The Borough Part 3

Then the struck soul to every aid repairs, To church and altar, ministers and prayers; In vain she strives,--involved, ingulf'd in sin, She looks for h.e.l.l, and seems already in: When in this travail, the New Birth comes on, And in an instant every pang is gone; The mighty work is done without our pains, - Claim but a part, and not a part remains.

"All this experience tells the Soul, and yet These moral men their pence and farthings set Against the terrors of the countless Debt; But such compounders, when they come to jail, Will find that Virtues never serve as bail.

"So much to duties: now to Learning look, And see their priesthood piling book on book; Yea, books of infidels, we're told, and plays, Put out by heathens in the wink'd-on days; The very letters are of crooked kind, And show the strange perverseness of their mind.

Have I this Learning? When the Lord would speak; Think ye he needs the Latin or the Greek?

And lo! with all their learning, when they rise To preach, in view the ready sermon lies; Some low-prized stuff they purchased at the stalls, And more like Seneca's than mine or Paul's: Children of Bondage, how should they explain The Spirit's freedom, while they wear a chain?

They study words, for meanings grow perplex d, And slowly hunt for truth from text to text, Through Greek and Hebrew: --we the meaning seek Of that within, who every tongue can speak: This all can witness; yet the more I know, The more a meek and humble mind I show.

"No; let the Pope, the high and mighty priest, Lord to the poor, and servant to the Beast; Let bishops, deans, and prebendaries swell With pride and fatness till their hearts rebel: I'm meek and modest: --if I could be proud, This crowded meeting, lo! th' amazing crowd!

Your mute attention, and your meek respect, My spirit's fervour, and my words' effect, Might stir th' unguarded soul; and oft to me The Tempter speaks, whom I compel to flee; He goes in fear, for he my force has tried, - Such is my power! but can you call it pride?

"No, Fellow-Pilgrims! of the things I've shown I might be proud, were they indeed my own!

But they are lent: and well you know the source Of all that's mine, and must confide of course: Mine! no, I err; 'tis but consigned to me, And I am nought but steward and trustee."

FAR other Doctrines yon Arminian speaks; "Seek Grace," he cries, "for he shall find who seeks."

This is the ancient stock by Wesley led; They the pure body, he the reverend head: All innovation they with dread decline, Their John the elder was the John divine.

Hence, still their moving prayer, the melting hymn, The varied accent, and the active limb: Hence that implicit faith in Satan's might, And their own matchless prowess in the fight.

In every act they see that lurking foe, Let loose awhile, about the world to go; A dragon flying round the earth, to kill The heavenly hope, and prompt the carnal will; Whom sainted knights attack in sinners' cause, And force the wounded victim from his paws; Who but for them would man's whole race subdue, For not a hireling will the foe pursue.

"Show me one Churchman who will rise and pray Through half the night, though lab'ring all the day, Always abounding--show me him, I say:" - Thus cries the Preacher, and he adds, "Their sheep Satan devours at leisure as they sleep.

Not so with us; we drive him from the fold, For ever barking and for ever bold: While they securely slumber, all his schemes Take full effect,--the Devil never dreams: Watchful and changeful through the world he goes, And few can trace this deadliest of their foes; But I detect, and at his work surprise The subtle Serpent under all disguise.

"Thus to Man's soul the Foe of Souls will speak, - 'A Saint elect, you can have nought to seek; Why all this labour in so plain a case, Such care to run, when certain of the race?'

All this he urges to the carnal will, He knows you're slothful, and would have you still: Be this your answer,--'Satan, I will keep Still on the watch till you are laid asleep.'

Thus too the Christian's progress he'll r.e.t.a.r.d: - 'The gates of mercy are for ever barr'd; And that with bolts so driven and so stout, Ten thousand workmen cannot wrench them out.'

To this deceit you have but one reply, - Give to the Father of all Lies the lie.

