Poetical Works by Charles Churchill Part 11

The instruments of husbandry, As in contempt, were all thrown by, And, flattering a manly pride, War's keener tools their place supplied.

Their arrows to the head they drew; Swift to the points their javelins flew; They grasp'd the sword, they shook the spear; Their fathers felt a pleasing fear; 70 And even Courage, standing by, Scarcely beheld with steady eye.

Each stripling, lesson'd by his sire, Knew when to close, when to retire, When near at hand, when from afar To fight, and was himself a war.

Their wives, their mothers, all around, Careless of order, on the ground Breathed forth to Heaven the pious vow, And for a son's or husband's brow, 80 With eager fingers, laurel wove; Laurel, which in the sacred grove, Planted by Liberty, they find, The brows of conquerors to bind, To give them pride and spirit, fit To make a world in arms submit.

What raptures did the bosom fire Of the young, rugged, peasant sire, When, from the toil of mimic fight, Returning with return of night, 90 He saw his babe resign the breast, And, smiling, stroke those arms in jest, With which hereafter he shall make The proudest heart in Gallia quake!

G.o.ds! with what joy, what honest pride, Did each fond, wis.h.i.+ng rustic bride Behold her manly swain return!

How did her love-sick bosom burn, Though on parades he was not bred, Nor wore the livery of red, 100 When, Pleasure heightening all her charms, She strain'd her warrior in her arms, And begg'd, whilst love and glory fire, A son, a son just like his sire!

Such were the men in former times, Ere luxury had made our crimes Our bitter punishment, who bore Their terrors to a foreign sh.o.r.e: Such were the men, who, free from dread, By Edwards and by Henries led, 110 Spread, like a torrent swell'd with rains, O'er haughty Gallia's trembling plains: Such were the men, when l.u.s.t of power, To work him woe, in evil hour Debauch'd the tyrant from those ways On which a king should found his praise; When stern Oppression, hand in hand With Pride, stalk'd proudly through the land; When weeping Justice was misled From her fair course, and Mercy dead: 120 Such were the men, in virtue strong, Who dared not see their country's wrong, Who left the mattock and the spade, And, in the robes of War array'd, In their rough arms, departing, took Their helpless babes, and with a look Stern and determined, swore to see Those babes no more, or see them free: Such were the men whom tyrant Pride Could never fasten to his side 130 By threats or bribes; who, freemen born, Chains, though of gold, beheld with scorn; Who, free from every servile awe, Could never be divorced from Law, From that broad general law, which Sense Made for the general defence; Could never yield to partial ties Which from dependant stations rise; Could never be to slavery led, For Property was at their head: 140 Such were the men, in days of yore, Who, call'd by Liberty, before Her temple on the sacred green, In martial pastimes oft were seen-- Now seen no longer--in their stead, To laziness and vermin bred, A race who, strangers to the cause Of Freedom, live by other laws, On other motives fight, a prey To interest, and slaves for pay. 150 Valour--how glorious, on a plan Of honour founded!--leads their van; Discretion, free from taint of fear, Cool, but resolved, brings up their rear-- Discretion, Valour's better half; Dependence holds the general's staff.

In plain and home-spun garb array'd, Not for vain show, but service made, In a green flouris.h.i.+ng old age, Not d.a.m.n'd yet with an equipage, 160 In rules of Porterage untaught, Simplicity, not worth a groat, For years had kept the Temple-door; Full on his breast a gla.s.s he wore, Through which his bosom open lay To every one who pa.s.s'd that way: Now turn'd adrift, with humbler face, But prouder heart, his vacant place Corruption fills, and bears the key; No entrance now without a fee. 170 With belly round, and full fat face, Which on the house reflected grace, Full of good fare, and honest glee, The steward Hospitality, Old Welcome smiling by his side, A good old servant, often tried, And faithful found, who kept in view His lady's fame and interest too, Who made each heart with joy rebound, Yet never ran her state aground, 180 Was turn'd off, or (which word I find Is more in modern use) resign'd.[138]

Half-starved, half-starving others, bred In beggary, with carrion fed, Detested, and detesting all, Made up of avarice and gall, Boasting great thrift, yet wasting more Than ever steward did before, Succeeded one, who, to engage The praise of an exhausted age, 190 a.s.sumed a name of high degree, And call'd himself Economy.

