V.

What chosen name to Tully’s join’d, Is thus announced to distant climes? —Behold, to lasting shame consign’d, The _Catiline_ of modern times![120]

[Illustration]

No. XV.

Feb. 19, 1798.

THE PROGRESS OF MAN.[121]

=A Didactic Poem,=

IN FORTY CANTOS, WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY: CHIEFLY OF A PHILOSOPHICAL TENDENCY.

DEDICATED TO R. P. KNIGHT, ESQ.

CANTO FIRST.

CONTENTS.—The Subject proposed.—Doubts and Waverings.—Queries not to be answered.—Formation of the stupendous Whole.—Cosmogony; or the Creation of the World:—the Devil—Man—Various Classes of Being:—ANIMATED BEINGS—Birds—Fish—Beasts—the Influence of the Sexual Appetite—on Tigers—on Whales—On Crimpt Cod—on Perch—on Shrimps—on Oysters.—Various Stations assigned to different Animals:—Birds—Bears—Mackerel.—Bears remarkable for their fur—Mackerel cried on a Sunday—Birds do not graze—nor Fishes fly—nor Beasts live in the Water.—Plants equally contented with their lot:—Potatoes—Cabbage—Lettuce—Leeks—Cucumbers.—MAN only discontented—born a Savage; not choosing to continue so, becomes polished—resigns his Liberty—Priest-craft—King-craft—Tyranny of Laws and Institutions.—Savage Life—description thereof:—The Savage free—roaming Woods—feeds on Hips and Haws—Animal Food—first notion of it from seeing a Tiger tearing his prey—wonders if it is good—resolves to try—makes a Bow and Arrow—kills a Pig—resolves to roast a part of it—lights a fire—APOSTROPHE to fires—Spits and Jacks not yet invented.—Digression.—CORINTH—SHEFFIELD.—Love, the most natural desire after Food.—Savage Courtship.—Concubinage recommended.—Satirical Reflections on Parents and Children—Husbands and Wives—against collateral Consanguinity.—FREEDOM the only Morality, &c. &c. &c.

Whether some great, supreme o’er-ruling Power Stretch’d forth its arm at Nature’s natal hour, Composed this mighty whole with plastic skill,[122] Wielding the jarring elements at will? Or whether, sprung from Chaos’ mingling storm, 5 The mass of matter started into form? Or Chance o’er earth’s green lap spontaneous fling The fruits of autumn and the flowers of spring? Whether material substance unrefined, Owns the strong impulse of instructive mind, 10 Which to one centre points diverging lines, Confounds, refracts, invig’rates, and combines?[123] Whether the joys of earth, the hopes of heaven, By man to God, or God to man, were given?[124] If virtue leads to bliss, or vice to woe? 15 Who rules above, or who reside below?[125] Vain questions all—shall man presume to know? On all these points, and points obscure as these, Think they who will,—and think whate’er they please!

Let us a plainer, steadier theme pursue— 20 Mark the grim savage scoop his light canoe; Mark the dark rook, on pendent branches hung, With anxious fondness feed her cawing young.— Mark the fell leopard through the desert prowl, Fish prey on fish, and fowl regale on fowl;— 25 How Lybian tigers’ chawdrons[126] love assails, And warms, ’midst seas of ice, the melting whales;—[127] Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts, Shrinks shrivell’d shrimps, but opens oysters’ hearts;—[128] Then say, how all these things together tend 30 To one great truth, prime object, and good end?

