Week 3
THOUGHTS in PRISON:
March 18, 1777.
WEEK THE THIRD.
Public Punishment.
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Vain are thy generous efforts, worthy Bull, [1]
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1 |
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Thy kind compassion's vain! The hour is come:
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2 |
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Stern Fate demands compliance: I must pass
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3 |
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Thro' various deaths, keen torturing, to arrive
|
4 |
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At That my heart so fervently implores;
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5 |
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Yet fruitless. Ah! why hides He his fell Front
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6 |
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From woe, from wretchedness, that with glad smiles
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7 |
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Would welcome his approach; and Tyrant-like,
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8 |
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Delights to dash the jocund roseate cup
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9 |
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From the full hand of gaudy Luxury,
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10 |
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And unsuspecting Ease!--Far worse than Death
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11 |
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That Prison's Entrance, whose Idea chills
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12 |
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With freezing horror all my curdling blood;
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13 |
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Whose very Name, stamping with infamy,
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14 |
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Makes my Soul frighted start, in frenzy whirl'd,
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15 |
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And verging near to Madness! See, they ope
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16 |
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Their iron Jaws! See, the vast Gates expand,
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17 |
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Gate after Gate--and in an instant twang,
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18 |
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Clos'd by their growling Keepers:--When again,
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19 |
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Mysterious Powers!--oh when to open on me?
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20 |
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Mercy, sweet Heaven! Support my faltering steps,
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21 |
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Support my sickening heart! My full eyes swim;
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22 |
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O'er all my frame distils a cold damp sweat.
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23 |
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Hark--what a rattling din! On every side
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24 |
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The congregated chains clank frightful:--Throngs
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25 |
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Tumultuous press around, to view, to gaze
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26 |
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Upon the wretched stranger; scarce believ'd
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27 |
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Other than a Visitor within such walls,
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28 |
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With Mercy, and with Freedom in his hands.
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29 |
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Alas, how chang'd!--Sons of Confinement, see
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30 |
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No pitying Deliverer; but a Wretch
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31 |
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O'erwelm'd with Misery; more hapless far
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32 |
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Than the most hapless 'mongst ye; loaded hard
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33 |
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With Guilt's oppressive Irons! His are chains
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34 |
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No time can loosen, and no hand unbind:
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35 |
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Fetters, which gore the Soul. Oh Horror, Horror!
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36 |
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Ye massive bolts, give way! Ye sullen doors,
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37 |
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Ah, open quick! and from this clamorous rout,
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38 |
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Close in my dismal, lone, allotted room
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39 |
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Shrowd me;--for ever shrowd from human sight,
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40 |
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And make it, if 'tis possible, my Grave!
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41 |
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How truly welcome, then! Then would I greet
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42 |
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With hallow'd joy the drear, but blest abode;
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43 |
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And deem it far the happiest I have known,
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44 |
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The best I e'er inhabited. But, alas!
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45 |
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There's no such mercy for me. I must run
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46 |
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Misery's extremest round; and this must be
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47 |
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Awhile my living grave! the doleful tomb,
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48 |
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Sad sounding with my unremitted groans,
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49 |
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And moisten'd with the bitterness of tears!
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50 |
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Ah, mournful dwelling! destin'd ne'er to see
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51 |
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The human face divine in placid smiles,
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52 |
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And innocent gladness cloth'd: destin'd to hear
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53 |
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No sounds of genial, heart-reviving Joy!
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54 |
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The Sons of Sorrows only are thy guests,
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55 |
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And thine the only music of their sighs,
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56 |
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Thick sobbing from the tempest of their breasts!
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57 |
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Ah, mournful dwelling! never hast thou seen,
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58 |
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Amidst the numerous wretched-ones immur'd
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59 |
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Within thy stone-girt compass, wretch so sunk,
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60 |
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So lost, so ruin'd, as the man who falls
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61 |
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Thus, in deep anguish, on thy ruthless floor,
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62 |
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And bathes it with the torrent of his tears!
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63 |
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And can it be? or is it all a dream?
|
64 |
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A vapour of the mind?--I scarce believe
|
65 |
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Myself awake or acting. Sudden thus
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66 |
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Am I--so compass'd round with comforts late,
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67 |
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Health, Freedom, Peace! torn, torn from all, and lost!
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68 |
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A Prisoner in------Impossible! I sleep:
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69 |
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'Tis Fancy's coinage; 'tis a dream's delusion.
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70 |
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Vain dream! vain Fancy! Quickly am I rous'd
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71 |
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To all the dire reality's distress:
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72 |
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I tremble, start, and feel myself awake,
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73 |
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Dreadfully awake to all my woes; and roll
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74 |
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From wave to wave on Sorrow's ocean tost!
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75 |
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Oh for a moment's pause,--a moment's rest,
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76 |
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To calm my hurried spirits! to recall
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77 |
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Reflection's staggering pilot to the helm,
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78 |
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And still the maddening whirlwind in my soul!
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79 |
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--It cannot be! The din increases round:
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80 |
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Rough voices rage discordant; dreadful shrieks!
