The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes |
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 | III, IV. |
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| VI, VII. |
| VIII, IX. |
| X. |
 | The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore |  |
LETTER II. FROM MISS BIDDY FUDGE, TO MRS. ELIZABETH ---.
Just in time for the post, dear, and monstrously busy,With godly concernments—and worldly ones, too;
Things carnal and spiritual mix'd, my dear Lizzy,
In this little brain till, bewilder'd and dizzy,
'Twixt heaven and earth, I scarce know what I do.
First, I've been to see all the gay fashions from Town,
Which our favourite Miss Gimp for the spring has had down.
Sleeves still worn (which I think is wise), à la folle,
Charming hats, pou de soie—though the shape rather droll.
But you can't think how nicely the caps of tulle lace,
With the mentonnières, look on this poor sinful face;
And I mean, if the Lord in his mercy thinks right,
To wear one at Mrs. Fitz-wigram's to-night.
Gimp herself grows more godly and good every day;
Hath had sweet experience—yea, ev'n doth begin
To turn from the Gentiles, and put away sin—
And all since her last stock of goods was laid in.
What a blessing one's milliner, careless of pelf,
Should thus “walk in newness” as well as one's self!
So much for the blessings, the comforts of Spirit
I've had since we met, and they're more than I merit!—
Poor, sinful, weak creature in every respect,
Though ordain'd (God knows why) to be one of the' Elect.
But now for the picture's reverse.—You remember
That footman and cook-maid I hired last December;
He, a Baptist Particular—she, of some sect
Not particular, I fancy, in any respect;
But desirous, poor thing, to be fed with the Word,
And “to wait,” as she said, “on Miss Fudge and the Lord.”
Well, my dear, of all men, that Particular Baptist
At preaching a sermon, off hand, was the aptest;
Sweet savours of doctrine, there never was kitchen.
He preach'd in the parlour, he preach'd in the hall,
He preach'd to the chambermaids, scullions, and all.
All heard with delight his reprovings of sin,
But above all, the cook-maid;—oh, ne'er would she tire—
Though, in learning to save sinful souls from the fire
She would oft let the soles she was frying fall in.
(God forgive me for punning on points thus of piety!—
A sad trick I've learn'd in Bob's heathen society.)
But ah! there remains still the worst of my tale;
Come, Ast'risks, and help me the sad truth to veil—
Conscious stars, that at ev'n your own secret turn pale!
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
In short, dear, this preaching and psalm-singing pair,
Chosen “vessels of mercy,” as I thought they were,
Have together this last week eloped; making bold
To whip off as much goods as both vessels could hold—
Not forgetting some scores of sweet Tracts from my shelves,
Two Family Bibles as large as themselves,
My neat “Morning Manna, done up for the pocket.”
Was there e'er known a case so distressing, dear Liz?
It has made me quite ill:—and the worst of it is,
When rogues are all pious, 'tis hard to detect
Which rogues are the reprobate, which the elect.
This man “had a call,” he said—impudent mockery!
What call had he to my linen and crockery?
“Morning Manna, or British Verse-book, neatly done up for the pocket,” and chiefly intended to assist the members of the British Verse Association, whose design is, we are told, “to induce the inhabitants of Great Britain and Ireland to commit one and the same verse of Scripture to memory every morning. Already, it is known, several thousand persons in Scotland, besides tens of thousands in America and Africa, are every morning learning the same verse.”
Of some godly young couple this pair to replace.
The inclos'd two announcements have just met my eyes,
In that ven'rable Monthly where Saints advertise
For such temporal comforts as this world supplies ;
An essential in every craft, calling, and trade.
Where the' attorney requires for his 'prentice some youth
Who has “learn'd to fear God and to walk in the truth;”
Where the sempstress, in search of employment, declares,
That pay is no object, so she can have prayers;
And the' Establish'd Wine Company proudly gives out
That the whole of the firm, Co. and all, are devout,
The Evangelical Magazine.—A few specimens taken at random from the wrapper of this highly esteemed periodical; will fully justify the character which Miss Fudge has here given of it. “Wanted, in a pious pawnbroker's family, an active lad as an apprentice.” “Wanted, as housemaid, a young female who has been brought to a saving knowledge of the truth.” “Wanted immediately, a man of decided piety, to assist in the baking business.” “A gentleman who understands the Wine Trade is desirous of entering into partnership, &c. &c. He is not desirous of being connected with any one whose system of business is not of the strictest integrity as in the sight of God, and seeks connection only with a truly pious man, either Churchman or Dissenter.”
