The History of Johnny Quæ Genus, the Little Foundling of the Late Doctor Syntax. / A Poem by the Author of the Three Tours.

by William Combe

Quæ Genus.

"Plac'd as we are, it seems to be The height of that prosperity Which such as we can e'er enjoy; And it becomes us to employ The means it offers to possess Our views of future happiness. I doubt not, Molly, but you feel, For your sweet lady, all the zeal, Which flows alike from due regard As the just hope of due reward: But still, I think, it must appear That we've a doubtful course to steer;
How we may keep within the line, Our great folks' interest to combine With what we know is yours and mine.	}
They are with generous grace endued, To us how kind they are and good. But life with them is nought but pleasure; Luxurious show fills up the measure Of all their hours, as they run on Through each meander of the Ton. They sometimes talk of prudent schemes, And reason's language veils the dreams; But the incessant love of change Invites the unreflecting range 'Neath ev'ry dome where pride resorts And fashion holds her motley courts; Though while they for their pleasures roam We too well know their cost at home. This proud parade can never last, Their ready wealth will soon be past. —Nay, when I bring the month's account, And silent point to the amount; He tells my Lady what I've done, And she exclaims, ''tis precious fun!— We need not for our ruin fear With such a careful guardian near!' When I point out the triple charge In many a bill display'd at large, She says, 'Quæ Genus, do not grieve, Tradesmen, my honest friend, must live! Nay, when from service you retire, And sit all plodding by your fire In thought what profits should repay The labours of the closing day;—
When o'er some door we see your name, A dealer of great retail fame, You have our leave to do the same.'	}

"I made my bow and answer'd nought,

But then I paid it off in thought;

And, as their gen'rous leave they give,

Like others to play tricks and live,

I may begin, perhaps, before

My name is painted on the door;

And, in good time, my fortune try

With that same prosp'ring honesty.

—I tell you, Molly, 'tis as clear

As we, dear girl, are sitting here,

That our great folks were both created

So rich, please fortune, to be cheated.

And we must aid them, as you see,

Thus to fulfil their destiny.

For trifles we'll not make a fuss,

They will not be the worse for us:

If we do not our pockets fill,

Others there are who quickly will,

But not by any paltry gains,

As pilfering of Sovereigns.

You must not crib a handsome shawl

And say 'twas lost at such a ball;

Nor will you in some corner place

A card or roll of costly lace,

That when you think she has forgot it,

You to your own use may allot it:—

Nor, when she gives a thrice-worn dress

Your vanity and wish to bless,

Do not within its wide folds smother,

As if by chance, just such another,

As she'd not miss it 'mid such plenty

A wardrobe of full five-and-twenty,

While others, 'mid the toilet's din

Are almost daily pouring in.

Can we such means as these pursue?—

Would it be just in me and you:

Though I guess by your waggish smile,

What you are thinking of the while.

But still I feel it is not right

That you should lose your perquisite;

Nor do I, my dear girl, incline

E'er to forego the claim to mine,

And tempting opportunity

May tell us what those claims should be,

And 'tis out right to seize the chance

That's furnish'd by extravagance,

When call'd upon to prove our taste

In ssaving what would run to waste;

For rumpled fin'ry, all thrown by,

Is safer in our custody.

—When t'other day the Knight bespoke

A new great-coat and Hussar cloak;

'Sure, Sir,' I said, 'you have forgot

Of these same coverings what a lot,

Neither be-spotted, scratch'd or torn

And some of them have scarce been worn,

Which are all hanging in the hall:'—

'They're old,' he said, 'so take them all.'

—I bow'd and took them to my keeping;

Snub in my wardrobe they are sleeping.

It is the same, I know it well,

You of your Lady have to tell:

I doubt not but your hoard encreases

Of Spencers, mantles and pelisses:

But let it be out mutual boast

That sage precaution rules the roast;

Amd take care that we never deal in

Any thing that looks like stealing.

My books are fair, accounts are right,

In them my honour's sound and tight:

Valet I am and Butler both,

A rare advantage to our cloth,

And there's no day, nay scarce an hour

But tempting profits court my power,

Yet may dread Heaven above forsake me,

And Old Nick in his fury take me,

If I the pilf'ring track pursue

Which hireling knaves so often do.

When from the shopmen we receive

The somethings they are us'd to give

As their long, bouncing bills are paid,

'Tis not our Knight is tax'd, but trade,

Though should we not our poundage claim

Sum Totals would be just the same.

—E'en when, as if a boon, I crave

Some superfluity to save,

Perhaps he'll tell me I'm a fool,

Or threat to floor me with a stool.

—Last week, he said, 'at our next fête,

(Mind what I say and hold your prate)

Let the desert in splendour shine

With gay plateaus and many a pine.'

VWhen as, to check the cost's encrease,

I hinted what they were a piece,

He ranted, 'if there are not five,

Thou slave, I'll cut you up alive.

Dare you look piteous? for then

You scurvy clown, I'll order ten.'

"These gay delusions cannot last, The spendthrift scene will soon be past; And, in another year or two You'll see that what I say is true. When Banker's checks, that easy pay Like fancy's ghosts have pass'd away, When the whole funded wealth is sold Another story will be told; When all the ready cash is flown, The country-rents will change their tone, Nor will the half-grown oaks supply The means for one year's luxury.
Crabbed Entail will rise beside And dare the acres to provide The power to feed their needy pride,	}
And Mortgage-deeds in vain will strive To keep the piteous show alive. While thus the vain folk whom we serve, Do from each point of prudence swerve, While thus they waste in such a way, To Luxury the willing prey, I know, my girl, what I've to do, And faith, shall leave the rest to you!"