b'\nClass EI3 RZ, \n\n\n\nPRESENTED Wf \n\n\n\nTHE DEDICATIOX; \n\n\n\nOR, \n\n\n\nON \n\nTHE TRUE MODERN CAESAR. \n\n\n\nBY \n\nTHE SECOND. \n\n\n\nMCTATO NOMINE, DE TE FABULA KARRATBB. \n\n\n\nBALTIMORE. \n\nPRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY SANDS & NEIL60N, \n\nS. E. comer of Calvert Sr Market- streets. \n\n1831. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n(, \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nyn^\'^ , S. . H~ . Rj1c4a.aa^.4^-^^-u^ \n\n\n\n>^ . -u-^ \' /^ \n\n\n\nCID HAMET\'S PREFATORY APPEAL \n\nTO IIIS COUNTRYMEN. \n\n\n\nYe who dare be honest amidst the exaltation of \nthe false, and virtuous although you behold the tri- \numph of vice, who scorn to flatter, to fawn, to cringe, \nto lie, to intrigue, though you daily see the very scum \nof mankind pass by you, surrounded by the ensigns \nof power and attended by the shouts of multitudes, \n\xe2\x80\x94 ye whom I am proud to take by the hand, and \ncall Brother, Countryman, Friend, \xe2\x80\x94 to you I ap- \npeal to lend me a helping hand to the furtherance of \nthe great objects of this publicaiion, which are the \nsatire and ridicule of Vice and Folly, and the denun- \nciation of Tyranny, Imbecility, and Treachery in \nthe great. \n\nRead then I pray you, what I have here laboured \nfor your benefit ; for, in this Essay on The True Mo- \ndern Ccesarj who is the God whom many of you falsely \nworship, you will see what a poor figure Ignorance \nmakes when she comes forth from that obscurity in \nwhich nature destined her to dwell, and is lifted up \ninto places of responsibility and power ; how Folly is \nridiculous when she attempts to play the Sage under \nthe Lion\'s skin; and how Vice is doubly hateful, when \nclad in gold and worshiped by mankind. \n\n\n\n05 THE MODERK^ C^SAR, \n\nCHAPTER I. \n\n\n\n-Ridiculum acri \n\n\n\nFortius et melius niagnas pleiumque secat res. \n\nHorace. \n\n\n\nAccording to the opinion, O Caesar of the Moderns, \nof the early English writers whose productions have \ngiven such lustre to British Literature, supported by \nthe authority of the ancients, a book is worth nothing \nthat has not a Dedication prefixed to it. Acting up to \nthis opinion, \xe2\x80\x94 which I find adhered to by Scriblerus, \nHelvetius, Scaliander and several others, all great wri- \nters of their day and" generation \xe2\x80\x94 I have taken it up- \non myself to dedicate this little book, upon which I \nset some store, to your Excellency, who are, and if \nyou are not, ought to be \xe2\x80\x94 the greatest man in the view \nof the public at this time. I make this dedication too \nwith more pleasure when I reflect that by doing so I \nmay in some measure advance my own interests ; for \nit is a truth, which every one in this age must see in- \nto, who has as much as a grain of mustard-seed of \nsense, that a man can lose nothing by courting Pow- \n1* \n\n\n\ncr, and may perchance gain a great deal : while on \nthe other hand, should he possess a spirit independent \nenough to search out for meritorious men (who are \ngenerally in the shade of power, and are to a man so \nat this time) upon whom to confer the honor of a dedi- \ncation, he can calculate to gain nothing thereby, save \nthe friendship of one, who though he may desire to ad- \nvance his fortunes as he may wish, yet wants the \nmeans to do so. Impressed strongly with this thought, \nI have made bold to make this dedication, O Caesar, to \nyourself; and in consideration of having done so, I \nshall expect that immediately upon being presented \nwith a copy, you will give orders to every one within \nyour controul, whether man, woman, or child, to buy, \none and all, a copy, at the highest rate at which my \nbookseller will dispose of it \xe2\x80\x94 to whom I shall give \norders to go to the utmost stretch of extortion that is \npractised in his trade. \n\nIn doing this you will do yourself great honour in \nthe land, as a Ruler who does not neglect learning and \nthe arts. And let me make free to tell you that there \nis nothing which so endears a great Magistrate to hi& \npeo])le, as the encouragement he affords to authors, and \nmen of learning and genius in every branch ; and that \nin the same degree that he endears himself to his peo- \nple in this way, does he shed lustre upon his name and \nsplendour upon his office. For what is there, may I \nmake so bold as to demand, for which Emperors, \nKings and Chief Magistrates, all the world over, have \nreceived more honour and glory than this. If the past \n\n\n\ncan at all afford light to one who has received so much \nof it from nature as yourself, it must force upon your \nsense the truth I am striving to impress. Need I tell \nyou, who are so learned a man, and such a Maecenas \nto genius, that the Emperor Augustus Caesar, excep- \ntionable as he was in many particulars, was the great \nfriend and munificent patron of learning and the arts, \nin his time ; and that owing to this in a great measure, \nhe has been handed down to posterity as one of the \nmost brilliant of rulers: \xe2\x80\x94 his reign, it is known to us \nall, was styled by the ancient Romans the Golden or \nAugustan age. Another instance, of a ruler who shed \nlustre upon his reign by this same munificence to ge- \nnius and taste, was Adrian, whose life is a beautiful \ncommentary upon the ways of Power. O Adrian, \nthou wert indeed munificence itself! who else but thou \ncould have added new splendour to an empire already \nso magnificent, thou favorite of Apollo and beloved of \nthe blue -eyed Minerva! There are innumerable in- \nstances that might be adduced to the surer evidence of \nthis truth, \xe2\x80\x94 and among others, that of Louis the Grand, \nof France, and Henry the 8th, of England, with \nQueen Anne of ever blessed memory, and others who \ndrew around their thrones all the learning, taste and \ngenius, their several ages produced, \xe2\x80\x94 (a strong con- \ntrast to Cromwell, who gathered about him only the \nscum of his country, as we are told) \xe2\x80\x94 was it not as- \nsented to by the whole world, and above all others, \nknown to your Excellency, so as to preclude the ne- \ncessity of further confirmation. \n\n\n\n8 \n\nSince,\'therefore, O Caesar, it has been your fortune \nto be set up as a ruler over the many, and as a ruler \ntoo, over the most flourishing nation known to the mo- \nderns, I pray that you will not get drunk upon your \ngood fortune, but use the goods the Gods have given \nyou, as I have intimated, and as becomes a man whose \nlife, like that of the chevalier Bayard\'s, has been sans \npeur et sans reproche. This, then, I would have you \ndo: Issue immediately a message of the following \ncharacter \xe2\x80\x94 somewhat of a Mandate Royal \xe2\x80\x94 some- \nwhat of a Bull Clerical \xe2\x80\x94 somewhat of a Message Pre- \nsidential. \n\n(god save the republic) \n\nTo the United States of Jlmerica^ and all whom it \n\nmay concern : \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nBeing strongly impressed with the truth that the \ngreatest glory a ruler can derive from his high station, \nis in the encouragement he affords to men of genius and \nmerit ; and being desirous to render my name immor- \ntal by this means, not for that reason that actuates \nmore or less the aspiring portion of mankind, of seem- \ning to be the thing they are 7iot^ it hath pleased me, the \nChief Magistrate of my country, to issue to my well- \nbeloved and trusty subjects, after the manner of the \nMonarchs of Europe \xe2\x80\x94 those paragons of Princes \xe2\x80\x94 \nthis Decretal, or Letter Mandatory, commanding : \xe2\x80\x94 \nThat all those who hold office under me, to wit : \nall the heads of Departments, with the inferior officers \nand scribes under them ; all Envoys Extraordinary \nand Ministers Plenipotentiary, Charges-d\'Affaires, \n\n\n\n9 \n\nSecretaries of Legation and Attaches; all Secret \nAgents and Spies; all Consuls; all Collectors of tax. \nes, imposts, duties and excise, \xe2\x80\x94 in one word, of the \nrevenue ; all Judges, Supreme and Inferior, Attornies, \nMarshals, Bailiffs, and all other officers of Justice in \nthe National Courts ; all Postmasters, Mail-Contrac- \ntors, Letter-Carriers, Mail-stage Drivers, and all \nothers of this class ; all poor Soldiers and shattered \nSailors, with all Pensioners and Hangers-on about the \ngovernment, of whatsoever sort or description, not \nbefore enumerated ; all Newspaper Editors, with the \nhost of Letter- Writers, whom I pay out of the secret \nfund, and those whom I do not pay ; \xe2\x80\x94 in one word, \nall Placemen, from the highest to the lowest, and I \nmay here include the crowd of expectants for place, \n(no mean few) with all who Avish to be regarded in at \nall a favourable light during my rule \xe2\x80\x94 partizans et hoc \n\ngenus omne; That all these purchase a copy of \n\nCid Hamet Benengeli\'s Book, for themselves, as well \nas their kinsfolk and acquaintance, under pain of be- \ning deprived of the places they hold, or not obtaining \nthose they may have set their hearts upon, and being \notherwise disgraced and punished. And if there be \nany one who shall be rash enough to exercise any dis- \ncretion of his own about this matter, or hold any opin- \nion contrary to that which I have expressed about \nlearning and the arts \xe2\x80\x94 By the Chief Magistrate of \nthe United Ststes, by the several Heads of Depart- \nments, by the Senate and House of Representatives, \nby the Supreme Court, by the Twenty-four Sove- \n\n\n\n10 \n\nreign States, and their Twenty-four Sovereign Legis- \nlatures \xe2\x80\x94 I swear I will \xe2\x80\x94 and may I be d d in all \n\nrespects more thoroughly than was Obadiah by Doc- \ntor Slop, if I do not \xe2\x80\x94 immediately dismiss him, as \nwell as all his children and relatives, from favour \xe2\x80\x94 \ndrive them out from me with fire and sword, forever. \nCaesar, Magistratus Maximus, \nAmcricanx Rcipubliccd. \nAnno Libertatis, 56. \n\nThis being done, O Caesar, you will shew yourself \nin a light to your country, in which but few who have \nwielded the rod of empire, \xe2\x80\x94 and those the most im- \nmortal \xe2\x80\x94 have ever had the glory to be exhibited; and \nhence I am bold in urging you to a course which must \nrender your rule as illustrious as any of the Caesars. \n\nDedications, may it please your Excellency, I am \naware, have of late years grown greatly into disre- \npute; insomuch so, that there is\' scarcely a man of \nany merit, who would desire to see his name placed \nat the head of a work: and for this reason, that there \nure so many foolish and ignorant men who take it in- \nto their heads to write books, and to besmear those \nto whom they dedicate them, with so much fulsome, \ndistorted and gross praise, \xe2\x80\x94 giving them credit for \nevery excellency under the sun, and indeed for more \nexcellencies than there are under the sun, that a dedi- \ncation has long since come to be regarded as a com- \npilation, in which the writer has selected from a vo- \ncabulary all words whose meaning borders at all upon \nexcellence of any sort, and placed them to the name \n\n\n\n11 \n\nof the Dedicatee without rhyme or reason. I have \npresumed however to make this dedication to your \nExcellency, in the hope therehy, that a practice so \nuseful and praiseworthy, of sending volumes into this \nworld, like children, under the auspices of those who \nare able to protect them, may not be entirely disused, \nand in the end become altogether unknown. Perhaps \nso illustrious a name as yours, appearing in such a \nshape to the world, may revive this somewhat anti- \nquated custom. Indeed, it is more than probable, that \nyour example will become contagious ; for it is a \ntruth that mankind have ever followed the footsteps of \npower, no matter into what uncertain or crooked \npaths they lead. An illustrious name, as the world \nhas often witnessed, gives consequence even to tri- \nfles, as witness the speculations that are so frequent- \nly entered upon in our own country, as to the pre- \ncise manner in which you, O Caesar, smoke your \npipe after breakfast, and the description of Tobacco \nyou use, whether the Kite-foot, the Pig-tail, the James \nRiver, or the Yookahookateachy. And further to \nconvince your Excellency, how contagious is the ex- \nample of the Illustrissimi^ and in particular of your- \nself, I have only to communicate this further fact, that \nsince your Excellency has come into power, the pro- \nceeds of all the Tobacco-shops in the country, have \nincreased in geometrical progression every year from \nthat time. Relating this fact, puts me in mind of an- \nother, which is, that King James, that most wise and \nunequalled Prince of England, was as remarkable for \n\n\n\nhis hatred against this weed, as it seems your Excel- \nlency is in your love for it. Is it not wonderful that \ntwo such great Rulers should derive celebrity from \nthe same source! \xe2\x80\x94 you intoxicated with its fumes, \npraise it as the gift of the Gods : he, preferring the \nexhiliration of another growth, grows inspired in his \ndenunciations of it! \n\nAfter these reflections and facts, your excellency \nwill, I am sure, yield to the justness of my judgment \nupon this matter, and bestow upon me that just modi- \ncum of praise and reward, which it has ever been your \ncourse to pursue towards those who have in any-wise \nmerited it. This I feel assured you will do, O Caesar, \nwhen I reflect that it is a principle upon which you ad- \nminister power, to have a sole regard to Merit, no \nmatter in what shape it presents itself to you ; since, \nas is manifest in various instances, you have refused to \ntake away any thing, from tried, useful and meritori- \nous servants, even to bestow it upon a political friend \nor parti zan. And let me here say that there is noth- \ning which has so much endeared you to the nation as \nthis. Not all the glory that your name has won either \nas the first Captain of the age, or the last Solomon of \nthe world, have given to your character a greater lus- \ntre than this. In this you are most truly a just ruler: \n\xe2\x80\x94 and what perfection is there that sits with more \nbeauty on the brow of power, than that of justice. \xe2\x80\x94 \nNot even mercy itself \xe2\x80\x94 divine and god-like Mercy \xe2\x80\x94 \nthat other attribute of your character, for which you \nhave so justly been raised to the skies \xe2\x80\x94 is more to be \nadmired. \n\n\n\n13 \n\nBut I fear that I am digressing much too widely in \nthis dedication, in which, it is my opinion, I should ad- \nhere solely to setting forth your virtues and illustrious \nqualities ; for such I helieve has been the province of \ndedications heretofore. I therefore crave your High- \nness\'s pardon for not doing that full justice to your \nworth that I should ; and to repair my fault as effectu- \nally as possible, I make haste to bespatter these pages \nwith that just panegyrism which the world holds to be \nyour due, if we may be allowed to infer thus much \nfrom the shouts with which your elevation to your \npresent exalted station was hailed by so vast a mass of \nyour countrymen : \xe2\x80\x94 and what is more too, this mass \ncomposed, not only of that portion of society capable \nof appreciating excellence, but, (as if you had the \npower of commanding the very scum of mankind to \ndo for once what is good) of the foolish, the ignorant, \nthe prejudiced, the knavish, the desperate, the de- \nbauched, the profligate, the false \xe2\x80\x94 of pimps, sharp- \ners, bullies, spendthrifts, gamesters, parasites, buf- \nfoons \xe2\x80\x94 in one word, of all that portion of society \nwho destroy the purity of elections, and, as it notun- \nfrequently happens, prostrate under their feet the lib- \nerty and order of States. \n\nBut let us progress. You are, O Csesar, a hero, \nor, what is the same thing, the world has been pleas- \ned to bestow upon you this epithet ; for one of your \nsagac ity must know that he whom the world takes \nit into its head to designate as valiant, wise and \ngood, as our Washington truly was, and some few, ve- \n\n\n\nu \n\nry few others that I could name, (whose excellence, \nhowever, could not shield them from the vile calum- \nnies of a degenerate race \xe2\x80\x94 a race often capable of be- \ning devils, though seldom saints) is as much worship- \nped as if he were such in reality; although at the \nsame time he may be the veriest simpleton, the most \nabsolutely incomprehensible and unsophisticated ass \n\xe2\x80\x94 the most weak-minded citizen, that could be pick- \ned out of our whole population of some thirteen or \nfourteen millions of .souls, white and black. It is a \ncommon saying, and like most other common sayings, \nfalse as possible, that name is nothing ; but let me tell \nyou, with all deference to this generally accredited \nsaying, that there is a great deal in name. It is in fact, \nevery thing to some men, as must be manifest to your- \nself, who should know this truth, as well as all others; \nand therefore, I say, call a man a hero, and it is to all \nends, the same as if he w ere in truth one : just in the \nsame way, that to give a dog a bad name, as to call him \nmad, is the same thing to him as if he were really so; \nfor the fact is taken upon credit by mankind, who forth- \nwith, without investigation or parley of any sort about \nthe matter, pursue him with guns, cudgels, swords, \nstones, and such like destructive implements, and soon \nput him to death. Then, Caesar, you are a hero; and in \nthat one word there is enough, \xe2\x80\x94 (for it hath the proper- \nties of magic,) \xe2\x80\x94 to raise you to an almost immeasurable \ndistance above the rest of mankind. This is to you fame, \nfortune, house, lands, in fact, whatever you may de- \nsire, or those who have your ear may desire for you or \n\n\n\n15 \n\nfor themselves. Why you are such, for what glorious \nachievements, like those of Alexander, Caesar, Hanni- \nbal, Bonaparte, or Marlborough, I do not choose to \nparticularize here, for it is not the province of a dedica- \ntion to give any reason for what is asserted; at least, I \nhave not been able to meet with any, among all those I \nhave looked into, that assumed to do this. \n\nAnd now, may it please your highness, I feel as if I \nwere entering somewhat into the spirit of my dedica- \ntion, and before the month\'s out and the moon wanes, \nI am confident I shall have set forth the many great \nand glorious characteristics that are justly yours. \n\nWere I called upon to say what are the qualities for \nwhich a Chief Magistrate over thirteen and a half mil- \nlions of people\xe2\x80\x94 the freest of any in the known world \nand by far the most thriving, \xe2\x80\x94 should be chosen, I \nwould answer after this fashion. I would first set \nforth what such an one ought not to be, and in the se- \ncond place, by deduction, ex necessitate, what such an \none ought to be. \n\nUnder the first head then I should answer, that \nsuch an one should not have all the simplicity of a \nchild ; for although this sort of simplicity may be re- \ngarded as a commendable trait in the character of a \nprivate individual to the extent that it renders him in- \noffensive and harmless ; yet it sits awkward in public, \nand especially in a ruler, who is beset at every turn be \ntakes by difficulties of every hue and dye. If by sim- \nplicity of a child, we were to understand sincerity of \ncharacter, it would be another thing ; for there is no- \n\n\n\n16 \n\nthing that so elevates the character, and gives to it \nsuch grace and dignity as sincerity. In the same de- \ngree that dissimulation is despicable in the eyes of all \nhonest and just men, is sincerity, its opposite, esteem- \ned a high virtue? But certainly, simplicity of a child \nis not sincerity, but rather ignorance, as is manifest \nfrom what I am going to say ; which is, that were you \nto take up the poker with which you stir your fire, \nand say, " I wonder what this is !" or, " what a very \nstrange and wonderful thing \xe2\x80\x94 I wonder what it can \nbe intended for!\'\' or any other such like remark, in- \ndicating your ignorance of what so every day thing as \na poker was used for, I should call this wonderful \nsimplicity of a child in you. And this is what I un- \nderstand by simplicity of a child. Yet, though this is \ncertainly the true understanding of the epithet, I have \noften heard it said in praise of yourself by your warm- \nest friends (who in their moments of enthusiasm, have \neven gone to such an astonishing though just length, \nas to say that you were a second Washington in every \nrespect) that you were remarkable for this character- \nistic. Indeed, the remark is common to the whole Unit- \ned States. Yet in making out this account of what a \nChief Magistrate ought not to be, I must say that he \nought not to be remarkable for this, since the duties of \nthe great station he fills, are of that difficult and ex- \ntremely delicate and complex character, as to require \nin their proper performance the highest pitch of know- \nledge and wisdom. Hence I have always regarded \nyou as one of those men who have been greatly mis- \n\n\n\n17 \n\nrepresented by the world. Indeed, I scarcely know \nof any man, at all distinguished in our country, who \nhas been more abused in this way ; for let me ask \xe2\x80\x94 \nI put the question to your candour and truth- \xe2\x80\x94 how \nmany traits of character have not been attributed to \nyou, which you have in no respect deserved ? Believe \nme, O Caesar, the world is a base slanderer and but \nseldom speaks the truth. \n\nIt is indeed true \xe2\x80\x94 true as holy writ \xe2\x80\x94 that there can \nbe nothing great in this w^orld without slander and de- \ntraction. The Bible itself is at once an illustration of \nthe remark : and I sincerely believe tliat if the great \nSpirit of infinite Wisdom, Mercy and Truth, were to \ndescend upon the Earth, unless he came in a shower of \ngold, as Jupiter did to Danae, or as a conqueror with \na sword of fire, and an arm that was never nerveless, \nhe would be stoned to death for an imposter, a villain, \nor a traitor, before he had measured half the globe. \nO Greatness, thou art the child of adversity and mis- \nfortune \xe2\x80\x94 thy life is a never-ending toil, like that of \nSysiphus \xe2\x80\x94 nay, it is often a torture, and thou resem- \nblest Ixion on his whirling wheel ; \xe2\x80\x94 Envy, with her \ncankered tooth. Hatred, with her withered cheek and \nblighted eye. Malice, with her tongue of fire, and Re- \nvenge, followed by the Furies, tearing their horrid \nhair, tread but too surely in thy footsteps. \n\nIn the next place, may it please your Excellency, I \n\nwould say that such an one ought not to be under the \n\ndirection or management of any other in the least. And \n\ncertainly this is not to be disputed ; for were I to say \n\n2* \n\n\n\n18 \n\nthat he who is placed in the situation of a leader, and \nwho by virtue of his station is called upon to controul \nand direct others, should be under the management of \nany one who was his inferior, and a sort of ministerial \nofficer under him, the person to whom I thus addressed \nmyself, would at once say that I was a fool, and knew \nnothing of the matter of which I was speaking. He \nwould reply at once to so bald an assertion, that on \nthe contrary the man who occupied so exalted and \nforemost a station, should not be like a king of Eng- \nland, or rather a king in clouts, a mere cypher, (as some \nmalicious wits have been pleased to say you were) but \nrather one who would lead others by the nose than \nsuffer himself to be so led. And in this he would \ncertainly say rightly; for if there is any thing certain \nit is this, that the constitution intended that the office \nof Chief Magistrate should be a responsible one, and \nthat he who filled that office should be one capable of di- \nrecting and managing all its affairs \xe2\x80\x94 in one word, that \ninstrument contemplated that this Chief Magistrate, \nwhose office you now fill with so much glory alike to \nyourself and to the nation, should be as a steward, ac- \ncountable to those he served, for all that he did, or \ncaused to be done. Hence I think I run no great risk \nin hazarding the position, that such an one as I am de- \nscribing, ought not to be under the direction or man- \nagement of any other m the least. Besides, a wise \nman does not reflect the light of others, but rather re- \nflects his own light \xe2\x80\x94 and hence that true saying, which \nhave somewhere read or heard, that " a wise man is \n\n\n\n19 \n\nhis own lantern^ Now, may it please your excellen- \ncy, from all this there can be no doubt but that a Chief \nMagistrate should be above all management. He \nshould stand conspicuous above all others around him, \nlike the city set upon a high hill, to which all the fin- \nger-boards and mile-stones point. He should be the \ncentre of light, like a lit-up Chandalier in a temple, by \nwhich all men may see and read and learn, and to \nwhich all may point up and say, there is light. \xe2\x80\x94 In \none word, such an one should be the first to thrust his \nhand into every pie, and the last to take it out. \n\nBut may it please your Excellency, although the \nforegoing sentences contain my honest opinions about \nthis matter, yet I beg of you that you will take them \nwith some allowance, cum grano salis. I am well \naware that you have thought proper to entertain the \ncontrary opinion, yet so great is my desire to place \nthings in their proper light, that I have made bold to \nhazard these reflections even in your teeth, if one so \nvenerable and aged as yourself, who has some time \nsince entered upon that seventh age of Shakespeare, \ncan be said to have any. Strong reasons, I am also \naware, could be brought to the support of your opin- \nion ; and among others, the proposition might be main- \ntained in the following way, to wit : that a Chief Ma- \ngistrate should be under controul, because he stands in \nan isolated situation, and is clothed with great power; \nand that as all men in the possession of great power, \nare apt to grow giddy by exercising it, and to abuse it, \n(which tendency is exemplified in the history of many \n\n\n\n20 \n\nillustrious men, as Caesar, for instance, or Bonaparte, \nboth of whom were estimable in no common degree, \nand graced by many great virtues and excellencies of \ncharacter, until they lost their balance in the excess of \ntheir success) therefore it is necessary and proper, to \nthe end that such an one may not thus forget himself, \nthat he should be under the controul or management of \nsome person who is not placed in a like ticklish situa- \ntion. And this opinion might be confirmed and \nstrengthened by the scriptures themselves, where they \nsay, speaking of a certain officer, a Centurion, that he \nwas a man under authority^ from which the inference is \nto be drawn, that it was the intention of the Almighty \nthat all Magistrates and officers of all sorts on Earth, \nshould be under the authority of some one or other. \n\nSuch is the way in which the proposition might be \nmaintained. Now 1 must needs say that there is much \nforce in this reasoning ; for it has two requisites of a \ngood argument; it is logical, in the first place, which \nis a great thing, and in the second, it is backed by au- \nthority. Yet, as you have seen, I have already urged \nsomewhat against it, (with w^hat advantage the logi- \ncians themselves must decide ;) and I would now pro- \nceed to answer the last argument drawn from the autho- \nrity of the Scriptures, in a very lucid and satisfactory \nmanner, were it not that I remember that one of \nthe brothers of my Lord Peter, who was the scholar, \nremarks wisely, that such things " ought not to he ovzr- \ncuriously pried into, or nicclij reasoned upon,\'\'\'\' there- \nfore, for fear of urging something that might give of- \n\n\n\n21 \n\nfence to the fastidious, I say nothing of this, for I wish \nto keep as much as 1 can on the smiling side of all fa- \nnaticks and zealots, who compose so large a portion of \nsociety at this day, that I am sure, if they were set afloat \nby any ambitious spirit, any Cromwell