Chapter VII: Canto IV: Grand Attack! (2)

Hail, HORTICULTURE! Heaven-ordained,
Of every art the source,
Which man has polished, life sustained,
Since time commenced his course.
Where waves thy wonder-working wand
What splendid scenes disclose!
The blasted heath, the arid strand,
Out-bloom the gorgeous rose!

Even in the SERAPH-SEX is thy
Munificence described;
And Milton says in lady’s eye
Is Heaven identified.
A seedling, sprung from Adam’s side,
A most celestial shoot!
Became of Paradise the pride,
And bore a world of fruit.

The lily, rose, carnation, blent
By Flora’s magic power,
And tulip, feebly represent
So elegant a flower:
Then surely, bachelors, ye ought
In season to transfer
Some sprig of this sweet “TOUCH-ME-NOT,”
To grace your own parterre;

And every gardener should be proud,
With tenderness and skill,
If haply he may be allowed
This precious plant to till.
All that man has, had, hopes, can have,
Past, promised, or possessed,
Are fruits which CULTURE gives or gave
At INDUSTRY’S behest.

A SONG.

SUNG AT AN AGRICULTURAL DINNER, AT CONCORD, MASS.

Since time in the primer first sharpen’d his scythe,
And the sands in his glass were beginning to flow,
There never was spectacle bonny and blithe,
Which came fairly up to our GRAND CATTLE SHOW.
_Derry down, down, down, derry down._

Here’s bulls, hogs, and horses, and sheep not a few,
Respectable animals, worthy a prize,
Like good go-to-meeting folks, each in his _pew_,
All sober as deacons--if not quite so wise.

Master Pig is the Chorister, just twist his tail,
And he’ll give you altissimo trills in high style,
The fine diatonics which run through the scale
Of his exquisite gamut will ring for a mile.

Our roots have run down to gravity’s centre,
Some went on to China, and thieves pulled them through--
But that’s a tough story, and I shouldn’t venture,
In a high court of Justice to swear it is true.

And here we have oxen, stout animals, which
Might well go to Congress, representing their race,
Round gravity’s centre just give them a hitch,
And I guess they would twitch the great globe out of place.

The match of our _Ploughmen_ was ne’er matched before,
Save when a lorn lover is matched to his fair;
They turned the earth over as flat as this floor,
Such chaps the great globe, like an apple can pare.

In troth, all the world’s nothing more than a show
Of animals, shut up, or running at large,
You meet with queer creatures wherever you go,
And pity their keepers, who have them in charge.

A _calf_ sent to college comes out a great _bore_,
An odd metamorphosis that, it is true,
But one which has taken place over and o’er;--
Now I do not mean you, sir, nor you, sir, nor you.

I hate personalities, therefore won’t say,
How a jackass conducts when made just ass of Peace,
Such animals now and then come in my way,
But I never shear hogs for the sake of their fleece.

A vile pettifogger, all quibble and jaw,
Is ninety-nine thousand times worse than a brute,
In a sunbeam he’ll pick an indictable flaw,
And against his own shadow show cause for a suit.

Here’s health to our orator,[134] one who can boast
That he practises well what he preaches about;
But gentlemen please not to _butter_ my _toast_,
For we like him so well we can take him without.

Here’s “MIDDLESEX HUSBANDMEN,” doing more good
Than all the political clubs ever known,
Unless a man’s head is the essence of wood,
He ranks them above any king on his throne.
_Derry down, down, down, derry down._

THE EVILS OF A MISCHIEVOUS TONGUE.

Many have fallen by the edge of the sword, but not so many as
have fallen by the tongue.--Eccl. Apoc. xxviii. 8.

Tho’ millions, the sword of the warrior has slaughter’d,
While fame has the homicide’s eulogy rung:
Yet many more millions on millions are martyr’d;
Cut off by that cowardly weapon, the tongue.

One sword may be match’d by another as keen,
In battle the bold man a bolder may meet,
But the shaft of the slanderer, flying unseen
From the quiver of malice, brings ruin complete.

An _insolent tongue_, by a taunt or a gibe,
Enkindles heart-burnings and bloody affrays;
A _treacherous tongue_, when impell’d by a bribe,
The guiltless condemns, or a nation betrays.

A _smooth subtle tongue_ vile seducers employ
The fair sex to lure to libidinous thrall;
A _slip of the tongue_ may its owner destroy,
And _the tongue of the serpent_ occasion’d the fall.

Then be it impress’d on Columbian youth,
That the tongue is an engine of terrible force;
Not govern’d by reason, not guided by truth,
A plague, which may desolate worlds in its course.

CHEERFULNESS.

“A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.”

With mirth let us cherish our hearts,
’Tis a precept by Solomon given,
And cheerfulness surely imparts
The temper best fitted for heaven.

Among all the numberless ways
By which folly contrives to be wrong,
There is none which more weakness displays
Than wearing a visage too long.

Th’ Omnipotent Donor designs
That the gifts of His grace be enjoy’d;
Hence, he that forever repines,
Had better be better employ’d.

When first was created our race,
This earth for man’s mansion was given,
And shall he find fault with the place
To which he’s allotted by heav’n?

’Tis a thing, I believe, understood,
In which every sect is agreed,
This earth was declared to be good,
And so in the Bible we read.

Under Providence, tenants at will,
A fine habitation we hold;
For us to be murmuring still
Is wicked, ungrateful and bold.

Yet well-meaning people I’ve seen,
Who think true religion is shown
By a sort of a wo-begone mein,
And a whining, conventicle tone.

’Tis true, there’s a season to mourn,
As Solomon says--ne’ertheless
Our grief should be manfully borne,
And ’tis folly to cherish distress.

A train of diseases await
On a heart that forever is sad,
And some, from a sorrowing state,
Become irretrievably mad.

That religion can never be true
Which bows its disciples to earth,
For he that has heav’n in view,
Has the best of all titles to mirth.

