The Progress of DULNESS. [Part II.]

The Progress of DULNESS . [ Part II . ] 'TWAS in a town remote ( the place We leave the reader wise to guess ; For readers wise can guess full well , What authors never meant to tell ) There dwelt secure a Country-clown , The wealthiest Farmer of the town ; Tho' rich by villainy and cheats , He bought respect by frequent treats ; Gain'd offices by constant seeking , Squire , Captain , Deputy and Deacon ; Great was his pow'r ; his pride as arrant : One only Son his heir apparent . He thought the Stripling's parts were quick , And vow'd to make a man of Dick ; Bless'd the pert dunce , and prais'd his looks , And put him early to his books . More oaths than words Dick learn'd to speak , And studied knav'ry more than greek ; Three years at school , as usual , spent , Then all equipt to College went , And pleas'd in prospect , thus bestow'd His meditations , as he rode . " All hail , unvex'd with care and strife , The bliss of Academic Life ; Where kind repose protracts the span , While Childhood ripens into man ; Where no hard parent's dreaded rage Curbs the gay sports of youthful age ; Where no vile fear the Genius awes With grim severity of laws ; Where annual troops of Bucks come down , The flow'r of ev'ry neighb'ring town ; Where wealth and pride and riot wait , And ev'ry rogue may find his mate . Far from those walls , from pleasure's eye , Let care and grief and labour fly , The toil to gain the laurel-prize . That dims the anxious student's eyes , The pedant-air of learned looks , And long fatigue of turning books . Let poor , dull rogues , with weary pains , To college come to mend their brains , And drudge four years , with grave concern , How they may wiser grow and learn . Is wealth of indolence afraid , Or does wit need pedantic aid ? The man of wealth the world descries , Without the help of learning , wise ; The magic pow'rs of gold , with ease , Transform us to what shape we please , Give knowledge bright and courage brave , And wits , that nature never gave . But nought avails the hoarded treasure ; In spending only lies the pleasure . There Vice shall lavish all her charms , And Rapture fold us in her arms , Riot shall court the frolic soul , And Swearing crown the sparkling bowl ; While Wit shall sport with vast applause , And scorn the feeble tie of laws ; Our midnight joys no rule shall bound , While games and dalliance revel round . Such pleasures youthful years can know , And Schools there are , that such bestow . And oh , that School how greatly blest , By fate distinguish'd from the rest , Whose seat is fix'd on sacred ground , By Venus ' nunn'ries circled round ; Where not , like monks , in durance hard , From all the joys of love debarr'd , The solitary Youth in pain For rapture sighs , yet sighs in vain : But kind occasion prompts desire And crowns the gay , licentious fire , And Pleasure courts the sons of Science , And Whores and Muses hold alliance . Not Those " There is a certain Region on the Western Continent , situated within the northern temperate Zone , where in some of the most notable and respectable Schools , not only Indolence & Dulness , but almost every Crime , may by the rich be aton'd for with pecuniary satisfaction . " Dudon's Geographical Paradoxes . No. 45. so blest , for ease and sport , Where Wealth and Idleness resort , Where free from censure and from shame , They seek of learning , but the name , Their crimes of all degrees and sizes Aton'd by golden sacrifices : Where kind instructors fix their price , In just degrees on ev'ry vice , And fierce in zeal 'gainst wicked courses , Demand repentance — of their purses ; Till sin , thus tax'd , produces clear A copious income ev'ry year , And the fair Schools thus free from scruples , Thrive by the knav'ry of their Pupils . Ev'n thus the Pope , long since has made Of human crimes a gainful trade ; Keeps ev'ry pleasing vice for sale , For cash , by wholesale , or retail . There , pay the prices and the fees , Buy rapes , or lies , or what you please , Then sin secure , with firm reliance , And bid the ten commands defiance . And yet , alas , these happiest Schools Preserve a set of musty rules , And in their wisest progress show , Perfection is not found below . Ev'n there , indulg'd , in humble station , Learning resides by toleration ; No law forbids the youth to read ; For sense , no tortures are decreed ; There study injures but the name , And meets no punishment , but shame . " Thus reas'ning , Dick goes forth to find A College suited to his mind ; But bred in distant woods , the Clown Brings all his country-airs to town ; The odd address with awkward grace , That bows with all-averted face ; The half heard compliments , whose note Is swallow'd in the trembling throat ; The stiffen'd gait , the drawling tone , By which his native place is known ; The blush , that looks , by vast degrees , Too much like modesty to please : The proud displays of awkward dress , That all the Country-fop express , The suit right gay , tho' much belated , Whose fashion's superannuated ; The watch , depending far in state , Whose iron chain might form a grate ; The silver buckle , dread to view , O'ershad'wing all the clumsy shoe ; The white-glov'd hand , that tries to peep From ruffle , full five inches deep ; With fifty odd affairs beside , The foppishness of country-pride . Poor Dick ! tho' first thy airs provoke Th' obstrep'rous laugh and scornful joke , Doom'd all the ridicule to stand , While each gay dunce shall lend a hand ; Yet let not scorn dismay thy hope To shine a Witling and a Fop . Blest impudence the prize shall gain , And bid thee sigh no more in vain . Thy varied dress shall quickly show At once the spendthrift and the Beau . With pert address and noisy tongue , That scorns the fear of prating wrong , 'Mongst listning coxcombs shalt thou shine , And ev'ry voice shall echo thine . As when , disjointed from the stock , We view with scorn the shapeless block , The skilful statuary hews us The wood in any form he chuses ; So shall the arts of Fops in town From thee smooth off the rugged clown , The rubbish of thy mien shall clear , Till all the Beau in pomp appear . How blest the brainless Fop , whose praise Is doom'd to grace these happy days , When wellbred Vice can genius teach , And fame is placed in Folly's reach ; Impertinence all tastes can hit , And ev'ry Rascal is a Wit . The lowest dunce , without despairing , May learn the true sublime , of swearing , Learn the nice art of jests obscene , ( While Ladies wonder what they mean ) The heroism of brazen lungs , The rhet'ric of eternal tongues ; While whim usurps the name of spirit , And impudence takes place of merit , And ev'ry money'd Clown and Dunce Commences Gentleman at once . For now , by easy rules of trade , Mechanic Gentlemen are made ! From handycrafts of fashion born ; Those very arts so much their scorn . To tailors half themselves they owe , Who make the clothes , that make the Beau . Lo ! from the seats , where ( Fops to bless ) Learn'd Artists fix the forms of dress , And sit in consultation grave , On folded skirt , or straitned sleeve , The Coxcomb trips with sprightly haste , In all the flush of modern taste : Oft turning , if the day be fair , To view his shadow's graceful air ; Wellpleas'd with eager eye runs o'er The laced suit glittring gay before ; The ruffle , where from open'd vest The rubied brooch adorns the breast ; The coat with length'ning waist behind , Whose short skirts dangle in the wind ; The modish hat , whose breadth contains The measure of its owner's brains ; The stockings gay with silken hues ; The little toe-encircling shoes ; The cane , on whose carv'd top is shown And head just emblem of his own ; While wrapt in self , with lofty stride , His little heart elate with pride , He struts in all the joys of show , That Tailors give , or Beaus can know . And who for Beauty need repine , That's sold at ev'ry Barber's sign ; Nor lies in features or complexion , But curls dispos'd in meet direction , With strong pomatum's grateful odour , And quantum sufficit of powder ? These charms can shed a sprightly grace , O'er the dull eye and clumsy face ; While the trim Dancing-master's art Shall gestures , trips and bows impart , Give the gay piece its final touches , And lend those airs , would lure a Dutchess . Thus shines the form , nor aught behind , The gifts that deck the Coxcomb's mind ; Then hear the daring muse disclose The sense and Piety of Beaus . To grace his speech , let France bestow A set of compliments for show ; Land of Politeness ! that