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LETTERS OF TIMOTHY TICKLER TO
—that Mr John Clerk will give you be serious, you had better have a meethis Europa riding upon the Bull- ing with Bailie Johnston and Sir WilMr Gordon his Danae-Mr Crawford liam Rae, at Bill Young's, burn the his Potiphar's Wife—and the Duke Report, and get tipsey as you used to of Hamilton his Magdalene. I won- do, without troubling your heads any der whether Dr Ritchie and Prin- farther about matters you don't undercipal Baird will approve of all this, stand. Farewell. Your affectionate as likely to edify the younger part Brother, of their congregation, particularly MORDECAI MULLion, F.D.S.E. the ladies, who, I regret to say, oc- From the Sign of the Hen-Coop, cupy so disproportionate a part in all Candlemaker's Row, Edinburgh. other Edinburgh congregations, as well as in theirs. As to sculpture! I am really quite at a loss to understand what you mean.
There is no statuary here that ever I heard of, and very few any where else, worthy of being LETTER V.—To the Editor of Blackknown either to you or me. Plaster
wood's Magazine. of-Paris casts, however, are probably all you
look to; and I dare say, by MY DEAR EDITOR, means of proper interest, you may get Will you allow me to write a very tolerable copies of the Venus, the An- short article (two pages at the most) tinous, the Hermaphrodite, &c. at a on a pamphlet published t'other day very reasonable expense. Do so. I in Glasgow, against my friend Dr give you fair warning, gentlemen, that Chalmers, by a raffish sort of a fellow I am a ruling elder of the kirk, and calling himself Menippus ? I hope you that I will certainly bring in an over- will. It is a perfect specimen of that ture against you and all your doings, low ribaldry which men of power, if I be spared till next meeting of the genius, and virtue, like Dr Chalmers, General Assembly.
are at all times sure to meet with The last of your proposed improve- from half-witted and uneducated ments tickles me mightily. You can't dunces. On the first hasty glance, it sit in pews like other Christians, for- looked sorely like a composition of the sooth, -you would have St Giles fur- Bagman, whose marriage with Miss nished with “ sofas screwed to the Spence is, I understand, now quite a floor.” I wonder you omitted to men- settled thing, unless, to use a common tion an ottoman or two for the Dilet- but forcible phrase,
they split upon tanti Society in the midst, or perhaps settlements." The strain of its wit rean easy fauteuil for the spokesman of minded me of that sort of talk which the Architectural Committee. You is heard from literary travellers at the are too fine by half for your age and ordinary of a commercial inn, and may country. We plain Scots true-blues be described somewhat generally by a are still contented to sit on wooden word well understood in Lancashire, benches, and hear the gospel just as and which has, I believe, been lately our forefathers used to do; but you introduced into my native city of can't think of going to church unless Glasgow, though I am sure it never you have velvet cushions to loll upon, can become naturalized in so intellecand pictures and statues to stare at in tual a place,—TROTTING. The merit the intervals of the discourse. In your of this practice consists in turning into next Report, I expect to see you drop- the ridicule of a set of vulgar fools, ping hints that you mean to bring some person whose good sense and your pipes and tumblers with you, good manners preserve him from susand sit on your ottoman, like so many pecting the brutal blackguardism of captains of Knocktarlitie, puffing to- the rude knave who is playing off bacco and swigging gin-twist, as if you upon him. Menippus, accordingly, were still at Young's tavern. There would fain TROT Dr Chalmers. But is no saying what fine things the unluckily there is something about world might come to, if the Dilettanti the Doctor that all at once converts Society had the inspection
of all the TROTTER INTO THE TROTTEE; churches and chapels consigned to so that when Menippus eyes the comtheir care by an act of parliament. To pany assembled to witness this refined VOL. III.
and enlightened entertainment, and is himself so much out of his ordinary expecting their bland and laudatory way on such groundless suspicion of smiles, he is a good deal alarmed to meditated injury. descry on every countenance the most In a pastoral country, on a hot day, unequivocal symptoms of mingled one often sees a great fat lazy bullock scorn, derision, and disgust.
rise suddenly up from his lair, and set We have all of us seen something off, to use a homely and familiar exlike this happen to professed wags. pression, as if the devil were chasing The face of blank discomfiture worn him. Some insect has probably stung on such critical occasions outlistons him in a tender part. There he goes, Liston. The chuckling, crowing, walloping along with his huge head wing-clapping bird of game, is at once lumbering about in all directions, changed into a screeching fugitive bellowing in the most unseemly and dunghill fowl. He bolts out of the unbecoming manner-and his long pit—his steel-heels are taken off–he tufted tail either brandished about is set loose among the adjacent poul- like a fiail, or fixed in a line perpenditry, and cock, hen, and chicken, pur- cular to the horizon. Meanwhile, all sue him en masse through all the lanes the other beasts of the field remain blind and clear, till he hides himself stock still—till he has circled and inin a dunghill, from which, when all tersected the pasture into every posis still, and nothing at hand but some sible figure, with every eye fixed upon pacific female earock, (a year-old fowl him. It soon appears, that all this disscottice) he comes stealing out again turbance is solely owing to the miwith the feathers all standing on end nister of the parish having come sudat the back of his head, and after look- denly upon the vision of the bullock, ing pretty cautiously around him for a who suspects him for an enemy, and few minutes, he at last ventures to gazes with consternation on the honest crow, in a rough, hoarse, agitated man's cocked hat.
