FASHION: A SATIRE. Joseph Warton Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.003 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. III. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 274-280. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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FASHION : A SATIRE . Honestius putamus , quod frequentius ; recti apud nos loca tenet error , ubi publicus factus . SENECA . YES , yes , my friend , disguise it as you will , To right or wrong 'tis Fashion guides us still ; A few perhaps rise singularly good , Defy , and stem the fool-o'erwhelming flood ; The rest to wander from their brethren fear , As social herrings in large shoals appear . 'Twas not a taste , but pow'rful mode , that bade Yon' purblind , poking peer run picture mad ; With the same wonder-gaping face he stares On flat DUTCH dawbing , as on GUIDO'S airs ; What might his oak-crown'd manors mortgag'd gain ? Alas ! five faded landscapes of Claude Loraine . LORAINE . Not so GARGILIUS — sleek voluptuous lord , A hundred dainties smoak upon his board ; Earth , air , and ocean's ransack'd for the feast , In masquerade of foreign OLIO'S dress'd ; Who praises , in this sauce-enamour'd age , Calm , healthful temp'rance , like an INDIAN sage : But could he walk in publick , were it said , " GARGILIUS din'd on beef , and eat brown bread ? " Happy the grotto'd hermit with his pulse , Who wants no truffles , rich ragouts — nor The Physician . HULSE . How strict on Sundays gay LAETITIA'S face ! How curl'd her hair , how clean her Brussels lace ! She lifts her eyes , her sparkling eyes to heav'n , Most nun-like mourns , and hopes to be forgiv'n . Think not she prays , or is grown penitent — She went to church — because the parish went . Close CHREMES , deaf to the pale widow's grief , Parts with an unsun'd guinea for relief ; No meltings o'er his ruthless bosom steal , More than fierce Arabs , or proud tyrants feel ; Yet , since his neighbours give , the churl unlocks , Damning the poor , his triple-bolted box . Why loves not HIPPIA rank obscenity ? Why would she not with twenty porters lie ? Why not in crowded Malls quite naked walk ? Not aw'd by virtue — but " The world would talk . " — Yet how demurely looks the wishing maid , For ever , but in bed , of man afraid ! Thus Lucretius , lib. 6. 848. HAMMON'S spring by day feels icy-cool , At night is hot as hell's sulphureous pool . Each panting warble of VESCONTI'S throat , To DICK , is heav'nlier than a seraph's note ; The thrills , he swears , soft-stealing to his breast , Are lullabies , to sooth his cares to rest ; Are sweeter far , than LAURA'S luscious kiss , Charm the whole man , and lap his soul in bliss : Who can such counterfeited raptures bear , Of a deaf fool who scarce can thunders hear ? CROWDER o might with him for FESTIN pass , And touching HANDES yield to trifling HASSE . But curd-fac'd CURIO comes ! all prate , and smile , Supreme of beaux , great bulwarks of our isle ! Mark well his feather'd hat , his gilt cockade , Rich rings , white hand , and coat of stiff brocade ; Such weak-wing'd May-flies BRITAIN'S troops disgrace , That FLANDRIA , wond'ring , mourns our alter'd race : With him the fair , enraptur'd with a rattle , Of VAUXHALL , GARRICK , or PAMELA prattle : This self-pleas'd king of emptiness permit At the dear toilette harmlessly to sit ; As mirthless infants , idling out the day , With wooden swords , or toothless puppies play : 'Tis meaner ( cries the manling ) to command A conquering host , or save a sinking land , Than furl fair FLAVIA'S fan , or lead a dance , Or broach new-minted FASHIONS fresh from FRANCE . O FRANCE , whose edicts govern dress and meat , Thy victor BRITAIN bends beneath thy feet ! Strange ! that pert grasshoppers should lions lead , And teach to hop , and chirp across the mead ; Of fleets and laurel'd chiefs let others boast , Thy honours are to bow , dance , boil and roast . Let ITALY give mimick canvas fire , Carve rock to life , or tune the lulling lyre ; For gold let rich POTOSI be renown'd , Be balmy-breathing gums in INDIA found ; 'Tis thine for slaves to teach the shantiest cuts , Give empty coxcombs more important struts , Prescribe new rules for knots , hoops , manteaus , wigs , Shoes , soups , complexions , coaches , farces , jigs . MUSCALIA dreams of last night's ball till ten , Drinks chocolate , stroaks FOP , and sleeps agen , Perhaps at twelve dares ope her drowsy eyes , Asks LUCY if 'tis late enough to