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All The Blocks!

or, An Antidote to "All The Talents." Satirical Poem. In Three Dialogues. By Flagellum [i.e. S. W. H. Ireland]
  
  
  
  
  

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 1. 
DIALOGUE THE FIRST.
 2. 
 3. 
  
  

DIALOGUE THE FIRST.

Rari quippe boni, numero vix sunt totidem quot
Thebærum portæ, vel divitis ostia Nili.
Juvenal.

Capo grasso, cervello magro

FLAGELLUM.
Give me the rod, I say, to whip the breeches
Of these vile Blocks—these folly-sucking leeches.

MALAGMA.
The rod!—Nay, friend, forbear.

FLAGELLUM.
Aye, so I will,
When of a just retort I've ta'en my fill.

2

What! think'st thou I can lull my muse to sleep,
And not in gall the pen of Satire steep,
When I contemplate England's rising fame
Committed to the care of blind and lame ;
See sick Britannia dwindling to a ghost,
Recalling radiant Wisdom, late her boast,
Whose sage experience learn'd her constitution,
Had prob'd her wounds—applied the sane ablution?
What! tacitly observe true Genius fled,
And see mere dolts establish'd in her stead?
Zounds! 't is too much—

MALAGMA.
Nay, curb that kindling ire.


3

FLAGELLUM.
I shall; and quench in liquid grief the fire.
Yes, Gr*nv*lle! I the sorrowing tear must shed:
When bless'd with thee, Hope rear'd her genial head;
An anxious nation thy bright plans approv'd—
The gen'ral plaudit spoke thee well belov'd.
How chang'd the blissful prospect!—sad reverse!
True mourners marching after Gr*nv*lle's hearse—

4

Whose talents still with suppliant voice we crave—
“Preserve us—snatch us from the yawning grave!
“Enshrine thy country from impending shame;
“If Britain falls—let Britain fall with fame,
“And not from empty sculls receive her doom”—
A block of Portland stone, her only tomb.

MALAGMA.
For shame, Flagellum!—'prithee stop thy tongue;
Such deeds they'll act as ne'er were said or sung:
I'd pawn my life, they'll prove an able set—
Abolish taxes, pay their country's debt;

5

The broils of Europe settle in a trice—
Play with opponents just as cats with mice:
Such things they'll do. . . .

FLAGELLUM.
Thy comments, pray, refrain:
They've toil'd up hill—they'll gallop down again.


6

MALAGMA.
I'm peaceful, or would give thee flat denial.—
At least, you'll grant the new-made batch a trial?

FLAGELLUM.
Trial!—By Heav'n! we've tried 'em o'er and o'er,
And found 'em ev'ry thing but sterling lore.
Ah! can my country stand the dreadful shock
Of this old weather-beaten porous block—

7

This crazy stone, new daub'd with M*lv*lle paste,
Propp'd up for th' exigence of state in haste;
With pillars rotten, and at core so craz'd,
They soon must drop the fabric they have rais'd,
And by one universal crash display
The downfal of this structure of a day!
Ah, vet'ran P*rt*nd! I must tell the truth—
Thy jaws, bereft of ev'ry useful tooth,
Should now have left the public weal alone,
Instead of nibbling at so tough a bone.
We ask, in vigour, what thy sense hath done?—
No radiance gleam'd like Gr*nv*lle's dazzling sun:

8

With thee, bright Genius never was awake;
But left thy mind one gloomy scene opake.
And yet we now are told, on thee to look,
As leading chapter of the State's great book,
For mind acute, Napoleon's schemes to check,
And break of Talleyrand the crooked neck;
'Gainst subtle art, deep policy oppose,
And lead this brace of monsters by the nose.
Thy hand—of pow'r the balance now must raise—
Restore to groaning Europe halcion days:
That nerveless grasp the razor keen must wield,
Shave France, in spite of Machi'vellian shield;
Bleed her proboscis; lop each monstrous fungus,
And clear away republican mundungus.


9

MALAGMA.
Suppose, by way of terminating broil,
I grant the P*rt*nd wheel requires some oil;
Surely, the great machine has other springs,
Well fitted to advise the BEST of kings;
Which, put in proper motion, cannot fail
To work the state, like mill with wind and sail!
A trifling fault will not condemn the soul,
Nor one weak limb contaminate the whole.
I trust you'll own, that my position's plain:
And when I mention M*lv*lle, straight refrain
From Satire's lash; whose talents, staunch and tried,
Made him the friend of Pitt, and Scotia's pride;
Whose sage advice, e'en now, the Ins can boast—
For Hall, behind the curtain, rules the roast .


