Chapter X: Canto IV: Grand Attack! (5)

If there be anything like originality in this industrious little philosopher, and for the invention of which I should be inclined to allow him the credit of ingenuity, it consists in his _meritometer_, which proposes to measure the merits of his fellow creatures by the degree of faith they can afford to bestow on the infallibility of his gases as a panacea. See his plan of this instrument, or rather the deductions drawn from his trials of it, in his large five volume _compilation of “Extracts,”_ vol. i. page 459. From this scale it appears, that of one thousand of mankind nine hundred and ninety-nine are either fools or knaves, as that proportion places no confidence in the efficacy of his catholicon. I hope, therefore, after the good reasons here assigned for my conduct, I shall not be suspected of partiality to Dr Brodum in retaining him at the head of the quacks, nor ill will to Dr T. for not calling him up higher on the list.

[113]

The Thalaba of English metre.

Mr Southey, in his work with the title of “Thalaba or the Destroyer,” has given us a fine example of a pleasing dreadful performance, which is neither prose, rhyme, nor reason. Indeed, nothing but the inspiration of the gas which we have seen him inhale in the first canto, could have generated the following effusions.

“A Teraph stood against the cavern side,
_A new born infant’s head_,
That Khawla at his hour of death had seized,
And from the shoulders wrung.
It stood upon a plate of gold,
An unclean spirit’s name inscribed beneath:
The cheeks were _deathy_ dark,
Dark the dead skin upon the hairless skull;
The lips were _bluey_ pale;
Only the eyes had life,
They gleamed with demon light.” Book ii.

Again he towers in Book v.

“There where the narrowing chasm
Rose loftier in the hill,
Stood Zohak, wretched man, condemned to keep
His cave of punishment.
His was the frequent scream
Which far away the prowling Chacal heard,
And howled in terror back.
Far from his shoulders grew
Two snakes of monster size
That ever at his head
Aimed eager their keen teeth
To satiate raving hunger with his brain.
He in the eternal conflict oft would seize
Their swelling necks, and in his giant grasp
Bruise them, and rend their flesh with bloody nails,
And howl for agony
Feeling the pangs he gave, for of himself
Inseparable parts his torturers grew.”

Now, if in this age of turmoils your worships should have occasion to educate a school of assassins, to be employed as Talleyrand employs his agents, for the purpose of promoting modern philanthropy and French projects of universal empire, I should advise you to prepare them intellectual food from such descriptions as we have quoted above. By accustoming your pupils to meditate on such horrible descriptions you will soon enable them to inflict without compunction or remorse, sufferings like those, which they have been in the habit of contemplating.

We are sorry to see, however, that our friend, Dr Darwin, has been pleased to express his disapprobation of this species of the _terrible_ in style, without which your small poets can never become conspicuous. We shall, however, quote one of his sentiments on the subject merely to let the world know that we great wits do not always tally upon every point.

The doctor tells us in his Botanic Garden, p. 115, that there is a “line of boundary between the tragic and the horrid; which line, however, will veer a little this way or that, according to the prevailing manners of the age or country, and the peculiar association of ideas, or idiosyncrasy of mind, of individuals.”

Now I am apprehensive that doctor Darwin would have adjudged the greater part of Mr Southey’s sublimity to be of the “_horrid_” rather than the _tragic_ or _sublime_ kind. Such an opinion, however, would not only greatly tarnish the reputation of the critic who should venture to pronounce it, but would entirely put down many pretty good poets, who, as the Edinburgh reviewers say, must have a “_qu’il mourut_,” and a “let there be light” in every line; and all their characters must be in agonies and ecstacies, from their entrance to their exit.[G]

Thalaba, having leaped into a “little car” which appears to have been drawn by “four living pinions, headless, bodyless, sprung from one stem that branched below, in four down arching limbs, and clenched the carrings endlong and aside, with claws of griffin grasp;”

“Down--down, it sank--down--down--
Down--down--a mighty depth!--
Down--down--and now it strikes.”

There’s the _bathos_ to perfection! Now, if we could in any way have prevailed on Mr Southey to have stopped this side of the centre of gravity, we should have been happy to have hired his “car” for this our dreadful rencontre. But as it appears that the Domdaniel cave soon after _fell in_, I fancy it would cost more to dig out this vehicle than to get Mr Southey to make us a new one.

[114]

Adown through vast Domdaniel cares.

That is, as Southey says, through the Domdaniel caves, “at the roots of the ocean.”

[115]

To monsieur Mahomet’s paradise.

“Thalaba knew that his death-hour was come,
And on he leapt, and springing up,
Into the idol’s heart
Hilt deep he drove the sword.
The ocean-vault fell in, and all were crushed.
In the same moment at the gate
Of paradise, Oneiza’s Houri-form,
Welcomed her husband to eternal bliss.”

