CANTO VII

In the world's ever varying range There scarce can be a greater change Than from the hourly means of carving Without reserve, to hints of starving; From the men-cooks' superior waste To fireless kitchen's cold repast; From ham and fowl and beef and veal, To a lean shoulder's third day meal, From well-skimm'd broths, to greasy pot,-- But this was now our Hero's lot: And here, perhaps, it may be fair To ask what chance could bring him there; For expectation sure might think That he would rather soar than sink, At least, he would his rank maintain Among High-Life's domestic train, And still display the priggish air, In some fine street or splendid square, Instead of opening the door In _Humbug-Buildings_, Number FOUR; Well known, as we shall shortly see, For weighty scenes of Usury. --How he this curious post obtain'd, Without reserve will be explain'd.

My Lady VALCOUR, as 'tis known To hap sometimes to Dames of Ton, When sudden wants were set on edge Might look a precious stone to pledge, To raise a hasty sum or so She did not wish Sir CHARLES to know; For little systems of disguise } Are seldom seen to cause surprise } In the best order'd families. } MOLLY she fail'd not to employ In care of any glittering toy, Which might so very useful be In moments of necessity: But this strange, awkward kind of trade Was far from pleasant to the maid, As she, to 'scape from prying eyes Was told to change her air and size, And, to perform her work complete, To be a perfect counterfeit: In short, as was not uncommon, To make herself another woman. She therefore, thought it best to ask QUÆ GENUS to perform the task; And old John SQUEEZE was recommended, Who kindly to such wants attended: Though some who lov'd a joke to crack, Would laugh, and call him _Squeezing JACK_.

In a snug corner of the town, To nameless spendthrifts too well known, The miser liv'd, if life it be Whose meat and drink was usury; For the old Hunx was ne'er content, Unless he gain'd his _Cent. per Cent._; And as all traffic with this Elf Was secret interchange of pelf, He fear'd not the rapacious paw Of daily violated law.-- Diamonds that did 'mong ringlets blaze, And caught the night's admiring gaze; The necklace that from snowy neck Did in its cluster'd fashions break On swelling bosom, plac'd to share The beauty nature planted there; The rows of pearl that gave a charm To the round grace of taper arm: The bright drops which each sister ear Does with an equal splendour bear; And dazzling circles that are seen Of rubies red, of em'ralds green, And sapphires blue, whose blended rays The rainbow to the hand conveys, All these, at times, are forc'd to rest Within the miser's gloomy chest: In iron darkness there to wait A longer or a shorter date, Till gold's redeeming power shall say, Come and re-brighten on the day.

On errands of this grave intent, QUÆ GENUS now and then was sent, And how he did his plans arrange, Or in what shape place the exchange; How he contriv'd these sly affairs, Paid soon, or lengthen'd the arrears, Of this we know not more nor less, } For we ne'er heard his tongue confess, } And 'twould be wasting time to guess. } But, somehow, he contriv'd to please, By grace or guile, old Master SQUEEZE, And by some strange, peculiar art, He gain'd upon the Us'rer's heart, If an heart such a being owns, Who chuckles when misfortune moans, At least, when that is understood To be a vessel fraught with good. But to proceed, the mind's keen eye Of _Squeezing Jack_, thought he could spy In our QUÆ GENUS that quick sense, Which might reward his confidence; That wary, penetrating thought, Which could not be too dearly bought, And in his present, sickly trim, Would be of golden use to him: For he grew old and wanted aid, In his nice calculating trade. In short, in every point of view, } As one who certain fancies knew, } The old man felt that he would do, } And that he could his interest make A station at the desk to take.

Not the first time on business bent, } Though 'twas the last by MOLLY sent, } Our Hero to the office went, } With his redeeming coin to pay And fav'rite gems to bear away, He was desir'd to give an ear To the proposal he should hear, When _Squeezing John_ in cautious strain Did thus his secret wish explain. "--From what I know and all I see, You soon will be at liberty, The gentry to whom you belong Will not require your service long; And 'twould be well were you to take The offer which I now shall make: That is, as you already see, To come, my friend, and live with me. I hope no thought your mind engages, About such petty things as wages, I would not wish you to receive What common spendthrift masters give; I exercise a better way All such as serve me well to pay: Your bed and board will lib'ral be, } For you will live as well as me, } Such is my home oeconomy. } As for the service you will find Its profits fully to your mind; If you my interests understand, Your own will follow hand in hand; Nay, I my promise shall maintain, That you a pretty fortune gain. All I ask is, that you will be The pattern of fidelity, Which my observing eye has seen To others you have lately been; I have, my friend, but one word more, And then my speechifying's o'er: 'Twill answer ev'ry purpose better And I shall hold myself your debtor, For reasons you shall plainly see, If you will wear your livery, For that can never be disgrace Which soon will gain superior place."

