skip. Do pardon me, great sir, if I prefer 
 the authority of sober reaspn, common 
 sense, and vulgar fame, before- that even of 
 these infallible critics. I am of Horace's 
 kidney, and have an awkward way of judg- 
 ing for myself: 
 
 Nullius addictusjurare in verba magistri. 
 
 You will, I dare say, excuse the garrulity 
 of age if I tell you a stery. Some yean 
 ago, a man was brought to Tyburn for a 
 sacrilege which he had committed. He 
 was now under the gallows; the rope was 
 round his neck, and the cap drawn over his 
 eyes: the love of fame, however, "that 
 last infirmity of noble minds;" in other 
 words, the natural wish that posterity
 
 might consider him as less a rogue than 
 he really was, induced him to make one 
 effort to impress the spectators with an idea 
 that he was hanged unjustly. He accord- 
 ingly requested to speak to the multitude, 
 and thus addressed them. -" My friends, I 
 die innocent of the crime laid to my charge.'' 
 Here murmurs of the injustice of the law 
 ran through the crowd "I have always 
 lived a sober, regular, and honest life ; and 
 done my duty in the state wherein I was 
 placed"' sighs were heard from all quarters, 
 and tears began to fall from many eyes 
 ".I could name hundreds who would speak 
 to my innocence and uprightness; and this 
 man (pointing to the executioner) \\'ho has 
 known me from my youth, will testify that 
 Pat Flannigan never did any thing that was 
 contrary to law, at all at all." This un- 
 fortunate appeal dissipated the tears and 
 sighs of the multitude in a moment; and 
 nothing was heard but " Off with the 
 rascal! off with the rascal I-*- we want no 
 further proof of his guilt, than his calling 
 Jack Ketch to his character !" Ha! ha! ha! 
 Draw. Intolerable insolence! But can
 
 127 
 
 you deny, Mr. Jackanapes, that I manifest 
 zeal by my preaching and works? Don't 
 I denounce curses against worldly amuse- 
 ments, and fashionable follies*? Don't I 
 
 * Drawcansir, it seems, has exercised his eloquence 
 both from the pulpit and the press, against places of 
 public amusements, particularly the theatre ; which he 
 considers (as barber Strap did the metropolis) " the 
 devil's drawing- rdorri ;" the great hot-bed of all abomi- 
 nation. But, nemo omnibus horis sapit ; the wisest men 
 are sometimes inconsistent-} and so it happened with this 
 elder Cato of modern times. Being in London a few 
 seasons ago, and desirous to indulge a curiosity which he 
 could not decently gratify at Bath, the scene of his de* 
 nunciations- of 'high-life gaieties, be stole one night to 
 Drury-lane, flattering himself he should remain unob- 
 served, amongst the large and indiscriminate multitude 
 which flock to these places of public relaxation. But 
 the great are always in danger. He descended into a 
 box, and seeing a seat before him which had no occu- 
 pant but a hat, he removed this unresisting proprietor 
 from its place, and quietly settled himself there in it* 
 stead. Before a minute had elapsed, the head which 
 belonged to the hat, popped into the boxj and in a 
 stentorian voice, demanded Drawcansir's abdication of the 
 seat. The sturdy hero of the rights of the church, how- 
 ever, contended that nobody had asserted any claim upon 
 the place when betook possession of it, and, consequently, 
 lhat he held it by a legal title. " True," replied his
 
 keep a poor-box over my chimney-piece, 
 to 
 
 Skip. "Tax other's pockets instead of 
 his own," as the old song says. Why 
 I suppose you could point out a rector, 
 only a few miles from hence, who thus 
 
 antagonist, " but though my hat could not speafc, it inti- 
 ttiated that the seat belonged to another." The distinc- 
 tion not satisfying our scholastic divine, he demurred to 
 tlie argument, and protested his determination to main- 
 tain his situation. The indignant claimant immediately 
 rushed forward to eject the intruder, vi et armis. On 
 the other hand, Drawcanstr, like Satan, 
 
 " Collecting all his might dilated stood, 
 Like Teneriff'or Atlas unremov'd; 
 His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest 
 Sat Horror plum'd : now dreadful deeds 
 Might have ensued " 
 
 if the screams of the ladies, and the shouts of the upper 
 gallery., had not called the constables to their duty, who 
 quickly settled the dispute, by obliging both gentlemen 
 to quit the box. The adventure would have been merged 
 in that multitude of similar events which are perpetually 
 occurring at a London theatre, had not an occasional 
 hearer of Drawcansir's been unfortunately privy to th 
 soene, who communicated the particulars of it to my 
 uncle. EDITOR,
 
