Chapter XI

Southey--Drolls of Bartholomew Fair--The "Doves"--Typographical
Devices--Puns--Poems of Abel Shufflebottom.

We have already mentioned the name of Southey. By far the greater part of his works are poetical and sentimental, and hence some doubt has been thrown upon the authorship of his work called "The Doctor." But in his minor poems we find him verging into humour, as where he pleads the cause of the pig and dancing bear, and even of the maggot. The last named is under the head of "The Filbert," and commences--

"Nay gather not that filbert, Nicholas,
There is a maggot there; it is his house--
His castle--oh! commit not burglary!
Strip him not naked; 'tis his clothes, his shell;
His bones, the case and armour of his life,
And thou shalt do no murder, Nicholas.
It were an easy thing to crack that nut,
Or with thy crackers or thy double teeth;
So easily may all things be destroyed!
But 'tis not in the power of mortal man
To mend the fracture of a filbert shell.
There were two great men once amused themselves
Watching two maggots run their wriggling race,
And wagering on their speed; but, Nick, to us
It were no sport to see the pampered worm
Roll out and then draw in his folds of fat
Like to some barber's leathern powder bag
Wherewith he feathers, frosts or cauliflowers,
Spruce beau, or lady fair, or doctor grave."

Also his Commonplace Book proves that, like many other hardworking men, he amused his leisure hours with what was light and fantastic. Moreover, he speaks in some places of the advantage of intermingling amusement and instruction--

"Even in literature a leafy style, if there be any fruit under the
foliage, is preferable to a knotty one however fine the grain.
Whipt cream is a good thing, and better still when it covers and
adorns that amiable compound of sweetmeats and ratafia cakes soaked
in wine, to which Cowper likened his delightful poem, when he thus
described 'The Task'--

"'It is a medley of many things, some that may be useful, and some
that, for aught I know, may be very diverting. I am merry that I
may decoy people into my company, and grave that they may be the
better for it. Now and then I put on the garb of a philosopher, and
take the opportunity that disguise procures me to drop a word in
favour of religion. In short there is some froth, and here and
there some sweetmeat which seems to entitle it justly to the name
of a certain dish the ladies call a 'trifle.' But in 'task' or
'trifle' unless the ingredients were good the whole were nought.
They who should present to their deceived guests whipt white of egg
would deserve to be whipt themselves."

But Southey by no means follows the profitable rule he here lays down. On the contrary, he sometimes betrays such a love of the marvellous as would seem unaccountable, had we not read bygone literature, and observed how strong the feeling was even as late as the days of the "Wonderful Magazine." Among his strange fancies we find in the "Chapter on Kings:"

"There are other monarchies in the inferior world beside that of
the bees, though they have not been registered by naturalists nor
studied by them. For example, the king of the fleas keeps his court
at Tiberias, as Dr. Clark discovered to his cost, and as Mr. Cripps
will testify for him."

He proceeds to give humorous descriptions of the king of monkeys, bears, codfish, oysters, &c.

Again--

"Would not John Dory's name have died with him, and so been long
ago dead as a door-nail, if a grotesque likeness for him had not
been found in the fish, which being called after him, has
immortalized him and his ugliness? But if John Dory could have
anticipated this sort of immortality when he saw his own face in
the glass, he might very well have 'blushed to find it fame.'"

He is fond of introducing quaint old legends--

"There are certain Rabbis who affirm that Eve was not taken out of
Adam's side, but that Adam had originally been created with a tail,
and that among the various experiments and improvements which were
made in form and organization before he was finished, the tail was
removed as an inconvenient appendage, and of the excrescence or
superfluous part, which was then lopped off, the woman was formed."

While on this subject he says that Lady Jekyll once asked William Wiston "Why woman was formed out of man's rib rather than out of any other part of his body?" Wiston scratched his head and replied, "Indeed, Madam, I do not know, unless it be that the rib is the most crooked part of the body."

