35. Letter on Punning. WHEN you have leisure from teaching the world to think and to feel in matters of vital importance to the community, I beg leave to recommend to your notice an evil, which, by poisoning the springs of taste and knowledge, by bringing forward the flippant, and throwing back the reflective speaker, tends to imbitter and destroy all the profit and pleasure of conversation. I allude to the vice of punning. It is my fate to mix with a knot of individuals, each of them capable of sustaining a part in rational discourse, and of bringing to the intellectual conflict minds armed with vigor and stored with learning; who, nevertheless, meet together to fritter away time, patience, and attention, with a series of unconnected quibbles and conceits. Their talk is not narrative, for nothing is related; not demonstrative, for nothing is maintained; not dictative, for nothing can be learned; not argumentative, for nothing can be proved; not confidential, for nothing can be believed. Instead of the rich web of fancy, glowing with the vivid creations of lively and intelligent minds, the hearers are presented with a motley intermixture of shreds of wit and patches of conceit, a checker-work of incongruous images, the very orts and leavings of the "feast of reason," the dregs and scum of science and literature. If I relate to this group of punsters the most affecting circumstance, I am heard with impatience and inattention, till I chance, unwittingly, to utter a word susceptible of a double or triple interpretation. The mischievous spark of folly is applied; the moral interest of my tale is undermined, and a loud report of laughter an nounces the explosion of folly. The Genius of Orthography frowns in vain; puns are, by the laws of custom, entitled to claim entrance into the sensorium, either by the eye or the ear; but then a pseudo-pun -"for indeed there are counterfeits abroad, and it behoves men to be carefu'" - is perceptible to neither sense, when read, it cannot be seen, and when heard, it cannot be under. stood, and to avoid the horror of an explanation, I find I am obliged to perjure myself, by laughing in ignorance and very sadness, and thus sanction the practice I would fain abolish. The evil, in fact, is subversive of the first principle of soci ety. Is it little to hunger for the bread of wisdom, and to be fed with the husks of folly? Is it little to thirst for the Castalian fount, and see its waters idly wasted in sport or malice? Is it little to seek for the interchange of souls, and find only the reciprocation of nonsense? 36. Byron, the Poet, and the Man ADMIRE the goodness of Almighty God! What seemed the best; and knowing, might not do And he who acted thus fulfilled the law Eternal, and its promise reaped of peace; Found peace this way alone who sought it else, Take one example, to our purpose quite: Who riches had, and fame, beyor d desire, A heir of flattery, to titles born, 1 And reputation, and luxurious life; Yet, not content with ancestorial name, No cost was spared. What books he wished, he read; Aught that could rouse, expand, refine the soul, He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced. Where Fancy halted, weary in her flight, And soared untrodden heights, and seemed at home The loftiest thought; and proudly stooped, as though He laid his hand upon "the Ocean's mane," Suns, moons, and stars, and clouds his sisters were; The wild and tame the gentle and severe; All thoughts, all maxims, sacred and profane; So Ocean, from the plains, his waves had late Exulting in the glory of his might, And seemed to mock the ruin he had wrought. As some fierce comet, of tremendous size, Of Fame's dread mountain sat; not soiled and worn But as some bird of heavenly plumage fair, He looked, which down from higher regions came. The nations gazed, and wondered much, and praised; Critics before him fell in humble plight — Confounded fell, and made debasing signs. To catch his eye, and stretched and swelled themselves Many that aimed to imitate his flight, With weaker wing, unearthly fluttering made, And gave abundant sport to after days. Great man! the nations gazed, and wondered much, • And praised; and many called his evil good. Wits wrote in favor of his wickedness; And kings to do him honor took delight. Thus full of titles, flattery, honor, fame, Beyond desire, beyond ambition full, He died. He died of what? Of wretchedness. Drank every cup of joy; heard every trump Of fame; drank early, deeply drank; drank draughts That common millions might have quenched — then died Of thirst, because there was no more to drink. His goddess, Nature, wooed, embraced enjoyed, |