of their body, \naided by such as the " fanatick Brook," they could \ncarry more terror to thy soul,0 Caesar, than a body of \narmed Nullifiers, hot from a civic feast, headed by the \nmost desperate of the Southern Traitors. \n\nThe truth is that a Chief Magistrate of a country \nlike ours, should not suffer himself to be under the \nmanagement of any one about his government, not \neven though that person possessed the wisdom of \nHamilton, the genius of Fox, or the various endow- \nments of the present Lord Chancellor of England ; \nmuch less should he be under the control of one who \nis wanting in every thing that could grace the \'mind \nor adorn the heart. For in suffering this, whether \nfrom incapacity, carelessness, or choice, he violates \nthe intention of the constitution, (which, if he is like \nBrutus, a lover of his country, he will never do,) by \nperverting altogether the character of his office, from \nthat of a responsible one to one that is irresponsible. \nAnd as descendants for the most part of a people who \nhave ever shewn a strong love of liberty, I am sure \nthe thought could never be endured for a moment, \nthat there should be any falling off from the spirit of \nour institutions in this respect, as well as any other. \nAnd what man is there who does not see that such a \nviolation would bring back our government, in the \n\n\n\n22 \n\ncourse of time, and inevitably, to a day of slavery \nand vassalage, almost unknown to the memory of \nEngl ishmen,and ourselves, \xe2\x80\x94 who are their descendants, \n\xe2\x80\x94 to the day of Henry the 8th and Wolsey, of Eliza- \nbeth and Burleigh, when the whole power of the \nstate was wielded by an ambitious and unprincipled \nFavourite, through the hands of some dotard, volup- \ntuary, or capricious and selfish tyrant. There is no \nman, I am sure, at this time, who would wish to see \nthis, that is not a traitor, a fool or a madman. Her- \nman Littlesneak himself, a man who is absorbed in the \npersecution of his own exaltation, a pander to the hu- \nmours of Power, and a political trickster \xe2\x80\x94 a man, too, \nwho has incurred that condemnation which awaits \nthose who wilfully mislead the blind, \xe2\x80\x94 even he could \nnot wish for more. \n\nIn the next place, may it please your Excellency, \nsuch an one as I am describing, should not be devoid \nof judgment and sagacity, which traits are so partic- \nularly requisite to the proper selection of those offi- \ncers and ministers w^hom it is necessary for him to \nhave, to the transacting of the public business. In \nthis consists one of the chief requisites of a good ru- \nler : for unless he has wise and efficient men around \nhim, he is like a man who undertakes to manage an \nimmense ship without any sailors, since to have fool- \nish, ignorant and altogether incompetent men, is as \nbad as to have none at all, \xe2\x80\x94 nay, w^orse, for these, \nlike unskilful sailors, soon carry him upon som.e hid- \nden rock, or lee shore, where he is dashed to pieces, \n\n\n\n23 \n\nand sinks to the bottom. \xe2\x80\x94 Indeed these seem, as it \nwere, to take delight in running into danger, and they \nwould prefer encountering a difficulty, although a \nperfectly easy and safe course lay just before them. \nThere is undoubtedly much more to be dreaded from \nfoolish and incompetent advisers, than from the want \nof any : for fools and ignorant ones, no doubt with \ngood intentions, thinking they are doing wonderful \nthings, set about making reforms : overturn this use- \nful and venerable regulation and that : kick out this \ntried and honest servant, because he looks old and \nhas the face of an honest man, and moreover has be- \nhaved himself so as not to meet the censure of his for- \nmer master: tear down this beautiful pile, than which \nnothing can be more perfect ; and so on proceed, de- \nstroying and overturning every thing that is useful, and \nperfect even as Wisdom herself, because they do not \nhappen to be acquainted with its excellence ; \xe2\x80\x94 so true it \nis, " that fools rush in where angels fear to tread.\'\'\'\' The \nresult of all this devastation and overturning is, that \nnew things may be supplied, which when tried are \nfound not to answer the purpose at all, or if at all, in \nsuch a lame and imperfect manner, that they are \nworse than nothing. And thus, it is like the case of \na foolish, wild young man, who is summoned from his \nrevels and profligate company, to take possession of \nthe rich and beautiful inheritance his father has left \nhim; who immediately destroys the venerable pile in \nwhich his parent had grown gray; and substitutes in \nplace of it some misshapen and whimsically contrived \n\n\n\n24 \n\nbuildino-, which lets in the rain, the heat and the cold; \nand so goes on, until at last his money spent in such \nfollies, and his once proud domain deprived of its beau- \nty, as well as its value, since no man would live in \nsuch a place, he curses heaven and quits it for the \nbar-room of some country Inn, where, like the profli- \ngate Villiers, he drinks and is forgotten. \n\nIn the next place such an one should not be employ- \ned about small and trivial matters, but should be above \nthem, and have that high pride and dignity of demean- \nour which were conspicuous in our immortal Wash- \nington, in Alexander Hamilton, and other great men of \ntheir day \xe2\x80\x94 which traits are only to be found in men of \nvigorous minds and great virtues. Such an one, for \ninstance, should not busy himself in superintending the \ninferior officers that were employed in the depart- \nments, and in prying about among them, like an old \nwoman with a pair of spectacles on her nose, who \nlooks and smells into every corner to ascertain if there \nmight not, by any chance, be some concealed corrup- \ntion about, which had escaped her eye. Such mean \nand little business as this should be left to the super- \nintendance of inferiors, in the same way that about a \ngentleman\'s household, there are certain duties to be \nperformed, which the master of the house should not \nbe over-curious in seeing done. Every thing should \nbe in character, so that when we undertake to play \nCaesar or Alexander, we should not make our appear- \nance like the scullion of a kitchen, with a dish-clout \n\n\n\npinned to our tail ; for, although were such a ruler as \nthe merry king Charles to do this, it would be called \nfacetious and pleasant, and would serve to help the pit \nto laugh out their hour or so, yet in such a Ruler as \nyou, remarkable for your severity of character, and \nstern deportment, it would be at once said, that you \nhad lost your wits ; and hence, your subjects would \ndraw the inference that you had become distracted \nfrom the multitude of perplexities and embarrassments \nthat surrounded you. \n\nAs the precepts of wisdom, are always better en- \nforced by illustration, I shall to this end relate in a \nbrief way, a story of a certain great King of old, \nwhich I recollect to have read in my youth, and which \nindeed seems to suit the occasion as if it had been in- \nvented for it. The story is this. There was a cer- \ntain king, (his name I have now forgotten) who ruled \nover one of the largest and most flourishing nations of \nthat time. He had been a great Captain in his day, \nand his name was an universal terror \xe2\x80\x94 so much was \nhe dreaded. This king was forever employed in \nmean and unimportant affairs, unbecoming his exalted \nstation. Anions: other thin":s he w^ould feed his doars \nout of his own hands, for fear they would be neglect- \ned; and if a clout chanced to escape from one of his \nchildren, he was sure to be the one who would pin it \non. Sometimes, for an whole precious hour at a time, \n\nalas ! that such strange fancies should ever \n\nseize upon a Monarch\'s brain ! \xe2\x80\x94he would stand \n\nin an open field, trying to overstep his shadow. At \n3 \n\n\n\n26 \n\nother times, when other humours seized him, he would \nwhile away whole hours, in catching and tearing to \npieces, leg by leg, the flies that buzzed about his \nears, or chanced to make too free with his nose. Now \nthis was observed by the courtiers and placemen about \nhis court, who thought it very small employment for a \ngreat king ; whereupon they began to turn up their noses \nat him,and to take it into their heads that a monarch who \nbusied himself in such small matters, had no capacity to \nattend to the greater and weighty affairs of state, which \nwere suffering from neglect. And so having come to this \nconclusion, they began from that time to form cabals \namong themselves and to engage in intrigues and con- \nspiracies, which had for their end the dethronement \nof this weak king, and their own exaltation. At last \nthings came to such a pass, that they began to quar- \nrel openly with one another, to the great disgrace of \nthe nation, in the eyes of all the neighbouring king- \ndoms, and to kick about things with such an high \nhand, that certain wise men in the East and West \n\xe2\x80\xa2were obliged to come forth with what forces they \nhad at their command, and to drive this unfortunate \nking, with the whole crowdof buffoons, jesters, fools, \nknaves, pimps, courtiers, and favourites that had \ngathered around him, out of his capital, and to take \nupon themselves the management of affairs, with \nthe hope of retrieving their country from ruin and \ndisgrace. Such was the effect of this propensity in this \nking to be engaged in trifles, and mean affairs, while \nthe great ones, on the proper direction of which de- \n\n\n\n27 \n\npendedthe fortunes of thousands of his subjects, were \nsuffered to go to the wall \n\nAnd now, O Ceesar, havini^ written thus much upon \nwhat a Chief Magistrate ought not to he, \xe2\x80\x94 I shall turn \nthe tables, and proceed to say, with as much brevity \nas the subject will admit of, what a Chief Magistrate \nought to be. \n\nUnder this head then, I am of opinion that such an \none should possess that quality of command and ma- \njesty of character which restrains those who are in \nauthority under him, ^vithin proper bounds ; and thus \nprevent all such from becoming arrogant, useless, \nand mischievous to the good-government of the state. \nIn this respect, it is a truth, that men are like horses, \nwhich when you once suffer to grow too fat, from doing \nnothing and having too much their own way, become \nfoolish, fling about their tails, bite, squeal, kick up their \nheels, and destroy the comfort and convenience of those \nthey serve, as well as endanger their lives. Unless, \nindeed, a ruler possesses this quality of character, \nthese men (who are ever on the watch for any occasion \nthat may serve their purpose) give way to envy and \nmalice among one another, embark in intrigues for \ntheir own promotion, and thus beget divisions which, \nif the light that is shed upon the present by the past, \nbe any guide, have always been the cause of w^eak \ncouncils and feeble administrations in governments. In \nthis manner were the divisions in the church brought \nabout; for it is written, \'\' my beloved, did eat and drink, \nhe was enlarged and waxed fat, and he kicked.\'\'\'\' Unless \n\n\n\n28 \n\nthe head of a nation has this quality of character, (it \nis the same case with the General of an armj^, or \nany otlier man who is placed in a situation of com- \nmand) tlie arrogant and licentious race of scribes and \nunderstrappers, soon grow unruly, and aiiairs are sure \nto be mismanaged. \n\nIn the next place he should have judgment to see and \nperceive quid interest Reipiihlicoi \xe2\x80\x94 what is for the na- \ntional weal \xe2\x80\x94 which, like the prophetic power, foresees \nmost things, and leaves but little to the sport of circum- \nstances. TVith difficulty ]ms it heen said, c?o we find \nthe things that are before us. And here there is a neces- \nsity for the utmost exertion of the human faculties. \nA Ruler without judgment and a combination of those \npowers of the mind that constitute wisdom, cuts but \nan awkward figure ; and is sure, if you give him but \nrope enough, to involve himself in more absurdities \nand difficulties, in one year, than he can extricate \nhimself from in an asre. \n\nAgain, he should have courage and conduct to carry \ninto execution the many measures of a bold charac- \nter, which all rulers may be called upon at any time to \nexercise. It frequently happens that insurrections \ntake place, \xe2\x80\x94 they occur more or less in all states \xe2\x80\x94 \nwhich if promptly acted upon and with courage, are \neasily quelled, when by a little timidity or wavering, \nthey grow to a head, and burst upon the land with more \nterror than the Plegethon of the Poet\'s, swelling with \nits waves of fire. He should have knowledge, like Ga- \nte, which is so great a help to wisdom; magnanimity \n\n\n\nlike that of Regulus, which all rulers have frequent \noccasions to exercise ; patriotism like Brutus, in order \nthat all his acts may tend to the good of his country ; \nand benevolence, that they may conduce to the happi- \nness of his people : and that sagacity^ which is so ne- \ncessary to all men who are placed in stations that ex- \ncite the envy and ambition of others \xe2\x80\x94 a sagacity that \ndefies the machinations of the traitor, and detects the \nmean workings of the trickster. \n\nThese are the qualities that should be found con- \nspicuous in the character of a Chief Magistrate. And \nnow in order that the drift of what I have written, \nmay be the more certainly seen, and also, that I may \nhold up to censure the follies and wickednesses of \nKings and Rulers, I shall translate from an old man- \nuscript which I have in my possession, the history of \na certain Nero Borgia, who was in times past the king \nof the renoAvned kingdom of Washingtubiana : \xe2\x80\x94 But \nthis can be better done in a continuation to this Chap- \nter. \n\n\n\nCONTINUATION OF THE FIRST CHAPTER \n\n\n\nIN WHICH IS CONTAINED, \n\n\n\nTHE HISTOHY OF NERO BORGIA^ \n\n\n\nThe Most Valiant and Mighty King of the Renoioned King- \ndom of Washiiigtubiana. \n\n\n\nSince