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Appendix: Comic and Satiric Poets of the Long Nineteenth Century
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373 appendix Comic and Satiric Poets of the Long Nineteenth Century d D Quiz Referring to The Grand Master; or, Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan: A Hudibrastic Poem in Eight Cantos by Quiz, the 1862 printing of the Bookseller’s Catalogue declares, “The intention of this work was to hold up to opprobrium the Marquis of Hastings, who was Governor-General of India, and also Commander-in-Chief, from Oct. 1813 to Jan. 1823. It was probably written by W.H. Ireland.” The author is now more widely believed to have been William Combe, a British satirical poet (1741–June 19, 1823). This attribution may also be lawed, for Combe appears to have never lived in India, and the poem attributed to him has a luent command of Indian argot. Combe, however, did work in partnership with Thomas Rowlandson, a British caricaturist, on most of his books, and Rowlandson was clearly responsible for the highly amusing illustrations that accompanied The Grand Master. Qui hi, translated as “Is anybody there?” was the common term for servant and was used by Indians to mockingly refer to the British. Sources [William Combe,] The Grand Master; or, Adventures of Qui Hi in Hindostan: A Hudibrastic Poem in Eight Cantos by Quiz (London: Thomas Tegg, 1816). See also Willis and Sotheran, A Catalogue of Upwards of Fifty Thousand Volumes of Ancient and Modern Books: English and Foreign, in All Classes of Literature and the Fine Arts Including Rare and Curious Books (London: Willis and Sotheran, 1862). d D 374 d Appendix: Comic and Satiric Poets from The Grand Master Now, with ambitious hopes elated, Our youth has been initiated To all his honors, in a word, Assumes the gorget, sash and sword, Whether adorn’d with cat1 or lion, 5 Or plain G.R. we can’t rely on; Our information only goes To shew the colour of his cloths; ’Twas red, of course, this information, Convinces you he serv’d the nation, 10 Whether a company or king, The muse will not pretend to sing: The reader may, if he’s inclin’d, Make him serve which he has a mind, And he’s at liberty to guess, 15 Of what description was his dress; ’Tis certain that his facings bore The designation of his corps; But whether black, or white or blue, Is nothing now to me or you; 20 Or whether a mistake2 he made By accident, and for them paid; For sometimes it may be aver’d, That subs pay only with their word. (If an apology’s of use) 25 Necessity has some excuse, For sad experience often shews That poverty can truth oppose, And subalterns, like others, 0nd Justice is rightly painted blind. 30 Dame fortune frequently bestows On vice her wealth, on merit blows; For, after many “a hair bread’th scape,” Troubles and wants in evr’y shape, 1. A well-known crest; but so miserably executed by the Indian artists, that it bears more resemblance to a rampant cat, than a rampant lion; which gives a subject for ridicule to some wags in the King’s service. [Quiz] 2. Quiz says mistake here. He repeats it; because he is perfectly aware that the most honourable young men in the army of India are placed under such pecuniary embarrassments, that they are obliged to promise, without the hope of performing that promise. [Quiz] Here and in other notes, Quiz speaks in the editorial third person. [35.175.174.36] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 12:08 GMT) Quiz D 375 He sees, with an indignant frown, 35 His airy castles tumbling down; All his fair claims are soon forgot– Mendacity must be his lot: He scorns to act an abject part, And droops beneath a broken heart. 40 Too well the Indian subs. can feel The truth of what I here reveal; How often, with a doleful face, They pay for breakfast with their lace:3 They 0nd the tenure of a sword, 45 Can scarcely bread and cheese aford, While, ’tis a fact, tho’ strange to tell, Riches attend the paltry quill.4 Civilian luxury attends The powerful interest of friends, 50 While merit’s claim is scarcely heard, Neglect its whole and sole reward: But now the chearful smile of peace, Has lighten’d every Briton’s face; Now that John Bull with beef and beer, 55 Treats as a friend poor old Monsieur, Nor casts a surly look from Dover, Defying Monsieur to...