Within the Temple, full in sight, Where, without ceasing, day and night The workmen toiled; where Labour bared His brawny arm; where Art prepared, In regular and even rows, Her types, a printing-press arose; Each workman knew his task, and each Was honest and expert as Leach.[139] 200 Hence Learning struck a deeper root, And Science brought forth riper fruit; Hence Loyalty received support, Even when banish'd from the court; Hence Government gain'd strength, and hence Religion sought and found defence; Hence England's fairest fame arose, And Liberty subdued her foes.

On a low, simple, turf-made throne, Raised by Allegiance, scarcely known 210 From her attendants, glad to be Pattern of that equality She wish'd to all, so far as could Safely consist with social good, The G.o.ddess sat; around her head A cheerful radiance Glory spread: Courage, a youth of royal race, Lovelily stern, possess'd a place On her left hand, and on her right Sat Honour, clothed with robes of light; 220 Before her Magna Charta lay, Which some great lawyer, of his day The Pratt,[140] was officed to explain, And make the basis of her reign: Peace, crown'd with olive, to her breast Two smiling twin-born infants press'd; At her feet, couching, War was laid, And with a brindled lion play'd: Justice and Mercy, hand in hand, 230 Joint guardians of the happy land, Together held their mighty charge, And Truth walk'd all about at large; Health for the royal troop the feast Prepared, and Virtue was high-priest.

Such was the fame our G.o.ddess bore Her Temple such, in days of yore.

What changes ruthless Time presents!

Behold her ruin'd battlements, Her walls decay'd, her nodding spires, Her altars broke, her dying fires, 240 Her name despised, her priests destroy'd, Her friends disgraced, her foes employ'd, Herself (by ministerial arts Deprived e'en of the people's hearts, Whilst they, to work her surer woe, Feign her to Monarchy a foe) Exiled by grief, self-doom'd to dwell With some poor hermit in a cell; Or, that retirement tedious grown, If she walks forth, she walks unknown, 250 Hooted, and pointed at with scorn, As one in some strange country born.

Behold a rude and ruffian race, A band of spoilers, seize her place; With looks which might the heart disseat, And make life sound a quick retreat!

To rapine from the cradle bred, A staunch old blood-hound at their head, Who, free from virtue and from awe, Knew none but the bad part of law, 260 They roved at large; each on his breast Mark'd with a greyhound stood confess'd: Controlment waited on their nod, High-wielding Persecution's rod; Confusion follow'd at their heels, And a cast statesman held the seals;[141]

Those seals, for which he dear shall pay, When awful Justice takes her day.

The printers saw--they saw and fled-- Science, declining, hung her head. 270 Property in despair appear'd, And for herself destruction fear'd; Whilst underfoot the rude slaves trod The works of men, and word of G.o.d; Whilst, close behind, on many a book, In which he never deigns to look, Which he did not, nay, could not read, A bold, bad man (by power decreed For that bad end, who in the dark Scorn'd to do mischief) set his mark 280 In the full day, the mark of h.e.l.l, And on the Gospel stamp'd an L.

Liberty fled, her friends withdrew-- Her friends, a faithful, chosen few; Honour in grief threw up; and Shame, Clothing herself with Honour's name, Usurp'd his station; on the throne Which Liberty once call'd her own, (G.o.ds! that such mighty ills should spring Under so great, so good a king, 290 So loved, so loving, through the arts Of statesmen, cursed with wicked hearts!) For every darker purpose fit, Behold in triumph State-craft sit!

BOOK III.

Ah me! what mighty perils wait The man who meddles with a state, Whether to strengthen, or oppose!

False are his friends, and firm his foes: How must his soul, once ventured in, Plunge blindly on from sin to sin!

What toils he suffers, what disgrace, To get, and then to keep, a place!

How often, whether wrong or right, Must he in jest or earnest fight, 10 Risking for those both life and limb Who would not risk one groat for him!