QUÆ GENUS thought he could but try, If but from curiosity, Though some have said that then he view'd The future freaks that he pursued. Thus at the desk he soon was seated To learn how folly could be cheated, And to consent to play the rogue With any spendthrift vice in vogue, That did in pleasure's round perplex In any form, in either sex. The gains were great, nay almost certain, While pride so slyly drew the curtain, Indeed, it was so nicely clos'd, That the rich schemes were ne'er expos'd. --At first, a kind of gen'rous feeling, A sense of honourable dealing, Dispos'd him, with some doubts, to look Into the Broker's daily book, While he oft dipp'd his pen and thought, Ere he the huge per-centage wrote: Nay, he could pity the distress Which did upon their bosoms press, When, thus to pay for ill-bought pleasure, They yielded up their gayest treasure. --But then he mutter'd, "Where's the shame? Others, like us, would do the same: If we were now to shut up shop, Others into the place would pop; Extravagance would have its run And fools speed on to be undone. And their sad wants would be supplied, } If _John_ had laid his schemes aside, } Or had turn'd Methodist and died." }

Thus interest to our Hero clung To stifle sense of right and wrong; And so at once he bade adieu To Conscience for a year or two: But, when attain'd the wish'd for store, It should resume its former power. Thus, at the opening of his trade, He a most curious bargain made With the Divinity within, To help him on through thick and thin.

QUÆ GENUS, was brimful of zeal To seize each turn of Fortune's wheel, And eager to fulfil his plan Of rising to a gentleman: But though gold roll'd beneath his eye, Though fees were paid and bribes were high, His heart, which had not lost its feeling, Shrunk from the base, remorseless dealing, That gloating avarice employ'd O'er the rich ruins it enjoy'd. While, therefore, some kind, gen'rous sense His heart felt of benevolence, And ere of honour quite bereft, He the rapacious LEVI left, In hope he might obtain a place He should not think as a disgrace; Nor of success had he to fear From VALCOUR'S written character; Where all his virtues were pourtray'd, In such a view that he was made In every domestic sense A paragon of excellence. But sad to tell, it was not long Before temptations, more than strong, Were urg'd by a kind, zealous friend, Who us'd on bus'ness to attend Old LEVI'S Levees: He display'd In artful whisper, the sure trade, Which, manag'd as he could define, Would shortly prove a golden mine. "Think not," he said, "that I am canting; Money, my friend, is all that's wanting. A certain sum could I command, I soon would purchase house and land. Ere a short time had onward run, I would strut forth a BUCK OF TON; The world, with its dull pride, defy, And jostle fools of quality."

QUÆ GENUS felt his brooding plan To be a finish'd GENTLEMAN, At that same word his spirit started, And instantly he grew great hearted. "Your scheme," he said, "at once explain: If gainful, you shall share the gain." "But hear me out," it was replied, "And then you will be satisfied. Know, you must an assistant be At a club's gaming revelry. O check, I pray, your staring eyes, From looking on me with surprise; Let not the scheme I offer freeze you, Hear, and then do as it may please you! Think not I would your hand entice To deal the card or shake the dice; You must employ a knowing friend, And such a one I can commend; He's wary, and suspicion guards, By shrewdly managing his cards; Whate'er he does is done with ease, And heaps his gains by slow degrees, Till he has such a sum attain'd By which his object may be gain'd, Then one successful effort make, And seize a fortune in the stake. He watches those who love to drink, And sticks to such as cannot think: He turns his skilful inclination To young men who are prone to passion; He has cool words for those who're heated, Whose pride will not believe they're cheated; In short, he can a card entice, And fix good-fortune on the dice. With him you may your money trust; He will be generous as he's just: Proceed at once on manly ground And trust him with five hundred pound; With that, my friend, let him alone, He'll use it as it were his own."

