Chapter 9

You know that the Lord Strutts have for many years been possessed of a very great landed estate, well-conditioned, wooded, watered, with coal, salt, tin, copper, iron, &c., all within themselves; that it has been the misfortune of that family to be the property of their stewards, tradesmen, and inferior servants, which has brought great incumbrances upon them; at the same time, their not abating of their expensive way of living has forced them to mortgage their best manors. It is credibly reported that the butcher's and baker's bill of a Lord Strutt that lived two hundred years ago are not yet paid.

When Philip Baboon came first to the possession of the Lord Strutt's estate, his tradesmen,[173] as is usual upon such occasion, waited upon him to wish him joy and bespeak his custom. The two chief were John Bull,[174] the clothier, and Nic. Frog,[175] the linen-draper. They told him that the Bulls and Frogs had served the Lord Strutts with drapery-ware for many years; that they were honest and fair dealers; that their bills had never been questioned, that the Lord Strutts lived generously, and never used to dirty their fingers with pen, ink, and counters; that his lordship might depend upon their honesty that they would use him as kindly as they had done his predecessors. The young lord seemed to take all in good part, and dismissed them with a deal of seeming content, assuring them he did not intend to change any of the honourable maxims of his predecessors.

How Bull and Frog grew jealous that the Lord Strutt intended to give all his custom to his grandfather, Lewis Baboon.

It happened unfortunately for the peace of our neighbourhood that this young lord had an old cunning rogue, or, as the Scots call it, a false loon of a grandfather, that one might justly call a Jack-of-all-Trades.[176] Sometimes you would see him behind his counter selling broadcloth, sometimes measuring linen; next day he would be dealing in mercery-ware. High heads, ribbons, gloves, fans, and lace he understood to a nicety. Charles Mather could not bubble a young beau better with a toy; nay, he would descend even to the selling of tape, garters, and shoe-buckles. When shop was shut up he would go about the neighbourhood and earn half-a-crown by teaching the young men and maids to dance. By these methods he had acquired immense riches, which he used to squander[177] away at back-sword, quarter-staff, and cudgel-play, in which he took great pleasure, and challenged all the country. You will say it is no wonder if Bull and Frog should be jealous of this fellow. "It is not impossible," says Frog to Bull, "but this old rogue will take the management of the young lord's business into his hands; besides, the rascal has good ware, and will serve him as cheap as anybody. In that case, I leave you to judge what must become of us and our families; we must starve, or turn journeyman to old Lewis Baboon. Therefore, neighbour, I hold it advisable that we write to young Lord Strutt to know the bottom of this matter."

A Copy of Bull and Frog's Letter to Lord Strutt.

My Lord,--I suppose your lordship knows that the Bulls and the Frogs have served the Lord Strutts with all sorts of drapery-ware time out of mind. And whereas we are jealous, not without reason, that your lordship intends henceforth to buy of your grandsire old Lewis Baboon, this is to inform your lordship that this proceeding does not suit with the circumstances of our families, who have lived and made a good figure in the world by the generosity of the Lord Strutts. Therefore we think fit to acquaint your lordship that you must find sufficient security to us, our heirs, and assigns that you will not employ Lewis Baboon, or else we will take our remedy at law, clap an action upon you of £20,000 for old debts, seize and distrain your goods and chattels, which, considering your lordship's circumstances, will plunge you into difficulties, from which it will not be easy to extricate yourself. Therefore we hope, when your lordship has better considered on it, you will comply with the desire of

Your loving friends,

JOHN BULL. NIC. FROG.

Some of Bull's friends advised him to take gentler methods with the young lord, but John naturally loved rough play. It is impossible to express the surprise of the Lord Strutt upon the receipt of this letter. He was not flush in ready money either to go to law or clear old debts, neither could he find good bail. He offered to bring matters to a friendly accommodation, and promised, upon his word of honour, that he would not change his drapers; but all to no purpose, for Bull and Frog saw clearly that old Lewis would have the cheating of him.