10

FLAGELLUM.
No doubt, no doubt: their honours dare not flout him:
With truth you say, the Ins can't do without him—
Him, the state alchymist, who can surpass
All tribes—to gold transmuting native brass:
Or, vice versa, when of law afraid,
As easily in brass can be array'd.
This northern juggler, give Old Nick his due,
Hath, as the fiddle, been to Scotia true;
Rais'd from its dirty state, the booing tribe,
Whose Wha' wants me? was a sufficient bribe:
For as to Conscience, if it chance to cry,
The brat is strangled in its infancy;

11

Or charm'd with lullaby of nasal tone—
Soul-soothing pathos of the bagpipe's drone.
This peer, hic et ubique, now displays
More art consummate than a critic's bayes;
Flatters the boobies of administration—
Mere antic puppets taught to blind the nation:
And on dumb-shew their talents being set,
They act anew the farce, call'd Cabinet.
'T is now poor C*nn*ng's taught to head his troop:
While mighty M*lgr*ve's stow'd within the poop,
Where he may reef, hand, steer, and manage tackle;
And, what far better suits him, learn to cackle:

12

Since there are fatted fowls for captains' table,
No doubt his lordship means to gorge while able.
And so 't were best, if right my thoughts define—
The harvest spoils when Sol disdains to shine:
And, trust me now, so murky frowns each cloud,
The lord were safer far, wrapp'd in his shroud;
For soon the storm must sink his darling prize,
And all his glories undeserv'd capsise;
Dismasted, waft this sheer hulk of the navy—
Dismantled wreck—fit food for uncle Davy.

MALAGMA.
I instanc'd M*lv*lle, as the giant strong;
He seems, with thee, the burthen of a song:
Yea, not content, friend C*nn*ng hath a rap;
And M*lgr*ve, too, a most confounded slap!
Where will this lashing end?

FLAGELLUM.
Hold! I've not done—
Concerning both, my race must still be run.
For, hath not Britain cause this change to weep,
Whose dauntless guardians of the vasty deep

13

Have now to own a M*lgr*ve's puny sway —
Ephem'ral fly of this camelion-day!
To guard the helm capacious mind requires;
No empty untaught puppet mov'd by wires:
No lord of straw, that thunder should controul,
Whose din reverberates from pole to pole;

14

Commanding homage on the briny plain—
Enthroning Britons sov'reigns of the main.
Dear England! who shall thy proud pendant rear,
And teach thy cannon to appal with fear?
Who shall direct such men as Nelson now,
To make all other flags 'fore Britain's bow?
How should a M*lgr*ve, to all tactics strange,
Our wooden walls controul—all schemes arrange;
Whose wits should be refitted for the post:
Who merely knows a ship's a ship, at most?
Nay, soft, my muse his erudition mocks—
His lordship surely knows such things as Blocks;
At least there's plenty in our barge of state:—
None more complete than his own pond'rous pate.

MALAGMA.
Have mercy! nor allow thy wit such scope.

FLAGELLUM.
Tush—I forgot—he also knows a rope:
And did one grain of sense his noddle deck,
He surely would apply it to his neck,

15

And rid our Dutch-built vessel—Heav'n defend us!—
Of one land-lubber, who can not befriend us.
Yet hold, my Pegasus! a truce to lashing;
Take breath, and then anew commence thy splashing:
These Blocks, à capite ad calcem, spatter—
For 'faith, my muse, it is no arduous matter;
So fully are their acts with folly fraught,
To let them 'scape were to be void of thought.
And though all Poets are a-kin to crazy,
That rhymster would be most confounded lazy,
Who could not run and read without his glasses,
And dub this Ministry a batch of Asses.

END OF DIALOGUE THE FIRST.
 

It must certainly be allowed, that, even in the very worst of times, the political annals of this country never displayed such a set of statesmen as constitute our present hopeful ministry. Indeed, they appear to me as if set up to be the scare-crows of Reason and of Common Sense; and of them it may be very justly said, by way of closing this note,

Contra verbosos noli contendere verbis:
Sermo datur cunctis, animi sapieutis paucis.

There are two species of mourners, the mock and the real. Britain, however, is at the present moment the exact reverse of the undertaker tribe, who weep in proportion to the money paid as earnest for snivelling: but the reason is obvious, we have lost All the Talents, and in their stead have now No Talents at all. Even Polypus could not level his shafts at departed Gr*nv*lle, but very truly salutes him with these lines,

“Ev'n Party's self, in noble Gr*nv*lle see
“Worth, wisdom, wit, and talents, all agree.”
And again,
“Yes, in high Gr*nv*lle centres all my trust,
“To steer the state, and hold the balance just.”