First—to each living thing, whate’er its kind, Some lot, some part, some station is assign’d. The feather’d race with pinions skim the _air_—[129] Not so the mackerel, and still less the bear;[130] 35 _This_ roams the _wood_, carniv’rous for his prey![131] _That_ with soft roe pursues his _watery_ way:[132] _This_, slain by hunters, yields his shaggy hide;[133] _That_, caught by fishers, is on _Sundays_ cried.—[134]

But each contented with his humble sphere, 40 Moves unambitious through the circling year; Nor e’er forgets the fortune of his race, Nor pines to quit, or strives to change his place. Ah! who has seen the mailed lobster rise, Clap her broad wings, and soaring claim the skies?[135] 45 When did the owl, descending from her bow’r, Crop, ’midst the fleecy flocks, the tender flow’r; Or the young heifer plunge, with pliant limb, In the salt wave,[136] and fish-like strive to swim?

The same with plants[137]—potatoes ’tatoes breed—[138] 50 Uncostly cabbage springs from cabbage seed; Lettuce to lettuce, leeks to leeks succeed; Nor e’er did cooling cucumbers presume To flow’r like myrtle, or like violets bloom. —Man, only,—rash, refined, presumptuous man, 55 Starts from his rank, and mars creation’s plan. Born the free heir of nature’s wide domain, To art’s strict limits bounds his narrow’d reign; Resigns his native rights for meaner things, For faith and fetters—laws, and priests, and kings. 60

(_To be continued._)

We are sorry to be obliged to break off here. The remainder of this admirable and instructive Poem is in the press, and will be continued the first opportunity.

THE EDITOR.

[The following is the commencement of Knight’s poem:—

Whether primordial motion sprang to life From the wild war of elemental strife; In central chains the mass inert confined, And sublimated matter into mind: Or, whether one great all-pervading soul Moves in each part and animates the whole; Unnumbered worlds to one great centre draws, And governs all by pre-established laws: Whether in fates’ eternal fetters bound, Mechanic nature goes her endless round: Or ever varying, acts but to fulfil The sovereign mandates of Almighty will;— Let learned folly seek, or foolish pride, Rash in presumptuous ignorance, decide.—ED.]

[Eminent as Richard Payne Knight was as a classical scholar and archæologist, his poetical powers were not highly appreciated by his literary contemporaries, as is amusingly shown in a letter from Horace Walpole, dated 22nd March, 1796, to the Rev. W. Mason, in which he declares how much he is “offended and disgusted by Mr. Knight’s new, insolent, and self-conceited poem”. He winds up thus: “I send you a parody on two lines of Mr. Knight, which will show you that his poem is seen in its true light by a young man of allowed parts, MR. CANNING, whom I never saw. The originals are the two first lines at the top of page 5:”—

“Some fainter irritations seem to feel, Which o’er its languid fibres gently steal”.—KNIGHT.

“Cools the crimp’d cod, to pond-perch pangs imparts, Thrills the shelled shrimps, and opens oysters’ hearts.”—CANNING.

It is evident from this that Canning had thought of parodying the poem immediately after its publication, and that Walpole had seen a specimen in manuscript, nearly two years before its publication in the _Anti-Jacobin_, in which the two lines (28, 29) are thus altered:—

“Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts, Shrinks shrivell’d shrimps, but opens oysters’ hearts”.

By an oversight, Peter Cunningham, in his edition of Walpole’s Letters, attributes the latter’s attack to a previous production of Knight’s, published in 1794, entitled _The Landscape: a didactic Poem in three Books_, a work which had excited Walpole’s high indignation by expressing opinions opposed to his own.—ED.]

No. XVI.

Feb. 26, 1798.

The specimen of the poem on the “Progress of Man,” with which we favoured our Readers in our last Number, has occasioned a variety of letters, which we confess have not a little surprised us, from the unfounded, and even contradictory charges they contain. In one, we are accused of Malevolence, in bringing back to notice a work that had been quietly consigned to oblivion;—in another, of Plagiarism, in copying its most beautiful passages;—in a third, of Vanity, in striving to imitate what was in itself inimitable, &c., &c. But why this alarm? has the author of the “_Progress of Civil Society_” an exclusive patent for fabricating _Didactic_ poems? or can we not write against Order and Government without incurring the guilt of Imitation? We trust we were not so ignorant of the nature of a didactic poem (so called from _didaskein_, to teach, and _poema_, a poem; because it teaches nothing, and is not poetical) even before the _“Progress of Civil Society”_ appeared, but that we were capable of such an undertaking.

