Canto i.

[87]

Must “_duck_” to death his stubborn pate.

More last words of Dr Darwin.

“The brow of man erect, with thought elate, _Ducks_ to the mandate of resistless fate.” _Temple of Nature_, Canto iv.

I have exhibited this couplet at all the assemblages of poetizing brethren in Grub street and St Giles’s, not omitting the inhabitants of the “Wits’ corner, at the Chapter coffee-house, the _elevated_ tenants of the cider cellar in Maiden Lane, and Col. Hanger’s knights of the round table,” all of whom agree in acknowledging the elegance and correctness of the metaphor, and that its beauties are so transcendently exquisite, and beyond the ken of mortal eye, as to be perfectly incomprehensible.

[88]

That since “to die is but to sleep.”

“Long o’er the wrecks of lovely life they weep; Then pleased reflect, to die is but to sleep.” _Temple of Nature_, Canto ii.

I suspect that my intimate friend and correspondent Buonaparte, is a full convert to Dr Darwin’s doctrine of death and its consequences. For, when he declared to lord Whitworth his determination to invade England, although there were a hundred chances to one in _favor_ of his going to the bottom, he was undoubtedly calculating on a comfortable nap after the fatigues of government.

[89]

In bats and bed-bugs, fleas and flies.

“Thus, when a monarch or a mushroom dies, Awhile extinct the organic matter lies; But, as a few short hours or years revolve, Alchymic powers the changing mass dissolve; Born to new life unnumber’d insects pant,” &c. _Temple of Nature_, Canto iv.

It has been a matter of curious inquiry among some of my corresponding garreters, whether this philosopher himself, in the latter stages of his existence, enjoyed much consolation from reflecting that the “organic matter” which entered into his own composition, was about to be employed for the important purpose of giving “new life” to “unnumbered insects.”

[90]

Vast “monuments of past delight.”

“Thus the tall mountains, that emboss’d the lands, Huge isles of rock, and continents of sands, Whose dim extent eludes the inquiring sight, ARE MIGHTY MONUMENTS OF PAST DELIGHT.”

These “monuments of past delight,” Darwin says,

“Rose from the wrecks of animal or herb.”

Thus taught by this wondrous sage, I trust the friend to humanity will suppose it best to let the poor, infirm and decrepid die off as fast as possible, to “manure the earth,” that the quantity of organized matter of which they were composed, may revive in the forms of millions of microscopic animals, vegetables and insects, make “monuments of past delight,” &c. Therefore it is to be hoped, that the promoters of the Perkinean institution will prove as despicable in respect to numbers, as they are deficient in understanding, especially in comprehending the great and glorious truths of modern philosophy.

[91]

_They_ may have rest, _we_--elbow room.

If your worships have not read Mr Malthus’s Essay on the Principles of Population, I advise you to buy the book immediately, and set yourselves about something like an effort to comprehend its contents. You will there find, I cannot now recollect the page, that _population_ has a tendency to increase in a _geometrical ratio_, but that _subsistence_ must be limited to an _arithmetical ratio_. That the world would soon swarm with inhabitants in such a manner that in years of the greatest plenty we should be under the disagreeable necessity of turning _anthropophagi_, and, like the famous Pantagruel, eat pilgrims with our salad, were not the principle of population restrained by two _very useful predominant principles_, viz. “VICE and MISERY;” the former of which is happily exemplified in the extravagance and luxury of your worships, and the latter correctly expressed in the _poverty_ of your worships’ petitioner. You will likewise find in the same volume, _passim_, that after war, pestilence, and famine have laid waste a country, there is an immediate increase of births, in consequence of the principle of population being let loose to take its natural operation in replenishing the earth; or, in other words, because there is more _elbow room_ for the survivors. Now, this being correct reasoning, it must be wonderfully wrong to try to keep alive poor folks, who are a dead weight on population, destroy the means of subsistence, prevent early marriages, and, by keeping themselves above ground, stand in the way of their betters.

[92]

The poker take and lay them level.

Please not imagine that I would be understood to recommend this “retort courteous” in the most unqualified sense, or that it be exercised on every occasion. On the contrary, the due performance of it will require no small degree of prudence and discretion. Indeed, I would have you use the _poker_, or any other violent and _weighty_ arguments of this kind, only when your antagonist happens to be a woman, a child, or some debilitated and cowardly wretch who will submit without any chance of your meeting with unpleasant resistance.

As to the justice of this mode of response, there exists no doubt, and therefore dread no decisions _in foro conscientiæ_, because the extreme heinousness of your adversaries’ provocation will appear from the following consideration. To deprive you of an argument, for which you have sacrificed everything dear to obtain, must, confessedly be regarded as a most outrageous proceeding. Now, this is exactly the case in the present instance; for in your attempt to show that medical men believe and trust in no medicine, the _modus operandi_ of which they do not comprehend, you make a sacrifice of _truth_, _decency_, and _common sense_, the full reward of which sacrifice you ought to enjoy unmolested. That no man can explain how mercury poisons, bark cures an intermittent fever, or opium produces sleep, is confessed by every medical author; and that all these should be used in our practice, without any hesitation, I never heard any person deny, and for this proper and substantial reason; their administration is _profitable_ to the faculty. I have therefore to repeat, that when the Perkinites complain of your rejecting the use of tractors, because their _modus operandi_ cannot be entirely explained, although you adopt the use of drugs, the operation of which is equally or more inexplicable, your sacrifice in support of your ground is so great, that whoever attempts to drive you from such ground deserves to be laid low with the first weapon that comes to hand.

[93]

Will e’en _bewitch_ the _operator_.

No part of the learned doctor’s management, in the anti-Perkinistic cause, merits higher eulogy than this most _rational_ explanation of that most _irrational_ practice. So _cogently_ does an innate principle of equity control me, that I am absolutely _coerced_ to offer, at the shrine of the heroic doctor, my tributary dole of the incense of admiration, for having presented our profession such a powerful knock-me-down argument, wherewith to buffet the common enemy.