 129 
 
 builds up a character for charity at the 
 expence of his friends. I'll tell you an 
 anecdote of him. In the times of scarcity, 
 a few years back, the church-wardens of 
 his parish determined on throwing a large 
 piece of waste ground into potatoes; and 
 setting apart its produce for the necessitous 
 families in the neighbourhood. When the 
 crop was nearly ripe, they waited upon 
 their pastor, and explaining their intention, 
 to him, requested he would wave his claim 
 to the tythe of the produce. " No," said 
 he, " gentlemen, I cannot sacrifice the 
 rights of the church, nor, in justice to my 
 successor, give up my legal pretensions. I 
 shall therefore take my tythe of the pota- 
 toes, but you may depend upon it, I will 
 make a liberal distribution of what I receive. 
 The potatoes were accordingly dug up ; 
 the tythe of them carried borne, and slionly 
 after given away at market, by the generous 
 rector, at the rate of ONE GUINEA per 
 sack. Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Perhaps you thipk the poor might have their part ; 
 Bond damns the poor, and hates them from his heart.-r 
 K
 
 130 
 
 " God cannot love," says he, with tearless eyes, 
 " The wretch he starves" and piously denies. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 Draw. Contemptible reptile ! But I'll not 
 demean myself by being in a passion with 
 you. You shall hear from me, sir, through 
 the channel of the Court of King's Bench. 
 Yes, sir, I'll bring an action of defamation 
 against you.- 
 
 Skip. I'm not afraid of you, Mr. Blus- 
 terer. 
 
 ICuvo; 
 
 \V ith face canine, but deer-like heart. 
 
 My motto, upon all occasions, is the saying 
 of your friend St. Jerome. Mori possum, 
 tacere non possum; I'm determined to speak 
 put, let the consequence be what it may. 
 But I believe you'll not thrust yourself un- 
 necessarily into that court. You'll remem- 
 ber what has been the MEED of certain 
 persons in similar cases. Depend upon it, 
 the plan of secretly circulating abuse will 
 t>e much more safe for you than the verdict
 
 131 
 
 of a special jury. ^Besides, his lordship of 
 the Fens will here lend you his assistance; 
 and so far befriend you, that if he cannot 
 prove your case, he'll at least take half the 
 odium of defeat from your shoulders. Let 
 me advise you, therefore, to ask aid of the 
 bishop instead of the chief justice ; and as 
 you are a great admirer of the Fathers, to 
 adopt on all occasions the sage hint of 
 Ignatius : 
 
 to do nothing without the co-operation of 
 his fads/rip.-
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 AWARE that it is far beneath the dignity 
 of an author (and such the publication of a 
 book permits me, I trow, to denominate my- 
 self) to notice animadversions upon his 
 productions, circulated through the chan- 
 nel of an obscure and contemptible pro- 
 vincial paper, I deem it necessary, before I 
 thus degrade the profession, to deprecate 
 the wrath of my brethren of the quill, by 
 humbly craving their pardon upon my of- 
 fence, and binding myself by the most 
 solemn promise, that, after this one devia- 
 tion from the regulations of the literary 
 corps, I will, in no wise, and upon no oc 
 casion, descend for one moment, in word or 
 deed, from the lofty self-importance of our 
 venerable calling. They will, I flatter my- 
 lelf, consider the act (what it really is) as a
 
 154 
 
 sacrifice of 'dignity injustice; and therefore! 
 pardon the sin, though they cannot sympa- 
 thize with the feeling that occasioned it. 
 In the Bath Heralds of Nov. 27th, Dec. 4tli 
 and l^th, appeared the following letters 
 and notes. 
 
 TO THE PRINTER OF THE BATH HERALD. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 SIR, Nov. 25, 1807. 
 
 As no man can approve his being exhi- 
 bited to his fellow-citizens as an object of 
 animadversion or derision, it is natural for 
 an individual, on whose character an attack 
 of this kind is made, to endeavour to find 
 out his aggressor. Indeed the public at 
 large is in some degree interested in such a 
 discovery; since what is one man's fate to- 
 day, may be another's to-morrow. Not to 
 speak of directly scandalous misrepresenta- 
 tions, where are the persons so exempt 
 from failings, that may not be either exag-
 
 135 
 
 gerated by the tongue of envy and slander, 
 or distorted through the medium of ridicule 
 and satire, so as to gratify the too general 
 malignity of the human heart? For this 
 reason, it is laudahle to acquire, by proper 
 means, an information which may be bene- 
 ficial to our neighbours in general ; and 
 who would not wish to be able to say of 
 the author of a late mischievous publica- 
 tion, which may have disturbed private 
 peace, and has undoubtedly excited much 
 public curiosity 
 
 Foenum habet in cornu longe fuge ? 
 
