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
- 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. ↩
- 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? ↩
- Alexander Pope, Dr Samuel Johnson, Joseph Addison, & John Gay; contributors to 18th Century literature. ↩
- 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 }
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.
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.