No More Learning

LXXVIII.

The moment that you had pronounced him _one_,
Presto! his face changed, and he was another;
And when that change was hardly well put on,
It varied, till I don't think his own mother
(If that he had a mother) would her son
Have known, he shifted so from one to t'other;
Till guessing from a pleasure grew a task,[hl]
At this epistolary "Iron Mask. "[540]

LXXIX.

For sometimes he like Cerberus would seem--
"Three gentlemen at once"[541] (as sagely says
Good Mrs. Malaprop); then you might deem
That he was not even _one_; now many rays
Were flashing round him; and now a thick steam
Hid him from sight--like fogs on London days:
Now Burke, now Tooke, he grew to people's fancies
And certes often like Sir Philip Francis.

LXXX.

I've an hypothesis--'tis quite my own;
I never let it out till now, for fear
Of doing people harm about the throne,
And injuring some minister or peer,
On whom the stigma might perhaps be blown;
It is--my gentle public, lend thine ear!
'Tis, that what Junius we are wont to call,[hm]
Was _really--truly_--nobody at all.


LXXXI.

I don't see wherefore letters should not be
Written without hands, since we daily view
Them written without heads; and books, we see,
Are filled as well without the latter too:
And really till we fix on somebody
For certain sure to claim them as his due,
Their author, like the Niger's mouth,[542] will bother
The world to say if _there_ be mouth or author.

LXXXII.

"And who and what art thou? " the Archangel said.
"For _that_ you may consult my title-page,"[543]
Replied this mighty shadow of a shade:
"If I have kept my secret half an age,
I scarce shall tell it now.
"--"Canst thou upbraid,"
Continued Michael, "George Rex, or allege
Aught further? " Junius answered, "You had better
First ask him for _his_ answer to my letter:

LXXXIII.

"My charges upon record will outlast[hn]
The brass of both his epitaph and tomb. "
"Repent'st thou not," said Michael, "of some past
Exaggeration? something which may doom
Thyself if false, as him if true? Thou wast
Too bitter--is it not so? --in thy gloom
Of passion? "--"Passion! " cried the phantom dim,
"I loved my country, and I hated him.


LXXXIV.

"What I have written, I have written: let
The rest be on his head or mine! " So spoke
Old "_Nominis Umbra_;" and while speaking yet,
Away he melted in celestial smoke.
Then Satan said to Michael, "Don't forget
To call George Washington, and John Horne Tooke,
And Franklin;"[544]--but at this time there was heard
A cry for room, though not a phantom stirred.

LXXXV.

At length with jostling, elbowing, and the aid
Of Cherubim appointed to that post,
The devil Asmodeus[545] to the circle made
His way, and looked as if his journey cost
Some trouble. When his burden down he laid,
"What's this?