English Satires Part 23

Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill, Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will; Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.

Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant creature, And Slander itself must allow him good-nature: He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a b.u.mper: Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper.

Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser?

I answer, no, no, for he always was wiser.

Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat?

His very worst foe can't accuse him of that.

Perhaps he confided in men as they go, And so was too foolishly honest? Ah no!

Then what was his failing? Come, tell it, and burn ye,-- He was, could he help it? a special attorney.

Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind: His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand: His manners were gentle, complying, and bland; Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart: To c.o.xcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, When they judged without skill he was still hard of hearing: When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff.

XLII. THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.

This piece was first printed in _The Busy Body_ in 1759, in direct imitation of the style of Swift. It was, therefore, improperly included in the Dublin edition of Swift's works, and in the edition of Swift edited by Sir Walter Scott.

Logicians have but ill defined As rational the human mind, Reason they say belongs to man, But let them prove it if they can, Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius By ratiocinations specious Have strove to prove with great precision, With definition and division, _h.o.m.o est ratione preditum_; But for my soul I cannot credit 'em.

And must in spite of them maintain, That man and all his ways are vain: And that this boasted lord of nature Is both a weak and erring creature.

That instinct is a surer guide Than reason, boasting mortals' pride; And that brute beasts are far before 'em, _Deus est anima brutorum_.

Who ever knew an honest brute At law his neighbour prosecute.

Bring action for a.s.sault and battery, Or friend beguile with lies and flattery?

O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd.

No politics disturb the mind; They eat their meals, and take their sport, Nor know who's in or out at court; They never to the levee go To treat as dearest friend, a foe; They never importune his Grace, Nor ever cringe to men in place; Nor undertake a dirty job, Nor draw the quill to write for Bob: Fraught with invective they ne'er go To folks at Pater-Noster Row: No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters, No pickpockets, or poetasters, Are known to honest quadrupeds, No single brute his fellows leads.

Brutes never meet in b.l.o.o.d.y fray, Nor cut each other's throats for pay.

Of beasts, it is confess'd, the ape Comes nearest us in human shape.

Like man he imitates each fashion, And malice is his ruling pa.s.sion; But both in malice and grimaces, A courtier any ape surpa.s.ses.

Behold him humbly cringing wait Upon the minister of state; View him soon after to inferiors Aping the conduct of superiors: He promises with equal air, And to perform takes equal care.

He in his turn finds imitators, At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters, Their master's manners still contract, And footmen, lords and dukes can act, Thus at the court both great and small Behave alike, for all ape all.

XLIII. BEAU TIBBS, HIS CHARACTER AND FAMILY.

Johnson always maintained that there was a great deal of Goldsmith's own nature and eccentricities portrayed in the character of Beau Tibbs. The following piece const.i.tutes Letter 54 of the _Citizen of the World_.

I am apt to fancy I have contracted a new acquaintance, whom it will be no easy matter to shake off. My little beau yesterday overtook me again in one of the public walks, and slapping me on the shoulder, saluted me with an air of the most perfect familiarity. His dress was the same as usual, except that he had more powder in his hair, wore a dirtier shirt, a pair of temple spectacles, and his hat under his arm.

As I knew him to be an harmless, amusing little thing, I could not return his smiles with any degree of severity: so we walked forward on terms of the utmost intimacy, and in a few minutes discussed all the usual topics preliminary to particular conversation.

The oddities that marked his character, however, soon began to appear; he bowed to several well-dressed persons, who, by their manner of returning the compliment, appeared perfect strangers. At intervals he drew out a pocket-book, seeming to take memorandums before all the company, with much importance and a.s.siduity. In this manner he led me through the length of the whole walk, fretting at his absurdities, and fancying myself laughed at not less than him by every spectator.

When we were got to the end of our procession, "Blast me," cries he, with an air of vivacity, "I never saw the park so thin in my life before; there's no company at all to-day; not a single face to be seen." "No company," interrupted I, peevishly; "no company where there is such a crowd! why man, there's too much. What are the thousands that have been laughing at us but company!" "Lard, my dear," returned he, with the utmost good-humour, "you seem immensely chagrined; but blast me, when the world laughs at me, I laugh at all the world, and so we are even. My Lord Trip, Bill Squash, the Creolian, and I sometimes make a party at being ridiculous; and so we say and do a thousand things for the joke. But I see you are grave, and if you are a fine grave sentimental companion, you shall dine with me and my wife to-day, I must insist on't; I'll introduce you to Mrs. Tibbs, a lady of as elegant qualifications as any in nature; she was bred, but that's between ourselves, under the inspection of the Countess of All-night. A charming body of voice, but no more of that, she will give us a song.