"A Sister's weakness he'll by fits surprise, His her wild laughter, his her piteous cries; And should a pastor at her side attend, He'll use her organs to abuse her friend: These are possessions--unbelieving wits Impute them all to Nature: 'They're her fits, Caused by commotions in tne nerves and brains;' - Vain talk! but they'll be fitted for their pains.

"These are in part the ills the Foe has wrought, And these the Churchman thinks not worth his thought; They bid the troubled try for peace and rest, Compose their minds, and be no more distress'd; As well might they command the pa.s.sive sh.o.r.e To keep secure, and be o'erflow'd no more; To the wrong subject is their skill applied, - To act like workmen, they should stem the tide.

"These are the Church-Physicians: they are paid With n.o.ble fees for their advice and aid; Yet know they not the inward pulse to feel, To ease the anguish, or the wound to heal.

With the sick Sinner, thus their work begins: 'Do you repent you of your former sins?

Will you amend if you revive and live?

And, pardon seeking, will you pardon give?

Have you belief in what your Lord has done, And are you thankful?--all is well my son.'

"A way far different ours--we thus surprise A soul with questions, and demand replies: 'How dropp'd you first,' I ask, 'the legal Yoke?

What the first word the living Witness spoke?

Perceived you thunders roar and lightnings shine, And tempests gathering ere the Birth divine?

Did fire, and storm, and earthquake all appear Before that still small voice, What dost thou here?

Hast thou by day and night, and soon and late, Waited and watch'd before Admission-gate; And so a pilgrim and a soldier pa.s.s'd To Sion's hill through battle and through blast?

Then in thy way didst thou thy foe attack, And mad'st thou proud Apollyon turn his back?'

"Heart-searching things are these, and shake the mind, Yea, like the rustling of a mighty wind.

"Thus would I ask: 'Nay, let me question now, How sink my sayings in your bosoms? how?

Feel you a quickening? drops the subject deep?

Stupid and stony, no! you're all asleep; Listless and lazy, waiting for a close, As if at church;--do I allow repose?

Am I a legal minister? do I With form or rubric, rule or rite comply?

Then whence this quiet, tell me, I beseech?

One might believe you heard your Rector preach, Or his a.s.sistant dreamer: --Oh! return, Ye times of burning, when the heart would burn; Now hearts are ice, and you, my freezing fold, Have spirits sunk and sad, and bosoms stony-cold.

"Oh! now again for those prevailing powers, Which, once began this mighty work of ours; When the wide field, G.o.d's Temple, was the place, And birds flew by to catch a breath of grace; When 'mid his timid friends and threat'ning foes, Our zealous chief as Paul at Athens rose: When with infernal spite and knotty clubs The Ill-One arm'd his scoundrels and his scrubs; And there were flying all around the spot Brands at the Preacher, but they touch'd him not: Stakes brought to smite him, threaten'd in his cause, And tongues, attuned to curses, roar'd applause; Louder and louder grew his awful tones, Sobbing and sighs were heard, and rueful groans; Soft women fainted, prouder man express'd Wonder and woe, and butchers smote the breast; Eyes wept, ears tingled; stiff'ning on each head, The hair drew back, and Satan howl'd and fled.

"In that soft season when the gentle breeze Rises all round, and swells by slow degrees; Till tempests gather, when through all the sky The thunders rattle, and the lightnings fly; When rain in torrents wood and vale deform, And all is horror, hurricane, and storm: "So, when the Preacher in that glorious time, Than clouds more melting, more than storm sublime, Dropp'd the new Word, there came a charm around; Tremors and terrors rose upon the sound; The stubborn spirits by his force he broke, As the fork'd lightning rives the knotted oak: Fear, hope, dismay, all signs of shame or grace, Chain'd every foot, or featured every face; Then took his sacred trump a louder swell, And now they groan'd, they sicken'd, and they fell; Again he sounded, and we heard the cry Of the Word-wounded, as about to die; Further and further spread the conquering word, As loud he cried--'The Battle of the Lord.'

E'en those apart who were the sound denied, Fell down instinctive, and in spirit died.

