"May I be flogg'd with thorny briars If e'er I heard such cursed liars,
And should I venture now to say I ne'er purloin'd or corn or hay, I should be liar big as they!
}
Nay, 'tis such folly to be lying, And all these trifling tricks denying, Which, ere a fortnight's past and over, Mr. Ezekiel must discover. Sir Jeff'ry's keen look never sees What are but clever servants' fees, And he would feel it to his sorrow, Were he to change us all to-morrow; For the new steward soon will see No master's better serv'd than he. There's not a carriage about town That looks genteeler than our own; Or horses with more sprightly air, Trot through the street or round a square. I say that we all do our duty, And if we make a little booty, We never hear Sir Jeff. complain: And wherefore should one give him pain? If better servants he should seek, He must be changing ev'ry week; And I am sure that kind of strife Would spoil the quiet of his life: Nay, as you know, there is no question Would operate on his digestion; And when that fails, it is a point That puts the rest all out of joint. Thus all our trifling, secret gains Save him a multitude of pains: And when our daily work is done, If we kick up a little fun, No harm proceeds—no ill is meant— He's not disturb'd—and all's content. —Nay, now my friends, I'll club my shilling, And you, I'm sure, will be as willing To drink—that bus'ness may go on In the same temper it has done, And, without any treach'rous bother, That we may understand each other: That, without boasting or denying, We need not to continue lying; And that, disdaining needless fuss, Ezekiel may be one of us."
The wine was brought, for vulgar beer
Was not thought proper to appear;
The cook a pigeon pie produc'd,
And other tit-bits that amus'd
The appetites of those who sought 'em,
With thanks to the fat dame who brought 'em.
—Thus the new steward was made free
Of kitchen hospitality;
And to be blind to what he saw,
He was bound down by kitchen law.
At length, in office thus install'd, And each was gone where duty call'd,
He, with a pressing arm, embrac'd The busy cook's well-fatten'd waist, As with her pin she plied the paste;
}
When from her active tongue he drew The duties which he had to do, And how he might their claims divide, Nor lean too much to either side. —Our hero, who now felt his ground, Thought not of change in what he found; And that to enter on reform Would be but to excite a storm, Disturb the Knight's desir'd repose And fill a kitchen full of foes. He plainly saw his station bound him To be at peace with all around him: But, as the diff'rent int'rests drew, He rather trembled at the view.
Thus, if we may small things compare
With those which more important are,
We may Ezekiel's state apply
To maxims of philosophy,
By which it seems life's changeful hours
Are subject to two adverse powers,
That govern as by time or chance,
Nay, struggle for predominance;
While each, at diff'rent hours, may be
Possess'd of short-liv'd victory,
As varying impulses may bind
The operations of the mind.
Here selfish int'rest will prevail—
There gen'rous feeling turns the scale;
So that he neither can be said
Strictly to be or good or bad;
But in the one or other sense,
Of that presiding influence
Which counteracting views may give,
And the complying mind receive.
Thus, subject to these adverse powers,
In diff'rent places—diff'rent hours—
Poor mortal man, by their constraint,
May be a sinner or a saint.
To day he's wading to the chin
In folly's stream, through thick and thin;
While, on the morrow, he may prove
What virtue's self delights to love.
'Twas in this case our hero stood: He might be bad—he might be good; If good, he must the kitchen sweep— If bad, its tricks a secret keep; But if he would preserve his cloth, He must determine to be both.
Thus, as he took a thoughtful view, He saw, his int'rest to pursue, He must divide himself in two.
}
Above to stick to rigid plan— Below to join the lively clan: In what Sir Jeff'ry did entrust To his sole province, to be just; But ne'er to interrupt the show That was kept up by friends below: At least, he was resolv'd to try This system of philosophy; To be a favourite with all, In drawing room and servants' hall. From all that he at present view'd, No other plan could be pursu'd; No other method could he trace, To be at ease and keep his place.
Up-stairs to serious care he went, Down-stairs to stolen merriment, And thus the day and night were spent.