By degrees the scraugh, ludicrously expressive at one bullock becomes familiarised with the and the same time, of courage and of clerical dress, and lays himself down, cowardice. So is it with Menippus. with a lengthening groan, once more
The simile is a figure of speech of into his tallowy laziness, and then bewhich I am very fond, and in which I gins chewing his cud with a face of am much mistaken if I do not excel. calm heavy stupidity, altogether irreHere then is another. Whoever has concilable with the idea of his former strolled much about, either in town or unweildy gambols. Menippus is that country, may have seen a pig feeding bullock,--and Dr Chalmers is that dion offal, filth, and garbage. Such vine. pig no sooner beholds you, even I ought, however, to beg the Bagthough you be moving quite out of man's pardon for supposing him to be his orbit, than off he sets as if you Menippus. It is not so. were chasing him, grunting and man has lately been too much employsqueaking, it would be hard to say ed, along with his elegant coadjutors whether in fear, in sorrow, or in an- of the Glasgow Chronicle, with politiger. But however that may be, grunt- cal and literary speculations, to have ing and squeaking long and loudly; any leisure time for theology. BeHe then wheels suddenly round, and sides, the prospect of his marriage comes cantering along as if he was go- must keep him busy, I am this moing to charge, using towards you every ment informed by our minister that insult that his imagination (which is Menippus is a Clergyman. vivid) can suggest. Menippus is just Tantæne animis celestibus iræ ? such a pig, and happening to meet Dr I confess that this intelligence distresse Chalmers, he must needs be grunting,
I will not review the pamphand exposing himself with his little let. It is not the first time that I red bleared eyes, and twisted tail, and have heard clergymen express a mean cloven trotters, and pendulous ears, and foolish jealousy of Dr Chalmers's and snivelling snout, in all the offenda splendid reputation. But I did ed majesty of bristle and squeak, be- not think that there existed one so fore that worthy divine, who really has base and so blind, as to have been cano intention of disturbing him, and is pable of the self-degradation of this even sorry to see the animal putting pamphlet. Menippus in a manse!
The BagThersites in a pulpit! Punchinello at a of his gray-headed benefactor, lower sacramental table !
he cannot sink in shame and in sin. But, after all, Mr- (I know But, my dear Editor, this is not at his name, but I will not expose him) all the style in which I usually write, is an object rather of pity than of an- and in good truth it is not like me thus ger. He has a good manse a good to lose my temper, although perhaps stipend—what more would he have? I do well to be angry. The creature and yet he cannot be happy. His has moved my spleen; the fit, howbroth is poisoned by the consciousness ever, has gone by, and that Menippus of his own utter insignificance, and may have no cause to complain of my when he sees a great and a good man over-severity (you may show him this serving his Maker on earth, like Dr letter), I will take leave of him in one Chalmers, with evangelical singleness more simile. of heart—and attracting towards him, Some years ago when I visited Leyin his worship of the Creator, the in- den, I called one beautiful star-light voluntary love and admiration of his evening on Professor Klopius, who, creatures-his heart fills with gall, like Dr Chalmers, loves and excels in and he can have no rest till he dis- the science of astronomy. His fine charges it towards that splendid and large telescope was pitched on a small victorious preacher. Pitiable, indeed, mound in his garden, and directed tois such a man—and truly would I pity wards the Evening Star, which the ashim did his offences stop here. But sisted eye beheld shining in steadfast the wretched thing is not satisfied with splendour and startling magnitude. the abuse of the living-he must in- The professor, myself, and a friend, sult the dead. He tries to turn into alternately enjoyed through his gloriridicule the late good, learned, and ous instrument, the divine face of the pious Dr Findlay, professor of divinity heavens,—and when we had all feastin the university of Glasgow. He ed our souls, we stood together talkstands scoffing beside the grave of him ing of the wonders of the modern aswhom all hearts loved. The sanctity tronomy. At that moment a tame of death, and the stillness of its narrow monkey, which the good professor, house, cannot touch the shrivelled who is somewhat of a humourist, is heart of this senseless buffoon, and very fond of, came hurkling along, that his guilt may want no aggravation, with long arms, bent knees, and poshe tells us, while the slaver of his im- teriors almost touching the ground, potent malignity is yet drivelling from and clapt his little grim absurd face, his lips, that he knew the good old with its bleared watering eyes, close man well, and was under many obli- to the wrong end of the telescope, and gations to him! Know him well he holding up one of his paws to his could not. For what can ignorance right ear, as if he was listening to know of learning-craft of simplicity something, there he stood in a truly -folly of wisdom-vice of virtue? philosophical attitude,-just such anGrant, that while a greasy student of other sort of an astronomer as Menipdivinity, he might have been once in a pus. He then withdrew himself from session admitted to the tea-table of the contemplation with an air of profound reverend old man? What could a rude abstraction, and joining the party with and indecent clown like him know of a a face of the most original solemnity learned divine ? But “ something too I ever beheld, began chattering away, much of this.” The creature who for any thing I know to the contrary, once, and once only, had sat at the about that beautiful Evening Star. We table of Professor Findlay, and could could not chuse but burst into laughyet vent brutal jests over his grave, ter, except the professor, who looked must be lost indeed to every sacred at him with primitive simplicity, and feeling of humanity. One word of only exclaimed, “ Ah, Tom, Tom, so disrespect from a young to an old man, you are pleased to be a wit !" has something shocking in it, but I am yours truly, when a young man insults the ashes
TIMOTHY TICKLER. Southside, Aug. 8, 1818.