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81 |
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Hoarse imprecations dare the Thunderer's ire,
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82 |
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And call down swift damnation! Thousand chains
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83 |
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In dismal notes clink, mirthful! Roaring bursts
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84 |
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Of loud obstreperous laughter, and strange choirs
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85 |
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Of gutturals, dissonant and rueful, vex
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86 |
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E'en the dull ear of Midnight! Neither rest,
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87 |
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Nor peaceful calm, nor silence of the mind,
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88 |
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Refreshment sweet! nor interval or pause
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89 |
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From morn to eve, from eve to morn is found
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90 |
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Amidst the surges of this troubled sea! [2]
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91 |
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So, from the Leman Lake th' impetuous Rhone
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92 |
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His blue waves pushes rapid; and bears down
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93 |
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(Furiate to meet Saone's pellucid stream,
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94 |
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With roar tremendous, thro' the craggy streights
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95 |
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Of Alpine rocks) his freight of waters wild!
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96 |
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Still rushing in perturbed eddies on;
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97 |
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And still, from hour to hour, from age to age,
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98 |
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In conflux vast and unremitting, pours
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99 |
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His boisterous flood to old Lugdunum's walls!
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100 |
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Oh my rack'd brain--oh my distracted heart!
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101 |
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The tumult thickens: wild disorder grows
|
102 |
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More painfully confus'd!----And can it be?
|
103 |
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Is this the mansion--this the House ordain'd
|
104 |
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For Recollection's solemn purpose?--This
|
105 |
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The place from whence full many a flitting soul
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106 |
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(The work of deep Repentence--mighty work,
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107 |
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Still, still to be perform'd) must mount to God,
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108 |
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And give its dread account! Is this the place
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109 |
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Ordain'd by Justice, to confine awhile
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110 |
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The foe to civil order, and return
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111 |
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Reform'd and moraliz'd to social life!
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112 |
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This Den of drear confusion, wild uproar,
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113 |
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Of mingled Riot, and unblushing Vice!
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114 |
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This School of Infamy! from whence, improv'd
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115 |
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In every hardy villainy, returns
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116 |
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More harden'd, more a foe to God and Man,
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117 |
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The miscreant, nurs'd in its infectious lap;
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118 |
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All cover'd with its pestilential spots,
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119 |
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And breathing death and poison wheresoe'er
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120 |
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He stalks contagious! from the lion's den
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121 |
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A lion more ferocious, as confin'd!
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122 |
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Britons, while sailing in the golden barge
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123 |
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Of giddy Dissipation, on the stream,
|
124 |
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Smooth silver stream of gorgeous Luxury,
|
125 |
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Boast gaily--and for Ages may they boast,
|
126 |
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And truly! for through Ages we may trust
|
127 |
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'Twill interpose between our crimes and God,
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128 |
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And turn away his just avenging scourge--
|
129 |
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"The National Humanity!" Hither then,
|
130 |
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Ye Sons of Pity, and ye Sons of Thought!--
|
131 |
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Whether by public zeal, and patriot love,
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132 |
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Or by Compassion's gentle stirrings wrought,
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133 |
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Oh hither come, and find sufficient scope
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134 |
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For all the Patriot's, all the Christian's search!
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135 |
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Some great, some salutary plan to frame,
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136 |
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Turning confinement's curses into good;
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137 |
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And, like the God who but rebukes to save,
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138 |
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Extracting comfort from Correction's stroke!
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139 |
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Why do we punish? Why do penal laws
|
140 |
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Coercive, by tremendous sanctions bind
|
141 |
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Offending Mortals?--Justice on her throne
|
142 |
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Rigid on this hand to Example points;
|
143 |
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More mild to Reformation upon that:
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144 |
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--She balances, and finds no ends but these.
|
145 |
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Crowd then, along with yonder revel-rout,
|
146 |
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To Exemplary Punishment! and mark
|
147 |
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The language of the multitude, obscene,
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148 |
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Wild, blasphemous, and cruel! Tent their Looks
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149 |
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Of madding, drunken, thoughtless, ruthless gaze,
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150 |
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Or giddy curiosity and vain!
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151 |
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Their Deeds still more emphatic, note; and see,
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152 |
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By the sad spectacle unimpress'd, they dare
|
153 |
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Even in the eye of death, what to their doom
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154 |
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Brought their expiring Fellows! Learn we hence,
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155 |
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How to Example's salutary end
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156 |
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Our Justice sagely ministers! But one,--
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157 |
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Should there be one--thrice hapless,--of a mind
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158 |
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By guilt unharden'd, and above the throng
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159 |
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Of desperate miscreants, thro' repeated crimes
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160 |
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In stupor lull'd, and lost to every sense;--
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161 |
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Ah me, the sad reverse!--should there be one
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162 |
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Of generous feelings; whom remorseless Fate,
|
163 |
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Pallid Necessity, or chill Distress,
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164 |
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The Family's urgent call, or just demand
|
165 |
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Of honest Creditor,--(solicitudes
|
166 |
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To reckless, pamper'd worldlings all unknown)
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167 |
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Should there be one, whose trembling, frighted hand
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168 |
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Causes like these in temporary guilt,
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169 |
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Abhorrent to his inmost soul, have plung'd,
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170 |
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And made obnoxious to the rigid Law!
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171 |
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Sentenc'd to pay,--and, wearied with its weight,
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172 |
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Well-pleas'd to pay with life that Law's demand!
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173 |
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Awful Dispensers of strict Justice, say,
|
174 |
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Would you have more than life? or, in an Age,
|
175 |
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A Country, where Humanity reverts
|
176 |
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At Torture's bare idea, would you tear
|
177 |
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Worse than on racking wheels a Soul like This;
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178 |
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And make him to the stupid Crowd a gaze
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179 |
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For lingering hours?--drag him along to death
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180 |
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An useless spectacle; and more than flay
|
181 |
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Your living victim?--Death is your demand:
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182 |
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Death your Law's sentence: then this Life is yours,
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183 |
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Take the just forfeit; you can claim no more!
