English Satires Part 14

[Footnote 174: The English.]

[Footnote 175: The Dutch.]

[Footnote 176: The character and trade of the French nation.]

[Footnote 177: The King's disposition to war.]

[Footnote 178: The sentiments and addresses of the Parliament at that time.]

[Footnote 179: Characters of the English and Dutch, and the General, Duke of Marlborough.]

XXV. EPITAPH UPON COLONEL CHARTRES.

Swift was reported to have had a hand in this piece, and indeed for some time it was ascribed to him. But there is now no doubt that it was entirely the work of Arbuthnot.

Here continueth to rot the body of Francis Chartres; who, with an inflexible constancy and inimitable uniformity of life, persisted, in spite of age and infirmities, in the practice of every human vice excepting prodigality and hypocrisy: his insatiable avarice exempted him from the first, his matchless impudence from the second.

Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his manners, than successful in acc.u.mulating wealth.

For, without trade or profession, without trust of public money, and without bribe-worthy service, he acquired, or more properly created, a ministerial estate.

He was the only person of his time who could cheat without the mask of honesty, retain his primeval meanness when possessed of ten thousand a year; and, having daily deserved the gibbet for what he did, was at last condemned to it for what he could not do.

O indignant reader, think not his life useless to mankind, providence connived at his execrable designs, to give to after-ages a conspicuous proof and example of how small estimation is exorbitant wealth in the sight of G.o.d, by his bestowing it on the most unworthy of all mortals.

_Joannes jacet hic Mirandula--caetera norunt Et Tagus et Ganges forsan et Antipodes_.

Applied to F. C.

Here Francis Chartres lies--be civil!

The rest G.o.d knows--perhaps the devil.

JONATHAN SWIFT.

(1667-1745.)

XXVI. MRS. FRANCES HARRIS' PEt.i.tION.

Written in the year 1701. The Lord Justices addressed were the Earls of Berkeley and of Galway. The "Lady Betty" mentioned in the piece was the Lady Betty Berkeley. "Lord Dromedary", the Earl of Drogheda, and "The Chaplain", Swift himself. The author was at the time smarting under a sense of disappointment over the failure of his request to Lord Berkeley for preferment to the rich deanery of Derry.

TO THEIR EXCELLENCIES THE LORD JUSTICES OF IRELAND. THE HUMBLE PEt.i.tION OF FRANCES HARRIS, WHO MUST STARVE, AND DIE A MAID, IF IT MISCARRIES.

HUMBLY SHOWETH,

That I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's chamber, because I was cold, And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, besides farthings, in money and gold: So, because I had been buying things for my lady last night, I was resolved to tell my money, and see if it was right.

Now you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock, Therefore all the money I have, which G.o.d knows, is a very small stock, I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next my smock.

So, when I went to put up my purse, as luck would have it, my smock was unript, And instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipt: Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed; And, G.o.d knows, I thought my money was as safe as my stupid head!

So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light: But when I search'd and miss'd my purse, law! I thought I should have sunk outright.

"Lawk, madam," says Mary, "how d'ye do?" "Indeed," says I, "never worse: But pray, Mary, can you tell what I've done with my purse?"

"Lawk, help me!" said Mary; "I never stirred out of this place:"

"Nay," said I, "I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain case."

So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm: However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm.

So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very well think, But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink.

So I was a-dream'd, methought, that I went and search'd the folks round, And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's box, tied in a rag the money was found.

So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a-swearing: Then my dame Wadger came: and she, you know, is thick of hearing: "Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you know what a loss I have had?"

"Nay," said she, "my Lord Colway's folks are all very sad; For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail."

"Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that I ail."

Says Cary, says he, "I've been a servant this five-and-twenty years come spring, And in all the places I lived I never heard of such a thing."

"Yes," says the Steward, "I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's, Such a thing as this happen'd, just about the time of gooseberries."

So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief, (Now, you must know, of all things in the world I hate a thief,) However, I was resolved to bring the discourse slily about: "Mrs. Dukes," said I, "here's an ugly accident has happen'd out: 'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a mouse; But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house.

'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, makes a great hole in my wages: Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages.

Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and everybody understands, That tho' 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands."

"The devil take me," said she (blessing herself), "if ever I saw't!"

So she roar'd like a Bedlam, as tho' I had called her all to nought.

So you know, what could I say to her any more?

I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before.

Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man: "No," said I, "'tis the same thing, the chaplain will be here anon."

So the chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart, Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part.

So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd, "Parson," said I, "can you cast a nativity when a body's plunder'd?"

(Now you must know, he hates to be called _parson_, like the devil.) "Truly," says he, "Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil; If your money be gone, as a learned divine says, d'ye see: You are no text for my handling; so take that from me: I was never taken for a conjuror before, I'd have you to know."

"Law!" said I, "don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so; You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a parson's wife, I never took one in your coat for a conjuror in all my life."

With that, he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say, "Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away.

Well: I thought I should have swoon'd, "Law!" said I, "what shall I do?

I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!"

Then my Lord called me: "Harry," said my Lord, "don't cry, I'll give you something towards your loss;" and, says my Lady, "so will I."

"O, but," said I, "what if, after all, the chaplain won't come to?"

For that, he said, (an't please your Excellencies), I must pet.i.tion you.

The premises tenderly consider'd, I desire your Excellencies' protection, And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection: And, over and above, that I may have your Excellencies' letter, With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better: And then your poor pet.i.tioner both night and day, Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray.

XXVII. ELEGY ON PARTRIDGE.

This was written to satirize the superst.i.tious faith placed in the predictions of the almanac-makers of the period. Partridge was the name of one of them--a cobbler by profession. Fielding also satirized the folly in _Tom Jones_. The elegy is upon "his supposed death", which drew from Partridge an indignant denial.

Well; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd, Though we all took it for a jest: Partridge is dead; nay more, he died Ere he could prove the good 'squire lied.

Strange, an astrologer should die Without one wonder in the sky!

Not one of his crony stars To pay their duty at his hea.r.s.e!

No meteor, no eclipse appear'd!

No comet with a flaming beard!