OR, THE FATE OF THE BRAUNS.
A POEM, IN TWENTY-FOUR CANTOS.*
BY WILLIAM WASTLE, ESQUIRE, Member of the Dilettanti, Royal, and Antiquarian Societies, and of the Union and Ben Waters's Clubs of Edinburgh; Honorary Member of the Kunst-und-alterthumsliebers
Gesellschaft of Gottingen, and of the Phænix Terrarum of Amsterdam, &c. &c. &c.
“ Two birds, of that kind called Gerandi, continued Cohotorbe, once lived together upon the shores of the Indian sea. After they had long enjoyed the pleasures of conjugal affection, when it was near the season for laying eggs, said the female to the male, 'It is time for me to choose a proper place wherein to produce my young ones.' To whom the male replied, . This where we now are, is, I think, a very good place. No,' replied the female, this cannot do ; for the sea may hereafter swell beyond these bounds, and the waves carry away my eggs.!... That can never be,' said the male, nor dares the Angel Ruler of the Sea do me an injury; for if he should, he knows I will certainly call him to an
• You must never boast,' replied the female, of a thing which you are not able to perform. What comparison is there between you and the prince of the sea ? Take my advice ; avoid such quarrels: and, if you despise my admonitions, beware you are not ruined by your obstinacy. Remember the misfortune that befell the tortoise.'”
A graceful arch of living moving green Or saddle-bags, is apt to leave the track ;
Hangs o'er that busy world—a veil of trees, Even so it was with me in my last canto,
Nor rumbling chariot-wheels profane the scene, For Pegasus had nothing on his back,
Nor creaking gigs, nor rattling Tilburies ; And did not mind a farthing where he ran to. But here and there a small boat glides between, (I borrowed him of Frere, 'tis a fine hack)
Wherein a few calm cits the traveller sees, He bolted up and down—but here I am,
Whose vortices are, like Des Cartes' all Fumus, Just where I mounted—not at Amsterdam. Who argue thus, Smokamus ergo Sumus.
And yet, in weather such as this, Heaven knows,
V. No man a Scottish city would compare
And then the houses, though of brick they be, With Amsterdam, where thro'each street there flows,
Have a far snugger look than these of ours; Or seems to flow, a streamlet, glassy fair,
And the Dutch maiden, of her mop most free, Shaded with elms antique in stately rows,
Is always dashing upward sparkling showers, Solemnly waving in the summer air,
That rattle on the windows pleasantly, And giving back, amidst that peopled hum,
And make the parlours cool as garden bowers. Their quiet verdure, like a speculum.
Pass where you will, by lust-huis or by shop,
You'll always find some Grizzy at her mop. III. Streets such as those are not like Prince's Street,
VI. All baked and parched with sun, and dust, and Hollandsche madchen! can I pass thee so ? glare;
Thou of all maids the model, clean and neat ; Where dirty Dandies dirty Dandies meet, Thy stockings are unspotted as the snow;
Thro' mists of sand where stalking Misses stare. Fine crimson slippers deck thy tidy feet; The streets of Amsterdam are cool and sweet, Bright is thy broidered petticoat below;
No stour torments them, no unbroken flare And bright the bracelets on thy arms that meet ; Of impudent obtrusive hot sun-beams,
And 'neath thy modest mutch, most rich and rare, Compelling one to live upon ice-creams.
The jewelled band that twists thy glossy hair.
