The Borough Part 7

It might be so, but no such club-days come; We always find these dampers in the room: If to converse were all that brought us here, A few odd members would in turn appear; Who, dwelling nigh, would saunter in and out, O'erlook the list, and toss the books about; Or yawning read them, walking up and down, Just as the loungers in the shops in town; Till fancying nothing would their minds amuse, They'd push them by, and go in search of news.

But our attractions are a stronger sort, The earliest dainties and the oldest port; All enter then with glee in every look, And not a member thinks about a book.

Still, let me own, there are some vacant hours, When minds might work, and men exert their powers: Ere wine to folly spurs the giddy guest, But gives to wit its vigour and its zest; Then might we reason, might in turn display Our several talents, and be wisely gay; We might--but who a tame discourse regards, When Whist is named, and we behold the Cards?

We from that time are neither grave nor gay; Our thought, our care, our business is to play: Fix'd on these spots and figures, each attends Much to his partners, nothing to his friends.

Our public cares, the long, the warm debate, That kept our patriots from their beds so late; War, peace, invasion, all we hope or dread, Vanish like dreams when men forsake their bed; And groaning nations and contending kings Are all forgotten for these painted things; Paper and paste, vile figures and poor spots, Level all minds, philosophers and sots; And give an equal spirit, pause, and force, Join'd with peculiar diction, to discourse: "Who deals?--you led--we're three by cards--had you Honour in hand?"--"Upon my honour, two."

Hour after hour, men thus contending sit, Grave without sense, and pointed without wit.

Thus it appears these envied Clubs possess No certain means of social happiness; Yet there's a good that flows from scenes like these - Man meets with man at leisure and at ease; We to our neighbours and our equals come, And rub off pride that man. contracts at home; For there, admitted master, he is p.r.o.ne To claim attention and to talk alone: But here he meets with neither son nor spouse; No humble cousin to his bidding bows; To his raised voice his neighbours' voices rise, To his high look as lofty look replies; When much he speaks, he finds that ears are closed, And certain signs inform him when he's prosed; Here all the value of a listener know, And claim, in turn, the favour they bestow.

No pleasure gives the speech, when all would speak, And all in vain a civil hearer seek.

To chance alone we owe the free discourse, In vain you purpose what you cannot force; 'Tis when the favourite themes unbidden spring, That fancy soars with such unwearied wing; Then may you call in aid the moderate gla.s.s, But let it slowly and unprompted pa.s.s; So shall there all things for the end unite, And give that hour of rational delight.

Men to their Clubs repair, themselves to please, To care for nothing, and to take their ease; In fact, for play, for wine, for news they come: Discourse is shared with friends or found at home.

But Cards with Books are incidental things; We've nights devoted to these queens and kings: Then if we choose the social game, we may; Now 'tis a duty, and we're bound to play; Nor ever meeting of the social kind Was more engaging, yet had less of mind.

Our eager parties, when the lunar light Throws its full radiance on the festive night, Of either s.e.x, with punctual hurry come, And fill, with one accord, an ample room; Pleased, the fresh packs on cloth of green they see, And seizing, handle with preluding glee; They draw, they sit, they shuffle, cut, and deal; Like friends a.s.sembled, but like foes to feel: But yet not all,--a happier few have joys Of mere amus.e.m.e.nt, and their cards are toys; No skill nor art, nor fretful hopes have they, But while their friends are gaming, laugh and play.

Others there are, the veterans of the game, Who owe their pleasure to their envied fame; Through many a year with hard-contested strife, Have they attain'd this glory of their life: Such is that ancient burgess, whom in vain Would gout and fever on his couch detain; And that large lady, who resolves to come, Though a first fit has warn'd her of her doom!

These are as oracles: in every cause They settle doubts, and their decrees are laws; But all are troubled, when, with dubious look, Diana questions what Apollo spoke.

Here avarice first, the keen desire of gain, Rules in each heart, and works in every brain: Alike the veteran-dames and virgins feel, Nor care what graybeards or what striplings deal; s.e.x, age, and station, vanish from their view, And gold, their sov'reign good, the mingled crowd pursue.

Hence they are jealous, and as rivals, keep A watchful eye on the beloved heap; Meantime discretion bids the tongue be still, And mild good-humour strives with strong ill-will Till prudence fails; when, all impatient grown, They make their grief by their suspicions known, "Sir, I protest, were Job himself at play, He'd rave to see you throw your cards away; Not that I care a b.u.t.ton--not a pin For what I lose; but we had cards to win: A saint in heaven would grieve to see such hand Cut up by one who will not understand."

"Complain of me! and so you might indeed If I had ventured on that foolish lead, That fatal heart--but I forgot your play - Some folk have ever thrown their hearts away."

