NOTE TO LETTER XXI.

Note 1, page 489, line 308.

But take thy part with sinners and be still.

In a periodical work for the month of June last, the preceding dialogue is pronounced to be a most abominable caricature, if meant to be applied to Calvinists in general, and greatly distorted, if designed for an individual. Now, the author in his preface has declared, that he takes not upon him the censure of any sect or society for their opinions; and the lines themselves evidently point to an individual, whose sentiments they very fairly represent, without any distortion whatsoever. In a pamphlet intitled "A Cordial for a Sin-despairing Soul," originally written by a teacher of religion, and lately re-published by another teacher of greater notoriety, the reader is informed that after he had full assurance of his salvation, the Spirit entered particularly into the subject with him; and, among many other matters of like nature, assured him that "his sins were fully and freely forgiven, as if "they had never been committed: not for any act done by him, whether "believing in Christ, or repenting of sin; nor yet for the sorrows and "miseries he endured, nor for any service he should be called upon in his "militant state, but for his own name and for his glory's sake1," &c. And the whole drift and tenour of the book is to the same purpose, viz. the uselessness of all religious duties, such as prayer, contrition, fasting, and good works: he shows the evil done by reading such books as the Whole Duty of Man, and the Practice of Piety; and complains heavily of his relation, an Irish bishop, who wanted him to join with the household in family prayer: in fact, the whole work inculcates that sort of quietism which this dialogue alludes to, and that without any recommendation of attendance on the teachers of the Gospel, but rather holding forth encouragement to the supineness of man's nature; by the information that he in vain looks for acceptance by the employment of his talents, and that his hopes of glory are rather extinguished than raised by any application to the means of grace.

1 Cordial, &c. page 87.

THE BOROUGH.

LETTER XXII.

THE POOR OF THE BOROUGH.

PETER GRIMES.

-Was a sordid soul,

Such as does murder for a meed;
Who but for fear knows no control,
Because his conscience, sear'd and foul,
Feels not the import of the deed;
One whose brute feeling ne'er aspires
Beyond his own more brute desires.

Scott, Marmion [Canto 11.].

Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd
Came to my tent, and every one did threat-

Shakspeare. Richard III. [A&t v. Sc. 3, vv. 204-5].

The times have been,

That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end; but now they rise again,

With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools.

Macbeth [A&t III. Sc. 4. vv. 78–82].

The Father of Peter a Fisherman-Peter's early Conduct-His Grief for the old Man-He takes an Apprentice-The Boy's Suffering and Fate- A second Boy: how he died- Peter acquitted-A third Apprentice-A Voyage by Sea: the Boy does not return-Evil Report on Peter: he is tried and threatened-Lives alone--His Melancholy and incipient Madness-Is observed and visited-He escapes and is taken: is lodged in a Parish-house: Women attend and watch him-He speaks in a Delirium: grows more collectedHis Account of his Feelings and visionary Terrors previous to his Death.

THE BOROUGH.

LETTER XXII.

PETER GRIMES.

LD Peter Grimes made fishing his employ;
His wife he cabin'd with him and his boy,

And seem'd that life laborious to enjoy.
To town came quiet Peter with his fish,
And had of all a civil word and wish.
He left his trade upon the sabbath-day,
And took young Peter in his hand to pray;

But soon the stubborn boy from care broke loose,
At first refused, then added his abuse;
His father's love he scorn'd, his power defied,
But, being drunk, wept sorely when he died.

Yes! then he wept, and to his mind there came
Much of his conduct, and he felt the shame :-
How he had oft the good old man reviled,
And never paid the duty of a child;
How, when the father in his Bible read,
He in contempt and anger left the shed;
"It is the word of life," the parent cried;
"This is the life itself," the boy replied;
And while old Peter in amazement stood,
Gave the hot spirit to his boiling blood;-
How he, with oath and furious speech, began
Το prove his freedom and assert the man;
And when the parent check'd his impious rage,
How he had cursed the tyranny of age;-
Nay, once had dealt the sacrilegious blow
On his bare head, and laid his parent low;

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The father groan'd-"If thou art old," said he, "And hast a son-thou wilt remember me;

"Thy mother left me in a happy time,

"Thou kill'dst not her-Heav'n spares the double crime." On an inn-settle, in his maudlin grief,

This he revolved, and drank for his relief.

Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
Hard that he could not every wish obey,
But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
Hard that he could not to his cards attend,
But must acquire the money he would spend.

With greedy eye he look'd on all he saw;
He knew not justice, and he laugh'd at law;
On all he mark'd he stretch'd his ready hand;
He fish'd by water, and he filch'd by land.
Oft in the night has Peter dropp'd his oar,
Fled from his boat and sought for prey on shore;
Oft up the hedge-row glided, on his back
Bearing the orchard's produce in a sack,

Or farm-yard load, tugg'd fiercely from the stack;
And as these wrongs to greater numbers rose,
The more he look'd on all men as his foes.

He built a mud-wall'd hovel, where he kept
His various wealth, and there he oft-times slept;
But no success could please his cruel soul,
He wish'd for one to trouble and control;
He wanted some obedient boy to stand
And bear the blow of his outrageous hand;
And hoped to find in some propitious hour
A feeling creature subject to his power.

Peter had heard there were in London then-
Still have they being!-workhouse-clearing men,
Who, undisturb'd by feelings just or kind,
Would parish-boys to needy tradesmen bind;
They in their want a trifling sum would take,
And toiling slaves of piteous orphans make.

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Such Peter sought, and, when a lad was found, The sum was dealt him, and the slave was bound. Some few in town observed in Peter's trap

A boy, with jacket blue and woollen cap;
But none inquired how Peter used the rope,
Or what the bruise, that made the stripling stoop;
None could the ridges on his back behold,
None sought him shiv'ring in the winter's cold;
None put the question-"Peter, dost thou give

"The boy his food?-What, man! the lad must live :
"Consider, Peter, let the child have bread,

"He'll serve thee better if he's stroked and fed." None reason'd thus-and some, on hearing cries,

Said calmly, "Grimes is at his exercise."

Pinn'd, beaten, cold, pinch'd, threaten'd, and abused-
His efforts punish'd and his food refused—
Awake tormented-soon aroused from sleep-
Struck if he wept, and yet compell'd to weep:

The trembling boy dropp'd down and strove to pray,
Received a blow, and trembling turn'd away,
Or sobb'd and hid his piteous face ;-while he,
The savage master, grinn'd in horrid glee:
He'd now the power he ever loved to show,
A feeling being subject to his blow.

Thus lived the lad, in hunger, peril, pain,
His tears despised, his supplications vain.
Compell'd by fear to lie, by need to steal,
His bed uneasy and unbless'd his meal,
For three sad years the boy his tortures bore;
And then his pains and trials were no more.

"How died he, Peter?" when the people said,

He growl'd-"I found him lifeless in his bed;

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Then tried for softer tone, and sigh'd, "Poor Sam is dead." [] Yet murmurs were there, and some questions ask'd—

How he was fed, how punish'd, and how task'd?

Much they suspected, but they little proved,
And Peter pass'd untroubled and unmoved.
Another boy with equal ease was found,
The money granted, and the victim bound;
And what his fate ?--One night, it chanced he fell
From the boat's mast and perish'd in her well,
Where fish were living kept, and where the boy
(So reason'd men) could not himself destroy.-

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