[116]

Now rant! rave! roar! and rend! and rattle.

I _C_hristopher _C_austic, _c_ensured by _c_ritics, for my _a_pt _a_lliterations, though _a_rtfully _a_llied, yet _p_resume it is _p_olicy for a _p_ennyless _p_oet to _p_olish his _p_uny lays to such a _p_itch of _p_erfection, that _p_osterity may _p_lease to _p_lace the _p_ithy _p_roduction _p_aramount to the _p_eaked _p_oint of the _p_innicle of _P_ierian _P_arnassus.

[117]

Drives, Jehu-like, Death’s iron wagon!!

A poet of less judgment than myself would have seated Mars in the chariot of Victory, a Vauxhall car, or some other flimsy vehicle of that kind, which would be sure to be dashed to pieces in a conflict like this in which we are at present engaged. The carriage here introduced was made by Vulcan, in his best style of workmanship, for the express purpose of this attack, and in point of strength and size, bears no more proportion to the chariot commonly used by the god of war, than one of those huge broad-wheeled Manchester wagons to the little whalebone _thingamy_ which the duke of Queensbury ran at New Market.

[118]

Rend the blue “blanket” of the skies.

This is the same “blanket” which Mr Canning said was “wet” when he exhibited it in the House of Commons. Since his use of it on that occasion it has been so frequently _wrung_ by the wits, that it has now become a perfectly dry and almost thread-bare article.

[119]

And round the Blue Ridge make all rattle.

Volney informs us in his View that the Alleghany mountain is the frontier on which the south-west and north-west winds in America contend; and that he beheld a spectacle of that kind at Rockfish Gap, on the Blue Ridge. See American edition, page 148.

[120]

Huge, hissing hot, and hard as granite.

It is to me a matter of doubt whether your worships are not absolutely ignorant of the causes and effects of the wonderful phenomena to which we now allude. But if you will please to take with us a stand for observation, exactly at the centre of gravity between the earth and the moon, and look about you with the eyes of great philosophers you will perceive what is well worth a world of admiration.

You will perceive that what is vulgarly called the _man in the moon_ is a prodigious volcano, in size much superior to any on our globe, and that this volcano is continually emitting rocks, which ever and anon are thrown beyond the sphere of the moon’s attraction, and of course make their way down upon us.

You will likewise find, by turning to the second volume of the Philadelphia Literary Magazine, page 389, an account of above thirty different showers of stones, some of which have weighed not less than 300 pounds. And you will ascertain that there has been a great diversity of opinions among philosophers respecting the origin of these prodigies. Some have believed them to be thrown from some neighboring volcano. Some have thought them to have been wafted about by hurricanes. Others have supposed them to have been concretions formed in the atmosphere. Some have thought them to be masses which were detached from the planets at the time of the formation; and that they have been floating about in infinite space till they met with our earth, which became to them a new centre of gravity.

But the truth is, as you may see through any common optical tube, from the situation to which I have just had the honor to conduct you, that these masses of matter are the product of _lunar volcanos_. Here we have a cause adequate to the effect, as I shall make evident in the following few words.

A lunar volcano similar to those on our planet would project bodies much further from the moon than they would be thrown by the same force from Etna or Vesuvius; for,

1. It is granted by great philosophers, such as _ourself_ and Dr Darwin, that the moon has no atmosphere; of consequence, a body exploded from the moon would meet with no resistance excepting from the power of gravitation. Dr Darwin informs us, Botanic Garden, canto ii. “If the moon had no atmosphere at the time of its elevation from the earth; or if its atmosphere was afterwards stolen from it by the earth’s attraction, the water on the moon would rise quickly into vapor; and the cold produced by a certain quantity of this evaporation would congeal the remainder of it. Hence it is not probable that the moon is at present inhabited; _but as it seems to have suffered and to continue to suffer much by volcanos_, a sufficient quantity of air may in process of time be generated to produce an atmosphere, which may prevent its heat from so easily escaping, and its water from so easily evaporating, and thence become fit for the production of vegetables and animals.

“That the moon possesses little or no atmosphere is deduced from the undiminished lustre of the stars at the instant when they emerge from behind her disk. That the ocean of the moon is frozen is confirmed from there being no appearance of lunar tides,” &c.

2. Bodies on the moon possess much less gravity in proportion to their quantity of matter than bodies on the surface of the earth; for matter is attracted by the earth and moon, respectively, in proportion to the quantity of matter which each contains. It follows that a comparatively slight impulse, communicated to a body on the moon’s surface, would be sufficient to counteract its attraction towards the moon, and if it were propelled towards the earth it might come within its attraction, and would of course make its way to our planet.