Southey gives a playbill of the Drolls of Bartholomew Fair in the time of Queen Anne--

"At Crawley's booth over against the Crown Tavern in Smithfield,
during the time of the Bartholomew Fair, will be presented a little
opera, called the 'Old Creation of the World,' yet newly revived,
with the addition of 'Noah's Flood.' Also several fountains playing
water during the time of the play. The last scene does represent
Noah and his family coming out of the Ark, with all the beasts two
and two, and all the fowls of the air seen in a prospect sitting
upon trees. Likewise over the Ark is seen the sun rising in a most
glorious manner. Moreover, a multitude of angels will be seen in a
double rank, which represents a double prospect, one for the sun,
the other for a palace, where will be seen six angels ringing of
bells. Likewise machines descend from above, double and treble,
with Dives rising out of Hell, and Lazarus seen in Abraham's bosom;
besides several figures, dancing jigs, sarabands, and country
dances to the admiration of the spectators, with the merry conceits
of Squire Punch and Sir John Spendall."

"So recently as the year 1816 the sacrifice of Isaac was
represented on the stage at Paris. Samson was the subject of the
ballet; the unshorn son of Manoah delighted the spectators by
dancing a solo with the gates of Gaza on his back; Delilah clipt
him during the intervals of a jig, and the Philistines surrounded
and captured him in a country-dance."

Sometimes Southey indulges his fancy on very trifling subjects as,

"The Doves, father as well as son, were blest with a hearty
intellectual appetite, and a strong digestion, but the son had the
more Catholic taste. He would have relished caviare, would have
ventured on laver, undeterred by its appearance, and would have
liked it. He would have eaten sausages for breakfast at Norwich,
sally-luns at Bath, sweet butter in Cumberland, orange marmalade at
Edinburgh, Findon haddocks at Aberdeen, and drunk punch with
beef-steaks to oblige the French, if they insisted upon obliging
him with a _déjeuner à l'Anglaise_."

'A good digestion turneth all to health.'

"He would have eaten squab pie in Devonshire, and the pie which is
squabber than squab in Cornwall; sheep's-head with the hair on in
Scotland, and potatoes roasted on the hearth in Ireland, frogs with
the French, pickled-herrings with the Dutch, sour-krout with the
Germans, maccaroni with the Italians, aniseed with the Spaniards,
garlic with anybody, horse-flesh with the Tartars, ass-flesh with
the Persians, dogs with the North-Western American Indians, curry
with the Asiatic East Indians, bird's-nests with the Chinese,
mutton roasted with honey with the Turks, pismire cakes on the
Orinoco, and turtle and venison with the Lord Mayor, and the turtle
and venison he would have preferred to all the other dishes,
because his taste, though Catholic, was not undiscriminating." ...

"At the time of which I am now speaking, Miss Trewbody was a maiden
lady of forty-seven in the highest state of preservation. The whole
business of her life had been to take care of a fine person, and in
this she had succeeded admirably. Her library consisted of two
books; 'Nelson's Festivals and Fasts' was one, the other was the
'Queen's Cabinet Unlocked;' and there was not a cosmetic in the
latter which she had not faithfully prepared. Thus by means, as she
believed, of distilled waters of various kinds, maydew and
buttermilk, her skin retained its beautiful texture still and much
of its smoothness, and she knew at times how to give it the
appearance of that brilliancy which it had lost. But that was a
profound secret. Miss Trewbody, remembering the example of Jezebel,
always felt conscious that she had committed a sin when she took
the rouge-box in her hand, and generally ejaculated in a low voice
'The Lord forgive me!' when she laid it down; but looking in the
glass at the same time she indulged a hope that the nature of the
temptation might be considered an excuse for the transgression. Her
other great business was to observe with the utmost precision all
the punctilios of her situation in life, and the time which was not
devoted to one or other of these worthy occupations was employed in
scolding her servants and tormenting her niece. This kept the lungs
in vigorous health; nay it even seemed to supply the place of
wholesome exercise, and to stimulate the system like a perpetual
blister, with this peculiar advantage, that instead of an
inconvenience it was a pleasure to herself, and all the annoyance
was to her dependents.

"Miss Trewbody lies buried in the Cathedral at Salisbury, where a
monument was erected to her memory, worthy of remembrance itself
for its appropriate inscription and accompaniments. The epitaph
recorded her as a woman eminently pious, virtuous and charitable,
who lived universally respected, and died sincerely lamented by all
who had the happiness of knowing her. This inscription was upon a
marble shield supported by two Cupids, who bent their heads over
the edge with marble tears larger than gray peas, and something of
the same colour, upon their cheeks. These were the only tears that
her death occasioned, and the only Cupids with whom she had ever
any concern."