every man is fond of his own face, why should you, when we hold it \nbreak the glass 1\xe2\x80\x94Etherege. \n\n\n\nCID HAMET BEJVE^GELFS \n\nINTRODUCTION TO THIS HISTORY. \n\n\n\nThe following mutilated History, most worthy rea- \nder, came into my possession by one of the merest \nchances in the world. Many years a^o I was travel- \nling through the ancient and valorous country of Ire- \nland, in search of I know not what, when, as I was \nwalking one day in one of the pleasantest streets of the \ncity of Cork, my attention was caught by the ap- \n\n\n\n31 \n\npearance of an humble dwelling \xe2\x80\x94 a tenement of but \none diminutive story \xe2\x80\x94 an exceeding small and some- \nwhat diverting erection of brick and mortar, \xe2\x80\x94 which \nwas set down in the midst of many spacious and showy \nbuildings, the habitations of the fortunate tradesmen, \nmerchants, lawyers, doctors and divines, of that city. \nOver the door of this unpretending domicile was \nwritten in large characters \n\n\n\nJOHN MAGUIRE \n\nBOOKSELLER. \n\n\n\nHere it was that, after looking over a few shelves of \nworm-eaten books, bound in parchment \xe2\x80\x94 such as \nThomas Aquinas, the Dyvertynge Hystorye of Fry- \nere Lawrence, The Ancient Fool\'s Book \xe2\x80\x94 old Ballads, \nsuch as were sung *\' to please King Pepin\'s cradle ;" \nChronicles of the Kings of Ulster, stray volumes of \nworks of Astrology, and such like rare antiquities \xe2\x80\x94 \nhere, I say, I found, in an out-of-the-way corner, the \nmanuscript that contains this History of Nero Borgia. \nIt is an old, worm-eaten, mutilated affair of parch- \nment \xe2\x80\x94 every here and there gna^ved into holes and tat- \nters, such as those that rats and mice make in old and \ngreasy records \xe2\x80\x94 and in many places altogether illegi- \nble. \n\nThis will account for the singular appearance that \nthis history makes in these pages ; and, although it is \n\n\n\n32 \n\nonly a sentence or two, and in no instance more than a \npage, that I have been able to decypher, without com- \ning upon one of these gaps which have been made in \nit ; yet I am not therefore restrained from publishing \nit, just as it is, for I am sure that any person of any \ndepth of perception, who will set his wits to work, \nwill be enabled, by the assistance of fortune, to discern \nthe drift of the whole history from those parts which \nhave not suffered from the worms and the mice. \n\n\n\nTHE \n\nHISTOllY OF NERO BORGIA, \n\nTHE MOST VALIANT AND MIGHTY KING \n\nOF THE \n\nRENOWNED KINGDOM OF WASHINGTUBIANA. \n\n\n\nSince every man is fond of his own face, why should you, when we hold it, \nbreak the glassl\xe2\x80\x94Ethercg\'e. \n\n\n\nThere once reigned in the renowned kingdom of \nWashingtubiana, a certain Nero Borgia, who was \nsuch a drivel and ignorant blunderer in all matters that \nappertained to his station, that a great many of the \nwise men of that time believed, that in him and those \nhe had about him, ^vas come to pass again that which \nis written of old, and the brute beasts spoke that year \nat divers times and places. This Nero Borgia, from \nall that I can learn, perplexed and almost overwhelm- \ned with difficulties w^iich he had unwittingly brought \nupon himself, came at last to be so badly off in his up- \nper story, and so to lose what little equilibrium he \nhad, that he scarce knew whether he stood upon his \nhead or his heels. Indeed he plunged himself by his \n\n\n\n34 \n\nfolly into the most wonderful straits, in which, unable \nto move either to the right or left, he would be com- \npelled to stick, like an awkward Ass in a quagmire, a \nsubject for the laughter of the merry and the ridicule of \nall, until extricated by chance or out of pity. As he \nadvanced in his career, he became more and more in- \nvolved ; so that one day he threw down his golden \npipe, which he at this time puffed to great excess, (as \nall men who smoke will do, when in trouble) and ex- \nclaimed in the bitterness of his heart, " O Nero, Ne- \nro, Nero Borgia, thou fool ! to sweat and worry \nthyself to a bone underneath this Purple, when thou \nhast it in thy power to slip out from it as a snake from \nits last yearns skin and be at ease." And indeed he \nwould have shuffled off his coil whether or no, upon \nseeing that it was the fashion of a great many of the \nrulers of that time to do so, had it not been that his \nprincipal counsellor, one Reynard, whose surname was \nFox, \xe2\x80\x94 an avaricious, over-greedy dog, who was fond \nof picking up the crumbs that fell from his master\'s \ntable, \xe2\x80\x94 would not suffer him to do so ; but prevailed \nupon him to retain his power, by flattering his vanity \nand stroking his beard, and such other arts, as wily \nmen know well how to make use of in wheedling old \nage. \n\nNow this poor Nero, who was of this weak and \nfeeble character, could in no wise controul those coun- \nsellors and courtiers that were around him ; for these \nwere split up into such divisions, and had every thing \nso much in their own hands, that scarce a month pass- \n\n\n\n35 \n\ned away without bringing some fresh disgrace upon \nthe nation. Under this state of affairs, the safety and \nhonour of the country became involved. The wise and \nexperienced saw the d-anger, and began the w^ork of \nremoving the cause of it. Gloom and uncertainty for \nthe future pervaded in a measure all classes of the \ncommunity. Every man that you met, who had any \ninterest at stake in the safety of the Kingdom, or a \nspark of that patriotism which is so beautiful a trait in \nthe character of mankind, even though personally \nfriendly to Nero, and hitherto his partisan, acknow- \nledged the distrust he felt and the danger he saw, and \nfelt disposed, like the ancient Athenian, jealous of his \nliberty, to banish him his country. * * \n\n\n\n(Here a great gap in the manuscript.) \n\n\n\n* * * * Owing to these things the \npeople of Washingtubiana were kept in continual fer- \nment, and had more troubles and griefs than any other \npeople that ever were. It was one continual scene \nwith them, of toil and turmoil, anxieties, doubts, fears, \njealousies and wrangling. The disorder that prevail- \ned in Nero\'s court, spread throughout the whole king- \ndom ; and men were seen every day in the streets beat- \ning each other\'s brains out, and committing all sorts \n\n\n\n36 \n\nof atrocities ; for, reasoned the vicious and depraved, \nas lon^ as our betters do this, why should not we, \nwho are hut their followers and imitators, do the \nsame? # # # * \n\n\n\n(Here, anotlier hiatus, and then the following grave \nreflection, quoted from some old Philosopher:) Thus \nspoke this wise man, " he that seeketh to be eminent \namong able men, hath a great task; but this is ever good \nfor the public ; but he that plots to be the only figure \namong cyphers, is the decay of an whole age." * \n\n\n\n* * It was owing to something of this \n\nquality of character that Nero was enabled to raise \nhimself to the throne of Washingtubiana. The histo- \nry of his career is well known to his country. In it \nwe find that his path can be traced over the trampled \nnecks of his followers. From his earliest assay in \narms down to his last campaign \xe2\x80\x94 from the pistol to the \ncannon, we find his career marked by a disregard of the \nlaws ; (for these he put his foot upon whenever they \nstood in his way ;) by a magistrality of opinion which \nrun riot over other men\'s ; and by an impetuosity of \ntemper, which made him at times to sweep along the \nearth as a whirlwind. His valor, indeed, was terri- \nble. Like Sir Thomas Erpingham, who was so con- \n\n\n\n37 \n\nspicuous for his warlike exploits in the fields of France, \nhis valor, "like amurrian among cattle, was reckoned \nvery fatal in the field." \n\nOwing to these characteristicks, by which he in- \nspired fear in the breasts of the timorous, and love in \nall those who were of like character with himself, he \nacquired the title of Hero ; and his orators and poets \ncontinually harping upon this before the people of \nWashingtubiana, his fame as such was spread far and \nwide throughout the kingdom. The multitude where- \never he went regarded him as a god. They hurled \ntheir caps in the air in his presence, and in his absence \ndanced round a bush, of a particular sort of wood \nwhich they dedicated to him, like those deluded devo- \nvotees who fell prostrate before the calf * \n\n\n\n* * (Here we have a part of the \nMS. with which the mice and moth have made sad \nhavoc, and can make out nothing but a word every \nhere and there, such as) * * \n\n* * Washingtub, the capital of \nWashingtubiana, * * everlastingly \nin soapsuds * * bubbles * \n\n* * fi^oth * \n\ntinual hot-water by this old woman * \n\n4 \n\n\n\n38 \n* leaked out at the bottom, \n\n\n\n* * . another hoop that bound togeth- \n\ner the kingdom, gone \xe2\x80\x94 * * \n\n* * * all higglety-pigglety, hurly-bur- \n\nly. * helter-skelter * \n\n\n\n* * Such was the cock-and-a- \n\nbull story, invented on this occasion to conceal the \ntrue cause. O Borgia, hadst thou, not even the hon- \nesty of the Ass I * . * # \n\n\n\n* * And here Reynard prevailed \nupon his master to send the whole of them packing, \nwhich Avas done to the great joy of the people, who \ncried out on all hands that it was the cleaning out of \nthe Borgian stables. One fact however, is most cer- \ntain, that the stables would have been more thorough- \nly cleaned out, had our Borgia been pitched out with \nthe rest of the filth. * * * \n\n(Here several pages of the manuscript have been lost.) \n\n* O Love ! Omnipotent Love ! O insatiate \nmonster ! thou art a worse .enemy to the human race \nthan the Ass\'s Jaw-bone of old ! Thou hast ruined \nthy thousands and thy tens of thousands! Hannibal, \n\n\n\n39 \n\nwho dissolved the rocks of the Alps, (some historian \' \nsay with vinegar) and marched almost to the walls ol \nRome \xe2\x80\x94 even he, with victory within his grasp, turn- \ned aside, and forgot all his recorded vows of vengeance, \nin the smiles of some sun-hurnt girl of Campania : \xe2\x80\x94 \nsome conjecture that his soldiers got the cliilblains, \nand hence the cause of his retreat ; but this is only a \ncover fabricated by the friends of that illustrious Cap- \ntain, to conceal the unworthy truth. The Duke of \nMarlborough and a celebrated son of Washingtubiana, \nboth had their Sally\'s \xe2\x80\x94 two of the Helens, only dis- \ntinguished from each other by colour and country. \nAnd now we may add the unfortunate Borgia\'s case, \nwhich will end our list of men in great place, who \nhave been one way or other under bed-curtain infiu- \nencCj and \xe2\x96\xa0 \xe2\x80\x94 \xe2\x96\xa0 # * # \n\n\n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 * (This is the last gap in the manuscript.) \n\nThe truth is, that all this mischief and mal-adminis- \ntration of affairs was in a great measure to be ascribed \nto our Borgia\'s defective education ; for he (alas ! for \nWashingtubiana !) was brought up in the doctrines of \nthe Fiddlefadlean school, of which school, he came in \ntime to be one of the chief ornaments ; \xe2\x80\x94 indeed he was \nafter the straitest of this sect a disciple ; and every \none knows how many absurd doctrines have been pro- \npagated, and how many Cimmerian schemes had been \nset on foot, by this class of Philosophers, from the \n\n\n\n40 \n\nfirst dawn of letters, upon the world (for it is the old- \ndest school extant) down to this period. \n\nBesides this bad education, Nature in building up \nour Borgia had badly contrived his cockloft ; so that \nit became leaky and let in the weather, until it was so \ndamaged, that it was not even a fit place in which to \nstow away any thing except rubbish; and owing to \nthis it was in a short time taken possession of by rats \nand mice, who gnawed it into holes in all directions \nand made it a thousand times worse than it was be- \nfore. \n\nTo conclude our history then, (for a history is always \n\ndull in proportion as it is too long \xe2\x80\x94 diiid going too long, \n\nsays a witty prebendary of the Church, is a cause of \n\nabortion as effectual as going too short,) Nero, being \n\nsuch as I have described him, (and I assure you in all \n\nveracity that I have not swerved one particle from the \n\ntruth but have kept that straight and forward path \n\nwhich all honest historians pursue,) besieged on all \n\nsides, thrust upon by his enemies, and sneered at side^ \n\nwise by his friends, with forty mortal follies on his \n\nhead, at last became deranged, upon which he w^as \n\nsent to his private residence a great way off in the \n\ncountry, under the care of a certain old and faithful \n\ndomestic, almost the only one of all the crowd that \n\nwere once about him in the day of his fortune and \n\npower, who had the kindness to stick by him. In \n\nthis retreat, like the worn-out Charles the fifth at the \n\nmonastery of St. Justus, he passed a snail-like, inoffen^ \n\nsive life, in the indulgence of such whims as take pos-^ \n\n\n\n41 \n\nsession of a diseased mind, until his death, which took \nplace after he had run through the usual span of life, \nIt is said hy some that he was restored to his senses \nbefore he died ; which indeed seems probable, for the \nverses on his tomb-stone, which have been carefully \nmade legible by the hand of some friendly antiquary, \nseem to indicate as much.