No. XI.
Jan. 22, 1798.
We have said in another part of our paper of this day, “that though we shall never begin an attack, we shall always be prompt to repel it”.
On this principle, we could not pass over in silence the Epistle to the Editors of the Anti-Jacobin, which appeared in the Morning Chronicle of Wednesday, and from which we have fortunately been furnished with a motto for this day’s paper.
We assure the author of the epistle, that the answer which we have here the honour to address to him, contains our genuine and undisguised sentiments upon the merits of the poem.
Our conjectures respecting the authors and abettors of this performance may possibly be as vague and unfounded as theirs are with regard to the Editors of the Anti-Jacobin. We are sorry that we cannot satisfy their curiosity upon this subject—but we have little anxiety for the gratification of our own.
It is hardly to be expected, that the character of the epistle should be taken on trust from the editors of this volume; it is thought best, therefore, to subjoin the whole performance as it originally appeared—a mode of hostility obviously the most fair, and in respect to the combatants in the cause of Jacobinism, by much the most effectual. They are always best opposed by the arms which they themselves furnish. Jacobinism shines by its own light.
To the respectable names which the author of the following address has thought proper to connect with the “Anti-Jacobin,” no apology is made for thus preserving this otherwise perishable specimen of dulness and defamation. He who has been reviled by the enemies of the “Anti-Jacobin,” must feel that principles are attributed to him, of which he need not be ashamed: and when the abuse is conveyed in such a strain of feebleness and folly, he must see that those principles excite animosity only in quarters of which he need not be afraid.
It is only necessary to add, what is most conscientiously the truth, that this production, such as it is, is by far the best of all the attacks that the combined wits of the cause have been able to muster against the “Anti-Jacobin”.
EPISTLE TO THE EDITORS OF THE ANTI-JACOBIN.[[40]]
Hic Niger est; hunc tu, Romane, caveto!
To tell what gen’rals did, or statesmen spoke,
To teach the world by truths, or please by joke;
To make mankind grow bold as they peruse,
Judge on existing things, and—weigh the news;
For this a PAPER first display’d its page,
Commanding tears and smiles through ev’ry age!
Hail, justly famous! who in modern days
With nobler flight aspire to higher praise;
Hail, justly famous! whose discerning eyes
At once detect MISTAKES, MIS-STATEMENTS, LIES;[[41]]
10
Hail, justly famous! who with fancy blest,
Use fiend-like virulence for sportive jest;
Who only bark to serve your private ends—
Patrons of Prejudice, Corruption’s friends!
Who hurl your venom’d darts at well-earned fame—
Virtue your hate, and Calumny your aim!
Whoe’er ye are, all hail!—whether the skill
Of youthful Canning guides the ranc’rous quill;
With powers mechanic far above his age,
Adapts the paragraph and fills the page;
20
Measures the column, mends whate’er’s amiss,
Rejects THAT letter, and accepts of THIS;
Or Hammond,[[42]] leaving his official toil,
O’er this great work consume the midnight oil—
Bills, passports, letters, for the Muses quit,
And change dull business for amusing wit:—
His life of labour at one gasp is o’er,
His books forgot—his desk beloved no more!
Proceed to prop the Ministerial cause;
See consequential Morpeth[[43]] nods applause;
30
In ev’ry fair one’s ears at balls and plays
The gentle Granville Leveson[[44]] whispers praise:
Well-judging Patrons, whom such works can please;
Great works, well worthy Patrons such as these!
Who heard, not raptured, the poetic Sage
Who sung of Gallia in a headlong rage,
And blandly drew with no uncourtly grace
The simple manners of our English race—
Extoll’d great Duncan, and, supremely brave,
Whelm’d Buonaparte’s pride beneath the wave?
40
I swear by all the youths that Malmesbury[[45]] chose,
By Ellis’[[46]] sapient prominence of nose,
By Morpeth’s gait, important, proud, and big—
By Leveson Gower’s crop-imitating wig,
That, could the pow’rs which in those numbers shine,
Could that warm spirit animate my line,
Your glorious deeds which humbly I rehearse—
Your deeds should live immortal as my verse;
And, while they wonder’d whence I caught my flame,
Your sons should blush to read their fathers’ shame!
50
Proceed, great men!—your office is not done;
Proceed with what you have so well begun:
Load Fox (if you by Pitt would be preferr’d),
With ev’ry guilt that Kenyon ever heard—
Adult’rer, gamester, drunkard, cheat and knave,
A factious demagogue and pension’d slave!
Loose, loose your cry—with ire satiric flash:
Let all the Opposition feel your lash;
And prove them to these hot and partial times,
A combination of the worst of crimes!
60
But softer numbers softer subjects fit:
In liquid phrases thrill the praise of Pitt;
Extol in eulogies of candid truth
The Virgin Minister—the Heav’n-born Youth;
The greatest gift that fate to England gave,
Created to support and born to save;
Prompt to supply whate’er his country lacks—
Skilful to GAG, and knowing how to TAX!
With him companions meet in order stand—
A firm, compact, and well-appointed band;
70
Skill’d to advance or to retreat, Dundas,[[47]]
And bear thick battle on his front of brass;
Grenville with pond’rous head, which match’d we find
By equal ponderosity behind.——
But hold, my Muse; nor farther these pursue!—
Great Editors, we have digress’d from you;
From you, to whom our trivial lays belong,
From you, the sole inspirers of our song!
Proceed:—urge on the same vindictive strain,
To gain the applauses of great Malmesbury’s train;
80
With jaundiced eyes the noblest patriot scan:
Proceed—be more opprobrious if you can;
Proceed—be more abusive ev’ry hour;
To be more stupid is beyond your power.