A Lecture On Heads Part 3

{79}Here is the head of a British Tar [_shews the head_]; and, while England can man her navy with thousands of these spirits, Monsieur's threats are in vain. Here is a man who despises danger, wounds, and death; he fights with the spirit of a lion, and, as if (like a salamander) his element was fire, gets fresh courage as the action grows hotter; he knows no disgrace like striking to the French flag; no reward for past services so ample as a wooden leg; and no retreat so honourable as Greenwich hospital. Contrast his behaviour with that of a French sailor, who must have a drawn sword over his head to make him stand to his gun, who runs trembling to the priest for an absolution--"_Ah, mon bon pere, avez pitie de moi!_" when he

{80}should look death in the face like a man. This brave tar saw the gallant Farmer seated on his anchor, his s.h.i.+p in a blaze, his eye fixed on the wide expanse of the waters round him, scorning to shrink, waiting with the calm firmness of a hero for the moment when he was to die gloriously in the service of his country.

Here is the head of a Spaniard, [_Shews the head._] But first I had better remove the Frenchman, for fear of a quarrel between the two allies. Now he has no dislike to England; he wishes, as Spain ever did, for peace with England, and war with all the world; he remembers the latter end {81}of the last war, the British fleets thundering in their ports, and the whole nation abhorring the French for the calamities brought upon them by an intriguing Italian cabinet. He was taken prisoner by the gallant Sir George Rodney; and the only favour he asked, upon coming to England, was not to be imprisoned with a Frenchman, detesting all connexion with that superficial, dancing, treacherous people. The Frenchman, vain and sanguine to the last, encourages his ally to persevere. _Attendre, attendre, mon cher ami_.--"Wait, my good friend, we shall get the game yet." "Certainly," replies the grave Don, "for we get all the rubbers." But, whilst these two are mourning over their losses by the war, here comes another to complete the procession of madness and folly.

{82}This is the head [_shews it_] of Mynheer Van Neverfelt Large Breecho Love Cabbecho Dutch Doggero, a great merchant at Rotterdam; who had ama.s.sed an immense fortune by supplying the enemies of Great Britain with hemp, and who, if he had his deserts, should die as he has lived by it. He considers treaties as mere court promises; and these, in the vulgar acceptation of a pie-crust, whenever they cover any advantage, it is but breaking them, and down with friends.h.i.+p and honour in a bite.

He looks upon interest to be the true law of nature, and princ.i.p.al a Sinking Fund, in which no Dutchman should be concerned. He looks upon money to be the greatest good upon earth, and a pickled herring {83}the greatest dainty. If you would ask him what wisdom is, he'll answer you, Stock. If you ask him what benevolence is, he'll reply, Stock: and should you inquire who made him, he would say, Stock; for Stock is the only deity he bows down to. If you would judge of his wit, his whole Stock lies in a pipe of tobacco; and, if you would judge of his conversation, a bull and a bear are his Stock companions. His conduct to all men and all nations is most strikingly typified by Hogarth's Paul before Felix, in true Dutch gusto, where the guardian angel, Conscience, has fallen asleep, which Avarice, in the shape of the devil, taking advantage of, saws asunder the legs of the stool upon which the apostle is exhibited standing. But the vengeance of Britain's insulted genius has overtaken him, in the east and in the west, and Holland has received blows, for her breach of compacts, she will remember as long as her d.y.k.es defend her from the encroachments of the ocean.