\xe2\x80\x94 They are these, \n\n" Here lies a Cavalier of fame, \nWhose dauntless courage soared so high, \nThat death who can the boldest tame, \nHe scorned to flatter or to fly. \n\nA constant bug-bear to the bad. \nHis might the world in arms defied ; \nAnd in his life though counted mad, \nHe in his perfect senses died." \n\nOne fact, however, in winding up this melancholy \nhistory, I cannot in justice pass over ; for it is one of \nthose touches which my pen most delights to dwell up- \non, and which, alas, I have had so little opportunity to \nrecount in narrating this history. In the disposition \nwhich our Borgia made of his wealth (which I am told \nwas by no means inconsiderable,) he left a handsome \nindependence to his faithful Achates, who had seen \nhim through his last shoes. O gratitude ! how rare a \nquality art thou in tlie character of the great ! O Bor- \ngia, thou rivallest iEneas \xe2\x80\x94 the pious and brave ^neas, \nin thy friendships ! Tliou outdoest the Manchegan \nHero, in providing for thy squire ! O Washingtubianian \nNero, how art thou superior to the Roman ! And this \ngratitude was not suffered to go unrewarded ; for this \nmodern Achates, like an honest old dog whose love \n4* \n\n\n\n42 \n\nfor his master leaps over the narrow boundary of life, \neked out the remainder of his days in continual praises \nof his imperial master \xe2\x80\x94 in rehearsing to the idle and \nthe curious, some marvel that he had done\xe2\x80\x94 (and God \nknows he did many !) and in pointing out to the stran- \nger and the vagrant, the grave of all that was once a \nNero. \n\n\'. (H< r J ends the manuscrip\'.) \n\n\n\nSuch, Caesar of the Moderns, was the life and \ndeath of Nero Borgia \xe2\x80\x94 a ruler from whose mistaken \ncourses, others that are so unfortunate as to be called \nupon to endure the burdens of Magistracy, may profit \nalmost ad libitum; for in him they may see what a sor- \nry figure Folly and Ignorance cut, when they chance \nto get into high places, and how excellent and com- \nmended of all men, it is to be wise. \n\nAnd here, to the end that I may not write out all I \nhave to say in this chapter, and thus leave nothing for \nthe next; and above all, in order that your Excellency \nmay have some breathing time for reflection (for I wish \nthat you would ponder well upon the truths I have \ntaught) I shall conclude this first lesson with this part- \ning requisition, that you make the study of the precepts \nand wise reflections contaii ed herein, your nightly and \ndaily labor. \n\nNocturna veisate nianu, versate diurna. \xe2\x80\x94 " \n\n\n\nCHAPTER IL \n\n\n\nThe voice of praise is sweet. \n\nXenophon. \n\nThese signs have marked me extraordinary ; \nAnd all the courses of my life do show, \nI am not in the roll of common men. \n\nHenry 4fA. \n\n\n\nIt rejoices me, O Caesar of the Moderns, that I \nhave it at last in my power, to write your name at the \nhead of a second chapter. After having made out the \nfirst chapter, I was indeed sorely put to it, to know \nwhat I should write in the present ; not because there \nwas any barrenness of invention with me, or could be \nany with a writer of any capacity, upon such a sub- \nject as I now write ; but on account of the multiplici- \nty of thoughts that crowded upon my mind, and threw \nme into perplexity, like the Ass of old, between the two \nbundles of hay, to know which to take hold of first. In- \ndeed I can scarcely imagine of any such difficulty of pro- \ncedure in ocmpositions or treatises of this sort,which are \nof a straight-forward, positive character, and altogether \nsecimdam natiiram ; and which do not require a know- \nledge of the rules of art, as is the case with composi- \n\n\n\n44 \n\ntions of a satirical character, in which a wonderful \ndegree of invention and wit are necessary to the pro- \nper formation of them. Those writers who have a \ntaste for satire, you may take my word for it, have a \nvery unpleasant time of it. They are put to all ima- \nginable devices and expedients. To this end I could \nbring up many ilhistrious instances ; as among others, \nthe Dean of St. Patrick\'s, who tells us himself, if I re- \nmember aright, in a preface to one of his best compo- \nsitions, that he sharpened his invention by hunger, and \nin general wrote under a course of physic and a great \nwant of money. Such are the shifts and straits to \nwhich those are put, who write in a satirical vein. \xe2\x80\x94 \nBut the case is not thus with those writers, who like \nmyself steer clear of these sort of compositions altoge- \nther ; for we are not obliged to resort to these purga- \ntions and inflictions. As for myself, I can assure your \nExcellency, that I did not set down to the composition \nof this dedication in forma pauperis^ and that I neith- \ner starved nor physicked myself in the least; but that \nI lived along pretty much as usual, and wrote through- \nout under the possession of as much money as would \nkeep the devil from dancing in my pockets, \xe2\x80\x94 from all \nwhich facts, you may very justly infer that there is \nnot the smallest grain of satire in this treatise. \n\nIn this chapter, may it please your Grace, (which I \nintend shall be a much more wonderful and far short- \ner one than the other,) I shall proceed to discourse in \nsomewhat a different strain. Do not, therefore, I beg \nof you, be at all confounded when I speak darkly, but \n\n\n\n45 \n\nfecollecl that there is ia great deal in the dark sayings \nof the wise, which although it may appear incompre- \nhensible to you now, yet, when in the course of time, \nby chewing the cud of reflection, as the sagacious \nPanza was wont to do, your mind shall have become \nmore at home upon them, you will find clear as truth \nherself, and wonderfully full of matter worthy of a \nwise man\'s meditation. And if perchance you should \nhappen to meet with any thing that is light in your es- \ntimation, and that causes you to laugh, remember also \nthat there is frequently much truth concealed mdev \nthe mask of levity. Truths indeed are not things that \nfloat about upon the surface : they are of a material \ntoo weighty for that. It is only those things that are \nlight that are to be found at top, \xe2\x80\x94 And hence the ob- \nservation that dictated the saying that Truth lies at \nthe bottom of a well. \n\nFrom all that is contained in the foregoing para\xc2\xab \ngraph I find much argument that may be urged in be- \nhalf of your Excellency\'s own compositions, which \nare admitted on all hands to be of that extremely dark \nand incomprehensible character, that but few out of \nthe pale of your own school, can at all comprehend \nthem. But your Excellency is aware that folly is a \nthing that is more easily comprehended by fools than \nby wise men, as knavery is by knaves more than by \nhonest men. And hence it is that I account for the \nworld\'s not comprehending what so wise a man as \nyourself has written ; for, the world\'s a fool par exceU \nlence, (if we may be allowed to judge any thing frpiu \n\n\n\n46 \n\nthe hair-brained projects in which it has ever been \nembarked, from a date long anterior to that of Peter \nthe Hermit, or even to that of the siege of Troy, dovrn \nto the present time) and therefore cannot comprehend \nthe voice of Wisdom when she. cries out from the \nhouse-tops and the high places ; since by parity of \nreasoning, if it takes a knave to understand knavery, \nor a fool to comprehend folly, it must be only the wise \nwho can comprehend the voice of wisdom. And we \nhave confirmation of this in the beasts of the field, for any \none who, like Tristram Shandy, has contemplated the \nways of the A.ss, must have observed oftentimes, how \nthat the brayings of that animal are perfectly familiar \nto Mules and others of his own species, w^hilst they \ncreate the greatest wonder in the other beasts of the \nfield. Here then is a very sufficient reply to all those \nslanderers, carpers, detracters, and the loud-mouthed, \nfroward herd of critics, who are ever engaged in pick- \ning holes in those most admirable State Papers which \nyou have given to your subjects at divers times, in \nwhich is made manifest, as I am bold to maintain, \nhow much you have disappointed the predictions of \nyour friends and caused even your enemies to won- \nder. For the truth is, that your Magisterial Vetos \nand Letters Mandatory to your subjects, (which some \nmalicious people have greatly outraged by saying, tha \nthey were unto your own party a stumbling-block, and \nunto all the rest of the world foolishness,) are not \ndark, because they are really obscure and unmeaning, \nas were the imperial decrees of Rome in her later and \n\n\n\n-47 \n\nless glorious days, but because they are unintelligible \nto the limited comprehensions of your subjects But \nthis is departing from what I intended should be the \nsubject of my labours in this chapter. Therefore I \nbreak off here from this discussion, in order that I may \nturn back and come along with my proper subject, in \nwhich, as I have already intimated, I intend to bring \nforth something new under the sun. And thus I be- \ngin, \xe2\x80\x94 first and beforehand, however, invoking to my \naid the God Apollo,_to whose worship I have all my \nlife clung with a child\'s love, and Pallas, whose inspi- \nrations I have fancied I have sometimes felt. \n\nAs all authors, O Caesar, since the time that dedi- \ncations were first invented, have informed their pa- \ntrons or dedicatees who their illustrious ancestors \nwere, and of all that related to their descent, I feel \nmyself constrained to speak some little concerning \nyours, out of respect to so ancient and laudable a cus- \ntom. \n\nYou are descended may it please your Excellency, \nfrom\'one of the most remarkable of all the remarkable \nmen of the world, a celebrated ancient who was called \nHercules, who performed such astonishing feats, as \nare almost incredible. His twelve labours have been \n\nIcanticled by every generation for the last two thou- \nsand years and upwards \xe2\x80\x94 so great is the fame of this \nwonderful genius. Among the great things that he \ndid was the cleaning out of the stables of Augeas, \nwhich contained the accumulated corruption and filth \nmade by 3000 Oxen during 30 years. \xe2\x80\x94 And hence it \n\n\n\n48 \n\nis, that a certain great feat of yours has been liken- \ned to this one of your illustrious ancestor\'s. From \nthis remarkable man your descent is traced down \nthrough along and unsullied line of worthies, (conceruw \ning whom I shall say nothing here for reasons that are \nbest known to myself,) until we come to that wonder- \nful personage, a certain Asinus, surnamed Scythianus, \nbecause he put an whole army of Scythians to flight, \nin a terrible panic, merely by the sound of his voice, as \nis related of him by thai great historian Herodotus. \xe2\x80\x94 \nAnd hence the custom, amongst the most admirable \nancients who did nothing wrong, of giving a man a \nsurname indicative of any great exploit he had per- \nformed, which we find to have been in fashion down \nas late as the days of Scipio, who was surnamed Afri- \ncanus, on account of the drubbings he gave the Car- \nthagenians ; and even at a much later period, as is \ninstanced in the ever memorable case of a certain \ncanting Leather-seller, \xe2\x80\x94 a conspicuous adherent of \nthat bold and bloody butcher, CromwxU, and a mem- \nber of the Rump Parliament, \xe2\x80\x94 who was surnamed \nPraise- God-Barebone, on account of his wonderful \nwrestlings with God, which is indicated in Praise- God, \nand his hungering and thirsting after righteousness, \nwhich is indicated in Barebone. This Asinus Scy- \nthianus, I regard as by far the most remarkable of all \nyour great ancestors ; yet do not think that I bedaub \nyour Excellency with too much flattery and other such \nlike oily filth, when I write you down a much greater \npersonage than this renow^ned Scythianus, which is \n\n\n\n49 \n\nmanifest in the fact that you did but open your mouth \nand speak, when straightway your friends were all \nthrown into the most terrible consternation and panic, \nand at last put to flight in whole crowds. This feat \nI regard as far more remarkable than that of Asinus \nScythianus, who only put to flight his enemies by the \nsound of his voice, which I can much more easily con- \nceive of than the dispersion^of his friends by the same \nmeans. \n\nNow we skip over a vast number of personages, \nwho were remarkable in their day and generation, un- \ntil we come down to a very celebrated bull-fighter of \nHispaniola, who was remarkable for having brought \nover the breed of the bulls of Colchis, who guarded \nthe golden fleece, from Italy, (where they had been \npreserved for man}^ years, and with such great care, \nby Queen Chimaera,) and propagating them throughout \nSpain ; and also for having begotten the celebrated \nMilesius, who was a great adventurer, who went over \nand settled himself in the kingdom of Ireland, through \nwhom we trace St. Patrick, who did a great thing in \ndriving out the snakes and bull-frogs from that land, \nin the same manner that your Excellency has driven \nout from this country of ours, certain animals indigen- \nous to the soil, and are still engaged, with a perseve- \nrance equalled only by St. Patrick in the case of the \nfrogs and snakes, in driving them out even to exter- \nmination \xe2\x80\x94 all which you do for the sake of quiet and \npeace in the land. And thus, O Caesar, do you pur- \nsue that very wise policy, which has for so many re- \n5 \n\n\n\n50 \n\nvolving years, been practised upon the descendants of \nMilesius by a certain Leviathan of the sea, \xe2\x80\x94 a proud, \nmonarchical, aristocratical, democratical, trinitarian, \nstiff-tailed, bluff, over-greedy, bull-dog of a beast; and \nwhich is one only of the many wise and just things this \nmonster has accomplished since he grew up to be \nstrong and mighty. Indeed, now that I come to re- \nflect further upon it, I can see a wonderful similarity \nbetween your treatment, of these native animals of our \nsoil and this monster\'s of these poor Milesians ; for \nthis latter, \xe2\x80\x94 as is instanced more particularly in the \ndeeds of Black Tom, one of his most conspicuous re- \npresentatives and vicG-gerents, \xe2\x80\x94 acting upon a prin- \nciple familiar to all experienced and wise despots, \nseeing that his just and equitable exactions were grum- \nbled at by these rebellious Milesians, determined up- \non exterminating them outright, in order thereby to \npacify them \xe2\x80\x94 which fact I gather from Captain Rock, \na Milesian himself, who wr\xc2\xab:/te well upon this matter. \nNow^ it seems to me, O Csesar, that this is precisely \nthe course that it has pleased your Ex:cellency to adopt \nin the accomplishment