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No. 35. Tuesday, April 10, 1711. Addison.
'Risu inepto res ineptior milla est.'
Mart.
Among all kinds of Writing, there is none in which Authors are more apt
to miscarry than in Works of Humour, as there is none in which they are
more ambitious to excell. It is not an Imagination that teems with
Monsters, an Head that is filled with extravagant Conceptions, which is
capable of furnishing the World with Diversions of this nature; and yet
if we look into the Productions of several Writers, who set up for Men
of Humour, what wild irregular Fancies, what unnatural Distortions of
Thought, do we meet with? If they speak Nonsense, they believe they are
talking Humour; and when they have drawn together a Scheme of absurd,
inconsistent Ideas, they are not able to read it over to themselves
without laughing. These poor Gentlemen endeavour to gain themselves the
Reputation of Wits and Humourists, by such monstrous Conceits as almost
qualify them for _Bedlam;_ not considering that Humour should always lye
under the Check of Reason, and that it requires the Direction of the
nicest Judgment, by so much the more as it indulges it self in the most
boundless Freedoms. There is a kind of Nature that is to be observed in
this sort of Compositions, as well as in all other, and a certain
Regularity of Thought [which [1]] must discover the Writer to be a Man
of Sense, at the same time that he appears altogether given up to
Caprice: For my part, when I read the delirious Mirth of an unskilful
Author, I cannot be so barbarous as to divert my self with it, but am
rather apt to pity the Man, than to laugh at any thing he writes.
The deceased Mr. _Shadwell_, who had himself a great deal of the Talent,
which I am treating of, represents an empty Rake, in one of his Plays,
as very much surprized to hear one say that breaking of Windows was not
Humour;[2] and I question not but several _English_ Readers will be as
much startled to hear me affirm, that many of those raving incoherent
Pieces, which are often spread among us, under odd Chimerical Titles,
are rather the Offsprings of a Distempered Brain, than Works of Humour.
It is indeed much easier to describe what is not Humour, than what is;
and very difficult to define it otherwise than as _Cowley_ has done Wit,
by Negatives. Were I to give my own Notions of it, I would deliver them
after _Plato's_ manner, in a kind of Allegory, and by supposing Humour
to be a Person, deduce to him all his Qualifications, according to the
following Genealogy. TRUTH was the Founder of the Family, and the Father
of GOOD SENSE. GOOD SENSE was the Father of WIT, who married a Lady of a
Collateral Line called MIRTH, by whom he had Issue HUMOUR. HUMOUR
therefore being the youngest of this Illustrious Family, and descended
from Parents of such different Dispositions, is very various and unequal
in his Temper; sometimes you see him putting on grave Looks and a solemn
Habit, sometimes airy in his Behaviour and fantastick in his Dress:
Insomuch that at different times he appears as serious as a Judge, and
as jocular as a _Merry-Andrew_. But as he has a great deal of the Mother
in his Constitution, whatever Mood he is in, he never fails to make his
Company laugh.
But since there [is an Impostor [3]] abroad, who [takes upon him [4]]
the Name of this young Gentleman, and would willingly pass for him in
the World; to the end that well-meaning Persons may not be imposed upon
by [Cheats [5]], I would desire my Readers, when they meet with [this
Pretender [6]], to look into his Parentage, and to examine him strictly,
whether or no he be remotely allied to TRUTH, and lineally descended
from GOOD SENSE; if not, they may conclude him a Counterfeit. They may
likewise distinguish him by a loud and excessive Laughter, in which he
seldom gets his Company to join with him. For, as TRUE HUMOUR generally
looks serious, whilst every Body laughs [about him [7]]; FALSE HUMOUR is
always laughing, whilst every Body about him looks serious. I shall only
add, if he has not in him a Mixture of both Parents, that is, if he
would pass for the Offspring of WIT without MIRTH, or MIRTH without WIT,
you may conclude him to be altogether Spurious, and a Cheat.
The Impostor, of whom I am speaking, descends Originally from FALSEHOOD,
who was the Mother of NONSENSE, who was brought to Bed of a Son called
FRENZY, who Married one of the Daughters of FOLLY, commonly known by the
Name of LAUGHTER, on whom he begot that Monstrous Infant of which I have
been here speaking. I shall set down at length the Genealogical Table of
FALSE HUMOUR, and, at the same time, place under it the Genealogy of
TRUE HUMOUR, that the Reader may at one View behold their different
Pedigrees and Relations.
FALSEHOOD. TRUTH.
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NONSENSE. GOOD SENSE.
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FRENZY.=LAUGHTER. WIT.=MIRTH.
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FALSE HUMOUR. HUMOUR.
I might extend the Allegory, by mentioning several of the Children of
FALSE HUMOUR, who are more in Number than the Sands of the Sea, and
might in particular enumerate the many Sons and Daughters which he has
begot in this Island. But as this would be a very invidious Task, I
shall only observe in general, that FALSE HUMOUR differs from the TRUE,
as a Monkey does from a Man.
_First_ of all, He is exceedingly given to little Apish Tricks and
Buffooneries.
_Secondly_, He so much delights in Mimickry, that it is all one to him
whether he exposes by it Vice and Folly, Luxury and Avarice; or, on
the contrary, Virtue and Wisdom, Pain and Poverty.
_Thirdly_, He is wonderfully unlucky, insomuch that he will bite the
Hand that feeds him, and endeavour to ridicule both Friends and Foes
indifferently. For having but small Talents, he must be merry where he
can, not where he _should_.
_Fourthly_, Being entirely void of Reason, he pursues no Point either
of Morality or Instruction, but is ludicrous only for the sake of
being so.
_Fifthly_, Being incapable of any thing but Mock-Representations, his
Ridicule is always Personal, and aimed at the Vicious Man, or the
Writer; not at the Vice, or at the Writing.
I have here only pointed at the whole Species of False Humourists; but
as one of my principal Designs in this Paper is to beat down that
malignant Spirit, which discovers it self in the Writings of the present
Age, I shall not scruple, for the future, to single out any of the small
Wits, that infest the World with such Compositions as are ill-natured,
immoral and absurd. This is the only Exception which I shall make to the
general Rule I have prescribed my self, of _attacking Multitudes_: Since
every honest Man ought to look upon himself as in a Natural State of War
with the Libeller and Lampooner, and to annoy them where-ever they fall
in his way. This is but retaliating upon them, and treating them as they
treat others.