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diff --git a/42299-0.txt b/42299-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f525964 --- /dev/null +++ b/42299-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9119 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42299 *** + + THE ILLUSTRATED POCKET LIBRARY + OF PLAIN AND COLOURED BOOKS + + THE HISTORY OF + JOHNNY QUÆ GENUS + + + + + What various views of our uncertain State + These playful, unassuming Rhymes relate! + + ANON. + + + + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS on his JOURNEY To LONDON.] + + + + + THE HISTORY + OF + JOHNNY QUÆ GENUS + + THE LITTLE FOUNDLING OF + THE LATE DOCTOR SYNTAX + A POEM BY THE AUTHOR OF + THE THREE TOURS + + WITH TWENTY-FOUR + COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS + BY THOMAS ROWLANDSON + + A NEW EDITION + + METHUEN & CO. + LONDON + 1903 + + + + +NOTE + +This Issue is founded on the Edition published by R. Ackermann in the +year 1822 + + + + +HISTORY + +OF + +QUÆ GENUS, ETC. + + +The favour which has been bestowed on the different TOURS OF DOCTOR +SYNTAX, has encouraged the Writer of them to give a HISTORY OF THE +FOUNDLING, who has been thought an interesting Object in the latter of +those Volumes; and it is written in the same style and manner, with a +view to connect it with them. + +This Child of Chance, it is presumed, is led through a track of Life +not unsuited to the peculiarity of his Condition and Character, while +its varieties, as in the former Works, are represented by the Pencil +of MR. ROWLANDSON with its accustomed characteristic Felicity. + +The Idea of an English GIL BLAS predominated through the whole of this +Volume; which must be considered as fortunate in no common degree, if +its readers, in the course of their perusal, should be disposed to +acknowledge even a remote Similitude to the incomparable Work of _Le +Sage_. + + The AUTHOR. + + + + +PREFACE + + +This prolonged work is, at length, brought to a close.--It has grown +to this size, under rare and continuing marks of public favour; while +the same mode of Composition has been employed in the last, as in the +former Volumes. They are all equally indebted to MR. ROWLANDSON'S +talents. + +It may, perhaps, be considered as presumption in me, and at my age, to +sport even with my own Dowdy Muse, but, from the extensive patronage +which DOCTOR SYNTAX has received, it may be presumed that, more or +less, he has continued to amuse: And I, surely, have no reason to be +dissatisfied, when Time points at my eightieth Year, that I can still +afford some pleasure to those who are disposed to be pleased. + + The AUTHOR. + + _May 1, 1821._ + + + + +LIST OF THE PLATES + + + Journey to London _To face the Title_ + In search of Service _To face p._ 13 + Relating his History to Sir Jeffery " 17 + At Oxford " 42 + Conflict with Lawyer Gripe-all " 44 + With the Sheep-Shearers " 59 + Assisting a Traveller " 63 + In the Sports of the Kitchen " 75 + In the Service of Sir Jeffery Gourmand " 81 + With a Quack Doctor " 139 + With a Spendthrift " 150 + Attending on a Sporting Finale " 162 + In the Service of a Miser " 174 + With the Money Lenders " 179 + Officiating at a Gaming Table " 180 + With a Portrait Painter " 188 + Gives a Grand Party " 201 + Interrupts a Tête à Tête " 203 + Committed with a riotous Dancing Party + to the Watch-House " 212 + Engaged with Jovial Friends, + or who sings best " 214 + The Party breaking up and + QUÆ GENUS breaking down " 220 + Turned out of a House which + he mistakes for his own " 222 + With Creditors " 229 + Discovers his Father " 248 + + + + +THE HISTORY + +OF + +JOHNNY QUÆ GENUS + +OR + +The Foundling of Doctor Syntax + + + + +CANTO I + + + Johnny Quæ Genus! what a name + To offer to the voice of Fame! + (Though she 'tis hop'd may condescend + To act as Little Johnny's friend) + This may be said, when first the eye + Does, by a careless glance, descry + The striking range of marshall'd words + Which a gay TITLE-PAGE affords. + But what's a name, as SHAKESPEARE says, + It neither gives nor lessens praise; + Adds no fresh odour to the rose, + Nor any other flower that blows: + Whether with rare or common name + The fragrance will be just the same. + 'Tis not a title can confer + The good or ill of character, + _HOWARDS_ have been both beat and bang'd, + And some with ancient names been hang'd: + Look at a ship with convicts stor'd + What noble names are oft on board! + It is the living, current course + Or of the better or the worse, + That stamps, whate'er may be the name, + Or with a good or evil fame. + But howsoe'er the thing we view + Our little Johnny's title's new: + Or for the child or for the man, + In an old phrase, 'tis _spick_ and _span_. + + Besides, as most folk do agree + To find a charm in novelty, + 'Tis the first time that Grammar rule + Which makes boys tremble when at school, + Did with the name an union crave + Which at the font a sponsor gave. + But whether 'twas in hum'rous mood + Or by some classic whim pursued, + Or as, in Eton's Grammar known, + It bore relation to his own, + Syntax, it was at Whitsuntide, + And a short time before he died, + In pleasant humour, after dinner, + Surnam'd, in wine, the little sinner. + And thus, amid the table's roar, } + Gave him from good, old _Lilly's_ store, } + A name which none e'er had before. } + --'Squire Worthy, who, perchance was there, + Promis'd the Doctor's wish to share, + That want, at least might not annoy + The progress of the Foundling Boy. + "--Syntax," He said, "We'll try between us + To make the fortune of QUÆ GENUS: + You feed his mind with learning's food, + And I'll protect him if he's good." + "While I," said smiling _Dickey Bend_, + "Will add my mite as _Johnny's_ friend; + Nor shall he want the scraps of knowledge + Which he can pick up at my College." + --Thus, as they did the bumper ply + To Johnny's future destiny, + The warm, almost parental heart + Of Mrs. Syntax bore its part; + And her cheek wore a smile of joy + As she beheld th' unconscious boy, + Who, careless of the kind debate, + Play'd with the cherries on his plate. + + But such is life's uncertain hour, + And such is fate's tyrannic power, + That while our comforts smile around + The fatal dart inflicts the wound: + Thus e'er another month was past + Syntax, alas! had breath'd his last. + Whene'er he heard the widow sigh + QUÆ GENUS wept he scarce knew why: + Of a kind friend fate had bereft him, + And an odd name was all he left him. + His urchin fancy only thought + As his enquiring mind was taught, + That his adopted sire was gone + Where the good go to worlds unknown, + To happy regions plac'd on high + Above the blue and starry sky, + Where, he was with the hope endued, + That he should go, if he were good. + + But the good lady took him home + And kept him many a year to come; + When he grew up a charming youth, + In whom simplicity and truth + Did o'er his ev'ry thought preside; + While, with such an anxious guide, + Life smil'd and seem'd to promise fair, + That it would answer to the care + Which her affection had bestow'd, + To set him on his future road: + But when she died poor John was hurl'd + Into a bustling, tricking world. + He had, 'tis true, all she could leave; + She gave him all there was to give; + Of all she had she made him heir, + But left it to a lawyer's care: + No wonder then that he was cheated + And her fond anxious hopes defeated: + So that instead of his possessing + The fruits of her last, dying blessing; + He had, as it turn'd out, to rue } + What foul rascality could do; } + And his own wild vagaries too. } + + Here, gentle reader, here begins + The account of our young Hero's sins: + But all which thus far form'd his fate, + QUÆ GENUS will himself relate, + And what truth bids him to rehearse, + My hum-strum Muse records in verse. + + Thus I proceed,--my humble strain } + Has hap'ly pleas'd.----I may be vain,-- } + But still it hopes to please again. } + + * * * * * + + In this great overwhelming town, + Certain receptacles are known, + Where both the sexes shew their faces + To boast their talents and get places: + Not such as kings and courts can give, + Not such as noble folk receive, + But those which yield their useful aid + To common wants or gen'ral trade, + Or finely furbish out the show + That fashion does on life bestow. + Here those who want them may apply + For toiling powers and industry, + On whom the nervous strength's bestow'd + To urge the wheel or bear the load. + Here all who want, may pick and chuse + Each service of domestic use: + The laundry, kitchen, chamber, dairy, + May always find an Ann or Mary, + While in th' accommodating room, + He who wants coachman, footman, groom, + Or butler staid, may come and have, + With such as know to dress and shave. + --The art and skill may here be sought + In ev'ry thing that's sold and bought, + In all the well spread counter tells + Of knowledge keen in yards and ells; + Adepts in selling and in buying + And perfect in the modes of lying; + Who flatter misses in their teens, + And harangue over bombazeens, + Can, in glib words, nor fear detection, + Arrange each colour to complexion: + Can teach the beau the neckcloth's tie, + With most becoming gravity; + Or with a consequential air, + Turn up the collar to a hair. + --Besides, your nice shop-women too, + May at a call be brought to view, + Who, with swift fingers, so bewitching, + Are skill'd in ev'ry kind of stitching; + Can trim the hat, arrange the bonnet, + And place the tasty ribbon on it. + In short, here all to service bound, + May in their various shapes be found. + --From such who may display their charms, + By smirking looks and active arms, + To those in kitchen under ground + Amid black pots and kettles found: + From such as teach the early rules, + Or in the male or female schools, + To those of an inferior breed, + Who ne'er have known to write or read: + From those who do the laws perplex + In toil at an attorney's desk, + To such as pass their busy lives + In cleaning shoes or cleaning knives. + To these, perhaps, an added score } + Might swell the tiresome list or more, } + But here description says, "give o'er." } + + In such enregistering shop + One morn a figure chanc'd to pop; + (But here I beg it may be guess'd, + Of these same shops it was the best, + His hat was rather worse for wear, } + His clothing, too, was somewhat bare, } + His boots might say, "we've travell'd far." } + His left hand an umbrella bore + And something like a glove he wore: + Clean was his very sun-burnt skin + Without a long hair on his chin, + While his lank face, in ev'ry feature, + Proclaim'd a keen, discerning nature; + And when he spoke there was an air } + Of something not quite common there: } + His manner good, his language fair. } + A double cape of curious make, + Fell from his shoulders down his back, + As if art did the folds provide + A very awkward hump to hide; + But, if 'twere so, the cunning fail'd, + For still the treach'rous bunch prevail'd. + + By chatting here and talking there, + He did his curious mind prepare + With all the means by which to gain + The end his wishes would obtain;-- + Then with half-humble, solemn face, + He sought the ruler of the place, + Who boasted an establish'd fame, + And _Sharpsight_ was his well-known name. + But ere we in our way proceed + To tell of many a future deed, + It may, we doubt not, be as well, + To save all guess-work, just to tell, + Of the part now upon the stage + QUÆ GENUS was the personage. + Fortune's dark clouds, for some time past + That learned title had o'ercast, + And he had borrow'd names in plenty, + He might have gone by more than twenty; + But now arriv'd in this great town } + Without a fear of being known } + He thought he might assume his own: } + And he had weighty reasons too + For what he was about to do, + Which, we believe, a future page + Will reconcile as reasons sage. + At length his statement he began, + When thus the conversation ran. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS, IN SEARCH OF SERVICE.] + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "'Tis the first time I e'er applied + To ask your counsel for my guide: + But strange events have brought me here, + And at your desk I now appear, + But not without the means to pay, + For all you do and all you say. + And here, good Sir, there's no concealing + We must be cautious in our dealing: + I want employment that will give + Means to be honest and to live. + Such is my warm, heart-felt desire, + Such is the boon I now require,-- + And if you do my wishes aid, + I tell you Sir,--_you shall be PAID_." + + Sticking his pen behind his ear + And with a keen enquiring leer, + _Sharpsight_ the curious figure view'd, + And thus the important talk pursued. + + +SHARPSIGHT. + + "In answer to your just desire, + Permit me fairly to enquire, + Which to my ledger is transmitted, + For what your qualities are fitted? + And, in good faith, I wish to know, + What you have done, and what can do? + Nay, to whose word I may refer + For your good name and character. + Such is essential to the case, + Such are the first steps to a place, + Of whate'er kind that place may be, + Whether of high or low degree; + Without them no access to station, + No character, no situation. + --What you assert, you say is true, + I'm sure, my friend, I wish so too: + For what you ask, as you describe, + Is ask'd by all the serving tribe: + 'Tis that to which they all pretend, + But those I never can commend + In honour to my own good name, } + And to this room's establish'd fame, } + But what the rigid truth may claim. } + Though as you look this place around, + But common folk are to be found: + Coachmen who sit without a whip; + Footmen, without a call to skip; + Gardeners who have lost their spade, + And Journeymen without a trade; + Clerks whose pens have long been idle; + With grooms quite dull, who ask a bridle; + Cooks who exclaim for roast and boil'd, + And nurs'ry-maids without a child; + Young, sprightly girls who long to clamber + From drawing-rooms to upper chamber, + Ready the drudg'ry to assail + Of scrubbing-brush, and mop and pail; + Stout porters who for places tarry, + Whose shoulders ache for loads to carry; + But character they must maintain, + Or here they come, and pay in vain. + In short, were I to count them o'er, + I could name twenty kinds or more, + Who patient and impatient wait + About this busy, crowded gate. + --But you might higher claimants see + Within this crowded registry, + Who do not at the desk appear, + Nor e'er are seen in person here; + But they are charged a larger fee, + Both for success and secrecy. + Thus you must see how much depends, + To gain your object and your ends, + That you should truly let me know + What you have done,--what you can do; + And I, once more, beg to refer + To your good name and character." + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "I do profess I can engage + With noble, simple, and with sage. + Though young as yet, I've been so hurl'd + About what you would call the world, + That well I know it, yet 'tis true, + I can be very honest too. + --Of the good name which you demand, + I tell you--I've not one at hand. + Of friends, I once had ample store, + But those fair, prosp'rous days are o'er, + And I must mourn it to my cost + That friends are dead, and gone, and lost; + But if to conscience 'tis referr'd, + My conscience says, Sir, take his word. + --Of character, though I have none, + Perhaps, Sir, I can purchase one: + I, from a corner of my coat, + May just pluck out a pretty note; + Which, with a view to gain an end, + Might, in an urgent want, befriend. + Now, if to place me, you contrive, } + Where I may have a chance to thrive; } + I'll give this note, if I'm alive. } + It may be rather worth your while; + Perhaps it may awake a smile." + + _Sharpsight_ appear'd to look astray, + But still he took a glance that way. + "I'm not," he said, "to be beguil'd;" + Though when he glanc'd that way, he _smil'd_, + And, turning to the other side, + In a calm, soften'd tone replied. + + +SHARPSIGHT. + + "Here money is not that way earn'd, + My reputation is concern'd; + But still I can my duty do, + And strive to be a friend to you. + _Sir Jeff'ry Gourmand_ you may suit; + A Knight renown'd, of high repute, + As all who know his name can tell, + For being rich and living well; + A gen'rous man, but full of whim, + And you may be the thing for him: + In such a way your case I'll mention + As shall awaken his attention. + And now, my worthy friend, I pray, + Mind well what I'm about to say: + Without a creature to refer + Or for good name or character, + And in a state which seems to be + Involv'd in awkward mystery; + And I shall add, with your excuse + For the remark which I must use, + That either accident or nature + Has, on your back, plac'd such a feature, + That were you e'en my dearest friend, + I dare not such an one commend + To any lady worth a groat, + Unless to serve the dame for nought. + --Just turn around, and you may see + A Lady in deep scrutiny, + With a nice quizzing-glass in hand, + Glancing across a liv'ried band; + And once a month she does appear + On this domestic errand here. + If of a maid she wants the use, + Her woman comes to pick and chuse; + But if a man,--she is so nice, + She comes herself to make the choice. + A widow rich, who gives high wages, + If they should please, whom she engages: + But he must be of such a size, + And look so well in her keen eyes, + That she scarce one in twenty sees + Fit to wear her rich liveries. + There's one who has a squinting eye-- + I know full well she'll pass him by; + On one poor rogue she'll turn her back + Because his frightful beard is black; + Another will not eat her bread + Because his frizzled crop is red; + These are too weak,--and those too strong, + And some an inch too short or long: + She'll take the best-made of the bunch, + But would be fainting at a hunch. + --Thus then, according to my plan, + _Sir Jeff'ry Gourmand_ is the man; + But to his questions pray reply + Without the veil of mystery: + Your story from your very youth, + If he should ask it--tell the truth; + Your errors fail not to unfold-- + In telling them be firm, be bold; + While you your better virtues own, + E'en let your mischiefs all be known, + But let not folly blazen forth + Whate'er you have of conscious worth; + Express the ill with down-cast eye, + And veil the good with modesty; + Though, if you can with prudence poke + Into your tale a funny joke, + Fear not, 'tis what his humour loves, + As his own daily chit-chat proves; + And while he does his bev'rage quaff, + At what he says--be sure you laugh. + But should you not his service suit, + He will not play the churlish brute; + And if not gone too far astray, + May serve you in some other way. + Thus you must see I do my best-- + To Fortune I shall leave the rest: + But now I see _Sir Jeff'ry_ enter, + And I must leave you to your venture." + + _Sharpsight_ then after humbly greeting + This huge man-mountain of good eating, + For a few minutes in his ear, + Told that which he alone could hear. + The Knight then cast a curious eye + On Johnny, who was standing by, + And just enquir'd from whence he came, + What was his age, and what his name; + Whom he had serv'd, and why he left + The place of which he was bereft? + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS READING TO SIR JEFFERY GOURMAND.] + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "If, Sir, it were not thought too free, + If I might take the liberty, + I would not wish you here to wait + While I my strange condition state, + As it would take an hour or more, + My various story to explore; + Tho' 'tis not such, that I should + fear The tale to tell or you to hear: + You, who will kind allowance make + For wants that press, and hearts that ache, + And passions that restraint disdain + When justice sues, and sues in vain; + And 'tis to that tale I refer + For name, for age and character, + Whom I have serv'd, and what the scene + Where my frail manhood's years have been: + And if you will but condescend + To my young hist'ry to attend, + And will not the fond hope deny me, + That you, good Sir, will take and try me, + And let my rude, misgotten shape + From your observance to escape, + You will command,--I will obey; + When you may see from day to day, + How far, Sir, I may make pretence + To your good grace and confidence." + + "Then be it so," the Knight replied, + "I trust I may be satisfied. + I'm told there's something droll about you, + But droll'ry will not make me scout you; + Nor do I mind, my friend, the pack, + Which you now wear upon your back: + We're rather equal on that score-- + Your's is behind, and mine's before; + Nay, when of both I take a view, + Mine is the larger of the two." + + QUÆ GENUS, with a ready grace, + Lifted his hat to hide his face; + But still he so arrang'd the screen + That his gay visage might be seen; + Which seem'd to burst as from the hit + Of the fat Knight's spontaneous wit, + Who chuckled first, and then made known + His further will to laughing John. + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "Be punctual;--at the hour of ten + We will, to-morrow, meet again; + When I will hear, without delay, + The whole which you have got to say: + But know, you will offend my feeling + If you should shuffle from plain dealing. + I'm serious now:--on that depends, + How far we may continue friends." + + QUÆ GENUS fail'd not, at the hour, + To pass _Sir Jeff'ry's_ chamber door; + Where, seated in a cushion'd chair + As large as some post-chaises are, + And though it may be strange to tell, + The Knight contriv'd to fill it well; + He seem'd attentive to peruse + The pages of the daily news: + When, with a look and with a loll, + As if he thought on something droll, + And in a sort of pleasant glee, + He thus commenc'd the colloquy.-- + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "First, I must ask to know your name, + Your parentage, and whence you came; + And when these trifling things are past, + The master whom you liv'd with last." + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "QUÆ GENUS, is the name I bear." + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "QUÆ GENUS? 'tis a name so rare, + It never met my ear or eye, + If I can trust my memory. + I mean the surname that you own, + By which your family is known: + Not what your sponsor's pedant hammer + Beat into use from Lilly's grammar. + I want your father's name."-- + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "'Twere well! + If I that honour'd name could tell; + I must suppose that such a creature + Was form'd in her own way, by Nature! + That I had parents must be true; + A father and a mother too, + But who they were I never heard, + Nor has the secret yet appear'd: + They're known to Heaven,--but to me + My birth's a perfect mystery: + Though this I'm sure that I can tell-- + It was not worth a miracle." + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "By whom, then, was QUÆ GENUS given?" + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "By one who is a saint in Heaven; + If ever mortal beings go + To bliss above, from ills below: + This I believe, nay I would swear, + That such is his allotment there; + And I would kiss the book I trow, + The holy book that tells me so. + A Grammar Title was his own, + And therefore 'twas--he gave me one: + 'Twas DOCTOR SYNTAX, and I'm proud + That 'tis to him the name I ow'd." + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "I knew him not, but this I know, + What pleasure to his works I owe; + And you will meet my partial whim-- + Prove that you e'er belong'd to him. + Treasur'd within that curtain'd case, + His works possess a favour'd place; + And if the binding aught can tell, + They show that I respect them well. + Go, take a volume down, and look-- + Perhaps, my friend, you know the book." + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "I know it well, as you will see, + It tells my infant history: + This leaf will partly save the task + Of answ'ring what you're pleas'd to ask. + That little infant whom you see } + In basket laid,--that, Sir, is me, } + Now grown to sad maturity. } + --It was within an Inn of Court, + Where busy Lawyers plead and sport; + Upon those stairs and thus enclos'd, + My new-born figure was expos'd. + Of mercy they had little share } + Whose cruel purpose plac'd me there, } + And left me to the Lawyer's care; } + For, had th' Attorney been in town, + Who did those very chambers own, + I doubt what might have been my fate: + The thing was strange--the hour was late; + The work-house might be distant far, + And dubious been the nursings there. + But one, perchance, possess'd the floor + When I was laid beside the door, + Who would have felt a crying sin + Had he not ta'en the stranger in. + When I this pictur'd figure view, + So innocent--so helpless too, + A smile's contending with a tear, + On seeing what I now appear: + A pretty figure for a casket,-- + A little Falstaff in the basket." + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "Further of this you need not tell, + I know the curious story well; + At least as far as there appears + In what regards your infant years, + And all that did your fate betide, + Till your good friend the Doctor died. + --But now,--Of _Masters_ name the last + Whom you have serv'd for some time past." + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "_Masters_, an' please you, I had none, + And _Mistresses_, I had but one: + Indeed, Sir, it may not be civil, + But O, she is a very devil, + Which I am sure you will allow + Soon as you come her name to know, + Tho' oft and oft, and o'er and o'er, + You must have heard it spoke before, + But not in any pressing hour + Have you been subject to her power. + It might not be a thing of course + But I her servant was perforce, + For sure as my name is QUÆ GENUS + There seem'd a contract made between us; + And her sad service I must rue, + If I come not to live with you; + With her I must continue still, + If it proves not your gen'rous will, + To receive me, Sir, from her + With what she gives of character, + For she sometimes can make pretence + To ask heart-felt benevolence." + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "This is most strange, I do declare! } + But pray what figure did she bear } + While you th' unwilling servant were?" } + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "An ever-varying form she wore, + As ever changeful Proteus bore: + But or in motion she, or still; + Her ev'ry hour is mark'd with ill. + She looks best pleas'd when sorrow flows, + She can disdain when virtue bows: + Labour and penury and pain + And sad disease compose her train, + While vain complaint and discontent + Form her pale-fac'd establishment." + + SIR JEFF'RY now let loose a smile + As if some fancy did beguile + And play upon his easy thought, + With light, amusive mischief fraught; + And this sarcastic question prov'd + The pleasantry _Sir Jeff'ry_ lov'd. + "When she was in a spiteful humour, + What said she of that _pretty tumour_? + The which without a wish to pry, + Must sometimes meet her wand'ring eye. + Did she ne'er stroke your circling back, + Nor e'er salute it with a smack; + Or when she was dispos'd to sneer + Compare it to a Hemisphere, + Deck it with sun and moon and stars, + With Venus, Mercury and Mars, + Or cover with her liv'ry's robe + The Continents of half the Globe; + Or like an Atlas, did she flout you + As you bore half the world about you, + When you might show it as a sight, + And gain no common profit by't; + Blend with the Panorama's skill, + In all the pride of printed bill, + Deliver'd with a ready hand + Through Leic'ster-fields or in the Strand." + + The Knight's loud laughter then succeeded,-- + And Johnny laughing too, proceeded. + + "How happy you who thus can joke + And wrap me in your funny cloak, + Nay, when your mirth, Sir, may think fit, + Can fill my crooked back with wit; + Can even make me almost proud, + Of that self-same prepost'rous load. + You may, perhaps, be not aware, + But 'tis the truth which I declare, + I would serve you for half the wages + Which common servitude engages, + Provided you would pay the rest + In such nice puns and merry jest; + I would with joy sign the receipt, + For half in cash, and half in wit." + + "Well, well, go on," _Sir Jeff'ry_ said, + While his glad, twinkling eyes betray'd, + How much QUÆ GENUS pleas'd his fancy + At this so flatt'ring necromancy. + --While the Knight his cold coffee quaffing, + But still at his own fancies laughing, + Exclaim'd, "proceed, but be it known, } + I wish the lady's hist'ry done, } + And then you will conclude your own." } + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "When she first knew me she could see + A form as strait as poplar tree, + Then I was ruddy, fair and plump, + Nor was my back crown'd with a hump, + Of which you may not be aware, + For hang the hag, she plac'd it there, + And you, good Sir, shall shortly know, + How to her power the gift I owe." + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "The more I hear, the more I see, + The more you deal in mystery. + This Mistress, sure, of which you tell, + Is an INCOMPREHENSIBLE! + A widow she, or is she wedded? + Or e'er by blushing Hymen bedded?" + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "O no, Sir, no.--She is more common + Than is the worst street-walking woman. + There's scarce a mortal about town + To whom this Mistress is not known; + And if the track I should pursue, + I might add in the country too. + But 'tis a keen wit that unravels + The wide extent of all her travels; + Nor time nor space has she to spare, + She's here and there and ev'ry where. + Though if I at a guess may venture + Beneath this roof she will not enter, + Unless, as you the chance may see, + The saucy minx comes here with me." + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "But one more question I've to ask, + Ere you perform your promis'd task, + And tell me from all shuffling free, + The items of your history, + Up to the moment when you stand + A candidate for my command. + And now QUÆ GENUS tell the name + Of this same universal dame, + Whom you, poor fellow, have been serving, + And, as you state it, almost starving. + --If in your tale she does agree, + It is a tale of mystery; + Some fairy fable, I suppose, + That paints, in emblems, human woes, + And does in figur'd words, apply + To your peculiar history. + It is not in the usual way + That such as you their state display; + It is not in such borrow'd guise + That they unfold their histories, + With here and there a little bit + Of droll'ry to shew off their wit; + It is not in this form I see + Those who may wear my livery; + But your's I feel a diff'rent case + From those who come to seek a place; + Or when the register may send him, + With, 'Sir, we beg to recommend him.' + I now bethink me of the sage + Who lov'd you in your tender age; + And when I see you have a claim } + To share the page that marks his fame, } + SYNTAX, that highly honour'd name } + A passport is, my good QUÆ GENUS, + To the familiar talk between us. + From that relation which you share, + No longer stand, but take a chair, + And now proceed, without delay, + To close the tale in your own way. + + "And once again, I ask the name + Of this so universal dame; + What is her fortune,--where she lives, + And the strange means by which she thrives? + Where she acquires her wond'rous power, + Which you describe, o'er ev'ry hour? + Where it began, my curious friend; + Then tell me, pray, when it will end." + + With due respect, as was requir'd, + He took the chair for he was tir'd, + And calling truth to be his guide, + He thus in solemn tone replied. + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "MISS-FORTUNE is the name she bears, + Her rent-roll's form'd of sighs and tears: + She doth not live or here or there, + I fear, Sir, she lives ev'ry where. + I'm sure that I know not the ground + Where her sad influence is not found; + But if a circle should appear } + Beyond her arbitrary sphere, } + I feel and hope, Sir, it is here. } + --This worn-out coat, Sir, which you see, + Is the kind Lady's livery: + I once was fat, but now am thin, + Made up of nought but bone and skin; + I once was large but now am small, + From feeding in her servants'-hall, + And the hump I shall ever bear + Is an example of her care. + As for the blessed Dame's beginning, + I've heard that it began in sinning, + And I have learn'd that she will end + When this vile world has learn'd to mend; + But if we guess when that may be, + We may guess to eternity." + + "MISS-FORTUNE!! Heav'ns! O thus she's nam'd," + The Knight, with uplift eyes exclaim'd. + "O the dull head, not to have seen + What the _Finale_ must have been!" + Then clasping hands and chuckling first + Into a bellowing laugh he burst, + Though not to his broad face confin'd, + But on each side, before, behind, + It seem'd as if his whimsies bound him, + In a joyous circle round him: + His belly trembles, his sides ache, + And the great-chair scarce stands the shake. + 'Twas a hoarse, deep bass, note of mirth, + To which his fancy thus gave birth; + And Johnny fail'd not to come after + An octave higher in his laughter, + While his delight appear'd to speak + In somewhat of a treble squeak.-- + Thus, for some minutes they enjoy'd + The _Duo_ which their nerves employ'd. + + _Sir Jeff'ry_ shook his head awhile, + Then spoke with a complacent smile. + + "Though in a diff'ring point of view, } + I know her just as well as you; } + And hang the hag she plagues me too. } + Need I, good fellow, need I tell ye, + She deck'd me out with this great belly; + 'Tis she, by way of friendly treat, + Has given this pair of gouty feet; + Nay sometimes when her whim commands + _Miss-Fortune_ robs me of my hands: + 'Tis she with her intention vile + That makes me overflow with bile; + And tho' my table's spread with plenty + Of ev'ry nice and costly dainty, + She sometimes envies me a bite, + And takes away my appetite. + She does not meddle with my wealth, + But then she undermines my health; + She never in my strong box looks, + Nor pries into my banker's books; + My ample fortune I contrive + To guard with care and make it thrive, + I check her power to destroy it, + But then she says, 'you sha'n't enjoy it; + I will take care you shall endure + The ills and pains gold cannot cure.' + Or leagu'd with wrinkled age at least, + She strives to interrupt the feast. + --But with her malice I contend, + Where she's a foe, I'm oft a friend, + And, with the weapons I can wield, + I sometimes drive her from the field. + Nay when she does the victim clasp, + I snatch it from her cruel grasp. + And thus you see, or more or less, + I make her prove my happiness." + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "There was indeed a time when I + Knew her but by warm sympathy + With those who did her burthen bear, + Which I have since been forc'd to share; + But this, at least, I'm pleas'd to own, + And 'tis a truth to you well known, + Nay, this I'll say, in others' breast, + Where'er the virtue is possess'd, + She does, as I have felt, and see, + Awake benign Humanity." + + +SIR JEFFERY. + + "And she shall 'wake it now, QUÆ GENUS! + An instant contract's made between us. + I break that which she made with you, + And gladly you abjure it too. + I have no doubt, my friend, to venture; + Into my service you shall enter, + Your ills at present shall be o'er, + _Miss-Fortune_ you shall serve no more. + At least, I say, while you contrive + By your good deeds with me to live: + I'll save you from your late disaster + And change your mistress for a master. + I want no bowings, no grimaces, + No blessings that I've chang'd your places. + --I now remind you to relate + All that has been your various fate, + Nay, all that you have ever known, + Since time and freedom were your own. + --I tell you, _Johnny_, speak the truth; + I know what follies wait on youth: + I know where erring passion leads, + On what a slipp'ry ground it treads: + I can remember that I fail'd + When the gay, tempting world prevail'd; + Nor shall I now the thought conceal, + Which reason tells me to reveal. + What Heaven forgives should be forgiven + By all who look with hope tow'rds Heaven: + But I expect not faults alone, } + I trust in what you may have done, } + There may work out a little fun. } + --If I guess right your lively eye } + Was not exactly made to cry, } + But sometimes call forth pleasantry; } + Of diff'ring thoughts to ope the vein, + Let pleasure forth or lessen pain. + But still do not your mischiefs hide, + Throughout your tale, be truth your guide; + Nor make _Miss-Fortune_ though she starves, + Worse, by the bye, than she deserves, + For after all her misdeeds past, + The Dame may do you good at last. + --Deceive me, and you will offend, + Deceive me, and you lose a friend: + Try to deceive me and again + You'll join _Miss-Fortune's_ pale-fac'd train. + Proceed then, and, without a fear, } + Pour thy misdoings in my ear } + And I will with indulgence hear. } + I'll not discard you for the evil, + Though you should prove a little devil, + Though to your hump you should not fail, + To add your horns and hoofs and tail; + Though you should prove a bag of sin, + And hump'd without be hump'd within, + Here you shall have your home, your food; + Kick at _Miss-Fortune_, and be good." + + He spoke, then rang the shrill-ton'd bell, + Which did its well-known message tell.-- + A tray appear'd, and well prepar'd, + Which _Johnny_ with _Sir Jeff'ry_ shar'd. + When, waving his beflannell'd hand, + The knight thus utter'd his command. + "And now, thou little Imp of Sin, + Without a compliment begin." + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "The Volume that now lies before ye, + Tells you thus far, Sir, of my story; + Which would be upon this occasion + A work of supererogation; + Though I shall beg leave to repeat, + I'm not the new-born of the street; + But as it never yet appear'd, + At least, as I have ever heard, + To such unknown, unfather'd heirs, + I am a Foundling of _the stairs_, + Without a mark upon the dress, + By which there might be form'd a guess, + Whether I should the offspring prove + Of noble or of vulgar love; + Whether thus left in Inn of Court + Where Lawyers live of ev'ry sort; + Love in a deep full-bottom clad, + Gave me a grave black-letter'd dad, + Who, if 'twere so, might not agree + To have a child without a fee; + And, therefore, would not plead my cause, + But left me to the vagrant laws + Of chance, who did not do amiss, + But sued in _Formâ Pauperis_, + And, in a Court where Mercy reign'd, + The little Foundling's cause was gain'd: + SYNTAX was judge, and pity's power + Sav'd me in that forsaken hour. + He with that truly Christian spirit, + Which Heaven gave him to inherit, + Fondly embrac'd me as his own; + But ere three transient years were gone, + I lost my friend, but found another, + A father he, and she, a mother; + For such at least they both have prov'd, + And as their child the stranger lov'd. + O, rest her soul!