of your design of quieting those \nanimals of ours to which I allude. \xe2\x80\x94 And m this you \ndo wisely, and as a legitimate Caesar, since, as all \nmust see, the most effectual way of quietmg their \nmouths, and preventing them longer to disturb the \nland with their remonstrances and threats, is to extermi- \n\'iiate them as Saint Patrick did the frog and the snake. \nBut this is digressing from the genealogy of your fam- \nily, to which I make haste to return. \n\n\n\n51 \n\nYour Excellency\'s blood now flowed down in the \nregular order of nature, until a late period, when it \nonce nfiore broke out into something remarkable in the \nperson of one Sir Rory Ballyshally \xe2\x80\x94 who was indeed \na broth of a boy. This distinguished scion of a long \nline of remarkables, made much stir in the world on \nvarious scores. Among other things he founded that \n\'^ line Seminary for the Humanities, \' at Bolognc. But \nhe is more particularly handed down to posterity as a \nchivalrous knight who whilom made the tour of Ire- \nland, travelling over every high-road and by-road in \nit, in order that he might thwack and bethump any \none who had so much disregard of our blessed reli- \ngion, as to get astride an ass. To this end he armed \nhimself with a Shilleighlah, and a bottle or so under \nhis belt, and mounted on his own good bog-trotters, \nmade such great progress, that he dismounted near \nthree hundred travellers and honest souls from their \nasses, (the Ass was a favourite beast in those days,) in \nthe short space of three weeks : and all this he did be- \ncause our Saviour once rode upon one of these beasts ; \never since which period that blessed animal has borne \nthe mark of the Cross either on his shoulder or his \nrump, from which our knight your ancestor, affirmed \nthat the beast was alone to be used for sacred purpo- \nses, and that it was a cantempt of our Holy Mother, \nthe Church, in any layman, or any other than one of \nthe Clergy of the- rank of a Parish-Priest, to get as- \ntride this me^k and humble beast. But this, O Ceesar \n\n\n\n52 \n\nI will make bold to affirm, is nothing equal to your \nown achievements in your youth and manhood \'^ \nfor you have knocked down and blown the brains out \nof twice that number, if report be true, and were more \nconspicuous in your time for blood-drawing, gouging, \nand other such like Imperial accomplishments, and \nhad the best knowledge of those two arts, the art of \nRough-and-tumble and of Rowing, of any man of your \nday and generation. This is instanced in almost innu- \nmerable cases, but more especially in that one in which \n\nyou smote your enemies, Jesse, of the root of , \n\nand his brothers and clansmen, in the house of a cer- \ntain Publican that is situated afar off in the West, in \nthat city called Gnashopolis \xe2\x80\x94 the rooms of which, \neven at this day, as I am told, bear attestation to your \nwonderful prowess, in the bullet-holes that are spotted \nover the ceilings, and the dark blood stains, w^hich, \nlike those that mark the spot of David Rizzio\'s assas- \nsination in Holyhood palace, time itself cannot oblite- \nrate. \n\nFrom this illustrious personage. Lord Ballyshallyy \nyour line comes down to a point like a snake^s tail, \nuntil at last we lose sight of it altogether for a time \xe2\x80\x94 \nat least all that I have been able to find concerning it, \nis of a confused and uncertain nature. At this point \nthen of the history of your descent, all that I can say \nis, that it is a blank\xe2\x80\x94 an untrodden and unsullied spot, \nupon which the Genius of your race may sit and ad- \nmire the great personages into whom his spirit has \nbeen infused on either side. \n\n\n\n63 \n\nAnd now I fall in with your ancestors again, in the \nperson of that remarkable man who came to this coun- \ntry about a century or two ago ; \xe2\x80\x94 who was one of \ntwo brothers, who, having a turn for adventure, set \nsail into different parts of the world to seek their for- \ntune. This ancestor, who was the founder\'of the fam- \nily on this side of the water, was a man of the most \naristocratic cast, insomuch that he took the greatest \npride in exhibiting his family Coat of Arms, with its \nblazonry, devices, &c. upon all occasions ; and in this, \nif I recollect aright, was a singular thing in heraldry, \nthat I do not remember ever to have met with before, \nwhich was a Goat Rampant, with his head and horns \nin a goring attitude, at^the top of the Arms, and at the \nbottom this motto, \n\nOccursarc Capro, illc ferit cornu, caveto. \n\nThis, I suppose, was designed as an indication of \nthat excellent characteristic of your race which has \nso often manifested itself in your Excellency ; and \nwhich indeed seems to support an opinion that I have \nfor some time been disposed to maintain, that you may \njudge of men in a great measure as you do of horses, \nby their strain. Fortes crecmtur afortibus. \n\nExtraction indeed has much to do with the virtues \nand vices of men ; else why is it that we see a long \nline^ beginning as far back as the Edwards or the Hen- \nries, in which you may go from father to son, with- \nout ever meeting with the record of one noble or gen- \nerous action \xe2\x80\x94 crying out the whole way " its all bar* \n5* \n\n\n\n54 \n\nren;" another, in which falsehood, treachery and knave- \nry are the chief characteristics ; a third, in which \neach man is a fool or an idiot; do we not continually \nread of the heroic Edwards and the fierce Henries, \nthe brave and generous Percies, the cruel and blood- \nthirsty Caisars, the munificent and princely Medici \xe2\x80\x94 \nof the Brutusses, renowned for their true love of coun- \ntry \xe2\x80\x94 of the wisdom and virtue of the Portian family ? \nHas not this man\'s blood been marked by vice and ef- \nfeminacy, and that one\'s by honesty, fidelity, truth and \npatriotism? Is not tliis family prolific \xe2\x80\x94 in nothing but \nnumbers ; whilst that other can tell of its sages, wits \nand heroes ? All this is true \xe2\x80\x94 true, my Imperial Patron, \nas any thing that ever came from Cid Hamet\'s vera- \ncious pen. And here I will take occasion to advise \nthe young and inexperienced of my countrymen \xe2\x80\x94 to \nadvise them as a sincere friend \xe2\x80\x94 as one who wishes \nthis republic to grow up in greatness and moral beau- \nty \xe2\x80\x94 to think well of what they are about, when they \nset about that high and responsible duty of propagat- \ning their seed ; and to reflect that upon what they are \nabout to do depends, whether or not, their descendants \nshall be wise and virtuous \xe2\x80\x94 wise and virtuous to the \nonly preservation of the Republic. \n\nBut to return once more to our descent. This an- \ncestor, O Caesar, of whom v>\'8 last made mention, \n\nwhose christian name was , begot \n\nCaleb who begot Willie, who begot Habbakuk the fan- \natic preacher, who being a brawny, broad shouldered \nand lusty fellow, begot a whole congregation, by some \n\n\n\n55 \n\none of whom was begotten a certain Kory, who was \ncalled \'\' roaring Rory," on account of his going about \nthe land like a wild bull ; who begot Jupiter of the \nModerns, from whose prolific brain, like the fabled \nMinerva of old, you sprang, O Caesar, a full grown \nwonder \xe2\x80\x94 a hero and a sage \xe2\x80\x94 a Caesar and a Brutug \ncombined \xe2\x80\x94 the magnificent, magistral, renowned, va- \nliant, terrible, wise and only true Cassar of the Mod- \nerns ! \n\nOf the wonderful signs and disturbances that mark- \ned your birth, I shall say nothing here. It needs not \nthat I should here tell, how the raven croaked and the \nowl shrieked from his hollow tree, how the cat cater- \nwauled and the cock crew, how the ass brayed and \nthe bull roared, how the mountains began to burn, and \nthe thousand other signs that have " marked you ex- \ntraordinary !" for these things are better to be ima- \ngined than related. \xe2\x80\x94 And thus trusting to the imagina- \ntion of the reader, I shall go on to the next chapter. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. \n\n\n\n-Fall to, and spare not ; here is excellent good mutton ; or \n\n\n\nbold, now my hand is in, 1 will help you. \n\nTale of a Tub: \n\n\n\nYe are a factious crew and enemies to all good government. Ye are a pack \nof mercenary wretches, and would, like Esau, sell your country for a mess of \npottage ; and like Judas, betray your God for a few pieces of money. Is there a \nvirtue now remaining among you? Is there one vice you do not possess 7 la \nthere a man among you that hath the least care for the good of the Common- \nwealth 1 \n\n\xe2\x80\xa2 Go, get you out ; make haste ! ye venal slaves, begone. \n\nOliver Cromwell. \n\n\n\nWe will now proceed, O Caesar of the Moderns, \nwith our third chapter, which I intend shall contain \nsome things worthy of my pen. \n\nThere is nothing in which men in responsible sta- \ntions go so much astray, as in their treatment of their \nfollowers. You are yourself, however, an illustrious \ninstance to the contrary, whilst all those who have \ngone before you, are sad examples of this truth. \xe2\x80\x94 \nThere are always about every new Magistrate \xe2\x80\x94 of \nwhom there are a great many in all Republics \xe2\x80\x94 a host \nof followers and supporters \xe2\x80\x94 aloud-mouthed, greedy, \nturbulent and miserable pack, upon whose shoulders \nhe has ridden, kicked and spurred, into power. These, \na venal set \xe2\x80\x94 whose peculiar characteristick it is, nev- \n\n\n\n57 \n\ner to know what they want, what they are about, or \nwhen they have enough, even when they have gorged \nthemselves \xe2\x80\x94 swarm round a newly chosen ruler of a \nRepublic, and with mouths wide open, one hoarsely \ncries out that\'s my bacon, \xe2\x80\x94 another, that\'s my loaf \xe2\x80\x94 a \nthird, that\'s my fish \xe2\x80\x94 and a fourth swears by his Ma- \nker, that his master shall give him some good thing or \nother, or he\'ll tell some secrets upon him, that will \nraise a hornet\'s nest about his ears, and so on ; \xe2\x80\x94 all \nwhich outcry tliey make, because they are such de- \nvoted friends to liberty, which they foolishly imagine \nindeed, having been so often told so by their Master \nand Chief Now that wherein most rulers go astray \nhere, is this : that they do not sufficiently attend to the \nrequisitions of these honest people whom they have \nridden; but turn about to them and say, " ye scurvy \nknaves, vile tatterdamalions, off-scourings of the earth, \nbegone, and cease to trouble me with your presump- \ntuous clamour ; \xe2\x80\x94 Why do you beg of me this place \nand that at my table, when there are so many worthier \nthan you that are already in them, or that I can ob- \ntain !" thus treating them like the Ape in the fa- \nble, who upon requesting the Fox to give him a piece \nof his fine long tail, to cover his nakedness, was replied \nto by the Fox, that he would do no such thing ; \nbut would rather sweep the ground with his tail, as \nlong as he lived, than give him the least bit of it. Now \nthis is a great mistake in rulers, and deserves to be ex- \nposed and punished ; for is it not reasonable \xe2\x80\x94 does h \nnot come plump up to the common sense of mankind, \n\n\n\n58 \n\nthat these people should be rewarded for their toil \nand trouble ? Did not our blessed Saviour himself say \nto a certain class, verily I say unto you, you shall have \nyour reward I And again, it^jft^ raan is there among \nyou, whom if his son ask bread, inll he give him a stone ? \nAnd what great justice does your Excellency evince \nin this particular, in adopting a course directly the re- \nverse of these rulers ! for you, acting upon that just \nprinciple that the saddle should be put upon the right \nhorse, as soon as you had ridden upon these people in- \nto power, dismounted, and placing the saddle upon \nyour own back, bid as many of them that were- \nnearest you, that could, lo get up and ride, since \nnow their time was come. I say, O just Caesar, that \nyour course in this particular, is as different as can \nwell be conceived, from that of all others who have \ngone before you. And from this comes it, that it has \nbeen so truly said of you, that you have not at this \ntime a superior in the art of governing ; and that in \nthe history of the whole world there is but one ruler \nwho can be at all compared with you, and that is, the \ncelebrated Governor of the Island of Baritaria \xe2\x80\x94 who \nwas, indeed, a miracle of a Magistrate, in his way. \n\nIndeed, I have your Excellency at this moment be- \nfore me in my fancy, seated on an old oak chair, dis- \ndaining the soft and cushioned seat of your luxurious \nand effeminate predecessors, robed in a hunting shirt \xe2\x80\x94 \nthe true garb of Liberty, and a hickory broomstick in \nyour hand, (which is a great thing to provoke medita- \ntion) crying out, with outstretched arms, to the crowd \n\n\n\n59 \n\naround you, " come, draw up my honest fellows ; \' fall \nto, and spare not\'; \xe2\x80\x94 here is the best offish, and butch- \ner\'s meat, and wild fowl ; come, I say, knock out that \nold, lean, gray-headed dog of a fellow, that has been \nfeeding here for years past, without ever putting so \nmuch as an ounce of flesh on his bones, and some of \nyou take his seat : drive out all who are not as one of \nus : \xe2\x80\x94 What ? shall my house be made a place for lazy \nknaves to nestle and hatch and feed a brood ! tumble \n\nthem all out, every d d mother\'s son of them, \n\nand let honest men get into their places ; \xe2\x80\x94 cut, slash \nand scatter, my Myrmidons." \xe2\x80\x94 But, methinks, I hear \nsome one more prudent and cunning than the rest of \nthis herd, who had got an easy seat somewhere near \nyour Excellency, say in your ear, "Stop master, \nhad\'nt you better take care, and proceed more cautious- \nly, for already I hear some foolish people without \ndoors, crying out against you, and saying that what \nyou are doing the like never was seen or heard of be- \nfore." " And that\'s a God\'s truth," your Grace re- \nplies. " But let them clamour until