Under the Temple lay a Cave, Made by some guilty, coward slave, Whose actions fear'd rebuke: a maze Of intricate and winding ways, Not to be found without a clue; One pa.s.sage only, known to few, In paths direct led to a cell, Where Fraud in secret loved to dwell, 20 With all her tools and slaves about her, Nor fear'd lest Honesty should rout her.

In a dark corner, shunning sight Of man, and shrinking from the light, One dull, dim taper through the cell Glimmering, to make more horrible The face of darkness, she prepares, Working unseen, all kinds of snares, With curious, but destructive art: Here, through the eye to catch the heart, 30 Gay stars their tinsel beams afford, Neat artifice to trap a lord; There, fit for all whom Folly bred, Wave plumes of feathers for the head; Garters the hag contrives to make, Which, as it seems, a babe might break, But which ambitious madmen feel More firm and sure than chains of steel; Which, slipp'd just underneath the knee, 40 Forbid a freeman to be free.

Purses she knew, (did ever curse Travel more sure than in a purse?) Which, by some strange and magic bands, Enslave the soul, and tie the hands.

Here Flattery, eldest-born of Guile, Weaves with rare skill the silken smile, The courtly cringe, the supple bow, The private squeeze, the levee vow, With which--no strange or recent case-- Fools in, deceive fools out of place. 50 Corruption, (who, in former times, Through fear or shame conceal'd her crimes, And what she did, contrived to do it So that the public might not view it) Presumptuous grown, unfit was held For their dark councils, and expell'd, Since in the day her business might Be done as safe as in the night.

Her eye down-bending to the ground, Planning some dark and deadly wound, 60 Holding a dagger, on which stood, All fresh and reeking, drops of blood, Bearing a lantern, which of yore, By Treason borrow'd, Guy Fawkes bore, By which, since they improved in trade, Excis.e.m.e.n have their lanterns made, a.s.sa.s.sination, her whole mind Blood-thirsting, on her arm reclined; Death, grinning, at her elbow stood, And held forth instruments of blood,-- 70 Vile instruments, which cowards choose, But men of honour dare not use; Around, his Lords.h.i.+p and his Grace, Both qualified for such a place, With many a Forbes, and many a Dun,[142]

Each a resolved, and pious son, Wait her high bidding; each prepared, As she around her orders shared, Proof 'gainst remorse, to run, to fly, And bid the destined victim die, 80 Posting on Villany's black wing, Whether he patriot is, or king.

Oppression,--willing to appear An object of our love, not fear, Or, at the most, a reverend awe To breed, usurp'd the garb of Law.

A book she held, on which her eyes Were deeply fix'd, whence seem'd to rise Joy in her breast; a book, of might Most wonderful, which black to white 90 Could turn, and without help of laws, Could make the worse the better cause.

She read, by flattering hopes deceived; She wish'd, and what she wish'd, believed, To make that book for ever stand The rule of wrong through all the land; On the back, fair and worthy note, At large was Magna Charta wrote; But turn your eye within, and read, A bitter lesson, Norton's Creed. 100 Ready, e'en with a look, to run, Fast as the coursers of the sun, To worry Virtue, at her hand Two half-starved greyhounds took their stand.

A curious model, cut in wood, Of a most ancient castle stood Full in her view; the gates were barr'd, And soldiers on the watch kept guard; In the front, openly, in black Was wrote, The Tower: but on the back, 110 Mark'd with a secretary's seal, In b.l.o.o.d.y letters, The Bastile.[143]

Around a table, fully bent On mischief of most black intent, Deeply determined that their reign Might longer last, to work the bane Of one firm patriot, whose heart, tied To Honour, all their power defied, And brought those actions into light They wish'd to have conceal'd in night, 120 Begot, born, bred to infamy, A privy-council sat of three: Great were their names, of high repute And favour through the land of Bute.

The first[144] (ent.i.tled to the place Of Honour both by gown and grace, Who never let occasion slip To take right-hand of fellows.h.i.+p, And was so proud, that should he meet The twelve apostles in the street, 130 He'd turn his nose up at them all, And shove his Saviour from the wall!