"Yes, and their diamonds; I have heard of one Who made a beggar of an only son."

"Better a beggar, than to see him tied To art and spite, to insolence and pride."

"Sir, were I you, I'd strive to be polite, Against my nature, for a single night."

"So did you strive, and, madam! with success; I knew no being we could censure less!"

Is this too much? Alas! my peaceful Muse Cannot with half their virulence abuse.

And hark! at other tables discord reigns, With feign'd contempt for losses and for gains; Pa.s.sions awhile are bridled: then they rage, In waspish youth, and in resentful age; With sc.r.a.ps of insult--"Sir, when next you play, Reflect whose money 'tis you throw away.

No one on earth can less such things regard, But when one's partner doesn't know a card - I scorn suspicion, ma'am, but while you stand Behind that lady, pray keep down your hand."

"Good heav'n, revoke: remember, if the set Be lost, in honour you should pay the debt."

"There, there's your money; but, while I have life, I'll never more sit down with man and wife; They snap and snarl indeed, but in the heat Of all their spleen, their understandings meet; They are Freemasons, and have many a sign, That we, poor devils! never can divine: May it be told, do ye divide th' amount, Or goes it all to family account?"

Next is the Club, where to their friends in town Our country neighbours once a month come down; We term it Free-and-Easy, and yet we Find it no easy matter to be free: E'en in our small a.s.sembly, friends among, Are minds perverse, there's something will be wrong; Men are not equal; some will claim a right To be the kings and heroes of the night; Will their own favourite themes and notions start, And you must hear, offend them, or depart.

There comes Sir Thomas from his village-seat, Happy, he tells us, all his friends to meet; He brings the ruin'd brother of his wife, Whom he supports, and makes him sick of life; A ready witness whom he can produce Of all his deeds--a b.u.t.t for his abuse; Soon as he enters, has the guests espied, Drawn to the fire, and to the gla.s.s applied - "Well, what's the subject?--what are you about?

The news, I take it--come, I'll help you out:" - And then, without one answer he bestows Freely upon us all he hears and knows; Gives us opinions, tells us how he votes, Recites the speeches, adds to them his notes; And gives old ill-told tales for new-born anecdotes: Yet cares he nothing what we judge or think, Our only duty's to attend and drink: At length, admonish'd by his gout he ends The various speech, and leaves at peace his friends; But now, alas! we've lost the pleasant hour, And wisdom flies from wine's superior power.

Wine like the rising sun, possession gains, And drives the mist of dulness from the brains; The gloomy vapour from the spirit flies, And views of gaiety and gladness rise: Still it proceeds; till from the glowing heat, The prudent calmly to their shades retreat: - Then is the mind o'ercast--in wordy rage And loud contention angry men engage; Then spleen and pique, like fireworks thrown in spite, To mischief turn the pleasures of the night; Anger abuses, Malice loudly rails, Revenge awakes, and Anarchy prevails; Till wine, that raised the tempest, makes its cease, And maudlin Love insists on instant peace; He, noisy mirth and roaring song commands, Gives idle toasts, and joins unfriendly bands: Till fuddled Friends.h.i.+p vows esteem and weeps, And jovial Folly drinks and sings and sleeps.

A Club there is of Smokers--Dare you come To that close, clouded, hot, narcotic room?

When, midnight past, the very candles seem Dying for air, and give a ghastly gleam; When curling fumes in lazy wreaths arise, And prosing topers rub their winking eyes; When the long tale, renew'd when last they met, Is spliced anew, and is unfinish'd yet; When but a few are left the house to tire, And they half sleeping by the sleepy fire; E'en the poor ventilating vane that flew Of late so fast, is now grown drowsy too; When sweet, cold, clammy punch its aid bestows, Then thus the midnight conversation flows: - "Then, as I said, and--mind me--as I say, At our last meeting--you remember"--"Ay?"

"Well, very well--then freely as I drink I spoke my thought--you take me--what I think.

And, sir, said I, if I a Freeman be, It is my bounden duty to be free."

"Ay, there you posed him: I respect the Chair, But man is man, although the man's a mayor; If Muggins live--no, no!--if Muggins die, He'll quit his office--neighbour, shall I try?"

"I'll speak my mind, for here are none but friends: They're all contending for their private ends; No public spirit--once a vote would bring, I say a vote--was then a pretty thing; It made a man to serve his country and his king: But for that place, that Muggins must resign, You've my advice--'tis no affair of mine."

The Poor Man has his Club: he comes and spends His h.o.a.rded pittance with his chosen friends; Nor this alone,--a monthly dole he pays, To be a.s.sisted when his health decays; Some part his prudence, from the day's supply, For cares and troubles in his age, lays by; The printed rules he guards with painted frame, And shows his children where to read his name; Those simple words his honest nature move, That bond of union tied by laws of love; This is his pride, it gives to his employ New value, to his home another joy; While a religious hope its balm applies For all his fate inflicts, and all his state denies.