The sagacious doctor having published a scientific treatise against the tractors, demonstrating that “they act on the _patient’s_ imagination,” Perkins, came out in reply, with all the fury of an Irish rebel, and declared that the doctor deserved to be trounced for not suffering his readers to know, that the tractors pretended to cure infants and brute animals, though numerous cases to that effect had then been published; and in that reply proclaimed that Dr H. purposely endeavored to suppress such facts, that he might, with greater facility, induce the public to swallow the deductions drawn from his magical manœuvres in the Bath and Bristol hospitals. Now, admitting the doctor managed in this way, I am sure he was perfectly right in so doing. The _end_ in view, according to established principles of _modern_ morality, will ever justify the _means_ taken to accomplish that end. In this case, the end in view was most important--nothing less than the downfall of Perkinism, and the consequent aggrandizement of our profession. Should any of our opponents be so captious as to assert, that such principles and such motives of action should not be encouraged in society--that they have a pernicious tendency, and other nonsense of that sort, I must take the liberty to refer them to the first consul of the French republic, whose conduct has ever been modelled according to the principles above stated, and who is certainly the most _powerful logician_ of the age, perfectly able to confound those who shut their eyes against the light of conviction.

But to revert to the doctor’s treatise, and Perkins’s impudent replication. The man who could raise the very old gentleman himself, by the legitimate powers of necromancy, was not so easily defeated. Accordingly he returns to the charge in another edition--admits the existence of the numerous cases on infants, horses, &c. but lays them all level with the following unanswerable argument.--“The proselytes of Perkinism having been driven from every other argument, have, as a last resource, alleged that the patent metallic tractors have removed the disorders of infants and horses. Even this _flimsy_ pretence is capable of a satisfactory refutation. In these cases it is not the _patient_, but the _observer_, who is deceived by his own imagination!!!” See _Haygarth’s book_, page 40. _Mirabile dictu!_

[94]

Then quote his lady’s ECCHYMOSIS.

The celebrated story of the lady’s ecchymosis comes handed down to your worships by five successive reporters. The lady _incog._ who makes so _conspicuous_ a figure in Dr Haygarth’s narration, told another lady, who told a medical friend of Dr H. who told Dr Caustic, who tells your worships this important anecdote. Now, as “in the multitude of counsellors there is _safety_,” so in a multitude of reporters there is _certainty_. But to the story; which I shall give in the language of Dr H.’s medical friend aforesaid.

“A _lady_ informed me, that a _lady_ of her acquaintance, who had great faith in the efficacy of the tractors, on seeing a small _ecchymosis_, about the size of a _silver penny_, at the corner of the eye, desired to try on it the effect of her favorite remedy. The _lady_, who was intended to be the subject of the trial, consented, and the _other lady_ produced the instruments, and, after drawing them four or five times over the spot, declared that it changed to a paler color; and on repeating the use of them a few minutes longer, that it had almost vanished, and was scarcely visible, and departed in high triumph at her success. I was assured by the _lady_ who underwent the operation, that she looked in the glass immediately after, and that not the least visible alteration had taken place!!” (From _Haygarth’s_ book, page 40.)

I had determined to exert my influence in all the medical societies, that the above case be read at the opening of each meeting, until there should not be left of the tractors, in this island, “a wreck behind.” But a far better plan of Dr H. himself has precluded the necessity of this measure, which was to announce in all the advertisements of his book in the public papers, that “it explains why the disorders of infants and horses are said to have been cured by the tractors.” See his daily advertisements in the papers.

Indeed, I am at a loss which to admire most, the pretty fanciful relation above cited, which is all the new edition of the doctor’s treatise against the tractors contains to justify the assertion in the advertisements before mentioned, or his singular skill in constructing such a fabric on this foundation. Did I possess the talents of the doctor in the advertising department, I should announce this my pithy performance to the public, by publishing in all the papers, that the price of the tractors was, in consequence of Dr Caustic’s opposition, fallen to the price of old iron, and Perkins’s pamphlets having been proscribed by physicians, were condemned, and actually burnt by the hangman on execution-day, at the Old Bailey, in the presence of every individual of the college of physicians, and half the citizens of London.

I would beg leave to add to this incomparable Haygarthian demonstration an argument of my own, which I think is not less powerful. It is impossible that these tractors should perform any _real_ cure, as they act _solely_ on the _imagination_ either of the patient or the operator. But cures performed by the power of _imagination_ must be _imaginary_ cures, that is, no cures at all.

[95]

By Haygarth’s tale of lady Hoax.

It is not true, as some sagacious coffee-house politicians have asserted, that madame Hoax (or more correctly double Hoax) is the wife of a Chinese Mandarin, settled on the mountains of the Moon, in Abyssinia, for the purpose of ascertaining the influence of imagination in the cure of diseases. No, gentlemen, she is a baroness of true English breed, more sturdy than a Semiramis, a Penthesilea, or a Joan of Arc, and will prove, in our cause, a championess of pre-eminent prowess. Should your worships wish for further acquaintance with this lady, which in my opinion would be for your mutual advantage, you will take the trouble to inquire at my garret, No. 299, Dyot street, St Giles’s (having removed from my former place of residence, third floor, 327, Grub street, with a view of being nearer my friend, Sir Joseph, in Soho square) and her address shall be at your service.

I am now preparing a most awful tragedy for Drury lane theatre (Mr Sheridan’s approbation being already obtained) to be entitled and called, the DREADFUL DOWNFAL OF TERRIBLE TRACTORIZING CONFOUNDED CONJURATION; in which I propose to introduce a new song, that I have no doubt will be so celebrated as to be the theme of every ballad-singer in the metropolis. I cannot forbear anticipating some small share of that applause, which I have reason to suppose will be _piled_ on Dr Caustic, as soon as he is publicly known as the author of such an inimitable production, by obliging your worships with a _part_ of the chorus to the song aforesaid.

Come now let us coax Haygarth and Dame Hoax, Like true hearts of oaks, To crack off their jokes, While dreading their strokes, Those sheep-hearted folks, The tractoring Perkinites, quiver;

O may they with knocks, “And shivering shocks,” Pound their jackets and frocks, Till dead as horse-blocks, (O what a sad box!) They’re thrown into the docks, Or, just like dead cats, in the river!

