The second Letter relating to the Ogling Master, runs thus.
Mr. SPECTATOR,
'I am an Irish Gentleman, that have travelled many Years for my
Improvement; during which time I have accomplished myself in the whole
Art of Ogling, as it is at present practised in all the polite Nations
of _Europe_. Being thus qualified, I intend, by the Advice of my
Friends, to set up for an Ogling-Master. I teach the Church Ogle in
the Morning, and the Play-house Ogle by Candle-light. I have also
brought over with me a new flying Ogle fit for the Ring; which I teach
in the Dusk of the Evening, or in any Hour of the Day by darkning one
of my Windows. I have a Manuscript by me called _The Compleat Ogler_,
which I shall be ready to show you upon any Occasion. In the mean
time, I beg you will publish the Substance of this Letter in an
Advertisement, and you will very much oblige,
Yours, &c.
[Footnote 1: _Lloyd's Coffee House_ was first established in Lombard
Street, at the corner of Abchurch Lane. Pains were taken to get early
Ship news at Lloyd's, and the house was used by underwriters and
insurers of Ships' cargoes. It was found also to be a convenient place
for sales. A poem called 'The Wealthy Shopkeeper', printed in 1700, says
of him,
Now to Lloyd's Coffee-house he never fails,
To read the Letters, and attend the Sales.
It was afterwards removed to Pope's Head Alley, as 'the New Lloyd's
Coffee House;' again removed in 1774 to a corner of the Old Royal
Exchange; and in the building of the new Exchange was provided with the
rooms now known as 'Lloyd's Subscription Rooms,' an institution which
forms part of our commercial system.]
[Footnote 2: Charles Lillie, the perfumer in the Strand, at the corner
of Beaufort Buildings--where the business of a perfumer is at this day
carried on--appears in the 16th, 18th, and subsequent numbers of the
'Spectator', together with Mrs. Baldwin of Warwick Lane, as a chief
agent for the sale of the Paper. To the line which had run
'LONDON: Printed for _Sam. Buckley_, at the _Dolphin_ in _Little
Britain_; and Sold by _A. Baldwin_ in _Warwick-Lane_; where
Advertisements are taken in;'
there was then appended:
'as also by _Charles Lillie_, Perfumer, at the Corner of
_Beaufort-Buildings_ in the _Strand_'.
Nine other agents, of whom complete sets could be had, were occasionally
set forth together with these two in an advertisement; but only these
are in the colophon.]
[Footnote 3: Oxonian]
[Footnote 4: Gilbert Burnet, author of the 'History of the Reformation,'
and 'History of his own Time,' was Bishop of Salisbury from 1689 to his
death in 1715. Addison here quotes:
'Some Letters containing an Account of what seemed most remarkable in
Travelling through Switzerland, Italy, some parts of Germany, &c., in
the Years 1685 and 1686. Written by G. Burnet, D.D., to the Honourable
R. B.'
In the first letter, which is from Zurich, Dr. Burnet speaks of many
Inscriptions at Lyons of the late and barbarous ages, as 'Bonum
Memoriam', and 'Epitaphium hunc'. Of 23 Inscriptions in the Garden of
the Fathers of Mercy, he quotes one which must be towards the barbarous
age, as appears by the false Latin in 'Nimia' He quotes it because he
has 'made a little reflection on it,' which is, that its subject, Sutia
Anthis, to whose memory her husband Cecalius Calistis dedicates the
inscription which says
'quædum Nimia pia fuit, facta est Impia'
(who while she was too pious, was made impious),
must have been publicly accused of Impiety, or her husband would not
have recorded it in such a manner; that to the Pagans Christianity was
Atheism and Impiety; and that here, therefore, is a Pagan husband's
testimony to the better faith, that the Piety of his wife made her a
Christian.]
* * * * *
No. 47. Tuesday, April 24, 1711. Addison.
'Ride si sapis.'
Mart.
Mr. _Hobbs_, in his Discourse of Human Nature, [1] which, in my humble
Opinion, is much the best of all his Works, after some very curious
Observations upon Laughter, concludes thus:
'The Passion of Laughter is nothing else but sudden Glory arising from
some sudden Conception of some Eminency in ourselves by Comparison
with the Infirmity of others, or with our own formerly: For Men laugh
at the Follies of themselves past, when they come suddenly to
Remembrance, except they bring with them any present Dishonour.'
According to this Author, therefore, when we hear a Man laugh
excessively, instead of saying he is very Merry, we ought to tell him he
is very Proud. And, indeed, if we look into the bottom of this Matter,
we shall meet with many Observations to confirm us in his Opinion. Every
one laughs at some Body that is in an inferior State of Folly to
himself. It was formerly the Custom for every great House in _England_
to keep a tame Fool dressed in Petticoats, that the Heir of the Family
might have an Opportunity of joking upon him, and diverting himself with
his Absurdities. For the same Reason Idiots are still in Request in most
of the Courts of _Germany_, where there is not a Prince of any great
Magnificence, who has not two or three dressed, distinguished,
undisputed Fools in his Retinue, whom the rest of the Courtiers are
always breaking their Jests upon.
The _Dutch_, who are more famous for their Industry and Application,
than for Wit and Humour, hang up in several of their Streets what they
call the Sign of the _Gaper_, that is, the Head of an Idiot dressed in a
Cap and Bells, and gaping in a most immoderate manner: This is a
standing Jest at _Amsterdam_.
