Modern chivalry :: :: University of Virginia Library

NOT far off hence there was a cabin
Inhabited by a great Rabbin,
A weaver who had serv'd the state,
Which Chevalier did not know yet,
And therefore having heard the loom,
Just as he had that way come
More out of humour than of ire
Began to feel a great desire
T' accost the manufacturer,
And ask him what was doing there;
A breed that earth themselves in cellars,
Like conjurors or fortune tellers;
Devoid of virtue and of mettle;
A sort of subterranean cattle,
Of no account in church or state,
Or ever think of being great,

As warriors or as politicians,
But lurk in dungeons like magicians.
Shall such an animal disturb
Quoth he, the peace of our suburb?
Or shall we drive him from his house,
Give him two or three kicks or blows?
Or is it best t' expostulate
And reasonably the matter state,
Why such inglorious life he leads;
And on alternate traddle treads?
Agreed; for what is moderate,
In counsel has the greatest weight;
And now advancing to the window
Like lover to his Rosalinda,
Address'd the manufacturer,
Or as 't were whisper'd in his ear,
With words mellifluous and speeches
And parables, and far fair fetches,
His censure of the occupation:
But take it as it was; the oration.
“Believe me not a Knight uncourt'ous,
Devoid of manners and of virtues,
Though thus abruptly I address you,
But calmly wait and hear the issue.
Are you enchanted by some gipsey,
Who on your heart has cast a sheep's eye,
And fain would hug you to her amours
In low and subterranean chambers,
That thus you linger in sick mansion,
Where never hath the light of sun shone?
Or worsted in some desperate wrangle,
By Giant, is your foot and ancle
Enthral'd in bondage past unloosing?
Or are you here of your own chusing!
And for your pastime tread on traddles,
As men in water play with paddles,
Or maidens on spinnets that warble;
Or harpsichord with grating ter'ble?
Is that a loom that stands before ye
That keeps you from the walks of glory?
It ill befits that men whom nature,
Hath favour'd with such parts and feature,
Should waste the taper of existence,
In meaner arts, when their assistance

Is wanted both in field and council,
To help our politics at groundsell,
And make some new and wholesome laws,
Or is it reasonable those claws
Should be employ'd in knotting threads;
Or oratorial shoulder blades
Should work, to drive the texture close,
Which else might in the Senate house,
With proper gesture give just force
To your expressions and discourse?
No doubt you have the eloquence,
If we could but extract it thence,
To bend the judgment and persuade
And hit the right nail on the head;
For half the force of nature lies
In latent powers and qualities
Which but the art of men alone
Or the occasion can make known.
What is there in the orifice
Of oral organ or of eyes,
That you should only gape and stare,
Just fit to carry guts to a bear?
Arise and shake your slumber off;
You have capacity enough;
Assume your place in state affairs,
And get up to the top o' th' stairs.”
The weaver sat and gap'd awhile,
Astonish'd at unusual stile,
And was preparing to reply
With a new lustre in his eye,
When on the outside came a blow
From unknown but unnatural foe.
It was the weaver's termagant
Who overhearing the Knight's rant
Did snatch a cudgel, and essay'd
A blow upon his shoulder blade,
Not to enable him with title,
But to give vent t' her rage a little;
But missing upper, did alight
Upon the postern of the Knight,
For head in window and hat slouching
He saw not this grey mare approaching,
The better horse at least o' th' weaver
And kept him in subjection ever.

Quoth she, what raggamuffin this
That comes to broach absurdities,
And turn again the crazy head
Of Traddle from his daily bread;
The business of his warp and woof,
Who has already had enough
Of politics and stuff, God knows,
Since first the hurry scurry rose:
The Devil burn them with hot pinchers,
And scorch their knuckle joints and fingers,
Who put it first in his conceiving
To think of this, and quit his weaving,
While customer is at the door
And must have work done: what is more,
In these affairs what does he know?
About as much as my brown cow.
No wonder that am out of humour
With the discourse of every comer
That puts such whimsies in his brain
To turn him to his freaks again.
With that she lays another thwack,
Impetuously upon the back
Of Knight who thought but of retiring
T' avoid th' unexpected firing,
'Till reconnoitering the foe,
He could distinguish who was who.
No doubt he could have match'd the onset,
For his long sword was not the bluntest;
But seeing her unwarlike sex,
With petticoat about her legs,
He took again his hand from hilt;
For no presumption of the guilt
Could justify by laws of order
The hurting her or going further,
For such the deference due the weaker,
That for a Knight to draw a trigger
Or lift his hand against a woman,
Is deem'd unfair and unbecoming,
But rather gradually assuage
With oil of courtesy her rage,
And having dissipated clamour,
Convert the contest to an amour.
So having drop'd his ire and hanger,
He thus address'd him to harnague her.