This song is to be set to music by Mr Kelly in his very best style of pathos, sublimity, and crotchets, and to be delightfully demi-semi-quavered to the admiring audience by Mrs Billington. Then, if box, pit, and gallery, should not, _una voce_, Nick Bottom-like, cry, “Encore! Encore! Let her roar! Let her roar! Once more, once more! Let the squeak and the squall be swelled to a bawl, Dr Caustic will find the door! Find the door! And never go there any more”!!

[96]

Say that the devil never fails.

This stanza contains a legendary tale, which I dare say is as true, as that which commemorates a notable exploit of St. Dunstan in seizing old satan, one dark night in the tenth century, and wringing the nose of his infernal majesty with a pair of red-hot black-smith’s pincers, which made him roar and scold at such a rate, that he awakened and terrified all the good people of Glastonbury and its neighborhood.

[97]

In gulping tractors down, for med’cines.

An old lady of my acquaintance was actually advised by an _ingenious_ son of Galen, an apothecary, resident a few miles north of London, to swallow tractors for an internal complaint. If our profession were to follow this laudable example, and force their patients to swallow them for pills, and then give the public a judicious detail of the terrible consequences, ending with the death of the patients, Perkinism would sink into that contempt in the estimation of the public which it justly deserves.

[98]

In wilds where science ne’er was thought on.

That is, in the United States of America, among Indians and Yankees. You will find, gentlemen, much to the purpose relative to the state of science, where Perkinism originated, in the _Monthly Magazine_, of January, 1803, under the title of “Animadversions on the present state of literature and taste in the United States, communicated by an English gentleman lately returned from America.” This gentleman gives information that the Americans are wretchedly “_behind_-hand in science _with_ the Britains.” Indeed, those transatlantic younkers ought, in half a century, to have established universities and other seminaries of learning, at least as _old_ and respectable as those of Oxford and Cambridge, and which should have graduated as many students and produced as many great men. As to the parsimonious spirit of Americans in encouraging science (which this gentleman animadverts upon with laudable indignation) it ought truly to be exclaimed against by us Englishmen, for the weighty reason following: Great Britain, “from time whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary” (as judge Blackstone says) hath starved some of her first poets; such for instance as Butler, Otway, Chatterton, Dryden, Savage, &c. &c. &c. &c. consequently (according to the same author) she ought to enjoy the _exclusive “customary privilege”_ of inflicting the horrors of starvation on the sons of the muses: but it must be granted, for the honor of British munificence, that the scientific Herschel, in the decline of life, as a reward for immortalizing his present majesty, by inscribing Georgium Sidus in the great folio of the heavens, is allowed the enormous pension of 80_l._ per annum!!

This instance of _liberality_, in rewarding merit, has caused me to suspend _my_ animadversions relative to patronage afforded men of _real science_ in Great Britain, till I can discover whether it be the absolute determination of my countrymen to starve doctor Caustic.

[99]

Say it was twinn’d with monstrous mammoth.

And must, of course, be a most terrible wild beast.--Ladies and gentlemen may form a tolerable idea of the enormity of Perkinism, by viewing the skeleton of a mammoth now exhibiting in Pall Mall, in the very place where lately were to be seen those terrible caricatures of the devil, &c. under the appellation of FUSELI’S MILTON GALLERY.

[100]

And to go near it you’d be d--d loth.

This manifesto, you will please to recollect, is the language of gentlemen physicians. Now it is well known that you possess a privilege, sanctioned by long and invariable practice, if not founded on act of parliament, to enforce your sentiments by certain _energetic_ expressions, which, in the mouths of people of less consequence, would be considered as very vulgar, and nearly allied to _profane swearing_. And since your worships ever most manfully exercise this privilege to the full extent of its limits, the present manifesto would have been extremely inapposite and unnatural, had not an _ornament_ of this kind been introduced.

[101]

The _boldest_ sons of Galen call on.

I say the _boldest_; for we cannot rely on the aid of the _whole_ Esculapian phalanx. Many white-livered dastards, who disgrace our profession, have shown a disposition to remain neuter, or fight under Perkinean banners!

[102]

Than Howard’s fulminating powder.

It is a long time since the public have had any _reports_ from the honorable Mr Howard’s fulminating powder, which, three years since, made so much _noise_, that the world had reason to expect that the _thunderiferous_ chymist would make no more of exploding to old Nick a whole army of Frenchmen, with Buonaparte at its head, than would a cockney sportsman of shooting a tame goose on the first of September.

Whether this mighty affair is all _blown up_, or what may have been the cause of the _silence_ of those who defended a thing which so _loudly_ proclaimed its own merits, it becomes Mr Howard to explain.

Of this he may be assured, if he do not stir his stumps in order to fulfil _some_ of the fair promises which he and his friends have made to the Royal Society and the public, of the astonishing achievements they were about to perform, by the demi-omnipotent power of his new invented artificial thunder, I hereby give the _alarming_ intelligence that I will apply my own superior talents to this _sonorous_ subject. Should that happen, those laurels which were designed to decorate the brow of Mr Howard will be tied in a bow-knot round my venerable temples. For, in that case, the learned chymist’s acquisitions, in the art of _intonation_, will bear no better comparison to those of Dr Caustic, than the clattering wagon-wheels of Salmoneus to the world-astounding thunderbolts of Jupiter. No person can doubt my being able to accomplish all this, who is apprized, as he may be from perusing this performance, of the vast quantity of the most _detonating_ kind of _mercury_ which exists in my composition, and which will _fulminate_ with greater effect, than the _gold_ and _silver_ that line the _magnipotent_ purse of the honorable the heir _apparent_ to the duke of Norfolk.

[103]

“Kill’d off,” at Marengo.

I have several times taken a confounded deal of trouble to _haul_ into my poem this beautiful specimen of parliamentary elocution; and, in my opinion, nothing can be better imagined, or more happily accomplished. Poetry and oratory, as the ancients inform us, were both _whelped_ at one litter; consequently the same phrase which glittered in the harangue of _my_ bull-baiting friend, William Windham, a British senator, cannot fail to cut a dash in the stanza of _his_ seraphical friend, Christopher Caustic, a British poet.