 The great misfortune is, that in the avidity 
 of such an inquiry, the innocent too often 
 suffers for the guilty; and I yesterday wit- 
 nessed an abuse of this kind (originating 
 no doubt with one of the lowest of the 
 multitude) which ought not to pass un- 
 noticed the name of a most respectable 
 gentleman, together with his place of re- 
 sidence, was inscribed on the walls of some 
 of the most frequented parts of this town,
 
 1361 , 
 
 Peter Paul Pallet, 29, Circus. Now all 
 who have the pleasure of knowing the 
 gentleman alluded to, are convinced that 
 he possesses too much dignity of mind to 
 employ his eminent talents in so servile and 
 illiberal a work; but they know also, that a 
 consciousness of his integrity will lead him 
 to despise in silence, rather than conde- 
 scend personally to remove, any suspicions 
 of the nature above mentioned, which may 
 be floating in the higher circles of society. 
 Hence, with a view to arrive at the know- 
 ledge of the real writer of the Bath Cha- 
 racters, I beg leave to suggest, that the 
 intimate friends of this gentleman would do 
 well, on his authority, to contradict, in the 
 most express manner, the base insinuation 
 which has been circulated with no small 
 degree of activity. In consequence of this, 
 investigation will be directed with increased 
 zeal into other channels, success may attend 
 its efforts, and a proper odium light on the 
 head of the person who justly merits it I 
 am, sir, yours, &c. 
 
 DICAIOPHILOS.
 
 137 
 
 No. II. 
 
 MR. PRINTER, Nov. 30, 1807. 
 
 SINCE writing the letter which you apo- 
 logized for omitting last week, I am happy 
 to find that my apprehension of not being 
 able to obtain a personal and public con- 
 tradiction to the rumour so prevalent is in 
 a great degree removed. I read with much 
 pleasure in that paper, Mr. Thomas Fal- 
 coner's distinct and positive disavowal of 
 any knowledge of the author of the last 
 dialogue in the Bath Characters, in conse- 
 quence of its having been ascribed to him. 
 Such a conduct is to be commended as 
 liberal, and worthy of a respectable mem- 
 ber of society. I am only sorry it does not 
 extend so far as to spare him all further 
 trouble in this disagreeable business; for 
 it is proper he should be informed, that 
 from his only declaring the fifth dialogue 
 was not his composition, the other four are 
 now ascribed to him, and his father, as a 
 joint production. Hence he will no doubt 
 have the goodness to satisfy the public, jn
 
 138 
 
 * 
 
 the same laudable manner, on this allega- 
 tion; as a total silence -would lead to the 
 inevitable conclusion, that one or both are 
 concerned in writing the whole or Some 
 part of the said dialogues. Indeed, that 
 same justice to the author, with a proper 
 sense of which Mr. Falconer is so strongly 
 impressed as to make the first disavowal, 
 will no doubt equally induce him to make 
 the second, in every respect as much, if 
 not more, necessary. 
 
 No. III. 
 
 Chatham-Row, Dec. 10, ISO/. 
 
 I)R. SHEPPARD informs the author of a 
 late scurrilous publication, that he has in- 
 serted what is not true of two other cha- 
 racters; Dr. S. was in London at the tirrie 
 when Dr. Haweis (whom it is presumed he 
 calte Dr. Vineyards) took the living of 
 Aid winkle. He heard the story from the
 
 1/39 
 
 mouths of Dr. Madan and Mr. Kimpton* 
 Kimpton was a dissenter; he bad Aid winkle 
 to dispose of, the rector being dead. Tbe 
 benefice was valued at ^1000. Kimpton 
 bad two-thirds of the said living, and he 
 borrowed 300 of Mr. Savage, of Spital- 
 fields, to purchase the other share. Mr. 
 Savasce told Dr. S. this himself. He could 
 
 O 
 
 not sell it till within a week of its lapse to 
 the bishop. If a patron does not present 
 within six months to a living, the bishop 
 of the diocese has a right to present. 
 Kimpton applied to Dr. Madan, late of the 
 Lock chapel, London, for advice; he never 
 told Dr. Madan or Dr. Haweis his circum- 
 stances, that he was a poor man, and coukl 
 not afford to give the living away. Mr. 
 Madan recommended to him his curate, 
 Dr. Haweis. Kimpton said he would pre- 
 sent Dr. Haweis, if he would resign the 
 living as soon as he could sell it. Dr. 
 
 O 
 
 Haweis was asked if he would take it on 
 these terms. He answered, if he would 
 give it to him out mid out he would take it, 
 not otherwise. Kimpton took a day or
 
 140 
 
 two to consider of it, and then came and 
 presented it. Six months afterwards he 
 published a pamphlet, implying that he 
 was an injured man, and robbed of his 
 living. Mr. Madan answered ; let it be 
 known that it is simony by our ecclesiastic 
 laws to buy a living, the incumbent being 
 dead : it is also simony to take a living 
 with a promise of resignation, in order that 
 the same may be sold. A clamour in- 
 stantly arose in the religious world against 
 Mr. Madan, as the adviser of Kimpton ; 
 and Dr. Haweis, for taking the said living. 
 It was brought upon the stage in a play 
 called the FTypocrite. Laely Huntingdon 
 hearing of the circumstances of Kimpton, 
 gave him a thousand pounds for the said 
 living. This is the truth. Some con- 
 demned, others approved, of the conduct 
 of Dr, Haweis. 
 
 No. IV. 
 
