The Battle of the Books and other Short Pieces Part 4

The counsel for the fair began Accusing the false creature, man.

The brief with weighty crimes was charged, On which the pleader much enlarged: That Cupid now has lost his art, Or blunts the point of every dart; His altar now no longer smokes; His mother's aid no youth invokes-- This tempts free-thinkers to refine, And bring in doubt their powers divine, Now love is dwindled to intrigue, And marriage grown a money-league.

Which crimes aforesaid (with her leave) Were (as he humbly did conceive) Against our Sovereign Lady's peace, Against the statutes in that case, Against her dignity and crown: Then prayed an answer and sat down.

The nymphs with scorn beheld their foes: When the defendant's counsel rose, And, what no lawyer ever lacked, With impudence owned all the fact.

But, what the gentlest heart would vex, Laid all the fault on t'other s.e.x.

That modern love is no such thing As what those ancient poets sing; A fire celestial, chaste, refined, Conceived and kindled in the mind, Which having found an equal flame, Unites, and both become the same, In different b.r.e.a.s.t.s together burn, Together both to ashes turn.

But women now feel no such fire, And only know the gross desire; Their pa.s.sions move in lower spheres, Where'er caprice or folly steers.

A dog, a parrot, or an ape, Or some worse brute in human shape Engross the fancies of the fair, The few soft moments they can spare From visits to receive and pay, From scandal, politics, and play, From fans, and flounces, and brocades, From equipage and park-parades, From all the thousand female toys, From every trifle that employs The out or inside of their heads Between their toilets and their beds.

In a dull stream, which, moving slow, You hardly see the current flow, If a small breeze obstructs the course, It whirls about for want of force, And in its narrow circle gathers Nothing but chaff, and straws, and feathers: The current of a female mind Stops thus, and turns with every wind; Thus whirling round, together draws Fools, fops, and rakes, for chaff and straws.

Hence we conclude, no women's hearts Are won by virtue, wit, and parts; Nor are the men of sense to blame For b.r.e.a.s.t.s incapable of flame: The fault must on the nymphs be placed, Grown so corrupted in their taste.

The pleader having spoke his best, Had witness ready to attest, Who fairly could on oath depose, When questions on the fact arose, That every article was true; _Nor further those deponents knew_: Therefore he humbly would insist, The bill might be with costs dismissed.

The cause appeared of so much weight, That Venus from the judgment-seat Desired them not to talk so loud, Else she must interpose a cloud: For if the heavenly folk should know These pleadings in the Courts below, That mortals here disdain to love, She ne'er could show her face above.

For G.o.ds, their betters, are too wise To value that which men despise.

"And then," said she, "my son and I Must stroll in air 'twixt earth and sky: Or else, shut out from heaven and earth, Fly to the sea, my place of birth; There live with daggled mermaids pent, And keep on fish perpetual Lent."

But since the case appeared so nice, She thought it best to take advice.

The Muses, by their king's permission, Though foes to love, attend the session, And on the right hand took their places In order; on the left, the Graces: To whom she might her doubts propose On all emergencies that rose.

The Muses oft were seen to frown; The Graces half ashamed look down; And 'twas observed, there were but few Of either s.e.x, among the crew, Whom she or her a.s.sessors knew.

The G.o.ddess soon began to see Things were not ripe for a decree, And said she must consult her books, The lovers' Fletas, Bractons, c.o.kes.

First to a dapper clerk she beckoned, To turn to Ovid, book the second; She then referred them to a place In Virgil (_vide_ Dido's case); As for Tibullus's reports, They never pa.s.sed for law in Courts: For Cowley's brief, and pleas of Waller, Still their authority is smaller.

There was on both sides much to say; She'd hear the cause another day; And so she did, and then a third, She heard it--there she kept her word; But with rejoinders and replies, Long bills, and answers, stuffed with lies Demur, imparlance, and essoign, The parties ne'er could issue join: For sixteen years the cause was spun, And then stood where it first begun.

Now, gentle Clio, sing or say, What Venus meant by this delay.

The G.o.ddess, much perplexed in mind, To see her empire thus declined, When first this grand debate arose Above her wisdom to compose, Conceived a project in her head, To work her ends; which, if it sped, Would show the merits of the cause Far better than consulting laws.

In a glad hour Lucina's aid Produced on earth a wondrous maid, On whom the queen of love was bent To try a new experiment.

She threw her law-books on the shelf, And thus debated with herself:--

"Since men allege they ne'er can find Those beauties in a female mind Which raise a flame that will endure For ever, uncorrupt and pure; If 'tis with reason they complain, This infant shall restore my reign.

