Part 9 (1/2)

Alas! not all: the more the trials lent, The less he seem'd to ponder and repent; Headstrong, determined in his own career, He thought reproof unjust and truth severe; The soul's disease was to its crisis come, He first abused and then abjured his home; And when he chose a vagabond to be, He made his shame his glory--”I'll be free.”

Friends, parents, relatives, hope, reason, love, With anxious ardour for that empire strove; In vain their strife, in vain the means applied, They had no comfort, but that all were tried; One strong vain trial made, the mind to move, Was the last effort of parental love.

E'en then he watch'd his father from his home, And to his mother would for pity come, Where, as he made her tender terrors rise, He talk'd of death, and threaten'd for supplies.

Against a youth so vicious and undone, All hearts were closed, and every door but one: The Players received him; they with open heart Gave him his portion and a.s.sign'd his part; And ere three days were added to his life, He found a home, a duty, and a wife.

His present friends, though they were nothing nice, Nor ask'd how vicious he, or what his vice, Still they expected he should now attend To the joint duty as a useful friend; The leader too declared, with frown severe, That none should p.a.w.n a robe that kings might wear; And much it moved him, when he Hamlet play'd, To see his Father's Ghost so drunken made: Then too the temper, the unbending pride Of this ally, would no reproof abide: - So leaving these, he march'd away and join'd Another troop, and other goods purloin'd; And other characters, both gay and sage, Sober and sad, made stagger on the stage.

Then to rebuke with arrogant disdain, He gave abuse, and sought a home again.

Thus changing scenes, but with unchanging vice, Engaged by many, but with no one twice: Of this, a last and poor resource, bereft, He to himself, unhappy guide! was left - And who shall say where guided? to what seats Of starving villany? of thieves and cheats?

In that sad time of many a dismal scene Had he a witness, not inactive, been; Had leagued with petty pilferers, and had crept Where of each s.e.x degraded numbers slept: With such a.s.sociates he was long allied, Where his capacity for ill was tried, And that once lost, the wretch was cast aside, For now, though willing with the worst to act, He wanted powers for an important fact; And while he felt as lawless spirits feel, His hand was palsied, and he couldn't steal.

By these rejected, is their lot so strange, So low! that he could suffer by the change?

Yes! the new station as a fall we judge, - He now became the harlots' humble drudge, Their drudge in common; they combined to save Awhile from starving their submissive slave; For now his spirit left him, and his pride, His scorn, his rancour, and resentment died; Few were his feelings--but the keenest these, The rage of hunger, and the sigh for ease; He who abused indulgence, now became By want subservient, and by misery tame; A slave, he begg'd forbearance; bent with pain, He shunn'd the blow,--”Ah! strike me not again,”

Thus was he found: the master of a hoy Saw the sad wretch whom he had known a boy; At first in doubt, but Frederick laid aside All shame, and humbly for his aid applied: He, tamed and smitten with the storms gone by, Look'd for compa.s.sion through one living eye, And stretch'd th' unpalsied hand: the seaman felt His honest heart with gentle pity melt, And his small boon with cheerful frankness dealt; Then made inquiries of th' unhappy youth, Who told, nor shame forbade him, all the truth.

”Young Frederick Thompson, to a chandler's shop By harlots order'd, and afraid to stop! - What! our good merchant's favourite to be seen In state so loathsome and in dress so mean?” - So thought the seaman as he bade adieu, And, when in port, related all he knew.

But time was lost, inquiry came too late, Those whom he served knew nothing of his fate; No! they had seized on what the sailor gave, Nor bore resistance from their abject slave.

The spoil obtain'd they cast him from the door, Robb'd, beaten, hungry, pain'd, diseas'd, and poor.

Then nature, pointing to the only spot Which still had comfort for so dire a lot, Although so feeble, led him on the way, And hope look'd forward to a happier day: He thought, poor prodigal! a father yet His woes would pity and his crimes forget; Nor had he brother who with speech severe Would check the pity or refrain the tear: A lighter spirit in his bosom rose, As near the road he sought an hour's repose.

And there he found it: he had left the town, But buildings yet were scatter'd up and down; To one of these, half-ruin'd and half-built, Was traced this child of wretchedness and guilt; There, on the remnant of a beggar's vest, Thrown by in scorn, the sufferer sought for rest; There was this scene of vice and woe to close, And there the wretched body found repose. {5}

LETTER XIII.

Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

POPE, Satires.

There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pool, And do a wilful stillness entertain; With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion, As who should say, ”I am Sir Oracle, ”And when I ope my lips let no dog bark.”