their tongues come \nout : am not I the great Ccesar of the Moderns ? and \nhave I not the voice of the multitude to sustain me } \xe2\x80\x94 \nthen why need I regard the outcries of these few \xe2\x80\x94 \nthese cursed dogs \xe2\x80\x94 these venal slaves, who have no \nmore honesty than my horse." To which this Place- \nman replies, \'\' All you say is true, O Caisar, yet, I \npray you, remember, the great Julian lost his newly \nacquired crown upon the Ides of March, and some \nAmerican Brutus, followed by a devoted few, may \n\n\n\n60 \n\nyet" . V . . , \n\n. (here my fancy refus- \ned to continue the dialogue; but whatever was to fol- \nlow, be it of a fearful nature or not, your Excellency \nheeded it not, but concluded your harangue to your \nfollowers thus :) " Fall to my honest friends : eat and \ndrink every one of you, for it\'s all of the best that I give \nyou ; and you deserve it all \xe2\x80\x94 nay, more, if I had it, \nfor setting me up here to preside over such good \nthings." \n\nIn all this, O Caesar, I think I can see the generosi- \nty and magnanimity of the most noble of the Caisars. \n\xe2\x80\x94 And here permit me to say, that if there are any \nvirtues that sit well upon the chief of a Republic, they \nare those of magnanimity and generosity \xe2\x80\x94 a magna- \nnimity and a generosity that throw out all selfish con- \nsiderations, and that look alone to the benefit of the \nsubject, who, poor devil ! has tugged and sweated by \nday, and at night, worn out his lungs in huzzaing at \ntlie spoutings-forth of that useful body of men, who \nare in such great demand with your Excellency, and \nwhose services the State, at all times, so much needs \n\n\xe2\x80\x94I mean Stump Orators-- \xe2\x80\x94 \xe2\x80\x94^Demagogues\xe2\x80\x94 \xe2\x80\x94 - \n\nSalamanders, \xe2\x80\x94 who spring up most in free countries, \nand like rank weeds, indicate the richness of the soil \nthat nourishes them \xe2\x96\xa0 \xe2\x80\x94 who has done all this I say, in \nupholding the State, of which you are, O Caesar, in his \nestimation, both the part and the whole \xe2\x80\x94 the appl^ \nand the egg. \n\n\n\n61 \n\nIt is related in the history of Johannes Hallicarnas- \nsus, that when SulpitiusStultissirnus was made Empe- \nror of Rome, there was such a flight of hirds as was \nnever seen or heard of before, whether it be on account \n^ of their number, the noise and clamour they made, or \nthe horrible smell and filth that came from them. Hal- \nlicarnassus describes them as coming in great gangs, \nas being uncommonly large in the wings, which ena- \nbled them to fly fast, and of a dirty brown and black \ncolour, with long and sharp talons and bills, \xe2\x80\x94 in short, \nas a bird of great voracity, and as being known to the \nparts from whence tliey came by the name of Harpies. \nIt was in the first year of tliis Emperor\'s reign that \nthey appeared, and in the first part of that year. They \nhovered over the capitol, prowled about the commons, \nstopped up the streets, and at last became so bold and \nimpudent as to enter the grounds of the palace, and \neven entered the palace itself. There was scarce a \nspot, says this accurate and most excellent historian, \nthat they did not light upon, and not a good thing or in- \ndeed a thing of any sort, whether good, bad or indif- \nferent, that they did not pounce upon with their long \ntalons and bear ofl". Indeed they V\\^ere so voracious,that \nit is related of one of them that not being able to get \nany thing else, he grabbed up and flew ofl" with a pair \nof the Emperor^s old breecJies^ \xe2\x80\x94 (which was a sort of pan- \ntaloon or covering for the legs which the Romans \nwore about that time.) It is further related of them \nthat they were so extremely filthy that they polluted \nevery spot they touched, and that it u^as as difficult to \n6 \n\n\n\n62 \n\npick your way along- where they liacl been, as to walk \ntlirough the old close of Edinborough of a mornin.j. \nWhilst they remained about the capital, scarce a wise \nman, or indeed any one who was at all dc^sirous of pre- \nserving himself from their contamination, ventured \nnear the palace ; so that this Emperor was shut out \nfrom all respectable approach as long as they remain- \ned. Qiiis taliafandOj temperet alacrymis? says Halli- \ncarnassus, at this melancholy part of his narration. \nThe whole Roman Nation was in uproar, and in fear \nand trembling for what it foreboded ; for it was by \none consent of the seers and wise men that it was set \ndown as a flight of ill omen. Some supposed that it \nforeboded war and the ruin of the nation. Others, \nand among these was one conspicuous prophet, who \nsaid of it mysteriously, and with a true prophetic cer- \ntainty and definitivene^s, that it was a sign of the times. \nOthers again, said that it indicated a pestilence and a \nfamine throughout the land. The Oracle at Delphos, \nthat oracle that was so celebrated throughout the an- \ncient world for its unerring accuracy of divination, \xe2\x80\x94 \nsaid that it was a sign that Corruption had seized up- \non the bowels of the State. An old book, one of those \nthat belonged to the old Sybil, was found in the tem- \nple of Jupiter Capitolinus, with its leaves opened at \nthat very spot in which the corruption and slavery of \nRome were foretold. But what is remarkable, all \nthese Prophets concurred in mailing this prophecy con- \ncerning it, ^* THAT IT INDICATED THAT THE INS WOULD \n\n\n\n63 \n\nBE OUT, AND THAT THE OUTS WOULD BE IN ;" and thlS \n\nprophecy although difficult to understand the meaning of \nat this day, as is the case witli a great many others of \nthat age, came to pass, as our historian says, and was \nfulfilled to to the letter \xe2\x80\x94 in totidem Uteris. \n\nBut to what end write all this down here ? Who \nwas this Johannes Hallicarnassus \xe2\x80\x94 this so excellent \nhistorian ? Why rummage out from old books which \nman never saw before these ancient marvels ? Who \nwill believe such stories? If there be any reader of \nthis treatise, who is so bold and so ignorant as to ask \nthese questions, I say that he is an unlearned and pre- \nsuming reader, and must find out answers for them him- \nself. Does such an one suppose that Cid Hamet has noth- \ning else to do but answer the questions of the idle, the \ncurious, the simple, or the impertinent? To such an \none,I am free to reply, that it is my part to write, and \nyours to read and comprehend, if perchance you have \nany powers that way about you, otherwise to pass \nthese things by as a piece of Free-Masonry, or as a \nsealed fountain like that which Solomon kept for his \nown use, and reflect tliat much golden knowlege is de- \nnied to the many. And if this answer does not suffice \nthis reader, whoever he may be, all that remains for \nme to do, is to part company vvith him before we go \nfartlier on our way ; for at this rate we should never \ncome to the end of our journey, since we would be \nstopping under the shade of every tree we came across \nby the road side, to clear up some idle doubt or unim- \nportant ditliculty ; and besides, my stubborn and mu- \n\n\n\n64 \n\nlish friend, I have made it a rule through life, as Tris- \ntram Shandy said to his mule, who had made a dead \npoint with him on the road hetwixt Nismes and Lunel, \noiever to argue a point with one of your family as \nlong as [live. So farewell, my heteroclite compan- \nion \xe2\x80\x94 valete, valete, valcte, \xe2\x80\x94 I go to pursue the hend of \nmy humour in another chapter. \n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. \n\n\n\nT thousand coaches; 15,000 single horse chairs; QO.OOO wagons, crowded \nas full as they could all hold with senators, counsellors, syndicks, beguines, wi- \ndows, wives, virgins, canons, concubines, all in their coaches. The abbess of \nUuedlingberg, with the prioress, the deaness and sub-chantress leading the pro- \nfession, in one coach, and the Dean of Strasburg, with the four dignities of his \nchapter on her left hand; the rest following higglety-pigglety as they could: \nKome on horseback; some on foot; some led; some driven; some this way; som^ \n\nthat\xe2\x80\x94 all, &c. &. &c. \n\nSlaickcnbcrg-ius\' Tale. \n\n\n\nThere is no case that could occur, O Caesar, better \ncalculated to embroil a state than such an one as that \nwhich is already beginning to set ourselves b}\' the cars, \nthe disposition of our surplus Revenue. This, with \nbodies politic as with families, is a subject over which \nthe genius of Discord seems ever to preside. And \nthus does it not unfrequently happen that our greatest \nprosperity is the immediate cause of our greatest mis- \nfortune. Men get drunk upon their good fortune and \nso do states. \n\nThe ancient empires of the world have been fre- \nquently on the verge of dismemberment for this very \ncause. Vre are all familiar with the story of the dis- \nsensions in Rome between the Patricians and Plebeians \n= \xe2\x80\x94 how tlicse two orders were ever struggling with \neach other upon every occasion that presented itself, \n\n\n\n66 \n\nwhenever they were not diverted by wars abroad or \nwars at home. And among other causes that nourish- \ned these contentions between these two bodies, we \nfind that that which most frequently embroiled them \nwas the division of their conquered lands.* Tlie one \nparty, the Plebeians, claimed that these should be di- \nvided among the people at large ; whilst the Senate \nor Patricians objected, fearing that the Plebeians who \nwere already gaining ground upon them, should by this \nmeans, in the end, acquire too great power in the state, \nand thus destroy that balance which they deemed so \nnecessary to be preserved in all states between their \nseperate interests. To such lengths we are told, was \nthis contention carried, that one of the Appian family \n(a family very conspicuous in this quarrel) was even \nimpeached by the Plebeians for a speech which he \nhad made in the Senate against this proposed division; \nand that, like a true Roman, he chose rather to kill \nhimself than undergo a trial for such a cause, in which \nhe knew but too well, that he would have been hand- \ned over to the Lictor, no matter how able or just his \ndefence ; (for what virtue or what vvisdom can stand \nout against the madness of an angry and successful \nfaction ?) \n\nThe result of this contention was the success of the \nPlebeians in their proposed scheme, by which they \nobtained new power. \n\n\n\n*For tlic fact? rclatod in this brief historical sketch, see FergusiOn\'s Romari \nRepublic, aiul Conlests and Dissensions in Athens anil Home. \n\n\n\n67 \n\nAgain we find, when some years after, in tlie \ntime of the Gracchi, ( those two brothers who es- \npoused the cause of the Plebians with great energy \nand ability, and it must be confessed, with greai show \nof justice on their side \xe2\x80\x94 and who at last fell victims to \nthe contentions they had raised) \xe2\x80\x94 there were other con- \nquered lands to be divided, that the old quarrel was re- \nnewed, in which the Plebeians again, headed by the \nelder Gracchus, obtained the same success. \n\nAnd thus in two memorable instances do we find the \nsame people set together by the ears for a similar \ncause to that which is about to embroil ourselves. \n\nThe effect that these contentions had upon the Ro- \nman Commonwealth, should teach us, who are a peo- \nple-of somewhat the same character and placed under \nalmost similar circumstances, a lesson never to be for- \ngotten ; for they paved the way, in conjunction with \nother such like causes, to the destruction of her free- \ndom and the ruin of her greatness. They brou;:>-ht a- \nbout a destruction of the balance of powxr within the \nstate; for by repeated attempts at encroachments al- \nways attended with success, the Plebeians eventually \noverthrew the power of the Patricians, and obtained \ncompletely the upper hand in the state \xe2\x80\x94 insomuch \nso, that Rome was from this time, until the time of \nJulius Ceesar, completely under the domiiiion of this bo- \ndy: her government v/as a tyranny of the many.