Now, as I am a great admirer of French principles, and that new and accommodating kind of morality, by Frenchmen discovered, and which I ever have and ever will eulogize, to the utmost extent of my faculties, perhaps your worships will express no small degree of wonderment why I should be the intimate friend of a gentleman, the _blaze_ of whose oratory, one would suppose, would have _blasted_ Buonaparte, and even _singed_ the whole French republic. But those who are admitted behind the political curtain will perceive that the _tendency_ of the measures which Mr Windham supports is to _promote_ those jacobinic principles, of which Dr Caustic _openly_ and _honestly_ professes himself to be the determined propagator and defender.

[104]

And never meddle with a _strumpet_.

Surely, no person will imagine that I would, for the world, allude to any _other_ lady than madam Fame herself.

[105]

And _blaze_ through either _frozen_ zone.

I have very substantial reasons for spreading glad tidings of our redoubtable chieftain among the most distant inhabitants of the globe, in preference to endeavoring to add to his great celebrity “within the periphery of his associates.” And, whereas it has been said that this gentleman’s reputation will ever stand highest where he is either not known at all, or known only by those literary productions, in which he is himself the theme of his own most “ardent praise,” mine shall be the humble task of trumpeting the doctor’s name among the distant inhabitants of this dirty planet; while the doctor shall himself “dip his pen in ethereal and indelible ink, and impress his observations in characters legible in the great volume of the heavens.”

[106]

As one would spit a _goose_ for roasting.

True it is, though “passing strange,” that a _great_ and good man, composed, as he _himself_ can attest, of the very essence of humanity, is often most vilely, most audaciously, and most atrociously bespattered by a set of saucy reviewers.

Those wicked wits, the writers in the _Monthly_ and _Critical Reviews_, especially the latter, in a critique on one of the late works of a certain doctor of self puffing memory, tells us that “the importance of a man to himself was never more conspicuous than in this publication. Dr Lettsom admits that he has been anticipated by several distinguished authors; but modestly hints that some of his particular friends will form no opinion [respecting the cow-pox] till they have ascertained _his_ sentiments.” They then have the audacity to declare, that “he merits no slight punishment for his pompous inflated language, for his fulsome flattery, and ridiculous exaggeration of every part of the subject.”

See how they speak of a late publication of the doctor on certain charitable institutions:--“Unless to connect these different institutions, to lead the different radii to a centre, while that centre is the author and the editor, who can boast, _Quæ ipse misserima vidi, et quorum pars magna fui!_ we see little advantage in this edition. We mean not to intimate the slightest disapprobation of these institutions, or of humanity in general; but when we see pomp and egotism assuming its garb, when vanity and ostentation occasionally peep from beneath the robe, we feel no little disgust from comparing the fascinating exterior with the unpleasing contents,” &c. They likewise have the impudence to assert that some of the doctor’s plans are “better suited to the superstition of a Hindoo, than to the nature of a rational christian.” And in another review they declare: “We mean not to stoop to any; but will tell Dr Lettsom his faults” [consummate assurance!!] “as well as any other author; nor will we conceal that mean mark of a little mind, over-weening vanity. We saw it in its germ, have watched its opening bud, till it is expanded into its blossom. The literary life of Dr L---- may well be styled the _progress_ of vanity: the termination is yet to come: but we have ample materials for the subject.” See _Monthly Review_, of July, and _Critical Review_, of Sept. 1802, and Feb. 1803.

[107]

They’ll fall before great doctor Lettsom.

I resolved to recommend your arranging yourselves under the banners of this Leviathan of the Galenical throng, from the moment I first heard of his noble and spirited sally against the tractors. Disdaining the wretched trammels of _why_ and _wherefore_, and without assigning those paltry trifles, called _reasons_, for his opinions, on the merits of Perkinism, our intrepid commander determined to extirpate it root and branch, with his simple _ipse dixit_. This is what we ought to expect from a hero of such prowess. See how well he manages these metallic makers of mischief! In a eulogium (a very agreeable thing to a _modest_ man during his life time) on his friend Dr Haygarth, contained in the work which those wicked reviewers above mentioned have treated so irreverently, he mentions (page 277) the “important object,” which Dr Haygarth has so “happily _effected_.” This is “arresting and _subduing_ two poisons, the most fatal to the human race (fever and small-pox) and unveiling imposture, clothed in the meretricious garb of bold quackery:” a note on the word “_imposture_,” in the margin says, “Experiments on metallic tractors.” Now, unless I can borrow the pen of the learned doctor, dipped in “ETHEREAL _and indelible ink_,” and a whole literary apparatus in proportion, I shall never be able to express how much I admire the matter above quoted, on account of the important _intelligence_ therein contained. Before Dr L. asserted it, I dare say not an individual in the kingdom knew that Dr Haygarth had “_effected_” such an “important object,” that fever and small-pox were subdued, altogether extinct, despoiled of that venom which has hitherto “brought death into the world,” and so much wo. But true it is, they are quite extirpated, and all this by Dr Haygarth!! One cannot but exclaim against the perverseness of those members of parliament, who, regardless of this _news_ from Dr L. voted a reward to Dr Jenner for his services in _subduing_ the small-pox, and to Dr Smith, for his discoveries in _subduing_ contagious fevers. In short, I am almost ready to enforce the charge of ignorance against my brethren in the profession; for I have not yet met with one possessed of sufficient penetration to see, that neither fever nor small-pox “has a local habitation and a name among us,” and that they have been both “_subdued_,” and all this “_effected_,” by Dr Haygarth!

[108]

Prepare the batteries of thy journal.

Here I can, with certainty, calculate on the most powerful co-operation. This----, what shall I call it? This official Gazette of the profession--this Medico-Chymico-_Comico_-Repository, for the effusions of self-puffers, prescribing rules and recipes,

“How best to fill his purse, and thin the town;”

this powerful instrument of offensive and defensive warfare, has ever, with becoming vigilance, guarded its post against Perkinean invaders, and suffered no occasion to pass without a squirt of the _Gallic_ acid of satire, when there was deemed a possibility of _blackening_ the common enemy.