Much would it please you, sometimes to explore The peaceful dwellings of our Borough poor: To view a sailor just return'd from sea, His wife beside; a child on either knee, And others crowding near, that none may lose The smallest portions of the welcome news; What dangers pa.s.s'd, "When seas ran mountains high, When tempest raved, and horrors veil'd the sky; When prudence fail'd, when courage grew dismay'd, When the strong fainted, and the wicked pray'd, - Then in the yawning gulf far down we drove, And gazed upon the billowy mount above; Till up that mountain, swinging with the gale, We view'd the horrors of the watery vale."

The trembling children look with steadfast eyes, And, panting, sob involuntary sighs: Soft sleep awhile his torpid touch delays, And all is joy and piety and praise.

Masons are ours, Freemasons--but, alas!

To their own bards I leave the mystic cla.s.s; In vain shall one, and not a gifted man, Attempt to sing of this enlightened clan: I know no Word, boast no directing Sign, And not one Token of the race is mine; Whether with Hiram, that wise widow's son, They came from Tyre to royal Solomon, Two pillars raising by their skill profound, Boaz and Jachin through the east renown'd: Whether the sacred Books their rise express, Or books profane, 'tis vain for me guess: It may be lost in date remote and high, They know not what their own antiquity: It may be, too, derived from cause so low, They have no wish their origin to show: If, as Crusaders, they combine to wrest From heathen lords the land they long possess'd; Or were at first some harmless club, who made Their idle meetings solemn by parade; Is but conjecture--for the task unfit, Awe-struck and mute, the puzzling theme I quit: Yet, if such blessings from their Order flow, We should be glad their moral code to know; Trowels of silver are but simple things, And Ap.r.o.ns worthless as their ap.r.o.n-strings; But if indeed you have the skill to teach A social spirit, now beyond our reach; If man's warm pa.s.sions you can guide and bind, And plant the virtues in the wayward mind; If you can wake to Christian love the heart, - In mercy, something of your powers impart.

But, as it seems, we Masons must become To know the Secret, and must then be dumb; And as we venture for uncertain gains, Perhaps the profit is not worth the pains.

When Bruce, that dauntless traveller, thought he stood On Nile's first rise, the fountain of the flood, And drank exulting in the sacred spring, The critics told him it was no such thing; That springs unnumber'd round the country ran, But none could show him where the first began: So might we feel, should we our time bestow, To gain these Secrets and these Signs to know; Might question still if all the truth we found, And firmly stood upon the certain ground; We might our t.i.tle to the Mystery dread, And fear we drank not at the river-head.

Griggs and Gregorians here their meeting hold, Convivial Sects, and Bucks alert and bold; A kind of Masons, but without their sign; The bonds of union--pleasure, song, and wine.

Man, a gregarious creature, loves to fly Where he the trackings of the herd can spy; Still to be one with many he desires, Although it leads him through the thorns and briers.

A few! but few there are, who in the mind Perpetual source of consolation find: The weaker many to the world will come, For comforts seldom to be found from home.

When the faint hands no more a brimmer hold, When flannel-wreaths the useless limbs infold, The breath impeded, and the bosom cold; When half the pillow'd man the palsy chains, And the blood falters in the bloated veins, - Then, as our friends no further aid supply Than hope's cold phrase and courtesy's soft sigh, We should that comfort for ourselves ensure, Which friends could not, if we could friends procure.

Early in life, when we can laugh aloud, There's something pleasant in a social crowd, Who laugh with us--but will such joy remain When we lie struggling on the bed of pain?

When our physician tells us with a sigh, No more on hope and science to rely, Life's staff is useless then; with labouring breath We pray for Hope divine--the staff of Death; - This is a scene which few companions grace, And where the heart's first favourites yield their place.

Here all the aid of man to man must end, Here mounts the soul to her eternal Friend: The tenderest love must here its tie resign, And give th' aspiring heart to love divine.

Men feel their weakness, and to numbers run, Themselves to strengthen, or themselves to shun; But though to this our weakness may be p.r.o.ne, Let's learn to live, for we must die, alone.

LETTER XI.

All the comforts of life in a Tavern are known, 'Tis his home who possesses not one of his own; And to him who has rather too much of that one, 'Tis the house of a friend where he's welcome to run; The instant you enter my door you're my Lord, With whose taste and whose pleasure I'm proud to accord, And the louder you call, and the longer you stay, The more I am happy to serve and obey.

