with all the signs of loathing and abhorrence, at a bare mention of the
china chamber-pot;--who applauded Catullus, Juvenal, Persius, and Lucan,
for their spirit in lashing the greatest names of antiquity; yet, when a
British satirist, of this generation, has courage enough to call in
question the talents of a pseudo-patron in power, accuse him of
insolence, rancour, and scurrility.

If such you be, courteous reader, I say again, have a little patience;
for your entertainment we are about to write. Our hero shall, with all
convenient despatch, be gradually sublimed into those splendid connexions
of which you are enamoured; and God forbid, that, in the meantime, the
nature of his extraction should turn to his prejudice in a land of
freedom like this, where individuals are every day ennobled in
consequence of their own qualifications, without the least retrospective
regard to the rank or merit of their ancestors. Yes, refined reader, we
are hastening to that goal of perfection, where satire dares not show her
face; where nature is castigated, almost even to still life; where humour
turns changeling, and slavers in an insipid grin; where wit is
volatilised into a mere vapour; where decency, divested of all substance,
hovers about like a fantastic shadow; where the salt of genius, escaping,
leaves nothing but pure and simple phlegm; and the inoffensive pen for
ever drops the mild manna of soul-sweetening praise.




CHAPTER TWO

A SUPERFICIAL VIEW OF OUR HERO'S INFANCY.