rise ; By three each curl and feature justly set , She dines , talks scandal , visits , plays piquette : Meanwhile her babes with some foul nurse remain , For modern dames a mother's cares disdain ; Each fortnight once she bears to see the brats , " For oh they stun one's ears , like squalling cats ! " Tigers and pards protect , and nurse their young , The parent-snake will roll her forked tongue , The vulture hovers vengeful o'er her nest , If the rude hand her helpless brood infest ; Shall lovely woman , softest frame of heav'n , To whom were tears , and feeling pity giv'n , Most fashionably cruel , less regard Her offspring , than the vulture , snake , and pard ? What art , O FASHION , pow'r supreme below ! You make us virtue , nature , sense , forego ; You sanctify knave , atheist , whore , and fool , And shield from justice , shame , and ridicule . Our grandames modes , long absent from our eyes , At your all-powerful bidding duteous rise ; As ARETHUSA sunk beneath the plain For many a league , emerging flows again ; Now Mary queen of Scots mobs , much worn by the ladies . Mary's mobs , and flounces you approve , Now shape-disguising sacks , and slippers love : Scarce have you chose ( like Fortune fond to joke ) Some reigning dress , but you the choice revoke : So when the deep-tongu'd organ's notes swell high , And loud HOSANNAHS reach the distant sky , Hark , how at once the dying strains decay , And soften unexpectedly away . The peer , prince , peasant , soldier , squire , divine , Goddess of Change , bend low before your shrine , Swearing to follow , wheresoe'er you lead , Tho' you eat toads , or walk upon your head . 'Tis hence belles game , intrigue , sip citron-drams , And hide their lovely locks with Têtê de Mouton , literally translated . heads of rams ; Hence girls , once modest , without blush appear , With legs display'd , and swan-soft bosoms bare ; Hence stale , autumnal dames , still deck'd with laces , Look like vile canker'd coins in velvet cases . Ask you , why whores live more belov'd than wives , Why weeping virtue exil'd , flattery thrives , Why mad for pensions , BRITONS young and old Adore base ministers , those calves of gold , Why witling templars on religion joke , Fat , rosy justices , drink , doze , and smoak , Dull criticks on best bards pour harmless spite , As babes that mumble coral , cannot bite , Why knaves malicious , brother-knaves embrace , With hearts of gall , but courtly-smiling face , Why scornful FOLLY from her gawdy coach , At starving houseless VIRTUE points reproach , Why AV'RICE is the great all-worship'd God ? Methinks some DAEMON answers — " 'Tis the mode ! " At this CORRUPTION smiles with ghastly grin , Presaging triumphs to her mother , SIN ; Who , as with baneful wings aloft she flies , " This falling land be mine ! " — exulting cries ; Grim TYRANNY attends her on her way , And frowns , and whets his sword that thirsts to slay . Look , from the frigid to the torrid zone , By custom all are led , by nature none . The following facts are taken from the accounts of different countries . The hungry TARTAR rides upon his meat , To cook the dainty flesh with buttock's heat : The CHINESE complaisantly takes his bed With his big wife , and is with cawdle fed . How would our tender British beauties shriek , To see slim beaux on bulls their lances break ! Yet not LUCINDA , in heroic SPAIN , Admits a youth , but who his beast has slain . See , wond'rous lands , where the fell victor brings , To his glad wives , the heads of slaughter'd kings , The mangled heads ! — o'er which they sing and laugh , And in dire banquets the warm life-blood quaff ; Where youths their grandsires , age-bent , trembling , grey , Pitying their weary weakness , kindly slay : Where sainted BRACHMANS , sick of life , retire , To die spontaneous on the spicy pyre ; Where ( stranger still ! ) with their wild dates content , The simple swains no sighs for gold torment . How fondly partial are our judgments grown , We deem all manners odious , but our own ! O teach me , friend , to know wise NATURE'S rules , And laugh , like you , at FASHION'S hoodwink'd fools ; You , who to woods remov'd from modish sin , Despise the distant world's hoarse , busy din ; As shepherds from high rocks hear far below , Hear unconcern'd loud torrents fiercely flow ; You , tho' mad millions the mean taste upbraid , Who still love VIRTUE , fair , forsaken maid ; As BACCHUS charming ARIADNE bore , By all abandon'd , from the lonesome shore .