Southey introduces into this work a variety of extracts from rare and curious books--stories about Job beating his wife, about surgical experiments tried upon criminals, about women with horns, and a man who swallowed a poker, and "looked melancholy afterwards." Well might he suppose that people would think this farrago a composite production of many authors, and he says that if it were so he might have given it instead of the "Doctor" a name to correspond with its heterogeneous origin, such as--Isdis Roso Heta Harco Samro Grobe Thebo Heneco Thojamma &c., the words continuing gradually to increase in length till we come to

Salacoharcojotacoherecosaheco.

After reading such flights as the above, we are surprised to find him despising the jester's bauble--

"Now then to the gentle reader. The reason why I do not wear cap
and bells is this.

"There are male caps of five kinds, which are worn at present in
this kingdom, to wit, the military cap, the collegiate cap, and the
night-cap. Observe, reader, I said _kinds_, that is to say in
scientific language _genera_--for the _species_ and varieties are
numerous, especially in the former genus.

"I am not a soldier, and having long been weaned from Alma Mater,
of course have left off my college cap. The gentlemen of the hunt
would object to my going out with bells on; it would be likely to
frighten their horses; and were I to attempt it, it might involve
me in unpleasant disputes. To my travelling cap the bells would be
an inconvenient appendage; nor would they be a whit more
comfortable upon my night cap. Besides, my wife might object to
them. It follows that if I would wear a cap and bells, I must have
a cap made on purpose. But this would be rendering myself singular;
and of all things, a wise man will avoid ostentatious appearance of
singularity. Now I am certainly not singular in playing the fool
without one."

There is much in the style of the "Doctor," which reminds us of Sterne. He was evidently a favourite author with Southey, who speaking of his Sermons says, "You often see him tottering on the verge of laughter, and ready to throw his periwig in the face of the audience." Perhaps from him he acquired his love for tricks of form and typographical surprises. He introduces what he calls interchapters. "Leap chapters they cannot properly be called, and if we were to call them 'Ha-has' as being chapters, which the reader may skip if he likes, the name would appear rather strange than significant."

He sometimes introduces a chapter without any heading in the following way--

"Sir," says the Compositor to the Corrector of the Press "there is
no heading for the copy for this chapter. What must I do?"

"Leave a space for it," the Corrector replies. "It is a strange
sort of book, but I dare say the author has a reason for everything
he says or does, and most likely you will find out his meaning as
you set up."

Chapter lxxxviii begins--"While I was writing that last chapter a flea appeared upon the page before me, as there once did to St. Dominic." He proceeds to say that his flea was a flea of flea-flesh, but that St. Dominic's was the devil.

Southey was particularly fond of acoustic humour. He represents Wilberforce as saying of the unknown author of the Doctor--Pooo-oo-oo-oo-r cr[=e][=e][=e]a-ture. Perhaps his familiarity with the works of Nash, Decker, and Rabelais suggested his word coming.

One of the interchapters begins with the word _Aballiboozobanganorribo_.

He questions in the "Poultry Yard" the assertion of Aristotle that it is an advantage for animals to be domesticated. The statement is regarded unsatisfactory by the fowl--replies to it being made by Chick-pick, Hen-pen, Cock-lock, Duck-luck, Turkey-lurkey, and Goosey-loosey.

He occasionally coins words such as Potamology for the study of rivers, and Chapter cxxxiv is headed--

"A transition, an anecdote, an apostrophe, and a pun, punnet, or pundigrion."

He proposes in another chapter to make a distinction between masculine and feminine in several words.

"The troublesome affection of the diaphragm which every person has
experienced is to be called according to the sex of the
patient--He-cups or She-cups--which upon the principle of making
our language truly British is better than the more classical form
of Hiccup and Hoeccups. In the Objective use, the word becomes
Hiscups or Hercups and in like manner Histerrics should be altered
into Herterics--the complaint never being masculine."