Who was so mean (Meanness and Pride Still go together side by side) That he would cringe, and creep, be civil, And hold a stirrup for the Devil; If in a journey to his mind, He'd let him mount and ride behind; Who basely fawn'd through all his life, For patrons first, then for a wife: 140 Wrote Dedications which must make The heart of every Christian quake; Made one man equal to, or more Than G.o.d, then left him, as before His G.o.d he left, and, drawn by pride, s.h.i.+fted about to t' other side) Was by his sire a parson made, Merely to give the boy a trade; But he himself was thereto drawn By some faint omens of the lawn, 150 And on the truly Christian plan To make himself a gentleman,-- A t.i.tle in which Form array'd him, Though Fate ne'er thought on 't when she made him.

The oaths he took, 'tis very true, But took them as all wise men do, With an intent, if things should turn, Rather to temporise, than burn; Gospel and loyalty were made To serve the purposes of trade; 160 Religions are but paper ties, Which bind the fool, but which the wise, Such idle notions far above, Draw on and off, just like a glove; All G.o.ds, all kings (let his great aim Be answer'd) were to him the same.

A curate first, he read and read, And laid in, whilst he should have fed The souls of his neglected flock, Of reading such a mighty stock, 170 That he o'ercharged the weary brain With more than she could well contain; More than she was with spirits fraught To turn and methodise to thought, And which, like ill-digested food, To humours turn'd, and not to blood.

Brought up to London, from the plough And pulpit, how to make a bow He tried to learn; he grew polite, And was the poet's parasite. 180 With wits conversing, (and wits then Were to be found 'mongst n.o.blemen) He caught, or would have caught, the flame, And would be nothing, or the same.

He drank with drunkards, lived with sinners, Herded with infidels for dinners; With such an emphasis and grace Blasphemed, that Potter[141] kept not pace: He, in the highest reign of noon, Bawled bawdy songs to a psalm tune; 190 Lived with men infamous and vile, Truck'd his salvation for a smile; To catch their humour caught their plan, And laugh'd at G.o.d to laugh with man; Praised them, when living, in each breath, And d.a.m.n'd their memories after death.

To prove his faith, which all admit Is at least equal to his wit, And make himself a man of note, He in defence of Scripture wrote: 200 So long he wrote, and long about it, That e'en believers 'gan to doubt it: He wrote, too, of the inward light, Though no one knew how he came by 't, And of that influencing grace Which in his life ne'er found a place: He wrote, too, of the Holy Ghost, Of whom no more than doth a post He knew; nor, should an angel show him, Would he, or know, or choose to know him. 210 Next (for he knew 'twixt every science There was a natural alliance) He wrote, to advance his Maker's praise, Comments[142] on rhymes, and notes on plays, And with an all-sufficient air Placed himself in the critic's chair; Usurp'd o'er Reason full dominion, And govern'd merely by Opinion.

At length dethroned, and kept in awe By one plain simple man of law,[143] 220 He arm'd dead friends, to vengeance true, To abuse the man they never knew.

Examine strictly all mankind, Most characters are mix'd, we find; And Vice and Virtue take their turn In the same breast to beat and burn.

Our priest was an exception here, Nor did one spark of grace appear, Not one dull, dim spark in his soul; Vice, glorious Vice, possess'd the whole, 230 And, in her service truly warm, He was in sin most uniform.

Injurious Satire! own at least One snivelling virtue in the priest, One snivelling virtue, which is placed, They say, in or about the waist, Call'd Chast.i.ty; the prudish dame Knows it at large by Virtue's name.

To this his wife (and in these days Wives seldom without reason praise) 240 Bears evidence--then calls her child, And swears that Tom[144] was vastly wild.

Ripen'd by a long course of years, He great and perfect now appears.

In shape scarce of the human kind, A man, without a manly mind; No husband, though he's truly wed; Though on his knees a child is bred, No father; injured, without end A foe; and though obliged, no friend; 250 A heart, which virtue ne'er disgraced; A head, where learning runs to waste; A gentleman well-bred, if breeding Rests in the article of reading; A man of this world, for the next Was ne'er included in his text; A judge of genius, though confess'd With not one spark of genius bless'd; Amongst the first of critics placed, Though free from every taint of taste; 260 A Christian without faith or works, As he would be a Turk 'mongst Turks; A great divine, as lords agree, Without the least divinity; To crown all, in declining age, Inflamed with church and party rage, Behold him, full and perfect quite, A false saint, and true hypocrite.