With mirth then we’ll cherish our hearts,
’Tis a mandate by Solomon given,
For cheerfulness surely imparts
The temper best fitted for heaven.

EULOGY ON THE TIMES.

Let poets scrawl satiric rhymes,
And sketch the follies of the times,
With much caricaturing;
But I, a _bon-ton-bard_, declare
A set of slanderers they are,
E’en past a Job’s enduring.

Let crabbed cynics snarl away,
And pious parsons preach and pray
Against the vices reigning;
That mankind are so wicked grown,
Morality is scarcely known,
And true religion waning.

Societies, who vice suppress,
May make a rumpus; ne’ertheless,
_Our’s is the best of ages_;
Such hum-drum folks our _fathers_ were,
They could no more with _us_ compare,
Than _Hottentots_ with _sages_.

It puts the poet in a pet
To think of THEM, _a vulgar set_;
But WE, thank G--d, are QUALITY!
For we have found this eighteenth century
What ne’er was known before, I’ll venture ye,
_Religion’s no reality_!

Tom Paine, and Godwin, both can tell
That there is no such thing as hell!
A doctrine mighty pleasant;
Your old-wives tales of a _hereafter_
Are things for ridicule and laughter,
While we enjoy the _present_.

We’ve nought to do, but frisk about,
At midnight ball, and Sunday rout,
And Bacchanalian revel;
To gamble, drink, and live at ease,
Our great and noble selves to please,
Nor care for man, nor devil.

In these _good times_, with little pains,
And scarce a penny-worth of brains,
A man with great propriety,
With some small risk of being hung,
May cut a pretty dash among
The foremost in society.

Good reader, I’ll suppose, for once,
Thou art no better than a dunce,
But wishest to be famous;
I’ll tell thee how, with decent luck,
Thou may’st become as great a buck
As any one could name us.

When first in high life you commence,
To virtue, reason, common sense,
You’ll please to bid adieu, sir;
And, lest some brother rake be higher,
Drink, till your blood be all on fire,
And face of crimson hue, sir.

Thus you’ll be dubb’d a _dashing blade_,
And, by the genteel world be said,
To be a _man of spirit_;
For _stylish folks_ despise the chaps,
Who think that they may rise, perhaps,
By industry and merit.

With lubric arts, and wily tongue,
Debauch some maiden, fair and young,
For that will be genteel;
Be not too scrupulous; win the fair;
Then leave the frail one to despair:
A rake should never feel.

When wine has made your courage stout,
In midnight revel sally out,
Insulting all you meet;
Play pretty pranks about the town,
Break windows, knock the watchmen down,
Your frolic to complete!

Besides exhibiting your parts,
You’re sure to win the ladies’ hearts
By dint of dissipation;
Since “every woman is a rake,”
A fool may know what steps to take
To gain her approbation.

By practising these famous rules,
You’ll gain from _wicked_ men and _fools_
A world of admiration:
And, as we know from good authority,
_Such folks compose a clear majority_,
There needs no hesitation.

THE ART OF PRINTING.

Blest be the memory of the Sage,
Who taught the typographic page
To teem with symbols, heav’n-design’d,
The mute interpreters of mind.

The world at length had learn’d to prize
The art of speaking to the eyes,
Which had, by modes which CADMUS taught,
Giv’n immortality to thought;--

When FAUSTUS, by celestial skill,
Found means to multiply at will,
Those silent heralds of the kind,
Which give ubiquity to mind,--

Explored that Art, which brings to view,
All that we know--our father’s knew,--
And which developes every hour
That knowledge, which results in power,--

That Art, which gives to man’s control
Celestial treasures of the soul,
Transcending, many thousand fold,
Golconda’s gems, and Ophir’s gold.

What but the Printer’s Art sublime,
Can register the deeds of time,
Recording all that’s said and done
Most worthy note beneath the sun?

The poet, patriot, saint and sage
Have habitations on his page,
Are never absent when you call,
Alike accessible to all.

He introduces man to man,
Of every nation, tribe or clan,
The humble to the high--MOST HIGH,
In palaces above the sky.

Then bless the memory of the sage,
Who taught the typographic page
To teem with symbols, heav’n-design’d,
The silent heralds of the mind.

THE OLD BACHELOR:

AN EPISTLE TO A LADY.

What singular mortal is that,
Who sits in yon cottage alone,
Excepting an old tabby cat,
Which gray with her master is grown?

Say, would you his origin know,
Or if the odd mortal came here
From regions above, or below?
The truth I will tell you, my dear.

Dame Nature, a fanciful jade,
As ancient philosophers say,
When all other creatures were made,
Had left a small portion of clay.

The matter, indeed, was so crude
She meant to have thrown it aside,
At length in a frolicsome mood,
To make something of it she tried.

Her goody-ship, worried about,
Was forc’d her old vessels to scrape,
For matter to finish the lout
To a biped, which had human shape.

She moulded the comical stuff,
’Till all in one mass was combined;
His body, though quite odd enough,
Was _perfect_, compared with his mind.

To a hard unsusceptible heart,
She added a thick leaden skull,
And threw in of pride such a part,
As well might suffice a mogul:

But did not implant in his breast
A taste for those pleasures refined,
Which give to enjoyment its zest,
And soften the cares of the mind.

Of wisdom she threw in a spice,
But omitted to add common sense;
Dutch prudence a very large slice,
To teach him the saving of pence.

She gave him good honesty’s phiz;
No mummy was ever more grave,
Although, my dear madam, the quiz,
To his wit’s full extent is a knave.

All this she perform’d in a jerk,
And being well pleased with him, so far,
She set herself gravely to work,
And forced him to swallow a crow-bar.

No wonder then, this queer machine,
Which so rude, and so awkwardly made is,
By nobody ever was seen
_To bow to the fairest of ladies_.[135]

At length he was usher’d to light,
A half-alive kind of commodity,
A thing, which you’d say, at first sight,
Was quite the quintessence of oddity.