I can never sufficiently express my approbation of the Carthagenian cunning with which this journal has been conducted. Dr B. professing great impartiality, in an early number, (see vol. ii. p. 85) invited communications on the subject of the tractors. Subsequent management evidently showed a slight omission in the doctor’s notice, and that he meant _communications on one side only_; for he has omitted no pains to procure and publish whatsoever could be suggested _against_ the tractors; but though reports of cases in their favor, and all the publications of the patentee have been before him, not a syllable of _these_ was ever noticed by that gentleman; neither has it ever appeared by his journal that such facts ever existed.

[109]

By every nostrum, save _thine own_.

I appeal to any of my brethren who have been gratified, as I often have been, with the Demosthenes-like torrent which has been so frequently poured forth, in our medical societies, by this “child and champion” of the Galenical throng, against quackery and all its appurtenances, whether it were fair to surmise, as some unconscionable rogues have done, that Dr B. has absolutely himself become the proprietor of a quack medicine. The fire of eloquence with which Perkinism, that most atrocious kind of quackery, has been so frequently, and so effectually assailed by the learned doctor at the medical society, at Guy’s, the Lyceum Medico Londinensis, &c. &c. &c. ought to have ensured Dr B. so much of the gratitude of the profession, that, although he should _himself_ choose to become one of the most arrant quacks in the kingdom, he might depend on your support of his reputation, and your exertions to uphold him. No subsequent apostacy on his part, I maintain, will justify a dereliction of him.

Recal to your recollection, gentlemen, the denunciations he has so often made against every medical practitioner who should presume, either directly or indirectly, to offer any patronage to remedies which bore even the most distant resemblance to a nostrum. How often have the walls of the medical theatres of Saint Thomas’s hospital, and Windmill street, echoed loud responses to his declamations against the varlets, who should dare to recommend means, in the profits of the consumption of which the whole profession could not participate? How often have you received his invitations to send him your effusions and declamations against quackery, to receive an efficient publication in his journal? and what number of that journal has appeared without performing his promise, by honoring those effusions with a place in its immortal pages?

Lest even these most important considerations should still find you inexorable, I trust I can show, by examining his conduct in regard to the quack medicine in question, that, if it be not praise-worthy, it is, at least, defensible.

The title of the nostrum which has had the assistance of Dr B. in being introduced to the notice of a grateful public, is “A NEW MEDICINE FOR THE GOUT.” The pretended discoverer of this specific is, for very commendable, or, which is the same thing, very _prudent_ reasons, kept behind the curtain. I wish, however, to express my utter disbelief that either Dr Brodum or Dr Solomon is the happy mortal, however similar the style of the pamphlet, announcing this new medicine, may be to their erudite writings, and the pretensions of the said medicine to “balms of Gilead” and to “nervous cordials.”

[110]

’Gainst Belgraves, Colquhouns, Wilberforces!

What business had these fellows to intrude their noses into the concerns of the Westminster infirmary? Brother B. had an undoubted right to manage, or _mis_manage, the funds of a _medical_ institution, as best suited his own convenience, without their troublesome interference.

[111]

_All_ in a chariot take an airing.

I hereby enter a protest against any one of my commentators, whether he be Vanscanderdigindich the elder, or Hansvanshognosuch, his cousin _German_ (two _Dutch_ geniuses, who have promised to furnish the next edition of this my pithy poem with a whole ass-load of annotations) or any other gentlemen critics or reviewers of equal profoundity, presuming to intimate, that I intend, by this passage, the smallest disrespect to your _pedestrian_ physicians. Far from that; I know that many good and great men (like myself for example) cannot even pay a shilling for hackney-coach hire. No, gentlemen; I have two great objects in view, to wit:

1. To encourage my brother B--to persevere in his laudable attempt to kick Perkinism back to the country whence it originated, by reminding him, that if the feat were once performed, he might, _perhaps_, soon afford the expense of a chariot to transport, in a respectable manner, _all_ that wig, without laying the entire burden on the curious sconce it now envelopes.

2. To remind brother B--, and the profession in general, how much more execution may be done by a charioteer than by a pedestrian physician.

Although great men frequently differ, I am happy to find Mr _Addison’s_ opinion and _mine_, in this particular, perfectly consentaneous.

“This body of men,” says he, speaking of physicians in our own country, “may be described like the British army in Cæsar’s time. Some slay in chariots, and some on foot. If the infantry do less execution than the charioteers, it is because they cannot be carried, so soon, into all parts of the town, and despatch so much business in so short a time.” Spectator, No. 21.

Not an individual, I will venture to assert, who knows my brother B--, but must feel the really urgent necessity of elevating him, as soon as possible, from _le pave_ and giving those talents their full _swing_. Then, indeed, soon might our charioteer justly boast--

“London, with all her passing bells, can tell, By this right arm what mighty numbers fell. Whilst others meanly ask’d whole months to slay, I oft despatch’d the patient in a day. With pen in hand, I push’d to that degree, I scarce had left a wretch to give a fee. Some fell by laudanum, and some by steel, And death in ambush lay in every pill; For save, or slay, this privilege we claim, Though credit suffers, the reward’s the same.”

[112]

From Brodum down to _gaseous_ Thornton.

I am fully sensible that many of my brethren, of less discernment than myself, would have assigned this famous little genius a rank on the empirical list even above Dr Brodum. Making _puffing_ their criterion, they will argue that those acute half-guinea paragraphs which we occasionally see at the fag end of the _Times_ and other morning papers, respecting that “very learned physician,”--his “_great_ discoveries, and improvements in the medical application of the gases,”--his “_grand national_ and botanical work,” and fifty others of the same strain, asserting the high claims of this _airy_ writer on the gratitude of the public, are incontestable proofs of his superior merits in the _puffing_ department, which, say they, are some of the most necessary ingredients in the formation of a charlatan. All this is specious reasoning; but I trust I shall show its fallacy. Pre-eminence, in my opinion, must be founded on some intrinsic excellence, original and independent of adventitious circumstances. If we closely examine the merits of this candidate, we shall find that there can be no great claim on this score. Let any man enjoy the faculties and advantages of a general dealer in the _airs_, who must of course have _puffs_ of all descriptions at hand; and where is the merit of occasionally _letting off one_?