To the house of a friend if you're pleased to retire, You must all things admit, you must all tilings admire; You must pay with observance the price of your treat, You must eat what is praised, and must praise what you eat, But here you may come, and no tax we require, You may loudly condemn what you greatly admire; You may growl at our wishes and pains to excel, And may snarl at the rascals who please you so well.

At your wish we attend, and confess that your speech On the nation's affairs might the minister teach; His views you may blame, and his measures oppose, There's no Tavern-treason--you're under the Rose; Should rebellions arise in your own little state, With me you may safely their consequence wait; To recruit your lost spirits 'tis prudent to come, And to fly to a friend when the devil's at home.

That I've faults is confess'd; but it won't be denied, 'Tis my interest the faults of my neighbours to hide; If I've sometimes lent Scandal occasion to prate, I've often conceal'd what she lov'd to relate; If to Justice's bar some have wander'd from mine, 'Twas because the dull rogues wouldn't stay by their wine; And for brawls at my house, well the poet explains, That men drink shallow draughts, and so madden their brains.

INNS.

A difficult Subject for Poetry--Invocation of the Muse--Description of the princ.i.p.al Inn and those of the first Cla.s.s--The large deserted Tavern--Those of a second Order--Their Company--One of particular Description--A lower kind of Public-Houses; yet distingushed among themselves--Houses on the Quays for Sailors--The Green Man; its Landlord, and the Adventure of his Marriage, &c.

MUCH do I need, and therefore will I ask, A Muse to aid me in my present task; For then with special cause we beg for aid, When of our subject we are most afraid: INNS are this subject--'tis an ill-drawn lot, So, thou who gravely triflest, fail me not; Fail not, but haste, and to my memory bring Scenes yet unsung, which few would choose to sing; Thou mad'st a s.h.i.+lling splendid; thou hast thrown On humble themes the graces all thine own; By thee the Mistress of a Village-school Became a queen enthroned upon her stool; And far beyond the rest thou gav'st to s.h.i.+ne Belinda's Lock--that deathless work was thine.

Come, lend thy cheerful light, and give to please, These seats of revelry, these scenes of ease; Who sings of Inns much danger has to dread, And needs a.s.sistance from the fountain-head.

High in the street, o'erlooking all the place, The rampant Lion shows his kingly face; His ample jaws extend from side to side, His eyes are glaring, and his nostrils wide; In silver s.h.a.g the sovereign form is dress'd, A mane horrific sweeps his ample chest; Elate with pride, he seems t'a.s.sert his reign, And stands the glory of his wide domain.

Yet nothing dreadful to his friends the sight, But sign and pledge of welcome and delight.

To him the n.o.blest guest the town detains Flies for repast, and in his court remains; Him too the crowd with longing looks admire, Sigh for his joys, and modestly retire; Here not a comfort shall to them be lost Who never ask or never feel the cost.

The ample yards on either side contain Buildings where order and distinction reign; - The splendid carriage of the wealthier guest, The ready chaise and driver smartly dress'd; Whiskeys and gigs and curricles are there, And high-fed prancers many a raw-boned pair.

On all without a lordly host sustains The care of empire, and observant reigns; The parting guest beholds him at his side, With pomp obsequious, bending in his pride; Round all the place his eyes all objects meet, Attentive, silent, civil, and discreet.

O'er all within the lady-hostess rules, Her bar she governs, and her kitchen schools; To every guest th' appropriate speech is made, And every duty with distinction paid; Respectful, easy, pleasant, or polite - "Your honour's servant"--"Mister Smith, good night."

Next, but not near, yet honour'd through the town, There swing, incongruous pair! the Bear and Crown: That Crown suspended gems and ribands deck, A golden chain hangs o'er that furry neck: Unlike the n.o.bler beast, the Bear is bound, And with the Crown so near him, scowls uncrown'd; Less his dominion, but alert are all Without, within, and ready for the call; Smart lads and light run nimbly here and there, Nor for neglected duties mourns the Bear.

To his retreats, on the Election-day, The losing party found their silent way; There they partook of each consoling good, Like him uncrown'd, like him in sullen mood - Threat'ning, but bound.--Here meet a social kind, Our various clubs for various cause combined; Nor has he pride, but thankful takes as gain The dew-drops shaken from the Lion's mane: A thriving couple here their skill display, And share the profits of no vulgar sway.

Third in our Borough's list appears the sign Of a fair queen--the gracious Caroline; But in decay--each feature in the face Has stain of Time, and token of disgrace.

The storm of winter, and the summer-sun, Have on that form their equal mischief done; The features now are all disfigured seen, And not one charm adorns th' insulted queen.

To this poor face was never paint applied, Th' unseemly work of cruel Time to hide; Here we may rightly such neglect upbraid, Paint on such faces is by prudence laid.