She planted him down in yon hut,
To _vegetate_ there with impunity,
Till death shall prohibit the _Put_
Any more from disgusting community.

CALORIC.

Earth, sea and air abound in rare
Minute caloric particles,
Invisible indeed, but still
Most energetic articles.

Almighty power each atom gave
Existence at creation;
Each would Omnipotence require
For its annihilation.

It now lies in a latent state,
Anon in ardent action;
And HE alone, who can create
Can bring to naught a fraction.

Chief agent in all acts of power
Its atoms seem divinities;
Tempests, volcanoes, earthquakes are
Mere plays of their affinities.

’Tis their’s to drive the lightning’s car,
To speed the shaft of thunder,
Give earth an atmosphere of fire,
And rend the globe asunder!

THE ILLS OF IDLENESS.

What pains and penalties attend
The wight whose being’s aim and end
Is wholly self-enjoyment!
His easy chair becomes a rack,
And all Pandora’s plagues attack
The wretch who wants employment.

To shun the exquisite distress
Which ever waits on idleness,
He flies to dissipation;
Drinks _deep_ to keep his spirits _up_,
And in the inebriating cup
Drowns health and reputation.

And now in Fashion’s vortex whirl’d,
A dandy of the genteel world,
He figures in the ton,
The wise man laughs, the simple stare
To see the consequential air
The silly rake puts on.

Now drives his curricle about
To club, assembly, ball and rout,
To waste his time and treasure;
Gives sensual appetite the reins,
And takes illimitable _pains_
To _seem_ a man of _pleasure_.

The course of life such fools pursue
Would worry down the wand’ring Jew,--
Worse off than galley-slaves!
And ten to one, about the time
The man of virtue’s in his prime,
Such sots are in their graves.

But if their days are lengthen’d out,
By dint of constitution stout,
In apathy and pain;
A ruby and carbuncled face
Displays the signal of disgrace
Like mark, erst set on Cain.

Now dire paralysis and gout
Parade their forces round about
The citadel of life;
In vain the doctor tries his skill;
His obstinate opponents still
Are victors in the strife.

Disease, remorse, with joint attack,
Now put at once upon the rack
Their bodies and their souls;
Victims of vice, they suffer more
Than Montezuma did of yore
When stretch’d on burning coals.

FOOTNOTES:

[1]

I once stood high on Fortune’s ladder.

Although Dame FORTUNA was, by ancient mythologists, represented as a whimsical being, cutting her capers on the periphery of a large wheel, I am justified in accommodating her goddesship with a ladder, by virtue of a figure in rhetoric called POETICA LICENTIA (_anglice_) poets’ licentiousness.

[2]

My _tintinabulum_ of rhyming.

“The clock-work tintinabulum of rhyme.”--COWPER.

[3]

I’ll drink Pierian puddle dry.

Pursuant to Mr Pope’s advice;

“Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring.”

[4]

Sent me a bag full of his gas.

This wondrous soul-transporting modification of matter is christened by chymists _gaseous oxyd of nitrogen_, and, as will be evident, from the following sublime stanzas, and my judicious comments thereon (in which I hold the _microscope_ of criticism to those my peculiar beauties which are not visible to the _naked eye_ of common sense) is a subject worthy the serious attention of the poet and physiologist.

Any “half-formed witling,” as Pope says (_Essay on Criticism_) “may hammer crude conceptions into a sort of measured nonsense, vulgarly called prose bewitched.” But the daring mortal, who aspires to “build with lofty rhyme” an _Ævi Monumentum_, before he sets about the mighty enterprise, must be filled with a sort of incomprehensible _quiddam_ of divine inflation. Then, if he can keep clear of Bedlam, and be allowed the use of pen, ink, and paper, every line he scribbles, and every phrase he utters, will be a miracle of sublimity. Thus one Miss Sibyl remained stupid as a barber’s block, till overpowered by the overbearing influence of Phœbus. But when

----ea fræna furenti
Concutit, et stimulos sub pectore vertit Apollo,

the frantic gipsy muttered responses at once sublime, prophetic, and unintelligible.

Indeed, this _furor mentis_, so necessary an ingredient in the composition of the genuine poet, sometimes terminates in real madness, as was unfortunately the case with Collins and Smart: Swift, Johnson, and Cowper, were not without dismal apprehensions of a similar fate. The wight, therefore, who wishes to secure to himself a sublunary immortality by dint of poetizing, and happens not to be _poeta nascitur_, must, like Doctor Caustic, in the present instance, seek a sort of cow-pock-like substitute for that legitimate _rabies_, which characterizes the true sons of Apollo.

[5]

Was hous’d in heaven’s high upper story.

Brother Southey then made the important discovery that “the atmosphere of the highest of all possible heavens was composed of this gas.” _Beddoe’s Notice._

[6]

Have said that, in his Epic Poem.

The same poem to which the gentleman alludes in his huge quarto edition of _Joan of Arc_, in the words following--“Liberal criticism I shall attend to, and I hope to profit by, in the execution of my MADOC, an epic poem on the discovery of America, by that prince, on which I am now engaged.”

As _liberal_ criticism appears to be a great desideratum with this sublime poet, I trust he will gratefully acknowledge the specimens of my liberality towards a worthy brother, which I propose hereafter to exhibit.

[7]

The beldam’s crack’d or Caustic crazy.

Or, it is possible, may it please your worships, that I--I for the matter of that am a little te--te--tipsy, or so.--But as there may perhaps be, as it were, now and then, one of your Right Worshipful Fraternity, who has been in a similar predicament se--se ipse, I hope I shall receive your worships’ permission to stagger on with a jug full of gas in my noddle, at least, through a stanza or two.

[8]

I’m fall’n! fall’n! fall’n! down, flat! flat! flat!

See Dryden’s Feast of Alexander, where one king Darius has a terrible tumble down, beautifully described by half a dozen “fallens.” But I think the Persian monarch did not after all, fall quite so _flat_ as Doctor Caustic.

