CANTO III. MANIFESTO.

The poet now, with Discord’s clarion Preludes the war we mean to carry on; And sends abroad a PROCLAMATION Against Perkinean conjuration; Proves that we ought to hang the tractors, On gibbet high, like malefactors, And with them that pestiferous corps, Who keep alive the paltry poor; By reasons sound, as e’er were taken, From Aristotle, Locke, or Bacon.

But if you cannot find some one As bold as Attila the Hunn, T’ attack the conjuring tractoring noddy, And fairly bore him through the body; Collect a host of our profession, With all their weapons in possession; And vi et armis, then we’ll push on, And crush Perkinean Institution. But first, in flaming MANIFESTO, (To let John Bull and all the rest know, Why we should on these fellows trample, And make the rogues a sad example), Say to the public all you can say, Of magic spells, and necromancy; That Perkins and his crew are wizards, Conceal’d in sanctimonious vizards. Say to the public all you can say, Of wonder-working power of fancy: Tell what imagination’s force is In crows and infants, dogs and horses:[77] Tell how their minds—but here you old men May trust the younkers under Coleman; For graduates at horses’ college, Most certainly are men of knowledge! That though imagination cures, With aid of pair of patent skewers, Still such relief cannot be real, For pain itself is all ideal.[78] Say that friend Davy, when he was Inspired with his oraculous gas, Utter’d this solemn truth, that nought E’er had existence, only thought! What though they say, why to be sure, If we by Fancy’s aid can CURE, Then why not use imagination, A cheap and simple operation? Say nature through her works intends All things to answer some great ends: Thus she form’d drugs to purge and shake, Then man, of course of those drugs to take.[79] That learn’d physicians pine with hunger,[80] The while a spruce young patent-monger Contrives to wheedle simple ninnies, And tractorize away our guineas. That many thousand cures attested Show death’s cold hand full oft arrested; But those who from his prey would part him, Should manage things secundum artem. That none should ancient customs vary, Nor leges physicæ mutare; And thus, to gain a cure unlook’d for, The patient save, but starve the doctor.[81] That, though the Perkinistic fellows May have the impudence to tell us, That they can muster, on emergence, Renown’d physicians, learned surgeons; With many other men of merit, Philanthropy and public spirit, Not your self-puffing sons of vanity, But real Howards of humanity. Say that those surgeons and physicians Are but a conjuring set of rich ones, Who, having made their fortunes, therefore, Have very little else to care for. Since they’ve no interest nor right in The very cause for which they’re fighting, Such non-commission’d volunteers, In eye of law, are buccaneers. And as by law a man may fire at, At any time, a rascal pirate, So we, with justice on our side, May hang these rogues before they’re try’d. Then draw a just, but black comparison, Which, if they’ve feelings left, will harass ’em, ’Twixt tractoring Perkinites, so smart, And other dealers in the black art; That is, the chimney-sweepers sooty, Whose deeds, like Perkinites, are smutty; But as they are aspiring geniuses, Like Perkinites, they find Mecenases.[82] But chimney-sweepers and Perkineans Are such a scurvy set of minions, That not one rogue among them back’d is, Except by knaves retired from practice.[83] That though certificates he dish up, From surgeon, doctor, parson, bishop; From gentle, simple, yeomen, squires, ’Tis written, “that all men are liars!” That grant his tractors cure diseases, Folks ought to die just when God pleases; But most of all the dirty poor, Who make, quoth Darwin, good manure;[84] That when the Russians, logger-headed, Were kill’d by Frenchmen, ever dreaded, Darwin rejoiced the filthy creatures Would serve for stock to make mosquitoes;[85] And also urges with propriety, That war’s no evil in society; But has a charming operation, To check excess of population. “Superfluous myriads from the earth Are swept by pestilence and dearth;”[86] Which drive his philosophic plan on, As well as blunderbuss or cannon; That, in this world’s great slaughter-house, Not only sheep and calves and cows, But “man erect, with thought elate,” Must “duck” to death his stubborn pate;[87] That in said butcher’s shop, the weakest Should always be kill’d off the quickest, Because Dame Nature gave the strongest The right and power to live the longest; That since “to die is but to sleep,”[88] And poor, diseased, are scabby sheep, That none need care a single button If we should make them all dead mutton; That death is but a trivial thing, Because a toadstool, or a king, Will, after death, be sure to rise In bats and bed-bugs, fleas and flies.[89] Besides, they’ll make, when kill’d in fight, Vast “monuments of past delight;”[90] And that to think of is more pleasant, Than such delight enjoy’d at present. Then no Darwinian philosopher, His conduct can contrive to gloss over, And make it with his tenets tally, Unless he round our standard rally, And join in strenuous endeavor The wretch’s thread of fate to sever, That having met their final doom, They may have rest, we—elbow room.