affords The treasure of newfangled words , And endless quantities disburses Of bows and compliments and curses : The soft address , with airs so sweet , That cringes at the Ladies feet ; The pert , vivacious , play-house style , That wakes the gay assembly's smile ; Jests that his brother-beaus may hit , And pass with young Coquettes for wit , And , priz'd by Fops of true discerning , Outface the pedantry of learning . Yet Learning too shall lend its aid , To fill the Coxcomb's spongy head , And studious oft he shall peruse The labours of the Modern Muse . From endless loads of Novels gain Soft , simpring tales of am'rous pain , With double meanings , neat and handy , From Rochester and Tristram Shandy . The blundring aid of weak Reviews , That forge the fetters of the muse , Shall give him airs of criticizing On faults of books , he ne'er set eyes on . The Magazines shall teach the fashion , And common-place of conversation , And where his knowledge fails , afford The aid of many a sounding word . Then least Religion he should need , Of pious Hume , Voltaire & Bolingbroke are three of the most noted Deistical Writers , whose admirers are more numerous , even in America , than perhaps many of our honest Country-readers may imagine . It will be easily discerned , that my design was to draw a compleat character of a first-rate Coxcomb , and not to confine myself merely to the inferior , second-handed , imitative Beaus of this country , among whom , though we can boast of some promising Geniuses , yet Foppery seems to be but just cleverly dawning . Hume he'll learn his creed , By strongest demonstration shown , Evince that nothing can be known ; Take arguments , unvex'd by doubt , On Voltaire's trust , or go without ; 'Gainst Scripture rail in modern lore , As thousand fools have rail'd before : Or pleas'd , a nicer art display T' expound its doctrines all away , Suit it to modern taste and fashions By various notes and emendations ; The rules the ten commands contain , With new provisos well explain ; Prove all Religion was but fashion , Beneath the Jewish dispensation , A ceremonious law , deep-hooded In types and figures long exploded ; Its stubborn fetters all unfit For these free times of Gospel-light , This Rake's Millennium , since the day When Sabbaths first were done away ; Since Shame , the worst of deadly fiends , On Virtue , as its ' Squire , attends ; Since Pandar-conscience holds the door , And lewdness is a vice no more ; And fools may , swift as crimes convey 'em , Flee to their place , and no man stay 'em . Alike his poignant with displays The darkness of the former days , When men the paths of duty sought , And own'd what revelation taught ; E'er human reason grew so bright , Men could see all things by its light , And summon'd Scripture to appear , And stand before its bar severe , To clear its page from charge of fiction , And answer pleas of contradiction ; E'er myst'ries first were held in scorn , Or Bolingbroke , or Hume were born . And now the Fop , with great energy , Levels at Priestcraft and the Clergy , At holy cant and godly pray'rs , And bigot's hypocritic airs ; Musters each vet'ran jest to aid , Calls Piety the Parson's trade ; Cries out 'tis shame , past all abiding , The world should still be so Priest-ridden ; Applauds free thought , that scorns controul , And gen'rous nobleness of soul , That acts its pleasure , good or evil , And fears nor Deity , nor Devil . These standing topics never fail To prompt our little Wits to rail , With mimic droll'ry of grimace , And pleas'd impertinence of face , 'Gainst Virtue arm their feeble forces , And sound the charge in peals of curses . Blest be his ashes ! ( under ground If any particles be found ) Who , friendly to the Coxcomb-race , First taught these arts of common-place , These topics fine , on which the Beau May all his little wits bestow , Secure the simple laugh to raise , And gain the Dunce's palm of praise . For where's the theme that Beaus could hit With least similitude of wit , Did not Religion and the Priest Supply materials for the jest ? The poor in purse , with metals vile For current coins , the world beguile ; The poor in brain , for genuine wit Pass off a viler counterfeit ; ( While various thus their doom appears , These lose their souls , and