To the chief Rats in upper stations ;*
Your W- -ys, V―ns- -half-fledged sinners,
Who shame us by their imitations;
Who turn, 'tis true-but what of that?
Give me the useful peaching Rat;
Not things as mute as Runch, when bought,
Whose wooden heads are all they've brought;
Who, false enough to shirk their friends,
But too faint-hearted to betray,
Are, after all their twists and bends,
But souls in Limbo, damned half way.
No, no,-we nobler vermin are
A genus useful as we're rare;
'Midst all the things miraculous
Of which your natural histories brag,
The rarest must be Rats like us,
Who let the cat out of the bag.
Yet still these Tyros in the cause
Deserve, I own, no small applause ;
And they're by us received and treated
With all due honours-only seated
In the inverse scale of their reward,
The merely promised next my Lord;
Small pensions then, and so on, down,
Rat after rat, they graduate
Through job, red ribbon, and silk gown,
To Chancellorship and Marquisate.
This serves to nurse the ratting spirit;
The less the bribe the more the merit.
Our music's good, you may be sure;
My Lord, you know, 's an amateur+—
Takes every part with perfect ease,
Though to the Base by nature suited,
And, formed for all, as best may please,
For whips and bolts, or chords and keys,
Turns from his victims to his glees,
And has them both well executed.
-d, who, though no Rat himself,
Delights in all such liberal arts,
Drinks largely to the House of Guelph,
And superintends the Corni parts.
While C-nn-g,+ who'd be first by choice,
*This intimacy between the Rats and Informers is just as it should be"verè dulce sodalitium."
+ His Lordship, during one of the busiest periods of his Ministerial career, took lessons three times a week from a celebrated music-master, in glee-singing. This Right Hon. Gentleman ought to give up his present alliance with Lord C., if upon no other principle than that which is inculcated in the following arrangement between two Ladies of Fashion :
Says Clarinda, "Though tears it may cost,
It is time we should part, my dear Sue;
For your character's totally lost,
And I have not sufficient for two?"
Consents to take an under voice;
-S, who well that signal knows,
Watches the Volti Subitos.+
In short, as I've already hinted,
We take, of late, prodigiously;
But as our Club is somewhat stinted
For Gentlemen, like Tom and me,
We'll take it kind if you'll provide
A few Squireens + from t'other side ;—
Some of those loyal, cunning elves,
(We often tell the tale with laughter)
Who used to hide the pikes themselves,
Then hang the fools who found them after.
I doubt not you could find us, too,
Some Orange Parsons that would do ;
Among the rest, we've heard of one,
The Reverend-something-Hamilton,
Who stuffed a figure of himself
(Delicious thought !) and had it shot at,
To bring some Papists to the shelf,
That couldn't otherwise be got at-
If he'll but join the Association,
We'll vote him in by acclamation.
And now, my brother, guide, and friend,
This somewhat tedious scrawl must end.
I've gone into this long detail,
Because I saw your nerves were shaken
With anxious fears lest I should fail
In this new, loyal, course I've taken.
But, bless your heart! you need not doubt---
We, Fudges, know what we're about.
Look round, and say if you can see
A much more thriving family.
There's Jack, the Doctor-night and day
Hundreds of patients so besiege him,
You'd swear that all the rich and gay
Fell sick on purpose to oblige him.
And while they think, the precious ninnies,
He's counting o'er their pulse so steady,
The rogue but counts how many guineas
He's fobbed, for that day's work, already.
I'll ne'er forget the old maid's alarm,
When, feeling thus Miss Sukey Flirt, he
Said, as he dropped her shrivelled arm,
"Damned bad this morning-only thirty!"
The rapidity of this Noble Lord's transformation, at the same instant, into a Lord of the Bed-chamber and an opponent of the Catholic Claims, was truly miraculous.
Turn instantly-a frequent direction in music-books.
t The Irish diminutive of Squire.
Your dowagers, too, every one,
So generous are, when they call him in, That he might now retire upon
The rheumatisms of three old women. Then, whatsoe'er your ailments are,
He can so learnedly explain ye 'em Your cold, of course, is a catarrh,
Your head-ache is a hemi-cranium :-His skill, too, in young ladies' lungs,
The grace with which, most mild of men, He begs them to put out their tongues, Then bids them-put them in again! In short, there's nothing now like Jack ;Take all your doctors, great and small, Of present times and ages back,
Dear Doctor Fudge is worth them all.
So much for physic-then, in law too,
Counsellor Tim! to thee we bow;
Not one of us gives more eclat to
The immortal name of Fudge than thou Not to expatiate on the art
With which you played the patriot's part,
Till something good and snug should offer ;-
Like one, who, by the way he acts
The enlightening part of candle-snuffer,
The manager's keen eye attracts,
And is promoted thence by him
To strut in robes, like thee, my Tim!-
Who shall describe thy powers of face,
Thy well-fee'd zeal in every case,
Or wrong or right-but ten times warmer
(As suits thy calling) in the former-
Thy glorious, lawyer-like delight
In puzzling all that's clear and right,
Which, though conspicuous in thy youth,
Improves so with a wig and band on,
That all thy pride's to way-lay Truth,
And leave her not a leg to stand on
Thy patent, prime, morality,-
Thy cases, cited from the Bible-
Thy candour, when it falls to thee
To help in trouncing for a libel ;—
"God knows, I, from my soul, profess
To hate all bigots and benighters!