Nor stay'd he yet--his eye, his frown, his speech, His very gesture, had a power to teach: With outstretch'd arms, strong voice, and piercing call, He won the field, and made the Dagons fall; And thus in triumph took his glorious way, Through scenes of horror, terror, and dismay."

LETTER V.

Say then which cla.s.s to greater folly stoop, The great in promise, or the poor in hope?

Be brave, for your leader is brave, and vows reformation; there shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny; and the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops. I will make it felony to drink small beer: all shall eat and drink on my score, and I will apparel them all in one livery,that they may agree like brothers; and they shall all worship me as their lord.

SHAKSPEARE, Henry VI.

THE ELECTION.

The Evils of the Contest, and how in part to be avoided--The Miseries endured by a Friend of the Candidate--The various Liberties taken with him who has no Personal Interest in the Success--The unreasonable Expectations of Voters--The Censures of the opposing Party--The Vices as well as Follies shown in such Time of Contest-- Plans and Cunning of Electors--Evils which remain after the Decision, opposed in vain by the Efforts of the Friendly, and of the Successful; among whom is the Mayor--Story of his Advancement till he was raised to the Government of the Borough--These Evils not to be placed in Balance with the Liberty of the People, but are yet Subjects of just Complaint.

YES, our Election's past, and we've been free, Somewhat as madmen without keepers be; And such desire of Freedom has been shown, That both the parties wish'd her all their own: All our free smiths and cobblers in the town Were loth to lay such pleasant freedom down; To put the bludgeon and c.o.c.kade aside, And let us pa.s.s unhurt and undefied.

True! you might then your party's sign produce, And so escape with only half th' abuse: With half the danger as you walk'd along, With rage and threat'ning but from half the throng.

This you might do, and not your fortune mend, For where you lost a foe you gain'd a friend; And to distress you, vex you, and expose, Election-friends are worse than any foes; The party-curse is with the canva.s.s past, But party-friendship, for jour grief, will last.

Friends of all kinds; the civil and the rude, Who humbly wish, or boldly dare t'intrude: These beg or take a liberty to come (Friends should be free), and make your house their home; They know that warmly you their cause espouse, And come to make their boastings and their bows; You scorn their manners, you their words mistrust, But you must hear them, and they know you must.

One plainly sees a friendship firm and true, Between the n.o.ble candidate and you; So humbly begs (and states at large the case), "You'll think of Bobby and the little place."

Stifling his shame by drink, a wretch will come, And prate your wife and daughter from the room: In pain you hear him, and at heart despise, Yet with heroic mind your pangs disguise; And still in patience to the sot attend, To show what man can bear to serve a friend.

One enters hungry--not to be denied, And takes his place and jokes--"We're of a side."

Yet worse, the proser who, upon the strength Of his one vote, has tales of three hours' length; This sorry rogue you bear, yet with surprise Start at his oaths, and sicken at his lies.

Then comes there one, and tells in friendly way What the opponents in their anger say; All that through life has vex'd you, all abuse, Will this kind friend in pure regard produce; And having through your own offences run, Adds (as appendage) what your friends have done, Has any female cousin made a trip To Gretna Green, or more vexatious slip?

Has your wife's brother, or your uncle's son, Done aught amiss, or is he thought t'have done?

Is there of all your kindred some who lack Vision direct, or have a gibbous back?

From your unlucky name may quips and puns Be made by these upbraiding Goths and Huns?

To some great public character have you a.s.signed the fame to worth and talents due, Proud of your praise?--In this, in any case, Where the brute-spirit may affix disgrace, These friends will smiling bring it, and the while You silent sit, and practise for a smile.

Vain of their power, and of their value sure, They nearly guess the tortures you endure; Nor spare one pang--for they perceive your heart Goes with the cause; you'd die before you'd start; Do what they may, they're sure you'll not offend Men who have pledged their honours to your friend.