[91] Say that the deepest politicians Will join their powers with us physicians; Assist to overset the flummery Of Perkins’ mischief-making mummery, Nor suffer tractoring rogues to cure Such sordid shoals of paltry poor, Of whom it truly may be said, That they were ten times better dead. For when the old Nick comes and fetches Away the dirty set of wretches, Times will improve, because, the fact is, ’Twill lessen poor rates, worst of taxes. Say that those wights of skill surprising In science of economizing, Who cook up most delicious farings, From cheese rinds, and potato parings, Will thank us when this paltry band Are “kill’d off,” to manure the land; And they will make, I ween, besides, Morocco leather from their hides; And so contrive that every coffin, Which serves to lug a dead rogue off in, Shall answer, if it be not made ill, For living child, a clever cradle. And though they say, on man and horse, The tractors act with equal force; Still some among us can get through it, And swear old Satan helps him do it! In proof of tractoring defection Proclaim that wise and learn’d objection The famous argument, so handy, About their modus operandi. That a physician should neglect To notice e’en a good effect, Unless the cause, as he supposes, Is nine times plainer than his nose is; And though it may be urg’d by some, That this grave reasoning’s all a hum, Because the learn’d are in the dark How opium, mercury, acts, and bark, To such reply you’ll make no answers, For much I question if you can, sirs; But rather for retort uncivil, The poker take and lay them level.[92] From Haygarth, borrowing a rare hint, Tell how these tractors, ’tis apparent, The most insidious thing in nature, Will e’en bewitch the operator![93] Will break down reason’s feeble fences, And play the deuce with our five senses! And acts a part, so very scurvy, They turn a man’s brains topsy turvy! Will so bewilder and astound one, They make a lame horse seem a sound one! Appear, with but three legs to wag on, A Pegasus, or flying dragon!! Then quote his lady’s ECCHYMOSIS,[94] Which rose an inch from where her nose is; And was not bigger much, if any, He states, than puny “silver penny.” ’Twas then assail’d, with courage hearty, By juggling wench of Perkins’ party, And soon, to her beconjured eyes, It seem’d a thousandth part its size. “And now,” quoth she, “I scarce can view it, These tractors are the things that do it; Oh, la! I vow, it’s taken flight, And vanish’d fairly out of sight.” But madam Hoaxhoax, in her glass, Beholding what it truly was, Exclaim’d “my last new wig I’ll burn up, If ’tis not bigger than a turnip!!!” In public papers, more’s his glory, The doctor advertised this story; And you’ll confound the tractoring folks By Haygarth’s tale of lady Hoax.[95] Tell one more tale from ancient sages, About the wonderous chain of ages, Gold, silver, brass, but not a link, Composed of copper, or of zinc. That, as it ever was the curse Of man to go from bad to worse, This age (the thought might e’en distract us) Is that of vile metallic tractors! That your last sixpence you will bet all, Ages will follow of worse metal, Unless this wickedness you stop, To sweepings of a black-smith’s shop! Say that the devil never fails[96] To eat a tiger, stuff’d with nails; With claws and head and hair on, munching The savage creature at a luncheon! That one old woman, pain distracted, This part of satan over acted; In gulping tractors down, for med’cines,[97] With such effect, that faith she’s dead since. Then make it plain, by quoting Greek, That this old hag, of whom we speak, More brass and iron took in one day, Than satan all the week, with Sunday. But should the public turn deaf ear to ’t Tell them that I know who will swear to ’t And testify the whole affair Before his honor, the lord mayor! Say Perkinism was begotten In wilds where science ne’er was thought on,[98] And had its birth and education Quite at the fag end of creation! For raree-show, to England smuggled, That honest Christians, all bejuggled, Might tamely suffer B. D. Perkins To pick the pockets of their jerkins. Say it was twinn’d with monstrous mammoth,[99] And to go near it you’d be d—d loth,[100] Because it always eats poor sinners, As I eat bread and cheese for dinners! Say that it is “monstrum horrendum!” As great a plague as God could send ’em. Moreover, ’tis “informe ingens!” Brought up among the western Indians: Go on then; “lumen cui ademptum,” A worse thing satan never dreamt on; And sure your worships cannot urge ill, Such classic matter—all from Virgil. Although the slightest scintillation, Of your terrific indignation, Should cause the foe to topple under, Like rotten gate-posts struck with thunder! Although that pity would be folly, Which checks said thunder in mid volley, Or intercepts annihilation From foresaid refuse of creation— ’Tis possible the rebel rout May rashly strive to stand it out; And therefore we will next disclose How to proceed from words to blows.