How Bull and Frog went to law with Lord Strutt about the premises, and were joined by the rest of the tradesmen.

All endeavours of accommodation between Lord Strutt and his drapers proved vain. Jealousies increased, and, indeed, it was rumoured abroad that Lord Strutt had bespoke his new liveries of old Lewis Baboon. This coming to Mrs. Bull's ears, when John Bull came home, he found all his family in an uproar. Mrs. Bull, you must know, was very apt to be choleric. "You sot," says she, "you loiter about ale-houses and taverns, spend your time at billiards, ninepins, or puppet-shows, or flaunt about the streets in your new gilt chariot, never minding me nor your numerous family. Don't you hear how Lord Strutt has bespoke his liveries at Lewis Baboon's shop? Don't you see how that old fox steals away your customers, and turns you out of your business every day, and you sit like an idle drone, with your hands in your pockets? Fie upon it. Up, man, rouse thyself; I'll sell to my shift before I'll be so used by that knave."[178] You must think Mrs. Bull had been pretty well tuned up by Frog, who chimed in with her learned harangue. No further delay now, but to counsel learned in the law they go, who unanimously assured them both of justice and infallible success of their lawsuit.

I told you before that old Lewis Baboon was a sort of a Jack-of-all-trades, which made the rest of the tradesmen jealous, as well as Bull and Frog; they, hearing of the quarrel, were glad of an opportunity of joining against old Lewis Baboon, provided that Bull and Frog would bear the charges of the suit. Even lying Ned, the chimney-sweeper of Savoy, and Tom, the Portugal dustman, put in their claims, and the cause was put into the hands of Humphry Hocus, the attorney.

A declaration was drawn up to show "That Bull and Frog had undoubted right by prescription to be drapers to the Lord Strutts; that there were several old contracts to that purpose; that Lewis Baboon had taken up the trade of clothier and draper without serving his time or purchasing his freedom; that he sold goods that were not marketable without the stamp; that he himself was more fit for a bully than a tradesman, and went about through all the country fairs challenging people to fight prizes, wrestling and cudgel-play, and abundance more to this purpose".

The true characters of John Bull, Nic. Frog, and Hocus.[179]

For the better understanding the following history the reader ought to know that Bull, in the main, was an honest, plain-dealing fellow, choleric, bold, and of a very unconstant temper; he dreaded not old Lewis either at back-sword, single falchion, or cudgel-play; but then he was very apt to quarrel with his best friends, especially if they pretended to govern him. If you flattered him you might lead him like a child. John's temper depended very much upon the air; his spirits rose and fell with the weather-glass. John was quick, and understood his business very well, but no man alive was more careless in looking into his accounts, or more cheated by partners, apprentices, and servants. This was occasioned by his being a boon companion, loving his bottle and his diversion; for, to say truth, no man kept a better house than John, nor spent his money more generously. By plain and fair dealing John had acquired some plums, and might have kept them had it not been for his unhappy lawsuit.

Nic. Frog was a cunning, sly fellow, quite the reverse of John in many particulars; covetous, frugal, minded domestic affairs, would pinch his belly to save his pocket, never lost a farthing by careless servants or bad debtors. He did not care much for any sort of diversion, except tricks of high German artists and legerdemain. No man exceeded Nic. in these; yet it must be owned that Nic. was a fair dealer, and in that way acquired immense riches.

Hocus was an old cunning attorney, and though this was the first considerable suit that ever he was engaged in, he showed himself superior in address to most of his profession. He kept always good clerks, he loved money, was smooth-tongued, gave good words, and seldom lost his temper. He was not worse than an infidel, for he provided plentifully for his family, but he loved himself better than them all. The neighbours reported that he was henpecked, which was impossible, by such a mild-spirited woman as his wife was.

[Footnote 171: late King of Spain.]

[Footnote 172: Cardinal Portocarero.]

[Footnote 173: The first letters of congratulation from King William and the States of Holland upon King Philip's accession to the crown of Spain.]

[Footnote 174: The English.]