Thus it appears very evident, even to persons of your worships’ ordinary penetration, that these wonderful showers of stones are of lunar origin.

[121]

For doctor Tasker to descant on.

I feel a very great solicitude to mould and modify every part and parcel of this performance according to rules and regulations of the best master-builders of epic poems, tragedies, and other great things of that kind. The judicious critic will perceive that all my wounds are inflicted with anatomical accuracy, and I have no doubt but my friend Dr Haygarth will do himself the honor to write a treatise upon this subject, and tell the world with what terrible propriety we have hewed and hacked our opponents in the field of battle. The reverend William Tasker, A. B. has furnished a model of this species of criticism in _A Series of Letters_, respecting “The Anatomical Knowledge of Homer,” &c. Dr Haygarth I expect will prove that the “death wounds” of Sarpedon, Hector, Ulysses’ dog, &c. as displayed in the treatise of Dr Tasker, were mere flea bites compared with these of Dr Caustic.

[122]

From where the head to where the tail is.

Or more correctly where the tail _was_. Lord Monboddo tells us that men, as well as monkies, were formerly dignified with long tails protruding from the place where (according to Butler) honor is lodged. Philosophers and antiquaries had never been able to discover how man became divested of this ornament, till my friend, Dr Anderson, furnished a clue to the mystery. From this discovery I am led to suppose that your antediluvian bucks began the practice of CUR-_tail_-ing these excrescences for gentility’s sake, and what was at first _artificial_ became in due time _natural_, till, at length, your right _tippies_, as in modern times, were entirely disencumbered of that monkey-like appendage; but our Bond-street loungers, although divested of that exterior mark of the monkey, with a laudable desire to prevent the intentions of Nature from being defeated, have adopted all the ourang-outang-ical _airs_ which she originally designed should discriminate that species of _animals_ from man.

[123]

With burning lapis infernalis.

The use of this _caustic_ and other escharotics on this momentous occasion reminds me of an important era in my life, a _succinct_ biographical sketch of which I shall _shortly_ publish, in nineteen volumes folio; a work which, in point of size, erudition, and interesting anecdote, will be immensely preferable to the voluminous production of lord Orford.

The event in question was of the greater consequence, as it gave rise to the present family name of “CAUSTIC.”

Just thirty-two years since, from the fourteenth day of last July, while I was prosecuting some of my chymical researches, my eldest son Tom, a burly-faced boy, since killed in a duel with a hot-headed Irish gentleman, overturned a bench on which were placed seven carboys full of acids, alkalies, &c. and broke them into inch pieces. The consequences of this accident may be more easily conceived than described. The whole neighborhood was alarmed, and many most terribly _causticized_ in endeavoring to extinguish the conflagration which ensued. In the consternation, and amid the exertions to subdue it, some one cried out that Dr Crichton (for such was my former name, being the lineal descendant from the celebrated “admirable Crichton”) is fairly a Dr CAUSTIC.

Thus began my _honorary_ name, of which, as it is _scientific_, I am not a little proud, especially as it was acquired by virtue of an _explosion_, similar to that which gave the honorary appellation of _Bronte_ to my friend, viscount Nelson of the Nile. For further particulars respecting this important event, you will please to inquire at the Herald’s college, where, I dare say, “garter principal king at arms,” sir Isaac Heard, knt. has done me the justice to register the occurrence. Instead of lions, bulls, boars, camels, elephants, and such insignificant _animalculæ_, my shield is decorated with insignia more appropriate to my great pretensions. On the left are seen broken carboys _couchant_, implying that the secrets of science lie prostrate before me. On the right are fumes _rampant_, indicative of my discoveries, which _soar_ above those of all other pretenders. In the centre are nine hedgehogs, with quills, _stickant_, a happy emblem of my peaceable disposition.

My motto, which I trust sir Isaac has also registered, is worthy of notice. Dr Darwin was much pleased with it, and, desirous to emulate my fame in the art of motto making, _made_ “OMNIA E CONCHIS.” But your worships will perceive that the doctor’s motto bears no comparison with mine, in point of erudition; as I prove myself versed in three languages; whereas he can boast of only one. Here it comes.

Ο ανθρωπος, or η γυνη
Lacessit never me impune!!

This, my beautiful and appropriate motto, for the sake of accommodating those among your worships, who are not versed in the lore of Greece and Rome, and cannot afford to subsidize men of erudition to officiate for you in that department of science, I shall render into our vernacular idiom, as follows:

If I’m attack’d by man or trollop
I’ll dose the knave with drastic jalap.

Lest the more critical and polite reader should complain, that in order to _let myself down_ to the level of your worshipful capacities, I have anglicized my sublime motto in too vulgar and colloquial a style, I shall take the liberty, politely, to parodize thereon, and, as lord Bacon says, “to bring it home to men’s business and bosoms;” that is, to make the application to that particular kind of gentry, against whom my hedgehog quills, aforesaid, are pointed _in terrorem_.

