Note 83 — Chapter VI
Reading edition
This satire was published in 1703, in small 4to. (66 pages) with this title, “Patriotism; a mock heroic, in five cantos.”
“Behold thy Gods O Israel.” (1 Kings.)
Cumberland says of this poem that “it is one of the keenest and wittiest satires extant in our language. Lord Temple, Wilkes, and others of the party were attacked with unsparing asperity, and much critical acumen. Churchill, the Dryden of the age, and indisputably a man of first-rate genius, was too candid not to acknowledge the merit of the poem; and when he declined taking up the gauntlet so pointedly thrown down to him, it was not because he held his challenger in contempt.” (Memoirs, vol. i. p. 212.) True as this may partially be, the poem has great defects. The poverty and incompleteness of the allegory are alone fatal to its interest; Pride, Faction, Folly and Ambition are made to perambulate the town, to carouse together, and reciprocate declamatory speeches without any adequate result,—these speeches indeed being the only object for which they are introduced. The total absence of incident is sought to be redeemed by descriptions, some of which are lively enough. Abuse of popular licence and eulogies of the King and his Ministers form the staple of the poem. It opens with an account of the visit of Pride to the Mansion House, and the hospitality of Beckford is rather ungratefully returned by the following (among other) spirited lines on his followers.
“To please the mob Byng stains the blushing deep, And BlakeneyA earns a Peerage in his sleep; To please the mob our fleets their canvas strain, And expeditions hide the wondering main. The main more wondering wafts them back, alas! Thinned with the wars of Rochfort and St. Cas. What matter, since defeat our joy inspires, And CasselB lost can light a thousand fires?”
A He was said to have been confined to his bed during the defence of Minorca, for which he was so extravagantly rewarded.
B The gallant but unsuccessful affair of Cassel in which the Hereditary Prince of Brunswick was wounded.
The political libels on the King are thus sarcastically described:
“Recast the royal virtues, which before The nation worshipped, and cry down the ore, To teach the people this indulgent reign With every charge of tyranny to stain,— To swallow every contradiction down,— In Antonine’s mild look see Nero’s frown,— Wrest his intention and distort each fact, And lend them treason till they long to act; In terms of duty wrap each boisterous deed,— Kneel while we stab, and libel while we plead.”
This compliment on the King is pretty:
“Who from the sceptre no exemption draws, And is but the first subject of the laws.”
His gratitude to Lord Bute has flowered in a panegyric, which may interest the reader from being one of the very few poetical tributes obtained by that nobleman approaching mediocrity.
“Oh! if we seize with skill the coming hour, And re-invest us with the robe of power— Rule while we live—let future days transmute To every merit all we’ve charged on Bute. Let late Posterity receive his name, And swell its sails with every breath of fame: Downward as far as Time shall roll his tide, With every pendant flying let it glide; And Truth emerging from the clouds we raise, Gild all their orient colours with her blaze. Let his loved arts, attendant on his way, Their wanton trophies to the gale display; While each dispassionate, each honest pen, (Deterred by clamour, nor allured by gain,— Bard or Historian—) shall from either shore, Hail its approach, and its great course explore; Faithful to Probity and Virtue’s cause, Pursue its progress, and direct th’ applause. Glad Gratulation shall with shouts approve, And own him worthy of his Sovereign’s love.”
The success of this satire brought an accumulation of favours on the author, as, in addition to a commissionership of lotteries, and other small places, he received a pension for the lives of himself and his wife of 500l. per annum. He was the only son of the celebrated critic, and dabbled a little in criticism himself, though he was too careless to become eminent in it. He wrote several party poems in support of Lord Bute’s administration—all long since forgotten, as is his unsuccessful play of “The Wishes,” which his nephew Cumberland warmly praises for the brilliancy of its dialogue. “Philodamus,” another of his dramas, equally failed, but was honoured with an elaborate commentary by Gray; in return, perhaps, for the author’s beautiful designs to the 4to edition of that poet’s works. These designs, indeed, generally show considerable taste; and he was no doubt an eminently accomplished person. Unhappily, he was also eminently improvident, and notwithstanding a handsome patrimony which descended to him from his father, and the substantial bounty of Lord Bute, he fell into pecuniary difficulties, which harassed him to the end of his life. The editor has seen in the Island of Jersey a lonely house formerly belonging to Lord Granville, where he is described by Walpole as residing for some years with a large family of daughters. He died towards the close of the last century.—E.