[9]

And women to hysteric fits.

See the lamentable case of the Lady, page 16th of Dr Beddoes’s pamphlet, who, taking a drop too much of this panacea, fell into hysterical fits, &c.

[10]

Besides a _shoal_ of learned Dutchmen.

Boerhaave, Steno, De Graff, Swammerdam, Zimmerman, _cum multis aliis_. By the by, gentlemen, this epithet _shoal_ is not always to be taken in a _shallow_ sense; but when applied to such _deep_ fellows, must be considered as noun of multitude, as we say a _shoal_ of herrings.

[11]

----discern, prescribe, apply,
And cure----

My learned friend, Dr Timothy Triangle perusing the manuscript of this my pithy petition, discovered that my description of the _modus operandi_ on the insect as above, compared with the celebrated “_veni, vidi, vici_,” as a specimen of fine writing, is superior in the direct proportion of _four_ to _three_; consequently Dr Caustic has advanced one step higher in the climax of sublimity than Julius Cesar.

[12]

Could match OURSELF at second sight.

That your worships may be able to form something like an idea of the wonderful ken of our mental optics, it will be necessary to con with diligence the opinions of Dr Johnson on this subject, as expressed in his tour to the Hebrides. The Doctor there tells us, that though he “never could advance his curiosity to conviction, yet he came away at last, _willing_ to believe.” But we would have all those who anticipate the deriving any advantage from our slight at second seeing, not only willing, but absolutely _predetermined_ to “believe,” positive evidence to the contrary notwithstanding.

[13]

Foreseeing things which never will be.

Yes, gentlemen; among other great and wonderful events which we foretold, but which never have happened, and moreover never will happen, was the restoration of the Jews by the intervention of that renowned pacificator, Buonaparte. We first prophecied, and many men of our cast who had a knack at prying into futurity, echoed our prediction, that the _pious_ emperor of the Gauls would make Jerusalem the head quarters of the Millennium, and under our auspices many a wandering Jew was recruited, and stood in readiness to march at a moment’s warning to take possession of his patrimonial property.

[14]

In our good friend, Sir JOSEPH’S name.

This was immensely proper, as I propose colonizing these hitherto _Terræ Incognitæ_, and know of no person in existence, except _myself_ (who am now decrepit with age, and, alas, sadly poverty stricken) whose scientific qualifications, knowledge of the coast, and well known ardent zeal in the science of Tadpolism, so well entitle him to command such important expedition.

[15]

With leg or wing, he kick or jerk it.

Could we command the years of a Nestor, “the indelible ink” of a Lettersom, and the diligence of a Dutch commentator, we should still readily acknowledge that our powers were totally inadequate to the task of eulogising, in proportion to their merits, the philosophical and literary performances of that profound sage, Dr James Anderson, LL. D., F. R. S., _Scotland_, &c. &c. whose mysterious hints afford a clue by which we have been enabled to add lustre to the present age, by many of our own sublime discoveries and inventions.

In his _deep_ work called “_Recreations in Agriculture and Natural History_,” the Doctor says, among other things not less marvelous, “The mathematician can demonstrate with the most decisive certainty, that no _fly_ can alight on this globe which we inhabit, without communicating _motion_ to it; and he can ascertain, with the most accurate precision, _if so he choose to do_” (by the by, this _sine qua non_ part of the sentence is very beautiful, and not at all redundant) “what must be the exact amount of the motion thus produced.” _Vol._ ii. _p._ 350.

[16]

Is doctoring off one generation.

“Perhaps no important revolution was ever bloodless. It may be useful in this place to recollect in what the mischief of shedding blood consists. The abuses, which at present exist in all political societies are so enormous, the oppressions which are exercised are so intolerable, the ignorance and vice which they entail so dreadful, that possibly a dispassionate inquirer might decide that, if their annihilation could be purchased by an instant sweeping off of every human being now arrived at maturity, from the face of the earth, the purchase would not be too dear,” &c. &c.--_Godwin’s Political Justice._

[17]

Those LL. D.s’ of Lynch’s Law.

_Lynch Law_, is, we believe, synonymous with _mob law_, sometimes called _club law_. By this law summary _injustice_ is executed by an ignorant and furious multitude, who burn and destroy, plunder and murder, without measure and without mercy, the property and persons of anybody and everybody who happen to be obnoxious, or are pointed out as objects entitled to the particular attention of their mobocratic mightinesses. Sometimes the poor individuals who are so unlucky as to fall into the clutches of these horrible human harpies, are subjected to mock trials, in which the accusers enact the parts of law makers, judges and executioners. A man by the name of Lynch, who lives, or has lived, somewhere in the West, was active in this mode of taking cognizance of offences, whence the whole process is called _Lynch law_. But thereby hangs a tale, which we either do not recollect, or have never heard; and in either case, we shall not, at present, trouble your worships with its recital.

[18]

Call’d craniology of snipes.

It would require an immensity of books, and an eternity of time to describe or even allude to the physiological, craniological, physiognomical, phrenological, &c. &c. &c. theories of Dr Gall, and a multitude of his followers. We shall, therefore, attempt no such thing, but content ourself with the simple assertion, which we will maintain _pugnis et calcibus_, that, as to the craniology of reptiles and insects we are out of sight above the utmost stretch of whatsoever these superb philosophers could possibly comprehend.

[19]

Vanish before our beauty washes.

Mr Mackenzie, author of _five thousand receipts_, &c., deserves to be trounced and anathematized for the following vulgar sentence:

“To set off the complexion with all the advantage it can attain, nothing more is necessary than to wash the face with pure water, or if anything farther be occasionally wanted, it is only the addition of a little soap.”

[20]

We transform dowdies into goddesses.

