On the Society of a Gentleman

by Adam Mitchell Bernard Bond on 31 October 2009

REVISED SECOND EDITION, ANNOTATED WITH FOOTNOTES

Affec­tion­ately inscribed to P. J. Ether­ing­ton, Esq.,
whose friend­ship sup­plies a world of wants.

That a Gen­tle­man has needs there is no doubt.
For he must breathe air, slake thirst, and take of meat.
He requires gar­ments tame
To fash­ion on his frame,
And a house that’s both respectable and neat.

Need is herein defined as that which Civil­i­sa­tion demands, not Nature.

Every Sun­day he’s compell’d to some repose,
That he might renew the con­course with his God.
To his Con­fes­sor plead.
Pray the Vir­gin, inter­cede.
Then sing Glory, Alleluia, praise and laud.

Sans Chris­tian­ity, reli­gious impulse and its sat­is­fac­tion is a uni­ver­sal human experience.

Domes­tic­ity befits him very well.
The mar­i­tal embrace shan’t be malign’d.
His son inspires ardour.
To his daugh­ter he’s a mar­tyr.
And to spousal sat­is­fac­tion he’s inclin’d.

The “mar­i­tal embrace” is refers to sex­ual inter­course in its most appro­pri­ate context.

In Indus­try he to the town repairs.
Col­lects his weekly wages from his bet­ters.
Thus employ’d his hand per­sists–
’Til his beat­ing heart desists,
To pro­vide his House with free­doms, not with fetters.

Indus­tri­ous­ness and the accu­mu­la­tion of wealth are only uneth­i­cal if moti­vated by avarice rather than greed.

He embod­ies all the Virtues Anglo-​Saxon,1
Press of Busi­ness and Sincer’st Reser­va­tion.
His labours ne’er will cease–
Ere with Christ he makes his peace,
’Til his fortune’s fix’d in upward animation.


There is here an ele­ment of satire, for these so-​called “virtues“1 are eas­ily turned to vice.



But the Eng­lish gen­tle­man is oft afflict’d
By the vapours spilling forth from out the Sea.
And with­out his Club and fel­lows,
He’d suc­cumb to foggy gal­lows.
A sple­netic, mor­bid chap he’d come to be.

So insist I do upon this solemn want,
That a gen­tle­man with­draw from frown of trou­ble.
May his spir­its then replen­ish.
May his sor­row thus dimin­ish.
May he hap­pi­ness define and promptly double.

This excludes the min­is­tra­tions of his Lover
And the frol­ick­ing of Chil­dren at his feet.
Camaraderie’s requir’d.
Drink and Smoke is too desir’d.
And an atmos­phere con­ducive to retreat.

Lots of leather, pan­eled walls – are much in vogue.
And a hearth­stone set ablaze with fiery might.
On the walls let tro­phies shine.
On the floor let dogs recline.
All dis­cus­sion must be held by candlelight.

Here a man may talk of Pol­i­tics and Par­ties,
Ethics, Eco­nom­ics, and the Derby Race,
How one’s Clergyman’s a cow­ard,
How the Ship of State is pow­ered,
And how Rochester is lewd and vile and base.2

Here a man may ply his poems to his brethren
And receive the Crit­i­cism that he may.
He’ll recite his hor­rid prose–
Look­ing down his lofty nose,
“Quod­ing” Pope and John­son, Addi­son and Gay.3

To par­take of all the Plea­sures there’n provid’d.
Drink his Brandy or his Scotch – Smoke his Cigar.
Eat ánchovies on his toast.
Of his con­sti­tu­tion boast,
As he has another Claret at the bar.

Though he never should exceed temp’rate behav­iour,
The dall’ance of this baili­wick he needs.
For with­out it, he’ll go mad,
And in Bed­lam he’ll be had,
Where the Worm upon one’s mad­ness ever feeds.

If these prin­ci­ples are kept and ne’er abandon’d,
He may hap­pi­ness, con­tent, and virtue know.
He’ll be hus­band to his Wife.
In his Work there’ll be no strife.
And his For­tune will not ever cease to grow.