--to her 'tis given + To share his happy lot in Heaven. + I seem'd to be her utmost pride, + And Johnny trotting by her side, + Fill'd with delight her glancing eye + In warm affection's sympathy. + This fond, this kind, this fost'ring friend + Did to my ev'ry want attend; + Her only fault, she rather spoil'd + As he grew up, the darling child; + But though her care was not confin'd + Or to his body, or his mind, + Though, with a fond parental view, + She gave to both th' attention due, + Ne'er would she her displeasure fix + On his most wild, unlucky tricks. + So that at church he held grave airs, + Pronounc'd Amen, and said his pray'rs, + And on a Sunday evening read + A sermon ere they went to bed, + Throughout the week, he was quite free + For mischief with impunity. + --If on the folk I squirted water, + How she would shake her sides with laughter; + If the long-rotten eggs were thrown + At Mary, Sally, or at Joan; + If any stinging stuff was put + Into the hasty trav'ller's boot; + If the sly movement of the heel + Should overturn the spinning-wheel. + --If holly plac'd beside the rose + Should wound the gay sheep-shearer's nose, + Or 'neath the tail a thorn-bush pricking, + Should set Dame Dobbins' mare a kicking, + And overthrow the market load, + While beans and peas o'erspread the road, + If the poor injur'd made complaint + To Madam of her wily saint, + She would reply, 'pray cease your noise, + These are the tricks of clever boys, + It is my pleasant Johnny's fun, + Tell me the damage, and have done.' + --When I became a rosy boy, + My growth encreas'd her growing joy; + But now such gamesome hours were o'er + I play'd my childish tricks no more. + My little heart 'gan to beat high, + And with heroic ardor try + The tempting danger to pursue, + And do what others could not do: + I sought to climb the highest tree, + Where none would dare to follow me, + Or the gay sporting horse to ride, + Which no school-fellow dare bestride. + My feats were sometimes rather scaring, + But the Dame lov'd to see me daring; + As by my running, leaping, walking, + I us'd to set the parish talking, + And, to the good old women's wonder, + I fear'd not lightning nor thunder. + She thought, in future time, my name } + By some achievement bold, might claim } + A loud blast in the trump of fame. } + + "When, as a youth, how great the charm + To lean upon his willing arm, + Or when she wish'd to take the air, + To guide her poney in the chair; + To fetch her book, to place her stool, + Or bear the _laden ridicule:_ + To chat, to laugh, to sing, to read, + As whims or wishes might succeed: + And I am proud to make it known + Her ev'ry pleasure was my own; + And all to please her I could do, + Was joy, as it was duty too. + + "Here now my better story ends-- + So far, I trust, Sir, we are friends: + But I could almost wish me dumb, + When I must tell of what's to come." + + _Sir Jeffery_, half-laughing, said, + "_Johnny_, I pray, be not afraid, + Whate'er your luckless wit has done, + I swear I will set down in fun; + By me, your sins shall be forgiven + As sure as Mercy is in Heaven." + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "Then, at your pleasure I proceed, + Nor will I hide a single deed; + There is but one I doubt to own, + But that to you shall be made known, + And will with you securely rest + As in my own uneasy breast; + Though I'm afraid of vengeful laws + As I believe without a cause. + Indeed, I have contriv'd to play + The very fool for many a day, + But brief, be sure, I'll strive to be + In this my early history. + + "And here, an' please you, Sir, begins + The tale of my mishaps--the chapter of my sins." + + + + +CANTO II + + + It may seem queer when 'tis the will + Of Fate, its wishes to fulfil, + To call the culprit to the bar, + One born beneath a luckless star, + And from his urging conscience tell + The truths that on his mem'ry dwell, + When, like a checquer they display + The black and white to open day. + Thus, as the truth he's bound to state, + The former may preponderate; + While, in a happy moment bold, + He may some conscious good unfold, + Nor can the awkward task refuse + Both to applaud and to accuse. + --Such thoughts as these might be the cause, + Why poor QUÆ GENUS made a pause. + + "Well," said _Sir Jeff'ry_, "pray go on, + Or never will your tale have done: + I've told you, and you must attend; + You tell your story to a friend, + Who will, whatever may appear, + With kindness and compassion hear." + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "Your pardon, Sir, I will proceed, + Nor stop till I've perform'd the deed. + --Thus, so far Fortune deck'd with smiles + The season which our youth beguiles, + And gave the hope of added measure + To gay delight and solid pleasure: + But while the merry song went round, + And to the tabor's lively sound, + The village did in cadence beat, + With all its many twinkling feet, + Pale Fate appear'd, in cypress wreath, + And call'd out for the DANCE OF DEATH: + When my dear friend, who gave the feast, + And cheer'd with smiles each happy guest, + Was borne away, I scarce knew why, + But I was told,--it was to die. + And soon, alas! I wond'ring saw + All govern'd by a man of law, + With whom she seldom converse held, + But when her private cares compell'd + Some petty, trifling, legal aid, + Which coolly she discharg'd and paid. + 'Twas by this man's exulting side + I walk'd along and sobb'd and sigh'd + When she was carried to the bourne + From whence we mortals ne'er return. + --I was by all around approv'd, + And by the better neighbours lov'd, + While I in ev'ry eye could see + The pity that was felt for me. + By her death-bed he held the quill + That made him master of her will, + While a round sum was written there + To pay him for the tender care + Which he of her sweet boy would take, + For her's and her dear husband's sake. + Husband! whom this same man of law, + This forging rascal never saw: + Indeed by many it was thought + He put his name where he ought not. + It much surpriz'd each curious friend, + And quite astonish'd _Doctor Bend_, + Whose rev'rend titles should have been + Where the foul lawyer's name was seen. + Wrong was suspected, Counsel had, + But no objection could be made, + And by all forms of law allied, + The will was shap'd and testified: + The attorney to his duties swore, + So he became Executor. + 'Tis true she left her all to me, + But here and there a legacy; + Though, such were this strange will's commands + Through _Lawyer Gripe-all's_ grasping hands, + All was to pass and there remain + Till I the age of man attain; + And if I chanc'd to die before,-- + The lawyer was to take the store. + All saw, or all believ'd the cheat, + But the law veil'd the base deceit, + And when the doctor came to see + How justice might be done to me, + On due reflection, thought it fit, + As things were order'd, to submit; + Told me, at present, to be quiet, + To seem content, nor breed a riot, + But when I truely crav'd a friend, + I knew the home of _Dickey Bend_; + Then with affection's warmth caress'd me, + And, with a parent's blessing, bless'd me. + + "From that dear cottage now I mov'd, + Where I such tender fondness prov'd; + From a calm scene of taste refin'd, + And all that could improve the mind; + Where daily blessings were bestow'd + From all the humble neighbourhood; + Where heart-felt goodness was employ'd, + And social harmony enjoy'd;-- + From these QUÆ GENUS was transferr'd + To where the daily curse was heard, + Where the law's promise was delay'd, + And money for injustice paid; + Or a loud, base, malignant joy, + Which the law's triumphs might employ;-- + To an old house that stood alone, + With ivy and with moss o'ergrown, + And where the practiser of laws + Did his foul deeds 'mid bats and daws; + Nay, which, as fame reports, was worse, + The house was saddled with a curse, + That _Gripe-all_, in the law's despite, + Had robb'd some widow of her right, + And, by his cutting and his carving, + Had got the house--and left her starving. + + "Oft I my loss, in secret, wept, + And when my eyelids should have slept, + Nay, when those eyelids should have clos'd + And I in strength'ning sleep repos'd, + They remain'd wakeful oft and shed + Their dews upon my troubled bed. + Though Master _Gripe-all_, it was known + Shew'd me a kindness not his own; + And did with all indulgence treat me, + As the best means, at length, to cheat me. + He strove my early grief to soothe, + Call'd me his dear, delightful youth; + Gave me a pretty horse to ride, + With money in my purse beside; + Let me employ the taylor's art + To deck me out and make me smart, + Let me just study when I pleas'd, + Nor e'er my mind with learning teas'd. + But still a gnawing discontent + Prey'd on me wheresoe'er I went. + --Of Phillis too I was bereft, + One real pleasure that was left: + A fav'rite spaniel of my friend, + That did on all my steps attend, + At eve was frisking, fond and gay, } + But on the sad succeeding day, } + A poison'd, swollen form it lay. } + It might be chance, but while I griev'd, + The following letter I received, + Which was thrown o'er a hedge the while + I sat half weeping on a stile. + The writer I could never tell; + But he who wrote it meant me well; + And I've no doubt that it contain'd + The thoughts which through the country reign'd." + + +LETTER. + + "_I'm a poor man, but yet can spell, } + And I lov'd Madam SYNTAX well: } + --But I've a sorry tale to tell. } + Young 'Squire you're in the Devil's hands, + Or one who yields to his commands, + And who, I'm certain, would be bold + In bloody deeds, if 'tis for gold. + Halters he fears, but the base wretch + Fears no one mortal but JACK KETCH: + Yet what with quirks and such like flaws, + He can contrive to cheat the laws_: + _Though Madam's hand the will might sign, + It is no more her will than mine. + Some say, as she lay on her bed, + The deed was sign'd when she was dead, + And I've heard some one say, whose name + I must not give to common fame, + He'd lay ten pounds and say, 'have done,' + You liv'd not on to twenty-one; + And if you die before, 'tis known, + That Madam's money's all his own. + Nay, how he did the will compose, + 'Tis Beelzebub alone who knows! + He in a lonely mansion lives, + But there the cunning villain thrives: + Yes, he gets on, as it appears, + By setting people by the ears: + Though I have heard NAN MIDWIFE say, + Who sometimes travels late that way, + That 'neath the yew, near the house wall, + Where the dark ivy's seen to crawl, + A cat she once saw which was half + As big as any full-grown calf, + And with her tail beat down the bushes, + As if they were but slender rushes; + Has often felt sulphureous steam, + And seen bright lines of lightning gleam. + These things the good, old woman, swears + She sometimes smells and sees and hears, + While thus all trembling with affright, + She scarce can get her bald mare by't. + --Run off, young 'Squire, for much I fear + You'll be cut off, if you stay here. + My service thus I do commend, + From, Sir, your very humble friend: + And hope you will take in good part, + What comes from poor but honest heart!_" + + "This plain epistle told no more + Than had been hinted at before; + But though I was too bold to fear + That danger of such kind was near, + Yet still the honest counsel brought + My mind to a new range of thought. + + "One day as I was riding out, + Prowling the country round about, + A guide-post stood, in letter'd pride, + Close by the dusty high-road side: + With many towns for passage fam'd, + _Oxford_ upon its points was nam'd, + Which instant call'd me to attend + To my kind patron _Doctor Bend_: + And then there 'rose within my breast + A thought that reason did suggest, + And not th' effect of boyish whim, + '_Th' Attorney quit and fly to him_.'-- + --Soon after, by a lucky chance, + I heard what made my heart to dance, + That _Cerberus_ would be from home, + At least for sev'ral days to come, + Though, when of me he took his leave, + He said, 'expect me home at eve, + But, as talk may the way beguile,' + He added, 'ride with me a mile.' + --This was the very thing I wish'd, + For now I felt the fox was dish'd. + He rode on first and bade me follow, + 'Twas then that I began to hollow; + I had but one _white lie_ to tell + And all things would be going well. + I said it was my guardian's whim + That I should make the tour with him, + And ask'd for a clean shirt or so + As I had such a way to go. + Thus my great-coat, most closely roll'd, + Did all the useful package hold, + And to the saddle strongly tied + I was completely satisfied, + As nought appear'd, thus pack'd together, + But a protection from the weather, + So that the lawyer's lynx's eye + Was clos'd on curiosity: + For Madam Gripe-all's ready care + Did, to my wish, the whole prepare. + Indeed, whatever she might be, + Her kindness never fail'd to me. + She frequently would call me son, + And say she lov'd me as her own; + Nay, when the clock struck, she would say, + 'Kiss me as often, dear, I pray + As that same clock is heard to strike, + And oft'ner, dearest, if you like.' + Though such favour ne'er was shown, } + But when we both were quite alone, } + And seldom when the clock struck one. } + Her fondness I could well have stinted, + For, to say truth, she smelt and squinted: + But I remember'd that she cried, + When my poor, little Phillis died. + + "I felt my airing rather droll, + Jogging with _Gripe-all_ cheek-by-jowl, + And hearing him, with no great awe, + Expound the secrets of the law. + --When arriv'd at seven miles' end + He smil'd and said, 'Good bye, my friend: + Now homewards you will turn and tell, + That thus far you have left me well.' + I left him with a hope, how vain! + I ne'er might see his face again. + My spur did sprightly poney goad + Till I had got into the road + Which did to Oxford's city lead, + When I restrain'd my foaming steed, + And, calmly pacing on my way, + Ere _Great Tom_ toll'd the following day, + I had embrac'd my rev'rend friend + And kindest patron, _Doctor Bend_. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS AT OXFORD.] + + "I told a simple, artless tale, + That seem'd completely to prevail, + As I beheld his face the while + Beam with a kind, approving smile. + ''Tis a bold trick,' the Doctor said, + 'Which you, my lively spark, have play'd, + But since to College you are come, + I'll try to make the place your home; + Where I should hope you need not fear + To be cut short in your career; + I think, at least, we may engage + To keep you safe till you're of age, + When I shall leave you to the struggling + With _Gripe-all's_ artifice and juggling: + But still the cunning lawyer knows + I have good friends 'mong some of those + Who lead the bar or have a seat + Where the keen eye detects a cheat. + He will, I doubt not, swear and curse, + Nay, he may say you've stole his horse; + But if he meets with no disaster, + In two days he shall see his master, + And John will have a strict command + To give a letter to his hand + Which I shall with due caution write + Before I seek my bed to-night, + And if my mental eye sees clear + Will fix my friend QUÆ GENUS here.' + John met the lawyer on the road, + Just as he reach'd his own abode, + And ere at home he could have heard + Of my escape a single word: + Told him at once all he could tell, + That I at Oxford was, and well, + Where as I stay'd, I had of course, + With many thanks return'd his horse, + John said, he rather look'd confus'd + As the epistle he perus'd. + --Whether it bore a kind request + I should with ALMA MATER rest, + Or any hint that might apply + To the High Court of Chancery: + If soothing it contain'd or threat, } + I never knew or I forget,-- } + With all submission it was met. } + To all it ask'd he did agree, + And sent his kind regards to me, + While he his counsel did commend + Not to run off from _Doctor Bend_, + Nor e'er be govern'd by the whim + That made me run away from him. + + "Thus soon in Scholar's cap and gown, } + I was seen saunt'ring up and down } + The High-Street of fair Oxford Town. } + And though I stood not first in fame, + I never bore an idler's name. + I was content, nay 'twas my pride + The Doctor ne'er was heard to chide, + Which, as your Oxford youths can tell, + Was getting onward rather well. + My friends, the WORTHIES, near the Lake, + Lov'd me for DOCTOR SYNTAX' sake, + And, free from e'en a speck of care, + I pass'd a short-liv'd Summer there. + --But time, as it is us'd, roll'd on, + And I, at length, was twenty-one. + + "I now became a man of cares + To bear the weight of my affairs, + To know my fortune's full amount, + And to arrange a clear account + Between the vile, rapacious elf, + The _Lawyer Gripe-all_ and myself. + --No sooner to the place I came, } + Soon as was heard my well-known name, } + The bells my coming did proclaim, } + And had I stay'd the following day, + I would have made the village gay! + Thus _Gripe-all_ was full well prepar'd + And put at once upon his guard. + I went unwittingly alone + To claim my right and ask my own, + Though arm'd, to cut the matter short, + With an enliv'ning dose of Port, + While he was ready to display + The spirit of the law's delay. + --A step, he said, he could not stir + Without Baptismal Register, + And many a proof he must receive, + Which well he knew I could not give; + And till these papers I could shew, + He must remain in _Statu quo_. + But still, as a kind, gen'rous friend, + And from respect to _Doctor Bend_, + He would, though cash did not abound, + Advance me then _four hundred pound_. + I took the notes and thought it best + To wait the settling of the rest; + But soon I saw, as I'm alive, + That I had sign'd receipt for _five_. + My fingers caught the fraudful paper, + At which he 'gan to fume and vapour, + And let loose language full of ire, + Such as 'you bastard, rascal, liar,' + On which I caught him by the nose, + And gave the wretch some heavy blows, + Nay, as the blood ran down his face, + I dash'd the ink all in his face, + So that his figure might have done + E'en for the pit of Acheron. + Inky black and bloody red + Was o'er his ghastly visage spread, + As he lay senseless on the floor, + And, as I then thought, breath'd no more. + --The office, now a scene of blood, + Most haply in the garden stood, + So that our scene of sanguine riot + Did not disturb domestic quiet: + The notes were in my pocket stor'd, + And the receipt was in the hoard; + But as I now believ'd him dead, + I thought of being hang'd--and fled. + Nor did I make the whisky wait + Which then stood at the garden gate. + The driver who there held the reins, + Took me through many secret lanes + And woodland roads, that might evade + Pursuit, if any should be made. + He had an humble play-mate been + When I was sportive on the green; + But now, like me, to manhood grown, + Was as a skilful driver known; + And would have gone to serve QUÆ GENUS + Though fire and water were between us. + I told him all the fears I felt, + And how I had with _Gripe-all_ dealt; + Nay, urg'd him, if I were pursued, } + To cheat the blood-hounds, if he could, } + All which he mainly swore he would. } + Nay, hop'd I'd given him such a drubbing, + As to send him Beelzebubbing; + Though, first or last, he sure would go + To his relations down below. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +CONFLICT BETWEEN QUÆ GENUS & LAWYER GRIPE-ALL.] + + "Thus as we talk'd a mail-coach pass'd, + And as I could not go too fast, + I found, perchance, an empty seat, + And thus I made a quick retreat; + Nay should, in eight and forty hours, + By the wheels' ever-rolling powers, + Have a secure retirement found, + Safe from pursuit, on Scottish ground. + But as Misfortune, it is said, + Calls in associates to her aid, + And, indeed, is seldom known + To pay her visits all alone; + So either from the sultry weather, + Or anxious thoughts, or both together, + I was stopp'd short in my career, + By intermitting fits severe + Of heat and cold: a Galen came, + And Julep was the good man's name, + For truly good he prov'd to me + In skill and in humanity. + ''Tis not,' he said, 'disease alone, + Which various symptoms have made known, + But they're encreasing as I find, + By a disturb'd and anxious mind, + And if that cannot be subdued, + Med'cine will do but little good.' + I therefore, my distresses told, + In short, my story did unfold, + While, as I spoke, in his kind eye, + I saw the tear of sympathy, + And did beneath his roof receive + The care that pitying skill could give. + + "The fever wag'd a painful strife, + A struggling chance 'tween Death and Life, + That play'd upon my yielding spine, + Which did to outward curve incline: + I felt the mark would ne'er forsake + Its cruel seat upon my back; + I bent beneath the foul disaster + That ne'er would yield to any plaister: + Nor medicine, nor knife can cure it, + And must struggle to endure it. + Thus when restor'd to health and vigour, + I was become a crook-back'd figure: + My former round and healthful face + Had lost its plump, its rosy grace, + And was reduc'd from this same cause + To pale and lean and lantern jaws, + That none who once QUÆ GENUS knew + Would recollect him on the view; + Nor e'en would recognition wait + Though he should pass by _Gripe-all's_ gate. + When in the glass I chanc'd to view, } + The figure I now scarcely knew, } + I shudder'd and despis'd it too. } + --'At length,' said _Julep_, 'I commend, + Ere you depart, a worthy friend, + A lawyer too, nay, do not start, + Whose well-stor'd head and honest-heart, + Throughout his life were ne'er disjoin'd, + And in his practice are combin'd + The cause of truth and right to aid; + Who ne'er has heard the poor upbraid + His conscious dealings, while 'tis known, + The wealthy do his virtues own. + Thus, as your fate has been accurs'd, + Of legal dealers, with the worst; + You now may, as by all confess'd, + Obtain good counsel from the best. + + "On such a character intent, + To Lawyer _Make-peace_ thus I went, + And told my curious story o'er + As I have told it you before. + With a keen look my face he ey'd, + And in a gentle tone replied. + 'If the good man you thus have bang'd, + You may contemplate being hang'd; + But, as the case to me appears, + I trust you may dismiss your fears; + For even now you do not know + What evil follow'd from the blow; + And though some blood may have been spill'd, + It follows not the man was kill'd: + Besides, whatever ill was done, + There was no witness, no not one + To prove which of you was in fault, + Who first provok'd or gave th' assault; + And if, my friend, you had not fled + You need not fear, though he were dead. + --No advertisement has appear'd + To state the crime, as I have heard, + And surely I've the means to know + If any measures had been so. + But still, remember, I advise + That you move under a disguise, + 'Till time and chance have drawn aside + That veil that does these threat'nings hide, + Which, in your present dubious state, + May on your wary footsteps wait. + Change your dress and change your name, + For neither now must be the same.' + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + 'My dress and name I'll do anon, + The fever all the rest has done; + For Doctor _Bend_ I would defy } + The fondled Foundling to descry, } + In his mis-shapen misery. } + JOHNNY QUÆ GENUS, now adieu! + JACK PAGE I substitute for you!' + + +LAWYER MAKE-PEACE. + + 'You have good friends whom you can trust, + Who to misfortune will be just, + They will, I doubt not, let you know, + How you must act and what to do. + And much I think you have been wrong, + To have with-held your pen so long. + Obey me now in all I've said; + Be secret and be not afraid.' + + "He spoke, and, in the kindest way, + Urg'd me to make no more delay; + And when I sought to give the fee; + 'No, no,' he said, 'to such as thee + For mere good words I'm never paid;-- + This is my way of plying trade. + When you have made a fair escape + From this unlucky, wretched scrape, + And when you are again restor'd + To your own happy bed and board; + When from all thraldom you are free, + Then, if it suits, remember me.' + + "My notes were sew'd up in my coat, + For JULEP would not take a groat. + 'When you reach home,' he kindly said; + 'Like his friend MAKE-PEACE, I'll be paid.' + Thus I set off, as was my plan, + Guis'd as a trudging, trav'lling man, + And in his journey going on + To seek his fate in London town. + My needfuls in an oil-cloth sack, + Were buckled to my wretched back, + And late at night when the full moon + In an unclouded brightness shone, + I left those gen'rous friends behind + Which such as me so seldom find: + A Galen, with that goodness fraught, + Who gave his skill and drugs for nought; + And an attorney, whose great aim + Was to put roguery to shame; + Nay, whose superior virtues tell + The Law can shew a _Miracle_. + + "You must, _Sir Jeff'ry_, often see } + The strange effects of vanity; } + Another you will find in me. } + You'll scarce believe as I relate + The folly which I now must state: + That I've been such a silly elf + I now can scarce believe myself: + And I could wish I dare conceal + What duty bids me to reveal. + --Did not calm prudence whisper now + To my existing state to bow, + To tell it all to such a friend + As I had found in _Doctor Bend_, + Or a quick pilgrimage to make } + To Worthy-Hall beside the Lake, } + Where, for dear _Doctor Syntax'_ sake, } + The troubled _Foundling_ would receive + All that protecting care could give. + This was the counsel _Make-peace_ gave, + A lawyer who was not a knave; + Who would advise without a fee, + And felt for human misery. + --This Reason said in lessons strong, + As I pac'd my still way along, + When the dull sound of my own feet + And Philomela's sonnet sweet + Did on the gen'ral silence break, + And seem'd to keep the night awake. + Then VANITY sat pick-a-pack + Perch'd on the hump upon my back, + And whisper'd into either ear, + 'Such humbling counsels do not hear. + Where poor QUÆ GENUS has been known + His alter'd form must ne'er be shown: + With this sad shape he never can + Hold himself forth a gentleman: + No art can furnish you a cloak + To hide from pity or from joke. + If passing on a river's ridge, + Or, perchance lolling o'er a bridge, + You gaze upon the stream below + Whose crystal mirror's seen to flow, + Would not the picture meet your eye + Of your own sad deformity? + At Oxford you would be the talk + Of the High-street or Christ-Church-walk, + While many quizzing fools look round + To view your rising back begown'd. + --How would you bear the wond'ring ken + Of the good folk of Sommerden, + While they with pitying looks lament + The once straight form, but now so bent! + Then leave the world where you have been, + Where I would be no longer seen, + Nor let the jealous eye compare, + What you once was with what you are. + Might I advise, I'd sooner die } + Unknown, in humble privacy, } + Again,' said whisp'ring vanity, } + 'Than e'er appear where I was known + For graces which were then my own, + That pity or that scorn might point + At such a form, so out of joint.' + + "I need not say how many days + I sought the bye and secret ways, + For ever list'ning to the tongue } + That whisper'd soft and pleaded strong, } + To set each better feeling wrong. } + Hence I resign'd myself to chance, + Left fortune, friends, inheritance, + And madly felt that I was hurl'd + Thus mark'd to wander through the world. + To snatch at, and at once receive, + Whate'er the world might chance to give. + 'Twas not a whimsy of the brain, } + That did the idle scheme sustain, } + 'Twas something which I can't explain. } + All feeling center'd in the pack + That had thus risen on my back; + And as I felt the burden there, + It seem'd the seat of ev'ry care, + Of ev'ry painful thought brimfull, + Like OLD PANDORA'S _Ridicule_. + But as every single note } + Which I from _Gripe-all's_ grasp had got, } + Was still secure within my coat, } + I had sufficient means and more + To travel all the kingdom o'er + With staff in hand, and well-shod feet, } + And oil'd umbrella form'd to meet } + The show'rs that might my passage greet. } + One pocket did a bible hold, + The other held the story told, + Which good Æneas did rehearse + To Dido, in immortal verse; + While from a loop before descended + A flute that oft my hours befriended: + Thus I with verse, with prose or fist, + Was scholar, fiddler, methodist. + As fit occasion might demand, + I could let Scripture Phrase off-hand, + Or fine re-sounding verses quote, + Or play a tune in lively note. + Thus qualified to cut and carve, + I need not fear that I should starve; + While in some future lucky stage + Of my uncertain pilgrimage, + I might have hopes, remov'd from strife, + To be a fixture for my life. + + "Such was the wild, fantastic scheme + Such was the strange distracted dream, + That, stranger still, rose from the pack + Which chance had fix'd upon my back. + Of friends forgetful, 'twas my plot + That I by friends should be forgot.-- + I seem'd to wish that I were thrown + Upon some island yet unknown, + Where crooked figure is the feature + Of all the living, reas'ning nature; + And where deformity would be + A shape of perfect symmetry; + Which SWIFT would not have fail'd to spare, + Had his bold fancy wander'd there, + And _Lemuel Gulliver_ had been + The visitor of such a scene. + + "In this same state I wander'd on, + Grumbling and doubting and alone, + Though some encouragement I met + Which made me whilom cease to fret; + For, tales I hap'd by chance to know + And pleasant fancies I could show, + With which my active mind was stor'd, + Had sometimes paid my bed and board; + Nay, had prolong'd my welcome stay + Throughout a grave or lively day. + + "One evening by a riv'let's side + That did in gentle murmurs glide, + Where the green turf its carpet spread, + And willow boughs wav'd o'er my head, + I sat reclin'd, nor was my flute, + As I could wake its music, mute: + When a huge waggon pass'd along, + And soon a chorus join'd the song. + Invited by the social strain, + I rose and sought the jocund train; + Men, women, children, all so gay, + Who loudly cheer'd the tedious way. + The cargo which the waggon bore + Were modern times and those of yore; + The image of each living scene, + And of such things as ne'er had been: + Witches and goblins, clouds and skies + Deck'd out in their varieties, + The river's flow, the ocean's waves, + The crowns of kings, the bonds of slaves, + Helmets and mitres, robes and arms, + Terrific forms, and beauty's charms, + All mov'd along, together hurl'd, + Th' outfittings of a mimic world: + When what with spouting, what with song, + As the procession trudg'd along, + No cunning was required to see, + It was a strolling company, + Who were proceeding to make known + Their talents in a neighb'ring town. + Here a strange thought occur'd that I + Might try my powers in Tragedy; + While the vain fancy was possess'd + I might appear among the best: + In short among them I display'd + An earnest of the acting trade. + The bills were blazon'd with my name, + A candidate for scenic fame, + And 'twas announc'd that Mr. Page + Would first appear on any stage. + The part which I of course preferr'd + Was SHAKESPEAR'S well known R. the THIRD. + I wanted not the wardrobe's aid, + My crook-back was already made; + My form disdain'd the aid of art, + And thus I play'd the tyrant's part: + But from my being thus disjoin'd, + To this same part I was confin'd. + Though by this outfit I must own + I could perform the awkward clown, + Or any other hunch-back fellow, + A Pantaloon, or Punchinello, + Where white and red be-mark'd my face, + And excellence was my disgrace: + For here I shrunk beneath the pack + That fate had nail'd upon my back. + + "I wish'd to figure as Othello, + But he was a fine, straight-made fellow, + Whom, with a shape, so crook'd, so bent, + I could not dare to represent, + And though his face was olive brown, + No injury his form had known; + While mine, in its unseemly guise, + Fair Desdemona must despise: + Nor could it be a bard's design, } + That love-sick maids should e'er incline } + To such an outrag'd shape as mine. } + My voice possess'd a tender strain, + That could express a lover's pain; + But such a figure never yet + Was seen to win a _Juliet_. + Nay ladies lolling in a box, + Would think it a most curious hoax, + If through their glasses they should see + Lord Townly such an imp as me. + Thus for a month or more, JACK PAGE + Fretted and strutted on the stage, + Sometimes affording Richard's figure + In all its native twist and vigour; + Or bearing kick, or smack, or thump + From Harlequin upon his hump. + Though I say not, I was ill-paid + For the fine acting I display'd. + Nay, had I less mis-shapen been, + I might to the Theatric scene, + Have turn'd my strange life's future views, + And courted the Dramatic Muse. + + "But as I could not smooth my shape + From the hips upwards to the nape, + And as to so confin'd a round + My imitative powers were bound, + My Genius I resolv'd to try + In writing Farce or Comedy, + In which I could exert my art + For my dear self to form a part + Wherein the keen, applauding eye + Might dwell on my deformity, + And where the picture might beguile + The judgement to afford a smile. + --When this same work I had perform'd + My vanity was rather warm'd. + 'Humour,' 'twas said, 'the piece discovers,' + And it was call'd, 'The Crooked Lovers.' + + "I think, _Sir Jeff'ry_ you may guess, } + The plot my Farce aims to possess,-- } + A kind of praise of ugliness; } + Where Beauty is not seen to charm, + Nor fill the heart with fond alarm; + Where finest eyes may gleam in vain, + May wake no joy, or give no pain: + And though the beaming smiles may grace + The rosy bloom of Delia's face, + Here they excite no am'rous passion, + Nor call forth tender inclination: + Such the desire, that ev'ry day, + Amuses Cupid when at play, + But other objects must engage + The scenes I offer'd to the stage: + Lame legs, club feet, and blinking eyes, + With such like eccentricities, + Call'd forth my amorous desire, + And set my actors all on fire. + With me no Damon longs to sip + The sweets of Cath'rine's pouting lip, + But smoke-dried Strephon seeks the bliss + Of a well-guarded, snuffy kiss, + Where the long nose, delightful wonder, + Scarce from the chin can keep asunder; + Where lovers' hearts ne'er feel a thump, + But when they view each other's hump. + + "Now here again I was o'erthrown + By a crook-back, and not my own; + The May'rs gay wife, whose back appears + Upon a level with her ears, + Was pleas'd at first that I had prov'd + She was an object to be lov'd; + But as the Parish Parson too, + With a small form was quite askew, + And as, when it was pleasant weather, + This pair would take a walk together, + Would saunter through the winding glade, + Or sit beneath the beechen shade; + And, as it seem'd, were never cloy'd + With tender converse so enjoy'd; + It hap'd some Critic keen discovers + Whom I meant by 'The Crooked Lovers.' + The May'ress call'd th' obedient Mayor + To frown from magisterial chair, + And with the terrors of his mace + To drive my Hunch-back from the place;-- + And on the high-road I once more + Was trav'lling as I did before. + + "To you, Sir, it was never known + To feel the state which I must own: + No home, not knowing where to go, + How I should act and what to do. + Just as a ship whose rudder's lost, + Nor within sight of any coast; + Without the power to stand the shock + Of tempest, or to shun the rock. + From the strange nature of my birth, + I knew no relative on earth, + Nor to my giddy thoughts was given + To look with any hope to Heaven. + To London I propos'd to go, + Where not a being did I know: + To me it was an unknown shore, + Where I had never been before, + At least, since of all care bereft, + I was a helpless Foundling left. + Thus, as I thought, behold I stood, + Beside a mill-dam's spreading flood; + The waters form'd to drive the mill } + With its tremendous wheel, stood still, } + While evening glimmer'd on the hill. } + One plunge I said and all is o'er, + My hopes and fears will be no more; + An unknown child, an unknown man, + And I shall end as I began. + Nor can I say what would have follow'd, + I, and my hump, might have been swallow'd + In the deep, wat'ry gulph beneath, + Had I not heard a hautbois breath + A lively, but an uncouth strain, + As it appear'd from rustic swain, + Which, as it dwelt upon my ear, + Told me that merriment was near, + And did at once dispel the gloom + That might have sought a wat'ry tomb. + I turn'd my footsteps tow'rds the sound + That was now heard the valley round; + When soon upon the rural green, + The sight of busy mirth was seen. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS AT A SHEEP-SHEARING.] + + "With sights like these, I had been us'd + In early days to be amus'd + When I but wav'd my boyish hand + The rural groupes obey'd command, + When ev'ry rustic feast I grac'd + And was in highest station plac'd, + Though I did to no name aspire, + Yet I was nam'd the youthful 'Squire, + For Madam Syntax sake was shown + The honour which was not my own. + But now, such was my fortune's change, + A wand'rer I was left to range + I scarce knew where, and doom'd to wait + For what might be my future fate. + Thus I approach'd the busy throng, + And when I heard the joyous song, + Though, with a mingled sense of pain, + My flute pour'd forth a doubtful strain. + --'Twas a sheep-shearing that employ'd + The festive toil which all enjoy'd, + And I was welcom'd to receive + The bounties that the feast could give; + And while I did my carols play, + With flowers the maidens made me gay, + And as they gave my back a thump, + Each stuck a nosegay on my hump. + Here I must own, there's no concealing, + These compliments attack'd my feeling, + And I was deck'd out in a part, + Which on my back, was near my heart; + Yet, as sweet smiles shew'd the intent + That no offensive thought was meant, + I, with kind words and sprightly tune + Strove to repay the fragrant boon. + --The yeoman, master of the feast, + Was kind, and own'd me as his guest, + And as he view'd each added fleece + That did his summer wealth encrease, + He joyous made the toast go round + To the song's animating sound, + While the patient ewes grown light, + And eas'd of all their fleecy weight, + No more the shearer's hand restrain + But bound off to their hills again. + Such was the scene that did awhile + My bosom of its cares beguile, + For he must have a wretched heart + To whom those joys no joy impart, + Which others are beheld to feel + And to th' attentive eye reveal; + Nay, I must own that this night's pleasure, + Which revell'd in unbounded measure, + A kind, though short, oblivion shed + O'er my crook-back and thoughtful head: + Yes, brief it was, for soon again + My pleasure yielded to my pain, + And all the jocund, festive folly + Was then restor'd to melancholy. + The ale was good, my draughts were deep, + And, overcome by sudden sleep, + Upon a chair my head repos'd, + And soon my eyes were soundly clos'd. + Th' Exciseman, a smart, parish wit, + Thought he could make a funny hit, + And with his ochre red and black, + Drew a fierce face upon my back, + The thought, at least, was not quite civil, + With all the emblems of the devil. + He had display'd his humour's art + Upon a very tender part, + At least, my pride, as you must know, + Had to my fancy made it so. + When, by the roar caus'd by the joke, + I from the slumb'ring fit awoke; + Soon did I make th' Exciseman sick + Of such a mortifying trick: + His gauging-rod was heard to crack + In many a stroke upon his back, + Till, by his supplicating tone, + I found I had aveng'd my own. + But though the marks were brush'd with care, + By the same hand which trac'd them there; + And though I was most warmly prest, + By the kind master of the feast, + To pass another jovial day; + I felt offence and walk'd away. + + "'Do what I can, go where I will, + This Hump's my evil genius still, + And serves in some odd way or other + My any sense of joy to smother.' + --Such was th' expression that my tongue + Would mutter as I trudg'd along. + --But REASON told me, cease your strife + With this companion of your life; + 'Tis fix'd as fate, and you must wear it, + Therefore with resignation bear it. + It is, I own, an ugly tumour, + But you should treat it with good humour, + And still be pleas'd you cannot trace + Any mis-givings on your face. + The change you surely would not try + For a lame leg or squinting eye: + Though somewhat out of line your figure, + You still enjoy Health's active vigour: + All's right before, so never mind + A certain awkwardness behind; + For sure, when you present your front, + No eye can see a blemish on't. + With merry and good-humour'd folk, + Treat it, Oh treat it as a joke, + And if, by chance, you meet a fool + Who turns it into ridicule, + Tell him you'd rather have the feature, + Coarse as it is, than his ill-nature. + Take care that none who know you, find + An awkward hump within your mind: + Oh, let it be your constant care + To banish disproportion there, + And you will laugh with friends who crack + Chance-medley jokes upon your back! + +[Illustration: QUÆ GENUS ASSISTING A TRAVELLER.] + + "To Reason I attention lent; } + Th' advice was good,--and, strait or bent, } + I now resolv'd to be content. } + + "Thus, as I urg'd my onward way, + In spirits rather growing gay, + With saddle bags and all alone, } + A sprightly horse came trotting on, } + As if he had his rider thrown. } + The beast I, with some trouble, caught, + And then its fallen master sought, + Whom, within half a mile I found + All pale and stretch'd upon the ground: + When I approach'd, as in surprise, + He gave a groan and op'd his eyes. + A crystal brook ran murm'ring by, + Its cooling fluid to supply, + And soon its sprinklings did afford + The power that banish'd strength restor'd. + Thus, when re-mounted on his steed, + We did, in progress slow, proceed: + I cautious pac'd it by his side + With tighten'd rein the horse to guide; + And with attentive eye, prevent + Another downfall accident. + + "We might have gone a mile or more, + When we beheld a lofty tower + That did in stately form arise, + A welcome sight to anxious eyes, + Marking a spot where might be found + Some styptic to a bleeding wound. + I shall be brief,--the Horseman's head } + Was soon repos'd on downy bed; } + The Surgeon came and he was bled: } + The lancet was by blisters follow'd, + And potions, in due order, swallow'd. + He look'd his thanks, then squeez'd my hand, + Bade me, what gold could pay, command; + Of all I wish'd to take my fill, + Enjoy myself, nor fear the bill. + I took my patient at his word, + And what the _Blue Bell_ could afford, + (An Inn of good repute and worth, + Well known to all who travel North,) + As it was his desire, enjoy'd, + Till with good living I was cloy'd. + But his sick bed I did amuse, + I told him tales and read the news; + So that with emphasis he swore + He almost griev'd his ills were o'er. + + "As near, I think, as I can tell, + A fortnight pass'd ere he was well; + When he thus wish'd me to make known + How his best thanks could best be shown.-- + + "'I now may tell, my saddle-bags + Held a rich bundle of those rags + Which, from the Bank, are issued forth, + As we all know, of precious worth, + And might have been a certain prize + Had they been seen by knavish eyes. + A rogue would have possess'd the steed, + And with his mettle and his speed, + Have sought a spot, where, at his leisure, + He might have rummag'd all my treasure; + Nay, been in town before the post + Could have made known what I had lost, + And, on some artful trick's reliance, + Have set discovery at defiance: + When I, here sitting sad and stewing, + Might have been pond'ring o'er my ruin: + While, from your noble, gen'rous dealing, + I feel a joy there's no revealing. + + "'A _Trav'ller_ is the name I bear, + A well-known, useful character, + Who, through the kingdom's wide-stretch'd bounds, + Ne'er fails to make his yearly rounds. + I for a London house of trade + Employ my necessary aid, + By which its commerce I extend + From Dover to the far Land's End. + Well mounted, or perhaps in chaise, + We quietly pursue our ways; + Lift our heads high, and look so grand + When we have payments to demand, + But bow, and handsome speeches give + When we have orders to receive: + Thus suiting manners, as you see + To our commercial policy. + Nay, when the busy day is o'er, + We meet at night, perhaps a score; + And, in return, give our commands + To humble host, who cringing stands, + In order to prepare the best + For the be-bagg'd and trav'lling guest, + And bring us wine to aid our cheer; } + While, with stump'd pens behind the ear, } + Good folks in town may drink their beer-- } + Nay, may be boasting of our labours + In smoking clubs of sober neighbours. + + "'To what the London Mart supplies, + We give our wings and off it flies: + Thus knowledge, taste, and every fashion + Find a quick way throughout the nation, + And all the wants of high and low + We with a ready zeal bestow. + --The beauties of improving art + We scatter round in every part, + And diff'rent districts of the isle + In our communications smile. + To learning we distribute books, + And sauces to the country cooks: + Nay, none there are who will refuse + The town-made blacking for their shoes: + On Shetland legs its lustre glows + As on the boots of Bond-street beaux. + Where is the Miss, or where the Maid + Who does not ask our frequent aid? + At city ball or country fair + Our visits are apparent there; + And but for us, the summer races + Would be despoil'd of half their graces. + In short, as ev'ry eye may see, + The kingdom is one gallery; + That its abundant uses owes + To what the Traveller bestows. + Hence it is not a vain pretence + That we may make to consequence, + Who, by our turns and windings, strive + To make this flying commerce thrive: + Too happy when we carry home + Bags of Bank rags for which we roam: + Nay, I may think I owe to you, + That mine are safe within my view, + And any wish I will obey, + Which to my power you may convey.' + + "I seiz'd the time and told my tale, + At least, as much as might avail + Some settlement in town to find, + That suited both my means and mind; + When by advice, and, which was better, + By a most urgent, friendly letter, + Arriv'd in London,--I soon found + I did not tread on hostile ground: + Nay, ere a week was pass'd and gone, } + Fortune, I hop'd had ceas'd to frown, } + As I did now a station own, } + With promis'd comfort by my side, + That gave me gains, nor hurt my pride. + But my misfortunes were not past, + Though this I hope will be my last, + Or I'll avenge me of the pack, + The foe I carry on my back; + From London Bridge I'll dash me plump,-- + And drown th' incorrigible Hump. + + "Now, the good lady of the house, + Who had an influence o'er her spouse, + Was in that interesting state + Which I can't otherwise relate + Than being such as loving wives + Think the great honour of their lives, + And she thought, if her daily eye + Should view my sad deformity, + It might the happy shape destroy + Of the expected girl or boy; + And ladies, in a certain trim, + Must be indulg'd in ev'ry whim. + Such danger did my form display, + Another hour I must not stay: + But gold was giv'n to heal my pride, + And bribe me to be satisfied. + 'Tis true, kind words explain'd the cause; + Nay, much was said of Nature's laws; + And where that ruling pow'r thought fit, + To her caprice we must submit. + --Thus, once again, if not for ever, + I had to curse th' infernal fever + That did my upright form disgrace, + And rob me of my welcome place. + --At length, brimfull of discontent, + Half-mad, I to the Office went; + Where Fortune seem'd to change my view, + For there she made me known to you. + + "Thus, Sir, I've told my tedious story, + And now a suppliant stand before you: + But in my story, right or wrong, + Truth was the rudder of my tongue. + --I've done, and, in all patience, wait, + To know how you may rule my fate; + And if my hist'ry will commend } + QUÆ GENUS, (such may be his end,) } + To you, _Sir Jeff'ry_, as his friend." } + + + + +CANTO III + + + Silence for some short time ensu'd, + Ere conversation was renew'd. + --_Sir Jeff'ry_ first strok'd down his chin, } + With something 'twixt a yawn and grin, } + And then thought proper to begin. } + + "By a great writer it is said, + And one who seldom was betray'd, + When he employ'd his tongue or pen + On the known characters of men: + (And if, perchance, I'm not mistaken, + I think his famous name was BACON,) + That in the changeful scenes of life, + Which raise up enmity and strife, + He may 'gainst others hold his head, + Nor the wide world's opinion dread, + If, though he almost stands alone, + An honest heart maintains its own: + But that he is an arrant fool + Who yields to his own ridicule. + Now such a fool, as we have seen, + QUÆ GENUS, from weak pride, has been: + But, though I wonder at his folly, + I will not make him melancholy. + + "Things at the worst, 'tis said, must mend, + And I will prove your real friend, + If you, hereafter, have the sense + To merit my full confidence: + And now, I think, you may prepare + To take my household to your care. + Your pride must not offended be + At putting on a livery, + As that will be the best disguise + To hide you from all prying eyes; + QUÆ GENUS, too, you now must yield, + That learned name should be conceal'd; + _Ezekiel_ will suspicion smother, + As well, I think, as any other, + Till I have due enquiry made + If _Gripe-all_ be alive or dead, + And how far I may recommend + The runaway to _Doctor Bend_. + Do what is right--and laugh at fear; + The mark you carry in your rear + Will never intercept the view + Fortune may have in store for you. + No more let vanity resent + The stroke by which your form is bent! + How many in the world's wide range + Would willingly their figures change + For such as yours, and give their wealth + To get your hump and all its health. + Look at my legs--my stomach see, + And tell me, would you change with me? + Nay, when your healthy form I view, } + Though all be-hump'd, I'd change with you, } + And give you half my fortune too. } + Lament no more your loss of beauty, + But give your thoughts to do that duty + Which my peculiar wants require, + And more you need not to desire. + I feel I cannot pay too high + For care and for fidelity: + Let me see that--my heart engages + To give you something more than wages + --Your duties will be found to vary, + As Steward, Nurse, and Secretary: + Thus you will soon my wants attend + Less as a servant than a friend. + You may suppose I little know + Of what is going on below; + My leading wishes are, to prove + That I am duly serv'd above, + And you, as may be daily seen, + Must play the active game between." + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS, IN THE SPORTS OF THE KITCHEN.] + + More pass'd, that needs not our repeating, + About the mystery of eating, + Which did these sage instructions close, + When good _Sir Jeff'ry_ 'gan to doze: + And, soon as he more soundly slept, + Downstairs _Ezekiel_ cautious crept, + (For by that name he now is known, + As fate has chang'd it for his own,) + To let th' expecting folk below + The nature of his office know. + To ev'ry man he gave his fist,-- + The females, too, he warmly kiss'd; + Then to th' assembled kitchen spoke, + But not as if he thought a joke, + Or in a hypocritic glee, + But with a smiling gravity. + "_Sir Jeff'ry's_ household int'rests are + Committed to my faithful care; + And I must hope we all agree + To serve him with fidelity." + To this they all, in order due, + Gave their assent--and bound it too + By words which each one, in their station, + Gave as a solemn declaration. + + The cook and housekeeper began, + And thus her red rag glibly ran; + While, from her knee unto her chin, + She wav'd the floured rolling pin. + "O, may the kettle never boil, + May butter always turn to oil, + And may the jack, the chimney's boast, + From time to time despoil the roast! + May soot fall on the ready stew, + And the cat lick the rich ragout! + May China dish with pie to bake, + While I am speaking, may it crack, + If I e'er took the offer'd bribe + From any of the market tribe, + Or e'er disgrac'd the name of cook + To falsify the kitchen book; + Nay, if I have touch'd or taken, + For my own use, one slice of bacon; + If ever I were such a sinner, + May I now spoil _Sir Jeff'ry's_ dinner; + And should I suffer such disgrace, + I instantly should lose my place!" + + +CHAMBER MAID. + + "May I be hang'd by some bell rope + If e'er I cribb'd an ounce of soap, + Or pocketed wax-candles' ends + To deal out slily to my friends; + Or, in the linen's gen'ral muster, + Made free with towel or with duster; + Or e'er did bribes from turners take, + The mops to spoil, or brooms to break; + Or in the bed-rooms made a stir + To call in the upholsterer, + As house-maids with dishonest view, + Are, as I've heard, so apt to do! + Or ever gave, in washing tub, + The linen a hard, tearing rub, + That might encrease the rags--a fee + Which household custom gives to me! + --That I speak truth, I here declare, + And Molly, too, the same will swear; + Who striking hard upon the dresser, + Hop'd Heaven itself would never bless her, + If, from whate'er she saw or knew + What had been promis'd was not true." + + +KITCHEN MAID. + + "Though I am rather in a flutter, + I vow I never turn'd the butter + Into the pot that might encrease + The perquisite of daily grease; + Nor sought for fat, no, not a bit, + But what dripp'd kindly from the spit, + Or from the plates and dishes came, + When I had daily clean'd the same; + Nor ever let a candle fall + To fill a gaping interval! + Nor did I e'er a doit receive + Which coal-merchants may sometimes give + To those who watch the kitchen-grate, + And keep it in a flaming state; + Who may the poker wield at will + And seldom leave its poking still, + Nor e'er the kitchen blaze controul + By being niggard of the coal: + Charges that are so often laid + To the hard-working, kitchen maid!" + + +FOOTMAN. + + "O may I never, never be + A servant out of livery, + Which is th' ambitious, hop'd-for lot + Of all who wear the shoulder knot! + O may I never quit my place } + Behind the chair, nor shew my face, } + The sideboard's glitt'ring show to grace, } + If, when my master ceas'd to dine, + I ever stole a glass of wine! + O, may my food be pitch and mustard, + If ever I took tart or custard, + If e'er I did my finger dip + In some nice sauce and rub my lip! + If turnpike tolls I e'er enlarg'd,-- + May I this moment be discharg'd!" + + +COACHMAN. + + "May I be flogg'd with thorny briars + If e'er I heard such cursed liars, + And should I venture now to say } + I ne'er purloin'd or corn or hay, } + I should be liar big as they! } + Nay, 'tis such folly to be lying, + And all these trifling tricks denying, + Which, ere a fortnight's past and over, + Mr. _Ezekiel_ must discover. + _Sir Jeff'ry's_ keen look never sees + What are but clever servants' fees, + And he would feel it to his sorrow, + Were he to change us all to-morrow; + For the new steward soon will see + No master's better serv'd than he. + There's not a carriage about town + That looks genteeler than our own; + Or horses with more sprightly air, + Trot through the street or round a square. + I say that we all do our duty, + And if we make a little booty, + We never hear _Sir Jeff._ complain: + And wherefore should one give him pain? + If better servants he should seek, + He must be changing ev'ry week; + And I am sure that kind of strife + Would spoil the quiet of his life: + Nay, as you know, there is no question + Would operate on his digestion; + And when that fails, it is a point + That puts the rest all out of joint. + Thus all our trifling, secret gains + Save him a multitude of pains: + And when our daily work is done, + If we kick up a little fun, + No harm proceeds--no ill is meant-- + He's not disturb'd--and all's content. + --Nay, now my friends, I'll club my shilling, + And you, I'm sure, will be as willing + To drink--that bus'ness may go on + In the same temper it has done, + And, without any treach'rous bother, + That we may understand each other: + That, without boasting or denying, + We need not to continue lying; + And that, disdaining needless fuss, + _Ezekiel_ may be one of us." + + The wine was brought, for vulgar beer + Was not thought proper to appear; + The cook a pigeon pie produc'd, + And other tit-bits that amus'd + The appetites of those who sought 'em, + With thanks to the fat dame who brought 'em. + --Thus the new steward was made free + Of kitchen hospitality; + And to be blind to what he saw, + He was bound down by kitchen law. + + At length, in office thus install'd, + And each was gone where duty call'd, + He, with a pressing arm, embrac'd } + The busy cook's well-fatten'd waist, } + As with her pin she plied the paste; } + When from her active tongue he drew + The duties which he had to do, + And how he might their claims divide, + Nor lean too much to either side. + --Our hero, who now felt his ground, + Thought not of change in what he found; + And that to enter on reform + Would be but to excite a storm, + Disturb the Knight's desir'd repose + And fill a kitchen full of foes. + He plainly saw his station bound him + To be at peace with all around him: + But, as the diff'rent int'rests drew, + He rather trembled at the view. + + Thus, if we may small things compare + With those which more important are, + We may _Ezekiel's_ state apply + To maxims of philosophy, + By which it seems life's changeful hours + Are subject to two adverse powers, + That govern as by time or chance, + Nay, struggle for predominance; + While each, at diff'rent hours, may be + Possess'd of short-liv'd victory, + As varying impulses may bind + The operations of the mind. + Here selfish int'rest will prevail-- + There gen'rous feeling turns the scale; + So that he neither can be said + Strictly to be or good or bad; + But in the one or other sense, + Of that presiding influence + Which counteracting views may give, + And the complying mind receive. + Thus, subject to these adverse powers, + In diff'rent places--diff'rent hours-- + Poor mortal man, by their constraint, + May be a sinner or a saint. + To day he's wading to the chin + In folly's stream, through thick and thin; + While, on the morrow, he may prove + What virtue's self delights to love. + + 'Twas in this case our hero stood: + He might be bad--he might be good; + If good, he must the kitchen sweep-- + If bad, its tricks a secret keep; + But if he would preserve his cloth, + He must determine to be both. + Thus, as he took a thoughtful view, } + He saw, his int'rest to pursue, } + He must divide himself in two. } + Above to stick to rigid plan-- + Below to join the lively clan: + In what _Sir Jeff'ry_ did entrust + To his sole province, to be just; + But ne'er to interrupt the show + That was kept up by friends below: + At least, he was resolv'd to try + This system of philosophy; + To be a favourite with all, + In drawing room and servants' hall. + From all that he at present view'd, + No other plan could be pursu'd; + No other method could he trace, + To be at ease and keep his place. + Up-stairs to serious care he went, } + Down-stairs to stolen merriment, } + And thus the day and night were spent. } + + _Sir Jeff'ry_, in a tone of pleasure, + Talk'd of _Ezekiel_ as a treasure; + And, far as the good Knight could tell, + He merited the title well: + Nay, it is true, he never fail'd + To meet the humour that prevail'd; + And through the day, from morn till night, + _Sir Jeff'ry_ found that all was right. + But when he slumb'ring sought his bed, + And on the pillow laid his head, + Then did our hero quit his post + And pass away like midnight ghost; + Then did he from his virtue move, + The power that rul'd him when above, + And seek the lively sports below; + For what could puzzled hunch-back do? + Could he another course prefer? + No,--he must take things as they were. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS, IN THE SERVICE OF SIR. JEFFERY GOURMAND.] + + In this wide world, how oft is seen + A phantom with alluring mien, + Y'clep'd Temptation, whose sweet smiles + Too oft the stoutest heart beguiles. + Whate'er its forms, they seldom fail + Sooner or later to prevail. + If it assumes a golden shower, + Or sits in any seat of power, + How numerous the slavish band + Who offer to obey command: + Still, some examples may be shown + Of those whose virtues would disown + Its influence, and refuse to fly, + Or yield the palm of victory. + But where's the heart that e'er disdains + The pow'r that dwells where beauty reigns? + If such a question we propose, + _Ezekiel_ was not one of those; + And thus below-stairs he began + To break upon his up-stairs plan: + Nay, this same rigid rule of right, } + In his close duties to the Knight, } + He now thought might be drawn too tight; } + And that, in trifles, to his feeling, + He might be safe in double dealing, + And in the drawing-room apply + The aid of kitchen policy: + But he as soon would think of murther + As to proceed an atom further. + How he thus happen'd to decline + From his strict, philosophic line; + Why he relax'd from law severe + In the Knight's upper atmosphere, + Will not surprise one human creature + Who the world knows, or human nature, + Or recollects the joy or smart + When passion first invades the heart. + + There were two objects most bewitching, + That sparkled all around the kitchen; + Though so bright was every kettle, + Or plate or pan of various metal, + That each might gaze upon a face + As if they peep'd into a glass: + Though fire-irons did reveal + The shining of the polish'd steel,-- + Yet these superior pow'rs display'd, + Than aught by human artist made: + In short, to state what they could be, + And silence curiosity, + They were two eyes which lustre shed + Where'er the owner turn'd her head; + Though they gave not the only grace + That play'd on Molly's charming face. + But whether 'twas her lips or nose, + Or the fine curve of auburn brows, + That aided the commanding eye + In its well-play'd artillery, + Howe'er that be--in his warm heart + _Ezekiel_ had receiv'd the dart, + And as its ruling power he felt, + Each steady purpose 'gan to melt:-- + For her he might his virtue stake } + And let his yielding conscience quake, } + Nay, cheat _Sir Jeff'ry_ for her sake. } + + 'Tis not the office of the Muse, + On slight suspicions, to accuse; + Nor does she now present to view + More than 'tis probable she knew: + But one day, and it may be more, + His constant meal of dainties o'er, + Dull nature did the Knight incline + To snore a little o'er his wine. + Our hero, seeing Molly pass, + He tempted her to take a glass; + For, in his state of tender feeling, + What gen'rous mind will call it stealing? + And scorn'd be they who think it treason + Against the better rules of reason, + If, in return, he sought a kiss; + But as he seiz'd the melting bliss, + Tall Margery was passing by + By chance or curiosity: + She glanc'd at all was onward going, + And what _Ezekiel_ was bestowing; + When, as she cast her leering eye, + Thus thought her rising jealousy. + "If, Sir, you give Miss Moll the glass, + I'll try to make a bottle pass;" + Then push'd her stout arm by the door, + The sideboard's juices to explore. + If 'twas by chance the action came, + Or if a purpos'd trick's to blame, + A smart kick caus'd the door to close + And caught the damsel by the nose. + The luckless nose was rather long, + And had its gristle not been strong, + Had not the door been edg'd with baize + To give its hurried motion ease,-- + Had it been sharp, the wicked pinch + Might have cut short that nose an inch. + + _Madge_ now scream'd out at her disaster, } + And swore that she would tell her master, } + But our _Ezekiel_ found a plaister; } + Though what the plaister was he found + To silence tongues and cure the wound, + We must not nice enquiry make + For virtue's and our hero's sake. + But we may tell, for this we know, + That all was still and calm below; + Though as the faithful verse will prove + He shap'd another plan above, + Form'd to controul all household feud, + And be as honest as he could; + Thus give to things another face + To live at ease and keep his place. + --Two int'rests into one were thrown, + Those of _Sir Jeff'ry_ and his own: + The former strictly to maintain, + Nor yet the latter to disdain; + The Knight's confiding grace to keep, + Nor let his own advantage sleep; + The kitchen's jovial mirth to boast, + But leave the cook to rule the roast; + To be of Molly's smiles possest, + Though never to offend the rest: + And here we fear is the beginning, + The first short lesson of his sinning. + + So young, and with such little sense + Of what is call'd--experience; + And whom the world had not yet taught, + As it might do, to set at nought + What conscience tells us we should shun, + What we should do or leave undone; + Or, with a certain self-deceit, + The virtues of the heart to cheat, + He certainly appears to be + Envelop'd in perplexity, + And verging on a dang'rous scrape + From which he might not make escape + Without a loss which he would rue + Of the fair prospects in his view; + And thus be on a sudden hurl'd + Faithless and friendless on the world. + + As in his plan this hasty change + Was, it may seem, so very strange, + It therefore may be well to know + From whence such awkward motives flow, + For awkward motives they must be + Which trench upon integrity. + It was not Molly's sparkling eyes + Which sought his virtue to surprise; + For though he might her heart beguile + To yield his wish a fav'ring smile, + She ne'er allow'd of a pretence + Beyond the claim of Innocence. + + There is a proverb so well known + It would be ign'rance not to own + The having heard and felt its truth + E'en in the days of early youth, + That, if we chance with those to live + Whose lives a bad example give, + They will convey, as we shall find, + A foul contagion to the mind. + Thus for a time _Ezekiel_ stood + Firm as the tree that crowns the wood, + But, after mocking ev'ry blast, + Will sometimes bend and fall at last. + Though whether he began to shake, + Or only suffer'd twigs to break, + But still retain'd his fibres bound, } + In firm defiance to the ground, } + While the main trunk, tho' shook, was sound, } + Is what the curious mind shall know, + And no far distant page will show. + Thus the humble verse will trace + His future honour or disgrace; + As intermingled they must be + With scenes of household history. + + When good _Sir Jeff'ry's_ gout was kind + And to his bed he was confin'd; + No dainty dinner to be got, + And nought but messes in the pot, + The kitchen folk, then quite at leisure, + Would think of more than common pleasure; + Then butlers of the higher station, + And valets to gay men of fashion, + Invited were, to join the ball + Now given in the servants' hall, + With ladies' maids who titles bore + Of mistresses--whose gowns they wore; + And sometimes a smart tradesman, too, + Would pop in to say--_how do ye do_. + --Here all home secrets were betray'd-- } + The various tricks which servants play'd, } + And how their fortunes could be made. } + When one grave man his silence broke, + And thus to our _Ezekiel_ spoke:-- + "Had I," says he, "so fine a place, + As your superior manners grace; + Had I a rich man in my keeping, + Who passes half his time in sleeping; + Whose purse is always in your view, + And lets you pay his tradesmen too; + While, that he may enjoy his ease, + He makes you guardian of his keys, + My growing fortune soon should flow, + And in a way he ne'er should know. + If by his bed you are his nurse, + And have the jingling of his purse; + If, when the doctor comes to see him, + And you are calmly told to fee him, + You must be nam'd the veriest elf + If, then, you do not fee yourself: + Nay, when his fingers, cramp'd with gout, + Cannot well take a _sovereign_ out, + And he should bid you take out four, + Contrive to grapple five or more. + 'Tis when he's sick with aches and ails, + When pain torments and mem'ry fails, + When the night's pass'd his bed beside, + Then Fortune tells you to provide + For future wants,--and bless the hour + That gives the means into your power: + Nor ever fail, on some pretence, + To rail against the rash expense + Which doctors and their varlets bring + To patients, sick and suffering, + Till you can get him to exclaim-- + 'Expense is a mere idle name; + Of cost let your complainings cease, + I care not so it gives me ease:' + Then offer up your thanks to Heaven + That to his fortune it is given + To be thus blest with ample wealth, + At any cost to purchase health. + This is your harvest; I shall tell + Another story when he's well: + That time's but short,--though let him see + That then you're all economy. + When he can settle an account, + And look into the just amount, + Then, then let ev'ry thing appear + Just as it ought--correct and clear. + Thus let your speculations rove + When well below, when sick above, + And all I'm worth I now would stake + You will, in time, a fortune make. + Rich as he is, and careless too, + With such a confidence in you, + _Sir Jeffery_ will never feel + Your happy turn in fortune's wheel." + + "Hold, hold awhile," the list'ner said, + "This is too much," and shook his head; + "For still I feel, without offence, + I've not quite done with Conscience, + Nor can so boldly lay aside + The warnings of that faithful guide! + Am I this moment to forget + How much I'm in _Sir Jeff'ry's_ debt, + And thus, with chance of foul disgrace, + To play the rogue and risque my place?" + "No, no," his counsellor replied, + "Servants and masters are allied; + Each is to each a foster-brother, + And have their claims on one another. + An useful servant is a treasure, + Whose service masters seldom measure. + What I now from my heart commend, + As an experienc'd, willing friend, + Is not to rob or place your paw + On what is guarded by the law, + But such as are no more than fees + For all your extra services; + For duties which no pay engages, + Under the common name of wages; + For what your varied service grants + To all his fancied, sickly wants, + Which never can your toil requite + For all you do by day or night. + + "When _Sir Jeffery_ fortune gain'd, + By contracts from the State obtain'd, + Think you he had a pious loathing + To crib a yard from soldiers' clothing? + And when he did his thousands touch, + To say--'my lord, I've got too much; + And I am ready to confess + I should have done the job for less.' + How could such men their fortunes make + Did they but fair advantage take! + And have you not an equal claim, + In a small way, to do the same? + --When the Knight took his daily range + From _Mincing Lane_ to the _Exchange_, + And calculated as he went, + How he should make his _Cent. per Cent._ + Think you that he was over-nice + To fix his rate of merchandise? + When his ships sought some foreign strand, + Did he disdain the contraband, + If he could but with safety chouse + The sentries of the custom-house? + A little smuggling all allow, + But only mind the when and how: + Take your _per centage_, but with care; + And who will say it is not fair? + --I've serv'd the wealthy and the great, + Nay once a Minister of state, + And as I saw that in his station + He did not fail to rob the nation, + I thought I might indulge the whim, + As a turn serv'd, to pilfer him. + I courted too my Lady's maid, + For Charlotte understood her trade: + I form'd my plan and did espouse her, + Then started up a tonish grocer, + Kept butlers in my constant pay + Who serve me in the usual way, + And all the house-keepers around + With certain something in the pound. + Now hear the advantage which I share + From all my caution, all my care! + I have a genteel, pleasant home, + To ladies let my drawing-room, + And in a whisky I can ride + With Charlotte smiling by my side. + 'Tis thus I offer to your view, + What I have done,--for you to do." + + Here this fine conversation ended, + But not, perhaps, as was intended, + Which strong temptations might display + To lead th' unsettled mind astray; + And, for a time, as fancy play'd, + Now beaming light, now seeking shade, + _Ezekiel_ hover'd o'er the plan + Of specious rogue or honest man. + Perhaps a smart, neat, pleasant shop, + Did on his pericranium pop, + With his warm, faithful wish to crown, + The lovely Molly then his own: + Such interests might his purpose guide, + Till he was questioned by his pride;-- + "--But can this be a proper plan + For one bred like a gentleman? + 'Tis true I cannot change the show } + Of kitchen policy below, } + There I must yield, I'm bound to know: } + But, in the regions above, + The whole in rectitude shall move; + To the Knight's goodness I may trust, + And faithful will I be and just; + Nor ever take or e'en receive + But what his favour's pleas'd to give; + Nor shall reproach my mind disgrace + Whene'er I look him in the face." + Such were his thoughts,--the grocer fail'd. + Thus honesty at length prevail'd, + And sav'd him, as things shortly stood, + From baseness of ingratitude. + + In a few days the parting gout + Gave the Knight leave to go about, + And one day in his arm-chair plac'd, + The table with its luncheon grac'd, + Smiling, as he luxurious sat, + He thus let loose his easy chat. + + "This soup, my friend's a special treat, + Fit for an Emperor to eat, + And now, my pleasure to pursue, + I trust I have a treat for you. + I've spar'd no pains to know the fate + That on your future hopes may wait, + And what I shall proceed to tell + May altogether please you well, + Unless you are resolv'd to try + New whims and tricks of foolery, + On which, however will depend, + Whether your master is your friend. + If, at all points, the news I bring + May not be quite so flattering; + Yet surely it deserves at least, + To be thought good, if not the best. + --You need no longer stand in awe + Of any terrors of the law, + The beating you to _Gripe-all_ gave + Did little harm to that same knave, + For he surviv'd to play a prank, + By robbing of a country bank, + And fled, as his late neighbours say, + To flourish in America. + Thither your fortune too is gone, + But then your fears are also flown. + Time, it is hop'd may make amends, + Fortune and you may still be friends; + Nor shall I my best wishes smother + To introduce you to each other. + My growing favour you will see, + So lay aside your livery: + Hence you will need not a disguise + 'Gainst curious thoughts and prying eyes: + Your former title you may claim, + Again QUÆ GENUS is your name: + Be faithful, and you soon shall know + The kindness I may yet bestow. + Nay, be but honest, while I live } + Your upright service shall receive } + All that my grateful hand should give: } + Nor doubt my purpose as sincere,-- + More may be meant than meets the ear." + + What heart, with the least sense of good, + That would not melt with gratitude, + When such a gen'rous friend was near + The clouded scenes of life to cheer, + And bid the drooping hopes pursue + A brighter prospect now in view! + And where's the heart that would not feel, + And where's the tongue that could conceal + The sense that virtue had withstood + Such specious efforts to delude! + QUÆ GENUS the sensation felt + That bade repenting thoughts to melt; + Nay, he e'en cast his eyes to Heaven, + With doubts that he should be forgiven + For having listen'd to deceit + And almost yielded to the cheat, + Whose principles had he obey'd + As in the grocer's scheme display'd, + All trembling he should now have stood + A monster of ingratitude. + What he had 'scap'd his heart confess'd, + And his moist eyes confirm'd the rest. + With ev'ry grateful feeling fraught + He spoke not, but 'twas thus he thought:-- + "My ever-watchful care shall tend + To make me worthy such a friend, + And all my kindred virtues burn + To make that friend a due return." + + The Knight, with kindness, view'd the feeling, + Which poor QUÆ GENUS was revealing; + When, to cut short the pleasing pain + Which words were failing to explain, + He smiling bade him take his way + To the known duties of the day. + + Of words there was a mute hiatus, + And of the noon-tide apparatus + The table quickly was bereft, + While with some new-born pamphlet left, + _Sir Jeffery_ calmly was proceeding + To gratify his usual reading, + When our QUÆ GENUS bore away + The fragments of the lighten'd tray, + And sought his pantry's cool retreat, + Where, lolling on a welcome seat, + He let his busy fancy range + Throughout the unexpected change, + That did upon his fortune wait; + And still, though humble was his state, + Scarce could he think it a disaster + To wait the will of such a master; + Nor did his pride reluctant bend, + Since that same master was his friend. + All that indulgence could bestow + _Sir Jeff'ry_ did not fail to show; + And, when alone, it seem'd to please + The knight to set him at his ease, + And shrink the distance to a span + Between the master and the man. + --Nay, here it cannot be denied } + That it was soothing to his pride } + To lay the shoulder-knot aside. } + The liv'ried dress of red and brown + He thus was call'd on to disown: + In blue and buff, or buff and blue + He now appear'd to daily view. + The knight allow'd the taylor's art + By all its power to make him smart; + And Snip with his consummate skill, + In working drapery to his will, + By his contrivance gave the cape + A flow to soften down the shape, + So that the hump could scarce be said + His general figure to degrade, + Nor, to a common view, be seen + To indispose his pleasing mien. + + Thus did he sit and calmly bless + The hopes of promis'd happiness. + + + + +CANTO IV + + + The various, the uncertain views + Which the all-anxious world pursues, + While it directs its searching eye + To what is call'd prosperity, + Compose the gen'ral, pictur'd strife + That forms the daily scene of life; + And make up the uncertain measure + Of power, of riches, and of pleasure; + Which, whatsoe'er may be our state, } + Do on the varying projects wait } + Of lowly poor or princely great: } + For as all worldly things move on + We weigh them by comparison. + Thus he who boasts his little all + At a street-corner on a stall, + Tempting the gaze of wandering eyes + To view the transient merchandise, + Will look to Fortune's smile to bless + His humble trading with success, + As he whose freighted vessel sails + O'er distant seas with doubtful gales. + Nay, in Ambition's humble school + Perceive we not the love of rule, + O'er rustic swains to bear the rod + And be a village demi-god? + To gain command and take the lead + Where mean submission courts a head, + Does in the lowest class prevail + Of vulgar thoughts to turn the scale, + As that which on their wishes wait, + Whose object is to rule the state. + --Seek you for pleasure as it flows, + In ev'ry soil the flow'ret grows; + From the pale primrose of the dale + Nurs'd only by the vernal gale, + To the rich plant of sweets so rare } + Whose tints the rainbow colours share } + And drinks conservatorial air. } + But, 'tis so subject to the blast, + It cannot promise long to last; + Though