University of Virginia Library

THE LAMPOON.

Byron expresses his surprise that poor Keats should have allowed his soul to be “snuffed out by an article.” But an exaggerated estimate of the importance of published abuse is among the commonest fallacies. This dramatic sketch was written at a time when the community had been recently shocked by the intelligence of two deaths, one of which was self-inflicted, in consequence of scurrilous personal attacks from an utterly worthless and discreditable print. Let the thin-skinned object of such attacks bear in mind, that “no man can be written down except by himself.”

Present, Victor. Enter Pedrillo, with a Newspaper.
VICTOR.
How now, Pedrillo? Pr'ythee, what's the matter,
That thus you tramp the room, and chafe, and pant,
As if to madness baited?

PEDRILLO.
Look at that;
And wonder at my equanimity!

VICTOR.
A very Stoic, truly! mild as moonbeams,
Reluctant as gun-cotton to take fire,
And quiet as a ribbon in a whirlwind!
Patience personified!

PEDRILLO.
Read that, I say!

VICTOR.
An if you roar so loudly, my Pedrillo,
You'll wake the watchman snoring on the doorstep.
Compose yourself

PEDRILLO.
I shall go mad indeed!
What! you have seen it—read it—laughed at it—
Retailed it, at the club, as a good joke!
But, as the moon 's above us, I'll have vengeance!

VICTOR.
Well done! The action and the word well suited!
How such a climax would bring down the bravos!
Othello, Hotspur, Gloster—say, what part
Shall be selected for your first appearance?

PEDRILLO.
Torture! I thought you were my friend. Farewell!

VICTOR.
Stay, till you prove me otherwise. Explain:
What direful, strange affliction hath o'erwhelmed you?
Have you been plundered, cuffed, knocked down, and stamped on?
Perhaps your uncle's dead, and, in his will,
Has left you but a halter? No? Has Laura
Eloped with that long-haired, black-whiskered bandit,
Count Loferini?

PEDRILLO.
Pah! he's her abhorrence.
Read—read that paragraph in that vile print!
Behold me dragged before a grinning public;
Pointed at, squibbed, traduced, and ridiculed—
Made the town's butt; the mockery of my friends!
'Sdeath! I'll be no man's butt! The lying caitiff!
The inky cutthroat! The pen-stabbing footpad!
The paltering, prying, prostituting pander!
I'll have his ears or his apology!

VICTOR.
Bah! Give me a regalia. Can it be
Abuse from such a one can stir your choler?
Wait till the blackguard praises you, and then,
Curse, if you please, the fellow's impudence.

PEDRILLO.
What! shall I take no notice of the knave
And his base lies?

VICTOR.
By all means notice him,
If you would flatter. Challenge—flog—demand
Instant retraction—sue him for a libel;—
So may his aims be answered, and the kicks
Of a true gentleman may do him honor,
As royalty dubs knighthood—with a blow!

PEDRILLO.
Would you not have me show a due resentment?

VICTOR.
Tell him his sting is felt, and he'll rejoice:
Let it strike harmless on the triple mail
Of conscious honor; and the baffled viper
Will writhe and hiss, to find his venom wasted.

PEDRILLO.
Ah! but the public scorn!

VICTOR.
The public scorn!
Tell me what scorn the public can inflict,
Which, if unmerited, an honest man
Cannot repay tenfold? The public scorn!
O paroxysm of most insane conceit,
To think a ribald gazetteer's worst spite
Could pull upon your head the public scorn—
Could raise you half an inch above the mass,
For public contemplation! Ah, my friend,
Time will reverse thy telescope; and objects,
Which strike thee now as monstrous, will appear
Ridiculously dwarfish: it will teach thee
That, in this jostling, struggling, whirling world,
The most notorious are but little known,
The observed of all observers little seen,
The loftiest low, the noisiest little heard;
And that attacks like this, conceived in envy,—
False, flippant, venal, venomous, and vulgar,—
By the judicious are at once despised,
By the unthinking are at once forgotten.
O, shallower than the ostrich's device,
Who buries in the desert sand his eyes,
That no one may discern him, is the folly,
Which could persuade you that the public gaze,
From the innumerable concerns of life,
Was turned by this frail slander on yourself!
So, never fear to walk the street to-morrow:—
The boys will not hoot after you; the ladies
Will not ejaculate as you pass by.
My life upon it, you will go unharmed,
Unpersecuted. But I'll flout no more;
Though, sooth to say, this sensitive alarm,
This prurient shyness, and unmeasured anger,
Spring merely from egregious self-conceit,
Or grosser ignorance. Yet have I known
Mistakes as marvellous—have seen a man—
A high-souled, honorable, valiant one—
Sickened and blasted by a slanderous breath.
And I have witnessed, too, a sadder sight—
A maiden in the bloom of youth and beauty,
And good as fair, and innocent as gifted,
By the same pestilence struck down and killed;
While he, the spotted wretch, who did the murders,
Was—O, the puniest of all creeping things!
The press! What is that terrifying engine
In hands of fools and knaves? An empty scarecrow!
A sword of lath! a pop-gun! a tin trumpet!
O, piteous the delusion, that could fancy
The minds of men, of veritable men,
Were swayed by such impostures!

PEDRILLO.
Are they not?

VICTOR.
No! Dupes and fools may be;—for such I care not:
Their good esteem is worthless as their hate!

PEDRILLO.
True, every word! You have prevailed, my friend;—
The smart is over, and the anger vanished.
Henceforth, these slight and slimy paper-hoppers
Shall less annoy than that superior insect,
The shrill cicada of our summer pathways,
Which harmless springs before us from the grass,
Sinks at our feet, and straightway is forgotten.