}
Sir Jeff'ry, in a tone of pleasure,
Talk'd of Ezekiel as a treasure;
And, far as the good Knight could tell,
He merited the title well:
Nay, it is true, he never fail'd
To meet the humour that prevail'd;
And through the day, from morn till night,
Sir Jeff'ry found that all was right.
But when he slumb'ring sought his bed,
And on the pillow laid his head,
Then did our hero quit his post
And pass away like midnight ghost;
Then did he from his virtue move,
The power that rul'd him when above,
And seek the lively sports below;
For what could puzzled hunch-back do?
Could he another course prefer?
No,—he must take things as they were.
in the service of sir jeffrey gourmand
Drawn by Rowlandson
Quæ Genus, in the service of Sir. Jeffery Gourmand.
In this wide world, how oft is seen A phantom with alluring mien, Y'clep'd Temptation, whose sweet smiles Too oft the stoutest heart beguiles. Whate'er its forms, they seldom fail Sooner or later to prevail. If it assumes a golden shower, Or sits in any seat of power, How numerous the slavish band Who offer to obey command: Still, some examples may be shown Of those whose virtues would disown Its influence, and refuse to fly, Or yield the palm of victory. But where's the heart that e'er disdains The pow'r that dwells where beauty reigns? If such a question we propose, Ezekiel was not one of those; And thus below-stairs he began To break upon his up-stairs plan:
Nay, this same rigid rule of right, In his close duties to the Knight, He now thought might be drawn too tight;
}
And that, in trifles, to his feeling, He might be safe in double dealing, And in the drawing-room apply The aid of kitchen policy: But he as soon would think of murther As to proceed an atom further. How he thus happen'd to decline From his strict, philosophic line; Why he relax'd from law severe In the Knight's upper atmosphere, Will not surprise one human creature Who the world knows, or human nature, Or recollects the joy or smart When passion first invades the heart.
There were two objects most bewitching, That sparkled all around the kitchen; Though so bright was every kettle, Or plate or pan of various metal, That each might gaze upon a face As if they peep'd into a glass: Though fire-irons did reveal The shining of the polish'd steel,— Yet these superior pow'rs display'd, Than aught by human artist made: In short, to state what they could be, And silence curiosity, They were two eyes which lustre shed Where'er the owner turn'd her head; Though they gave not the only grace That play'd on Molly's charming face. But whether 'twas her lips or nose, Or the fine curve of auburn brows, That aided the commanding eye In its well-play'd artillery, Howe'er that be—in his warm heart Ezekiel had receiv'd the dart, And as its ruling power he felt, Each steady purpose 'gan to melt:—
For her he might his virtue stake And let his yielding conscience quake, Nay, cheat Sir Jeff'ry for her sake.
}
'Tis not the office of the Muse,
On slight suspicions, to accuse;
Nor does she now present to view
More than 'tis probable she knew:
But one day, and it may be more,
His constant meal of dainties o'er,
Dull nature did the Knight incline
To snore a little o'er his wine.
Our hero, seeing Molly pass,
He tempted her to take a glass;
For, in his state of tender feeling,
What gen'rous mind will call it stealing?
And scorn'd be they who think it treason
Against the better rules of reason,
If, in return, he sought a kiss;
But as he seiz'd the melting bliss,
Tall Margery was passing by
By chance or curiosity:
She glanc'd at all was onward going,
And what Ezekiel was bestowing;
When, as she cast her leering eye,
Thus thought her rising jealousy.
"If, Sir, you give Miss Moll the glass,
I'll try to make a bottle pass;"
Then push'd her stout arm by the door,
The sideboard's juices to explore.
If 'twas by chance the action came,
Or if a purpos'd trick's to blame,
A smart kick caus'd the door to close
And caught the damsel by the nose.
The luckless nose was rather long,
And had its gristle not been strong,
Had not the door been edg'd with baize
To give its hurried motion ease,—
Had it been sharp, the wicked pinch
Might have cut short that nose an inch.