 ArcoTifER untruth is told of Dr. Vege* 
 table. The gentleman supposed to be al-
 
 141 
 
 luded to has two curates; to one he gives 
 100. per ann. that is, the said curacy is 
 made up so much, though the salary is only 
 75. per ann. To the other he gives 50. 
 per ann. for single duty. 
 
 No. V. 
 
 THE printer has just received a long 
 letter, with the London post-mark, signed 
 P. P. P. evidently the production of a 
 writer who has lately acquired considerable 
 notoriety in this city. In the hurry at- 
 tending the day of publication, especially 
 when the arrival of the mail is retarded by 
 the weather, the author will be satisfied 
 with this remark that this letter requires 
 most mature consideration. To satisfy, how- 
 ever, the public on the import of this 
 epistle, the printer states that it chiefly re- 
 lates to what P. P. P. calls the unjustifiable 
 means everted in discovering the author of 
 the Bath Characters. "The secret," he 
 says, " of the author, is locked in his own
 
 142 
 
 breast, and will probably die with him: it 
 is known not even to his publisher; and 
 this letter will no more lead you or any 
 person to a discovery, than if it dropped 
 from the moon." Friday morn. 
 
 Now for our defence and remarks. 
 
 After unequivocally asserting that I am 
 not the author of the letter alluded to in 
 No. 5, nor acquainted at all with the per- 
 son that wrote it, I proceed to an examina- 
 tion of the other delectable morceaux of 
 criticism and reprehension \ inverting the 
 order in which they stand above, and 
 dragging them to the slaughter-house, as the 
 rogue Cacus did the oxen of Hercules, with 
 the tail foremost: 
 
 Cauda in speluqcam tractosj 
 
 Or, to be more explicit, adopting the 
 wrnpvp'npvi a figure of rhetoric, well known 
 to the English reader, under the familiar 
 phrase of " putting the cart before the, 
 horse."
 
 143 
 
 With respect to No. 4, my remarks shall 
 be as brief as its subject will allow then) 
 to be Qui capit ille facit. If the gentle- 
 man to whom the writer of that paragraph 
 Alludes can say, THAT his northern curacy 
 was at no time during his incumbency so 
 low as five or six guineas per annum; and 
 that it was not raised to its present amount 
 jn consequence of the act of parliament for 
 increasing the wages of journeymen, parsons 
 THAT he did not swear and engage at his 
 ordination, and institution to his livings, 
 to " feed and tend the flock committed to 
 his care," and "minister the discipline of 
 Christ as the Lord has commanded" THAT 
 he conscientiouly believes he is as bene- 
 ficially employed (I do not mean to himself, 
 but to the community) in dealing out tropes 
 and figures from the richly-embroidered 
 and velvet-coated pulpit of his grand chapel 
 at Bath, to the Dut chess of this ; the Lady 
 that; and the Lordknows-who; as he would 
 be in telling a plain tale of Christian duty to 
 bis own proper congregations THAT he 
 seriously thinks he is serving his heavenly
 
 144 
 
 master (to whose service he has most so. 
 lernnly dedicated himself) as faithfully and 
 effectually at the routes and card-tables at 
 Bath, as he would be were he instructing 
 the ignorant; comforting the sick; reliev- 
 ing the. poor; and solacing the afflicted in 
 the parishes from whence he draws his 
 tythes * ; I would then allow that he is an 
 
 * The evil tendency (for I say nothing of the want of 
 moral and concientious feeling in those who practise it) of 
 this base dereliction of their flocks by the beneficed clergy, 
 must be sufficiently manifest to any man of common un- 
 derstanding: and we can hardly determine whether it be 
 more characterized by dishonesty or impolicy. But the 
 practice is not confined, it seems, to the higher species of 
 ecclesiastics} it pervades the genus, and parish clerks, 
 imitating the example of their masters, are now as guilty 
 of non-residence, as the most careless priests of the esta- 
 blishment. At a vestry held a few weeks ago in a large 
 parish in Bath, a complaint having been presented of 
 the enormous sums exacted for the fees of the parson 
 and his clerk, poor sol-fa was called to an account for his 
 extortion. " 1 is not to blame," said the sagacious servant 
 of the church, " Maister has aal my fees. I beant clark, 
 but the clerk's daputy; and who he is, the lord only, and 
 the parson knows." Astonished at this information,* the 
 chairman of the vestry demanded an explanation of the 
 rector, tf Oh, sir !" returned the incumbent, " by UQ
 
 145 
 
 injured man, and would expunge the second 
 dialogue from the next edition of the 
 characters. 
 
 " Oh! fye upon it, fye upon it!" How 
 can an incumbent justify to himself such a 
 mode of carrying on traders this? or, how 
 can a diocesan answer it to his conscience 
 (in defiance of a late act of parliament, and 
 a recent order of the privy-council) to wink 
 at such proceedings? We need look no 
 further for the increase of sectaries, and the 
 progress of schism ; nor longer wonder* 
 that even the holy zeal of the disinterested 
 Drawcansir himself has been unable hither- 
 to to lessen the numbers of the one, or 
 check the march of the other. 
 
