(4.) IRONY.

Under this head, three forms of the same trope, or figure of speech, may be mentioned, viz., Satire, Sarcasm, and Irony, properly so called.

Satire often avails itself of the ridiculous, and is generally a humorous and amusing manner of exposing faults and inconsistencies.

Sarcasm adopts a severe and bitter style of reproach, and applies to follies and improprieties of a more serious character.

Irony is used when the feelings are strongly excited, and has recourse to direct contraries to convey its censure and condemnation.

To read either of these figures with effect, the points on which their force depends, must be clearly and well expressed; but a marked difference obviously requires to be made between the humour of satire, the severity of sarcasm, and the excitement of irony. The subject must be understood and felt.

(1.) SATIRE.

1. Satire Ineffectual when Inapplicable.

Who cries out on "pride,"

That can therein tax any private party?
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea,
Till that the mere exhausted means do ebb?
What woman in the city do I name

When that I say-"The city woman" bears
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders?
Who can come in and say-that I mean her,
When such an one as she, such is her neighbour?
Or, what is he of basest function,

That says his "Finery" is not at my cost
(Thinking I mean him),—but therein suits

His folly to the mettle of my speech?

There, then ;-How, then?-What, then? Let me see wherein

My tongue hath wrong'd him: If it do him right,
Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free,
Why then my taxing, like a wild
*

Unclaim'd of any man.

goose, flies

Shakspeare.

2. Satirical description of a Nobleman.

A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome:
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong;
Was everything by starts, and nothing long;
But in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon.
Railing and praising were his usual themes;
And both, to show his judgment, in extremes.
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art;
Nothing went unrewarded but desert.

Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late;
He had his jest, and they had his estate.

He laugh'd himself from court; then sought relief
By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief.
Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft,

He left not faction, but of that was left.

Dryden.

3. Satire on ignorant Patrons and parasitical Authors. And now the Queen, to glad her sons, proclaims, By herald hawkers, high heroic games. They summon all her race :-an endless band Pours forth, and leaves unpeopled half the land; A motley mixture! in long wigs and bags, In silks, in crapes, in garters, and in rags,From drawing-rooms, from colleges, from garrets,On horse, on foot, in hacks, in gilded chariots ;All who true Dunces in her cause appear'd, And all who knew those Dunces to reward.

* Reproach.

And now for Authors, noble palms remain :-
Room for my lord! three jockeys in his train ;
Six huntsmen with a shout precede his chair;
He grins, and looks broad nonsense with a stare.
His honour's meaning, Dulness thus express'd:
"He wins this Patron, who can tickle best.'
He chinks his purse, and takes his seat of state,
With ready quills the Dedicators wait;
Now at his head, the dexterous task commence,—
And, instant, Fancy feels the imputed sense.
Now gentle touches wanton o'er his face ;-
He struts Adonis, and affects grimace.
Rolli the feather to his ear conveys ;-
Then his nice taste directs our operas.
Bently his mouth with classic flattery opes,
And the puff'd orator bursts out in tropes;
But Welsted, most the poet's healing balm,
Strives to extract from his soft, giving palm.
Unlucky Welsted! thy unfeeling master,
The more thou ticklest, gripes his fist the faster.
While thus each hand promotes the pleasing pain,
And quick sensations skip from vein to vein,
A youth, unknown to Phoebus, in despair,
Puts his last refuge all in Heaven and prayer ;-
What force have pious vows, the prize to carry!
He marches off, his grace's secretary.

Pope.

4. Hotspur's Sarcastic description of a Foppish Nobleman on the Field of Battle.

My liege, I did deny no prisoners.

But I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd,
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home :
He was perfum'd like a milliner;

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon

He

gave his nose, and took't away again;

Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff: and still he smil'd and talk'd;
And as the soldiers bare dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.

With many holiday and lady terms

He question'd me; among the rest, demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.

I then, all smarting with my wounds, being vex'd
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,

Out of my grief and my impatience

Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what;

He should, or he should not; for he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,
Of guns, and drums, and wounds,-

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was sparmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villainous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.

Shakspeare.

5. Cassius' Sarcastic and Ironical description of Cæsar's Infirmities.

Once upon a raw und gusty day,

The troubled Tyber chafing with her shores,
Cæsar said to me-" Dar'st thou, Cassius, now

Leap with me into this angry flood,

And swim to yonder point!"

Upon the word,

Accouter'd as I was, I plung'd in,

And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did.

The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it
With lusty sinews; throwing it aside,
And stemming it with hearts of controversy.
But ere we could arrive the point propos'd,
Cæsar cried—“ Help me, Cassius, or I sink.”
I, as Eneas, our great ancestor,

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder
The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tyber
Did I the tired Cæsar: and this man

Is now become a god; and Cassius is

A wretched creature, and must bend his body,
If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.

He had a fever when he was in Spain,

And, when this fit was on him, I did mark

How he did shake. 'Tis true, this god did shake : His coward lips did from their colour fly;

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world,
Did lose its lustre: I did hear him groan :

Aye, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books,
Alas! it cried-" Give me some drink, Titinius,"
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should
So get the start of the majestic world,
And bear the palm alone.

Shakspeare.

6. Ironical description of Infidelity.

But it seems this is an Age of Reason, and the time and the person are at last arrived, that are to dissipate the errors which have overspread the past generations of ignorance. The believers in Christianity are many; but it belongs to the few that are wise, to correct their credulity. Belief is an act of reason, and superior reason may, therefore, dictate to the weak. In contemplating the long list of sincere and devout Christians, I cannot help lamenting that Newton had not lived to this day, to have had his shallowness filled up