Ladies and gentlemen, REVIEWERS!
You are a set of mischief brewers;
A gang of scandalous backbiters,
Who feast on us, poor murder’d writers.
Now if you dare to throw the gauntlet,
I tell you honestly I sha’n’t let
Your impudences, with impunity,
Impose in future on community.
If you dare say that greater wit
Than doctor Caustic ever writ;
If you dare venture to suggest
His every word is not the best;
If you dare hint that Caustic’s noddle
Is not improved from Homer’s model;
If you dare _think_ he has not treble
The inspiration of a Sybil;
If you don’t seem to take delight
In puffing him with all your might;
If you don’t coin for him some proper lies
To circulate through this metropolis,
To give eclat to this edition
Of his Poetical Petition;
If you don’t sing the same tune o’er
Which he himself has sung before,
Ancients and moderns, altogether,
Are but the shadow of a feather,
Compared with Caustic, even as
A puff of hydrogenous gas,
He’ll hurl ye to old Davy’s grotto,
As you’ll imagine from his motto.

[124]

Thus monsieur Satan, was quite merry.

So said Milton, _Paradise Lost_, B. vi. where the hero of the poem (whom I would propose as a model for your worships’ imitation on all occasions) and his merry companions “in gamesome mood stand scoffing,” and “quips cranks,” powder, grape shot, puns, blunderbuss, jokes, and cannon-balls, flash, roar, and bellow in concert.

But I am sure that every candid critic will be disposed to acknowledge that neither Homer nor Milton ever described a battle, fraught with such sublime images and similes, as this in which we are so desperately engaged.

[125] The above ode was written, set to music, and sung on a public occasion in Rutland, Vermont, July, 1798. At that time the armament, which afterwards sailed to Egypt, under Buonaparte, lay at Toulon: its destination was not known in America, but many supposed that it was intended to waft the blessings of _French liberty_ to the United States.

[126] This ode was written to the music of an anthem, previously composed for other words, by Oliver Holden, Esq. Charlestown, Mass., a gentleman eminent for his musical talents, and sung during divine service, at the anniversary of Vermont General Election.

[127] There is an inflated species of simplicity, consisting of exaggerations of thought expressed by colloquial barbarisms, mixed with occasional pomposity of diction, which it is the object of the above to ridicule. The measure is after the model of “THALABA;” but rhyme is added, as Butler says, merely by way of _rudder_ to the verses.

[128] Killington Peak. The summit of the Green Mountains, in Vermont, is so called.

[129] Written for the occasion, and sung in New York, July the fourth, 1805.

[130] Mud-pout and sucker are two kinds of fishes of little value, common enough in muddy streams. The otter pursues these with peculiar avidity.

[131] Wickapy is the popular name for a shrub, which is remarkably flexible.

[132] Virgil says “_acquirit_,” which not rhyming we use a substitute;

“For rhyme the rudder is of verses.”

[133] Sung at the Anniversary of the Mass. Hort. Society, Sept. 10, 1830.

[134] Hon. Elias Phinney.

[135] The lady, to whom these lines were addressed, had been offended at the insolence of the character who sat as the _original_ for our picture.

[A] We preferred whales both for the docility and the rhyme’s sake.

[B] “Divine Nonsensia.”

[C] And therefore the writer of the article “_Earth_,” in the Encyclopedia Britannica, is wrong in attempting to overturn this fine fabric of philosophy, by making it appear that metals, minerals, fossils, &c. are continually forming by accretion, &c. on the earth’s surface. Indeed, that writer has laid a heavy hand on all the theories of our modern earthmongers.

[D] I am afraid, after all, this would turn out but a bubble.

[E]Now, if it should happen that the comparative levity of air consists in the repellant powers of its particles, and those bodies which have the greatest _cohesion_ are most prone to gravitate, there “needs some conjuror to tell us,” what should hinder bodies of greater specific gravity from _riddling down between those_ particles of air. No man but Dr Franklin could have caught the fugitive air under the shell of the first earth, and pressed it till it became heavier than gold by a hurly-burly of elements “mixed in confusion.”

[F] The “Monthly Reviewers” of our late edition of Tractoration, would have it that OURSELF was a Scotchman “frae the north,” &c. Now here’s a yankee phrase, merely to convince you that they were out in their conjectures.

[G] See Edinburgh Review of Southey’s Thalaba, October, 1802.

Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious spelling errors have been silently corrected.

2. Where necessary, original spelling has been retained.

3. Some words have been left as either hyphenated or non-hyphenated as in the original.

4. Italics are shown as _xxx_.