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184 |
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Foe to thy Infidelity,--and griev'd
|
185 |
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That He avows not, from the Christian source,
|
186 |
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The first great Christian Duty, which so well,
|
187 |
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So forcible He paints!--Yet let me greet
|
188 |
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With heart-felt gratulations thy warm zeal,
|
189 |
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Successful in that sacred duty's cause,
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190 |
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The cause of our Humanity, Voltaire!
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191 |
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Torture's vile Agents trembling at thy pen:
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192 |
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Intolerance and Persecution gnash
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193 |
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Their teeth, despairing, at the lucid rays
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194 |
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Of Truth all-prevalent, beaming from thy page.
|
195 |
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The Rack, the Wheel, the Dungeon, and the Flame,
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196 |
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In happier Europe useless and unknown,
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197 |
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Shall soon,--oh speed the hour, Compassion's God!
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198 |
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Be seen no more; or seen as prodigies,
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199 |
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Scarce credited, of Gothic barbarous times.
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200 |
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Ah, gallant France! for milder manners fam'd;
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201 |
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How wrung it my sad Soul, to view expos'd
|
202 |
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On instruments of torture mangled limbs,
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203 |
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And bleeding carcases, beside thy roads,
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204 |
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Thy beauteous woods and avenues! Fam'd works,
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205 |
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And worthy well the grandeur of old Rome!
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206 |
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We too, who boast of gentler Laws, reform'd
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207 |
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And civiliz'd by Liberty's kind hand;
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208 |
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Of Mercy boast, and mildest punishments:
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209 |
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Yet punishments of Torture exquisite,
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210 |
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And idle;--painful, ruinous parade!
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211 |
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We too, with Europe humaniz'ed, shall drop
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212 |
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The barbarous severity of Death,
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213 |
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Example's Bane, not Profit;--shall abridge
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214 |
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The savage, base Ovation; shall assign
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215 |
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The Wretch, whose Life is forfeit to the Laws,
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216 |
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With all the silent dignity of woe,
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217 |
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With all the mournful Majesty of Death,
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218 |
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Retir'd and solemn, to his awful fate!
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219 |
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Shall to the dreadful moment, moment still
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220 |
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To Souls best fitted, give distinction due;
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221 |
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Teach the well-order'd Sufferer to depart
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222 |
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With each impression serious; nor insult
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223 |
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With clamorous Crowds, and exultations base,
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224 |
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A Soul, a Fellow-Soul; which stands prepar'd
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225 |
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On Time's dread verge to take its wondrous flight
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226 |
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To Realms of Immortality! Yes, the day
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227 |
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--I joy in the idea,--will arrive,
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228 |
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When Britons philanthropic shall reject
|
229 |
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The cruel custom, to the Sufferer cruel,
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230 |
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Useless and baneful to the gaping Crowd!
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231 |
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The day will come, when Life, the dearest Price
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232 |
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Man can pay down, sufficient forfeit deem'd
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233 |
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For guilty Man's transgression of the Law,
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234 |
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Shall be paid down, as meet for such a Price,
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235 |
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Respectful, sad; with reverence to a Soul's
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236 |
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Departure hence; with reverence to the Soul's
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237 |
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And Body's separation, much-lov'd Friends!
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238 |
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Without a torture to augment its loss,
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239 |
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Without an insult to molest its calm;
|
240 |
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To the demanded debt no fell account
|
241 |
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Of curious, hissing ignominy annex'd:
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242 |
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Anguish, beyond the bitterest torture keen;
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243 |
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Unparallel'd in Realms where Bigotry
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244 |
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Gives to the furious Sons of Dominic
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245 |
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Her sable flag, and marks their way with Blood.
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246 |
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Hail, milder Sons of Athens! civiliz'd
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247 |
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By Arts ingenuous, by the 'suasive power
|
248 |
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Of humanizing Science! Well ye thought,
|
249 |
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Like you may Britons think! that 'twas enough,
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250 |
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The sentence pass'd, a Socrates should die!
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251 |
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The Sage, obedient to the Law's decree,
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252 |
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Took from the weeping Executioner
|
253 |
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The draught, resign'd: Amidst his sorrowing friends,
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254 |
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Full of immortal hopes convers'd sublime;
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255 |
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And, half in Heaven--compos'ed himself, and died!
|
256 |
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Oh envied fate! oh happiness supreme!
|
257 |
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So let me die; so, 'midst my weeping friends,
|
258 |
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Resign my Life! I ask not the delay
|
259 |
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Ev'n of a moment. Law, thou'dst have thy due!
|
260 |
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Nor Thou, nor Justice, can have more to claim.