QUÆ GENUS enter'd on his place And acted with becoming grace; But with his keen, suspicious eye He saw what look'd like treachery, Which wak'd the fancy to be thrifty, So, of his pounds he gave but fifty. --On his official duties bound, He pac'd the hubbub-table round, And with attentive leering kenn'd His trusty, confidential friend, Whose frequent nods and silent grinning Full plainly told, he had been winning; But, when QUÆ GENUS ask'd th' amount, His friend thus settled the account. "It does my very heart-strings grieve That you have nothing to receive: Two hours ago my luck was crost, And then your fifty pounds were lost; For when with your advance I play'd Fortune became an arrant jade: Though since 'tis true that I have won, But then the risk was all my own; And, if you had but ventur'd more, Your purse might now be running o'er. With a round sum to-morrow night, Fortune may set all matters right: As 'tis in war, so 'tis with gold, She fails not to protect the bold."

Our Hero was not such a _Flat_ As to sit down content with that: He first determin'd to resist Or with a cudgel or a fist: But on reflection, felt an awe Of the grim, prosecuting law: Besides, had he enrag'd the room, It might have prov'd his final doom: Still he for vengeance inly cried And he was shortly satisfied. --The _Bow-street_ folk he happ'd to know Were walking that way to and fro, And when more closely on the watch, He mov'd the door's unwilling latch, The myrmidons rush'd rudely in, And all above was noise and din. Candles and lamps were all put out, When it became a mingled rout, While for the money on the table Each grasp'd as much as he was able; And our QUÆ GENUS had engross'd More than by _Humbug_ he had lost; Then nimbly made a safe retreat To lodgings in no distant street.

Here, for some time he pac'd the room, To dissipate th' oppressive gloom That did upon his spirits light From the proceedings of the night. "Indeed," he said, "what then was done I do not wish to look upon, Nay I would from my mem'ry cast My curious ways for some time past, But certain, busy reasons tell Such effort is impossible. All therefore, that I now can do Is the forthcoming time to woo With those endearments which may prove QUÆ GENUS worthy of its love: With that just sense of what is right, That makes the moral lamp burn bright."

Such pensive musings on him wrought Till he his welcome pillow sought, When, as absorb'd in sleep he lay, Fancy did on his spirits play, And in a strange and fearful dream A form did on his vision beam, With ghastly look as it were come From the pale confines of the tomb. He seem'd with one uplifted hand Instant attention to command, The other, as he solemn stood, Folded around the flowing shroud; And thus QUÆ GENUS seem'd to hear The hollow voice that pierc'd his ear. "I am thy foster-parent's shade, } Who, in the earth, has long been laid, } And let his counsels be obey'd. } 'Tis SYNTAX who before thee stands, And wait with awe his grave commands. Fool as thou art, in thy misdoing Art thou not hast'ning to thy ruin? Am I call'd hither to accuse Thy erring ways, and idle views? Do I the wretched agent see Of gambling fraud and usury? And is it thus you form the plan To vault into a Gentleman? SYNTAX thy memory must own As the sole parent thou hast known, Whose mercy did the Foundling save From menace of an infant's grave. Better, perhaps, his fond regard Had not thy sad condition spar'd, If what of future life may last, Wakes no contrition for the past. Hear me, and tremble as I speak, Though you may human laws escape; The life you lead is not forgiven By the offended laws of Heaven. If such your doings, I can ne'er Petition for your pardon there. The present means which you possess, If rightly us'd, will give success; Nay, if you cease to roam abroad, And turn from folly's wand'ring road; If you keep all things right at home, Much unexpected good may come. QUÆ GENUS, to my words attend, The errors of your life amend; Resist the world's seducing power, Or fear me at the midnight hour." --Thus as he thought the vision spake, The curtains round him seem'd to shake; And frowning, as in angry mood, At the bed's foot the figure stood, When, in a misty gleam of light, It seem'd to vanish from his sight.