SHAKESPEARE, Merchant of Venice.

Sum felix; quis enim neget? felixque manebo: Hoc quoque quis dubitet? Tutum me copia fecit.

THE ALMS-HOUSE AND TRUSTEES.

The frugal Merchant--Rivals.h.i.+p in Modes of Frugality--Private Exceptions to the general Manners--Alms-house built--Its Description--Founder dies--Six Trustees--Sir Denys Brand, a Princ.i.p.al--His Eulogium in the Chronicles of the day--Truth reckoned invidious on these Occasions--An explanation of the Magnanimity and Wisdom of Sir Denys--His kinds of Moderation and Humility--Laughton, his Successor, a planning, ambitious, wealthy Man--Advancement in Life his perpetual Object, and all things make the means of it--His Idea of Falsehood--His Resentment dangerous; how removed--Success produces Love of Flattery: his daily Gratification--His Merits and Acts of Kindness--His proper Choice of Almsmen--In this respect meritorious--His Predecessor not so cautious.

LEAVE now our streets, and in yon plain behold Those pleasant Seats for the reduced and old; A merchant's gift, whose wife and children died, When he to saving all his powers applied; He wore his coat till bare was every thread, And with the meanest fare his body fed.

He had a female cousin, who with care Walk'd in his steps, and learn'd of him to spare; With emulation and success they strove, Improving still, still seeking to improve, As if that useful knowledge they would gain - How little food would human life sustain: No pauper came their table's crumbs to crave; Sc.r.a.ping they lived, but not a sc.r.a.p they gave: When beggars saw the frugal Merchant pa.s.s, It moved their pity, and they said, ”Alas!

Hard is thy fate my brother,” and they felt A beggar's pride as they that pity dealt.

The dogs, who learn of man to scorn the poor, Bark'd him away from every decent door; While they who saw him bare, but thought him rich, To show respect or scorn, they knew not which.

But while our Merchant seemed so base and mean, He had his wanderings, sometimes ”not unseen;”

To give in secret was a favourite act, Yet more than once they took him in the fact To scenes of various woe he nightly went, And serious sums in healing misery spent; Oft has he cheer'd the wretched at a rate For which he daily might have dined on plate; He has been seen--his hair all silver-white, Shaking and s.h.i.+ning--as he stole by night, To feed unenvied on his still delight.

A twofold taste he had; to give and spare, Both were his duties, and had equal care; It was his joy to sit alone and fast, Then send a widow and her boys repast: Tears in his eyes would spite of him appear, But he from other eyes has kept the tear: All in a wint'ry night from far he came, To soothe the sorrows of a suffering dame; Whose husband robb'd him, and to whom he meant A ling'ring, but reforming punishment: Home then he walked, and found his anger rise When fire and rushlight met his troubled eyes; But these extinguish'd, and his prayer address'd To Heaven in hope, he calmly sank to rest.

His seventieth year was pa.s.s'd and then was seen A building rising on the northern green; There was no blinding all his neighbours' eyes, Or surely no one would have seen it rise: Twelve rooms contiguous stood, and six were near, There men were placed, and sober matrons here: There were behind small useful gardens made, Benches before, and trees to give them shade; In the first room were seen above, below, Some marks of taste, a few attempts at show.

The founder's picture and his arms were there (Not till he left us), and an elbow'd chair; There, 'mid these signs of his superior place, Sat the mild ruler of this humble race.

Within the row are men who strove in vain, Through years of trouble, wealth and ease to gain; Less must they have than an appointed sum, And freemen been, or hither must not come; They should be decent, and command respect, (Though needing fortune), whom these doors protect, And should for thirty dismal years have tried For peace unfelt and competence denied.

Strange! that o'er men thus train'd in sorrow's school, Power must be held, and they must live by rule; Infirm, corrected by misfortunes, old, Their habits settled and their pa.s.sions cold; Of health, wealth, power, and worldly cares bereft, Still must they not at liberty be left; There must be one to rule them, to restrain And guide the movements of his erring train.

If then control imperious, check severe, Be needed where such reverend men appear; To what would youth, without such checks, aspire, Free the wild wish, uncurb'd the strong desire?

And where (in college or in camp) they found The heart ungovern'd and the hand unbound?

His house endow'd, the generous man resign'd All power to rule, nay power of choice declined; He and the female saint survived to view Their work complete, and bade the world adieu!

Six are the Guardians of this happy seat, And one presides when they on business meet; As each expires, the five a brother choose; Nor would Sir Denys Brand the charge refuse; True, 'twas beneath him, ”but to do men good Was motive never by his heart withstood:”