THE PROGRESS OF DULNESS. [Part I.]

THE PROGRESS OF DULNESS . [ Part I. ] " OUR Tom is grown a sturdy boy ; His progress fills my heart with joy ; A steady soul that yields to rule , And quite ingenious too , at school . Our master says , ( I'm sure he's right ) There's not a lad in town so bright . He'll cypher bravely , write and read , And say his catechism and creed , And scorns to hesitate or faulter In primmer , spelling-book or psalter . Hard work indeed — he does not love it ; His genius is too much above it . Give him a good substantial teacher , I'll lay he makes a special preacher . I've lov'd good learning all my life : We'll send the lad to college , wife . " Thus sway'd by fond and sightless passion , His parents hold a consultation : If on their couch , or round their fire , I need not tell , nor you enquire . The point's agreed ; the boy well pleas'd , From country cares and labour eas'd ; No more to rise by break of day To drive home cows , or deal out hay ; To work no more in snow or hail , And blow his fingers o'er the flail , Or mid the toils of harvest sweat Beneath the summer's sultry heat . Serene , he bids the farm , good-bye , And quits the plow without a sigh . Propitious to their constant friend , The pow'rs of idleness attend . So to the priest in form he goes , Prepar'd to study and to doze . The Parson in his youth before , Had run the same dull progress o'er : His sole concern to see with care His church , and farm in good repair . His skill in tongues , that once he knew , Had bid him long , a last adieu ; Away his latin rules had fled , And Greek had vanish'd from his head . Then view our youth with grammar teazing . Untaught in meaning , sense or reason ; Of knowledge e'er he gain his fill , he Must diet long on husks of Lillie , Drudge on for weary months in vain , By mem'ry's strength , and dint of brain ; From thence to murd'ring Virgil's verse , And construing Tully into farce , Or lab'ring with his grave preceptor , In Greek to blunder o'er a chapter . The latin testament affords The needed help of ready words ; At hand the dictionary laid , Gives up it's page in frequent aid ; Hard by the lexicon and grammar , Those helps for mem'ry when they stammer ; The lesson's short ; the priest contented ; His task to hear is sooner ended . He lets him mind his own concerns , Then tells his parents how he learns . A year thus spent in gathering knowledge , The lad sets forth t' unlade at college , While down his sire and priest attend him , To introduce and recommend him : Or if detain'd , a letter's sent Of much apocryphal content , To set him forth , ( how dull soever ) As very learn'd and very clever ; A genius of the first emission , With burning love for erudition ; So studious he'll outwatch the moon And think the planets set too soon ; He had but little time to fit in ; Examination too must frighten ; Depend upon't he must do well , He knows much more than he can tell ; Admit him , and in little space He'll beat his rivals in the race ; His father's incomes are but small , He comes now , if he comes at all . So said , so done , at college now He enters well — no matter how — New scenes awhile his fancy please , But all must yield to love of ease . In the same round condemn'd each day , To study , read , recite and pray ; To make his hours of business double — He can't endure th' increasing trouble : And finds at length , as times grow pressing , All plagues are easier than his lesson . With sleepy eyes and count'nance heavy , With much excuse of Non paravi , I have not prepared for recitation . An excuse commonly given . non paravi , Much absence , tardes and egresses , The college-evil on him seizes . Then ev'ry book , which ought to please , Stirs up the seeds of dire disease : Greek spoils his eyes ( the print's so fine ) Grown dim with study — and with wine ; Of Tully's latin much afraid , Each page , he calls the doctor's aid ; While geometry , with lines so crooked , Sprains all his wits to overlook it . His sickness puts on every name . It's cause and uses still the same ; 'Tis tooth-ach , cholic , gout or stone , With phases various as the moon : But though through all the body spread , Still makes its cap'tal seat , the head . In all diseases , 'tis expected , The weakest parts be most infected . Kind headach hail ! thou blest disease , The friend of idleness and ease ; Who mid the still and dreary bound , Where college-walls her sons surround , In spite of fears , in justice ' spight , Assum'st o'er laws dispensing right , Set'st from his task the blunderer free , Excus'd by dulness and by thee . Thy vot'ries bid a bold defiance To all the calls and threats of science , Slight learning human and divine , And hear no prayers , and fear no fine . And yet how oft the studious gain , The dulness of a letter'd brain ; Despising such low things the while As English grammar , phrase and style ; Despising ev'ry nicer art , That aids the tongue , or mends the heart : Read antient authors o'er in vain , Nor taste one beauty they contain ; Humbly on trust accept the sense , But deal for words at vast expence ; Search well how ev'ry term must vary From lexicon to dictionary ; And plodding on in one dull tone , Gain antient tongues , and lose their own , Bid every graceful charm defiance , And woo the skeleton of science . Come ye , who finer arts despise , And scoff at verse as heathen lies ; In all the pride of dulness rage At Pope , or Milton's deathless page ; Or stung by truth's deep-searching line , Rave ev'n at rhymes as low as mine : Say ye who boast the name of wise , Wherein substantial learning lies . Is it , superb in classic lore , To speak what Homer spoke before , To write the language Tully wrote , The style , the cadence and the note ? Is there a charm in sounds of Greek , No language else can learn to speak ; That cures distemper'd brains at once , Like Pliny's rhymes for broken bones ? Is there a spirit found in latin , That must evap'rate in translating ? And say , are sense and genius bound To any vehicles of sound ? Is it by mathematic's aid To count the worlds in light array'd , To know each star , that lifts it's eye , To sparkle in the midnight sky ? Say ye , who draw the curious line Between the useful and the fine , How little can this noble art It's aid in human things impart , Or give to life a chearful ray , And force our pains , and cares away . Is it to know whate'er was done Above the circle of the sun ? Is it to lift the active mind Beyond the bounds by heav'n assign'd : And leave our little world at home , Through realms of entity to roam ; Attempt the secrets dark to scan , Eternal wisdom hid from man ; For sense , deal loads of definitions , And fritter truth in sub-divisions , And make religion but the sign In din of battle when to join ? Vain man , to madness still a prey , Thy space a point , thy life a day , A feeble worm , that aim'st to stride In all the foppery of pride ! The glimmering lamp of reason's ray Was giv'n to guide thy darksome way . Why wilt thou spread thine insect-wings , And strive to reach sublimer things ? Thy doubts confess , thy blindness own , Nor vex thy thoughts with scenes unknown . Indulgent heav'n to man below , Hath all explain'd we need to know ; Hath clearly taught enough to prove Content below , and bliss above . Thy boastful wish how proud and vain , While heav'n forbids the vaunting strain ! For metaphysics rightly shown But teach how little can be known : Though quibbles still maintain their station , Conjecture serves for demonstration , Armies of pens draw forth to fight , And ******* and ****** write . Oh ! might I live to see that day , When sense shall point to youths their way ; Through every maze of science guide ; O'er education's laws preside : The good retain ; with just discerning Explode the quackeries of learning ; Give antient arts their real due , Explain their faults , and beauties too ; Teach where to imitate , and mend , And point their uses and their end . Then bright philosophy would shine , And ethics teach the laws divine ; Our youths might learn each nobler art , That shews a passage to the heart ; From antient languages well known Transfuse new beauties to our own ; With taste and fancy well refin'd , Where moral rapture warms the mind , From schools dismiss'd , with lib'ral hand , Spread useful learning o'er the land ; And bid the eastern world admire Our rising worth , and bright'ning fire . But while through fancy's realms we roam , The main concern is left at home ; Return'd , our hero still we find The same , as blundering and as blind . Four years at college doz'd away In sleep , and slothfulness and play , Too dull for vice , with clearest conscience , Charg'd with no fault , but that of nonsense , ( And nonsense long , with serious air Has wander'd unmolested there ) He passes trial fair , and free , And takes in form his first degree . A scholar see him now commence Without the aid of books or sense : For passing college cures the brain , Like mills to grind men young again . The scholar-dress , that once array'd him , The charm , Admitto te ad gradum . I admit you to a degree ; part of the words used in conferring the honors of college . Admitto te ad gradum , With touch of parchment can refine , And make the veriest coxcomb shine , Confer the gift of tongues at once , And fill with sense the vacant dunce . So kingly crowns contain quintessence Of worship , dignity and presence ; Give learning , genius , virtue , worth , Wit , valor , wisdom and so forth ; Hide the bald pate , and cover o'er The cap of folly worn before . Our hero's wit and learning now may Be prov'd by token of Diploma , Of that Diploma , which with speed He learns to construe and to read ; And stalks abroad with conscious stride , In all the airs of pedant-pride , With passport sign'd for wit and knowledge , And current under seal of college . Few months now past , he sees with pain His purse as empty as his brain ; His father leaves him then to fate , And throws him off , as useless weight ; But gives him good advice , to teach A school at first , and then to preach . Thou reason'st well ; it must be so ; For nothing else thy son can do . As thieves of old , t' avoid the halter , Took refuge in the holy altar : Oft dulness flying from disgrace Finds safety in that sacred place ; There boldly rears his head , or rests Secure from ridicule or jests ; Where dreaded satire may not dare Offend his Wig's extremest hair ; Where scripture sanctifies his strains , And rev'rence hides the want of brains . Next see our youth at school appear , Procur'd for forty pounds a year , His ragged regiment round assemble , Taught , not to read , but fear and tremble . Before him , rods prepare his way , Those dreaded antidotes to play . Then thron'd aloft in elbow-chair , With solemn face and awful air , He tries , with ease and unconcern , To teach what ne'er himself could learn ; Gives law and punishment alone , Judge , jury , bailiff , all in one ; Holds all good learning must depend Upon his rod's extremest end , Whose great electric virtue's such , Each genius brightens at the touch ; With threats and blows ( incitements pressing ) Drives on his lads to learn each lesson ; Thinks flogging cures all moral ills , And breaks their heads to break their