He woke in such an agitation His night-cap stream'd with perspiration; He started with a fearful stare, Not knowing if to pray or swear. He did from further sleep refrain As he perhaps should dream again, And Sommerden's departed Rector Might read another curtain-lecture. But when as through the shutter's crack He saw the beams of Phoebus break, Up he arose, the bell he rung, And, "Breakfast," issued from his tongue: The loud command was soon obey'd, And morning meal in order laid. On sofa stretch'd, he munch'd the toast, And sipp'd the Bohea, doubly dos'd With cordial drops, we won't say gin, Which he pour'd plentifully in, And did his trem'rous nerves redeem } By power of the reviving stream, } From the dire horrors of the dream. } --His spirits thus with strength recruited, He turn'd his mind to what was suited To the condition chance had bound him, And perils which might still surround him: Of his late playmates what became When power broke up the midnight game; And if pursued by any danger, To which as yet he was a stranger. But soon he found, enquiry made, The Bow-street spirits all were laid; Nor was it to the party known, By whom the mischief had been done.-- Thus, from all legal threat secure, He felt determin'd to abjure The course of life he had pursued, Nor suffer knav'ry to delude His conduct into any plan That might disgrace a Gentleman; The character which his fond thought Had to a flatt'ring crisis brought, When he might try, and not in vain, The wish'd for honour to maintain. Besides, in favour of his scheme, He felt the warnings of the dream, As he their meaning understood Foreboded much of future good.

At length his boasting fancies tired Of all to which his pride aspired; And, having nothing else to do, He sauntered forth to take a view Of what a saunter might present For serious thought or merriment; When, as he careless stroll'd along, Half-humming some new-fangled song, He heard a voice that did proclaim His own but too familiar name. 'Twas Mr. CARMINE, who was known An artist of the first renown For portraiture of living faces, Whose pencil gave and heighten'd graces, Who, 'mid the hurry of the street, Did sauntering QUÆ GENUS greet: When, having sought a place of quiet, Free from the passing, bustling riot, In civil tones the man of art Began his Queries to impart. "Your family, I hope, are well, And will you Lady VALCOUR tell, If it so please her you may come And fetch her fine resemblance home: Nay she may have forgot, I fear, That the last sitting's in arrear: Give but the hint as I demand And you shall feel my grateful hand." --QUÆ GENUS hasten'd to reply With the gay VALCOURS' history, And fear'd that, for a year or two, The picture must _in statu quo_ Within his gallery remain, At least, till they came home again. "Well then," said CARMINE, "tell me friend, What fortunes on your steps attend." "Sir," he replied, "'tis Fortune's pleasure I should enjoy a state of leisure. Sir CHARLES, so generous and kind, Wish'd not that I should stay behind, Nay, would have paid me high to go, As I've a paper that will shew: But certain schemes play'd on my brain Which fix'd my purpose to remain, And yet, with all my honest care, I have not brought one scheme to bear." "My friend," the artist said, "if you Have not a better scheme in view, My place, unless I greatly err, Would suit your turn and character 'Tis but to know and to make known The beauties by my pencil shewn, And lard, as you the occasion see, With strokes of modest flattery. Take care you manage well your tongue To please the old as well as young, And study the expressive grace That's seen to beam on any face; When, in fair words and cautious mood You may mark the similitude Between the charms that smiling live, And such as art like mine can give. Nor to the sex your hints confine, The ermin'd sage and grave divine, The chubby face of childhood too Attention must be made to woo, While I shall to your mind impart The nomenclature of my art;-- And if, as I presume you will, Display the show with ready skill, From Misses, Beaux, Old Dames and Sages, You'll gain, Good Fellow, three-fold wages. --Now turn the offer in your mind, And, if your prudence is inclin'd To take it, you will let me know To-morrow how your wishes flow."

What though it was his warm desire From days of service to retire; Though he now hop'd the time drew nigh To change his humble destiny, He ask'd permission of his pride That one more service might be tried, As in the class he hop'd to move It might a source of knowledge prove. --Where could he such examples see As in an artist's gallery? For while he look'd at forms and faces He might learn all the tonish graces, Whatever manners could bestow, } What attitudes were best to show; } In short, all that he sought to know. } For the fine folk who visit there Come deck'd with all becoming care, That the chaste pencil may not err From truth of form and character, Which not alone, while yet they live, The canvas may be proud to give, But offer to the admiring eye Of an unborn posterity!