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261 |
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But equal Laws, on Truth and Reason built,
|
262 |
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Look to Humanity with lenient eye,
|
263 |
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And temper rigid Justice with the claims
|
264 |
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Of heaven-descended Mercy! to condemn
|
265 |
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Sorrowing and slow; while studious to correct,
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266 |
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Like Man's all-gracious Parent, with the view
|
267 |
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Benign and laudable, of moral good,
|
268 |
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And Reformation perfect. Hither then,
|
269 |
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Ye Sons of Sympathy, of Wisdom; Friends
|
270 |
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To Order, to Compassion, to the State,
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271 |
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And to your Fellow Beings; hither come,
|
272 |
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To this wild Realm of Uproar! hither haste,
|
273 |
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And see the Reformation, see the good
|
274 |
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Wrought by Confinement in a Den like this!
|
275 |
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View, with unblushing front, undaunted heart,
|
276 |
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The callous Harlot in the open day
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277 |
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Administer her poisons 'midst a rout
|
278 |
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Scarcely less bold or poison'd than herself!
|
279 |
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View, and with eyes that will not hold the tear
|
280 |
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In gentle pity gushing for such griefs,--
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281 |
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View, the young Wretch, as yet unfledg'd in vice,
|
282 |
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Just shackled here, and by the veteran Throng,
|
283 |
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In every infamy and every crime
|
284 |
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Grey and insulting, quickly taught to dare,
|
285 |
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Harden'd like them in Guilt's opprobrious school!
|
286 |
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Each bashful sentiment, incipient grace,
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287 |
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Each yet remorseful thought of Right and Wrong
|
288 |
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Murder'd and buried in his darken'd heart!--
|
289 |
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Hear how those Veterans clank,--ev'n jovial clank
|
290 |
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--Such is obduracy in vice,--their chains! [3]
|
291 |
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Hear, how with Curses hoarse, and Vauntings bold,
|
292 |
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Each spirits up, encourages and dares
|
293 |
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His desperate Fellow to more desperate Proofs
|
294 |
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Of future hardy enterprize; to plans
|
295 |
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Of Death and Ruin! Not exulting more
|
296 |
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Heroes or Chiefs for noble Acts renown'd,
|
297 |
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Holding high converse, mutually relate
|
298 |
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Gallant Achievements worthy; than the Sons
|
299 |
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Of Plunder and of Rapine here recount
|
300 |
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On peaceful life their devastations wild;
|
301 |
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Their dangers, hair-breadth 'scapes, atrocious Feats,
|
302 |
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Confederate, and confederating still
|
303 |
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In schemes of deathful horror! Who, surpris'd,
|
304 |
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Can such effects contemplate, upon minds
|
305 |
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Estrang'd to good; fermenting on the lees
|
306 |
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Of pregnant ill; associate and combin'd
|
307 |
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In intercourse infernal, restless, dire;
|
308 |
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And goading constant each to other's thoughts
|
309 |
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To Deeds of Desperation from the Tale
|
310 |
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Of vaunted Infamy oft told; sad fruit
|
311 |
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Of the Mind's vacancy!----And to that Mind
|
312 |
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Employment none is offer'd: Not an hour
|
313 |
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To secret recollection is assign'd;
|
314 |
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No seasonable sound instruction brought,
|
315 |
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Food for their thoughts, self-gnawing. Not the Day
|
316 |
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To Rest and Duty dedicate, finds here
|
317 |
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Or Rest or Duty; revel'd off, unmark'd;
|
318 |
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Or like the others undistinguish'd, save
|
319 |
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By Riot's roar, and self-consuming sloth!
|
320 |
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For useful occupation none is found,
|
321 |
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Benevolent t' employ their listless hands,
|
322 |
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With indolence fatigued! Thus every day
|
323 |
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Anew they gather Guilt's corrosive rust;
|
324 |
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Each wretched day accumulates fresh ills;
|
325 |
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And, horribly advanc'd, flagitious grown
|
326 |
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From faulty, they go forth, tenfold of Hell
|
327 |
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More the devoted Children: to the State
|
328 |
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Tenfold more dangerous and envenom'd Foes
|
329 |
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Than first they enter'd this improving School!
|
330 |
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So, cag'd and scanty fed, or taught to rage
|
331 |
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By taunting insults, more ferocious burst
|
332 |
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On Man the tiger or hyena race
|
333 |
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From fell confinement, and with hunger ur'gd,
|
334 |
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Gnash their dire fangs, and drench themselves in blood.
|
335 |
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But should the Felon fierce, th' abandon'd Train
|
336 |
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Whose inroads on the human peace forbid,
|
337 |
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Almost forbid Compassion's mild regard;
|
338 |
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(Yet, ah! what man with fellow-men can fall
|
339 |
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So low, as not to claim soft Pity's care?)
|
340 |
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Should these aught justify the rigid voice,
|
341 |
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Which to severe confinement's durance dooms
|
342 |
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Infallible the body and the soul
|
343 |
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To bitterest, surest ruin: Shall we not
|
344 |
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With generous indignation execrate
|
345 |
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The cruel, indiscriminating Law,
|
346 |
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Which turns Misfortune into guilt and curse;
|
347 |
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And with the Felon hardn'd in his crimes
|
348 |
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Ranks the poor hapless Debtor?--Debt's not guilt:
|
349 |
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Alas! the worthiest may incur the stroke
|
350 |
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Of worldly infelicity! What man,
|
351 |
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How high soe'er he builds his earthly nest,
|
352 |
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Can claim security from Fortune's change,
|
353 |
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Or boast him of to-morrow? Of the East
|
354 |
|
Greatest and chief, lo! humbled in the dust,
|
355 |
|
Sits Job--the sport of Misery! Wealthiest late
|
356 |
|
Of all blest Araby's most wealthy sons,
|
357 |
|
He wants a potsherd now to scrape his wounds;
|
358 |
|
He wants a bed to shrowd his tortur'd limbs,
|
359 |
|
And only finds a dunghill! Creditor
|
360 |
|
Would'st thou add sorrows to this sorrowing man?