We shall only say further, that we do not intend to proceed regularly with our Poem; but having the remaining thirty-nine Cantos by us, shall content ourselves with giving, from time to time, such extracts as may happen to suit our purpose.

The following passage, which, as the reader will see by turning to the Contents prefixed to the head of the Poem, is part of the First Canto, contains so happy a deduction of MAN’S present state of Depravity, from the first slips and failings of his Original State, and inculcates so forcibly the mischievous consequences of _social_ or _civilized_, as opposed to _natural_ society, that no dread of imputed imitation can prevent us from giving it to our readers.

PROGRESS OF MAN.

Lo! the rude savage, free from civil strife,[139] Keeps the smooth tenour of his guiltless life; Restrain’d by none, save Nature’s lenient laws, Quaffs the clear stream, and feeds on hips and haws. Light to his daily sports behold him rise! 65 The bloodless banquet health and strength supplies.[140] Bloodless not long—one morn he haps to stray[141] Through the lone wood—and close beside the way Sees the gaunt tiger tear his trembling prey; Beneath whose gory fangs a leveret bleeds, 70 Or pig—such pig as fertile China breeds.[142]

Struck with the sight, the wondering savage stands, Rolls his broad eyes, and clasps his lifted hands! Then restless roams—and loaths his wonted food; Shuns the salubrious stream, and thirsts for blood. 75

By thought matured, and quicken’d by desire,[143] New arts, new arms, his wayward wants require. From the tough yew a slender branch he tears, With self-taught skill the twisted grass[144] prepares; Th’ unfashioned bow, with labouring efforts bends 80 In circling form, and joins th’ unwilling ends. Next some tall reed he seeks—with sharp-edg’d stone Shapes the fell dart, and points with whiten’d bone.[145]

Then forth he fares. Around in careless play, Kids, pigs, and lambkins unsuspecting stray; 85 With grim delight he views the sportive band, Intent on blood, and lifts his murderous hand. Twangs the bent bow—resounds the fateful dart, Swift-wing’d, and trembles in a porker’s heart.

Ah, hapless porker! what can now avail[146] 90 Thy back’s stiff bristles, or thy curly tail? Ah! what avail those eyes so small and round, Long pendent ears, and snout that loves the ground?[147]

Not unreveng’d thou diest!—in after times[148] From thy spilt blood shall spring unnumber’d crimes. 95 Soon shall the slaught’rous arms that wrought thy woe, Improved by malice, deal a deadlier blow;[149] When _social_ man shall pant for nobler game, And ’gainst his fellow man the vengeful weapon aim.

As love, as gold, as jealousy inspires,[150] 100 As wrathful hate, or wild ambition fires, Urged by the statesman’s craft, the tyrant’s rage, Embattled nations endless wars shall wage, Vast seas of blood the ravaged field shall stain, And millions perish—that a _king_ may reign! 105

For blood once shed, new wants and wishes rise;[151] Each rising want invention quick supplies. To roast his victuals is man’s next desire, So two dry sticks he rubs, and lights a fire. Hail fire, &c. &c.

[Illustration]

No. XVII.

March 5, 1798.

We are obliged to a learned correspondent for the following ingenious imitation of BION.—We will not shock the eyes of our fair readers with the original Greek, but the following _Argument_ will give them some idea of the nature of the Poem here imitated.

ARGUMENT.

Venus is represented as bringing to the Poet, while sleeping, her son Cupid, with a request that he would teach him Pastoral Poetry—Bion complies, and endeavours to teach him the rise and progress of that art:—Cupid laughs at his instructions, and in his turn teaches his master the Loves of Men and Gods, the Wiles of his Mother, &c.—“Pleased with his lessons,” says BION, “I forgot what I lately taught Cupid and recollect in its stead only what Cupid taught me.”