* This \n\n\n\n* From what is here v/ritten it may be inferred how admirable a contrivance \nto the preservation of liberty and order in a state, is a written consti.ution, by \nwhicii the exact sphere of the subdivisions of power is ascertained and defined. \nThis is the grand preservative against civil broil ; for it substitutes discussion in \n\n\n\n68 \n\nbeing the case, it afforded a fair field for men of \ngreat ambition allied with great abilities, to carve out \nroads to their own advancement; and this field was \nnot suffered long to lie vacant, for in a short time we \nfind that Pompey and Ciesar came upon the theatre \nof action \xe2\x80\x94 the last of whom, having got the better of \nPompey at Pharsalia, so ably managed the people, by \nthose popular arts which he of all others of his coun- \ntrymen knew so well how to use, that he trampled \nupon their liberties, and causing himself to be pro- \nclaimed Emperor of Rome, seized upon the whole \npower of the state. \xe2\x80\x94 And thus ended the Common- \nwealth, and with it the liberty of one of the freest \nand greatest people that ever the pen of history has \nrecorded. \n\n\n\nplace of the sword : and the people of our favoured countrj\'^ must be worse mad- \nmen tlian the mad-cap multitude of Greece that banished Aristidi\'S the Just, and \nmurdered Phocioii, to sutfer any amalgamation or confusion of these subdivis- \nions. Every one who is capable of reflecting upon these things\xe2\x80\x94 (and I do not \n60 underrate the capacity of my counirymen as to believe that there are not ma- \nny who are) must see, hov\\- great is the obligation imposed upon him, to prevent \nany such muddying of the fountain of our liberty. Encroach upon the constitu- \ntion in this instance, and the next occasion that offers (and there always will be \n\xc2\xbb>ccasions in plent}\' since men in power are as capricious, ambitious and selfish, \nas men out of power) the same is done ; until these instances come to be digni \xe2\x96\xa0 \nfled by the name of usage, and usage we all know grows up in time, to be autho- \nrity. This being the case, some petty tyrant, some Nero Borgia, inflated by \nthe possession of power, and urged on by some desperate favourite, makes a \nBtill greater encroachment, whicli his wicked adherents ujihold on the ground of \nauthority; until, progressing from one false step to another, we find that our \nConstitution is but a thing of tatters and rags ; and then comes, to sum up tiie \n\nwhole, some bold, anjbitious, daring traitor, who like our own Southern \n\n(ih(! reader may name tlie man,) would put his foot upon all, \xe2\x80\x94 \n\ndesert his ancient faith \xe2\x80\x94 disregard all pvincijiles \xe2\x80\x94 cut loose from friends, party \nand all honorable ties, and wadijig through the blood of his countrymen, stand \nrevealed the man of a thousand crimes, to gratify lus reekless ambition. \n\n\n\n69 \n\nThese reflections I throw out, O Caesar of the Mo- \nderns, as preparatory to some that I have for some \ntime past meditated upon the subject of the Disposi- \ntionofour surplus Revenue \xe2\x80\x94 a subject to which the at- \ntention of the country has been called by your Excel- \nlency yourself, in the repeated mention that you have \nmade of it in your State papers. Now I am aware, O \nCaesar, that our Vice-Roy, \xe2\x80\x94 who is a man of \ngreat abilities, and who might have even filled in \ntime the exalted station now occupied by your Ex- \ncellency, had it not been for certain causes which I \nshall not stop to speak of, \xe2\x80\x94 has thought proper to de- \nsignate your scheme of dividing this surplus wealth \namong the several States, as every way ridiculous, \nmiserable and absurd, for he calls it the most danger- \nous^ unconstitutional and absurd measure ever conceived \nby any government\',* yet notwithstanding this, I am \nnot disposed to regard it in any other light than as an \nemanation worthy of the source from whence it \nsprang. This proposition, like others of your Excel- \nlency\'s, has indeed somewhat of " the wonderful and \namazing\'\'\'\' in its character, and might well strike the \nmind of this Vice-Roy, as he has described it ; yet we \nshould not for this reason, think meanly or speak con- \ntemptuously of it, tor if w^e but reflect a little we must \nremember that the emanations of greatness have ever \nbeen of this character. \xe2\x80\x94 Such was the offspring of J u- \n\n\n\n* See a certain late Expose of this Vice Roy. \n\n\n\n70 \n\npiter\'s prolific brain, for hence sprang Minerva, a full \narmed Goikless ! Bonaparte conceived the design of \nswallowing up the world (monstrum horribile ! !) King- \nGeorge the III., of conquering our fathers ! And why \nshould not you, O Caisar, conceive the design of di- \nviding that fund, which will yearly remain in the Trea- \nsury after the disbursement of the national debt, be- \ntween the several states, and thus promote the great \nends of Internal Improvement, the peace and quiet of \nthe country, the ends of the constitution and the \ngreatness of the Republic ! \n\nIt is yet a fact, O Caisar, that I do not altogether ap- \nprove of this disposition that you have proposed ; and \nbeing a person of some invention, I have conceived of \none to supply its place, that is in every respect most \nadmirable. It is this : / ivould have you hiry it \xe2\x80\x94 bury \nit in some secret place in the bowels of the earth, \nwhere, forever concealed from the eyes of mankind, it \nwill never become a subject of civil strife \xe2\x80\x94 a bone of \nbrotherly contention. \n\nIn looking into the ways of most nations we find \nthat they have ahvays had some occasions or other of \nnational ceremony, which are of a solemn and impos- \ning character. Among the ancient nations of ihe world \nand particularly among the Romans, Vv^e find that they \nbad the triumphal processions of their great Generals,in \nwhich the captives that were taken in war, were bound \nto the triumphal car in chains, and thus marched \nup and down the streets by the conquering train, amid \nthe shouts and plaudits of the multitude who were wit- \n\n\n\n71 \n\nnesses of this spectacle. This was a frequent scene \namong the ancient nations of the world, and served, \namong other purposes, to infuse into the body of the \npeople a great love of glory and of country. Among \nthe modern nations of the earth, we find the same so- \nlemn spectacles. In England we are told of Review \ndays, and we all know that once a year in that coun- \ntry, there is a pageant got up to celebrate the birth- \nday of the King, in which the magnificence and splen- \ndour that is displayed beggars all description. \n\nAnd such a yearly ceremonial, O Caesar, is what we \nwant more than any nation on earth, to create in our \ncitizens that same love of country and of glory that \ncharacterised the Roman, and that is so conspicuous \nin the Englishman. And to this end wdll this burying \nof our surplus wealth serve. This then I w^ould have \nyou do : At the end of every year assemble together \nthe whole population of the country, at the seat of go- \nvernment, on a day set apart for the occasion. Then \nlet a procession go forward from the Palace \xe2\x80\x94 at the \nhead of which shall be a car in which this national \ntreasure shall be placed, followed by your Excellen- \ncy in another car, with all the dignitaries of the gov- \nernment following in the train \xe2\x80\x94 the chief officers \xe2\x80\x94 \nthe scribes and the whole list of placamen and pen- \nsioners \xe2\x80\x94 the foreigners under authority \xe2\x80\x94 the members \nof the imperial household \xe2\x80\x94 favourites \xe2\x80\x94 courtiers \xe2\x80\x94 \nin one word, the whole assembled population, all in \ncoaches, single horse chairs, wagons, on horseback \nand on foot, as in Slawkenbergius\'s tale \xe2\x80\x94 go forward, \nI say, from the Palace indue order and array, through \n\n\n\n72 \n\nthe principal avenue, to the Capitol. Arriving there \nit shall he the duty of the Chief Justice, aided by his \nbrothers, \xe2\x80\x94 all sworn to eternal secresy, to take it \nwithin the Capitol, and, unseen by any but themselves, \nto bury it in some secret place, where it will be im- \npossible that it should ever be found or disturbed. And \nin order to insure it further aganist the attempts of \nthieves and such like, it shall be the duty of the Chief \nJustice and his brothers, sworn to eternal fidelity, to \nwatch over it and guard it, as the Vestal Virgins of \nold did the sacred fire of the Temple of Vesta. \n\nThus, O Caesar, would another laurel be added to \nyour brow, as the author of this solemn anniversary; \nand thus the duration of the Republic preserved to all \neternity, by the love of country that would by this \nmeans be implanted and nourished in the breasts of our \npeople. \n\nBesides this, there is another advantage w^hich this \nplan has over all others. It would create within the \nbody of the State a new order of people \xe2\x80\x94 an order of \nGold-hunters, which I have heard many of our citizens \nsay is much wanted among us. And here again would \nyour name derive additional glory ; for I hold it to be \na certain and enduring truth, that that Ruler who \ncan carve out any new employment by which his sub- \njects can be kept from idleness, which is the mother \nof all evil, confers a great good upon mankind \xe2\x80\x94 is a \nbenefactor \xe2\x80\x94 and deserves to be remembered by pos- \nterity with such magistrates as Nerva, who has been \nhanded down to us by all historians, by the glorious ti- \ntle oi the friend of mankind. \n\n\n\nTHE CONCLUSION. \n\n\n\n\'\'And now, my slender quill, said he, whether ciinninffly cut, or unskilfully \nIbnned, it boots not much ; here from this raiik, suspended by a wire, slialt ihou \nenjoy repo:be." \n\n\n\n"Worthy reader \xe2\x80\x94 dearly beloved Roger ^ I feel that I \nam approaching the end of this treatise; and truly, I \nam by no means grieved that it is so : \xe2\x80\x94 " Better is the \nend of a thing than the beginning thereof." And now, \nas becomes one who has shaped his course safe through \nlife, and pondered well upon its ways, having taken \nevery thing into consideration, I thus counsel this bant- \nling of my fancy, before I send him forth to seek hi;; \nfortune in the world. Be neither, O my oifspring, too \nliumhle nor too proud. Sullernot the taunts and jeers \nof tliose who bow down before tlie golden Calf, to dis- \ntress you ; for truly, if you mind these triiles, you will \nliave hut an unpleasant time of it. If your way is be- \nset by enemies, Avhose situation in life renders them \nworthy opponents, and they openly attack you, be \never ready to defend yourself; \xe2\x80\x94 and this you may ea- \nsily accomplish, for I know you are a child of Truth; \nand truth, though naked and unarmed, has ever been \nhard to pierce, \xe2\x80\x94 it is a safer protection than the helmet \nof Pluto, " which maketh the politick man go invisi- \nble," \xe2\x80\x94 it is better than the hundred eyes of Argos, or \n\n\n\n74 \n\nthe hundred Ijands of Briareus. And if fools throw \nstones at you, as they will do, fear them not, for they \nare so lamely directed that they cannot hit. Open \nyour arms to the poor and needy, who ^vould wish to \nseek knowledge from you. Openly denounce the vi- \ncious \xe2\x80\x94 the false\xe2\x80\x94 the traitor \xe2\x80\x94 tl^e pretending fool, as I \nam sure you will do. I would advise you to make inter- \n(>st with the Lawyers, for they arc a body of men of \ngreat use to the state : \xe2\x80\x94 they have been its props ; yet \nhere you must use a just discrimination, for there are \namong them, many rascals, knaves, and fools \xe2\x80\x94 men wha \nhave no just conceptions of Justice, (who is the divi- \nnity they profess to worship) but who yet hold her \nup to the world as the pearl of great price \xe2\x80\x94 since, as \nthe witty Spaniard says, they make others pay for \nher a? a dear rate who are mere pretenders, but who \nyet pass themselves off upon the world, as pillars of \nlire, to guide the bewildered multitude around them. \nKext to these have a regard for the Free-Masons and \nthe Odd-Fellows, for verily I believe their ends are \ngood though they work by night. Show a manly and \na bold spirit, for without this, mankind will be sure to \ntrample upon you. In this respect, I would hold up to \nyou as worthy of study, a great man of our own coun- \ntry. The man I mean cannot be mistaken. Ke com- \nmenced his career in obscurity, without either friends \nor fortune, and pursued it with the energy of one who \ncourts adversity. Every one would know him, when \n1 tell you, that for many years past, he has borne him- \nself with the greatest gallantry, manliness and spirit, \nthroughout cne of the most iniquitous persecutions, that \n\n\n\n10 \n\nany man was ever assailed with.* Go, now, and make \nthe best of fortune. \n\nAnd now, O reader, u|!on lookini^ back upon what \nI have done tliis past montli, 1 find that there is one ihiui^ \nfor wdiich I have to crave your forgiveness ; and that \nis, my having transgressed so far out of the usual way, \nas to send this Dedication into tlie world before the \nmain treatise is written. But tliis I do, in order that I \nmay prepare the way for the army that is to follow, \xe2\x80\x94 \nfor every good General has a small and chosen body, \ncalled the Vanguard, which he sends before to report \ndangers, and ascertain how the land lies. The crab \nhas his feelers,\xe2\x80\x94 so has the politician. \xe2\x80\x94 And hence a \nreason. \n\nItnow^ remains for me to tell why I wTote this De- \ndication. The desire of accomplishing something use- \nful \xe2\x80\x94 (in the love of Avliich I have grown pale) has \nbeen the moving spring of all my actions. Pondering \none day upon the probability of accomplishing it, I \nturned over in my mind, the means I had wdthin my \nreach. Reflecting that I had w^aited for a long time, \nto no avail, for a declaration of war against some of \nour now friendly nations, by our great and valiant \nCa^.sar, which would have afforded a fine field for the \nacting of something memorable, I conceived the idea \nof writing this "Dedication," as the only nieans of ac- \ncomplishing the great object of my life, in this day of \n\n\n\n*0f this man, our great Caesar of the Modeihs might well say, in the same \nspirit in which Cromwell said it, (and he such a man !) \'-O! Sir Harry Vane, Sir \nHarry Vane! the Lord deliver me f.om Sir Harry Vanel" \n\n\n\nJi \n\n\n\n76 \n\n\n\nour national repose. My spirit took fire at the idea, \nand straiglit way I gave llie reins to my invention. I liad \nlioped one day to S})eak of battles, in which Cmsare \n(luce, I had niyreir shared the glory, aiid of conquered \ncities; but now, even if the opportuiiity were to pre- \nsent itself, my tastes have changed too nmch wilh the \nloss of my youth, to enjoy their toils and dangers. \nReflection has become to me a second nature ; and 1 \nrejoice that my invention has hit upon this Dedication, \nin which such a fair field Lias been aflordcd nie of re- \nflecting upon die wonders of our Ca^sai\'s reign, \xe2\x80\x94 of \nwhich what v. as susrj- of an ancient Cxsar, mav v\xc2\xbb^ith \ngreat justice be said, \n\nTun, Ca\'sar, ixias \n\nF; ugt\'s et ag; is rciulit uberes, \n\n\n\n,-t oidincni \n\n\n\nfiectHin, et vaguiiti Jrana licentiffl \nIiijecit, emoviUiiie culpas \nEt veteres recocavit artes. \n\nBut it IS indeed high time that my slender quill \nshould enjoy some repose. Tlie cor.ceit of Cid Ila- \nmet of old, in suspending his faithful quill from a \nrack, was not a bad one, and smacked strongly of hvs \nexquisite relish. And wliy sliould not Cid llamet/ \nhis namesake, now do the same with his, that has serv- \ned him so faithfully throughout his various declensions \nand moods of temper \xe2\x80\x94 that has by turns waxed seri- \nous and light, severe and merry \xe2\x80\x94 hot and cold, as the \npulse indicated? Go then, my companion, and, if \nthou art not of a temper too restive, enjoy that repose \nwhich may be yours, until some new folly shall call \nthee forth a2:ain. \n\n\n\n'