What more then need be said of this most able peer, when Satire sheaths its dart, and suffers the main spring of the very body it attacks to continue in motion, without any spoke being put into its wheel? But this verifies the words of the Roman,

Virtus vincit invidiam:
and consequently all we have now to say, as true mourners, is,
Grief fills the room up of my absent child;
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garment with his form;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Shakspeare.

—That I'll be sworn they will; such wonders as never were before rehearsed, if the selection of officers they have made be a criterion for us to go by: for in the First Lord of the Treasury we have a stone mason;—in the Chancellor of the Exchequer, a vender of sapience, through the medium of wigs and gowns;—in the First Lord of the Admiralty, the muster-roll of rank and file; together with marchings, sieges, sorties, attacks, retrcats, bombardments, &c. &c. all perfectly consistent with naval discipline, and the arcana of a man-of-war! In the Secretary for the Foreign Department, we have a very accommodating weathercock;—in the Lord Chancellor, an old apple-woman, always replete with croakings and sapient saws:—in short, we have Roses, with exotics of every description, which are calculated for any soil but that in which they are now placed to vegetate.

—As his Grace of P*rt*nd commenced his earthly career in 1738, he has, according to Cocker, attained his 69th year—a very pretty time of life, truly, for a man to think of burthening his shoulders with the affairs of a great nation! Instead of elasticity, all is ponderosity; mental vigour has yielded to the burthen of age; and he may consequently well exclaim with Cato,

Tempora longa tibi noli promittere vitæ
Quocunque ingrederis, sequitur mors, corporis umbra.

It must be confessed, that the commencement of this nobleman's career was characterised by many traits which endeared him to the people; having staunchly opposed the Bute and the then Grenville administrations, and remained firm to the principles of Fox, with whom he came into power. But, alas! those halcion days are long passed away! and we now behold in silly Billy a court pander deprived of all consequence and popularity; having sneakingly skulked away from the Whigs, of whom he once ranked Generalissimo, to coincide—I will not say with the Tories, for the present set are, though of that faction, such miserable tail-bearers, that they deserve no other than the designation of Blocks. But their cry is,

Stultitiam patiuntur opes:
and, upon that score, there is no doubt but they will prove themselves precisely fitted to verify the above saying.

—We have an excellent specimen of the mental powers of this nobleman, who, when Secretary of State, dispatched a circular letter through the country, on the subject of the scarcity of corn, which caused the happy effect of immediately raising the prices to such a pitch as had very nearly been productive of a famine: in short, he may be very characteristically denominated Head of the Wrongheads, were it not a matter of great doubt whether he has any head at all, and if he has, it is certainly caput mortuum.

—L---d M*lv*lle, according to report, is the state showman—the puppets being solely under his controul:

“Nervis allenis mobili lignum.”
But wherefore do I talk of report, his Lordship cannot bear reports; more particularly when they are repeated five or ten times over; for upon such occasions he affirms, that a report becomes a trueism, which is not at all times agreeable, as this hocus pocus peer hath proved beyond all doubt: nay, he positively affirmed, that Messrs. Bonney, Tooke, &c. were guilty, according to the reports which were then spread; and although a jury brought in a verdict of not guilty, he still swears that they were “acquitted felons,”—and he says perfectly right, for felons are very often acquitted.

—The incapacity of this gentleman is by no means a poetical fiction, as he is possessed of none of those requisites so absolutely essential to fit him for the station in which the Blocks have thought proper to place him. And while we are descanting on this topic, it may not be amiss to remind friend Polypus that his quotation from the French, in page 7, of which language he avows himself totally ignorant, had much better have been omitted; not merely because a writer should never venture to publish what he does not understand, but for a still more weighty reason, viz. that he should not give his readers bad French, which is the case, as will be found on referring to “All the Talents.

Stat magni nominis umbra.
Lucan. This general officer, now made commander general of the navy, is as well calculated for his station as any gentleman can possibly be, who undertakes the performance of that which he does not understand: but the Blocks are very happy at this kind of selection, by which they certainly prove themselves novel in their proceedings, and perhaps, like the crab, seek to advance by retrograde steps, as most conducive to the prosperity of the country. However, necessity is truly said to be the mother of invention; and never were a set of poor wretches so dreadfully put to it as the Blocks, who will, it is rather shrewdly surmised, shortly emulate the Roman emperor of old, not, however, by the election of horses, but of long-eared animals, much more congenial to their precious capacities, and fitted to adorn the new cabinet junto, concerning which no man dares affirm—
Ne quid detrimenti Respublica capiat.