A writer of social and political satire, Charles Churchill (1731–64) crammed all of his poetic career into four years. Directing his fierce invective at contemporaries, he is most famous for his Rosciad, a satire on London stage personalities, and The Prophecy of Famine, a satire on Lord Bute and the Scots.
The Author, which was directed against Tobias Smollett, novelist turned controversialist, was not published until 1765, though excerpts had appeared in issues of the London Chronicle for 1763. The two extracts printed here include a defense of satiric verse with the allusion to the ‘hardy Poet’ and his ‘honest rimes’ (ll. 87–92), an implicit homage to Marvell.
(a) Extract from The Author (1765), ll. 1–4, 39–106.
Accurs'd the man, whom fate ordains, in spite,
And cruel parents teach, to Read and Write!
What need of letters? Wherefore should we spell?
Why write our names? A mark will do as well.1
When with much pains this boasted Learning's got,
’Tis an affront to those who have it not.
In some it causes hate, in others fear,
Instructs our Foes to rail, our Friends to sneer.
With prudent haste the worldly-minded fool,
Forgets the little which he learn'd at School;
The Elder Brother, to vast fortunes born,
Looks on all Science with an Eye of Scorn;
Dependent Breth'ren the same features wear,
And younger Sons are stupid as the Heir.
In Senates, at the Bar, in Church and State,
Genius is vile, and Learning out of date.
Is this—O Death to think! is this the Land
Where Merit and Reward went hand in hand,
Where Heroes, Parent-like, the Poet view'd?—
By whom they saw their glorious deeds renew'd;
Where Poets, true to Honour, tun'd their lays,
And by their Patrons sanctify'd their praise?
Is this the Land, where, on our SPENCER'S tongue,
Enamour'd of his voice, Description hung;
Where JOHNSON rigid gravity beguil'd,
Whilst Reason thro' her Critic sences smil'd;
Where NATURE list'ning stood, whilst SHAKESPEAR play'd,
And wonder'd at the Work herself had made?
Is this the Land, where, mindful of her charge
And Office high, fair Freedom walk'd at large;
Where, finding in our Laws a sure defence,
She mock'd at all restraints, but those of Sense;
Where, health and honour trooping by her side,
She spread her sacred empire far and wide;
Pointed the Way, Affliction to beguile,
And bade the Face of Sorrow wear a smile,
Bade those, who dare obey the gen'rous call,
Enjoy her blessings, which GOD meant for all?
Is this the Land, where, in some Tyrant's reign,
When a weak, wicked Ministerial train,
The tools of pow'r, the slaves of int'rest, plann'd
Their Country's ruin, and with bribes unman'd
Those wretches, who, ordain'd in Freedom's cause,
Gave up our liberties, and sold our laws;1
When Pow'r was taught by Meanness where to go,
Nor dar'd to love the Virtue of a foe;
When, like a lep'rous plague, from the foul head
To the foul heart her sores Corruption spread,
Her iron arm when stern Oppression rear'd,
And Virtue, from her broad base shaken, fear'd
The scourge of Vice; when impotent and vain,
Poor Freedom bow'd the neck to Slav'ry's chain;
Is this the Land, where, in those worst of times,
The hardy Poet rais'd his honest rimes
To dread rebuke, and bade controulment speak
In guilty blushes on the villain's cheek,
Bade Pow'r turn pale, kept mighty rogues in awe,
And made them fear the Muse, who fear'd not Law?
How do I laugh, when men of narrow souls,
Whom folly guides, and prejudice controuls;
Who, one dull drowsy track of business trod,
Worship their Mammon, and neglect their God;
Who, breathing by one musty set of rules,
Dote from the birth, and are by system fools;
Who, form'd to dullness from their very youth,
Lies of the day prefer to Gospel truth,
Pick up their little knowledge from Reviews,
And lay out all their stock of faith in news:
How do I laugh, when Creatures, form'd like these,
Whom Reason scorns, and I should blush to please,
Rail at all lib'ral arts, deem verse a crime,
And hold not Truth, as Truth, if told in rime?
(b) These lines, though omitted from Churchill's collected works, were attributed to him by his contemporary Captain Edward Thompson, who preserved the text in his edition of Marvell, III, pp. 487–8.
Tho’ Sparta, Athens, and immortal Rome,
Adorn'd with laurels ev'ry patriot's tomb;
Tho' to their fames the sweetest poets sung,
And Brutus' virtue lives on Plutarch's tongue;
Tho' both the classick chissel and the pen
Engrav'd the noblest acts of noblest men;
Yet shall our Marvell's spotless virtues rise,
And shine a constellation of the skies:
Shall shine the foremost of the patriot band,
A guiding beacon to his native land;
And teach succeeding children of the north
To imitate his manners and his worth;
Inspire his kinsmen with his patriot flame,
And raise his Hull above the Roman name.
1 Perhaps echoing Marvell's witty denunciation of printing in RT I, pp. 4–5.
1 Referring to the debate in the House of Commons on whether or not privilege of Parliament covered the writing and publishing of seditious libels.