If there be anything like originality in this industrious little philosopher, and for the invention of which I should be inclined to allow him the credit of ingenuity, it consists in his _meritometer_, which proposes to measure the merits of his fellow creatures by the degree of faith they can afford to bestow on the infallibility of his gases as a panacea. See his plan of this instrument, or rather the deductions drawn from his trials of it, in his large five volume _compilation of “Extracts,”_ vol. i. page 459. From this scale it appears, that of one thousand of mankind nine hundred and ninety-nine are either fools or knaves, as that proportion places no confidence in the efficacy of his catholicon. I hope, therefore, after the good reasons here assigned for my conduct, I shall not be suspected of partiality to Dr Brodum in retaining him at the head of the quacks, nor ill will to Dr T. for not calling him up higher on the list.

[113]

The Thalaba of English metre.

Mr Southey, in his work with the title of “Thalaba or the Destroyer,” has given us a fine example of a pleasing dreadful performance, which is neither prose, rhyme, nor reason. Indeed, nothing but the inspiration of the gas which we have seen him inhale in the first canto, could have generated the following effusions.

“A Teraph stood against the cavern side, _A new born infant’s head_, That Khawla at his hour of death had seized, And from the shoulders wrung. It stood upon a plate of gold, An unclean spirit’s name inscribed beneath: The cheeks were _deathy_ dark, Dark the dead skin upon the hairless skull; The lips were _bluey_ pale; Only the eyes had life, They gleamed with demon light.” Book ii.

Again he towers in Book v.

“There where the narrowing chasm Rose loftier in the hill, Stood Zohak, wretched man, condemned to keep His cave of punishment. His was the frequent scream Which far away the prowling Chacal heard, And howled in terror back. Far from his shoulders grew Two snakes of monster size That ever at his head Aimed eager their keen teeth To satiate raving hunger with his brain. He in the eternal conflict oft would seize Their swelling necks, and in his giant grasp Bruise them, and rend their flesh with bloody nails, And howl for agony Feeling the pangs he gave, for of himself Inseparable parts his torturers grew.”

Now, if in this age of turmoils your worships should have occasion to educate a school of assassins, to be employed as Talleyrand employs his agents, for the purpose of promoting modern philanthropy and French projects of universal empire, I should advise you to prepare them intellectual food from such descriptions as we have quoted above. By accustoming your pupils to meditate on such horrible descriptions you will soon enable them to inflict without compunction or remorse, sufferings like those, which they have been in the habit of contemplating.

We are sorry to see, however, that our friend, Dr Darwin, has been pleased to express his disapprobation of this species of the _terrible_ in style, without which your small poets can never become conspicuous. We shall, however, quote one of his sentiments on the subject merely to let the world know that we great wits do not always tally upon every point.

The doctor tells us in his Botanic Garden, p. 115, that there is a “line of boundary between the tragic and the horrid; which line, however, will veer a little this way or that, according to the prevailing manners of the age or country, and the peculiar association of ideas, or idiosyncrasy of mind, of individuals.”

Now I am apprehensive that doctor Darwin would have adjudged the greater part of Mr Southey’s sublimity to be of the “_horrid_” rather than the _tragic_ or _sublime_ kind. Such an opinion, however, would not only greatly tarnish the reputation of the critic who should venture to pronounce it, but would entirely put down many pretty good poets, who, as the Edinburgh reviewers say, must have a “_qu’il mourut_,” and a “let there be light” in every line; and all their characters must be in agonies and ecstacies, from their entrance to their exit.[G]

Thalaba, having leaped into a “little car” which appears to have been drawn by “four living pinions, headless, bodyless, sprung from one stem that branched below, in four down arching limbs, and clenched the carrings endlong and aside, with claws of griffin grasp;”

“Down--down, it sank--down--down-- Down--down--a mighty depth!-- Down--down--and now it strikes.”

There’s the _bathos_ to perfection! Now, if we could in any way have prevailed on Mr Southey to have stopped this side of the centre of gravity, we should have been happy to have hired his “car” for this our dreadful rencontre. But as it appears that the Domdaniel cave soon after _fell in_, I fancy it would cost more to dig out this vehicle than to get Mr Southey to make us a new one.

[114]

Adown through vast Domdaniel cares.

That is, as Southey says, through the Domdaniel caves, “at the roots of the ocean.”

[115]

To monsieur Mahomet’s paradise.

“Thalaba knew that his death-hour was come, And on he leapt, and springing up, Into the idol’s heart Hilt deep he drove the sword. The ocean-vault fell in, and all were crushed. In the same moment at the gate Of paradise, Oneiza’s Houri-form, Welcomed her husband to eternal bliss.”

[116]

Now rant! rave! roar! and rend! and rattle.

I _C_hristopher _C_austic, _c_ensured by _c_ritics, for my _a_pt _a_lliterations, though _a_rtfully _a_llied, yet _p_resume it is _p_olicy for a _p_ennyless _p_oet to _p_olish his _p_uny lays to such a _p_itch of _p_erfection, that _p_osterity may _p_lease to _p_lace the _p_ithy _p_roduction _p_aramount to the _p_eaked _p_oint of the _p_innicle of _P_ierian _P_arnassus.

[117]

Drives, Jehu-like, Death’s iron wagon!!

A poet of less judgment than myself would have seated Mars in the chariot of Victory, a Vauxhall car, or some other flimsy vehicle of that kind, which would be sure to be dashed to pieces in a conflict like this in which we are at present engaged. The carriage here introduced was made by Vulcan, in his best style of workmanship, for the express purpose of this attack, and in point of strength and size, bears no more proportion to the chariot commonly used by the god of war, than one of those huge broad-wheeled Manchester wagons to the little whalebone _thingamy_ which the duke of Queensbury ran at New Market.

[118]

Rend the blue “blanket” of the skies.

This is the same “blanket” which Mr Canning said was “wet” when he exhibited it in the House of Commons. Since his use of it on that occasion it has been so frequently _wrung_ by the wits, that it has now become a perfectly dry and almost thread-bare article.

[119]

And round the Blue Ridge make all rattle.

Volney informs us in his View that the Alleghany mountain is the frontier on which the south-west and north-west winds in America contend; and that he beheld a spectacle of that kind at Rockfish Gap, on the Blue Ridge. See American edition, page 148.