still it 'joys the fragrant day, + Till nature bids it pass away. + The rude boy turns the circling rope, + Or flies a kite or spins a top, + When, a stout stripling, he is seen + With bat and ball upon the green; + The later pleasures then await + On humble life whate'er its state, + And are with equal ardor sought + As those with high refinement wrought, + Where birth and wealth and taste combine + To make the festive brilliance shine. + + Thus the same passions govern all + Who creep on this terrestrial ball: + Their objects, truly, are the same, + However shap'd, whate'er their name. + What though the varying plan confounds + In giving sixpences or pounds, + In velvet or in home-spun cloth, + They may be base curmudgeons both. + Some are by charity enroll'd + On tablets proud in lines of gold, + While others, as by stealth, convey + The mite that shuns the light of day; + Though each performs a diff'rent part, + Each may possess a Christian heart. + + It is not upon wealth alone + That happiness erects its throne: + How oft, alas! it is we see + The rich involv'd in misery; + How oft is view'd in reason's eye + The wants which wealth can ne'er supply! + The way to power may be betray'd, + Though 'tis with solid gold inlaid; + Nay, purchas'd pleasure prove deceit, + And be at length a very cheat. + --How weak, how vain is human pride, + Dares man upon himself confide: + The wretch who glories in his gain + Amasses heaps on heaps in vain. + Why lose we life, in anxious cares, + To lay in hoards for future years? + Can they, when tortur'd by disease, + Cheer our sick heart and purchase ease? + Can they prolong one gasp of breath, + Or calm the troubled hour of death? + What's man in all his boasted sway? + Perhaps the tyrant of a day. + Can he in all the pride of power + Ensure his honours for an hour? + Alike the laws of life take place + Through ev'ry branch of human race: + The monarch, of long regal line, + Was rais'd from dust as frail as mine. + Can he pour health into his veins + Or cool the fever's restless pains? + Can he worn down in nature's course + New brace his feebled nerves with force? + Can he, how vain is mortal power, + Stretch life beyond the destin'd hour? + + "Consider, man, weigh well thy frame; + The king, the beggar, is the same, + Dust form'd us all,--each breathes his day, } + Then sinks into his mortal clay." } + Thus wrote the fabling Muse of GAY. } + + Such thoughts as these of moral kind + QUÆ GENUS weigh'd within his mind: + For wherefore should it not be thought } + That, as his early mind was taught, } + It might be with sage maxims fraught? } + --Thus seated, or as he stood sentry, + Sole guardian of the butler's pantry, + Which lock'd up all the household state, + The cumbrance rich of massy plate, + And all the honour that could grace + The power of superior place, + That did acknowledg'd rank bestow + O'er all the kitchen-folk below; + What wonder that his mind should range + On hopes that waited on the change + Which unexpected Fortune's power + Seem'd on his present state to shower. + Though while his wand'ring mind embrac'd + The present time as well as past, + The visions of the future too + Gave a fair prospect to his view. + But life this well-known feature bears, + Our _hopes_' associates are our _fears_, + And ever seem, in reason's eye, + As struggling for the mastery, + In which they play their various part, + To gain that citadel the heart. + + Thus though our Hero's honest pride + Was, for the present, satisfied; + And did things, as they seem'd to show, + Promise to stay in _Statu Quo_, + He, surely, would have ask'd no more + For Fortune on his lot to pour, + And with all due contentment wait + For what might be his future fate: + But while the present hour beguiles + His cheerful mind with cheering smiles, + The forward thought would strive to sow + An awkward wrinkle on his brow. + Now, strange as the event appears, + The source of all his hopes and fears + Was on each settled point the same, + And _Jeff'ry Gourmand_ was its name. + + The Knight most gen'rous was and free, + And kind as kindest heart could be, + So that QUÆ GENUS scarce could trace + The humbling duties of his place. + Whate'er he did was sure to please, + No fretful whims appear'd to tease; + And while with fond attention shown, + He did each willing duty own, + Sir _Jeff'ry_ frequent smiles bestow'd, + And many a kind indulgence show'd, + And oftentimes would wants repress + To make his fav'rite's labours less: + Nay, when he dawdled o'er his meat, } + Would nod and bid him take a seat } + To share the lux'ry of the treat. } + --He fancied, and it might be true, + That none about him e'er could do + What his peculiar wants required, + And in the way he most desired, + As _his_ QUÆ GENUS, thus he claim'd him, + Whene'er to other folk he nam'd him. + Indeed, he took it in his head + That no one else could warm his bed, + And give it that proportion'd heat + That gave due warmth to either sheet. + + Our Hero rather lik'd the plan, + As Molly brought the warming-pan, + And having pass'd it through the door, + Waited without till all was o'er. + Thus, having rang'd the alarum-bell, + With other things I must not tell, + And seen Sir _Jeff'ry's_ pillow'd head + Turning to rest within his bed, + QUÆ GENUS bore the pan away + Where Molly fair was us'd to stay. + He was to honour firm, and she + The mirror bright of Chastity. + Thus half an hour was often spent + In interchange of sentiment, + Which doubtless was some tender theme: + A subject for a pleasing dream. + + All this tells well,--nor was this all; + The sceptre of the servants'-hall + Was now committed to his hand; + O'er that he had supreme command, + But such his mild and smiling sway, + All felt a pleasure to obey; + And 'twas the kitchen's daily toast, + Long may QUÆ GENUS rule the roast. + Tradesmen did to his worth subscribe, + For bills were paid without a bribe; + And good Sir _Jeffery_ quite content + How the allotted income went, + At no accounts e'er gave a look, + But those which fill'd his Banker's book. + + What could our Hero more desire, + What more his anxious wish require, + When with a calm and reas'ning eye + He ponder'd o'er his destiny, + As he unwound the tangled thread + That to his present comforts led, + And serv'd as a directing clue + In such strange ways to guide him through? + --To what new heights his hopes might soar, + It would be needless to explore: + For now the threat'ning time appears + When he is troubled with his fears. + His hopes have triumph'd o'er the past; + But then the present may not last; + And what succession he might find + Harass'd with doubts his anxious mind. + --Of the gross, cumbrous flesh the load + Sir _Jeffery_ bore did not forebode + Through future years a ling'ring strife + Between the powers of death and life; + The legs puff'd out with frequent swell, + Did symptoms of the dropsy tell; + The stiffen'd joints no one could doubt + Were children of a settled gout; + And humours redd'ning on the face, + Bespoke the Erysipelas. + Indeed, whene'er QUÆ GENUS view'd, + With rich and poignant sauce embued, + As dish to dish did there succeed, + Which seem'd by Death compos'd to feed + With fatal relishes to please + The curious taste of each disease, + That did Sir _Jeffery's_ carcase share + And riot on the destin'd fare: + When thus he watch'd th' insidious food, + He fear'd the ground on which he stood. + --Oft did he curse the weighty haunch + Which might o'ercharge Sir _Jeff'ry's_ paunch; + And to the turtle give a kick, + Whose callipash might make him sick. + He only pray'd Sir _Jeff'ry's_ wealth + Might keep on life and purchase health. + "Let him but live," he would exclaim, + "And fortune I will never blame." + Money is oft employ'd in vain, + To cure disease and stifle pain; + And though he hop'd yet still he fear'd + Whene'er grave Galen's self appear'd; + For when the solemn Doctor came, + (Sir MIDRIFF BOLUS was his name,) + He often in a whisper said, + "I wonder that he is not dead, + Nay, I must own, 'tis most surprising, + That such a length of gormandising + Has not ere this produc'd a treat + For hungry church-yard worms to eat, + And 'tis the skill by which I thrive + That keeps him to this hour alive. + Nay, though I now Sir _Jeffery_ see } + In spirits and such smiling glee, } + I tremble for to-morrow's fee." } + --When this brief tale he chose to tell + And ring his patient's fun'ral bell, + QUÆ GENUS fail'd not to exclaim, + As he call'd on the Doctor's name, + "O tell me not of the disaster + That I must feel for such a master, + Nay, I may add, for such a friend + Were I to go to the world's end, + Alas, my journey would be vain, + Another such I ne'er should gain!" + + Sir MIDRIFF, member of the college, + And of high standing for his knowledge, + In lab'ring physic's mystic sense + And practical experience, + As common fame was pleas'd to say, + Expected more than common pay. + Now, as Sir _Jeff'ry_ never thought + His health could be too dearly bought, + Whene'er the healing Knight was seen, + Wrapt up within the Indian screen, + To shape the drugs that might becalm + Some secret pain or sudden qualm; + Or when there was a frequent question, + Of bile's o'erflow and indigestion, + Or some more serious want had sped + Sir _Jeff'ry Gourmand_ to his bed, + QUÆ GENUS fail'd not to convey + (For he had learn'd the ready way), + The two-fold fee, by strict command, + Into Sir _Midriff's_ ready hand. + Thus, in this kind of double dealing, + The Doctor had a pleasant feeling, + That seem'd to work up a regard + For him who gave the due reward, + And knew so well to shape the fee + From the sick chamber's treasury. + Thus when our Hero told his pain } + And did his future fears explain, } + _Galen_ replied,--"Those fears restrain, } + To this grave promise pray attend, + Sir _Midriff Bolus_ is your friend." + + Such, when he touch'd the welcome fees, + Were the sly Doctor's promises: + QUÆ GENUS with good grace receiv'd 'em, + Though 'tis not said that he believ'd 'em. + --No, never was a visit past, + But it was hinted as the last, + Had they not been in lucky trim + To have sent off post-haste for him. + Whene'er the Knight's legs took to swelling, + All ears were bor'd with sad foretelling; + And if his chest was over-loaded, + Some dire disaster was foreboded, + But failing in prophetic story, + He gave his science all the glory. + A year, howe'er, was past and gone, + And all the household cares went on, + In active zeal and order too, + As all such matters ought to do, + With hours of leisure well employ'd, + And many a fantasy enjoy'd. + + But something yet remains to know:-- + To manage _two strings to your bow_, + A maxim is, which ev'ry age + Has rend'red venerably sage, + And forms a more than useful rule + In the world's universal school. + Sir _Jeffery_, we make no doubt, + In various ways had found it out: + It might have help'd him on to wealth, + And now to aid the wants of health, + He kept the adage in his view, } + And as one Doctor might not do, } + It now appears that he had two. } + The one, in order due, has been + Brought forth on the dramatic scene, + Ranks high in bright collegiate fame, + And M. D. decorates his name. + He never ventures to prescribe + But what is known to all the tribe, + Who hold the dispensarial reign + Beneath the dome of Warwick-Lane. + The other, steering from the track + Of learned lore, was styl'd a Quack; + Who, by a secret skill, composes + For many an ill his sovereign doses: + But whether right or wrong, the town + Had given his nostrums some renown. + Salves for all wounds, for each disease + Specifics that could give it ease, + Balsams, beyond all human praise, + That would prolong our mortal days. + All these, in many a puffing paper, + Are seen in striking forms to vapour, + As, in the Magazines they shine, + The boast of Doctor ANODYNE. + His office was advice to give + In his own house from morn till eve, + And a green door, within a court, + Mark'd out the place of snug resort, + Where patients could indulge the feeling + That might dispose them to concealing + The nervous hope, the sly desire + To eke out life's expiring fire, + Without the danger to expose + Their secret or to friends or foes. + Sir _Jeffery_ was one of these + Who thought it was no waste of fees, + Though they were toss'd about by stealth, + If he could think they purchas'd health: + But here, who will not say, it seems + He guarded life by two extremes. + Sir _Midriff_ told him he must starve, + And _Anodyne_ to cut and carve: + But though the first he nobly paid, + It was the latter he obey'd. + Full often was his _Merc'ry_ sent + To bring back med'cine and content; + Permission, what he wish'd, to eat, } + And physic to allay the heat } + Brought on by a luxurious treat; } + To give the stomach strength to bear it, + With some enliv'ning dose to cheer it. + But still our Hero's watchful eye + Saw that this sensuality + Was bringing matters to an end, + That he too soon should lose his friend; + And in what way he should supply + The loss when that same friend should die, + Did often o'er his senses creep + When he should have been fast asleep. + Sir _Midriff_ to his promise swore, + And _Anodyne_ had promis'd more, + Both had prescrib'd or more or less, + A future vision of success: + But time has still some steps to move, + Before they their engagements prove; + Ere our QUÆ GENUS we shall see + In a new line of history. + + Sir _Jeffery_ now began to droop, + Nor was he eager for his soup: + He blunder'd on the wrong ragout, } + Nor harangu'd o'er a fav'rite stew, } + Scarce wild-duck from a widgeon knew. } + No longer thought it an abuse, + To see St. MICH: without a goose. + Unless prepar'd with cordial strong, + He hardly heard the jovial song, + Or hearing, had not strength to move + And strike the table to approve. + Nay, sometimes his unsteady hand + Could not the rubied glass command, + But forc'd him slowly to divide + The rosy bumper's flowing tide. + Beside him oft QUÆ GENUS sat + An hour, and not a word of chat; + And when he was in sleepy taking + The news would scarcely keep him waking. + + --It was a melancholy showing, + But poor Sir _Jeffery_ was a-going. + "Indulge his gormandising swallow, + And apoplexy soon must follow," + Such did Sir _Midriff's_ sage foreknowledge + Give as the doctrine of the College. + "--Now, if you dare to keep him low, + A dropsy gives the fatal blow. + Remember, my good friend, I pray, + What _Anodyne_ is pleas'd to say." + When, in a kind of solemn croak, + The Quack, with shaking noddle, spoke. + + Thus did the differing doctors fail, + Nor could their varying skill prevail: + They neither could set matters right, + Or quicken a pall'd appetite. + More weak and weak Sir _Jeffery_ grew, + Nay, wasted to the daily view, + And, as his faithful servant found, + Between two stools he fell to ground. + But still he smelt the sav'ry meat, } + He sometimes still would eye the treat, } + And praise the dish he could not eat. } + One day, when in a sunshine hour, + To pick a bit he felt the power, + Just as he did his knife apply + To give a slice of oyster-pie, + Whether the effort was too great + To bear the morsel to his plate; + Or if, from any other cause, + His nature made a gen'ral pause, + He gave a groan, it was his last, + And life and oyster-pies were past. + + Which of the Doctors did the deed, + The one who starv'd or he who fed, + Or whether Nature, nothing loth, + Laugh'd at the counsels of them both, + And, as they issued their commands, + Her victim took from both their hands, + I know not, but it seems to me, + To be the work of all the three. + + Here it would be but idle folly + To call on fruitless melancholy, + To talk of blisters that in vain + Were spread to bring back life again; + Or all the lancet's power explore + To wake the breath that breath'd no more; + The stroke was struck, no human art + Could now withdraw the fatal dart. + + Mutes marching on, in solemn pace, + With gladden'd heart and sorrowing face, + Who, clad in black attire, for pay + Let out their sorrows by the day: + The nodding plumes and 'scutcheon'd hearse + Would make a pretty show in verse; + But 'tis enough, Sir _Jeffery_ dead, + That his remains, enshrin'd in lead, + And, cloth'd in all their sad array, + To mingle with their native clay, + Were safe convey'd to that same bourne + From whence no travellers return. + --We must another track pursue, } + Life's varying path we have in view,-- } + Our way QUÆ GENUS is with you! } + + + + +CANTO V + + + As our enlighten'd reason ranges + O'er man and all his various changes, + What sober thoughts the scenes supply, + To hamper our philosophy; + To make the expanding bosom swell + With the fine things the tongue can tell! + And it were well, that while we preach, + We practice, what we're fain to teach. + O, here might many a line be lent, + To teach the mind to learn content, + And with a manly spirit bear + The stroke of disappointing care; + Awake a just disdain to smile + On muckworm fortune base and vile, + Look on its threatnings to betray, + As darksome clouds that pass away, + And call on cheering hope to see + Some future, kind reality. + --All who Sir _Jeffery_ knew could tell + Our Hero serv'd him passing well; + Nay to the care which he bestow'd } + The Knight a lengthen'd period ow'd, } + And such the thanks he oft avow'd. } + QUÆ GENUS never lost his views + Of duty and its faithful dues; + His honour no one could suspect, + Nor did he mark with cold neglect + Those services which intervene } + In a sick chamber's sickly scene: } + His duty thought no office mean, } + And to Sir _Jeffery's_ closing sigh + All, all was warm fidelity. + Nay, thus the Knight would frequent own + A grateful sense of service done; + And oft, in words like these, he said, + That duty shall be well repaid. + "QUÆ GENUS, know me for your friend, + I to your welfare shall attend; + Your friend while I retain my breath, + And when that's gone, your friend in death." + That death he felt as a disaster, + For, to speak truth, he lov'd his master, + Nor did he doubt that a reward + Would prove that master's firm regard. + + 'Tis nature, in life's worst vexation, + To look at least for consolation; + And he, 'tis true, had turn'd his eye + To a consoling legacy, + That might, at least, make some amends, + For losing this his best of friends; + But his ill luck we must not smother; + He lost the one, nor found the other. + The will was full of good intent, + And a warm legacy was meant + To poor QUÆ GENUS, there's no doubt, + But shuffling Fortune left it out; + 'Twas she cut short the kind bequest, + Which was thus fatally express'd. + + "To this my last and solemn Will + I add by way of Codicil, + My true and faithful servant's name, + Who to my care has every claim: + --To JOHN QUÆ GENUS I bequeath + One month posterior to my death, + The sum of + Here a blank ensued + Which has not yet been understood, + Or why the figures were delay'd + That would a sterling gift have made. + Whether a sudden twitch of gout + Caus'd him to leave the figures out; + Or visit of a chatt'ring friend + That did th' important words suspend, + And thus retard the kind design, + Until the 'morrow's sun should shine, + That 'morrow with its ha's and hums, + Which, often promis'd, never comes: + Howe'er the enquiring mind may guess + It cannot find the wish'd success: + In short, whatever cause prevail'd, + Too true, the gen'rous purpose fail'd. + In the Knight's mind the boon was will'd, + But still the blank was never fill'd, + And no more the said will engages + Than mourning suit and one year's wages, + Which all his household should inherit + Whate'er their station or their merit: + Here no distinction was display'd + 'Tween high and low, 'tween man and maid, + And though QUÆ GENUS was the first, + He had his portion with the worst. + + Our Hero thought it wond'rous hard + Thus to be foil'd of his reward, + That which, in ev'ry point of view, + He felt to be his honest due; + And both his master and his friend + Did to his services intend; + Which, as the sun at noontide clear, + Does by the codicil appear: + But when he ask'd Sir _Jeffery's_ heir } + (Who did so large a fortune share) } + The blank hiatus to repair, } + Which he with truth could represent + As an untoward accident, + The wealthy merchant shook his head + And bade him go and ask the dead. + QUÆ GENUS ventur'd to reply + While his breast heav'd a painful sigh, + "The dead, you know, Sir, cannot speak, + But could the grave its silence break, + I humbly ask your gen'rous heart, + Would not its language take my part, + Would it not utter, 'O fulfil + The purpose of the codicil?' + Would it not tell you to supply + The blank with a due legacy?" + The rich man, turning on his heel, + Did not the rising taunt conceal. + "All that the grave may please to say, + I promise, friend, I will obey." + + What could be done with this high Cit, + But to look sad and to submit; + For it could answer no good end + Though indispos'd to be a friend, + That kind of discontent to show + Which might convert him to a foe. + But ere we altogether leave + Sir _Jeffery's_ grateful friends to grieve, + We mean all those which to the sight + Were clearly writ, in black and white, + Within the bound'ries of the will, + Nor left to _blundering Codicil_, + It may not be amiss to draw + The picture of the _Heir at Law_. + + When on the 'Change he took his rounds, + He walk'd an hundred thousand pounds: + Not less was his acknowledg'd worth + When ev'ry morn he sallied forth, + With expectation grave, to meet + Fortune's fresh smiles in Lombard-Street. + Upright in all his worldly dealing:-- + But that high sense of noble feeling, + The humane impulse to relieve, + To wipe the eye of those who grieve, + The wish of goodness to impart + The bounties of a gen'rous heart, + These were not his; and though the scroll + That may the charities enroll + Of gilded pride, upon the wall + In some conspicuous hospital, + Might his known name and title bear, + 'Twas vanity that plac'd it there. + But though, perhaps, a plum or more + Was added to his former store, + If, by sad chance, with haggard mien, + An humble suppliant should be seen, + A mother sick, a father dead, + And children, left forlorn, unfed, + His hand ne'er ventur'd on his purse + To give relief, and, what was worse, + He would alarm the wretches' fears + With beadles fierce and overseers, + Or talk of laws for vagrants made, + Which call the scourge-man to their aid. + Thus nought was look'd for at his hands, + But justice strict to just demands: + No smiling, generous overflow + Of fair reward would he bestow; + No bounty did his thoughts prepare + For duty's overweening care; + While service, by affection wrought, + Was, in his reck'ning, set at nought. + + QUÆ GENUS gave in his account; + Its justness own'd, the full amount + Was duly paid, but I'll forgive + The mind refusing to believe, + That, when the rich man should discover + That he had paid some nine-pence over, + He did, without a look of shame, + That pittance as a balance claim: + It may appear full passing strange, + But 'tis a fact, he took the change, + And did the jingling half-pence greet, + Like fish-women in open street. + E'en the worn wardrobe of the Knight, + Which is esteem'd the valet's right, + The gen'ral heir-loom of his place, + Was seiz'd by the curmudgeon base, + And borne away, a paltry gain, + To his own Store in Mincing-Lane: + But when, among the other dues, + Were order'd off the _Gouty Shoes_, + QUÆ GENUS, with contempt inflam'd, + Thus, in a hearty tone, exclaim'd, + "Away, to the mean merchant bear 'em! + Heaven grant he may be forc'd to wear 'em!" + --Thus things went on;--then came the time, + (The truth e'en shames my humble rhyme) + When the Executor and Heir, + For one did both the titles share, + Appear'd to pay, in legal guise, + The wages and the legacies. + QUÆ GENUS, who had lately been + A favour'd actor in the scene, + Could not have guess'd at such disaster + From such a friend and such a master: + And though he strove, he scarce could hide + The feelings of an honest pride, + When, from Sir _Jeffery's_ error, he + And those who wore a livery, + Nay even house and kitchen-maid + Were in the same proportions paid,-- + When his allotted mourning bore + The same coarse stuff the coachman wore. + But how his heart began to beat + When he was charg'd for the _receipt_! + + All his distinction now was lost, + And he who long had rul'd the roast, + Had, since Sir _Jeffery_ went to rest, + Been of his station dispossest; + Nay, not a common smile remain'd + Of all the favour he had gain'd, + While beggarly mistrust took place, + Which he must feel as foul disgrace: + For ev'ry key had been demanded; + One instant made him empty-handed + Dismiss'd from his late envied station + Without a nod of approbation, + He was preparing to depart + With downcast look and heavy heart; + Nor could e'en Molly's tender smile + Of one sad thought that heart beguile + + +HIS FAREWELL SPEECH. + + "And now, I say, adieu, my friends, + For here our fellow-service ends. + You need not put on sorrowing faces; + You will soon meet with ready places; + 'Tis me whose disappointing care, + Of cheering prospects, bids despair. + --You all, I'm sure can well believe, + I have most ample cause to grieve + That cruel Fortune thus should frown, + When I thought her fond smiles my own. + --Sir _Jeffery_ now is laid in dust, + But when alive, how good, how just! + And all who knew him well must know + He never wish'd to use me so. + Had he believ'd his end so nigh, + I should have had the legacy, + Which would have made me full amends + For loss of fortune, loss of friends. + Another day had he surviv'd, + To the next morning had he liv'd, + It might, perhaps, have been my fate + To know an independent state, + As he had told me, o'er and o'er, + I ne'er should go to service more. + When I did on his wants attend + He spoke as a familiar friend: + How often too we might be seen + Chatting within the Indian screen! + Whenever we were left alone, + We seem'd not two, but were as one. + I knew each tit-bit that he lov'd; + He always what I gave approv'd; + And as I stood beside his chair, + Attending with respectful air, + He oft would bid me sit and dine, + Fill up his glass and pour out mine. + --When thumb and finger he applied + To the gold snuff box by his side, + I shar'd the pinch, and he ne'er ceas'd + To say, 'God bless you,' when I sneez'd; + Nay, when my snortings I repeated, + He thus my awkward flurry greeted, + 'My friend, familiarize your nose + To this exhilarating dose, + For sure as we together dine + This box, QUÆ GENUS, shall be thine!' + But that kind friend, alas! is dead, + And box and snuff and all are fled. + Nay, had I now a hope on earth, + And could engage in trifling mirth, + I here might my complainings close + With disappointments of my nose. + --His common purse I could command, + 'Twas daily open to my hand; + You all well know I paid his bills, + And when, to ease his various ills, + Sir _Midriff_ came, I us'd to squeeze + Into his palm the welcome fees. + Whene'er I showed my weekly book, + He never gave the page a look; + And when I urg'd it the good Knight + Would smile and say, 'I'm sure 'tis right.' + Nay, I can say, in ev'ry sense, + I ne'er abus'd his confidence: + No, no, I never did purloin + An atom of the lowest coin, + And what I have to Heaven is known, + In honest truth, to be my own, + Then wonder not, I feel it hard, + To be depriv'd of my reward, + And, by such a chance, be hurl'd + Again to struggle with the world. + Reasons, besides, I must not tell, + Why the Knight treated me so well; + But I play'd no delusive part, + And they did honour to his heart: + Of that heart, had he left a share, } + As well as fortune to his heir, } + I need not now indulge despair." } + + "Mr. QUÆ GENUS, never fear," + The Coachman said, "your spirits cheer! + Dame Fortune has look'd down 'tis plain, + But the jade may look up again: + 'Tis true that dev'lish oyster-pie + Fell souse upon the legacy: + E'en so it was, I cannot doubt it, + But I would think no more about it. + You so well know your P's and Q's, + That you have but to pick and chuse. + I speak the truth, there are but few + Mr. QUÆ GENUS, such as you: + And though the merchant will not give + The bounty which you should receive, + What though he would not spare a farthing + To save a soul of us from starving, + Good names he'll give us, as he ought, + For they we know will cost him nought; + 'Twere better therefore to be civil, + And hold the candle to the Devil, + For we as servants cannot stir + Without a show of character. + --As you perceive, I'm not a chick, + And know enough to make one sick: + Nay, somewhat my experience lends, + To guess at this world's odds and ends. + I've been in many curious places; + I've serv'd my Lords,--and serv'd their Graces; + And, which gives work of more ado, + I've even serv'd my Ladies too: + I knew to shut or ope my eyes, + To see strange things, nor look surprise. + Sometimes good-luck has given a lift, + And sometimes, I've been turn'd adrift; + But should I live to Judgement-day, + No, I will never fail to say, + That I ne'er so much comfort knew, + As since this house was rul'd by you. + --Now, when you get an upper place, + Which soon, I'm sure, must be the case, + If then your favour will contrive, + I should my Lord or Lady drive, + For I the reins can handle true + Of pairs, of fours, and sixes too, + I promise, nay, my word engages + To give you poundage from my wages. + --I know you're gen'rous, kind and free, + But here you will accord with me, + That interest has a powerful weight + Both with the little and the great: + You see it well by what is past, + Since your fine plan is overcast. + I do not wish to give offence, + But interest is common sense, + And he who does not look to that, + Mr. QUÆ GENUS, is a FLAT." + + The blunt, rough _Coachman_, said no more: + When _Molly's_ fine black eyes ran o'er: + The _Cook_ look'd grave, and _Betty_ sigh'd, } + The _Kitchen-maid_ sat still and cried, } + While _Thomas_ not a word replied.-- } + QUÆ GENUS, not to be remiss, + Gave to each maid a friendly kiss, + And when he whisper'd his adieu + To charming _Molly_, he gave two: + Perhaps, if they were counted o'er, + Her sweet lips might acknowledge more: + Then told her softly not to fear, + And kindly whisper'd in her ear, + "What e'er my lot, I will be true + To fond affection and to you." + + Our gloomy Hero now departed, + And left the mansion heavy-hearted, + Where in such comfort he had liv'd, + Nor, till dismiss'd it, ever griev'd, + And, with a tardy step, retir'd + To a snug lodging he had hir'd. + + Thus once again by Fortune thrown + On the wide world, and all alone, + Without th' appearance of a friend + On whose kind aid he could depend, + QUÆ GENUS pac'd his lonely floor + All to and fro and o'er and o'er, + Thinking what efforts might be made, + What stroke be struck, what game be play'd, + To place him in some active state + That promis'd to be fortunate. + One consolation he possest, } + Which, though it did not charm to rest } + The rising troubles of his breast, } + Yet still, whatever might confound him, + Gave him full time to look around him, + And, on whatever project bent, + To weigh its views, and wait th' event. + For, though his purse might not run o'er, + He had a snug, sufficient store, + To keep his anxious spirits free + From any dread of penury, + And guard him amidst toils and strife, + Against the insidious smiles of life, + That do so often tempt the mind + To cast discretion far behind, + Or make it fearful hazards try, + Impell'd by dire necessity. + --He had not yet unripp'd his coat, } + In which conceal'd lay every note } + Which he from _Gripe-all's_ clutches got: } + A hoard on which he might depend, + When he look'd round nor saw a friend. + Besides, he had no trifle gain'd, + While with Sir _Jeffery_ he remain'd; + For though, as has been lately said, + He never play'd a trick of trade; + Nor had he even thought it right + To take a valet's perquisite, + Nor e'er allow'd his hands to seize + The household steward's common fees, + But of the strict and rigid law + Of duty ever stood in awe. + --All this the Knight full well believ'd, + Nor could he think himself deceiv'd, + When once he answer'd to a friend, + Who did the young man's cares commend. + "That same QUÆ GENUS is so just + In all committed to his trust, + To his right notions such a slave, + He would not with a razor shave, + Nor use a strap, nor ply a hone, + He had not purchas'd as his own."-- + Thus, as most worthy of his charge, + Sir _Jeffery's_ annual pay was large, + And when th' allotted quarter came, + Something was added to his claim, + Which with such gen'rous grace was given, + It seem'd like Manna sent from Heaven!-- + Besides, his wages, being high, + Encreas'd the gen'ral legacy, + Which he with all the household shar'd; + The last, and now his sole reward. + + Thus so far independence brought + A'gleam of comfort on his thought; + He was not left on ruin's brink + To sit and sigh, and swear and think. + _Two_ points alone he had in view, + He thought it hard they were but _two_; + Nor could he call his fortune kind + When they alone employ'd his mind: + These were the DOCTORS, won by fees + To make most bounteous promises; + And though these GALENS might deny 'em, + He was at least resolv'd to try 'em; + And, if Sir MIDRIFF should decline, + He would apply to ANODYNE. + --The _former_, if he pleas'd, could well, + And with strict truth, his value tell: + For none with such experience knew + That he was active, honest, true, + And to his patient, well or ill, + Did ev'ry duteous care fulfil. + Nay, that it was the Knight's good pleasure + To speak of him as of a treasure. + + Now, on his serious purpose bent, + He to Sir MIDRIFF BOLUS went; + But then, alas! as we shall see, + His face did not forebode a fee: + Nor did the great man smiling meet him, + Or with a tone familiar greet him, + As his keen humour us'd to do + When _golden sovereigns_ were in view: + Nor did he take him by the hand, + As when it did the coin command. + He now put on a curious leer, + That said, "I pray, what brought _you_ here?" + "I'm come to hope you'll condescend + To prove yourself my promis'd friend," + QUÆ GENUS said, "and with this view, + I now present myself to you. + You told me, 'when your master's gone, + Look on my friendship as your own.' + He's gone, alas, I too well know, + To me a most affecting blow: + But still, I trust, I may engage + Your kind, protecting patronage, + And, among those of rank and wealth + Who make you guardian of their health, + Your favour may smile on my fate, + And I renew an household state, + Like that which crown'd my better days, + When I enjoy'd your frequent praise." + + The Doctor now his suppliant ey'd, + And thus in hasty tone replied. + "Indeed I've something else to do + Than thus to be employ'd by you: + I'm in great haste and must away, + My patients wait, I cannot stay, + To hear you, your fine story tell:-- + So, honest friend, I wish you well."-- + --Thus when Sir _Jeffery's_ fees were o'er + He thought not of QUÆ GENUS more. + + Now, as he pac'd along the street, } + Thus did he to himself repeat, } + "Is this the fortune I must meet? } + Is this the merited reward + Which they receive who strive to guard + Their hearts against the tempting guise + Of int'rest and its sorceries; + And say to Virtue, 'Maid divine! + Behold thy slave, I'm wholly thine!' + --It is not that I now repent, + Or harbour selfish discontent, + That I should hesitate to seize + The golden opportunities + Which were presented to my power, + Not ev'ry day, but ev'ry hour, + While with Sir _Jeffery Gourmand_ I + Enjoy'd the means those arts to ply, + Which, by the curious eye unseen, + Might with such gains have pregnant been: + No, no, thank Heaven, I'm not embued + With that worst vice, Ingratitude; + An odious vice that is of kin + To every other mortal sin. + I felt his kindness, and where'er + My lot may be of pain and care, + Those kind reflections I possess + To make me smile in my distress, + That I ne'er for a moment swerv'd + From the best duties he deserv'd; + Nay, which he, to his closing days, + So often honour'd with his praise,-- + And should it be my lot to find + Another master good and kind, + Whose gen'rous heart would condescend + To treat QUÆ GENUS as a friend, + This I may truly boast, that he } + Should find an humble friend in me, } + Whose soul is faithful loyalty! } + I would the path of truth pursue + As I have long been us'd to do; + And where, howe'er oblig'd to bend + To pressing views, my wishes tend. + But, in this world of chance and change, + As it appears, I'm doom'd to range, + And I may be oblig'd to treat it + As it will be my lot to meet it. + I will not rob nor will I steal, } + But from myself I'll not conceal } + The secret purpose which I feel. } + Commandments I will never break, + But when fair interest is at stake, + I'll follow in my future views + The conduct which the world pursues; + And when that principle I own, + The world will have no right to frown. + Thus whatsoe'er may be my station, + Where chance may fix my next vocation + I'll keep discretion in my view, + As prudent folk profess to do. + --But ere throughout the town at large + I look for some inviting charge, + Though with one Doctor I have fail'd, + Another now shall be assail'd; + Though brilliant prospects may not shine, + Yet I'll e'en go to ANODYNE. + The QUACK may prove a better friend + Than e'er Sir MIDRIFF might intend; + At all events, howe'er perverse, + 'Tis plain he cannot prove a worse; + Howe'er that be, I can but try."