Uncourteous Damsel or Enchantress,
For you are not a common laundress,
What œstrum or phrenetic fury,
So underhandedly could spur ye,
To bastinado me, and break
My body from the rump to the neck,
Because I would do him a service
So long immur'd beneath the surface,
Why then from you uncourteous usage
Hard words, and cudgelling surplusage?
For such my meaning and fond wishes,
I had not thought of blows but kisses:
At least from one so fair as you are,
For as to charms of person few are,
More fit to be a Del' Tobosa
And in Romances make a huzza.
Are you unwilling to take rise,
Above your natural pedigrees,
And get your family upstairs
Securing honour to your heirs
For be your wife or virgin daughter
Draw but a ticket in state lotter'
And have relation to the house,
Especially if tis a spouse,
He draws you up to the same place,
Acquiring novel privileges.
Quoth she, experience is best proof,
And therefore I am wise enough
To know the fulsomness of this
And Traddl's popular services.
Much better he would keep t' his loom,
Nor listen to the roocks that come
And talk of the affairs of state;
Not much the better for them yet;
A set of idle lounging louts
That talk of interest and of votes
And keep him from his work, discoursing,
But never see them draw a purse string,
To recompence the loss of labour:
And after all what is't but jabber;
For what can he or they discover,
As I have told them over and over
In government that can be worth
The knowing or the calling forth?

The saying hits th' nail on th' head;
“Let every cobler stick t' his trade,”
And therefore be what you will
I take your interfering ill,
To touch the fiddle-string again
Of politicks that turns his brain.
No wonder that I feel some passion,
On this particular occasion,
And meditate another stroke;
Nor care I if your back is broke.
Quoth Knight, not half so much the blows
Of oaken stick hath wrought me woes,
As the bright lustre of your eyes
Which touches my propensities.
With teeth as white as ebony—
There's many a man would give a guinea,
To taste the ruby of your lips.
'Tis said that when a knight equips
Himself for deeds of chivalry,
Behooves t' have some one in his eye
Who fires his thoughts, and at whose feet
Throws all the victories he can get.
Now you are such a paragon
Of beauty's diamond set in stone,
That I am willing to enthral,
My heart to you and give you all.
Quoth she, my eyes are not so bright
That I can see without some light,
Nor have I any other teeth
Than serve to eat provisions with.
But were it so that I had beauty,
I better know my sworn duty
Than to in the world have it said
That I put horns on Traddle's head.
Quoth Knight, but is indissoluble
The knot, or cannot carry double?
Th' idea of antlers is a figure
Which are put on by the intriguer,
And do not in real'ty grow
Upon the injur'd husband's brow,
To make him Elk or Unicorn
With single or with double horn,
Or hinder him to enter door,
Or move as easily as before.

Think what an honour it will be
To have a progeny by me,
Some gallant chieftain or a worthy
To turn the world topsy turvy;
Unlike the offspring of one bred
To a diminutive manual trade;
Whose mind partakes of situation
And the subordinate occupation.
Quoth she have read some of your books
Knight errant Quixots', and their jokes,
Who fought with windmills, in a wood,
And drew from one another blood.
But was it not the rule with these
First to perform the services
Before did claim the ladies favour
As the demerit of their labour,
Now there is not far off a writer
To whom I bear a little spite here,
Because he laughs at Traddle's nonsense
Which is not equal to his own sense,
And says it is a vile state slur
To chuse him for a senator;
And though some truth may be in this
Not always should the truth express,
At least when it concerns him not;
Now I would have you go red hot
And cudgel him for his provoking,
And his unseasonable joking;
For though it is ridiculous
That Traddle should go to the house,
Or take a seat as he has done,
Why should it be so harp'd upon,
Or any but myself express
A sense of the unworthiness,
Though by the bye he is as fit,
As others that have no more wit,
And yet are pass'd by in the ballad
Escaping names that he is called.
Quoth Knight, you hit the very essence
Of all my spirits' effervescence
Which is to tread in magic steps
Of chivalry, and hair breadth scapes,
Redressing injury and wrong,
Or matron grave or damsel young;