|
361 |
|
Tear him from ev'n his dunghill, and confine
|
362 |
|
'Midst recreant felons in a British Jail?--
|
363 |
|
Oh British inhumanity! Ye climes,
|
364 |
|
Ye foreign climes--Be not the truth proclaim'd
|
365 |
|
Within your streets, nor be it heard or told;
|
366 |
|
Lest ye retort the cruelty we urge,
|
367 |
|
And scorn the boasted mildness of our Laws!
|
368 |
|
Blest be the hour,--amidst my depth of woe,
|
369 |
|
Amidst this perturbation of my soul,
|
370 |
|
God of my life, I can, I will exult!--
|
371 |
|
Blest be the hour, that to my humble thought
|
372 |
|
Thy Spirit, sacred source of every good,
|
373 |
|
Brought the sublime idea, to expand
|
374 |
|
By Charity, the Angel's grace divine,
|
375 |
|
The rude, relentless, iron prison-gates,
|
376 |
|
And give the pining Debtor to the world,
|
377 |
|
His weeping family, and humble home!
|
378 |
|
Blest be the hour, when, heedful to my voice
|
379 |
|
Bearing the Prisoners' sad sighs to their ears,
|
380 |
|
Thousands, with soft commiseration touch'd,
|
381 |
|
Delighted to go forth, and visit glad
|
382 |
|
Those Prisoners in their woe, and set them free!
|
383 |
|
God of the Merciful! Thou hast announc'd
|
384 |
|
On Mercy, thy first, dearest attribute,
|
385 |
|
Chosen beatitude! Oh pour the dew,
|
386 |
|
The fostering dew of Mercy on their gifts,
|
387 |
|
Their rich donations grateful! May the prayers
|
388 |
|
Of those enfranchis'd by their bounteous zeal
|
389 |
|
Arise propitious for them! and, when hears'd
|
390 |
|
In Death's cold arms this hapless frame shall lie,
|
391 |
|
--The generous tear, perchance, not quite withheld;--
|
392 |
|
When friendly Memory to reflection brings
|
393 |
|
My humble efforts, and my mournful fate;
|
394 |
|
On stable basis founded, may the work
|
395 |
|
Diffuse its good through Ages! nor with-hold
|
396 |
|
Its rescuing influence, till the hour arrives,
|
397 |
|
When Wants, and Debts, and Sickness are no more;
|
398 |
|
And universal Freedom blesseth all!
|
399 |
|
But, till that hour, on Reformation's plan,
|
400 |
|
Ye generous Sons of Sympathy, intent,
|
401 |
|
Boldly stand forth! The cause may well demand,
|
402 |
|
And justify full well your noblest zeal.
|
403 |
|
Religion, Policy, your Country's good,
|
404 |
|
And Christian Pity for the souls of men,
|
405 |
|
To Prisons call you; call to cleanse away
|
406 |
|
The filth of these foul dens; to purge from guilt,
|
407 |
|
And turn them to Morality's fair school.
|
408 |
|
Nor deem impossible the great attempt,
|
409 |
|
Augean tho' it seem: yet not beyond
|
410 |
|
The strength of those, that, like Alcides, aim
|
411 |
|
High to be rank'd amidst the godlike Few,
|
412 |
|
Who shine eternal on Fame's amplest roll:
|
413 |
|
Honour'd with Titles, far beyond the first
|
414 |
|
Which proudest Monarchs of the Globe can give:
|
415 |
|
"Saviours and Benefactors of Mankind!"
|
416 |
|
Hail generous Hanway! To thy noble plan,
|
417 |
|
Sage sympathetic, [4] let the Muse subscribe
|
418 |
|
Rejoicing! In the kind pursuit, good luck
|
419 |
|
She wisheth thee, and honour! Could her strain
|
420 |
|
Embellish aught, or aught assist thy toils
|
421 |
|
Benevolent, 'twould cheer her lonely hours,
|
422 |
|
And ma[k]e the dungeon smile. But toils like thine
|
423 |
|
Need no embellishment; need not the aid
|
424 |
|
Of Muse or feeble Verse. Reason-approv'd
|
425 |
|
And Charity-sustain'd, firm will they stand,
|
426 |
|
Under His sanction, who on Mercy's works
|
427 |
|
E'er looks complacent; and his sons on earth,
|
428 |
|
His chosen sons, with angel-zeal inspires
|
429 |
|
To plan, and to support. And thine, well-planned,
|
430 |
|
Shall be supported. Pity for thy brow,
|
431 |
|
With Policy the sage, shall shortly twine
|
432 |
|
The garland, worthier far than that of oak,
|
433 |
|
So fam'd in ancient Rome--the meed of him
|
434 |
|
Who sav'd a single citizen. More bless'd
|
435 |
|
Religion mild, with gentle Mercy join'd,
|
436 |
|
Shall hail thee--for the Citizens, the Souls
|
437 |
|
Innumerous restor'd to God, the State,
|
438 |
|
Themselves, and social life, by Solitude;
|
439 |
|
Devotion's parent, Recollection's nurse,
|
440 |
|
Source of Repentance true; of the Mind's wounds
|
441 |
|
The deepest prober, but the fastest cure! [5]
|
442 |
|
Hail, sacred Solitude! These are thy works,
|
443 |
|
True source of good supreme! Thy blest effects
|
444 |
|
Already on my Mind's delighted eye
|
445 |
|
Open beneficent. Ev'n now I view
|
446 |
|
The revel-rout dispers'd; each to his cell
|
447 |
|
Admitted, silent! The obstreperous cries,
|
448 |
|
Worse than infernal yells; the clank of chains--
|
449 |
|
Opprobrious chains, to Man severe disgrace,
|
450 |
|
Hush'd in calm order, vex the ears no more!