We here quote a passage from a popular writer merely to indicate our utter disapprobation of the author and of his sentiments:

“The solicitude of parents, especially of mothers to make their daughters fine ladies is truly ridiculous. How often soever the poor child has occasion to look at anything below the parallel of the horizon, and a little relax the muscles of the neck, it can hardly ever escape the notice of her mamma or her governess, and she is bid with more than common poignancy of expression, to hold up her head, perhaps more than a thousand times in a day. If one of her shoulders should be thought to rise but an hair’s breadth higher than the other, she is immediately bound and braced, twisted and screwed, in a most unmerciful manner, and tortured almost to death, in order to correct the supposed irregularity. And lest the dear creature, in the natural play and free use of her limbs, should contract any ungenteel habits, the dancing master must be called in at least three times a week to put every part of the body into its due place and attitude, and teach her to sit, stand and walk according to the exact rules of his art, which, to be sure, must infinitely exceed all the simplicity of untutored nature. Should the least pimple appear on any part of the face, or what is still more alarming, should the milk-maid’s flush begin to betray itself in the color of the cheeks, all possible means must be used, physic and diet must do their part, nay, health itself must be endangered or destroyed to suppress the vulgar complexion.

“Health and beauty have been frequently destroyed by a solicitous care to preserve them, deformity induced, and a thousand ill habits contracted by the very means that were intended to prevent them.”--_Ash’s Sentiments on Education._

[21] See additional note No. 1, at the end of the volume.

[22]

They might as well have none at all.

The process by which this fabrication is effected is copied from Nature; and her manipulations in similar performances have been thus described in some of our heretofore publications:

Certain sages learn’d and twistical,
By reasoning not a whit sophistical,
Have proved what’s wonderful, to wit,
The smallest atom may be split,
Then split again, _ad infinitum_;
And diagrams, which much delight ’em,
By Mr Martin make this out
Beyond the shadow of a doubt.
_Matter_ thus _splittable_, I wean,
With half an eye it may be seen,
That _spirit_, being much diviner,
May be proportionably finer;
Nor is this merely _postulatum_,
’Tis proved by facts, and thus I state them.

Dame Nature erst, in mood of merriment,
Perform’d the following odd experiment;
She took a most diminish’d sprite,
Smaller than microscopic mite,
An hundred thousand such might lie
Wedged in a cambric needle’s eye,
And first, by dint of her divinity,
Divided that one whole infinity,
Then cull’d the very smallest particle,
And shaped therefrom that worthless article,
That tiny evanescent dole,
Which serves for Dicky Dapper’s soul.

[23]

Horace says, _dulce est desipere_.

The stanza with which this line commences, is a liberal, but so far as respects meaning, a faithful translation of the famous maxim, _Dulce est desipere in loco_.--_Horace_ L. iv. C. 12.

[24]

Is made of any kind of wood.

The hint for this improvement was derived from an article in the _American Farmer_, from which the following is extracted:

“A few weeks since, two of the members of the United Society of Shakers, at Lebanon, N. Y., were at our office. They informed us that they had tried an experiment in feeding hogs with _saw dust_, produced in their button and other wooden ware factory, by mixing with the usual food, in the proportion of one third; that is, two parts of the usual food and one part of saw dust; and that the hogs thrive full as well as when fed in the usual way. From their experiments they are satisfied that the saw-dust was digested by the animals, was nutritious, and answered in all respects the purposes of the usual food.”

[25]

Illumed as one would light a candle.

In my younger days, I lived on terms of intimacy with Doctor Franklin, highly honorable to both parties, as it showed we were both men of discernment in choosing each a great man for his friend.

In a letter from that venerable sage, afterwards printed (_See Franklin’s Works_, _p._ 115, _vol._ ii. _third edition_) he told _me_ that toads buried in sand, shut up in hollow trees, &c. would live forever, as it were; and, among other things, informed me of certain curious facts about flies, which I will relate in his own words. “I have seen an instance of common flies preserved in a manner somewhat similar. They had been drowned in Madeira wine, apparently about the time when it was bottled in Virginia, to be sent to London. At the opening of one of the bottles, at the house of a friend where I was, three drowned flies fell into the first glass which was filled. Having heard it remarked that drowned flies were capable of being revived by the rays of the sun, I proposed making the experiment upon these. They were therefore exposed to the sun upon a sieve, which had been employed to strain them out of the wine. In less than three hours two of them began by degrees to recover life. They commenced by some convulsive motions of the thighs, and at length they raised themselves upon their legs, wiped their eyes with their fore feet, beat and brushed their wings with their hind feet, and soon after began to fly, finding themselves in Old England, without knowing how they came thither. The third continued lifeless until sun-set, when, losing all hopes of him, he was thrown away.

“I wish it were possible, from this instance, to invent a method of embalming drowned persons, in such a manner that they might be recalled to life, at any period, however distant; for having a very ardent desire to see and observe the state of America a hundred years hence, I should prefer to an ordinary death, the being immersed in a cask of Madeira wine, with a few friends, until that time, then to be recalled to life by the solar warmth of my dear country. But since, in all probability, we live in an age too early, and too near the infancy of science, to see such an art brought, in our time, to perfection, I must, for the present, content myself with the treat which you are so kind as to promise me, of the resurrection of a fowl or turkey cock.”

[26]

To healthier action than before.

I do not arrogate to myself the whole merit of this noble invention. Dr Price and Mr Godwin, in divers elaborate works, especially the latter, in his _Political Justice_, suggested some ideas which set my ingenuity in such a ferment, that I could not rest quietly till I had brewed a sublime treatise on the best mode of pulling down, repairing, and rebuilding decayed and worn out animal machines.

I shall not attempt, in this place, to oblige your worships with anything like a table of the contents of this judicious and profound performance. I will, however, gratify your curiosity so far as to glance cursorily at a few of the leading topics therein discussed and illustrated, and slightly mention some of the immense advantages which will be the result of this discovery.