When men have eminently distinguished themselves in arts or arms, their characters should be held up to the public with every mark of honour, to inspire the young candidate for fame with a generous emulation. There is a n.o.ble enthusiasm in great minds, which not only inclines them to {84}behold ill.u.s.trious actions with wonder and delight, but kindles also a desire of attaining the same degree of excellence. The Romans, who well knew this principle in human nature, decreed triumphs to their generals, erected obelisks and statues in commemoration of their victories; and to this day the cabinet of the antiquarian preserves records of the victories of a Germanicus, the generosity of a t.i.tus, or the peaceful virtues of an Antonius. Why then should not England adopt the practice of the Romans, a people who reached the highest pinnacle of military glory? It is true that some of our great generals have marble monuments in Westminster Abbey. But why should not the living enjoy the full inheritance of their laurels? If they deserve to have their victories proclaimed to the world by the voice of Fame, let it be when men are sensible to the sweetness of her trumpet, for she will then sound like an angel in their ears. Here is the head of a British Hero; a t.i.tle seldom conferred, and as seldom merited, till the ardent valour of the youthful warrior is ripened into the wisdom and cool intrepidity of the veteran. He entered the service with the principles of a Soldier and a patriot, the love of fame, and the love of his country. His mind active and {85}vigorous, burning with the thirst of honour, flew to posts of danger with a rapidity which gave tenfold value to his military exertions, and rendered his onsets terrible as resistless. No expedition appeared to him either difficult or impracticable that was to be undertaken for the good of the cause he had embarked in. Fortune too seemed enamoured of his valour, for she preserved his life in many actions; and, though he cannot stretch forth an arm without shewing an honourable testimony of the dangers to which he was exposed, he has still a hand left to wield a sword for the service of his country. As he is yet in the prime of life, there is nothing too great to be expected from him. He resembles the immortal Wolfe in his fire and fame. And oh, for the good of England, that Wolfe, in his fortunes, had resembled Tableton!

END OF PART IV.

PART V.

{86}We shall now return to the law, for our laws are full of returns, and we we shall shew a compendium of law [_takes the wig_]; parts of practice in the twist of the tail.--The depth of a full bottom denotes the length of a chancery suit, and the black coif behind, like a blistering plaister, seems to shew us that law is a great irritator, and only to be used in cases of necessity.

We shall now beg leave to change the fas.h.i.+on of the head-dress, for, like a poor periwig-maker, I am obliged to mount several patterns on the same block.

[_Puts on the wig, and takes the nosegay._]

{87}Law is law, law is law, and as in such and so forth, and hereby, and aforesaid, provided always, nevertheless, notwithstanding. Law is like a country dance, people are led up and down in it till they are tired. Law is like a book of surgery, there are a great many terrible cases in it.

It is also like physic, they that take least of it are best off. Law is like a homely gentlewoman, very well to follow. Law is like a scolding wife, very bad when it follows us. Law is like a new fas.h.i.+on, people are bewitched to get into it; it is also like bad weather, most people are glad when they get out of it.

{88}We shall now mention a cause, called "Bullum _versus_ Boatum:" it was a cause that came before me. The cause was as follows.

There were two farmers; farmer A and farmer B. Farmer A was seized or possessed of a bull: farmer B was possessed of a ferry-boat. Now the owner of the ferry-boat, having made his boat fast to a post on sh.o.r.e, with a piece of hay, twisted rope-fas.h.i.+on, or, as we say, _vulgo vocato_, a hay-band.

After he had made his boat fast to a post on sh.o.r.e, as it was very natural for a hungry man to do, he went up town to dinner; farmer A's bull, as it was very natural for a hungry bull to do, came down town to look for a dinner; and, observing, discovering, seeing, and spying-out, some turnips in the bottom of the ferry-boat, the bull scrambled into the ferry-boat: he ate up the turnips, and, to make an end of his meal, fell to work upon the hay-band: the boat, being eaten from its moorings, floated down the river, with the bull in it: it struck against a rock; beat a hole in the bottom of the boat, and tossed the bull overboard; whereupon the owner of the bull brought his action against the boat, for running away with the bull. The owner of the boat brought his action against the bull for running away with the {89} boat. And thus notice of trial was given, Bullum _versus_ Boatum, Boatum _versus_ Bullum.