Next sat a lawyer,[145] often tried In perilous extremes; when Pride 270 And Power, all wild and trembling, stood, Nor dared to tempt the raging flood; This bold, bad man arose to view, And gave his hand to help them through: Steel'd 'gainst compa.s.sion, as they pa.s.s'd He saw poor Freedom breathe her last; He saw her struggle, heard her groan; He saw her helpless and alone, Whelm'd in that storm, which, fear'd and praised By slaves less bold, himself had raised. 280 Bred to the law, he from the first Of all bad lawyers was the worst.

Perfection (for bad men maintain In ill we may perfection gain) In others is a work of time, And they creep on from crime to crime; He, for a prodigy design'd, To spread amazement o'er mankind, Started full ripen'd all at once A perfect knave, and perfect dunce. 290 Who will, for him, may boast of sense, His better guard is impudence; His front, with tenfold plates of bra.s.s Secured, Shame never yet could pa.s.s, Nor on the surface of his skin Blush for that guilt which dwelt within.

How often, in contempt of laws, To sound the bottom of a cause, To search out every rotten part, And worm into its very heart, 300 Hath he ta'en briefs on false pretence, And undertaken the defence Of trusting fools, whom in the end He meant to ruin, not defend!

How often, e'en in open court, Hath the wretch made his shame his sport, And laugh'd off, with a villain's ease, Throwing up briefs, and keeping fees!

Such things as, though to roguery bred, Had struck a little villain dead! 310 Causes, whatever their import, He undertakes, to serve a court; For he by art this rule had got, Power can effect what Law cannot.

Fools he forgives, but rogues he fears; If Genius, yoked with Worth, appears, His weak soul sickens at the sight, And strives to plunge them down in night.

So loud he talks, so very loud, He is an angel with the crowd; 320 Whilst he makes Justice hang her head, And judges turn from pale to red.

Bid all that Nature, on a plan Most intimate, makes dear to man, All that with grand and general ties Binds good and bad, the fool and wise, Knock at his heart; they knock in vain; No entrance there such suitors gain; Bid kneeling kings forsake the throne, Bid at his feet his country groan; 330 Bid Liberty stretch out her hands, Religion plead her stronger bands; Bid parents, children, wife, and friends, If they come 'thwart his private ends-- Unmoved he hears the general call, And bravely tramples on them all.

Who will, for him, may cant and whine, And let weak Conscience with her line Chalk out their ways; such starving rules Are only fit for coward fools; 340 Fellows who credit what priests tell, And tremble at the thoughts of h.e.l.l; His spirit dares contend with Grace, And meets d.a.m.nation face to face.

Such was our lawyer; by his side, In all bad qualities allied, In all bad counsels, sat a third, By birth a lord.[146] Oh, sacred word!

Oh, word most sacred! whence men get A privilege to run in debt; 350 Whence they at large exemption claim From Satire, and her servant Shame; Whence they, deprived of all her force, Forbid bold Truth to hold her course.

Consult his person, dress, and air, He seems, which strangers well might swear, The master, or, by courtesy, The captain of a colliery.

Look at his visage, and agree Half-hang'd he seems, just from the tree 360 Escaped; a rope may sometimes break, Or men be cut down by mistake.

He hath not virtue (in the school Of Vice bred up) to live by rule, Nor hath he sense (which none can doubt Who know the man) to live without.

His life is a continued scene Of all that's infamous and mean; He knows not change, unless, grown nice And delicate, from vice to vice; 370 Nature design'd him, in a rage, To be the Wharton[147] of his age; But, having given all the sin, Forgot to put the virtues in.

To run a horse, to make a match, To revel deep, to roar a catch, To knock a tottering watchman down, To sweat a woman of the town; By fits to keep the peace, or break it, In turn to give a pox, or take it; 380 He is, in faith, most excellent, And, in the word's most full intent, A true choice spirit, we admit; With wits a fool, with fools a wit: Hear him but talk, and you would swear Obscenity herself was there, And that Profaneness had made choice, By way of trump, to use his voice; That, in all mean and low things great, He had been bred at Billingsgate; 390 And that, ascending to the earth Before the season of his birth, Blasphemy, making way and room, Had mark'd him in his mother's womb.