|
451 |
|
While, in their stead, Reflection's deep-drawn sighs,
|
452 |
|
And prayers of humble penitence are heard,
|
453 |
|
To Heaven well-pleasing, in soft whispers round!
|
454 |
|
No more, 'midst wanton idleness, the hours
|
455 |
|
Drag wearisome and slow: Kind Industry
|
456 |
|
Gives wings and weight to every moment's speed;
|
457 |
|
Each minute marking with a golden thread
|
458 |
|
Of moral profit. Harden'd Vice no more
|
459 |
|
Communicates its poison to the souls
|
460 |
|
Of young associates, nor diffuses wide
|
461 |
|
A pestilential taint. Still Thought pervades
|
462 |
|
The inmost heart: Instruction aids the Thought;
|
463 |
|
And blest Religion with life-giving ray
|
464 |
|
Shines on the mind sequester'd in its gloom;
|
465 |
|
Disclosing glad the golden gates, thro' which
|
466 |
|
Repentance, led by Faith, may tread the courts
|
467 |
|
Of Peace and Reformation! Cheer'd and chang'd,
|
468 |
|
--His happy days of quarantine perform'd--
|
469 |
|
Lo! from his solitude the Captive comes
|
470 |
|
New-born, and opes once more his grateful eyes
|
471 |
|
On day, on life, on man! a fellow man!
|
472 |
|
Hail, sacred Solitude! From thee alone
|
473 |
|
Flow these high blessings. Nor be't deem'd severe,--
|
474 |
|
Such sequestration; destin'd to retrieve
|
475 |
|
The mental lapse; and to its powers restore
|
476 |
|
The Heaven-born Soul, encrusted with foul guilt:
|
477 |
|
'Tis tenderest Mercy, 'tis Humanity
|
478 |
|
Yearning with kindliest softness: while her arm
|
479 |
|
From ruin plucks, effectuates the release,
|
480 |
|
And gives a ranson'd Man to Earth--to Heaven!
|
481 |
|
To the sick Patient, struggling in the jaws
|
482 |
|
Of obstinate Disease, e'er knew we yet
|
483 |
|
Grateful and pleasing from Physician's hand
|
484 |
|
The rough, but salutary Draught?--For That
|
485 |
|
Do we withhold the Draught? and, falsely kind,
|
486 |
|
Hang sighing o'er our Friend,--allow'd to toss
|
487 |
|
On the hot Fever's bed, rave on, and die,
|
488 |
|
Unmedicined, unreliev'd? But, Sages, say,
|
489 |
|
Where is the Medicine! Who will prescribe a cure,
|
490 |
|
Or adequate to this corroding ill,
|
491 |
|
Or in its operation milder found?
|
492 |
|
See, on old Thame's waves indignant ride,
|
493 |
|
In sullen terror, yonder sable Bark,
|
494 |
|
By State-Physicians lately launch'd, and hight
|
495 |
|
Justitia! [6] Dove-eyed Pity, if thou canst,
|
496 |
|
That Bark ascend with me; and let us learn
|
497 |
|
How, temper'd with her Sister Mercy, there
|
498 |
|
Reigns Justice; and, effective to the ill
|
499 |
|
Inveterate grown, her lenient aid supplies.
|
500 |
|
And rolls this Bark on Thames's generous Flood--
|
501 |
|
Flood that wafts Freedom, wafts the high-born Sons
|
502 |
|
Of gallant Liberty to every Land?
|
503 |
|
See the chain'd Britons, fetter'd Man by Man!
|
504 |
|
See, in the stifled Hold--excluded whence
|
505 |
|
Man's common blessing, Air, ne'er freely breathes--
|
506 |
|
They mingle, crowded!--To our pamper'd steeds
|
507 |
|
Inferior how in Lodging! Tainted food
|
508 |
|
And poison'd fumes their life-springs stagnate rank;
|
509 |
|
They reel aloft for breath: Their tottering limbs
|
510 |
|
Bend weak beneath the burden of a frame
|
511 |
|
Corrupted, burning; with blue feverous spots
|
512 |
|
Contagious; and, unequal to the toil,
|
513 |
|
Urg'd by Task-masters vehement, severe,
|
514 |
|
On the chill Sand-bank!--by despair and pain
|
515 |
|
Worn down and wearied, Some their Being curse,
|
516 |
|
And die, devoting to destruction's rage
|
517 |
|
Society's whole race detested! Some,
|
518 |
|
More mild, gasp out in agonies of soul
|
519 |
|
Their loath'd existence; which nor Physick's aid,
|
520 |
|
Nor sweet Religion's interposing smile,
|
521 |
|
Soothes with one ray of Comfort! Gracious God!
|
522 |
|
And this is Mercy!--Thus, from sentenc'd death
|
523 |
|
Britons in pity respite, to restore
|
524 |
|
And moralize Mankind! Correction this,
|
525 |
|
Just Heaven! design'd for Reformation's end!
