SIR,

Those who exalt themselves into the chair of instruction, without

inquiring whether any will submit to their authority, have not

sufficiently considered how much of human life passes in little

incidents, cursory conversation, slight business, and casual amusements;

and therefore they have endeavoured only to inculcate the more awful

virtues, without condescending to regard those petty qualities, which

grow important only by their frequency, and which, though they produce

no single acts of heroism, nor astonish us by great events, yet are every

moment exerting their influence upon us, and make the draught of life

sweet or bitter by imperceptible instillations. They operate unseen and

unregarded, as change of air makes us sick or healthy, though we breathe

it without attention, and only know the particles that impregnate it by

their salutary or malignant effects.

You have shewn yourself not ignorant of the value of those subaltern

endowments, yet have hitherto neglected to recommend good-humour to the

world, though a little reflection will shew you that it is the _balm of

being_, the quality to which all that adorns or elevates mankind must owe

its power of pleasing. Without good-humour, learning and bravery can only

confer that superiority which swells the heart of the lion in the desert,

where he roars without reply, and ravages without resistance. Without

good-humour, virtue may awe by its dignity, and amaze by its brightness;

but must always be viewed at a distance, and will scarcely gain a friend

or attract an imitator.

Good-humour may be defined a habit of being pleased; a constant and

perennial softness of manner, easiness of approach, and suavity of

disposition; like that which every man perceives in himself, when the

first transports of new felicity have subsided, and his thoughts are only

kept in motion by a slow succession of soft impulses. Good-humour is a

state between gaiety and unconcern; the act or emanation of a mind at

leisure to regard the gratification of another.

It is imagined by many, that whenever they aspire to please, they are

required to be merry, and to shew the gladness of their souls by flights

of pleasantry, and bursts of laughter. But though these men may be for

a time heard with applause and admiration, they seldom delight us long.

We enjoy them a little, and then retire to easiness and good-humour, as

the eye gazes awhile on eminences glittering with the sun, but soon turns

aching away to verdure and to flowers.

Gaiety is to good-humour as animal perfumes to vegetable fragrance; the

one overpowers weak spirits, and the other recreates and revives them.

Gaiety seldom fails to give some pain; the hearers either strain their

faculties to accompany its towerings, or are left behind in envy and

despair. Good-humour boasts no faculties which every one does not believe

in his own power, and pleases principally by not offending.

It is well known that the most certain way to give any man pleasure, is

to persuade him that you receive pleasure from him, to encourage him to

freedom and confidence, and to avoid any such appearance of superiority

as may overbear and depress him. We see many that by this art only spend

their days in the midst of caresses, invitations, and civilities; and

without any extraordinary qualities or attainments, are the universal

favourites of both sexes, and certainly find a friend in every place.

The darlings of the world will, indeed, be generally found such as excite

neither jealousy nor fear, and are not considered as candidates for

any eminent degree of reputation, but content themselves with common

accomplishments, and endeavour rather to solicit kindness than to raise

esteem; therefore in assemblies and places of resort it seldom fails

to happen, that though at the entrance of some particular person every

face brightens with gladness, and every hand is extended in salutation,

yet if you pursue him beyond the first exchange of civilities, you will

find him of very small importance, and only welcome to the company, as

one by whom all conceive themselves admired, and with whom any one is at

liberty to amuse himself when he can find no other auditor or companion;

as one with whom all are at ease, who will hear a jest without criticism,

and a narrative without contradiction, who laughs with every wit, and

yields to every disputer.

There are many whose vanity always inclines them to associate with those

from whom they have no reason to fear mortification; and there are times

in which the wise and the knowing are willing to receive praise without

the labour of deserving it, in which the most elevated mind is willing

to descend, and the most active to be at rest. All therefore are at

some hour or another fond of companions whom they can entertain upon

easy terms, and who will relieve them from solitude, without condemning

them to vigilance and caution. We are most inclined to love when we have

nothing to fear, and he that encourages us to please ourselves, will not

be long without preference in our affection to those whose learning holds

us at the distance of pupils, or whose wit calls all attention from us,

and leaves us without importance and without regard.

It is remarked by prince Henry, when he sees Falstaff lying on the

ground, that _he could have better spared a better man_. He was well

acquainted with the vices and follies of him whom he lamented, but

while his conviction compelled him to do justice to superior qualities,

his tenderness still broke out at the remembrance of Falstaff, of the

cheerful companion, the loud buffoon, with whom he had passed his time in

all the luxury of idleness, who had gladded him with unenvied merriment,

and whom he could at once enjoy and despise.

You may perhaps think this account of those who are distinguished for

their good-humour, not very consistent with the praises which I have

bestowed upon it. But surely nothing can more evidently shew the value

of this quality, than that it recommends those who are destitute of all

other excellencies, and procures regard to the trifling, friendship to

the worthless, and affection to the dull.

Good-humour is indeed generally degraded by the characters in which

it is found; for, being considered as a cheap and vulgar quality, we

find it often neglected by those that, having excellencies of higher

reputation and brighter splendour, perhaps imagine that they have some

right to gratify themselves at the expense of others, and are to demand

compliance, rather than to practise it. It is by some unfortunate mistake

that almost all those who have any claim to esteem or love, press their

pretensions with too little consideration of others. This mistake, my

own interest, as well as my zeal for general happiness, makes me desirous

to rectify; for I have a friend, who, because he knows his own fidelity

and usefulness, is never willing to sink into a companion: I have a wife

whose beauty first subdued me, and whose wit confirmed her conquest, but

whose beauty now serves no other purpose than to entitle her to tyranny,

and whose wit is only used to justify perverseness.

Surely nothing can be more unreasonable than to lose the will to please,

when we are conscious of the power, or show more cruelty than to chuse

any kind of influence before that of kindness. He that regards the

welfare of others, should make his virtue approachable, that it may be

loved and copied; and he that considers the wants which every man feels,

or will feel, of external assistance, must rather wish to be surrounded

by those that love him, than by those that admire his excellencies, or

solicit his favours; for admiration ceases with novelty, and interest

gains its end and retires. A man whose great qualities want the ornament

of superficial attractions, is like a naked mountain with mines of gold,

which will be frequented only till the treasure is exhausted.

The Works of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. in Nine Volumes, Volume 02 The Rambler, Volume I · 第 64 / 101 题