University of Virginia Library

The following Hudibrastic delineation is so applicable to the subject, that I must claim the reader's indulgence for its insertion under the present head.

'Tis at elections we behold
The mighty influence of gold;
On vagrant then my lord will doat,
For why? The rascal has a vote.
To butcher's wife he'll pledge love's duty,
And vow to God she is a beauty.
Swear to a grim'd and drunken tinker
He's lily white, being a free thinker:
Or shou'd this fail, declare no sin is
'Gainst liberty, to finger guineas.
Meanwhile my minister ploughs furrows,
In Freedom's field—rakes rotten boroughs:
Cares not a rush for her disgrace
So he can but preserve his place;
Procuring at th' approaching meeting,
By a majority, fair greeting.
And as to this pray wonder not,
'Tis long since Freedom went to pot.
Poor soul! tho' well as well cou'd be,
Was dos'd at first with senna tea,
Which turn'd her wholesome stomach sick,
When some prescrib'd an emetic.
Appealing then to oppositions
'Gainst ministers, her dire physicians,
She sigh'd her case, she cou'd not speak;
But all in vain, they prov'd too weak.
So each, like ruffian desperado,
Has play'd in turn Doctor Sangrado.
Reducing thus the lovely maid
Into the shadow of a shade.
This is not all—determin'd still
Of med'cine she shou'd gorge her fill,
They've drench'd her with cathartics brisk,
And thus have quite obscur'd her disc.
Being now reduc'd so very low,
She is no longer shade's-shadow.
So seated all like beasts in pens,
I mean my flock of Saint Stephens;
My pupil minister must hear
The grumblings of his foes severe,
In speeches which shall make ye jolly,
Being under par with those of folly.
But to the point: 'tis first a rant
For one half hour, and then a cant;
High words, from whence there is no gleaning
The shadow of a decent meaning.
Then to create a moment's fun
My orator raps out a pun,
Staler than ten times told Joe Miller's,
Nor half so good as pauper Spiller's.
The horse-laugh ended, 'stead of pathos,
He dashes next thro' realms of bathos;
And soaring high attains the sphere
Which claims, at length, the loud—hear! hear!
Descending next from flight bombastic,
For which on back he merits a stick,
He then draws from scholastic bin
A complete trait of dog Latin;
And having three hours spoken, thence
Ye may deduce all else—but sense.
Denying thus the old adage,
Applied to ev'ry speaker sage,
Showing multum in parvo's: hum—
For that multus dat parvulum.

Venalis populus, venalis curia palrum. The people are venal, and the senate is equally venal.

Joe Miller's Jests being in the mouth of every child, no further notice need be taken of them; but with regard to Spiller, who has not acquired so much publicity, it may perhaps be requisite to acquaint the reader that he was a celebrated comedian, who, like most of the sock, indulged too freely with the bottle, which reduced him to poverty and a jail; he was, as frequently proves the case with such characters, a very facetious and witty potcompanion.

This gentleman, of whom I may well say, when referring to his deceased friend,

A mere puppet moved by wires in the hands of others, has completely laid his tongue upon the shelf since Mr. Tooke's demise, from whose capacious storehouses, no doubt, emanated those flowery effusions that so frequently amused the rabble. Much has been advanced by the strenuous advocates of Sir Francis, on the score of his munificence; but I very much doubt if the charity of that gentleman does not consist more in acts where ostentation is gratified, than in bestowing the secret boon, which, like the violet, modestly conceals its head only to waft around a sweeter odour. As this baronet has had a finger in the pie, in the light of a pamphleteer, it is for that reason the present note is coupled with his name, which might otherwise have passed unnoticed.

Is there a sound that more delights
A rabble than to hear of rights?
Which Justice, so political,
Awards alike to Dick, or Hal,
As if all nature did pursue
One only track, and that—virtue.
Will he that tipples be as able
To cultivate his field arable,
As him, who sober, makes his clock
First crowing of the matin cock?
Thus will not industry procure
His land, whom idleness make poor;
And for his bread force friend to work,
Submissive slave to farmer Turk.
So while men's nature disagree,
Farewell to all equality.

I refer my reader to the lucubrations of Mr. Godwin, in order to attain a complete insight as to speculative ideas of this nature.

Through the medium of Cobbet's Register, and other periodical reviews, the lucubrations of this staunch champion of parliamentary reform have frequently met the public eye, independently of which, I have been informed that he has more than once figured in a literary point of view, which has allowed him the present claim upon my consideration. With regard to Peter Porcupine, alias Mr. Cobbet, he is one of those hocus pocus writers, or weathercock politicians, that so frequently appear in this land of liberty; though I believe it would be no easy task to find a parallel with the individual here quoted. Having spoken thus much of the man, it will be necessary to say a few words respecting his abilities as a writer, which are of the most singular cast. He is perspicuous without elegance, and possesses an energy of style which can only be the result of an inherent talent, as no writer among his several imitators has been at all felicitous in the assumption of his mode of expression. Should any reader, however, prove desirous of fully appreciating the text of this writer, let him refer to those numbers of the Weekly Register which made their appearance during the investigation of the Duke of York's conduct, and I think sufficient broof will appear of the terse reasoning and incontrovertible mode of argument pursued by Mr. Cobbet, with whom logic is a joke, and the practices of the schools a mere jargon beneath his consideration. Among other living political writers, Mr. Canning has made no inconsiderable figure; the Marquis of Wellesley has no less had recourse to the printing art for the promulgation of his sentiments, though, in most instances, made under an assumed signature; to these personages may be added Lord Castlereagh, our great diplomatist; while in Mr. Redhead Yorke, lately deceased, whose early career of literature was devoted to the promulgation of liberty, the friends of the Pitt system had to boast a vigorous advocate, possessing talents that never debased the cause he so strenuously advocated.