God knows, I love, to even excess,
The sacred Freedom of the Press,
My only aim's to-crush the writers."
These are the virtues, Tim, that draw
The briefs into thy bag so fast;
And these, oh Tim-if Law be Law-
Will raise thee to the Bench at last.
I blush to see this letter's length,
But 'twas my wish to prove to thee
How full of hope, and wealth, and strength,
Are all our precious family.
And, should affairs go on as pleasant
As, thank the Fates, they do at present-
Should we but still enjoy the sway
Of S-dm-h and of C- -gh,
I hope, ere long, to see the day
When England's wisest statesmen, judges,
Lawyers, peers, will all be-Fudges !
Good bye-my paper's out so nearly,
I've only room for
FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO
BEFORE we sketch the Present-let us cast
A few, short, rapid glances to the Past.
When he, who had defied all Europe's strength,
Beneath his own weak rashness sunk at length;—
When, loosed, as if by magic, from a chain
That seemed like Fate's, the world was free again,
And Europe saw, rejoicing in the sight,
The cause of Kings, for once, the cause of Right ;—
Then was, indeed, an hour of joy to those
Who sighed for justice-liberty-repose,
And hoped the fall of one great vulture's nest
Would ring its warning round, and scare the rest.
And all was bright with promise;-Kings began
To own a sympathy with suffering Man,
And Man was grateful-Patriots of the South
Caught wisdom from a Cossack Emperor's mouth,
And heard, like accents thawed in Northern air,
Unwonted words of freedom burst forth there!
Who did not hope, in that triumphant time,
When monarchs, after years of spoil and crime,
Met round the shrine of Peace, and Heaven looked on,
Who did not hope the lust of spoil was gone;-
That that rapacious spirit, which had played
The game of Pilnitz o'er so oft, was laid,
And Europe's Rulers, conscious of the past,
Would blush, and deviate into right at last?
But no-the hearts, that nursed a hope so fair,
Had yet to learn what men on thrones can dare;
Had yet to know, of all earth's ravening things,
The only quite untameable are Kings!
Scarce had they met when, to its nature true,
The instincts of their race broke out anew;
Promises, treaties, charters, all were vain,
And "Rapine!-rapine !" was the cry again.
How quick they carved their victims, and how well,
Let Saxony, let injured Genoa tell,-
Let all the human stock that, day by day,
Was at that Royal slave-mart trucked away,-
The million souls that, in the face of heaven,
Were split to fractions,* bartered, sold, or given
To swell some despot Power, too huge before,
And weigh down Europe with one Mammoth more!
How safe the faith of Kings let France decide;—
Her charter broken, ere its ink had dried,—
Her Press enthralled-her Reason mocked again
With all the monkery it had spurned in vain-
Her crown disgraced by one, who dared to own
He thanked not France but England for his throne-
Her triumphs cast into the shade by those,
Who had grown old among her bitterest foes,
And now returned, beneath her conquerors' shields,
Unblushing slaves! to claim her heroes' fields,
To tread down every trophy of her fame,
And curse that glory which to them was shame!-
Let these let all the damning deeds, that then
Were dared through Europe, cry aloud to men,
With voice like that of crashing ice that rings
Round Alpine huts, the perfidy of Kings;
And tell the world, when hawks shall harmless bear
The shrinking dove, when wolves shall learn to spare
The helpless victim for whose blood they lusted,
Then, and then only, monarchs may be trusted!
It could not last-these horrors could not last-
France would herself have risen, in might, to cast
The insulters off-and oh! that then, as now,
Chained to some distant islet's rocky brow,
Napoleon ne'er had come to force, to blight,
Ere half matured, a cause so proudly bright;-
To palsy patriot hearts with doubt and shame,
And write on Freedom's flag a despot's name ;-
To rush into the lists, unasked, alone,
And make the stake of all the game of one!
Then would the world have seen again what power
A people can put forth in Freedom's hour;
Then would the fire of France once more have blazed ;-
For every single sword, reluctant raised
In the stale cause of an oppressive throne,
Millions would then have leaped forth in her own;
* "Whilst the Congress was re-constructing Europe-- not according to rights, natural affiances, language, habits, or laws; but by tables of finance, which divided and subdivided her population into souls, demi-souls, and even fractions, according to a scale of the direct duties or taxes, which could be levied by the acquiring state," &c.-Sketch of the Military and Political Power of Russia. The words on the protocol are ames, demi-ames, &c.
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