―338―

THE SCRIBBLER, NO. III.- -FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

Ridicule, says some one, is the test of truth. If we judge by the
ordinary practice of mankind, this opinion seems to be generally
adopted, for nothing is more common than to use this weapon against
those whose conduct or opinions, we disapprove; yet, why this opinion
has been sanctioned by the approbation of all, and the practice of as
many as are qualified for the undertaking, I am quite at a loss to con-
ceive. The purpose which ridicule designs to effect is laughter, and
the means adopted for this end are universally, an aggravation, dis-
tortion, or concealment of the truth. It is absolutely necessary to heigh-
ten the natural colours of most objects, to enlarge their proper linea-
ments and features, or to show some of them disconnected with others,
which are their genuine attendants, in order to render them ridiculous.

―339―

If we examine any instance of ridicule, either in books, or conversa-
tion, we shall not fail to find it such as I have mentioned. If we are
acquainted with the original of which the ludicrous portrait is pre-
sented to us, we fail not to perceive the monstrous interval between
them: nor, indeed, is it easy to find any natural or possible features
whatever, in any picture designedly ridiculous. The scene very sel-
dom bears any resemblance not only to the particular object designed
to be exhibited, but to any thing within the bounds of possibility.

It cannot, however, be denied that objects sometimes occur which,
in order to excite ridicule, need be only truly and faithfully portrayed.
Such objects are very few. In painting them, the dealers in ridicule, are
never satisfied with adhering to the truth, though their purpose would
be sufficiently answered by adhering to it. They have an invincible
propensity to be unjust, and to trick out the victim of their cruelty,
with some preposterous feature which does not belong to him.

Since, then, the most venerable and lovely person; the most pure
and enlightened conduct; the most generous and irreproachable opi-
nion can be made, by the sons of wit and of malice, ridiculous, by
taking away somewhat that really belongs to it, and giving it some-
what that it has no title to; since objects ridiculous in some degree are
never formally exposed to the ridicule, they merely deserve; but al-
ways, by the addition of fictitious circumstances, to more than they
deserve, how comes it that ridicule has ever been considered as the
test of truth?

Another and more important error lurks in the common practice
and opinions on this head. No conduct or opinion of any kind deserves
to be ridiculed. Laughter is not the effect which any conduct or opi-
nion ought to produce. If there be a fault or error in it, it cannot fail
to produce mischief, or unhappiness somewhere; but of what texture
must be that mind to which guilt and misery are objects of laughter!
It is true that we daily see crimes and misery treated with laughter
and derision, by many persons of intelligence and probity, but this
arises from their ignorance of the true nature of the object of their
mirth, or their casual inattention to it. They view it, not in its true
light, and with its inseparable circumstances. Their mirth, is, itself,
the offspring of lamentable folly; their laughter is the child of dis-
graceful ignorance.

There are few objects that excite the ridicule and laughter of the
vulgar, more than the freaks of drunkenness. The drunken wretch
of either sex in the streets, is pursued by a troop of joyous laughing
souls of all ages. The drunken man has even been thought worthy of
being brought upon the stage, not for the detestation or the pity, but the
amusement of the audience, and the delighted shouts of the ragged
vulgar in the gallery, are not seldom re-echoed by the applauding

―340―

clappings of the well-dressed mob in the boxes: Yet no fastidious re-
finement, surely, is evinced by those who derive nothing but horror
and compassion from such a spectacle. No singular sagacity, may we
be allowed to think, is required to comprehend the dismal and terrific
consequences of this vice to the victim himself, as well as to the unfor-
tunate beings who own him for a kinsman, or a friend. I have often
thought, indeed, that nothing more strongly evinced the selfishness
and cruelty of human nature, than the ridicule which drunkenness
commonly excites. Those to whom such a spectacle, exhibited by
their own parent, wife, or child, would be the greatest of imaginable
woes, find it infinitely entertaining in those who happen to be stran-
gers to them. They make not the case of the kindred of this re-
probate their own. Though this suggestion of sympathy should seem
to be extremely obvious, how few are they, whose hearts it finds ac-
cessible?

I remember, in times that are, happily, long past, when the hospi-
tal for maniacs in this city, used to be a favourite resort of the disso-
lute and idle, on sundays and holydays. The thrifty system that then
prevailed allowed every one to enter who paid his doit, and every one
was suffered to go where he pleased. The visitants generally repaired
to the vaulted gallery, which separates the cells of the lunatics:
there, little wickets being open in the cell-doors, they had opportunities
of looking in, and making themselves merry with the incoherent ex-
clamations and unmeaning gesticulations of the tenant. To heighten
the amusement, it was common to provoke the maniac by insulting
gestures or speeches. The threats and execrations of the madman,
and the ineffectual efforts at revenge which he made, with his face,
or his arm through the wicket, made this dismal vault resound with
peals of laughter. To strike, with a club, the hand extended through
the opening, to catch the weapon, was accounted excellent sport, and
I have seen some of the unhappy victims tormented in this way for
many hours.*

These may be considered as rare and violent examples of the folly
and cruelty of ridicule; but, in truth, the most harmless and allowa-
ble ridicule, differs from this only in the degree of its absurdity and
wickedness, while that ridicule, which brings ignominy or contempt on
objects by decking them with false colours and distorted features, is
still more criminal: nothing is more piercing than contempt, sharper
than the serpent's tooth is the sting of derision. Hence virtue and
wisdom, both as to their effects on the fate of the possessor, and their

  * This incident is a simple fact, of which the writer, when very young,
was more than once a witness in the Pennsylvania Hospital.

―341―

influence in general happiness, lie at the mercy of unfeeling, or un-
principled wit. It is unfortunate for human happiness, that the most
deadly of all weapons is, at the same time, managed with most ease,
that very few can examine impartially or deeply, or reason coolly, or
accurately, while millions can laugh, and raise a laugh with the utmost
success against an adversary.

There are some, who may think him, who employed his days in
laughing at the miseries and vices of mankind, more worthy of imita-
tion, than the rueful sage, who found, in the survey of human life, per-
petual occasion for weeping. The first may not have been very com-
passionate or considerate, but was certainly the happier of the two.
If laughter, in such cases be absurd, or cruel, yet the philosopher him-
self was happy in the occupation. Weeping, in the other case, is
misery in him who weeps, and is a still more egregious folly, since it is
injurious to the mourner, without being of any use to the object of his
commiseration. But this is not altogether true. Relief and amend-
ment can only be expected from him, who pities. The more he is
agonized with his compassion, the stronger is his inclination to heal the
error, or remove the distress, which occasions it. The laugher, on the
contrary, finds joy in his mirth, and would be very sorry to be deprived
of the occasion, which excites it. If ridicule amend the object of it, it
is without any such design in him, who deals in ridicule. We often
hear ridicule defended on this score, but this plea is remarkably falla-
cious, since ridicule, will certainly instil a passion much more hurtful,
than most of the faults against which it is levelled, and, so far from
certainly curing the original defect, it may render it more inveterate
and radical. If I lay down a darling habit in order to avoid your ridi-
cule, I shall take up instead a deadly enmity against you, and the last
I shall certainly do, whether I do the first or not. He will appear to
me entitled to nothing less than unextinguishable vengeance, who de-
rives joy from my misfortune, and hastens to blazon it abroad to the
world, instead of warning me against it in private. My reformation,
by depriving him of occasions of satire, will mortify and disappoint
his vain and selfish heart, and though I may rejoice in the ultimate
consequence, it will be impossible to abhor the author of it. The
potion he administered for poison, has, after a painful struggle, re-
stored me to better health than ever, but is he not a poisoner and as-
sassin still? In order to judge rightly of the wisdom, discretion, and
benevolence of ridicule and satire, nothing is necessary, but to imagine
ourselves to be its object.

Almost every work, famous for satirical wit, affords an example of
the injustice of ridicule, and a long chain of memorable cases might
be mentioned, beginning as high as Socrates, in which ridicule has
done irreparable mischief. The trophies of her salutary conquests

―342―

are few, while those of her flagitious murders cannot be reckoned for
number. For one unquestionable malefactor, whom she has chastised
into remorse and reformation, she has brought innocent and meritorious
thousands to ignominy, ruin, and death.