In the first place, I make it apparent, by a long series of experiments and scientific deductions, drawn therefrom, that it is very practicable to enlighten the mind of a stupid fellow, by battering, boring, or pulling his body to pieces.--Mr poet Waller’s authority is here to my purpose, who tells us, that

“The soul’s dark cottage _batter’d_ and decay’d, Lets in _new light_ through chinks which time has made.”

Mr Gray, likewise, in his _Hymn to Adversity_, requests that “Daughter of Jove” to impose _gently_ her “iron hand,” and trouble him a _little_ with her “torturing hour,” although he appears disposed to avoid, if possible, her more dismal accompaniments, such as her “Gorgonic frown,” and the “funereal cry of horror.”

The Spaniards, under Cortes and Pizarro, managed much in the same way, and enlightened the natives of the mighty empires of Peru and Mexico in the great truths of Christianity, by killing a part, reducing the remainder to a state of servitude, and battering their souls’ cottages at their leisure. This process is in part expressed in a poetical epistle, which I received not long since from my correspondent settled at Terra del Fuego, in South America, who thus expresses the conduct of some of his acquaintance, in converting the aborigines to Christianity.

Good folks to America came
To curtail old Satan’s dominions;
The natives, the more to their shame,
Stuck fast to their ancient opinions.

Till a method the pious men find,
Which ne’er had occur’d to your dull wits.
Of making sky-lights to the mind,
By boring the body with bullets.

Like Waller, with process so droll,
To illume an old clod-pated noddy;
They thought they might burnish the soul,
By beating a hole in the body.

Good folks to America came To curtail old Satan’s dominions; The natives, the more to their shame, Stuck fast to their ancient opinions.

Till a method the pious men find, Which ne’er had occur’d to your dull wits. Of making sky-lights to the mind, By boring the body with bullets.

Like Waller, with process so droll, To illume an old clod-pated noddy; They thought they might burnish the soul, By beating a hole in the body.

I have read of a great mathematician, who was uncommonly stupid till about the age of twenty, when he accidentally pitched head first into a deep Well, fractured his skull, and it became necessary to trepan him. After the operation it was immediately evident that his wit was much improved, and he soon became a prodigy of intellect. Whether this alteration was caused by “new light let in through chinks,” the trapanning chisel had made, or whether the texture and position of the brain were materially changed for the better in consequence of the jar and contusion of the fall, I shall leave to some future Lavater, or any other gentleman, who can gauge the capacity of a statesman, or a barrel of porter, with equal facility, to determine.

2d. I proceed to demonstrate, that man being, as our most enlightened _modern_ philosophers allow, jumbled together by mere _chance_ (a blind; capricious goddess, who, half her time, does not know what she is about) it is extremely easy to understand the principles of his texture; because the mechanism of his frame is less intricate than that of a common spit jack. Consequently, a Solomon or a Brodum can mend this machine when deranged, as Well as a Harvey, a Sydenham, or a Mead.

3d. I proceed to prove, from analogy, with what facility this machine may be disjointed, pulled to pieces, and again botched together. My friend Mahomet had his heart taken out, a drop of black blood expressed therefrom, and went about his common concerns next day as well as ever. So when a sighing swain is taken desperately in love, he may lose all his insides without any Very serious inconvenience. This I can attest from _sad experience_, as, about forty years since, I was terribly in for’t, with a sweet little sprig of divinity, whose elbow was ever her most prominent feature, whenever I had the audacity to attempt to approximate the shrine of her Goddesship.

4th. The important advantages, which will undoubtedly arise from this invention, are almost too obvious to require explanation. I shall, however, advert to a few.

By taking the animal machine to pieces, you may divest it of such particles as clog its wheels, and render its motions less perfect. A decayed, worn-out gallant may have _its_ parts separated, thoroughly burnished, botched together, and rendered as bright as a new-coined silver sixpence. Thus my venerable Piccadilly friend, who, as Darwin expresses it, sometimes “clasps a beauty in _Platonic_ arms;” if he should, fifty years hence, perceive that the mechanism of his frame is rather the worse for wear, may come to Dr Caustic, and be rebuilt into as fine a young buck as any in Christendom.

5th. Hereditary diseases may be thus culled from the constitution, and gouty and other deleterious particles separated from those which are sound and healthful.

Pride may be picked from the composition of an upstart mushroom of a nobleman, impudence from a quack, knavery from a lawyer, moroseness from a methodist, testiness from an old bachelor, peevishness from an old maid; in short, mankind altered from what they are to what they ought to be, by a method at once cheap, practicable, easy and expeditious.

The only difficulty which has ever opposed itself to my carrying this sublime invention to the highest possible pitch of perfection, has been the almost utter impossibility of procuring any man, woman, or child, who is willing to become the subject of operation. Now if either of your worships would loan me his carcase to be picked to pieces, and again botched together in the manner above stated, provided the experiment should not fully succeed, I will engage to pay _all_ the damages thereby accruing to community, out of _one tenth_ part of the profits of this publication.

[27]

The gods of _old_ folks could make _young_ ones.

----Stricto Medea recludit
Ense senis jugulum: veteremque exire cruorem
Passa, replet succis. Quos postquam combibit Æson
Aut ore acceptos, aut vulnere barda, comæque
Canitie posita nigrum rapuere colorem.
Pulsa fugit macies.

This passage, with a condensation of thought and felicity of expression peculiar to myself, I have thus happily hit into English.

Medea cut the wither’d weasand
Of superannuated Æson,
Then fill’d him with the acrid juices
Of nettle-tops and flower-de-luces;
Till from the defunct carcase, lo!
Starts a full blooded Bond street beau!!

Medea cut the wither’d weasand Of superannuated Æson, Then fill’d him with the acrid juices Of nettle-tops and flower-de-luces; Till from the defunct carcase, lo! Starts a full blooded Bond street beau!!

[28]

In mimic earthquakes, rain, and thunder!