Now the Counsel for the bull began with saying, "My Lord, and you gentlemen of the jury, we are counsel in this cause for the bull. We are indicted for running away with the boat. Now, my Lord, we have heard of running horses, but never of running bulls before. Now, my Lord, the bull could no more run away with the boat than a man in a coach may be said to run away with the horses; therefore, my Lord, how can we punish what is not punishable? How can we eat what is not eatable? Or, how can we drink what is not drinkable? Or, as the law says, how can we think on what is not thinkable? Therefore, my {90}Lord, as we are counsel in this cause for the bull, if the jury should bring the bull in guilty, the jury would be guilty of a bull."

The counsel for the boat observed that the bull should be nonsuited, because, in his declaration, he had not specified what colour he was of; for thus wisely, and thus learnedly, spoke the counsel.--"My Lord, if the bull was of no colour, he must be of some colour; and, if he was not of any colour, what colour could the bull be of?" I over-ruled this motion myself, by observing the bull was a white bull, and that white is no colour: besides, as I told my brethren, they should not trouble their heads to talk of colour in the law, for the law can colour any thing.

This cause being afterwards left to a reference, upon the award both bull and boat were acquitted, it being proved that the tide of the river carried them both away; upon which I gave it as my opinion, that, as the tide of the river carried both bull and boat away, both bull and boat had a good action against the water-bailiff.

My opinion being taken, an action was issued, and, upon the traverse, this point of law arose, How, wherefore, and whether, why, when, and what, whatsoever, whereas, and whereby, as the {91}boat was not a _compos mentis_ evidence, how could an oath be administered? That point was soon settled by Boatum's attorney declaring that, for his client, he would swear any thing.

The water-bailiff's charter was then read, taken out of the original record in true law Latin; which set forth, in their declaration, that they were carried away either by the tide of flood or the tide of ebb.

The charter of the water-bailiff was as follows. "_Aquae bailiffi est magistrates in choisi, sapor omnibus fis.h.i.+bus qui habuerunt finnos et scalos, claws, sh.e.l.ls, et talos, qui swimmare in fres.h.i.+bus, vel saltibus reveris lakos, pondis, ca.n.a.libus et well-boats, sive oysteri, prawni, whitini, shrimpi, turbutus solus_;" that is, not turbots alone, but turbots and soals both together. But now comes the nicety of the law; the law is as nice as a new-laid egg, and not to be understood by addle-headed people. Bullum and Boatum mentioned both ebb and flood to avoid quibbling; but, it being proved that they were carried away neither by the tide of flood, nor by the tide of ebb, but exactly upon the top of high water, they were nonsuited; but, such was the lenity of the court, upon their paying all costs, they were allowed to begin again, _de novo_.

{92}This is one of those many thousand Heads [_takes the head_] who swarm in and about London, whose times and minds are divided between the affairs of state and the affairs of a kitchen. He was anxious after venison and politics; he believed every cook to be a great genius; and to know how to dress a turtle comprehended all the arts and sciences together. He was always hunting after newspapers, to read about battles; and imagined soldiers and sailors were only made to be knock'd on the head, that he might read an account of it in the papers. He read every political pamphlet that was published on both sides of the question, and was always on his side whom he read last.

{93}And then he'd come home in a good or ill temper and call for his night-cap, and pipes and tobacco, and send for some neighbours to sit with him, and talk politics together. [_Puts on a cap, and takes the pipes and sits down._]

"How do you do, Mr. Costive? Sit down, sit down. Ay, these times are hard times; I can no more relish these times than I can a haunch of venison without sweet sauce to it; but, if you remember, I told you we should have warm work of it when the cook threw down the Kian pepper.