For beauty is a brand that lights
Warm passion in the breast of Knights,
Down from the earliest days to this,
Which is at bottom of the base.
As to this writer in Gazette
He is a rascally marmozette,
As more that drew satiric quill
Half starv'd in garret 'gainst their will,
And worse than spiders which inhabit
The same aerial dome and abode.
Or wasps who with their nests incumber
Aerial garrets amid lumber,
And sting the very hand that presses,
Or lodges with them, and caresses.
No wonder that a mess-mate writer
Should be a damnable back-biter,
And if he has not kings t' engage
Attacks a weaver with his rage;
But shall repent it suddenly.
The Lady blandish'd with her eye,
And seem'd to thank him for his heat,
Hence set out to enquire the seat,
And chastise this Archilous
With battery and actual blows,
For words no more affect such vermin
Than does a hypocrite, a sermon,
Who turns deaf ear to your inveigh'ng
And goes on with his work again;
Though first it might be well t' upbraid
Before should come to break his head;
Preserve the usual character
Of good men when they go to war,
That of humanity and pains
To save the loss of blood and brains,
Until necessity aloud
Doth say that such way does no good;
Then it behooves t' impress the force
Of arm and cudgel on the curs.
It was a garret high in th' air
With small incumbrance round it where
The Rhymster had his residence
And issued all his lampoons thence,
The Knight perceiv'd him as he enter'd
With scratch and scrawl of verse encenter'd,

And though lip quivered and his rage
Bespoke the war he meant to wage,
Yet did compose his brow to rest
And thus the adversar' address'd.
Quoth he, though not devoid of manners
To the more honourable retainers
Of muse, and melody, and wit,
Who labour daily to excite,
The pleasing images of fancy,
In ode or madrigal or stanza;
Yet scarce have common courtesy,
To dogrel versifiers that lie
In obscure garrets, and from thence
Send forth th' expenditure of brains:
As't were the inmates of the rafter,
The fabricators of low laughter;
Who spare not neighbouring characters
Of any animal that stirs,
Up from the beggar to the prince;
And uselessly must break their shins,
Just merely to express the jest
That comes into their heads in haste:
The ebullition of their fun;
And you are such a son of a gun;
For is there not one Traddle, whom
You have depicted as the scum
Of Politicians of the age,
Which puts his Lady in a rage;
A weaver made a senator;
Object it to him as a slur;
And undervalue manual trade,
And calling of inferior grade;
Whereas in such consists our riches,
Without them where were coat or breeches
Or other vestment that we wear
But for the manufacturer?
But whence particular hate to this,
The sphere of your antipodes;
The cellar weaving Knight that lurks
While you swim to the top like corks,
And take your station in mid air,
And weave your compositions there,
And ought to have a fellow feeling
For those in nadir of your dwelling:

For both are of the mystery
Though one is low the other high,
But being a lady in the case
Behooves to interpose; suppress
Your obloquy in verse or prose,
Kick breech or corrugate the nose,
For such the dernier resort,
Reciprocation of the sport;
That, diction when it meets repulse
Should vibrate to its native sculls,
And reach the head that fram'd the verse
And did maliciously asperse.
Quoth writer, though a man o' th' sword,
Yet by the grammar of your word
You seem of literary talent,
With noble air and manner gallant,
And hurts me that you have t' express
The language of such prejudice
Against a loitering garretteer,
Eespecially myself, who here
Have honour to receive address,
From one of so much worthiness.
But though we have our residence
More elevate than other men's;
Like mad-cap wasps, sting travellers,
By flying at all characters;
Yet not without a proper use
In system to correct abuse,
When what is fungous, or absurd
In common matters has occur'd;
For instance when the foot puts head
Beneath upon the soil to tread,
And takes itself the upper place,
There is a monster in the case;
And we designate it, and note
Conversion of the head and foot,
And cast a ridicule on swain,
Who has ambition in his brain
To be a statesman, and make laws,
Instead of working with his claws:
Because his nature had not made
His mind for legislative trade;
At least the want of literature
T' appear with dignity in sphere,