-- + --Thus clos'd his thoughts' soliloquy. + + QUÆ GENUS now pass'd up the Court + The sickly patient's still resort, + Where, in a corner quite retired, + The mansion stood which he desired, + Whose door, bedight with darksome green + And mouldings edg'd with black, is seen; + While letter'd gold appears to shine + And tell the name of ANODYNE. + He touch'd the well-known tinkling-bell + That did some sickly presence tell, + When the door op'd with rapid force, + And patients glided in of course. + There was ne'er heard a knocker's sound, + To rouse the idle neighbours round, + Or to the windows call the eye + Of peeping curiosity. + + The signal was not given twice; + QUÆ GENUS enter'd in a trice + And sought the solemn Doctor's nook, + Where he sat with a folio book, + Some ancient Galen's learned creed, + Which 'tis not certain he could read: + Alone, o'er this he gravely doz'd, + But when the sick arriv'd, he clos'd + The cumbrous volume, and gave ear + The tale of some distress to hear. + To JOHNNY this was no new scene, + For here he had full often been, + But as he _fee-less_ ne'er before + Had hasten'd through the well-known door, + He felt some doubts within his mind + What sort of welcome he should find. + Sir MIDRIFF'S conduct it appears, + Had chang'd his promis'd hopes to fears; + And when he felt such rude disdain + From one who rul'd in Warwick-Lane, + Who boasted of superior knowledge + To all the learned of the College; + Who from his frequent promise swerv'd, + To one who his kind smiles deserv'd; + Yet ev'ry day, and ev'ry hour, + Possess'd the patronising power, + With mere commending words to gain + The boon QUÆ GENUS ask'd in vain;-- + What good then could his hopes supply + From the low pride of quackery, + From one who rested his pretence + On nostrums and on impudence. + But he had felt that in Life's dance, + We often owe to strokes of chance, + That unexpected good prevail'd + Where Reason's better hopes have fail'd. + Such thoughts the purpose did incline + To make his bows to ANODYNE. + The Doctor with a friendly air, } + 'Rose from his dictatorial chair, } + And pleasure told to see him there: } + When thus QUÆ GENUS in reply, + Began the following Colloquy. + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "Sir _Jeffery_, as, I trust, you know, + Is gone, Sir, where we all must go; + In spite of all your healing power, + Has reach'd, at length, his final hour, + Though had he trusted all to you, } + And to Sir MIDRIFF bade adieu, } + Which he was half inclin'd to do, } + Perhaps, my present visit here + Would not so penniless appear; + For I am come, as you must see, + Without the pass-port of a fee. + It is self-interest, I fear, + Yes, I must own it, brings me here. + Since his departure I am hurl'd + To push my fortune in the world, + And may I now with courage say, + You will assist me on my way? + --Such is, alas! my alter'd case, + I'm seeking for another place, + Though e'en my visionary mind + Can never hope again to find + Such a so envied household post, + As that which I have lately lost. + With fortune I shall ne'er contend + But smile on that which she may send; + And of whatever state possest, + Be satisfied and act my best. + Now, as I've reason well to know, + Though 'tis not you have told me so, + That persons of superior worth, + The wealthy and of noble birth; + Who, tir'd of physic's settled rules, + As taught in colleges and schools, + Have sought your bold and fearless skill, + The potent drafts and secret pill, + Which your _Acumen_ can impart, + Beyond the reach of drudging art, + And I have heard will cure the pain, + When boasting science tries in vain: + Nor is this all, the tonish fair + Attend to seek your healing care. + When here I've for Sir _Jeffery_ been, } + Dames of high figure I have seen, } + Lolling behind your folding screen } + With all their gay caricatures + The lively eye's attractive lures. + Broad bonnets all beflower'd o'er, + Are often passing through your door, + And I have glanc'd at many a shawl + That glided through your gloomy hall. + When such grand visitors as these + Apply to you to give them ease; + And when your skill relieves their pain, + That is the time their grace to gain, + And then, good Doctor, you might see + If you could gain a grace for me; + While to some patient you commend + The service of your humble friend: + Nor will he fail returns to make, + Which you may condescend to take; + And grateful memory will repay + Your kindness to his dying day." + + The modest suit was not denied, + And thus, th' assenting Don replied. + + "QUÆ GENUS, my regards are thine, + As sure as my name's ANODYNE. + --If worth lay in a flatt'ring tongue, + You would not want a service long; + For if you do with caution use it, + Where is the ear that will refuse it? + 'Tis but the art how to apply + The well-conceal'd artillery, + And, more or less, the well-told tale + Will o'er the pliant mind prevail. + Your int'rest, friend, I'll not neglect, + Perhaps do more than you expect; + Nay, I e'en may your mind surprise, + When I mark how that int'rest lies;-- + But 'tis not where your hopes may look, + 'Tis not that page in fortune's book. + --The higher folk who come to me + Are all involv'd in secrecy: + Those who can't walk employ a hack, + When they employ the humble quack: + Hence, no fine carriages resort + About the purlieus of my court, + For the rich owners, with their wealth, + Blush to pass this bye-way to health. + Such is proud fashion's powerful rule + O'er many a purse-proud, titled fool: + They tell me all their sickness claims, + But seem afraid to tell their names. + --There's an old man I sometimes see, + And faith he brings a handsome fee, + Whose hackney always drops his fare + Just by, in the adjoining Square: + Where, when we've clos'd our consultation, + He hobbles to regain his station. + In a loose coat of common wear, + This person chuses to appear; + With his round hat and dingy caxon, + He calls himself a Mr. Jackson; + Though still his manners and his words + Are such as highest rank affords: + And, sure as I e'er gave a puke, + I know the man to be a duke.-- + But I, of course, the secret keep, + And let his splendid titles sleep. + --I have two ladies now in hand, + Whose whims and fancies I command: + They tell of humours on the skin, + But then they only shew their chin; + No other part they let me see, + Such is their bashful fantasy. + They seem to think I doubt their graces, + As veils o'erspread their pimpled faces, + So that where'er they chuse to show 'em, + I do not think that I should know 'em. + Yet by their chat they have betray'd, + That one's a wife, and one's a maid: + Nor from the names can they refrain + Of _Lady Bell_ and _Lady Jane_. + They never fail in their appointments, + And are fast curing by my ointments: + Thus, from their praise, I hope to claim + An added honour to my name. + Nor are these all; for many more } + Of wealth and rank pass through my door; } + Though still as I have said before, } + They to such aid as mine apply + All mask'd in fearful secrecy. + These whims I have explain'd, to prove + I cannot in this quarter move; + And where I could your worth commend + It would degrade you to attend. + But I shall now unfold to view, + Another chance I have for you: + And let your patience ope its ear + To all you are about to hear. + + "'Tis not to breathe the tonish air } + Of Portland-Place, or Grosv'nor-Square, } + Or stand behind her Grace's chair: } + 'Tis not to serve the titled beaux, + And flourish in your master' clothes: + 'Tis not, as you are wont, to grace + Some peopled household's highest place, + Though well-accomplish'd as you are, + 'Tis chance alone can place you there: + For, through your days, you may not boast + A master such as you have lost; + Nay, your precarious life may end + Before a master proves a friend; + And, after all, old age may come + Without an alms-house for a home. + Think, think in what a woeful plight + The man must live who's pocket's light! + Are not his hours by want depress'd? + Penurious care corrodes his breast; + Without respect, or love, or friends, + His solitary day descends. + O be not led away by pride, + But use the means that may provide + For future wants, when evils press, + And life is pregnant with distress! + Hear me, my friend, nor let surprise + With staring looks burst from your eyes, + When I, in language frank and free,-- + Tell you to come and _live with me_. + + "Think not I want you for a hack, + A serving menial to a quack; + If to my interests you attend, } + You will be treated as a friend. } + On this be sure you may depend, } + That you will find a better station, + In profit as in inclination, + Than were you hired to be solus + Behind the chair of Doctor BOLUS. + --Within a week, perhaps a day, + You'll see the part you have to play. + The man I had, whom you have seen, + Might still beneath this roof have been, + But he by coughing was worn down + To a poor gasping skeleton, + And 'twere not fit I should endure + One in my house I could not cure + He would not prove a tempting sign + To spread the fame of ANODYNE: + But in the time he here remain'd, + He had a little fortune gain'd. + --Your knowledge, which I well can trace, } + Is far above a servant's place, } + And would a higher station grace. } + The pleasing manners you possess, + Your winning speech and nice address, + Might call to your ambitious view, + An higher state than you pursue; + Though still your savings you might waste, + Before you're suited to your taste. + --Such aid as your's I long have wanted, + And if my warm proposal's granted, + You must at once grow wond'rous dull, + Or soon your pocket will be full: + Here, in one year, you will get more + Than with your noble lords in four. + Nay, on the honour of a friend, + Who no deception can intend, + You'll greatly err, if you decline + Such an official place as mine. + --I'll teach you how to cup and bleed; + These operations you will need; + The pulses' movements you shall know, + When they are either high or low: + While other symptoms of disease + I can communicate with ease. + All this, if I the truth discern, + Your ready mind will quickly learn. + Besides 'tis right to let you know + You'll have no nauseous work to do; + For the old woman spreads the blisters, + Rolls up the pills and stirs the clysters. + While 'tis my hand alone composes + The patients' necessary doses, + And your chief care is to dispense + These med'cines with your eloquence. + --But I have sick folk to attend, + So while away an hour, my friend: + And as I trust you'll stay and dine, + We'll close our bargain o'er our wine." + + + + +CANTO VI + + + It often happens as we range + Through life, an unexpected change, + With sudden stroke may pain destroy + And turn our thoughts from grief to joy: + Or as some shock cuts off relief + May turn a flow of joy to grief. + Thus our days' varying system bears + Th' alternate play of hopes and fears: + Nay, when more pleasant views provoke, + May turn our gravity to joke. + Besides, as in the Drama's art, + The scene displays the varying part, + So apt are we to play the fool, + We serve for our own ridicule: + And when sly Fortune's pleas'd to vary + Our progress with some strange vagary, + We oft become such merry elves + To burst with laughter at ourselves. + + Thus as QUÆ GENUS pac'd the room, + Reflecting on the time to come, + And all the heap of promis'd good + By ANODYNE to be bestow'd; + That he was to be cramm'd with wealth, + And turn all sickness into health; + His fancy, tickled at the thought, + He set each serious wish at nought, + And laugh'd till his sides seem'd to crack, + To think he should become a Quack. + But when he had indulg'd the joke + Which this idea might provoke, + He thought more gravely of the case + And vow'd to take the proffer'd place: + At all events, he could but try + This self-same scheme of quackery: + At least some knowledge he should gain, + And knowledge never comes in vain. + Indeed, what harm, if he succeed in + The arts of cupping and of bleeding? + The lancet's power to command + Might be of use in any hand, + And e'en in any hand might save + A forlorn suff'rer from the grave; + While he might well instructed be + In principles of Pharmacy. + He also felt that application + Might fit him for a better station; + That in some distant country town, + He might a _Galen's_ title own: + Where, if his fortune did not vary, + He might strut an Apothecary. + + Thus between gravity and smile + Conceit play'd its full part the while, + Though not without a view to gains + Which might reward his present pains: + Indeed he knew the means that made 'em, + For he had for Sir _Jeffery_ paid 'em: + As while for potion, pill and plaister + A golden fee awaits the master; + He found it was a useful plan, + With lesser coin, to fee the man, + Who had the means to lift the latch + That did the secret wish dispatch; + And could th' impatience set to rest + Of the more eager, grumbling guest. + --Thus, with lively hope high-season'd, + QUÆ GENUS walk'd about and reason'd; + And, in his Pericranium fast, + This grave opinion fix'd at last: + If not in honour, yet in purse, + _He might go further and fare worse_,-- + But if no other good were done, + There might be sure a world of fun. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS WITH A QUACK DOCTOR.] + + Patients that morning had been plenty, + Not less it seems than five-and-twenty; + This the old woman smiling stated, + And told him that the dinner waited. + The table shew'd a plenteous treat } + Of fish and fowl and sav'ry meat, } + But poor QUÆ GENUS scarce could eat. } + For, though prepar'd for any diet, + His hunger soon repos'd in quiet. + The Doctor fed, but talk'd the while, + Of gastric juice and flowing bile; + Of kidneys and o'ergrowing liver, + As of sore eyes now cur'd for ever; + What his fam'd _Nostrum_ had perform'd, + And how it had the bowels storm'd + Of guttling Gourmand with such force, + That it a passage made of course, + Which three great Doctors tried in vain, + With all their boasted skill to gain. + Besides our hero did not know + How cookery went on below, + And he might think, poor dainty sinner, + That the same hands had dress'd the dinner, + Which were entrusted with the care + Each daily med'cine to prepare; + To melt the salves and spread anon + The cerates and diacolon; + That did the drugs or grind or pound, + And dress the sore leg's running wound: + But so it was, a sick sensation + Check'd all his powers of mastication, + And caus'd his stomach to resent + The very taste of nutriment: + Nay his sad appetite approv'd + When all the dishes were remov'd. + --They therefore soon had ceas'd to dine } + And o'er the second pint of wine } + The bargain clos'd with ANODYNE. } + What that was, it is fit to know, + And the verse now will briefly show. + + QUÆ GENUS had made up his mind + Not to his interest to be blind; + But in the game that path pursue + Which prudence says we ought to do, + Nor to let scruples overpower + Th' advantage of the passing hour, + And yet that artifice restrain + Whose daily efforts are for gain: + In short to take the middle plan, } + Which, as the world is us'd to scan, } + Marks what is call'd an _Honest Man_. } + He might not hesitate complying + With a small spice of useful lying + That idle questions might disarm, + Do some slight good, but never harm, + Afford a sentimental grace + To conversation's common place, + And give a customary aid + To all the retail slang of trade. + With mind thus settled and prepar'd + He ANODYNE'S first lecture heard. + And as it surely was the best, + We shall pass over all the rest. + + +ANODYNE. + + "This the first rule that I shall trace:-- + You must command a solemn face; + Nor suffer objects to beguile + Your features to familiar smile. + Here, I must own, you oft may see + What may court transient pleasantry; + For e'en 'midst misery and pain, + You'll find such whims and fancies reign, + Hear patients cough and grunt and sneeze + In such uncouth, discordant keys, + That without care, I should not wonder + Your muscles into laugh might blunder. + You have a speech runs off at score, + As rapid as a chaise and four, + But with my sickly folk be slow + As a stage-waggon's us'd to go; + And pray remember to apply + Your words with due solemnity. + I know you well can suit your tongue + To any age, to old or young; + Nor will the task your care perplex + In the complaints of either sex; + And bear in mind, whate'er you see, + To veil your thoughts with modesty: + But hear the great and leading rule + Of this my Esculapian school. + + "I care not by what name you call + This spacious parlour, room or hall: + But here my daily patients range + Whose order you must never change: + Were I to take them one by one, + By Heaven I should ne'er have done; + And, therefore, govern'd by their feather + I thus assort my birds together. + Here, on the right, are duly seated + Those who for gouty freaks are treated, + Then comes the symptomatic fever, + And next the bilious and their liver: + Then follow others in their turn, + The chills which shake, the heats that burn; + The stomachs which will ne'er digest + The food their feeders love the best; + The wheesers too are not far off, + All those who hem and spit and cough, + With such, not of the happiest kind, + Whose bowels threat to crack with wind + The Hypochondres here repose + Impatient for the cordial dose, + And children on the carpet brawl, + Till my spice biscuits calm the squall. + + "I first review th' assembled tribe + Then walk off stately and prescribe, + When I consign to your quick sense + Th' appropriate med'cines to dispense, + To all the classes in your view, } + With gentle tone and caution due: } + See then how much depends on you. } + Each case that asks superior art + I send into a room apart; + And _there_ I never feel alarm; + I play no tricks and do no harm. + When I a desp'rate illness see, + For patients must not die with me, + I recommend them to repair + To goat's-milk and the country air; + And when such counsel they receive + They do not fail to take their leave, + Full of my candour and disdain + Of any little paltry gain. + Deep cuts, sore legs and gummy eyes, + With all the common casualties, + I with my healing dame bestow, + In her snug, secret cell below: + Indeed I've sometimes star'd to see + The wonders of her surgery. + --'Tis true 'mong doctors I'm not famous, + But still I'm not an _Ignoramus_; + For I can play a skillfull part + In elements of chymic art; + I give the drafts a varying hue, + To-day so red, to-morrow blue, + And touch them with a diff'rent savour, + To give a worse or better flavour, + As it may suit, then change their name, } + Though they may be the very same, } + Both in their object and their aim. } + + "It is with me a leading fashion + To play thus with imagination; + A symptom that doth never cease, + Or more or less in all disease. + There are sly shifts in ev'ry trade, + Which money calls in to its aid: + But here I'd have it understood, + If when my practice does no good, + My conscience never has the qualm, + That I do any real harm. + Nor are my various cures unknown + As placards tell of my renown! + My nostrums oft my hopes fulfil, + Nor do I know they ever kill. + Those cases which I've cause to doubt, + And cannot find their symptoms out, + I never fail to leave to nature, + Who is a wonder-working creature: + And my chief cures which make a stir,-- + I e'en must own I owe to her.-- + --Such the great object of my care.-- + Fear not, you will th' advantage share. + But know, when all my sick are here, + You as _Inferior_ must appear; + But business o'er and they are gone, + Then good QUÆ GENUS, we are one!" + + At length the compact was agreed, } + And all things promis'd to succeed: } + Our Hero soon could cup and bleed; } + And, with a kind, officious grace, + The med'cine gave in time and place; + Nay, as occasion might afford, + Bitters improve with sweet'ning word: + He had acquir'd the art to please + With welcome flatt'ries such as these. + + "_How stout your legs appear to-day! + I trust you have walk'd all the way! + And ere that our brief work is done, + We shall have taught you how to run!_" + + "_O madam! how I must rejoice, + That you have lost your husky voice; + Soon I doubt not that I shall find + Your tones are of the sweetest kind_!" + + "_And that fine face I griev'd to view + When cloth'd in such a pallid hue; + But I have seen, this passing week, + The colour coming on your cheek. + And if some ill does not oppose, + We soon shall see the tender rose: + And hope's a friend that will supply + The prospect which, I trust, is nigh_." + + Now sometimes he would give a scope + To his propensity to joke. + For 'mid this pale-fac'd, grumbling mess + 'Twere well to stir some chearfulness: + For if a parson chose to squeeze + A lady on her crummy knees, + (For here a little play and prate + Might cheer a sickly _tête-à-tête_) + His whisper might perchance declare, + "Doctor, her pulses are not there." + --At all events, things went on well, + As the pleas'd verse may freely tell; + And the young Doctor ne'er complain'd + Of what he by his office gain'd. + + But here we now shall change our road + And slip into an _Episode_; + It is a common way we know, + In which much better poets go: + Though pride will not suggest that we + Can be accus'd of _poetry_; + Yet we must own that, in our time, + We have stirr'd up some reams of _Rhyme_. + Howe'er that be, we now must come + To steer our Hero's walks from home. + + Among the few who sought the aid + Of ANODYNE'S more secret trade, + Was one who sent a written case + Which did his various symptoms trace: + Thus, when the Quack prepar'd the dose, + QUÆ GENUS took it snug and close: + He only knew the cordial sent, + To whom address'd, and where it went: + Besides it was his daily task + Questions of import grave to ask. + How was his pulse? How had he slept? + If tremors o'er the system crept? + With such enquiries as our verse + Might feel it awkward to rehearse. + + Of that no more, the patient's name + Was _Woodlands_, known in rural fame: + Through early years, a sportsman he, + The flower of hunting chivalry; + Was rich, and as he well was able, + Saw jovial sportsmen round his table, + Drank hard and lov'd the evening glee, + With those who drank as hard as he. + But gout, with other ills came on, + And jovial life was pass'd and gone: + Health's active season now was o'er, + When he could hunt and feast no more. + He sold his hounds and took a wife, + To soothe the latter years of life; + But they were few, as we shall see, + In spite of care and Quackery. + She was a _Belle_ of rural fame, + Who gave her troth and bore his name: + Whate'er had been her hopes and views + When she did an old husband chuse, + The knowledge we do not profess, + But leave the gen'rous mind to guess. + At all events, her outward mien, + As it should be had always been, + Nor had a jealous eye suspected + Her duty had been e'er neglected. + But as infirm he now was grown, } + At her desire, he came to town } + To seek Physicians of renown. } + He first had one, he then had two, + But their prescriptions did not do; + When still her care prevail'd, and she + Another sought, so he had three; + And no more good seem'd to be done, + Than if he had been seen by none. + --Thus matters stood, nay he grew worse + When an old busy, chattering nurse, + Talk'd of the cures, almost divine, + Of our friend Doctor ANODYNE. + The drowning catch at any reed, + And all is help in desp'rate need: + Thus the rich man propos'd to try + The boasted aid of Quackery, + And what he wish'd, Amelia said, + With anxious smile, must be obey'd. + --Thus then it is, as we have seen, + QUÆ GENUS has the attendant been; + But now we are about to see + What a snug _Proteus_ he can be. + + The Lady, to his great surprise, + Oft view'd him with enquiring eyes, + And did a kind attention show + Which he thought queer she should bestow, + But he soon found the matter out; + Madam herself clear'd up the doubt, + As, in her _Boudoir's_ still recess, + She did her quiet thoughts express. + In a soft, pleasant tone she spoke, + As half in earnest half in joke; + But as she thus her mind unveil'd, + It might be seen what thought prevail'd. + "There's something in your air and face } + That tells me you will not disgrace } + The trust which I now wish to place } + In your obedience to my will; + And if you do that trust fulfil, + If you act up to my intent, + QUÆ GENUS never shall repent." + --His fingers on his lips he press'd, + He clos'd his hands upon his breast; + With most submissive air he bow'd, + And secresy he swore and vow'd; + When Madam _Woodlands_ thus proceeded: + (I scarce need add that she succeeded.) + "You do a Doctor's business ply; + Now do not stare,--for so do I: + There is a pale-fac'd patient too + Whose certain cure I have in view, + And I've a med'cine that will prove + Specific,--as he's sick of love; + It will, in time, set all at ease, + And cure the pangs of his disease; + For no prescription can be better + Than that contain'd within this letter, + Which you, my friend, must understand + To give into the patient's hand. + Believe me too, when you are told, + You'll find it worth its weight in gold. + --There is," she said, "a smile I see + Now stealing on your gravity; + But know, QUÆ GENUS I do nought + That is with base dishonour fraught; + My whims, though secret, common-sense + Will clothe in garb of innocence."-- + In short, but not without a fee, + He took the balmy recipe, + And ev'ry time he bore a letter + The patient's case was growing better. + + Thus fortune kindly did bestow + Two strings to our keen Hero's bow; + And to his wishes, in good troth, + He reap'd no common gains from both. + --But here, another lucky hour + Did on his hopes new promise pour: + For Madam _Woodlands_ more than hinted, + If, in his present projects stinted, + He should no longer wish to shine + With Quackery and ANODYNE, + He might, by her all-fav'ring grace, + Attain her household's highest place. + He saw, and not by way of whim, + This was the very place for him; + But still he felt he could not quit, + As in a momentary fit, + That state he to the Doctor ow'd, + And which such benefit bestow'd; + Then, without proper warning, leave him, + Or with some scurvy tale deceive him, + He saw in any point of view + That honour prompts, it would not do. + Thus, in a state of constant doubt, + He scarce knew what he was about, + And to the daily patients gave + Their med'cines just as chance would have. + To all diseases waiting there } + He did not e'en appear to care } + What was the complaint or where, } + If it was fever or the gout; + But left each dose to find it out. + --Thus strange indeed, but it appear'd + The healing shop would soon be clear'd, + The patients calmly pass'd away; } + Nay, some of them were rather gay, } + And fees forsook th' impoverish'd day. } + When this change our QUÆ GENUS saw, + He thought awhile and felt an awe, + When it struck sudden on his sense, + That his so wicked negligence, + Had caus'd, perhaps, the final doom + Of many an inmate of the room; + But, on a fearful search, he found, + Not one of them was under ground, + Nay, that by giving med'cines wrong, + He did their precious lives prolong; + At least no harm they had endur'd, + For by his blund'ring they were cur'd. + Shrewd ANODYNE, of course, suspected + That his prime bus'ness was neglected; + Indeed he clearly understood + QUÆ GENUS did more harm than good, + And therefore, without much delay, + Hinted in a good-humour'd way, + "You're tir'd, my friend, as it appears, + (Of which I've sometime had my fears) + You're tir'd of the _Galenic Art_; + 'Twere better, therefore, that we part." + QUÆ GENUS made a calm reply, + With acquiescing modesty: + Nor was a harsh, unpleasant word + From these dissolving Doctors, heard. + In truth, each party was good-hearted; + So they shook hands and thus they parted. + + Our _Proteus_ now is seen to grace + Another and a favour'd place; + The confidential servant he + In 'Squire _Woodlands'_ family: + But the poor 'Squire was hast'ning fast + To that sad hour which prov'd his last; + For soon, alas, the fatal gout + Got in his head, and let life out; + When Madam made a quick retreat + From town to the fine country seat + Which now was her's, with all the rest + Of the great wealth which he possess'd. + + What tears the widow'd Lady shed + In sorrow o'er her husband dead, + Whether as they her cheeks bedew'd, + They flow'd from grief or gratitude; + How calm or poignant was her woe, + We tell not, for we do not know. + Yet this we can with safety tell, + Because we surely know it well, + That through her husband's sickly life + She was a tender nurse and wife. + --But now another scene appears, + Dispers'd her grief, dried up her tears; + Rich as she was and still a beauty, + She look'd to change her line of duty; + 'Twas Nature's act, as all will see + Who read her little history. + + In earlier years, ere she was led + By Hymen to the marriage bed, + VALCOUR and she each other lov'd, + But their fond passion hopeless prov'd. + --She was high-bred with fortune small, + And his Commission was his all: + For though he was of ancient line } + And did with noble virtues shine, } + He was the youngest child of nine; } + And ere her marriage rites were o'er + He sought renown on India's shore. + What he thus bravely sought he found, + And once more trod on British ground, + With that, but little else beside, + A month before Old Woodlands died. + He let her hear that still he lov'd, + She wrote, nor said she disapprov'd; + That was the recipe to cure + The doubts his bosom might endure; + In which QUÆ GENUS was employ'd, + And caus'd the good he now enjoy'd. + --But then she acted with discretion; + As her fond husband's sole possession + She would not, at his last, allow + The promise of a future vow: + She felt her tender inclination, + As a reversionary passion + She must not own for him she lov'd, + Till Death each hindrance had remov'd. + For due decorum she obey'd, + And the sage widow's period stay'd; + Nor till Time pull'd the Hatchment down, + Did she her _Valcour's_ wishes crown: + But crown'd they were; a splendid show + Did Fortune on the rites bestow, + When Hymen call'd on Love to shower + Its roses o'er the nuptial bower. + QUÆ GENUS did the sports contrive + Which kept the country-folk alive, + And all the scatter'd bounties flow'd + As his disposing hand bestow'd, + Nor did one over-curious mind + Suspect that any lurk'd behind. + Nay, it was order'd to his care } + The gen'ral figure to prepare } + That was to blaze in Portman-Square. } + + He, who had sometime form'd the plan + To set up for a _Gentleman_, + Well knew the purse alone could aid + The progress of that pretty trade, + And now had learn'd, quite at his ease, + To take the upper servant's fees, + Which to fulfil his growing aim, + In a resistless plenty came. + --VALCOUR was grand, his _Eastern Taste_ + Was not dispos'd to run to waste; + Madam had never yet made known + Her beauty to th' admiring town, + And ready wealth was now at hand + Their mutual wishes to command: + Plutus with Fashion standing by } + Impatient languish'd to supply } + Each wish of glowing luxury. } + The tonish trade display'd its store + Where our QUÆ GENUS kept the door; + In various forms, a numerous host + All strove who should affect him most, + And by what tempting means engage, + His trusty, promis'd patronage. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS WITH A SPENDTHRIFT.] + + Whene'er enquiry makes a stir + To trace the human character, + The strict and scrutinising eye + Must look for human frailty, + And will perceive as on we range, + Our dispositions prone to change, + Nor like the features of the face, + Fix'd on their first-born, native place. + So many tempting Sirens play + Their games to lead the heart astray, + So many gay temptations smile + The wav'ring prudence to beguile; + So many worldly interests wake + The pliant feelings to forsake + And wander from the beaten road + In which they hitherto have trod; + That reason from her judgement-seat + Must, with a tender rigour, treat + The venial errors of the mind, + And in severity be kind. + --Our Hero an example shews + To ask the candour we propose, + For he, we are compell'd to own, + Had given his thoughts a different tone. + As we have said, it was his plan + To be a _future Gentleman_, + And that he only could attain + By seizing all the means to gain + An added heap to that same store + Which luck'ly he possess'd before. + He, therefore, now had laid aside + Those scruples which his boasted pride + Maintain'd against the retail sense + Of the shrewd _Grocer's_ eloquence, + While, with Sir _Jeffery Gourmand_, he + Preserv'd such pure fidelity. + --And here it should not be forgot + That it was _Molly's_ happy lot, + By some keen plan which he had laid, + To be the Lady's fav'rite maid: + For _Molly_ he sincerely lov'd, + And was with gen'rous passion mov'd; + Nay, when his project he should carry, + He had engag'd the maid to marry: + Thus she was well prepar'd to join + In forwarding the main design; + Which as it may, perhaps, appear + From the surmises hinted here, + Was never, never to refuse + What custom offer'd as their dues, + And all the op'ning hand of chance + Might gather from extravagance. + How far this system may succeed + Will soon be seen by those who read. + + This VALCOUR was a noble creature, + Splendid and gen'rous in his nature; + Nor had these feelings been decreas'd + By the profusion of the East, + Which he from well-earn'd station shar'd; + But honour was his chief reward. + He no amass'd Pagodas brought + Whence treasures are so often sought: + Yet he, the favour'd lot of few, + As they bright fortune's track pursue, + Though India gave him mod'rate store, + Found plenteous wealth on Britain's shore. + --Full many a well fought field he try'd, + And MARS beheld his course with pride, + Nay bade the wreath of triumph glow + The Hero's pride, upon his brow, + While Knighthood's pointed star express'd + The tinsel glitter on his breast. + But VENUS, who such things disposes + Chang'd all the laurel into roses; + And HYMEN did his state enfold + In saffron mantle, rich with gold. + + As Nature in its fancies varies, + Sir CHARLES indulg'd in his vagaries, + With a wild love of shew and figure; + Yet still he was resolv'd with rigour, + A line of prudence to pursue + And keep discretion in his view. + Full droll indeed it may appear + But thus he chose to persevere: + Not to run out was all that he + Consider'd as oeconomy; + If his rents answer'd what he spent + He'd bless his stars and be content; + But never did his views appear + To look upon the coming year. + Nor e'er did he his mind distress + To know if he could live on less: + Nay at the thought how he would laugh, + When told that he could live on half, + And felt affront, if 'twere repeated + That by his servants he was cheated. + --Such a receipt to pamper ruin + Nay to hurry an undoing, + Has seldom given so queer a chance + To gratify extravagance. + --But so it was--QUÆ GENUS thought + Just as the rising fancy taught: + While, in mock fashion's borrow'd pride, + MOLLY was seated by his side. + Now as her needle made its way + Some 'broider'd figure to display, + Thinking, perhaps, how well her art + Gave semblance to a two-fold heart; + He fondly call'd her willing ear + With all attention due to hear. + + +QUÆ GENUS. + + "Plac'd as we are, it seems to be + The height of that prosperity + Which such as we can e'er enjoy; + And it becomes us to employ + The means it offers to possess + Our views of future happiness. + I doubt not, MOLLY, but you feel, + For your sweet lady, all the zeal, + Which flows alike from due regard + As the just hope of due reward: + But still, I think, it must appear + That we've a doubtful course to steer; + How we may keep within the line, } + Our great folks' interest to combine } + With what we know is yours and mine. } + They are with generous grace endued, + To us how kind they are and good. + But life with them is nought but pleasure; + Luxurious show fills up the measure + Of all their hours, as they run on + Through each meander of the Ton. + They sometimes talk of prudent schemes, + And reason's language veils the dreams; + But the incessant love of change + Invites the unreflecting range + 'Neath ev'ry dome where pride resorts + And fashion holds her motley courts; + Though while they for their pleasures roam + We too well know their cost at home. + This proud parade can never last, + Their ready wealth will soon be past. + --Nay, when I bring the month's account, + And silent point to the amount; + He tells my Lady what I've done, + And she exclaims, ''tis precious fun!-- + We need not for our ruin fear + With such a careful guardian near!' + When I point out the triple charge + In many a bill display'd at large, + She says, 'QUÆ GENUS, do not grieve, + Tradesmen, my honest friend, must live! + Nay, when from service you retire, + And sit all plodding by your fire + In thought what profits should repay + The labours of the closing day;-- + When o'er some door we see your name, } + A dealer of great retail fame, } + You have our leave to do the same.' } + + "I made my bow and answer'd nought, + But then I paid it off in thought; + And, as their gen'rous leave they give, + Like others to play tricks and live, + I may begin, perhaps, before + My name is painted on the door; + And, in good time, my fortune try + With that same prosp'ring honesty. + --I tell you, MOLLY, 'tis as clear + As we, dear girl, are sitting here, + That our great folks were both created + So rich, please fortune, to be cheated. + And we must aid them, as you see, + Thus to fulfil their destiny. + For trifles we'll not make a fuss, + They will not be the worse for us: + If we do not our pockets fill, + Others there are who quickly will, + But not by any paltry gains, + As pilfering of _Sovereigns_. + You must not crib a handsome shawl + And say 'twas lost at such a ball; + Nor will you in some corner place + A card or roll of costly lace, + That when you think she has forgot it, + You to your own use may allot it:-- + Nor, when she gives a thrice-worn dress + Your vanity and wish to bless, + Do not within its wide folds smother, + As if by chance, just such another, + As she'd not miss it 'mid such plenty + A wardrobe of full five-and-twenty, + While others, 'mid the toilet's din + Are almost daily pouring in. + Can we such means as these pursue?-- + Would it be just in me and you: + Though I guess by your waggish smile, + What you are thinking of the while. + But still I feel it is not right + That you should lose your perquisite; + Nor do I, my dear girl, incline + E'er to forego the claim to mine, + And tempting opportunity + May tell us what those claims should be, + As 'tis our right to seize the chance + That's furnish'd by extravagance, + When call'd upon to prove our taste + In saving what would run to waste; + For rumpled fin'ry, all thrown by, + Is safer in our custody. + --When t'other day the Knight bespoke + A new great-coat and Hussar cloak; + 'Sure, Sir,' I said, 'you have forgot + Of these same coverings what a lot, + Neither be-spotted, scratch'd or torn + And some of them have scarce been worn, + Which are all hanging in the hall:'-- + 'They're old,' he said, 'so take them all.' + --I bow'd and took them to my keeping; + Snug in my wardrobe they are sleeping. + It is the same, I know it well, + You of your Lady have to tell: + I doubt not but your hoard encreases + Of Spencers, mantles and pelisses: + But let it be our mutual boast + That sage precaution rules the roast; + And take care that we never deal in + Any thing that looks like stealing. + My books are fair, accounts are right, + In them my honour's sound and tight: + Valet I am and Butler both, + A rare advantage to our cloth, + And there's no day, nay scarce an hour + But tempting profits court my power, + Yet may dread _Heaven_ above forsake me, + And _Old Nick_ in his fury take me, + If I the pilf'ring track pursue + Which hireling knaves so often do. + When from the shopmen we receive + The somethings they are us'd to give + As their long, bouncing bills are paid, + 'Tis not our Knight is tax'd, but trade, + Though should we not our poundage claim + _Sum Totals_ would be just the same. + --E'en when, as if a boon, I crave + Some superfluity to save, + Perhaps he'll tell me I'm a fool, + Or threat to floor me with a stool. + --Last week, he said, 'at our next fête, + (Mind what I say and hold your prate) + Let the desert in splendour shine + With gay plateaus and many a pine.' + When as, to check the cost's encrease, + I hinted what they were a piece, + He ranted, 'if there are not _five_, + Thou slave, I'll cut you up alive. + Dare you look piteous? for then + You scurvy clown, I'll order _ten_.' + + "These gay delusions cannot last, + The spendthrift scene will soon be past; + And, in another year or two + You'll see that what I say is true. + When Banker's checks, that easy pay + Like fancy's ghosts have pass'd away, + When the whole funded wealth is sold + Another story will be told; + When all the ready cash is flown, + The country-rents will change their tone, + Nor will the half-grown oaks supply + The means for one year's luxury. + Crabbed Entail will rise beside } + And dare the acres to provide } + The power to feed their needy pride, } + And Mortgage-deeds in vain will strive + To keep the piteous show alive. + While thus the vain folk whom we serve, + Do from each point of prudence swerve, + While thus they waste in such a way, + To Luxury the willing prey, + I know, my girl, what I've to do, + And faith, shall leave the rest to you!" + + +MOLLY. + + "My dearest friend, you are so clever, + That I could hear you talk for ever. + Let not QUÆ GENUS be afraid, + He ne'er shall want my ready aid; + For surely to his heart 'tis known, } + His ev'ry interest is my own, } + At least I feel that we are one. } + O yes, I comprehend him well!" + But now she heard her Lady's bell, + A summons that must be attended,-- + So here the conversation ended. + + Thus VALCOUR and his brilliant dame + Attain'd their folly's highest aim, + To scale the ladder of the Ton + As many wealthy fools have done, + And laugh, if they should hear the call, + "Your foot may slip and you may fall." + They did in every thing agree, + With the same eye each object see. + "Whate'er you fancy must appear + So very right my dearest dear!