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Candidus Essays (1820-1822)

 

THE REPORTER.
"'TIS PLEASANT, THROUGH THE LOOP-HOLES OF RETREAT, TO PEEP AT SUCH A WORLD--
TO SEE THE STIR OF THE GREAT BABEL, AND NOT FEEL THE CROWD."
      [NEW SERIES----VOL. I.] WASHINGTON, (PA.) MONDAY, AUGUST 20th, 1821. [NO. 13.

FOR THE REPORTER.1

      MR. CANDIDUS,
Pray, lend us your ear, do, good mister Candidus;
While we read an epistle from Satan just handed us,
Who carried the letter, is not ours to tell.
One thing is quite certain, it savours of Hell.
By what way he ascended "in superas ouras"
Enquire not of us--ask Virgil or Horace.
Yet a guess may be formed, (should such matters concern us)
From this fact--it was found near the modern Avernus.*
Thus runs the epistle--and while we shall read it
If not to your mind, then, pray, never heed it.
PANDEMONIUM, August 1, 1821.
While I've been passing to and fro,
(You villain! Tim! I'd have you know,)
As princes sometimes do, incog,
I've watched your pranks, you scurvy dog!
This world is mine "de belli jure"
Who this denies awakes my fury.
And if to hell I cannot hurry 'im
With all my dogs, by Styx! I'll worry 'im
In Paradise, did I deceive,
By guileful speech, your mother Eve.
Thus early did my kingdom rise,
By power of sin, by force of lies.
For truth is falsehood; good is evil,
(Says England's Homer,) to the Devil.
Men are Eve's offspring; over men
I hold a just dominion, then.
This logic how dare you dispute
In th' land of Penn?--you filthy brute!
Of Penn I say, that noted quaker--
Drab colored fool!--to love his Maker!
My sway legitimate, thus proved;
Next see the reasons why 'tis loved
But, lest I should be thought too tedious,
I'll name its subjects' privileges--
The privilege to rant and rave;
The privilege to act the knave;
To break the Sabbath; then, their necks,
And thus their pious neighbors vex;
The privilege to curse and swear;
And, sometimes too, to swing in air;
Carouse and whore, like merry chaps,
And, sometimes too, to get the+ ***
The privilege to drink and hiccup;
And then to cast their reckoning quick up;
The privilege, good folks to hate,
And all that's sacred, reprobate;
The blessed privilege, to gamble,
And into Hell, head foremost tumble
The Saviour curse with lips profane
And then repeat the gibes of Paine.
If all these things my subjects do
Pray, mister Tim, what's that to you?
Such acts as these, you drivelling blockhead!
Nor break your leg, nor pick your pocket--
But mark me, Tim! since you are minded thus
To write against good mister Candidus,
And to bring forth your learned lore,
To prop the laws of '94;
I swear by this my brimstone shirt,
I swear, again, I'll pay you for't
No king on earth is served so well
As Beelzebub, the king of Hell.
At tip of the infernal drum,
From north and south my legions come.
All, at the word, themselves prepare,
In rank and file, arranged for war,
With cartridge boxes crammed with lies,
And magazines of calumnies,
With cannon, blunderbuss and swivel,
And powder formed for purpose evil;
With whiskey plenty, on their backs,
And hellish crackers--in knapsacks;
With dirk, and pistol, halberd, rapier,
Stilletto, pike and Turkish sabre.
When things are fixed, and ordered so,
Through Hell's wide portals, out they go,
To join those troops I have in pay
On earth,--as loyal troops as they--
Plague on your everlasting din
'Bout this, and that, and t'other sin!
My warriors, cur! shall make you civil,
From this time forward, to--
THE DEVIL.                            
From the letter just read, sans doute, it appears
That Clootie can reason, in spite of his years.
And his reasoning is good; his logic is true
Do you ask for the proof?--he reasons like you,
But which, you or he, has logic most skill in
We shall leave for the judgment of Dr. M'Millan.
In a case of this sort, there's no danger of biass
For, I dare say, he thinks you both equally pious.
Now, Candid! to shew, that I feel myself slim,
Since the trimming you gave me, I sign my name,
TIM.        
N. B. Now lose not your temper, I'll only detain ye,
          A little while longer, with this Nota Bene.
          Three oaths you may see, in this letter of Nick's
          But notice the old fellow's devilish tricks.
          He gave not the letter.--Not he! Never mind him!
          For he knew, the old fox! if he had, I'd have fined him.

      * McCook and McClelland's salt well. Avernus, according to the Roman poets, was the mouth of hell. The well just mentioned is constantly sending forth streams of inflammable gas.
      + The parchment here appears to be scorched, and the word is not legible.


      1 Footnotes designated by printer's devices are those supplied by "Timothy."

[The Reporter, 20 August 1821, p. 4.]

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Candidus Essays (1820-1822)