Too honest (for the worst of men In forms are honest, now and then) Not to have, in the usual way, His bills sent in; too great to pay: Too proud to speak to, if he meets The honest tradesman whom he cheats: 400 Too infamous to have a friend; Too bad for bad men to commend, Or good to name; beneath whose weight Earth groans; who hath been spared by Fate Only to show, on Mercy's plan, How far and long G.o.d bears with man.

Such were the three, who, mocking sleep, At midnight sat, in counsel deep, Plotting destruction 'gainst a head Whose wisdom could not be misled; 410 Plotting destruction 'gainst a heart Which ne'er from honour would depart.

'Is he not rank'd amongst our foes?

Hath not his spirit dared oppose Our dearest measures, made our name Stand forward on the roll of Shame Hath he not won the vulgar tribes, By scorning menaces and bribes, And proving that his darling cause Is, of their liberties and laws 420 To stand the champion? In a word, Nor need one argument be heard Beyond this to awake our zeal, To quicken our resolves, and steel Our steady souls to b.l.o.o.d.y bent, (Sure ruin to each dear intent, Each flattering hope) he, without fear, Hath dared to make the truth appear.'

They said, and, by resentment taught, Each on revenge employ'd his thought; 430 Each, bent on mischief, rack'd his brain To her full stretch, but rack'd in vain; Scheme after scheme they brought to view; All were examined; none would do: When Fraud, with pleasure in her face, Forth issued from her hiding-place, And at the table where they meet, First having bless'd them, took her seat.

'No trifling cause, my darling boys, Your present thoughts and cares employs; 440 No common snare, no random blow, Can work the bane of such a foe: By nature cautious as he's brave, To Honour only he's a slave; In that weak part without defence, We must to honour make pretence; That lure shall to his ruin draw The wretch, who stands secure in law.

Nor think that I have idly plann'd This full-ripe scheme; behold at hand, 450 With three months' training on his head, An instrument, whom I have bred, Born of these bowels, far from sight Of Virtue's false but glaring light, My youngest-born, my dearest joy, Most like myself, my darling boy!

He, never touch'd with vile remorse, Resolved and crafty in his course, Shall work our ends, complete our schemes, Most mine, when most he Honour's seems; 460 Nor can be found, at home, abroad, So firm and full a slave of Fraud.'

She said, and from each envious son A discontented murmur run Around the table; all in place Thought his full praise their own disgrace, Wondering what stranger she had got, Who had one vice that they had not; When straight the portals open flew, And, clad in armour, to their view 470 Martin, the Duellist, came forth.

All knew, and all confess'd his worth; All justified, with smiles array'd, The happy choice their dam had made.

Footnotes:

[132] 'The Duellist:' the _North Briton_ had fiercely a.s.sailed Mr Martin, M.P. for Camelford, who, on the first day of the next session of Parliament, complained of it; Mr Wilkes owned himself the author, and the result was a duel in Hyde Park, in which Wilkes was severely wounded. He always owned that Martin acted honourably in the rencontre, but not so thought Churchill.

[133] 'Hanging friends:' See note on v. 140 of the Epistle to William Hogarth.

[134] 'Earl Talbot:' Lord Steward of the King's Household from 1761 to 1782, an economical Reformer.

[135] 'Temple:' the British Const.i.tution.

[136] 'Flitcrofts:' Henry Flitcroft, an architect of some eminence.

[137] 'Brief:' alluding to the practice of obtaining contributions for the repair of churches, &c., by reading briefs in church.

[138] 'Resign'd:' the Dukes of Newcastle and Devons.h.i.+re, Lord Temple, &c. who resigned their offices in 1762. Their successors pretended to economy, but it was a mere pretence.

[139] 'Leach:' Dryden Leach, an expert and tasteful printer in Crane Court, Fleet street, was unjustly imprisoned on account of Wilkes.