Is an obstruction to the rise:
And hence more rational and wise
To occupy the quondam place
Than struggle for such loftiness,
And hence it is I have inveigh'd
'Gainst Traddle, not because his trade
Is underserving, but because
Would quit it to enact our laws;
For sir, would be as far as you
From bringing matters into view,
That may relate to means of living
As that of boot-making or weaving.
I hold all arts in estimation
Nor undervalue occupation;
And think a ditcher a good fellow,
Provided he his business follow,
It is unnatural change of places,
And the conversion that disgraces,
An able ditcher making laws
A senator in the morass.
In their own element all natures
Appear with justifiable features:
Why call a surgeon to set bone
If judgment is not look'd upon?
Is government an easy art,
Just like the driving of a cart
Which ever doth some skill require
To keep the wheel out of the mire?
'Tis thought the highest art of man
With comprehensive view to scan
The various interests of a state
And means of its becoming great.
I question not the good intent
Of Traddle for the government,
But the ability and skill,
On fact and similar principle.
As if a customer mounts loom,
Who accidentally might come;
And though his will is just as good
He cannot weave the web for's blood
But breaks the thread and works much evil,
Not instigated by the devil,
And so not object of our hate
Yet impropriety is great

And in the nature of things absurd.
The Knight had drank in every word
And thought the principle of's speech,
Some shew of reason seem'd to reach.
Quoth Writer, it was first my view
In what with Traddle had to do,
To open eyes and men convince,
At least the people of good sense,
How injudicious they were
Of sending untaught character
To pourtray in the senate house
As if he were the type of us;
But now with the description wearied,
Have brought my lampoons to a period,
And will no farther speak or write,
Especially since a worthy Knight
As you appear to be, advise it,
In this polite and friendly visit.
Quoth Knight, th' opportune courtesy,
Allays the passion that was high,
And now t' apologise for question
And my intruding on th' occasion,
Am of the order, and a Knight
Whose object is to set things right;
Depress th' unworthy and raise up
The preferable to the top,
And injury and force restrain
Of warriors sword, or writers pen,
Distributing best services
And keep commonwealth in peace,
And hence was led to interfere
In aid of Traddle's character,
Whose Lady is an Amazon,
And beauty's perfect paragon,
And laid it on me as a task
My sword and battery to unmask,
Against your irony and wit
By which her conjugal is hit,
And bid your pipe and verse repose,
Or take th' incendiar' by the nose,
Which from apology so courteous,
Expressive of your sense and virtues,
I wave, as being satisfied
That you have reason on your side:

But for the sake of this said matron
For am no rigid son of saturn,
Would wish you to be smooth and moderate
Until your differences are solder'd,
Nor carry to extremes the war,
But learn to conquer and to spare.
Enough is said to give you sense
Without your taking farther pains,
So drop your currency of quill
And volubility be still,
And turn to other quarters for
The instances that may occur
T' elucidate your argument,
And give your oratory vent:
For though so rough my late address,
Do not consider you the less,
But rank you as of class with us,
A writer at th' top of house;
A kind of literary knight,
Dispos'd to keep the world quiet
By aid of your satiric verse,
Th' insignificant t' amerce,
Or put down villainy and pride
That has opinion on its side,
For ridicule's a test of truth,
No less than reason; for it sheweth,
The weak and vulnerable part,
And probes distemper to the heart.
Hence kings have dreaded it and beggars,
More than artill'ry that beleaguers
Of rational and sober sense;
For when men laugh the farce begins,
And thing becomes aharlequin:
Whom you contemple with a grin
Leads men to hate it: as you please
Can turn the adversar' to geese,
To rat or monkey, and give tails
Just as the ide' you have prevails;
Effectual as magicians spell,
Or conjuror come out of hell,
For on retina of the eye,
Doth spread the worst absurdity,
So that no power of champion's sword
Doth surer victory afford,