Chymistry furnishes us with a method of manufacturing _artificial_ earthquakes, which will have all the great effects of those that are natural. The old-fashioned receipt for an earthquake, however, of iron filings and sulphur mixed in certain proportions and immersed in the earth, I shall not take the trouble to state to your worships; as most of you have, _perhaps_, read Mr Martin’s Philosophy nearly half through. But my plan is to make such an earthquake as no mortal, except Dr Darwin and myself, ever supposed possible. The former gentleman made shift to explode the moon from the _southern_ hemisphere of our earth, and I propose to forward other moons by artificial earthquakes of my own invention, from the _northern_ hemisphere. I will give your worships a specimen of Dr Darwin’s moon-producing earthquake, from “_Botanic Garden_,” Canto I.

“Gnomes! How you shriek’d! when through the troubled air,
Roar’d the fierce din of elemental war;
When rose the continents, and sunk the main,
And earth’s huge sphere exploding burst in twain.--
Gnomes! How you gazed! When from her wounded side,
Where now the _South_ sea heaves its waste of tide,
Rose on swift wheels the Moon’s refulgent car,
Circling the solar orb, a sister star,
Dimpled with vales, with shining hills emboss’d,
And roll’d round earth her airless realms of frost.”

No man will say in this case,--

Parturiunt montes nascetur ridiculus mus.

The reaction, at the moment of explosion, of that mass of matter which now composes our moon, is the cause of the obliquity of the polar axis to the poles of the ecliptic, according to Dr Darwin; though Milton says,

“----Angels turn’d askance
The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more:
From the sun’s axle, they with labor push’d
Oblique the centric globe.”--

Whether an explosion similar to that, so beautifully described by Dr Darwin, from the _north_ side of the equator, would not set all right, and a new era be announced, which will be, like that of old, when

“----Spring
Perpetual smiled on earth, with vernal flowers,
Equal in days and nights”----

is a problem worth the attention of our modern philosophers. But at any rate, I, Dr Caustic, will positively try the experiment.

[29]

E’en fairly knock the man in the moon down!

This notable exploit I think to be a very great improvement on electrical experiments made by a number of renowned French and English philosophers. See _Priestly’s History of Electricity_, page 94.

[30]

We took like macaroni snuff.

Dr Darwin alludes to this wonderful performance in the following superb lines:

“Led by the sage, lo! Britain’s sons shall guide
Huge SEA-BALLOONS beneath the tossing tide;
The diving castles roof’d with spheric glass,
Ribb’d with strong oak, and barr’d with bolts of brass,
Buoy’d with pure air shall endless tracts pursue,
And Priestley’s hand the vital flood renew.”
_Botanic Garden_, _Canto_ iv.

[31]

And if Britannia interferes.

That Great Britain, not content with domineering on the surface, contemplates the colonizing of the depths of the ocean, is evident from the following lines, by Dr Darwin:

“Then shall Britannia rule the wealthy realms,
Which ocean’s wide insatiate wave o’erwhelms;
Confine in netted bowers his scaly flocks,
Part his blue plains, and people all his rocks.
Deep in warm waves, beneath the line that roll,
Beneath the shadowy ice-isles of the pole,
Onward, through bright meandering vales afar,
Obedient _sharks_[A] shall trail her sceptred car,
With harness’d necks the pearly flood disturb,
Stretch the silk rein, and champ the silver curb.”

But be it known by these presents to Britannia’s ladyship, that all that part of the ocean, which lies between the centre of gravity and six feet of the surface, including whatsoever salt water touches or rests upon, belongs to Doctor Caustic, by the rights of discovery and pre-occupation.

[32]

And if the theory of Babbage, &c.

Charles Babbage, Esq. A. M., Lucasian Professor of Mathematics in the University of Cambridge, [Eng.] and member of several academies, has written and published a work _On the Economy of Machinery and Manufactures_, which furnished that impulse to our _Organ of Constructiveness_ which eventuated in the accomplishment of the solid gas manufactory above alluded to.

“In Iceland the sources of heat [to wit, hot springs, volcanoes, &c.] and their proximity seem almost to point out the future destiny of that island. The use of its glaciers may enable its inhabitants to liquefy the gases with the least expenditure of mechanical force; and the heat of its volcanoes may supply the power necessary for their condensation. Thus, in a future age, _power_ may become the staple commodity of the Icelanders, and of the inhabitants of other volcanic districts; and possibly the very process by which they will procure this article of exchange for the luxuries of happier climates, may, in some measure tame, the tremendous element which occasionally devastates this province.”

By our improvement, after the gases are condensed into a liquid, they are made solid by the total abstraction therefrom of every particle of caloric, insomuch that a thermometer, of our invention, with its bulb in a ball of gas, indicated 999 degrees below 0 of Fahrenheit.

[33]

He wanted science to go through it.

Monsieur Citizen Volney, a sort of minor doctor Caustic, published a circular letter, requesting the co-operation of men of similar views and intellects with his own, to make observations on the course and velocity of the winds, the times of their occurrence, &c. in different parts of the globe. The results of these observations he wished might be forwarded to him at Paris, that he might therefrom be able to complete a theory, which he had partly formed for calculating the tides and currents of the atmosphere, with as much precision as those of the ocean are now predicted.

Dr Franklin’s theories relative to this subject also deserve the meed of metrical immortality. His tropical hurricanes, caused by a whirling precipitance of cold air from the upper to the lower region of the atmosphere are very fine phenomena. His _north east storms_, which, on our continent, begin their operations at the _south west_, in consequence of some extra rarefaction of air somewhere on or about the isthmus of Darien, deserve a minute inspection. The ascent of rarefied air at the equator, which makes its way to the poles, and visits us in the form of a frigorific north-wester, as explained by Dr Darwin, requires your worship’s high consideration. But we do not believe it possible by a single impulse to project all this philosophy into your right worshipful’s pericrania. You will, therefore, please wait till we have leisure for the operation.

[34]

And would not let him “vomit air.”