I'll search where every virtue dwells, From Courts inclusive down to cells.

What preachers talk, or sages write, These I will gather and unite, And represent them to mankind Collected in that infant's mind."

This said, she plucks in heaven's high bowers A sprig of Amaranthine flowers, In nectar thrice infuses bays, Three times refined in t.i.tan's rays: Then calls the Graces to her aid, And sprinkles thrice the now-born maid.

From whence the tender skin a.s.sumes A sweetness above all perfumes; From whence a cleanliness remains, Incapable of outward stains; From whence that decency of mind, So lovely in a female kind.

Where not one careless thought intrudes Less modest than the speech of prudes; Where never blush was called in aid, The spurious virtue in a maid, A virtue but at second-hand; They blush because they understand.

The Graces next would act their part, And show but little of their art; Their work was half already done, The child with native beauty shone, The outward form no help required: Each breathing on her thrice, inspired That gentle, soft, engaging air Which in old times adorned the fair, And said, "Vanessa be the name By which thou shalt be known to fame; Vanessa, by the G.o.ds enrolled: Her name on earth--shall not be told."

But still the work was not complete, When Venus thought on a deceit: Drawn by her doves, away she flies, And finds out Pallas in the skies: Dear Pallas, I have been this morn To see a lovely infant born: A boy in yonder isle below, So like my own without his bow, By beauty could your heart be won, You'd swear it is Apollo's son; But it shall ne'er be said, a child So hopeful has by me been spoiled; I have enough besides to spare, And give him wholly to your care.

Wisdom's above suspecting wiles; The queen of learning gravely smiles, Down from Olympus comes with joy, Mistakes Vanessa for a boy; Then sows within her tender mind Seeds long unknown to womankind; For manly bosoms chiefly fit, The seeds of knowledge, judgment, wit, Her soul was suddenly endued With justice, truth, and fort.i.tude; With honour, which no breath can stain, Which malice must attack in vain: With open heart and bounteous hand: But Pallas here was at a stand; She know in our degenerate days Bare virtue could not live on praise, That meat must be with money bought: She therefore, upon second thought, Infused yet as it were by stealth, Some small regard for state and wealth: Of which as she grew up there stayed A tincture in the prudent maid: She managed her estate with care, Yet liked three footmen to her chair, But lest he should neglect his studies Like a young heir, the thrifty G.o.ddess (For fear young master should be spoiled) Would use him like a younger child; And, after long computing, found 'Twould come to just five thousand pound.

The Queen of Love was pleased and proud To we Vanessa thus endowed; She doubted not but such a dame Through every breast would dart a flame; That every rich and lordly swain With pride would drag about her chain; That scholars would forsake their books To study bright Vanessa's looks: As she advanced that womankind Would by her model form their mind, And all their conduct would be tried By her, as an unerring guide.

Offending daughters oft would hear Vanessa's praise rung in their ear: Miss Betty, when she does a fault, Lets fall her knife, or spills the salt, Will thus be by her mother chid, "'Tis what Vanessa never did."

Thus by the nymphs and swains adored, My power shall be again restored, And happy lovers bless my reign-- So Venus hoped, but hoped in vain.

For when in time the martial maid Found out the trick that Venus played, She shakes her helm, she knits her brows, And fired with indignation, vows To-morrow, ere the setting sun, She'd all undo that she had done.

But in the poets we may find A wholesome law, time out of mind, Had been confirmed by Fate's decree; That G.o.ds, of whatso'er degree, Resume not what themselves have given, Or any brother-G.o.d in Heaven; Which keeps the peace among the G.o.ds, Or they must always be at odds.

And Pallas, if she broke the laws, Must yield her foe the stronger cause; A shame to one so much adored For Wisdom, at Jove's council-board.

Besides, she feared the queen of love Would meet with better friends above.

And though she must with grief reflect To see a mortal virgin deck'd With graces. .h.i.therto unknown To female b.r.e.a.s.t.s, except her own, Yet she would act as best became A G.o.ddess of unspotted fame; She knew, by augury divine, Venus would fail in her design: She studied well the point, and found Her foe's conclusions were not sound, From premises erroneous brought, And therefore the deduction's nought, And must have contrary effects To what her treacherous foe expects.

In proper season Pallas meets The queen of love, whom thus she greets (For G.o.ds, we are by Homer told, Can in celestial language scold), "Perfidious G.o.ddess! but in vain You formed this project in your brain, A project for thy talents fit, With much deceit, and little wit; Thou hast, as thou shalt quickly see, Deceived thyself instead of me; For how can heavenly wisdom prove An instrument to earthly love?