those their ears ) The want of fancy , whim supplies , And native humour , mad caprice ; Loud noise for argument goes off , For mirth polite , the ribald's scoff ; For sense , lewd droll'ries entertain us , And wit is mimick'd by prophaneness . Thus 'twixt the Tailor and the Player , And Hume , and Tristram and Voltaire , Complete in modern trim array'd . The Clock work-Gentleman is made ; As thousand Fops e'er Dick have shone , In airs , which Dick e'er long shall own . But not immediate from the Clown , He gains this zenith of renown ; Slow dawns the Coxcomb's op'ning ray : Rome was not finish'd in a day . Perfection is the work of time ; Gradual he mounts the height sublime ; First shines abroad with bolder grace , In suits of second-handed lace , And learns by rote , like studious play'rs , The fop's infinity of airs ; Till merit , to full ripeness grown , By constancy attains the crown . Now should our tale at large proceed Here I might tell , and you might read At college next how Dick went on , And prated much and studied none ; Yet shone with fair , unborrow'd ray , And steer'd where nature led the way . What tho' each academic Science Bade all his efforts bold defiance ! What tho' in Algebra his station Was negative in each equation ; Tho' in Astronomy survey'd , His constant course was retrograde ; O'er Newton's system tho' he sleeps , And finds his wits in dark eclipse ! His talents prov'd of highest price At all the arts of Cards and Dice ; His genius turn'd , with greatest skill , To whist , loo , cribbage and quadrille , And taught , to ev'ry rival's shame , Each nice distinction of the game . As noonday sun , the case is plain , Nature has nothing made in vain . The blind mole cannot fly ; 'tis found His genius leads him under ground ; The man , that was not made to think , Was born to game , and swear , and drink : Let Fops defiance bid to satire , Mind Tully's rule , and follow nature . Yet here the Muse , of Dick , must tell He shone in active seenes as well ; The foremost place in riots held ; In all the gifts of noise excell'd ; His tongue , the bell , whose rattling din wou'd Summon the Rake's nocturnal synod ; Swore with a grace , that seem'd design'd To emulate th' infernal kind , Nor only make their realms his due , But learn , betimes , their language too ; And well expert in arts polite , Drank wine by quarts to mend his sight , ( For he that drinks , till all things reel , Sees double , and that's twice as well ) And e'er its force confin'd his feet , Led out his mob to scour the street ; Made all authority his may game , And strain'd his little wits to plague 'em . Then , ev'ry crime aton'd with ease , Pro meritis receiv'd degrees ; And soon , as fortune chanc'd to fall , His Father died and left him all : Then , bent to gain all modern fashions , He sail'd to visit foreign nations , Resolv'd , by toil unaw'd t' import , The follies of the British Court ; But in his course o'erlook'd whate'er Was learn'd or valu'd , rich or rare . As fire electric draws together Each hair and straw and dust and feather , The travell'd Dunce collects betimes The levities of other climes ; And when long toil has giv'n success , Returns his native land to bless , A Patriot-fop , that struts by rules , And Knight of all the shire of fools . The praise of other learning lost , To know the world is all his boast , By conduct teach our Country-wigeons , How Coxcombs shine in other regions , Display his travell'd airs and fashions , And scoff at College-educations . Whoe'er at College points his sneer , Proves that himself learn'd nothing there , And wisely makes his honest aim To pay the mutual debt of shame . Mean while our Hero's anxious care Was all employ'd to please the Fair ; With vows of love and airs polite , Oft sighing at some Lady's feet ; Pleas'd , while he thus in form addrest her , With his own gracefulness of gesture , And gaudy flatt'ry , that displays A studied elegance of phrase . So gay at balls the Coxcomb shone , He thought the Female world his own . By beauty's charms he ne'er was fir'd ; He flatter'd where the world admir'd . Himself ( so well he priz'd desert ) Possest his own unrivall'd heart ; Nor charms , nor chance , nor change could move The firm foundations of his love : His heart , so constant and so