 As to No. 3, I shall not long detain trie 
 
 means an uncommon case. The clerkships of such 
 parishes as these, are too valuable things to be given to 
 vulgar men. We generally bestow them upon some 
 poor relations ; give them as portions to younger sons j 
 or dispose of them for a good round sum of ready money. 
 The office does not require residence j and the gentleman 
 who holds the one in question, is now living by the fees 
 of that, and the profits of his own profcssion t in Lincoln's*
 
 146 
 
 reader. From the entire dissimilarity of Df. 
 Sheppard's friend's case, and that of Dr. 
 Vineyards, it is manifest to any one with 
 half an eye, that the former could not have 
 sat for the portrait, which I have given 
 under the name of the latter. I shall, 
 however, venture to say, that Dr. Vine- 
 yards is a rigid likeness of his original, if 
 any authority may be attributed to the 
 generally-received popular axiom, WHAT 
 
 EVERY BODY SAYS MUST BE TRUE. 
 
 With the author of the letter No. 4, I 
 should be inclined to express myself in 
 very indignant terms, were it not my plan, 
 as well as my nature, to laugh rather than 
 to scold. I cannot, however, pass it over 
 without observing, that the writer of it 
 must be considered as having taken a step 
 equally insolent and unjustifiable, and the 
 publisher of it as deserving the most serioifs 
 censure, in daring to hold out to obnoxious 
 notice, and public discussion, two respect- 
 able names as the supposed authors of a 
 work which, in another letter, he considers 
 as deserving general odium. Happily, the 
 dignity of character, and solid worth of
 
 147 
 
 both these gentlemen, stand upon too broad 
 and subtantial a basis to be shaken by the 
 blast of calumny, or undermined by the 
 secret sap of sly insinuation; for, if com- 
 mon report (rny only means of knowledge 
 on the subject) have given me true inform- 
 ation respecting them, their high attain- 
 ments, and excellent qualities; the virtue, 
 probity, capacity, and knowledge of the 
 father; and the integrity, consistency, 
 honor, and talents of the son, must place 
 them far above the suspicion of any act, 
 which even the most distorted or fastidious 
 eye could consider as reprehensible. But 
 enough of this. I may say with Junius; 
 "I am not conversant in the language of 
 panegyric. These praises are extorted 
 from me: but they will wear well; for, 
 they have been dearly earned." 
 
 I come now to notice the letter No. I. 
 Its writer it seems is a lover of justice (for 
 so his signature imports*); then justice let 
 him have. 
 
 Fiat Justitia ruat coelum. 
 
 * Would you believe, reader, that this disinterested 
 L2
 
 148 
 
 Fully satisfied as I am, that moral worth 
 and virtue cannot be rendered ridiculous 
 by all the arts of satire, I confess I do not 
 see either the disgrace or impropriety of 
 exercising an instrument, whose injurious 
 influence will not extend beyond the pre- 
 cincts of Folly and Vice. It was under 
 this impression that I took up my pen to 
 essay its powers of moral casfigation, and I 
 am hardened enough to acknowledge, that 
 I feel content with the modem which it has 
 carried on its attacks, and with the results 
 which these have produced. It has held 
 up none as " objects of animadversion or 
 derision," except such as well deserved 
 either the blame or contempt of " their 
 fellow-citizens." It has not dealt in " scan- 
 dalous misrepresentations;" nor "exag- 
 gerated failings" beyond their real magni- 
 tude, since the general voice has pro- 
 nounced that its likenesses are drawn with 
 the most striking exactness. It cannot 
 have ''disturbed the private peace" of any 
 
 lover of justice (as I have within this hour been informed 
 by letter) is no other than the truly apostolical Dr. 
 Vegetable himself?
 
 149 
 
 family, because the objects of its attacks 
 are only those habits of profligacy or folly, 
 with the existence of which domestic happi- 
 ness is altogether incompatible. 
 
 Had I, indeed, attempted to excite the 
 laugh, or direct the finger of scorn at 
 honorable principle, modest merit, or ho- 
 nest industry; had I wantonly sported 
 with the good man's feeling, or even the 
 virtuous man's " failings :" had I, to " gra- 
 tify the too general malignity of the human 
 heart," broken in, ruffian-like, upon the 
 sacred circle of domestic felicity, ridiculed 
 its charities, or endeavoured to blast its 
 innocent joys ; then should I most justly 
 have " merited" all ' the odium" that Di- 
 kaiophilos is willing to accumulate upon 
 my head, and have felt myself compelled 
 to acknowledge, that his classical scrap 
 applied to me with the most happy pro- 
 priety. But, will the world allow (and 
 to that I make my appeal, in preference to 
 a writer who is evidently himself one of 
 the stricken " deer"), will the world allow, 
 I say, that I deserve odium for an attempt,
 