|
526 |
|
Ye Slaves, that bred in Tyranny's Domains
|
527 |
|
Toil at the Gallies, how supremely blest,
|
528 |
|
How exquisite your Lot (so much deplor'd
|
529 |
|
By haughty Sons of Freedom) to the fate
|
530 |
|
Experienc'd hourly by her free-born Sons,
|
531 |
|
In our Britannia's vaunted residence; [7]
|
532 |
|
Sole, chosen Residence of Faith refin'd,
|
533 |
|
And genuine Liberty! Ye Senators,
|
534 |
|
Ye venerable Sages of the Law,
|
535 |
|
In just resentment for your Country's fame,
|
536 |
|
Wipe off this contradictory reproach
|
537 |
|
To manners, and to policy like yours!
|
538 |
|
Correct, but to amend: 'Tis God's own plan.
|
539 |
|
Correct, but to reform; then give to Men
|
540 |
|
The means of Reformation! Then, restor'd
|
541 |
|
To Recollection, to Himself, to God,
|
542 |
|
The Criminal will bless your saving hand;
|
543 |
|
And, brought to Reason, to Religion brought,
|
544 |
|
Will own that Solitude, as solely apt
|
545 |
|
For work so solemn, has that work achiev'd,
|
546 |
|
Miraculous, and perfect of his cure.
|
547 |
|
Ah me!--to sentiments like these estrang'd,
|
548 |
|
Estrang'd, as ignorant,--and never pent
|
549 |
|
Till this sad chance within a Prison's wall;
|
550 |
|
With what deep force, experienc'd, can I urge
|
551 |
|
The truths momentous! How their power I feel
|
552 |
|
In this My Solitude, in this lone hour,
|
553 |
|
This melancholy midnight hour of thought,
|
554 |
|
Encircled with th' unhappy! firmly clos'd
|
555 |
|
Each barricaded door; and left, just God!
|
556 |
|
Oh Blessing--left to pensiveness and Thee!
|
557 |
|
To Me how high a Blessing! Nor contains
|
558 |
|
Seclusion aught of punishment: To mix
|
559 |
|
With Wretches here were punishment indeed!
|
560 |
|
How dread a punishment!--In Life's best days,
|
561 |
|
Of all most chosen, valued and belov'd,
|
562 |
|
Was soft Retirement's season! From Youth's dawn
|
563 |
|
To solitude inur'd, "Ne'er less alone
|
564 |
|
"Than when alone," with Him so truly fam'd
|
565 |
|
In Wisdom's School, my Heart could ever beat
|
566 |
|
Glad unison. To Meditation's charms,
|
567 |
|
Pleas'd Votary, how have pass'd my sweetest Hours
|
568 |
|
In her secrete and calm society!
|
569 |
|
Still Meditation! Solitude's fair Child,
|
570 |
|
Man's dearest Friend!--O happy be the time
|
571 |
|
That introduc'd me to the hallow'd Train;
|
572 |
|
That taught me, thro' thy genial Lessons sage,
|
573 |
|
My best, my truest Dignity to place
|
574 |
|
In Thought, Reflection deep, and studious Search,
|
575 |
|
Divinest Recreations of the Mind!
|
576 |
|
Oh, happy be the Day, which gave that Mind
|
577 |
|
Learning's first tincture! Blest thy fostering care,
|
578 |
|
Thou most belov'd of Parents, worthiest Sire!
|
579 |
|
Which, taste-inspiring, made the letter'd Page
|
580 |
|
My favourite companion: most esteem'd,
|
581 |
|
And most improving! Almost from the Day
|
582 |
|
Of earliest Childhood to the present Hour
|
583 |
|
Of gloomy, black misfortune, Books, dear Books,
|
584 |
|
Have been, and are, my comforts. Morn and Night,
|
585 |
|
Adversity, Prosperity, at Home,
|
586 |
|
Abroad, Health, Sickness,--good or ill Report,
|
587 |
|
The same firm Friends; the same refreshment rich,
|
588 |
|
And source of consolation! Nay, ev'n here
|
589 |
|
Their magic power they lose not: Still the same,
|
590 |
|
Of matchless influence in this Prison-house,
|
591 |
|
Unutterably horrid; in an Hour
|
592 |
|
Of Woe, beyond all Fancy's fictions drear!
|
593 |
|
Drear Hour!--What is it?--Lost in poignant thought,
|
594 |
|
Lost in the Retrospection manifold
|
595 |
|
Of thee, lov'd Study!--and of thee, my Sire,
|
596 |
|
Who, to the fountain fair of Science led
|
597 |
|
My infant feet,--I lose all count of Time,
|
598 |
|
I lose myself. List! 'Tis dread Midnight's hour!
|
599 |
|
When waking Fancy (with invention wild
|
600 |
|
By Ages hallow'd) hath to Spirits assign'd
|
601 |
|
--Spirits of dear departed Friends--to walk
|
602 |
|
The silent gloom; and bring us from the Dead
|
603 |
|
Tales harrowing up the Soul aghast!--And, hark!
|
604 |
|
Solemn and slow the iron tongue of Night
|
605 |
|
Resounds alarming!--My o'er-harass'd Soul,
|
606 |
|
Confus'd, is lost in sorrows: Down mine Eyes
|
607 |
|
Stream the full Tears,! Distress is all alive,
|
608 |
|
And quick Imagination's pulse beats high!
|
609 |
|
"Dear Father! is it thou?" Methought his ghost
|
610 |
|
Glided in silence by me! Not a word,--
|
611 |
|
While mournfully he shakes his dear pale face!