This terrible bear is likewise a camelion, and also a dragon. But here you have him--

“Castled on ice, beneath the circling bear,
A vast CAMELION drinks and _vomits_ air;
O’er twelve degrees his ribs gigantic bend,
And many a league his gasping jaws extend;
_Half fish beneath_, his scaly volutes spread,
And vegetable plumage crests his head,
Huge fields of air his wrinkled skin receives,
From panting gills, wide lungs, _and waving leaves_;[B]
Then with dread throes subsides his bloated form,
His shriek the thunder, and his sigh the storm.”
_Botanic Garden._

And again in prose.

“Though the immediate cause of the destruction or reproduction of great masses of air, at certain times when the wind changes from north to south, or from south to north, cannot yet be ascertained; yet as there appears greater difficulty in accounting for this change of wind from any other known causes, we may still suspect that there exists in the arctic and antarctic circles, a BEAR or DRAGON, yet unknown to philosophers, which, at times, suddenly _drinks up_, and at other times as suddenly _vomits out_, one fifteenth part of the atmosphere: and hope that this or some future age will learn how to govern and domesticate a monster which might be rendered of such important service to mankind”!!! _Botanic Garden. Note XXXIII._

[35]

Or stem a hurricane with ease.

“Many schemes” (it is said in Rees’s Cyclopædia, article Aerostation) “have been proposed for directing the horizontal motion of balloons. Some have thought of annexing sails to a balloon, in order to give it the advantage of the wind; but to this proposal it has been objected, that as the aerostatic machines are at rest with respect to the air that surrounds them, they feel no wind, and consequently can derive no benefit from the sails.” None but a conjurer, however, could have made that discovery. But Dr Rees says further, that “An ingenious writer observes, that the case of vessels at sea is quite different from that of balloons; because that the former move with a velocity incomparably less than that of the wind impelling them, on account of the resistance of the water,” &c. This ingenious writer must have had a new edition of Friar Bacon’s head on his shoulders.

Our mode of steering a balloon is an improvement on the invention of Professor Danzel, which is thus described by Dr Rees. “Professor Danzel has constructed two cylinders, or axles, to the ends of which are fixed, in the form of a cross, four sails or oars, moveable at the point of their insertion in the cylinder, in such a manner, that when made to move round by means of a handle, the eight oars, like the cogs of a water mill wheel, present, successively, sometimes their flat side and sometimes their edge,” &c.

It is very possible that you may have heard of some of our American mechanical geniuses, who have _sometimes come very nigh_ to the art of navigating boats against the stream by the force of the current. But our invention is very materially different from that. We manage much like a crab or lobster that paddles himself forward under water, and proceeds as well as if he actually carried sail.

[36]

And its contagion is outrageous.

Some people, who appear to be fond of an opportunity of spoiling a beautiful theory, have produced against contagion the following arguments, and thereby very much perplexed a simple subject which ought to have been decided solely by the _ipse dixit_ of some famous personage of the faculty.

1. The disorder is propagated more rapidly than could be possible on the theory of contagion; as it spreads over a large city quicker than the small pox would pervade a single alley.

2. It assimilates to itself all other diseases, and forces them to wear its livery; which never is the case in contagious disorders.

3. It is destroyed by frost; but frost increases the activity of contagion.

4. It is an endemic, and must have its own local atmosphere, beyond whose limits it cannot be communicated. Thus the attendants of the sick in _country_ hospitals are never known to be infected.

These, and fifty other arguments of a similar nature, I overturn by the weight of the authority of Dr Mead and other great men, which I have found to be a concise and inclusive way of stopping the mouths of my opponents.

[37]

By laws of chemical affinity;

Many an elaborate argument, founded on the above philosophical proposition has been bandied about in periodical prints and journals, during sundry desperate disputes relative to the origin of the American plague. Madrid and Edinburgh, it is affirmed, are rendered healthy by a want of cleanliness, which is proverbial. This sound reasoning is made the basis of our judicious prescriptions which adorn this and several consecutive stanzas.

[38]

Paulo majora nunc canamus.

Now sweep Apollo’s sounding lyre,
And pitch the psalm an octave higher.

[39]

We’ll turn out full moons by the hundred.

I do not think that one in forty of your worships has ever read the “Theory of the Earth,” as first produced by James Hutton, M. D., F. R. S., &c. &c. and thereafter much improved by professor Playfair. As it would, however, be highly commendable for gentlemen of your honorable profession not to rest with a superficial view of the great operations of nature, I will accompany you as far as the centre of gravity, in a journey of observation, for investigating the astonishing magazines of burning materials which Dr Hutton and professor Playfair have furnished us for the execution of our stupendous project.

1. You will obligingly take it for granted, or run the risk of spoiling the Huttonian Theory, that the centre of the globe is a stupendous furnace, a million times hotter than that of Nebuchadnezzar. That this same heat, although it never amounts to a blaze, and wastes no fuel, is sufficiently elastic to raise the continents from the bottom of the main.--That having once raised or blown them up, as it were, like a bladder, it is very careful not to let them down again, because as we shall see by and by, they must all be “_disintegrated_,” alias washed into the ocean.

2. Moreover, Dr Hutton’s followers will thank you to suppose that all this matter, raised as aforesaid, consisted originally of _unstratified_ rocks, which, though they are properly called primitive as the most ancient of the whole family of rocks, yet they are in fact nothing better than the scrapings or “_disintegrations_” of primal continents which existed before the commencement of the last edition of the earth.

3. You will please to believe that all calcareous matters are formed from the _detritus_ of the primitive rocks, delivered by rivers into the sea, and there, after having been modified by central heat, protruded above water as before mentioned.

4. You will likewise be convinced that no metal, mineral, or _lapidose_ substance, can possibly be formed except at the bottom of the ocean, in the laboratory of Dr Hutton.[C]

5. That although some foolish people have supposed that the sea has been subsiding for centuries, yet, as we know that the continents are crumbling into the ocean, you will conclude that we shall at length find all our _dry_ land under _water_, and the sea increased in proportion to the square feet of earth deposited under its surface.