[120]

Huge, hissing hot, and hard as granite.

It is to me a matter of doubt whether your worships are not absolutely ignorant of the causes and effects of the wonderful phenomena to which we now allude. But if you will please to take with us a stand for observation, exactly at the centre of gravity between the earth and the moon, and look about you with the eyes of great philosophers you will perceive what is well worth a world of admiration.

You will perceive that what is vulgarly called the _man in the moon_ is a prodigious volcano, in size much superior to any on our globe, and that this volcano is continually emitting rocks, which ever and anon are thrown beyond the sphere of the moon’s attraction, and of course make their way down upon us.

You will likewise find, by turning to the second volume of the Philadelphia Literary Magazine, page 389, an account of above thirty different showers of stones, some of which have weighed not less than 300 pounds. And you will ascertain that there has been a great diversity of opinions among philosophers respecting the origin of these prodigies. Some have believed them to be thrown from some neighboring volcano. Some have thought them to have been wafted about by hurricanes. Others have supposed them to have been concretions formed in the atmosphere. Some have thought them to be masses which were detached from the planets at the time of the formation; and that they have been floating about in infinite space till they met with our earth, which became to them a new centre of gravity.

But the truth is, as you may see through any common optical tube, from the situation to which I have just had the honor to conduct you, that these masses of matter are the product of _lunar volcanos_. Here we have a cause adequate to the effect, as I shall make evident in the following few words.

A lunar volcano similar to those on our planet would project bodies much further from the moon than they would be thrown by the same force from Etna or Vesuvius; for,

1. It is granted by great philosophers, such as _ourself_ and Dr Darwin, that the moon has no atmosphere; of consequence, a body exploded from the moon would meet with no resistance excepting from the power of gravitation. Dr Darwin informs us, Botanic Garden, canto ii. “If the moon had no atmosphere at the time of its elevation from the earth; or if its atmosphere was afterwards stolen from it by the earth’s attraction, the water on the moon would rise quickly into vapor; and the cold produced by a certain quantity of this evaporation would congeal the remainder of it. Hence it is not probable that the moon is at present inhabited; _but as it seems to have suffered and to continue to suffer much by volcanos_, a sufficient quantity of air may in process of time be generated to produce an atmosphere, which may prevent its heat from so easily escaping, and its water from so easily evaporating, and thence become fit for the production of vegetables and animals.

“That the moon possesses little or no atmosphere is deduced from the undiminished lustre of the stars at the instant when they emerge from behind her disk. That the ocean of the moon is frozen is confirmed from there being no appearance of lunar tides,” &c.

2. Bodies on the moon possess much less gravity in proportion to their quantity of matter than bodies on the surface of the earth; for matter is attracted by the earth and moon, respectively, in proportion to the quantity of matter which each contains. It follows that a comparatively slight impulse, communicated to a body on the moon’s surface, would be sufficient to counteract its attraction towards the moon, and if it were propelled towards the earth it might come within its attraction, and would of course make its way to our planet.

Thus it appears very evident, even to persons of your worships’ ordinary penetration, that these wonderful showers of stones are of lunar origin.

[121]

For doctor Tasker to descant on.

I feel a very great solicitude to mould and modify every part and parcel of this performance according to rules and regulations of the best master-builders of epic poems, tragedies, and other great things of that kind. The judicious critic will perceive that all my wounds are inflicted with anatomical accuracy, and I have no doubt but my friend Dr Haygarth will do himself the honor to write a treatise upon this subject, and tell the world with what terrible propriety we have hewed and hacked our opponents in the field of battle. The reverend William Tasker, A. B. has furnished a model of this species of criticism in _A Series of Letters_, respecting “The Anatomical Knowledge of Homer,” &c. Dr Haygarth I expect will prove that the “death wounds” of Sarpedon, Hector, Ulysses’ dog, &c. as displayed in the treatise of Dr Tasker, were mere flea bites compared with these of Dr Caustic.

[122]

From where the head to where the tail is.

Or more correctly where the tail _was_. Lord Monboddo tells us that men, as well as monkies, were formerly dignified with long tails protruding from the place where (according to Butler) honor is lodged. Philosophers and antiquaries had never been able to discover how man became divested of this ornament, till my friend, Dr Anderson, furnished a clue to the mystery. From this discovery I am led to suppose that your antediluvian bucks began the practice of CUR-_tail_-ing these excrescences for gentility’s sake, and what was at first _artificial_ became in due time _natural_, till, at length, your right _tippies_, as in modern times, were entirely disencumbered of that monkey-like appendage; but our Bond-street loungers, although divested of that exterior mark of the monkey, with a laudable desire to prevent the intentions of Nature from being defeated, have adopted all the ourang-outang-ical _airs_ which she originally designed should discriminate that species of _animals_ from man.

[123]

With burning lapis infernalis.

The use of this _caustic_ and other escharotics on this momentous occasion reminds me of an important era in my life, a _succinct_ biographical sketch of which I shall _shortly_ publish, in nineteen volumes folio; a work which, in point of size, erudition, and interesting anecdote, will be immensely preferable to the voluminous production of lord Orford.

The event in question was of the greater consequence, as it gave rise to the present family name of “CAUSTIC.”

Just thirty-two years since, from the fourteenth day of last July, while I was prosecuting some of my chymical researches, my eldest son Tom, a burly-faced boy, since killed in a duel with a hot-headed Irish gentleman, overturned a bench on which were placed seven carboys full of acids, alkalies, &c. and broke them into inch pieces. The consequences of this accident may be more easily conceived than described. The whole neighborhood was alarmed, and many most terribly _causticized_ in endeavoring to extinguish the conflagration which ensued. In the consternation, and amid the exertions to subdue it, some one cried out that Dr Crichton (for such was my former name, being the lineal descendant from the celebrated “admirable Crichton”) is fairly a Dr CAUSTIC.