wills . The year is done ; he takes his leave ; The children smile ; the parents grieve ; And seek again , their school to keep , One just as good , and just as cheap . Now to some priest , that's fam'd for teaching , He goes to learn the art of preaching ; And settles down with earnest zeal Sermons to study , and to steal : Six months from all the world retires To kindle up his cover'd fires ; Learns the nice art , to make with ease The scriptures speak whate'er he please ; With judgment unperceiv'd to quote What Poole explain'd , or Henry wrote ; To give the gospel new editions , Split doctrines into propositions , Draw motives , uses , inferences , And torture words in thousand senses ; Learn the grave style and goodly phrase , Safe-handed down from Cromwell's days , And shun with anxious care , the while Th' infection of a modern style : Or on the wings of folly fly Aloft in metaphysic sky ; The system of the world explain , Till night and chaos come again ; Deride what old divines can say , Point out to heav'n a nearer way : Explode all known , establish'd rules , Affirm our fathers all were fools : The present age is growing wise , But Wisdom in her cradle lies ; Late , like Minerva , born and bred , Not from a Jove's , but Scribler's head , While thousand youths their homage lend her , And nursing fathers rock and tend her . Round him much manuscript is spread , Extracts from living works , and dead , Themes , sermons , plans of controversy , That hack and mangle without mercy , And whence , to glad the reader's eyes , The future dialogue shall rise . At length matur'd the grand design , He stalks abroad , a grave divine . Mean while , from ev'ry distant seat At stated time the clergy meet . Our hero comes , his sermon reads , Explains the doctrine of his creeds , A licence gains to preach and pray , And makes his bow , and goes his way . What though his wits could ne'er dispense One page of grammar , or of sense ; What though his learning be so slight , He scarcely knows to spell or write ; What though his skull be cudgel-proof ! He's orthodox , and that's enough . Perhaps with genius we'd dispense ; But sure we look at least for sense . Ye Fathers of our Church attend The serious counsels of a friend , Whose utmost wish , in nobler ways , Your sacred dignity to raise . Though blunt the style , the truths set down Ye can't deny — though some may frown . Yes , there are men , nor those a few , The foes of virtue , and of you ; Who , nurtur'd long in dulness ' school , Make vice their trade , and sin by rule , Who deem it courage , heav'n to brave , And wit , to scoff at all that's grave ; Vent stolen jests , with strange grimaces , From folly's book of common places : While mid the simple throng around Each kindred blockhead greets the sound , And , like electric fire , at once , The laugh is caught from dunce to dunce . The deist's scoffs ye may despise ; Within yourselves your danger lies ; For who would wish , neglecting rule , To aid the triumphs of a fool ? From heav'n at first your order came , From heav'n receiv'd it's sacred name , Indulg'd to man , to point the way , That leads from darkness up to day . Your highborn dignity attend , And view your origin and end . While human souls are all your care , By warnings , counsels , preaching , prayer , In bands of christian friendship join'd , Where pure affection warms the mind , While each performs the pious race , Nor dulness e'er usurps a place ; No vice shall brave your awful test , Nor folly dare to broach the jest , Each waiting eye shall humbly bend , And rev'rence on your steps attend . But when each point of serious weight , Is torne with wrangling and debate , When truth , mid rage of dire divisions , Is left , to fight for definitions , And fools assume your sacred place , It threats your order with disgrace ; Bids genius from your seats withdraw , And seek the pert , loquacious law ; Or deign in physic's paths to rank , With ev'ry quack and mountebank ; Or in the ways of trade content , Plod ledgers o'er of cent. per cent. While in your seats so sacred , whence We look for piety and sense , Pert dulness raves in school-boy style ; Your friends must blush , your foes will smile . While men , who teach the glorious way , Where heav'n unfolds celestial day , Assume the task sublime , to bring The message of th' eternal King , Disgrace those honors they receive , And want that sense , they aim to give . Now in the desk with solemn air , Our hero makes his audience stare ; Asserts with all dogmatic boldness , Where impudence is yok'd to dulness ; Reads o'er his notes with halting pace , Mask'd in the stiffness of his face ; With gestures such as might become Those statues once that spoke at Rome , Or Livy's ox , that to the state Declar'd the oracles of fate , In awkward tones , nor said , nor sung , Slow-rumbling o'er the faltring tongue , Two hours his drawling speech holds on , And names it preaching when he's done . With roving tir'd , he fixes down For life , in some unsettled town . People and priest full well agree ; For why — they know no more than he . Vast tracts of unknown lands he gains , Better than those the moon contains : There deals in preaching and in prayer , And starves on sixty pounds a year , And culls his texts , and tills his farm , And does no good , and little harm ; On sunday , in his best array , Deals forth the dulness of the day ; And while above he spends his breath , The yawning audience nod beneath . Thus glib-tongu'd Merc'ry in his hand Stretch'd forth the sleep-compelling wand , Each eye in endless doze to keep — The God of speaking , and of sleep . END OF PART FIRST .