I declare it from the Seat with much pre­ten­tion.
This opin­ion do I fos­ter as a Truth:
That a man must needs retire,
To a drink, pipe, friend, and fire.
Need I fur­nish more than what I have as proof?4

  1. Whilst the poem does not allow for elab­o­ra­tion, the ideal Anglo-​Saxon pos­sesses Pride of Race, Indus­try, Selflessness, a mean Advan­tage in Com­merce, Loy­alty to King and Coun­try, Civil­ity, Punc­tu­al­ity, and Pre­dictabil­ity. He is both Loyal Sub­ject and Inde­pen­dent Spirit. He is fierce in Defense, but unlike the French­man who speaks when he has noth­ing to say, the Eng­lish­man is pru­dent and waits to speak his mind until his mind pos­sesses some­thing wor­thy of speech.
  2. John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester – courtier of H.R.H., King Charles II – was reknown’d for his porno­graphic and cyn­i­cal verse, skep­ti­cal phi­los­o­phy in rebel­lion against arti­fice and superficiality, life of wan­ton debauch­ery, and his pre­ma­ture death result­ing from cir­rho­sis, syphilis, and other vene­real diseases. These mal­adies com­pounded them­selves upon his body with such feroc­ity that he was con­fined to his bed with only brief respite – dur­ing which moments he limped badly upon a crutch – and ulti­mately caused his nose to rot off. This is a beau­ti­ful moral les­son unri­valed by even the most excel­lent Teu­tonic sto­ry­tellers, it even includes the happy end­ing of a deathbed con­ver­sion. Granted, this was a con­ver­sion to Puri­tanism, but we can’t expect every­thing now can we?
  3. Alexan­der Pope, Dr Samuel John­son, Joseph Addi­son, & John Gay; con­trib­u­tors to 18th Cen­tury lit­er­a­ture.
  4. I’ve really not fur­nisht any proofs at all, but the less deci­sive sorts among us will take me at my word, there­upon sat­is­fy­ing poetic jus­tice and my immea­sur­able ego.

{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }

Gerard Wilson 3 November 2009 at 4:22 am

Tech­ni­cally and as far as the sub­ject goes, it is a more ambi­tious poem than Per­sua­sion of a Lady. And I think you have an impres­sive mea­sure of suc­cess. The thought and sen­ti­ment would surely appeal to most men. But I must limit my com­ment because I am not all that famil­iar with 18th cen­tury verse — on which this is obvi­ously mod­elled. Are there any par­tic­u­lar poem(s) that are inspir­ing you here? Really, it’s very clever con­sid­er­ing the cul­tural dis­tance from Dry­den and Pope.

There is a typo that recurs: ‘ones’ should be ‘one’s’ – unless of course it is an 18th cen­tury spelling.

Adam M. B. Bond, Esq. 3 November 2009 at 4:03 pm

Yes, It is so-​far my most ambi­tious piece, though I have even more ambi­tious pieces in the process of being writ­ten and refined. It is mod­elled on the 18th Cen­tury, specif­i­cally the poetry of Jonathan Swift, which I had been read­ing much of in the days pre­ced­ing its writ­ing. There is no direct par­al­lel, though, and the rhyme scheme was not inten­tion­ally drawn from a spe­cific source and was orig­i­nally A-​B-​C-​B rather than A-​B-​C-​C-​B. The metre was cho­sen because ten to eleven syl­la­bles seems very nat­ural to speech.

Per­haps there is a cul­tural void that sep­a­rates us from the long eigh­teenth, but John Henry Car­di­nal New­man aptly describes literature’s rela­tion­ship with man in the following:

Man is com­posed of body and soul; he thinks and he acts; he has appetites, pas­sions, affec­tions, motives, designs; he has within him the life­long strug­gle of duty with incli­na­tion; he has an intel­lect fer­tile and capa­cious; he is formed for soci­ety, and soci­ety mul­ti­plies and diver­si­fies in end­less com­bi­na­tions his per­sonal char­ac­ter­is­tics, moral and intel­lec­tual. All this con­sti­tutes his life; of all this Lit­er­a­ture is the expres­sion; so that Lit­er­a­ture is to man in some sort what auto­bi­og­ra­phy is to the indi­vid­ual; it is his Life and Remains.”

There­fore I feel that should one become well-​read in any spe­cial por­tion of lit­er­a­ture, then he will begin to reflect the per­sons with whom he inter­acts, he will begin to iden­tify with them and oth­ers will begin to iden­tify them within him.

It is not imi­ta­tion, it is an organic deriva­tion from a very old tree. A hoary thing with heavy boughs and deep roots, that I have sum­mar­ily grafted myself into.

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