Or throws a more oppressive weight
Into the scale of church or state.
Quoth writer, what you represent,
Is doubtless a great compliment
T' assimilate a knight and writer,
And of an equal worth consider;
But waving compliment, and reason
You have set forth with good expression;
I deem it greatly fortunate
That in this boist'rous time though late,
One has arisen with such skill
To subjugate all shape of ill.
It seem'd to me not long ago
As I did read a page or so,
The spirit of Chivalry was gone
Which has in other ages shone,
And left the world to common means;
Where what is gradual intervenes,
Without the aid of knight or waiter
To interfere and make it better.
But since excluding this conclusion,
You as it were have made intrusion,
And shewn by an example splendid,
That such exertion is not ended,
Go on like other combatants
Not just like them in killing g'ants;
But in performing modern good,
For ages are not now so rude
As to produce the like disorders
Which were remov'd by ancient orders;
And more by chivalry of tongue
Remains it now to redress wrong,
Than by an actual violence;
No doubt we had good share of sense,
Among the people of these states;
But yet have taken 't in their pates,
Because have privilege of office
They have the qualities that suffice,
And as republics have laid open
Advance to all men, there's no stopping,
And not a thing that wears a head
By an immediate impulse led
But sets up for a senator.
And though we do not hear the stir,

Of giants, monsters now adays,
Yet there is trouble other ways,
In keeping down licentiousness
Of what we call our privileges,
And just as much ado to quash
Election that is rather rash,
As was of old to knock down champ'ons;
And tho' harangu'd them in my lampoons,
Yet still the populace do err
Not chusing qualified that are;
But giving to such men their votes
That have as little sense as goats;
And thus it was that though did wage
A war with Traddle, had no rage,
Against the manufacturer;
But meant it as a kind of slur
Or fable designating hate
Against this evil in the state,
Men running up to services
Who are not fitted for the place,
Not having just capacity,
Because another way doth lie
The effort of the untaught brain;
Not that they are inferior men,
But of themselves are very good
Provided would not thus intrude,
And make equality a curse
By not distinguishing the force
And aptitude of natural powers
For their own offices or ours.
And now this day there is a rout
Scarce on your way a mile about,
Of people met to form a ticket
Of those who chuse to politic it,
And be our representatives
According as their interest thrives
For the respective candidate;
It would do service to the state,
If such a noble Knight as you
Would teach them what they ought to do,
And give them seasonable lessons
Respecting such their crude creations,
That on the one hand while they pass
The ignorant though monied ass,

So on the other should avoid
The chusing such amongst the crowd
As are unqualified though less,
They may in property possess
The Knight set out, and not far off
Fell in with people busy enough
About the matter of a choice,
And soon distinguish'd some one's voice,
As one who was a candidate.
The Knight address'd the people met
With usual stile of eloquence,
Quoth he, my fellow citizens,
No doubt you are all men of skill
In state affairs, and have good will
In serving this our government
Republican from Heaven sent,
Where all may climb to offices
Like animals that clamber trees;
But yet this liberty should use
As Saint Paul says, so not t' abuse;
And while each one retains the right
To bring his talents to the light,
Yet let the public mind prefer
I do not say the worthier
But him most for the office fit,
By his peculiar cast of wit,
And talent for particular case
And senatorial services,
As nature fits one horse to run
Another draws artillery gun;
For surely in the framing laws
There's need of something more than claws,
Or horn or hoof, or nails to scratch
At least to frame them with dispatch;
For judgment must be something worth
And speech to make a man hold forth,
And justify the step he takes;
Else twisted like a nose of wax
He bends just to the fugal man
With whom the yea or nay began;
Doth loose the natural dignity
Which all men have in reason's eye
While unaffectedly they move
And keep the corresponding groove,

For when th' unqualified are up,
And take their station at the top,
The commonwealth may be express'd
In the similitude of beast
That runs with tail upon its back
In its excursion through the brake;
Racoon, opossum or a bear,
Devoid of intellect that are.
These words encourag'd one hard by
Who had advancement in his eye,
From the pretension of some sense,
To hazard his own eloquence.
Quoth he, have had the inclination
To take a turn in public station,
Not that I have the greatest skill,
But that I have the best good will
To be a representative,
And make the public interest thrive;
T' assist your trade, and make you rich,
And give you liberty, for which
You have sustain'd so long a war
And now at length victorious are.
What profits it to have knock'd down
The great Cornwallis and Burgoyne
If in the meantime money-less
Your agriculture languishes?
It is the fault of those at helm
That these distresses overwhelm,
For if just measures were pursued
Our government would do us good:
And mischiefs that are come to pass
Be remedied by proper laws.
But those you send are loggerheads
And might as well be in their beds;
Or if they have a little share
Of sense and industry to spare,
They lay it out for their own use
And personal interest introduce.
As for this man that is set up,
What is foundation of his hope?
Has he more knowledge than a goose?
By what criterion do you chuse?
Is it his speech or dialect,
That has so rapidly you prick'd