Ay, ay; I think I know a thing or two; I think I do, that's all. But, Lord, what signifies what one knows? they don't mind me! You know I {94}mentioned at our club the disturbances in America, and one of the company took me up, and said, 'What signifies America, when we are all in a merry cue?' So they all fell a laughing. Now there's Commons made Lords, and there's Lords made the Lord knows what; but that's nothing to us; they make us pay our taxes; they take care of that; ay, ay, ay, they are sure of that. Pray what have they done for these twenty years last past?--Why, nothing at all; they have only made a few turnpike roads, and kept the partridges alive till September; that's all they have done, for the good of their country. There were some great people formerly, that lov'd their country, that did every thing for the good of their country; there were your Alexander the Great--he lov'd his country, and Julius Caesar lov'd his country, and Charles of Sweedland lov'd his country, and Queen Semiramis, she lov'd her country more than any of 'em, for she invented solomon-gundy; that's the best eating in the whole world. Now I'll shew you my plan of operations, Mr. Costive.--We'll suppose this drop of punch here to be the main ocean, or the sea; very well. These pieces of cork to be our men of war; very well. Now where shall I raise my fortifications? I wish I had Mr. Major {95}Moncrieff here; he's the best in the world at raising a fortification. Oh! I have it. [_Breaks the pipes._] We'll suppose them to be all the strong fortified places in the whole world; such as Fort Omoa, Tilbury Fort, Bergen op Zoom, and Tower Ditch, and all the other fortified places all over the world. Now I'd have all our horse-cavalry wear cork waistcoats, and all our foot-infantry should wear air jackets. Then, sir, they'd cross the sea before you could say Jack Robinson. And where do you think they should land, Mr. Costive? whisper me that.

Ha!--What?--When?--How?--You don't know.--How should you!--Was you ever in Germany or Bohemia?--Now, I have; I understands jography. Now they should land in America, under the line, close to the south pole; there they should land every mother's babe of 'em. Then there's the Catabaws, and there's the Catawaws; there's the Cherokees, and there's the ruffs and rees; they are the four great nations. Then I takes my Catabaws all across the continent, from Jamaica to Bengal; then they should go to the Mediterranean. You know where the Mediterranean is?--No, you know nothing; I'll tell you; the Mediterranean is the metropolis of Constantinople. Then I'd send a fleet to blockade {96}Paris till the French king had given up Paul Jones; then I'd send for General Clinton and Colonel Tarleton; and--Where was I, Mr. Costive; with Tarleton;--Thank ye--so I was; but you are so dull, Mr Costive, you put me out. Now I'll explain the whole affair to you; you shan't miss a word of it. Now there is the king of Prussia and the empress of Russia, and the nabob of Arcot, and the king of the Hottentots, are all in the Protestant interest; they make a diversion upon all the Cham of Tartary's back setlements; then Sir Guy Carleton comes with a _circ.u.mbendibus_, and retakes all the islands, Rhode Island and all; and takes 'em _here_ and _there_, and _there_ and _here_, and _every where_.

There is the whole affair explained at once to you."

This is the head of a Proud Man: all heads in that predicament are unsound. This man was rich; and as wealth is a certain hot-bed to raise flatterers, he had enough of them; they told him he was every thing; he believed them, and always spoke in the first person, saying, I, I, I--I will have it so; I know it;--I, I--which puts one in mind of a school-boy toning out before his mistress's knees, I by itself I. Yet there is one piece of pride which may be thought excusable; and {97}that is, that honest exultation of heart which every public performer feels from the approbation of his auditors; gratefully does he acknowledge their indulgence, and with sincerity declares that the utmost exertion of his abilities can never equal the favour of the public.