IMITATION, &c.[152]

WRITTEN AT ST. ANNE’S HILL.

Scarce had sleep my eyes o’erspread, Ere Alecto sought my bed; In her left hand a torch she shook, And in her right led JOHN HORNE TOOKE. O thou! who well deserv’st the bays, Teach him, she cried, Sedition’s lays— She said, and left us; I, poor fool, Began the wily priest to school; Taught him how MOIRA sung of lights, Blown out by troops o’ stormy nights;[153] How ERSKINE, borne on rapture’s wings, At clubs and taverns sweetly sings Of _self_—while yawning Whigs attend— _Self_ first, last, midst, and without end;[154] How BEDFORD piped, ill-fated Bard;[155] Half-drown’d, in empty Palace-yard; How LANSDOWNE, nature’s simple child, At BOWOOD trills his wood-notes wild—[156] How these and more (a phrenzied choir) Sweep with bold hand Confusion’s lyre, Till madding crowds around them storm “FOR ONE GRAND RADICAL REFORM!”

TOOKE stood silent for a while, Listening with sarcastic smile; Then in verse of calmest flow, Sung of treasons, deep and low, Of rapine, prisons, scaffolds, blood, Of war against the great and good; Of Venice, and of Genoa’s doom, And fall of unoffending Rome; Of monarchs from their station hurl’d, And one waste desolated world.

Charm’d by the magic of his tongue, I lost the strains I lately sung, While those he taught, remain impress’d For ever on my faithful breast. DORUS.

[BION. IDYLLIUM III. THE TEACHER TAUGHT.

TRANSLATED BY FAWKES.

As late I slumbering lay, before my sight Bright VENUS rose in visions of the night: She led young Cupid; as in thought profound His modest eyes were fixed upon the ground; And thus she spoke: “To thee, dear swain, I bring My little son; instruct the boy to sing”. No more she said; but vanished into air, And left the wily pupil to my care: I,—(sure I was an idiot for my pains), Began to teach him old bucolic strains; How PAN the pipe, how PALLAS formed the flute, PHŒBUS the lyre, and MERCURY the lute: LOVE, to my lessons quite regardless grown, Sang lighter lays, and sonnets of his own, Th’ amours of men below, and gods above, And all the triumphs of the queen of love. I, sure the simplest of all shepherd swains, Full soon forgot my old bucolic strains; The lighter lays of LOVE my fancy caught, And I remembered all that Cupid taught.—ED.]

* * * * *

Something like the same idea seems to have dictated the following Stanzas, which appear to be a loose imitation of the beautiful Dialogue of Horace and Lydia, and for which, though confessedly in a lower style of poetry, and conceived rather in the _slang_, or _Brentford_ dialect, than in the classical Doric of the foregoing Poem, we have many thanks to return to an ingenious academical correspondent.

THE NEW COALITION.[157]

FOX.—When erst I coalesced with North And brought my _Indian bantling_ forth[158] In place—I smiled at faction’s storm, Nor dreamt of _radical reform_.

TOOKE.—While yet no patriot project pushing, Content I thump’d old Brentford’s cushion, I pass’d my life so free and gaily; Not dreaming of that d——d _Old Bailey_.

FOX.—Well! now my favourite preacher’s _Nickle_,[159] He keeps for PITT a rod in pickle; His gestures fright th’ astonish’d gazers, His sarcasms cut like Packwood’s razors.

TOOKE.—_Thelwall’s_[160] my man for state alarm; I love the rebels of _Chalk Farm_; Rogues that no statutes can subdue, Who’d bring the French, and head them too.

FOX.—A whisper in your ear, JOHN HORNE,[161] For _one great end_ we both were born, Alike we roar, and rant, and bellow— Give us your hand, my honest fellow.