Thus began my _honorary_ name, of which, as it is _scientific_, I am not a little proud, especially as it was acquired by virtue of an _explosion_, similar to that which gave the honorary appellation of _Bronte_ to my friend, viscount Nelson of the Nile. For further particulars respecting this important event, you will please to inquire at the Herald’s college, where, I dare say, “garter principal king at arms,” sir Isaac Heard, knt. has done me the justice to register the occurrence. Instead of lions, bulls, boars, camels, elephants, and such insignificant _animalculæ_, my shield is decorated with insignia more appropriate to my great pretensions. On the left are seen broken carboys _couchant_, implying that the secrets of science lie prostrate before me. On the right are fumes _rampant_, indicative of my discoveries, which _soar_ above those of all other pretenders. In the centre are nine hedgehogs, with quills, _stickant_, a happy emblem of my peaceable disposition.

My motto, which I trust sir Isaac has also registered, is worthy of notice. Dr Darwin was much pleased with it, and, desirous to emulate my fame in the art of motto making, _made_ “OMNIA E CONCHIS.” But your worships will perceive that the doctor’s motto bears no comparison with mine, in point of erudition; as I prove myself versed in three languages; whereas he can boast of only one. Here it comes.

Ο ανθρωπος, or η γυνη Lacessit never me impune!!

This, my beautiful and appropriate motto, for the sake of accommodating those among your worships, who are not versed in the lore of Greece and Rome, and cannot afford to subsidize men of erudition to officiate for you in that department of science, I shall render into our vernacular idiom, as follows:

If I’m attack’d by man or trollop I’ll dose the knave with drastic jalap.

Lest the more critical and polite reader should complain, that in order to _let myself down_ to the level of your worshipful capacities, I have anglicized my sublime motto in too vulgar and colloquial a style, I shall take the liberty, politely, to parodize thereon, and, as lord Bacon says, “to bring it home to men’s business and bosoms;” that is, to make the application to that particular kind of gentry, against whom my hedgehog quills, aforesaid, are pointed _in terrorem_.

Ladies and gentlemen, REVIEWERS! You are a set of mischief brewers; A gang of scandalous backbiters, Who feast on us, poor murder’d writers. Now if you dare to throw the gauntlet, I tell you honestly I sha’n’t let Your impudences, with impunity, Impose in future on community. If you dare say that greater wit Than doctor Caustic ever writ; If you dare venture to suggest His every word is not the best; If you dare hint that Caustic’s noddle Is not improved from Homer’s model; If you dare _think_ he has not treble The inspiration of a Sybil; If you don’t seem to take delight In puffing him with all your might; If you don’t coin for him some proper lies To circulate through this metropolis, To give eclat to this edition Of his Poetical Petition; If you don’t sing the same tune o’er Which he himself has sung before, Ancients and moderns, altogether, Are but the shadow of a feather, Compared with Caustic, even as A puff of hydrogenous gas, He’ll hurl ye to old Davy’s grotto, As you’ll imagine from his motto.

[124]

Thus monsieur Satan, was quite merry.

So said Milton, _Paradise Lost_, B. vi. where the hero of the poem (whom I would propose as a model for your worships’ imitation on all occasions) and his merry companions “in gamesome mood stand scoffing,” and “quips cranks,” powder, grape shot, puns, blunderbuss, jokes, and cannon-balls, flash, roar, and bellow in concert.

But I am sure that every candid critic will be disposed to acknowledge that neither Homer nor Milton ever described a battle, fraught with such sublime images and similes, as this in which we are so desperately engaged.

[125] The above ode was written, set to music, and sung on a public occasion in Rutland, Vermont, July, 1798. At that time the armament, which afterwards sailed to Egypt, under Buonaparte, lay at Toulon: its destination was not known in America, but many supposed that it was intended to waft the blessings of _French liberty_ to the United States.

[126] This ode was written to the music of an anthem, previously composed for other words, by Oliver Holden, Esq. Charlestown, Mass., a gentleman eminent for his musical talents, and sung during divine service, at the anniversary of Vermont General Election.

[127] There is an inflated species of simplicity, consisting of exaggerations of thought expressed by colloquial barbarisms, mixed with occasional pomposity of diction, which it is the object of the above to ridicule. The measure is after the model of “THALABA;” but rhyme is added, as Butler says, merely by way of _rudder_ to the verses.

[128] Killington Peak. The summit of the Green Mountains, in Vermont, is so called.

[129] Written for the occasion, and sung in New York, July the fourth, 1805.

[130] Mud-pout and sucker are two kinds of fishes of little value, common enough in muddy streams. The otter pursues these with peculiar avidity.

[131] Wickapy is the popular name for a shrub, which is remarkably flexible.

[132] Virgil says “_acquirit_,” which not rhyming we use a substitute;

“For rhyme the rudder is of verses.”

[133] Sung at the Anniversary of the Mass. Hort. Society, Sept. 10, 1830.

[134] Hon. Elias Phinney.

[135] The lady, to whom these lines were addressed, had been offended at the insolence of the character who sat as the _original_ for our picture.

[A] We preferred whales both for the docility and the rhyme’s sake.

[B] “Divine Nonsensia.”

[C] And therefore the writer of the article “_Earth_,” in the Encyclopedia Britannica, is wrong in attempting to overturn this fine fabric of philosophy, by making it appear that metals, minerals, fossils, &c. are continually forming by accretion, &c. on the earth’s surface. Indeed, that writer has laid a heavy hand on all the theories of our modern earthmongers.

[D] I am afraid, after all, this would turn out but a bubble.

[E]Now, if it should happen that the comparative levity of air consists in the repellant powers of its particles, and those bodies which have the greatest _cohesion_ are most prone to gravitate, there “needs some conjuror to tell us,” what should hinder bodies of greater specific gravity from _riddling down between those_ particles of air. No man but Dr Franklin could have caught the fugitive air under the shell of the first earth, and pressed it till it became heavier than gold by a hurly-burly of elements “mixed in confusion.”

[F] The “Monthly Reviewers” of our late edition of Tractoration, would have it that OURSELF was a Scotchman “frae the north,” &c. Now here’s a yankee phrase, merely to convince you that they were out in their conjectures.

[G] See Edinburgh Review of Southey’s Thalaba, October, 1802.

Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious spelling errors have been silently corrected.

2. Where necessary, original spelling has been retained.

3. Some words have been left as either hyphenated or non-hyphenated as in the original.

4. Italics are shown as _xxx_.