To elevate him to a sphere
Where greatest orators appear?
Or are you credulous there is
In him some occult faculties
Which when the time may come about
You may be able to find out?
Or is it out of mere caprice
Would give him such unnatural rise
To shew the people can supply
A sudden respectability;
A man to power and greatest weight
From nothing as it were create?
To him the man not erudite,—
For he could neither read or write
But by a necromantic skill
Could lead the people at his will,
By means of some infernal dews
By which he sprinkled them profuse:
Not dews of Acheron or Styx,
By which he play'd these magic tricks,
But dews which he himself distill'd
From what he gather'd in his field:
Men call it whiskey, but the Gods
Call't what they please above the clouds
Who tasted it was straightway drawn
Insensibly to taste again,
And such the virtue of the fluid,
But say not whether bad or good,
Whoever put his nose to th' steam
Conceiv'd the delusory dream
Of being more than what he was;
And hence it easily came to pass
H' attributed the fume o' his brain
To a celestial origin;
And thought the giver of the fluid
With more than mortal pow'rs indu'd
And worshipp'd him: you might have seen
Idolators before the shrine
At morn and midday prostrate there
Or offering up an evening prayer.
No wonder that they thought him fit
With every talent requisite,
To occupy a place of trust,
Where weightiest matters are discuss'd,

And gave up sense and power of vote
For the ambrosia they had got;
And hence he had been Constable,
And acted as he was well able;
And next a Justice of the peace,
And bound o'er people at his ease,
And now became a candidate
For the assembly of the state,
He made no speech, but pointed out,
A keg of whiskey to the croud,
As much as if to say there is,
The test of my best services.
Why need I say the man was chosen,
By people waving like the ocean;
The wonder would be if left out.
The fact was he got every vote,
And would have got had there been more,
Or of competitors a score.
The Knight broke silence, and gave scope
To words as fast as he could ope,
Regretting this such strange perversion,
Of the political exertion.
Quoth he, am no aristocrat
To blame what people would be at,
In chusing from the multitude
Him destitute of noble blood,
Nor fenc'd with family connections,
To gain the popular affections.
Nor do I much regard estate
In chusing men to legislate,
As if alone your purse-proud fellows
Were capable to blow the bellows.
For poor in purse as well as spirit,
Have oftentimes the greatest merit,
And those in lowest life have wit,
And may be for an office fit,
With education for the place
And the connatural services,
More than the rich and glorious,
Who have a castle for a house
And ask an hundred men to dine,
Where all varieties combine,
As if the eating much or drinking,
Could help the faculty of thinking

Or looking at the bulk of stones,
Or brick they have about their bones,
In shape of building, could advance
Their parts above a common man's.
Have known as many perfect beasts
In ignorance at rich men's feasts,
As ever in inferior station
Where natural sense gets little lesson;
Have no ide' that equipages,
Can give unusual privileges,
Of sense and reason in the brain,
But often plain and labouring men
May have more sense than those whom riches,
Have dignified; the sons of bitches,
That set a value on estates,
As being a substitute for pates;
Whereas the talent nature gives
Original in the spirit lives,
And independent of the sod
Which else inglorious might be trod;
And hence the men that have been sages,
And greatest warriors of all ages,
Have had their birth in poverty,
And through distress have risen high:
For exercise of wit gives wit,
And renders the possessor fit,
For station that he occupies,
Or prompts him to superior rise,
Whereas the weight of wealth keeps down,
With an incumbrance of its own,
The fool imagining his gold,
Outweighs his folly when 'tis told
And turns to wisdom what he says,
Though ingorant as cow at grass.
Have seen enough to make me sick
Of purse proud men who very weak,
Have arrogated sense though were
As senseless as a sucking bear,
Which I despise and reprobate,
And would exclude them from the state,
Educing better progeny
Which fortune seems to have past by.
So that no aristocracy
But nature that I have in eye.