Madge now scream'd out at her disaster, And swore that she would tell her master, But our Ezekiel found a plaister;
}
Though what the plaister was he found To silence tongues and cure the wound, We must not nice enquiry make For virtue's and our hero's sake. But we may tell, for this we know, That all was still and calm below; Though as the faithful verse will prove He shap'd another plan above, Form'd to controul all household feud, And be as honest as he could; Thus give to things another face To live at ease and keep his place. —Two int'rests into one were thrown, Those of Sir Jeff'ry and his own: The former strictly to maintain, Nor yet the latter to disdain; The Knight's confiding grace to keep, Nor let his own advantage sleep; The kitchen's jovial mirth to boast, But leave the cook to rule the roast; To be of Molly's smiles possest, Though never to offend the rest: And here we fear is the beginning, The first short lesson of his sinning.
So young, and with such little sense
Of what is call'd—experience;
And whom the world had not yet taught,
As it might do, to set at nought
What conscience tells us we should shun,
What we should do or leave undone;
Or, with a certain self-deceit,
The virtues of the heart to cheat,
He certainly appears to be
Envelop'd in perplexity,
And verging on a dang'rous scrape
From which he might not make escape
Without a loss which he would rue
Of the fair prospects in his view;
And thus be on a sudden hurl'd
Faithless and friendless on the world.
As in his plan this hasty change
Was, it may seem, so very strange,
It therefore may be well to know
From whence such awkward motives flow,
For awkward motives they must be
Which trench upon integrity.
It was not Molly's sparkling eyes
Which sought his virtue to surprise;
For though he might her heart beguile
To yield his wish a fav'ring smile,
She ne'er allow'd of a pretence
Beyond the claim of Innocence.
There is a proverb so well known It would be ign'rance not to own The having heard and felt its truth E'en in the days of early youth, That, if we chance with those to live Whose lives a bad example give, They will convey, as we shall find, A foul contagion to the mind. Thus for a time Ezekiel stood Firm as the tree that crowns the wood, But, after mocking ev'ry blast, Will sometimes bend and fall at last. Though whether he began to shake, Or only suffer'd twigs to break,
But still retain'd his fibres bound, In firm defiance to the ground, While the main trunk, tho' shook, was sound,
}
Is what the curious mind shall know, And no far distant page will show. Thus the humble verse will trace His future honour or disgrace; As intermingled they must be With scenes of household history.
When good Sir Jeff'ry's gout was kind And to his bed he was confin'd; No dainty dinner to be got, And nought but messes in the pot, The kitchen folk, then quite at leisure, Would think of more than common pleasure; Then butlers of the higher station, And valets to gay men of fashion, Invited were, to join the ball Now given in the servants' hall, With ladies' maids who titles bore Of mistresses—whose gowns they wore; And sometimes a smart tradesman, too, Would pop in to say—how do ye do.
—Here all home secrets were betray'd— The various tricks which servants play'd, And how their fortunes could be made.
}
When one grave man his silence broke, And thus to our Ezekiel spoke:— "Had I," says he, "so fine a place, As your superior manners grace; Had I a rich man in my keeping, Who passes half his time in sleeping; Whose purse is always in your view, And lets you pay his tradesmen too; While, that he may enjoy his ease, He makes you guardian of his keys, My growing fortune soon should flow, And in a way he ne'er should know. If by his bed you are his nurse, And have the jingling of his purse; If, when the doctor comes to see him, And you are calmly told to fee him, You must be nam'd the veriest elf If, then, you do not fee yourself: Nay, when his fingers, cramp'd with gout, Cannot well take a sovereign out, And he should bid you take out four, Contrive to grapple five or more. 'Tis when he's sick with aches and ails, When pain torments and mem'ry fails, When the night's pass'd his bed beside, Then Fortune tells you to provide For future wants,—and bless the hour That gives the means into your power: Nor ever fail, on some pretence, To rail against the rash expense Which doctors and their varlets bring To patients, sick and suffering, Till you can get him to exclaim— 'Expense is a mere idle name; Of cost let your complainings cease, I care not so it gives me ease:' Then offer up your thanks to Heaven That to his fortune it is given To be thus blest with ample wealth, At any cost to purchase health. This is your harvest; I shall tell Another story when he's well: That time's but short,—though let him see That then you're all economy. When he can settle an account, And look into the just amount, Then, then let ev'ry thing appear Just as it ought—correct and clear. Thus let your speculations rove When well below, when sick above, And all I'm worth I now would stake You will, in time, a fortune make. Rich as he is, and careless too, With such a confidence in you, Sir Jeffery will never feel Your happy turn in fortune's wheel."
