The Trial of Selim the Persian, for Divers High Crimes and Misdemeanours

THE court was met, the pris'ner brought,
The council with instructions fraught,
And evidence prepar'd at large
On oath to vindicate the charge.

But first it is meet where form denies
Poetick helps of fancy'd lies,
Gay metaphors and figures fine,
And similies to deck the line,
'Tis meet (as we before have said)
To call description to our aid.

Begin we then (as first it is fitting)
With the three Chiefs in judgment sitting.

Above the rest, and in the chair,
Sat Faction with dissembled air;
Her tongue was skill'd in specious lies
And murmurs, whence dissensions rise,
A smiling mask her features veil'd,
Her form the patriot's robe conceal'd,
With study'd blandishments she bow'd,
And drew the captivated crowd.

The next in place, and on the right,
Sat Envy, hideous to the sight!
Her snaky locks, her hollow eyes
And haggard form forbad disguise;
Pale discontent and sullen hate
Upon her wrinkled forehead sat,
Her left-hand clench'd her cheek sustain'd,
Her right (with many a murder stain'd)
A dagger clutch'd, in act to strike
With starts of rage and aim oblique.

Last on the left was Clamour seen,
Of stature vast and horrid mien;
With bloated cheeks and frantick eyes
She sent her yellings to the skies,
Prepar'd with trumpet in her hand
To blow sedition o'er the land.

With these four more of lesser fame
And humbler rank attendant came,
Hypocrisy with smiling grace,
And Impudence with brazen face,
Contention bold with iron lungs,
And Slander with her hundred tongues.

The walls in sculptur'd tale were rich,
And statues proud (in many a nich)
Of chiefs who fought in Faction's cause,
And perish'd for contempt of laws:
The roof in vary'd light and shade
The seat of Anarchy display'd:
Triumphant o'er a falling throne
(By emblematick figures known)
Confusion rag'd and Lust obscene,
And Riot with distemper'd mien,
And Outrage bold and Mischief dire,
And Devastation clad in fire:
Prone on the ground a martial maid
Expiring lay and groan'd for aid,
Her shield with many a stab was pierc'd,
Her laurels torn, her spear revers'd,
And near her crouch'd amidst the spoils
A lion panted in the toils.

With look compos'd the pris'ner stood
And modest pride: by turns he view'd
The court, the council, and the crowd,
And with submissive rev'rence bow'd.

Proceed we now in humbler strains
And lighter rhymes with what remains.

Th' indictment grievously set forth
That Selim, lost to patriot worth,
(In company with one Will P—tt,
And many more not taken yet)
In Forty-five the royal palace
Did enter, and to shame grown callous
Did then and there his faith forsake,
And did accept, receive, and take,
With mischievous intent and base,
Value unknown, a certain place.

He was a second time indicted
For that, by evil zeal excited,
With learning more than layman's share
(Which parsons want and he might spare)
In Letter to one Gilbert West
He the said Selim did attest,
Maintain, support, and make assertion,
Of certain points from Paul's Conversion,
By means whereof the said apostle
Did many an unbeliever jostle,
Starting unfashionable fancies,
And building truths on known romances.

A third charge ran, that knowing well
Wits only eat as pamphlets sell,
He the said Selim notwithstanding
Did fall to answ'ring, shaming, branding,
Three curious Letters to the Whigs,
Making no reader care three figs
For any facts contain'd therein,
By which uncharitable sin
An author modest and deserving
Was destin'd to contempt and starving,
Against the king, his crown and peace,
And all the statutes in that case.

The pleader rose with brief full charg'd,
And on the pris'ner's crimes enlarg'd—
But not to damp the Muse's fire
With rhet'rick such as courts require,
We'll try to keep the reader warm,
And sift the matter from the form.
Virtue and social love he said,
And honour, from the land were fled;
That patriots now like other folks
Were made the butt of vulgar jokes,
While Opposition dropp'd her crest,
And courted pow'r for wealth and rest;
Why some folks laugh'd and some folks rail'd,
Why some submitted some assail'd,
Angry or pleas'd—all solv'd the doubt
With who were in and who were out;
The sons of Clamour grew so sickly
They look'd for dissolution quickly;
Their Weekly Journals, finely written,
Were sunk in privies all besh—n,
Old England and the London Evening
Hardly a soul was found believing in,
And Caleb, once so bold and strong,
Was stupid now and always wrong.