The Doctor is rich in variety of verbal humour--

"When a girl is called a lass, who does not perceive how that
common word must have arisen? who does not see that it may be
directly traced to a mournful interjection _Alas!_ breathed
sorrowfully forth at the thought that the girl, the lovely innocent
creature upon whom the beholder has fixed his meditative eye, would
in time become a woman--a woe to man."

Our Doctor flourished in an age when the pages of Magazines, were filled with voluntary contributions from men who had never aimed at dazzling the public, but came each with his scrap of information, or his humble question, or his hard problem, or his attempt in verse--

"A was an antiquary, and wrote articles upon Altars and Abbeys and
Architecture. B made a blunder which C corrected. D demonstrated
that E was in error, and that F was wrong in Philology, and neither
Philosopher nor Physician though he affected to be both. G was a
Genealogist. H was a Herald who helped him. I was an inquisitive
inquirer, who found reason for suspecting J to be a Jesuit. M was a
Mathematician. N noted the weather. O observed the stars. P was a
poet, who produced pastorals, and prayed Mr. Urban to print them. Q
came in the corner of the page with a query. R arrogated to himself
the right of reprehending every one, who differed from him. S
sighed and sued in song. T told an old tale, and when he was wrong
U used to set him right; V was a virtuoso. W warred against
Warburton. X excelled in Algebra. Y yearned for immortality in
rhyme, and Z in his zeal was always in a puzzle."

We have already observed that the pictorial representations of demons, which were originally intended to terrify, gradually came to be regarded as ludicrous. There was something decidedly grotesque in the stories about witches and imps, and Southey, deep in early lore, was remarkable for developing a branch of humour out of them. In one place he had a catalogue of devils, whose extraordinary names he wisely recommends his readers not to attempt to pronounce, "lest they should loosen their teeth or fracture them in the operation." Comic demonology may be said to have been out of date soon after time.

Southey is not generally amatory in his humour, and therefore we appreciate the more the following effusions, which he facetiously attributes to Abel Shufflebottom. The gentleman obtained Delia's pocket-handkerchief, and celebrates the acquisition in the following strain--

"'Tis mine! what accents can my joy declare?
Blest be the pressure of the thronging rout,
Blest be the hand, so hasty, of my fair,
And left the tempting corner hanging out!

"I envy not the joy the pilgrim feels,
After long travel to some distant shrine,
When at the relic of his saint he kneels,
For Delia's pocket-handkerchief is mine.

"When first with filching fingers I drew near,
Keen hope shot tremulous through every vein,
And when the finished deed removed my fear,
Scarce could my bounding heart its joy contain.

"What though the eighth commandment rose to mind,
It only served a moment's qualm to move;
For thefts like this it could not be designed,
The eighth commandment was not made for love.

"Here when she took the macaroons from me,
She wiped her mouth to clear the crumbs so sweet,
Dear napkin! Yes! she wiped her lips in thee,
Lips sweeter than the macaroons she eat.

"And when she took that pinch of Mocabau,
That made my love so delicately sneeze,
Thee to her Roman nose applied I saw,
And thou art doubly dear for things like these.

"No washerwoman's filthy hand shall e'er,
Sweet pocket-handkerchef, thy worth profane,
For thou hast touched the rubies of my fair,
And I will kiss thee o'er and o'er again."

In another Elegy he expatiates on the beauty of Delia's locks;--

"Happy the _friseur_ who in Delia's hair,
With licensed fingers uncontrolled may rove;
And happy in his death the dancing bear,
Who died to make pomatum for my love.

"Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threads
That from the silk-worm, self-interred, proceed,
Fine as the gleamy gossamer that spreads
Its filmy web-work over the tangled mead.

"Yet with these tresses Cupid's power elate
My captive heart hath handcuffed in a chain,
Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate,
That bears Britannia's thunders o'er the main.

"The Sylphs that round her radiant locks repair,
In flowing lustre bathe their brightened wings,
And elfin minstrels with assiduous care,
The ringlets rob for fairy fiddlestrings."

Of course Shufflebottom is tempted to another theft--a rape of the lock--for which he incurs the fair Delia's condign displeasure--

"She heard the scissors that fair lock divide,
And while my heart with transport panted big,
She cast a fiery frown on me, and cried,
'You stupid puppy--you have spoilt my wig.'"