|
612 |
|
O stay, thou much lov'd parent! stay, and give
|
613 |
|
One word of consolation; if allow'd
|
614 |
|
To Son, like whom so Son hath ever lov'd,
|
615 |
|
None ever suffer'd! See, it comes again:
|
616 |
|
August it flits across th' astonish'd room!
|
617 |
|
I know thee well, thy beauteous image know:
|
618 |
|
Dear Spirit! stay; and take me to the world
|
619 |
|
Where thou art! And where thou art, oh my Father!
|
620 |
|
I must, I must be happy.--Every day
|
621 |
|
Thou know'st, remembrance hath embalm'd thy love,
|
622 |
|
And wish'd thy presence. Melancholy thought!
|
623 |
|
At last to meet thee in a place like this:
|
624 |
|
Oh stay, and waft me instant--But, 'tis gone,
|
625 |
|
The dear delusion! He nor hears my words,
|
626 |
|
My filial anxiety, nor regards
|
627 |
|
My pleading tears. 'Twas but a coinage vain
|
628 |
|
Of the distemper'd fancy! Gone, 'tis gone!
|
629 |
|
And here I'm left a trembling wretch, to weep
|
630 |
|
Unheard, unpitied left, to weep alone!
|
631 |
|
Nor thou, Maria, with me! Oh, my Wife!
|
632 |
|
And is this bitter with the bitterest mix'd;
|
633 |
|
That I must lose thy heavenly company,
|
634 |
|
And consolation soothing! Yet, 'tis best:
|
635 |
|
Thy tenderness, thy presence, doth but wound
|
636 |
|
And stab to the keenest quick my bursting heart!
|
637 |
|
"I have undone thee!" Can I then sustain
|
638 |
|
Thy killing aspect, and that tender tear,
|
639 |
|
Which secret steals a-down thy lovely face,
|
640 |
|
Dissembling smiles, to cheer me!--Cheer me, Heavens!
|
641 |
|
Look on the mighty ruin I have pluck'd,
|
642 |
|
Pluck'd instant, unsuspected, in the hour
|
643 |
|
Of Peace and dear Security on her head!
|
644 |
|
And where--O where can Cheefulness be found?
|
645 |
|
Mine must be Mourning ever. Oh my Wife,
|
646 |
|
"I have undone thee!"--What th' infuriate hand
|
647 |
|
Of foes vindictive could not have achiev'd,
|
648 |
|
In mercy would not, I have wrought! Thy Husband!
|
649 |
|
Thy Husband, lov'd with such unshaken truth,
|
650 |
|
Thy Husband, lov'd with such a steady flame,
|
651 |
|
From Youth's first hour!--Ev'n He hath on thee pluck'd,
|
652 |
|
On thee, his Soul's Companion, Life's best Friend,
|
653 |
|
Such desolation, as to view would draw
|
654 |
|
From the wild Savage Pity's deepest groan!
|
655 |
|
Yes, yes, thou coward Mimic! pamper'd Vice!
|
656 |
|
High praise be sure is thine! Thou hast obtain'd
|
657 |
|
A worthy triumph! [8] Thou hast pierc'd to the quick
|
658 |
|
A weak, an amiable female heart,
|
659 |
|
A conjugal heart most faithful, most attach'd:
|
660 |
|
--Yet can I pardon thee: for, poor Buffoon!
|
661 |
|
Thy vices must be fed; and thou must live,
|
662 |
|
Luxurious live, a foe to God and Man;
|
663 |
|
Commission'd live, thy poison to diffuse,
|
664 |
|
And taint the Public Virtue with thy Crimes.
|
665 |
|
Yes, I can pardon thee--low as thou art,
|
666 |
|
And far too mean an object ev'n of scorn:
|
667 |
|
For thou her merits knew'st not. Hadst thou known,
|
668 |
|
Thou,--callous as thou art to every sense
|
669 |
|
Of human feeling, every nobler touch
|
670 |
|
Of generous sensibility:--even thou
|
671 |
|
Could'st not have wanton pierc'd her gentle breast;
|
672 |
|
But at a distance awful wouldst have stood,
|
673 |
|
And, like thy Prototype of oldest time,
|
674 |
|
View'd her just virtues pass in triumph by,
|
675 |
|
And own'd, howe'er reluctant-----
|
676 |
1. March 30, 1777
2. END of the THIRD WEEK
Notes
(see also Works Cited)
[1] Frederick Bull, Esq. Alderman of London; to whose kindness and humanity the Author has expressed the highest obligations. BACK
[2] It is but a just tribute to Mr. Akerman, the Keeper of this dismal place, to observe, that all the evils here enumerated are the immediate consequences of promiscuous confinement, and no way chargeable to Mr. A's account. It is from the strictest observation, I am persuaded, that no man could do more in the present circumstances. His attention is great, and his kindness and humanity to those in sickness or affliction peculiarly pleasing. I can bear testimony to many signal instances, which I have remarked since my sad confinement. BACK
[3] This circumstance is slightly mentioned Page [31]; and alludes to a fact equally singular and disgustful. The rattling of their fetters is frequently, and in a wanton manner, practised amongst some of the worst offenders; as if an amusement, or to shew their insensibility to shame. How shocking to see Human Nature thus in Ruins! Here it is emphatically so, worse than in Bedlam, as Madness with Reason is more dreadful than without it! BACK
[6] The Author seems chiefly to have formed his ideas of the mode of treating Convicts on the Thames from a late Pamphlet published by Dr. Smith: But we are informed that the evils here complained of have been already, in a great measure, and we trust will soon be wholly, removed. BACK