wise , Pursued what Sages old advise , Bade others seek for fame or pelf ; His only study was Himself . Yet Dick allow'd the Fair , desert , Nor wholly scorn'd them in his heart ; There was an end ( as oft he said ) For which alone the Sex were made , Whereto , of nature's rules observant , He strove to render them subservient ; And held the Fair by inclination , Were form'd exactly for their station , That real virtue ne'er could find Her lodging in a female mind ; Quoted from Pope , in phrase so smart , That all the Sex are " rakes at heart , " And prais'd Mahomet's sense , who holds That Women ne'er were born with souls . Thus blest , our Hero saw his name Rank'd in the foremot lists of fame . What tho' the learn'd , the good , the wise , His light , affected airs despise ! What tho' the Fair , of higher mind , With brighter thought and sense refin'd , Whose fancy rose on nobler wing , Scorn'd the vain , gilt , gay , noisy thing ! Each light Coquette spread forth her charms , And lur'd the Hero to her arms . For Beaus and light Coquettes , by fate Were each design'd the other's mate , By instinct love , for each may find It's likeness in the other's mind ; Then let the wiser sort desert 'em , For 'twere a sin to try to part ' em . Nor did the coxcomb-loving climate To these alone his praises limit . Each gayer Fop of modern days Allow'd to Dick the foremost praise , Borrow'd his style , his airs , grimace , And aped his modish form of dress . Ev'n Some , with sense endued , felt hopes And rais'd ambition to be fops : But Men of sense , 'tis fix'd by fate , Are Coxcombs but of second rate . The pert and lively Dunce alone Can steer the course that Dick has shown ; The lively Dunce alone can climb The summit , where he shines sublime . But ah ! how short the fairest name Stands on the slipp'ry steep of fame ! The noblest heights we're soonest giddy on : The sun ne'er stays in his meridian ; The brightest stars must quickly set ; And Dick has deeply run in debt . Now what avails his splendid show , With all the arts , that grace the Beau ! Not all his oaths can Duns dismay , Or deadly Bailiffs fright away ; Not all his compliments can bail , Or minuets dance him from the jail . Law not the least respect can give To the laced coat , or ruffled sleeve . Off fly at once , in saddest woe , The dress and trappings of the Beau ; His splendid ornaments must fall , And all is lost ; for these were all . What then remains ? in health's decline , By lewdness , luxury and wine , Worn by disease , with purse too shallow , To lead in fashions , or to follow , The meteor's gaudy light is gone ; Lone Age with hasty step comes on ; The charms he once with pride display'd , All vanish'd into empty shade ; And only left , in tawdry show , The superannuated Beau . How pale the palsied Fop appears , Low-shivring in the vale of years ; The ghost of all his former days , When folly lent the ear of praise . And Beaus with pleas'd attention hung On accents of his chatt'ring tongue . Now all those days of pleasure o'er , That chatt'ring tongue must prate no more . From ev'ry place , that bless'd his hopes , He's elbow'd out by younger Fops . Each pleasing thought unknown , that chears The sadness of declining years , In lonely age he sinks forlorn , Of all , and ev'n himself , the scorn . The Coxcomb's course were wondrous clever , Would health and money last forever , Did Conscience never break the charm , Nor fears of future worlds alarm . But oh , since youth and years decay , And life's vain follies fleet away , Since Age has no respect for Beaus , And Death the gaudy scene must close , Happy the Man , whose early bloom Provides for endless years to come ; That learning seeks , whose useful gain Repays the course of studious pain , Whose fame the thankful age shall raise , And future times repeat its praise ; Attains that heart-felt peace of mind , To all the will of heav'n resign'd , Which calms in youth , the blast of rage , Adds sweetest hope to sinking age , With valued use prolongs the breath , And gives a placid smile to death . Then let us scorn the praise that springs From gaudy , sublunary things . Hate the vain joys , that vice can claim , To nobler thoughts exalt our aim , With ardour seek th' immortal prize , And seize our portion in the skies .