 150 
 
 however feeble, in times so " big with fate" 
 as the present unparalleled ones, to arrest 
 the progress of profligacy and irreligion ; 
 to shame the insolence of vanity and folly; 
 to abash the lofty spirit of an immoral dis- 
 sipation, and an emasculating luxury, which 
 insult the wretchedness of the poor, wound 
 the feelings of the good, and awaken the 
 alarms of every reflecting mind in the 
 kingdom ? Will the wise, the judicious, 
 and the honorable, condemn me for tear- 
 ing the mask from the face of hypocrisy ; 
 and exposing the pernicious humbug, and 
 the vain pretensions of quackery, empiri- 
 cism, and charktanerie ? NO : Indivi- 
 duals who feel the sin ait of the lash may 
 complain of the " malignity" of its appli- 
 cation ; but the plain honesty and sober 
 common sense of the public will pronounce 
 without hesitation, that strict just ice guides 
 the hand which wields it. 
 
 In the estimation, however, of the letter- 
 writer, it seems that I ought to be de- 
 nounced as the enemy of society, at least 
 '? amongst the higher circles ; and
 
 151 
 
 " Pursued with havock in the tyrannous hunt," 
 
 till " the increased zeal of investigation" 
 after my birth, parentage, and education, 
 name, and place of abode, shall have been, 
 attended with success ; " and a proper 
 odium" be at length imposed " upon the 
 head of the person who has so justly me- 
 rited it." From the mode which I have 
 adopted in publishing my volume, it is far 
 from probable that its author should be dis- 
 covered. But, whether or not this shall be 
 the case, I would inform this diligent en- 
 quirer after the true P. P. Pallet, that I 
 am not very careful as to the result of this 
 industrious search. As I have never at- 
 tached much value to the 
 
 " Smile of villains, or the praise of fools," 
 
 so neither am I solicitous to deprecate 
 their odium. But little accustomed to fear 
 any thing, save the rebukes of my con- 
 science and the displeasure of the good, 
 and far from anticipating that these conse-
 
 quences would follow the detection of the 
 real author of the dialogues ; the indigna- 
 tion of such characters as the letters-writer, 
 would only awaken in my mind the emo- 
 tion of contempt. I foresee, indeed, that 
 " the higher circles," to which he seems 
 to affix peculiar importance, would partake 
 in the resentful feelings of Dikaiophilos tor 
 wards the true P. P. Pallet ; but even this 
 mighty misfortune would lie lightly on my 
 spirit. LONG CONVINCED THAT TO THEIR 
 
 DEGENERATE PRINCIPLES AND DISSO- 
 LUTE MANNERS MAY BE TRACED ALL 
 THE MORAL AND POLITICAL EVILS OF MY 
 DEGRADED AND UNHAPPY COUNTRY, I 
 
 have ceased to regard them with feelings 
 of attachment and respect. Satisfied with 
 the valuable familiar intercourse of a Jew 
 kindred spirits, I want neither the friend- 
 ship nor esteem of the <f fond many." 
 The good opinion of the < TTAAO<, of both 
 the lower and " the higher circles," is not 
 an object of ambition with me ; since the 
 one 1 sincerely pity, and the other I cor- 
 dially despise.
 
 153 
 
 ONE word more, and dropping my pen, 
 and quitting my character of author, I re- 
 tire into my own original and peaceful 
 ohscurity. Amongst other unjustifiable 
 methods which have heen adopted to vilify 
 the author of " the Bath Characters," and 
 to quash the sale of his work, I have the 
 best information, that one is pursued with 
 the utmost diligence, and some success ; 
 that of representing him as an infidel, and 
 frophaner of things sacred, whose unhal- 
 lowed hand has rudely uncovered the ark, 
 polluted the altar, and reviled its priests, 
 in order to degrade the dignity and lessen 
 the influence of religion. Against such an 
 odious charge as this I have the best con- 
 solation in the dictates of my own heart, 
 and in the conviction that HE, who now 
 sees its workings, and watches the motions 
 of my pen, knows that it is FALSE. He 
 knows, that the simple religion of the* 
 Gospel is, to me, '* a pearl above price;" 
 my bosom's best friend, solace, and sup- 
 port ; and that if I be deficient in charity 
 $o any class of my fellow-creatures, it is
 
 .. 154 
 
 to atheists and uifidds, practical and specu- 
 lative, who, in the present day, are so nu- 
 merously and actively employed in pulling 
 down the only foundation of human hap- 
 piness FAITH IN CHRISTIANITY. He 
 
 knows how poorly I think both of their 
 honesty and talents: of their honesty, be- 
 cause they condemn without investigation ; 
 of their talents, because, when by acci- 
 dent they have condescended to reason, 
 they have been easily confuted, and inva- 
 riably " laughed to scorn*." But declar- 
 