Those friends indeed, who start as in a race, May love the sport, and laugh at this disgrace; They have in view the glory and the prize, Nor heed the dirty steps by which they rise: But we their poor a.s.sociates lose the fame, Though more than partners in the toil and shame.

Were this the whole; and did the time produce But shame and toil, but riot and abuse; We might be then from serious griefs exempt, And view the whole with pity and contempt.

Alas! but here the vilest pa.s.sions rule; It is Seduction's, is Temptation's school; Where vices mingle in the oddest ways, The grossest slander and the dirtiest praise; Flattery enough to make the vainest sick, And clumsy stratagem, and scoundrel trick: Nay more, your anger and contempt to cause, These, while they fish for profit, claim applause; Bribed, bought, and bound, they banish shame and fear; Tell you they're staunch, and have a soul sincere; Then talk of honour, and, if doubt's express'd, Show where it lies, and smite upon the breast.

Among these worthies, some at first declare For whom they vote: he then has most to spare; Others hang off--when coming to the post Is spurring time, and then he'll spare the most: While some demurring, wait, and find at last The bidding languish, and the market past; These will affect all bribery to condemn, And be it Satan laughs, he laughs at them.

Some too are pious--One desired the Lord To teach him where "to drop his little word; To lend his vote where it will profit best; Promotion came not from the east or west; But as their freedom had promoted some, He should be glad to know which way 'twould come.

It was a naughty world, and where to sell His precious charge, was more than he could tell."

"But you succeeded?"--True, at mighty cost, And our good friend, I fear, will think he's lost: Inns, horses, chaises, dinners, b.a.l.l.s, and notes; What fill'd their purses, and what drench'd their throats; The private pension, and indulgent lease, - Have all been granted to these friends who fleece; Friends who will hang like burs upon his coat, And boundless judge the value of a vote.

And though the terrors of the time be pa.s.s'd, There still remain the scatterings of the blast; The boughs are parted that entwined before, And ancient harmony exists no more; The gusts of wrath our peaceful seats deform, And sadly flows the sighing of the storm: Those who have gain'd are sorry for the gloom, But they who lost, unwilling peace should come; There open envy, here suppress'd delight, Yet live till time shall better thoughts excite, And so prepare us, by a six-years' truce, Again for riot, insult, and abuse.

Our worthy Mayor, on the victorious part, Cries out for peace, and cries with all his heart; He, civil creature! ever does his best To banish wrath from every voter's breast; "For where," says he, with reason strong and plain, "Where is the profit? what will anger gain?"

His short stout person he is wont to brace In good brown broad-cloth, edg'd with two-inch lace, When in his seat; and still the coat seems new, Preserved by common use of seaman's blue.

He was a fisher from his earliest day, And placed his nets within the Borough's bay; Where, by his skates, his herrings, and his soles, He lived, nor dream'd of Corporation-Doles; But toiling saved, and saving, never ceased Till he had box'd up twelvescore pounds at least: He knew not money's power, but judged it best Safe in his trunk to let his treasure rest; Yet to a friend complain'd: "Sad charge, to keep So many pounds; and then I cannot sleep:"

"Then put it out," replied the friend: --"What, give My money up? why then I could not live:"

"Nay, but for interest place it in his hands Who'll give you mortgage on his house or lands."

"Oh but," said Daniel, "that's a dangerous plan; He may be robb'd like any other man:"

"Still he is bound, and you may be at rest, More safe the money than within your chest; And you'll receive, from all deductions clear, Five pounds for every hundred, every year."

"What good in that?" quoth Daniel, "for 'tis plain, If part I take, there can but part remain:"

"What! you, my friend, so skill'd in gainful things, Have you to learn what Interest money brings?"

"Not so," said Daniel, "perfectly I know, He's the most interest who has most to show."

"True! and he'll show the more the more he lends; Thus he his weight and consequence extends; For they who borrow must restore each sum, And pay for use. What, Daniel, art thou dumb?"

For much amazed was that good man.--"Indeed!"