"O," he exclaim'd, "this is the plan, } I all its various merits scan, } 'Tis HALF-WAY to a _Gentleman_!" } --Nay, to be brief, the following day Beheld him all in due array, And soon alert, submissive, smart, } Well vers'd in all the slang of art; } He to perfection play'd his part. } In mildest tone would just express The charms a canvas may possess, Where Loves and Graces seem to smile And do th' enchanted eye beguile. Though still he ne'er forgot his duty To one who might have been a beauty, There he did not throw out his hints Of charming smiles and rosy tints, But to her portrait would refer For force and grace of character. Still his own thoughts ne'er went astray, } He rather told what others say, } What my Lord B. prais'd yesterday. } Thus he contriv'd, it seems, to please CARMINE's fine folk, of all degrees, And what he gain'd, he now might say, He got it in an honest way.

From all he did the Artist thought He had a real treasure got; Nor had QUÆ GENUS any cause To grumble at domestic laws; For all who serv'd them were content With the well-rang'd establishment. Above, was all that taste could show, And ease and comfort reign'd below; For CARMINE sought not cost to spare, And splendid plenty revell'd there. --O Discretion, what thy powers, To watch o'er life's fantastic hours, To check warm nature's glowing heat When passions in the bosom beat, And whim and fancy's busy train Play their vagaries through the brain! But that comptroller of the will, That sober judge 'tween good and ill, Or from his folly or his pride QUÆ GENUS seem'd to throw aside. This was the spot where he might stay, } Where duty was improving play, } Till hope should paint the wish'd-for way. } But whimsies did his wits employ The play-game of an idle boy, For which if, at his earliest school, Thus he had dared to play the fool, He would have felt the smarting fate That does on thoughtless culprit wait. --The easy, morning duties done, The after-day was all his own, When, as it surely may be thought He might have some improvement sought: But no, his genius seem'd to chuse His luckless leisure to amuse, In changing, when brimfull of glee, The system of the Gallery; Would make the pictures change their places, And with his chalk deform their faces, (For, from a boy, whate'er he saw, With a rude outline, he could draw,) Turn down the portraits in their frames, And look and laugh and call them names. Though if no other harm were done, Unknown he might have had his fun: But hence the mischief did ensue, The names he call'd were written too: In short, he turn'd the painter's school Completely into ridicule, And, by a TITLE or a SCROLL, He strove to stigmatize the whole. --He would a _Lawn-rob'd Prelate_ place As if he ogled _Cælia's_ face, Exclaiming "There's no greater bliss, No, not in Heaven, than _Cælia's Kiss_;" While _Cælia_ might be made to say "_Hands off, my pious Lord, I pray! Remember what you ought to feel-- The good book says you must not steal; And steal you will, if you receive it, For hang me, FUSTY, if I give it_." --He then, perhaps, would run his rig, With _Cap and Bells_ on _Judge's Wig_; When thus his fancy might indite, And in a well turn'd label write,-- "_Now should MY LORD be in a fury, And shake that WIG_, he'd fright the JURY_." --The portrait of an AGED DAME Might have this added to her name,-- "_Your Crutch-stick tells you scarce can walk, But still you bore all ears with talk; A most incorrigible Hag, Who nothing but your TONGUE can wag_." --A MARRIED PAIR together plac'd, And with their household emblems grac'd, Though looking in each other's faces, He would remove to sep'rate places, And then contrive to make them say, "_How shall we, Sir, this act repay? Our Home Cabals we now shall smother, At this nice distance from each other; Thus far removed we shall agree,-- 'Tis just as we both wish to be._" --A LORD MAYOR's brow he would adorn With honours of a double Horn; Then from a long scroll make him cry, "_Make room for Cuckolds, here comes I_." --A LAWYER, clad in wig and band, With briefs and papers in his hand, QUÆ GENUS would contrive to trace A JANUS with a _Double Face_, And each face with a ready tongue To plead the cause or right or wrong, Exclaiming in both scrolls--"_'Tis We, And waiting for a Double Fee_." Such was his wit, which sometimes told Its thoughts in flashes far too bold: Which the Muse knows would not be meet For her Chaste Spirit to repeat. --Thus when the Monkey's hand had done With this display of idle fun, And in his vacant hour of sense Had triumph'd in Impertinence; He would repair his saucy tricks, The pictures in their places fix, Wipe out the mischief of the chalk And bid the portraits cease to talk; Then with a military air, Aloud command them--"AS YOU WERE."-- --Now it, at least, was once a week, He did this gay amusement seek, When CARMINE'S absence gave the power Thus to pass off his leisure hour, As different faces might present Fresh subjects for his merriment. But those foul imps who oft molest, With awkward thoughts, the human breast, (As the expression's not so civil, We will not hint it is the devil,) Will, as their trade is to deceive, Fast in the lurch their vot'ries leave; And soon QUÆ GENUS was betray'd Into the trap his folly laid.