Nor is it literature alone,
That I would take my stand upon.
There are as many natural fools,
That have the literature of schools,
As have it not; and mother wit,
Is better than the whole of it:
The common people have a right
To throw into the state their mite,
Though not born all philosophers,
To gaze at planets and read stars,
And not in the academies
Are always found the very wise,
And science is but little help
To one by nature a dull whelp;
But what is nature without art,
To qualify for any part?
Whether it be the making shoes,
Or rectifying state abuse;
For not, as in the scripture phrase
Comes inspiration now adays
To make a statesman prophecy
And see with an intuitive eye,
But men just as they were remain,
Before were taken up. Again,
The making laws is not of grace,
And inspiration has no place,
And so that whether poor or rich,
And by the bye it makes not which;
Or whether learned in school or not,
Or education may have got,
I want the man of sense, of brain,
To put into the statesman's train;
Which not in this case is the case,
If one may from appearance guess.
Is it necessity or use
You have to plead in your excuse?
Or do you wish to burlesque us
By sending such a thing to th' house?
It is ungen'rous and unfair,
For you to be the merrier
At our disgrace and ignominy,
Being all as't were indigeni!
Of this same soil and residence.
Some thought the man had spoken sense,

But others willing to dissent
Not understanding what he meant
Or caring much about the matter;
(Just Lillibolera at Boyne water,
Would have suited them as well,
Or Gibberland or Granuel)
Shewed symptoms of dissatisfaction,
Opinion having a re-action;
And urging an appeal to force,
From the descision of discourse.
So that it seem'd the wiser way
To drop the occasion of affray,
Retiring from the multitude
And let him talk and fight who would.
It struck into the head of knight,
And glad he was he had come by't
To go t' a conjurer and enquire,
Into the case a little higher
Of what had puzzled him of late
These strange vagaries of the state;
And humour of the multitude;
Could do no harm, if not much good.
Approach'd the cell, and this his speech,
Quoth he I come not to beseech
Your conjuror-ship to explicate
How I a thing that's lost may get,
A cow, a stray horse, or a sheep,
But mystery that is more deep,
Videlicet; (and here he stated
The difficulty we have narrated.)
Quoth conjurer could better tell
What hurry scurry is in hell,
Or going on above the sun
Or will in future day be done;
Can question nature in her course,
And read the stars when mankind snores,
Or cast nativities and teach
A man's whole fortune at a stretch;
Go under ground and dig up spades,
Or dive in ocean to fish-beds,
And rifle trunks of men of war
That at the very bottom are
Or run through dens beneath the earth
And drag out thiefsters for our mirth,

For this is given to conjurors skill
But not a single syllable
Above the common race of men
To sphynx it and the cause explain
Of natural phenomenon
Such as you have just touch'd upon.
Prevaricative, quoth Knight and false.
Can you that trip it through stone walls
Not enter into human breast,
And read the passion there express'd,
And tell the origin of it,
In mode and manner explicit?
If maid wants husband, you can shew
The physiognomy of the beau,
And yet not tell why men run mad
Upon this legislative trade.
Is't easier or of better use
To find a stray horse, or stolen goose,
Than satisfy one at a loss
On what strange gudgeons this thing goes
That populace who have some sense
Should chuse a clod-pole without brains
To be themselves as't were i' th' house
And bear the politics th' espouse,
Well knowing that the image must
Bespeak th' original of bust,
And that they suffer in the shape
Which they send forward there to gape.
Now tell me what the cause of this
Absurdity of suffrages?
Not able, quoth the conjuror,
But there's a great philosopher
Not far off who has studied books,
And is a wise man by his looks,
Considered human nature so
That he can look it through and through,
And knows the inside of the scull
And breast of man, as well to th' full
As I can by an astrolabe
Take in the Heavens at a grab
And tell the future destiny
Of things that are in fortunes' eye:
For this my skill, and my profession.
Quoth Knight, no need of a disgression,