You shall see my little girl too, Carolina Wilhelma Amelia Tibbs, a sweet pretty creature; I design her for my Lord Drumstick's eldest son, but that's in friendship, let it go no farther; she's but six years old, and yet she walks a minuet, and plays on the guitar immensely already. I intend she shall be as perfect as possible in every accomplishment. In the first place I'll make her a scholar; I'll teach her Greek myself, and learn that language purposely to instruct her; but let that be a secret."

Thus saying, without waiting for a reply, he took me by the arm, and hauled me along. We pa.s.sed through many dark alleys and winding ways; for, from some motives, to me unknown, he seemed to have a particular aversion to every frequented street; at last, however, we got to the door of a dismal-looking house in the outlets of the town, where he informed me he chose to reside for the benefit of the air.

We entered the lower door, which ever seemed to lie most hospitably open, and I began to ascend an old and creaking staircase, when, as he mounted to show me the way, he demanded whether I delighted in prospects, to which answering in the affirmative, "Then," says he, "I shall show you one of the most charming in the world out of my windows; we shall see the ships sailing, and the whole country for twenty miles round, tip top, quite high. My Lord Swamp would give ten thousand guineas for such an one; but as I sometimes pleasantly tell him, I always love to keep my prospects at home, that my friends may see me the oftener."

By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would permit us to ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the first floor down the chimney; and knocking at the door, a voice from within demanded, who's there? My conductor answered that it was him.

But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again repeated the demand: to which he answered louder than before; and now the door was opened by an old woman with cautious reluctance.

When we were got in, he welcomed me to his house with great ceremony, and turning to the old woman, asked where was her lady? "Good troth,"

replied she, in a peculiar dialect, "she's washing your two shirts at the next door, because they have taken an oath against lending out the tub any longer." "My two shirts," cries he in a tone that faltered with confusion, "what does the idiot mean!" "I ken what I mean well enough,"

replied the other, "she's washing your two shirts at the next door, because--" "Fire and fury! no more of thy stupid explanations," cried he. "Go and inform her we have got company. Were that Scotch hag to be for ever in the family, she would never learn politeness, nor forget that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or testify the smallest specimen of breeding or high life; and yet it is very surprising too, as I had her from a parliament man, a friend of mine, from the highlands, one of the politest men in the world; but that's a secret."

We waited some time for Mrs. Tibbs' arrival, during which interval I had a full opportunity of surveying the chamber and all its furniture; which consisted of four chairs with old wrought bottoms, that he a.s.sured me were his wife's embroidery; a square table that had been once j.a.panned, a cradle in one corner, a lumbering cabinet in the other; a broken shepherdess, and a mandarin without a head, were stuck over the chimney; and round the walls several paltry, unframed pictures, which, he observed, were all his own drawing. "What do you think, sir, of that head in a corner, done in the manner of Grisoni?

There's the true keeping in it; it's my own face, and though there happens to be no likeness, a countess offered me an hundred for its fellow. I refused her, for, hang it, that would be mechanical, you know."

The wife at last made her appearance, at once a slattern and a coquette; much emaciated, but still carrying the remains of beauty. She made twenty apologies for being seen in such odious dishabille, but hoped to be excused, as she had stayed out all night at the gardens with the countess, who was excessively fond of the horns. "And, indeed, my dear," added she, turning to her husband, "his lordship drank your health in a b.u.mper." "Poor Jack," cries he, "a dear good-natured creature, I know he loves me; but I hope, my dear, you have given orders for dinner; you need make no great preparations neither, there are but three of us, something elegant, and little will do; a turbot, an ortolan, or a--" "Or what do you think, my dear," interrupts the wife, "of a nice pretty bit of ox-cheek, piping hot, and dressed with a little of my own sauce."--"The very thing," replies he, "it will eat best with some smart bottled beer: but be sure to let's have the sauce his grace was so fond of. I hate your immense loads of meat, that is country all over; extreme disgusting to those who are in the least acquainted with high life."

By this time my curiosity began to abate, and my appet.i.te to increase; the company of fools may at first make us smile, but at last never fails of rendering us melancholy; I therefore pretended to recollect a prior engagement, and after having shown my respect to the house, according to the fashion of the English, by giving the old servant a piece of money at the door, I took my leave; Mr. Tibbs a.s.suring me that dinner, if I stayed, would be ready at least in less than two hours.

CHARLES CHURCHILL.

(1731-1764.)

XLIV. THE JOURNEY.

Churchill devoted himself princ.i.p.ally to satirical attacks upon actors and the stage as a whole. His _Rosciad_ created quite a panic among the disciples of Thespis, even the mighty Garrick courting this terrible _censor morum_. His own morals were but indifferent.

Some of my friends (for friends I must suppose All, who, not daring to appear my foes, Feign great good-will, and not more full of spite Than full of craft, under false colours fight) Some of my friends (so lavishly I print) As more in sorrow than in anger, hint (Tho' that indeed will scarce admit a doubt) That I shall run my stock of genius out, My no great stock, and, publishing so fast, Must needs become a bankrupt at the last.