Where Saints are so much more abundant than sages;
Where Parsons may soon be all laid on the shelf,
As each Cit can cite chapter and verse for himself,
All lay in religion as part of their stock.
Who can tell to what lengths we may go on improving,
When thus thro' all London the Spirit keeps moving,
And heaven's so in vogue, that each shop advertisement
Is now not so much for the earth as the skies meant?
According to the late Mr. Irving, there is even a peculiar form of theology got up expressly for the money-market. “I know how far wide,” he says, “of the mark my views of Christ's work in the flesh will be viewed by those who are working with the stock-jobbing theology of the religious world.” “Let these preachers,” he adds, “(for I will not call them theologians), cry up, broker-like, their article.” Morning Watch.—No. iii. 442, 443.
From the statement of another writer, in the same publication, it would appear that the stock-brokers have even set up a new Divinity of their own. “This shows,” says the writer in question, “that the doctrine of the union between Christ and his members is quite as essential as that of substitution, by taking which latter alone the Stock-Exchange Divinity has been produced.” —No. x. p. 375.
Among the ancients, we know the money-market was provided with more than one presiding Deity—“Deæ Pecuniæ (says an ancient author) commendabantur ut pecuniosi essent.”
P.S.
Have mislaid the two paragraphs—can't stop to look,But both describe charming—both Footman and Cook.
The' increase of French cook'ry, and sin on our shores;
And adds—(while for further accounts she refers
To a great Gospel preacher, a cousin of hers,)
That “though some make their Sabbaths mere matter-of-fun days,
She asks but for tea and the Gospel, on Sundays.”
The footman, too, full of the true saving knowledge;—
Has late been to Cambridge—to Trinity College;
Serv'd last a young gentleman, studying divinity,
But left—not approving the morals of Trinity.
P.S.
I inclose, too, according to promise, some scrapsOf my Journal—that Day-book I keep of my heart;
Where, at some little items, (partaking, perhaps,
More of earth than of heaven,) thy prud'ry may start,
And suspect something tender, sly girl as thou art.
For the present, I'm mute—but, whate'er may befall,
Recollect, dear, (in Hebrews, xiii. 4.) St. Paul
Hath himself declar'd, “marriage is honourable in all.”
EXTRACTS FROM MY DIARY.
No one to see me in it—pity!
Flew in a passion with Friz, my maid;—
The Lord forgive me!—she look'd dismay'd;
But got her to sing the 100th Psalm,
While she curl'd my hair, which made me calm.
Nothing so soothes a Christian heart
As sacred music—heavenly art!
A remarkably handsome, nice young man;
And, all Hibernian though he be,
As civilis'd, strange to say, as we!
Hath much engross'd my thoughts of late;
And I mean, as soon as my niece is gone,
To have some talk with him thereupon.
But that troublesome child is in the way:
Nor is there, I think, a doubt that he
Would also her absence much prefer,
As oft, while listening intent to me,
He's forc'd, from politeness, to look at her.
Turn out, after all, a “renewed” young man;
And to me should fall the task, on earth,
To assist at the dear youth's second birth.
Blest thought! and, ah, more blest the tie,
Were it heaven's high will, that he and I—
But I blush to write the nuptial word—
Should wed, as St. Paul says, “in the Lord;”
Not this world's wedlock—gross, gallant,
But pure—as when Amram married his aunt.
One's natural sinful life's amount,
Or look in the Register's vulgar page
For a regular twice-born Christian's age,
Who, blessed privilege! only then
Begins to live when he's born again.
I myself but five years old shall be,
And dear Magan, when the' event takes place,
An actual new-born child of grace—
Should Heav'n in mercy so dispose—
A six-foot baby, in swaddling clothes.
With Mr. Magan left tête-à-tête,
Had just begun—having stirr'd the fire,
And drawn my chair near his—to inquire
What his notions were of Original Sin,
When that naughty Fanny again bounc'd in;
And all the sweet things I had got to say
Of the Flesh and the Devil were whisk'd away!
Is actually pleased and amused with Fan!
What charms any sensible man can see
In a child so foolishly young as she—
But just eighteen, come next May-day,
With eyes, like herself, full of nought but play—
Is, I own, an exceeding puzzle to me.
| The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore | |