University of Virginia Library

—One hardly knows in what terms to speak of this little monster. The character is perhaps, unparalleled in the annals of human nature. It is beyond a Caliban; and he who would attempt to describe it must unite attributes which nature had always held asunder; exhibiting at once the most terrible and the most contemptible animal upon earth. Meanness and magnanimity must go hand in hand; and the conqueror of mankind must be coupled with the private assassin. He must shew him possessed of the highest folly in attempting desperate enterprises, and of the highest wisdom in accomplishing them.—Calm in conducting a mighty battle, and petulant in affairs of little import.—Never candid but on a principle of treachery, and adhering to truth only when he promises misfortune. Capricious in small matters, yet constant to ruling principles; and capable of reconciling the most headstrong stubbornness with the most artful pliability.

Celerity is the great architect of his fortune:

And, like woman, he will be lost when he hesitates.

As to peace with England, he will never make it, except in the hope of effecting her final destruction. Delenda est Carthago, is his professed motto, and he will never alter it.

However, on taking a survey of all the possible chances, I feel convinced he will never succeed, so long as we retain the sovereignty of the seas. England indeed may be made a bankrupt, but Europe must be beggared before her. As to conquering these countries vi et armis (even supposing a French army transported to our shores), the thing is impossible, and Buonaparte knows it. No.—he must deprive us of our East Indies, before he can ever effect our downfal; and to this end, must march an army across the Asiatic continent; after having conquered Russia, and so totally subjugated all Europe, as to be secure of its tranquillity during his absence. He will never do it.

Boileau.

—Europe as yet has only begun to move her extremities. The body still remains inactive; but I think it will soon make a struggle, and the first attempt, if strenuous, will restore it. Tacitus has supplied us with an exact picture of European politics at present:

Rarus duabus tribusque civitatibus ad propulsandum commune periculum conventus. Ita, dum singuli pugnant, universi vincuntur. —Jul. Agric.

—I think I may say, (but meekly let me say it, and with awful reverence) that Providence watches over this empire with an eye of peculiar regard. England seems to be solemnly selected and delegated to interpose a barrier between partial subversion and universal anarchy: to punish the punishers of nations; to heal the wounds of agonizing europe, and to sit like a wakeful nurse, watching at her side, and administering to her lips the medicine of salvation. We stand on a noble, but a dreadful elevation; responsible in ourselves for the future happiness of the human race. We have a spirit, a constitution, and a religion: unrivalled, unparalleled, unprecedented. From these sources I draw my politics, and these tell me, we shall triumph. Persevere then, Britons, in the mighty task before you. To recede from it were ruin. Be firm and you triumph —fear, and you fall.

I do not know what Polypus means by his Papal Extirpation. I see no signs of any such matter. I grant that the catholic countries of Europe are daily dropping into degeneracy, and that the Pope is discovered to be neither infallible nor supreme. But then if we look to Ireland, we shall still see the spirit of that religion flourishing in full luxuriance under the invigorating auspices of Gr*tt*n and Co. And yet I fear these worthies are employing much pains to little purpose. Absolutely all hope is at an end, and Catholic Emancipation now goes begging from door to door, like a decayed gentlewoman. But if Gr*tt*n and Co. wish to give full scope to their talents, and serve these kingdoms effectually, by making converts elsewhere,—I would humbly advise them to take a trip to the black empire of Hayti, for instance: or visit the Aborigines of America. To be sure Ireland would weep at losing them, but then tears always bring relief. And even supposing the natives of Hayti or America so stupid as to suspend them upon a tree—still they might thank heaven such an accident never happened to them before. Besides, I dare say there is a pleasure in being hanged for the good of one's country, which many sufferers may have felt indeed, but from the physical nature of the case have never been able to describe.

—I speak of Ireland as a nation only; and as a nation she has not done her duty. As individuals, I think the Irish merit much esteem. The profligate and idle, in general, come over to this country; and we seem to judge of the number by the more unworthy few. Literature is erecting her head in the capital; and some productions of much merit have appeared there of late. In particular, a satire on the players, entitled Familiar Epistles; which, in point of wit, elegance, and apt delineation, is not inferior to many productions in our language. It is said to be written by Mr. Cr*k*r, a young barrister of considerable talent.

—And yet there is just as much chance of peace at this moment, as at the time of the late glorious negotiation—as the Talents would have us believe it. The Talents however were dreadfully duped in that affair—Credulity on the one side, and duplicity on the other, leaving us little else to admire than a series of polished sentences, and some logical small-sword. However, Talleyrand effected many purposes by protracting the farce; and amongst others, the neglect of Buenos Ayres. No pretext upon earth should have prevented Ministers from reinforcing that settlement at least two months before they thought proper to do so.

The Talents, indeed, triumphantly tell us, that it was retaken before succours could have arrived. But these succours were sent to hinder its being retaken; and therefore the Talents must have conjectured that it would not be retaken till after the arrival of these succours—that is to say, till January. Now the place was retaken in August. So here, at all events, the Talents were grossly erroneous; and it follows, that the earliness of the recapture (the plea upon which they excuse themselves) is the very circumstance which condemns them most! Tho' we lost the place before reinforcements could have arrived, yet reinforcements could have arrived before we might have lost it. The place might have been retaken on the first of November The reinforcements could have arrived on the last of October. But if we must always determine the merits of a cause by consequences, not probabilities, why then B*r*s*f*rd and P*ph*m acted perfectly right in having taken Buenos Ayres—because the event justified them; and began to act wrong in having taken it, only from the moment they surrendered. This is the precious conclusion All the Talents would bring us to! The fact is, however, that the Talents were too busy about themselves all the summer to remember an American town, taken by a Pittite. I am sure I can make every reasonable allowance for a new-fangled, merry set of poor devils, tumbling heels over head into places and pensions. I can pardon the ludicrous delirium attending a new title; the gambols of mutual congratulation—here a wink and there a squeeze: all the Talents exerted in purchasing coats, hats, hatbands, and services of plate; and I can even hear of the long laborious eating at cabinet-dinners, with the pity of a man who has felt hunger himfelf. Yet still, amidst gambols and hatbands, services of plate and haunches of venison, a map of poor Buenos Ayres might have lain on the table.

—I cannot coincide with my friend Scriblerus. As yet the new-born Ministry have only begun to crawl. But I suppose he judges of the future butterfly by the present worm; and sees in its extreme ugliness the promise of much beauty hereafter. I think, however, the transmutation has more to do with metals than animals; and am able only to perceive, that men who were Brass in a bad cause, are become Lead in a good one. A few rockets let off at Boulogne,—a fresh-water armament,—a mock negotiation,—late succours,—premature bulletins,—a Parliament new-modelled for a very good reason, and an army new-modelled for no reason at all;—this is what All the Talents have accomplished for us! This is the blaze which hath emanated from the Galaxy of political Geniuses! Yet it is but fair to confess that their speeches are sometimes very pretty; and at present abound with admirable squibs let off at poor P*ph*m. Indeed it is highly proper that those who begin with sky-rockets should end with squibs.

I could offer a hundred sharp things in refutation of Polypus, but am so angry that somehow I cannot collect my ideas.Silence, they say, is often expressive; and I think it cannot now do better than express all my arguments. —Scribl.

—The learned Scriblerus is pleased to place All the Talents on the summit of a wave raised by a tempest. Perhaps in nature he could not have chosen a more hazardous and untenable elevation for these charming men.

I do not think the present Ministry will hold long. They have private as well as public politics—a motion round their own axis as well as round that of the state; and its obliquity must be the cause of many political changes.

—The present Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. The last Lord Lieutenant of Ireland carried with him the hearts of that nation.

—This nobleman is disappointed of the blue ribbon.—It was well observed of him, that he is fitter for the blue apron!

—I have a high respect for the virtues and abilities of this nobleman, and wish to see them exerted in a more decisive manner. He is connected with men who require controul, and who will not (if possible) allow him to remain on his present eminence. He must make many vigorous sallies, or they will undermine him.

—In other words, the sovereignty of the people. A sort of technical term among the Whigs; perfectly harmless, I fancy, and signifying social life, as observable among wolves, savages, and other animals. Some, however, assert that it is a pet name for the guillotine. —Scribl.

—Many say that radical reform (quasiradix et forma) signifies digging up an old tree, and making snuffboxes out of its roots; and adduce Shakspeare's mulberry-tree as an instance. Others again derive it from rado, to shave, and formico, to rise in pimples; and say that it refers to Packwood's razor-strops, not Shakspeare's mulberry-tree. What far-fetched derivations are here! To me 'tis clear as the sun, that radical reform merely means change of administration. —Scriblerus.

—The lady to whom I allude owes less to the efforts of her friends than of her enemies. Her former popularity has increased tenfold since the late impotent attempt to diminish it.

Ω γυναι, ουκαν τις σε βροτων επ' απειρονα γαιαν,
Νεικεοι
Odyss.

It is said that the commission for investigating into her Highness's conduct was not countersigned by the king. Of course, the commission was self-nominated, and the entire proceeding illegal. But formalities are only made for fools, and administering oaths or taking evidence unlawfully are mere trifles to men of talent. Thus then, this calumny lived and died in the true faith of its original church. The mysterious motives which gave it birth were admirably supported by the illegality which examined it, and by the cruel delicacy which suffered it to die unexposed.

—I own I pity Mr. Sh*r*d*n, because he really does possess some good qualities; and because I know that his way of life often costs him a bitter pang. Yet it is to be feared he will never amend it. Perhaps there is not in human nature an object more deplorable than the man of genius sacrificing the choicest gift of his God to indolence and dissipation.

Nature intended Mr. Sh*r*d*n for a mere writer of farces. As to political opinions, I believe him absolutely incapable of forming any. The man never had a rule of conduct in his life. A perfect Epicurean in politics, he looks not beyond the deed of to-day; and all I am astonished at is, that in his hasty decisions he should never do right by a blunder. Yet I must acquit him of premeditated error. He never begins to reflect till urged by some sudden impulse of ambition, or vanity, or interest. No cold reason for Mr. Sh*r*d*n. Lull but his passions, and the little babe that sobs itself silent is not more harmless than he. Thus his entire character consists in reconciling extremes. We pity his impotence when we do not despise his temerity; and we see with surprise that his judgment must be blinded by the passions before it can act with effect.

—They tell a comical story of Mr. Sh*r*d*n, which I do not assert as a fact, only because I did not see the circumstance. Mr.Sh*r*d*n happened to buy a horse, but did not happen to pay for it. One day, lately, as he was riding his new purchase along Park-lane, he met his creditor on a pretty poney. The poor man, anxious to touch the Treasurer on the tender point of payment, and yet wishing to manage the matter handsomely, began by hoping his Honour liked the horse, and said he could also recommend the nag he was then riding. “Let me see,” says Sh*r*d*n. “Upon my honour, a nice little animal enough; and, I dare swear, an excellent trotter. Pray let me see his paces up the street.” By all means, your Honour. Accordingly, up the street trots the simple Jockey, and down the street trots the right honourable Minister, excessively well satisfied, it seems, with the pretty little poney's performance!

—The following epigram conveys a just idea of the way Mr. S. will probably take to liquidate all his debts.

—He used to tell us that the French republic deserved success; and endeavoured to palliate, as generous ebullitions of liberty, the charming murders and amiable atrocities of the Revolution.

—Scriblerus alludes to the memorable declaration of the Whig-Club, in which it advises the organization of political meetings throughout the whole kingdom; “for the exercise,” (I take the words “themselves) for the exercise of that just authority which the “popular opinion must ever possess over the proceedings of “the legislature.” Or, in plain English, for the purpose of making the Whig-Club another national convention, and investing it with an absolute controul over King, Lords, and Commons!!! The French rulers, when they read the declaration, exclaimed, “England is following our example, and will soon become a republic.” But as soon as the reptile of innovation put forth its feelers, the timid nation took alarm, and many thousand Whig adherents, with a reverse of sentiment almost instantaneous, ignobly seceded to honesty and common sense; execrating those principles which they now saw must tend to overthrow every political and moral institution.

Quere.—Why do not All the Talents establish these political meetings now?

Simply because Pitt is dead—because republics are not in fashion—because Whigs are in power, and because 1796 is not 1807. —Scrlbl.

—The mutiny of the Nore. This was Mr. Sh---n's political unique.

—I do not deny Mr. W*nd*m's talents, but I deny that he has talents suitable to his station. I believe ministry begin to think so too; and, were the truth acknowledged, already find him a most troublesome and dangerous colleague. He will consult nobody, and yet he knows nothing. Of course his party must either weaken themselves by opposing his measures, or injure the country by supporting them. Yet it seems his party do not hesitate. The alternative is perplexing, but the choice is plain. For my own part, I have not the magnanimity of an Indian widow; and were I so wretched as to unite with a fool, I would not be so weak as to suffer for him.

—Mr. W*ndh*m has already heaped a few responsibilities on his own shoulders, which he will be lucky if ever he rids himself of. At present I shall merely mention the notorious instance of one Colonel Cr*f*rd, whom he has lately sent out at the head of an expedition. This redoubtable champion, whom nobody knows, (but who, for aught I can tell, might have heard a few discharges of musquetry in India), having got disgusted with the service, wrote to his friends to sell out for him. On coming to England, however, his martial spirit revived surprisingly—for Mr. W*ndh*m was in office. The Colonel burned for promotion, and the Secretary glowed with friendship. All this was an excellent farce, I must own; but pray heaven it may not end in a tragedy. For Mr. W*ndh*m, with the amiable ardour of a tender attachment, has appointed his charming friend, (who was one of the last Colonels on the list) to the entire command of an army! I can easily conceive the confidence with which the troops will follow him into battle, and how feelingly they will cry, (while he is asking his officers' names)—“Wonderful is our beloved Secretary, he hath charmed “this curiosity from the moon!” Mr. W*ndh*m, for heaven's sake, begin to think seriously at last. You are rendering your party odious, Mr. W*ndh*m. You are alienating the affections of the army, Mr. W*ndh*m. Even the volunteers, Mr. W*nd*h*m, are already disgusted; and as to your grand military system, the whole service (saving a few Cr*f*ds) absolutely laugh it to scorn. Cast away Vanity, then, and consult Conscience. The poor old lady is an invalid, and you will be certain of finding her home.

Tho' the military system may have failed, yet it is not the fault of Mr. W*ndh *m; inasmuch as he has spared neither pains nor money upon it. Nay, most unquestionably he pays eight hundred thousand pounds per annum, extra, in order to fail as a Secretary should fail, and to shew the people how œconomical Ministers are —Ay, œconomical, I repeat it. For œconomy consists in saving small sums; and Ministers declare they will think no sum too trivial to look after. That is, according to the common adage, they will take care of the pence; and as to the eight hundred thousand pounds, extra; why—the pounds will, of course, take care of themselves. Besides, by the same inverted rule that we are to pay piles of money for failing, our successes, very probably, will not cost us a single doit. —Scribl.

—A General equally fond of warfare and old women's stories.

—I fancy that our Brewer will not entirely coincide with me, as no man is more gifted with the blessed advantages of vanity than our brewer. He has the singular satisfaction of esteeming himself what the world vulgarly calls a devilish clever fellow. Now tho' the world may differ with him point-blank on that occasion, yet his merely thinking so argues, at least, much animal confidence, and an unlimited strength of imagination. Mr. Wh*t*br---d and the toad are equally devoid of several virtues ascribed to them. The mouth of a toad contains no venom, and its head no jewel. In like manner, Mr. Wh*tbr---d has neither harm in his eloquence, nor riches in his brain. After all, he can make a set speech pass off very prettily —if he be let alone. He can show some ingenuity in pressing similies of dissimilitude out of the Shop and the Pantheon; but then come upon his flank with the cross-fire of a query, and he instantly falls into irrecoverable confusion.

As to the comparative wit, vigour, weight and talents of the present Ministry, perhaps I could not display them more plainly than in the following letter from Newmarket.

Occupet extremum Scabies!

Lately was decided here a most comical race. The Gentlemen of the turf having offered a large plate to the best Ass, in a five mile heat, (each riding his own ass), the following Noblemen and Gentlemen started as candidates:

• Th. Sh*r*d*n, Esq. who rode Jolly Bacchus.
• Lord H*w*ck who rode Sullen.
• Lord E---e who rode Merry Andrew.
• Mr.W*ndh*m who rode High Flyer.
• Lord H. P*tty who rode Miss Hornpipe Teazle
• Mr. Wh*tbr---d who rode Brazen-face.
• Mr. T*rn*y who rode Bully-Hector

Lord Gr*nv*lle led an animal to the ground, which, it seems, was not an ass, but a racer, somewhat resembling Mr. Pitt's Eclipse. At first starting Mr. Sh---n's Jolly Bacchus had the lead; but her rider having neither whip, spur, or bridle, she was left entirely to her own discretion. And yet they say Mr. Sh---n is an admirable jockey. Lord H*w*ck's Sullen came next; a tough-mouthed obstinate hack as ever we saw, but with excellent bottom. Her rider was blinded in the very beginning by a couple of mud patches, and came in, a sad spectacle, groaning, and blasting his eyes. Then followed Mr. W*ndh*m's Highflyer— proximus, sed longo intervallo. Mr. W---m was dressed as a Harlequin, and retarded her progress extremely by his tricks—such as standing on his head— holding the ass's ears—and, latterly, riding like the Tailor to Brentford. Every one wondered how he contrived to keep his seat. Lord E---'s Merry Andrew succeeded, with new trappings, martingales, and surcingles; tail cropped and ears cut—yet still it was evidently an ass. Lord Henry's Miss Hornpipe Teazle, a little two year old, at first promised to do wonders, but lagged latterly, tho' her rider kept plying his heels the whole race. Mr.Wh*tbr---d's Brazen-face took sulk, and shewed symptoms of bolting, being a thorough-bred ass; and as to Mr. T*rn*y's Bully-hector, it broke down entirely; when both man and beast were so bedaubed with gutter, that the people mistook the poor ass for Mr. T*rn*y, and asked it if it felt injured by the accident? The asses kept kicking at each other during the whole race, which was won with some difficulty by Mr. Sh---n's Jolly Bacchus, and the knowing ones were all taken in.

Mr. W. shewed symptoms of bolting in the debate on the glorious negotiation. Is he not an odd character? His very virtues speaks against him in the obliquity of their origin. He is consistent because he is stubborn. Stupidity renders him harmless—resentment makes him honest.

Κυνος ομματ' εχων

—I once thought Mr. K*mble classical, I now find him pedantic. In the name of common sense and the end of language, (which is I suppose, to speak intelligibly) what can Mr.K*mble mean by calling Aches, Aitches? Does Aitches mend the meaning? No. Does Aitches perform any one act either useful or ornamental? No. Aitches then, it seems, is an old dead gentleman conjured from the grave, to terrify a worthy sentence 'till it loses its wits and talks what nobody can comprehend. I do not see why Mr. K. should puzzle an entire audience in order to shew that he once read an old edition of Shakspeare. And let me add, that his obstinacy in adhering to this absurd pronunciation, after the nightly hisses it experiences, betrays an ignorance of decorum and a want of humility, that always accompany much vanity and little learning.

—Poor Wh*tb---d, (so sadly did his party dupe him), thought himself sure of success on that occasion, and also thought himself sure of a high place among the new ministry. All the Talents, however, appear to care very little about him or his hopes, and have, at last, compromised his very great feelings with a very small employment.

Have you watered the rum? says a puritanical grocer to his apprentice. Yes. Have you wetted the tobacco? Yes. Have you sanded the sugar? Yes. Then come in to prayers.

Have you impeached Lord M*lv*lle? says a jacobinical party to its apprentice. Yes. Have you prejudged justice? Yes. Have you resolved not to rescind the resolutions? Yes. Then come into power.

—I wonder what this nobleman is about? No negotiations, I hope. I used to admire the cool contempt with which he invariably regarded Wh*tb*d during his petulant harangues; thereby annoying that doughty champion not a little, and auguring prosperously of the event. There was also another omen observable during the trial. The passage terminating near Mr. W---d's feet, was by some fatality or other, made precisely in the shape of a gallows!!! Was this an architectural witticism of Mr. W---tt? However, I confess I was so forcibly struck with it, that I now never see Mr. Wh*tb---d without instantly having a gallows in my head.

— Hor.

—Ovid.

For in the first place,

—Virg.

Then,

—Tac.

And lastly—Το ψηφισμα τον τοτε περισταντα κινδυνον παρελθειν εποιησεν ωσπερ νεφος. —Long.

—I am willing to handle this obscure person as softly as possible. When silence is a presumptive token of grace, 'tis charity to encourage it by not interrupting its repose. Alas! let us put a charitable construction on the case of this unhappy penitent; let us quietly allow him to “patch up his old soul for heaven,”and to make this mournful lamentation: