The pressure thus brought to bear upon Lamb for the production of
jests in a given time led him to indulge in very bad puns, and to try to
justify them as pleasant eccentricities. What can be expected from a man
who tells us that "the worst puns are the best," or who can applaud
Swift for having asked, on accidentally meeting a young student carrying
a hare; "Prithee, friend, is that your own hair or a wig?" He finds the
charm in such hazards in their utter irrelevancy, and truly they can
only be excused as flowing from a wild and unchastened fancy. It must
require great joviality or eccentricity to find any humour in
caricaturing a pun.
Speaking of the prospectus of a certain Burial Society, who promised a
handsome plate with an angel above and a flower below, Lamb
ventures--"Many a poor fellow, I dare swear, has that Angel and Flower
kept from the Angel and Punchbowl, while to provide himself a bier he
has curtailed himself of beer." But to record all Lamb's bad puns would
be a dull and thankless task. We will finish the review of his verbal
humour by quoting a passage out of an indifferent farce he wrote
entitled, "Mr. H----."
(_The hero cannot on account of his patronymic get any girl to
marry him._)
"My plaguy ancestors, if they had left me but a Van, or a Mac, or
an Irish O', it had been something to qualify it--Mynheer Van
Hogsflesh, or Sawney Mac Hogsflesh, or Sir Phelim O'Hogsflesh, but
downright blunt---- If it had been any other name in the world I
could have borne it.
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