[Footnote 175: The Dutch.]

[Footnote 176: The character and trade of the French nation.]

[Footnote 177: The King's disposition to war.]

[Footnote 178: The sentiments and addresses of the Parliament at that time.]

[Footnote 179: Characters of the English and Dutch, and the General, Duke of Marlborough.]

XXV. EPITAPH UPON COLONEL CHARTRES.

Swift was reported to have had a hand in this piece, and indeed for some time it was ascribed to him. But there is now no doubt that it was entirely the work of Arbuthnot.

Here continueth to rot the body of Francis Chartres; who, with an inflexible constancy and inimitable uniformity of life, persisted, in spite of age and infirmities, in the practice of every human vice excepting prodigality and hypocrisy: his insatiable avarice exempted him from the first, his matchless impudence from the second.

Nor was he more singular in the undeviating pravity of his manners, than successful in accumulating wealth.

For, without trade or profession, without trust of public money, and without bribe-worthy service, he acquired, or more properly created, a ministerial estate.

He was the only person of his time who could cheat without the mask of honesty, retain his primeval meanness when possessed of ten thousand a year; and, having daily deserved the gibbet for what he did, was at last condemned to it for what he could not do.

O indignant reader, think not his life useless to mankind, providence connived at his execrable designs, to give to after-ages a conspicuous proof and example of how small estimation is exorbitant wealth in the sight of God, by his bestowing it on the most unworthy of all mortals.

_Joannes jacet hic Mirandula--cætera norunt Et Tagus et Ganges forsan et Antipodes_.

Applied to F. C.

Here Francis Chartres lies--be civil! The rest God knows--perhaps the devil.

JONATHAN SWIFT.

(1667-1745.)

XXVI. MRS. FRANCES HARRIS' PETITION.

Written in the year 1701. The Lord Justices addressed were the Earls of Berkeley and of Galway. The "Lady Betty" mentioned in the piece was the Lady Betty Berkeley. "Lord Dromedary", the Earl of Drogheda, and "The Chaplain", Swift himself. The author was at the time smarting under a sense of disappointment over the failure of his request to Lord Berkeley for preferment to the rich deanery of Derry.

TO THEIR EXCELLENCIES THE LORD JUSTICES OF IRELAND. THE HUMBLE PETITION OF FRANCES HARRIS, WHO MUST STARVE, AND DIE A MAID, IF IT MISCARRIES. HUMBLY SHOWETH,

