THE TRANSMIGRATIONS OF A SOULWhat! Pixley, must I hear you call the rollOf all the vices that infest your soul?Was't not enough that lately you did bawlYour money-worship in the ears of all?[A]Still must you crack your brazen cheek to tellThat though a miser you're a sot as well?Still must I hear how low your taste has sunk—From getting money down to getting drunk?[B]Who worships money, damning all beside,And shows his callous knees with pious pride,Speaks with half-knowledge, for no man e'er scornsHis own possessions, be they coins or corns.You've money, neighbor; had you gentle birthYou'd know, as now you never can, its worth.You've money; learning is beyond your scope,Deaf to your envy, stubborn to your hope.But if upon your undeserving headScience and letters had their glory shed;If in the cavern of your skull the lightOf knowledge shone where now eternal nightBreeds the blind, poddy, vapor-fatted naughtsOf cerebration that you think are thoughts—Black bats in cold and dismal corners hungThat squeak and gibber when you move your tongue—You would not write, in Avarice's defense,A senseless eulogy on lack of sense,Nor show your eagerness to sacrificeAll noble virtues to one loathsome vice.You've money; if you'd manners too you'd shameTo boast your weakness or your baseness name.Appraise the things you have, but measure notThe things denied to your unhappy lot.He values manners lighter than a corkWho combs his beard at table with a fork.Hare to seek sin and tortoise to forsake,The laws of taste condemn you to the stakeTo expiate, where all the world may see,The crime of growing old disgracefully.Religion, learning, birth and manners, too,All that distinguishes a man from you,Pray damn at will: all shining virtues gainAn added luster from a rogue's disdain.But spare the young that proselyting sin,A toper's apotheosis of gin.If not our young, at least our pigs may claimExemption from the spectacle of shame!Are you not he who lately out of shapeBlew a brass trumpet to denounce the grape?—Who led the brave teetotalers afieldAnd slew your leader underneath your shield?—Swore that no man should drink unless he flungHimself across your body at the bung?Who vowed if you'd the power you would fineThe Son of God for making water wine?All trails to odium you tread and boast,Yourself enamored of the dirtiest most.One day to be a miser you aspire,The next to wallow drunken in the mire;The third, lo! you're a meritorious liar![C]Pray, in the catalogue of all your graces,Have theft and cowardice no honored places?Yield thee, great Satan—here's a rival nameWith all thy vices and but half thy shame!Quick to the letter of the precept, quickTo the example of the elder Nick;With as great talent as was e'er appliedTo fool a teacher and to fog a guide;With slack allegiance and boundless greed,To paunch the profit of a traitor deed,He aims to make thy glory all his own,And crowd his master from the infernal throne![Footnote A: We are not writing this paragraph for any other purposethan to protest against this never ending cant, affectation, andhypocrisy about money. It is one of the best things in thisworld—better than religion, or good birth, or learning, or goodmanners.—The Argonaut.][Footnote B: Now, it just occurs to us that some of our temperancefriends will take issue with us, and say that this is bad doctrine,and that it is ungentlemanly to get drunk under any circumstancesor under any possible conditions. We do not think so.—Thesame.][Footnote C: The man or woman who, for the sake of benefiting others,protecting them in their lives, property, or reputation, sparingtheir feelings, contributing to their enjoyment, or increasingtheir pleasures, will tell a lie, deserves to be rewarded.—Thesame.]
What! Pixley, must I hear you call the rollOf all the vices that infest your soul?Was't not enough that lately you did bawlYour money-worship in the ears of all?[A]Still must you crack your brazen cheek to tellThat though a miser you're a sot as well?Still must I hear how low your taste has sunk—From getting money down to getting drunk?[B]Who worships money, damning all beside,And shows his callous knees with pious pride,Speaks with half-knowledge, for no man e'er scornsHis own possessions, be they coins or corns.You've money, neighbor; had you gentle birthYou'd know, as now you never can, its worth.You've money; learning is beyond your scope,Deaf to your envy, stubborn to your hope.But if upon your undeserving headScience and letters had their glory shed;If in the cavern of your skull the lightOf knowledge shone where now eternal nightBreeds the blind, poddy, vapor-fatted naughtsOf cerebration that you think are thoughts—Black bats in cold and dismal corners hungThat squeak and gibber when you move your tongue—You would not write, in Avarice's defense,A senseless eulogy on lack of sense,Nor show your eagerness to sacrificeAll noble virtues to one loathsome vice.You've money; if you'd manners too you'd shameTo boast your weakness or your baseness name.Appraise the things you have, but measure notThe things denied to your unhappy lot.He values manners lighter than a corkWho combs his beard at table with a fork.Hare to seek sin and tortoise to forsake,The laws of taste condemn you to the stakeTo expiate, where all the world may see,The crime of growing old disgracefully.Religion, learning, birth and manners, too,All that distinguishes a man from you,Pray damn at will: all shining virtues gainAn added luster from a rogue's disdain.But spare the young that proselyting sin,A toper's apotheosis of gin.If not our young, at least our pigs may claimExemption from the spectacle of shame!Are you not he who lately out of shapeBlew a brass trumpet to denounce the grape?—Who led the brave teetotalers afieldAnd slew your leader underneath your shield?—Swore that no man should drink unless he flungHimself across your body at the bung?Who vowed if you'd the power you would fineThe Son of God for making water wine?All trails to odium you tread and boast,Yourself enamored of the dirtiest most.One day to be a miser you aspire,The next to wallow drunken in the mire;The third, lo! you're a meritorious liar![C]Pray, in the catalogue of all your graces,Have theft and cowardice no honored places?Yield thee, great Satan—here's a rival nameWith all thy vices and but half thy shame!Quick to the letter of the precept, quickTo the example of the elder Nick;With as great talent as was e'er appliedTo fool a teacher and to fog a guide;With slack allegiance and boundless greed,To paunch the profit of a traitor deed,He aims to make thy glory all his own,And crowd his master from the infernal throne!
[Footnote A: We are not writing this paragraph for any other purposethan to protest against this never ending cant, affectation, andhypocrisy about money. It is one of the best things in thisworld—better than religion, or good birth, or learning, or goodmanners.—The Argonaut.][Footnote B: Now, it just occurs to us that some of our temperancefriends will take issue with us, and say that this is bad doctrine,and that it is ungentlemanly to get drunk under any circumstancesor under any possible conditions. We do not think so.—Thesame.][Footnote C: The man or woman who, for the sake of benefiting others,protecting them in their lives, property, or reputation, sparingtheir feelings, contributing to their enjoyment, or increasingtheir pleasures, will tell a lie, deserves to be rewarded.—Thesame.]