"Hold, hold awhile," the list'ner said,
"This is too much," and shook his head;
"For still I feel, without offence,
I've not quite done with Conscience,
Nor can so boldly lay aside
The warnings of that faithful guide!
Am I this moment to forget
How much I'm in Sir Jeff'ry's debt,
And thus, with chance of foul disgrace,
To play the rogue and risque my place?"
"No, no," his counsellor replied,
"Servants and masters are allied;
Each is to each a foster-brother,
And have their claims on one another.
An useful servant is a treasure,
Whose service masters seldom measure.
What I now from my heart commend,
As an experienc'd, willing friend,
Is not to rob or place your paw
On what is guarded by the law,
But such as are no more than fees
For all your extra services;
For duties which no pay engages,
Under the common name of wages;
For what your varied service grants
To all his fancied, sickly wants,
Which never can your toil requite
For all you do by day or night.
"When Sir Jeffery fortune gain'd,
By contracts from the State obtain'd,
Think you he had a pious loathing
To crib a yard from soldiers' clothing?
And when he did his thousands touch,
To say—'my lord, I've got too much;
And I am ready to confess
I should have done the job for less.'
How could such men their fortunes make
Did they but fair advantage take!
And have you not an equal claim,
In a small way, to do the same?
—When the Knight took his daily range
From Mincing Lane to the Exchange,
And calculated as he went,
How he should make his Cent. per Cent.
Think you that he was over-nice
To fix his rate of merchandise?
When his ships sought some foreign strand,
Did he disdain the contraband,
If he could but with safety chouse
The sentries of the custom-house?
A little smuggling all allow,
But only mind the when and how:
Take your per centage, but with care;
And who will say it is not fair?
—I've serv'd the wealthy and the great,
Nay once a Minister of state,
And as I saw that in his station
He did not fail to rob the nation,
I thought I might indulge the whim,
As a turn serv'd, to pilfer him.
I courted too my Lady's maid,
For Charlotte understood her trade:
I form'd my plan and did espouse her,
Then started up a tonish grocer,
Kept butlers in my constant pay
Who serve me in the usual way,
And all the house-keepers around
With certain something in the pound.
Now hear the advantage which I share
From all my caution, all my care!
I have a genteel, pleasant home,
To ladies let my drawing-room,
And in a whisky I can ride
With Charlotte smiling by my side.
'Tis thus I offer to your view,
What I have done,—for you to do."
Here this fine conversation ended, But not, perhaps, as was intended, Which strong temptations might display To lead th' unsettled mind astray; And, for a time, as fancy play'd, Now beaming light, now seeking shade, Ezekiel hover'd o'er the plan Of specious rogue or honest man. Perhaps a smart, neat, pleasant shop, Did on his pericranium pop, With his warm, faithful wish to crown, The lovely Molly then his own: Such interests might his purpose guide, Till he was questioned by his pride;— "—But can this be a proper plan For one bred like a gentleman?
'Tis true I cannot change the show Of kitchen policy below, There I must yield, I'm bound to know:
}
But, in the regions above, The whole in rectitude shall move; To the Knight's goodness I may trust, And faithful will I be and just; Nor ever take or e'en receive But what his favour's pleas'd to give; Nor shall reproach my mind disgrace Whene'er I look him in the face." Such were his thoughts,—the grocer fail'd. Thus honesty at length prevail'd, And sav'd him, as things shortly stood, From baseness of ingratitude.