Ask ye whence rose this soul disgrace?
Why Selim has receiv'd a place,
And thereby brought the cause to shame,
Proving that people void of blame
Might serve their country and their king
By making both the selfsame thing,
By which the credulous believ'd
And others (by strange arts deceiv'd)
That ministers were sometimes right,
And meant not to destroy us quite.

That bart'ring thus in state affairs
He next must deal in sacred wares,
The clergy's rights divine invade,
And smuggle in the gospel trade;
And all this zeal to reinstate
Exploded notions out of date,
Sending old rakes to church in shoals,
Like children sniv'ling for their souls,
And ladies gay from smut and libels
To learn beliefs and read their Bibles,
Erecting conscience for a tutor,
To damn the present by the future,
As if to evils known and real
'Twas needful to annex ideal,
When all of human life we know
Is care, and bitterness, and wo,
With short transitions of delight
To set the shatter'd spirits right;
Then why such mighty pains and care
To make us humbler than we are?
Forbidding shortliv'd mirth and laughter
By fears of what may come hereafter;
Better in ignorance to dwell;
None fear but who believe a hell;
And if there should be one, no doubt
Men of themselves would find it out.

But Selim's crimes he said went further,
And barely stopp'd on this side murther;
One yet remain'd to close the charge
To which (with leave) he'd speak at large.
And first 't was needful to premise
That tho' so long (for reasons wise)
The press inviolate had stood,
Productive of the publick good,
Yet still too modest to abuse
It rail'd at vice but told not whose;
That great improvements of late days
Were made to many an author's praise,
Who not so scrupulously nice
Proclaim'd the person with the vice,
Or gave, where vices might be wanted,
The name, and took the rest for granted.
Upon this plan a champion rose
Unrighteous greatness to oppose,
Proving the man inventus non est
Who trades in pow'r and still is honest;
And (God be prais'd!) he did it roundly,
Flogging a certain junto soundly;
But chief his anger was directed
Where people least of all suspected,
And Selim not so strong as tall
Beneath his grasp appear'd to fall,
But Innocence (as people say)
Stood by and sav'd him in the fray:
By her assisted and one Truth,
A busy, prating, forward, youth,
He rally'd all his strength anew,
And at the foe a Letter threw;
His weakest part the weapon found,
And brought him senseless to the ground;
Hence Opposition fled the field
And Ign'rance with her sev'nfold shield;
And well they might, (for things weigh'd fully)
The pris'ner with his whore and bully
Must prove for ev'ry foe too hard
Who never fought with such a guard.

But Truth and Innocence he said
Would stand him here in little stead,
For they had evidence on oath
That would appear too hard for both.

Of witnesses a fearful train
Came next th' indictments to sustain,
Detraction, Hatred, and Distrust,
And Party, of all foes the worst,
Malice, Revenge, and Unbelief,
And Disappointment, worn with grief,
Dishonour foul, unaw'd by shame,
And ev'ry fiend that vice can name:
All these in ample form depos'd
Each fact the triple charge disclos'd
With taunts and gibes of bitter sort,
And asking vengeance from the court.

The pris'ner said in his defence
That he indeed had small pretence
To soften facts so deeply sworn,
But would for his offences mourn;
Yet more, he hop'd than bare repentance
Might still be urg'd to ward the sentence.
That he had held a place some years
He own'd with penitence and tears,
But took it not from motives base,
Th' indictment there mistook the case;
And tho' he had betray'd his trust
In being to his country just,
Neglecting Faction and her friends,
He did it not for wicked ends,
But that complaints and feuds might cease,
And jarring parties mix in peace.