That I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's chamber, because I was cold, And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, besides farthings, in money and gold: So, because I had been buying things for my lady last night, I was resolved to tell my money, and see if it was right. Now you must know, because my trunk has a very bad lock, Therefore all the money I have, which God knows, is a very small stock, I keep in my pocket, tied about my middle, next my smock. So, when I went to put up my purse, as luck would have it, my smock was unript, And instead of putting it into my pocket, down it slipt: Then the bell rung, and I went down to put my lady to bed; And, God knows, I thought my money was as safe as my stupid head! So, when I came up again, I found my pocket feel very light: But when I search'd and miss'd my purse, law! I thought I should have sunk outright. "Lawk, madam," says Mary, "how d'ye do?" "Indeed," says I, "never worse: But pray, Mary, can you tell what I've done with my purse?" "Lawk, help me!" said Mary; "I never stirred out of this place:" "Nay," said I, "I had it in Lady Betty's chamber, that's a plain case." So Mary got me to bed, and cover'd me up warm: However, she stole away my garters, that I might do myself no harm. So I tumbled and toss'd all night, as you may very well think, But hardly ever set my eyes together, or slept a wink. So I was a-dream'd, methought, that I went and search'd the folks round, And in a corner of Mrs. Dukes's box, tied in a rag the money was found. So next morning we told Whittle, and he fell a-swearing: Then my dame Wadger came: and she, you know, is thick of hearing: "Dame," said I, as loud as I could bawl, "do you know what a loss I have had?" "Nay," said she, "my Lord Colway's folks are all very sad; For my Lord Dromedary comes a Tuesday without fail." "Pugh!" said I, "but that's not the business that I ail." Says Cary, says he, "I've been a servant this five-and-twenty years come spring, And in all the places I lived I never heard of such a thing." "Yes," says the Steward, "I remember, when I was at my Lady Shrewsbury's, Such a thing as this happen'd, just about the time of gooseberries." So I went to the party suspected, and I found her full of grief, (Now, you must know, of all things in the world I hate a thief,) However, I was resolved to bring the discourse slily about: "Mrs. Dukes," said I, "here's an ugly accident has happen'd out: 'Tis not that I value the money three skips of a mouse; But the thing I stand upon is the credit of the house. 'Tis true, seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, makes a great hole in my wages: Besides, as they say, service is no inheritance in these ages. Now, Mrs. Dukes, you know, and everybody understands, That tho' 'tis hard to judge, yet money can't go without hands." "The devil take me," said she (blessing herself), "if ever I saw't!" So she roar'd like a Bedlam, as tho' I had called her all to nought. So you know, what could I say to her any more? I e'en left her, and came away as wise as I was before. Well; but then they would have had me gone to the cunning man: "No," said I, "'tis the same thing, the chaplain will be here anon." So the chaplain came in. Now the servants say he is my sweetheart, Because he's always in my chamber, and I always take his part. So, as the devil would have it, before I was aware, out I blunder'd, "Parson," said I, "can you cast a nativity when a body's plunder'd?" (Now you must know, he hates to be called _parson_, like the devil.) "Truly," says he, "Mrs. Nab, it might become you to be more civil; If your money be gone, as a learned divine says, d'ye see: You are no text for my handling; so take that from me: I was never taken for a conjuror before, I'd have you to know." "Law!" said I, "don't be angry, I am sure I never thought you so; You know I honour the cloth; I design to be a parson's wife, I never took one in your coat for a conjuror in all my life." With that, he twisted his girdle at me like a rope, as who should say, "Now you may go hang yourself for me!" and so went away. Well: I thought I should have swoon'd, "Law!" said I, "what shall I do? I have lost my money, and shall lose my true love too!" Then my Lord called me: "Harry," said my Lord, "don't cry, I'll give you something towards your loss;" and, says my Lady, "so will I." "O, but," said I, "what if, after all, the chaplain won't come to?" For that, he said, (an't please your Excellencies), I must petition you. The premises tenderly consider'd, I desire your Excellencies' protection, And that I may have a share in next Sunday's collection: And, over and above, that I may have your Excellencies' letter, With an order for the chaplain aforesaid, or, instead of him, a better: And then your poor petitioner both night and day, Or the chaplain (for 'tis his trade), as in duty bound, shall ever pray.

XXVII. ELEGY ON PARTRIDGE.

This was written to satirize the superstitious faith placed in the predictions of the almanac-makers of the period. Partridge was the name of one of them--a cobbler by profession. Fielding also satirized the folly in _Tom Jones_. The elegy is upon "his supposed death", which drew from Partridge an indignant denial.