In a few days the parting gout
Gave the Knight leave to go about,
And one day in his arm-chair plac'd,
The table with its luncheon grac'd,
Smiling, as he luxurious sat,
He thus let loose his easy chat.
"This soup, my friend's a special treat, Fit for an Emperor to eat, And now, my pleasure to pursue, I trust I have a treat for you. I've spar'd no pains to know the fate That on your future hopes may wait, And what I shall proceed to tell May altogether please you well, Unless you are resolv'd to try New whims and tricks of foolery, On which, however will depend, Whether your master is your friend. If, at all points, the news I bring May not be quite so flattering; Yet surely it deserves at least, To be thought good, if not the best. —You need no longer stand in awe Of any terrors of the law, The beating you to Gripe-all gave Did little harm to that same knave, For he surviv'd to play a prank, By robbing of a country bank, And fled, as his late neighbours say, To flourish in America. Thither your fortune too is gone, But then your fears are also flown. Time, it is hop'd may make amends, Fortune and you may still be friends; Nor shall I my best wishes smother To introduce you to each other. My growing favour you will see, So lay aside your livery: Hence you will need not a disguise 'Gainst curious thoughts and prying eyes: Your former title you may claim, Again Quæ Genus is your name: Be faithful, and you soon shall know The kindness I may yet bestow.
Nay, be but honest, while I live Your upright service shall receive All that my grateful hand should give:
}
Nor doubt my purpose as sincere,— More may be meant than meets the ear."
What heart, with the least sense of good,
That would not melt with gratitude,
When such a gen'rous friend was near
The clouded scenes of life to cheer,
And bid the drooping hopes pursue
A brighter prospect now in view!
And where's the heart that would not feel,
And where's the tongue that could conceal
The sense that virtue had withstood
Such specious efforts to delude!
Quæ Genus the sensation felt
That bade repenting thoughts to melt;
Nay, he e'en cast his eyes to Heaven,
With doubts that he should be forgiven
For having listen'd to deceit
And almost yielded to the cheat,
Whose principles had he obey'd
As in the grocer's scheme display'd,
All trembling he should now have stood
A monster of ingratitude.
What he had 'scap'd his heart confess'd,
And his moist eyes confirm'd the rest.
With ev'ry grateful feeling fraught
He spoke not, but 'twas thus he thought:—
"My ever-watchful care shall tend
To make me worthy such a friend,
And all my kindred virtues burn
To make that friend a due return."
The Knight, with kindness, view'd the feeling,
Which poor Quæ Genus was revealing;
When, to cut short the pleasing pain
Which words were failing to explain,
He smiling bade him take his way
To the known duties of the day.
Of words there was a mute hiatus, And of the noon-tide apparatus The table quickly was bereft, While with some new-born pamphlet left, Sir Jeffery calmly was proceeding To gratify his usual reading, When our Quæ Genus bore away The fragments of the lighten'd tray, And sought his pantry's cool retreat, Where, lolling on a welcome seat, He let his busy fancy range Throughout the unexpected change, That did upon his fortune wait; And still, though humble was his state, Scarce could he think it a disaster To wait the will of such a master; Nor did his pride reluctant bend, Since that same master was his friend. All that indulgence could bestow Sir Jeff'ry did not fail to show; And, when alone, it seem'd to please The knight to set him at his ease, And shrink the distance to a span Between the master and the man.
—Nay, here it cannot be denied That it was soothing to his pride To lay the shoulder-knot aside.
}
The liv'ried dress of red and brown He thus was call'd on to disown: In blue and buff, or buff and blue He now appear'd to daily view. The knight allow'd the taylor's art By all its power to make him smart; And Snip with his consummate skill, In working drapery to his will, By his contrivance gave the cape A flow to soften down the shape, So that the hump could scarce be said His general figure to degrade, Nor, to a common view, be seen To indispose his pleasing mien.