Recover'd from the vanity of youth, I feel, alas! this melancholy truth, Thanks to each cordial, each advising friend, And am, if not too late, resolv'd to mend, Resolv'd to give some respite to my pen, Apply myself once more to books and men, View what is present, what is past review, And my old stock exhausted, lay in new.

For twice six moons (let winds, turn'd porters, bear This oath to Heav'n), for twice six moons, I swear, No Muse shall tempt me with her siren lay, Nor draw me from Improvement's th.o.r.n.y way; Verse I abjure, nor will forgive that friend, Who in my hearing shall a rhyme commend.

It cannot be--Whether I will, or no, Such as they are, my thoughts in measure flow.

Convinc'd, determin'd, I in prose begin, But ere I write one sentence, verse creeps in, And taints me thro' and thro': by this good light, In verse I talk by day, I dream by night; If now and then I curse, my curses chime, Nor can I pray, unless I pray in rhyme, E'en now I err, in spite of common-sense, And my confession doubles my offence.

Here is no lie, no gall, no art, no force; Mean are the words, and such as come of course, The subject not less simple than the lay; A plain, unlabour'd Journey of a day.

Far from me now be ev'ry tuneful Maid, I neither ask, nor can receive their aid.

Pegasus turn'd into a common hack, Alone I jog, and keep the beaten track, Nor would I have the Sisters of the Hill Behold their bard in such a dishabille.

Absent, but only absent for a time, Let them caress some dearer son of rhyme; Let them, as far as decency permits, Without suspicion, play the fool with wits, 'Gainst fools be guarded; 'tis a certain rule, Wits are false things, there's danger in a fool.

Let them, tho' modest, Gray more modest woo; Let them with Mason bleat, and bray, and coo; Let them with Franklin, proud of some small Greek, Make Sophocles disguis'd, in English speak; Let them with Glover o'er Medea doze; Let them with Dodsley wail Cleone's woes, Whilst he, fine feeling creature, all in tears, Melts, as they melt, and weeps with weeping peers; Let them with simple Whitehead, taught to creep Silent and soft, lay Fontenelle asleep;[214]

Let them with Browne contrive, to vulgar trick, To cure the dead, and make the living sick;[215]

Let them in charity to Murphy give Some old French piece, that he may steal and live; Let them with antic Foote subscriptions get, And advertise a Summer-house of Wit.

Thus, or in any better way they please, With these great men, or with great men like these, Let them their appet.i.te for laughter feed; I on my Journey all alone proceed.

If fashionable grown, and fond of pow'r, With hum'rous Scots let them disport their hour: Let them dance, fairy-like, round Ossian's tomb; Let them forge lies, and histories for Hume; Let them with Home, the very prince of verse, Make something like a Tragedy in Erse; Under dark Allegory's flimsy veil Let them with Ogilvie spin out a tale Of rueful length; Let them plain things obscure, Debase what's truly rich, and what is poor Make poorer still by jargon most uncouth; With ev'ry pert, prim prettiness of youth Born of false Taste, with Fancy (like a child Not knowing what it cries for) running wild, With bloated style, by affectation taught, With much false colouring, and little thought, With phrases strange, and dialect decreed By reason never to have pa.s.s'd the Tweed, With words which Nature meant each other's foe, Forc'd to compound whether they will or no; With such materials let them, if they will, To prove at once their pleasantry and skill, Build up a bard to war 'gainst Common-Sense, By way of compliment to Providence; Let them with Armstrong, taking leave of Sense, Read musty lectures on Benevolence, Or con the pages of his gaping Day, Where all his former fame was thrown away, Where all but barren labour was forgot, And the vain stiffness of a letter'd Scot; Let them with Armstrong pa.s.s the term of light, But not one hour of darkness; when the night Suspends this mortal coil, when Memory wakes, When for our past misdoings Conscience takes A deep revenge, when by Reflection led, She draws his curtain, and looks Comfort dead, Let ev'ry Muse be gone; in vain he turns And tries to pray for sleep; an Etna burns, A more than Etna in his coward breast, And Guilt, with vengeance arm'd, forbids him rest: Tho' soft as plumage from young zephyr's wing, His couch seems hard, and no relief can bring.

Ingrat.i.tude hath planted daggers there, No good man can deserve, no brave man bear.

Thus, or in any better way they please, With these great men, or with great men like these, Let them their appet.i.te for laughter feed I on my Journey all alone proceed.

[Footnote 214: See _The School for Lovers_, by Mr. Whitehead, taken from Fontenelle.]

[Footnote 215: See _The Cure of Saul_, by Dr. Browne.]