 * Ea est aetatis hnjus corruptela, ut si quis praeter so- 
 Jitum sapere videri velit, turn id se adepturum speret, 
 cum vaticiniis prophetarum, et Christi sanguine ac mi- 
 raculis fundatam Religionem, tot gentium consensu re- 
 ceptam, tot virorum doctorum lucubrationibus assertam, 
 magna sibi cura a parentibus traditam, nee penitus tar 
 men sibi perspectam homo in ejus gremio natus et educ- 
 tus, mediocris fortasse ingenii, parum doctrina, temeri- 
 tate satis instructus pessumdat, et sic tanquam subdolo- 
 rum hominum figmentum, errorem stolidorum, soler- 
 tiorum ludibrium, traducit et proculcat. Demonstrat. 
 Evangel. Huetii in Praef. p. 2. A work, which J 
 earnestly recommend to the careful perusal of such of 
 our present face of deeply-thinking, philosophical, and 
 enlightened unbelievers and sceptics, as have learning
 
 155 
 
 ing thus much, I must at the same time 
 assert, that I regard with a disgust almost 
 equal to this feeling of indignation, the 
 lamentable corruptions with which enthu- 
 siasts, bigots, and knaves, have deformed 
 the heavenly simplicity of our faith; 
 
 enough to read it ; moral taste sufficient to relish its re- 
 sults; and candor enough to acknowledge its irresistible 
 conclusions. Would one not be almost tempted to think, 
 that in the above admirable passage, the author looked 
 forward, with a prophetic eye, to the character of Mr. 
 Hume, the great apostle of the infidels, and the mischief 
 that has been brought upon society by this wretched 
 man, and the spawn of his superficial school ? Will it 
 be deemed illiberal, if I lament that so many of our. 
 young medical adventurers of the present age should be 
 disciples of this base enemy of the religion of his 
 country ? Or will these enlightened gentlemen consider 
 me as impertinent, if I suggest to them that their pre- 
 tensions to sagacity are not increased by their disbelieving 
 that, which the wisest of mankind have, for centuries, 
 pronounced to be demonstration ; nor their claims to our 
 confidence strengthened, by their openly vilifying, or 
 secretly endeavouring to undermine, the only intelligible 
 foundation of all mural obligation, and the only security 
 of all conscientious conduct our HOLY RELIGION ? 
 Heavens ! how long will the world be in leading- 
 Strings to fools and knaves ?
 
 156 
 
 which, perplexing it with intricacies, strip- 
 ping it of all rationality, or converting it 
 into a scheme of worldly politics, have 
 thrown so weighty an argument against its 
 divinity into the scale of its adversaries, 
 as they, with all their malignant industry, 
 would have been unable to adduce. I 
 must assert, that, in my opinion, all the 
 schemes of faith which have been con- 
 structed by the worldly and political wis- 
 dom of the high-priest, the pride of the 
 schismatic, and the acrimony of the secta- 
 rist, are as unlike the pure, intelligible, 
 and impartial religion of Christ as black 
 from white; 
 
 " As far removed from God, and light of Heaven, 
 *' As from the centre thrice to the utmost pole :" 
 
 That, genuine Christianity is only to be 
 found in the New Testament, particularly 
 in the writings of the four evangelists : 
 that, all human articles and systems have 
 ohscured its light, marred its beauty, and 
 impeded its propagation : that, it consists
 
 157 
 
 simply in repentance of past transgression, 
 faith in Jesus Christ, as our Messiah, me- 
 diator, and lawgiver, and amendment of 
 life, manifested in a course of obedience 
 to the will of the one eternal God, reveal- 
 ed by his Son in the ever-blessed Gospel; 
 and that, what our faith and practice should 
 be, may be best learned from the words of 
 Christ and his apostle 
 
 " This is life eternal, to know thee, the 
 only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou 
 hast sent" John xvii. 3. 
 
 " The wisdom that is from above, is first 
 pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be 
 intreated, full of mercy and good fruits* 
 without partiality, and without hypocrisy.'" 
 James iii. 17. 
 
 Tig rtepi aXyitas Xtysi, 
 It is one thing to explain TRUTH, and another to let 
 TRUTH explain herself.
 
 A 
 
 POETICAL ADDRESS, (OR RATHER DRESSING}, 
 
 INSCRIBED TO THE EDITORS OF THE 
 
 BRITISH CRITIC. 
 
 JUDGES supreme of authors and their works ! 
 
 Sitting in state, like persecuting Turks 
 
 O'er Christian dogs, whose vent'rous feet are found 
 
 Wand' ring the gloomy mosque's thrice-hallow'd ground j 
 
 Or rather, like the fabled Vampire's brood*, 
 
 Which thrive themselves, by sucking others' blood: 
 
 Ye, who give sentence on each hapless wight, 
 
 That, urg'd by poverty, presumes to write ; 
 
 And, ruthless, earn your own unhallow'd dinners, 
 
 By snatching the scant meal from scribbling sinners j 
 
 * " Vampire's brood." In the popular superstition of the 
 Irish, the Vampires are evil beings which haunt " the solace of the 
 dead," and regale on the blood of newly-interred corpses ; 
 
 ' Lur'd by the scent 
 Of church-yards drear, (inhuman to relate). 
 