In mentioning, on a former occasion, the number of Cantos in this Poem, the word twenty Fas omitted by an oversight of the printer. The reader will, we doubt not, be gratified by the correction of that mistake. Canto III. for private reasons, is suppressed till October. It is entirely episodical, as the reader will learn from the opening of Canto IV.
XIII. And Lady Mary Wortley Montague,
She'll hang upon your arm at rout or ball, Although a chever woman in most things,
As if you were her chosen prop and stay : Does very wrong when she speaks ill of you, And if you peer into her eyes, you shall
And 'gainst your skin reproachful sarcasm flings, Find smiles as bright and warm as the sun's ray. Calling it pale, and dead, and dull of hue, But if, perchance, upon your knees you fall,
And cold, and clammy-white, like cod'sor ling's. And pop the honest question, by my fay I know not what a lady's taste may be,
She'll bridle up, my boy, with mighty glum air,
That eastern warmth in eastern regions speaks ; That make the windows of the Dutch so clear. You won't get that swart glow for love or money ; Ah! Scottish hizzies ! dim your window-glasses, "Tis not the nature of Batavian cheeks.
And dirty are yourselves, those maidens near: But it appears to me extremely funny,
Even English girls their tidiness surpasses,To think one can't kiss any thing but Greeks 'Tis no great boast to vanquish your's I fear ;And Jewesses, and dark Italian dames,
Ye are good creatures, I'd lay gold upon it, Merely because they are Lord Byron's flames. But most confounded filthy-1 must own it. IX.
XV. I'm not at all a bigot in that line ;
And yet not all without thy charms thou art I'm very liberal in my admiration;
Burd Grizzy! magic even in thee there lies, I think one may find something quite divine Busked on the Sabbath morn most trim and smart, Among the female part of every nation.
Kirk-ganging gladness dancing in thine eyes, At different times I differently incline,
When, from thy rustic toilette thou dost part, (Consistency in gout's a botheration)
With scarlet hood arranged in graceful plies, I fall in love, I speak it to my, sorrow,
With muslin gown, with coat of manky green, With maidens fair to-day, with dark to-morrow. With feet, with cuits, unshod, unhosed—but clean. X.
XVI. The reading public very fiercely blame,
doomed to captivate And with much reason too, as I opine,
The eye of Tam or Saunders, faithless swain. The introducing of one's real name
With smooth soft words he'll woo thee to thy fate, Into the pages of this Magazine.
Believe him not-his oaths, his vows, are vain: I should esteem it a most heinous shame,
True, he would come with cunning step, and late, To take such liberties in verse of mine ;
I doubt it not; thro' frost, and wind, and rain, Therefore I all particulars suppress,
Full many a mile he'd come—the lad is stout; And slump them in one mass of loveliness. But oh ! consent not that he chap thee out.* XI.
XVII. Ye bonny lasses ! misinterpret not
Else, ere the circling year its round shall speed, The motives of the bard, your worshipper ; Alas! what bitter fortune may be thine ;I sink your names, but may I go to pot,
I prithee, simple damosel, take heed,If therefore be my praise the less sincere.
Restrain thee, Grizzy, at my warning line : I value not the breeched tribe a groat,
Think on the doom may be thy folly's meed, But would not with one scruple interfere
Yon solemn elders, yon austere divine, Of yours for worlds." Fair creatures ! to whom Think with what frowns, they'll hear thy sad conHeaven
fession; A calm and sinless life with love hath given.” Ah! think, fair maiden, think on the Kirk-Session. XII.
XVIII. Beauties of every shape, of every hue,
No touch of tender mercy melted ever In Caledon's accommodating clime
The iron hearts of that barbaric crew; Spring radiant up; but sorely may ye rue, Yea, though thine eye be fruitful as a river,
If in their company you spend much time : With grave, stern glance, thy misery they'll view: 'Tis sport to them, lads, but 'tis death to you. They'll call thee harlot, strumpet, Godless-liver,
How I could rail against them in my rhyme ! Unclean, a castaway, a tainted ewe, Their little, dimpling, fawning, winning wiles ; A Jesabel, a painted, pranked foolTheir voices falsely sweet, their cunning smiles. And end with, “ Grizzy, mount the cutty-stool.”
Chappin out, is the phrase used in many parts of Scotland to denote the slight tirl on the lozen, or tap at the window, given by the nocturnal wooer to his mistress. She instantly throws her cloak about her, and obeys this signal; her sisters lend their assistance to conceal the manæuvre, if concealment appear necessary, but the custom is so common, that few, even of the severest parents, take any offence at their children for complying with it.
“ Ne'er fash your thumb, gudeman, lie still,"
Quoth then the lassie's minny, “ Ye ken ye chappit out mysel
Till I was big wi' Jeanie."--OLD SONG.