by J.R.P.
Originally published in The Literary Chronicle and Weekly Review (J. Limbird) vol.1 #26 (13 Nov 1819).
'Thy frame robust and hardy,
The learned finger never need explore
Thy vigorous pulse.'
The Literary Illiterate Blacksmith is a true son of Vulcan; and no one, who has seen him, will deny his being legitimate. He has not, it is granted, that pleasurable authority which dignifies his reverend brother craftsman at Gretna-lodge, to settle giddy-headed love on the anvil, yet many weighty topics are discussed at his forge, and illuminated by the sparks which surround him. Very trifling circumstances often lead to the promoting of those persons who are the least conscious, and sometimes unworthy of promotion; and, in some measure, it is thus with our Hobinol, for, on a memorable occasion, after having harrangued the villagers with no ordinary zeal, at a county election, and being afterwards seated at the inn in the midst of open house-keeping mirth, he was admired by the Rector, whose daily practice it was to tope, under the influence of Bacchus,—
'As full of Champaigne
As an egg's full of meat.'
At this period, or shortly after, old Nasal-twang, the parish-clerk, died. The Rector considering no one so eligible as Sledge, appointed him, who, much to his own satisfaction, took possession of the desk.
The church walls echoed sweetly to his sonorous and poetically sounding Amen[1]! Not as the Cocknies say it, Au—men! as though they had tripped to Paris for a pronunciation; nor as the advocates for aspiration—Ha-men! nor as the Charity boys, who cut it off so snappishly, that we are in the momentary apprehension of losing our tongues; but the solemn and melodious intonations of Amen! With such a leader of Tate and Brady, the Rector was not disappointed, for soon he had to praise his service for so good a choir, as were Sundayly engaged in it. Still the Newspaper was Sledge's delight; and it is asserted, that his love for it, when much younger, made him return from sea, and determined him to follow the craft of his ancestors. Should the submissive foot of a horse be turned on his apron betwixt his knees, and the post-horn startle it from his grasp, he will fly to wait the unsealing of the bag, and, with the franked morsel, return to his penthouse, hurrying the barnacles on his nose to con its pages. By this time, not less than a dozen newsmongers are assembled, and he, beginning, reads every word, from the title to the publisher, before one spark can fly from the hot iron, or an asthma-like sigh from the bellows; and whenever hard words and long names appear, he casts his eye over his optics to his auditors, and cries with a hammer's emphasis,—which is to them quite intelligible. However the state of the times, and whatever popular feeling arises among his villagers, a few words from him will pacify them, and it seems his inviolable love of truth soothes their domestic trials, political situations, or parochial duties, for he encourages industry, sets an example of peace, and assists on all occasions to generate provincial prosperity; therefore, whatever might be Pope's opinion that—
'A little learning is a dang'rous thing;'
This Blacksmith proves that—
'A little learning is a useful thing
And dignifies the man.'
1. The Talmudists taxed the people's negligence in prayer, saying they used three sorts of Amen, and all faulty. A faint Amen, when they prayed without fervency. A hasty Amen, when they said Amen before the prayer was done. A lazy Amen when they pronounced it at length, as if they were asleep, dividing the word A—men.