Poetical Works | Page 4

the
obnoxious critique. Garrick, himself the hero of "The Rosciad," was
here rather broadly reminded that heroes are mortal, and that kings may
be dethroned, and had to make humiliating concessions to the fearless

satirist. Fearless, indeed, and strong he required to be, for many of his
victims had vowed loud and deep to avenge their quarrel by inflicting
corporal chastisement on their foe. He armed himself with a huge
bludgeon, however, and stalked abroad and returned home unharmed
and unattempted. None cared to meddle with such a brawny Hercules.
In another way his enemies soon had their revenge. He had gained one
thousand pounds by his two poems, and this supplied him with the
materials of unlimited indulgence, which he did not fail to use. He
threw off every restraint. He donned, instead of his clerical costume, a
blue coat and gold-laced waistcoat. He separated from his wife, giving
her, indeed, a handsome allowance. His midnight potations became
deeper and more habitual. Dean Zachary Pearce, afterwards Bishop of
Rochester, in vain remonstrated. At last, on his parishioners taking the
matter up, and raising an outcry as to his neglect of duty, and the
unbecoming character of his dress, he resigned his curacy and
lectureship, and became for the rest of his life a literary and dissipated
"man about town."
In October 1761 he published a poem entitled "Night," addressed to
Lloyd, in which, while seeking to vindicate himself from the charges
against his morale, he in reality glories in his shame. His sudden
celebrity had perhaps acted as a glare of light, revealing faults that
might have been overlooked in an obscure person. With his dissipation,
too, there mingled some elements of generosity and compassion, as in
the story told of him by Charles Johnson in his "Chrysal" of the poet
succouring a poor starving girl of the town, whom he met in the
midnight streets,--an incident reminding one of the similar stories told
of Dr Johnson, and Burke, and realising the parable of the good
Samaritan. Yet his conduct on the whole could not be defended.
His next poem was "The Ghost," which he published in parts, and
continued at intervals. It was a kind of rhymed diary or waste-book, in
which he deposited his every-day thoughts and feelings, without any
order or plan,--reminding us of "Tristram Shandy" or of "Don Juan,"
although not so whimsically delightful as the former, nor so brilliant
and poignant as the latter.

But now, in 1762, the Poet was to degrade or to sublimate into the
Politician, at the bidding of that gay magician, Jack Wilkes. That this
man was much better than a clever and pre-eminently lucky scoundrel,
is now denied by few. He had, indeed, immense pluck and convivial
pleasantry, with considerable learning and talent. But he had no
principle, no character, little power of writing, and did not even possess
a particle of that mob eloquence which seduces multitudes. His
depravities and vices were far too gross even for that gross age. In the
very height of his reputation for patriotism, he was intriguing with the
ministry for a place for himself. And he became in his latter days, as
Burke had predicted (for we strongly suspect that Burke wrote the
words in "Junius"), "a silent senator," sate down "infamous and

contented,"--proving that it had only been "the tempest which had lifted
him from his place."
Wilkes introduced himself to Churchill, and they became speedily
intimate. Soon after, indignant at the supremacy of Lord Bute, who, as
a royal favourite, had obtained a power in the country which had not
been equalled since Buckingham fell before the assassin Felton's knife,
and was employing all his influence to patronise the Scotch, Wilkes
commenced the North Briton. In this, from the first, he was assisted by
Churchill, who, however, did not write prose so vigorously as verse. He
had sent to the North Briton a biting paper against the Scotch. On
reflection, he recalled and recast it in rhyme. It was "The Prophecy of
Famine;" and became so popular as to make a whole nation his enemies,
and all their enemies his friends. This completely filled up the measure
of Churchill's triumph. He actually dressed his youngest son in the
Highland garb, took him everywhere along with him, and instructed
him to say, when asked why he was thus dressed, "Sir, my father hates
the Scotch; and does it to plague them."
Lord Bute resigned early in 1763, and was succeeded by a ministry
comprising such men as Sir Francis Dashwood, and Lord Sandwich,
who had been intimates of Wilkes, and had shared with him in certain
disgusting orgies at Medmenham Abbey. They now, however, changed
their tactics, and became vehement upholders of morality and religion;
and began to watch their opportunity for pouncing