By way of Epilogue, here are two wigs. [_Takes two wigs._] This is called the full-buckled bob, and carries a consequentially along with it: it is worn by those people who frequent city feasts, and gorge themselves at a Lord-Mayor's-show dinner; and, with one of these wigs on, their double chins rested upon their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and their shoulders up, they seem as if they had eaten themselves into a {98}state of indigestion, or else had b.u.mpered themselves out of breath with bottled beer. [_Puts on the wig._] "Waiter! bring me a ladleful of soup. You dog, don't take off that haunch of venison yet!--Bring me the lamb, a gla.s.s of currant jelly, and a clean plate. A hob-n.o.b, sir." "With all my heart." "Two b.u.mpers of Madeira!--Love, health, and ready rhino, to all the friends that you and I know."--On the contrary, these lank looks form the half-famished face. [_Puts on the Methodist hair, and takes the tub._]

The floor of the world is filthy, the mud of Mammon eats up all your upper leathers, and we are all become sad soals. Brethren, (the word brethren comes from the tabernacle, because we {99}all breathe therein), if you are drowsy I'll rouse you, I'll beat a tattoo upon the parchment case of your conscience, and I'll whisk the devil like a whirligig among you. Now let me ask you a question seriously. Did you ever see any body eat any hasty-pudding? What faces they make when it scalds their mouths!

Phoo, phoo, phoo! What faces will you all make when old Nick nicks you?

Now unto a bowl of punch I compare matrimony; there's the sweet part of it, which is the honey-moon: then there's the largest part of it, that's the most insipid, that comes after, and that's the water; then there's the strong spirits, that's the husband; then there's the sour spirit, that's the wife. But you don't mind me, no more than a dead horse does a pair of spectacles; if you did, the sweet words which I utter would be like a treacle posset to your palates. Do you know how many taylors make a man?--Why nine. How many half a man?--Why four journeymen and an apprentice. So have you all been bound 'prentices to madam Faddle, the fas.h.i.+on-maker; ye have served your times out, and now you set up for yourselves. My bowels and my small guts groan for you; as the cat on the house-top is caterwauling, so from the top of my voice will I {100}be bawling. Put--put some money in the plate, then your abomination shall be scalded off like bristles from the hog's back, and ye shall be scalped of them all as easily as I pull off this periwig.

My attempt you have heard to succeed the projector, And I tremblingly wait your award of this lecture; No merits I plead, but what's fit for my station, And that is the merit of your approbation. And, since for mere mirth I exhibit this plan, Condemn, if you please--but excuse, if you can.

END OF THE LECTURE,

AN ESSAY ON SATIRE.

{101}The vice and folly which overspread human nature first created the satirist. We should not, therefore, attribute his severity to a malignity of disposition, but to an exquisite sense of propriety, an honest indignation of depravity, and a generous desire to reform the degenerated manners of his fellow-creatures. This has been the cause of Aristophanes censuring the pedantry and superst.i.tion of Socrates; Horace, Persius, Martial, and Juvenal, the luxury and profligacy of the Romans; Boileau and Moliere the levity and refinement of the French; Cervantes the romantic pride and madness of the Spanish; and Dorset, Gldharn, Swift, Addison, Churchill, Stevens, and Foote, the variety of vice, folly, and luxury, which we have imported from our extensive commerce and intercourse with other nations. We should, consequently, reverse the satirist and correct ourselves.

{102}We should not avoid him as the detecter, but as the friendly monitor. If he speaks severe truths, we should condemn our own conduct which gives him the power.

It has frequently been observed, that the satirist has proved more beneficial to the correction of a state than the divine or legislator.

Indeed he seems to have been created with peculiar penetrative faculties, and integrity of disposition, and a happy genius to display the enormity of the features, while it corrects the corrupt exercise of our vices. The legislator may frame laws sufficiently wise and judicious, to check and control villany, without the power of impeding the progress of vice and folly, while they are kept within the limits of only injuring ourselves. For law has no power to punish us for the vices which debilitate our const.i.tution, destroy our substance, or degrade our character.

Nor can religion entirely extirpate vice, no more than she can even control folly. Her two principles, alluring to virtue by promise of reward, and dissuading from vice by threats of punishment, extend their influence no farther than on those whose dispositions are susceptible of their impressions. So that we find numbers among {103}mankind whose conduct and opinions are beyond her power. The atheist, who disbelieves a future existence, is not likely to check the exercise of his favourite vicious habits for any hope of reward or dread of punishment; and the debauchee, who, though he may not deny the truth of her tenets, yet is too much absorbed in his pleasures, to listen to her precepts, or regard her examples. Besides, there are many so weak in their resolution as not to be capable of breaking the fetters of habit and prepossession, although they are, at the same time, sensible of their destructive consequences. It is, therefore, that nature has implanted in us a sense which tends to correct our disposition, where law and religion are seen to have no power. This sense is a desire of public estimation, which not only tends to give mankind perfection in every art and science, but also to render our personal character respectable. It is this susceptibility of shame and infamy which gives satire its efficiency.

Without this sense of ourselves, the scourge would lose its power of chastis.e.m.e.nt. We should receive the lashes without a sense of their pain; and without the sense of their pain we would never amend from this affliction. From the desire of {104}being approved and noticed, arises every effort which const.i.tutes the variety of employments and excellencies the world possesses. It actuates the prince and the beggar, the peasant and the politician, the labourer and the scholar, the mechanic and the soldier, the player and the divine. In a word, there is not an individual in the community whose conduct is not influenced by its dictates. It is, therefore, not surprising that mankind should be so impressive to the power of satire, whose object is to describe their vices and follies, for the finger of public infamy to point at their deformities and delinquencies. Thus, where law cannot extend its awe and authority, satire wields the scourge of disgrace; and where religion cannot convince the atheist, attract the attention of the debauchee, or reform those who are subject to the power of habit and fas.h.i.+on, satire affords effectually her a.s.sistance. Satire reforms the drunkard, by exposing to the view of himself and the world the brutality of his actions and person when under the influence of intoxication. Satire reforms, likewise, the inordinate actions of those who are not awed by the belief of future reward and punishment, by exposing them to infamy during their present {105}existence. And those who are subject to the dominion of depraved habits satire awakens to a practice of reformation, from the poignant sense of being the derision and contempt of all their connexions; for there is no incentive so powerful to abandon pernicious customs as the sense of present and future disgrace. We may, therefore, conclude, that nothing tends so much to correct vice and folly as this species of public censure. Having thus made some observations on the general utility and necessity of satire, we shall proceed to examine which of its species is the most likely to be effective.

The most remarkable species of satire are, the narrative, dramatic, and picturesque; which have also their separate species peculiar to each.

The narrative contains those that either reprove with a smile or a frown, by pourtraying the characteristics of an individual, or the general manners of a society, people, or nation; and are either described in verse or prose. The dramatic contains perfect resemblance, which is described by comedy; or caricature, which is described by farce. And the picturesque is what exercises the painter, engraver, and sculptor. In all these species the satirist may either divert by his humour, entertain by his wit, or torture by his severity. Each mode {106}has its advocates. But we think that the mode should be adapted to the nature of the vice or folly which demands correction. If the vice be of an atrocious nature, it certainly requires that the satire be severe.

If it be of a nature that arises more from a weakness of mind than depravity of feeling, we think it should be chastised by the lively and pointed sarcasms of wit; and, if the failing be merely a folly, it should only be the subject of humorous ridicule. With respect to determining which species of satire is the most preferable, the narrative of Horace and Juvenal, the dramatic of Aristophanes and Foote, or the picturesque of Hogarth and Stevens; we can best form our opinion from comparing their different defects and excellencies. As the narrative is merely a description of manners, it is devoid of that imitation of pa.s.sion and character which gives effect to the dramatic.

But, as the language is more pointed, more energetic, and more elegant, it certainly must impress the reader more deeply. The dramatic, therefore, while it is calculated to affect more the spectator, is inferior to the narrative in the closet. The picturesque is more defective than either of the two former. It has only power to describe the action of an instant, and {107}this without the a.s.sistance of reflection, observation, and sentiment, which they derive from their verbal expression.