Well; 'tis as Bickerstaff has guess'd, Though we all took it for a jest: Partridge is dead; nay more, he died Ere he could prove the good 'squire lied. Strange, an astrologer should die Without one wonder in the sky! Not one of his crony stars To pay their duty at his hearse! No meteor, no eclipse appear'd! No comet with a flaming beard! The sun has rose, and gone to bed, Just as if Partridge were not dead; Nor hid himself behind the moon To make a dreadful night at noon. He at fit periods walks through Aries, Howe'er our earthly motion varies; And twice a year he'll cut the equator, As if there had been no such matter. Some wits have wonder'd what analogy There is 'twixt cobbling and astrology; How Partridge made his optics rise From a shoe-sole to reach the skies. A list the cobbler's temples ties, To keep the hair out of his eyes; From whence 'tis plain, the diadem That princes wear derives from them: And therefore crowns are nowadays Adorn'd with golden stars and rays: Which plainly shows the near alliance 'Twixt cobbling and the planets science. Besides, that slow-pac'd sign Bootes, As 'tis miscall'd, we know not who 'tis: But Partridge ended all disputes; He knew his trade, and call'd it boots. The horned moon, which heretofore Upon their shoes the Romans wore, Whose wideness kept their toes from corns, And whence we claim our shoeing-horns, Shows how the art of cobbling bears A near resemblance to the spheres. A scrap of parchment hung by geometry (A great refinement in barometry) Can, like the stars, foretell the weather; And what is parchment else but leather? Which an astrologer might use Either for almanacs or shoes. Thus Partridge by his wit and parts At once did practise both these arts: And as the boding owl (or rather The bat, because her wings are leather) Steals from her private cell by night, And flies about the candle-light; So learned Partridge could as well Creep in the dark from leathern cell, And in his fancy fly as far To peep upon a twinkling star. Besides, he could confound the spheres, And set the planets by the ears; To show his skill, he Mars could join To Venus in aspect malign; Then call in Mercury for aid, And cure the wounds that Venus made. Great scholars have in Lucian read, When Philip king of Greece was dead, His soul and spirit did divide, And each part took a different side: One rose a star; the other fell Beneath, and mended shoes in hell. Thus Partridge still shines in each art, The cobbling and star-gazing part, And is install'd as good a star As any of the Cæsars are. Triumphant star! some pity show On cobblers militant below, Whom roguish boys in stormy nights Torment by pissing out their lights, Or thro' a chink convey their smoke Inclos'd artificers to choke. Thou, high exalted in thy sphere, May'st follow still thy calling there. To thee the Bull will lend his hide, By Phoebus newly tann'd and dry'd: For thee they Argo's hulk will tax, And scrape her pitchy sides for wax; Then Ariadne kindly lends Her braided hair to make thee ends; The point of Sagittarius' dart Turns to an awl by heav'nly art; And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife, Will forge for thee a paring-knife. For want of room by Virgo's side, She'll strain a point, and sit astride, To take thee kindly in between; And then the signs will be thirteen.

THE EPITAPH.

Here, five foot deep, lies on his back A cobbler, star-monger, and quack; Who to the stars in pure good-will Does to his best look upward still. Weep, all you customers that use His pills, his almanacs, or shoes: And you that did your fortunes seek, Step to his grave but once a week: This earth, which bears his body's print, You'll find has so much virtue in't, That I durst pawn my ears 't will tell Whate'er concerns you full as well, In physic, stolen goods, or love, As he himself could, when above.

XXVIII. A MEDITATION UPON A BROOM-STICK.

The remainder of the title is "According to the Style and Manner of the Honourable Robert Boyle's _Meditations_", and is intended as a satire on the style of that philosopher's lucubrations.

This single stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying in that neglected corner, I once knew in a nourishing state in a forest: it was full of sap, full of leaves, and full of boughs: but now, in vain does the busy art of man pretend to vie with nature, by tying that withered bundle of twigs to its sapless trunk. 'Tis now at best but the reverse of what it was, a tree turned upside down, the branches on the earth, and the root in the air: 'tis now handled by every dirty wench, condemned to do her drudgery, and, by a capricious kind of fate, destined to make other things clean, and be nasty itself. At length, worn to the stumps in the service of the maids, 'tis either thrown out of doors, or condemned to the last use of kindling a fire. When I beheld this, I sighed and said within myself, surely mortal man is a broom-stick; nature sent him into the world strong and lusty, in a thriving condition, wearing his own hair on his head, the proper branches of this reasoning vegetable, till the axe of intemperance has lopped off his green boughs, and left him a withered trunk. He then flies to art, and puts on a periwig, valuing himself upon an unnatural bundle of hairs, all covered with powder, that never grew on his head. But now should this our broomstick pretend to enter the scene, proud of those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered with dust, though the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber, we should be apt to ridicule and despise its vanity. Partial judges that we are of our own excellencies, and other men's defaults!