and Hester Lynch Piozzi
Anecdotes of the Learned Pig / With Notes, Critical and Explanatory, and Illustrations from Bozzy, Piozzi &c. &c
ANECDOTES
OF THE
LEARNED PIG 1
THE great and learned Pig, of which it is our hap to ſpeak, was produced in a ſty belonging to an old Tory, bookſeller, in2 Moorfields. At that time Moorfields was diſtinguiſhed by rails which3 fluttered with party writings and libels of every ſort; and it is remarkable that his mother, during her pregnancy, tore down from thoſe rails, and fairly devoured one whole volume of Filmer and all Sacheverell’s ſermons at a meal; after which ſhe was obſerved to grunt more and louder, and to lie longer in the ſun, and deeper in the mire, than it had before been her cuſtom to do. She was delivered of our Pig on the morning of the tenth of June. He was ſtrong and bony, but of an inelegant form, and betrayed a very uncommon roughneſs in his ſqueak; and it was ſoon after remarked by the neighbours, that his trottings after his mother were made in4 zig-zags, and not in ſtraight lines as is uſual with other pigs. After his mother, however, he reſolutely trotted, and one morning, as ill fortune would have it, into a garden which had belonged to the great Milton, and was now in the poſſeſſion of one of his daughters. Here he fed voraciouſly upon white roſes, whilſt his lady mother was buſily employed in rooting up all the red ones. He was in this place ſeized by the owner, and ſo ſeverely whipped, that he thought no other than that ſhe was whipping him to death in preparation for a luxurious meal. Of this whipping he retained through life the higheſt reſentment, and bore ever after the moſt inveterate hatred of the whole Miltonic line. On the fifth of November following he was taken up, without any warrant, by the rabble, for the uſes of a Whig feaſt, and was very near being roaſted at the ſame fire with the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender; but this being diſcovered to be ſomething meaſly, he was turned looſe to be cured, as they deridingly ſaid, by the5 royal touch. Of this event he retained the ſtrongeſt ſenſibility, and conſidered ever after his fellow ſufferers, the Pope and the Pretender, with great complacence, if not affection; but as to the other party, though expoſed to the ſame diſhonours, there was ſomething in his horns and his tail which he could never be brought to endure. The touch already mentioned, though profanely ſneered at by the Whig rabble, was ſoon afterwards in good earneſt applied; but ſo great an obliquity of head had by this time taken place, that it could never be perfectly reſtored. Upon this memorable occaſion there was placed about his neck a ribband of true blue, to which hung a ſilver coin, diſplaying royal lineaments of the Stuart line, making ſo ſtrong an impreſſion on his young fancy, that for that line he ever after retained the moſt6 paſſionate regard. Thus decorated, he conſidered himſelf, and was conſidered by others, as a kind of7 Tantony, or St. Anthony’s Pig, belonging to the Crown. Not long after this period he was heard one morning as he lay in the ſun to grunt forth, portentouſly the following rhymes:
Gruntledum, gruntledum, gruntledum, ſqueak,
I hope very ſoon to be able to ſpeak;
Through my griſtly proboſcis, I find, that I can
Already cry Ay like a Parliament man:
Like a maid I ſqueak, like a lover can whine,
And ſnort like an Alderman laden with wine.
Gruntledum, gruntledum, gruntledum, ſqueak,
I hope very ſoon to be able to ſpeak.
This being publicly known, the neighbours now put on him a human coat, in which condition he appeared as if the Hog in armour had deſcended from his ſign-poſt to mingle in ſociety, and converſe with man. Nor did they ſtop here, but ventured alſo to recommend him for a penſion to the great miniſterial hog, though, for the preſent, however, without effect; for though it was evident enough that our learned Pig could ſay Ay, yet it did not follow that he would be always diſpoſed to do ſo. He was therefore turned looſe into the ſoil of this great town to ſubſiſt as he could, where, idling and rambling, he picked up ſometimes flowers, and ſometimes thiſtles, a great number of Greek and Hebrew roots, with an immenſe quantity of verbage of every ſort 8. It is for his honour that he routed in this rich compoſt for years without giving any offence, except that, through reſentment to the Miltonic line, he aſſociated rather too long with a very obſcene animal of the pig kind, called a9 Lauder; and except, that he was taken ſometimes with ſtrange freaks, and fancied once that he ſaw ſomething in the10 ſhape of a ſound of a knocking; and excepting alſo his too ſonorous gruntulations, and that long concatenation of ſoapy bubbles which uſually frothed from his mouth11. In the midſt of theſe reſearches he had one morning the good fortune to throw up this ſentiment in rhyme:
Say, what is a Tory? A Tory is he
Who thinks kicking ſhould paſs through every degree;
And that all political motion ſhould go
From the toe to the bum, from the bum to the toe.
Then what is a12 Whig? A dog full of knavery,
A raſcal, a ſcoundrel impatient of ſlavery,
A malignant, a thief; – then tell me if Whig
Be any more better than gruntledum pig?
There needed no more; a penſion was immediately hung about his neck, and the letters L. L. D. ſoon afterwards impreſſed on his rump 13. And now who but our Pig? lying in the ſun, cheek by jowl, by the great miniſterial Hog, routing in the political ſoil, and throwing up daily the moſt delicious pig-nuts with his ſnout; nor did theſe diſcoveries reſt wholly in himſelf; for the great Hog would ſometimes let fall, from behind, certain rich, but often crude and ill-digeſted, materials, which were taken up in the Weſtphalian mode by our Pig, and delivered again better concocted to the many-headed beaſt: and hence we were taught, that Taxation was no Tyranny, and that a good American war was a very commodious and ſalutary thing. Great applauſe enſued, but not unattended with envy, there being at the time many ſnarlers who have ſaid, and now ſay, that it were better if our Pig had been, before this period, well ſouſed in the pickling tub, and that even the great miniſterial Hog himſelf had been hung up for bacon. I decide nothing on theſe brawls; yet, having reſpect to a certain ſuppoſed dignity in our Pig, it may, perhaps, excite ſome wonder, that he, whoſe politics were of no older a date than his penſion, and who had hitherto never routed out of the moral track, ſhould all at once lend himſelf out in this manner, and make his conſcience reſponſible for meaſures, of the principles or effects of which he muſt have been ſo incompetent a judge. But I anſwer in few words, that, like all other politicians, he had his propenſities; that it was, perhaps, the nature of the animal, and that mingling his humours and his reaſon together, there might have been a competent ſincerity in the caſe. But what ſhall we ſay to the indecency of his turning up the graves of Pope and14 Swift, (for I ſpeak not now of Milton) and goring them, Tories as they were, with ſo malicious a tooth? I anſwer, firſt, that they were not Tories. Pope placed his glory in moderation; and Swift was the renegade of one party, without being the convert of the other. But it was not Whig or Tory, I believe, which now moved our Pig: there are other inſtinctive enmities in the world. Theſe men of real genius were ſatiriſts by profeſſion, and the natural enemies of Pigſ – “The fewer ſtill I name,” ſays Pope, “I hurt the more.” – “Bond is but one, but Balaam is a