Thus every one diverts himself with some Person or other that is below
him in Point of Understanding, and triumphs in the Superiority of his
Genius, whilst he has such Objects of Derision before his Eyes. Mr.
_Dennis_ has very well expressed this in a Couple of humourous Lines,
which are part of a Translation of a Satire in Monsieur Boileau. [2]
Thus one Fool lolls his Tongue out at another,
And shakes his empty Noddle at his Brother.
Mr. _Hobbs's_ Reflection gives us the Reason why the insignificant
People above-mentioned are Stirrers up of Laughter among Men of a gross
Taste: But as the more understanding Part of Mankind do not find their
Risibility affected by such ordinary Objects, it may be worth the while
to examine into the several Provocatives of Laughter in Men of superior
Sense and Knowledge.
In the first Place I must observe, that there is a Set of merry Drolls,
whom the common People of all Countries admire, and seem to love so
well, _that they could eat them_, according to the old Proverb: I mean
those circumforaneous Wits whom every Nation calls by the Name of that
Dish of Meat which it loves best. In _Holland_ they are termed _Pickled
Herrings_; in _France, Jean Pottages_; in _Italy, Maccaronies_; and in
_Great Britain, Jack Puddings_. These merry Wags, from whatsoever Food
they receive their Titles, that they may make their Audiences laugh,
always appear in a Fool's Coat, and commit such Blunders and Mistakes in
every Step they take, and every Word they utter, as those who listen to
them would be ashamed of.
But this little Triumph of the Understanding, under the Disguise of
Laughter, is no where more visible than in that Custom which prevails
every where among us on the first Day of the present Month, when every
Body takes it in his Head to make as many Fools as he can. In proportion
as there are more Follies discovered, so there is more Laughter raised
on this Day than on any other in the whole Year. A Neighbour of mine,
who is a Haberdasher by Trade, and a very shallow conceited Fellow,
makes his Boasts that for these ten Years successively he has not made
less than an hundred _April_ Fools. My Landlady had a falling out with
him about a Fortnight ago, for sending every one of her Children upon
some _Sleeveless Errand_, as she terms it. Her eldest Son went to buy an
Halfpenny worth of Inkle at a Shoe-maker's; the eldest Daughter was
dispatch'd half a Mile to see a Monster; and, in short, the whole Family
of innocent Children made _April_ Fools. Nay, my Landlady herself did
not escape him. This empty Fellow has laughed upon these Conceits ever
since.
This Art of Wit is well enough, when confined to one Day in a
Twelvemonth; but there is an ingenious Tribe of Men sprung up of late
Years, who are for making _April_ Fools every Day in the Year. These
Gentlemen are commonly distinguished by the Name of _Biters_; a Race of
Men that are perpetually employed in laughing at those Mistakes which
are of their own Production.
Thus we see, in proportion as one Man is more refined than another, he
chooses his Fool out of a lower or higher Class of Mankind: or, to speak
in a more Philosophical Language, That secret Elation and Pride of
Heart, which is generally called Laughter, arises in him from his
comparing himself with an Object below him, whether it so happens that
it be a Natural or an Artificial Fool. It is indeed very possible, that
the Persons we laugh at may in the main of their Characters be much
wiser Men than ourselves; but if they would have us laugh at them, they
must fall short of us in those Respects which stir up this Passion.
I am afraid I shall appear too Abstracted in my Speculations, if I shew
that when a Man of Wit makes us laugh, it is by betraying some Oddness
or Infirmity in his own Character, or in the Representation which he
makes of others; and that when we laugh at a Brute or even [at] an
inanimate thing, it is at some Action or Incident that bears a remote
Analogy to any Blunder or Absurdity in reasonable Creatures.
But to come into common Life: I shall pass by the Consideration of those
Stage Coxcombs that are able to shake a whole Audience, and take notice
of a particular sort of Men who are such Provokers of Mirth in
Conversation, that it is impossible for a Club or Merry-meeting to
subsist without them; I mean, those honest Gentlemen that are always
exposed to the Wit and Raillery of their Well-wishers and Companions;
that are pelted by Men, Women, and Children, Friends and Foes, and, in a
word, stand as _Butts_ in Conversation, for every one to shoot at that
pleases. I know several of these _Butts_, who are Men of Wit and Sense,
though by some odd Turn of Humour, some unlucky Cast in their Person or
Behaviour, they have always the Misfortune to make the Company merry.
The Truth of it is, a Man is not qualified for a _Butt_, who has not a
good deal of Wit and Vivacity, even in the ridiculous side of his
Character. A stupid _Butt_ is only fit for the Conversation of ordinary
People: Men of Wit require one that will give them Play, and bestir
himself in the absurd Part of his Behaviour. A _Butt_ with these
Accomplishments frequently gets the Laugh of his side, and turns the
Ridicule upon him that attacks him. Sir _John Falstaff_ was an Hero of
this Species, and gives a good Description of himself in his Capacity of
a _Butt_, after the following manner; _Men of all Sorts_ (says that
merry Knight) _take a pride to gird at me. The Brain of Man is not able
to invent any thing that tends to Laughter more than I invent, or is
invented on me. I am not only Witty in my self, but the Cause that Wit
is in other Men_. [3]