One vernal eve, he had o'erflow'd With chalk and chatter ill-bestow'd, When call'd off for we know not what, The unfinish'd mischief was forgot; And in the morning, ere the clout Had duly wip'd his folly out, A party, who from town were going, Came, just to pay what might be owing: At the same time to represent Where all their portraits might be sent. --One _Elder Lady_ rubb'd her eyes, With equal anger and surprize, While she could scarce believe she read, The _Witch_ of _Endor_ o'er her head. --Another, not of younger age, Could not restrain her glowing rage, When _Mother RED CAP_ was the name Which chalk had given to the Dame; And then she scream'd aloud,--"_Forsooth, A Pipe is put into my mouth, Whose nauseous fumes around me fly To stamp me with vulgarity_!" --With them there was a sweet young lady, In beauty's bloom and vernal gay day; Her portrait in all stature stood, With all the grace of attitude, And charms to turn, though not of stone, A _Carmine_ to _Pygmalion_. But she, in all her beauty's pride, A _Wheel-barrow_ was made to guide, While ruby lips were seen to cry, "_Sheep's hearts for those who want to buy_!" The marble urn which stood behind her, Was turn'd into a rude _Knife-Grinder_, And at no very far approach Was seen a passing _Hackney Coach_, While all the lawns and groves so sweet Were scrawl'd into a _London Street_. --Anger in diff'rent tones were heard, And when CARMINE in haste appear'd, Aghast he stood, then vengeance vow'd, Declar'd his innocence--and bow'd; But in a few short minutes prov'd The wicked lines might be remov'd. If water is not just at hand, _Saliva's_ always at command, Which gives the tints a brighter glow, And leaves a kind of varnish too. This, with his handkerchief applied, Soon wip'd the saucy chalk aside. The Dame exclaim'd,--"_Pray look, d'ye see, Still more affronts, my Lady B----: This is the height of all disgrace, The Painter's spitting in my face_." CARMINE, without a word, went on, And when his cleansing skill was shown, When witticisms disappear'd, And each offending line was clear'd, The sudden change appear'd to please, And angry words began to cease. But still he thought he ought to show The threat'ning terms he could bestow. The maids, each answ'ring to her name, Aloud their innocence proclaim: The housekeeper and sturdy cook Propose to swear on HOLY BOOK, They could not do it:--Heaven forbid it! And then they told,--QUÆ GENUS _did it_: On which, the solemn Dames insist Such Impudence should be dismiss'd. But though they saw the alter'd show } Restor'd to all its pristine glow, } They let th' astonish'd artist know } Th' insulted portraits should not stay Where they then were another day. Thus porters, order'd to the door, } Away each fine resemblance bore, } That they might be defac'd no more.-- } --The Dames departed in a huff, With _fanning_ cool'd,--consol'd with _snuff_: While Miss, beneath her bonnet's poke, Smil'd as if _she_ enjoy'd the joke.

Our Hero now was seen to wait The threat'nings of impending fate: That fate, but in the mildest tone, CARMINE delay'd not to make known. "As you vie with me in my art, 'Tis clear, my friend, that we must part: Your genius is so full of sport That you must go,--I'm sorry for't! Such tricks will bring, as you must see, Disgrace upon the Gallery; Indeed, by your confounded fun, Mischief may be already done! You talk'd of schemes when you came here, But, faith, this scheme may cost me dear. As tricks like these you chuse to play, 'Twere well that you should march away; So go, where, spite of common sense, Your jokes may pass without offence. Few words are best,--my mind to tell: Pack up your Chalk,--and so farewell!" --QUÆ GENUS the command obey'd, As pleas'd to go as if he stay'd. Here then his _final Service_ ends:-- But MAN and MASTER parted friends.