That what he wrote to Gilbert West
Bore hard against him he confest;
Yet there they wrong'd him, for the fact is
He reason'd for belief not practice,
And people might believe he thought,
Tho' practice might be deem'd a fault.
He either dream'd it or was told
Religion was rever'd of old,
That it gave breeding no offence,
And was no foe to wit and sense;
But whether this was truth or whim
He would not say; the doubt with him
(And no great harm he hop'd) was how
Th' enlighten'd world would take it now;
If they admitted it 'twas well,
If not he never talk'd of hell,
Nor ev'n hop'd to change men's measnres
Or frighten ladies from their pleasures.

One accusation he confest
Had touch'd him more than all the rest,
Three Patriot Letters high in same
By him o'erthrown and brought to shame:
And tho' it was a rule in vogue
If one man call'd another rogue
The party injur'd might reply
And on his soe retort the lie,
Yet what accru'd from all his labour
But foul dishonour to his neighbour?
And he 's a most unchristian elf
Who others damns to save himself.
Besides, as all men knew, he said
Those Letters only rail'd for bread,
And hunger was a known excuse
For prostitution and abuse;
A guinea properly apply'd
Had made the writer change his side:
He wish'd he had not cut and carv'd him,
And own'd he should have bought not starv'd him.

The court he said knew all the rest,
And must proceed as they thought best,
Only he hop'd such resignation
Would plead some little mitigation;
And if his character was clear
From other faults, (and friends were near
Who would when call'd upon attest it)
He did in humblest form request it
To be from punishment exempt,
And only suffer their contempt.

The pris'ner's friends their claim preferr'd,
In turn demanding to be heard.
Integrity and Honour swore,
Benevolénce, and twenty more,
That he was always of their party,
And that they knew him firm and hearty;
Religion, sober dame! attended,
And as she could his cause befriended;
She said 't was since he came from college
She knew him, introduc'd by Knowledge;
The man was modest and sincere,
Nor farther could she interfere.
The Muses begg'd to interpose,
But Envy with loud hissings rose,
And call'd them women of ill fame,
Liars, and prostitutes to shame,
And said to all the world 't was known
Selim had had them ev'ry one.
The pris'ner blush'd, the Muses frown'd,
When silence was proclaim'd around,
And Faction, rising with the rest,
In form the pris'ner thus addrest:

"You Selim thrice have been indicted,
"First that by wicked pride excited,
"And bent your country to disgrace,
"You have receiv'd and held a place;
"Next, infidelity to wound,
"You 'ave dar'd with arguments profound
"To drive freethinking to a stand,
"And with religion vex the land;
"And lastly, in contempt of right,
"With horrid and unnat'ral spite
"You have an author's fame o'erthrown,
"Thereby to build and fence your own.

"These crimes successive on your trial
"Have met with proofs beyond denial,
"To which yourself with shame conceded,
"And but in mitigation pleaded;
"Yet that the justice of the court
"May suffer not in men's report,
"Judgment a moment I suspend
"To reason as from friend to friend.

"And first, that you of all mankind
"With kings and courts should stain your mind,
"You! who were Opposition's lord,
"Her nerves, her sinews, and her sword!
"That you at last for servile ends
"Should wound the bowels of her friends!—
"Is aggravation of offence
"That leaves for mercy no pretence.
"Yet more—for you to urge your hate,
"And back the church to aid the state,
"For you to publish such a Letter,
"You! who have known religion better,
"For you I say to introduce
"The fraud again!—there 's no excuse:
"And last of all, to crown your shame,
"Was it for you to load with blame
"The writings of a patriot youth,
"And summon Innocence and Truth
"To prop your cause!—Was this for you!—
"But justice does your crimes pursue,
"And sentence now alone remains,
"Which thus by me the court ordains:

"That you return from whence you came,
"There to be stript of all your fame
"By vulgar hands; that once a week
"Old England pinch you till you squeak;
"That ribald Pamphlets do pursue you,
"And Lies and Murmurs, to undo you,
"With ev'ry foe that Worth procures,
"And only Virtue's friends be your's."