 . they dig 
 
 The shrouded bodies from the grave ; o'er which 
 
 Mix'd with foul shades, and frighted ghosts, they how).''
 
 Self-constituted lords of wit and sense> 
 Like Judas, bartering honesty for pence; 
 Whose title-page, xar' e3%ijv, proclaims 
 Your sole dominion over learning's realms ; 
 And, strange to tell, confines most modestly 
 All British criticism to your garrets high : 
 Whose eagle-ey'd sagacity perceives 
 Treasons and plots 'mid Pallet's harmless leaves : 
 Here sees the " foul fiend" Jacobin, and there 
 Detects the vile Sociman, bold and bare*. 
 
 * That distant ages may determine the extent of my uncle's 
 obligations to the editors of the British Critic, (for with Ovid 1 
 may say, 
 
 Jamqueopus exegi (Anglice edited} : quod nee Jovis ira t nee igner, 
 Nee poteritferru.nl, nee eda.v abolere vflustas.) 
 
 I think it but justice both to Jus fame and their reputation, to rescue 
 their remarks from the perishable pamphlet in which they are at. 
 present contained, and subjoin them to a work which must neces* 
 sarily be, all but immortal. It will probably be considered as a 
 tile offering to the Manes of my deceased relative, but 'tis all that 
 a poor journeyman-printer has to bestow; 
 
 His saltern accumukm donis, etfungar 2NANI 
 Munere. 
 
 " That a tract so very contemptible as this should have engaged 
 fcmch attention, can only be accounted for, from the very preva- 
 lent taste for defamation. The writer 1 , by some of his opponents, 
 had been called an infidel ; but this edition contains his confession 
 of faith, by which it appears, that he is a Socinian, or Rationalist: 
 and like the rest of that tribe, furiously hostile to the established 
 church, and to all who hold any thing more than the curtailed 
 and mutilated faith of their inrention. We hare very littlt
 
 161 
 
 Oh ! that ray feeble goose-quill were endued 
 With power to pay that debt of gratitude, 
 Which criticism such as yours demands 
 (So just, so learned) from an author's hands ! 
 
 When first your observations met my eye, 
 (The united work of your fraternity 3) 
 
 doubt in our own minds, who the real author is. Nor have we 
 much more doubt, that though other characters are intermixed, 
 to give liveliness and currency to the satire, the real object of it 
 is, to vilify the established church ; and particularly a mart of 
 the highest character, who has distinguished himself by his able 
 writings in its behalf. The author has, at the same time, no 
 objection to abuse nobility, (do the Reverend gentlemen -allude to 
 the casual mention of the Right Honourable Lord Ghastly?) and 
 even gentry; for Jacobinism is a part of his trade; which, in- 
 deed, is generally uited with Sociniahisrii. All this agrees with 
 the person \\hom we have in our contemplation ; but we name 
 him not, for fear of error ; and only recommend his publication 
 to that which it deserves, and will doubtless meet, oblivion." 
 Brit Critic for April 1808. p. 452. When the crude, partial, 
 and interested decisions of nameless reviewers, men of no where; 
 literary non-entities ; mere temporary creations of the booksel- 
 lers, (" whose breath can make them, as their breath has made") 
 shall be deemed of value sufficiently ponderous, to outweigh the 
 solemn verdict of an English special jury; then, but not till then, 
 will the Anti-Jacobin and Brit. Critic be able to convince the 
 public, that excellence of character may be associated with a total 
 disregard to the obligations of justice; and that the act of deliberate 
 and malignant slander (rendered still more odious from the sordid 
 motives which suggested it) is no proof of a man being radically 
 base, mean, ami detestable. 
 
 m
 
 162 
 
 Where decent -ant in every line declares 
 
 The gentlemanly pen of Rev'rend N ; 
 
 And truth, and argument, and sense combin'd, 
 
 Mark the vast powers of his mighty mind: 
 
 Where polish' d sentences, and periods smart, 
 
 Display his friends' confederated art; 
 
 Gods ! how I reverenc'd my -uncle's pen, 
 
 Which gain'd the notice of such learned men / - 
 
 Had mighty Fate, in its behests, decreed, 
 
 That he should live such wise remarks to read, 
 
 How gladly would that grateful pen have striv'n 
 
 To pay some tribute for the praises giv'n ! 
 
 But since th' inexorable arm of death 
 
 Has check'd at once, his goosequill and his breath ; 
 
 On me, his representative, descends 
 
 The duty of requiting all his friends. 
 
 Take then, from me, this boon so justly due, 
 
 Including you, and your admirers too. 
 
 Let Humbug's crown adorn your wooden heads, 
 
 Whilst Folly's cap shall grace the/oo* that reads. 
 
 EDITOR, 
 
 THE END.


 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY F 
 
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