Or further homily to explain
Particular defect of brain.
The moral causes are best known
To him who keeps his noddle down,
Upon affairs of state; whereas,
In other studies for a cause,
Behooves t' apply to them that know
From the particular bent of brow.
The mathematician can demonstrate
What line is crooked or goes on strait;
The chemist analyse a vapour
And make the hydrogen appear
Or oxygen if such there be
Pent up in the concavity;
So that apology you make
Accounts in some sort for renege
And reference to another office,
For why or wherefore that may suffice;
And hence I take me to my scrapers
And farther investigating labours—
Elsewhere t' examine, and discuss,
This state arcanum & non plus.
So having spoke concluded diction,
Lest he should make the conj'ror sick soon,
And turn'd short off his perg'rination,
With more of thought and less oration,
Towards the sage's residence,
And having entered thus begins.
Quoth he, have been with a strange wight,
Who proves a mere blatherskite,
A conjuror but cannot tell,
Tho' has much magic in his cell;
How is it?—(here he stated knot,
The difficulty he came about
And pray'd the sage philosopher
To give the reason of th' affair:)
Was it enchantment of the brain,
That hurts the intellects of men,
And charms, that unawares invade
With error, popular cavalcade,
And mists and necromantic spells;
Made out of pots and crucibles,
To cloud the fancy and obscure,
The honest vision of the viewer

Who is deceiv'd and gives his vote,
As blindly as if drawn by lot,
Without distinction of the good,
Or bad among the multitude.
Quoth sage, it may be the gallanter,
To say 'tis done by an enchanter,
But so it is that simple nature,
Without a cause occult or greater,
Than men's own ordinary passions,
Or accident of the occasions,
Produces this phenomenon,
You seem so much to harp upon.
Sometimes it happens that caresses,
And courtesy attains the graces,
And bends the populace to him,
Who falls in with the popular whim;
For not th' inducement of best sense,
But in our liking choice begins;
For public interest gains no vote,
It is an object so remote—
Moreover envy of the good,
Will put the people in a mood,
To chuse the worst, out of mere spite,
To shew you that they have a right,
To take him up you call a fool
Out of the election water pool:
And of't without a thought they chuse,
As't were by accident, a goose;
Not knowing what they are about,
Until the tickets are drawn out.
Or if they would select the wise,
Stupidity has his disguise
Of sapience from his graver air,
Whereas sound reason speaks out clear,
And there is nothing magical,
Where you can comprehend it all;
But the obscure is the sublime,
And hence the people value him,
That has no speech at all, as gods,
Were rais'd to the supreme abodes,
In Egypt out of cats and rats,
And leeks and onions and all that's
Contemptible of beast or stock,
Because these us'd no words to shock

The adverse sentiments of men:
Or what may farther serve t' explain;
No one is jealous of the dunce,
Nor journal thinks worth while to pounce
Upon the ignoble candidate,
While the artillery of gazette
Plays on the obvious character
Which can afford some wear and tear,
And the excited prejudice
To a new progeny gives rise
Of falsehood and malevolence,
Perversions that the bad dispense
Against the endeavours of the good,
And wise not rightly understood,
So that, though medium of their hate,
Refracted, there is nothing great,
But like a wand in wave immers'd,
Seems crooked from the being aspers'd,
For as a fly is seen to poke
His nose where'er the skin is broke,
So calumny discovers faults,
And from defects to crimes exalts;
While such as have but little force
Of nature like a cow or horse,
Are safe, because what can be said
But that they have been stolen or stray'd.
Hence paragraphists have no woof,
Or warp to make invective of
And while no one exclaims, the wight,
Is deem'd for the advancement fit,
Or suffered to retain his place
Not on the score of works but grace;
Sufficient if he can say nay
Or ope his mouth to get out yea,
Just as the fugal man o' th' party,
Gives motion to the Neil M`Carty:
For being an automaton,
The movement need not be his own
And is more reg'lar the less sense,
Of independence he retains,
And less effects self-love of such,
As actuate the scaramouche;
And hence no word of him but good,
At home amongst the multitude,

So that he goes and goes again,
While the republic lasts—Amen.
The problem seemed to have solution,
And merited a contribution.
So asking what was to be paid,
The able casuist shook his head,
Declining to make charge—The Knight,
Was glad to have so cheap come by't,
And taking leave he wish'd him well,
Which is the ending of the tale.

[1]

This was written about the year 1788-9, and gave rise in the
authors mind to this publication under the signature of Modern
Chivalry.