We may, consequently, perceive that each species has defects to which others are not liable, and excellencies which the others do not possess.

Thus it is evident that a species of satire, which could blend all the advantages of all the three, can only be that which is adequate to the idea of perfect satire. This kind of satire is the Lecture on Heads.

We cannot, therefore, be surprised that it should have been the most popular exhibition of the age. The heads and their dresses composed the picturesque: the a.s.sumption of character and dialogue by the lecturer, composed the dramatic; and the lively description of manners, the judicious propriety and pertinence of observation, composed the narrative. Thus did the genius of its author invent a species of entertainment which possessed excellencies that counterbalanced the defects of all other satirists, produced from the age of Aristophanes, who flourished four hundred and seven years before the Christian era, until his own time.

Having thus enforced the utility of satire in general, and specified the defects and properties of {108}its particular kinds, we shall proceed to make a few observations on the peculiar merit of the Lecture on Heads.

We have already seen that it possesses every quality of all other satires in itself: it only, therefore, remains to consider its wit, humour, character, and apparatus; which are its essensial properties.

The wit of this Lecture is as various as the subjects which it satirises. Its brilliancy charms, its poignancy convicts while it chastises, and its pertinency always adorns the sentiment or observation it would ill.u.s.trate. The variety of its species always entertains, but never satiates. Even puns please, from the aptness and pleasantry of their conceits. His wit is so predominant, that, if we may be allowed the expression, it is discovered in his silence. A most striking example of this is where he uses the rhetorical figure called the Aposiopesis, or suppression, in displaying the head of a prost.i.tute: he introduces it with saying, "This is the head of a woman of the town, or a ------; but, whatever other t.i.tle the lady may have, we are not ent.i.tled here to take notice of it." Nothing can be more delicate than this suppression: it displays a tenderness and liberality to the frailty of female nature, which does as much credit to his feelings as to his genius.

{109}We know not a more happy instance of giving expression to silence, or giving an idea without verbal a.s.sistance, than is contained in the above character.

The humour of this Lecture is grotesque, lively, and delicate; it varies its form with the character it ridicules. Nothing can surpa.s.s the humorous whimsicality of his situations and expressions; for they please as much from the fanciful manner in which he places the ridiculous to our view, as from the resemblance with which he so naturally describes the prototype. His description of a London Blood cannot fail to excite laughter in the features of the greatest cynic. The natural propensity which mankind has to laugh at mischief never was more happily gratified than from his describing this character _pus.h.i.+ng a blind horse into a china-shop_. Had he chosen any other animal, the effect would not have been so great on his audience. If it had been an a.s.s, it would have been attended with an idea of the obstinacy and the reluctance of this animal, which would have suggested its being too difficult; it would not, therefore, have excited, in any manner, the risible faculty. Had it been an ox, it would have {110}connected with it the idea of too much fury and devastation to entertain with the picture. But choosing a blind horse, who, from his loss of sight and natural docility, may be easily supposed to be led into such a situation; the mind adopts the credibility, and enjoys the whimsical and mischievous consequence, while it condemns the folly and puerility of the Blood who occasioned it.

It is this peculiar faculty of choice of subjects, situation, and a.s.semblage, which const.i.tutes the excellence of a humorist, which Stevens possessed in a most eminent degree; for he displays it in almost every line of his Lecture. Indeed, in this art we know of none superior to him, except it be Shakespeare in some of his comedies, which are inimitable in every thing which relates to the _vis comica_. With respect to the characters of this Lecture, they are such as will be found to exist with human nature; except a few, who are described as the devotees to particular fas.h.i.+ons; and such will always be found while vanity, luxury, and dissipation, exist in society. Therefore, from this universality of character, his Lecture will ever be worthy the perusal of every person who would wish to avoid being contemptible or ridiculous: for {111}there is no person but may be liable to some vice or folly, which he will find exposed by this masterly, pleasant, and original, satirist.