Know'st thou not yet that men commence Thy votaries, for want of sense?

Nor shall Vanessa be the theme To manage thy abortive scheme; She'll prove the greatest of thy foes, And yet I scorn to interpose, But using neither skill nor force, Leave all things to their natural course."

The G.o.ddess thus p.r.o.nounced her doom, When, lo, Vanessa in her bloom, Advanced like Atalanta's star, But rarely seen, and seen from far: In a new world with caution stepped, Watched all the company she kept, Well knowing from the books she read What dangerous paths young virgins tread; Would seldom at the park appear, Nor saw the play-house twice a year; Yet not incurious, was inclined To know the converse of mankind.

First issued from perfumers' shops A crowd of fashionable fops; They liked her how she liked the play?

Then told the tattle of the day, A duel fought last night at two About a lady--you know who; Mentioned a new Italian, come Either from Muscovy or Rome; Gave hints of who and who's together; Then fell to talking of the weather: Last night was so extremely fine, The ladies walked till after nine.

Then in soft voice, and speech absurd, With nonsense every second word, With fustian from exploded plays, They celebrate her beauty's praise, Run o'er their cant of stupid lies, And tell the murders of her eyes.

With silent scorn Vanessa sat, Scarce list'ning to their idle chat; Further than sometimes by a frown, When they grew pert, to pull them down.

At last she spitefully was bent To try their wisdom's full extent; And said, she valued nothing less Than t.i.tles, figure, shape, and dress; That merit should be chiefly placed In judgment, knowledge, wit, and taste; And these, she offered to dispute, Alone distinguished man from brute: That present times have no pretence To virtue, in the n.o.ble sense By Greeks and Romans understood, To perish for our country's good.

She named the ancient heroes round, Explained for what they were renowned; Then spoke with censure, or applause, Of foreign customs, rites, and laws; Through nature and through art she ranged, And gracefully her subject changed: In vain; her hearers had no share In all she spoke, except to stare.

Their judgment was upon the whole, --That lady is the dullest soul-- Then tipped their forehead in a jeer, As who should say--she wants it here; She may be handsome, young, and rich, But none will burn her for a witch.

A party next of glittering dames, From round the purlieus of St. James, Came early, out of pure goodwill, To see the girl in deshabille.

Their clamour 'lighting from their chairs, Grew louder, all the way up stairs; At entrance loudest, where they found The room with volumes littered round, Vanessa held Montaigne, and read, Whilst Mrs. Susan combed her head: They called for tea and chocolate, And fell into their usual chat, Discoursing with important face, On ribbons, fans, and gloves, and lace: Showed patterns just from India brought, And gravely asked her what she thought, Whether the red or green were best, And what they cost? Vanessa guessed, As came into her fancy first, Named half the rates, and liked the worst.

To scandal next--What awkward thing Was that, last Sunday, in the ring?

I'm sorry Mopsa breaks so fast; I said her face would never last, Corinna with that youthful air, Is thirty, and a bit to spare.

Her fondness for a certain earl Began, when I was but a girl.

Phyllis, who but a month ago Was married to the Tunbridge beau, I saw coquetting t'other night In public with that odious knight.

They rallied next Vanessa's dress; That gown was made for old Queen Bess.

Dear madam, let me set your head; Don't you intend to put on red?

A petticoat without a hoop!

Sure, you are not ashamed to stoop; With handsome garters at your knees, No matter what a fellow sees.

Filled with disdain, with rage inflamed, Both of herself and s.e.x ashamed, The nymph stood silent out of spite, Nor would vouchsafe to set them right.

Away the fair detractors went, And gave, by turns, their censures vent.

She's not so handsome in my eyes: For wit, I wonder where it lies.

She's fair and clean, and that's the most; But why proclaim her for a toast?

A baby face, no life, no airs, But what she learnt at country fairs.

Scarce knows what difference is between Rich Flanders lace, and Colberteen.

I'll undertake my little Nancy, In flounces has a better fancy.

With all her wit, I would not ask Her judgment, how to buy a mask.

We begged her but to patch her face, She never hit one proper place; Which every girl at five years old Can do as soon as she is told.

I own, that out-of-fashion stuff Becomes the creature well enough.

The girl might pa.s.s, if we could get her To know the world a little better.

(_To know the world_! a modern phrase For visits, ombre, b.a.l.l.s, and plays.)

Thus, to the world's perpetual shame, The queen of beauty lost her aim, Too late with grief she understood Pallas had done more harm than good; For great examples are but vain, Where ignorance begets disdain.