-- + And whatsoe'er you do approve, + Cannot be wrong, my sweetest love!" + --Such was their billing and their cooing, + As they were hast'ning on to ruin; + Nor did they see that _Fashion_ laugh'd, + While she their costly nectar quaff'd; + Or 'mid the crowds that might attend + Their banquets, they had not a friend. + But such too often is the case + Where Folly takes the highest place; + And upstart fortune fain would be + The ape of rank and family. + There vulgar wealth pays dear for places + With Lordships, Ladyships and Graces, + Who at its table may appear } + Or once or twice or thrice a year, } + When luxury does the feast prepare; } + And yet their host but coldly greet, + If they should meet him in the street. + --But true or not, howe'er that be, + In this career of vanity, + Winter's fine pleasures pass'd away + And Summer made the country gay, + While fashion now set out to grace + The Country seat and Wat'ring place, + VALCOUR and MADAME now were seen + Parading on the Brighton Stein, + But where, though envied and admir'd, + With the same scenes they soon were tir'd: + Besides 'twas decent to retreat + And give life to their ancient seat. + Thus while th' astonish'd Natives stare + _Woodlands_ receiv'd the tonish pair; + While they the rural 'Squires surprise } + With splendid hospitalities; } + And even here the money flies. } + + The Knight when sporting in the East, + Was wont to hunt the brindled beast, + Or the long, pointed jav'lin plant + From castled back of elephant, + In the fierce tiger's spotted side, + And gloried when the savage died: + He therefore would not deign to share + The conquest o'er a tim'rous hare; + Nor push on in a break-neck pace + Through all his wiles the fox to chace. + But when the sportsmen left their game, + And weary to his mansion came, + Which they were always glad to do, + Whene'er that mansion was in view, + QUÆ GENUS heard the orders gay + To be fulfill'd without delay, + As the loud and welcome brawl + Re-echoed through the lofty hall,-- + "Prepare, that my good friends may dine, + The turkey and the smoking chine, + The pasty and whate'er is best + To furnish out an instant feast! + Be sure 'tis your attentive task, } + To give them all that they may ask, } + The bowl, the tankard and the flask;" } + But then the Knight in whispers hinted, + "When you perceive my time is stinted, + And both my deafen'd ears no more + Can bear the Bacchanalian roar; + When it appears the stupid asses + Scarce know the bottles from the glasses, + Nor can perceive, 'mid boosing laughter, + That I am only sipping water; + When I shall unperceiv'd retire, } + Remember it is my desire, } + _They do not set the house on fire_." } + --Thus, when o'erwhelm'd with sporting guest, + Sir CHARLES his constant wish express'd, + And, after many a vain essay, + Contriv'd at last to steal away, + With something like an aching head, + To seek the refuge of his bed. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS ATTENDS ON A SPORTING FINALE.] + + In drunken freaks QUÆ GENUS knew + Sense was oft gone and feeling too; + That legs might tables overturn, + And fallen lights would flare and burn; + Nay, flaming mischief might attend + On lighted snuff and candle's end. + Thus to be safe, without delay + The threat'ning lights he bore away, + And, to avoid a falling spark, + Left parties snoring in the dark. + Thus stretching as their limbs were able, + On chair, on floor or on table, + QUÆ GENUS did not own a fear + That there was any danger near, + So left them till the day should break + And fev'rish nature bid them wake; + When, yawning round the sporting closet, + Some groom brought in their morning posset; + And, hobbling off as they were able + To mount their horses at the stable, + They left the Knight their humble thanks, + Hop'd Madam would excuse their pranks, + And sought their homes, perhaps, to hear + A wife talk loud in either ear. + + Such were the jovial sportsmen's meetings + And these their hospitable greetings; + But rural dames who were received + With kindness while old _Woodlands_ liv'd, + As they found such an alter'd state + Ne'er enter'd twice the mansion gate: + The 'Squires' wives would ne'er resort + To one so chang'd to pay their court; + And, though she was with title crown'd, + The proud acquaintance they disown'd. + + Brimful of town conceits and folly, + My Lady now grew melancholy; + And when the sporting season came + Her daily looks were not the same: + That time of noisy, jovial joy, + Did ev'ry lively sense annoy, + Nor would she any reas'ning hear.-- + "To Town we'll haste away, My Dear! + Let us be gone without delay: + To London let us haste away! + These rooms where staring figures sprawl + In ancient hangings on the wall, + Nay, where at noon, the shaded light + Gives dimness of approaching night, + Which nought can chearful make and gay, + Or give the semblance bright of day, + But that well-dress'd, high-minded glee + That here, alas, we never see, + Which could alone from this dull room, + Snatch the grim likeness of a tomb! + Let us be gone without delay, + To London let us haste away!" + --She gave a piteous look and sigh'd, + When, with soft grace, Sir CHARLES replied. + "As such is your desire, My Love, + To Town we quickly will remove; + If it will soothe my charmer's sorrow, + We will set out for Town to-morrow. + But have you thought, my dearest Dear, + That not a creature will be there? + Will you not find we shall be hurl'd + Into a lifeless, empty world; + Where, till the winter near approaches + You will see nought but Hackney coaches? + I'm sure you'll think yourself quite undone, + If you're a month alone in London. + To your gay spirit Oh how dull + On a soft window-seat to loll, + And count with your half-sleeping eye + How many _Nobodies_ go by! + While mothers with their babies tell, + What sick'ning stuff they have to sell, + When from their ceaseless screaming noises, + You ask for what Heaven gave them voices: + Till like the fiddler in a rage, + Which you have seen in Hogarth's page, + You stop your ears, with anger burn, + And cry 'to _Woodlands_, let's return.' + I'd rather sit and yawn, I own, + Here in the country than in town, + Where to dull club-rooms I must go, } + E'en in the streets no creature know, } + And ride alone in Rotten-Row. } + But be it as you wish."--"Then I," + The Dame delay'd not to reply, + "Desire such orders you will give + That we, with prompt dispatch, may leave + This stupid spot and hurry strait + With post horse gallop through the gate, + And when we've got a dozen mile, + I then will thank you, Love, and smile. + Yes, I will bid adieu to care, } + Though not a soul in Portman-Square, } + When once I see that I am there. } + Believe me I would rather hear + As sounds more pleasing to my ear, + Fishwomen's cries along the street, + Than noisy sportsmen when they meet, + Whose noisy, vulgar, drunken brawl + So often echoed in our Hall. + The Town, perhaps, is not so full, + But London never can be dull: + Thin as it may be, or e'en thinner, + We shall find folk to eat our dinner, + And though no crowd will throng at present, + Our little parties will be pleasant. + The Drama too presents its play + To make the evening pass away; + Blue hills delight and lawns so green + When they are painted on the scene; + O how I like the woods and rocks + When I can view them from a box!-- + I'm charm'd with such a rural sight + When it is seen by candle-light. + We shall to pass our time contrive, + And keep our pretty selves alive, + Till the world rolls to Town amain:-- + Then we shall be ourselves again." + --They were themselves, and suffer'd pride + Still to remain their fatal guide, + And to bring on that period near, + When Folly claim'd its full arrear. + + It is not needful for our rhyme + To tell how long or short the time + Which the vain Spendthrift Genius thought + Was fit to bring their schemes to nought. + All we shall say is, with the song, + "The days of pleasure ne'er are long." + And, if to proverbs we resort, + "The days of sorrow ne'er are short." + + And here it is but truth to tell, + That our QUÆ GENUS acted well. + For never, as his duty call'd, + When home affairs were so enthrall'd, + That ere the Winter months would end + There would be no more coin to spend, + Nor credit found to give the swing + To gay manoeuvres through the Spring, + He did not from his master's ears + Conceal the state of his affairs; + And though, too oft receiv'd with scorn, + Gave hints, but still they fail'd to warn. + --At length, howe'er, the period came + From fashion's list to blot their name; + When it was vain for pride to look + In the card-rack or porter's book, + While the old guard might sit and snore, + But rarely summon'd to the door; + That door, of late, so seldom quiet + From lounging call or pleasure's riot, + Unless it, with less noisy stir, + Announc'd some threat'ning visiter. + --Encreasing wants began to press, + And all things threaten'd that distress + Which vanity knows not to bear, } + That pride contemplates with despair, } + Yet spurns regenerating care; } + And a pale demon seems to see + In form of sage oeconomy. + + The scene thus drawing to a close, } + Friends, aye, and faithful ones arose, } + With their best aid to interpose, } + And VALCOUR found, when least expected, + That falling he was not neglected. + For he was lov'd by all who knew + The virtues whence his follies grew; + And some of these so active were + As to preserve him from the snare + Of Us'rer's gripe and Lawyer's strife, + That seem'd to threat his future life. + They did with counsel sage persuade + And brought the ready, golden aid, + Which check'd the powers that did enslave him, + Before it was too late to save him. + + The well-weigh'd scheme which prudence chose + Was rather an unsav'ry dose: + Madam, at first, declar'd it treason; + But humbled pride was taught to reason. + Enough was spar'd to share the dance + And gay festivities of France; + With promise, when five years were o'er, + They should regain the British shore; + And, on repassing _Woodlands_ gate, + Would find a noble, freed estate; + And, from their follies past remov'd, + Reside respected and belov'd. + + Now, all this serious bustle over, + They sought, and soon set sail from, Dover, + And, in the common period, found + Their footsteps meas'ring Gallic ground. + QUÆ GENUS saw them to the sea, + Then gave a look of sympathy, + And, with respectful rev'rence said, + "When you again Old England tread, + To re-enjoy my happy station + I will quit any situation, + And I dare boast you will receive me, + As true and faithful as you leave me!" + --To France he was not quite inclin'd, + And MOLLY chose to stay behind; + So both brush'd up their sep'rate graces, + To go in search of _other places_.-- + For, 'twas not yet our Hero's plan + To set up for a GENTLEMAN. + + + + +CANTO VII + + + In the world's ever varying range + There scarce can be a greater change + Than from the hourly means of carving + Without reserve, to hints of starving; + From the men-cooks' superior waste + To fireless kitchen's cold repast; + From ham and fowl and beef and veal, + To a lean shoulder's third day meal, + From well-skimm'd broths, to greasy pot,-- + But this was now our Hero's lot: + And here, perhaps, it may be fair + To ask what chance could bring him there; + For expectation sure might think + That he would rather soar than sink, + At least, he would his rank maintain + Among High-Life's domestic train, + And still display the priggish air, + In some fine street or splendid square, + Instead of opening the door + In _Humbug-Buildings_, Number FOUR; + Well known, as we shall shortly see, + For weighty scenes of Usury. + --How he this curious post obtain'd, + Without reserve will be explain'd. + + My Lady VALCOUR, as 'tis known + To hap sometimes to Dames of Ton, + When sudden wants were set on edge + Might look a precious stone to pledge, + To raise a hasty sum or so + She did not wish Sir CHARLES to know; + For little systems of disguise } + Are seldom seen to cause surprise } + In the best order'd families. } + MOLLY she fail'd not to employ + In care of any glittering toy, + Which might so very useful be + In moments of necessity: + But this strange, awkward kind of trade + Was far from pleasant to the maid, + As she, to 'scape from prying eyes + Was told to change her air and size, + And, to perform her work complete, + To be a perfect counterfeit: + In short, as was not uncommon, + To make herself another woman. + She therefore, thought it best to ask + QUÆ GENUS to perform the task; + And old John SQUEEZE was recommended, + Who kindly to such wants attended: + Though some who lov'd a joke to crack, + Would laugh, and call him _Squeezing JACK_. + + In a snug corner of the town, + To nameless spendthrifts too well known, + The miser liv'd, if life it be + Whose meat and drink was usury; + For the old Hunx was ne'er content, + Unless he gain'd his _Cent. per Cent._; + And as all traffic with this Elf + Was secret interchange of pelf, + He fear'd not the rapacious paw + Of daily violated law.-- + Diamonds that did 'mong ringlets blaze, + And caught the night's admiring gaze; + The necklace that from snowy neck + Did in its cluster'd fashions break + On swelling bosom, plac'd to share + The beauty nature planted there; + The rows of pearl that gave a charm + To the round grace of taper arm: + The bright drops which each sister ear + Does with an equal splendour bear; + And dazzling circles that are seen + Of rubies red, of em'ralds green, + And sapphires blue, whose blended rays + The rainbow to the hand conveys, + All these, at times, are forc'd to rest + Within the miser's gloomy chest: + In iron darkness there to wait + A longer or a shorter date, + Till gold's redeeming power shall say, + Come and re-brighten on the day. + + On errands of this grave intent, + QUÆ GENUS now and then was sent, + And how he did his plans arrange, + Or in what shape place the exchange; + How he contriv'd these sly affairs, + Paid soon, or lengthen'd the arrears, + Of this we know not more nor less, } + For we ne'er heard his tongue confess, } + And 'twould be wasting time to guess. } + But, somehow, he contriv'd to please, + By grace or guile, old Master SQUEEZE, + And by some strange, peculiar art, + He gain'd upon the Us'rer's heart, + If an heart such a being owns, + Who chuckles when misfortune moans, + At least, when that is understood + To be a vessel fraught with good. + But to proceed, the mind's keen eye + Of _Squeezing Jack_, thought he could spy + In our QUÆ GENUS that quick sense, + Which might reward his confidence; + That wary, penetrating thought, + Which could not be too dearly bought, + And in his present, sickly trim, + Would be of golden use to him: + For he grew old and wanted aid, + In his nice calculating trade. + In short, in every point of view, } + As one who certain fancies knew, } + The old man felt that he would do, } + And that he could his interest make + A station at the desk to take. + + Not the first time on business bent, } + Though 'twas the last by MOLLY sent, } + Our Hero to the office went, } + With his redeeming coin to pay + And fav'rite gems to bear away, + He was desir'd to give an ear + To the proposal he should hear, + When _Squeezing John_ in cautious strain + Did thus his secret wish explain. + "--From what I know and all I see, + You soon will be at liberty, + The gentry to whom you belong + Will not require your service long; + And 'twould be well were you to take + The offer which I now shall make: + That is, as you already see, + To come, my friend, and live with me. + I hope no thought your mind engages, + About such petty things as wages, + I would not wish you to receive + What common spendthrift masters give; + I exercise a better way + All such as serve me well to pay: + Your bed and board will lib'ral be, } + For you will live as well as me, } + Such is my home oeconomy. } + As for the service you will find + Its profits fully to your mind; + If you my interests understand, + Your own will follow hand in hand; + Nay, I my promise shall maintain, + That you a pretty fortune gain. + All I ask is, that you will be + The pattern of fidelity, + Which my observing eye has seen + To others you have lately been; + I have, my friend, but one word more, + And then my speechifying's o'er: + 'Twill answer ev'ry purpose better + And I shall hold myself your debtor, + For reasons you shall plainly see, + If you will wear your livery, + For that can never be disgrace + Which soon will gain superior place." + + QUÆ GENUS thought he could but try, + If but from curiosity, + Though some have said that then he view'd + The future freaks that he pursued. + Thus at the desk he soon was seated + To learn how folly could be cheated, + And to consent to play the rogue + With any spendthrift vice in vogue, + That did in pleasure's round perplex + In any form, in either sex. + The gains were great, nay almost certain, + While pride so slyly drew the curtain, + Indeed, it was so nicely clos'd, + That the rich schemes were ne'er expos'd. + --At first, a kind of gen'rous feeling, + A sense of honourable dealing, + Dispos'd him, with some doubts, to look + Into the Broker's daily book, + While he oft dipp'd his pen and thought, + Ere he the huge per-centage wrote: + Nay, he could pity the distress + Which did upon their bosoms press, + When, thus to pay for ill-bought pleasure, + They yielded up their gayest treasure. + --But then he mutter'd, "Where's the shame? + Others, like us, would do the same: + If we were now to shut up shop, + Others into the place would pop; + Extravagance would have its run + And fools speed on to be undone. + And their sad wants would be supplied, } + If _John_ had laid his schemes aside, } + Or had turn'd Methodist and died." } + + Thus interest to our Hero clung + To stifle sense of right and wrong; + And so at once he bade adieu + To Conscience for a year or two: + But, when attain'd the wish'd for store, + It should resume its former power. + Thus, at the opening of his trade, + He a most curious bargain made + With the Divinity within, + To help him on through thick and thin. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS IN THE SERVICE OF A MISER + + But now, a Fair One will appear, + About her four-and-twentieth year; + Though, whatsoe'er may be her age, + She must be brought upon the stage, + Blooming and gay and form'd to please, + By the old man was call'd his niece, + And, though there were some doubts we know, + It turn'd out she was truly so. + All saw that he was fond of Miss, + Would often give and take a kiss, + And even with his money part, + To purchase smiles and make her smart. + Abroad she was not us'd to roam + But Novels read and stay'd at home. + The pantry's boon, so lean and spare, + Was forc'd on her unwilling care; + For when Old Avarice complain'd + Of the great cost his life sustain'd, + He ne'er forgot, 'mong human ills, + The baker's and the butcher's bills: + But 'twas her interest to be + The slave of his oeconomy. + --An errand-man and one poor maid, + Were all who gave the household aid: + They were to am'rous purpose bent + So fed on love and were content; + And as QUÆ GENUS touch'd the _Money_, + Which was his fount of _Milk_ and _Honey_; + His easy stomach never car'd + How lean the joint on which he far'd. + --It was his interest to agree, + In all things with Miss EMILY, + As she could humour Uncle SQUEEZE, + And now and then possess the keys: + Nor could she shape her main design + Unless QUÆ GENUS would combine + The hobbling _Old One_ to deceive, + And let in _Friends_ without his leave. + She gave him physic, tuck'd his bed, + The pillow smooth'd to rest his head; + Then all around the curtains drew, + And having spoke the night's adieu, + Would gaily hasten down below + To smile upon the favour'd beau + Whom her commanding Billet-doux + Had summon'd to an interview. + From Uncle JOHN's great hoard of wealth, + And the old man's declining health, + 'Twas thought she soon would be a prize + Which smart young men might idolize; + That a great fortune Miss would be + From heirdom or by legacy: + While lovers, therefore, not a few, + Had pass'd before her in review, + Her kind warm heart might not disown + That she had fix'd her thoughts on one; + And he it was who had the power + To share with her an evening hour. + But to the point, which even love + Could not from her keen thoughts remove: + The Lady did not long delay + Thus the prime secret to convey, + "I have a precious plan, QUÆ GENUS, + And if 'tis manag'd well between us, + We may, as I know how, contrive, + To make our mutual int'rests thrive. + I have already something done, + As you will hear, for _Number ONE_, + And there's another scheme will do, + As you will know, for _Number TWO_. + My uncle's wealth is that of _Croesus_, + But how he'll leave it, Heaven bless us, + I know not, nay, the trembling elf, + May not as yet be sure himself; + Though he, perhaps, may leave the whole + To Charity, to save his soul.-- + Some folk have thought to make a will, + Is signal given for Death to kill, + But should he an intestate, die, + The long expecting family, + Will feed the greedy, gaping maw, + Of griping, grinding, hungry Law. + For though I am the next of kin, + Such various claimants will rush in, + Such troops of distant, country cousins, + Will haste by scores, at least by dozens; + So many Lawyers may appear, + To promise each an ample share, + That in what way these things may end, + If fortune be my foe or friend, + I wish, by all means, to ensure + Some independent sinecure, + And as you must the labour bear, + You will a just advantage share. + But not an atom of his wealth + Must we attempt to take by stealth, + No, though we could this night convey, + As a sure, undiscover'd prey, + His iron chest with all the gold + And brilliant treasure it may hold. + I only ask my views to aid + But a small portion of his trade, + And while above his riches flow, + We may make mod'rate gains below, + And what of that by us is done, + Must be from funds which are our own." + --The parties were at once agreed, + And the scheme fail'd not to succeed: + Nay, had stern fate the stroke delay'd, + A decent fortune they had made; + But as it was, their transient gain + Gave them no reason to complain. + --Now, ere twelve months or more were past, + JOHN SQUEEZE, alas! had breath'd his last; + And though they search'd the mansion round, + A Will was no where to be found; + And relatives in numbers came, + Their rights to prove, their shares to claim; + While the shrewd Miss AMELIA SQUEEZE + Lock'd ev'ry box and kept the keys. + --With angry threats the house resounded, + It was confusion worse confounded; + While she secure in prudent savings, + Calmly beheld their idle ravings, + As different ways they did pursue, + Which diff'rent Lawyers bade them do. + --And here we cannot overlook + The wary way the lady took. + Her favourite swain, it must be known, + A Pleader was of some renown; + To whom this offer she propos'd, + With which the learned Lawyer clos'd. + "If of the wealth of Old JOHN SQUEEZE, + Of whom you know I am the Niece, + You prove me to be lawful Heir, + My charms and fortune you shall share." + --Thus she was left amid the paws + Of Lawyers and the tardy Laws, + With chance that when ten years were past, + A husband she might get at last. + --Not as such union often ends, + She and QUÆ GENUS parted friends: + But ere Old SQUEEZE'EM was dispos'd, + Ere the cold marble o'er him clos'd, + Our Hero had a gracious tender + From _JACOB LEVI, Money-Lender_. + He, having had some kind of feeling + With JOHN in his usurious dealing, + Observ'd QUÆ GENUS, who had been + Just such an useful go-between, + As would find favour in the sight + Of the keen, cautious Israelite, + Who, therefore, with inviting grace, + Offered him his vacant place. + The proverb says it is a curse + To go at once from bad to worse, + And though, at first, he did not feel it, + Time was determin'd to reveal it. + --Of late, or more or less, 'tis true, + Distress was in his frequent view, + But then in its prevailing feature, + It was but of a transient nature. + A proud man for a whole week's date + Might cease, perhaps, to eat off plate, + Still, Dresden service could supply + A varying scene of luxury: + Or vanity might not resort + To aid the splendour of a Court, + From absent state of decoration, + Required by certain rank and station: + But, for a time, well-fram'd excuses + Custom or fashion ne'er refuses; + When soon again the plate is seen, + The silver-smith has made it clean, + And in a week, or month, or so, + It will resume its usual show. + Again the glitt'ring gems display + At the gay Fête the dazzling ray, + On having done the appointed duty + To ease the wants of pride and beauty. + But now another scene succeeds, } + The pledge is turn'd from glitt'ring beads } + To mortgages and title-deeds; } + The short-liv'd search of ready-rhino + By imps of Loo or of Cassino; + Or to stop short a lawyer's threats, + And dunning for a tradesman's debts; + These yield to frightful views of ruin, + Which threaten absolute undoing; + That grasp at family estates + Of honour'd name and ancient dates, + And hasten on the heirs in fee + To gallop fast to beggary. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS & THE MONEY-LENDERS.] + + QUÆ GENUS, was brimful of zeal + To seize each turn of Fortune's wheel, + And eager to fulfil his plan + Of rising to a gentleman: + But though gold roll'd beneath his eye, + Though fees were paid and bribes were high, + His heart, which had not lost its feeling, + Shrunk from the base, remorseless dealing, + That gloating avarice employ'd + O'er the rich ruins it enjoy'd. + While, therefore, some kind, gen'rous sense + His heart felt of benevolence, + And ere of honour quite bereft, + He the rapacious LEVI left, + In hope he might obtain a place + He should not think as a disgrace; + Nor of success had he to fear + From VALCOUR'S written character; + Where all his virtues were pourtray'd, + In such a view that he was made + In every domestic sense + A paragon of excellence. + But sad to tell, it was not long + Before temptations, more than strong, + Were urg'd by a kind, zealous friend, + Who us'd on bus'ness to attend + Old LEVI'S Levees: He display'd + In artful whisper, the sure trade, + Which, manag'd as he could define, + Would shortly prove a golden mine. + "Think not," he said, "that I am canting; + Money, my friend, is all that's wanting. + A certain sum could I command, + I soon would purchase house and land. + Ere a short time had onward run, + I would strut forth a BUCK OF TON; + The world, with its dull pride, defy, + And jostle fools of quality." + + QUÆ GENUS felt his brooding plan + To be a finish'd GENTLEMAN, + At that same word his spirit started, + And instantly he grew great hearted. + "Your scheme," he said, "at once explain: + If gainful, you shall share the gain." + "But hear me out," it was replied, + "And then you will be satisfied. + Know, you must an assistant be + At a club's gaming revelry. + O check, I pray, your staring eyes, + From looking on me with surprise; + Let not the scheme I offer freeze you, + Hear, and then do as it may please you! + Think not I would your hand entice + To deal the card or shake the dice; + You must employ a knowing friend, + And such a one I can commend; + He's wary, and suspicion guards, + By shrewdly managing his cards; + Whate'er he does is done with ease, + And heaps his gains by slow degrees, + Till he has such a sum attain'd + By which his object may be gain'd, + Then one successful effort make, + And seize a fortune in the stake. + He watches those who love to drink, + And sticks to such as cannot think: + He turns his skilful inclination + To young men who are prone to passion; + He has cool words for those who're heated, + Whose pride will not believe they're cheated; + In short, he can a card entice, + And fix good-fortune on the dice. + With him you may your money trust; + He will be generous as he's just: + Proceed at once on manly ground + And trust him with five hundred pound; + With that, my friend, let him alone, + He'll use it as it were his own." + + QUÆ GENUS enter'd on his place + And acted with becoming grace; + But with his keen, suspicious eye + He saw what look'd like treachery, + Which wak'd the fancy to be thrifty, + So, of his pounds he gave but fifty. + --On his official duties bound, + He pac'd the hubbub-table round, + And with attentive leering kenn'd + His trusty, confidential friend, + Whose frequent nods and silent grinning + Full plainly told, he had been winning; + But, when QUÆ GENUS ask'd th' amount, + His friend thus settled the account. + "It does my very heart-strings grieve + That you have nothing to receive: + Two hours ago my luck was crost, + And then your fifty pounds were lost; + For when with your advance I play'd + Fortune became an arrant jade: + Though since 'tis true that I have won, + But then the risk was all my own; + And, if you had but ventur'd more, + Your purse might now be running o'er. + With a round sum to-morrow night, + Fortune may set all matters right: + As 'tis in war, so 'tis with gold, + She fails not to protect the bold." + + Our Hero was not such a _Flat_ + As to sit down content with that: + He first determin'd to resist + Or with a cudgel or a fist: + But on reflection, felt an awe + Of the grim, prosecuting law: + Besides, had he enrag'd the room, + It might have prov'd his final doom: + Still he for vengeance inly cried + And he was shortly satisfied. + --The _Bow-street_ folk he happ'd to know + Were walking that way to and fro, + And when more closely on the watch, + He mov'd the door's unwilling latch, + The myrmidons rush'd rudely in, + And all above was noise and din. + Candles and lamps were all put out, + When it became a mingled rout, + While for the money on the table + Each grasp'd as much as he was able; + And our QUÆ GENUS had engross'd + More than by _Humbug_ he had lost; + Then nimbly made a safe retreat + To lodgings in no distant street. + + Here, for some time he pac'd the room, + To dissipate th' oppressive gloom + That did upon his spirits light + From the proceedings of the night. + "Indeed," he said, "what then was done + I do not wish to look upon, + Nay I would from my mem'ry cast + My curious ways for some time past, + But certain, busy reasons tell + Such effort is impossible. + All therefore, that I now can do + Is the forthcoming time to woo + With those endearments which may prove + QUÆ GENUS worthy of its love: + With that just sense of what is right, + That makes the moral lamp burn bright." + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS OFFICIATING AT A GAMING HOUSE.] + + Such pensive musings on him wrought + Till he his welcome pillow sought, + When, as absorb'd in sleep he lay, + Fancy did on his spirits play, + And in a strange and fearful dream + A form did on his vision beam, + With ghastly look as it were come + From the pale confines of the tomb. + He seem'd with one uplifted hand + Instant attention to command, + The other, as he solemn stood, + Folded around the flowing shroud; + And thus QUÆ GENUS seem'd to hear + The hollow voice that pierc'd his ear. + "I am thy foster-parent's shade, } + Who, in the earth, has long been laid, } + And let his counsels be obey'd. } + 'Tis SYNTAX who before thee stands, + And wait with awe his grave commands. + Fool as thou art, in thy misdoing + Art thou not hast'ning to thy ruin? + Am I call'd hither to accuse + Thy erring ways, and idle views? + Do I the wretched agent see + Of gambling fraud and usury? + And is it thus you form the plan + To vault into a Gentleman? + SYNTAX thy memory must own + As the sole parent thou hast known, + Whose mercy did the Foundling save + From menace of an infant's grave. + Better, perhaps, his fond regard + Had not thy sad condition spar'd, + If what of future life may last, + Wakes no contrition for the past. + Hear me, and tremble as I speak, + Though you may human laws escape; + The life you lead is not forgiven + By the offended laws of Heaven. + If such your doings, I can ne'er + Petition for your pardon there. + The present means which you possess, + If rightly us'd, will give success; + Nay, if you cease to roam abroad, + And turn from folly's wand'ring road; + If you keep all things right at home, + Much unexpected good may come. + QUÆ GENUS, to my words attend, + The errors of your life amend; + Resist the world's seducing power, + Or fear me at the midnight hour." + --Thus as he thought the vision spake, + The curtains round him seem'd to shake; + And frowning, as in angry mood, + At the bed's foot the figure stood, + When, in a misty gleam of light, + It seem'd to vanish from his sight. + + He woke in such an agitation + His night-cap stream'd with perspiration; + He started with a fearful stare, + Not knowing if to pray or swear. + He did from further sleep refrain + As he perhaps should dream again, + And Sommerden's departed Rector + Might read another curtain-lecture. + But when as through the shutter's crack + He saw the beams of Phoebus break, + Up he arose, the bell he rung, + And, "Breakfast," issued from his tongue: + The loud command was soon obey'd, + And morning meal in order laid. + On sofa stretch'd, he munch'd the toast, + And sipp'd the Bohea, doubly dos'd + With cordial drops, we won't say gin, + Which he pour'd plentifully in, + And did his trem'rous nerves redeem } + By power of the reviving stream, } + From the dire horrors of the dream. } + --His spirits thus with strength recruited, + He turn'd his mind to what was suited + To the condition chance had bound him, + And perils which might still surround him: + Of his late playmates what became + When power broke up the midnight game; + And if pursued by any danger, + To which as yet he was a stranger. + But soon he found, enquiry made, + The Bow-street spirits all were laid; + Nor was it to the party known, + By whom the mischief had been done.-- + Thus, from all legal threat secure, + He felt determin'd to abjure + The course of life he had pursued, + Nor suffer knav'ry to delude + His conduct into any plan + That might disgrace a Gentleman; + The character which his fond thought + Had to a flatt'ring crisis brought, + When he might try, and not in vain, + The wish'd for honour to maintain. + Besides, in favour of his scheme, + He felt the warnings of the dream, + As he their meaning understood + Foreboded much of future good. + + At length his boasting fancies tired + Of all to which his pride aspired; + And, having nothing else to do, + He sauntered forth to take a view + Of what a saunter might present + For serious thought or merriment; + When, as he careless stroll'd along, + Half-humming some new-fangled song, + He heard a voice that did proclaim + His own but too familiar name. + 'Twas Mr. CARMINE, who was known + An artist of the first renown + For portraiture of living faces, + Whose pencil gave and heighten'd graces, + Who, 'mid the hurry of the street, + Did sauntering QUÆ GENUS greet: + When, having sought a place of quiet, + Free from the passing, bustling riot, + In civil tones the man of art + Began his Queries to impart. + "Your family, I hope, are well, + And will you Lady VALCOUR tell, + If it so please her you may come + And fetch her fine resemblance home: + Nay she may have forgot, I fear, + That the last sitting's in arrear: + Give but the hint as I demand + And you shall feel my grateful hand." + --QUÆ GENUS hasten'd to reply + With the gay VALCOURS' history, + And fear'd that, for a year or two, + The picture must _in statu quo_ + Within his gallery remain, + At least, till they came home again. + "Well then," said CARMINE, "tell me friend, + What fortunes on your steps attend." + "Sir," he replied, "'tis Fortune's pleasure + I should enjoy a state of leisure. + Sir CHARLES, so generous and kind, + Wish'd not that I should stay behind, + Nay, would have paid me high to go, + As I've a paper that will shew: + But certain schemes play'd on my brain + Which fix'd my purpose to remain, + And yet, with all my honest care, + I have not brought one scheme to bear." + "My friend," the artist said, "if you + Have not a better scheme in view, + My place, unless I greatly err, + Would suit your turn and character + 'Tis but to know and to make known + The beauties by my pencil shewn, + And lard, as you the occasion see, + With strokes of modest flattery. + Take care you manage well your tongue + To please the old as well as young, + And study the expressive grace + That's seen to beam on any face; + When, in fair words and cautious mood + You may mark the similitude + Between the charms that smiling live, + And such as art like mine can give. + Nor to the sex your hints confine, + The ermin'd sage and grave divine, + The chubby face of childhood too + Attention must be made to woo, + While I shall to your mind impart + The nomenclature of my art;-- + And if, as I presume you will, + Display the show with ready skill, + From Misses, Beaux, Old Dames and Sages, + You'll gain, Good Fellow, three-fold wages. + --Now turn the offer in your mind, + And, if your prudence is inclin'd + To take it, you will let me know + To-morrow how your wishes flow." + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS WITH A PORTRAIT PAINTER.] + + What though it was his warm desire + From days of service to retire; + Though he now hop'd the time drew nigh + To change his humble destiny, + He ask'd permission of his pride + That one more service might be tried, + As in the class he hop'd to move + It might a source of knowledge prove. + --Where could he such examples see + As in an artist's gallery? + For while he look'd at forms and faces + He might learn all the tonish graces, + Whatever manners could bestow, } + What attitudes were best to show; } + In short, all that he sought to know. } + For the fine folk who visit there + Come deck'd with all becoming care, + That the chaste pencil may not err + From truth of form and character, + Which not alone, while yet they live, + The canvas may be proud to give, + But offer to the admiring eye + Of an unborn posterity! + + "O," he exclaim'd, "this is the plan, } + I all its various merits scan, } + 'Tis HALF-WAY to a _Gentleman_!" } + --Nay, to be brief, the following day + Beheld him all in due array, + And soon alert, submissive, smart, } + Well vers'd in all the slang of art; } + He to perfection play'd his part. } + In mildest tone would just express + The charms a canvas may possess, + Where Loves and Graces seem to smile + And do th' enchanted eye beguile. + Though still he ne'er forgot his duty + To one who might have been a beauty, + There he did not throw out his hints + Of charming smiles and rosy tints, + But to her portrait would refer + For force and grace of character. + Still his own thoughts ne'er went astray, } + He rather told what others say, } + What my Lord B. prais'd yesterday. } + Thus he contriv'd, it seems, to please + CARMINE's fine folk, of all degrees, + And what he gain'd, he now might say, + He got it in an honest way. + + From all he did the Artist thought + He had a real treasure got; + Nor had QUÆ GENUS any cause + To grumble at domestic laws; + For all who serv'd them were content + With the well-rang'd establishment. + Above, was all that taste could show, + And ease and comfort reign'd below; + For CARMINE sought not cost to spare, + And splendid plenty revell'd there. + --O Discretion, what thy powers, + To watch o'er life's fantastic hours, + To check warm nature's glowing heat + When passions in the bosom beat, + And whim and fancy's busy train + Play their vagaries through the brain! + But that comptroller of the will, + That sober judge 'tween good and ill, + Or from his folly or his pride + QUÆ GENUS seem'd to throw aside. + This was the spot where he might stay, } + Where duty was improving play, } + Till hope should paint the wish'd-for way. } + But whimsies did his wits employ + The play-game of an idle boy, + For which if, at his earliest school, + Thus he had dared to play the fool, + He would have felt the smarting fate + That does on thoughtless culprit wait. + --The easy, morning duties done, + The after-day was all his own, + When, as it surely may be thought + He might have some improvement sought: + But no, his genius seem'd to chuse + His luckless leisure to amuse, + In changing, when brimfull of glee, + The system of the Gallery; + Would make the pictures change their places, + And with his chalk deform their faces, + (For, from a boy, whate'er he saw, + With a rude outline, he could draw,) + Turn down the portraits in their frames, + And look and laugh and call them names. + Though if no other harm were done, + Unknown he might have had his fun: + But hence the mischief did ensue, + The names he call'd were written too: + In short, he turn'd the painter's school + Completely into ridicule, + And, by a TITLE or a SCROLL, + He strove to stigmatize the whole. + --He would a _Lawn-rob'd Prelate_ place + As if he ogled _Cælia's_ face, + Exclaiming "There's no greater bliss, + No, not in Heaven, than _Cælia's Kiss_;" + While _Cælia_ might be made to say + "_Hands off, my pious Lord, I pray! + Remember what you ought to feel-- + The good book says you must not steal; + And steal you will, if you receive it, + For hang me, FUSTY, if I give it_." + --He then, perhaps, would run his rig, + With _Cap and Bells_ on _Judge's Wig_; + When thus his fancy might indite, + And in a well turn'd label write,-- + "_Now should MY LORD be in a fury, + And shake that WIG_, he'd fright the JURY_." + --The portrait of an AGED DAME + Might have this added to her name,-- + "_Your Crutch-stick tells you scarce can walk, + But still you bore all ears with talk; + A most incorrigible Hag, + Who nothing but your TONGUE can wag_." + --A MARRIED PAIR together plac'd, + And with their household emblems grac'd, + Though looking in each other's faces, + He would remove to sep'rate places, + And then contrive to make them say, + "_How shall we, Sir, this act repay? + Our Home Cabals we now shall smother, + At this nice distance from each other; + Thus far removed we shall agree,-- + 'Tis just as we both wish to be._" + --A LORD MAYOR's brow he would adorn + With honours of a double Horn; + Then from a long scroll make him cry, + "_Make room for Cuckolds, here comes I_." + --A LAWYER, clad in wig and band, + With briefs and papers in his hand, + QUÆ GENUS would contrive to trace + A JANUS with a _Double Face_, + And each face with a ready tongue + To plead the cause or right or wrong, + Exclaiming in both scrolls--"_'Tis We, + And waiting for a Double Fee_." + Such was his wit, which sometimes told + Its thoughts in flashes far too bold: + Which the Muse knows would not be meet + For her Chaste Spirit to repeat. + --Thus when the Monkey's hand had done + With this display of idle fun, + And in his vacant hour of sense + Had triumph'd in Impertinence; + He would repair his saucy tricks, + The pictures in their places fix, + Wipe out the mischief of the chalk + And bid the portraits cease to talk; + Then with a military air, + Aloud command them--"AS YOU WERE."-- + --Now it, at least, was once a week, + He did this gay amusement seek, + When CARMINE'S absence gave the power + Thus to pass off his leisure hour, + As different faces might present + Fresh subjects for his merriment. + But those foul imps who oft molest, + With awkward thoughts, the human breast, + (As the expression's not so civil, + We will not hint it is the devil,) + Will, as their trade is to deceive, + Fast in the lurch their vot'ries leave; + And soon QUÆ GENUS was betray'd + Into the trap his folly laid. + + One vernal eve, he had o'erflow'd + With chalk and chatter ill-bestow'd, + When call'd off for we know not what, + The unfinish'd mischief was forgot; + And in the morning, ere the clout + Had duly wip'd his folly out, + A party, who from town were going, + Came, just to pay what might be owing: + At the same time to represent + Where all their portraits might be sent. + --One _Elder Lady_ rubb'd her eyes, + With equal anger and surprize, + While she could scarce believe she read, + The _Witch_ of _Endor_ o'er her head. + --Another, not of younger age, + Could not restrain her glowing rage, + When _Mother RED CAP_ was the name + Which chalk had given to the Dame; + And then she scream'd aloud,--"_Forsooth, + A Pipe is put into my mouth, + Whose nauseous fumes around me fly + To stamp me with vulgarity_!" + --With them there was a sweet young lady, + In beauty's bloom and vernal gay day; + Her portrait in all stature stood, + With all the grace of attitude, + And charms to turn, though not of stone, + A _Carmine_ to _Pygmalion_. + But she, in all her beauty's pride, + A _Wheel-barrow_ was made to guide, + While ruby lips were seen to cry, + "_Sheep's hearts for those who want to buy_!" + The marble urn which stood behind her, + Was turn'd into a rude _Knife-Grinder_, + And at no very far approach + Was seen a passing _Hackney Coach_, + While all the lawns and groves so sweet + Were scrawl'd into a _London Street_. + --Anger in diff'rent tones were heard, + And when CARMINE in haste appear'd, + Aghast he stood, then vengeance vow'd, + Declar'd his innocence--and bow'd; + But in a few short minutes prov'd + The wicked lines might be remov'd. + If water is not just at hand, + _Saliva's_ always at command, + Which gives the tints a brighter glow, + And leaves a kind of varnish too. + This, with his handkerchief applied, + Soon wip'd the saucy chalk aside. + The Dame exclaim'd,--"_Pray look, d'ye see, + Still more affronts, my Lady B----: + This is the height of all disgrace, + The Painter's spitting in my face_." + CARMINE, without a word, went on, + And when his cleansing skill was shown, + When witticisms disappear'd, + And each offending line was clear'd, + The sudden change appear'd to please, + And angry words began to cease. + But still he thought he ought to show + The threat'ning terms he could bestow. + The maids, each answ'ring to her name, + Aloud their innocence proclaim: + The housekeeper and sturdy cook + Propose to swear on HOLY BOOK, + They could not do it:--Heaven forbid it! + And then they told,--QUÆ GENUS _did it_: + On which, the solemn Dames insist + Such Impudence should be dismiss'd. + But though they saw the alter'd show } + Restor'd to all its pristine glow, } + They let th' astonish'd artist know } + Th' insulted portraits should not stay + Where they then were another day. + Thus porters, order'd to the door, } + Away each fine resemblance bore, } + That they might be defac'd no more.-- } + --The Dames departed in a huff, + With _fanning_ cool'd,--consol'd with _snuff_: + While Miss, beneath her bonnet's poke, + Smil'd as if _she_ enjoy'd the joke. + + Our Hero now was seen to wait + The threat'nings of impending fate: + That fate, but in the mildest tone, + CARMINE delay'd not to make known. + "As you vie with me in my art, + 'Tis clear, my friend, that we must part: + Your genius is so full of sport + That you must go,--I'm sorry for't! + Such tricks will bring, as you must see, + Disgrace upon the Gallery; + Indeed, by your confounded fun, + Mischief may be already done! + You talk'd of schemes when you came here, + But, faith, this scheme may cost me dear. + As tricks like these you chuse to play, + 'Twere well that you should march away; + So go, where, spite of common sense, + Your jokes may pass without offence. + Few words are best,--my mind to tell: + Pack up your Chalk,--and so farewell!" + --QUÆ GENUS the command obey'd, + As pleas'd to go as if he stay'd. + Here then his _final Service_ ends:-- + But MAN and MASTER parted friends. + + + + +CANTO VIII + + + Life, as a witty Bard has shewn, + Who dealt in just comparison,[1] + Is but a busy pantomime, + Whose actions vary with the time; + Where they who turn from side to side, + According to the wind and tide, + Are more ingenious in their art + Than such as act but one grave part; + Who, as their years pass onward, seem + To glide along one gentle stream. + But here we stop not to contend + Whether, to answer Life's great end, + 'Tis best from place to place to range, + Or fix to one, and never change. + Suffice it, that, from choice or chance, + QUÆ GENUS hurried through some dance + Of early life, and, as we see, + Not knowing what the next would be: + But now, disdaining future tricks, + He felt a firm resolve to fix + Upon a steady, better plan, + Of living like a _Gentleman_. + Whether he knew to calculate + The means required for such a state, + The curious eye will shortly see, + In his approaching History. + + [1] BUTLER, the Author of HUDIBRAS. + + It has been well observ'd by some, + "All countries are a wise man's home." + As it is said of diff'rent nations, + The same is true of various stations + Which man is destin'd to fulfil, + Or with, or e'en against his will; + If Reason happens to provide + A steersman who is fit to guide + The vessel o'er life's flowing main, + And sure at last the port to gain. + + How much our Hero had amass'd, + By ways and means now gone and pass'd, + We know not, as we never heard + The hoarded sums he had prepar'd; + But as he had a sense of craving, + And with it, too, a knack of saving, + He must have got a heap of Cash, + Which, for a time, would make a dash. + The _Valcour_ wardrobe almost new, } + The gifts of service, laid _perdu_, } + Would serve him for a year or two; } + And by some _Snip's_ contriving art, + Would fit him well and make him smart: + But stumbling-blocks were found to lay + Before him, and impede his way. + Manners and matter he possest, + His early life had given the best; + And while he as a servant mov'd, + His knowledge of the world improv'd: + But still his face and form were known + In certain quarters of the town, + And the first object to his fame + Was to discard his present name; + For he ne'er did a Father know, + The source from whence a name should flow; + And by QUÆ GENUS nought was meant-- + It was a boon by accident, + Which he might, if he pleas'd, disuse, + And any other title chuse. + Through the _Directory_ he waded, + Till his poor eyes were sadly jaded; + Then in the finer streets he stroll'd + Where Names on _Door Plates_ are enroll'd: + But then he fear'd a name to own, + Which would, perhaps, be too well known, + And cause enquiries, that might be + The source of some perplexity. + Reason, at length, rous'd the intention + Of yielding to his own invention, + To eke out from the alphabet, + A name he never heard of yet; + And which his fancy might suggest + As one to suit his project best. + FREE-BORN he thought would do as well + As any other he could tell, + When, his right Christian name of JOHN + Form'd the becoming union; + Then nothing more he could desire + Than trim these names with an ESQUIRE; + And to let the report be spread, + That some rich relative was dead, + And 'twas his Fortune and his Fate + To get the name and an estate. + Should it be ask'd where _that_ might lay, + He had prepar'd himself to say, + (As if half earnest--half in joke, + The smiling answer might be spoke,) + "'Tis here, 'tis there, 'tis everywhere, + Or in some country in the air; + But should you come to _number three_ + In such a street, you there will see + How that estate appears to thrive: + On _Thursday_ next I dine at _five_." + Thus he would find none to suspect him, + Or, dinners given, to neglect him. + + He now to Coffee Houses went, + With looks assuming calm content, + And such as those are seen to wear, + Who easy independence share. + At reading-rooms he frequent sat, + And read or join'd in social chat; + Acquaintance made, no arduous task, + Of those he did to dinner ask. + In gay apartments then he shone + In a good quarter of the town, + But distant, as we may conceive, + From where his masters us'd to live. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS GIVES A GRAND PARTY.] + + _Miss Emily_, the blooming niece } + Of the old Broker, Master _Squeeze_, } + Who made some figure in the piece, } + And, at no very distant page, + Was seen to figure on the stage; + The Lady all her points had carried, + Was rich, and had the _Pleader_ married; + Had chang'd her uncle's name of _Squeeze'em_ + To her shrewd husband's, Lawyer _Seize'em_: + Who, by his cunning and his skill, + Had brought all contests to her will, + When he had got his promis'd fee + Of Beauty, Wealth and Luxury. + To her, with smiles of gay content, + The _'Squire_ his eager footsteps bent, + And did in lofty tone proclaim + His change of fortune as of name; + And told her it would be his pride, + At a small Fête would she preside, + Which he propos'd in style to give, + Where he would all her friends receive; + For this was now the only way + He had to make his party gay: + And the first flourish of his plan + To figure as a _Gentleman_. + --She smil'd and said she'd bring him plenty, + Then ask'd at once his cards for twenty. + --The fête was given,--the dance, the song, + And feasting did the night prolong, + Which pleasure gave to full two score, + Whom he had never seen before;-- + But, his great object to maintain, + These he must strive to see again; + At all their doors his cards present, + And thus, by various compliment, + To form a circle of such friends + As would secure his serious ends, + In social ease to pass the day, + And often find an evening gay. + --But _'Squire Free-born_ quickly found + He did not tread on solid ground, + And 'gan to fear he should not see + The way to that society, + Which forms of life the happiest measure: + By mutual interchange of pleasure. + --'Twas but slight chat if he should meet + His new acquaintance in the street; + He seldom found, or more or less, + But gen'ral forms of _politesse_, + And that, too often, at the best, + Was but in flimsy style exprest. + --Ladies would ask him to the play, + To take his arm and let him pay; + And when to cards, he always lost + More than the wine and biscuits cost. + He found, as yet, but little done-- + 'Twas neither common sense nor fun, + Where kind regard would ne'er encrease, + And int'rest wak'd the wish to please; + Where words were either cold or hearty, + As he propos'd to give a party; + And a good supper was the charm + That did to transient friendship warm, + For that, alas, no longer lasted, + Than while they thought on what they tasted. + + _'Squire Free-born_ soon began to feel + A relaxation in his zeal + To push away that class among + Who did his evening parties throng, + From whom no fair return was made, + And mod'rate fashion was display'd. + Manners were ap'd, but in a way + That did vulgarity betray; + And the best show that he might see, + Was dash of awkward finery:-- + Besides, a rude and rough event + Gave spirit to his discontent. + --He call'd, one day, where, on admission, + The parties were in sad condition; + It was a scene of mutual flame, + 'Tween _Start-up_ and his lovely dame. + He was a clerk on public duty, + And she a most conceited beauty: + When, as he enter'd, her sharp tongue + Began in tones both harsh and strong,-- + "_Pray, FREE-BORN, do you think it breeding, + That he should thus be always reading?_ + _When he does from his office come + 'Tis thus he sits hum-drum at home, + As if he thought so low my wit + I'm not for conversation fit; + Nor does he seem to rate me higher + Than to trace figures in the fire!" + --"Call you, hum-drum, that information + So suited to official station_," + He sternly said, "_which now engages + Attention to these curious pages_!" + --"_My mind_," she cried, "_was in the dark + When I was married to a Clerk:-- + O had I join'd a fool instead + Of one to office breeding bred! + He, who in honour should protect me, + You see, Sir, how he dares neglect me!_" + --In terms polite to praise and blame, + _Free-born_ now hop'd to quench the flame, + And therefore offer'd, nothing loth, + To give a little spice of both. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS, INTERRUPTS A TÊTE A TÊTE.] + + "Madam, by persons of discerning, + My friend is known for store of learning; + While you are bless'd with those rare charms, + A Prince might wish to fill his arms." + He gently smil'd and so did she, + At this same two-fold flattery, + Which, in a moment, seem'd to smother + The flames of anger 'gainst each other: + He therefore ventur'd to proceed, + But did not now so well succeed. + "You ask me to unfold my thought, + Which is with truth and friendship fraught. + We all well know, in life's great stake, + There's such a Rule as _give and take_; + A maxim, with your good in view, + I recommend to both of you. + On this, for peace, fix your reliance, + And learn to practise kind compliance. + If he is haughty, soothe his pride, + Nor with disdainful glances chide. + When you are angry, he must chase } + All frownings from that lovely face, } + With tender words and soft embrace. } + Both of you now are in the wrong, + _He_ with his BOOK,--_you_ with your TONGUE." + But, ere he could his speech conclude, + With scornful look and accents rude, + Again the furious Dame began:-- + "_What Impudence is in the Man! + Thus, 'gainst his betters, to let loose + His vulgar tongue in such abuse. + My husband to be thus belied, + Who is my love, my boast, my pride!_" + When _Start-up_ foam'd,--"_You risk your life, + In treating thus my darling wife; + Who, I proclaim, as 'tis my duty, + Has charms superior to her beauty!_" + Then each gave each a warm embrace, + And both star'd in poor _Free-born's_ face, + The one as if _he_ wish'd to beat him, + The other as if _she_ could have eat him. + He then, as suiting her desire, + Threw the base volume in the fire, + When she----"_Thus ends a petty fuss + Which may cross those who love like us; + Though I might wish it had not been + By such a saucy booby seen_." + --_Free-born_, but not from sense of fear, + Now thought it best to disappear; + And as they rang the clam'rous bell, + He heard them both the servant tell-- + "Discharg'd you shall be, if the door + Is open'd to that varlet more." + --Such vulgar threat the _'Squire_ amus'd, + For he no more would be refus'd + By those whose silly actions prove + That they could scold, and lie, and love: + But still he rather felt the wrongs + Which had proceeded from the tongues + Of those who had no fair pretence + At what he said to take offence: + A pretty way to make amends + For having treated them as friends; + In short, he thought it best to fly + His late acquir'd society: + Pert Lawyers and such busy men + As in some office wield the pen; + Who, when their daily labour's done, + Put their best coats and faces on; + Leave home, where tallow dimly lights 'em, + For wax, when some dull fool invites 'em, + The plenteous evening to prolong + In lively glee or tender song, + Or in some funny tale to shine, + And give a current to the wine. + There, too, their wives and sisters flow, } + Gay, scanty finery to show, } + In gawdy trim and furbelow; } + Who can, perhaps, the music play, + And scream the carol of the day; + Nay, work a waltz, while staring eyes + Proclaim their gentle ecstasies. + At length the shawls and wrappers come, + When in their hacks they trundle home. + --Though, after all, whate'er his aim, + Whate'er his fancy chose to claim, + 'Twas not amiss;--this _first degree_ + In what is call'd society, + Where step by step he must advance + To higher place in fashion's dance: + But with the folk, he 'gan to find, + Who din'd with him, he never din'd, + And got no more than casual tea + For what his guests thought luxury; + And, in a snug, familiar way, + For all they gave, they made him pay. + Besides, he sometimes felt offence, + At what he thought impertinence: + Such as they were, both great and small, + He cut acquaintance with them all. + His purse had thus indulg'd his whim, + But they ne'er heard again from him. + + He now suspected that his plan, + Of turning to a _Gentleman_, + Was not so easy to be brought + To such success as he had thought. + But still he ventur'd to turn over + New plans by which he might discover + Some means to realize his scheme, } + But it, at times, began to seem } + Somewhat, indeed, too like a dream. } + + To thinking minds it is not strange + That man is seen so soon to change, + And, when he gets on random chace, + To move so quick from place to place. + If no fix'd principles he trust + Which Reason says are true and just, + The busy world will not restrain him, + Nor in one beaten path maintain him. + Now here, now there, he is as oft + Seen to sink low as rise aloft. + As he moves on, how he will vary + From sober thought to gay vagary; + Nay, seem the tempers to unite + Of Dons 'bout whom historians write; + The one whose name our laughter cheers, + And he who pass'd his time in tears. + What wonder then that we should see + In _Free-born_, that variety, + Which, in his disappointed mind, + Nature may bid us look and find: + Though he must guess profoundly well, + Who could th' approaching change foretell. + + He long since felt it as a folly + To think again on _pretty Molly_, + But when his project seem'd to fail, + Her image did again prevail; + And humbler views began to find + A passage to his wav'ring mind. + Instead of striving to pursue + What he now fear'd would never do, + He fancied that a tender wife + Might give a charm to rural life. + _Molly_ he fear'd not he could move + To bless a home with married Love, + And that a cottage might be found, + With garden green and meadow ground; + Where he might form his fragrant bowers, + And deck the pretty lawn with flowers; + Beneath a beech-tree read his book, } + And sometimes angle in the brook: } + Nay, even wield a shepherd's crook. } + Money he had, and so had she, + And, with a due economy, + Far from the noisy world remov'd, + And by each other fondly lov'd, + They might pass on in plenteous ease, + And lead a life of smiling peace. + He slept, and, in a dream, he swore, } + He saw his _Parent-Friend_, once more-- } + Not looking as he did before, } + But all so smirking, blithe and gay; + When, sitting on a cock of hay, + The prong and rake he seem'd to wield, + As he were master of the field: + He spoke not, but he seem'd to speak,-- + "_This is the life, boy, you must seek_." + --Such was another strong emotion + To aid the new, romantic notion, + And think of nought but Cottage Life, + With pretty MOLLY for his Wife. + He turn'd this over in his mind, + And ev'ry hour felt more inclin'd + To take the Maiden by surprize, + And this fond dream to realize. + + Sweet MOLLY now was gone from town + As waiting-maid to _Lady Brown_, + Who lives a portion of the year + At her fine place in Devonshire; + Nor did _fond Corydon_ delay + To write his mind another day: + While, to amuse th' impatient hours, + He fill'd his room with shrubs and flowers: + Branching _Geraniums_ were seen + To make his ev'ry window green, + And something like a picture wear + Of future scenery he might share. + + Our time does like our watches go + Sometimes too fast,--sometimes too slow; + But to the _'Squire_, for he was still + A _'Squire_, though now against his will, + Old _Bald-Pate_ mov'd with tardy tread, + As if his feet were hung with lead; + But he went on:--An answer came, + Sign'd MOLLY, with no other name! + He thought it odd, but did not wait + To make it matter of debate, + So quick his hurry to be shown + The passion which the page would own. + He read,--"_I've heard, bless Heav'n, my friend! } + (With thanks for what you might intend,) } + Your serving days are at an end: } + Thus I believ'd, and find it true, + I could no longer think of you. + It seems to be your prosp'rous fate + To come into a great estate; + And so I thought it Heaven's decree, + You ought no more to think of me. + Besides, as you have never wrote, + I fancied Molly was forgot; + When soon a tender lover came, + A learned man, of preaching fame; + He press'd me,--I was not obdurate, + And so, I'm married to a CURATE! + The match my Lady much approv'd, + And my good Husband's so belov'd, + Our kind SIR JOHN has given his word + That he shall shortly be preferr'd._ + + * * * * * + + Poor _Corydon_ could read no more, } + But, in a rage the letter tore, } + And kick'd the fragments round the floor: } + Toss'd some things up, and some things down, + Curs'd both the _Country_ and the _Town_; + With pots and pans did battle rage-- + Drove the geraniums from the stage, + And wish'd no object now to see + _Of ruralized felicity_. + + The country letter turn'd the tide + To rush upon his wounded pride: + At once he thought it more than folly + Thus to have offer'd love to _Molly_. + Nay, he began to smile at length; + And, to regain becoming strength, + He took to the well-known resort + Of season'd dish and good _Old Port_: + When as he sat, with uplift eyes, } + And, thro' the window, view'd the skies, } + He ventur'd to soliloquize. } + + "My _genteel folk_ I have declin'd, + At least, the sort which I could find; + And just as much dispos'd to sneeze + At all my _Rural Deities_: + But still I've got a heap of _Cash_, + And, while it lasts, will make a _Dash_! + But here one firm resolve I make,-- + _I never will my Elbow shake_; + And if I take care not to _play_, } + I shall get something for my pay: } + It will not _all_ be thrown away! } + Who knows what CUPID, too, may do? + For I may _win_ if I should _woo_; + And e'en, in spite of this same _Hump_, + _Fortune_ may turn me up a trump. + --My standard now shall be unfurl'd, + And I will rush into the world: + Nay, when I have the world enjoy'd, + With emptied purse and spirits cloy'd, + I then can trip it o'er the main: + VALCOUR will take me back again; + Once more his humble friend receive, + With all the welcome he can give: + We know not what from ill may screen us, + And I, once more, shall be QUÆ GENUS." + --He spoke, and seem'd to close his plan + Of keeping up the _Gentleman_. + + The Sun had sunk beneath the west, + To go to bed and take his rest, + As Poets feign, in THETIS lap, + Where he ne'er fails to have a nap; + When, with his second bottle rallied, + Our Hero rose, and out he sallied + In search of any lively fun, + That he, perchance, might hit upon. + --As through a court he chanc'd to pass, + He saw a gay, well-figur'd lass, + Who, in her floating fripp'ry shone, + With all the trim of fashion on. + She had descended from a coach, + And did a certain door approach, + With tripping step and eager haste, + When soon th' illumin'd arch she pass'd: + And still he saw, in height of feather, + Small parties enter there together, + While jovial gentlemen appear'd, + Who, as they came, each other cheer'd. + --He asked, where these fine Ladies went? + The watchman said,--"For merriment; + And should a little dancing fit you, + A crown, your honour, will admit you." + --The 'Squire then rapp'd, the door was op'd, + He gave his coin, and in he popp'd: + The music sounded in the hall, + And smiling faces grac'd the ball, + Where, as he lov'd a merry trip + With some _gay Miss_ he chose to skip, + But as they _Waltz'd_ it round in pairs + A noise was heard upon the stairs, + And strait a magistrate appear'd + With solemn aspect; while, uprear'd, + Official staves in order stand, + To wait the laws' so rude command. + --Sad hurry and confusion wait + On this their unexpected state; + When there broke forth, as it might seem, + From snow-white throats, a fearful scream; + Nor, to add horror, was there wanting + Some strong appearances of fainting: + But Justice, with its iron brow + Unfeeling scowl'd on all the show. + In shriller tones the ladies cried, + In diff'rent key the beaux replied, + Though some consoling bev'rage quaff, + Give a smart twirl, nor fear to laugh: + While coarser voices,--"hold your tongue, + Pack up your alls and come along." + Then, of fair culprits full a score, + And of their dancing partners more, + Beneath stern power's relentless rod, + Were rang'd, and order'd off to QUOD. + They march'd away in long procession + To take the fruits of their transgression:-- + Staffmen did at their head appear, + And watchmen lighted up the rear. + Our Hero felt the ridicule + Of having idly play'd the fool, + And, as he handed on his _Belle_, + He could not but compare the smell + That rotten root and trodden leaf + Do to th' offended senses give + Of those who, by the lamp's pale light, + Through Covent-Garden stroll at night, + With all the garlands which he weav'd + Ere Molly's letter was receiv'd: + And all the fragrance of the flowers + He thought to cull in Molly's bowers; + Nay, which, but the preceding morning, + His promis'd hopes had been adorning. + It was indeed a noisome change, + O it was strange, 'twas passing strange! + But still the watch-house made amends, + Such as they were, they gave him friends. + Which here, I'm not suppos'd to think + Were such as save from ruin's brink; + But lively sprites who have a taste + To hurry on the stream to waste. + Thus, when the welcome morn was come, + And Justice sent the party home; + He and two blades of certain feather + Propos'd to pass the day together: + The one, more grave, declar'd his breed, + Famous on t'other side the _Tweed_, + The other lively, brisk and airy, + Boasted his birth in _Tipperary_; + Though whether this were truly so, + 'Tis from their words alone we know: + But they were easy, free and jolly, + Decided foes to melancholy, + And seem'd well-form'd to aid a day + In passing pleasantly away. + --But first the TRIO thought it best + To snatch some hours' refreshing rest, + When, as it was in Summer's pride, } + They pass'd their jovial hours beside } + The crystal _Thames_ imperial tide; } + And as the river roll'd along, + Made the banks echo with their song. + --At length it was a rival jest + Who of the three could sing the best. + --The sturdy Scot the song began, + And thus th' harmonious contest ran. + + WALLACE, who fought and bled, he sung, + Whose name dwells on a nation's tongue. + The 'SQUIRE, in boist'rous tone declar'd, + And neither lungs nor quavering spar'd, + That Britain triumph'd o'er the waves + And Britons never would be slaves. + Then ERIN'S SON, with sweeter voice, + Exclaim'd, "I'll make you both rejoice; + O with a famous song I'll treat you, + And then you both shall say I've beat you + Your verses are old-fashion'd prosing, + My song is of my own composing; + And though 'tis to lov'd ERIN'S fame, + To all three Kingdoms 'tis the same." + The hearers both politely bow'd, } + When he, of his fam'd subject proud, } + Pour'd forth his accents deep and loud. } + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS committed, with a riotous dancing Party, to the +Watch-House.] + +SONG. + + It has long been agreed by all persons of learning + Who in stories of old have a ready discerning, + That in every country which travellers paint, + There has always been found a protector or saint. + Derry down, etc. + + St. George for Old England, with target and lance, + St. Andrew for Scotland, St. Denis for France, + St. David o'er Wales, so long known to preside, + And St. Patrick, Hibernia's patron and pride. + Derry down, etc. + + He was gallant and brave as a saint ought to be, + For St. George was not braver or better than he, + He would drink and would sing and would rattle like thunder, + Though 'twas said, he was, now and then given to blunder. + Derry down, etc. + + But the jests of his friends he took in good part, + For his blunders were nought but th' excess of his heart; + Though there was but one blunder he ever would own, + And that was when he saw all the claret was gone. + Derry down, etc. + + He'd fight for his country's religion and laws, + And when beauty was injur'd he took up the cause, + For the gallant St. Patrick, as ev'ry one knows, + Was fond of a pretty girl under the rose. + Derry down, etc + + So many his virtues, it would be too long + To rehearse them at once in a ballad or song; + Then with laughter and mirth let us hallow his shrine, + And drown all his Bulls in a bumper of wine. + Derry down, etc. + + Then St. _Patrick_, St. _George_ and St. _Andrew_ shall be + The Protectors of Kingdoms so brave and so free: + Thus in vain will the thunders of _Denis_ be hurl'd, + For our _Trio of Saints_ shall give laws to the world. + Derry down, etc. + + Hard went the hands upon the board, + And ERIN'S praises were _encor'd_. + + Thus when the pleasant song was heard, + HIBERNIA'S minstrel was preferr'd; + Nor from the voice or in the eye + Was there a hint of jealousy: + Nay, while they took their parting glass, + These sentiments were heard to pass. + "The Thistle, Shamrock and the Rose + May challenge all the world at blows: + _English_ and _Irish_ names are known,-- + There's _Marlborough_ and _Wellington_; + And O, what men of glorious name + Do _Scotia's_ annals give to Fame!" + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS engaged with jovial Friends: Or ... Who sings best?] + + With friends like these the 'Squire began + His new career, and thus it ran, + With others whom he chanc'd to light on + In trips to _Tunbridge_ or to _Brighton_, + SWELLS at most public places known + And as gay triflers 'bout the town; + Who might, perhaps, at times resort + To _Billiard-rooms_ or _Tennis-court_, + Where lively grace, and easy skill + Might flatter Fortune to their will. + _Freeborn_ these gay companions sought, + Who soon their brisk disciple taught + How to direct his lively course + By the snug compass in his purse; + In short, who tutor'd his quick sense } + In the gay world to make pretence } + By modest, well-dress'd impudence. } + --Ye _Dandies_, _Bucks_ or by what name + _Bond Street_ re-echoes with your fame; + Whether in _Dennet_, _Gig_ or _Tandem_, + In five-cap'd coats you bang at random, + With such nice skill that you may break + Your own, or _Dulcinea's_ neck: + Or, when lock'd arm in arm you meet, + From the plain causeway to the street, + Drive Ladies in their morning walk, + While you enjoy your lounging talk: + Then saunter off to pass your hours + In roving through those gaudy bowers + Where purchas'd pleasure seems design'd + To occupy the thoughtless mind: + And, having idled through the day, } + To quicken dull night's weary way, } + You seek the mask, the dance or play;-- } + With you our Hero did contrive + To keep himself and time alive; + But now and then too prone to trace + Those scrapes that border on disgrace, + And threat the unreflecting plan + Of the best would-be Gentleman! + From such as these he was not free, } + As we, I fear, shall shortly see, } + In this so busy history. } + --To him no social life was known, + His home, his friends were through the town + Who were seen wand'ring here and there, + Caring for no one, no one's care; + Prepared no pleasures to receive + But coin could buy or chance might give; + And would prove lively or were dull, + As the silk purse was drain'd or full. + For though deck'd out with all the art + That Fashion's journeymen impart, + They never pass'd the tonish wicket + Of High-life, but by purchas'd ticket + Obtain'd by the resistless bribe + To Traitors of the livried tribe, + Which, by some bold disguise to aid, + Might help them through a masquerade; + Or, with some sly, well-fram'd pretence + And varnish'd o'er with impudence, + A proud admittance might obtain + With chance to be turn'd out again: + Nor was the luckless _Freeborn_ spar'd, + When he the saucy trial dar'd. + --One night, the hour we need not tell, + Into a trap the coxcomb fell. + As through the streets he rattled on + Lamps with inviting brilliance shone; + The music's sound, the portal's din + Told 'twas a joyous scene within: + The second bottle of the night, + Might have produced a double sight, + And two-fold courage to pursue + The splendid prospect in his view, + He, therefore bade the Hack approach, + And at the door present the coach; + Then made a push, got through the hall, + And quickly mingled with the ball. + --Whether his face was too well known + Among the dashers of the town, + Who do not an admittance gain + Among the more distinguish'd train, + Whose social habits will exclude + The mere street-trampling multitude, + Who, like the insects of a day, + Make a short buzz and pass away: + Or whether the intruding sinner + Eat as he seem'd to want a dinner; + Or if it did his fancy suit + To line his pocket with the fruit; + Or if he let some signal fly, + Not usual in such company, + Or if his spirits were so loud + As to alarm the polish'd crowd; + Whatever was the Spell that bound him, + Suspicion more than hover'd round him; + For, he replied with silent stare, } + As he was taken unaware, } + When he was ask'd how he came there. } + Nor did he show a visage bold + When, in a whisper, he was told, + But still with steady look express'd + By the stern Master of the feast, + If he wish'd not to play a farce + To make his pretty figure scarce. + --That such a part he might not play } + Which menac'd e'en the least delay, } + He thought it best to glide away; } + And, to avoid the threat'ning rout, + As he push'd in, he darted out. + + A tonish Matron who ne'er fail'd + Where she was ask'd and cards prevail'd, + My Lady Dangle was her name, + And 'twas the fancy of the dame + Still to retain the antique plan + At night to dance in a _Sedan + Sedans_, so known the fair to coop, + When clad in the expanding hoop, + Snug chairs borne on by sturdy feet, + Once seen in ev'ry courtly street; + And one a most uncommon sight, + Was waiting at the door to-night; + Which, in all due array, was come, + To bear my _Lady Dangle_ home. + The Chairmen lifted up the top, + When _Freeborn_, with a sprightly hop, + And his cloak wrapp'd around his face, + Made bold to seize the vacant place: + The bearers, not intent to know, + Whether it were a _Belle_ or _Beau_, + Went on--a cheary footman bore + A flambeau, blund'ring on before: + While, ere the 'Squire, in this sad scrape, + Had time to plan his next escape, + A heap of Paviour's stones which lay + Directly in the Chairmen's way, + Gave them a fall upon the road, + With their alarm'd, mistaken load. + Each Watchman sprang his rousing rattle, + But as no voices call'd for battle, + They did the best without delay + To set the party on their way: + While the attendants on the chair, + Half-blinded by the flambeau's glare, + First rais'd their weighty forms and then + Set the _Sedan_ upright again: + Nor e'er attempted to explore + The hapless head that burst the door. + But such was _Freeborn's_ falling fate, + Which such confusion did create + Within the region of his brain, + He did not know his home again: + Nay, when the wearied Chairmen stopp'd, + Into the house he stagg'ring popp'd; + Then to and fro got up the stairs, + And, straddling o'er opposing chairs, + He star'd, but knew not he was come } + To Lady Dangle's Drawing Room, } + But wildly thought himself at home. } + Then on a sofa threw his length, + Thus to regain exhausted strength, + And grunted, groan'd and drew his breath, + As if it were the hour of death. + + Sir David Dangle, whom the gout + Had kept that night from going out, + Was sitting in all sick-man's quiet, + Nor dreaming of a scene of riot + When, waken'd into wild amaze, + He did on the strange vision gaze, + While the bold reprobate intrusion + Threw all the house into confusion. + In rush'd domestics one and all, + Who heard the bell's alarming call; + While stamping crutch and roaring voice + Encreas'd the Knight's awak'ning noise + That he might quick assistance stir + Against this unknown visiter. + But while the household struggled hard + To keep him still, and be his guard, + Till he thought fit to lay before 'em + The cause of all his indecorum; + My Lady came to set all right + And check the hurry of the night: + She then, to soothe his rude alarms + Clasp'd her dear Knight within her arms, + Those arms which, for full forty years, + As from tradition it appears, + Had sometimes strok'd his chin and coax'd him, + And now and then had soundly box'd him. + "It is," she said, "some heated rake, + Who has occasion'd the mistake. + But loose your hands, I do protest, + To be thus us'd, he's too well drest + For though his face I do not know } + He does some air of fashion show, } + Playing his pranks incognito." } + --"It may be so," the Knight replied, + And then he shook his head and sigh'd: + "I'm not a stranger to the game, + When I was young, I did the same." + --Beside Sir David, Madam sat: + To charm his flurry with her chat + Her tongue pour'd forth its ready store + And talk'd the busy evening o'er; + Their biscuits took and, nothing loth, + Moisten'd them well with cordial broth; + Thus, till bed call'd, enjoy'd their quaffing, + He with hoarse chuckle--she with laughing. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +THE PARTY BREAKING UP, AND QUÆ GENUS BREAKING DOWN.] + + As he his innocence had vow'd, + Our Hero press'd his hands and bow'd, + Nay look'd, with humble, downcast eye, + The Mirror of Apology. + Besides, he well knew how to bribe + The service of the liv'ried tribe; + So, without fear of ill to come, + He was convey'd in safety home. + --With the next noon his morning came, + And serious thoughts began to claim + Attention to the Life he past, + And how much longer it might last: + For the hard blow he had receiv'd, + By the chair's fall, had so aggriev'd + The Pericranium's tend'rest part + That it requir'd a Surgeon's art, + Who, to relieve the threat'ning pains + Applied the leeches to his veins, + He then with blistering proceeded, + The strong Cathartic next succeeded, + With light debarr'd to either eye, + And undisturb'd tranquillity: + Such was the system to restore + His health to what it was before. + Thus bound to silence and confin'd + It was a period for the mind + To yield to those reflecting powers + Which flow from solitary hours. + + 'Tis said by one, no chattering dunce + That changes seldom come at once; + And to those changes we refer + Which work in human character. + Reason at once does not disown us, + Nor instant folly seize upon us; + It is by a progressive course + That habit sinks from bad to worse, + And thus the happier impulse moves + By which the character improves: + The struggle that controuls the will + From ill to good, from good to ill, + Is not a contest for the power + That lasts but through a transient hour. + Virtue's fine ardor does not yield + But after many a well-fought field;-- + Nor do the baser passions cool + Till they despair to overule, + By secret spell or Virtue's fire, + The glowing of the heart's desire. + Thus, as through pictur'd life we range, + We see the varying landscape change, + But, as the diff'rent scenes we view, + If we have hearts we feel them too: + And then, how charming is the sight + When Virtue rises to its height + And triumphs o'er the conquer'd foe + That flaps its baffled wing below. + What though such images as these + May look to Eccentricities + Beyond the reach of those whose claim + Is shelter'd by a borrow'd name: + Yet still our system may apply + The force of its philosophy + To ev'ry track of human life, + Where the heart feels conflicting strife; + In short, where 'tis the painful lot, + And in what bosom is it not, + To struggle in the certain feud + Between the evil and the good, + That in our mortal nature lies + With all its known propensities: + Nor shall we on our Hero trample + As an inadequate example. + He'll serve as well as brighter tools + To give an edge to moral rules, + And _Freeborn's_ frolics may prevail + To give a spirit to the tale + Which in its fashion and its feature + Bears, as we trust, the stamp of nature. + --Besides, it surely has appear'd, + He was at first in virtue rear'd, + Nor do we fear, however cross'd, + His Virtue has been wholly lost: + Nor will our kind and honest muse + The hope, nay the belief refuse, + That, after all his follies past, + Much good may still remain at last + Which might, with Reason's aid, at length, + Be felt in more than former strength. + How this may happen we shall see + In our progressive history. + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS turned out of a house which he mistakes for his own.] + + Thus he, for many a night and day, + In strict, prescriptive silence lay, + For he all talking was forbid + No friends must visit, if they did, + All Galen's efforts would be vain + For the re-settling of his brain; + And when acquaintance chanc'd to come + It must be said, "He's not at home:" + Nay, his kind friends, when it appear'd, + That e'en his life was rather fear'd, + And that his hospitable fare + Might quickly vanish into air: + Though as the knocker still was tied, + They just ask'd if he liv'd or died. + But other reasons soon prevail + That made his vain pretensions fail + To ask them now and then to dine, + And prove their welcome by his wine. + For when they left him others came, + More constant in their wish and aim; + Who, while the Doctor order'd pills, + Would call, perhaps, to leave their bills; + And sometimes in the way of trade + Might ask the favour to be paid. + These things, as he lay still in bed, + Would sometimes tease his shaken head, + And force him to consult his hoard, } + To know what hopes that might afford } + When he to health should be restor'd. } + --That time arriv'd and he was free + From offering another fee, + But then he found more clumsy hands + Ready to grasp enlarg'd demands. + --In all the playgames he had sought + He found, at last, as might be thought, + In worst of scrapes he now was left, + Our 'Squire, alas, was deep in debt, + And which was worse, of the amount, + He could not pay the full account: + Nor were his drooping spirits cheer'd + When ev'ry day a Dun appear'd. + There were no frolics now to charm + The mind from feeling the alarm, + At thought so painful to endure + Th' afflicting thought of being poor. + But though Discretion oft had fail'd him, + And Folly's Gim-crack schemes assail'd him + Though his whole conduct might not bear + The scrutinizing eye severe: + Yet honour was not dispossest + Of a snug corner in his breast, + Which there an influence did maintain, + And, call'd to speak, spoke not in vain; + For he refus'd, at once, to hear + What smiling Knaves pour'd in his ear, + To scrape the relics of his hoard, + Make a long skip and get abroad; + Seize the first favourable wind, + And laugh at those he left behind. + --The counsel given, was given in vain; + He met it with a just disdain, + Bore with mild humour each sly sneer, + And smil'd when Folly chose to jeer; + Resolv'd to pay to his last groat, + Though standing in his only coat. + --'Twas thus he thought in temper cool, + "I may be call'd vain, silly fool, + And something more I might deserve, + But I would dig or almost starve, + Rather than in that concert join, + Which sprightly vagabonds design." + --Suspicion may be sometimes led + To doubt the vows which, on the bed + Of pain and sickness, may be made, } + When, by a trait'rous world betray'd } + Hope's future prospects sink and fade. } + For when Contrition views the past, + Because the passing day's o'ercast + Yet does no more its place retain + When smiling hours return again, + 'Tis but an hypocritic art + To mock the world and cheat the heart. + But our sick Hero, as the verse + Will, with unvarnish'd truth, rehearse, + An eye of tearful sorrow threw } + O'er some past years' reproachful view, } + And trembling at the future too. } + Thus, of some awkward fears possess'd, + He held a council in his breast, + And felt the way to be pursued + Was now to do the best he could, + And call on Justice to receive + The only tribute he could give. + + Thus, at once, honest and discreet, + He call'd his Creditors to meet + To hear proposals which he thought + They would receive as just men ought: + Nay, fancied, when he told his tale, + That lib'ral notions would prevail; + Nor could his gen'rous mind foresee + The fruits of his integrity: + For when he walk'd into the room + He found th' invited guests were come, + Who soon began in hideous measure, + To play away their loud displeasure, + Not unlike _Andrews_ at a fair + Who to make gaping rustics stare, + Expand their lanky, lanthern jaws + That fire may issue from their maws. + One darted forth revengeful looks, + Another pointed to his books + Wherein a charge was never made, } + That did not honour to his trade; } + And curs'd th' accounts which were not paid, } + Nor fail'd to wish he could convey them, + We'll not say where, who did not pay them. + A _third_, as hard as he was able, + Struck his huge fist upon the table. + While, beastly names from many a tongue, + Around the room resounding rung. + As _Freeborn_ had not quite possest + The hope that he should be carest, + He rather look'd with down-cast eye, + To win by his humility, + And put on a repentant face + As suited to the awkward place: + Nay, his high spirits he prepar'd + And call'd discretion for their guard + In case, though it was not expected, + Decorum should be quite neglected:-- + But when the Butcher strok'd his sleeve, } + Brandish'd his steel and call'd him thief, } + Belching forth mutton, veal and beef; } + When touch'd by such a market sample + They join'd to follow his example; + When stead of praise for honest doing } + And the fair course he was pursuing } + They loos'd their banter on his ruin; } + His prudence then was thrown aside + From sense of irritated pride, + And, patient bearing quite exhausted, + He thus the angry circle roasted.-- + "You all in your abuse may shine, + But know--_Abuse will never coin_! + Remember you have had my trade, + For some few years, and always paid; + While for your charges you must own, + I let them pass, nor cut them down, + And Customers, such fools like me + Are Prizes in your Lottery. + Put but your loss and gain together, + I should deserve your favour, rather + Than this rude and unseemly treating, + As if I gain'd my bread by cheating. + You know, you set of thankless calves, + You are well paid if paid by halves; + And spite of knowing nods and blinking, + I have been told, and can't help thinking, + All that now may remain to pay + The claims which bring me here to-day, + A just Arithmetic would tell + Will pay your honours very well! + But I have done--nay, I shall burst + If I say more----so do your worst.----" + +[Illustration: _Drawn by Rowlandson_ + +QUÆ GENUS & CREDITORS.] + + He threw himself into a chair, + While each at each began to stare; + When, from a corner of the room, + A milder voice appear'd to come, + And, without prefatory art, + Was heard opinions to impart + Which as he spoke them, did not fail + O'er the loud rancour to prevail. + + "Gem'men,-- + "I cannot but refuse + My honest vote to your abuse; + And had I thought it was your plan + Thus to foul-mouth a _Gentleman_, + (And such he is, I'll boldly say, + By all he has propos'd to-day) + I would have stay'd and minded home, + Nor to this boist'rous Meeting come! + You could not give a harder banging + To one whose deeds had call'd for hanging. + What I've to say there's no denying-- + Nor will I please you now by lying. + For no short time, you all can tell, + We each charg'd high and he paid well; + Nay, now that he is gone to pot + He gives us all that he has got, + And with a pittance is content + To take him to the Continent: + Nor by sly tricks does he deceive ye + But gives you all that he can give you; + And, if again of wealth possest, + I doubt not but he'll pay the rest; + Now he who does the best he can, + I'm certain he's a _Gentleman_. + For me, whate'er may be your will, + I'll take his terms and trust him still; + And my best judgement recommends + The same right conduct to my friends." + Much more the lib'ral tradesman said + And still continued to persuade + With arguments that bore the test + From that known power call'd Interest, + Which, by degrees, becalm'd the riot, + And clos'd the scene in gen'ral quiet. + Thus, grumb'ling o'er, with parting glass, + The settling hour was seen to pass, + And soon dismiss'd our _Freeborn_ home + To meditate on times to come, + _With the first pleasure man can know, + Of doing what he ought to do_. + + Whether it was his ready way, + As we know not, we cannot say-- + But as he saunter'd through a court, + A passage of no small resort, + Well known to Lawyer's daily tread, + As to the _King's-Bench Walks_ it led, + A Placard of no common size + Compell'd the gaze of passing eyes: + When, as he read, he saw it bore + The well-known name he whilom bore, + While there was forc'd upon his view + The _Rev'rend_ DOCTOR SYNTAX too; + Nay, as he thought, it seem'd to be + A Brief of his own History: + Nor was it sure an idle whim + To think that it belong'd to him. + The Advertisement did address, + In all the pomp of printing press, + Th' important loss which was sustain'd + And the reward that might be gain'd + By those who should the loss restore + To those who did th' event deplore. + Then o'er and o'er he read the paper + That set his spirits in a caper; + For when he trac'd the pedigree, + He whisper'd to himself--"'_Tis_ ME." + Nor do I from the hope refrain, } + Nor do I think I boast in vain,-- } + QUÆ GENUS is _Himself again_!" } + + But here it may become the verse, + The Placard's purpose to rehearse, + + This ADVERTISEMENT courts regard + To full FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS reward. + + * * * * * + + "_Upwards of TWENTY YEARS ago, + Or more or less it may be so, + Some one had ventur'd to expose + In clean and decent swaddling clothes, + An INFANT, laid before the door + Mark'd number THREE in number FOUR, + Of Chambers which distinction claim, + And Paper Buildings is their name: + Now any one who can but give } + Assurance that He still doth live, } + The above reward will then receive. } + QUÆ GENUS is the Foundling's name, + Which, if alive, he best can claim, + For now at least it is not known + That he can any other own. + The kind_ Protector _of his_ Birth } + _Was a Divine of highest worth-- } + Who held preferment in the North_-- } + _SYNTAX was his much-honour'd name, + Nor is he now unknown to Fame. + But time has long since laid his head + On his last low and silent bed; + And search has hitherto been vain, + The Foundling's present state to gain. + A Laundress now is still alive + Who can some information give, + And BETTY BROOM is the known name + Of the communicating Dame + To whose kind care deliver'd first, + The Babe was given to be nurs'd. + Th' exposure she can well display + As if it were but yesterday, + But further knowledge is requir'd + And what events may have conspir'd + To shape his Life--If he should live, + 'Tis what this paper asks to give. + Who has such tidings and will tell 'em, + With all due proofs, to Mr. VELLUM, + Or sent by Post to his abode, + Near_ Shoreditch Church _in_ Hackney Road, + _Will the remuneration prove + That's fully stated as above._" + + Again he read the paper o'er, + Resolv'd its purport to explore, + And strait to _Number_ THREE repairs + When hobbling down the ancient stairs, + He met the Matron whom he sought, + And told his story as he ought, + A rapid sketch--nor did it fail + To be an interesting Tale: + Which when she heard, against the wall + The broom she held was seen to fall, + And scarce her old arms could prevail + To bear the burthen of her pail. + Her glasses then she sought to place + On the _Proboscis_ of her face; + Not that a likeness she should see + 'Tween riper years and infancy. + But now her heart began to melt + At _Recollections_ that she felt, + And thus she wish'd to tell them o'er, + As she had often done before. + "What, though so many years are gone, + And you to man's estate are grown, + Since I, in all its infant charms, + Dandled the Foundling in my arms, + Were I but certain it was _you_, + Yes I would hug--and kiss you too." + --But though he vow'd and did exclaim + He was the very--very same; + And though he put forth ev'ry grace } + With which his words could gild his face, } + He could not gain a kind embrace; } + Though twenty-five don't often sue + To claim a kiss from sixty-two: + But some suspicions had possess'd + The avenues to _Betty's_ breast; + For she liv'd where her open ear + Was practis'd ev'ry day to hear + Of art array'd in fairest guise + And truth o'erthrown by artifice. + Thus what could the old Matron do? + She fear'd him false, and wish'd him true: + Then turn'd him round, but look'd aghast, + As at his back her eye she cast; + When she thus spoke, and heav'd a sigh, + "I hope it is not treachery! + Before that door the child lay sprawling, + And mov'd the Doctor with its squalling: + But, before Heaven I can swear, + It then was as a Cherub fair; + Strait as a little arrow he, + In perfect form and symmetry; + And from its neck unto its rump, + Believe me, he had no such hump + As that, though hid with every care, + Your injur'd form is seen to bear; + And cannot but appear to be + A natural deformity. + How this change came of course you know,-- + With the poor child it was not so;-- + Prepare its Hist'ry to explain, + Or you will visit here in vain. + --My good young man, strive not to cheat, + Nor think to profit by deceit: + You have with knowing folk to do, + Not to be foil'd by such as you. + I own you tell a moving tale, + But Facts alone will now prevail: + You will be sifted up and down + Till e'en your marrow-bones are known. + --I've not another word to say; + To _Master Vellum_ take your way, + You'll find him at his snug abode + Near _Shoreditch Church_, in _Hackney Road_: + For, when the infant first was left, + Of all parental care bereft, + The Bookseller and I, between us, + Had much to do with dear QUÆ GENUS: + For to his shop I us'd to go + 'Twas then in _Paternoster Row_, + As he the money did supply + For the poor Foundling's nursery. + --O, if he finds your story true, } + It will, indeed, be well for you! } + I will then hug and kiss you too!" } + He took his leave--she gave a blessing + As good, perhaps, as her caressing. + + In haste, and on his great intent + To _Vellum_ He his footsteps bent; + Who had long since left off the trade + By which he had a fortune made: + But why we do the old Man see + A figure in this history, + Becomes a duty to explain, + Nor shall it be employ'd in vain: + And now, as brief as can be told, + We must the Mystery unfold; + And, since so many years are o'er, + Why it was not explain'd before. + Though he who length of life has seen, + Must have a cold observer been; + Whose languid or incurious eye + Has not the power to descry, + On what a chain of odds and ends + The course of Human Life depends. + + But now we quit the beaten road + And turn into an _Episode_, + Nor fear the track, though we shall draw + The picture of a _Man of Law_; + For we have seldom had to do + With one so gen'rous, just and true; + So he was thought by grateful fame, + And _Fairman_ was the good man's name. + If in that long-suspected trade + An honest fortune e'er was made + 'Twas that he could in Honour boast + As Justice always tax'd the cost. + 'Twas his to bid Contention cease + And make the Law a Friend to peace: + He strove to silence rising feud, + And all his practice led to good: + By mildest means it was his aim + To silence each opposing claim; + To take Injustice by the brow + And make it to right reason bow: + Nay, where in courts he must contend, + He saw no foe, and knew no friend. + He fail'd not by his utmost power + To wing with speed Law's ling'ring hour; + A busy foe to dull delay, + He spurr'd each process on its way; + Nor were his words, by skill made pliant, + Arrang'd to flatter any Client: + Whene'er he claim'd his well-earn'd Fee, + _Justice_ and _Law_ would answer--_Yea_. + And when Oppression knit its brow + And said, _proceed_,--He answer'd--_No_. + --When summon'd to the great _Assize_, + Held in the Court above the skies, + He will not be afraid to hear + The VERDICT which awaits him _there_. + --Such was the Man who soon would own + QUÆ GENUS as his darling Son. + + + + +CANTO IX + + + The man of pure and simple heart + Through Life disdains a double part, + Nor does he need a mean device + His inward bosom to disguise: + Thus as he stands before mankind + His actions prove an honest mind. + But though 'gainst Reason's rigid rule + He may have play'd the early fool, + As wise men may, perhaps, have done + In the long race which they have run; + For Passion, which will act its part + In the best regulated heart, + Is, as we may too often see + Beset with Nature's frailty. + Yet Virtue in its course prevails; } + The better impulse seldom fails } + When smiling Conscience holds the scales: } + Nay, through the venial errors past, + Maintains its influence to the last, + And thus, with righteous hope endued, + Rests on _predominating good_. + + Something like this we hope to see + In our progressive History. + + One morn as worthy _Fairman_ lay + Courting his pillow's soft delay, + Enjoying, in his mind's fair view, + Good he had done, or meant to do; + A Letter came, as it appear'd, + Sign'd by a name, he'd never heard, + To beg he instant would attend + An old and long-forgotten friend, + Matter of import to unfold + Which could by her alone be told, + Whose trembling hand in Nature's spite + Had strove the wretched scrawl to write. + She wish'd into his ear to pour + The tidings of a dying hour, + Which she was anxious to impart + To the recesses of his heart. + This Summons the good man obey'd + And found upon, a sick-bed laid, + A female form, whose languid eye + Seem'd to look bright when he drew nigh. + --"Listen," she said, "I humbly pray, + Though short the time, I've much to say. + My features now no longer bear + The figure when you thought them fair: + MARIA was my borrow'd name } + When passion shook my early claim } + To woman's glory, that chaste fame } + Which when once lost, no power should give, + But to repent--the wish to live. + A mother's lab'ring pangs I knew, + And the child ow'd its life to you. + Though ever gen'rous, just and kind + Here doubt perplex'd your noble mind, + And had dispos'd you to believe + That I was false, and could deceive: + But now, if solemn oaths can prove, + And if my dying words can move, + Should he be living, I'll make known + The Babe I bore to be _your own_. + Scarce was it born, but 'twas my care + That you a parent's part should bear. + My quiv'ring hands then wrapp'd it o'er, } + I trembling plac'd it on the floor } + And gave a signal at the door: } + When I, my eyes bedimm'd with tears, + And flurried by alarming fears, + In a dark night mistook the stair + And left it to a stranger's care. + Such was my error, as I thought + The child was harbour'd where it ought; + And, O my friend, how well I knew + The helpless would be safe with YOU:-- + And when, by secret means, I heard + It was receiv'd and would be rear'd, + I doubted not you did prepare + The blessings of a parent's care. + --I was content, and join'd the train + Of warring men who cross'd the main; + And since, for twenty years or more, + I've follow'd Camps on India's shore; + But when, how chang'd by years of pain, + I saw my native land again, + I look'd, how vainly, for the joy + Of seeing my deserted Boy! + Think how my disappointment grew, } + When, from a strict research, I knew } + He never had been known to you! } + But, favour'd by the will of Heaven, + To Mercy's hand he has been given; + Though of his first or latter years + No record of him yet appears: + At least, beyond the earliest day + As in his cot the Infant lay, + And when his smiling place of rest + Was on a fondling nurse's breast! + I the child's story, but in vain, + Have strove with anxious heart to gain; + For she who gave him milk still lives + And tells all that her mem'ry gives. + But of your child what is become, + Whether he has a house or home, + Whether he sails the ocean o'er } + Or wanders on some desert shore, } + Whether he lives or breathes no more, } + If you've the heart that once I knew + May shortly be made known to you: + For, with the means which you possess, + He may be found your age to bless. + I only ask of Heaven to live + To see him your embrace receive; + And, dare I hope the joy, to join + A mother's fond embrace with thine: + Then may my pilgrim wanderings cease, + And I, at length, shall die in peace! + --Thus I have my last duty done, + And may kind Heaven restore your Son!--" + --She spoke--the tale she did impart + Sunk deep into the good man's heart; + For, as he said, there did not live + To close his eyes one relative. + + He then in eager speech declar'd + No cost, no labour should be spar'd + The Boy to find, and should he be + What his fond eyes might wish to see, + His Father's name he soon would bear, + And of his fortune be the Heir. + --No time was lost--what could be done, + To give her ease and find her Son, + Was soon employ'd in ev'ry way + That public notice could display. + + The good man now the subject weigh'd, + Then call'd in VELLUM to his aid, + And did, with anxious wish commend + The office to his long-known friend, + To set afloat enquiry due + If what MARIA told were true; + Nor did he think of pains or cost + To find the stray-sheep that was lost. + "To you," he said, "I give the task, + The greatest favour I can ask, + To trace, if 'tis in any power, + The _Foundling_ from that favor'd hour + When DOCTOR SYNTAX first receiv'd + The child and all its wants reliev'd; + And you, at once, call'd in to share + The wishes of his guardian care. + Believe me that my high-wrought feeling, + Which you must see there's no concealing," + (For the tear glisten'd in his eye, + And his breast spoke the long-drawn sigh) + "Disdains at once all sordid sense + Which hesitates at recompence: + O what would I refuse to give + Should he be blest with worth and live! + Indulge my whims--nor let me know } + Or what you've done or what you do, } + Till you can answer--_Yea_ or _No_. } + Till your grave voice attests my claim + To bear a parent's tender name: + Nor let the claimant here be shown, + Till he is prov'd to be my own." + + VELLUM began by exercising + His well-known zeal in advertising; + Nay, did, from _Kent_, to the _Land's-End_, + QUÆ GENUS and his birth extend, + And as the _King's Bench Walks_ had been + Of his first days the curious scene, + Within those environs were spread + The grand _Placards_ which he had read; + And did a forc'd attention call + To many a window, many a wall, + Whose tempting story to rehearse + Has wak'd an effort in our verse. + + QUÆ GENUS' plain, consistent tale + Seem'd with old VELLUM to prevail; + And rather tallied with the view + Of what, in former times, he knew: + But, that same _Hump_ his shoulders bore, + And oft had been his foe before, + Forbad the Laundress to bestow + A favouring opinion now; + The want of which kept things aloof + From certain and substantial proof. + For though the Doctors in the North, } + Men of acknowledg'd skill and worth, } + Were ready to confirm on oath, } + That, 'twas disease which gave the blow + And bent the strait back to a bow; + Yet this same Hump of direful note + Still stuck in _Betty's_ doubtful throat, + For all that she would say or swear + Was, when the Child was in her care, + To the most, keen, observing eye, + His back bore no deformity; + And thus continued the suspense + From want of better evidence. + --_Vellum_ was not without a fear, + That, from the Gout's attack severe, + The anxious Father's self might die + Before truth clear'd the Mystery, + And had, from doubt reliev'd, made known + The Child as his begotten Son-- + Besides on his discovery bent, + To _Oxford_ when kind _Vellum_ went, + To seek his venerable Friend, + The well-known Rev'rend DOCTOR BEND, + Who would have set all matters right, + He died on the preceding night. + But still, as we pass on our way, + What changes mark life's transient day; + The sun-beams gild the o'erhanging cloud, + The mists the glitt'ring rays enshroud; + And, while from storms of beating rain } + We strive some shelter to obtain, } + The scene is chang'd--'tis bright again. } + Hence 'tis we share th' uncertain hour + Of joys that smile, of cares that lour. + + Thus, while Enquiry seem'd to wear + The very aspect of Despair, + A sudden instantaneous thought + Was to OLD BETTY'S mem'ry brought, + That a _Ripe_ STRAWBERRY, blushing red, + As it grew on its verdant bed, + By Nature's whimsey, was impress'd + Not on the cheek or on the breast + But _Betty_ said, "'Tis I know where, } + And could I once but see it there, } + On Bible Book, ay, I would swear, } + The young man is the child who left, + And, of a mother's care bereft, + Was by the Doctor given to me + To nurse his tender Infancy." + --QUÆ GENUS now was call'd to tell + What he knew of this secret spell. + When he without delay declar'd + What of the mark he oft had heard + By gamesome play-fellows at school + When he was bathing in the pool; + And though he sometimes strove to feel it, + Its strange position did conceal it + From his own eyes, though, as a joke, + It often did a laugh provoke. + Then did he to her wish display, + What the verse hides from open day; + But _Betty Broom_ was not so shy } + To turn away her curious eye } + From this same blushing STRAWBERRY. } + Nay, when she saw the mark, she swore + She oft had kiss'd it o'er and o'er; + And, were he not to manhood grown, + She'd do what she so oft had done. + O she exclaim'd with tears of joy, + QUÆ GENUS is the very boy + Whom their so anxious wishes sought + And was to full discovery brought. + --Nor was this all, at the strange show + Old VELLUM wip'd his moisten'd brow, + And said, with an uplifted eye, + "Here ends this curious Mystery." + When he again, the Symbol saw + In its right place without a flaw, + At once he did remember well, + SYNTAX would smiling oft foretell, + This mark might to _the Foundling_ show + To whom he did existence owe. + "'Tis all fulfill'd, the proof is shewn,-- + The FATHER may embrace _his Son_!" + + As _Vellum_, thought another hour + Should not delay that darling power + He to his friend's impatient ear + In all due substance did declare + The Hist'ry of QUÆ GENUS past, + With all the proofs from first to last, + As on his own conviction shone + That he was truly _Fairman's_ Son: + When the good man, with brighten'd eye, + And the heart's tend'rest sympathy, + As he look'd upwards thus express'd + The joy that revell'd in his breast. + "From all I've heard and you have shown + With zeal and friendship rarely known, + To the fond truth I'm reconcil'd + That poor QUÆ GENUS is my Child, + Confirm'd by all his Mother said, + As I sat by her dying bed; + And ere another sun shall shine, + I'll prove, at least, I think him mine, + By giving him a rightful claim + To share my fortune and my name. + You then, my friend, may bring him here, + 'Tis a strange task, but do not fear, + At this so unexpected hour, + My firmness will relax its power,-- + Though I'm beneath a certain course + Of medicine, of promis'd force + On which I have a firm reliance + To bid the tort'ring Gout defiance, + My vig'rous spirits will sustain + The shock of joy as well as pain." + --_Vellum_, with pleasure now withdrew + To shape the approaching Interview,-- + And suit QUÆ GENUS to a change: + So unexpected and so strange; + But how can we relate the scene + That is about to intervene + Where we shall see in different parts + The weeping eyes, the melting hearts, + Affection's warm and yielding sense + And looks of cold indifference, + While Reason yields, with ample fee, + To be the dupe of Quackery. + This to describe with all the rest + The verse, we trust, will do its best; + But if the labour it refuses + We'll scout OLD POLL and his NINE MUSES, + And leave our JOHN TROT lines to tell + The Story and, we hope, as well. + + An _Empiric_ had hither bent + His journey from the Continent, + Who boasted, by his Chymic skill, + Disease was subject to his will; + And that his cunning had found out + A _Panacea_ for the _Gout_. + It seems this wonderful receipt + Form'd a warm-bath for legs and feet; + And ev'ry day, for a full hour, + The period might be less or more, + The Patient sat, but ill at ease + His legs immers'd up to his knees, + Each in a pail just plac'd before him + Fill'd with a fluid to restore him. + _Fairman_, who dup'd by Quack'ry's lures, + Had often sought for promis'd cures + Thought it would be no harm to try + The efforts of this Remedy. + --But _Vellum_ eager to make known + This curious pair as SIRE and SON. + Did not consult his better reason + Respecting the right place and season, + But a most heedless moment sought + When he QUÆ GENUS trembling brought, + While the Old Man up to his knees + Was bathing for expected ease, + And thought of nothing but the ails + He hop'd to drown within the pails. + Then _Vellum_ said, my Duty's done + Behold, my friend and see your Son! + QUÆ GENUS, kneeling on the floor, + Began a blessing to implore! + The good man said, I ask of Heaven + That its protection may be given + To this my long-lost, darling Boy + Of coming time my only joy! + 'Twas then he press'd the frizzled hair + And sunk back senseless in his chair. + The good old _Bookseller_ amaz'd + On the strange, motley picture gaz'd, + And _Betty Broom_ began to vow + "'Twere pity he should die just now." + While the staid Cook, whose ev'ry feature + Scarce knew a change from sober nature, + Was to expression ne'er beguil'd, + Who never wept nor ever smil'd + Then calmly said, but said no more, + "I never saw him so before:"-- + While, "look! behold! see he revives!" + QUÆ GENUS cried--"my Father lives!" + + Wonder and Gratitude and Fainting + Were there combin'd--what could be wanting + To make the melting scene complete, + But coffin and a winding-sheet? + Nor were those symbols long to seek, + For, in a short and happy week, + Which was in warm affection past, + The exulting Father breath'd his last. + +[Illustration: QUÆ GENUS DISCOVERS HIS FATHER.] + + Here then we make a pause to ask + How Fortune will achieve its task, + And, to indulge the curious view, + What track the Fancy must pursue, + From such a change in the affairs + Of the poor Foundling on the stairs. + Whether the passions active strife + Will check repose and trouble life; + Whether the inmate of his breast + Will lead to turbulence or rest, + Make him repose beneath the shade + At ease and indolently laid; + Whether the mind will yield to pleasure + In that seducing form and measure, + Which strews temptations ev'ry hour + And gold commands with ready power: + --But other notions we had brought + The proofs of our prophetic thought; + That, not without a gleam of pride, + He would chuse Reason for his guide. + When with a plenteous income arm'd + And hospitable bosom warm'd, + He from the gay world would retire + And turn into a Country 'Squire; + Then, with those charms which heighten life, + And blossom in a pleasing wife, + Enjoy that calm and tranquil state } + That does on Independence wait, } + Nor spurns the low, nor courts the great: } + And though not from those frailties free + The Lot of man's infirmity, + He might pass on to rev'rend age, + And die a Christian and a sage. + --Thus we our Hero's picture drew + As hope inspir'd, for future view, + Such as the coming years might see, + Such as we hop'd that he would be. + But soon appear'd a threat'ning storm + That did the expected scene deform, + And many a cloud began to lour + That veils the intellectual hour, + Though gleams of light would oft controul + The darksome chaos of the soul: + And a bright, instantaneous ray + Would gild a cloud and chear the day; + And now and then a serious thought + Was to its proper object brought. + Whene'er, oppress'd with sudden gloom, + In solemn steps he pac'd the room; + Then, his looks beaming with content, + He turn'd to Joy and Merriment, + And Reason, for a wav'ring hour, + Would seem to re-assume its power. + Yet social habits he disclaim'd, + Wept when he prais'd, laugh'd when he blam'd, + And, sometimes frowning, would declare + Life was not worth the liver's care. + --Whether it was the sudden change, + So unexpected and so strange, + Or the accession large of wealth + Broke in upon his reason's health, + Or the concussion of his brain } + Which the night's frolic did sustain, } + Our science knows not to explain. } + Old _Betty_ thought it must be Love, + Which she would undertake to prove, + As in his freaks that seem'd like folly + He sung and danc'd and talk'd of _Molly_, + And frequently was seen to scrawl + Figures in chalk upon the wall, + Then fancy that he scatter'd flowers + And sat in gay and fragrant bowers. + --Whate'er the hidden cause might be, } + No sage experience could foresee } + A cure for his Infirmity. } + He now grew worse from day to day, + And Nature hasten'd to decay: + It soon was seen, no art could save + QUÆ GENUS from an early grave. + --Old _Vellum_ did not quit his care + And _Betty Broom_ was always there. + The FOUNDLING'S Life she had attended, + As it began, and as it ended: + His earliest days her cares embrac'd, + Her aged eyes wept o'er his last: + They did his dying hour behold! + --Reader Farewell,----The Story's told! + +THE END + + + + + PRINTED BY + MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED, + EDINBURGH + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The History of Johnny Quæ Genus, by William Combe + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42299 *** |